A crown of steel, bronze, and iron had been forged for Robb.

It was an exact replica of the original crown worn by the kings of winter, the one that Eddmina had seen so often in the history books, engraved with runes of the first men and topped with angry iron spikes in the shape of longswords. Should it come to it, she was certain her brother would be able to kill someone with it. It was certainly heavy and sharp enough, and Robb had told her more than once when he first started wearing it how uncomfortable it was.

"It isn't meant to be comfortable," their mother had despaired one night to them both when he voiced his discomfort, adjusting it on his head as if to find the perfect spot.

Their mother was right, as the weight of it was not purely from the metals, but the duties it represented. It was not meant to be a pleasant job, being King in the North.

At least the circlet crown that had been forged for Eddmina was significantly lighter, far more delicate and less violent. It was made from the leftover metal of Robb's crown, knotted together in a sort of braid, fronted by a tiny direwolf, roaring at a rose. She hadn't asked for it, she hadn't wanted it, just as she hadn't asked or wanted to be called Princess of the North, but the men took to calling it her anyway, and they made the crown alongside it. Eddmina had never liked jewellery, save the few pieces from her father or her husband, but she wore the circlet anyway to honour the men who had given it to her, only to feel instantly relieved the moment she was back in her tent at the end of the day and could take it off.

"You are my sister, if I am King that makes you Princess," Robb had reminded her one night after supper when he saw her face fall at the mention of the name.

"I'm not cut out to be a Princess," she had rolled her eyes. "Sansa maybe, but not me."

"I imagine Arya would be less than thrilled at her new title too," Robb had attempted to joke, but like many of their conversations about their sisters, it went cold, and they stopped to prevent their mother hearing talk of the two missing Stark girls as she entered the tent.

Their new positions were alien to both Robb and Eddmina, but they had been subjected to so much change in the last few years neither one was truly fazed, or perhaps they had merely grown accustomed to not expecting anything to be the way they thought. They learnt to take each day as it came, dealt with each problem individually, and when it came to battle, they never relied on their previous successes, always keeping one step ahead and trying something fresh. That was probably how the North ended up triumphing at most conflicts they faced, and each victory led them closer to what they wanted; justice, freedom, home. Still though, Eddmina knew not to rely on it, the tide could change again just as quick as it had turned to their favour, and so she never truly rested, steeling herself into the best advisor Robb would need, the woman she needed to be, the woman she hoped her father would be proud of.

Eddmina found that with time, the role and the duties became easier, and she had forgotten all the worries she had over people taking her seriously and seeing her outside of her gender. She was welcomed into war council, the men treating her with the upmost respect. Eddmina wasn't really sure why, and it was surprisingly Theon who made her understand.

"You were the one who made crowning Robb possible," he had told her after council one morning when they had gone riding to find a godswood, his voice quiet enough so no one would overhear, even if he was wearing his confident smirk. "They were all too craven to suggest a King in the North, you weren't."

"I didn't intend on him being made a King," she reminded him, rolling her eyes; even if they had settled into their friendship better than ever before, he still infuriated her from time to time. "I merely meant for us to fight independently until some other King comes grovelling for our support."

"Yes, well, how's that gone for you, Princess?" Theon grinned teasingly.

Part of Eddmina almost enjoyed feeling like she was part of something so crucial. Sometimes she thought of history, of the legacy this war was creating and how their names would be recorded in the history books. She thought of all the books she'd read as a child of historic, brave Starks, names she'd memorised and thought of as heroes. Perhaps one day her descendants, either those who bore the name Stark of Tyrell, might think of her similarly. When she caught herself thinking of legacy like that, she stopped and scolded herself. There was time to enjoy the future when they were living in it, when peace had been earnt. There was no point dreaming of it when they were still fighting for it.

War was easy in comparison to her personal life. She'd heard her father say something similar one afternoon when she was no older than two and ten, when she had been thrown out of the Septa's lessons for cursing, while Sansa and Arya at only seven and five had discovered how intensely they could wind each other up.

"War was easier than daughters," he had remarked frustratedly upon seeing his three girls lined outside of his office with their furious Septa, presenting them to be disciplined by their Lord father.

He'd said it under his breath, not wanting them to hear, but Eddmina had heard anyway, and so she stood in front of him, arms folded and face completely stony, except for the eyebrow she raised questioningly. At the sight of her, knowing she was silently calling his bluff, knowing she knew he was not telling the truth but merely exaggerating unnecessarily, he couldn't hide his smile, nor the small laugh he tired to contain. He'd ruffled her hair then, making the septa scowl more as he spoilt her neat braids.

It turned out she needed to go to war herself to realise that her father might not have been entirely lying. She shed no more tears for her father, but his death still haunted her, giving her nightmares worse than any she'd faced before, and the constant questioning of if she was doing what he would think was right. The nights when she had wolf dreams had become a relief, finding peace in the nights she became Honour hunting through the woods, but in the mornings she was just as exhausted.

