"Knock!" Eddmina called out fiercely, her voice loud enough so that all the men could hear her, her breath turning into a cloud in the chilly morning air. "Draw!"

Since arriving in Riverrun a week previous, the Starks had found they had far more time for things they had neglected. Travelling constantly had meant they had to plan and strategise on the move, and while Eddmina had still spent a few mornings each week practicing swords with Garlan, the rest of the men hadn't had as much time to drill. Their practice came from hands-on experience, which was fine for the older men who had decades worth of war stories, but for the younger generation, their skills often benefited from practice drills, and with the addition of the force of the Riverlands, there were plenty of new recruits who needed training to meet the standards the northern army had previously demonstrated.

That was how they fell into the routine of running training drills each morning, from sunrise to mid-afternoon. Robb had taken charge of sword training, advised and directed by his more experienced commanders, while Eddmina had been put in charge of archery. She hadn't volunteered or put herself forward for it, and part of her resented the job since it pulled her away from her other duties and spending time with Uther, but Robb had asked her. He'd asked, and some of the men had laughed, not thinking she was up for the job. They knew she was clever, and knew she was becoming a good strategist, but combat was where they drew the line. Stubborn pride took over, and suddenly a job that Eddmina didn't want became something she needed with a burning passion. She said nothing, she merely shot a few arrows, and that was enough to prove to them all she was the best person for the job, especially when it came to teaching the younger lads who'd never even held a bow before.

That was how she found herself out on the field behind Riverrun, the day still so new the ground was damp and the air turned to clouds when she spoke. It wasn't cold, not like a morning in Winterfell would be, but she was glad for her thick cloak, and glad she'd left Uther inside with her handmaidens. She'd forced herself to trust them, solely because she knew being over-protective unnecessarily would be unhealthy for both of them. The maids were nice, and caring, and despite Eddmina's initial coldness with them they had not shied away. She wouldn't have blamed them if they did, what with her directness and Honour constantly watching them whenever they were around with her fierce yellow eyes, but they kept offering their help, and they kept offering to look after Uther. It took a few attempts, but eventually after a few days in Riverrun and she'd felt settled enough to feel somewhat safe, she decided to trust them. Honour didn't, which was why the wolf stayed wherever Uther was, but Eddmina knew when she returned and Uther was happy and laughing that the maids were more than trustworthy.

Even so, Eddmina knew she'd much rather be with Uther and Honour than our in the fields. She knew she'd also much rather be with Willas, but he was still so far away. Training provided a distraction from missing him, as did councils and war planning, but there was still a burning inside of her, as if half her soul had been taken away. Her heart felt as though it itched, the way a wound did when it was stitching itself back together, but her wound stung, and she knew it wouldn't feel right again until he was back at her side.

She watched as the line of men and boys followed her instruction, their bows held to her exact requirement, the string stretched so that the flights of the arrows were tickling their cheeks. It was a nice sound too, hearing the clatter of arrows slotting into place in the bow, all of them being drawn in unison. She paced down the line, inspecting them individually, checking that her guidance had been followed.

"You, third from the left, stretch any further and you'll take your nose off when you loose your arrow," she called, watching as the young man adjusted his hold of the weapon, correcting his mistake. He had to be older than Robb and herself, surely. "Good. Much better, thank you."

"Can we let go yet, your grace? My arms are aching," another boy called.

He looked to be Arya's age. Eddmina tried not to think about how one of her last memories of her sister was of her shooting arrows with the boys, and how she smirked in delight when she hit the bullseye. Arya had been so pleased, so proud, and Eddmina had been proud too, if not a little jealous considering that was when the maester had told her not to shoot due to her pregancy. Instead she'd stood to the side and watched, savouring every moment with her sister, savouring the sight of Arya's smile, and the sound of her laugh.

When would she next hear that laugh? When would she next see that beautiful, brilliant girl? And Sansa too, when would she get to see her? Eddmina wanted to hug them both close, tell them how loved they are, tell them how sorry she is for not rescuing them sooner, tell them how much their father adored them both, and how everyday of her life would be spent making sure they were both safe and cared for and...

'Stop,' she thought firmly, knowing her mind would go to her nightmares again.

