No one came to the tent for quite a while. Other than the guards who stood loyally outside and the healer who came to tend to her injuries, Eddmina was completely alone. In fact, it was the healer who brought Uther to her, not her mother like Willas promised.

Uther hadn't stopped crying the entire time they had been back in the tent, and though the healer had checked him over and said everything seemed fine, Eddmina thought that perhaps the whole ordeal had scared him. There wasn't really anything she could do to comfort him either, other than hold him close and rock him, not while she had to sit still and let the healer tend to her injuries. Her arm was not broken but was badly sprained and needed bandaging, while the cut on her cheek required stitches. With no one else around, Eddmina had to simply grit her teeth together and breathe through the stress and pain of it, all while trying to calm her crying child. The cut would most likely scar too, a thought that infuriated her, but luckily the rest of her injuries were minor. Her throat and neck were bruised from the choking, but so was her jaw and her eye, as well as her back and knees. The back of her head was pounding from when she'd head-butted him, and that on top of the adrenaline rush fading, with the cries from Uther, had resulted in a splitting headache. She tried to shut her eyes to see if it would help, but was unsurprised when it did nothing for her.

"Do you have any idea how the battle is going?" She asked after a while, watching as the healer prepared a rag soaked in alcohol. She pressed it to her cheek and Eddmina swore. The healer shook her head. "I'll go back out there and wait with the others, as soon as you're done."

"I wouldn't recommend it, my lady," the healer commented, offering her an apologetic smile when she pressed the rag to her cheek closer. "You should spend the rest of the day resting. Your body won't thank you if you climb straight back onto a horse or stand for hours."

"Right," Eddmina answered with a nod, clenching her jaw. Uther distracted her from any annoyances with his crying and so she stroked his hair softly, knowing only hours before she was willing to put herself and her life into harms way to protect him. "Please don't cry, little one. Please, it's alright now, I promise."

The longer he cried, the more Eddmina felt like breaking down into tears too, but she refused to cry in front of the healer who was nothing more than a stranger, not to mention she was convinced her mother or Willas could walk into the tent at any moment. If they saw her tears, or even suspected her of crying, that would make her feel weak, and they would surely pity her; Eddmina didn't have the stomach for their pity.

After one final check over, the healer left Eddmina alone with no one but her own thoughts and Uther's screams for company. Eddmina hadn't really believed the healer when she'd said she would need rest, but the events of the day had caught up with her as she wanted nothing more than to lie down and sleep, even though she knew sleep would bring her nothing but nightmares. Except she couldn't just rest, and so she found herself pacing up and down the tent, rocking Uther as she hummed, closing her eyes every now and again to hide from her reality.

Willas had told her he wouldn't be long. He'd told her that her mother would meet her. Willas' word was often as good as a promise, so Eddmina couldn't help but feel betrayed in her solitude. She couldn't help but feel as though she had been sent to the tent not for her protection but to keep her out of the way, so that Willas and the other guards could take charge of the situation. She hadn't realised how much she wanted him, how much she needed him, until the betrayal of his absence twisted into anger, and her humming slowly turned to quiet swears. She'd let that man attempt to kidnap her to protect her son, she'd fought brutally for her survival, only to end up sent away, hidden in camp so the men could swoop in and act like they'd saved her.

Only Honour had saved her. Honour, and herself. She'd never stabbed someone like that before, she'd never truly meant to hurt someone like that before. She'd never seen someone bleed like that, knowing it was caused by her. If he died... That man was the first person she had killed. He deserved it, and she had no regrets over her actions, but Eddmina simply hadn't expected it, and she hadn't expected herself to be capable of such behaviour.

'Good,' she thought. 'At least now I know I can protect myself if it comes to it.'

When Uther finally settled, the day had become afternoon, and Eddmina was sure that the battle must have finished. Surely it was over, surely her brother was back. If she hadn't been sent away, Eddmina would've insisted that no one tell him about the attack and she would simply tell him that Flint had spooked and her injuries were due to her falling off her horse. She wanted to barge back outside and make her position known, that she was not so easily scared by one little threat, but every time she considered leaving she remembered just how tired she was. When Uther drifted off and she got him in the cradle without him setting off again, she took the opportunity to collapse onto her bed, curling up into a ball.

She hadn't even realised she'd fallen asleep until Uther's cries woke her back up. Getting up was a problem, her whole body throbbing with every move she made, but she managed, and as soon as he was in her arms he settled back down. She had no idea how long she had slept for, feeling as though she had only been out for a mere few minutes, but outside the tent seemed much darker than it had when she'd laid down.

It was dark outside, and she was still alone.

Could something be wrong? No, surely if something was wrong someone would have burst into the tent, whether they be friend or foe. She'd know if something had gone wrong, which meant that either the fighting was still going on, or that everything was over, and no one had thought to come and join her. Not her husband, not her mother, no one.

'Curse them all to the others,' Eddmina thought bitterly, biting her lip to stop the tears.

Why should she not cry? She hadn't cried since she first heard about her father and sisters being taken captive, when she first realised they were going to war. She had remained strong and stoic the entire time, hiding any possible emotion to stop anyone accusing her of weakness, pushing down her own feelings to care for those around her. She'd not shown her own concerns so she could comfort others and their fears. She'd pushed down so much of herself for so long to look after everyone else around her, and where had it gotten her? In her time of need, where was everyone she'd been caring for?

Eddmina didn't cry though. Perhaps she had become incapable after restricting her emotions for so long, completely losing the ability. She didn't really care, she'd always hated crying anyway. Instead she just sat there, considering everything that had ever happened to her, looking down at her son, knowing that everything she had gone through to protect him she would do again in a heartbeat if it meant he was safe.

It wasn't long after that Willas did appear in the tent opening, pale-faced with bloodshot eyes. She tried not to look at him after that initial look, her grudge for her solitude still going strong. Though she did not look at him, she could see out of the corner of her eye that he stayed exactly where he was, as still as stone. It was different from before considering how fidgety he had been, as if all his nerves had gone, as well as his temper. It was like his anger had drained out of him, leaving him just a shell of what he had been all day. Somehow the state of him didn't bother her, her frustration lingering to the point that she didn't even consider the idea that something was wrong.

"Mina, I..." he began but stopped, as if he didn't have the words.

"Did we lose?" she asked, wondering if his drained state was because of their poor luck in battle.

"No... No, we won," he answered dazedly. "Robb and Garlan are alive. So's Greyjoy. Dacey Mormont too. Our side fought brilliantly, I've heard. Ser Jaime Lannister is our prisoner. Your brother is apparently a remarkable general. Mina, I-"

"Did no one think to come and tell me all of that sooner?" she questioned coldly, moving so she could lay Uther back down in the cradle as she stood up, folding her arms across her chest. "Or was I just forgotten about?"

