They arrived at the gates of Riverrun after three weeks, taking a slower pace due to poor weather, but by the time they found themselves at the great keep the sun was shining once more.

They set up camp around Riverrun, making sure the keep was protected well enough should any Lannister parties hear that the Stark twins had decided to revisit the place of their birth to form an alliance with their uncles. There were plenty of tents housing Tully men and Riverlands banners, and seeing the two parties together - Northern and Riverlands - it formed quite a vast crowd. Most of their bannermen had decided to stay with the camp, but Robb and Eddmina had led the riding party, followed by Garlan, Dacey Mormont and their most trusted guards, not to mention the two direwolves who seemed to grow bigger everyday.

Upon their arrival, they rode up to the gates, and were allowed entry as the portcullis was raised and the drawbridge lowered, surrounded by flags of the jumping trout. Trout's were nowhere near as familiar as direwolves, yet it was the symbol of their mother, and after months of travelling it was almost nice to be near a friendly banner, and it felt almost like a homecoming. It almost felt like a piece of their mother, waving to them as the flags wafted in the wind, and after weeks of her absence it was bittersweet and heart-warming all the same.

They emerged through the gates into a courtyard, and the two Tully men were waiting for them. They had not met many times, Eddmina's memories of them were sparse save the few stories her mother had told her, but they were family, and considering the state they were in any family was a welcome sight. The younger one was their mother's brother, Uncle Edmure, and he looked a typical Tully. His hair was similar to Robb's though had lost the curls and redness with age, and he sported the same blue eyes as both twins. He wore his armour with obvious pride, though it was not nearly as weathered as the armour worn by his own Uncle, the older, more worn-looking man who stood at his side. Brynden Tully had been like a second father to Lady Stark and her siblings according to the stories, and his nickname of the Blackfish due to his outsider status in his family meant Eddmina took an instant liking to him; she had often felt the same in her own family, after all. Both men seemed happy at the sight of the Stark twins, though familial greetings had to wait as Robb dismounted his horse, and the pair of them knelt respectfully.

"I will never get used to that," Eddmina confessed in a whisper to Garlan as the pair of them got off their own horses, handing the reins to nearby stableboys as they made their way to join Robb.

Garlan offered her a small smile, but had no time to make a remark, as they had reached the Tully's. They had risen from their kneeling, but upon seeing Eddmina they both bowed lowly. It took her by surprise at first, until she remembered the circlet she wore on her head, and the fact men called her Princess. If Robb being king was still jarring, then her own title was just as shocking. She shook her head, gesturing for the men to rise as she held her hand out to shake.

"Uncles," she greeted them both, placing herself at Robb's side while Garlan stood behind them both. "It is good to see you both. I trust you're well and the war hasn't caused too many problems for you."

"Gods, don't you sound like an old war general!" Edmure remarked lightly, laughing at his niece's seriousness.

It took Eddmina back a little, considering she thought she'd sounded friendly. Perhaps she had forgotten what actual kindness sounded like since she had spent months of speaking formally, not allowing herself to express many emotions should men want to use them against her and make her seem weak. It had been an old habit to speak in courtesies when she was trying to shield herself, and it had clearly been excellent armour for her in wartime. She had not expected to fall onto them in front of her uncles, and she hadn't expected Edmure to pick up on it. Eddmina couldn't help but feel a little humiliated, though she managed to keep her face straight and not show her disappointment that her first greeting with her Uncle hadn't been entirely kind.

"Eddmina is my closest advisor," Robb told their uncle, glancing to his sister. It had been a joke, but he wouldn't let anyone joke at his sister's expense. "She is my Hand, without her I would be lost."

"You flatter me, your grace," she smiled, falling back into manners and courtesy, though she was unsure if it was because they were in the presence of men they didn't know well, or if the sight of Robb wearing his crown made her feel as though she had to be formal with him.

"We are well," Brynden shot a disdainful glare to his nephew as he looked at the Starks, finally answering his great-niece's question. "The last time I saw the pair of you, you were barely big enough to sit upon a horse. Now look at you both! It is good to see you."

"You're very welcome in Riverrun, all of you," Edmure said to them both, as if making up for his previous joke. "Where is your mother?"

"She's away on business on my behalf," Robb explained simply, not wanting to say too much, not while they were out in the open. "Perhaps we could go inside, there is much we all need to discuss-"

It was just like Robb to want to get straight to politics and strategy. Over the past few months his aptitude in planning had grown greatly, something Eddmina was rather proud of him for, but that was all their lives had been. Their days revolved around attacks, and their nights planning. Even so, Eddmina had to admit she was itching to get started and get acquainted with the new perspective Riverrun could provide for them. It would be interesting to plan for battles in a different environment, factoring in more men, not to mention there was a whole new library to explore with fresh resources. She wished for a moment that Willas was with her to assist with the research, but she pushed her longing for her husband away as their Uncle shook his head.

"You are welcome inside, but we will save business for the morning, when you've all rested from your journey," Eddmure explained. "We are in no rush."

Both Starks exchanged a quick glance, one that spoke more than a thousand words, one that no one but them could understand. The suggestion of taking things slow was baffling, so used to setting their own pace, approaching their war like a sprint, not giving themselves time to breathe. If they stopped, that was when they would be caught. Eddmina found it foolish to even consider another way than the one she and her brother had developed.

"Joffrey sits the Iron Throne, holds our sisters prisoner, and the North is still yet to be granted official independence," Eddmina spoke, taking it upon herself to speak for the two of them. "You might not be rushing, Uncle, but we are."

"We have plenty of Lannister troubles ourselves, niece," Eddmure frowned at her, as if he hadn't expected her to be so headstrong. He looked to Robb, as if assuming that he would be the better person to talk to, the one who would understand him better as a fellow man. "You've been riding for weeks on end, one night away from maps will not hurt."

Robb and Eddmina exchanged a look again, and the pair of them knew exactly what the other was thinking. If they took a night off, that would give Tywin Lannister a day to get ahead of them. In war the tide could change in a matter of hours, what would a man like the Lord of Casterly Rock do with a whole day?

We understand your cause and your struggles, but-" Edmure continued, still looking at Robb. Eddmina understood, he was the King after all, but she felt as though her Uncle was ignoring her on purpose.

"Our father didn't like the word 'but'," Eddmina interrupted, staring at her Uncle stoically. "Do you know what the Lannisters did to him? Perhaps you have forgotten, because why else would you be treating us like fools who don't know what we are doing?"

Eddmure seemed uncofortable at her words, shocked that she would be so direct. He looked to Robb, as if implying that he should try and control her, but Robb's face remained as serious as hers. Out of the corner of her eye, Eddmina noticed that Brynden Tully had begun to chuckle quietly, trying to hide his amusement behind his hand.

"Something funny?" she asked, her jaw clenched as she turned to their other Uncle.

"No, I simply like seeing my nephew be told off by someone half his age, and a girl no less," he remarked, wearing a smile that seemed almost proud. "Gods, you're like your mother. You both look like her, but you... You act just like she did at your age."

