Talisa was beautiful, Eddmina couldn't deny that. With her dark silken hair and sun-kissed olive skin, it was no wonder her brother had fallen so deeply in love with her. That was just her appearance too, as when Eddmina took her personality into account, her caring yet humorous approach to people, her compassion and intellect, she found her a truly nice person, and there seemed to be very few of those in Westeros. Talisa was a good person who had just got caught up in something much bigger than herself. She was a good person, who if the situation and circumstances were different, would have been good for Robb. She was a good person, and that made everything Eddmina had to say to her so much harder.

Even so, she welcomed Talisa into her study, beckoning her to take a seat. Eddmina was sat behind her desk, and Talisa hesitantly sat down across from her, her hands folded neatly in her lap. She was dressed in an understated grey dress, practical for working, yet she still looked the picture of elegance. If things were different, Eddmina couldn't help but think that she would be a good Queen. She knew people, she was grounded and not blinded by a lifetime of being surrounded by nobility, and she knew the meaning of hard work. Never mind Queen, Eddmina knew she would be the exact sort of woman she would want as a goodsister. That made her feel a little sick, as if her body was insisting that she reconsider, but her mind was already set, knowing what she had to do no matter how unforgivable and harsh it felt.

Talisa clearly knew that whatever Eddmina had summoned her for was not good. Eddmina could tell based on how she couldn't meet her eye, and the Volanti woman was sat with her back far too straight, as if she was compensating with posture for any misdemeanour. She nodded her head respectfully, and Eddmina remembered all the times she had insisted the woman simply call her by her name rather than a title. She wished they could have been friends. She wished they lived in a different world, a kinder, happier world where she didn't have to feel like such a monster for ruining true love.

"Thank you for coming," Eddmina said, keeping herself steady and calm. "Can you think of any reason as to why I would summon you to meet with me?"

"No, your grace," Talisa answered, though she didn't meet Eddmina's eye. She wanted to be angry at the lack of curtesy, but it merely made her sad, the gesture pointing out the blatant lie of her words.

"My father taught me when I was a girl to always look people in the eye, even when I was scared or nervous, that way no one else had to know and would only see me as brave," Eddmina spoke, and Talisa looked up to her, her eyes guilty and threatening devastation. "My father also taught us that honour revolves around upholding our promises. There's never been a Stark who's broken their word. I do not intend to be the first, nor will I allow Robb to take that position."

"Lady Eddmina, I-" Talisa began, but silenced herself, clenching her jaw as if to force away her emotions. Eddmina respected her for that.

"You helped me when I was in my most dire position, you helped bring my son into this world, and you have been an incredible asset to this campaign, I will forever be grateful to you and because of all of that I have not taken this decision lightly," Eddmina said, hating how cold and cruel she felt, even if she was making her voice sound kind. "I understand you and my brother have been engaging in some sort of an affair. Robb may be King, but a crown does not make him immune to promises, and he is promised to marry another. Without that promise we would have already lost this war, and so as Hand I cannot allow this to continue."

"Does Robb know you're doing this?" Talisa asked, almost defensive, her eyes widening slightly. She took a moment, almost as if she was resetting herself, her face becoming neutral again. "He is King, he would never choose me over someone he is promised to."

"Robb is King, he's a good king too, but he's also my brother, I know him better than anyone and I know that isn't the case, Talisa," Eddmina offered her a sad smile, though she worked to keep the rest of her face still, otherwise she would risk showing how much pain she was really in to do such a horrible thing. "Robb loves you."

"And I love him," Talisa said, her voice almost urgent, her eyes pleading. She was not stupid, she knew what Eddmina was doing, but she was not going to just sit and take it. That was fair, Eddmina couldn't blame her for fighting. "He has been kind to me, he has trusted me with a side of himself that others are not privy to, not even you. I did not intend for any of this, I never wanted any of this. I met you as your midwife, but I didn't even want that. I just wanted to be a healer, but I was new to Westeros and the Tyrells were offering so much money, more than made sense, I would have been stupid to turn them down, and then this war broke out, and your brother... I didn't want any of this, but I could not help it."

That was the problem with love, there was always very little choice in it. He might've been the man she was betrothed to, but Eddmina couldn't help falling in love with Willas. Everything about him drew her in, the way he smiled with a slight blush if she said something that touched too close to his feelings in the early days of their relationship, his quiet confidence when talking about his hobbies and interests, the way he was always gentle and understanding with her even if he wasn't with the rest of the world. It was like he had been made for her, unable to stop herself from loving him.

She'd been unable to stop herself pushing him away too, and she'd been unable to stop herself from feeling something for Theon. It was nothing like what drew her to Willas, as what drew her to Theon should have repelled her. He drove her mad, made her want to pull her hair out and break his jaw, but at one point in her life every snide comment and patronising smirk left her with nowhere to turn but his arms and his embrace. She couldn't help it. It didn't matter if it was love, lust, boredom, or necessity, it didn't matter what it was she felt for him, all she knew was that she couldn't help it. Gods, she wished she could have, she wished she'd had the sense and the willpower to resist, but something deep inside had been unable, just like she was unable to stop herself from loving Willas so deeply. Perhaps if she'd stopped herself from loving them both, no matter how different the love was for each of them, she would not feel so terrible about herself.

"I understand," Eddmina nodded, fighting to keep eye contact rather than hide her eyes so that Talisa didn't see her struggle with emotions. "No one expected for this to happen, I am sorry that you have been caught up in it all, I truly am."

"I love your brother a great deal, and I know he loves me," Talisa began, and for a moment as she looked down at the desk Eddmina thought she was going to start crying or pleading her case. Instead Talisa looked up at her with reddened eyes that carried acceptance and determination. "That is why I cannot stay here. I cannot let him ruin this war for me."

Eddmina struggled to hide her shock at that, but somehow managed, instead settling for merely furrowing her eyebrows into a frown. She had expected her to fight, to beg, to do anything. If Eddmina was in her place, if someone was trying to tell her to not be with Willas, she would be furious, but once the anger had gone she would do anything, say anything, to try and stay with him. That was love, to her, doing anything possible to stay together.

Yet she also knew that love was sacrifice too. She knew Willas loved her, or at least he had until their disagreement earlier that night, and he had sacrificed so much for her. He had left his home, turned his back on his family, he had done whatever he could to support her. He had done so much for her, simply because he loved her. He loved her, and she had been so cruel to him. He loved her, but he'd still failed to take her side completely when it mattered. Eddmina felt a wave of guilt and pain sweep over her, though she refused to acknowledge it. If she did she would lose herself, and there was far more important things to focus on, as Talisa was looking at her expectantly.