"I'm sorry," he told her. He still didn't move from his spot. "I'm sorry for everything. I shouldn't have behaved the way I did, I shouldn't have... Mina, I need to tell you something-"

"No, Willas, I need to tell you something!" she snapped, though attempted to keep her voice down to stop herself disturbing Uther again. "I am not going to be sent away like some weak little thing while the rest of you men take power over everything! I give so much of myself to everyone and in return I get nothing. When I could've really done with someone I was left completely alone. I had to have my face sewn alone, while our son screamed all day. I could've done with you here. You, my mother, anyone. Instead, you were letting your temper get the better of you and shouting at a man on death's door for things that couldn't be undone. I needed someone today. I needed you. Where were you?"

Eddmina expected him to fight back. He usually did. Arguments were rare between the two of them, but when they did happen they usually clashed, both shouting their side until they realised there was no point to it all as their tempers settled back down. Usually it was her wolf blood and Willas' sporadically short fuse that meant fire met fire, but it was always a blaze that burnt out quickly. Instead though, Willas stayed silent, listening to her intently, nodding before his head dropped and he began to run his hand through his hair. He seemed resigned, withdrawn into himself, and if Eddmina wasn't so frustrated she would've easily recognised that something was wrong. She was frustrated however, and she was too blinded by her anger to notice, simply wanting to spar with him.

"What do you have to say for yourself?" Eddmina demanded, not understanding why he wasn't shouting back.

"I'm sorry," he said after a moment of silence. "I took one look at that man, and when you told me what he'd said and what he was going to do... I saw red. He made me consider what life would be like without you and Uther and I just... He's dead. I didn't even do anything, I just stood and watched him bleed out the wounds you gave him. I love you, Mina. I just want you to be safe."

"Then why didn't you come? Why did you let me sit in here alone all day?" She demanded, not softening despite his sad, resigned voice.

"Because I've never lost my temper like that in front of you and I didn't want to face you and think I'd upset you," he told her.

"What upset me was that man holding a knife to my throat," Eddmina shrugged bluntly, sitting back down on the bed, her arms still crossed. She looked Willas up and down, noting how tired he looked as her own energy began to fade. "Why don't you sit down? Why are you just stood there?"

He didn't answer. He didn't even move, except for his hand as it dropped from his hair to instead wipe his eyes with the ball of his palm. Was he tired or was he... He surely couldn't be crying? Eddmina had never seen Willas cry, not at their wedding, not even when she birthed Uther. Her chest tightened, all her anger and fury forgotten, and before she knew it she'd shot across the room and was holding him in her arms tight, one hand on his back while the other ran through his curls.

"What's the matter, Will?" She asked, her voice now gentle as she pushed a kiss to his cheek. "Tell me, please, Willas."

"Eddmina, I am so, so, sorry," he tried, and though his tears had stopped his voice was shaking so badly he could barely get the words out. "I was coming to see you. Garlan had set me straight, told me to stop being a coward, that you were my wife and I couldn't just avoid you, but then a letter came and..."

"Willas," she said seriously, pulling out of his embrace and stepping away so she could see his face properly. "Just tell me."

"The letter was from King's Landing," Willas continued, taking a deep breath as he calmed himself, his voice straight as he looked her in the eye. "Joffrey has had your father executed. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

Eddmina didn't realise she'd fallen until she felt her knees sting, but even then she didn't care. How could she care when she couldn't even breathe? Her heart was pounding, her head was spinning, and she was certain she was going to be sick, all the while she couldn't breathe, and surely everything was just going to end and the world collapse because how was she even still alive? How was the world meant to go on, it was all one big joke - Willas' news, the war, her life, the world in general- it was one big joke that was going to stop. Everything was going to cut and go to black, the world and her life simply ending, or perhaps she would wake up from the bad dream in her bed in Highgarden with Willas beside her, or even in Winterfell on her own. It was all a mistake. It had to be a mistake.

It wasn't a mistake though and she knew it, but she wanted out, she wanted to make it stop, to escape. A scream was threatening to escape from her lips, but for some reason there was still a shred of rationality in her and she knew screaming would upset Uther, so she held her hand to her mouth to drown out the choking sobs that had begun rising up as she attempted to breathe. Her other hand was clutched to her chest, as if that would get the pain to stop, as if that would stop her heart pounding and splitting into two.

It felt as though someone had kicked her in the gut several times, a deep, searing burning running through her whole body as she slowly realised that she couldn't just wake up, that it wasn't a dream. It was instead a living nightmare. She didn't realise that her ears were ringing until she felt Willas helping her to her feet, and though her vision was fuzzy she could see he was talking, but what he was saying she had no clue. She knew he was holding her, his hand in hers as he led her to their bed, but she couldn't feel him, her entire being buzzing numbly, and as she tried to put one foot in front of the other the world was spinning so badly she kept stumbling.

Somehow he got her to the bed, sitting her down before he pulled her in close. She didn't protest, burying her face into his chest, balling her hands into fists as she threw her arms around his neck. She couldn't tell if she was screaming, but he knew the tears she'd struggled to find earlier had made their appearance, and she knew Willas was still trying to talk to her, stroking her hair, doing anything he could think of to bring her some sort of comfort, but it was no use. Eddmina was so unaware of where she was, or who she was, that she may as well have been alone all over again.

Her father.

Everyone loses a parent at some point. Everyone loses someone. It is simply a fact of life. Nothing lasts forever, and everyone dies. She knew that, she accepted that, but what she didn't accept was the cruelty of it.

Her father wasn't a traitor. He'd gotten caught up in other peoples' games, and had lost. He knew the games, he knew that people were cruel, but he understood nothing but honour. Eddmina had always wanted to be like him, to live her life to this standards and the code of honour he lived by. It was the right way, the only way. Yet now it was the way that got him killed.

It wasn't fair. It wasn't right. Yet it had happened anyway.

He'd been taken from her once before, when King Robert made him leave home to go south, somewhere he didn't belong. She'd dreamed of seeing him again, she'd made plans for visiting him and her little sisters in King's Landing, or having them stay in Highgarden whenever they wanted. They were all going to visit the moment Eddmina got back to the Reach, they were going to visit and meet Uther, and Eddmina was going to introduce her father to his grandson, who looked so much like him, but now...

Now the Lannisters had taken him from her for good.

It was the Lannisters. They had stolen him from her. They had made her hurt. They had made her heart shatter. With her heart gone, a fire of fury burned in it's place. 

In a sudden burst of clarity, Eddmina jolted out of Willas' arms, leaping from the bed and across the tent to where she had left her blades on the table.

"Where are you going?" Willas called urgently, though his voice was croaked as if he was holding back tears.