At the comparison, Robb began to laugh, while Eddmina couldn't stop her jaw from dropping. No one had ever said she looked like her mother, let alone act like her. Did the man standing before them even know her mother? When Eddmina thought of herself, she knew her mother was her exact opposite. It had only been recently that Eddmina felt like her mother actually even liked her, given a lifetime of being the family disappointment and the disregard her mother had often shown her. Eddmina had grown up thinking her mother disliked her because she was so unlike her, so different compared to her expectations. Was she now discovering that at nearly nine-and-ten that her mother had been so critical of her because they were actually so similar? Eddmina struggled to believe it, and she found the comparison laughable.

Except she couldn't show her amusement or her shock. To oppose what her Great Uncle said would sound like an insult to his niece, someone he clearly regarded highly, and so Eddmina managed to contain herself and bite back her surprise, though a little disappointment still stirred in her.

Eddmina loved her mother, but people had usually compared her to her father. She had his look, despite her eyes. She tried to act like him too, despite the odd moment where the wolf's blood shone through her. He had been the parent she'd gone to for advice and guidance, he was the parent who'd been kind to her regardless of her poor behaviour, and he was the parent she spent every day grieving and missing, sometimes to the point where she could barely breathe until she managed to pull herself from the darkness. She wanted to be like him, she always had, but especially since he had gone, and she couldn't help but feel as though he was even further away from them at the thought of her not being comparable to him.

"This must be your husband," Edmure spoke up in an attempt to redeem himself, but Robb and Eddmina frowned, looking around until their eyes fell upon Garlan stood behind them, at which they both burst into laughter.

"Gods, no!" Eddmina couldn't help but laugh, though Garlan clapped his hand to his chest and acted wounded. "This isn't my husband! Willas is with our mother, this is Ser Garlan!"

"The better looking Tyrell, though not the best looking, I'm afraid my little brother is often bestowed that honour," Garlan spoke up for himself with a smile so wide his eyes narrowed, bowing his head a little in greeting. "Pleased to meet you both."

"What's a Tyrell doing fighting for the North, I thought all of your lot were in the Stormlands kissing Renly's arse?" Brynden Tully asked bluntly, though his eyebrow was raised almost jokingly, as if testing him.

Garlan's face turned serious, and Eddmina knew exactly why. Brynden had mentioned Renly. Garlan so often poked fun at the secret relationship between his little brother and the new Baratheon King, so secret that it had never actually been confirmed to Eddmina, she had merely assumed given the closeness of the two and the teasing Loras' brother bestowed onto him. Garlan joked constantly, but that was because he was Garlan, and Loras was his brother to poke fun at. It didn't matter what it was, there was always something to find humour in. He could joke, because it was his brother, but if anyone else made a joke at his brother's expense... He saw no humour at all.

Eddmina glanced to him, seeing his jaw tighten, but it was only for a moment, as the tension faded quickly. It was as if he knew he couldn't latch onto it, knowing any protectiveness he felt for Loras would only make the situation worse. It was not as though he had a temper as unreliable as Willas', and so he forced a laugh, and a smile, hoping that they seemed as natural as his usual ones.

"Saving my life, that's what he's doing," Robb said, using the voice his did when he was trying to sound most like a King.

"'My lot' forgot they made a promise to the Starks, but Edda is my sister, and what is it that your lot say?" Garlan said lightly, referencing the Tully words. Even after Bryden had prodded at him, Garlan looked at the older man with reverence, before he spoke, "And I must say, it is an honour to be here, and to meet you. The stories of you in battle are legendary."

"Then I'm sure we will get on famously, you being southern aside," the Blackfish offered him a dry smile, clearly finding Garlan as likeable as all the other men who'd initially opposed his presence. "Come inside, the lot of you. Let's get you settled and then we can all talk business over dinner."

He began to lead the way into the keep, shooting Edmure a disdainful look for him to follow. Eddmina waited a moment, allowing her brother to take his place at their side, while she followed. He was king, and so she let him and her uncles lead the way while Garlan walked at her side. She nudged him, giving him an amused smirk.

"I didn't know my great Uncle was such a hero of yours," She whispered to him jokingly. Garlan rolled his eyes. "I thought Willas was the historian of your family?"

"We had the same tutor as boys, we suffered through the same lessons in literature, geography, mathematics, the one lesson we both thoroughly enjoyed was history," he told her, and Eddmina couldn't help but imagine the two of them as boys, crammed together on a desk in the great library of Highgarden, fidgeting through lectures, and she wanted to laugh. "Willas was, as always, a great scholar, but he often had to work rather hard to best me in history, especially when it came to figures of great importance."

"And the figures you learnt about were my Uncles?" she raised her eyebrow at him, noting how he looked around Riverrun, taking it all in. He had done the same in Winterfell, all of the Tyrells had, treating the keep as if it was a curiosity of another world; compared to Highgarden, it was.

"I never expected to need to use any of those lessons, I just thought it was a useful way to vex my brother every time I bested him in a test," Garlan shrugged. "I never expected to actually visit the places we learnt about, or meet the people."

It had been such a long time since Eddmina had visited Riverrun that she had to try not to act the same way Garlan did, trying not to look around curiously. As a child she had thought of the keep as a second home, even if she had only visited a handful of times. They had visited when she was younger, when there were only four Stark children and Arya was only small, and though the memories were fond, it was not Winterfell. Still, she remembered how happy her mother had been to show her children her home, how she had smiled seeing them run around the courtyard the way she had done with her own siblings, and how she had tried to seem annoyed when she found Robb and Eddmina had thrown each other into the river to go for a swim.

Of course, that very same trip was when her Aunt Lysa had also visited, and Eddmina couldn't help but walk the halls of Riverrun knowing that part of her childhood had died in that very keep the last time she had been there. Before that encounter with her aunt Eddmina had known her mother preferred her brother and sister, but she'd never known why, and to be confronted by a relative, someone she should have been able to trust, Eddmina's view of the world and of herself had never been the same. The turning point of her life had happened within the walls of Riverrun, a moment that she had thought of most days since it had happened, and to return so many years later when her life was so different was a little odd.

Uther was wrapped to her chest, curled up and sleeping soundly, and as she remembered the last time she visited Riverrun, and how scared she had been for the future that waited for her, she placed her hand on his back. The last time she visited Riverrun, she had been a wilful, stubborn little girl, terrified of the thought of marrying some lord who would make her into something she wasn't, terrified of being made to have children. She had been so scared of what her life would become, yet she was walking through the halls of Riverrun at almost nine-and-ten, wearing a crown given to her by Northern men who called her 'princess', and her husband was a good, kind man who loved her, and her son was more to her than an heir born out of duty. Somehow, even with the war and the heartbreak she had faced to get there, she walked through Riverrun with her head high, knowing how amazed the child-version of herself would be.