The nightmares, where Sansa was beaten and bloodied, but not broken. The nightmares, where Sansa was being mistreated by the king, but their youngest sister was nowhere to be seen. She'd been having those dreams since their father died, but without Willas they seemed to get worse. Without him to hold her in the night the darkness seemed to wrap around her instead.

'Thinking about them will not save them,' she thought bitterly. 'Focus, train the boys, win the war, get your sisters back.'

That was what she often forced herself to think to pull herself back from the brink of collapse. That was how she turned to the boy with her jaw clenched, her eyes unsympathetic.

"Let it ache, you'll have to go through worse when it comes to a real battle," she dismissed his concern quickly, but she nodded anyway. "Loose!"

A sea of arrows flew through the air, each of them finding home in the targets their archers stood before. Eddmina walked down the line of men, noting their aim, praising and advising them, but sighing when she saw none of them had actually hit the bullseye. She'd hit her first bullseye at eight, and she'd never let any of the boys in Winterfell forget. She'd never forgotten it either, or how her father had cheered her proudly. The memory made her clench her jaw, knowing that thinking of her father was the least productive thing she could do in that moment, especially when she had to lead the training drills.

"That was good, but we go again," she instructed, earning a few groans and muttered curses. "You could all be spending your day on a real battlefield, killing men who are just as innocent as you, dying in the mud. I am simply asking you to shoot a stick at a plank of wood. Be grateful your day is so straightforward."

"What do you bloody know about a battlefield?" she heard a mutter. Eddmina would have been happy to ignore it, but then she heard the same voice again, adding, "Bloody woman just stays on the sideline and claims all the glory."

Eddmina didn't allow herself to sigh, or to get angry. She did, however, make her way down the line until she reached her critic, noting how all the others had fallen so silent a pin dropping would have echoed. Everyone had turned to watch her. Their eyes burnt into her, but Eddmina had grown accustomed to always having people watching her. She'd once hated that, being watched, knowing people were looking at her, but there were far worse things in the world than being looked at.

As she came face to face with the man who'd spoken against her, she saw his courage drain away. She looked him up and down, before holding out her hands.

"Your bow," she demanded coldly. The man gave it to her. "Thank you."

She picked an arrow from the pile at his feet. In one swift movement, she knocked the arrow to her bow, drew the string, and let it fly through the air. It made the bullseye it's home, but it barely had time to settle before she had shot another, and it hit perfectly, splitting the first arrow through the middle. She couldn't help the small smile that grew, nor could she stop herself thinking about the first time she'd managed the feat, and how her father had watched.

"Impressive, Edda," he'd praised her, applauding. "You'd make most marksmen afraid with a move like that."

She heard his voice, the kindness in his northern accent, she saw his smile, and she felt the inevitable stab to her gut. He'd not outright told her, but she had known he was proud. She wondered if he would still be proud, if he would still applaud, if he would still be so kind to her and make her feel at home with herself despite her insecurities?

The sound of the men murmuring pulled her free from her father's memory, and she knew she needed to steel herself once more. She clenched her jaw tightly, the slight pain drawing her to the present, and she turned back to her critic, shoving the bow back into his arms forcefully.

"I'm not a soldier, I am here to teach you how to shoot," she explained, and for some reason she enjoyed the way the men watched her with fearful awe. They were nervous, but they respected her. "Do you think I am not a good enough archer to do my job?"

"No, princess, I'm sorry," he shook his head quickly.

"Do not think to mock me again," she said, making sure her voice was loud enough so that the whole crowd could hear. "We go again, then. Knock!"

The morning continued with endless rounds of practice, until at least all of them had hit the centre of the target. It was tiring, for the boys more than for Eddmina, but when she finally called it a day and sent them on their way, she knew her work was not done. On the other side of camp, the others were running drills with swords, and so she headed to meet them. Walking through camp meant men bowing to her, calling her 'princess', offering her support and regards, asking her for help. She had never been one to refuse, which was how she ended up carrying supplies between tents, and assisting in grooming several horses, and though she didn't resent the work it put her behind schedule. By the time she reached the training grounds, she found the penned-off area surrounded by a crowd of jeering northerners, shouting curses and encouragements.

"Come on, you flowery shit!" she heard one man call with a laugh.

