The morning of the arrival of the Tyrells, Eddmina was up early and out in the yard by the archery targets.

What she'd said to Theon all those weeks ago was no bluff, Eddmina really was one of the best archers in Winterfell. From the first time she'd ran out of her lesson with the septa after getting tired of her badgering her for her wonky stitches at the age of seven, Eddmina had always run out to the targets to shoot. It helped clear her mind, and sometimes when she was bored or had nothing else to do, she would practice shooting, and eventually, she got good at it, to the point where even her father told her he was proud of her ability.

Eddmina liked to shoot to clear her head, and that was just what she needed that morning, the morning she knew that things really were going to change around Winterfell. The Tyrells were due to arrive in Winterfell in a few hours, a fact that Eddmina couldn't escape from. She knew when they got there she would have to act like a real lady, and not one who also enjoyed sparring with swords and shooting arrows. Shooting arrows, however, was the perfect way to clear her head, and try to stop herself from panicking over the impending situation.

She was unsure over how long she'd been out there, but it must have been at least an hour before she heard footsteps behind her. Though her focus had been disturbed, Eddmina shot her arrow before spinning around, only to be met by her mother, watching her almost disappointedly. Of course Lady Catelyn loved her daughter and her nature, but over the years Eddmina had noticed the way her mother sighed whenever she mentioned swords or weaponry. It wasn't typically ladylike, but Catelyn knew her eldest daughter was far too headstrong and wilful to listen to a command to stop, not to mention Ned pointed out the fact that she still took lessons with the septa and was otherwise a perfect lady.

'My sister was the same,' Ned had told her, regarding their daughter's nature. 'Edda is of the North, just like my sister was.'

Catelyn often wondered if it was Eddmina's resemblance and similarities to his sister Lyanna that made him so fond of her. Their children all seemed to favour her in looks, whilst their eldest daughter only had the Tully blue eyes, every other part of her obviously northern, even the accent that most ladies were taught to discard. Physically, there was very little of Catelyn in her daughter, but mentally, she knew that Eddmina believed in the Tully words very strongly, otherwise she would have protested to the Tyrell visit more.

"What are you doing out here? Shouldn't you be getting ready?" Catelyn questioned, to which Eddmina merely rolled her eyes.

"The Tyrells aren't even here yet but somehow they're still dictating what I should be doing," Eddmina commented, not meeting her mother's eye as she gathered her arrows back together, putting her bow back neatly.

"I don't think they are as bad as you think they will be," Catelyn sighed, knowing how Eddmina will have been overthinking the entire situation. "I can remember being terrified of the Starks when my betrothal was first proposed, and look how well it worked out,"

"Optimism and wishful thinking are for children," she shrugged slightly, raising one of her eyebrows, her stubbornness and pessimism meaning she refused to accept her mother's simple view of the matter at hand. "Starks were once kings, of course you were afraid. I'm not afraid of the Tyrells, I know marriage is my duty. It doesn't mean I have to like it or give up who I am,"

Eddmina glanced over to her mother with a small sigh before walking over to her and engulfing her into a tight hug. She knew her words made her sound angry and bitter, or at least she knew that was how her mother would interpret them, but in all honesty she had accepted it, she knew it was inescapable. She knew she was luckier than most since she at least got to meet her future husband before the wedding, and even though she hadn't flowered yet she still had the opportunity to meet the man she was expected to spend the rest of her life with. She'd accepted the possibility of a betrothal, but she'd not accepted the loss of her identity that could come with it.

"I'm going to have to act like a lady for the next two weeks, not a northern lady but a proper lady," Edda explained, still in the embrace. "I just wanted to get it out of my system before I have to pretend I prefer sitting and sewing for the rest of my life,"

"Edda, look at me," Catelyn instructed her, almost sharply as she pulled out of the hug to hold her daughter's shoulders. "You aren't a southern lady, you're a Stark. Don't let them forget that. Now, go and get ready,"

***

Keeping her mother's words in mind, Eddmina went straight up to her room to change. After brushing her hair through, she tied it back into one long braid before dressing in a dark grey woollen dress. Like many of her other dresses it featured embroidered wolves and a high collar, the collar being representative of her status, as northern ladies tended to wear collars rather than jewellery to symbolise their position. Eddmina never wore jewellery, only a thin silver band around her left thumb with the Stark wolf imprinted on the inside of it, a name day gift from three years ago.