Eddmina hadn't intended it, but she for once managed to feel quite proud of herself. She had lived since her last visit to Riverrun. She had lived, she had suffered, and she had survived. She felt proud, and then felt a wave of sadness wash over her when she realised she wanted Willas to be at her side so he could see. He so often had to hold her hand and comfort her through moments of darkness, and so she felt bitter that the one time she felt rather content with herself he was not there to witness it. Her happiness was suddenly replaced with the searing longing she felt for him, the need to have his hand hold hers, to feel his lips against hers, to hear simply his breathing as he slept by her side. She missed him so desperately, more than she ever thought possible, and she knew that if she let her thoughts linger on him she would drive herself mad and wouldn't be able to focus on anything other than the sensation of feeling as if her heart was chopped in half, one part remaining with her while the other was so very, very far away.

Thankfully a distraction came in the form of being shown to her chambers, the room being one of the guest suites on the ground floor, with a large window looking out over the moat and the rivers that surrounded the keep. It was rather nice to close the door and enjoy time to herself, especially as Uther had woken by then, so she settled herself on the bay of the window with her son sat on her knee. From the window she could see the northern camp, and the tents belonging to the Riverlands men who had answered the call of her uncles, and even though she knew he was too young to really learn such things, she pointed out each banner to Uther, telling him which family they belonged to and recalling stories of each of them. Some of the stories were from the history books she'd had to study as a girl, others were from her parents, and though Uther's interest was typical of that of a ten-month-old child, she kept talking to him, knowing that one day he would learn it all properly.

"Are you going to be a great scholar like your father, my boy?" she asked him with a small smile, watching as he placed his hands against the glass of the window, his eyes fixed on the tents. She wondered for a moment if he missed them, if he thought of tents as his homes, but she stopped herself, finding the idea painful. "Or will you be a warrior like your uncles? You could be both. I hope you'll be both, but as long as you are happy I will not care."

Honour had followed them the whole way around Riverrun, and though she didn't seem keen on the idea of being confined to a castle after months of living in the great outdoors, she had jumped up into the window ledge with them. She looked out with her usual curiosity, taking in her surroundings. Eddmina placed her hand on her neck, scratching her fingers through her thick fur, and she smiled when Uther mimicked her gesture, grinning at the wolf. Eddmina wondered if he would ever be able to comprehend how much he owed to Honour, even when he grew up and she would eventually have to tell him how many times the direwolf had come to their rescue. It was not worth considering, but she allowed herself to take a moment and feel the love for her pet. A gift from her father and brothers, the little wolf had grown and been by her side for such a long time that life without her felt unimaginable.

When the door to her chamber opened, it didn't matter that Honour had been beginning to doze. She shot to her feet and began to snarl protectively, and Eddmina turned her head from the window to see two maids darting back from the doorway in fear, shrieking. Eddmina rose from her position, scooping Uther into her arms and resting him on her hip before she whistled, and Honour looked up to her, sitting down silently.

"My apologies," Eddmina said, despite not meaning it. She was glad Honour was so protective, especially when it came to Uther, and she wanted everyone to know that her son had such a fierce guardian. "How may I help you?"

"Your grace, Princess," the bravest maid stepped forward, falling into a deep curtsy, though the other one behind her quickly mimicked the gesture. Eddmina was confused for a second, until she remembered the crown on her head, and the title she still felt unused to, and she tried to keep a straight face. "Your Uncles have sent us, princess, to help you get ready for supper."

"Oh," Eddmina said simply, finding the idea of maids after months of caring for herself a little uncomfortable. "I am fine, thank you. I am already dressed for supper."

The maids said nothing, but the look in their eyes that they desperately tried to hide was enough to make Eddmina go to the mirror and look at herself. She hadn't realised how rugged she looked, paler than usual with slight scuffs of dirt marking her skin and her clothes. Her hair hadn't been washed for a while, and though she had scraped it back into a braid everyday to protect it, she couldn't hide from how badly it needed care. Perhaps she looked acceptable in the war camp, but she was not in the camp, she was in her mother's ancestral home, and she looked the furthest thing from acceptable. It felt foolish to admit, but Eddmina turned back to the maids and nodded, allowing them to enter.

They brought in a bath, and one of them helped her to wash her hair, while the other held Uther, trying to keep him entertained while Honour watched her intently, her piercing yellow eyes enough to make anyone nervous. It felt rather nice to get properly clean after so long, but Eddmina was glad to get out of the tub and take her son back into her own arms, unused to seeing someone that she didn't know hold him, and though the maids seemed sweet and kind, she had seen too much hardship and violence to trust anyone with Uther. Still, they made polite conversation and chatted as they helped her get ready, one of them combing and braiding her hair while the other helped dress her in a deep blue gown that was not hers. It was only when she caught her reflection that she realised the dress must have been her mother's once, a long time ago when her mother had never been called 'Stark', and Eddmina felt as though she was stepping into the shoes of a ghost.

Even if she was in her mother's old clothes, one look in the mirror and she knew she looked infinitely better. She would never describe herself as beautiful, but she looked better than she had done, and for the second time that day she wished her husband was there to see her while she looked so nice. He had surely forgotten what she looked like when she was dressed properly, or when she was not filthy from months of camping. She wanted to feel him kiss her, feel his lips drift from hers and down her neck, and she wanted to feel his fingers pull at the ties of her dress to rid her of it. It had been so long, yet she couldn't ever forget the way his touch made her feel, nor could it stop her longing for him.

"Perhaps you should hand him to us, princess," one of the maids said, snapping her out of her thoughts. Eddmina stared at the women for a moment, unsure of what they were suggesting. "We can look after the babe while you're at supper."

"No," Eddmina said quickly, stroking her hand over Uther's hair protectively. "No. My son stays with me."

"Your grace, it would be improper to take him with you to supper," the other maid tried, though her voice was uncertain. Eddmina was a little amused; was she really that frightening that the two maids were so wary of addressing her? She wasn't sure how to feel about that. "He would be safe with us, we promise."

"He'd be safer with me," Eddmina decided, before nodding at them, remembering her manners. "Thank you for your help, it is very appreciated."

She took that opportunity to leave, whistling for Honour to follow, and they left, the maids still standing there dumbstruck by Eddmina's lack of consideration for custom. Eddmina didn't care if it would be improper to take her son with her. All she cared about was keeping him safe, and even if she knew Riverrun was safe and those maids were trustworthy, Uther had never been trusted to anyone she didn't truly know, and she was uncertain about starting such practice when they still had so much left of the war to fight. He was her son, he was her responsibility, and she doubted she'd be able to keep her mind straight if someone took that responsibility from her, even if they thought they would be helping.

She found her way to the dining hall easy enough, though she was the last one to arrive, the table already surrounded by her uncles and her brothers. Even as they all rose to greet her, Eddmina didn't look at them, her gaze settling straight on the food when she realised it was the most food she had seen in a long time. They had not eaten badly in their months of camping thanks to the hunting parties, but it had been a while since she'd had a meal prepared in a proper kitchen by proper cooks. She almost couldn't tear her gaze away from the joints of lamb and stewed vegetables, but managed when she heard Robb clear his throat to get her attention.

