If you didn't know Eddmina, you'd have thought that, whilst she was stood with her family waiting for House Tyrell, she was serene. She seemed calm, collected, but Robb knew she was anything but that. He also knew that no matter how nervous she was feeling, she didn't want him to make a fuss out of her. Even so, he edged closer to her, nudging her with his elbow. She turned her head to face him, her eyebrows creased together, which he replied to with a small, reassuring smile.

"Bugger off, Robb," she hissed quietly, though a smirk was appearing on her own face.

Only moments later the Tyrell procession rode in through the Winterfell gates unlike anything Eddmina had ever seen, their grandeur seeming rather out of place in the grim northern castle. Eddmina often thought her home was beautiful, but it's simplicity compared to the perfect white mounts ridden by Lord Tyrell and two of his sons and the gold embellished wheelhouse seemed rather startling, epitomising the difference between the North and the South. Part of her felt intimidated, but then she remembered that these were guests in her home, and nothing could make her feel out of place in Winterfell.

"Do you think they shit gold?" she heard Theon mutter, leaning forward to hiss in Robb's ear.

His comment made her scowl slightly, knowing his previous opinion on their visitors. She heard Jon let out a quiet laugh, and even saw Robb's stoic expression flick up into a smile. It wasn't just their little group who'd heard the quiet question, as Eddmina noticed in the corner of her eye Arya turn around to laugh whilst Sansa glared at her.

Despite not liking Theon's remark, it did provide a nice distraction, as Eddmina didn't even notice Lord Tyrell dismount his horse, making his way over to her father. If he was a king they would have bowed, but he was just a lord, and the Stark's, despite being descended from Kings, were simply lords too. They were equals here, so the two lords exchanged a simple handshake, not that Eddmina was watching. No, she was too focused on the two younger Tyrells who were still on their mounts. The older of the two, who's hair was darker and sported a short beard, must have made a joke of some sort as the younger, who's golden curly hair was almost to his jaw, let out a laugh, smiling with perfect teeth. They must have been Garlan and Loras. They seemed as close as Eddmina and her brothers, their exchange reassuring her that the Tyrells were friendly, or at least friendly to each other.

She didn't realise she'd been staring at them until the older one, Garlan, met her gaze. He looked at her with fake surprise, winking over to her, before turning back to his brother to mutter something else. Then she felt the gaze of the younger, Loras, fall on her. She guessed what his comment had been, something about her being the reason for them riding a month straight up to a frozen wasteland, but even knowing she was most likely the topic of their conversation she didn't avert her gaze, not wanting to seem as if she was intimidated by them, or at least not until she heard her father speak up.

"Lord Tyrell, welcome to Winterfell," Ned Stark welcomed the visitors, his strong northern accent evident. His accent was one of the things Eddmina loved most about her father, the accent acting as a reminder of their heritage. "I hope your journey up North was not too harsh,"

"Thank you, Lord Stark, it wasn't too difficult," Lord Tyrell nodded in exchange, though she could see his attention drifting from her father to the rest of the group stood with him. "Your family?"

"Yes, this is my wife Catelyn, and our children Rickon, Bran, Arya, Sansa, Robb and... Eddmina," Her father introduced them all, hesitating slightly before gesturing to his eldest daughter.

At first Eddmina was confused by the order he listed them in. She was used to being first, then Robb, not have little Rickon put ahead of her. However she soon realised what her father had done as she felt Lord Tyrell's gaze fall upon her; she was the only one he was truly interested in. She felt Robb elbow her again, this time in the side, though not out of solidarity but more out of worry as the Lord of the Reach moved over to her, wearing a small smile.

"Ah, Lady Eddmina, so good to finally meet you," Mace Tyrell greeted her.

Eddmina curtsied, keeping her eyes fixed on the Lord in front of her, not that it stopped her hearing the grunt of displeasure from behind from Theon. It didn't stop her from feeling the look of realisation from her two sisters, Sansa looking on at her awestruck as she realised the true nature of the visit, whilst Arya looked off-put. She didn't have time to worry about her sister's reactions though, as she rose to stand tall, slightly taller than Lord Tyrell himself, noticing over his shoulder that three more Tyrells had emerged from the grand wheelhouse.

