"Do you know why I have to go, when there's a deserter?" her father asked quietly, looking up from his sword, though his eyes didn't meet hers, instead fixing on the great weirwood in front of them both.

"It's the right thing to do," Eddmina answered, staring at the great sword in his lap. Ice shone in the cold afternoon light, not a shadow of blood left over from the gory ordeal of that morning. "You never really want to kill the men though, do you?"

It was a stupid question, she wasn't even sure why she asked it, but this was her father. Eddmina knew she could ask Ned Stark anything, absolutely anything in the world, and he would always answer her truthfully, unless he didn't know the answer, in which he would answer as best he could. He glanced over at her for a moment before he set aside the sword, gesturing for her to come closer. She had been previously sat on the log next to his, but soon got up and sat next to him as he shuffled over to give them both enough room. As soon as she was sat down he pulled her close, his arm around her shoulder, his cloak draping over her back. She felt very safe with him.

"I don't enjoy killing them, no, nor do I ever really want to," he said, and part of her felt guilty, knowing by that tone he was using he was thinking about the war. "But I made a vow, to the King and to the North, and it has to be me, otherwise it becomes meaningless if I allow someone else to do my duty. Sometimes there are things we truly don't want to do, things that make us want to run or hide, but our duties are ours to face, and it is facing them that makes us honourable."

"Do you really care so much about honour that you would put yourself through something that you really hate?" Eddmina asked after a moment of silence, and she was unsure as to whether she was asking for him, or for her. She couldn't help but think of everything that was expected of her in life, things like betrothals and marriage, but perhaps her father would understand better than anyone.

"Yes," he nodded, his hand on her shoulder tightening briefly. "It's moments like that which really show who we are."

They sat in silence for a moment, Ned looking at the tree, Eddmina looking at the floor. She couldn't bear to look at the weirwood, not if it was meant to represent the gods. How could she look at the gods when she felt so ashamed of herself. She had been so tempted to run away, leaving nothing but a note of goodbye before she headed off on her own. She didn't know where she was going to go, the Wall wouldn't work, not if Uncle Benjen inevitably recognised her, and she couldn't go to the Riverlands either. She refused to go South, it seemed too warm and unnecessarily rich, so that only left the East. The East would be equally warm, but no one would know her there. She could go and build her own life, where she didn't have to be nagged by the Septa to be someone she wasn't, where she didn't have to see her mother's disappointed gaze, where she didn't have to watch her brothers thrive in everything she wanted to do or be a guide to her sisters. She could be herself in the east, she could find out who herself actually was, but by removing herself away from situations where she would have to do things she hated she was being dishonourable. What did that make her, then? A coward? A stupid, selfish child?

"Father," she began quietly, contemplating telling him everything, even the part about the satchel of emergency supplies she kept stored under her bed, waiting for the moment she was ready to leave. She decided against it, not wanting to see disappointment in him; that would make two disappointed parents. "I don't know who I am."

"Edda, you're four-and-ten," he began, sounding a little surprised with a small laugh, but he soon realised that perhaps this had been something bothering her for a long time.

"I don't think that really matters," she shrugged, unable to meet his eye. "Septa told me I act half my age whenever I open my mouth to speak."

"Have you been cursing again?" he asked seriously, but both of them knew he was only pretending. As her father he did, after all, have to feign being on the Septa's side and be disciplinary.

"She says every time I mention not wanting to follow her instruction I may as well be cursing," she told him, biting back a bitter smile. "I hate her lessons. I think she'd be glad if I never went, but she seems to enjoy telling me off."

"Your lessons are important, Edda," he reminded her, but not in the lecturing way her mother did, more in a kind, reassuring way that made her think he was also justifying his statement to himself. "Why do you hate them?"

"Because I don't know who I am, but I know I'm not who everyone wants me to be," she said a little hopelessly, hating herself as she felt her eyes sting. She wouldn't cry, she refused to cry, not in front of her father who would surely think her ridiculous. Her father had been to war, he'd killed people, he'd experienced grief she could never, ever imagine in her darkest dreams, she wasn't going to cry in front of him over something so pathetic. "I can't dance and I don't sing the songs that are expected, and whenever I speak I always say the wrong thing that will make people think I'm improper, and all I do is mess things up and be a bad influence for Sansa and Arya, and everything I'm being prepared for just feels so wrong, but if what I'm being prepared for is anything like what Septa makes it out to be then I don't want any part in it."

Ned sat and thought a moment, contemplating what his daughter had just said. He was surprised when he found a small, sad smile growing on his face, remembering another northern girl who had said something so very similar once a long time ago. At least his sister wasn't a distant memory, not while he saw her every day in his daughters.

"You're very much like your Aunt," he told her, because what was the point in simply thinking it. She still wasn't looking at him, so he gently reached out and took her chin, guiding her face so that her eyes would meet hers. "Look at me, Edd. Anything you're afraid of, anyone who tries to scare you, you always look them directly on, because even if you're scared it's best to face things head-on. No one knows you're afraid then, not even yourself."