"I did not realise we'd be joined by a sixth dinner guest," Robb remarked upon seeing his nephew in her arms, grinning as Eddmina took her place between him and Garlan, who leant over and ruffled Uther's hair.

"I didn't want to leave him," she shrugged, before she looked over to her uncles on the other side of the table, knowing they were looking at the little boy, seeing him properly for the first time. "This is my son, Uther Jon Tyrell."

Eddmina ignored the way her Uncle Edmure's eyebrows twitched at her son's middle name, knowing who he was named after, knowing his sister's opinion on the little boy's namesake. Eddmina's mother had pulled a similar expression upon hearing the name, though she cared very little. It was a name Uther had grown to suit rather well given that his hair was so dark it reminded Eddmina of her half brother's, someone she'd missed dearly over the last few months. Even so, middle name aside, Uther wasn't Jon Snow, his name was merely a tribute, and the boy didn't deserve any resentments passing onto him.

Edmure eventually managed a smile when he realised she'd noticed his apprehension, though Brynden's face had been entirely without concern the whole time, wearing a small smile that almost seemed proud. What he had to be proud of, Eddmina didn't know, but she didn't care, as long as she knew her son was safe in Riverrun, surrounded by people they didn't know.

They all took their seats once more, and servants stepped forward to serve the food. Eddmina used her cutlery with one hand, using her other to hold Uther in place on her lap, though after much desperation on the little boy's part, Garlan ended up having him sat on his knee. Other than that, his presence was of very little concern, and he made no major disruptions while they discussed the war, and the Lannisters.

"If you would allow us to, I would like to use your cells for our prisoners," Robb said as they began to finish up eating. Both Tully's chuckled, knowing exactly who they held prisoner. Eddmina's grip around her knife tightened as she thought of the Kingslayer. "He requires constant guarding, by only those you can trust the most."

The Tully's both agreed, and they detailed their own struggles with the Lannisters, particularly with Tywin Lannister's dog's body, the Mountain. He had wreaked havoc across the Riverlands, and so most of their work in the war had been trying to contain his movements, and ensuring no further damage was done or lands taken. The Riverlands had a rather large army, and the bannermen were just as dedicated as the Northerners, but they had not seen as much success as Robb. Still, they were safe, and the Riverlands was secure, but with help from Robb and the north, the two Kingdoms had the potential to become rather formidable.

They spent their night discussing battles and movements, talking well into the night after the servants had cleared the table, after the moon had risen high into the sky. Uther had fallen to sleep in Eddmina's arms, though she did not move, not wanting to leave the table. If she left, they would think her a weak woman, and even though the men she sat with were her family, her uncles had not seen the lengths she had gone to to prove herself, and so she fell back into her old ways of stubborn pride.

Instead it was Robb who rose from the table first, bidding them all a good night. He'd said he wanted to get an early night so he could rise the next day with a clear head, but there had been something off about the way he looked. Eddmina recognised it, because it was the look she had often caught on her own face when leaving dinner early before shooting Theon an invitational glance. She looked at her brother with narrowed eyes, but if he caught her look he did not acknowledge it, simply nodding to their hosts as he took his leave. Garlan noticed Eddmina's tense posture and how her jaw was clenched, and he topped her goblet of wine up. Without a word, she downed it, enjoying how the alcohol gave her a brief respite from everything happening around her.

Edmure went next, claiming he was going to see his father before he went to bed. That was when Eddmina remembered her grandfather, bedbound and on death's door, and at the mention of Lord Tully, she saw his brother gulp down his own wine.

"Is he as sick as they say?" Eddmina asked Brynden, trying not to sound too blunt.

"Yes," he said. For other ladies he would have hedged his words and tried to be kind about the matter, but he knew such tactics wouldn't work on her. "And he grows worse by the day, though not sick enough to forget how much he resents me for never marrying."

"Perhaps you should now, it might make him happy in his last weeks," Eddmina suggested, not entirely joking, though her Uncle certainly thought she was. "I hope my mother arrives back in time to see him. I know she was keen to visit."

"Aye, he'd like that, she was always his favourite out of the three of them," Brynden remarked. "I am disapointed that your Aunt isn't here too. Our cause would benefit greatly from the Vale's support, but instead she chooses to hide up in those mountains and wait for it to pass her by, anything to protect that boy of hers."

"Robin is older than Bran isn't he, by a year or so?" Eddmina frowned, trying to remember what she could about her only cousin. "Bran is Lord of Winterfell while Robb fights."

"Forgive me for speaking against my own family, but I doubt Bran has been as spoilt as little lord Robin, Lysa hides that boy away in the clouds and is blind to the fact that in protecting him she ruins him," Brynden complained, though his gaze settled onto the little boy in Eddmina's arms. "I doubt the same will happen to him. Your aunt would be horrified by what you're doing, you know."

"I horrified her as a child, I do not care about her opinion of my parenting," Eddmina stated coldly, adjusting her hold of Uther slightly to help the pins and needles that had started forming in the arm her son's weight rested on, careful not to wake him yet noting how sweet he looked as he slept soundly. "I do not care about what anyone thinks, actually."

"I never said I was horrified," Brynden pointed out, the small proud smile back in place. "I think you're rather brave. Targaryen mothers would strap their babes to themselves and climb upon dragons to make their children warriors. You're not doing anything that has not been done before. I cannot imagine the Tyrells are impressed with you, though."

"The ones who matter do not care," Garlan spoke up, pouring himself another cup of wine. "The rest can learn to live with it."

Brynden regarded Garlan seriously for a moment, looking him up and down before he breathed out a slight laugh, as if he was surprised. He had clearly not expected the middle-Tyrell to have an almost-Northern approach when it came to family and duty, and it was something that obviously impressed him.

"Is your brother as noble as you?" Brynden asked bluntly, and it was obvious he did not mean Loras, not as his eyes flicked to Eddmina for a brief moment.

"Willas is the best of us," Garlan replied with a small smile. "Though do not tell him I said that. He will never let me live it down."

"Good," Brynden nodded seriously. "I would not like to think of my niece being married to a fool. Or a coward."

Willas was neither. Eddmina would never allow anyone to think her husband was either foolish or cowardly, not when he had spent months away from her on a diplomatic visit, fighting for her family, sacrificing his own safety for a cause he could have easily avoided. He was admirable, and noble, and her whole body seemed to burn for how badly she missed him.

She could hardly bare it. She wanted him with her, she couldn't stand waiting for him any longer. At the mere thought of him she felt like weeping, which only made her feel weak. She wondered if he felt like that, or if he was having the time of his life without her. Perhaps he enjoyed his solitude, enjoying the space travelling had put between the two of them. She yearned for him, while he perhaps celebrated.

Eddmina poured herself another cup of wine, and downed it quickly, hoping it would drown out her thoughts, but it merely made her want him more, knowing the wine was exactly to his taste.

"I think I am going to retire for the night," she said, rising from her seat carefully, trying not to wake Uther though she felt him stirring in her arms. "See you in the morning, both of you."

