It was an incredibly selfish opinion, Eddmina was aware, but she couldn't help think that her grandfather's death was very poor timing.

Lord Hoster Tully had always seemed like an old man, even in her blurry childhood memories from their few pre-war visits to Riverrun, and for as long as they had been living in the keep he was on his  deathbed. It had been a long time coming, and death was an inevitability for everyone, but with so much to do in her last few weeks of being with Robb's force, she felt like his timing was so very poor. A week earlier, and things might not have felt so chaotic, or a week later, and it wouldn't have been her job to make funeral arrangements.

There had been no one else, with her mother grieving, and Robb focusing on the war. Edmure channelled his own grief into helping Robb, and Brynden assisted where he could, drifting between the two and offering advice, but for the most part he seemed distant. He'd lost his brother, that was something she could relate to, and so she just got on with it, reading about all past Tully funerals that maesters had written up on, and trying to make similar plans. She wrote out plans and met with the staff, offering them condolences since they had all known her grandfather far better than she ever did while also instructing them on exactly what she thought should happen on the day. She had Vyman give her a list of all the necessary bannermen who had to attend, and if they were not already in Riverrun for the war, she wrote to them and extended an invitation to mourn their liege as well as pay respects to their new lord.

The latter part had meant writing to Lord Walder. She sent the same letter out to everyone, signed her name off as 'Lady Eddmina, granddaughter to the late Lord Tully, Princess of the North, of House Stark and Tyrell, Hand of the King in the North', but for his letter, she signed simply as 'Eddmina Stark'. He would think her flaunting titles otherwise, trying to make herself seem better than him, and alongside his invitation to the funeral, she included a letter of truce, at Robb's request. His request had been a surprise, but she did it anyway, silently glad that he was regretful of the damage his marriage had done. Perhaps that remorse would be key to reestablishing alliances, and so Eddmina got to work. It took her a whole day to draft, and it took Robb and Willas reading it over at least ten times each to get it perfect.

'Lord Walder Frey.

I write to you with the grave news of my grandfather's death, a man who trusted you as his bannerman for many, many years. You may believe that Lord Hoster and his house looked down upon you and your house, but that was not the case, as my grandfather regarded you highly. I know that recent events between our families may also prove otherwise, for which I can only apologise wholeheartedly. I intend to make it right, as does my brother. If you come to our grandfather's funeral, we would ask for the honour of a meeting between us and yourself so that we may come to a new agreement to show you how keen we are to re-establish a friendship between our houses.

I understand that this may be a difficult thing to agree to, out of principle and out of pride. A great injustice was served to you and your house, and no apology will ever come close to making things right. Yet, we wish to try.

I hope to see you in Riverrun.

With Regards, Eddmina Stark.'

Eddmina had been about to screw up the parchment and toss it into the fireplace across the room until Robb leant across her desk and plucked it out of her hands. The ink hadn't quite dried, and his thumb smudged her signature slightly. She shot up out of her seat, dropping her quill onto the desk to chase after him as he backed away, reading it quickly. He held it up in the air, preventing her from taking it back from him.

"It'll do, Edd," he told her reassuringly, though that didn't stop her nervous scowl. "There's half a forest in that fireplace."

There had been several drafts, he was right, all of which ended up balled up and thrown into the flames. She couldn't help it, wanting absolute perfection, wanting each word to be right, wanting it to read with remorse but without grovelling. She wasn't sure if the version Robb held was right, but Vyman was waiting in the doorway, and Robb handed the parchment to him before Eddmina could say otherwise, and the Maester had carried it off to his own office to be sealed and sent off. Before the end of the hour the letter would be attached to a raven and halfway to the Twins, and Eddmina wasn't sure if it was good enough. She fidled with the sleeves of her dress, clenched and unclenched her fists, desperate for anything that might instantly take her mind off the fact she had barely read over the letter for mistakes.

"What if I'd not spelt things right?" she couldn't help but ask, glancing over to Robb.

"Your spelling is always perfect, your septa made sure of that," Robb reminded her, and Eddmina remembered how Septa Mordane used to rap a stick across her knuckles if she made spelling mistakes as a child. Eddmina rolled her eyes at the memory. "Is that all the letters done?"

"That's the last one," she confirmed. "I thought with the prospect of the Tyrells and the Baratheons that you wouldn't care about making things right with Walder Frey."

"Of course I do," Robb replied, wandering over to the fireplace, leaning on the hearth and glancing down at the burning drafts. "What I did to him was wrong, I know that. Whether we need his men or not, it's only right that I make things right with him. What sort of King lets grievances lie when he could try to do something about it?"

"A stubborn one," Eddmina suggested, sighing as she sank back into her seat.

She closed her eyes and tried to ignore how her back had started to ache the past few days, and her head too. She had hardly slept since the night her grandfather died, and since the maester had told her to stop drinking dreamwine while with child, the sleep that she did manage to get was broken and plagued with dreams of bloody Stark banners. She tried to not let it show, tried to keep herself busy and get on with everything that she had to do, but she couldn't help but think with dread that it was all catching up to her.

"If you are tired, go to bed, Edda," Robb told her, sounding like a brother and not like a king.

"I'm fine," she replied instantly, though didn't bother to open her eyes, knowing he'd be looking at her with repudation. "We still have so much to do."

"The funeral is in a week, the Tyrells are arriving in the next few days, and you have little over a week before you're leaving for Highgarden," Robb reminded her, crossing the room to take a seat on the opposite side of the desk, leaning over it so he was closer to her. "I also saw you dashing off to the privy after breakfast, so if anyone is entitled to going for a lie down-"

"Please stop," she sighed boredly, sitting up and looking at him. "Stop nagging at me. Willas hates me leaving his sight and Garlan constantly suggests carrying me everywhere, you're getting as bad as the pair of them. Last time you let me run all of Winterfell and barely said anything!"

"Forgive me for caring," Robb shrugged, but he was smiling at her, enjoying her complaining. "Come on then, what's next?"

Glad to leave behind the conversation of her problems, Eddmina looked across the surface of her desk until she found the next sheet of parchment. She had drafted it first on the last night of her bedrest after Willas had fallen asleep and couldn't stop her from working, and had since redrafted it several times. She slid it across the desk to Robb, who quickly glanced it over.

"What-" he began to ask, but stopped as he read her writing, a frown deepening. "Edda, what is this?"