After her initial surprise, Eddmina realised that Talisa clearly loved Robb just as much as she said. If she didn't she might have been selfish and demanded to stay, but when Eddmina looked at Talisa, looked her right in the eye, she saw nothing but the kind woman who supported her through one of the hardest moments of her life. The woman who'd helped bring Uther into the world, the woman who held her hand after finding out about her father being attacked, the woman who blindly followed them into war just to help people. She would make an excellent Queen, and an excellent Stark, her only fault was that her maiden name was not Frey.

"If he marries you we will lose the support of the Freys, if we lose them we risk our standing in this war, and if our bannermen see him breaking his vow they will realise their own sworn to him are just as fickle," Eddmina nodded, hoping Talisa didn't see how grateful and relieved she was for her understanding. "I know what I am doing will break his heart, and yours, but I would rather him hate me and suffer heartbreak than lose his life and this war."

'We have already lost Father, and all the others are prisoners,' Eddmina thought with dread. 'I will not lose Robb. I cannot lose Robb.'

"I know what it means to love a brother, my own is the reason I became a healer," Talisa explained. "The first time I saw Robb, he was waiting outside your chambers, and I'd never seen a man look so concerned. He adores you, Princess, he could never hate you."

Eddmina hoped that was the case but couldn't help severely doubting it. She hated herself so much, it was only right that her twin share the sentiment.

"I will tell him I have to return home," Talisa confirmed with a nod, not waiting for a response.

"No, he will not accept that, you should leave now and say nothing to him, I will tell him I sent you away otherwise he will not let you leave, not if he loves you as much as you claim," Eddmina shook her head, reaching for the letter on her desk displaying the golden rose of Highgarden. "I wrote to Lady Alerie a few weeks ago. It was her who got you dragged into this whole family mess, and she was more than happy to help. Lady Alerie is a Hightower of Oldtown, they have excellent connections with the citadel, and so to thank you for your service to our family and in this war she has offered to pay your way for further education or training that they could provide. If that doesn't interest you then you would have a job for life at either the Hightower or Highgarden, which ever you prefer, or if your wish is to travel that can be accommodated too. Myself and Lady Tyrell want to compensate you for your service to our family how ever we can."

Talisa stared down at the letter in Eddmina's hands, clearly wondering when it had arrived, and how long Eddmina had been working on her plan. In truth, she had written her initial letter to Lady Alerie on their first night in Riverrun, staying up into the early hours seething over what she'd overheard in her brother's chambers. She'd written to Lady Alerie with vague details about needing to find a better place for Talisa while still rewarding her for everything she had done. She had tried to keep the letter as simple as possible, with a brief update as to how her sons and grandson were getting on, all while ensuring that if they letter fell into the wrong hands there would be very little repercussions, and for good measure had it delivered via messenger and not raven, sending out a trusted northern guard to ride for the Reach. He had returned a month later with Lady Alerie's response, equally absent from personal details save well wishes and confirmation that she could be of help. Eddmina had held onto the letter, knowing she had a plan to use, merely waiting for the right moment to implement it. She was still surprised she had gotten away with it, and it was obvious that Talisa was surprised too.

The woman looked down at her hands for a moment, and Eddmina half expected her to change her mind. She braced herself for Talisa to shout at her for the deception, knowing Eddmina had secretly been plotting to get rid of her for months, conspiring with Lady Tyrell behind the backs of everyone in camp. Talisa took a moment, and Eddmina held her breath, waiting for the anger, waiting for the comment on the deception, but it never came. She sighed, then looked at Eddmina with a small, sad smile.

"Thank you for making such thoughtful arrangements," she said, and though it sounded genuine Eddmina wondered if she was hiding hurt or sarcasm. She stood up, her hands folded together in front of her neatly, looking graceful as she nodded respectfully. "I will gather my things and leave as soon as I am able."

"Thank you, I will have a Tyrell guard meet you in the courtyard in an hour to escort you back to the Reach," Eddmina forced a smile, hoping it hid her shame and self-disgust. "For what it is worth, Talisa... Thank you. Thank you for helping to bring my son into the world and for helping with him, and thank you for the happiness you have brought my brother. I am sorry that we do not live in a different world."

"I am sorry too," Talisa remarked.

For a moment as their eyes met, they smiled at each other. It was not as if they were Princess and healer-slash-paramour. They were not Lady and servant, they were simply two girls. Two young women who were caught in a cruel world and a sick set of circumstances that robbed them from the lives they wanted. It was nice to feel such solidarity, even if it was sad and tiring, and they both knew it was not a sentiment they would share with each other again, not as their smile stood as a final goodbye.

Talisa nodded lowly once more before she turned and left the room. As soon as the door shut and Eddmina knew she was gone for good, she felt sick again. Gods, what had she done? It was for the war, for their family, but at what cost? She had broken Robb's heart and he didn't even know yet. She let out a long, slow breath that she hadn't realised she was holding in and let her body flop so she was laid on the desk, her head buried in her hands, as if she was attempting to hide from what she had done.

It was a necessary thing, but it didn't make it any less terrible. She used to tease Robb for his infatuation with Talisa back when they were in Winterfell and at the start of the war. It had been a fun little joke then, an amusing thing that her brother was falling in love. Walder Frey and his daughters had put a stop to that joke, and in doing so destroyed any loyalty she had to her brother. He was her twin, her other half, she was meant to put his needs and wishes above anything, his happiness came first over some entitled old man. She should have taken Robb's side regardless, let him carry on with Talisa with her blessing, Freys be damned. She was Robb's sister, she should have fought harder for a better deal, her loyalty to him more meaningful than any vows to any other lord. Yet, a marriage between a Frey girl and her brother was the deal that was proposed, and there was far too much of her father's honour in her to refuse such a vow.

Damn him. Damn Ned Stark and all his bloody honour. It had gotten him killed, after all. He had instilled so much of it in her, to the point she overthought everything as if wanting to make sure what she did fit with his moral code, anxious to ensure every move she made would have made him proud. Fitting in with those expectations was ruining her. Honour had killed her father, would it be the death of her too?

It was a lonely thing, to be caught up in living to a dead man's expectations. It was what had driven her away from Robb, who just wanted to seek out whatever happiness and normality he could in a world where he wasn't allowed to be himself anymore. Honour was what had made her jilt Theon too, recovering from a momentary lapse of duty to regain some sense of respectability. Perhaps if she had never finished with him he wouldn't have hated her and her family enough to betray them. Perhaps if she had carried on and been caught by someone, perhaps if she had put her foot down and told the Tyrell's she didn't want any sort of betrothal, she might be Lady Greyjoy. She could be Theon's wife, she could have tied him to the Starks forever, the way he secretly wanted. He wouldn't have betrayed them then.