Garlan got up, offering to walk her back to her chambers, and so the two of them left Brynden together. Perhaps Garlan knew that Eddmina's mind had wandered to Willas, because the moment they were alone in the coridor, he placed his hand on her shoulder, giving it a light squeeze.

"When I am missing Leonette, I make lists in my head, of all the things I wish to tell her," Garlan told her gently, his voice soft and caring. "Mostly it is stupid, frivolous things, because those are the sorts of things we would chat about at home. So, for today, I would tell her that I particularly enjoyed the way that the sunrise looked on the horizon and how the colour of it reminded me of the blossom trees that grow near Cider Hall. Then I would tell her how the wine was a little too sweet for my liking but it went well with dessert, and how the mint dressing on the lamb was like something I ate once as a boy in Oldtown."

"I'd tell Willas that..." she began, but trailed off when she realised she had no clue what she would say. "I would tell him that I love him."

"Perhaps that is enough," Garlan offered her a ressuring smile before he raised one of his eyebrows a little jokingly. "If not absolutely sickening."

Eddmina was about to reply, but she cut herself off as they passed a door to one of the chambers. It had been left slightly ajar, only ever so slightly. Two guards stood outside solemnly, not making eye contact with either Eddmina or Garlan, but they were in Stark armour, and she knew exactly who's room they were stood outside of, especially when she heard the voices coming from inside.

"I do not wish to upset her, I like her a great deal," a soft, female voice spoke quietly, with a little confidence. Eddmina knew who was speaking, having heard that voice during one of her hardest times.

"You like her more than me?" she heard her brother's voice, low and teasing, and given the breathy, womanly laughs and the sound of lips against skin she could hear, she imagined what was happening.

"I like no one more than I like you," the woman sighed. "I love you."

"And I love you," Robb told her firmly. "Forget my stupid, stubborn sister, forget the bloody Freys, it is you that I want, it is you that I will marry. Damn the rest of them. I'll wed you, make you my queen, and anyone who is unhappy with that can-"

"Your grace!" the woman's voice interrupted, low and full of desire, and Eddmina felt herself cringe as she realised exactly what she was overhearing.

"Eddmina," Garlan hissed, squeezing her shoulder tightly, snapping her back to reality. When she looked at him, she saw his cheeks were tinged pink, and his face seemed deathly serious. "Come on, we should not-"

"I love you," she heard her brother's voice once more, louder though it sounded more like a moan, and Eddmina wanted to retch. "Gods, Talisa, I love you, I love-"

Garlan squeezed her shoulder again, and she let him pull her away. If she hadn't she didn't know what she would have done. She certainly didn't want to stay where she had been, overhearing her brother as he insulted her while he made love to Talisa. How Talisa had even gotten into the keep Eddmina didn't know, but that was the least of her concerns, as she felt a wave of icy cold rage wash over her. She took a deep breath, clenching her jaw so tight it hurt, and tried to find clarity. She would not act a fool, she would not act rash. She had to control herself. Someone had to control themselves, considering her brother clearly could not.

She did not speak until they were outside of her own chambers, and though she was certain it was in her imagination she thought she could still hear Robb. She closed her eyes, wishing she had not heard anything, wishing she could pretend she hadn't heard her brother disregard his duties, but she couldn't. It was inescapable, and it stirred up inside of her.

While her body burnt in longing for her husband, while her soul felt as though it had been split in two during Willas' absence, her brother made a mockery of her. He made a joke out of the alliance she formed for him, he made a joke out of himself, and their family.

Robb had called her stupid. He'd never spoken like that about her before, he'd never spoken badly of her, ever. They were twins, two halves of one soul, joined together in birth as they were in life. Life without him was painfully unimaginable, and so she'd dedicated herself to him. As children they had been inseparable, knowing each other so well they often spoke for each other, acting as each other's greatest protectors. Their duty to one another grew with age, and Eddmina's dedication had shifted into focus, becoming more important as she no longer stood at her brother's side but the side of her King. She'd sacrificed so much for him, so much in the name of their family and their cause, and he had called her stupid.

That hurt more than anything, a true, real betrayal. Eddmina felt something inside of her die. The frost she had felt beginning to settle in her soul seemed to grow colder.

Did Robb think her stupid when she got on with her duty of marrying Willas? Did he think her a fool when she dressed herself in green and gold and bore a son with the name Tyrell, simply because it was a marriage her father had arranged? Did he think she should have defied them all and married Theon in secret, just because she had allowed that man into her heart and her bedchamber before she'd ever been introduced to any of the Tyrell's, before she even knew her husband's name?

"Edda, it is late, you should get some sleep," Garlan attempted to reassure her, knowing her well enough to see something in her mind harden and change. "Try not to think about it. Deal with it in the morning."

"At least when I tried to flaunt my duties I made sure to do it privately," she muttered, her voice almost venomous as Garlan's words went unheard. "At least I knew what was expected of me, at least I understood how the honour of my house and the north rested upon my shoulders. It's a heavy burden, but at least I knew how to not betray it."

"Edd, I don't think... There is no harm in it, he's merely lovesick, it is not as if Robb is married to a Frey girl yet and he is taking a mistress," Garlan tried to justify her brother's actions, tried to soften the blow of the insult, but it was too late.

"No, but how long before he is married, and not to a Frey? How long before I have to go back to the Twins - because it will be me, as if I have not grovelled to that wretched man enough - and tell him that none of his daughters were good enough and the King has chosen to forsake his promises?" Eddmina explained, her voice quiet and controlled to the point it was almost eerie. Garlan had never seen her like that, so cold, so unflinchingly serious. "Starks do not break vows. He will not disappoint our family legacy and throw away all of our hard work for one woman. I will not let it happen."

"And what will you do?" Garlan questioned warily, seeing a new side to her, a side that duty and fury had forced her to become. "Robb is king."

"And I am his Hand," she clenched her jaw, her mind forming a plan that was so cruel she hated herself for it.

That was fine, hating herself was fine, as long as the war was won and she could go home with her family safe.

***

Willas Tyrell and Catelyn Stark did not speak much over dinner.

It was not them falling back into old habits, thankfully, more a sense of speechlessness that settled over them after the events of the day had left them both without any energy or willingness to discuss. They both had plenty to say, and given the way they had both looked during the meeting they knew they were both on the same page, but neither of them were willing to bring it back up, not wanting to reignite the frustrations they'd felt.

Their only differences was how their memories of witnessing the meeting between the two remaining Baratheon brothers had settled in their mind, and how they thought the meeting affected their own cause. For Lady Stark, she was angry that the men had no sense of brotherhood, no sense of familial duty. If the pair of them joined forces, they could defeat the Lannisters in mere weeks. Age and inheritance meant that the throne would belong to Stannis, but he wasn't particularly likeable, and so perhaps his younger brother would be able to guide him, the way her daughter helped her son. If the two joined forces, they would be a formidable, fearsome team. They would have the seven kingdoms as their own - minus the north, of course - in a matter of months. Instead they acted as children. Worse than children, because her own children showed more dignity, not just Robb and Eddmina, but Bran and Rickon, two little boys-turned-princes acting as lords in their brother's absence. Even Sansa and Arya who's favourite hobby was arguing did not act with such disgrace as Renly and Stannis Baratheon.