"To kill Jaime Lannister," she told him firmly, as if it was the most casual thing in the world, picking up her dagger and storming to the tent opening.

Eddmina didn't even see Willas move, but he was holding onto her, grabbing her waist to stop her. He spun her around then grabbed her wrist. She couldn't quite see him, not through the blur of tears. Her vision might have been obscured, but her mind was not, and she couldn't understand why this man who'd promised to always stand by her was against her on this matter.

"Let me go!" she snarled, pulling against him, but his grip merely tightened. "Gods damn you, Willas! Let me go! Let me go!"

"Never," he said, his voice surprisingly calm, his face still.

"Let me go and kill him!" she tried to sound fierce, hoping to scare him enough to drop her, but instead her voice was breaking, hitching up higher as she fought against sobbing again. "I'm going to kill him, and send him to the capital, see how they all like it. I want to see them cry, I want to see their hearts break!"

"And then what, Eddmina?" Willas asked calmly, his voice diplomatic despite the devastated look in his eyes. "Killing him doesn't bring your father back, but it does mean Robb loses a prisoner that he could trade for Sansa and Arya."

The shock of hearing her sister's names was enough for her to drop the dagger. It clattered to the floor in between the two of them, and Eddmina, who felt as though she had been kicked in the gut once more, crumbled. There it was again, the feeling as though there was no air left inside her body and she couldn't bring herself to breathe, the feeling that she was drowning, the feeling that her world was about to cave into nothing but darkness.

"Oh, darling," Willas sighed, bringing her into another embrace before she could fall to the floor.

He kissed her forehead, and prepared himself to wipe away her tears, but no more came. No more sobs either. She was just silent, and still. He wondered what she was thinking about, but in reality, there was nothing. Eventually though she broke again, the silence in her head being overtaken by the inevitable images as her imagination tried to piece together the situation, inventing what must have happened. She rested her forehead on his shoulder, trying to hide, but hiding from the truth was impossible.

"What's going to happen to the girls?" Eddmina asked after a while, the thought of them making her shake. "How long do you think it will be until-"

"Don't think about that," Willas told her softly, though there was a strain in his tone, and she knew he'd already thought about it. "They're valuable. They won't be hurt."

Eddmina wasn't too sure about that, but she didn't have it in her to protest. She wanted to think about the girls but her mind wouldn't stray from her father. She thought of the last time she saw him, climbing onto his horse and riding out of Winterfell with the royal party. She thought of his voice and they way he hold her stories when she was younger. She thought of his smile, and his laugh. He was a serious man, stoic and strong, but somehow Eddmina always found a way to make his stern front crack.

Most highborn men did not care for their children, let alone their daughters. Lords and Warden lords were no exception, but with Lord Stark... He always made time for his family. Always. He took his time with each of them, he knew them all, knew their quirks, their interests. He'd had a lute made for her just because she'd enjoyed learning how to play with a travelling musician. He'd let her shoot arrows with the boys because he knew it made her happy even if it wasn't considered proper. He told her that if she truly didn't want to get married she didn't have to, even when she was stood before him in her wedding gown. Eddmina knew he cared, she knew he liked her, but she wanted to scream because only when she realised how gone he was, she realised just how loved she had been.

"Do you want to go back to bed?" Willas asked her softly, kissing her temple. She straightened up to look at him, only to see how exhausted he looked; pale with dark circles under his eyes, his moustache and beard unkempt. "It's been a long day, if we sleep... We can talk about this all in the morning. You need to get some rest."

"I... I don't think I can," she told him truthfully, because no matter how tired she felt, her mind had exploded with adrenaline and energy. "Have you seen my brother?"

"He's in his tent, sleeping," Willas explained, brushing a lock of hair out of her face and behind her ear. "He was there when the news arrived. He went off on his own, he said he didn't want to be disturbed or followed."

"That won't extend to me," she shook her head and began to pull out of his arms, but he still held her tight.

"I know, I know, but when Theon went to find him he was asleep," Willas continued, and though his voice was still calm and caring it had a protective nature to it. Eddmina couldn't tell if it was simply her he was protective for, or her brother. "Let him sleep. Talk to him in the morning. He's had a long day fighting. Go to him first thing in the morning."

For some reason, Eddmina accepted that. In any situation, she always wanted to run to her brother, even if it was for minor, fickle things. This life-changing, heart-breaking situation was just the thing she needed her brother for, but he was no longer her brother anymore. He was now Lord Stark. Lord Robb Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North. It was a position he'd always known he would hold one day, it was something the two of them talked about, but she was certain neither of them had expected it to come under these sort of circumstances.

There was so much pressure lying on Robb's shoulders, more than ever before. If Eddmina's heart hadn't broke before, it had well and truly shattered as she considered her brother's new position.

"My mother," Eddmina stated next, realising with shock that she was now the only parent she had; an oddly lonely realisation.

"She'd already gone to bed when the letter arrived but the message was being delivered to her when I came to find you," Willas told her, before his eyebrows narrowed and he stroked her cheek once more. "Has she not been to see you since... since the battle?"

Eddmina shook her head, and watched as her husband clenched his jaw, clearly biting back anger. Eddmina understood, remembering her earlier frustrations, but it suddenly seemed so irrelevant. She knew she was not her mother's favourite child, she knew they'd had their moments of disagreements, but they were all each other had. Lady Stark was Eddmina's only parent, and Eddmina was Lady Stark's only free daughter. They needed each other, and Eddmina was willing to throw everything aside in favour of them building a better relationship.

She still felt as though she was in a trance, but she found herself kissing Willas, her lips on his, her hands in his hair while he sighed against her, whispering her name in relief. She wanted to kiss him, she always did, but it was strategic, as she'd thought that if she kissed him like that it would convince him that she had dropped her ideas of revenge. It seemed to work as he softened, resting his forehead against hers, and though a part of her was screaming that his arms was the only place she wanted to be, she knew she had duty to attend to, and it was only when their lips parted for him to catch his breath that she stepped way.

"I need to go to my mother," she told him, collecting her cloak and pulling it around herself tightly.

"Mina, she-" he began, but stopped himself, knowing that the situation didn't cater for any previous resentments. "I'm sorry. I understand. You should go."

She wanted to kiss him again, wanted to fall back into the safety of his embrace and never ever leave, but there was time to do that once they had won their war, once her father had been avenged. Instead she left their tent without another word, feeling as though she wasn't moving at all but her body was being pulled in the direction she needed to go.

Despite the late hour there were people milling about the camp. She could hear them calling her name and offering their sympathies and their regards, bowing their heads, some of them even kneeling, but she did not look to see their faces, and even if they stood in front of her she could not see them. If her mind was clearer she would wonder what she looked like, but she simply hoped they would not see the marks of her earlier tears, nor would the men hold them against her.