"The she-bear'll beat him, no bother," another shouted.

Eddmina sighed, elbowing her way through the crowd until she got to the front, giving her a clear view of who was sparring. When the men had decided to turn training drills into sport, she didn't know, and though she would rather they save their energies for real combat, they clearly seemed to be enjoying themselves. There had been such little time for amusement in the past few months she knew she should leave them to it, but she couldn't help but wince when she saw it was Garlan and Dacey fighting, and Garlan had just knocked her to the ground wth a blow of his blunted training sword.

Dacey didn't stay on the ground long, kicking at Garlan as she got up, catching him in the side. He grimaced in pain, staggering slightly, causing uproar among the crowds, a mixture of both support and horror, and Eddmina stopped herself from gasping as she thought of his wound. It was only recently healed, and she knew it was still tender, but she also knew his pride was at risk so she kept quiet.

She felt a hand on her shoulder, and that was when she realised it was Robb she was stood next to. She tried not to tense up, knowing her brother didn't know that she'd overheard him with Talisa on their first night in Riverrun, knowing that he did not know of her plans she was putting in place to guarantee he did not spoil their alliance with the Freys. How could he know any of it, when the two of them had barely spoken since their arrival? Other than council meetings and training sessions, Eddmina made out that she was too busy with Uther to spend countless hours with her twin. She missed him to the point it hurt, but his words to Talisa had hurt her more.

Even so, he was her brother, and he was her King. She forced herself to play the part, so she smiled, and when she saw his grin of amusement at the fight in front of them, it wasn't so hard to pretend. When she saw him like that, he seemed like the boy who had left Winterfell, the brother she knew the very soul of. Sometimes the man he had become felt like a different person, but she could hardly blame him for that when she knew she was also a changed woman.

"Who do you think will win?" he asked her, leaning close so they could talk despite the shouting of the crowd.

"Do we have time for competitions like this?" she asked simply, keeping her eyes fixed forward as the two swords clashed together, the steel ringing. Robb laughed, squeezing her shoulder. "We have the Lannisters on the run, we should-"

"We should enjoy what we can, Edd," her brother told her reassuringly, and she knew he had a point. "This isn't a competition, anyway."

"You're right, it's obvious Garlan will win," she interurpted dryly.

That was when Dacey had Garlan on the ground, his sword at her feet. Half the crowd hissed and then fell silent, while the other half let out cries of victory. Garlan held his hands up in the air, before one went to hold his side, his chest heaving.

"Yield," Garlan gasped, out of breath but still wearing his signature grin as Dacey stood over him, her sword pointed at his chest. "Well fought! If that's you with a sword I'd hate to meet you with an axe."

"You're a worthy opponent," she nodded respectfully, serious as always, though a faint smile threatened to break through. She held her hand out to him, helping him back to his feet. "Not bad for a southerner."

There was some debate then from the men about who should spar next. They wanted Dacey to remain in the ring, as the reigning champion, but her opponent was up for debate. Eddmina decided she had seen enough, though waited for Garlan to duck out, weaving through the wooden rails to re-join the crowd. Robb clapped his hand on his shoulder supportively as soon as he was close enough, and Garlan shrugged, shaking his head with a smile of defeat. Eddmina looked him up and down, noticing how his hand was still fixed where his wound had been.

"Your stitches-" she whispered to him before either man had a chance to say anything. Garlan removed his hand instantly, holding it in front of her as if proving a point.

"I'm fine, I promise, I've not had that much exercise in weeks so it's just cramp," he vowed, offering her a reassuring smile that she wasn't sure if she believed. He could tell, which was why he wrapped his arm around her shoulder. "I'm fine, Edd."

"I still don't believe you, but fine," she sighed.

She would have wrapped her own arm around him, had it not been for the Stark guard who approached them then, bowing their heads respectfully.

"Your grace, Princess, Lady Stark has returned," the guard said seriously, and Eddmina looked to Robb, seeing his expression match hers; surprise, relief, yet confusion.