It was disappointing, knowing the hope of their cause was pinned to the need of an alliance with the Baratheons, and yet the Baratheon's could not even show sense. Her son was half Stannis' age, and yet Robb had fought more battles, let alone won more victories. Neither Baratheon brother had fought a single battle in the war, neither of them had been forced to act as her son had, and yet those were the men their fates rested upon. It was enough to make someone want to scream.

Willas understood how she felt, but instead of looking to the Baratheon brothers with resentment, he felt dread, and fear. In watching two brothers swearing each other as enemies, he saw his own future, a future that disgusted and terriefied him. The Baratheon brothers had once been a trio, led by King Robert as the eldest, then Stannis, then Renly, who was significantly younger but still their brother. They had grown up close, loved each other, though they bore the rivalries and troubles that all brothers did, yet somehow they had all ended up hating each other. Robert had set aside his brothers in favour of Lord Stark, and his death had left the two remaining brothers squabbling over the throne. They had once been a brotherhood, but that brotherhood crumbled around them into nothing but hatred, malice, and blood.

Willas knew what it was like to have brothers, he knew what it was like to be the eldest and be forced into a position of leadership. He knew what it meant to have rivalries forced upon him, having to be strong and glorious not just because his family name expected it but because he couldn't let his younger brothers do better than him. It was not a natural thing, but something that was encouraged by most of the adults around him, his father forcing the three brothers into competition, his grandmother jeering them on, his mother never actively doing anything to protest it. Somehow they still managed to love each other, unlike the Baratheons, yet somehow they had ended up on differing sides of a war. Willas and Garlan were close, but the same could not be said for them and their younger brother, and the rest of their family. They had allowed for a rift to form after years of snide rivalries, but the rift had become something far more dangerous. The rift had shifted into warfare, and if they were not careful, they would end up like the Baratheons, a family at civil war.

Willas loved his family. He loved his brothers. He did not want to see them become like Renly and Stannis. He did not want to live like that.

"What would you do, if your family acted like that?" Willas spoke up eventually ater he decided he could eat no more, his plate still mostly full.

"They wouldn't, my children were raised to know not to act like such fools," Lady Stark sounded disgusted, though a pained expression crossed her face when she mentioned her children.

"Do you think my family would ever act like that?" He asked, and she looked taken aback, as it was not something someone usually said, inviting someone to voice their opinions about one's family.

That was why he asked. Lady Stark was practically an outsider to the Tyrells. She knew only what she saw, what she had been allowed to see, both in Winterfell and in Highgarden. That was when his family had all been on their best behaviour, hiding any signs of fractures to impress visitors. It was one thing for Willas to worry, with his insider perspective, knowing his family and their secrets inside and out, but if Lady Stark thought of his family as troubled, then he really had reason for concern.

"I do not know, my lord," Lady Stark replied, clearly unsure of what to say, making Willas sigh.

"I am not asking as a Lord, I'm asking as your goodson, as the father of your grandson," Willas leant across the table to get closer to her, and considered taking her hand to show just how serious he felt. "Do you think my family would ever fracture like the Baratheons? What we saw today, could you imagine it being me and my brothers, or us and our father?"

"Willas, I..." she began, unsure of what to say but obviously about to lean towards courtesy, just like Eddmina did whenever she was put on the spot. She stopped when she saw his face, and saw how desperately he needed the truth. "Not you and Ser Garlan, I know that much for sure. The rest of your family, however..."

That was all Willas needed to hear, knowing that her silence spoke more than a thousand words. Her doubt was enough.

"Surely nothing like what the Baratheons are doing would ever happen to the Tyrells," Lady Stark said, hoping that it was some reassurance as Willas frowned deeply, his hands forming anxious fists.

"The gods have a funny way of making us face the unexpected," Willas said, trying not to clench his jaw in nerves. "Did you ever expect men would call your son King? Yet they do. Did I ever expect my father to betray me by forgetting an alliance he swore to my wife's family? Yet he did."

"Ser Willas, you and your brothers would never behave in the way Stannis and Renly did today," Lady Catelyn spoke, trying to sound kind. Willas wasn't sure if it was working as his worries had already gotten to him. "I know you would not allow it. You are not a fool."

He wasn't, but he knew he had a temper when pushed. He'd seen and read of men doing unspeakibly stupid things when they lost their temper, and he knew he'd done stupid things too. Tourturing a dying man who'd threatened his wife, snapping at his father whenever he felt like his wife had been insulted. Most of his temper seemed to revolve around Eddmina, he couldn't help it, not after feeling so devoted and passionate for her, wanting to protect her in anyway possible. He felt the same about Uther too, knowing he would do anything to ensure his son's safety, but in letting his wife and child rule his mind and emotions, he was blinding himself to the impact that was having on his extended family. He had barely noticed that in preserving the safety and dignity of his own small family, he had begun putting in place the fractures he feared in his extended family.

If they carried on the way they were, how long until it was not Renly and Stannis stood on opposite sides of a battlefield, but him and Garlan against their father and Loras?

Willas' stomach turned, and he pushed his plate away.

"If you are worried, why not simply speak to your father? You're his heir, he would surely listen to you," Lady Stark spoke kindly as she noticed his sullen face, which quickly lightened at her words as he began to laugh.

"My father would only blame me for any concerns I have, we don't enjoy the closeness he has with Loras," Willas explained.

"You seemed to get on well enough in Winterfell," Lady Stark pointed out.

"We'd been told to be on best behaviour by my grandmother before we left home," Willas shrugged. "Besides, that was before... Before everything."

It felt unfair to tell Lady Stark that his recent disagreements with his father had stemmed from her daughter and Willas' devotion to her. Not simply unfair on her who would surely see fault in her daughter, but for his own house, who he would expose to the Starks in a way that could never be forgiven. To tell Lady Stark that his family difficulties seemed to revolve around looking after his wife's best interestes would be to tell her that his family basically did not care for her daughter the way they had promised to, and no matter what, he didn't want to admit to that.

He wished Eddmina were with him to advise on what to do. She was always sure of herself, wise beyond her years. He wished she was there to take his hand and guide him to the answer, one that would seem to obvious and straightforward the moment she had pointed it out. He had not allowed himself to think of her too often, tried to save himself from the torture of missing her, feeling his chest constrict whenever his mind did drift to her, as if his body couldn't breathe, as if she was the air he lived for. He'd always known he loved her, but he'd never realised to what extent he needed her.