Instead she had insulted him, and he held her brothers' lives in his hand in return.

Eddmina's skin began to itch again, her chest tightening and making it difficult to breathe.

Dark thoughts circled around her mind, her body tensing up with anxious pins and needles, and the only way she thought she could earn some peace was to jump from her seat and cross the room to where the servants had left a tray of alcohol.

Eddmina had heard of people drinking to cope, she'd heard stories of drunkards, with their addictions caused by a lifetime of traumas. She did not intend on becoming a drunk, but surely there had to be some sort of benefit to drinking, one that might stop her hating herself, one that might stop her skin from itching. She poured herself a goblet of wine and drank it quickly, too quick before she realised it was nowhere near as strong as the stuff that she had grown up sneaking from the wine stores with her brothers. There was a steel decanter of rum next to it, the servants placing it there after finding out it was Willas' drink of choice. He liked it late at night even before the war, as there was usually a bottle of it in their chambers at home in Highgarden. She remembered nights at home where the two of them were curled up in the window sill seat, both of them with a book in their laps, him sipping the strong spirit while she watched him, enamoured. She couldn't imagine after their earlier meeting that Willas would be in any rush to see her let alone come to her study to help her work or drink, so she didn't hesitate to unscrew the cap, bringing the brim to her lips and gulping it down fast.

It burnt as she swallowed, her throat and insides feeling like fire, but that was fine. That was what she wanted. She kept drinking until it was empty, and when she set it down she felt her head spin and her eyes struggled to find focus. That was exactly what she wanted. If she couldn't focus, if her mind wasn't straight, then she didn't have to think. Thinking was suffering, or at least that's how she was beginning to feel. Thinking meant remembering her father and Winterfell, remembering her beautiful, brave little brothers, and her sisters too. Thinking meant feeling Theon touching her all over again, it meant seeing Willas' face as he realised she was willing to risk her life on the chance that the Greyjoy man still held some love for her. Thinking meant knowing Willas thought she loved duty more than she ever loved him, still hoping for love from a man who would hurt her little brothers rather than her husband by law and the father of her son. Thinking meant considering losing Robb, the other half of her soul, the heart that beat alongside her own.

Thinking meant she needed another drink.

She poured another cup of wine, less bothered by the potency. She drank it slower, and as the alcohol coursed through her she felt it doing exactly what she wanted it to, numbing her to the extent that she didn't want to rip her skin off at the thought of Theon, nor did the thought of Willas make her want to break down into tears. She was at the bottom of the flagon by the time she could manage to think about Bran and Rickon, but by then her thoughts had gone to the war too, to the early days when everything had felt so hard, so difficult. She had thought it such a trying ordeal, juggling battle planning with a practically newborn child, but looking back it had been easy. The hard days were still to come, and Eddmina wanted to go back in time and slap the girl she had once been, the girl at the start of the war who thought the hardest thing she would do was watching her brother become a lord in their father's absence, the girl who had stubbornly refused help to prove her own strength, the girl who had trusted Theon Greyjoy. The alcohol had heightened her self-hatred, but it somehow felt more manageable. She despised herself, but at least it didn't hurt.

She hated herself, but there was still someone she hated more. If the drink hadn't numbed her she might not have thought it a good idea, but Eddmina found herself venturing down to the wine cellars, retrieving two skins of what she hoped was a strong vintage, before she snuck into the prison cells. To say Robb and the Tullys had insisted on constant supervision, Eddmina found it relatively easy to pay Jaime Lannister a visit, and even though he looked a wreck and the smell of his cell was enough to turn her stomach, she threw one of the wine skins at him, waking him.

He jolted awake, looking around in alarm before he remembered himself, and when his gaze settled on her, his eyes narrowed and a smirk grew. Usually that smile would disgust her, but Eddmina felt nothing, staring down at him with cold courage.

"Princess Eddmina, to what do I owe the pleasure?" He greeted sarcastically, looking her up and down. "Decided to take up my offer of companionship at last, have you?"

"Get fucked," she said bitterly, though her words made his smirk grow. Hatred surged through her with one look at the man, remembering everything that he had done to her and the North. "I could kill you, you know. I could strangle you, slit your throat, beat you over the head, doesn't matter how, I could do it."

"A thousand north-men would thank you for it, and my father would have your head for it," Jaime remarked fearlessly.

"I'd kill him before he had the chance to touch me, or a thousand northerners would," she wasn't sure why she was talking, not thinking her words through, but it felt good to speak through her anger, and it felt good to see him wince at the mention of his father. She smirked. "Not nice, is it? To consider the death of one's father."

"I did not kill your father," the Kingslayer reminded her, wearing almost a regretful, sympathetic smile.

"No, but you tried to kill my brother," her own eyes narrowed, remembering how heavy Bran had felt as she carried him back to Winterfell, but the weight was mostly fear and grief. That same little boy was a prisoner, though that thought made her ache inside.

"So killing me would be avenging his use of legs then?" Jaime pointed out, raising his eyebrow daringly. "Do it, but I doubt you'd ever see your sisters again."

Eddmina saw her sisters every night in her nightmares, but Jaime Lannister didn't need to know that. She saw Sansa crying and in pain every night, saw her subjected to the cruelty of the King and Cersei Lannister, saw her beaten but not broken. She saw Arya too, though images of her were more fleeting, merely seeing her as if she was a skittish cat running and hiding. Eddmina's nightmares were often brutal when it came to Sansa, but visions of Arya were poetic and prophetic, and she never had the energy to try and figure out what they meant.

All she knew was that the sight of her filled her with overwhelming guilt that she had not fought harder to get them back. Sat in front of her was a perfect bargaining tool, and Eddmina had done nothing. She should have taken him to King's Landing and traded him with the Queen for the girls, woman to woman. Cersei was a monster, but she knew what loving someone was like, and she surely loved her twin enough to trade him away for the girls. Eddmina hadn't done it because Robb needed him to hold the upper hand over Lord Tywin, but every time she saw Sansa and felt Arya's absence in her dreams, she was reminded how greatly she had failed them both.

Her head hurt at that, and so she sat down across from Jaime Lannister, feeling his eyes watching her intently as she produced her own wineskin from underneath her cloak. She pulled the cork out of the top and took a long swig, before gesturing for him to do the same with the wineskin that rested in his lap. He glanced at it, and for a moment she saw a faint flicker of apprehension.

"It is not poison," she assumed, rolling her eyes.

"Poison is a woman's weapon and you just told me you wanted me dead," he justified with a shrug, though took a drink anyway.