She nodded quickly. It was good advice. She didn't plan on forgetting it in a hurry. Even so, looking her father in the eye meant she saw his sympathetic gaze as he noticed the few tears threatening to fall. She wiped them away hastily, though never moving her eyes from his.

"There's certain things in life you can't avoid, and your lessons are one of those things, so's marriage, but that's not going to be for a long time I can promise you," he told her, firm yet kind. "You are yourself, you're a Stark of the North with the wolf's blood, and no one can change that. Sometimes doing what's expected and what's unavoidable seems difficult and like something you'd rather run from, but in the moment it's not so hard."

She thought about him going off to war. It didn't matter if that was how he had been brought up, daily sword lessons and combat practice, surely he never actually wanted to put the lessons to work. No one really wanted to go to war, or kill someone, and if someone did they were cruel and deserved being put down by the honourable folk. If battles and death were her father's duty, something that had clearly left him scarred both physically and emotionally, surely she could handle simple lessons with the septa. Surely she could smile, and sing, and even marry without causing a fuss. Her father was strong and honourable, and she wanted to be like him. She could handle whatever duty threw at her, she had to. Her father was a soldier to his responsibilities, so she would be a soldier too. Strong, brave, honourable, he'd done awful things in the name of their family, anything to protect them and the realm, so surely she could too.

She turned to him, wanting to smile at him and tell him that she was alright, things were going to be alright and she would always do right by house Stark the way he would want her to, but he'd gone. In fact the whole forest had gone, even the magnificent weirwood, the old gods no longer staring at her. She wasn't fourteen anymore either, she wasn't small and uncertain, she was herself, a dutiful married mother, no longer sat upon a tree log in the safety of her home. Instead she was in a throne room, and even though she'd never seen it in her life it was large and grand enough to know she was in King's Landing, not to mention the Iron Throne at the head of the room, ugly and chilling as each of the sword points reflected in the sunlight streaming down from the great stained glass windows, the red sections making it look as though there were pools of blood spilt onto the floor.

Sat upon the throne wasn't King Robert, who's frame would surely command the whole throne. Prince Joffrey sat in his place leant cockily to the side, a crown upon his head jauntily as if it was ill-fitting and didn't belong there. His mother was at his side, her usual smug smile in place, though neither of them were looking at her, the room filled with at least a hundred others. Men in shining gold armour with flowing white coats, yet they didn't look the honourable knights of the stories, not at all like the men Bran had once wanted to grow up to be like. There were men in red armour too, with golden roaring lions on their chests, and then there were men in no armour at all, simply in court clothes, like one small skinny man, dressed darkly with a nightingale pin on his chest.

She turned, and her father was at her side yet again, but he wasn't the man she'd just been talking to. He was the man she'd waved goodbye to several months ago before he left the north for the capital, yet he looked different. He looked worn, tired, and conflicted, as if something was weighing on him, something difficult that he'd been forced into. She tried to call for him, to let him know that she was there with him, and whatever was going on she would be on his side, but her voice didn't come, no matter how badly she tried. There was something going on too, she could tell, considering he had his guard behind him, aka strong northern men, some of them even boys she'd grown up with. They all had their hands resting upon the hilts of their swords, though they were all looking to her father, waiting for his command. Something was very, very wrong.

Everything seemed to blur, and before she knew it she was surrounded by nothing but conflict, Lannister and supposed-Baratheon men cutting down men she had known her whole life, and all she could do was watch. Some of them fell to the floor in bloody piles, others disappeared into clouds of black smoke as though wiped completely from existence. She wanted desperately to help the northmen, but she was completely unarmed, and none of them could hear her either, no matter how loud she called their names. She didn't know where to look, until her eyes fell upon her father once more, yet this time the nightingale man had a knife to his throat, her father's face screaming the ultimate betrayal.

"I did warn you not to trust me," he whispered to her father smugly, and Eddmina recognised his accent from somewhere, though she couldn't place it, not in the moment, not as fear seized her as she desperately tried to scream her father's name.

It was no use, no one could hear her, so in a last attempt of saving him she made to storm up the steps to the throne. She might've had no voice but she could still move, except she was floored when she saw the throne. Before it had merely been a chair, but now she looked upon it again, the swords that made up the back of the seat, pointing up to the heavens, had become home to several severed heads.

Mother. Robb. Bran. Rickon. Arya. Garlan. Theon.

It was then she finally found her voice as she let out an ear-splitting scream, both of utter fear and earth-shattering grief. The rest of the room was deathly silent despite the battle, though somewhere there was a wolf howling.

Someone had their hand on her shoulder then, pulling her around to face them, though it was only when she recognised Willas, the person she trusted more than anyone else in the great wide world, that he drove a dagger into her belly.

"Darling, wake up," he whispered kindly, though his tone didn't match his face, not as he was glaring at her with an evil smirk, not as he twisted the knife and her blood began to spill, staining his hand.

"Please, my love, wake up," he said again, a little more desperately this time, though this time he wasn't saying it in her head, she was really hearing it, and it was only upon hearing his voice that she realised it had all been a dream.

