The bells of Winterfell rang all day and could be heard from far off, calling out the news of the new arrival. Eddmina remembered hearing the bells each time she gained a new sibling, especially when she got her oldest little sister. The bells had rang all day and nearly all night, and Eddmina remembered thinking how loved her baby sister Sansa must be if practically all of the North was subjected to hear about her arrival. It was almost surreal to hear them ring after having her own baby, mostly since she spent the majority of the day sleeping and she could still hear the ringing in her dreams, even as she dreamt she was Honour running wild in the woodlands.

While the couple used the exhaustion as the perfect excuse to limit visitors for most of the day, by the time evening came there were a few exceptions. Robb returned with their brothers, holding Rickon's hand and carrying Bran atop his shoulders, and both of them seemed rather pleased to see her. It had been such a long night Eddmina had almost forgotten that the last time they saw her was at the feast, until of course Rickon decided to tell her that he'd eaten her serving of cake, but she was too tired to mind so merely laughed and ruffled his hair. Bran seemed happy to carry the title 'uncle' and Eddmina promised him that he was already doing a fine job at it. When the boys left, however, it was inevitable that the next set of visitors were the Tyrell's.

For some reason Willas had wanted to keep them away for as long as he could manage, refusing his father and grandmother entry several times in the afternoon, mostly due to the fact Eddmina and the baby had been sleeping, though partly because he wanted their privacy before they risked a repeat of the conversation a few nights before, but of course after the few remaining members of Eddmina's family had called he could hardly refuse them again. Yet the moment he saw Margaery and Leonette flock to his wife's side, hugging her with thrilled sisterly smiles he almost regretted keeping them away. She didn't have her own sisters with her after all, nor either of her parents, so the moment he saw her smile at the arriving visitors he felt guilty for wanting her and their son alone.

"You do realise now you're a father it means you're officially old?" Garlan remarked as he hugged Willas. "I thought I saw a few grey hairs."

"I'd rather be greying than balding," Willas said dryly, ruffling his brother's hair. He darted away, quickly straightening the style protectively.

"Rather one or the other, if we did both we'd end up looking a bit too much like father for my liking," Garlan replied lowly with a smirk of his own, making Willas laugh while Leonette rolled her eyes.

"Brothers," she muttered, as if she'd heard them make such jokes countless times before. She sat down on the bed besides Eddmina, grinning as she looked at her new sleeping nephew. "He's beautiful. May I hold him?"

"What are you going to call him?" Margaery asked, sitting on the other side of Eddmina as she gently laid the baby in Leonette's arms, usurping the spot that had previously been Willas'.

"We haven't decided," Willas told her, hitting her arm so she would move up, allowing him to perch back on the bed. "Hopefully we think of a name sooner than mother and father thought of yours."

"We called you 'girl' for weeks," Garlan grinned at the memory, moving to stand behind his wife, placing his hand on her shoulder.

"Well whatever you do don't call him anything frightfully northern, or after any dead relatives with unfortunate deaths," Lady Olenna remarked, announcing her arrival with one of her trademark brutal opinions that left both Tyrell brothers desperately trying not to roll their eyes or groan. "Let me see him then."

Eddmina half expected Willas's grandmother to remark on him somehow, and she felt more than prepared for that eventuality. She'd had to stand up for herself enough in the south after all, but instead the old woman took a look at the baby in Leonette's arms and smiled. She smiled at Eddmina too, and she was certain it was the first time. Not only that but she lent over and took hold of one of Eddmina's hands, giving it a loving squeeze. Eddmina didn't feel like she knew what to do or how to react.

"It's not easy at all, is it, dear? If it was, men would do it," she remarked, again making both her grandsons laugh. She shot them both a glare before looking back to Eddmina. "Well done."

Lord Tyrell arrived only moments after his mother, looking uncharacteristically serious. Eddmina knew instantly that whatever conversation had occurred between Willas and his father in which they were both meant to have apologised hadn't straightened out all of their tension. Even as he shook his son's hand Eddmina could see that neither of them really knew what to say, and she wondered if that was how she appeared with her mother when they had a disagreement.

"Well done, lad," he said, rather gruffly.

"I didn't do anything," Willas shrugged, gesturing to Eddmina.

"I hope you did do something at least, otherwise I think we need a rather serious conversation with your wife," Lady Olenna remarked, and Eddmina felt her face grow hot as Garlan, Margaery, and Leonette laughed.

"Well, you know what I mean, congratulations to both of you," he corrected himself, looking between the couple before his gaze settled on Willas once more. "We'll send out ravens with the news in the morning, and then begin planning our journey home."

Eddmina could see how desperately Willas wanted to oppose that, but instead of saying anything he merely flexed his jaw a little before leaning over his sister so he could take hold of his wife's hand. He squeezed it three times, as he always did, offering her a small apologetic smile that she tiredly returned.

It was obvious and inevitable that as soon as she had the baby the Tyrells would want to leave. It was bad enough they hadn't left sooner for him to be born in Highgarden, so of course Lord Tyrell would be eager to return so to right the wrong. Eddmina had been expecting it so she didn't feel the sting of pain like she had done the first time she left the North for the Reach. That had been awful, feeling as though she was being ripped away from everything she knew and being forced into living a life she didn't understand, but this time was different. This time she knew it was coming, and she almost felt content with it. For some reason, she had practically convinced herself that childbirth would most definitely result in death for her, so she hadn't expected to ever return to Highgarden. As hard as it was to know she would have to leave Winterfell and her brothers, it almost felt like a relief to go back to the Reach. Perhaps there things would feel more normal.

***

Eddmina was instructed to stay on bed rest for the first few days following the birth of their son, which complicated the matter of travelling. However it was surprisingly Lady Alerie who insisted they all stay North for another month, just to ensure she was fully recovered. She had done it of her own accord, not motivated by anything Willas or Eddmina had said, and if anything that made Eddmina all the more grateful for such a wonderful goodmother.

