Nan was a decent enough travelling companion, even when Eddmina decided to remain silent.

It was the quietest she had been in months, too tired to pace around their tiny carriage, too travel-sick to sing, too worried and angry to even talk. In the week since they had left the Twins, the only time she spoke was to offer necessary courtesies, like thanking the servants who brought supper to her, or whispering gratitude to Nan whenever she removed the bonds of rope the guards wrapped around her wrists whenever she was permitted to leave the carriage. A rare occurrence, and she enjoyed fresh air and daylight as little as she had done in the Twins. it was a much more miserable journey than the one she had endured to the Twins, and would have done anything to trade places with the past version of herself who thought travelling in a carriage sewing with her mother instead of riding with Robb and Garlan was torture.

They seemed to travel at great speed, as if their party did not want to linger. No one spoke to her, so she had no idea why they so rarely stopped, why she was insulted any time she requested to stop just so she could stretch her legs and relieve herself. Her condition was not at all convenient to any of them, and she'd overheard the guards insulting her and the babe she carried multiple times. She'd overheard them talking about the Brotherhood that Jaime had mentioned too, the one supposedly terrorising the Lannisters, the one putting their journey at great risk. Eddmina didn't particularly care, she just hoped that if they were a threat they would get on with it and end the whole miserable affair quickly; anything to spare her from living as a Lannister and enduring the speed of the carriage any longer.

She never saw Lord Tywin, and rarely saw her husband. It was rare they stopped at all, but the few ocassions they stopped to sleep he would join her in her carriage. He didn't really speak of anything but the journey, the things they had ridden past, but when he tried to tell her that he had seen a flock of birds building nests she had to stop herself from hitting him. He'd seen her anger though, understood that she didn't want a husband who spoke of wildlife and nature, and the two of them fell silent and found sleep in each other's arms. It was strange and uncomfortable, yet the two of them seemed to find an odd comfort in it. Their world was terrible, their marriage was a sham, but at least they were in it together.

The carriage didn't have windows, nor did Eddmina keep track of the days they travelled, yet she still knew exactly when they arrived. Used to only hearing the ocassional shout from the guards and the noise of horseshoes and their carriage wheels churning through the dirt, their carriage faltered slightly, and she heard calls from all around them, voices that were marked with Riverland accents. The noise was all Eddmina had for a long time, listening to distant voices, desperate to make out conversations and figure out what they were saying. It was no good, as no one thought to speak clear enough when near the carriage.

Even when the carriage stopped properly, it was hours before anyone came to them, something that Nan struggled with more than Eddmina. While Eddmina remained curled up on the cushioned bench, tracing her fingers absentmindedly over her swollen belly as the baby kicked back at her, Nan kept getting up and trying the locked door, tutting and sighing, chewing her lip and folding her arms.

"Problem?" Eddmina asked boredly, struggling to sit up. Nan was quick to help her upright, but not before trying the door again.

"I thought we'd be allowed out by now, I've always wanted to see Riverrun," Nan answered, sounding impatient.

Eddmina let out a bitter laugh; Riverrun was not the sort of castle young girls dreamed about seeing. It was not even a castle she dreamed over, even if it had been home for months. In fact, she dreaded seeing it, knowing what she would be made to do the moment they allowed her out the carriage. The thought of being paraded out in front of her uncle, her presence being used to make him surrender and give up his ancestral home and all Tully rule sickened her more than the juddering of the highspeed carriage journey, the feeling of making herself a traitor burning through her and making her want to rip her skin off as she felt her whole body itch, but she was not going to tell Nan any of that. Instead she sat in her usual stubborn silence, thinking of nothing but how her back ached and how the baby seemed restless, and waited.

It was a rather long wait, longer than she expected, but eventually the door was flung open, and two men in Lannister armour stepped in, grabbing her arms and forcing her out of the carriage. Their mailed hands gripped her so tight she knew she would be bruised, but she did not care, not as she winced and glared through the brightness of daylight, wondering when the last time she had been outside while the sun was out. She was not quick enough, too large and slow, so they practically dragged her from the carriage and out across the land, and as she blinked and forced herself to see, she was greeted with the sight of home, yet it had been ruined.

In their attempts of a seige the Freys had dug messy trenches and set up a shoddy camp. All Eddmina could think was how organised the Northern camp that had once gathered outside the castle was, and how where the closest trench was had been where she had taught men and boys how to shoot. Where they had a catapult readied to launch an attack was where Robb had built a training ring, where once upon a time the men had gathered to watch each other scrap for fun. As she could hear Freys and Lannisters preparing weaponry all around her, Eddmina remembered how once the same lands had been filled with cheers and laughter, how the clanging of steel against mail had been for fun. Against her will, she remembered Garlan's laugh, and Dacey's smile, and how Robb's hand had felt in hers. She remembered catching her mother watching her as she taught archery, how her mother had tried to hide a smile. She glanced to the river and felt sick at the sight of it being churned up and siphoned off for water supply, leaving her with the thought of how she and her first husband had walked their son along that same riverbank. She had once dangled her son into the shallow end so he could splash his feet, the same way she and Robb had once swam there as little children, and she had once found Willas and Garlan fishing there like they were back home by the Mander, comparing the sizes of the fish they caught.

Riverrun had been home, even if they had been in the middle of a war. It was home, and the Freys had spoilt it, while the Lannisters came in to take it away a final time.

Distracted by the ghosts of the past and the burning of grief in her chest, Eddmina hardly noticed the guards march her across the land, closer to the keep. She didn't listen as men jeered at her, hardly noticing the names they called her. The Freys who were in charge of the seige had never learnt to fear her the way the Freys of the Twins had, so they were bold and crude, and Eddmina heard all their insults. There were the usual names that were hurled at women, of course, like 'whore' and 'witch', though she expected 'Tywin with Tits' to make an appearance and was almost disappointed when it didn't. They all clearly knew it wouldn't be a wise name given who had just arrived, so instead she heard a new ones: 'Mina the Mad', 'Eddmina the Murderer', 'Stark Siren'. The worst was 'Lady Lannister'.

She tried not to let it bother her, keeping her eyes fixed ahead on the castle, noticing how the walls were lined with men in Tully armour. Eddmina was suddenly glad that she and her brother had decided to leave their mother's ancestral home so well-manned, and with their Uncle too. She spotted him instantly, stood closest to the drawbridge yet high enough to see all that surrounded his home. He was too far away to tell if he could see her, but given the way the crowd parted around her, and the fact she had been dressed in bright red, it would have been impossible for him not to. She wanted to shout for him, scream his name, but it might have been seen as a weakness, and the fact that the guards had dragged her to the front line where Jaime and his father stood with the Frey commanders was enough to keep her silent. Even when the guards released her, when she felt Jaime gently loop his arm through hers, when she felt Lord Tywin glare at her and the Frey commander sneer at her, she remained silent.