Lady Stark had returned... just Lady Stark? There was no mention of the man that had been her travelling companion to the Stormlands, the man that was Eddmina's husband, the man who she'd spent months missing and longing to be reunited with. Why hadn't they mentioned him? Why had they not said 'Lady Stark and Ser Willas'? If they didn't mention him he must not have been with her, and if he wasn't with her, then where was he? She felt her chest tighten, dread coursing through her, and if it wasn't for Garlan's grip tightening on her shoulder, she would have sunk to her knees and let the fear consume her.

Instead, she took a deep breath, and refused to let the nerves she felt running through her show. Hiding emotions was her specialty, after all, so she looked to her brother. He understood exactly where her mind had gone, but even so he was glad to hear of their mother. He stepped over to her, taking her arm as Garlan let go of his hold on her as he stayed with the crowd, letting the twins go and reunite with their mother.

"You're tense," Robb commented lowly, his face near her ear to ensure only she heard.

"Oh, I wonder why?" she snapped, glaring at him. "Shall I list my reasons?"

"Edd-" he tried, but cut himself off when she shot him another look.

Their mother was waiting for them at the top of the hill, a few other guards behind her, but a knight stood to her side. The knight was a stranger, but they had cropped blonde hair and a striking face, with blue armour that had obviously seen conflict. Eddmina almost thought they were handsome, until she remembered that there was meant to be someone else stood with them that she found handsome, and her feelings turned bitter again.

Even so, their mother was smiling at them, relieved to see them both, and Robb let go of his sister's arm to rush to her. He might've been a king, but their mother was still their mother, and as they embraced Eddmina wanted to think it was a sweet sight. When she saw her mother stroke his hair and squeeze him tight before releasing him to give him a concerned glance up and down, she wanted to feel happy. She wanted to, but she couldn't manage it, not when she thought how desperately she wanted Willas to be there, how desperately she wanted to be embracing him, to be stroking his curls, to feel his hands on her, to hear his voice as he said her name. She wanted him there, and he wasn't, which just mad her insides twist and burn unbearably.

"Are you well?" her mother asked Robb, and when he nodded, she looked behind him to Eddmina, where she was frozen to the ground, staring at the sky as she forced her mind to not go to a dark place of worry. "Edda, are you alright?"

Willas wasn't there. He wasn't there. He'd left, months ago with her mother, and now he wasn't with her. If he wasn't with her where was he? What had happened to him? What had happened to her husband, her Willas? Had he decided he didn't care about her and her home anymore and wanted to stay with his family and support Renly's cause? Had he been hurt and had to stay in the Stormlands? Had he...

No, he couldn't have died. He wouldn't leave her, he wouldn't leave Uther, surely he hadn't...

Eddmina only realised she wasn't breathing when her mother took hold of her shoulders, gripping her tightly and almost shaking her. Her gaze snapped to Lady Stark's face, noting the worried smile she was offering her eldest child, and Eddmina desperately tried to hide her fear from her face. She tried to keep her expression cold and stoic, but her shoulders were tight and her posture was a little too straight, and she had spent far too long trying to stay together purely so people didn't think less of her. The only one who had never made her feel a fool for her emotions was Willas, and he was the one person who she needed in that moment, yet he wasn't there.

The only people there were the strange knight, watching her closely with obvious caution and sympathy, her brother, who had unknowingly betrayed her trust, and her mother, who had done more than plenty over Eddmina's entire lifetime to shake up her sense of confidence and self-respect. None of them were the person she needed or wanted, and so none of them deserved to see her threatening to break the way she was. She took a deep breath, steadied herself, and let the familiar frost settle over her heart once more.

"Edda, you look well," her mother said, still smiling as if she hadn't just watched her daughter on the verge of a breakdown momentarily before shutting herself down. "How's Uther? Where is he, I bet he's grown?"

"Where's Willas?" Eddmina asked, not finding the strength to talk about her son when she didn't know where his father was.

Lady Stark hesitated, and though her hands remained on her daughter's shoulders, she glanced behind herself to the strange knight. There was an unreadable expression on both of their faces, one that spoke of an experience that only those who were there could understand. It was one that suggested neither of them would easily be able to find the words to explain, but Eddmina clenched her jaw in irritation, wanting them to find the words.

"Tell me, now," she instructed, feeling her authority as Princess and Hand take over, even if she was talking to her mother. "Tell me, where is my husband?"