"Edd," she heard, and was certain she only heard it over the others because it was a voice she knew so well.

Theon stood before her, and she did not need to see his face to know it was him, nor did she need to see his face to feel his grief. He was hiding it well, probably better than her, but he still looked jittery, uncertain, and he was holding himself in a way that suggested he was trying to hide extreme pain. He didn't need to say anything other than her name for her to open up her arms and let him fall into her.

He didn't cry, didn't sob. He made no expression of sadness, other than to hug her so tight she could barely breathe, but that was fine as she already felt like she had forgotten what air even was.

Willas had been a comfort, but Willas didn't know her father the way Theon did. Theon had grown up with them all, he had practically been a fifth son to Lord Stark, and Theon loved Robb as though he was a brother. He understood her pain, and she didn't realise how much she needed his embrace, all wit and snide remarks forgotten, nothing but their bond and friendship remaining as their grief became intertwined.

"We're going to make them pay, Edd," Theon promised. "I swear, we're going to make them sorry."

Eddmina couldn't speak, so she simply nodded. Her anger had come and gone, but there was something reassuring about seeing someone else share her fury, the fires of their rage joining and burning together. She wondered how many other people would feel the same way.

"I was going to kill Jaime Lannister," she confessed, feeling as though her moment of madness was so far away she could trust Theon with it, knowing he would understand. "I was going to kill him and send him to his father. I wanted them to all suffer, but-"

"I'd join you in that, but there's more guards surrounding him than there are outside your tent," Theon laughed bitterly. "Besides, if anyone was going to kill him, Lord Karstark would've beaten you to it. Kingslayer killed his lads Torrhen and Eddard when they were saving Robb's life, and he's desperate for vengeance."

"I suppose we will get vengeance when we take King's Landing then," she shrugged, and though her vision still seemed to be patchy, she was sure she saw Theon manage a smirk. "I'm going to find my mother."

With that they parted, and Eddmina carried on her way. She felt as though a part of her had been restored, that she had been seen and understood like never before, to the extent she managed to nod back to those who called her name with condolences. Even so, she felt as though her feet become heavier as she got closer to her mother's tent, a silent fear creeping up inside that her mother wouldn't want to see her.

The guards in front of her mother's tent removed their helmets when they saw her, bowing their heads. They let her in without question, and she found her mother collapsed in a heap on the floor. Eddmina expected she would feel another pang of overwhelming grief upon seeing her mother, but instead she felt nothing, duty taking over as she steeled herself, kneeing next to her mother as she attempted to scoop her up. It was only when she was close that she could hear her mother's sobs, and the screams that she was obviously trying to hide. Eddmina could relate, but she still felt nothing.

"Mother," she said, taking special care to make sure her voice was gentle. "Mother, I'm here."

Lady Stark didn't seem to move, even when Eddmina tried to lift her from the ball she'd curled herself into on the floor. She had become a solid dead-weight, and Eddmina wracked her brain for what to do. What had Willas done for her? He had comforted her so seamlessly she wasn't even sure how he had done it. She always thought she could be kind and caring, but it was only when she was forced into the position of trying to comfort someone that she realised how incapable she felt.

Perhaps her mother knew that too, because when she did eventually move it was to dart out of Eddmina's arm, no longer concealing her screams as she sat up.

"Don't touch me!" she practically roared. "Get away!"

She moved so fast, jerking herself as far away from Eddmina as possible. Eddmina felt a sharp pain in her cheek, the one that hadn't been stitched, and it was only then that she saw her mother's raised hand and knew she had slapped her. It was harsh enough to sting, and it shocked Eddmina enough that it took her breath. She moved back before her mother could hit her again, though she tried. Eddmina closed her eyes, taking a few deep breaths as she controlled the tears that threatened to spill, but when she opened her eyes she saw her mother's face and knew enough crying had happened in that tent. Her mother was as red as her hair, tears staining her usually-porcelain skin, and she was shuddering in overwhelming sadness and anger. On any other occasion, Eddmina would have retaliated, but she knew she couldn't, knew that one of them had to stay calm, and so she held her hands out in front of her in an attempt to negotiate with her mother.

"I'm sorry," Eddmina said, even if it felt unnatural. "Don't, please don't hurt me, mother. I'm here. I'm upset too, but-"

"Upset? You think I am upset?" She screamed, as though Eddmina was the stupidest person to ever live. Even so, she didn't cry, nor did she look away, keeping eye contact the whole time. "You think I'm upset? They've killed my husband!"

"My father," Eddmina said quietly, regretting it immediately when her mother laughed bitterly.

"Stupid girl!" she cried. "You don't understand! They've taken him away from me! They've taken my daughters from me! How long until they are dead too?"

"They took him from me too, and those are my sisters they are holding hostage," Eddmina spoke calmly. "I understand."

"No you don't, you will never understand, not until someone takes your husband or threatens your children," Lady Stark continued to shout, though her aggression seemed to be fading into despair. "Stupid girl, you don't understand!"

"My husband is called Willas, and I put my life on the line today to protect my child, who is called Uther," Eddmina couldn't help the way her temper rose, but she quickly beat it down, making sure her voice was controlled and calm. "I understand. I understand, and I am here. Do not take your grief out on me simply because I am the only one here."

Her mother froze, sitting so still and so quiet that Eddmina wondered if she was alright, but she soon dissolved into tears, her anger fizzling away and leaving nothing behind but pure, heartbroken despair. She almost folded in on herself again, but Eddmina caught her, letting her fall against her as she cried. There was no aggression in her tears, just sadness, and seeing it all disappear made Eddmina forget about why her cheek was stinging. Instead she just held her mother, and tried her best not to cry herself, knowing her own tears would help no one.

"How do I go on without him?" Lady Stark eventually sobbed.

"He would not want us to fall apart," Eddmina advised, feeling so utterly out of her depth but knowing she had to say something. "He would want us to keep fighting until we are all safe. He would want us to be strong, all of us, but especially the two of us. Robb needs us to be strong."

At the mention of Robb, Lady Stark's sobs stopped, though she remained in Eddmina's arms.

"We mourn, we cry, we remember, but when we go out there and face everyone else, we do not let our emotions get the better of us," Eddmina explained, not just to her mother but to herself. "We give ourselves tonight, but then we show no tears."

"What did I do to deserve you?" Lady Stark muttered, and given her previous aggression it took Eddmina a while to realise it was meant as a compliment.

Eddmina let her mother cry into her for a little while longer before she attempted to lift her to her feet. When she did, Lady Stark did not struggle or protest. She was like a completely different woman to who she had been only minutes before, and when Eddmina led her to her bed she collapsed onto it without complaint.