"Are you-" Jaime leant closer to her to whisper, but she cut him off with a single look.

"If you ask me if I'm alright I will break your nose," she told him coldly. It made him fall quiet, but he almost smiled at her. "What are we doing?"

"He's refusing to lower the drawbridge so that we might meet and discuss terms," Jaime explained quietly. "Stubborn old fish, I should have never wondered where you get it from."

Before Eddmina could reply, she heard someone calling her Uncle's name, and every head turned to further down the line, where two Frey's were holding a skinny, unshaven man, dressed in tired clothes that he'd clearly been wearing for months. There was a moment of sunshine that made the knife they held to the man's throat shimmer, and the extra light made it easy to recognise the tired looking man. She knew the Lannisters were dragging her along for their plans, but she had assumed Edmure would be left behind, left in the Twins to rot as they had intended to do for her. Once again, she had assumed wrong. Her Uncle Edmure looked far worse for wear than he had done only a few weeks before at her wedding, looking empty and uncaring as the Frey's who held him shouted threats up to their Uncle, who glanced at him, unflinching.

"Yield the castle, or we'll cut his throat!" they threatened, though there was an edge of doubt to their voices.

Doubt or no, Eddmina made to move, wanting to get to Edmure as if she would be able to help him, as if her wrists weren't bound and she wasn't slow and swollen. The only thing stopping her was the grip Jaime held on her arm, and as she struggled against it she glared at him, willing him to let her go. Surely he knew what her Uncle's safety meant to her? They had never been close, they had never understood each other completely, but countless nights down in the cells of the Twins with only each other for company, when the Freys would descend upon them to torment them and Edmure would try his best to distract them from her, when he tried to comfort her the night they took her wedding ring when she wept herself to sleep... it had changed them both, and regardless of the past she wanted to run to him and help.

She wanted to help, but clearly Brynden didn't, as he didn't respond to the threats to his nephew's life. He stepped away from the wall of the keep the way she had seen him step away from the battle planning table whenever a lord made a comment that bored him. Eddmina felt as if a rock was on her chest, struggling to not clench her hands into fists.

"Make them let him go," she turned to Lord Tywin for the first time, fierce and desperate. "Tell them to stop, it won't work."

If Lord Tywin intended on answering, he didn't get the chance before Eddmina felt herself be jerked from Jaime's hold, someone grabbing her shortened hair in their fist and pulling her back. She let out an involuntary gasp, cursing her bound hands for preventing her from fighting back or doing anything other than wrapping her arms around her stomach, though she managed to struggle in her assailant's grip, even when she felt cold steel be pushed against her throat. She glanced around quickly to see it was a Frey holding her, the same one who had just been stood at Tywin Lannister's side. Lord Tywin looked disgusted at his rash attack, as did Jaime, but neither of them could do anything, too focused on the keep ahead, and the man ruling it who had leant closer. Even at their distance, Eddmina could see his furious frown. She hoped she didn't look scared, biting at her lip to keep her face still.

"Blackfish!" the Frey practically roared, and Eddmina winced as his voice echoed in her eardrum. "Let us in now or I'll kill her the same way we killed her mother, your niece."

Eddmina heaved, feeling like she was going to throw up on her attacker, simply because he mentioned her mother. She felt as if she had been thrown into the cold river, because suddenly she knew what had happened. No one had ever told her for sure what happened, and she hadn't seen it having been too blacked-out in rage as she killed Roose Bolton. She knew her mother's end, and knew it would happen to her too. It was not the Frey's voice she could hear anymore, but her mother's scream, echoing in her mind, making her wince, shaking in his hold. It felt as if she couldn't breathe, as if someone was holding her chest in a vice, and against her will she shut her eyes. If he was going to to it, she wanted him to simply get on with it, feeling as if her entire fate had been dragged on needlessly long.

"Let her go, you fucking imbecile," Jaime hissed to the Frey who held her. "Let her go, the old man doesn't care-"

Eddmina opened her eyes, looking up to the castle wall once more to see Jaime spoke the truth. Her Uncle Brynden had become unbothered once more, and Eddmina had to fight against the instinct to scream. First Willas had abandonned her, then no one had come to help her, and even upon seeing her life threatened before him, her Uncle didn't seem to care. Surely he did, surely it was a ruse, but doubt crept in and told her that it was the truth, that yet again she was being left to fend for herself. All her childhood worries about being unloved and nothing more than an unnecessary burden seemed stronger than ever.

It stung so badly that she hardly notice the Frey release her, so roughly that she would have fell onto her knees if not for Jaime catching her. She was glad for him then, her new husband, her only ally, and recoiled from the world into his arms, embracing him properly as if to hide. Breathing felt like an ordeal, as did remaining on her feet, and as a sharp kick hit her side, she had to force herself to remember where she was and who she was in front of. Even as betrayal rang through her, she pulled out of his arms and made herself take a step forward, leaving the Lannisters and the Freys behind.

"Uncle," she called, her jaw tense as she clenched her back teeth together. "Lower your bridge and let me in. I would like to talk to you."

Her Uncle Bryden stepped closer to the wall once more upon hearing her voice. Eddmina swallowed back her nerves and controlled her temper, hardly noticing how her palms stung from digging her fingernails into them.

"This is my home, I was born here," Eddmina continued, mustering every courage in her to sing the lies that the Lannisters wanted from her. "You'll let me in, or my goodfather's army will have no choice but to attack and force surrender."

"Your goodfather was Mace Tyrell, and he died at the Red Wedding," her Uncle called back to her, fury in his voice. While others only heard the anger, Eddmina instantly picked up on the heartbreak, and how his eyes betrayed how he really felt.

"Aye, you don't need to tell me, I saw it happen, I-" Eddmina made herself stop talking when she felt a lump forming in her throat, remembering how a man who didn't even like her died for her, remembering how Garlan wept and pleaded for him to get up. She took a deep breath, and looked back at her Uncle. "I saw all of it. I was there, while you were here, hiding. Let me in."

He remained there for a moment before he disappeared away from the wall. Eddmina cursed under her breath, resigning herself to being truly abandonned, stepping back to join Jaime and his father, but before she could get back to them she heard a banging creak, and turned as quick as she could to see the gate being raised and the drawbridge lowering. Her mouth dropped open in shock before she could think to maintain her coolness, and she fought against the instinct to run into the keep she had called home. At least a dozen men in Tully armour marched to the gate, and when she heard the sound of armoured feet patrolling behind her to follow her in, the Tully guards blocked their way.

"Lord Brynden says that her grace shall enter alone," one of the guards spoke.

Eddmina recognised the voice instantly; one of the boys she had once trained to shoot, the one who had complained at every chance that his arms ached. Seeing him alive, seeing the stern bravery from underneath the helmet he wore, Eddmina felt at home, and smiled. So relieved to find someone she knew alive and well, she hardly noticed how he called her 'her grace', hardly considered what it meant.