"He's..." she began cautiously. It was only then that Eddmina realised that not only was her story a difficult one to tell, her mother was also just afraid to tell her the truth. "He was still in the Stormlands, he was with his family when we had to flee."

"You fled?" Robb spoke up, frowning. Lady Stark let go of Eddmina then, turning to face both of her children, her knight still watching them closely. "Why would you flee? Did Renly not agree to our terms?"

"King Renly Baratheon was killed," the knight spoke up then, and it was only upon hearing their voice that Eddmina realised the knight was a woman. She wanted to feel impressed, but she was too distracted by her words.

"Renly's dead?" she breathed out in shock. She'd only met him once, but his death hit her square in the chest, mostly as she thought of the Tyrells. "Loras... Margaery... Are they alright? Were they hurt too?"

"We did not stay to find out," Lady Stark said, noting Eddmina's frown and how she tensed further at the thought of Tyrells. "Lady Brienne and I were the only ones in the tent when Renly was killed, we fled for our own safety."

"When you say you were the only ones..." Robb tried to piece together the story, glancing to his twin.

"You do realise how condemning that sounds," Eddmina pointed out. "Did you?"

"Did we what?" Lady Stark's eyebrows narrowed together, only for her to gape at her in shock when she realised what Eddmina was implying. "No, Eddmina, we did not kill Renly! The fact that you would even think-"

"Then who did?" Robb cut in, not wanting an argument, resuming his old role as peacekeeper between his mother and sister.

"A shadow, with the face of Stannis Baratheon," the knight, or Lady Brienne as her mother had called her, said. Her voice was cold and carried grief, a sound that Eddmina recognised easily.

Even with the woman's grief, Eddmina laughed. It was absurd, it felt like some foolish story a child would have concocted to get out of trouble. Renly, killed by a shadow? It was a story of magic and dark spirits, and was just too convenient that he was killed by something that resembled the brother he was rebelling against. She laughed, and then she remembered who was dead, and she thought of Margaery, her sister who was now a widow, and she thought of Loras, who would be utterly heartbroken. She suddenly longed to be with them, to see them and talk to them. She wanted to hug Margaery, but she wanted to hold Loras' hands and tell him that she loved him too. She'd never been that close to him, not like she was with Garlan, but he was her brother, and to think of him losing the love he had to keep secret from the world broke her a little.

To think of Margaery and Loras made her think of Willas, and her chest tightened once more.

"So where is Willas, then?" Eddmina said, remembering to take a deep breath to keep herself calm and focus. "Was he murdered by a shadow too? Are Margaery and I both widows now?"

Lady Stark's face fell at the mention of being a widow. Eddmina felt guilty for a brief moment, until the concern for Willas took over. She wanted to feel angry that her mother and the knight were hedging around the truth, but she didn't feel capable, feeling nothing but confusion as to what had happened, and worry about where her husband was. She'd spent so long thinking of him, dreaming about him, longing for him, and she'd assumed the entire time that he and her mother would be a package deal; when one returned, so would the other, surely. It was hard wrapping her mind around Renly's death and the sorrow that must have fallen upon her marital family, but to not have Willas back with her to tell the tale himself... Eddmina felt all of her insides burn.

"He had gone to speak to his family when Renly was killed, we did not have time to go and find him before we fled," Lady Stark explained, Lady Brienne nodding along.

"But he's my husband, mother, surely he must have crossed your mind while you were fleeing?" Eddmina asked, desperate to keep calm, but something was bubbling up inside. "Surely there was time to go to the Tyrell's and tell them the truth of what happened? There had to have been time to go and find him."

"There was no time," Lady Stark repeated, but it did nothing to calm Eddmina, merely irritating her more the the point she had to clench her fists to stop her hands trembling. "He was well the last time I saw him, I can only assume that-"

"You're going to assume he's fine?" Eddmina raised her eyebrow, folding her arms across her chest. She suddenly felt capable of anger at last. "A murdering shadow was roaming around the camp, and you're going to assume he's fine?"

"Edd, I'm sure he's fine, mother wouldn't have-" Robb reached to take hold of her arm, trying to offer her some sort of comfort to calm her obvious anger, but she pulled away, glowering at him once more.