"You should get some sleep," Eddmina suggested, but when she made to walk away, she felt her mother's hand wrap around her wrist.

Eddmina had no choice but to climb onto her mother's bed at her side. She would have much rather gone back to her own tent, back to her own little family, but her mother needed her, and who was she to leave her in her time of need? They laid in silence for a while, the only sounds being her mother's sniffs as she held back tears, until Eddmina felt a hand reach out and take hers.

"I'm so sorry, Edda," her mother whispered, her voice tired and weak. "I'm so, so sorry."

"It's okay," Eddmina said, knowing what she was apologising for, making a silent vow to never raise a hand to any of her children regardless of her emotions.

"You should know that your father loved you a great deal, you were very, very dear to him," Lady Stark said. "As you are to me."

Eddmina fell asleep while her tears were still streaming.

***

Nightmares plagued her the whole night, and so when dawn broke it was a blessing. Eddmina didn't waste time in getting up, even if she wanted to curl into herself the moment she remembered exactly why she had ended up in her mother's tent with sore eyes and bruised cheeks.

Her father. The Lannisters. Her sisters.

The memory of the news hit her like a knife to the chest, but she refused to give into it, even if all night she had seen what had happened in King's Landing in her nightmares. She'd had enough prophetic nightmares to know that sometimes her imagination took liberties, but the basics were usually true, and in the case of last night's dreams, she'd seen her father's head taken by his own ancestral sword Ice, the blade Robb was supposed to inherit. She'd seen her sister stood beside the king wearing southern finery with her hair styled in an up-do that would make northern girls laugh, and she had seen the way Sansa's smile died and turned to horror the moment Joffrey called for their father's head. Sansa had screamed for them to stop, and when she fainted the guard who'd held her tossed her to the floor as if she was nothing. She saw the way the King's advisors and even Cersei Lannister told him to stop, yet he got his way and her father was killed. Somewhere in the crowd she had seen a small scrappy child in the crowd, dressed as a boy, but instantly recognisably her little sister Arya, only for her to vanish from sight.

Eddmina wondered what to do with the information she had, and how she would live with the images she had seen, feeling as though she had actually been in King's Landing to witness it in person. She knew at least that she couldn't tell her mother any of what she had seen. Her mother had been utterly broken the night before, and any details of Eddmina's nightmare would surely tip her further over the edge. Even so, she was still sleeping soundly, looking almost peaceful, and Eddmina wasn't going to disturb her, so she slipped out of the tent quietly in search of her own.

It didn't take her long before people noticed her, and the condolences started again. She was more stable than she had been the night before, so she took note to get the names of everyone who spoke to her, offering her thanks and support. Sometimes she stopped to properly speak to men, asking them of the battle the day before, offering her own condolences for those who had fallen. There was a strong sense of solidarity that morning in the camp, a great feeling of people coming together no matter their losses and pains. Eddmina noticed people were just as angry as she had been, she noticed the ghosts of tears staining men's cheeks, and she had never felt less alone in her whole life.

When she reached her tent, she saw the guards she had stormed past the night before, and took note of their faces. They were all men she had seen around Winterfell, the ones who had been left behind when her father went south. Their brothers, fathers, cousins, friends had all been slaughtered in King's Landing, and she made sure to offer her regards, especially when it began to put her grief into perspective. Some of the men around camp had lost everything, their whole families, while Eddmina had lost her father. She still had her husband, her son, her brothers. Her sisters were captive, but they were alive. The men around her had all lost a great deal, but they were still there, they were still fighting. Eddmina would have to keep fighting too.

Willas and Uther were both still asleep when she entered, while Honour was curled up at the foot of the bed. Not wanting to disturb them she sat herself at the desk, and pushed aside all her other books and parchment. She knew she should focus herself on the war effort, knew that she should begin planning their next move to present to Robb, but the fog of grief was still hanging over her a little, and she decided to focus on her other duties. She might be integral to her brother's war, but she had other siblings, and she'd always been the one to look after them when they were scared. It didn't matter if she was miles away, she had to look after them.

She found some blank parchment and ink, and the letters seemed to write themselves. She wrote to Bran and Rickon, Jon, Uncle Benjen, Leonette, Margaery, Lady Alerie, practically anybody she could think. She knew all of them had surely heard th news, but she felt as if she had to put her father's loss into her own words, claiming her grief back from the Lannisters who had caused it. It felt right, like something she should be doing as Lord Stark's eldest child, though all she could think of was his smile, his laugh, the way his arms felt when he hugged her. To think of that man who was so very much alive everytime she saw him as gone... Eddmina kept having to steady herself, holding onto the desk and setting down her quill every time the grief became too consuming, riding the tidal wave until it settled and she could continue with writing.

She was just finishing up her letter to Lady Alerie, telling her not just of Lord Stark but how much Uther had grown, when she heard Willas stirring. She turned to watch him roll over in bed, reaching out to where she usually would be, and when he didn't feel her he shot up in alarm.

"I'm here," she called, offering him a tired smile, getting up from the desk and pacing over to the bed.

At the sound of her voice Willas immediately relaxed, but Eddmina could tell all was not well with him. His eyes were red, and he looked as though he had not slept at all, even if he had been peacefully aslep for as long as she'd been in the tent. He took hold of her hands as soon as she was close enough, kissing each of her knuckles and pulling her to his side. She complied happily, allowing him to wrap her up in his arms as he pushed his forehead into the crook of her neck.

"How are you?" Willas asked gently, and she pushed a kiss to the top of his head.

"I don't know," she answered honestly.

"Me too," he admitted. "Mina, I'm so sorry."

"Thank you," she forced another smile. "I'm sorry I didn't come back last night."

"That's alright, I didn't think you would, I thought you'd stay with your mother," he told her, sitting up to look at her properly. He leant over to kiss her cheek, but that was when his eyes focused on the red mark her mother hand made the night before. His eyebrows narrowed as his hand gently cupped her face. "How did that happen?"

"I fell over in the dark last night," she shrugged, but the lack of eye contact made the lie obvious.

"Tell me the truth," he asked, and Eddmin could see how hard he was trying to stay calm.

"My mother was in quite a state when I found her last night," Eddmina admitted, shrugging as she tried to downplay it. "It's alright, I calmed her down, we talked. I don't need you to try and help, it's all okay."

Willas chewed his lip, clearly wanting to say something but knowing it would be unhelpful. Eventually he leant over and kissed her cheek, stroking her hair, and she knew he was just trying to distract himself from saying something he would end up regretting. She knew he was simply trying to occupy his mind, but she enjoyed his gentle touch, and the way she felt so loved in his arms that she didn't really care.

"You've got ink on your hands," he chuckled softly, playing with the fingers of her left hand which were marked by ink smudges.