"A solution to the issue of succession," she shrugged, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Bran and Rickon are gone, Sansa is now Lady Karstark. I told you, people keep looking to me and Uther as your heirs, and that puts him in even more danger than simply being the heir to Highgarden. Until you have a son of your own, this seemed like a decent solution."

"But..." Robb breathed out, and despite initially wanting to protest, as he re-read the parchment his opposition quickly faded. "Is this all right? Everything's in order?"

"I did some research, asked Vyman about the whole process," Eddmina nodded. "To legitimise a bastard you need the consent of a monarch, and a relative. That is us."

'I, Robb, of house Stark, King in the North, with association of Eddmina, of houses Stark and Tyrell, Hand of the King and sister to the subject, do decree that from this day forth, Jon Snow shall be known as Jon Stark, son of Lord Eddard Stark, late lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, from this day until his last. By this decree, Jon Stark is to be heir to the north and Prince of Winterfell, and shall succeed myself should I fall without children. As these duties of heir conflict with previous vows to the Night's Watch, I also grant a pardon for his desertion in the case of my death and his assumption to the throne of the North.'

Robb seemed to read it a dozen times before he looked at her again. She had already signed it, all it needed to be official was his signature, and that was it. It was done, and Jon was a Stark at last. Eddmina wanted to nudge the quill and ink over to him to encourage him, but waited, watching for his reaction.

"It was what he always wanted, to be a Stark," Robb breathed out with a nostalgic smile. "I'm assuming you haven't told mother?"

"She still hasn't forgiven me for Sansa's wedding yet, one thing at a time," Eddmina joked dryly, hoping it hid the sting of old wounds beginning to reopen. "Is it alright? I should have run it past you first, and you do not need to sign right away. You're the King, if you disapprove then that's your right and we can make other arrangements. I simply thought, rather than putting Uther in anymore danger-"

"It's perfect," Robb interupted her, reaching over and squeezing her hand. "Pass me the quill."

She did as he asked, and wanted to cry with joy when his signature joined hers at the bottom of the page. Of course she hoped that they never needed to use the decree, Jon's status as heir was only really important if Robb was to fall, but she felt as if she had achieved something. As Hand, there had been many victories, but none of them seemed to matter half as much as legitimising Jon, setting right a lifetime of wrongs.

As usual, she wondered what their father would think. Would he approve, would he think it a good idea, or would he think it foolish and reject the idea? He obviously loved Jon, he had to to have put into question his honour. Most men with bastards hid them away, kept them in the dark and refused to acknowledge them to keep their reputation decent, but Ned Stark openly housed his illegitimate son under the same roof as his wife and true born children. He had him eat at the same table save feasts, he had him educated in the same lessons as his children, trained to fight alongside his true born heir. He must have loved Jon, but if he did, he couldn't have loved him enough to put an end to his lonely suffering and make him a Stark.

Eddmina loved him enough, as did Robb. She had run the idea past Sansa, who had also been more than supportive, citing regret in not treating him better. Eddmina knew that their other siblings would have approved too, had they all still been alive, Arya especially, and so she felt as though she was doing it for her lost little sister as much as for Jon. What her father had left lying, his children would pick up. It was their job to carry on his legacy, and she knew that even if he wouldn't have approved, Jon was Ned Stark's blood, and deserved his name too. Eddmina was more than happy to share her father's legacy with him.

"I hope we need never use this," Robb commented with a laugh that sounded more like a sigh, gesturing to the contract.

"Me too, obviously," Eddmina agreed. "It is just insurance, and I hope it removes a little bit of the pressure. Jeyne is clearly stressed that she isn't with child yet."

"It's not for a lack of trying," Robb rolled his eyes, and Eddmina felt her cheeks burn. "Any advice?"

"I'm not having this conversation," she grimaced, though her disgust at discussing that topic with Robb made him laugh. "Perhaps you should talk with Jeyne about not wanting children yet and deciding to wait to have them. Each time Ser Willas and I had that sort of discussion I fell pregnant rather quickly so far."

"Were you scared?" He asked, and it took Eddmina a moment to realise they'd never actually discussed any of this before.

"A little," she shrugged, not usually open to talking about fear and feelings. "I was convinced I was going to die the first time around. This time I'm not as worried, I know a bit more of what to expect, but Willas and his mother spent ages telling me afterwards how much blood I lost. I don't think I remember it the same as them, but I remember Luwin looked concerned. It wasn't the most pleasant experience, but it was worth it, and I'm sure it will be worth it again."

"And it will be easier for you in Highgarden, I imagine," Robb nodded, though noticed her grimace again. "What?"

"I've been thinking..." she sighed, struggling to look him in the eye. "I think I might have build up how wonderful going back to Highgarden will be, when in reality I think the other Tyrell's may hate me."

Robb stared at her for a moment before chuckling as if she was ridiculous. To her though, it had been a thought that cropped into her head most nights, especially ever since finding out the Tyrell's were on their way to Riverrun. She had not been as amiable to them on their last visit as she could have been, too taken up with determination to save her father from the capital and anger that they did not seem to want to help. It hadn't helped having a baby only weeks before as her emotions had been thrown all over the place, but she had barely even said goodbye to Lord Tyrell. She knew he probably didn't like her, and she knew that Lady Olenna thought her a stubborn wildling, but it was the others that bothered her. She had convinced Willas and Garlan to follow her into war far from home where they had repeatedly been in danger, and surely that had earned the hatred and resentment of the others, especially Lady Alerie and Leonette.

It had always felt a little too good to be true that those Tyrell women liked her. She had always been sure she'd never done anything to warrant them liking her. After so many months away from them, after leaving things on such a sour note, how could they continue liking her? What she had been doing in the war was so unlike the usual role a woman took in the Reach. What she had done had endangered her so many times, not to mention Willas, Uther, and Garlan too. When she eventually returned to Highgarden, she couldn't help but think that not even carrying another heir would redeem her for all the hassle of the war.

Robb didn't understand. He'd had difficulties with his own goodparents, ones that far outweighed Eddmina's, so he did have the right to look at her confusedly. She wanted to explain her train of thought, tell him exactly why she was sure Lady Alerie would hate her for endangering her sons, why Leonette would mistrust her for swaying Garlan into a war he could have avoided, but she had no idea where to begin.