"Don't you dare," she shook her head, stepping away from him. The last thing she wanted was him taking her mother's side, patronising her, making her feel a fool.

"Eddmina," her mother said, her voice warning, clearly not liking the approach her daughter was taking to the situation, not that Eddmina cared; All she cared about was her absent husband.

"He's probably fine, Edd," Robb tried again, and if his words about her to Talisa had been a knife in the heart, that statement was him twisting the blade.

"You're both going to just run with those probabilities without knowing the truth?" She asked, looking between her mother and brother in disbelief. Her gaze settled on Robb, anger settling in her. "I've worked tirelessly for you, I've sacrificed so much, and you don't even care. I sent my husband off to lobby for this cause knowing how dangerous it would be, knowing how much he hates the bloody Stormlands. You know how much he hates the Stormlands, and you know why! You told him to go, so he went, and I said nothing, because every verything I do, I do for this cause. That might've just cost me the love of my life, and neither of you care."

"You're not the only one to lose something in this war, Eddmina," their mother said coldly, her voice rough with a sudden burst of grief. "You're acting like a child."

"You left my husband behind!" Eddmina exclaimed in furious disbelief. "Willas is your son by law, the father of your only grandchild, and you left him. You abandoned him, and for what, a shadow?"

"Eddmina, calm down," Robb told her, glancing over at the training site they'd just left, clearly thinking her ridiculous and not wanting anyone to overhear. "Mother's right, you're acting-"

"When you're married and someone you're supposed to trust abandons your wife in another kingdom while the whole country is at war, then you may presume to tell me how I am acting," she shot coldly at him, recalling his loved-up declarations to Talisa, remembering how he'd called his own twin sister 'stupid'. "When you've decided to face up to your duty and take the wife you are promised to, then you can tell me all about how I should react to hearing that my husband may be lost."

"We fled for our safety, we had to-" her mother repeated, as she had so many times, as if it would make Eddmina feel better. It didn't.

"What about Willas' safety? What about the safety of my sister and my brother?" Eddmina exclaimed, hating that her anger was getting the best of her, but she couldn't help it, especially when her mother looked blankly at the mention of siblings. "Margaery and Loras!"

"They will be fine, my lady," Lady Brienne spoke up, despite looking a little out of her depth with the furious Stark. "They have the full force of the Stormlands and the Reach around them, they will be-"

Eddmina didn't let the woman-knight finish as she raised her hand in the air. She knew the group around her were watching, she knew that her voice had carried down the hill and the fighting had stopped in favour of listening to her. She knew that perhaps months of acting stoic and cold to be taken seriously had possibly gone up in flames in one foolish burst of emotion, but she didn't care. For once, she didn't care if the men thought her an idiotic, emotional woman. The only thing she cared about was Willas, and no one around her seemed to understand why she cared so deeply. No one around seemed to understand her, not her twin brother who was usually like a second part of her soul and knew her every thought, not her mother who was supposed to understand the feelings of her children. No one understood, no one cared, and that made Eddmina, for the first time during the whole war, consider that she was in the wrong place.

She would do absolutely anything for anyone in that camp, her family especially, but Lady Stark could not even ensure her own goodson got back to his wife and son safely? Eddmina had done so much for the King in the North, and not only had he called her stupid to his lover, but he refused to see why she was so hurt by their mother's actions.

"I'm done for the day," she told them, knowing anger wasn't good for anyone, knowing they'd take her less serious if she continued to yell at the world. "Don't bother me, please, anyone."

***

Asking to not be bothered in the middle of a war while baring the title of Princess and Hand was a difficult request, and it was only respected for that one night.

That night was the first bit of peace she had been given for months, and even with the surges of nerves and burning desire to scream and cry and curse the world, it was almost enjoyable, which said a great deal about the state of her life. She spent the night alone in her chambers with only Uther and Honour for company. Supper was brought to her, and even the staff knew to stay away. She ate without rushing her meal to get back to work or forcing conversation with some bannermen, she read books for pleasure rather than for war research, and when it came time to get Uther to sleep for the night, she savoured every moment, knowing that so often she had rushed time with him to go back to strategy and plots. When he was asleep, she opened the bay windows as wide as they would go and sat on the ledge with Honour's head on her lap, staring off in the distance until long after the stars had started shining, willing a horse to come over the horizon, willing her husband to come back to her.