The dreams, and looking after Uther, had drained her. At seven months, he was more of a handful than he had ever been before, and she knew he was only going to get worse. Not that it was a bad thing, he was a blessing and she adored him, but she couldn't help the incredible guilt she felt every time she thought of her son growing up in a war camp. No one seemed to mind him, in fact people liked his presence, but Eddmina wished he had a normal upbringing more like the one that was expected of him in Highgarden. If they were in Highgarden, he would be surrounded by nothing but love, rather than men cursing Lannisters and discussing death and suffering. If he were in Highgarden, Eddmina would be able to focus more of herself on him, rather than juggling her duties of being Hand of the King with raising her son. She felt guilty every time she saw her mother with Uther, knowing that she had deprived Lady Alerie of spending that time with him, especially since Willas' mother was there when he was born. Whenever she saw Robb or Garlan sweep him up into the air or play with him, she thought of Leonette and Margaery, who were his aunts, who had barely seen him. Each time she thought of her father and how he would never meet Uther, she remembered that Lord Mace had also only held him a handful of times, and so the war was depriving Uther of another one of his grandfathers.

The war was getting in the way of her son's life, in more than that way. He was seven months, and Eddmina knew wistfully that, should the war not be raging and should they be in Highgarden, they might've started trying for a second. It was bitterly ironic that Eddmina, who'd once been terrified at the prospect of children and had sleepless nights over the thought of being a mother, felt a yearning for a second child, but she'd grown up with siblings and so had Willas. Robb was her twin, Jon was only a few months younger than both of them, while there was only two years between Willas and Garlan, and so she couldn't help but want Uther to have a sibling without a significant age gap with whom he could grow up with just as she and Willas had. She'd brought it up to Willas a few times, but they eventually agreed that as much as they wanted to make their son into a brother, a war camp was not the place.

"I don't think it's the right thing to do at the moment, Mina," Willas had sighed into her hair as they were curled up together in bed one morning, so early that dawn was barely breaking. "We're moving around too much, you don't need anymore stress."

"You want more children too, though," she pointed out, running her hand up and down his chest lightly, feeling his fingers stroking through her hair.

"I do, but I also rather like having a wife," he told her seriously. "I saw you lose enough blood having Uther to know that risking giving birth not in a castle and not surrounded by midwives and maesters is not something I want to put you through. If we're still fighting this damned war when he turns two, we'll run away back home and hide so no one can bother us an we can just do as we please, but for now, we have a son, and we have each other. That is more than enough for me."

Eddmina wasn't sure if he was joking, but she remembered his words anyway to hold him to them in little under a year and a half's time. He was right though, he usually was. She'd heard a few of the men around camp bestow the nickname 'Ser Willas the Wise' onto him, which embarrassed him a little at first, until he realised it was a compliment. Northerners liked to nickname those who they thought worthy. They had taken to calling Robb the 'Young Wolf' as well as 'King', the name becoming legendary. Had he not already been called 'Gallant', some of the men had reckoned that they would've called Garlan the 'Golden Stranger', after his golden rose sigil, and the fact that he had sent many men on the battlefield off to the gods. Garlan wasn't too keen on the name, and stuck to the name his brother had chosen for him as children.

"It's just bit grim really," he had remarked to her one afternoon, when there was no council meeting so the two of them were practicing sparring, Garlan taking over from Robb in helping her better her combat skills. "It's like being named for the one thing you hate about yourself."

"You hate yourself for killing in battle?" she asked him, not surprised but concerned, hating the thought of joyous, jolly Garlan carrying regrets around with him.

"Of course I do, but there's not much choice when someone's running at you with a sword," Garlan shrugged, his signature smile in place to hide the faintest traces of discomfort.

The months that had passed since the war began had been inescapably trying, but at the same time, she was full of pride. The north had rallied into a formidable cause, her brother was respected and thriving in battle, and there was not a day that went by where Eddmina didn't learn something, either about the world or herself.

'Growing Strong,' she couldn't help but think.

***
Eddmina had never been granted permission to see their prisoner, Jaime Lannister. Somehow word had gotten to Robb of her intentions for the Kingslayer on the night of their father's death - she was almost certain that Willas had told him, since the only other person who knew was Theon, and the Greyjoy would've happily gone with her on her murder mission. Since that night, the few times she had mentioned him, Robb changed the conversation, or when she asked the guards if she could see him, they derailed her with duties around camp that were more important. She didn't really care, but found it ironic that when they held council one night while she was sat at the right of Robb surrounded by their most trusted allies that they welcomed a Lannister prisoner into the tent.

"I can be trusted around this one then, I take it," she hissed to her brother under her breath.

"This one isn't as important, we wouldn't waste the Kingslayer on being a messenger," Robb reminded her as the prisoner was brought in, the Stark guards forcing him to stand before their King.