"I would like you to stay here advising me for as long as it takes to win this whole mess," Robb sighed, leaning over and taking her hand. "But that would be selfish, and careless. I want you to go to your home and be safe. Raise your family, have a dozen more children if that's what you want, and I will see you in Winterfell when this is all over."

"But..." she began, baffled at his stance. Was he really letting her go, was he really okay with that?

"Edda, I'm sure," he squeezed her hand so tight she knew he was telling the truth. "Jon might now be my heir, but if something happens to him you're still next in line. I want you as safe as you can be, and that isn't here. Not just because you're an heir but because you're my sister and I'm meant to protect you."

That was like telling her he loved her. That was like tugging on all of her heartstrings and asking her to cry on cue, an act that was rather easy given her strained emotions.

"I was leaving anyway," she replied, her voice thick, her eyes unable to meet his in case fighting tears became impossible.

"Aye, but now I'm telling you," Robb was smiling, knowing his sister far too well. "As your King, and your brother."

"I'm older than you," she replied stubbornly.

"By ten minutes at most," he shot back with a dry smile.

'The worst ten minutes of my life,' she was desperate to say. 'Any time I spend without you is the worst.'

Eddmina didn't even consider that she may one day regret not saying those words to him.

***
Even when trying to travel incognito, the Tyrell's had a sense of grandeur and dignity about themselves. The carriage that arrived was much smaller than the one used for visits to Winterfell, less gilded too, yet if still looked far finer than everything else in Riverrun. Their horses that led the procession were all impeccably groomed, and the men who rode them wore armour that shone like the river when the sun graced them with its presence. They turned heads as they rode into the courtyard, the few servants milling around watching with great curiosity and almost envy as the visitors stopped, and it was obvious one of them had seen anything like it.

It had been so long that Willas had almost forgotten the extravagence of his own house and kingdom, to the point that when the first few horses rode through the portcullis, he exchanged a weary glance with Garlan. His brother shared his uncomfortable ebarrassment, knowing that the folk of the Riverlands were not half as wealthy as the Reach, and while they had suffered the brutality of the war first hand, most of the Tyrell guards and soliders who arrived barely had a scuff on them. As if agreeing with their silent distaste, Honour huffed and nudged her muzzle into Willas' hand.

"How long do you think before father makes some foolish comment and everyone thinks us stupid southerners again?" Garlan muttered under his breath, knowing that while the Riverrun staff were watching the new arrivals, they were also being watched.

"Oh, not long at all," Willas couldn't help the tired smirk that grew on his face, bracing himself for all that was to come. "I would like to give him the benefit of the doubt, though. Don't forget, he did apoligise to me for everything the last time I saw him."

"Yes, and I think I saw a letter from Aegon the Conqueror come again swearing his dragons to Robb's cause," Garlan rolled his eyes. "You know they will ask where Edd is."

Eddmina hadn't told Willas that she was nervous for the arrival of a Tyrell party, but Willas had guessed anyway, simply by her avoiding looking at him whenever the topic was brought up. She had almost seemed relieved when Uther kept her up the whole night, and he provided her a perfect excuse for her to get out of the greeting party when he refused for her to leave his side. She had tried to pretend to be annoyed to be missing out, but when it came to Uther she never got frustrated, and Willas knew she was far more comfortable dealing with him than with the arrivals.

He wasn't going to make excuses for her. If anyone asked he would simply tell the truth, and not tolerate anyone commenting. She'd done enough for everyone, worked hard enough. In his eyes, missing one morning worth of diplomacy was nothing, especially since it was for such an important reason. It was not as if she had not thought her absence through either, as she had sent Sansa in her stead to help with the greetings, and the new Lady Karstark was stood off under one of the alcoves with her Kingly brother. The pair of them were watching the arrival party was great fascination, and Willas remembered the first time he saw the girl, and how excited she had been by the grandiosity of the Tyrells in Winterfell. She barely raised an eyebrow now, no longer looking on with wonder as she instead whispered something to her brother.

A trio of horses stopped in the centre of the courtyard, a great black stallion flanked by two brown mares, the riders of the guards carrying black and yellow banners with a reering stag. The rider of the stallion was wearing a hood and cloak to hide himself, but he quickly pulled it away and revealed himself as Edric Baratheon. He was perhaps the only man to ride to a meeting of alliance and diplomacy in the middle of a war with a beaming smile, but Willas couldn't blame him. He was still so new to it all, new to being a Baratheon as well as being a man. When he dismounted, he was quick to wave at Willas, and his arrival made Honour sniff cautiously.

"Gods, there's no denying his father, is there?" Garlan remarked quietly, and Willas was quick to silence him with an elbow in the side. Even so, one glance over to the Starks told him they were thinking the same, with Robb trying to hide a smirk and Sansa was staring at the new arrival with wide eyes. "I'm just saying!"

"Aye, say it quieter next time, that could be our next king," Willas reminded him, but by that point Edric had crossed to them, and was holding his hand out for them to shake. "Lord Edric. Welcome to Riverrun."

Robb had thought it best for Willas to make the initial welcome, considering the pair were already acquainted. It had been a good decision, as Edric was looking around Riverrun curiously before his gaze settled on the one familiar thing to him, grinning at Willas as if he was a lifelong friend. He was tall, and broad too, and it was easy to forget that he was still just a teenager. His youth was reminded to them the moment Honour edged closer to him, sniffing, and Willas glanced over to see the Starks watching the wolf, knowing her a perfect judge of character. While Honour made no sign of distrust, Edric swallowed nervously.

"She won't hurt you," Willas assured. "Unless, of course, she wants to."

"I hope she doesn't want to," Edric said, his voice uncertain and quiet. He grimaced as the wolf moved closer, but when she did nothing but lick his hand, he let out a relieved laugh. "I've never met a direwolf before. I didn't think they existed."

"If she didn't like you then you'd know for sure she exists," Garlan joked, holding his own hand out for Edric. "Welcome to the Riverlands. My brother has told me a great deal about you."

"Ser Garlan the Gallant!" Edric exclaimed almost excitedly as if he was a fairytale hero, and Willas somehow managed to hold back a laugh as Garlan went wide-eyed in surprise. "Your brothers have told me a great deal about you too, and everyone says you're one of the greatest warriors of our time! My Uncle Renly says that you'd be able to give the Kingslayer a run for his money when it comes to swords!"