All of it. The conversation in the godswood had been years ago, though she remembered it so vividly, almost as vivid as the vision of the throne room had been. It had all been so clear, so real, so true, how could it have all happened inside her head. Everything felt blurry for a moment as she woke, even her vision as she forced her eyes open, as though she was emerging from the deepest of sleeps, though she slowly felt a little more real as she felt Willas' arm around her, and she saw him leant over her as her body was curled around his. That was how they always seemed to sleep, with his arm around her, her head on his chest, though this time it felt as though he was her protector, like he was fulfilling some sort of duty to her. She saw the concern in his face as her vision cleared, though that was also when she heard Uther's cries.

She made to sit up, wanting to reach out and pick up her son, but Willas stopped her, his hand on her shoulder. It was then she noticed how badly she was trembling. How had she not noticed her shakes until then?

"It's alright," he said, as if sensing what was going on in her head. "Whatever it was, it was just a dream. It's alright, I promise."

"Will," she tried, unsure what her voice would sound like, though it was oddly calm. Even so, the feel of his hand on her wasn't it's usual comfort as she couldn't help but remember what he'd done to her in her dream. "Could you..."

He noticed the way she was looking at his hand and with a confused frown he quickly pulled away from her. She hated that she sighed with relief, but she couldn't help it, though Willas didn't seem to dwell on it, heaving himself out of bed to cross over to Uther's crib, scooping him up to comfort him before he leant down and gently placed him into Eddmina's arms.

"I think you just startled him," Willas said quietly as his cries quietened slowly. He made to lean over and stroke her arm though stopped himself. Eddmina grimaced in guilt, both for making her son cry and making Willas uncomfortable. "Do you... Do you want to talk about it?"

"It was so... real," she said, stroking her fingers through Uther's hair as she tried not to feel stupid.

"You've never been like that before," he said, rubbing his forehead tiredly. "You were shaking, crying. At one point you screamed out. You kept calling out, for your father."

At that Eddmina winced again, not only at the fact that she had been to involuntarily vulnerable, but that the horrid things she had seen in her mind were inescapable. If she'd not reacted in her sleep to what she was seeing, perhaps she could've put it aside, gotten over it, not told anyone about what she'd seen until it faded into obscurity in her mind, but that was no longer possible considering Willas had played witness to her reaction. He'd want her to talk about it, to explain everything she had seen so that he could help her figure it out and get to grips with what she'd gone through in her dream, and though she knew he'd mean well she couldn't bear it.

"I know you've been worried about your family," he tried, breaking the silence the moment he knew she wasn't going to speak. "It's been a hard few weeks, but whatever happened in your dream, it wasn't real. Your father's safe, so are your sisters. You're alright, they're alright, I-"

"Please stop," she shook her head, interrupting him when a thought dawned on her.

She'd never been to King's Landing, so it'd make sense if her dream was nothing but a violent figment of her imagination. Yet the dream had started in the godswood with a very real, very crucial memory. If her mind could give her that memory in a dream then it made the second part so much more real. What if it was real? What if her mind had shown her the past and then the future? That felt absurd, she felt stupid merely thinking it, until she recalled the last few vivid dreams she'd endured. When she'd dreamt of Honour, running in the wolf's wood before sensing danger, and then moments later the wolf saved her from death, and when she'd dreamt of Theon attacking her, and then she flowered. Her strange, vivid dreams seemed to foreshadow horrid moments in her life, and her track record made her feel sick.

"Will, what do you know about green-seers?" she asked slowly, remembering what Old Nan had told her the last time she'd felt strange about her dreams.

"Not very much I'm afraid, I know they're something associated with the first men, which isn't too relevant to education in the Reach, though I know that to be a green-seer it means you can see things in your dreams, you see real life often distorted as if it is a prophesy," he explained, still wearing a frown though this time it was as he recalled all knowledge he possessed. "Some green-seers are also beings called wargs, which is when you have the ability to enter the mind of another being and see the world through their eyes. It's not an ability that one develops, it's a gift you're born with and must refine. The power of green-seeing, being able to see visions of the past and the future, as well as events happening right in that moment, it's something that many Maesters are sceptical over. They don't believe that such magic still exists, if it ever existed at all."

"Willas..." she bit back an impossible smirk, forgetting her turmoil for just a short moment. "How can you claim to know not very much when you possess all that knowledge?"

"Oh, hush," he chuckled quietly, the darkness of the room hiding the pink tinge of his cheeks. "I also know that to be born with the green-sight is a one in a thousand chance, not to mention those with the gift have green eyes. I happen to know you're in possession of eyes the colour of the Dornish sea."

Eddmina knew if she sat and explained everything that was going on in her mind Willas would listen, and he would believe her. He always did, yet this time was different. He sounded sceptical and tired, and not at all like he was in the mood to understand. She wouldn't blame him if he thought her foolish, she almost thought the same, but she knew herself better than anyone and she knew there was something not right about her dream. It was too solid, too vivid, and she had felt the pain of her wound, not to mention the grief. It was too real to shake, all of it.