"We will go with her, to ensure that all aspects of our terms are understood," she heard Lord Tywin's voice drawled from behind her, cold as ever, and unrelenting.

"Our lord states that either her grace comes alone, or not at all," the same guard repeated, staring at Lord Tywin as if he wasn't the most feared man in Westeros. Eddmina felt oddly proud, almost maternal for the boy who was only a few years her junior.

"I'll go," Eddmina nodded to the guard, before turning around to face her her husband and goodfather. "I know the terms. He won't speak to you at all, but me... Have my Uncle Edmure fed properly, the way a guest of the Lannisters should be. At least that way I can tell him we have been well cared for."

"She will be returned to us by sunset, and she will return with your Lord's surrender," Lord Tywin ignored her, speaking to the Tully guards. When they nodded in agreement, Eddmina made to turn back to them and follow them inside, but Lord Tywin quickly gripped her shoulder, forcing her to look at him as he lowered his face to hers, his voice quiet as he instructed, "You go in, you convince him to surrender, and then you let all of us in.You know what is at stake."

"Either I convince my Uncle to give up his life, or you send one of those Valyrian steel swords after my son," she remarked coldly with a nod. "Don't fret yourself, my lord. I know my duty."

With that, Eddmina marched herself into her maternal keep, surrounded by men once sworn to protect her. Unused to walking far or doing anything that wasn't pacing around whatever small enclosure she was being held in, it felt like she had walked miles, especially as the babe weighed heavy on her and her back ached, but she knew to show none of it, not even when the gate was lowered once more, seperating her from her captives for the first time in months. The guard who had spoken bowed his head at her as he alone approached, and though he held his knife out towards her and she initially tried to jerk away, but when he was close enough and cut away the rope binding her hands, she allowed herself to lower her guard a little. The ropes fell to the floor and she muttered a quiet remark of gratitude, but even so, she kept herself steeled, her fists clenched tight as she fought the urge to hum to herself, and when her Uncle Brynden appeared, walking towards her with storming determination, she made herself stand taller. Riverrun had been a place she had to constantly prove herself and make herself seem strong, so the sensation was not an unfamiliar one even if it was to a person she had always allowed herself to be free around.

The guards stepped away as their lord approached, heading straight towards Eddmina as if no one else was there. She expected him to curse her or insult her, to walk past her or discipline his guards for allowing her in. That was why she didn't look at him, keeping her gaze to the sky. Her father taught her eye contact mattered, but looking in her Uncle's eyes and seeing his disappointment would have hurt, so she refused. Not looking at him meant that she didn't see him fall to his knees before her, bowing his head. He had done the exact same to Robb the first time they had arrived in Riverrun months before.

"My Queen," he breathed out, his voice ringing with agony and heartbreak, laced with a strange sort of relief, as if he was desperately trying not to cry.

The words barely registered in her before she was shaking her head. She was no Queen, and she was no one worthy of such respect. She thought he would hate her, stood there in Lannister red sent to command him to surrender. Instead when he realised she wouldn't tell him to stand, he did so of his own accord, and pulled her into an embrace. She was so stunned by what he had said, but not stunned enough to not hug him back. He was holding her so tight, and it was only then she realised how badly she was trembling.

"I thought I had lost you," her uncle muttered, sounding empty. He pulled away, still holding her to look her up and down. When his eyes landed on her stomach, she let herself release a shaky breath. "Both of you are alive?"

Eddmina didn't have the strength for words, so merely nodded, not knowing where to start. Knowing her nerves better than most people, noticing the empty look in her eyes, Brynden was quick to shout commands at the guards around him, and before she knew it his hand was on her back, gently guiding her inside. She hardly noticed him whisking her into the nearest hall where a fire was burning in the hearth, two armchairs pulled close with a table filled with a platter of food in between them. He was ordering for her to have a room prepared, for women to come and attend to her and "a different bloody colour dress" for her to wear, but she heard none of it, not as he led her to the chair closest to the fire, helping her sit before he took the seat across from her, leaning closer to her as if he couldn't believe she was real. It had been such a whirlwind that she hardly believed she was real either, her head aching.

She could hear him speaking, hear him apologising, but what words he was truly speaking were lost on her. Instead she merely stared into the fire, focusing on staying breathing, hardly noticing how he had taken her hand until she felt his thumb stroke over her knuckles. Months worth of staying on guard kicked back in then as she jerked away from him, forgetting where she was, forgetting he was to be trusted.

"Your grace," he tried gently, looking at her as if she was the only thing in the world.

"Stop calling me that," she snarled, old habits of fury dying hard. "I'm not-"

Technically, she was. It was the first time she'd considered it. Robb was dead. Jon too, apparently. Bran and Rickon were also long gone. Arya was dead too, and Sansa's fate remained unknown. It was as if she had jumped into the cold river, feeling as if she was drowning. She had spent so long trying to ensure that succession didn't fall to her in order to protect her son from being looked to as heir, but no matter her work and efforts, it had all ended up being in vain. She looked into the flames, not caring that it made her eyes sting and her vision blur, wishing that the fire could swallow her up so she could join Robb, where she belonged.

Brynden had taken her hand once more, yet instead he was examining her fingernails and the skin around them. It was only upon him inspecting them that she noticed that her nails were short and her fingers all scabbed. Had she done that herself? Had she chewed away at them in her months of imprisonment? It was the same with her arms, she realised, as the sleeve of her dress moved up and she saw patches of rash that she hadn't paid any attention to before from where she must have scratched at herself over and over whenever her nightmares made her skin itch. How hadn't she noticed that she'd done any of it? If not for his contained horror and sympathy, she wouldn't have felt anything about it.

"What you have endured, what they have put you through... it is over now, I promise," he told her gently, squeezing her hand before dropping it, as if knowing she was hating every second of his pity.

All Eddmina could do was shake her head, not knowing how to articulate it never being over. Too much of that wedding would haunt her forever, the impact of months worth of imprisonment would never leave her. She would hear her mother screaming and begging for the lives of her eldest children for as long as she lived, she'd remember how Garlan pleaded with his father to get up and run with them only to die moments later forever, both of them giving their lives for hers so she could rot in the Twins and become some sort of monster that was the furthest thing a lady of the Reach was expected to be. Dacey had tried to speak her name as she died, so many other young northerners she'd cared for cut down and massacred, and it took very little for her to remember the choking smell of their blood that had surrounded her. Then there was Robb, her beautiful brother, her other half. How could she ever forget what had happened when she would have to live out the rest of her miserable existence without him?

"Eddmina..." Brynden sighed, as if he could see the ghosts and the trauma in her dazed eyes. "You're home."

"This isn't home, this is..." she began, though trailed off when she remembered that Roose Bolton's son held the ruin of Winterfell, and the Tyrells had abandonned her. "I cannot stay. I promised Lord Tywin that I would secure your surrender, so that the Freys may take this keep to rule."