"Anyone could give Jaime Lannister a run now," Garlan stated, not knowing what else to say, clearly shocked by the boy's awe.

That was when Edric looked away from the two Tyrells, his gaze moving to behind them and landing on something that made his eyes widen even more. Willas glanced behind him to see what it was, only to realise it was the Starks. He looked back to Edric to see him swallow nervously, assuming it was the King in the North that had him starstruck.

"Who is she?" he asked, his voice lowered to ensure that only the Tyrell brothers heard.

His words were a surprise yet again, and both of them glanced round just to confirm it was Sansa that Edric was looking at. It was. Sansa, who was still dressed in Stark grey, with her hair braided just like Eddmina's usual style. Sansa, who had once been promised to a boy they all thought was Edric's half-brother. Sansa, who so far seemed to be adored by her new husband. Where she was, Lord Harrion was never far behind, and the two could often be found whispering to each other and holding hands, and Willas had once accidentally stumbled upon the two of them sharing a kiss in the godswood late at night. He wasn't sure of what else was happening in their marriage, it wasn't his business to know, but he was glad to see her happy, and relieved to see her be treated right.

Even so, she was looking at Edric with fascination too.

"That is my goodsister, the Lady Sansa," Willas told him, feeling a little protective as Edric smiled, waving to her. "She recently married Lord Karstark, making her the new Lady of Karhold."

Edric's face fell, but he didn't have long to brood over it as the woman in question approached. She looked rather confident, as if she had been watching her brother and sister on how to act, but no one could ignore that her cheeks were ever so slightly pink when she regarded the new Lord Baratheon, even Robb, who's jaw was not usually clenched when it came to diplomacy. He managed a smile to Edric even so, and shook his hand, while Sansa curtsied.

"Lord Edric," Robb greeted. "It's good to meet you."

"And you, your grace, my lady," Edric nodded, clearly trying not to look at Sansa for too long. "Our fathers did great things together. They were like brothers, and they changed the kingdoms. I hope that we can do the same."

Willas wondered if it bothered Robb when people mentioned his father, reminding him that he was gone, comparing the two of them. He knew when people mentioned Lord Stark unexpectedly it took Eddmina back, making Willas glad she wasn't there once more, but it did not seem to upset Robb, not as he smiled and shook the man's hand, and the pair of them slipped away, falling into an easy conversation, followed by Sansa and the two Baratheon guards as they headed off into the keep.

Perfect timing too, as that was when their father's horse came to a halt right in front of them. Willas had to elbow Garlan again when the brothers noticed the extravagence of their father's armour, but it was impossible not to laugh upon Loras' arrival, their brother's armour embossed with emeralds.

"Seven above, is this why the northerners hated us at the start?" Garlan whispered in between chuckles.

Willas couldn't reply, because their father was right in front of them, and suddenly he was being pulled into an embrace that had him so surprised he would have lost his balance had his father not been holding him so tightly. When they separated, it was Garlan's turn, and the middle Tyrell was just as shocked at the affection. Things had been rather sour the last time they had all been together, and while the sentiment had lingered for both Willas and Garlan as they had warily prepared themselves for another confrontation, clearly Lord Tyrell had thought otherwise.

"It is good to see you, my lads!" Lord Tyrell addressed them both, and began to laugh when he saw them speechless. "Not like you to have nothing to say, Garlan!"

"The last time you saw me you called me a northern-loving fool," Garlan remarked, mostly just to say something, partly out of shock that things would feel so friendly.

"And you called me a glory-seeking oaf," Lord Tyrell reminded him, but both of them looked rather ashamed.

"I trust the journey wasn't too harsh, did you run into any trouble on the road?" Willas asked, mostly to stop them dwelling on the past. His spare hand was buried in the neck Honour's fur, glad for the Wolf's company, even when his father looked at her warily.

"You do know you were meant to be travelling incognito, don't you? So much for secret plots and not letting the Lannisters catch onto an alliance," Garlan pointed out, but any frustrations with their father went forgotten upon Loras dismounting his horse. "But heavens forbid anyone not know the knight of the flowers' movements! Here he is, the boy wonder!"

Loras scowled and rolled his eyes, but hugged his brothers all the same. Garlan ruffled his hair, as he always did, and perhaps their little brother really had missed them, because he didn't protest as he usually did. When it came turn for their embrace, Willas gripped him tight, tighter than he ever had done before.

"How are you?" He asked as he still held him close, his voice so low that no one else could hear; they could hardly discuss the loss of the love of Loras' life out in the open. "You've been looking after yourself?"

"Better than you have, you've never been this skinny before, and gods, when was the last time you had a shave?" Loras replied casually, wrinkling his nose as he pulled away, tugging on a strand of his elder brother's beard. Willas swatted his hand away like it was a fly, but even so, his brother cracked a small smile, sadder than his usual smirks. "I'm alright."

"Good," Willas nodded, smiling back at him as he squeezed his shoulder. "You don't have to be though. It's fine enough if you're not."

To lose the love of your life was one thing, but to never be able to mourn properly seemed to make the whole thing worse, and it was not the first time that Willas found himself mentally cursing the lack of acceptance that had forced his brother and his love to hide. Not that it mattered now, as surely the history books would simply remember the pair of them as friends, one of whom died long before the other.

While Willas had tried to carefully approach his little brother's grief, Garlan decided the best course of action for him was to act like normal, which was why as soon as Willas stepped away he practically pounced on him. He was ruffling Loras' pristine curls once more, and it was not long before the two of them were desperately attempting to put the other in a headlock. Despite it seeming violent, or childish, it felt right, and the smile that grew on Willas' face was one that hadn't made an appearance for a long time. He'd almost forgotten what it felt like to have both of his brothers with him, rather than just one. He'd almost forgotten what it felt like to be surrounded by his own blood family.

His father gave him another reminder when he reached out and squeezed his shoulder. It felt like a forced gesture, and usually he would have shrugged him off, especially after everything that had happened in Winterfell, but their last conversation had changed things, and he knew he was trying. Somehow he pulled himself away from his brothers' scuffle to face his father properly, and the lord of Highgarden was looking him up and down, the way he did when he was a boy and came home after a long visit to Oldtown.