"Do I strike you as the sort of woman who would be so cowardly as to use poison?" she clenched her jaw, remembering the man she'd killed the day of Whispering Wood, the one who'd tried to take her captive. "If I'm going to kill someone, I'm going to do it right, the proper way."

"Ah, there it is, you Starks and your honour," he let out a single laugh. "When are you going to realise that it's honour that keeps getting you all killed?"

Eddmina took another swig of wine to stop her mind wandering too close to thinking of her father. It was no good, though. It was too late, as she remembered her father and his kindness, the way he was serious and stern but always had a smile for his children. She remembered how people respected him because he always did his duty and followed such a strong moral code.

He had his morals, and his honour, yet he had fathered a bastard. Eddmina hated thinking of Jon like that, knowing just how badly he wanted to belong and be a true Stark, but it was still the truth. Her good, honourable father had still committed an act of dishonour, he had still done wrong to their mother. He must have loved Jon's mother a great deal to protect her son and raise him alongside his trueborn siblings, perhaps even loved her more than his wife considering the societal expectation.

What if her father had loved Jon's mother the way Robb loved Talisa? Even their honourable father had loved someone outside of betrothal and marital vows. What would he think to her sending away the love of her brother's life just for gain? Would he think her cruel and heartless? Robb had already laid with Talisa too, surely there was honour in him marrying her, and Eddmina had sent her away without thought to it, without even considering that scandal. Had she thought of nothing but Robb calling her stupid? Would their father be disappointed in her? Would he think her dishonourable?

Eddmina quietened the voices with more wine.

"I am not my father," she concluded finally, sighing as she felt the Kingslayer staring at her. "Just as you are not yours."

"I remember the girl I met in Winterfell who seemed rather determined to constantly impress her parents," Jaime Lannister said, as if he was surprised by her. "What ever happened to her?"

"She grew up," Eddmina shrugged, watching as he drank from his wineskin. "War happened, I had to learn how best to keep myself and my family alive."

"And how is that going for you?" he asked, and he sounded almost genuine.

Eddmina realised it was simply him desperate for news after months being a captive. She assumed he had heard very little from the outside world, save what the other prisoners had managed to tell him, or what he might have overheard from the guards who watched him. Eddmina knew it would be more spiteful to leave him in the dark, leave him to assume what was happening to his family as they began to lose the war against two northerners half their age, let his mind run in horror as he imagined the cruelty his loved ones would face. Yet, Eddmina realised that was what was happening to her, with her brothers in Winterfell as they faced Theon and the Iron Islanders, with Jon at the Wall, and with her sisters in the capital. Even if it was the Kingslayer, she still held enough of her humanity to know to save someone from unnecessary mental torture. That, or she was drunk.

"We'll have won the war by the end of the year," she explained, her face dead of any emotion as she studied his, watching for any sense of thought or hurt. "I will make sure of it."

Jaime Lannister looked at her for a moment, before he laughed. She scowled. Perhaps if she hadn't drank as much it wouldn't have bothered her as much.

"What is so funny about that?" she demanded, folding her arms across her chest.

"Nothing, you simply reminded me of someone," he shook his head simply, and though he looked as though he wasn't going to divulge who, he caught the sight of her glare. "My father. You sounded like him. Same cold anger, same determination. I'm sure if you weren't both trying to kill each other you'd get on rather well."

Eddmina didn't speak. Instead she focused herself on not acting shocked, or upset, though in reality the comparison made her want to be sick. She'd never met the man, but he was their greatest challenge in the war, and she had heard her father and other northerners discuss him to know enough to be disgusted. She had dined with Tyrion Lannister back in Winterfell, who rarely spoke of his father except with comments of distain or disregard. She had also spent a few tipsy nights with the Dornish, especially Prince Oberyn, who was always happy to discuss his hatred of the man who'd ordered the death of his sister and her children.

She wasn't really like him, was she? She couldn't be like him. The Tywin Lannister people had told her about was a cold-hearted monster, a calculating man who put legacy and the Lannister name over everything. He was a cruel man, a man who didn't love his family for anything other than the surname they bore and the future they could provide the family name. She couldn't be anything like him, surely.

Yet it was a member of his own family who had made the observation, his own son no less. How wrong could the son of Tywin Lannister be when it came to similarities between his father and her?

"You're just trying to aggravate me," she said, going for denial rather than defence.

"It's not simply me who's made the observation," the Kingslayer shrugged, though he wasn't being cruel, he was simply talking. He took another swig of the wine. "You've imprisoned enough Westerland men and kept them down here with me to get the general consensus of what the kingdoms think to you. Do you know what the other prisoners say people call you? 'Tywin with Tits', they say. 'A cold-hearted bitch of a woman who would go to any extent', they say. Some of them even say my father is scared of you, more wary of you than your brother, though I doubt those who speak of his fear live much longer."

Eddmina was speechless, and for once she gave up her attempts of eye contact. Her father would disapprove of that, but she was certain that she had committed far greater misdemeanours that would disappoint him over not looking her enemy in the eye. A wave of cold air washed over her, and she felt all the hairs on her arm stand to attention as she realised that people she had never met knew who she was, people who's names she didn't even know discussed her at great lengths. The Lord of Casterly Rock thought about the Twins of Winterfell just as much as they thought of him. People knew who she was, and she had a reputation. They thought of her as cold and strong, exactly as she wanted, but to be compared to Lord Tywin was to be cruel, and that had never been her intention.

Yet, she thought over what she had done to Robb and Talisa, ruining their relationship just to keep the Freys on side. She thought about what she did to Theon, how he might never have betrayed them if she never ended their fling. She thought about how she had allowed rifts and divides to form in the Tyrell family to protect her own and the North. She thought about how she had left her sisters in the South surrounded by lions, and how she had left her little brothers undefended in the place that was meant to be safe.

Perhaps she was cruel like him without even realising it. Perhaps she had been so focused on her own position in her family and what that meant for her standing amongst her ancestors and the history books they she had not even seen the impact she was having on everyone else. She had been so focused on the war and ensuring they could win, it turned out that Tywin Lannister had been doing the same. The war had turned her into someone that resembled him, he who was her enemy. If she had begun to turn into her enemy, then what was the point of winning anymore? What was the point of winning when the person she would be at the end of it all was someone she was supposed to hate?

"Your father has won a great many victories, perhaps being compared to him is a compliment," Eddmina stated, though her voice quivered and betrayed her true thoughts. If she hadn't drank half as much, her thoughts would have stayed in her head, but she couldn't help but ask, "What would your father do if you were at war and he found out you or your brother were engaging with a woman who could potentially ruin several alliances and cost you the war and your lives?"