"I've been writing letters, I wanted to write to my brothers, to your family," she explained, glancing over towards the desk. "I know they will already know, but... I wanted to have my own say. I wanted to help somehow. He was my father, I'm the eldest, it's my duty..."

She wasn't sure why, but she suddenly dissolved into tears. She felt humiliated, betrayed by her emotions that she thought she had under control. She didn't understand how she had managed to be so stoic one moment and then so broken the next, but she knew that it was infuriating and made her curse herself. She'd forced her feelings away to make sure she could look after others, but actually thinking about the situation, the fact that her father was really, truly gone... The darkness started to envelope her once more the way it had done the night before.

When the dark clouds began to creep in, Willas quickly shooed them away as he brought her close, moving her so her weight was on his good leg, helping her curl up into his arms as he stroked her hair. He was humming softly too and she was grateful, using the sound of his voice to drown out the screaming in her mind. As she wept into his nightshirt, she hated herself, remembering how she had told her mother to not show such sadness in front of anyone, that they had the night before to cry but when the sun rose they had to be strong. It seemed like great advice, and Eddmina cursed herself for falling from it.

"When my grandfather died, I was only six, but I remember wondering why I never saw my father show any sort of sadness," Willas spoke quietly, as if he was more talking to himself than her. "He just seemed too busy as the new Lord of Highgarden to mourn his father, not to mention dealing with the rest of the family who were all so devastated. One night some bannermen had visited to swear allegiance, and after they left I wandered up to my parents' rooms to ask my father if he could take me riding the next day, and I could hear him crying."

"I can't imagine your father crying," Eddmina managed to say, her voice strained. She heard Willas let out a sad, bitter laugh.

"No, it's not a common thing," he continued. "He knew the rest of us were sad, especially my grandmother, so he just had to push it all away and act like the leader we all needed. Only when he was alone with my mother did he show how much it hurt. I didn't really know that at the time, I wasn't that profound in understanding human emotion at six, but I knew he was very strong. It's one thing to mourn, but to do it in secret while making sure everyone else felt supported... I don't think I ever admired my father more."

"And while your father was crying, what was your mother doing?" she managed to ask, attempting to wipe away her tears.

"I think she was doing the only thing that she could, looking after him, being there when he needed her," he told her, tightening his grip on her as he pushed a few soft kisses to her temple. "I know you, Mina, I know how you feel, but you are not foolish for crying, I promise you. You're grieving, it is natural. You will go through moments of clarity, then moments of madness, and I know how scary the latter moments can be. Perhaps you can let me look after you through them?"

Eddmina managed to sit up, and when she came face-to-face with her husband, she saw that she was not the only one to have shed tears. Upon seeing her face, he carefully began to wipe away her tears, while she sat there, allowing his gentle touch.

"Why are you crying?" she asked with a frown. At her question, he let out a single, sad laugh, moving his hand from her cheek to stroke her hair.

"Your father was someone I looked up to a great deal," he confessed carefully, not wanting his words to upset her, but she stared at him as if he was spouting poetry. "I didn't know him very well, but I liked him. You all obviously did too. I saw the way he was with the younger ones, I watched him carry Rickon on his shoulders once while Arya threw herself onto his back. He was clearly a great father. You all trusted him. When our betrothal was negotiated, he didn't argue for any benefits for the north, all he wanted to know was that you would be taken care of. He made me promise several times to look after you, but he usually laughed afterwards and said you were rather good at looking after yourself. I know how much he means to you, and I am so very sorry for the hole left in your life, but I'm sad for myself, that I never got the time to know him more, and my heart breaks for Uther, because I know they would have adored each other."

It was Eddmina's turn to wipe away his tears, and she was surprised she was not crying herself. Instead she couldn't help but smile.She'd always thought Willas was the greatest man she knew save her father, and to hear Willas understand him so well... she couldn't help but kiss him.

***
Visitors came throughout the day to their tent.

First it was Garlan, who said little in regards to condolences, but his tight hug spoke more than a thousand words. He sat with Eddmina and Willas for much of the morning, retelling tales of the battle from the day before, while Eddmina retold the story of her own fight. Despite the grim topic, it was nice to talk about something other than her father, and she was grateful for Garlan providing that distraction.

Once he left, Dacey Mormont came. She seemed truly upset, but like all Bear Islanders, wore a stoic face well. She told Eddmina about when her own father died a few years before, just after the birth of her sister Lyanna. Dacey had four younger sisters - Alysane, Lyra, Jorelle, and Lyanna - and the way she spoke of them reminded Eddmina of her own siblings. Dacey spoke of how she had to be strong for the younger ones, how she had to teach them the lessons her father had taught her, and hearing of someone else's duty being so similar to her own, Eddmina felt relieved.

Dacey was followed by the few guards of house Stark who'd been with the family for a long time - Ser Rodrick Cassel and Hallis Mollen. The both bowed their heads respectfully but Eddmina refused any formalities, knowing both men had known her father longer than she had. His loss had struck them hard, and she knew they needed her as much as she needed them. They spoke of the man Lord Stark had been, and they talked about all the others who had fallen. Their losses were quite startling, and with each one there was usually a joke or an anecdote, whether it was hers or the older mens, but even as they laughed, the sadness in the air was almost suffocating.

It was after their visit that Eddmina could stand to be in the tent no longer, and so she took Uther out for fresh air, Willas and Honour following despite not knowing where they were going. Eddmina wanted to shoot, since arrows and targets always used to be her solace in bad times, but it suddenly felt foolish considering they were in a war camp, and the arrows were true weapons that had killed men the day before. The family mounted their horses and set off in no direction in particular, with Eddmina wracking her brain to try and think of something she could do the help her feel as though she wasn't drowning while still honouring her father.

Honour stopped to sniff the ground and let out a long, low howl before she set off into the woodlands behind them, and at first they were confused, until her call was answered by another howl. Honour was going to her brother, and so perhaps was Eddmina, as she turned her horse to follow the wolf. Their route had clearly been taken by others shortly before, the marks of horseshoes embedded into the mud, and when the woods opened into a clearing lined by horses tied to low hanging trees, it made sense. Honour had led them to a godswood, a great weirwood at the centre, surrounded by kneeling northerners. The tree wasn't as large as the one in Winterfell, and it seemed smaller than the one Willas had found on the outskirts of Highgarden when they had first married, but it was magnificent all the same, with a sad face and eyes that cried sap so red it could be blood.

Eddmina closed her eyes for a moment, taking it in, feeling at home for the first time in a long time. A godswood, the place she used to visit with her father, the place he often bestowed wisdom onto her, or where he would confide in her. It was not their godswood, but it was good enough. Her father would want her to find solace in that place, he would want her to be there. As she looked around at those who had already arrived, she noted familiar figures, such as the Greatjon Umber, Rickard Karstark, Maege Mormont, and others who she knew had lost people in the battle the day before or in King's Landing, yet at the front of them all, closest to the tree, she saw a mop of curled red hair, head bowed solemnly, huge direwolf at his side.