The prisoner wasn't technically a Lannister. It was Ser Cleos Frey, and his looks favoured the family immensely, yet his mother was Lady Genna Lannister, making him Lord Tywin Lannister's nephew, and that connection was as good as any for some of the Northerners to wish him dead. He had other uses though, one of them being serving as messenger for Robb's terms of treaty, the terms that Robb and Eddmina had been up all night every night for at least a week putting together. The Frey-Lannister didn't seem scared of them, looking reserved and quiet, but he took one look at the direwolves that sat in front of their masters, and swallowed nervously. Honour lowered her head and fixed her eyes onto him, the way she did when she was hunting easy prey, while Grey Wind's neck fur stood on end as he let out a low, rumbling growl. Robb whistled, and his wolf huffed, but quietened down.

"Thank you, my lord," he greeted, nodding at Robb.

"Your Grace!" Lord Umber wasted no time in correcting him in his usual fierce boom of a voice, pulling his sword an inch out of its scabbard to show how serious he was. There were murmurs of agreement all around.

"Your grace," Ser Cleos corrected. "Pardon, your grace."

"You're to travel to King's Landing under a peace banner accompanied by thirty of my best men," Robb got straight to the point. Their father would have respected that. "Once there, you are to present these terms to your cousin, Cersei Lannister. Tell her that should she accept these terms, I will put away my sword, lead my men home, and we will call an end to this war."

"It would be my pleasure, your grace," Ser Cleos bowed his head respectfully. Eddmina narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously.

Some of the men weren't keen on the idea of suing for peace. It had been something they were all against all those months ago when Robb was crowned, Eddmina included, but it had been her idea. If it was them who presented their terms, it made them seem reasonable. They had given the crown a way out of the war, a reason to put an end to the suffering of the realm. If the crown refused the peace offered by the North, it made them seem careless, and meant the North wouldn't have to hesitate in taking out full-blown vengeance. It gave them the upper hand either way, should the crown agree or refuse. Even so, she heard Lord Karstark mutter under his breath about the stupidity of it. Eddmina understood his disagreement, as she was sure should she have lost two sons in the war she would be less than willing to discuss anything other than bloody revenge.

"First, your family must release my sisters safe and unharmed," Robb spoke calmly, not even looking at the parchment in which the terms had been written on, having them all perfectly memorised. "Princess Sansa and Princess Arya are to be provided transport to the Reach, where they will be delivered to Highgarden, and Princess Sansa's betrothal to Joffrey Baratheon is to be called to an end. Once I have heard word from their escort and from the Tyrells that they have arrived, I will return my own prisoners to Casterly Rock with an escort. Second, our father's bones must be returned to us so he can rest beside his brother and sister in the crypts beneath Winterfell as he would've wished. The remains of all those who died in the service of Lord Stark must also be returned, so that their families can honour them with proper funerals. You are to also return my father's greatsword Ice to me, as that sword belongs to no one but House Stark. Third, Joffrey and the Queen Regent are to renounce all claim to the kingdom of the North. They are to never set foot in the north for as long as they live, along with any other Lannister. From this time, until the end of time, we are a free and independent kingdom."

"The King in the North,," Ser Rodrick Cassell breathed out proudly, and Eddmna could hardly blame him. It was Ser Rodrick who'd taught Robb how to swing a sword, and now he was leading a kingdom.

The call was echoed around the tent, and Eddmina found herself joining, even if her voice was quieter than the others, especially that of the Greatjon's.

"We have a map for you to take, marked with the boundaries of the lands we claim, just to be sure they understand," it was Eddmina's turn to speak up, and she noted the way Honour's head tilted at the sound of her voice, edging closer to the man her mistress was addressing. "All Lannisters must withdraw to behind our borders, and cease any form of conflict. There will be no claims made for taxes or incomes, no expectation of service to the crown from the smallfolk, and there will be no obligation to any order from the Iron Throne for anyone living within the kingdom of the North. Anyone who disregards this command shall suffer the same fate as our father."

"Only, I don't need a servant to do my beheading for me," Robb spat coldly, and even Eddmina couldn't help but grimace when she saw his glare, and knew the circumstances around their father's death still agonised him too.

"These are the King's terms," Eddmina spoke again, serious and cold. "I hope we have made ourselves clear. If not, feel free to speak now, Ser."

The northerners in the tent began a hushed chant of 'Stark, Stark, Stark'. Eddmina didn't look at anyone save Ser Cleos, but she could tell Theon was staring at her, wearing a smirk. He usually did, anytime they were doing something serious and she took control.

"What is to happen should the Queen not agree to these terms?" Ser Cleos asked, his eyes darting between the King in the North and the two direwolves.

"If they do not meet these terms, then tell the Queen to expect another Whispering Wood," Robb rose from his seat, his hand on the hilt of his sword. "I will litter the south with Lannister dead."

"King Joffrey is a Baratheon, your grace," Ser Cleos tried, but immediately regretted it as Robb sneered a laugh.

"Is he?" Robb asked dryly. "You will ride at daybreak. Go."