Jaime laughed again, drinking his wine. Eddmina did the same, though she didn't share his amusement, knowing exactly why he was laughing. It was the sort of knowing laugh that someone did as they were recalling memories, and the bitter tone to it told her that it was not a happy time he was thinking of.

"My father always says that the man who puts family first will always defeat the man who gives into his every wish and whim," Jaime told her, his voice mocking as if he disapproved of his father's sentiment. "Does that answer your question?"

"Yes," Eddmina nodded, trying to hide the freezing horror that settled over her; Everything she had done had always been for her family.

They sat there in silence for a while, though they were surrounded by the sounds of the cell, the noises from the other prisoners disturbing the peace. Neither wanted to speak, though when Eddmina reached the bottom of her wineskin, she sighed and looked up to the Kingslayer once more.

He looked very different to how he did in Winterfell, but then again, so did she. He had been handsome and carefree back then, his hair had shone golden and he looked younger than his years. The cells of Riverrun and his time as a prisoner of the North had aged him considerably, and he was no longer the proud golden lion. He was still cocky, but it was more from bitterness than confidence. Eddmina knew she was different too, she knew she had been changed by the war, and even with the week's respite that Willas' return to her had provided she couldn't remember the last time she felt truly happy, light, with nothing to worry about.

It was a horrible thing, to look at one's enemy and sympathise, but when Eddmina looked at him, she saw a little bit of herself. They were vastly different, and she hated the similarity, but she knew that the war had broken a little bit of both of them, a bit that would probably never recover.

"You're far better company than the rats," he observed, breaking their long silence. "You did threaten to kill me but you've not bitten me."

"That can be arranged," she shot, and she knew she was drunk when she found herself laughing and didn't hate that he laughed along with her.

"Tell me, Lady Eddmina-" he began but she shot him a glare as her laughter sobered.

"Princess," she corrected him.

"Tell me, Princess Eddmina," he continued, his voice only a little mocking. "You didn't need to join in with this war. You could have hidden away in the Reach with your husband and never gotten involved in any of this."

"You didn't need to attack my father in the streets and kill his men when you heard of my mother taking your brother prisoner," Eddmina pointed out. "Funny what people will do to protect their brothers."

'Protect Robb, but not Bran and Rickon?' her mind screamed before she could stop it. 'Leave the little ones alone and scared, but Robb you'll protect?'

She took that as her cue for needing another drink, but the wineskin was empty. Her only other option was to flee the scene completely, and so she rose to her feet, only realising how badly she was when she felt the ground shake and struggled to see straight. She couldn't tell if the Kingslayer noticed, but if he did and if he found her funny, she was too unsteady to care.

"Maybe I will come and visit again," she suggested, not caring how her words slurred slightly. "That is, if you live that long."

"Always a pleasure, princess," he offered her a smirk that wasn't entirely mocking.

With that, Eddmina stumbled off out of the cells and back to her study, where she continued to drink until she passed out in a heap on the window sill, looking out at the Riverlands wondering just how far away Winterfell was.

***

Eddmina's head hurt the next day, but she forced herself to work as she sat at her desk and studied strategy, working her way through the pile of books the maester had provided her with based on the Westerlands.

She had fallen asleep in her study. She wasn't sure why she hadn't made it back to her chambers, but perhaps even in her drunken state she remembered to avoid Willas, knowing it was the kind thing to do for both of them for her to avoid making them confront the last time they had spoken. Her drunken state had also left her with nothing but wolf dreams, for once not seeing her sisters or even her brothers, but simply visions of Honour running through the woodlands. After horrors for so long, it was a welcome change.

A nightmare-free sleep, and the day and night before merely being a blurred mess. Though she woke with a battering ram in her skull, Eddmina decided that drinking did have its perks.

The positives of how she spent her night seemed to all but vanish the moment Robb appeared in the doorway, pale-faced and panic-stricken. He looked at her with widened eyes, as if he was begging something from her, though he looked her up and down, checking it was really her, as if he barely recognised her. Eddmina hadn't changed clothes after not returning to her chambers, nor had she done her hair. She assumed she looked rather untidy, but she noticed how his own clothes were not up to standard, as if he had pulled them on in a rush.

"What have you done?" he demanded, though his voice was shaken in desperation.

"I've been working all morning, I've put together a list of information on the keeps I think would be best to attack when you get to the Westerlands, the weaker ones that are easier targets yet are still powerful enough to send a message," she answered plainly, gesturing down to the parchment in front of her, only then noting the ink stains on the fingers of her left hand. "Perhaps we could go through it-"

"Don't act smart, you know I mean... Talisa, what have you done with Talisa?" he asked, crossing the room and resting his fists on her desk, leaning closer as if interrogating her. Calmly, despite her chest tightening and her head spinning, she fixed her eyes on him as she shut the book in front of her. "Her chambers are empty, there isn't even a note. One of the guards said he saw her riding away last night accompanied by a Tyrell guard. Where has she gone?"

"She and I had a discussion last night about her role here, and her ambitions for life," Eddmina calmly explained, seeing a horrified realisation settle on her brother's face. It took everything in her to remain cool, to act as though she didn't care, when really she hated herself for what she had done. "We came to the mutual decision that her presence here was a detriment to the war effort, and so we decided it was best that she move on."

"'We'? Or was it you?" Robb's eyes narrowed.

"I do not think it really matters, all that matters is that she is gone," Eddmina said bluntly, watching as Robb clenched his jaw, standing up straight.

"I loved her, you knew that I loved her," he sighed, sounding defeated and heartbroken. Eddmina had expected him to shout, so his quiet shock and despair was a surprise.

"I know, but I also know that you have to marry one of Lord Frey's daughters," she spoke, trying to sound kind. "If you don't, you put our alliance with the Frey's in jeopardy and run the risk of costing us the war."

"Why now?" Robb asked, standing up with rigid posture, as if desperate to seem as tall as possible. "She has been with us for so long, you've known right from the start how I felt about her. Why get rid of her now?"

"Because the stakes are higher, because we have far more to prove and far more to lose," she sighed, trying not to think of Winterfell and of Bran and Rickon, though she thought of their captor and her skin began to itch again. "I could not sit by and let you put our lives and this war at risk for any longer. You are the King, but you're also my brother, and I will not lose you because you engaged in something as foolish as love."

Robb didn't look at her again. Instead he turned his back and began to walk towards the door. Eddmina decided that she would much rather he be angry. She would have preferred for him to scream at her, for him to call her a traitor or demand she bring Talisa back. That was how she thought he would act, but instead he was emotionless, as if he had no reason to care to shout at her. It was like he was empty.