"Are you well, lad?" he asked him again, and when Willas nodded he raised his eyebrow, as if not quite believing him. "Your wife? I thought she would be here with you."

"She intended to be, Uther had other ideas," Willas explained with a shrug and a smile. "They are both fine enough though."

"Good, your mother was looking forward to seeing her," his father nodded, though was clearly relieved she was not there to confront upon arrival, not after all their previous meetings had gone south.

Willas barely paid any mind to any of that though, because his father's last comment struck him with surprise, and when he glanced to the carriage that had pulled to a stop, the door to it flung open almost instantly, and his mother was there. He didn't have chance to move before Honour let out a yip and bounded over, and though it was a terrifying thing to have a direwolf run at you, Lady Tyrell took it in her stride, managing a wary smile as Honour wagged her tail and licked at her hands.

Usually he would have called to the wolf for her to stop fussing, but he was so speechless the words were impossible. If he'd been shocked at his father's affections then his mother's appearance had him floored, and he was staring wide-eyed as he tried to figure out just what she was doing in Riverrun when he'd thought she was back in Highgarden, safe and far from the war. He wanted to be annoyed that he had thought wrong, wanted to be upset that she was not as safe as he had thought her to be, but any other emotions were impossible compared to the sheer overwhelming joyful relief, and he rushed to her as fast as he could.

Honour backed up to allow Lady Tyrell down the steps of the carriage, and the wolf was still wagging her tail happily as Willas fell into his mother's arms. It felt foolish, he was a grown man, surely anyone observing would think him a child for such a gesture, but as his mother enveloped him in her tight embrace he realised he didn't care what anyone else thought. There had been brief moments where he had considered missing her, where he had allowed himself to miss home and everyone he had left behind, but as he hugged her the full wave of it all hit him, and he held her tighter than he ever had before. He couldn't tell if he was shaking, couldn't tell if he might've been crying, but he didn't care.

"Hello, my boy," Lady Tyrell grinned kindly as she squeezed him back just as tight. When she pulled away, she stroked his face, holding it with both hands how she always did, before she grimaced. "I think you need a shave, darling boy."

"I would be the odd one out without a beard here," Willas pointed out, his face reddening in embarrassment; was his beard truly that bad that both his mother and Loras had to make fun of it? Eddmina had always seemed to like it. "What are you doing here? We thought it would just be father and Loras!"

"Do you think I would miss the opportunity to come and see you? To see Eddmina and Uther again?" she raised her eyebrows at him, just like she used to when he was younger and would ask daft questions. "Margaery stayed home with your grandmother, but she sends her love, both of them do."

"But, what about-" Willas began, a dozen questions buzzing in his mind.

He was cut off when his mother caught sight of the other two Tyrell boys. Garlan had won their battle, and was holding Loras in a headlock, rubbing his knuckles across the top of his scalp. Loras was cursing and calling his elder brother all insults under the sun. Lord Tyrell was seeming to enjoy the display, it being a perfect mixture of brotherly rivalry and affection, but it made Lady Tyrell sigh exaperatedly, as it always did whenever the boys fought.

"By the gods, Garlan! You're a grown man, put your brother down!" Lady Tyrell scolded, and her tone was enough to make them both dart apart, straightening themselves.

"Sorry, mother!" Garlan called quickly, before he even had the chance to register what was happening, what he had said, and who he was even speaking to. He did a double take, and upon the reality sinking in, he ran at her with a grin. He was hugging her, but even so, couldn't help but add, "In my defence-"

"He jumped on me, called me a 'little flower', then started pulling my hair!" Loras interrupted, outraged. Garlan shot him a sharp look, one that took them all back to their childhood and their many bouts of playfighting.

"Behave, the three of you!" she snapped, but still held her middle son tight, pushing a kiss to his cheek, since that was the only place she could reach as he towered over her.

"I haven't done anything!" Willas exclaimed with a laugh of disbelief. How was it he was in the middle of a war, a married man with children, yet he felt like a teenager again?

"I haven't seen you for over a year, Willas, I'm sure you've caused some bother somewhere," he mother told him bluntly with an arched eyebrow, before she cracked another smile, releasing Garlan from her tight hold. She reached up to straighten his hair. "Have you been looking after each other?"

"Did you know that the northerners call him Ser Willas the Wise?" Garlan boasted, his voice a mixture of pride and tease. Lady Tyrell shared his pride, while Lord Tyrell looked surprised, and Loras merely rolled his eyes.

"Garlan's very popular," Willas announced, mostly to get his family to stop staring at him. Their father looked less surpried with the praise for his middle son, and Loras let out a sneer of a laugh. "They've started calling him an honourary northerner, even though Dacey Mormont beat him in an arm wrestle a few nights back."

"How have you coped with a war? I thought the amount of blood would have you swooning everyday?" Loras asked Garlan dryly, his eyes narrowed.

Lady Tyrell tried to keep a grip on her middle son, but it was no use as he charged at Loras with a grumble of curses and insults. The only thing that made him stop in his tracks was the sound of someone clearing their throat and calling his name from the steps of the carriage that they had both assumed empty. Willas knew the voice, and his neck strained he whipped his head around so fast to see Leonette stood with her arms folded. She was trying to look annoyed, the way she always did when her husband scrapped with his siblings, but as soon as their eyes met and Garlan froze with his eyes wide and mouth open, completely awestruck, she couldn't help but smile and laugh, offering her husband a wave. She shot Willas a wink, and he was grinning too. He wanted to hug her and tell her how much he had missed her, but Garlan had charged at her, and any chance of speaking to his goodsister disappeared.

"My gods, woman," Garlan whispered in amazement as she practically leapt off the carriage steps and threw herself at him, her arms wrapped around his shoulders and her legs around his waist.

He caught her, but it was a wonder he did not drop her as he was shaking from the shock. Her face was buried in the crook of his neck, her hair pooling around her so none of them could see her face. Willas assumed she was crying, though Garlan was too. He quickly wiped his tears away with the back of his hand and snapped back into focus, wrapping his arms around her even tighter. The moment she looked up to study his face their eyes raced over each other as if checking for injury or change, as if trying to memorise every single detail they may have forgotten in the year they had been apart, but that did not last long before Garlan drew her in closer and pushed his lips to hers.