The first she noticed was a tall, older lady with hair the colour of dark caramel streaked with silver, her expression doubtful as she looked around Winterfell, as if she couldn't comprehend the simplicity of it. Lady Alerie Tyrell, formerly of House Hightower. The next, a dainty girl who must have been her own age, with light brown hair and a curious gaze, wrapped up in furs to avoid the cold. Margaery Tyrell. And last, a tall, curly haired man, a slight beard and moustache growing on his face. Willas Tyrell.

Like the others he was dressed in green, his clothes adorned with golden roses, even his thick cloak which was long enough to hide the leather brace fixed tightly around his right leg, though not long enough to hide the wooden cane he gripped tightly. Not that Eddmina spent long looking at his cane. No, she was more interested in his face, his practically golden eyes wandering around Winterfell, not as if he was inspecting it like the rest of his family was doing, rather admiring it. Eddmina noticed the way his lips turned up to a thin smile, as if he liked what he was seeing, until his eyes fell onto her, when his smile faded and his lips parted, as if he was shocked. He swallowed heavily, not taking his eyes off her, and though she had refused to be intimidated by the gaze of his brothers, there was something different about being looked at by Willas Tyrell.

"Welcome to Winterfell, my Lord," Eddmina echoed her father's words to Mace Tyrell, mostly to distract herself from looking at Willas, though it did not distract her from feeling Robb's protective look over her.

"May I introduce my eldest son, Lord Willas Tyrell, future lord of High Garden and of the Reach?" Mace spoke, and she noted how he didn't introduce his other children; to him, all that mattered was this betrothal, evidently.

At his father's words, Eddmina looked over to see Willas freeze slightly, hesitating before he made his way over to his father's side. She tried not to notice the slight limp he walked with, tried not to worry about the uneven cobbled floor of the courtyard, tried not to feel anxious over the meeting despite feeling everyone looking at her. Except, when he got closer to her, he offered her a small smile, a perfect mix of kind and apologetic, as if he was sorry for the whole thing. Up close he was handsome too, the admirable look in his eye seems rather gentle up close, gentle and enthralling to the point where she almost forgot herself, until she suddenly remembered her courtesies.

"My lord," she bowed her head slightly, wearing what she hoped was a welcoming smile.

"My lady," he greeted her similarly, the signature Tyrell smirk he wore seeming far more friendly on his face. "It's lovely to meet you, at last, thank you for welcoming us into your home,"

The plesantries seemed to go on, though Eddmina wasn't quite sure what happened next, the next few moments blurring quickly, leaving her unsure as to what led to the crowd dispersing or her and Willas being left out in the courtyard for her to show him to his chambers, but yet there they were. He was still looking around the courtyard, as if it was something utterly fascinating, and to see him find interest in her home was intriguing to her, knowing many outsiders and southerners didn't quite find the charm of the North. Except Eddmina knew that, as interesting as Winterfell seemed to be to Lord Willas, he had been travelling a long time, and would probably need to rest before the feast that night.

"My Lord?" She spoke gently, and his gaze snapped to her, swallowing before he forced a smile. "Allow me to escort you to your chambers... if you want me to?"

"Of course, Lady Stark, lead the way," he nodded, allowing for her to lead him into the great keep. "Father mentioned to me that I would have chambers on the ground floor... Thank you for that, stairs aren't usually my strong point and I'm sure my brother Garlan will be glad he doesn't have to practically carry me up them whilst we stay here,"

She watched him as his gaze flicked down to his bad leg, still mostly hidden by his cloak, before looking back to her with almost an apologetic smile. She tried to hide her shock at him speaking so plainly about his ailment, but he noticed and let out a small laugh, shaking his head slightly.