"I'm a damned fool," she whispered into the cold night air, scratching Honour's ears as the wolf began to snore. "I used to make fun of Sansa for liking songs about lovesick princesses who spent their entire lives wanting a knight to come and save them. Now look at me. Stupid fool."

If Eddmina hadn't let herself fall in love with Willas, she wouldn't have ever been put in such a position. If she hadn't opened her heart and let him in, if she hadn't let the man invade her very soul, if she hadn't let him consume her mind, then she wouldn't be in her position. She wouldn't hurt so badly, she wouldn't feel so scared, so alone, so... lost. She was surrounded by northerners, men who supported her and called her princess, she had her mother, her uncles, and her twin brother, yet she had never felt so alone.

When she allowed herself to consider the thought that whatever had happened to Renly and had been so dangerous to cause her mother to flee immediately, the reality of Willas' fate dawned on her. His death was the worst case scenario, but it seemed so horribly inevitable. Eddmina wanted to cry, but she refused, not wanting her son to hear her. The thought of Uther only made her situation seem worse, as she couldn't help but wonder if they were the same, if they were both fatherless. Had her son really been robbed of the chance to know his own father as well as his grandfather? The thought twisted inside of her until she felt sick, until tears became unavoidable, and Eddmina had to bury her face into Honour's fur to mask her sobs.

When she eventually left the window in favour of her bed, she tossed and turned all night until a nightmare enveloped her into it's dark, cold arms. It was the same scenes as usual; her sisters' torture, her brothers alone and surrounded by enemies, Garlan falling in battle at the hands of a thousand arrows with one of them through his eye, her mother screaming as it all happened. It was familiar enough that she didn't wake herself up screaming, but she had to lie still in bed as soon as she pulled herself free from it, taking deep breaths as she reminded herself where she was. Honour was at her side, filling in the spot that should've been Willas', and she lay there listening to Uther's breathing as he still slept. At least if she didn't have Willas anymore, she still had their son, a little part of him, a part of both of them, a testament that even if she had lost him, their love and their lives together had been real.

She loved Willas. She'd loved him from the very moment he'd hugged her in the godswood at Winterfell, since the night before their wedding when he kissed her in the gardens, since he gave her a silver wedding ring as the sun set over the Mander. She loved him, she would always love him, but if the war had truly taken him from her, then she needed to take her own advice. She had to remain cold, not let anyone see her pain, and avenge him as soon as she could. With that, she let her anger go, and she let the cold in once more, settling over her heart. There was no point of it anymore, after all, since that which was frozen had belonged to Willas anyway.

When it came time for breakfast she let her handmaidens help dress her in one of her own dresses that had been cleaned and laundered, not wanting to even look at the Riverlands dresses donated to her that had been her mother's. She wore a black gown she had saved for riding that she had embroidered golden roses up and down the sleeves one night when her mind couldn't settle but refused to focus on books and strategy. It felt fitting, even if the reason behind the colour made her insides churn, and she made sure to braid her hair back into one long plait, remembering how Willas had often told her that he liked her hair like that. When she swept Uther up into her arms and he tugged at her braid, she felt a small smile grow.

"You're so like him," she told the little boy quietly, kissing his hair, remembering how everyone constantly remarked on Uther's similarities to her and the Stark's. "You're so your father's son. I am so sorry."

Upon arriving in the hall where breakfast was being served, Eddmina steeled herself when she saw who was sat at the table. Her uncles, and her brother, as usual, though their heads were bent and their voices low, voices that immediately ceased when they saw her enter. Robb tried smiling at her, as did Edmure and Brynden, but they all wore expressions of being caught, and she knew they had been talking about her. Garlan was there too, sat on the other end of the table as far from everyone else as possible, not engaging in conversation as he instead glared down at his plate, stabbing his meat with more force than usual. Someone must have told him about Willas, Eddmina realised, seeing his clenched jaw and how his hands were formed into tight fists. Then, at the end of the table, seated next to her own brother, was her mother. She was the only one to rise to her feet when Eddmina came into the hall, offering her daughter an awkward smile, one that you would give someone you had wronged and wanted the forgiveness of. Lady Stark gestured to the seat next to her, the one that was between herself and Robb. Eddmina chose to sit next to Garlan instead.