Willas knew he should have looked away, but the relief of seeing his brother so happy made him want to watch forever. The past year had been hard, but the last few months he had noticed Garlan mention Leonette more and more, especially when he had been drinking, and he could tell how much he had missed her. It had been agony to be away from Eddmina for the few months that he had been in the Stormlands, he couldn't imagine missing a whole year of her. Aparently Willas' relief was shared by the other Tyrells, as they were all watching with smiles, even Loras, who managed not to roll his eyes at their affections.

"What in seven hells are you doing here?" Garlan whispered the moment their lips parted, though he kissed her again, on her cheeks, on her forehead, on the tip of her nose.

"Making sure you're still alive and in one piece," Leonette told him dryly, one hand stroking his cheek while the other knotted into his hair.

"Well then, you're more than welcome to make sure of that," Garlan told her with a wink, his face pink as he kissed her again. She laughed, before burying her face into his neck once more.

Garlan shot Willas a look of joyful disbelief at the turn of events. Willas responded with a wink of his own, nodding his head in the direction of the keep, not that he thought he needed to give his brother permission to go. Ther father clearly did though, because the moment Garlan began to carry Leonette off towards where their rooms were, he let out a baffled laugh.

"Where are you going?" he asked incredulously. "We have much to discuss!"

"Discuss it with your heir," Garlan called back without stopping walking or even looking back. "I am going to be busy!"

The courtyard echoed with the laughter of both Garlan and Leonette, and though Lord Tyrell was shaking his head Willas couldn't stop grinning, his mother and Loras too.

"For goodness sake, Mace, let them be young," Lady Tyrell looked at her husband sternly, who immediately cracked and nodded with resignation. "The poor boy has been at war."

"And Leo hasn't shut up about missing him the whole journey," Loras commented.

Their father was right though, because they were not just there for a family reunion. No matter the joy of seeing each other, they were still in the middle of a war, one they needed to win if they all wanted to keep living. There was much that they all needed to discuss, and without Eddmina, he realised it fell to him to negotiate her cause to his family.

"I can take you to meet with King Robb and Lady Sansa," Willas told his father and Loras, before he turned to his mother. "But first, shall I show you to where Mina and Uther are?"

***

Eddmina's face hurt she was so tired, but there was nothing she could do about it, not as Uther continued to cry.

It was not his usual cry of when he was in pain or needed something, not like when his teeth hurt or he was hungry. It was more like he just didn't want to sleep, but didn't enjoy feeling so tired. Eddmina didn't enjoy the tiredness either, but every time in the night she had tried to put him down or hand him to someone else - including Willas - he cried harder. There were moments of quiet, false senses of security, and there was the odd half-hour where he actually drifted off, but his whining seemed to be non-stop. The maester had told her that it was normal, that most children went through a regression of sleep at his age, but why he had chosen to start the night before the Tyrells' arrival, she didn't know. It wasn't fair for both of them to suffer no sleep, and since Uther clearly wanted no one but her, she had shut herself away in his room alone, spending the night doing everything she could think of to help him sleep. Nothing worked, and the few things that did didn't work for long.

He had gotten her out of the initial greetings, so she was a little grateful for the silver lining, but there was little else that could be taken as a positive from the situation. There was so much that needed to be done for the war, she had wanted to sit in on meetings between Robb and the Tyrells, wanted to meet Edric Baratheon and settle an alliance. None of it was more important than her boy, but that didn't stop her thinking about it. It was all whirring about in her fried, sleep-deprived mind, and made a rather terrible mix with her nerves surrounding the Tyrells.

When the door to Uther's nursery opened, she jumped a little, hoping for Willas, hoping that if it was him that he would be alone. If he brought Garlan, Eddmina didn't know if she could handle her goodbrother see her struggle with being a decent mother yet again. If he had brought his father with him, if his father saw the state of her and the fact she clearly had no idea what she was doing with the future heir of the Reach then that surely would worsen his already terrible opinion of her. When she turned to the door and saw her mother she was almost relieved, but any hope of her mother helping or offering advice disappeared quickly upon seeing her face, serious and business-like.

Things had improved between the two of them in the time since the wedding and her grandfather's passing. In her mourning, Lady Stark had let her daughter get on with the necessary planning, occasionally thanking her for her work and offering her sad yet kind smiles. Eddmina had hoped that it might have been them turning a corner again, but she realised her mother wasn't there to help when she saw how she glanced at Uther briefly before looking back at her, still serious. No, that was not the look her mother wore when she wanted to help with her grandson, it was the way she looked when she was there for something serious. What with everything else the funeral was the last thing Eddmina wanted to discuss, and she took a deep breath to compose herself, all before her mother had even said anything.

"I thought you would be down in the courtyard," her mother said in place of proper greeting. Eddmina managed a shrug, but didn't look away from the boy curled up in her arms. Studying his face and the way he was wrapped into her it was obvious he wanted to sleep, but just couldn't. Lady Stark hardly noticed, or chose not to, as she continued, "Your brother and sister are."

"Robb is a King, and I can guarantee Sansa is more use than I am, she's probably had far more sleep," Eddmina said quietly.

She hoped that if her voice was calm then Uther would continue to doze off. Maybe then she could put him down, maybe then she could sit down and get some rest herself, maybe-

"Sansa is not Hand, Eddmina, you cannot expect your younger sister to do all your work for you," Lady Stark lectured her, still protective of her middle daughter despite her being a married woman. "Besides, you should be doing the greetings, the Tyrell's are your family."

'My family that most likely hate me,' she thought.

It was best that she was out of the way. If she went to greet them without Uther then they'd think her cold and only cared about the war and politics. If she went to greet them and took Uther while he was over-tired and tearful then they would think her a terrible mother without a clue on how to care for him. Either way she wouldn't help her already bad reputation with that family, and the idea of having to confront all of that was making her heart pound and her stomach churn. Facing the Tyrell's had always seemed so far away, and even when they decided that they would return home, Highgarden had always seemed out of reach. Both had crept up on her faster than she liked, and she had no choice but to face up to any and all mistakes she'd made.

Maybe Uther could tell how wrecked she felt over it all, maybe her nerves were feeding into him and that was why he'd barely slept. That only made her feel worse. She was meant to protect him and shield him from all the terrible things of the world, but if she was terrible then shouldn't she protect him from her too? How was she meant to be a decent mother if she was just placing her burdens onto her son who was still so young he could barely talk? He'd never asked for any of it, the war, a life of chaos and uncertainty, a terrible mother, and she felt close to tears herself when the guilt washed over her.