Willas closed his eyes tiredly, and allowed himself the pain of thinking of her. He wondered what she was doing in that exact moment, if she was working through the night, studying her books and maps, drafting concepts for attacks or seiges to present to her brother and the council. He wondered if she had eaten enough, if she had remembered to think of her own wellbeing rather than everyone around her. He imagined her singing their son to sleep with an old northern lullaby before she went straight back to her duties, sitting by the side of his cradle with some old book she was analysing for strategies. He wondered if she had managed to sleep well enough, hating the thought of her usual nightmares plaguing her without being there to help her through them. He hoped Garlan had looked after her, imagining his brother pulling her away from her desk to see sunlight at least once a day, forcing her to the dinner table and not allowing her to leave until she had eaten something.

Then, more painfully, Willas let himself think of Uther. His little boy, who had surely grown so much in the time he had been away. It had almost been two months, and his first nameday was approaching faster than he liked. He wondered if his son would even remember him upon their return. He was still so young, after all, perhaps being away for such a stretch of time would have left him as nothing but a blurred memory in the boy's mind. Somehow, that was more horrifying than the thought of his family fracturing. He wanted many things, for peace to settle across Westeros and House Tyrell, for his wife's family to achieve the justice they sought after, but out of it all, he wanted nothing more than his son to be safe, to grow up, to thrive into a great, honourable man.

Perhaps his own father had thought that once about him too. Perhaps Mace Tyrell had once looked at Willas and wanted nothing more for him than to become a happy, contended individual the way Willas thought of Uther. No, he couldn't. His father had inherited Olenna Tyrell's ambitions, otherwise he'd have never encouraged the rivalries between the three Tyrell brothers, he'd have never been so protectively bitter about Willas wanting to spend time with the Hightowers in Oldtown, he'd have never encouraged Willas with unwavering and overbearing enthusiasm into entering jousting long before he was really ready. Willas knew his father loved him in some strange way, but he knew his father's love had so often been second to ambition, otherwise he might have never had to be held down by Garlan and Oberyn while an army of maesters had to attempt to save his leg and his life.

For Uther's sake, Willas knew he had to do something about his family. He couldn't let his son grow up in the same way he had, loved yet put under such immense pressure. He couldn't continue for his own sake, because how could he truly be a father if he let his own still rule over him? How could he raise a child knowing how much fault existed in his House, the House his son would one day rule?

"I would like to return to our own camp soon," Lady Stark spoke after a while, taking Willas' long silence as a sigh of exhaustion, a sentiment she shared. "I miss my children. I am growing sick of the Stormlands."

"You are not the only one," Willas agreed, finding instant relief at the thought of leaving. "We can't return empty-handed."

"No, we can't," she agreed, rising from her seat. "I'm going to go and seek an audience with Lord- I mean, King Renly. I will remind him of Robb's want of an alliance."

"You should remind him of what his nephew told me, about the Stark's and the Baratheon's being friends," Willas suggested, remembering Edric Storm and his eagerness for an alliance, though Lady Stark grimaced at the mention of the bastard, the boy clearly reminding her of someone else. "Should all things go well, Edric will be Warden of the Stormlands, he would be a valuable person for Eddmina and Robb to befriend."

"If I am to do this, then you are to go to your own family and set things straight if you are truly worried about disorder," Lady Stark instructed him, and he knew there was no arguing; he'd heard her take a similar tone to Arya once in regards to brushing her hair. "Robb needs the force of the Reach more than he needs the friendship of Robert Baratheon's bastard."

"And should both King Renly and my father refuse to join our side?" Willas raised his eyebrow questioningly, knowing he was merely buying time before he had to go and confront his family.

"Then we leave at first light, go back to Robb and tell him we failed," Lady Stark concluded, her voice unshaken despite the severity of the situation. "You're a smart man, Ser Willas, I'm sure you will find someway to convince your family to see sense."

"I might be a smart man, but I'm not a miracle worker," he remarked, and he was surprised when she laughed, reaching out and taking his arm, offering it a reassuring squeeze. "Good luck."

With that, he heaved himself to his feet, and with the support of his cane, began to make his way across camp to his father's tent, knowing his brother and sister were also there for supper. His old injury was aching more than usual, though he put that down to the extra strain it had been under from the months of camping and riding, not to mention being in the Stormlands was like surrounding himself in memories of the joust. When his nights weren't spent tossing and turning as he stuggled to sleep without Eddmina at his side, his dreams were filled with moments from his last visit to Storm's End. Sometimes he saw the whole event, other times it was just bits and pieces, like hearing his mother sobbing, or the sound Oberyn's pike made as it clanged into his chest plate, or the smell of his blood mixed with the poppy's milk the maesters were forcing down his throat to unsuccessfully dull the pain. He wasn't sure what was worse, missing Eddmina and Uther to the point it hurt, or his mind forcing him to relive the worst pain of his life.

He tried to shake off the thought of it as he approached his father's tent, knowing he would need his mind to be as clear as possible. He took a moment, tightening his jaw as he shook off the memories, steeling himself as he took a few deep breaths. He had just about managed to control himself when he was stopped by the guards outside his father's tent.

"Will you ask Lord Tyrell if his eldest son might be able to have an audience?" he said, almost coldly, though flashed a smile. He reminded himself of his wife, and how controlled she managed to be when dealing with situations that scared her.

The guards nodded, making him wait outside as they announced him, but he was eventually given leave to enter. When he did, he saw his father still sat at the dinner table, Loras across from him while Margaery was stood, her arms folded across her chest as her face was contorted in frustration. Upon his entry she spun to greet him, immediately relaxing as she saw her eldest brother, offering him a smile. The other two Tyrell's didn't seem as glad to see him, but he didn't let it bother him.

"Am I interrupting something?" Willas asked instead of a proper greeting, sensing that all was not well. Margaery wrapped her hand around his arm, leading him to a seat.

"No," Loras said, too quickly, too stubbornly. Their father nodded in agreement, while Margaery laughed.

"Your timing is perfect, Willas, I was just telling them both that they should ask for an audience with either you or Lady Stark to finalise our alliance with the north," Margaery told Willas as she sat at his side. Her words made Lord Tyrell scoff. "I was not telling them as a Tyrell, I was telling them as their Queen."

"I have never been more proud of you," Willas whispered to her, taking hold of her hand under the dining table and squeezing it tight. His sister smirked at him, before he turned his focus to his father and brother. "Excellent timing indeed. Lady Catelyn has gone to speak with the King now about alliances, but I wanted to come here, to speak with you. We haven't always seen eye-to-eye. This war is not the first instance of rivalry or disagreement, and we all know that, but I have decided that it will end here."

"And who are you to decide that?" Lord Tyrell said, sounding surprisingly like his mother the Queen of Thorns.

"I am your heir," Willas said without hesitation. "You will never see the day I have to take over this family, and you may cringe at the very thought of it, but one day, father, I will be Lord Tyrell, and I will be the one looking after the family and our best interests. I dread the day, but that day will only be harder if we remain how we are now."

"And how are we?" Loras asked, sounding like an irritating little brother who was questioning him for the sake of it.