"You expect me to believe that?" he asked, leaning back in his chair, his eyebrow quirked up in a dare. "This farce with you being married to the Kingslayer-"

"Ser Jaime and I are married, we were wed in front of the old gods with a group of northern witnesses," she told him stubbornly, though noticed how his jaw clenched at her mention of her gods, as if he knew what pain that would have brought her. "I told the northerners to surrender and go home, and they agreed. You must now do the same."

"This is coming from the girl who wanted to kill Jaime Lannister, the same girl who I hear has killed at least twenty men since that cursed wedding, so you expect me to believe you're now on their side living happily as a Lannister? You want me to believe that child you carry is the Kingslayers, a product of infidelity, the pair of you long-term lovers finally granted to marry?" he interrogated her, clearly frustrated when she looked away to the fire again. It took him a moment to swallow back his irritation, looking her up and down as if trying to read her, and it felt like a long time before he leant closer to her once more, his voice gentle again. "You wouldn't do any of this willingly. What threats did they make against your boys? Did the Old Lion threaten to make another Castamere out of Highgarden with little Uther and your Ser Willas still inside?"

The mention of her son and Willas was enough to make her rise to her feet as if desperate to flee. It would have been easy enough if it wasn't such a struggle to stand, and before she could even move he had risen to join her. He instantly picked up on how tense the mention of Willas made her, even if he didn't understand why. He was quick to take her arm gently, stopping her from leaving, and when he noticed her hands forming fists he took hold of her other shoulder too.

"I do not care what happens to Ser- Lord Willas, he clearly did not care what happened to me, but Uther, and this boy..." she told him, hating how her voice strained as her throat closed, yet impressed with herself as she managed to look at him properly. "They're all I have left, I can't not protect them, I can't... If it means keeping them alive then I'll..."

Eddmina drifted off, sinking back into her seat. Her uncle sat with her, yet instead of going to his own seat he moved to kneel in front of her, still holding her arms. She hardly noticed that a few tears had escaped until she felt him brushing them away. It was all so overwhelming, to be free of the Twins for the first time in forever, to be away from Freys and Lannisters, to be with someone who loved her and didn't hate her despite everything. As she felt the baby kick at her, she knew she was lucky, despite it all. Luck and gratitude were hard things to feel given all she had endured, yet she managed it as she sank forward, resting her forehead onto her uncle's shoulder.

"If you do not surrender, then Lord Tywin will send men to Highgarden and kill Uther," she said tiredly, her voice void of emotions. "I don't know what conditions the Tyrells are keeping him under, I don't know if they've already treated him like a prisoner-"

"Eddmina, why in seven hells would they treat him like a prisoner?" he cut in, exclaiming with a small laugh of surprise. She was too tired to lift her head and look at him to see just how baffled he was. "The Tyrells adore that boy, especially your husband. I don't think they would ever even think of hurting him."

"How would I know?" she snapped, sitting up at last. "I have been rotting for months, no one has told me anything except things they think would upset me. I don't know who's alive or dead, or where my son is, how he is. What I do know, however, is that Willas Tyrell isn't my husband, so if you wouldn't mind not calling him that I would be most grateful."

Brynden's eyes narrowed, his brows furrowed deeply as he studied the cold fury on her face. He looked just as exhausted as she felt, yet there was life still in him, and a need to fight igniting inside. He gave her cheek a loving stroke before he got up, reaching to the mantle above the hearth, retrieving a letter and handing it to her. He said something about it arriving a day before, but she didn't hear him, too focused on the green wax seal, embossed with a rose. The sight of it was sickening, and she instantly went to throw it in the fire until Brynden took her wrist and stopped her.

"Don't you dare," he warned gently, prising the parchment from her hand. "If you will not read it yourself..."

He proceeded to read it to her, and Eddmina closed her eyes, letting his words sink in. She didn't need to see the handwriting to know who had penned the letter. If the seal hadn't proved it then the linguistic choices told her all she needed to know, yet the words made the hairs on her arms stand to attention, a shiver running down her spine. She stroked her hands against her belly, desperate not to fall for a trick, but when she heard who had written the letter, heard the name and recalled the declarations of love and intentions of vengeance, it became a struggle. Even so, she kept a scowl fixed on her face, one that made Brynden let out an exasperated laugh when he caught sight of it.

"Do they sound like the words of a man not madly in love and in the pits of grief?" he questioned her. Eddmina shrugged like a stubborn child, looking to the fire again. "Queen or no, look at me, niece, and tell me that man isn't your husband."

"He was, then he wrote to the High Septon for an annulment," she told him, her voice bitingly bitter. She didn't look at Brynden to see his confused scowl. "Willas didn't come to help me. No one came to help me, now you think me a fool and a traitor for going along with what the Lannisters want just to keep my children alive?"

"I think you a fool for not listening to me," he shrugged back at her, waving the letter towards her. "Would you care for me to read it again? That man loves you, that man is haunted by you. I would have rather him ridden north rather than treat with foreign queens, but he would install a queen of fire and blood just to see those who hurt you suffer. He thinks you are dead! I do not know what you were told to convince you that he hates you or would break all the laws of the gods just to be free of you, but you were told lies. You are a smart woman, an excellent tactician, but grief does strange things to all of us, makes us think strange things. Tywin Lannister has taken advantage of you for his own gain."

His words had Eddmina shaking. She wanted to retch, wanted to run and hide, curl in a ball and weep. It was exhausting to feel so confused, so conflicted. She didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Had she thought Willas a traitor when in fact it was her fault all along? Had she been tricked and lied to, or did her first husband truly hate her? There was no faking a signature on a certificate of annulment, no faking Willas' handwriting, unless of course one was excellent at forgery and there were plenty of letters out there with his signature on to copy...

Her heart was thundering in her chest as if it was about to rip out of her, anger coursing through her like a river in a storm. She managed to get to her feet once more, her height matching her Uncle's as she pried the letter from his hands. She didn't bother reading it for herself, her eyes zoning straight to his signature. She had seen it on countless letters, remembering the pile that she had tied up in ribbon in the drawer of her dressing table in Highgarden from before they were married. It was only upon seeing his signature then that she realised her mistake, too blinded by shock and grief, maddened by months of imprisonment; she had forgotten that Willas often dotted his quill after the last 'l' of his surname. She'd watched him do it many times, often finding it an amusing detail. She had seen the annulment letter enough times in her dreams to recall that the dot had been missing.

She shook her head, tears threatening to spill. Did Willas truly not set her aside? Did he not attempt to come for her not because he hated her but because he thought her dead? Had he not even come to avenge her simply because he found losing her too all-consuming and crushing to the point he had to focus on some other form of vengeance? Did he still love her? The answers were still so far from her grasp, unable to wrap her head around it. It was too much, too painful, and Eddmina could barely breathe. She didn't know what to feel, but decided anger was the easiest as she clenched her fists, the letter screwing up in her grip as she let out a scream. Brynden merely watched, his arms folded across his chest.