As miserable as the prospect of bedrest made her feel, Willas stayed with her the whole time, and of course it gave them the perfect opportunity to choose a name for their son. He had a very sweet nature, and was peacefully easy to take care of, and though he was Tyrell by name he looked far more like a Stark, which made naming him rather difficult. Eventually after about three days they finally settled on one that seemed to strike a balance between the two houses.

"Uther Jon Tyrell," she told Robb upon his nightly visit, watching as her brother held his nephew as he sat in his usual arm chair that had been pulled up to the bed. "Willas read the name Uther in a history book, he thought it was like a northern version of Luthor, which was his grandfather's name, and I suggested Jon as a middle name."

"Naming him after your favourite brother?" Robb remarked.

"If you insist," Eddmina joked, before growing serious. "More like naming him for the uncle he'll hardly know. He'll grow up seeing Garlan and Loras regularly, and he'll know you well, as well as Bran and Rickon, but I doubt the Wall will allow Jon time enough to visit so that Uther can enjoy the same bond he will the rest of his uncles. This way, Jon remains important, special."

"It's a good name," Robb approved.

Surprisingly the Tyrells approved too, none more so than Lady Olenna. Her opinions usually hung over the family like some decision-making thunderstorm, and Eddmina had fully prepared for the matriarch demands for his name to be changed to something of her choosing, but the demands never came.

"A nice idea, tributing your grandfather without giving him the actual name," she had told them all, smiling at Willas with a look reserved only for her favourite grandson. "You wouldn't want to curse the poor boy with his great grandfather's oafishness. There's enough of that already in the family."

She had said that last part with a directed look to her son, though said nothing else, which was another surprise; Lady Olenna never usually shied away from insulting anyone.

The Tyrells had sent out ravens with the announcement, while Willas and Eddmina wrote to their friends and the southern Starks, and in the days that followed replies arrived. It was rather fun as a huge pile of correspondences was brought to their room by the Maester for them to sort through, the two of them cozied up in their chambers, sat on their bed with the baby asleep on Eddmina's chest as Willas read the messages out to her.

"Oberyn is hurt we didn't feature his name anywhere," Willas summarised with an amused smirk. "He cites himself as the reason we're married."

"Why, because of an event that happened well before we met?" she laughed, careful not to be too loud or move too much as not to disturb Uther, though he was still sleeping contentedly.

"I believe I did tell you he tends to favour towards the dramatics," he rolled his eyes, handing the letter for Eddmina to inspect while he picked up the next one. "Arrianne insists we bring him for a visit as soon as we can. She says things are rather boring in Sunspear at the moment and 'he's an honourary Dornishman, after all'."

"In which case Jon is also Dornish," Eddmina chuckled as she rolled her eyes, though Willas met her gaze with a perturbed smile. "Did you not know? Jon was born in Dorne just after the war, back when Father was trying to rescue our Aunt Lyanna."

"Is Jon's mother Dornish?" Willas asked, and when Eddmina simply shrugged, he rephrased the question. "Do you even know who Jon's mother is?"

"No, but I know who his father is, and that's all that matters to me," she said simply with a smile. "Is there a letter there from him?"

"I don't think so, though I'm sure one will arrive in the next few days," he reassured her, stroking her arm, biting down the urge to ask further questions as he now found himself fascinated by her half-brother's heritage.

As badly as he wanted to pursue the topic of Jon, he accepted that as a fine enough answer, knowing how protective she was over her half-brother. His mother surely couldn't be Dornish, not considering how pale he was, but then who else could she be? Willas assumed he'd never get the answer to that question. If Eddmina didn't know then it wasn't really any of his business. Turning his focus back to the pile of letters he continued to read them out, most of them being from distant cousins both Tyrell and Hightower. That was, until, he got to one letter further down the stack and hesitated, clenching his jaw and swallowing nervously. She wondered just who it was from, especially when he attempted to tuck it away to the bottom. Eddmina quickly stopped him, reaching out with the hand that wasn't holding her son steady and taking the note from him, lifting it up to read for herself.

'Lord Willas and Lady Elmira Tyrell.

My family wrote to my husband and I to inform us of the birth of your son, Luther Jon Tyrell. What wonderful news, and what a wonderful name, if not frightfully northern. Perhaps one day our sons will be fine friends, when they are all old enough we must make arrangements.

And, dear Lady Tyrell, I'm sure you will now understand what I meant all those months ago after your wedding. I hope you kept my advice in mind and we might one day become friends.

Yours faithfully,

Lady Amariah Hastwyck (formerly Oakheart).'

"Well, my little love," she began to chuckle as she looked down to her son, who was beginning to stir awake. "It seems both of our names are too frightfully northern for some silly southerners to even remember."

"I'm so sorry," Willas sighed, taking the letter and scanning it himself, frowning as he ran his hand through his curls. "I know for a fact none of my family wrote to her, I made my grandmother swear not to contact her, but her father is a bannerman, so they had to write to the Oakhearts, and they must have contacted her. I never thought she'd have the audacity to..."

"Willas, this is a woman who only a day after my wedding told me all men were monsters and that my husband would hate me if I didn't give him a son in an attempt to scare me away to claim you back," she pointed out bluntly.

"Not to mention not even remember your name," he let out a single bitter laugh. "I don't think she's very happy with how her life is turning out."

"You sound rather sympathetic," she mused, considering just how great his kind heart was even after being wronged, though she remembered seeing Amariah at their wedding party and thinking how utterly sad she looked while no one else was looking at her. "Don't show such sentiments around Leo or Margaery."

"Even they would feel for her if they really thought about it," he said, and when she frowned his placed his hand on top of hers, the hand she held on their son's back. "I'm not justifying her actions, nor am I saying that it didn't hurt and kick me when I was down, and I don't think I would ever consider her a friend, but I feel sorry for her. I feel sorry for her that her father forced her into marriage with a man who clearly doesn't even like her outside of duty's sake that makes her miserable. Don't get me wrong, I hate her for how she insults you, but I feel sorry for her that she feels the need to, when she's clearly lonely and wants you as a friend though doesn't know how to go about that."