"Fractured, Loras," Willas explained. "Seeing Renly and Stannis today, did that not bother you? Robert, Stannis, and Renly, three brothers. One dead, the other two now swearing each other as enemies. We will not let ourselves become like them, we must not, I will not allow it to happen. Lady Stark is arranging the alliance between the North and the Stormlands, and with that alliance we will be tied together again whether you like it or not. It would be easier for all of us if we set aside our grievances now and learnt to act as a family again."

Margaery squeezed his hand secretly, knowing how much courage it had taken for him to address their issues head on. Loras and their father looked a little surprised, though after a moment, Loras looked down at the table as he considered his brother's words. He clearly saw the truth in it, and knew he couldn't really argue. Lord Tyrell, however, stared at his son, baffled.

"We are acting as a family, Willas, it is you and your damned fool brother who are galivanting across the kingdoms pretending to be bloody northerners!" His father sighed, his voice raising in annoyance.

"Please, father, Garlan isn't a fool," Margaery tried to sound kind, but she just sounded tired. "And Willas is acting in the interests of the family. Eddmina is our family, so are the Starks by that logic."

"And when has she ever thought of us Tyrells and her duties to us?" Lord Tyrell pushed, keeping his gaze fixed on Margaery, choosing to ignore the way Willas' eyes hardened in anger.

"She thought of us when we invaded her home and we made her leave, when we signed a betrothal contract without her even being present to give her acceptance yet she married me anyway," Willas reminded him, thinking of his good, dutiful wife, and just how beautiful she was. "She thought of us when you humiliated her at her own wedding by inviting my former betrothed and she said nothing, when you made a spectacle of othering her by calling her 'northerner' and 'the Stark girl' and yet she still tried to make Highgarden her home. Do you want me to continue, because you were quite awful to her when she was pregnant, too."

"Your son is heir to the Reach, he should have been born in the Reach!" Lord Tyrell snapped, and Willas was surprised that out of everything, that was the part he chose to address. "Your wife-"

"My wife is the woman you chose for me to marry, your problems lie with yourself," Willas cut him off, clenching his jaw. "As for Uther, I won't let him grow up in a family like this, seeing us bicker and fight, knowing that we resent each other when all we really need to do is talk."

"You let your wife keep your son in a battle camp for much longer and he won't grow up at all, Willas," Lord Tyrell said coldly, and Willas felt as though he'd been hit in the face.

"Father, that's cruel," Margaery pointed out, her voice quiet in shock. She was looking to Loras, as if asking him to take her side and help, but he as refusing to look at anyone, his eyes focused on the ceiling.

Willas took a leaf out of Loras' book, not able to bare looking at his father. It was easier to control his temper that way if he didn't look at anyone, especially his father, and it was easier to ignore the stinging he felt in his eyes.

He knew how much danger they were putting Uther in through their involvement with Robb and the North. He'd already been threatened directly once, and sometimes he spent his days thinking what he would do if a similar threat occurred. He didn't really know what he would do, all he knew was that he'd do anything to protect Uther, though he also knew that he wouldn't need protecting as much if they weren't on the front line of a war. He couldn't show his concern much, not since he knew Eddmina worried so much and showing his own worry would make things worse for her. He thought that if he ignored his worries enough they would simply disappear, but that wasn't the case when his father pointed them out so bluntly.

It was one thing to know your own flaws and faults, but when a trusted family member saw and pointed them out so brutally... Willas had never felt like such a terrible person, let alone a terrible father.

"We had to go with Robb and the north, we..." he tried to explain, but he felt tired, and still could not meet anyone's eyes. "We did not think things would go the way that they have. We thought it would be a rescue, not a war."

No one said anything, no one wanted to respond when they knew the only responses they could think of would make things worse. When Willas finally managed to look at his father, he could tell Lord Tyrell knew he had gone too far.

"If it was you imprisoned in the Black Cells, if it was Margaery being held hostage in the Red Keep, I would make the exact same call Mina and Robb made," Willas told him honestly. "If you died the way Lord Eddard did, I would not rest until the whole seven kingdoms had seen us avenge you. I would hope that while I did that, my wife and the Starks would stand by house Tyrell."

"Do you honestly think the North and the Starks would care, should we be put in their position?" Lord Tyrell questioned, but he wasn't angry or pushing anymore, he simply sounded curious.

"If Mina asked, the North would see it as their duty," Willas said, unable to stop the small, sad smile that grew when he thought of his wife, and how much the northerners respected their princess.

"Robb Stark hasn't lost a battle yet, has he?" Loras asked, speaking up at long last, looking at his brother seriously. When Willas shook his head, his eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "Do you think he could win this war?"

"I hope so," Willas sighed. "You know what will happen if he doesn't, don't you?"

Margaery winced, tightening her grip on his hand as if to keep him there with her. Loras and their father didn't want to answer, but they both nodded slowly, and Lord Tyrell looked almost afraid for a split second before the look left his face.

Willas hadn't allowed himself to think much about what fate awaited them all should they not succeed against the Lannisters, but he let himself consider it then. He let himself imagine his brother falling in battle, not dying without taking out as many men as possible, but dying all the same. Robb would fall too, possibly in battle, though most likely a ceremonious execution, just like his father. Lady Stark would be put to death too, as well as the rest of the Stark children. His son would die, regardless of how young he was, killed just like Elia Martell's children, while his wife...

Thinking of losing Eddmina and Uther was more agonising than anything he had ever considered. He imagined her with her head bowed, waiting for the executioner's sword to swing. He imagined her approaching death dutifully, not making a fuss, merely accepting it, because she would only be put in that position if she had already lost everything that mattered to her. If the North lost, if her family was killed, if she lost her twin brother, she would surely approach the Stranger willingly. She'd be martyred, the bards would sing of her tragedy and her pain, and she would become just like her hero Danny Flint.

The thought sickened him, and he blinked, willing the image to leave him. His mind landed on the thought of his own execution, and though also horiffic, was somewhat better than thinking of losing Eddmina.

"If the north loses, House Tyrell will be punished as well," Loras concluded, his words thankfully pulling Willas from his thoughts. "It doesn't matter if we don't do anything, they'll think we were a part of it all anyway."

"Exactly," Willas nodded. "So you may as well join the North and condemn yourselves for something you've actually done rather than let the Lannisters speculate your involvement."

"Father, I think it makes sense," Margaery said quietly, her voice kind. "If we fought with the North, we can claim the throne so much easier. The sooner Renly takes the capital, the sooner we know peace and we can all go home."

Lord Tyrell looked to be considering it, closing his eyes and leaning back in his eat, rubbing his hands across his head as if willing his mind to see the options properly. He looked as though he was going to say something, but a guard burst into the tent at that exact moment, breathless and red-faced, his eyes full of alarm.

"Your grace, my lords," he practically shouted, his yes flicking between Margaery and the other Tyrells quickly, as if buying time as he got his thoughts in order.

"What is it?" Margaery frowned, while Loras shot to his feet.

"His grace..." the guard continued, still not knowing what to say. "His grace King Renly has been killed."

Willas leapt to his feet, and despite the aching strain in his bad leg, shot to his brother's side, catching him just before he fell to his knees.

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