With that, Ser Cleos was escorted out of the tent by two guards either side of him to take him back to his makeshift cell. His exit caused the Northerners to break out into more calls of 'Stark', and 'King in the North'. This time, Eddmina didn't join in, rising to her feet and whistling for Honour to come to her side.

"That will be all for tonight, my lords, I wish you a good night and we will meet again in the morning," she dismissed, and they all began to file out, bowing their heads as they went. Eddmina waited until they all went, all of them but Theon, before she turned to her brother. "That went well."

"It did," Robb agreed with a nod. "You should go too, try and get some rest now all that is done with. I'm sure your wise husband is waiting for you."

"I left my wise husband with a book on historic sieges, I doubt he's even missed me," she joked, rolling her eyes at the reference to Willas' nickname. "I will give him your regards, and see you in the morning."

Only Theon remained, and so Eddmina counted it private enough to embrace her brother. She'd found it hard at first, balancing their relationship as siblings with their new roles of monarch and Hand, never quite sure what was appropriate, but when they were on their own, they could just be themselves. When they were on their own, they could almost pretend they were still simply Eddmina and Robb, not Princess Eddmina Stark of House Tyrell, Hand to the King in the North, and King Robb of House Stark, King in the North. It was sometimes nice to escape the confines those roles forced onto them.

She expected Theon to follow her out of the tent, but instead he remained, clearly wanting to talk to Robb about something, so she left them both and began to make her way across camp to get to her own tent, followed closely by Honour. After she was attacked during Whispering Wood, Robb had tried to insist on her having her own guard, but she found it a foolish idea when she had her own direwolf. Since then Honour went everywhere with her, except for when she was hunting during the night, and on the occassions where she wasn't the wolf could be found curled up at the foot of Uther's cradle.

Walking through camp was always a slow process, as many men were keen to stop her and talk. They saw her as easy access to the King, a way to convey their thoughts to their leader, and she was always more than happy to listen. She made sure she was kind and attentive, and never show if she was in a hurry. It just so happened that night that she was, desperate to return to her family, but she took her time anyway, making it all the better when she and Honour returned to their tent to find Willas and Uther, though they were also joined by Garlan.

She was happy to see them, until she saw what they were doing. Garlan was sat on the floor cross-legged, while Willas was sat on a stool, his bad leg stretched out in front of him free of its brace. Uther was placed in between them, sat up precariously. Considering it was a skill he'd only learnt in the last few days to sit on his own, Eddmina swore at the sight, her surprise made worse wen she saw neither man look concerned, only focused and competitive, the way they looked when they played cervasse or cards.

"Why in seven hells have you left my son on the floor?" she demanded, her voice only slightly raised as she folded her arms angrily at them.

"Apologies, Edd, we were just trying to settle a bet," Garlan waved his hand at her, though did not look at her, still looking at his nephew. "Come on, boy, come to me and I'll get you a pony when you're big enough!"

"I breed horses, you bloody fool!" Willas exclaimed, laughing at his brother's apparent stupidity before he looked to his wife with a smile. "Hello, darling. Sorry, he's not been there long. Nor will he be, because he's going to come to me, aren't you?"

Eddmina held her hand to her mouth to hide her amusement, and the laugh that threatened to escape. She was none the wiser, but the sight of her son looking between the two men indifferently was rather amusing, no matter the situation. She didn't let him remain there long, not as she bent down, swooping him up into her arms, holding him up in the air and smiling when he laughed. The two Tyrells cursed and exclaimed at her disregard for whatever game they had been playing.

"Oh, damn you, Stark," Garlan grumbled, rising from the floor. "We were trying to see who he would come to, and therefore who his favourite is."

"You do know he hasn't really started crawling yet, don't you?" she pointed out, looking between her husband and his brother as the realisation of the error of their ways dawned on them. "Besides, you're both wrong, as I'm obviously his favourite."

At that, Uther reached one of his hands up and grasped a lock of her hair. He tightened his fist around it and pulled, sharp enough to make her yelp. He'd started making a habit out of it whenever she didn't have her hair pulled back into a braid, and she couldn't really blame him given how long her hair was, but it was just unfortunate he'd decided to do it after she'd called herself his favourite. The gesutre had left both Tyrells clearly amused.

"Oh, be quiet, both of you," she rolled her eyes, holding her son on her hip as she removed the circlet crown from her head, placing it down onto the desk. "The terms have been read out and given to Ser Cleos. He's to leave with them tomorrow to present to Cersei and Joffrey, so we will have to wait and see."

"They'd be fools not to accept those terms, you've been more than reasonable," Willas told her, getting up from his stool as he went to stand at her side, kissing her cheek softly and stroking Uther's hair, which had only grown thicker and darker the older he got. "Did you include the part I suggested about Highgarden?"

"Yes, are you sure your parents would be alright with the girls staying there, not the mention the Lannister guards escorting them?" Eddmina asked, despite having asked a dozen times before.

"Of course, my mother would be overjoyed to have them, even if it was only for a short while before Robb took them back up north," Willas told her calmly, despite having answered a dozen times before.