"He's safe? Uther's safe too?" Eddmina asked the only thing she could think to speak, feeling a moment of calm until Brynden nodded. Upon his confirmation, she clenched her jaw again. "I want all the Lannisters dead."

"Me too," he agreed, nodding proudly. "I believe there's a lot more that you need to know though."

The pair of them sat back down by the fire, and Brynden proceeded to explain everything else she had missed in her five months exile from the world. Parts of his tales had her in shock, other parts in tears. She knew Jon was dead, knew he had been betrayed and murdered by his brothers in the nights watch, yet her uncle telling her didn't make it hurt any less. She didn't know that Stannis Baratheon had also fallen, destroyed by Roose Bolton's illegitimate son who held Winterfell. She didn't know about Harrion Karstark either, killed by Ramsay Bolton himself during a raid on their camp, though Sansa and Edric Baratheon had fled and survived. Their fates were mostly unknown, though Brynden swore she was alive the last he heard, alive and desperate to avenge her siblings as she apparently rode around the north trying to rally the bannermen to a cause. Eddmina would have been proud were she not so heartbroken by it all.

While the Red Wedding - as men had taken to calling it- had been intended to put a swift end to the war, it had stirred up greater trouble in the Riverlands. Brynden and Tully loyalists had held strong and refused to fall to the siege enforced by the Freys, as did other Riverlands houses, no matter what force was inflicted on them. The Mountain had pillaged and burnt villages in an attempt to get the lords to yield, until he was summoned back by the Lannisters to the capital to serve as a protector to the royal family, and the Riverlands recovered and answered back to his violence in the form of the Brotherhood Without Banners. Eddmina had never heard of them until hearing that Tywin himself was wary to them, and that was enough to make her pleased to the chaos they caused. They had done whatever possible to inconvenience the Freys and Lannisters from raiding their supplies, cutting off contact of small camps and travelling parties to the rest of the armies, to killing whoever they possibly could. Few among them were famed as killers, many of them just being boys who wanted to belong to something, but their lack of status had caused people to overlook them, and that was the beginning of their infamy. Those who had been trained fighters were an equal match to the Lannisters, and Brynden didn't brush over how important they were to whatever cause they had left. According to him, they wanted the injustices settled, and for the rightful rulers to take their place; apparently, that meant her.

Then there was the case of Willas and the Tyrells. According to Brynden, Willas had agreed to whatever terms Tywin had thrown his way for surrender, even sending Margaery and his grandmother off to the capitol as wards, pledging his sister as Joffrey's betrothed. Had she not decided the annulment signature was a fake she would have condemned him as a true traitor, but knowing what she did, the whole think reeked of one of his grandmother's plots. While they played the game in King's Landing, Willas was in Dorne. While she had been rotting and tormented in the Twins, he had been with Oberyn, and though she knew he was there working and plotting, she assumed a significant amount of wine and liqour was included too. As confused as she was over everything, as odd as it felt to remind herself that he may not hate her after all, it still infuriated her that he was off with people who loved him in a country he had always loved, their son most likely left behind parentless.

By the time Brynden finished catching her up, the sun had begun to set, casting a deep orange glow across the dusky sky. Their time was drawing short, both of them knew it, yet Eddmina was reluctant to go, especially when her mind was set on revenge, her whole body yearning to cause chaos. Brynden was the exact same, which was why when he finished telling her of everything she had missed, he leant closer to her and took her hand one more time.

"We do not have the men here to fight them, so perhaps we should come up with a plan?" he suggested to her, a dry smile creeping onto his face. "Play them at their own game? Perhaps we should plan my surrender."

Eddmina didn't need to be told that it would be a plot to trick them, which was why her smile soon mirrored his.

***

Eddmina stood in the courtyard as the drawbridge lowered and the gates raised. She tried her best to look hurt as men in Lannister armour rode in, tried to look bitter and full of despair as Freys stormed through the gates cheering. While everyone else seemed to storm around the courtyard in celebration of their victory, Jaime and his father marched straight to her, so she made sure to stand as tall as possible, unflinching, her face steeled and calm.

"You're not to sack the keep, or cause any damage," she instructed Tywin. "My uncle has surrendered Riverrun to me, and I'm surrendering it to you under the condition that everyone remaining here will be treated with respect and promised safety."

"And where is your Uncle?" Tywin frowned at her, not allowing himself the pleasure of the victory.

"Fled, I'm afraid," she told him, the lie smooth. "I promised him that we would grant him his life if he swore himself to the Night's Watch. He is heading to the Wall as we speak."

"Foolish girl, we needed him dead to take the keep properly," Tywin growled, frustrated at her yet again, especially when she merely shrugged.

"The Wall needs him more, my lord," she insisted. "Riverrun is yours, I've done as you asked, now-"

She was interrupted by the sound of more horses riding into the courtyard, all of them baring the sigil of the Freys. The horses were followed by a wheelhouse, far larger than the one she had been confined to, though the furthest thing from grand. When it grumbled to a halt, the door flew open, and a few Frey women poured out, all of them looking as meek and cowering as they had done before Edmure's wedding, though Eddmina didn't get chance to feel confused as to why they were there as she was quickly distracted by disgust as she saw several Frey sons and grandsons move to the steps of the wheelhouse, assisting their elderly patriarch out of the carriage.

"What in seven hells is he doing here?" she seethed, glaring at Tywin and Jaime.

"Riverrun was promised to house Frey," Jaime reminded her, attempting to be gentle even when he saw how tense her jaw had become, how her hands had tightened into fists at the sight of Lord Walder Frey. "It is only right that they are here."

Eddmina hadn't expected him, and his sudden arrival made her well-practiced facade slip. Seeing the man who laughed as her family died stirred up her well-tempered fury, and if not for Jaime standing in her way she was sure she would have stormed over and done something. Tripped him, shoved him down the steps, kicked him until he was a bloody pulp, she wasn't sure, her revenge undecided, but it didn't matter, as her husband stood in her way.

Was Jaime truly her husband? If Willas' signature had been a forgery, were they truly annulled, making her wedding to Jaime a sham? It had happened in front of her gods, different gods to whom she wed Willas in front of, gods who meant more to her than the Seven, and that complicated things mercilessly. Perhaps that was why Tywin had planned it that way, not just to truly hurt her but simply because she was already married in the eyes of the new gods so had no choice but to turn to another religion. The whole thing made her want to throw her fist into Tywin's face until his smug superiority was nothing more than bruise and blood, but no matter how much her hands ached to get hold of him, she restrained herself. The time for revenge was coming, all she had to do was play her part and wait.

"What will happen now?" She asked, feigning worry for the keep as she glanced around.