Eddmina looked at him in the eye, smiling at him softly. He'd clearly thought it through a lot, and he was clearly far more forgiving and accepting than she ever could be. What a kind man he was, to put all his hurt and resentment aside to actually consider that woman fairly, especially when Eddmina thought he spoke of her far better than she deserved. Perhaps she was just far more resentful about things than him, perhaps it was something she had to work on.

Uther chose that moment to wake and let out a small cry, though quietened down as Eddmina held him closer, kissing the top of his head before she passed him into his father's arms. Willas beamed, and Eddmina took the opportunity to sit up a little, resting her back against the headboard. She took it upon herself to pick up the next letter from the top of the pile.

She recognised the handwriting immediately; Arya. It was looped and scratchy, yet shaky and rushed, as though she'd written it in seconds flat before attaching it to a raven. At first she thought it was simply a quickly written congratulations note. Eddmina had written her own letter to Arya in a rush, wanting it to be the first that was sent out into the world to fulfil her promise, so it would make sense if her sister had replied in a similar fashion. Yet as soon as she read the first few words she realised just how wrong she was, feeling the old familiar sense of panic wash over her again.

Before she could properly think Eddmina had shot up off the bed, only realising just how sore she still felt when she had moved, wincing in pain. She didn't want it to stop her though, so despite only being in a thick night dress she wrapped a robe around herself and made for the door. She wasn't thinking properly, her mind merely screaming at her to find Robb.

"Eddmina!" It was Willas' voice that snapped her out of her determination, low enough as not to wake Uther again but with just the right amount of urgency. "You're meant to be on bedrest, come back!"

"No," she shook her head with urgency, trying to find her boots though they were nowhere to be found; had someone hidden them to stop her breaking her confinement? "No, no, I need to go find Robb! He needs to see this!"

"Eddmina," Willas said again, reaching for his cane in an attempt to get off the bed and chase after her.

"Where in seven hells are my boots, Willas?" She snapped, feeling tears threaten to spill and her face grow hot. "I need to go-"

"No, you need to get back to bed," he cut in, setting Uther down in the cradle that was at their bedside, getting up and taking hold of her arm in an attempt to lead her back, but she resisted. "What's so urgent?"

She couldn't speak, a lump had formed in her throat that made words impossible. Instead she thrust the letter at him and he took it, unfolding it so he could read the words. Eddmina hadn't intended on screwing it up in her fist, but Willas managed to smooth out the creases to make it readable once more. It only took him a few seconds before a look of understanding grew on his face. He leaned over and kissed her forehead.

"I'll go and get your brother," he promised softly, and she somehow managed to be led back to bed. "Everything will be alright."

He had a tendency to say that even when evidence proved otherwise, but Eddmina didn't get chance to say that before he had left. He'd taken the letter with him too, though she was glad of that. Every time she had a letter from either of her sisters she had a tendency to read them over and over just to feel closer to them, and she knew she'd do the same even with the horrific content of that particular letter. Merely thinking about it made her want to scream, but she didn't get the chance as Uther began to cry instead.

She quickly scooped him up in her arms once more to feed him. As she hummed to him quietly, stroking her fingers through his dark hair she considered how great of a distraction he was, her love for him and need to protect him immediately overpowering any other thought in her head. Just because he had given her something to take her mind off the letter didn't mean that her emotions were perfectly distracted, since she could feel her eyes streaming with hot tears.

"Lady Tyrell," a voice called from the doorway, and she looked up to see Talisa.

"Please don't call me that," she managed to say, quickly wiping her eyes, her voice sounding more strained than she expected it to. "My name's Eddmina, just call me that, please."

"Lady Eddmina then," she tried again, coming into the room and kneeling by the bed. "What is it?"

"Arya's written to me, my sister," she said, finally finding her voice again. Part of her thought it was foolish to tell this woman what was going on, she hardly knew her after all, but Talisa had seen her at her most vulnerable, so surely she was to be trusted. "Our father's been attacked. Arya says that the Kingslayer and his men set upon our father in the streets while he was with his guard. Jaime Lannister killed Jory. He's- he was - head of the guard. He was father's friend. He used to teach me how to use a sword whenever my mother wasn't around. He was kind. He was good. And now he's dead, and my father might be too. One of the Kingslayer's men put a spear through my father's leg and then they all rode off. They left him for dead. Arya says he's sleeping, like Bran was, but by the time this letter's gotten here things might be different, he might be dead by now."

"Or things might be different and he might be alive and well," Talisa reassured her, squeezing her arm. "You Starks are made of strong stuff, I really wouldn't worry yourself."

"That's a nice statement, but it's a little late for that," Eddmina laughed bitterly. By that point she had snuggled Uther back into her chest, readjusting her dress as she pushed a kiss to the top of his head. "I've been worrying for months. I think I've forgotten what it feels like to not constantly be worrying over everyone I love."

"I think that's just a part of getting older," Talisa replied with kind yet blunt honesty. "You become more aware of how scary the world really is."

It was true, and even though Eddmina liked to think that she always knew how awful their world could be, it was something she had become increasingly aware of since getting married. Maybe it was due to being exposed to another way of life, or perhaps the South felt like more of a real place now she had lived there and now half her family were stationed there. It felt inescapable how scary the world was, especially now her worst nightmares had come true. Her father injured, their friend killed, her sisters practically alone. She couldn't help but think of Sansa and Arya and worry over how they were coping. Sansa had never seen the world as anything other than a fairytale, and Arya, though more wary, was still a child. They were still both so young, and so far away. Suddenly they felt like a lifetime away, and Eddmina wished for nothing but the comfort of embracing them both tightly.