As she was looking over her appearance, attaching a black fur cloak around her shoulders, a quiet knock came at her door. Calling for them to enter, she turned to be greeted by Sansa, her pretty little sister who was more of a lady than she could ever hope to be. Eddmina was often told she was beautiful, but when people called her that, she couldn't help but think they were stupid when Sansa was stood at her side. At that point in time, when Sansa was beaming at her, Eddmina knew she had never seen her sister so excited. The perfect lady who thought life in the North was dull, Sansa had practically been waiting her whole life for contact with the Southern kingdoms. Eddmina wished she could be that excited, as she loved the north with her whole heart and saw the other kingdoms as inferior.

"Mother sent me to come and get you," Sansa told her quickly. "Everyone is already down in the courtyard, except for Arya, Robb went looking for her, but she doesn't care about the Tyrell visit,"

"But you do?" Eddmina raised an eyebrow teasingly as she took hold of her sister's arm, beginning to lead her out of the room and down the corridor.

"Of course!" Sansa exclaimed. "We never get visitors, especially ones from places like High Garden! It's meant to be so wonderful there, the sun never stops shining, there are singers there all the time singing the nice songs you always refuse to sing. Can you imagine living in a castle, a real castle surrounded by pretty gardens with gentle knights noble ladies?"

"Sounds like a fairy tale," Eddmina commented, quietly thankful that she hadn't believed the fairy tales of her childhood like her sister had. Although she loved Sansa, she couldn't help but think her optimism for a world that kind was a little foolish. "I'm just glad we're having a feast tonight, at least that's something good coming out of this visit,"

"Now you sound like Arya," Sansa muttered, rolling her eyes in disdain at the mention of their younger sister. "Surely you're just a little excited about it all, Edda? You must be excited about meeting Lord Tyrell's children, they say Margaery Tyrell is one of the most beautiful ladies in the south, and her brothers Garlan and Loras are honourable and noble,"

"And what do they say about Willas Tyrell?" Eddmina asked cautiously, biting her lip slightly as she awaited her sister's opinion.

"The eldest?" Sansa frowned, as if she had forgotten him. "He has a bad leg from a tourney accident and he's refused marriage with every maiden offered to him,"

Eddmina would have been lying if she'd said Sansa's words didn't worry her. Her mother and father had told her about Willas' bad leg, but they'd said he was kind in nature. They'd said he was sweet and gentle, the epitome of what a lord should be. Except what Sansa said, to refuse every maiden he'd been offered to marry, led her to panic a little. What if he wasn't what she'd convinced herself he was? To refuse marriage made him seem stubborn and bitter. If he'd been proposed to before, probably to beautiful southern ladies with more wealth than her, why would he say different to her?

Before Eddmina got the chance to reply to Sansa, the two had reached the courtyard where the rest of the Starks were waiting. Robb had somehow found Arya, though she was still wearing a soldiers helmet and chasing Bran around the courtyard, whilst Robb himself was stood off to the side with Theon and Jon. Upon seeing her, he shot her a nervous smile, beckoning her over. Leaving Sansa, she ran over to her brothers, hugging Robb tightly.

"You've had a shave," she pointed out as she pulled out of her embrace with her twin brother. "You look like a kid again,"

"Lady Stark wanted us looking neat," Theon spoke up, though he struggled to meet Eddmina's eye. A week had passed since she'd broken things off with him but the two had still not spoken.

"I don't think I've ever seen you look neat before, Greyjoy," she teased in an attempt to make things normal between the two of them, before turning to Jon, who's long curly hair had been cut significantly shorter. " And you, your mane has gone,"

"He's usually so protective over his hair," Robb grinned as Eddmina ruffled Jon's hair with a playful smirk.

The four of them were acting like everything was normal. Like Eddmina wasn't about to meet he betrothed, like Theon didn't have a broken heart, like Robb wasn't worried sick for his sister, like Jon wasn't irritated about how his status as a bastard meant he had to stand behind the rest of his siblings when the visitors arrived. There was an elephant among them, but Eddmina would be damned if she let any of them acknowledge it, savouring the banter.

It didn't last for long, especially as Lord Stark called for them all to line up, his call followed by the noise of the gates opening, the sound of distant horses and carraiges rolling into the Winterfell courtyard.

***

Word count: 1823

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