"Now is of no concern to you," Lord Tywin dismissed her quickly. "You've done your part, and I must admit you've done it well, but it is time for you to enter confinement. Once your condition has been dealt with and my grandchild delivered then we may reassess your place with us."

Yet again she was being dismissed and set aside, and yet again infuriation burned through her. Her teeth ached she clenched her jaw so tightly, and no amount of tightening her fists could make her feel in control. She was used to feeling powerless as a prisoner, but not in a keep she had once run, not in her maternal home. She was used to feeling belittled and disregarded, but not in a place she had found her own strength. Being with Brynden had given her a glimpse of her old self, the girl she had been and the woman she might have become, but being straight back with the Lannisters and the Freys reminded her that she was a far cry from herself of only five months ago, and they wouldn't stop until she was changed and broken forever.

It was a great battle to remind herself she had asked to stay in Riverrun, that Brynden had told her to flee with him, but their plan needed her to stay behind. She'd been the one to tell him that, and she had known exactly how staying would make her feel when she handed herself back over to her captives. She knew how degraded she had so often been made to feel, knew she was going to be subjected to it all again, but it would be for the greater good. Surely it would, it had to be. She trusted her uncle with her life even after telling herself to trust no one ever.

A harsh grip on her shoulder was what snapped her from her thoughts, and she knew the feeling well enough to know it was a guard ready to take her away. A sudden fear rose up in her that they would take her to her old room as a prison cell, and Eddmina couldn't stomach that. It had been a room where she'd enjoyed so much love amongst the hardest times, where she had felt safe when the world was anything but. Instantly she felt herself pull back, struggling in his grip.

"I'm not staying here," she argued, not hating herself enough to air all her vulnerabilities and reservations. "I'm not-"

"The deal was we would not leave you behind in the Twins, so we will instead leave you here," Lord Tywin explained, as if she was the stupidest girl alive.

"Still with the Freys, I don't want-" she snapped back but stopped herself when Jaime stepped closer and grabbed both her hands so tight she couldn't pull free. "Let me go."

"Perhaps this is for the best, Edda," he attempted to reason. "You're in no state for travel, here you'll be safe, they won't hurt you."

"Call me that name again and I'll kill you," she seethed, realising almost everyone who'd called her 'Edda' was dead.

Jon and Robb had invented her nickname when they were little, deciding her full name was too longwinded and they didn't have the time for saying all of it when they were in the middle of playing. Her mother had hated it, as she hated anything Jon did, yet slowly it became a part of their lives, especially when their father slipped up and called it her once, much to his wife's distaste. Soon almost everyone called her that name, and her real name seemed reserved for strangers, formal occasions, and her mother. It was a name she'd heard her father call quietly to her in their godswood, a name she'd heard Theon moan at her against her lips, a name Robb had yelled in joyful fury as she beat him in their horse races, a name she'd heard the younger ones squeal when they played chase around the castle. It felt like the name of a different person of a different life, and not at all a name she wanted her new husband to say. Perhaps that was why to illustrate her point she managed to seize one of her hands free and hit him across the face.

To his credit, Jaime barely flinched, though the Lannister guard who held her shoulders dragged her back so quickly she was almost swept off her feet and pulled to the floor. She grunted, especially as she felt a sharp kick to her side, and when her husband stepped away and his father marched up to her, seething coldly, she expected the worst. He was only inches away when a distraction came in the form of another Frey arrival party, riding though the gates with whooping cheers. It was embarrassing, as if they had conquered the castle themselves and not had it handed to them by a woman, but their cheers were so loud it made everyone look round at them in disdainful curiosity.

"Here comes the Lord of Riverrun!" One of them cried with a laugh, kicking his horse as he rode it around the courtyard in a great circle, his brothers or cousins riding behind him.

The last rider of their three man procession held a loop of rope in his hands. It took her a moment to see what the other end of the rope was attached to, what blurred heap dragging along the floor was, but when she caught sight of it, when she realised it was her Uncle bloodied and bruised, obviously fighting and struggling to pull himself back to his feet despite it all, she screamed. Edmure Tully being dragged into the courtyard of the castle he once ruled as liege was spectacle enough, if not for her cry making every head turn to her. If not for both Jaime and Tywin grabbing hold of her she would have stormed into their path, distracted the horses, cut him free from his ropes, anything she possibly could to stop what was happening. Perhaps it was a good thing they were there, as running in their way would have only gotten her killed, but she was blinded to that in the desperation to protect, and that was why she kept struggling in their grip, and kept screaming at them to stop.

"I told you to have him well kept!" She snarled, turning to Jaime, though she could barely see him through unshed tears. "Make them stop! Please, make them stop!"

'Not another one,' she thought when the Lannister Lord and heir held her in place while the Freys jeered at their fallen former liege. 'Don't make me lose anyone else.'

Despite doing nothing but stopping her from running into harms way, both Lannister men looked disgusted. Prisoner or no, the man they abused was highborn and a Lord, and did not warrant such treatment. Even the Lannisters did not stoop to those levels. That wasn't something she cared to notice though, because when the horses finally halted, she jabbed her elbow behind her, hitting Jaime in the side with enough force to break free, and she had enough sanity left to think to grab his dagger off his belt before she stormed in on the pack of Freys that had descended in on her uncle. The horseman who held his bonds was still on his mount, while the others had gotten down and more joined them, all wanting to swing a kick at the heap on the floor, all wanting their laughing father to see.

Motivated by nothing but pure heartbroken rage, she shoved her way through the crowd, barely realising if she was catching anyone with the stolen blade, and when her knife cut her a clean path she fell to her knees to join her uncle on the floor. He seemed unable to catch his breath, curled in a ball in a last ditch attempt of self-preservation, and she wondered just how he had found himself in such a position. It was just like the Freys to make such a stupidly cruel demonstration of their newfound status, to drag the former Lord of Riverrun into his old keep in disgrace while they take it for themselves. It didn't matter if the Lannisters had followed her order of keeping her uncle cared for, the Freys were stupid enough to do as they wished. She wondered how long had he been attached to the horse, if he had managed to run alongside them for long before he ended up stumbling. It didn't particularly matter, as regardless he was barely conscious, even as she dropped her weapon and grabbed his hand with one of hers, the other grabbing his face, willing him to look at her.

It was not supposed to go like that. Eddmina felt control slip once more, the world ripped out from underneath her again. She and Brynden had their plots, they had been so sure of finding success, yet things had changed already, their plan derailed so suddenly, and Eddmina felt as if she could barely breathe, shaking her head in disbelief. Not again. Not again would something go wrong when she had begun to see a way out. Her hand on her uncle's face drifted down to his chest to feel his ragged breathing just as she felt a tight cramp in her lower back.

"Cat?" He asked, his voice slurred, his eyes barely open as he looked up at her.