"Will you pass me some parchment, and a quill and ink please?" She asked Talisa, though the healer didn't move. "King's Landing is a week's ride from Highgarden. There must be someone in the capital still loyal to my father that would escort the girls there."

"Except no one else is in Highgarden at the moment," Talisa pointed out. "No one but a few Tyrell cousins trusted to keep the place running."

"There's a Tyrell in King's Landing though," Willas called from the doorway, appearing with Robb at his side, Garlan just behind them.

Based on her brother's stoic yet tensed expression, his jaw clenched as if determined not to show any great emotion, Eddmina knew Willas had briefed him on what was going on. He looked at her seriously, his eyes saying more than a thousand words and all of them wracked with pain and confusion, before his gaze flicked down to Talisa sat at her side. That was when his cheeks flushed a little pink and she could see he was struggling to keep his expression in check. He'd come in with such strength and focus that she'd expect to see in a lord twice his age, but upon seeing Talisa it was as if he'd forgotten how to be serious. Eddmina wanted to laugh until she reminded herself of their father.

"Edd, are you alright?" He asked, though his gaze kept flicking to the healer. Even as Willas and Garlan came into the room, Robb seemed almost frozen, hesitating in the doorway.

"I'm fine," she said, glaring over to Garlan who had noticed Robb and had begun to chuckle, hiding his amusement behind his hand. She looked down to Talisa with a smile. "I'm sorry, would you give us a moment?"

"Of course," she nodded, though she too looked to Robb, though not with amusement like the Tyrell men were regarding him with. She instead seemed to be a little pink herself, though better at disguising it as she squeezed Eddmina's arm. "I'm sure everything will be alright."

With that she dismissed herself, though not before walking past Robb, the two of them exchanging a look. Robb watched her go, an expression on his face Eddmina had never seen on her twin, and as Talisa shut the door behind herself and both Willas and Garlan struggled to hold back their laughter, Eddmina remained serious as Robb stared at the door like she was still there.

"Is she the first pretty girl you've ever seen?" Eddmina snapped after a moment, and her brother spun to face her, now bright red. The Tyrell's both laughed.

"I don't know what you're laughing for," Willas gestured to Garlan. "Like you were any different the first time you saw Leo."

"Yes, alright, love at first sight is a complicated thing," Garlan remarked, quickly shrugging the attention away from himself, though his words made Robb look at him in alarm. Garlan didn't notice, he was instead stood at Eddmina's side, grinning at Uther. "How's my favourite nephew?"

"He's your only nephew, but he's well," she rolled her eyes before focusing on Willas, recalling his previous statement. He was sat at the desk, flicking through letters. "What you said earlier, about a Tyrell in King's Landing?"

"Loras," he replied, before holding up a letter triumphantly. "He'd wrote months ago to say he was accompanying Lord Renly and - Garlan, seven hells! Don't laugh, those were his exact words. He's in King's Landing anyway, so I'll write to him, tell him to keep an eye on the girls."

"Thank you," Robb said seriously, relief evident as if a weight had been lifted from him. "What of father, Edd? And Jory?"

"I'd love to say return the favour and put a spear through Jaime Lannister's leg but I don't think any good would actually come from another Stark hurting another Lannister," she shrugged, noticing how Robb clenched his fist tightly in frustration and how little control they both felt.

"I hate to say it, but Tyrion told us at the Wall how Jaime was the only family member he had who actually liked him, so if any Lannister was to react with violence then it makes sense it was him, but that was merely out of brotherly love, what happens when Tywin Lannister considers the dishonour your mother has served them?" Garlan spoke, though neither Stark wanted to answer him. "You know Tyrion wouldn't have tried to kill Bran."

"It's too late for that though, isn't it?" Robb snapped slightly, pacing over to the window. "I didn't think that out of all the Lannisters it'd be him to do something that bad, but... I'm going to go to King's Landing, to father."

"No you're not," Eddmina shook her head, though Robb still wasn't looking at her.

"Fine, the Eyrie then, I'll go to mother and convince her to surrender Lord Tyrion," Robb turned to her, anger invading his voice.

"Don't you dare leave Winterfell," her voice raised to meet his, and though she was desperate not to wake Uther up she needed her brother to listen. "You'd really let Bran and Rickon think another family member is abandoning them?"

"What are they going to think of you leaving in a few weeks then?" Robb pointed out, before realising how hurtful he sounded, rubbing his forehead in frustration. "I'm sorry. I just... I don't know what to do. I know if I tell Theon he'll tell me to call the bannermen."

"And that's why you don't consult an Iron Islander for advice," Willas remarked before he could stop himself, immediately shooting Eddmina an apologetic look. "I don't think you should do anything as of now."

"We should write back to Arya and Sansa, but we need to wait to find out how father is," Eddmina suggested and her brother surprisingly nodded in agreement. "There's no need for this to turn to war. We should wait and see."

Robb nodded, before he crossed to Eddmina's side, wrapping his arms around her shoulders.

***

Their father lived, yet his leg was seriously injured. Even so, Eddmina rejoiced at the letter that carried the news, knowing she'd much rather it bring an injury than something much graver.

From then on she wanted to ignore anything about the South. Willas wrote to Loras, so there was at least the peace of mind that there was someone she cold trust looking out for her sisters, and with that and the news that her father was alive, Eddmina wanted to go back to enjoying her last few weeks in the north. Not just that, she wanted to return to the joy she had felt for having her son. The news of the Lannister attack had been a dark shadow over what was meant to be a happy time, but she was determined to push the cloud away. It certainly didn't help recalling the situation that had stressed her into labour, but she decided she wouldn't acknowledge anything that was happening south of the Riverlands until at least she was on the road. There was only a limited amount of time she had left in Winterfell after all, and she had no idea when she would next be able to visit. She decided she needed to prioritise spending time with her family, putting herself and her wants first for the first time in what felt like forever.