Willas, however, was unknowing to all of that. She merely forced a small smile as she set a sleeping Uther back in his crib, faking a yawn. He took that as a sign that their disruption was over, climbing back into bed at her side. He kissed her cheek and was soon back to sleep, though Eddmina didn't join him. She instead lied awake staring up at the ceiling, willing away the night to a more acceptable hour. She wanted more than anything to talk to someone, but she realised with a pain in her chest that the person she wanted to speak to about this matter more than anything was her father. That was impossible, but given the nature of her dream talking to him felt a lot more difficult. She remembered the throne too, the heads that found home on the swords' points. It was horrible, horrific, and each time she thought of it she felt sick. She felt as though she possessed some exclusive piece of knowledge that soon everyone would know and would shake up the world, knowledge that would change countless lives. A rational part of her mind was telling her repeatedly that it was merely a dream, but the rational part was growing smaller by the moment as the dream settled into her. The longer she lay awake inevitably reliving it, the more she knew that it was far, far more than a figment of her imagination.

She needed to speak to Robb, but she knew Robb would be sleeping. Sleep seemed like a distant memory, Eddmina didn't know how she would ever be able to sleep again if it gave her such painful news. Though as the hours passed excruciatingly slow, laying in bed listening to Willas' quiet snores and Uther's steady breathing, the calmer she felt. Perhaps if she tried to sleep she would see more. Perhaps she would see that it was all a misunderstanding, her father safe and well, her sisters unthreatened, the heads merely just her imagination.

She felt rather brave closing her eyes again in a try to sleep, attempting to rejoin the dream where it left off, though nothing happened. She wanted to see Father, or Sansa and Arya, or anyone, absolutely anyone, absolutely anything that would give her peace of mind of their safety, but she saw no one, nothing. It was almost a relief when Uther woke and cried, giving her an excuse to escape her mind.

She tended to him, fed him and settled him back down, but that was when she noticed the break of dawn through the shutters of the window. Surely the acceptable time to be asleep had passed, and given the routine they had gotten in the past few weeks Eddmina assumed Robb would be awake too. The thought of training and distracting her racing mind with physical exertion was a comfort, so she quickly and quietly dressed into one of her more comfortable dresses before slipping out of the room, leaving both of her boys asleep as she headed down to the armoury.

Robb had been true to his promise he made after the wildling incident. Each morning the two of them snuck out of the keep early and headed off into the woodlands to train, so early that Eddmina could be back in time to tend to Uther before anyone, even Willas, could notice she'd gone. It was difficult to keep it a secret, especially as Eddmina learnt she bruised easily and it was hard to escape bruising when her combat skills were so rusted, but icing her injuries and long sleeves were yet to fail her in concealing the truth. Even with her occasional failing, it felt good to be out in the cold fresh air with a weapon in her hand, and she felt as though she was herself again. Robb told her she was getting better even though she was yet to best him, but she had never beaten him with a sword, even when he used to sneak her into lessons as a child. Archery was her strong point, swords were his, but that didn't deter her.

When she reached the armoury, Robb was already there, selecting their weapons for the day. They only ever used blunt training swords, but he always took out a battle-ready weapon with him, just in case of another incident. Before he'd noticed her arrival she caught sight of him cleaning down the sword, taking extra care over the nicks in the steel, and she could see how tired he looked.

"You're up early," she called, making her way inside, taking the sword that was usually hers off the table.

"It's almost like I promised my sister something and that includes getting up at the break of dawn," he joked, before looking her over seriously. "I couldn't sleep, and by the looks of it neither could you."

She considered telling him of the dream. It had been all she'd thought about, and she'd certainly planned out how she would explain it to him, but then she decided against it. She'd been so close, even to the point of opening her mouth about to let the words spill out, but she instead forced a smile and shook her head.

"Motherhood is exhausting, what's your excuse?" she raised her eyebrow, hitting him on the arm before gesturing to the door. "Come on."

They walked out to the woods in comfortable silence. They knew each other so well and for so long that sometimes conversation simply wasn't necessary, and given the night she'd had Eddmina was glad. She wished she could find the energy to explain the dream to Robb, but she simply couldn't bring herself to. They were so close after all, and twins too. Whatever one experienced the other usually did, so perhaps that was why he was also tired, perhaps he had also suffered the same dream, and that was why he was quiet. It didn't matter in the end, because when they found the clearing they usually worked in, far enough away from the keep so that no one would hear them yet still close enough that it was in walking distance, they began to work, and all words were forgotten, replaced by the clang of steel meeting steel.

They trained for at least an hour, Robb teaching her defence and blocking, and she managed the occasional hit onto him. Such drills had once been exhausting for her, but Eddmina's stamina was slowly rebuilding. Even so, after one faux-battle between herself and Robb that had him accidentally sweep her knees and left her landing with a thud into a pile of leaves, she found herself breathless and aching. Robb hadn't meant to knock her to the ground, and so quickly rushed to her side, dropping his sword, though she merely laid back looking up at sky hidden by the jigsaw puzzle of the trees up above, resisting the urge to laugh as she caught her breath. Even with the dream in the back of her mind, she felt light, she felt almost content.

"Gods, sorry, Edd," he muttered, offering her his hand, and though she took it, she used it to pull him down to her side, unable to stop laughing as her brother collided with the leaves. "You know real life opponents won't be as kind to offer you help to your feet."