"You say parents as if our father isn't off making Renly a King so our little sister can be Queen," Garlan reminded her, rolling his eyes at the mention of his father before a smirk crossed his face. "Though... if Robb is King, which makes you a Princess, does that make Uther a Prince too? Does that mean that our father's forgotten northern alliance has resulted in regal offspring before Margaery? Though, obviously it's easier for you two to have royal offspring than Margie and Renly-"

"Garlan, do shut up," Willas sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, clearly tired of hearing jokes at the expense of their sister's sham marriage. "You can be terribly boring, sometimes."

"Says you, do tell me, dear brother, how many species of bumblebee reside in the Reach?" Garlan remarked teasingly.

Eddmina sighed, knowing that the two of them would end up going back and forth with jibes until one of them called truce. Neither of them liked being the one to back down, and so she expected them to go on for a while. That was why she carried Uther over towards their bed, setting him down so she could sit opposite him and watch him play with the toy wolf she had sewn him a few nights before, when she'd been unable to sleep and had found spare material from one of her old brown dresses that no longer fit. When she did glance up to Willas and Garlan, she stiffled a laugh when she saw that rather than verbal taunts, they had moved onto arm wrestling.

They got like that occasionally, and Eddmina figured out that it was the boredom. There was always plenty to do around camp, and it wasn't as if they were stationary, as the camp moved on every few days, not to mention the various battles, but during the days or the nights where there wasn't really much occurring, they seemed to release all the pent up energy by resorting back to boys. It was probably nervous energy too, as she'd noticed that a lot of the men seemed to get a little jittery if they had stayed in one place too long, unsettled and expecting the worst. Eddmina found it endearing, as well as a little saddening. Alongside them both trying to distract each other and themselves from reality, it also reminded her of the nights they spent together in Highgarden when she and Willas were first married, when the two of them plus Garlan and Leonette used to stay up late into the night drinking wine and playing cards. Sometimes she and Leonette would be left laughing at their husbands as they ended up bickering like boys, so to see them do it in the tent caused a pang in Eddmina's chest. She missed Leonette dearly.

She didn't want to think about Leonette, nor all the good, happy times they had, so she left the men to it, and instead focused on her son. As the hours passed he eventually grew tired and so she held him close, wrapping him into an embrace against her chest, singing to him softly. It was just as he started to drift off when one of the guards outside the tent called to them, announcing a visitor.

"His grace, the King in the North, and the dowager Lady Stark," the guard called, and Eddmina involuntarily flinched at her mother's title; Any unexpected reference to her father's death did that to her.

"Let them in," Willas called before Eddmina could suggest turning them away.

It wasn't like she she didn't want to see her mother and brother, but she was enjoying the night with just the Tyrells. With just her husband and his brother, it was easier to ignore the fact that they were spending time together in a war camp. It was easier to see the few shining moments of joy, and Eddmina was selfishly desperate to savour any moment of joy she could find. With Robb and her mother, she couldn't help but revert back to duty and business. She adored her brother, but they had spent so much time together plotting and planning that it was hard to disconnect, whereas her mother refused for anyone to forget the suffering that House Stark was enduring. Eddmina understood, but she couldn't bare the constant reminders of her father, and her sisters, especially since she dreamed about them every night.

Her mother had, at least, been making more of an effort with her. Eddmina wasn't sure if she was just grasping to her as her only free daughter, or if she was still trying to make up for the fact she'd hit her all those months ago after Lord Stark's death. Either way, Eddmina didn't care, no longer having the energy to maintain the barriers she'd put up as a child. She was too busy, too tired, too old for pettiness, and she was glad that her mother clearly didn't want to keep up with their previous distance. They were not the best of friends, and most likely never would be, but Eddmina decided to enjoy it anyway, especially since her mother doted on Uther, and she knew it was good for him to have a good relationship with the only Stark grandparent he had left.

Whatever relationship Lady Stark was trying to build with her daughter and grandson, it didn't really extend to her goodson. Her bond with Willas was practically non-existent beyond polite courtesies, and though Eddmina wished they knew each other better, she also knew she barely had a relationship with Willas' father, so she couldn't really comment. Besides, it wasn't as if the two of them disliked each other, proven how Willas kissed her cheek in greeting when she and Robb entered the tent, and Lady Stark didn't recoil.

"It's late, is this important?" Eddmina asked, not bothering to rise from the bed, still holding Uther close.

"Good evening to you too," Robb forced a smile, while Lady Stark remained serious. "I need to talk to you, all of you, and I didn't think it could wait until morning."

Garlan pulled out the chairs that were positioned around Eddmina's desk, inviting them to sit, while Willas found the wine, offering their guests a goblet. Eddmina sighed, knowing bitterly that she would be getting very little sleep that night. She noticed her mother glance at the Tyrell's, Garlan in particular, clearly questioning whether what they were to discuss was appropriate for their presence, and Eddmina swallowed down a remark about them being family, knowing it was not the time, knowing that Robb wouldn't have brought the meeting to Eddmina's tent had he not wanted any Tyrells present.