"I'm not going to ask if you're alright," she muttered to Garlan the moment conversation resumed between her brother and the Tully's.

"I'm sure your answer would be the same," Garlan replied without looking at her, though he reached out and took hold of Uther, lifting him onto his lap. "Do you think... If Renly is dead... My sister..."

It was too painful for him to even speculate, and Eddmina reached out and took hold of his hand, squeezing it tightly.

"Margaery is one of the strongest people I know," she told him, and it was the absolute truth.

"But what about-" Garlan said, managing to stop himself before he spoke his little brother's name, but Eddmina already knew anyway. "The last time I saw him I called him an idiot, a love-drunk, glory-seeking idiot. He must have thought I hated him, hated him and Renly both, but I don't, I never have, I love him, I loved them both, I... Gods, Edd, what if that was truly the last time?"

"We do not know the full story, until then we cannot torture ourselves," she managed to say, somehow keeping her heart cold and not breaking further.

Eddmina found it much easier to rationalise the situation when it came to comforting him. The words felt wrong, like cruel lies, and she hated herself for trying to dismiss it all, but if she lost Garlan, if he sunk into the sadness and anger she lost herself to the night before, life would be even more unbearable. She squeezed his hand, and watched how he put down his cutlery to stroke Uther's hair. He glanced up at her, and though she knew he didn't believe her words, he forced a smile anyway.

"May I hold him?" Lady Stark's voice came from behind them both, and Eddmina felt her body tense as her mother took a seat next to her.

She'd abandoned breakfast in favour of trying to win her daughter back onto side, and as much as she wanted to tell her to leave them alone, Eddmina bit her tongue. Her mother was looking at Uther, and knowing not to let him get caught up in any feuds or grievances, knowing how unaware he was of everything happening around him, she nodded. Garlan seemed resistant to let go of his nephew, but he passed him back to Eddmina anyway, who passed him along to her mother. Lady Stark instantly beamed at the sight of him, and Eddmina tried not to let that soften her.

"You're to tell me exactly what happened, right from the moment you both left our camp, every little detail, up until you arrived back here yesterday," Eddmina said, trying to keep her voice light so she didn't alert Uther to anything being amiss as she looked at her mother. "Tell me everything."

Lady Stark was hesitant at first, resistant to tell the story purely beause she thought it unnecessary, but she began to speak anyway. It was rather boring at first, how the first few days and weeks were simply travelling, riding and setting up camp, but it got interesting when they arrived in the Stormlands. She told them how Margaery had offered sympathies for Lord Stark's death, and how Brienne had beaten Loras in a duel - that, at least, made Garlan laugh. She told them how Willas met with Lord Tyrell but always seemed frustrated afterwards, and how the two of them had been there when Renly and Stannis met and swore each other enemies. She told them how a battle was imminent and how Willas had been scared that his own brotherly bonds would slip into hatred like that to the extent he went to make amends with the other Tyrells that same night Lady Stark went to make the alliance official with Renly. She told them about the shadow that entered the tent, how it stabbed Renly in the back before she or Brienne could do anything, and how they'd fled after the other guards thought them both guilty.

"Edda, you must believe me when I say that I wouldn't have left Willas behind if I thought him to be in danger," Lady Stark vowed, looking at her with an expression of sincerity. "I promise you, whatever killed Renly Baratheon was there only for him. It would not have hurt your husband."

"No, but Stannis could have," Garlan started to argue rightfully, until Eddmina squeezed his hand again. "My brother and sister too, and our father... With Renly dead, Stannis could have killed them all by now."

"No," Eddmina shook her head, despite wanting to give in to her emotions once more. "No, until we know more, we cannot think anything like that."

That was when she rose to her feet, and walked around the table until she reached the seat to Robb's right. He watched her cautiously, as if she was a precious ornament on the verge of breaking. He had wronged her so badly, yet if she let it consume her, she would be lost. There was no time for any of it. Taking a deep breath, she sat down, folding her hands together on the table in front of her.

"What do you need of me today?" she asked, calm and collected, as if nothing was amiss.

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