"It's a good job I didn't trust your offer well enough then," she laughed, flicking a leaf onto his face. He flinched and blew it away. "I think we should head back."

Robb nodded, and the pair of them pulled each other back up, collecting their weapons. They walked side by side, though as Robb watched the path ahead Eddmina looked up to the sky. After the horrifying dream she had expected to wake up in a day just as dark and dreary, but the sky was bright, or at least as bright as it got in the north. The sun wasn't out, but that was alright. There was a sight breeze, but that was alright too. It felt like a perfect day, her spirits lifting to the point that she almost expected the fear she'd felt in her dream to disappear entirely. Yet as soon as the two of them entered the armoury to hang up their blades to see Maester Luwin waiting for them with his concerned frown that they'd both grown to know well over the last few months, she knew she was being far too optimistic.

Even so, she didn't feel bereft with nerves as they went into the great hall. She felt calm, collected, perhaps even accepting. Maybe the torturous dream had prepared her for whatever dire eventualities awaited her in her real life, or maybe part of her had been expecting something horrible to happen for a long while. Either way she remained stoic as they crossed to the table at the end of the hall, seeing Theon sat waiting for them, looking bored. She wondered if he'd been gathered there too, but he must have been there merely for breakfast only to get caught up in something much bigger.

The maester had a scroll, the red Lannister seal broken, which meant he had already read it. He handed it to Robb first, as stand-in lord of Winterfell it belonged to him after all, though Eddmina caught a glimpse of writing she recognised as Sansa's. She thought she ought to feel sick, or nervous, or anything at all, but instead she felt nothing, even as Robb handed it to her to read. She didn't really need to read it though, not as he summed it up with one confused expression.

"Treason?" he asked, as if willing that the letter be untrue. "Sansa wrote this?"

"It's her hand," Eddmina confirmed, thinking of all the letters Sansa had written to her over the last few months. She handed the scroll back to Luwin, not wanting to look at it anymore. "They're not her words though. Sansa's writing style is different. Someone's told her exactly what to say."

"They're the Queen's words," Luwin nodded, looking at Robb as he frowned at nothing in particular, the cogs of his mind whirring so furiously as his fists were placed down onto the table. "You've been summoned to King's Landing to swear fealty to the new king."

New king. Robert was dead, and the rotten, spoilt child Eddmina had grown distasteful of only months before sat on the throne. There was no one she wanted to bend the knee to less than Joffrey, and that was without considering everything else as well as his poor personality and demeanour.

"Joffrey puts our father in chains and now he wants his arse kissed?" Robb spoke slowly, his voice sounding less disbelieving and more angry as each word came out. Eddmina clenched her jaw, nodding along with everything he said, and when she spared a glance to Theon she noticed he was looking to Robb with impassioned excitement.

"This is a royal command, my lord," Luwin reminded him, though seemed to look to the other two as well, as if to stop them from encouraging him down a wrong path. "If you were to refuse-"

"I won't refuse," Robb spoke impatiently, as if his mind had settled on his decision and he coudn't wait to get it out into the world lest he back down. "His grace summons me to King's Landing, I'll go to King's Landing, but not alone. Call the banners."

Eddmina looked to her brother, younger than her by only a handful of minutes, and for the first time truly saw him as a man. She'd always been impressed by him, always known he was strong and brave, but he really was grown, and he was the true definition of a lord. He looked like their father too, when he was serious. She remembered their father when he recieved news of the Greyjoy rebellion, and how he had the exact same expression Robb was wearing, though Robb seemed more certain. Speaking of Greyjoys, as Eddmina looked to her brother with admiration, she noticed out of the corner of her eye how Theon smirked. It seemed prideful, though she couldn't tell if it was because he was proud of Robb's strong judgement, or if he was pleased that he was getting his way before he could even suggest war again.

"All of them, my lord?" Luwin asked lowly, as if wanting to make sure that Robb was sure, as if he was trying to test him without making it obvious.

"They've all sworn to defend my father, have they not?" Robb remained stoic, not flinching in nerves. Seeing him in such a way made Eddmina feel more brave herself.

Luwin nodded once more. If he had an opinion on Robb's actions he didn't voice it, regardless of whether it was positive or not. Eddmina had noticed over the years he was always good at advice but when it came to it, he always followed their father's orders. The fact that he simply followed what Robb had told him was a shock, and Eddmina realised she wasn't the only one who thought of Robb as a lord.

As soon as Luwin was gone, he let a little of the facade drop as he slipped into a seat besides Theon, who still wore his smirk. Eddmina quickly took her place, sitting by his side so that herself and Theon were either side of him.

"You afraid?" Theon asked after a moment when he knew the three of them were entirely alone. He wasn't patronising or cruel, for once he sounded kind.

Robb didn't answer, he merely held his hand up in the air so they could both see it trembling. He watched it himself for a moment, as if he hadn't realised it had been shaking even though it belonged to him.

"I must be," he noted, sounding a little dazed. Eddmina wrapped her arm around his shoulder, squeezing him tight.