"Are you even listening to me, Eddmina?" Her mother called frustratedly. Eddmina jolted, snapped from her thoughts. "What was I just saying?"

Eddmina hadn't even realised her mother had been speaking. She chewed at her lip, trying to wrack her mind for any little thing that her mother might have said, but the silence broken only by Uther's occasional tired cries stretched for too long, and her mother sighed. The thought that she might have let her mother down almost made her guilt feel worse, but instead she began to feel a little angry herself. Could she not see she was busy? Could she not see how on edge she was and how desperately she wanted a helping hand?

Only a few weeks ago her mother had treated her so delicately as if she was a fragile vase threatening to shatter. When had that changed? When Sansa returned and she had another child to mother over again? When Robb married Jeyne and changed the whole outlook of the war and gave Eddmina's responsibilities as Hand new meaning? When she betrayed her by consenting for Sansa to marry Harrion? When Lord Tully died and her life was overtaken by grief again? Eddmina had hated the fussing and coddling at the time, but she desperately wanted it again. What had she done to make her mother think she was back to normal enough to start relying upon and putting pressure onto again? Whenever it was, what ever she had done, Eddmina wanted to reverse it all and just be taken care of. She wanted her mother to take hold of her and tell her it was alright, tell her that nothing else mattered and that her priority was Uther over everything else. She wanted her mother to lie and tell her she was doing a fine enough job with her son, but that she would take over so she could get some rest. Her back hurt, her head ached, and she just wanted to sleep.

"Mother, please," Eddmina managed to sound not like she was on the verge of tears, sighing as she continued to stroke Uther's back, his face nestled into the crook of her neck as she swayed from side to side. If she kept moving, kept him quiet, then maybe she would feel a little better. "Can we talk about this later? I am a little occupied."

"He is fine, Eddmina, put him down so we can go over the last few details of tomorrow," her mother told her exasperatedly.

Eddmina raised her eyebrows in surprise; what about either of them told her they were fine? Eddmina suddenly regretted all of the times she pretended to be alright. They had set a precedent, she had clearly made her mother think she was always fine. If she'd found it in her to ask for help more, maybe she wouldn't feel as wrecked by the idea of needing help.

"He's been crying all night, and he cries any time I put him down, so no, I will not put him down," she explained tiredly, stroking her son's hair and pushing a gentle kiss to the side of his face. "Vyman said most children struggle to sleep when they get to his age, and I know he's tired, he just won't. I don't-"

"You we're the exact same, Edda," her mother told her, almost managing a kind, reassuring smile, but Eddmina was too far gone to feel relieved, and instead only heard words from long ago echoed. Lady Stark clearly thought she had done the trick though, as she continued, "About tomorrow-"

"Everything is sorted," Eddmina said shortly, interrupting her mother to get it over with. "Trust me, it is all arranged."

"But what about-" her mother continued, clearly not getting the message. Eddmina screwed her eyes shut and pressed her hand to her forehead, but taking her hand off Uther's back made him whinge again.

"Please, mother!" Eddmina snapped tiredly. "The funeral is tomorrow. If it is not sorted by now then it is too late. I am so sorry for your loss, I am so sorry about what has happened to your father. I can't imagine how it is for you, I am so sorry about it all, but there is nothing else we can do for grandfather. We've made the plans, the banners are here-"

"Save the Freys," Lady Stark cut in. That sent a whole new wave of nerves through her. "They will arrive in the morning. They received your letter and have sent word ahead that they wish for an audience with you and Robb the moment the ceremony is done."

"Fucking typical," Eddmina cursed before she could stop herself, earning another disapproving look. She rolled her eyes, adjusting her hold on Uther. He had been quiet for a while, but began to cry again out of sheer exhaustion, making her let out another curse, trying so desperately not to cry herself. "Can you please help me? Surely you know how to make him quiet down and sleep properly?"

Lady Stark looked at the pair of them again, and with a sigh, approached them. It was as if she was finally seeing through her determination to discuss the funeral, setting aside her grief to see what was really in front of her. She placed a hand on her daughter's shoulder and the other on Uther's back. His cries had quietened again, but Eddmina could still hear him snuffling, and she pushed another kiss to the top of his head, stroking his curls. She looked down at him, mostly so she didn't have to see the look on her mother's face, unsure if it would be sympathy or disappointment.

"Wait until you have two of them," her mother remarked with a small laugh, meaning it as a joke, but after the night she'd had and with everything swamping her mind Eddmina felt the urge to break down and cry stronger than ever. "You are going to have plenty more days like this."

"You are not helping," Eddmina muttered with her eyes screwed shut, even though the harsh truth was usually what she preferred.

"Telling you that motherhood is nothing but sweet perfection would be more unhelpful, Edda," Lady Stark said, her voice sounding nostalgic. It was obvious she was thinking of Winterfell, and the children no longer by her side. "You will long for these days when he grows up and you have to watch him ride off to war or become lord of his kingdom."

Uther becoming Lord of Highgarden meant that not only would Lord Tyrell be gone, but Willas too. Eddmina knew what her mother was trying to do, she appreciated the sentiment, but her words accidentally made Eddmina consider losing her Willas, and she felt sickened at the thought. She rubbed at her eyes tiredly, and was relieved when Uther didn't scream at her moving her hand from his back.

"Could you take him for a little while?" Eddmina decided to ask, hoping her mother would say yes. "He'll scream again no doubt but I need to lie down."

Eddmina didn't have the chance to hand her son over, because the door opened again. Honour bounded in first, yowling and nudging at Eddmina as if she wanted attention, and Lady Stark tried shooing the wolf away lest she disturb Uther again, but it was too late. Eddmina was on the verge of swearing, until she looked up at the doorway and saw Lady Alerie Tyrell beaming at her.

The sight of her goodmother was the straw that broke the camel's back, and so Eddmina burst into tears. She loved Lady Tyrell, she admired her, she wanted nothing more than to be liked by her, but if the war hadn't ruined her goodmother's opinion of her then surely finding her struggling with the most basic tasks of motherhood would seal her fate of being regarded as a terrible person and mother in her eyes. The noise of Eddmina's tears woke Uther up properly, but she barely cared as Lady Alerie enveloped her into a hug, kissing her forehead.