"Robb," Eddmina called before he could leave the room, jumping to her feet. He stopped, but he did not turn back to face her. "Robb, I am sorry. I love you."

Confessing that felt like a weakness. It would have been easier for her if she had acted cold, as if the whole ordeal had not bothered her and she had acted cruelly to protect the family. It would have been easier, but that was not the nature of her relationship with Robb. He was her twin, he was used to knowing everything she thought or felt, and to lie to him about how she felt in regards to breaking his heart felt unnatural and wrong.

"I know," he replied, his voice hollow. His back was still to her, but she saw his shoulders drop slightly. "I love you, too."

He left then, just in time for him to miss the sight of Eddmina sinking back into her seat, her head in her hands.

Those were the last words he spoke to her before he rode off for his Westerlands campaign two days later. She had stood in the courtyard to see the troops off, but he had not acknowledged her aside from a quick glance and a small nod. It hurt, it felt as though her heart had been ripped out of her chest, but then she remembered that she had done it for the good of their family, their family that was torn and fractured. At least Robb was free, at least he had the freedom to fight for the north and he wasn't being held captive by their enemies like the rest of their siblings.

Robb didn't say a proper goodbye, but Dacey and Garlan did. The Mormont heir bowed to her and vowed to protect the king before she mounted her horse, while Ser Garlan hugged her tight.

"He will get over it," he promised her in a hushed voice as he held her in a tight hug, though Eddmina thought the embrace helped to hide his eyes from her, the eyes that carried doubt, and perhaps a little agreement towards Robb's coldness. "It was the right thing to do, no matter how harsh."

Eddmina wasn't sure she agreed with him, mostly because of what Ser Jaime had told her about his father and his take on acting on a family's best interest. If Tywin Lannister had been in her position, he would have sent Talisa away too. He would have broken his brother's heart too, probably without caring. Eddmina's problem was that she cared too much about hurting Robb, as well as the comparison to their enemy. Since the night she met with Jaime Lannister she felt as though she needed a drink to cope with the thought of being similar to Tywin Lannister, as she did anytime she thought of Theon, but saying goodbye to Garlan meant she had to try and stay focused and ignore the itching sensation that raced up and down her skin.

"Stay safe, please," she told Garlan firmly, squeezing him. "Look after my brother."

"Look after mine too," Garlan said, as if he knew that Eddmina hadn't spoken to Willas since that night.

In fact, she had actively been avoiding him, simply bcause she didn't want to confront their last conversation. She didn't want to see the disappointment in his eyes as he considered her determination to go against what he wanted. She was used to disappointing others, she had been disappointing her mother her whole life, but it was not a sentiment she was used to feeling from he husband. She also knew talking to Willas would mean confronting the Theon situation, and she wanted to avoid that for as long as possible, hence her newly developed drinking habit. Willas was usually her closest ally, and while it was strange to not have him at her side she would rather it be that way than feel any sort of strain with him. He hadn't sought her out either though, so she could only assume he was still angry at her the way she was wary of him.

Even so, she nodded and smiled at Garlan, and watched as he climbed upon his horse. Within minutes they rode out of Riverrun, and the northern army was gone. Eddmina stayed where she was for a moment, watching where they had left, savouring the sting of their absence until she felt it begin to rain. She took that as her cue to go and find something to do, and considering Robb had asked her to manage the maintenance of Riverrun, she fell back into her old Winterfell routine of wandering around the keep and seeking out where she could lend a hand wherever possible.

The staff of Winterfell had been used to her wanting to help. The kitchen staff used to laugh but give her whatever simple tasks they needed doing, like peeling potatoes or chopping vegetables. She liked the kitchens because it was a good place to hear the gossip of Winterfell, and though they tried not to say too much around her she got on with them all and was often a part of their banter. The same happened in the laundry  when she would help the maids with cleaning the clothes of the keep, as the girls who worked there would chatter and giggle just as much as Sansa and the other young girls, except they didn't exclude Eddmina like the younger girls did. The kennels and the stables used to be her favourites though, as the staff who worked there often had excellent stories to recall as she mucked out or groomed the animals, telling her tales of war or tourneys from long ago. Winterfell was used to her being deterined to help, they would welcome her presence and treat her as one of their own, and they would thank her when she had finished. In Winterfell they called her Lady Edd, and when they were done laughing and joking with her they would often tell her Lord Father that they were grateful for her help.

Riverrun was a completely diferent story. The kitchens turned her away, unused to the Lady of the Keep volunteering to help with such manual work, and the laundry maids looked at her as if she was a fool for wanting to help. The kennels had no need for her either and was ran by a kennelmaster who unlike Winterfell's Farlen did not take too kindly to a woman wanting to muck in with such work. The stables were practically deserted due to the troops riding out and the stableboys looked at her with wide, terrified eyes. Eddmina wondered if a man like Tywin Lannister would recieve looks like that if he ever wanted to help out in his own keep. She wondered if by trying to portray a front of strength she had done nothing but make people fear her, make them want to avoid her.

The whole keep seemed determined that she outranked them so highly she could not even think about assisting. It made Eddmina think of how she had always been treated in Winterfell, how even the castle guards would smile at her and tell her how she could lend a hand. It wasn't like the staff of Riverrun were unfriendly, they were just unused to her, the way the staff at Highgarden had been when she first moved and was still a stranger. Not being allowed to help made her feel useless, and it made her feel homesick.

All the staff in Winterfell who had laughed and joked with her, the one's who called her Lady Edd and gave her jobs to do, were all prisoners. It was not just Bran and Rickon being held captive, it surely couldn't have just been Ser Rodrik who had been killed, her entire home and all the people who she had grown up around were all in danger. It had hurt knowing the guards who had accompanied her father had been killed, but to think of all of Winterfell under threat... Eddmina recalled the staff they had left behind, tried to remember all of their names and faces, tried to think of what her last words to them all had been. She cursed herself for her mind going blank in places.

Old Nan came to mind, though. Robb used to joke that the old woman had been there so long she had met Bran the Builder. She had told them stories as children, though in truth Eddmina had never really grown out of sitting with the old woman and hearing her tales, especially the scary ones, having spent many a night with the other Stark children being treated to a tale, often with one of the younger ones curled up on her knee, or with her arm around one of the girls who was too proud to admit to being scared. Old Nan hadn't laughed when Eddmina had asked her about her nightmares, she had instead suggested she possess some sort of magic like what had been known before the First Men, an ability that perhaps all the Stark children had to see the fate of the future or see the world through another's eyes. Eddmina hadn't taken that suggestion seriously at the time, she hadn't had the time what with having to run Winterfell, looking after Bran and Rickon, and having to deal with being heavily pregnant, but she realised she would do anything to talk to the old lady about it again. She'd do anything to talk to any of the Winterfell staff.