"Good," Theon smiled. It wasn't a smirk anymore, just a kind, proud smile. It always surprised Eddmina how quickly the man could shift his personas.

"How is that good?" Robb asked.

"Means you're not stupid," Theon shrugged, his voice light, as if he knew Robb needed him to be like that.

"What do you need us to do?" Eddmina asked after a moment of silence, her old habit of needing to be useful rearing its head once more. He didn't answer, so she specified, "Robb, what can I do?"

"Speak to the Tyrells," he answered quickly, as if he'd only just recalled their existence. "I want to speak to Lord Tyrell, I want to see if this alliance he and father made is worth anything."

Eddmina nodded, rising from her seat instantly. If she sat with Robb and Theon much longer she knew her mind would dwell on darker things, but if she kept busy her mind would be calmer. She bid them both a quick farewell before heading off out the hall and back into the living quarters, up the stairs towards where the guest chambers were. She decided as soon as she was done with the Tyrells and she had sent her goodfather off to speak with Robb she'd go and help the Maester, knowing he had a lot of ravens to send out, though as she walked past a window she saw a few flying out already, their caws of war audible even through the thick Winterfell walls.

It was only as she climbed the stairs that she began to consider reality and her bravery began to falter. Of course her dream had been some horrible prediction, but not even that could prepare her for reality, not really. It was one thing seeing her father betrayed in her dream, but actually knowing he was held in the black cells, and many of the men she'd grown up around were dead... The men he'd taken South with him she'd known from childhood. They'd called her Lady Edd, they joked with her, they always thanked her when she helped them with whatever task she took on, they were family, and they were dead. Eddmina felt as though a rock had begun to settle on her chest, but then she considered her sisters, and for a moment she had to sit on the step, stopping as she tried to catch her breath, the thought of Sansa and Arya alone without a single friend or protector...

'Keep going, don't stop now,' she thought, biting her lip with a grimace as she screwed her eyes shut. 'Forget it all. Thinking about them won't save them. Keep going.'

So she did. She headed to the Tyrell chambers, even though she knew that they were never usually awake at such an early hour, but as soon as she walked past what was usually a solar for the guest area, she could hear familiar voices, raised in unfamiliar tones. The door wasn't shut all the way, so while she could remain unseen in the corridor, the voices came flowing out, and she was frozen to the ground listening.

"You're an idiot if you go down there," a tense voice spoke, and Eddmina recognised Garlan's voice, though she'd never heard him like that, like he was desperately fighting away anger. "Not to mention a dishonourable one. You bend the knee then you break every vow you made when you formed an alliance with the Starks."

"You were making sense up until that last part," a sneering voice came, one that carried age, experience, and a rather large superiority complex; Lady Olenna. "Please don't tell me you're foolish enough to think we need to intervene in this business with the crown and the Starks?"

"If thinking that is foolish then there's at least two fools in the room," a more strained voice called, one that was biting back bitterness, the words short and snapped; Willas. There was a murmur of support from Garlan.

"The whole point of your marriage wasn't for a Stark alliance, you know that," Lord Tyrell finally spoke up, only to have an echo of supportive agreement from his lady mother. "It was merely to show the crown our support. The king wanted you wed to someone in a family he thought he could trust, it just so happened to be a Stark. Perhaps if his judgement had been better you would've wed a Lannister of some sorts and then we wouldn't be in this situation."

"I would much rather die than think of being married to anyone else, especially a Lannister," Willas snapped, and Eddmina heard the pained gasp of Lady Alerie. "My wife's family-"

"Were stupid enough to commit treason," Lady Olenna interrupted, a sense of finality to her tone, as if she didn't intend on anyone else speaking up to oppose her.

"What about Loras and Lord Renly?" Margaery spoke up, though Garlan quickly scoffed.

"Yes, if you're so quick to abandon the Starks and label them as traitors, what will you do to those two, who've done probably worse than Lord Eddard in regards to the crown?" Garlan pointed out in bitter amusement.

"That is different, Loras is my son," Lord Tyrell argued back.

"And Eddmina is your gooddaughter!" Willas replied hotly. "She is family, the Starks are family! So what, while Mina's father rots in chains in the black cells and her sisters are held hostage, you'll either bend the knee like a coward and condemn the Starks after you swore allyship, or you'll join Lord Renly's farce of a rebellion and create treason of your own?"

"Willas, please," Lady Alerie attempted, sounding exhausted. "Your brother isn't a traitor."

"If he's running off with Lord Renly in an attempt to make him King he is actually the very definition of the word," Lady Olenna pointed out.

"Who's side are you on?" Garlan bit back a bitter laugh.

"I'm on our side, I simply don't want us getting mixed up in yet another war where we're not needed where we're only going to ruin our reputations all over again," the matriarch replied shortly, using the tone she always used to undermine people. "It's bad enough we've already got an undeniable connection to the North-"

Eddmina had heard enough. She considered storming off back to Robb. She could be more useful to him by helping him sort out strategies, rather than stand and be insulted by people she was meant to call family, but that would by a coward's move. If she merely left they would never know she had heard everything, and she decided she would much rather confront them all over it. Her father and sisters were prisoners, they didn't have their freedoms, but she did, and she would use it to fight for them, even if it meant standing up against the Tyrells.