Robb. Father had wanted him to be there too.

She dismounted her horse, and with Uther still wrapped to her chest, made her way to the tree. There was a spot next to her brother, and she took it. She knelt, not worrying about her dress and the mud, took in the sight of the tree in front of her, and bowed her head with closed eyes, beginning to prey.

She'd never known what to do when preying. In truth she'd never really seen the point and had used the time instead for self-reflection. She'd always used her time by the Winterfell weirwood to try and find some sort of peace, and she'd never needed peace more in her whole life.

Sitting with the tree that connected her to her father's gods, she couldn't help but wonder what her father thought of when he had preyed. Had he thought about his family, the living and the lost? Did he prey for his own father, for his fallen brother and sister, his little brother at the wall, or did he prey for his wife and children, even if most of them did not follow the same gods? Did he prey for a long summer despite the Stark words, did he prey for health among the small folk, or bountiful harvests? Did he prey for honour in the world, that people would do the right thing, even if he knew there was so much evil in the world?

Why had she never asked him?

'Let my father find peace, wherever he is. Let him know that he will never be forgotten. Let him be with Uncle Brandon an Aunt Lyanna and Grandfather Rickard.'

Rickard, Brandon, and Lyanna all rested in the crypts. Eddmina wondered if her father would ever lay next to them the way he should, or if the Lannisters would steal that from the Starks too. Either way, the thought of his statue in the crypts was enough to feel like a punch to the stomach.

'Let my brother live, let his war be successful and let us find justice for our losses. Let him find happiness in his life. Let my son grow up in a world where he is safe, let him have siblings and let them all know peace and freedom. Let us all just be safe and happy, and right the wrongs that have been served to us.'

Eddmina wasn't sure if that was how she was supposed to prey, but it was all she had time for, as she felt a hand on her shoulder. When she looked up, she saw the northerners returning th their horses, all except their new liege lord, as Robb stood over her, pale and serious, looking far older than his years. He helped her up to her feet, and the two of them stood there looking at each other in complete silence, neither of them knowing what to say. It was never like that, conversation always easy, but neither of them spoke, and Eddmina couldn't even figure out what he was thinking. When she heard the sound of horseshoes in the mud and saw the northerners riding off, leaving only Willas sat atop his horse on the outskirts of the clearing, looking up at the birds in the treetops, Robb sighed, his shoulders dropping as if a weight had left him, and he quickly fell into his sister's arms.

"I hate this, I don't want this," he confessed, his eyes screwed shut as if to hide.

"No one wants this," she reassured him. "But we must do what we have to."

"I tried to prey to figure out what to do, but I don't know," Robb told her, breaking out of their embrace as his head fell into his hands.

"I'm sorry," she said simply, because she'd found that day that those two words were so impactful. "I'm sorry, and I wish I could carry your burden for you."

"Do you think he was scared? Do you think he thought of us?" he asked, his words quick as if he couldn't stop them from falling out.

"I think he was brave, and I think he always thought of us," Eddmina tried to smile, but her chest felt hollow. "I think it's our turn to be brave now."

"We're going to hold a council after supper, figure out what the next moves will be," Robb nodded. "This war was meant to be a rescue cause, but now... It's far bigger than that."

When evening came, Eddmina understood Robb's words better than ever as she took her seat at her brother's side, the other northerners sitting around them. Eddmina had never seen so many grief-stricken people, though when her mother arrived she was glad to see she was more recovered than she had been the night before. Lady Stark sat next to her daughter, and while the crowd seemed caught up in themselves, she placed her hand on hers.

"How are you?" Lady Stark asked in a hushed voice. Eddmina shrugged, hoping that it would be enough. "I'm sorry. I really am."

"You were upset, you were angry, I was there so you took it out on me, but I forgive you," Eddmina spoke quietly making sure no one could hear her, not looking at her mother as if trying to make out their conversation wasn't happening. "But I am not a child anymore. If you ever call me a 'girl' again, or raise a hand to me, it will be the last time you see me. I think that is fair."

"It is," Lady Stark nodded, but said no more as she noticed the two Tyrell men - who had sat in the crowd across from them - were looking at her.

Once the rest of the top bench arrived and found themselves somewhere to sit, with Theon sat to Robb's left with the other lords who had fought in his vanguard, the council began. Even as shouting began and the lords argued, Eddmina felt a smirk creep up onto her face when she spotted Willas in the crowd, taking notes down so to remember all points of view and any suggested tactics. Talk of battle tatics did not last long though, before the conversation changed to vengeance, the best way to go about it, and who would help them achieve it best.

No one could agree on who to ally with. Stannis and Renly's names were tossed around, as they had both declared themselves king.

"Renly cannot be King before Stannis, just as Bran cannot be Lord of Winterfell before me," Robb kept repeating, and Eddmina agreed, even if Renly seemed like the better option given the Tyrell's alliance with Renly.

"Stannis has the better claim," someone cried out.

"That may be, but Renly's forces are stronger," someone else called out, and Eddmina noticed people glance to Willas and Garlan uncertainly. "Renly has the Reach, and the Stormlands, Stannis has an island."

"Neither Renly nor Stannis are ideal options," Robb agreed with a nod. He seemed so serious, and Eddmina wondered what their father would think to him. "Not while King Robert still has two sons. We started this war to fight for my father, when we thought the outcome would be to save him from the Capital. Now if we continue this war, fight with one of Robert's kingly brothers, we make ourselves traitors."

"So you mean to declare for Joffrey?" Lord Glover cried in fury, and his call was echoed by practically everyone around them. Eddmina understood their pain. "He killed your father!"

"Why not settle for peace?" Lady Stark spoke up, her voice silencing the whole crowd, though whether it was because they thought her absurd or all wanted to listen to her, Eddmina wasn't sure, as even she was looking at her mother like she was a fool. "Lord Eddard might've been your liege lord, but he was my husband, the father of my children. Two of those children are fighting this war, the other two are held by the Lannisters. We settle for peace and perhaps my children won't join their father in his grave, and no more of you will need to join your loved ones. Do we need more losses?"

Eddmina looked around, and noticed all the men exchanging uncomfortable looks. Lady Stark was their liege's widow, they were meant to respect her and follow her direction, but it was obvious they all thought her foolish. Eddmina looked to Willas, who shrugged and raised his eyebrow as if suggesting her mother might've had a point. That was until he noticed her scowl and realised she didn't agree. He nodded understandingly.