"Oh, my dear, whatever are you crying for?" Alerie laughed gently. When she'd broke their embrace she kept a hand in her shoulder, and looked down at her grandson. "That extends to you too, little one. Good gods, what is going on?"

"I didn't think you'd be here," Eddmina said through tears, wincing as Uther pulled at her already tattered braid. "I'm sorry. We've been up all night and I didn't know you were coming and-"

"Edda, my dear, take a deep breath," Lady Alerie laughed again, and Eddmina was instantly reminded how similar Willas was to his mother. She squeezed her arm reassuringly, kissing her forehead again before leaning down and pressing a kiss to the top of Uther's head. "Gods, he's more beautiful than I remembered, but I see he's inherited the Tyrell dramatics. When our children were going through this phase Mace insisted it was their Hightower side, we had many a debate on that."

"Lady Tyrell," Lady Stark chose to speak up at last, watching the two women closely, trying to hide her wariness for their obvious fondness. "We did not realise you would be in attendance for this visit."

"I wanted it to be a surprise," Lady Alerie smiled, as if it was just a simple visit and not a meeting of alliance during the middle of a war. Her face became more serious as she regarded Eddmina's mother, nodding her head slightly. "I am sorry to both of you, for all your losses, for everything you've been though."

"I've missed you," Eddmina said against her better judgement, hoping it didn't make her sound like a fool, hoping Lady Alerie wouldn't meet her regard with distaste. Her own mother did, looking between the two of them with curious dismay. "I... I'm sorry, for everything. I'm sorry we've all gotten caught up in this."

"I had no idea the two of you were so close," Lady Stark spoke up again, and as Eddmina wiped away her tears she had to fight away a bitter laugh; was her mother jealous?

"My lady, you have raised a fine young woman," Lady Tyrell said, squeezing Eddmina's arm yet again; Yet again, Eddmina wanted to cry. "She is remarkable, a true asset to our family. I am really rather fond of her, the way I am of my own children. I hope that, given everything you've all gone through, you would feel similar about my son."

"My son would not be alive without Ser Garlan, and I think we may all be lost without Ser Willas," Lady Stark answered, and Eddmina hated that she was surprised. "You should be very proud of them both. Now, if you'll excuse me, I will take my leave for the two of you to catch up alone."

Lady Stark shot Eddmina a look that was almost apologetic as she crossed to the door. Eddmina wondered what she would have to be sorry about, until she considered that perhaps she regretted not being there more and leaving an opening in her life for Lady Tyrell to step into. Willas' mother would never be her mother, but the woman had been there for her in times where she had been absent, including one of the most important moments of Eddmina's life. Perhaps Lady Stark regretted that, but Eddmina couldn't think on it too much, her head still far too swamped with too much else, and by the time her mother had left, Lady Alerie had her hand on her cheek, looking her up and down again.

"I know the answer will be far from positive, but are you alright?" She asked with concern.

"I am, for the most part," Eddmina nodded, supressing a yawn. "I just... I have a lot to do. Will Lord Tyrell be meeting with my brother? I should go join them-"

"No, you most certainly shouldn't," Lady Alerie told her, kind yet firm. "You look exhausted. Willas' last letter home said you were taking on too much and were tired but if I realised you were like this I would have come here months ago."

"I'm usually better at balancing it all," Eddmina admitted, knowing it was better than pretending to be fine.

"Children have a fun way of complicating everything," Lady Alerie laughed, stroking Uther's curls. He barely murmured, and that was when Eddmina realised he had fallen asleep. "Give him to me and go and lay down."

"But you've only just gotten here!" Eddmina protested. Even so, she handed Uther over, and surprisingly he didn't wake, instead curling into his grandmother's arms as if she was the most familiar person to him. "It should be you resting, you've been travelling, and I thought you would want to be with Will and Garlan? They've missed you."

"Garlan is otherwise occupied with reuniting with his wife, and I will be having stern words with Willas as to why he left the pair of you like this," Alerie informed her, her voice light as she never once looked up from Uther, grinning as she stroked his hair.

"Leonette is here too?" Eddmina's eyes narrowed in surprise, feeling more nerves swirl around inside. "Does she... is she angry with me?"

"Edda, why do you think we would all be angry with you?" Alerie sighed, offering her a sad smile.

"It's my fault that you're all involved, it's my family's war and your sons got dragged into it," Eddmina explained with a grimace, rubbing her eyes tiredly as she sank into the windowsill seat next to Honour, her wolf placing her head on her lap with a huff. "If not for me they would have avoided all this. Garlan's put himself at risk so many times, and I know Will misses home."

"What happened to the girl who insinuated my husband was a traitor for not coming to your family's aid?" Alerie asked seriously, one eyebrow arched. Eddmina had seen her pull that look to her sons many times. "You didn't start this whole mess, dear, it is hardly your fault. If anything, if the Reach had come to the north's side sooner perhaps all of this would be over with by now."

"The north has managed rather well so far," Eddmina said, remembering how she didn't want to feel like her kingdom was grovelling for help. "We've never lost a battle."

"Meanwhile House Tyrell is yet to fight one of any great worth," Lady Alerie rolled her eyes. Uther let out a quiet murmur in his sleep, which made Eddmina jerk to her feet, and the movement made Honour huff again. "He's fine, he's still asleep. We can discuss all of this later, when you don't look so tired. I will take care of him, I promise."

Eddmina wanted to argue, but she wanted to sleep more. With a sigh, she nodded, and after yet another reassuring embrace from Lady Tyrell, Eddmina ventured to her own bed chamber and threw herself onto the bed. She'd never even bothered to dress properly for the day, still in her nightgown and robe she'd put on the night before, before Uther began his insomnia, and she wanted to be embarrassed that Lady Alerie had seen her in such a state. Then she remembered that Lady Alerie had seen her looking far worse, and resigned herself to wrapping her arms around Honour who had joined her on the bed, licking at her face.

It felt like a relief to close her eyes, and she happily succumbed to the sleep she had desired for so long. It was almost peaceful, until the war crept into her mind, and her usual visions of bloodstained Stark banners and the ruins of Winterfell appeared in her mind, yet this time the banners were joined by Tyrell flags, tattered and torn, and soaked in the blood of who Eddmina could only assume were the ones she loved.

***
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