She shoved the door open and all heads in the room snapped to her. She saw Willas first, stood at the other side of the room by the window, though as soon as he saw her a pained guilt appeared on his face as he crossed the room to her. He wrapped his arm around hers, whispering her name as he gestured for them to go, but she stayed exactly where she was. It was her home, after all, and she wouldn't be moved. She looked round each of them, noting that Leonette was sat in the corner holding Uther while a letter sat on her lap, before her gaze settled on Lord Tyrell.

"I came here because my brother wished to speak to you," she began slowly, not wanting to rush her words, taking time to pick them carefully. "He's called our bannermen, and he wanted to discuss the alliance you made with my father, but I don't think there is any point in such conversations is there? It already sounds as though you've all made up your mind that the North is an irrelavent cause that you need not concern yourself with, and why would you? There's nothing for you to gain with the North anymore is there?"

"Mina," Willas attempted, his hand squeezing her arm reassuringly, though she ignored him, merely pulling herself out of his grip. She could feel her face growing hot but she didn't care.

"I recommend that if you don't intend on staying true to whatever agreements you made with my father you all make a quick exit from the north," she continued, feeling her heart pounding in adrenaline. "The other northerners are less forgiving than I when it comes to broken vows."

"Eddmina," Lady Alerie tried, getting u from her seat, but Lady Olenna's slight laugh interrupted her.

"If we leave South, you will be coming with us," Lady Olenna told her, as if she was the most foolish person in all of the seven kingdoms.

"I will be going South, but with my brother, and I won't be returning to Highgarden until I know my family are all safe," she replied firmly.

"Now listen here, young lady," Lord Tyrell spoke firmly, pointing his finger at her in a way she didn't particularly enjoy. "Your responsibility is to this family now, not the Starks and not the North. You'll do as we see fit, and if that means us staying out of whatever business your family has with the Lannisters then so be it."

Willas took hold of Eddmina's hand once more, though this time it was more for his sake than hers. He squeezed it tightly three times, but she could barely feel it. Instead she felt completely numb, and her mind wasn't in that room, it was back in her dream, back watching the conflict in the throne room. All she could think about was Sansa, who was so, so alone. Father was in the black cells, there had been no mention of Arya in any letter, and the amount of men Eddmina had seen fall in her dream meant that her little sister was surrounded by people who could use her and hurt her. Sansa needed her. So did Arya, so did father, and so did any other surviving northerner.

"Eddmina is my wife-" Willas began, though she squeezed his hand, not wanting him to talk for her.

"I love Willas dearly, but I'm not scared to admit that the only reason I married him was because it was what my parents expected me to do," she interrupted, keeping her voice cool and still, though it was a struggle as she felt a lump rising in her throat. "It was my duty and I did it, it was what my family needed me to do. Just because I took a different surname doesn't mean I will simply forget about what my family needs."

With that she pulled her hand out of Willas' and turned to leave. She could hear him call her name, while she heard Garlan snap at the older Tyrells for their cruelty towards her, but she didn't care. She merely kept walking, knowing that if she turned and looked at any of them again she would make herself look a fool.

She wanted to head to the Maester's chamber, to help him write out the letters to the bannermen, but her body was still coursing with adrenaline, and there was far too much pent-up energy and frustration that she needed to get out, so she instead made her way to the stables. It had been long enough since she'd ridden, she was more than recovered, felt more than well enough, and so she made her way to Flint's stable. She'd had one of the stable boy's take her out every so often, just to make sure she didn't miss out on her necessary exercise, but she swore the horse looked a little pleased the moment Eddmina unlocked the gate and began to fit the saddle and reins onto her. It had been a long time since she'd gone riding, but everything felt like muscle memory, all the little details going unforgotten as she adjusted things to make it right for riding, and even as she pulled herself up into the saddle although her body ached she had never felt more relieved. Even with everything going on, as she kicked Flint into a walk, and then a trot, and then a canter, she felt a smile burst onto her face.

She was out of Winterfell before she could look back, her braid bouncing behind her. She hadn't yet changed out of her training clothes, but even so the dress wasn't the most comfortable of riding attire, but it didn't matter, not as she raced out of the castle grounds and into the woodlands. The air was a little warmer than it had been when she and Robb had been out only hours earlier. Their training session felt as though it had been years ago, but the world had been a different place for them then, and Eddmina would've given anything to go back and savour that time.

Once she knew she was far enough away from Winterfell she slowed Flint back to a trot, guiding her towards one of the streams that ran through the woodland clearing. She could hear leaves crunching beneath the horse's shoes, and the birds singing too. Willas would be able to tell each bird by one single call, but Willas wasn't with her. She didn't know if that was a good thing or not. She certainly knew she didn't want to be around anyone at that moment in time, let alone any Tyrells, but she didn't know if Willas counted amongst that bunch.