"Tell us," Garlan said to Robb, leaning over in his seat with his hands folded together, his voice full of familiarity that one only earnt after fighting alongside someone.

"I was talking to Theon, and he rightfully pointed out that should we want to win this war, we will need ships," Robb spoke, yet again getting straight to the point. He shot a glance to his sister, watching her reaction carefully, though she knew to keep her face still even if she could feel her heart sinking in dread. "He's to sail for Pyke and reason with his father to join our side."

Eddmina clenched her jaw and tried to stay calm, specifically as she placed Uther down his cradle and paced over to the rest of the group. She held her hands together behind her back so no one could see the slight trembling she was trying to contain, nor how tightly she was squeezing her own fingers together. The thought of Theon going home after so many years, Theon leaving them... Robb was still watching her, trying to figure out what she was thinking. She moved to stand behind where Willas was sitting in hopes that he wouldn't see her nerves at the thought of her childhood fling leaving them.

There hadn't been anything romantic between them for years, and Eddmina could barely remember what it was about Theon that made her want his love and his kisses, but he was Theon. When she wasn't furious at him, he was the closest thing she had to a best friend. She placed her hands on her husband's shoulders, and she was thankful when she felt one of his hands take hers, giving her a light, loving squeeze.

Lady Stark was grimacing too, but for very different reasons. She looked at her son with a mixture of fear and disappointment, clearly recalling memories from the Greyjoy rebellion, recalling all the reasons why Robb was making a mistake.

"You do not want Balon Greyjoy for an ally, Robb," she told him firmly, the way she used to tell him not to go out riding after the sun had set. She was trying to tell him as a parent, but parental authority stopped having power the moment a crown was placed onto his head.

"We need his ships, they say he has two hundred," Robb replied quickly and calmly, as if he already knew how she was going to react.

"They say there are a millon rats living in the sewers of King's Landing, shall we rally them to fight for us?" Lady Stark asked sarcastically, getting up from her seat in frustration.

"Some rats carry diseases that can result in rather grusome and painful death, should we employ their skills well enough and make sure they are stationed within proximity to the royal family, then that might not be a bad idea," Willas commented dryly, earning a laugh fron the two other men, and a glare from Lady Stark. "Apologies. Carry on."

"I understand that you don't trust Lord Greyjoy-" Robb tried, but Lady Stark cut him off.

"Your father had to go to war to stop his rebellion!" she reminded them.

"His rebellion against the crown, mother," Eddmina spoke up, and Robb looked grateful for her help. "That seems awfully familiar to what we're doing now, doesn't it? Not to mention father and King Robert. If you didn't like rebels you shouldn't have married and mothered them."

"I mothered more than just rebels," Lady Stark spoke coldly, and Eddmina winced at the mention of her sisters.

"If this conversation is going to result in an argument, perhaps we should take it outside, or at least save it for the morning," Eddmina said quickly, sensing where the conversation was going and deciding to at least put an end to it before Sansa and Arya got brought up properly, before any one said anything they would end up regretting, knowing that Uther was there with them and no matter how young he was she was not subjecting him to hearing such conversations. "Robb, you are King, if you believe attempting an alliance with the Iron Islands is worthwhile, then we will pursue it."

"I'm with Edd," Garlan shrugged, offering Robb a supportive smile. Willas nodded along, though Lady Stark glanced to them as if wondering what business it was of theirs. "I'm sure Theon will relish the opportunity, and I doubt anyone else would be able to negotiate better than a true Iron Islander."

"Mother, if you trust Theon so poorly, then I could accompany him, ensure that everything goes our way," Eddmina suggested when she noticed her mother's dismayed look, regretting it a little when she felt Willas tense. She squeezed his hand tightly.

"Don't be such a fool, Eddmina!" Lady Stark exclaimed in exasperation. "Do you honestly think that is sensible? You, a woman, a Stark, going to the Iron Islands?" 

"Please refrain from calling my wife a fool, thank you," Willas said calmly, though he still made Lady Stark jolt in shock.

"So you're happy to see her go running off to the Greyjoys, knowing you might not see her again should she be ambushed and killed?" Lady stark said, bewildered. Willas didn't even flinch, his face staying perfectly still.

"She could ride to the other side of camp and get ambushed, though you might've forgotten that almost happened," Willas snapped before he could stop himself. Eddmina bit her lip to hide the small smile that was threatening to show at his protectiveness. "Eddmina would hardly be running off, rather it would be a diplomatic mission given to her by her king. I would be horrified if she went, but I don't think it makes her a fool. It makes her remarkably brave."

"No one need go but Theon," Robb said before anyone else could bicker. "He's my brother. I trust him."

"As do I," Eddmina nodded, cringing at the way their mother sighed. Before Lady Stark could try and sway their minds again, Eddmina looked back to her brother and asked, "What else? You wouldn't come here at this time just for that."