"No, Lady Stark," Eddmina spoke up, shaking her head, using formality to distance herself from being one of the children her mother had referenced. "I will not settle for peace with the boy who ordered my father's death, nor would I expect anyone here to settle after their own losses."

"You are a woman, Lady Stark," Greatjon Umber spoke, his deep voice trying to be gentle. "We don't expect you to understand these things."

"The gentle sex," Lord Karstark agreed seriously. "We men have need for vengeance."

"My Lords I wonder if you saw what happened to the Lannister man who tried to take me captive yesterday? I wonder if any of you saw how gentle I was then," Eddmina called out with fire in her voice. She heard someone stifling a laugh of pride, and knew it was Garlan. "I can promise you, put me in a room with any Lannister, and I will be just as gentle."

"Give me Cersei Lannister, and I will show you how gentle I can be," her mother echoed her words, her voice only slightly trembling in fury. Eddmina nodded at her with support. "I simply want to see everyone here back in their homes, with their families. I want to see my children safe, back where they belong. I want my daughter back in Highgarden to raise her own family, I want my son in Winterfell to take a wife and father sons. I want peace for them, my lords."

"I'm not sure how much they will want that peace if it means bowing before the boy who killed their father," Willas called unexpectedly, his voice quiet, yet everyone seemed to hear him, and everyone seemed to agree.

Chaos resumed, with everyone calling out at once, arguing over what the best course of action was. Eddmina felt her mother's hand on her arm, and when she looked to her she could see her mother was trying to figure out if she agreed with Willas. She nodded, and saw her mother's face pale. She'd tried to save them, tried to find a way out for them that would mean them not having to spend their lives fighting, but none of them wanted it. They wanted to fight, and Eddmina didn't even care that she'd disappointed her mother.

The shouting went on for a while before Eddmina had enough. She rose to her feet, and felt everyone who wasn't debating look to her.

"My Lords, we are getting nowhere!" she called out in tried frustration, making sure people could hear her, and they did, as most turned and made noises of agreement. "We have decided peace isn't an option, yet now we are arguing of how we proceed if not having peace. Have we not thought of how truly shit all of our options are? Joffrey, Renly, Stannis, what do any of them mean to us? What do we mean to them? Do we want to compromise our cause to bend to southerners who care so little for the North? Do we want to subject my father's memory, the memories of all our lost friends, to a treaty with Southerners?"

"What do you suggest then?" it was Theon who responded to her, and she saw him smirking at her, clearly enjoying her taking charge.

"I suggest we stay independent in this war," she said, gesturing to the crowd. "Look at us. Look what you did yesterday, defeating the Lannisters. We are strong, we are northern, we can fight for ourselves. We proved it well enough yesterday, and if any of the other sides in this war see any sort of sense, they will come to us. Why should we grovel to anyone?"

There was a pause, and Eddmina wondered if people were going to start laughing. She wondered if she'd embarrassed herself just as her mother had done, but after a few moments, she heard murmurs of agreement. She looked into the crowd and saw Willas smiling at her, while Garlan winked proudly. She sat back down, looking to her brother, though he did not meet her eye, looking straight ahead as he thought through her suggestion.

It was not long before Greatjon Umber rose to his feet.

"Lady Edda speaks well," he agreed, and with his powerful boom of a voice, he rallied other to call up agreement too. "Renly and Stannis mean nothing to me. Why should they rule over me and mine from some flowery seat down south? What do they know of the Wall, or the Wolfswood, or of the First Men? Even their bloody gods are wrong! I'm done with them all, and the Lannisters too. It was the Targaryens we knelt to, and now they're all dead."

He did something unexpected then, yet Eddmina had seen it coming, unsure if she was watching with dread or excitement. Either way, he did it. He pulled his sword free of his scabbard, and pointed it to Robb. His face was still, but she saw the faint shock in his eyes, as well as the horror in her mother's, and the absolute glee in Theon's.

"There sits the only King I mean to bend my knee to!" he roared, and then did just that, kneeling before Robb and holding his sword in the air. "The King in the North!"

"Aye, I'll have peace with that! They can keep their iron throne and their shit-heap city as well!" Lord Karstark called almost immediately after, dropping to his knee next to Lord Umber. "The King in the North!"

The Mormonts joined next, then the Glovers, and soon so many had kneeled and were calling out support that Eddmina felt her chest tighten, looking to her brother in shock. Yesterday, he had been the heir to Winterfell, that morning he was the Warden of the North, and now, he was King. She tried to look out into the crowd to see Willas an Garlan, but they had both disappeared, only for her to find Garlan knelt by one of the northerners, while Willas stood off to the side, unable to kneel but with his head bowed. He glanced up and met her eye, and under the fear she saw a faint trace of pride. She realised then that he thought she had caused this, that it was her who'd made them think of her brother as King, but she hadn't considered that. She simply wanted the north to fight for themselves.

An independent North was a beautiful thought though, and with a King in the North once more... Eddmina was scared, she felt herself trembling a little as reality set in. It wasn't just any king, it was her brother. He beloved, beautiful twin brother. They were calling him King. Robb was being called king, and she possibly had a hand in it.

She looked at him to see if he was bothered, but he'd risen to his feet, his face more solemn than ever. He'd never looked more like their father, and she'd never seen a worthier King.

Theon rose to his feet too, and stood before Robb.

"Am I your brother, now and always?" the Greyjoy asked, and Eddmina's heart swelled with pride once more.

"Now and always," Robb repeated, nodding seriously.

"Then my sword is yours, now and always," Theon declared, pulling is sword out and kneeling before the man he'd just called brother. "In victory and defeat, from this day until my last day."

"Brother," Eddmina found her voice, and made to reach out to touch is shoulder but stopped herself, unsure if she should be touching a King, twin or no. "Is this what you want?"

"It's what the North wants," he answered, gesturing out to the crowd before he took hold of her shoulder, lowering his voice so only she could hear. "If this is happening, I'll need you now more than ever. Be my Hand?"

"Anything for you, you know that," she nodded, feeling honoured, trying not to cry once more. "My King."

He was not just her brother, but her King, and though she wanted to hug him, ruffle his hair, pretend to hit his shoulder the way they always did, she instead dropped to her knee, next to Theon, joining in with the call.

'No more tears, ever,' she thought to herself as she bowed her head. 'No more crying for father. We have business to attend to, and Winter is Coming'.

Eddmina felt more a Stark than ever before, surrounded by Northerners. At some point the wolves had begun howling, and their camp was alive with strength and united fury as they made their stand, redefined as independents who took pride in their heritage. The North would not forget their pain, but would use it to forge their own way.

While everyone else was blinded by the patriotism, Catelyn Stark wept silent tears as she looked at her two children. King and Princess of the North may be, but she couldn't help but think they had both signed their own death warrants.

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