It was almost funny, that Eddmina had spent her whole life training to be the perfect lady, working towards the day of her betrothal, and the moment it came she found herself speechless, unsure even how to act. Maybe it was because she hadn't expected him to be so handsome, or so... unconventional. He was southern, yet she didn't instantly hate him. If anything, she respected him, his manners, his curiosity, his bluntness.

In truth, Willas usually didn't like to talk so bluntly about his leg. He was usually far to proud to admit that it hurt him badly most days, far too stubborn to accept anyone's sympathies or help, except for his brother's. Except it was a weakness, the fact that his leg had been crushed by his horse after the joust with Oberyn Martell, and it was one his future wife would soon discover, if they did actually end up bethrothed. It wasn't as if it was invisible, the cane and brace were pretty noticable, and so in that moment, he decided not to shy away from it, embrace it through the humour that he does with Garlan. Surely if he was ashamed of it, she would be as well, and he didn't know if he wanted this pretty Northern lady to be disapointed in him.

Willas hadn't known quite what to expect upon their northern visit. He'd read plenty of books about the North, and the history of house Stark, but knowing about the lands through literature was one thing. Being expected to accept a bethrothal to a northern lady was entirely something else, especially one that was eight years younger than him, and one that was recommended to his father by a letter from the king. It was true that arranging a betrothal for Willas had been difficult for his father, considering he turned down every woman suggested to him but the suggestion of a Tyrell-Stark match had been far too good for his father to refuse, so Willas wasn't allowed a say in it, instead simply being forced on the rediculous road trip up to Winterfell. Not that it had stopped the arguments between Mace Tyrell and his eldest son.

"I always wanted to marry for love, not for gain," Willas had complained to his brother the night before their arrival in Winterfell as he sat by the fire in his room at the inn they had stopped in, rubbing his leg to rid it of the aches. "Like you and Leonette,"

"Shame you're not a second son, really," Garlan had shrugged. "I'm afraid, big brother, that you - and even our sister - will be cursed with the duty of securing alliances through marriage. Besides, you haven't even met this Stark girl yet, she may be just as lovely as father believes her to be,"

"That would mean I'd have to agree with father on something though," Willas rolled his eyes in annoyance, making Garlan let out a loud laugh. "You and Leonette seem so happy with each other, and I just want something like that, not some arranged marriage just to shut father up,"

"You seem so determined to compare yourself to my relationship with my wife that you forget mother and father were once an arranged marriage," Garlan pointed out, making Willas huff in defeat. "Have a little faith, brother, maybe this little wolf will surprise you,"

And Eddmina had certainly surprised him. He was used to the ladies of the south dressing in finery and silk, kind and passive expressions on their pretty faces as they bowed and offered pleasantries, but there she had been, dressed in furs with a fearless look in her eye despite her manners. She was something else, something different to what he was used to. Maybe it was the fact that she was northern, maybe it was because she embodied the wolf that the Starks proudly displayed on their banners, but Willas saw that she was entirely different to all the other ladies he'd been presented with.

Her fierce nature made her all the more beautiful, and appearance-wise, his father had been right; she was as beautiful as the King had promised her to be. Another Lyanna Stark. All Willas could do was admire the lady and hope she wouldn't fall to the same fate as her aunt who she looked identical to.

"Have you ever been to the North before, my Lord?" Eddmina asked calmly, breaking his chain of thoughts, her nerves perfectly hidden as she led Willas around the castle. Willas noted her accent and smirked slightly, finding it much more attractive than the delicate tone of voice of the southern girls.

"No, never, though I must say it is rather beautiful," Willas told her, and before she could stop herself Eddmina let out a snort of a laugh, contrasting to her previous perfect manners, making Willas look over at her with a frowned smirk of confusion. "Something funny, Lady Stark?"