That was why, when Uther turned two weeks old and Eddmina was officially off bedrest, she happily jumped at the chance to go for a walk with Robb and Bran in the nearby woodlands for Bran to try out his new saddle. It was Willas who insisted, knowing how desperately she needed the time with her family, and so with the promise that she wouldn't be gone long, she left Uther in the very capable care of his father, leaving Honour to guard over them, as the three Starks headed out of the keep. Thankfully none of the Tyrells had been around in the courtyard before they left, and so Eddmina had decided to sneak a bow and a quiver of arrows out with her under her cloak, a small smile of victory on her face at the thought of getting to do what she loved again.

"I didn't even know a saddle was being made for Bran," Eddmina confessed, walking alongside Robb who held the reins of Bran's new pony, Dancer. She glanced up to her little brother, and wanted to cry at the grin of joy on his face. She hadn't seen him that happy in months.

"Lord Tyrion designed it, he gave Robb the sketch for it months ago when they came back from the Wall," Bran told her happily, though neither Eddmina nor Robb knew what to say to that, considering Bran didn't know anything about the current Lannister situation. He filled the silence by adding, "He said Willas helped him with the design."

"Did he?" Eddmina frowned, Bran's statement being brand new information to her.

"Did he not say anything to you?" Robb asked, and immediately she shook her head. "Seems an odd thing to keep a secret about."

"He told me he didn't want credit for it, since it wasn't him who'd be making the saddle and it was his maester who did the original design," Bran told them both.

"When were you and Lord Willas speaking?" Robb asked in amused surprise.

"He told me at breakfast the other day when neither of you were around," Bran shrugged, before he glanced to Eddmina. "I do quite like him."

"Good, me too," she grinned, making a silent vow to kiss her husband the moment they arrived back in Winterfell.

They found a small clearing in the woods that was perfect for their purpose, and so Bran began trotting round in circles. The horse had apparently been trained to respond to movements in the reins as well as Bran's voice, and it was fascinating to watch. Eddmina felt almost foolish for bringing the bow out with her, because not only was she more tired from the walk than she expected, but she also wanted nothing more than to watch her little brother atop his pony. She and Robb took a seat on a fallen tree, both of them watching him with amazement.

"If you'd have told me a few months ago..." Eddmina began quietly, but decided she didn't have the heart to continue. A few months ago they both thought their little brother would die, and no happiness towards his newfound riding abilities could make that memory anything but agonising.

"How much longer do you think they'll let you stay here?" Robb asked after a moment of silence. When Eddmina shrugged he sighed. "You did lose blood, maybe you shouldn't go for a while."

"I didn't lose half as much as everyone keeps implying," she rolled her eyes, done with feeling fussed over. "I think Alerie is the one behind the rumours of my frailty. She's made out that I'm feeble to the other Tyrells since she knows I can't travel until I'm well and she knows I don't want to leave Winterfell yet."

"I rather like her," Robb smirked.

"She's brilliant," her expression matched his, both of them watching Bran.

They were so caught up in their conversation and their brother's happiness that they didn't hear the footsteps until Theon had sat down in between the two of them. They both jumped, Eddmina immediately swotting at his arm sharply for the shock.

"What you all doing sneaking off and leaving me behind?" he said instead of a proper greeting. "You know I hate it when I'm alone with visitors."

Eddmina bit back a bitter remark about how his hatred of visitors must have been the reason behind him not visiting her once since she'd had the baby. She struggled against asking him if she counted as a visitor too, clenching her teeth together as she took a few deep breaths through her nose. The last few weeks had been strange and difficult for all of them, and there was probably a lot going on with him, plus it was hardly fair for her to start another feud with him when she was meant to be leaving so soon.

Instead she turned her attention from Theon and watched Bran, finding it impossible not to smile as his horse picked up from a trot to a canter. She hadn't realised how much she had missed riding until she felt a desperate itching to be up in the saddle. Another few weeks, maester Luwin had promised her, and she was practically counting down the days.

"Not too fast," Robb called to Bran, though he was smiling too, not an ounce of strictness in his voice as he was enjoying seeing Bran act almost like his old self again.

"When are you going to tell him?" Theon asked lowly, though neither twin met his eye, knowing exactly what he was referencing.

"Not now," Robb said simply, though his smile didn't hide the exhaustion from his voice.

"Blood for blood," Theon persisted, and Eddmina clenched her knuckles around the bow that rested on her lap, hating the conversation he was insisting upon. "You need to make the Lannisters pay for Jory and the others."

"You're talking about war," Robb reminded him.

"I'm talking about justice," he snapped back.

"Only the lord of Winterfell can call the banners and raise an army," Robb replied, as though he had sat and thought long and hard about all his options. Robb wasn't weak, nor was he a child, but Eddmina knew that calling forth the bannermen was his last, impossible resort.

"Jaime Lannister put a spear through your father's leg," Theon frowned in outrage, and for a split second he glanced to Eddmina as if willing her to take his side, and while she understood where he was coming from, she wasn't going to gang up against her brother, not with something as serious as war. "The Kingslayer marches to Casterly Rock where no one can touch him-"

"No one but us, you think?" Eddmina couldn't help but comment, raising her eyebrows sarcastically. He shot her a glare.

"You're definitely not included in that," he shot to her, turning his focus back to Robb. "You're not a boy anymore. They've attacked your father, they've already started the war!"

"Theon, leave it," Eddmina warned, noticing the way her brother was tensing his jaw in thought. Their walk in the woods was meant to be relaxing, and all Theon was doing was chasing them with every thought they wanted to escape.

"Why should I?" Theon glared at her again. "Not to mention he's still got to avenge what could've been yours and Bran's murders, or has motherhood softened you so badly you think he should just drop all of this?"