"I wish," Eddmina whispered bitterly, knowing once again she wanted her mother desperately. "I'm so sorry, you're home, we're home, I'll get them to fetch Vyman and-"

She cut herself off as another sharp cramp robbed her of all air, but that was when mailed hands hauled her off the floor anyway, pulling her to her feet and away from her uncle no matter how much she struggled. Despite trying to fight, despite desperately craning her neck to keep her eyes fixed on her uncle, she came face-to-face with Lord Tywin once more. He looked as full of cold disgust as he always did, but for once it was not directed at her, but instead the pack of Freys that still surrounded them.

"I will have the Maester tend to him and see his injuries taken care of," he told her, before he looked to the guards who held her from behind. "Take her to whatever tower room is most secure, and make sure that no one goes near her."

***

For the first time in a long time, Eddmina Stark had fallen completely silent. There were no songs, no humming, nothing. She couldn't even be bothered to pace, and instead confined herself to curling up on the bed of her new prison cell. She thought that perhaps if she lay still she might stop feeling the ache in her back and stomach that kept seizing up every so often, but all she really wished for was to fall into a deep, dreamless sleep. It was all she wanted, because then she could pretend that nothing existed anymore. All her pain and suffering would be over, all her worrying would be needless, and she wouldn't need to lose anyone else.

Seeing Brynden had given her a stupid boost of hope, a reminder of who she had been. Seeing Edmure had served her reality brutally, and was left hating herself and their world once more. She wished she'd never seen Brynden, wished no one had stopped the Frey who'd held a knife to her throat to threaten her stubborn uncle. At least then she could be a prisoner again without considering what the alternative would be, and she wouldn't be forced to overthink everything about the past few months, especially her husbands.

It felt like a foolish thing to think about, given that one uncle had fled to kickstart their surely reckless and bound-to-fail plan, and the other was possibly dying, but Willas and Jaime possessed every thought. Jaime had gone, making it the second husband to abandon her. He and his father had left just after she had been taken up to her room - ironically, the same room Jaime had been imprisoned in only months before. She'd heard Tywin tell the guards to admit no one in the room, save the maester and that was only if she desperately needed him, especially since Vyman was otherwise occupied seeing to her uncle. Despite it all, she had to thank Tywin for that given how many Freys she knew occupied the castle and how they must desperately want to torment her. She hated how vulnerable she felt, knowing the two Lannister men had left, especially Jaime, feeling as if she had lost her one protector left.

Willas had promised to be her protector. He'd constantly told her that, and constantly despaired over her putting herself in harms way. Only days before the reminder of that fact would have spiralled her into anger because despite those promises he had betrayed her and left her, but the letter Brynden had read echoed around her mind until her head ached and made her feel dizzy. Did he still love her? Did he still love Uther? Did he think their second son dead alongside her? Did he mourn her, or hate her from beyond her grave for causing the death of his father, brother, and son? Would she ever see him again? Would he ever want to see her again? Was he still her husband? Would he care that she had given herself to another man in the eyes of her gods, the gods he'd wanted to marry her in front of again? Would she ever get to see Uther again? Would he hate her and think she'd abandoned him and his father?

She was glad the tower room they had locked her away in was far from her original room at Riverrun, unsure if she could cope with being so close to where she had lived with Willas. Remembering him felt suffocating, an all-consuming yearning to see him making her want to scream. Even if he did hate her, she just wanted to have him look at her and confirm that fact simply so she could continue on with her miserable life knowing the truth. As their son fidgeted and kicked inside her restlessly to the point she felt as if she was on the verge of tears, she found tearing her mind from him impossible. At least in her tower room she didn't have to compare what her life had been, what she thought her life would be. In her tower room she didn't have to commit herself to the bed she'd shared with Willas every night, she didn't have to see the pile of books he would leave on his bedside table, she wouldn't have to be faced with any physical reminders of what once had been.

"Lady Lannister," she heard a creeping voice call from the other side of the door. She barely winced at the name, even if it did hurt her already broken heart. "Sing us a song, Mad Mina!"

The voice sounded like a Frey. They'd stopped fearing her, clearly. Having Riverrun and the protection of the Lannisters had given them a boost of courage, and as Eddmina curled up on the bed tighter, she considered just how powerless she felt. She'd thought she'd regained something in herself seeing Brynden, but really, she was more lost than ever.

"You're going to die here, Lady Lannister, we're going to make sure of it just like you killed our brothers," another Frey called.

"You killed my brothers," she whispered, her chest hollow and aching as a reluctant tear slipped down her cheek.

"Now that Lord Tywin and Ser Jaime have gone do you think you're going to be safe here, you and your bastard?" The first Frey taunted, making Eddmina wrap her arms around her stomach tighter. She expected further insults, further threats, but there was a pause and the sound of feet shuffling, before the same Frey asked in a blunt muffled voice, "What do you want?"

"I want to go in there," a new voice called, softer yet firm and direct; a woman. Eddmina realised it was Nan. "I have business with my lady."

"We've been told not to admit anyone," the second voice replied bluntly, before adding, "So fuck off."

There was another long pause, another gap of silence, and Eddmina almost considered trying to sleep again, assuming the Freys and Nan had all left. Threats to her life and to her child were never easy things to sleep on, especially when she was already filled with so much hatred and despair, but she'd had plenty of that in the early days of her time at the Twins, days that would never leave her and her nightmares for as long as she was permitted to live. She had grown used to existing in fear, used to forcing herself not to care and feeling nothing.

Given how tired she felt sleep should have been easy. Except, there was a choking gasp, and a thudding sound against the door. It sounded like steel clattering in on itself, like someone had dropped a full suit of armour, yet the noise of it was dulled, like the armour had dropped with a body still inside it. If something had happened, it had happened so quick that whoever had fallen didn't have chance to scream.

The door swung open then, while Eddmina was backed against the foot of her bed, arms wrapped around herself. She saw the Frey guards first, both lying on the floor on their backs, both staring up at the ceiling unseeing, both bleeding from their necks where they had been stabbed in the gaps of their armour. Stood in the doorway was Nan, braver than Eddmina had ever seen her, her hair tied back from her face as if readying herself for work. There was a determined look on her face, her eyebrows tensed together as she met Eddmina's eyes, and though she was breathing heavily from the adrenaline of the two bodies that were either side of her, she instantly seemed to soften upon seeing her. Eddmina was so busy staring at the maid that she barely noticed the delicately thin sword the girl held in her left hand.

"My lady," the Nan began, seeing the shock and worry Eddmina was desperately trying to hide as she tried to figure out what was happening.

"If you're here to kill me, get on with it quick, please," Eddmina said, looking at the two dead men as she struggled to sit up, wondering if she was next, if Nan was a spy who had infiltrated the Lannisters just to get close to her. Eddmina was too worn out to consider how foolish of an idea that was, given how much time alone the two of them had endured.