She'd not brought a cloak with her, so after a while she felt a chill begin to set into her, and though she fought off the shivers for a good while she couldn't keep it up for long. She considered going back, but going back would mean seeing people. She'd have to face the consequences of what had been said with the Tyrells, and she would have to face Robb and let him know the disappointment that the people they should call family did not see them as a worthy cause. She couldn't help but wonder too if her sisters, especially Sansa, would think that if the North would march south that they would be joined by the Reach. The fear of disappointing the ones she loved in danger hurt even more, so she clenched her jaw and fought it all away.

"How long do you plan on hiding out here?" a voice called, and Eddmina cursed under her breath; Willas. She turned Flint to see him sat atop his own mount, a look of sympathetic concern on his face, though knowing her distaste for such emotions he was attempting to hide it behind a joking smile.

"I don't know," she shrugged stubbornly, not wanting to talk.

"Mina, I'm sorry," he tried, moving his horse closer to hers. "You know what they are like."

"I don't really think I do, actually," she snapped. It wasn't his fault, she knew that, but he was the closest person to her, and until he'd spoken she hadn't realised just how angry she was, angry at the whole world that just seemed to be against her. "I knew the southern houses had a lot more ambition than the north, I knew dishonour existed in this world, but never did I really think-"

"My family are just trying to protect themselves," Willas cut in. He was on her side, of course he was, but he understood where his family stood on the matter. "You know my grandmother and my father call the shots-"

"Shots that they expect me to merely roll with in silence, with a simple, polite smile and nod?" she asked bitterly, clenching her jaw. "That is what your father said, after all."

"They remember what it was like to be on the losing side of a war once before, I remember what it was like," it was his turn to snap, and she noticed his hands clench the reins a little tighter, adjusting his grip. "If they stay out of whatever conflict has arisen between the Starks and the Lannisters they think they can survive it, because we almost didn't survive it the first time around."

"Yes but they're not going to just stay out of it, are they?" she pointed out, and a look dawned on him that she had definitely overheard far more than he had initially thought. "I heard what Margaery said, about Lord Renly and Loras, and I heard what Garlan said about them being traitors. Your family are going to ignore my family in their most desperate hour to instead form their own rebellion? They'll crown Lord Renly a King while, what, my sisters and father die?"

"Eddmina, I'm on your side!" he burst, throwing his hands in the air in frustration, though he quickly grabbed the reins again the moment his horse jerked a little in nerves. Flint was pacing too at the raised voices, and Eddmina saw the faintest look of panic appear in Willas' eyes. He lowered his voice before continuing, "Loras and Lord Renly wrote to my father. They knew we're all still in the North, so they're riding straight here, and I'm certain they will form some sort of alliance."

"And for what? For greed, for pride, for just the damned sake of it?" she asked, thinking of her father, thinking of everything he stood for and everything he had taught her. "My father is honourable, he's not a traitor, he wouldn't have done anything if he'd not thought it necessary. He had the girls with him too, he wouldn't have done anything to put them in danger, not unless he absolutely had to. He's not a bad man, he's not a traitor, he-"

There was no more air left for her. She only realised mid-sentence, a lump in her throat choking her until a sob involuntarily escaped her lips. Once that had come out she couldn't stop herself. She quickly dismounted her horse, unsure why except for the overwhelming need to flee, to get away from the argument, to get away from Willas who she really didn't want to see her like this. She didn't get too far, only across the stream until her legs felt too heavy with what she could only describe as grief before she fell to the floor in a heap. She let out a noise crossed between a weep and a sob, the floodgates finally brought down with a crash as she could no longer hold back the tears.

She didn't want him to be there, but yet Willas still was. She wasn't sure how long she had been on the cold ground before he had gotten to her, but she didn't have the energy to pull herself up and run from him again, so when he managed to lower himself to the floor at her side, she couldn't help but throw herself at him, burying her face into his chest. He sat for a moment, stiff and unsure of what to do, before he wrapped his arms around her shoulders, pulling her close. He felt her shiver and without a word took off his riding cloak and wrapped it around her like a blanket, whispering sweet reassurances to her as she cried.

"My little sisters, Willas," she managed to choke out in between her tears, and he squeezed her tighter.

"I know, love, I know," he told her softly, and though she wanted to scream at him that he couldn't possibly know, not while his sister was safe and free, she couldn't bring herself to. "There was no word from Loras about them, but I asked him to look over them, perhaps they got them out of the city?"

Eddmina shook her head, not wanting to believe that, though the thought might have been comforting. It felt like false hope, and she certainly didn't want to believe in anything positive and have her hopes crushed painfully.

"Whatever my family decide to do, they can do what they want, but us... We'll do what is right for us," he said, kissing her temple. She closed her eyes, not fully noting just how tired she was until she was in his arms.

"I want to go with Robb," she told him, and though her voice was shaken with exhaustion he nodded understandingly, sensing the certainty in her, knowing she wouldn't be told otherwise. "I need him, he needs me. I'll be well enough to travel, I'll take Uther with me. I just... I need to go and find my sisters, I need to see my father safe."

"Alright," he nodded, knowing that the two of them were making a rather large decision that probably required a rather serious conversation, but instead it felt right and natural as he said, "And wherever you go, I go. I'll be coming with you."

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