"Give me ten minutes alone with the Kingslayer after what he's done to my father and Jory and I'll show you how soft I am," she practically snarled, feeling anger burning through her until Robb placed his hand on her arm as if he thought she was going to lash out and he needed to hold her back from hitting Theon. It wouldn't be surprising to any of them if she did, but she bit back her fury, a bigger struggle than she anticipated when Theon pulled a face of approval. "What's that look for?"

"Just amuses me that you've proved my point," he shrugged, and despite his small laugh both Stark's could tell he was unspeakably frustrated as he looked at Robb. "See, even she knows. It's your duty to represent your house when your father can't. Are you really gonna let a girl have a better clue of your duties?"

It felt as though the whole clearing had fallen silent, and it was almost as if Eddmina had forgotten her anger in her shock. She didn't know who to look at, Theon, who was staring at them both in frustrated expectancy, or Robb, who seemed to be silently seething. She for once was without clue for what to say, and had no idea of who she actually agreed with, seeing and understanding both sides.

"And it's not your duty, because it's not your House," Robb spoke calmly, but they could both tell his tone was a ruse.

Robb moved in his seat slightly so that he had turned away from Theon, and while she would always have to side with her twin out of loyalty, she felt her heart clench. While she hated what Theon had been saying, hated how he seemed to know exactly what to say to rile up both of them, she couldn't help but think what Robb had said was absolutely unforgivable.

She considered getting up and walking back to the keep, not wanting to be with either of them at that moment, but Robb beat her to it. He got to his feet and she thought he was going to storm off, yet he stood there for a moment, looking around as his eyebrows creased together in thought before he looked back down to the two of them.

"Where's Bran?" he asked, and Eddmina immediately jumped to her feet, looking around.

She realised quickly that it hadn't just felt as though the clearing was sielnt out of shock of the argument, but it was actually silent. There was no noise beside the three of them, no sound of the pony's hooves, no laughter and cheers or triumph from Bran, just quiet. It felt eeiry and uncomfortable, and Eddmina felt her stomach tighten, wondering where her brother had gone. She felt stupidly selfish that she and Robb were meant to be out there watching him yet they'd been distracted by Theon and their problems to the extent their brother had the opportunity to disappear.

Theon got up last. He looked around too, and for a moment Eddmina thought he was going to be useful. She thought perhaps he would spot their brother and everything would be fine and normal, but of course he had to do the Theon thing, his jaw tightening as he looked ahead stubbornly.

"Don't know," he said coldly as he shot a look to Robb. "It's not my house."

With that he stormed off into the woods, though not before swooping the bow and quiver of arrows Eddmina had brought out into his grip. She wanted to curse him and demand her weapon back, but she also wanted to run after him and talk, knowing how hurt he must have felt. Yet Bran was more important, and so she swallowed down her sympathy and merely glared at her brother.

"That wasn't nice," she stated, the words making her feel foolish despite how true they were.

"He wasn't nice either, Edd," Robb replied stubbornly.

"No, he's a twat, we all know that, but it still wasn't nice," she folded her arms across her chest. "You know we're practically the only family he knows. Our father's been in his life more than his own, you're the closest thing he has to a brother as of now. I know what he was saying was horrid but you don't bring family into it."

"He brought family into it, he's not Stark by name," Robb snapped back.

"Neither am I anymore," she reminded him, raising her eyebrows harshly. "Are you going to be like that with me too?"

Robb paused, still looking at her with a frown. He chose to remain silent, turning away as he stalked off into the woodlands. He knew he'd hit a nerve, both with Theon on purpose and Eddmina by accident, and the best move would be to just drop the matter. After all, they were missing Bran, he should be their priority. They were all highly strung when it came to what had happened in the south, all of them sat on the edge of a catapult waiting to go off, and the slightest thing was clearly enough to bring them all to upset. It was a tense time for them all, each of them more wound up by the situation than any of them truly realised, and so Eddmina decided to drop the conversation too. They were in uncharted territory when it came to politics and the talk of war, and part of her felt as though it was a real turning point for them all, as if they were no longer children or teens, as if they had real responsibilities and duties to uphold, even if they felt silently scary or overwhelming.

Eddmina quickly followed after Robb into the woods, wishing Theon hadn't taken her bow or that she had brought her dagger out with her, her nerves and instincts telling her that she should be armed. Robb had a sword though, so she felt safe sticking by him, even if it did make her feel unprepared and foolish. She should always carry arms, she thought, especially after the attempt on her life, especially since the wolves were far away back in the castle. She didn't want to have to rely on her brother for protection, feeling like a weak little girl hiding behind her big strong brother.

The two of them trekked off in the direction of horseshoe prints embedded in the mud, Robb's right hand resting on the hilt of his sword. All the Starks were righthanded, except for herself and Arya, and Robb had often commented on how when she used a sword it looked as though she was doing things backwards, or in reverse. She wished she had a weapon on her belt to rest her left hand upon, but instead she merely had her fists clenched, hoping that would be enough. It was most likely that nothing was amiss, but she couldn't help but struggle not to listen to her dark instincts that told her to expect the worst. She wondered if she always was so pessimistic, or if the attempt on her life had twisted her mind that way.

It turned out she was right, because as they reached the top of a hill they could see Bran through the sparse trees, still sat atop his horse yet surrounded by three ruffians. Her Uncle Benjen had told her enough stories to immediately recognise them as Wildlings, though before the curiosity of how they had gotten so far past the Wall could spark she noted how they were all armed. For the second time in her life she felt utterly overwhelmed by how vulnerable she was, completely unfit, completely unarmed, and completely reliant on Robb to protect her and their little brother. In that moment though she didn't care about herself, she merely thought of Bran, who had a knife held to his throat. Even without a weapon, she felt as though she was back to watching him fall from that tower, back to wanting to desperately protect him from unavoidable danger, and she had to remind herself to not charge over there, because that would surely make things much worse. Robb, however, seemed to know exactly what to do.