"Kill you?" the maid exclaimed, betraying the calm nature she was trying to uphold as she dashed further into the room, only stopping when Eddmina jerked back behind the bed. "Kill you? No, Eddie, of course not, I'd never-"

Something dawned on Nan's face then as she stopped bluntly in her tracks. It was as if she had accidentally revealed a secret, and she looked afraid as her eyes widened and she swallowed deeply, her hand shaking a little to the point that Eddmina finally noticed the sword. Eddmina looked up and down at the girl, and realised that she looked primed ready to pounce on her as she forced away whatever it was that had made her stop speaking, and all Eddmina could think was that Nan was going to run at her to attack.

She hated the world for twisting her mind that way, to be suspicious of harm and surprise assaults, because it took her far too long to process what Nan had actually said, what she had actually called her. No one called her 'Eddie', not her brothers, or her parents, or any of the Tyrells. No one called her 'Eddie', except...

"That's not my name," she shook her head, backing away again, desperate to keep her fury at bay that some Lannister maid would steal the name her little sister had coined. Not just the name, but the sword too, because then Eddmina noticed the quality of steel and forging. "That's northern steel, Winterfell forged. Where did you steal that from? Who did you steal it from?"

"I didn't steal it," Nan replied stubbornly as she stood up a little straighter, sounding hurt and insulted.

Everything about her suddenly made Eddmina's head ache as she felt as if she was back in Winterfell, back with a girl who was surely a ghost. The girl she reminded her of had to be dead, and even if she wasn't, there was no way that she could be her. The girl who Eddmina had bid farewell to in Winterfell with the promises to write and visit had been so much shorter, with messy hair. She had been paler too, stick skinny and wiry. She had the dark Stark hair that they shared with their half brother and father, and looked almost like the statue of their aunt. The maid who stood before her was too tall, her hair too blonde, her nose too turned-up, her cheeks too rosy. Her cheeks were too full, her chin too rounded. She knew the girl like the back of her hand, had seen her over and over in her dreams not to mention every day of their childhoods. She had seen the girl only hours after being brought into the world, had been one of the first to hold her, and had enjoyed the honour of watching her grow into the features that were so vastly different to the maid who stood in front of her.

Even so, the way she spoke, the way she held herself, the name, the sword...

"Stop it," Eddmina shook her head, fists clenched. Nan looked desperate and like her heart was breaking. "Whatever you're doing, whatever you're here for, just leave me alone."

"I'm not leaving you," she insisted firmly, stepping closer and looking dismayed the moment Eddmina flinched backwards. "Eddie."

"Only my sister called me that," Eddmina breathed out against her own will, hating how Nan broke into a sorrowful smile, as if she was utterly saddened yet disbelievingly relieved to be stood before her.

"And my sister used to sing to me and my siblings," the maid said in a similar voice. "Her favourite was Brave Danny Flint, but our sister always wanted the love songs and the fairytales."

"There's no such thing as love songs, they're only for fools," Eddmina said before she could stop herself, hating how the maid grinned, hating how similar it was to how her sister would have smiled. "You aren't... You, she... She's dead."

"Close your eyes," Nan asked, her voice shaking a little as she realised the pressure of the situation. Her eyes were wide and open, silently begging for Eddmina's trust, but when she could see that such a thing was impossible, then she dropped the sword. "Please. Please, Eddie, trust me, and close your eyes."

Plenty of people had called her a madwoman, and Eddmina knew they had to be right the moment she found herself nodding, and covered her eyes with her hands. It was easier that way, since she so hated shutting her eyes. At least with her hands over her face she wasn't completely in darkness, she didn't have to subject herself to the usual horrors that came with that. Her hands meant she also couldn't see what Nan was doing, giving her the perfect chance to sneak up on her, to hurt her, but curiosity and a sense of strange recognition had her frozen, even when she heard the floorboards creak as the maid stepped closer.

It felt like forever, or perhaps it was forever, because even when she heard Nan call for her to look, Eddmina kept her hands on her eyes. She didn't want to move them, scared for what would greet her, nervous for the unknown, terrified that she would be caught by yet another surprise. So much of the last few years of her life had feltlike a constant ambush, like someone was constantly playing tricks on her, and for yet another moment of uncertainty to meet her felt like too much, especially when she felt a stirring sense of dread that what she would see would defy all her knowledge of the world.

Nan had been a stranger, not been someone she knew well, yet she was scared that when she looked again she would see a ghost.

It took Nan to put her hands on Eddmina's to get her to look, yet when she finally forced her fingers away and made her see, Eddmina was not greeted with a Lannister maid. Instead, in her clothes, was the very ghost she feared, yet not how she remembered. She was still shorter than her, yet taller than she had been. She still had the long thin features that they both shared with their Stark ancestors, still had the kind dark eyes that Eddmina had always loved, but she was older, more grown into her face. She was more beautiful than she had ever been before, but perhaps that was simply because she was alive against all the odds.

Eddmina wanted to ask where Nan had gone, how her sister had gotten there so quickly in the last girl's clothes, but no words came. No thoughts were processed either, because every time Eddmina opened her mouth to speak she had to quickly close it to stop herself from screaming. In the end, she settled for silent tears, and found herself edging back onto her bed, curling up and sobbing.

"You can't be here, you're dead," Eddmina shook her head, unable to look at her sister.

"I'm not dead," Arya said, still stubborn yet an edge of sad kindness in her voice. She stood to the side of the bed, looking as if she didn't know what to do but like she wanted nothing more than to hug her. "Eddie, please, I'm not dead, I'm right here."

"But, what about... Nan, the Lannisters and the Freys, the... how? How, Arya?" Eddmina forced herself to sit up, grimacing as she felt her lower back twinge painfully, quickly wrapping her arms around her stomach for support. "How are you real?"

"It's a long story," her sister excused with a shrug. "If I promise to tell you later, will you come with me?"

"Come with you where?" she frowned, rubbing her bump as she felt the baby kick at her sharply. She noticed Arya staring down at her, specifically at her stomach. "What?"

"Is it... Is it really Jaime Lannister's?" Arya asked bluntly, looking at her bump as she spoke before their eyes met, and Eddmina saw a mixture of worry and disgust on her face. "Did he hurt you, or make you, or-"

"No," Eddmina shook her head quickly, grabbing at the cabinet beside the bed to help herself to her feet. "No one has touched me. No one except..."

"Except Lord Willas," her sister finished for her, making Eddmina flinch and scowl. "What happened? You were obsessed with him the last time we were together."

"That was a long time ago, and it's a long story," Eddmina snapped, then immediately regretted it when she looked at her sister's frown and remembered she was looking at a face she thought she'd never see again, making her soften immediately. "Perhaps we can exchange stories soon enough. Now, where do you want me to follow you?"

"The Freys are feasting in the hall," her sister told her, and Eddmina noticed Arya's thin, daring smile. "Wouldn't you like a taste of revenge?"

***
Word count: 12489

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