Eddmina withdrew to her study instead and surrounded herself with books once more. She tried to go as long as she could without a drink, but the thoughts of Winterfell were lingering in her mind, and the only thing that could quieten the screaming voices in her head was a cup of rum. She poured herself a large measure before she went back to her desk, sipping it slowly as she continued to read.

She hadn't realised the day had ticked away until a knock came at the door and she looked up to see the moon through the window. She had drank enough to leave her eyes strained and blurry, and she knew that logically she should turn the visitor away, but she was too much of a people pleaser to do that. When she called for them to enter, she saw her mother stood in the doorway, watching her warily. Even with her obstructed vision, Eddmina could see how pale her mother was, the circles under her eyes standing out as she wore an expression of worry. It wasn't a shock to see her that way, as Eddmina had gotten used to seeing people wear that look a lot over the course of the war.

Eddmina hadn't spoken to her mother since they heard the news of Bran and Rickon, since she had to tell her mother about her affair with Theon. She hadn't been actively avoiding her as much as she had Willas, but even so, seeing Lady Stark stood there looking at her made her insides squirm nervously. She reached for her cup once more, but her mother interviened, crossing into the room and taking the goblet filled with alcohol away from her. Eddmina scowled without realising.

"It stinks like a tavern in here, Eddmina," her mother said, sounding as though she was scolding her. She moved to stand by the fireplace, tipping the contents of Eddmina's cup into the grate.

"I'm a grown woman, if I want a drink I do not see a problem in that," Eddmina shot coldly, getting up and going to the table across the room where the servants had left a flagon of wine, barely noticing that she stumbled to get there. "I'm surprised the great, noble Lady Catelyn even knows what a tavern is, I would have thought such places are beneath you. It won't shock you to find out I've been to places like that, though."

Lady Stark sighed, watching as her daughter poured out a generous amount of wine into a goblet, taking a swig despite her hand shaking. It had only been three days since she had last seen her, but it was like she was a stranger. The grief and shock of the news had changed her just as much as the responsibilities that weighed down on her, and the sight of her usually collected and reserved girl reduced to someone who had drank until her mind didn't have to face the truth of what was happening, someone who hid from people rather than face her problems head on, broke her heart almost as much as the thought of her other children being prisoners.

"Have you come to lecture me about something?" Eddmina spoke eventually, heading back to her desk with the flagon of wine still in her grip.

"I've come to find out why you didn't turn up for supper, and find out why Ser Willas hasn't seen you for days," Lady Stark explained, watching as Eddmina thudded into her seat. "You cannot just hide and drink away your problems, Eddmina, there are people who need you."

"I know," Eddmina rolled her eyes, taking a sip of the wine to distract from the squirming sensation inside as her mother mentioned Willas. "When did you decide you like my husband enough to come here and guilt me into talking to him?"

"Ser Willas is a good man, he cares about you a great deal," Lady Stark looked at her seriously as she took the seat on the opposite side of the desk. "At what point did you start drinking? This isn't healthy, Edda."

"When did you decide to care?" Eddmina glared. If her mind hadn't been weakened by the aclohol, if her inhibitions hadn't been completely destroyed, perhaps she wouldn't have had the courage to speak how she truly felt, her anger and resentment freed from years worth of improsionment inside herself. "Is it because the girls are in the Lannisters' claws? Is it because the boys are so far away? Is it because your favourite has left you and ridden far away? All the others are as good as dead so you've come to me at last, and I am a disappointment as usual?"

Lady Stark winced slightly at Eddmina's words. If not for the alcohol Eddmina wouldn't have spoken them, feeling a numb ache at the thought of her beloved siblings in danger. She would do anything for them, she would switch places with any one of them in a second if it meant they would be safe. Their positions brought her agonising heartache, but the whole point of her drinking was to stop that feeling, and in drinking she had been able to look at it realistically. They lived in a cruel, horrible world, and it was about time she found the strength to face up to that.

"Edda, your father-" her mother began, but the mention of Lord Stark had Eddmina laughing, though the bitter sound began to sound more like sobs.

"He would have been disappointed in me too, he would have seen the monster I've become and hate me too, just as much as you do," Eddmina cut in, watching as her mother clealy struggled not to cry.

"He loved you, he would have never hated you," Lady Stark snapped, rising to her feet. "He would think you foolish for what you're doing now, though. You cannot continue like this."

"Don't tell me what to do, not after avoiding me for days," Eddmina's eyes narrowed as she got up herself, having to lean on the desk as she stood, unsteadier than she expected. "I know I disgust you, I know what I did with Theon makes you hate me, I know father probably would too."

Eddmina felt her body itch once more, remembering against her will how Theon's lips felt when he kissed her neck, how his tongue had once traced over her collarbone. It didn't matter that Willas had kissed her over a hundred times in places that Theon had surely only dreamt of seeing. It felt as though the man who had seized her home and held her brothers hostage had been the only one to ever touch her, considering he had been the first. She moved to take another drink, but Lady Stark leant over and took the goblet from her firm grip, some of the wine spilling onto the books below in the process.

For some reason, that was the moment Eddmina snapped. If she was sober, she would have stayed silent, but the buzz of the alcohol was coursing through her, and she felt adrenaline rising, her skin feeling hot and her head spinning. Her mind was full of a lifetime of grievances, and it felt like the perfect time to take all her frustrations out.

"You have always hated me, I have never been good enough," Eddmina snarled, breathing heavily as she tried to contain her emotions, but it was a lifetime's worth of pain and not even she could control that. "Had I been born a boy you might've managed to love me half as much as you love Robb, but instead I am a girl, and I've never been good enough compared to Sansa, or even Arya. I've always let you down, from my choice to follow my father's gods rather than yours, and my like for the Tyrell's. The one time I ever asked for you, when I was pregnant and scared and needed you, you preferred to cause chaos with the Lannisters then come home and be with me, and when I asked you to bring my husband home safe you left him behind and made me think I was a widow for weeks. Now you've more reason to hate me, because you know I had an affair with Theon, and I've caused Robb such pain, so go on, lecture me, insult me, call me all the names you like, just get on with it!"

Eddmina didn't realise she had been crying until she noticed her vision was more blurred than usual and felt the hot tears streaming down her cheeks. It was a mixture of everything, every emotion she had been witholding, every trauma and trial finally hitting her. Her sisters, her brothers, Theon's betrayal, hurting Robb, upsetting Willas, being caught in a war that felt like it was caving in on her, being compared to a man she thought was a monster and understanding the similarities. Her chest tightened, a sensation Eddmina was used to, though this time it was different, far harsher than usual, and she could barely breathe. She clutched her chest, willing herself to breathe, but she could barely see straight, barely stay standing, and her heart was pounding as if she was fighting for her life.