"Drop the knife," he spoke, his voice a low growl as he drew his sword. They all turned to look at them, and a lesser man would've been threatened, but Robb maintained his chilly composure. "Let him go and I'll let you live."

There was no answer but the one closest to Bran, the one Eddmina assumed was their leader, hissed, nodding his head to one of the other wildlings, and without hesitation he locked eyes with Robb and charged over with a war cry, wielding a great axe. By the way he was swinging it, both Robb and Eddmina had to duck backwards to avoid the lethal blade, though while Robb recovered quickly and engaged in the battle, Eddmina moved away. She watched as Robb's sword slit the man's throat, the smell of blood hitting her nostrils immediately, and she wondered as the body dropped to the floor if that was the first man her brother had killed. She didn't stop to ponder, and neither did Robb, as another stormed over. This one was a woman, though just as rough as her male counterparts. Her weapon seemed to just be a wooden staff, and that made Eddmina think self-sufficiently as she quickly scoured the floor for something she could improvise with. She saw a thick, long stick, dropped from one of the trees after the last wind storm, not too weather worn and sturdy enough to cause damage if enough pressure was applied, so she quickly took up arms with it, and as the wildling woman ducked to whack her own stick against her brother's legs in and attempt to take him down, she decided to strike.

She managed to hit the woman on the back of her neck, not causing much damage though tearing her attention away from Robb long enough for a third wildling to attempt an attack on him. As the woman swung her weapon at Eddmina, it meant Robb was free to kill the man, before Eddmina hit the woman over the head, knocking her over towards Robb, who grabbed her by her matted hair, his sword at her neck. He nodded to Eddmina gratefully, and she was confused as to why he seemed glad for her help considering he had done most of the work.

"Robb!" Bran called for their brother. Eddmina took no offence, he was the one holding the sword and the wildling girl after all, though for a moment Bran's gaze flicked to her, as if begging for safety.

Somehow the male wildling had pulled him down from his horse, and without the use of his legs he was slumped down, entirely at the mercy of the man holding him up by his shoulders, a blade to his throat. The sight of it, the way the steel shimmered in the light, it made Eddmina want to be sick, remembering just how she had felt when someone had held a weapon to her like that, but she couldn't react, remaining stoic and strong. She was amazed at how calm Bran seemed, carrying a sense of bravery that would be unexpected in a usual ten year old, but he was a Stark after all, and if she wasn't battling her fear for his life she was sure she would feel proud.

"Robb," Bran tried again, noting how their brother stopped, still holding out his sword to the wildling, still holding his female companion in a vice-like grip.

"Shut up," the man hissed at Bran before glaring back at Robb. "Drop the blade."

"No, don't," Bran insisted, and the vague look of acceptance that crossed Bran's expression terrified her, as if he was fine with dying at the hand of that wildling if it meant his brother didn't give up fighting.

"Let him go," Eddmina attempted as she refused to feel helpless any longer, keeping her voice still and calm, her eyes flicking down to Bran before looking back to the Wildling. "Drop the blade, let him go. We can go back to the keep, get you some horses, some supplies, some money. That should tide you by for your journey south. We're worth more to you alive than dead. You have my word."

It was a lie. There was no way the Wildlings would leave the north alive, and it was obvious that they knew that. Robb and Bran both looked at her as if she was stupid, and even the male wildling looked baffled by her ridiculous suggestion, though the female, still twisted on the floor as Robb held her up, was the only one who looked as if Eddmina hadn't lost her mind. She looked to her companion, her eyes wide in insistence, nodding furiously as if encouraging him to take the offer, though he barely looked to her. His eyes never left Robb.

"D'you really think I'd take the word of a Stark?" he spat, and Bran winced as his grip on him tightened. "We were hunted by your uncle enough to learn against that. Now drop that sword down before I kill the boy and come for the two of you."

Eddmina glanced down to the wildling woman, and though she was utterly disgusted by her, she couldn't help but sympathise with the horrified look she wore, clearly thinking Eddmina's suggestion had been the best plan for them all. She didn't focus on her long though, her gaze going back to Robb. He'd sowly resigned to defeat, as difficult as it was, and was carefully setting down his sword, even as Bran looked to him bravely as if willing him to carry on. Yet before the sword could even touch the ground the wildling buckled, letting out a gasp of agony, and they all saw an arrow lodge itself into his chest through his back. He loosened his grip on both Bran and the blade, but before he could drop to the floor dead, Eddmina had sprung to action.

"Bran!" she practically screamed, getting to him so fast he'd barely slumped to the ground, though he still let out a grunt of shock and pain. She knelt at his side, pulling him close to look him over for injury. "You brave, brilliant boy."

She knew exactly who the arrow had come from, to the point she couldn't even glance up to see Theon strutting over to them, an arrow knocked on the bow and pointed at the wildling woman. She couldn't bring herself to look at him, not considering that had been her bow, and had he not taken it from her she might not have come close to losing her brothers. Had he shown up at the wrong time, or not shown up at all, they would be in a very different situation, and so she couldn't bring herself to look upon his smug face, the face he always pulled when he did something good, nor could she feel grateful for him. She instead focused on Bran, noting how his chest was rising and falling quickly, working through the shock of it all, though she was no calmer, only now it was over really feeling the extent of her nerves.

He didn't seem injured, only one little cut on his leg. It must have been from when the wildling had cut the leather strap of the harness away from him. It didn't look too nasty, a rather shallow cut, though it was still bleeding.

"It doesn't hurt," he told her quickly, and at first she thought he was just being brave, until the sad truth dawned on her; how could it hurt when he couldn't feel his legs at all?

"No, but we want to stop the blood all the same," she said with a small smile.

Her dress was an old one, and the fabric wasn't as sturdy as it once had been. Without much great struggle, she managed to tear away the bottom part of the skirt, making sure it wasn't dirtied from the ground before she began to loop the strip around his injury, knotting it securely. He didn't flinch at all, though by the time she had finished Robb had rushed over to them both.