"Well, as a Northerner, I know our region is beautiful, it's just not an opinion that is shared by outsiders, especially ones from the rich kingdoms of the south," Eddmina explained, feeling Willas' intense gaze on her. Even if Willas' attention made her ever so nervous, she wasn't going to show it to him, especially not whilst talking of her home."I expect High Garden and the Reach is very different to here,"

"It is, but that doesn't make Winterfell any less interesting to me," Willas said, letting out a small laugh when he saw the way Eddmina looked at him in slight surprise, her eyebrows cocked up slightly. "I like to travel and see the different kingdoms of Westeros, and I have always wanted to visit the north,"

"Well I hope that it lives up to your expectations," she said simply, wearing a small smile, and he wondered if she truly meant that, or if she was simply being polite.

"Oh, I wouldn't worry, it already is... surpassing them, actually," he smiled as he looked at her, though she did not meet his gaze. "I'm sorry, by the way... about all of this,"

"What do you mean?" She frowned, though she suspected he was referring to the prospect of their betrothal, and that wasn't something she expected an apology for.

"Well we both know why my family is here," he said simply with a slight shrug. "When King Robert first wrote to my father about the potential for a Northern match, he jumped at the chance, but barely gave me chance to tell him how I felt about it, and I can imagine it was the same for you,"

"If he gave you the chance you would have turned it down, turned me down," Eddmina summarised bluntly, getting her words out quickly before she could let out another laugh, because of course he would have a say in it all whilst she was left without. Her words made Willas' eyes widen slightly in shock, making her wonder if she was right after all.

"No, no, that's not what I'm saying," he spoke quickly, as if to retify his mistake. "I didn't mean to offend you, Lady Stark, I'm sorry. I simply meant that we've never met before but yet we're expected to just..."

"Just get married?" She questioned, raising an eyebrow. Willas let out another laugh as she, once again, defied his expectations.

"You really don't hesitate, do you, Lady Stark?" Willas smiled at her, and it was a smile of wonder and kindness, not one forced out of manners. "Not many ladies are like that,"

Not many ladies were like that at all, in fact none of them were like her. Willas pondered over whether that was a good thing or not, his mind settling on it being a positive, because at least she wasn't boring. No, quite the opposite, as she seemed rather intelligent, her remarks cutting and witty to an extent that she almost reminded him of his Grandmother Olenna back in Highgarden, though he found Eddmina far more attractive than the Queen of Thorns, naturally.

"I'm right though, aren't I?" She muttered slightly, managing not to sound bitter though she didn't meet Willas' eye. "Doesn't matter anyway, This is your room, my Lord,"

"Oh, right," he said, sounding almost disappointed. In fact, he was disapointed, considering he was rather enjoying his conversation with her, and to have it cut short just didn't seem fair. "Well it has been a pleasure to meet you, my lady, will I see you at the feast later?"

"Of course, my Lord," she nodded, curtsying slightly, her ladylike manners returned, replacing any little slither of her true personality which was so enticing to him, though her etiqute was just as alluring.

"Willas," he said simply, his hatred for formality overcoming him, hating the fact he was introduced to her by his title and not his name, not who he truly was. "My name is Willas, and I'd like you to call me that,"

"Well in that case, I'm Edda, and it's very nice to meet you, Willas," Eddmina grinned.

As she smiled, she held out her hand out for him to shake, the gesture used among lords as a greeting of peace and solidarity. It wasn't used by ladies typically, but that didn't matter to her, especially as Willas misjudged what she was going for, and instead he took her hand and kissed her knuckles. She tried not to frown, not to seem shocked by the gesture, though as he held her hand in his, she couldn't help but feel overcome with nerves, especially as he squeezed her fingers gently out of affection, offering her one last smile before dropping her hand.

As soon as he'd let go of her hand, Eddmina, attempting not to appear flustered, nodded her head before turning and heading back down the corridor, knowing but ignoring the fact that Willas was watching her walk away. Trying to put that thought out of her mind, her mind instead turned to the fact that maybe her mother had been right, that maybe the Tyrells weren't as bad as she thought they were going to be, or at least Willas wasn't.

Though she still had that night's feast to make up her mind.

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