If she was more in control, she would have refused for her mother to wrap her arms around her, but instead she collapsed into Lady Stark's embrace. She hadn't seen Lady Stark move, but she was there, and she wasn't even capable of fighting her when she felt her stroking her hair, whispering quiet reassurances that she barely understood. Eddmina felt how violenty her body was trembling, and for once her mother's arms felt like the safest place in the world. All her agression faded into overwhelming fear and sadness, and the alcohol that had seemed like such a safe distraction only seemed to fuel it and enhance it.

Eddmina felt her legs give way, losing the strength to stay upright as she flopped onto her mother. Rather than fight to keep them both standing, Lady Stark carefully lowered her to the floor, letting Eddmina curl into her as she kept her arms around her in a cocoon, stroking her back and pushing her lips to the top of her head as her daughter buried her head into her chest.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," Eddmina gasped against her tears, all of her wits departing as she was left considering everything she had done, every action she had made seeming like such costly crucial mistakes. "I'm sorry, I'm a monster."

"No, sweet girl, no," Lady Stark whispered, her voice shaking as she fought her own emotions, knowing one of them had to stay together, especially when it was the one who was usually strong that was breaking. "You're not a monster, you're not a disappointment. It is me who is sorry."

"I don't want to be like him," Eddmina sobbed, her hand wrapping around her mother's arm tightly, as if hanging on for dear life.

"Who, dear?" Lady Stark asked, despite knowing she would not get much sense from her. What an impact the alcohol had had on her, her usually straight-forward and no-nonsence child reduced to someone who spoke her every fear in floods of tears.

"I don't want to be like him, he's a monster," Eddmina continued to spiral, her grip tightening. "And it keeps burning, my skin keeps burning where he touched me, and I want it to stop. I want to go home. Do you think Robb will ever forgive me?"

She wasn't making any sense, even Eddmina knew that, but she couldn't pull her thoughts together if she tried, even without being so severely drunk. It turns out bottling up every thought and feeling until her heart turned cold was not healthy. Everything was spilling out and nothing was making sense. Even so, Lady Stark held her close, kissing her head and stroking her hair in the hopes that she was offering some sort of comfort, but Eddmina's tears didn't seem to want to cease.

Eddmina couldn't make out what her mother was saying, but she knew she wasn't simply talking to her. She heard another voice in the room, though assumed it was one of a servant as it wasn't a voice she recognised. She wanted to feel humiliated, knowing a stranger was seeing her in such a state, but she was too tired to care, and her chest was still aching. All she could do was lie there, curled into her mother's arms. It didn't matter than her mother was usually the last person she would turn to for help, Lady Stark was the only parent she had left, the only family she had to hand.

"Sweet girl, you've been so brave for so long," she heard her mother's soft voice break through the ringing in her ears. "You are not a monster. You are not."

"They say I'm like Tywin Lannister, I don't want to be," Eddmina managed to say through her weeping.

"You aren't," Lady Stark reassured, hiding her surprise that it was that which had upset her.

"I don't want to be like him," she repeated. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry for Theon."

"You were not to know what he would grow to be, none of us were, you cannot hate yourself for such a mistake," Lady Stark attempted to talk sense into her, but even she knew Eddmina would struggle to hear.

"Willas will hate me though," Eddmina sobbed, remembering how sad her husband had looked when she had been determined to face up to Theon.

"I would never," a new voice called from the doorway, and from the floor, from the confines of her mother's embrace and through her tears, she saw Willas stood in the doorway.

She saw the silhouette of him, but she did not see how messed his hair was, how he hadn't had a shave for days, and how he looked as though sleep was a distant memory. She didn't see the heartbreak in his eyes to see her in such a state, nor did she see the look of worry he exchanged with Lady Stark. He entered the room, standing over them both.

"Can she stand?" he asked quietly, his words meant only for Lady Stark. "How much has she had to drink?"

"I don't know, enough though," Lady Stark remarked quietly, though he sounded equally concerned. "It has been at least an hour, she's quite hysterical. She's never been like this before."

"No," Willas agreed.

If he was able, he would have knelt by his wife and held her tight, relieving his goodmother of her duties and taking over. He was Eddmina's husband, it was meant to be him who saw her through such a state, yet his bad leg left him unable to kneel by her. He wanted to sweep her up into his arms and carry her away to their chambers, but he was unable to do that too. Instead he could only watch, which made him feel pathetically helpless.

"I'll go and fetch a maester, I'll see if we can get her moved into our rooms," Willas sighed, though the thought of him leaving again ade Eddmina's chest ache again.

"Please don't leave," she begged, managing to sit up a little in her mother's arms, though she couldn't remain upright for long, falling back into her mother's chest. "Don't leave me, Will, please. I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry too," he said, though his voice was tight and controlled. She saw how his gaze barely lingered on her before he looked back to Lady Stark. "I will not be gone long."

"No need," another voice came from the doorway, gruffer and less patient than the others sounded, and even in the blur of the moment Eddmina knew it was Brynden Tully. His footsteps grew closer until she could tell he was stood over them both. "Move aside, Cat."

Lady Stark stayed exactly where she was, until he repeated the instruction again, clearly hesitant and reluctant to let her go while she was so inconsolable. When she did withdraw her embrace, Eddmina felt her chest tighten again, feeling exposed as if the whole world could see her, overcome with foolishness as she realised the people she wanted respect from were seeing her in such a pitiful state. She wanted to protest, but she didn't have chance, not as her Uncle wrapped her up into his arms, heaving her up from the floor.

That was when her insides turned rather violently. That was when she realised that excessive drinking with very little food was a huge mistake. She pulled away from Brynden, leaning her head over just in time to empty the contents of her stomach onto the flagstone floor. If she felt pathetic before, that simply made things worse.

"I'm sorry," she cried again, but her Uncle was carrying her away from the scene with a small chuckle.

"You are not the first person to drink yourself itno a stupor upon hearing bad news, Princess," he reassured her lightly. "Nor are you the first person to get yourself so drunk the cleaners will have to be called. I have certainly made bigger messes."

Eddmina wanted to tell him that her whole life felt like a rather large mess, but she was too tired, and as if to stop her from thinking Brynden was recalling tales of his own drunken transgressions. Her head was spinning too much, the ache in her chest still there, but she felt hopeless and helpless, and decided the only thing she could do was relax into his arms and close her eyes.

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Word count: 12235

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