"No, you're right," Robb agreed. "Ser Garlan, do you how many men has your father sent to aid King Renly?"

"More than he has provided to the Starks, that I know," Garlan shrugged, sitting up straighter. "I believe in total Renly has around one hundred thousand men, or at least he did when he and Loras arrived in Winterfell. They told me just to try and convince me to go south with them instead. Bloody fools."

"Bloody fools with a big army," Willas observed, running one of his hands through his hair while the other still held tight to his wife's.

"Then in that case, Ser Willas I would ask that you accompany my mother on a diplomatic visit to the Stormlands to Renly's camp," Robb proposed, and if Eddmina's heart had sunk at the thought of Theon leaving, it choked her at the idea of Willas being away from her. She clenched on tigther to his hand as if it would keep him there, with her, where he belonged. "Try to make an ally out of him?"

Willas was nodding, and though Eddmina couldn't see his face she knew he would be serious. She wanted him to refuse, to insist on staying with the camp, but he stayed perfectly still, as she knew he would. He had practically become an honourary northerner over the past few months, and anything he could do to help the cause he would, even if it meant leaving his wife and child. Eddmina for once was desperate to be selfish and demand he refuse Robb, but she couldn't do it. She couldn't do it to her husband's pride and his need to be useful, nor could she do it to her brother who needed help.

"Of course," he agreed, running his thumb over his wife's knuckles.

He was more than willing, but Lady Stark was resistant. The thought of having to ride away from camp to try and appeal to southerners clearly was not something she had any desire to do, even if it meant helping Robb and the North. Eddmina knew why, since her mother had told her only a few nights before of her wish to head home for Winterfell to see Bran and Rickon, or to Riverrun, which was closer to the action but housed her sick father. Neither option was appealing, as they meant leaving her children on the front line of a war, but they were both infinitely better and safer paths than a visit to Renly Baratheon. Eddmina hoped her dislike for the visit ended there, and did not extend to the man she would be accompanied by.

"The last time I met Renly Baratheon he was but a boy! I know nothing of him, I will be of no use to you," Lady Stark attempted to exuse herself. Eddmina saw her twin clench his jaw tiredly. "You have a dozen other dedicated Lords at your command, send one of them!"

"Which one of them can I trust more than you?" Robb sighed, and Eddmina wished he would exert some of his Kingly authority and command her to go just so the conversation could end, unsure why her mother had to fight him on everything. "I've asked Ser Willas to go because I trust him, and because the Tyrells fight with Renly."

"Some of them do more than fight," Garlan muttered under his breath, shoting a smirk to Willas, who returned it with a glower. Lady Stark grimaced, clearly thinking Garlan was simply joking about his sister's marriage.

"If he can try to appeal to the Tyrells, I need you to to ensure that our terms are met and the North is understood and heard," Robb continued as if Garlan hadn't said anything.

"If we side with Renly our forces combined means we outnumber every other side in this war, even the Lannisters, and if we can count on the Greyjoy's as well..." Eddmina plotted aloud, and when she reached her conclusion, she exchanged a nod to her brother, both of them silently understanding what it would mean. She moved from Willas to stand by her mother, taking hold of her hands. "Mother, if this works, we will be back home within a few months. The war will be over, we'll have the girls back, father can be laid to rest, it will all be done."

Lady Stark looked as if she didn't want to believe it, as if her heart couldn't take the disapointment of it not being truthful and not working out. Yet a part of her crumbled as she sighed, knowing they were both right. When Robb came to stand with them, she looked between her two eldest children, wondering when they had both grown so big. One of them married with a child, the other a crowned King, both of them raging a rebellion against the throne to look after their family. She wanted to avoid affection with them wherever possible while they were in the camp, not wanting the other northerners to think less of them for having their mother following after them. However, only the Tyrells were there, and the two of them had begun discussing how best to sway their family onto the Stark's side, and so she couldn't help but pull them both into a tight embrace, pushing a kiss onto each of their foreheads. She couldn't remember the last time she held them both together like that, perhaps when they were small. She wished they were both still small, at least then they would be safe.

"Thank you," Robb whispered after a moment as they all separated. "You'll ride at first light."

First light. Eddmina turned and looked to her husband, feeling her chest tighten. They had not spent a day apart since he had visited the Wall back when she was still with child. In his whole life Uther had never spent a day without his father, and the thought of his father leaving now...

No, she couldn't compare Willas leaving Uther to her own father leaving Winterfell. No. It was a cruel thought, and she tried to shut it down before it had the chance to fester, but the pain was already there.

She never expected to be the sort of woman who would pine after her husband, the sort of woman who wished to spend every second at his side, but then again, she had never expected to be married to a man like Willas, a man who seemed to make everything seem so easy. He helped her through her nightmares, he listened to her when she spoke of her fears, he cared for her in a way no one else did. He adored Uther, he adored her. She hadn't realised she had allowed herself to become so dependant on him, but yet there she was, completely an utterly suffocated in how much she loved him, how much she needed him, and how much she was going to miss him.