"Are you alright?" he asked Bran, scooping him up into his arms as he stood. As soon as Bran nodded, Robb turned his focus to his sister. "What were you thinking, offering them help?"

"I thought it the best way for us not to get killed," she shrugged, not looking at him but instead at the bodies on the floor.

"Tough little lad," Theon decided to speak up at last, his arrow still pointed to the wildling woman, though he was grinning at Bran. "In the Iron Islands you're not a man until you've killed your first enemy."

Eddmina watched as both her brothers looked to the ground. Three dead wildlings, another cowering in fear, and all of their blood on their hands, though mostly Robb's. She watched as reality dawned on him, and perhaps it had something to do with the adrenaline finally running out, but that was when Robb glared at Theon, though not for the first time that day.

"Have you lost your mind?" Robb asked in cold fury. "What if you'd have missed?"

"He would have killed you, cut Bran's throat, and I'm sure you don't want me mentioning what he'd have done to Edd," Theon reasoned, though that still didn't make Robb calm down.

"You don't have the right!" Robb snapped.

"To what, to save your brother's life?" Theon argued, briefly glancing to Eddmina as if looking for support. "It was the only thing to do so I did it."

"Next time don't steal my bow," Eddmina spoke up with a glare, though thankfully Theon noted the slight glint in her eye, and knew it was her way of saying thanks despite still feeling angry about the situation. "It's done, Bran's safe, we're all alive. Now let's go home, Bran's leg needs seeing to."

Yet it wasn't all done, and they all knew that, everyone's gaze simultaneously falling to the wildling woman. She was knelt at Theon's feet while his arrow was trained on her, and she appeared almost like an injured, fearful animal, cowering. She looked to all of them, though clearly knew it was Robb who was in charge as she crawled over towards him. She might have once been a threat, but Eddmina felt sorry for her.

"Give me my life, my lord, and I'm yours," she begged. Eddmina had never heard anyone beg for their life before.

Eddmina looked to Theon, knowing that if given the opportunity he'd let the arrow loose and put the woman out of her misery. She wasn't sure about Robb, but she didn't want the woman to die. Perhaps she deserved it, perhaps she would cut all their throats if given the chance, but Eddmina decided she deserved a second chance. She looked at Robb, giving him a nod, one that he thankfully interpreted as her asking him for the woman's life. He sighed nevertheless, as if showing mercy to her was a weakness, but after everything else Eddmina was sure she'd never seen her brother more deserving of the title 'lord'.

"We'll keep her alive," he told them all, though not once looking at the woman in question.

"Maybe a new handmaid for you, Edd," Theon joked as he lowered his bow, verging on spiteful, but she laughed regardless.

The five of them began to make their way back to the keep, Robb carrying Bran, Theon keeping an eye on their new prisoner, Eddmina leading Bran's new pony by it's rains. She was surprised how tired she was. They'd barely been out of the keep for two hours but she felt utterly spent and couldn't wait to return to Willas and their son. In the chaos she'd barely had chance to consider missing them, but she had all the same, and couldn't wait to see them.

Even so, she felt guilty. A man had held a knife to her brother's throat, a party of wildlings had attacked them and she had done nothing, merely standing by and letting Robb do everything. She'd taken a bow out with her, but had let Theon take it from her easily, and if he'd not arrived on the scene she was certain they would be returning to Winterfell a very different party, or not returning at all. It didn't matter if she'd once had lessons with the boys, or if she was the best archer in Winterfell, none of it mattered when she didn't carry arms, or when she felt so unfit merely being out in the fresh air had her feeling exhausted.

"If you hadn't hit her over the head I might not have been able to kill the other one," Robb told her quietly, clearly noticing the small crease that had formed between her eyebrows as she thought.

"You're very kind to lie and make me not feel useless," she remarked, not looking up from the woodland floor.

"Don't be hard on yourself, especially after what you've been through," Robb attempted to reason, but quickly gave up, knowing his sister wasn't likely to find reassurance in anything he was saying. "What can I do?"

"What?" she frowned, finally looking up at him.

"Well I didn't do much the last time, when you were nearly... you know," he explained, keeping details vague since Bran was only in his arms, though he didn't appear to be listening as he looked up at the trees watching the birds call to each other, darting from branch to branch. "And I can't imagine any of us will forget this in a hurry, so, is there anything I can do for you to make you feel better about it all?"

"I can't defend myself," she said after a moment of thought, deciding to just be honest and not hide behind stubborn pride for once. "I see daggers and freeze and just think about that one night. I don't carry arms, all I have is a knife Oberyn gave me, I asked Mikken for a dagger a few months ago but just never collected it as the last few months were so... unprecidented."

"That's putting it lightly," Robb joked, though neither of them laughed.

"Sitting around for months hasn't helped," she continued, surprised at how her throat felt as though it was stinging. "I don't know if I can ride or shoot was well as I used to be able to. I love Uther, I really, truly do, and I don't regret doing anything I did to keep him safe while I was pregnant, but... I think all my skills that I could use to protect him have rusted away and I'm scared that I've lost that part of myself."

Eddmina didn't look up at Robb, not wanting to see his sympathetic expression. She didn't want him feeling sorry for her, she didn't want anyone to think of her as weak or lesser to how she once was. It had been bad enough when Theon joked about her softening. She didn't want people thinking differently of her, especially not the Starks, but that was difficult considering how different she actually felt. It wasn't truly a bad different, but she suddenly found herself struggling to accept the changes, especially if they meant she felt useless in protecting the ones she loved.

"Will you train with me?" she asked Robb, tightening her grip on the pony's reigns before she looked at her brother, trying not to feel pathetic. "I need you to teach me how to use a sword again."

He looked for a moment as though he was going to ask her what the Tyrells would think to that, but he knew what her answer would be; they wouldn't have to know, not if they worked in private.

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