"In that case, would you all please go back to your own tents and allow me these last few hours with my husband alone?" she asked, hoping she'd controlled her voice enough for it to not shake.

If it did, no one commented, not as they said their farewells for the night, and the moment the three visitors had gone, Eddmina flung herself at Willas, falling into his arms as he enveloped her tightly. She hadn't realised she was shivering until he pulled his cloak around her, stroking her hair as she buried her face into the crook of his neck.

"Does your brother not realise your mother has most likely only ever spoken to me a handful of times?" he whispered to her jokingly after a comfortable silence, waiting long enough to ensure everyone was out of earshot. Despite herself, Eddmina laughed. "I'm sure it wil be a fantastic opportunity for us to bond."

"Be safe," she made him promise, growing serious once more, looking up to study his face, only to see his eyebrows were inched together ever so slightly. "What is it? Are you worried? My mother's not all that bad, and your brother and sister are with Renly, you'll not be alone there."

"I know, I know, it's none of that, it's just..." he began trailing off as he refused to meet her eye, cracking a bitter smile as he gathered courage to say what was on his mind. "I've not been back to the Stormlands since the joust. I never thought I would go back. I never wanted to go back."

"Oh," was all she could think to say, feeling as though his words had winded her.

All she could think to do was kiss him, taking hold of his chin with her hand to bring his face to hers, pushing her lips to his in a slow, peaceful gesture. It did not last long before instinct took over, and her hands were in his hair, pulling him closer to her as her tongue ran against his lip. He sank into her, clearly grateful for the distraction her kiss had provided for him against the dark memories that had begun to cloud his mind. He held her jaw, his fingers rubbing tiny, feather light circles into her cheek, and she knew she would do anything to stay with him like that forever.

"My brave, wonderful Ser Willas," she whispered against his lips when they paused for him to catch his breath, though he was tracing his lips down from hers and to her cheek, the one that had been scarred during the battle of Whispering Wood.

It was a thin little scar, one that was barely noticeable, but Eddmina noticed it everyday. She was so used to the sight of her own face that she found it impossible to ignore. She had once called the scar ugly, and made the mistake of saying it in Willas' earshot. Ever since then he paid special care to kiss her cheek more tha he had done before, often affirming how beautiful he found her while he paid his affections.

As he bestowed his kisses on that occasion, Eddmina felt her stomach coil in absolute devotion, wanting nothing more than to give herself into absolute desire. She wanted to be reckless and selfish and claim his whole last night for herself, but they were not newlyweds anymore. They were not in the safety of home either. Instead they were in a war camp, and they had a son. The time and place was not right, and Eddmina wasn't even sure she knew the definition of the word 'selfish'. She had to settle with merely undressing him for bed, savouring every last second as Willas returned the favour for her, removing her cloak and dress, his fingers strokng over the curves of her body as he helped her into a nightdress.

Still, as they got into bed, Eddmina did not hesitate to curl her body into his, and Willas welcomed her close, wrapping his arm around her and placing his hand on the small of her back, tracing invisible patterns lightly into her skin with the tips of his fingers. She rested her head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat.

"If you truly don't want to go to the Stormlands, then I will tell Robb," she whispered after a long while, unsure if Willas was eve still awake. He must've bee, as he immediately sighed, stroking her hair. "If he needs a Tyrell, he can send Garlan. Or me. I'm a Tyrell, too."

"Robb needs you here, I am of more use going on that visit than I ever could be here," he remarked softly, though it made her a little sad. "I will go. I just wasn't expecting it,  but it's ben a long time. I can't let that one incident rule over my whole life, especially if this visit means so much. I want to do something useful. I want to contribute to ending this war and getting your sisters back, and us getting back to Highgarden and getting back on with our lives."

If hurt, but she knew he was right. The moment the war was done, they could go home. The home she had spoken of with Robb and her mother was different to the home she had with Willas. Home with Robb and her mother meant Sansa and Arya, Bran and Rickon. It meant Winterfell and all of them reuniting again, free from Lannister pain. It meant being without her father, but learning to live without him as they rebuilt themselves around his loss. It meant finding joy in their past while learning to live with the painful present. Home with Willas meant Highgarden. It meant walks through the woodlands with his hounds, birdwatching, and picnics by the Mander. It meant late night card games with Garlan and Leonette, volunteering in the village orphanages with Margaery, practicing archery with Loras. It meant raising Uther in a place where he belonged, a place that he would one day inherit and rule as his own. Home with Willas meant building their own future, building their own happiness. Eddmina couldn't believe how little time she had really spent in Highgarden, yet she pined for it, and for the life she could build there.

"You're my home," she told him softly, shutting her eyes as she listened to his heartbeat, a constant reminder that the pair of them were alive.

She was his, he was hers. Losing her father and the war had taught her to savour every last opportunity and reminder of life, and so when he leant down to kiss her once more, she happily kissed him back.

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