"Tell me everything you know about house Westerling,"

Eddmina's demand didn't wake Jaime Lannister, but her sharp kick to his side did. He jerked, leting out a startled grunt as he looked around wildly, trying to spot where his attacker had come from. When he saw her stood over him, his eyes narrowed to see through the darkness, and the moment the haze of sleep cleared and he realised it was her, a smirk grew on his face. He opened his arms out, as if beckoning for her to join him.

"Ah, Princess! It has been a while! I had wondered when you would next grace me with your presence," he greeted her with a jesting tone. She wondered how he had spent so long in chains yet had maintained his need to poke fun at her. "No wine this time?"

"If you answer all of my questions and stop being such a prick then I promise that I will bring you whatever you want next time I visit," she vowed.

She kicked him in the shins once more, simply because she could. She told herself it was for Bran, but the thought of her little brother made grief shoot through her in a way that even beating Ser Jaime to a pulp wouldn't solve. He might have pushed him from the tower, but he didn't kill him, or Rickon, and she silently noted to save her rage for the men who were truly responsible. With that she sat down across from Jaime, not caring if she dirtied her dress.

Surely if anyone knew anything about the Westerlings it would be the son of their liege lord. Surely if anyone could take her mind off her revelation she had while in the privy then it would be their prisoner of honour. His smirk was infuriating, but it sure helped towards her latter predicament.

"What's the sudden curiosities with the Westerlings?" Jaime asked with a careless shrug. "They're fairly uninteresting as I recall,"

"If I had ever remarked that one of my father's bannermen were 'uninteresting', my father would surely have subjected me to history lessons and taught me himself until I knew everything I needed and had learnt the necessary respect that such people are due," she explained coldly.

"I thought you would have learnt by now that our fathers are vastly different men," Jaime pointed out, though his smile faltered slightly, becoming almost sad. He quickly righted himself, adjusting his position so he was sat up a little straighter. "It was an understatement, though. The Westerlings are very uninteresting. They might be one of the oldest houses in the west, but they haven't used that time to learn how to become decent gold miners. They're fairly poor, and even though they have the blood of the first men, they are frightfully dull. It is a fate worse than death to get caught with Gawen Westerling at a dinner party."

Gawen Westerling had been the man who'd looked fairly uninterested during the greetings that had taken place earlier, though he had also regarded her warily. He'd stared at her and somehow mastered a look that was uncaring yet intensely suspicious all in one. Somehow in those few minutes she had spent in his presence Eddmina had learnt she not only disliked him, she didn't care a great deal about him either.

It was his wife and his children she cared about.

"What about Lady Westerling? And their children?" Eddmina pushed, noting how Jaime tilted his head slightly as he looked at her, trying to figure out why she was so bothered. Knowing he wouldn't tell her anything without context, she made a simple lie as she said, "King Robb has captured the Crag. I simply want to know what our new prisoners are like."

That certainly caught his attention. He laughed, though the sound was a raspy choke, an obvious sign of him not drinking enough in his imprisonment. She realised then how poorly he had been kept, as he looked skinnier than he had been, his face looking tired and drawn, while his hair had grown darker and longer, falling in greasy clumps. He was not the glorious shining knight that had rode into Winterfell so long ago. Then again, she was not the young newlywed girl returning home for the first time anymore either. War had changed them both, and Eddmina thanked the gods for keeping her safe enough so that she did not decline as much as Jaime had. There was not much time to linger on that thought, not as she caught the expression of fearful disgust cross his face.

"I know you do not like me, but do not stick those new prisoners down here," Jaime practically begged, mustering up another laugh. "Least of all Lady Sybell. The boys I can stomach, they're just children, honourable fools who still believe in stories of white knights, their mother however..."

"She must be particularly difficult if even you cannot stand her," Eddmina noted, recalling the disgust she had so often felt in his presence. It had dulled considerably over time, though the sentiment still lingered. "What is wrong with her?"

"What is right with her?" Jaime laughed, then saw Eddmina's glare and knew not to joke. "I am certain she trapped Gawen into marriage somehow. Her own house, the Spicers, have no seat of their own, and the bitterness of that manifested into ambition. She could reach no further than the Westerlings, and so what he lacks in personality she makes up for tenfold. She'd do anything to shove one of their children on any other higher ranking house. She once offered that dull girl of hers to my uncle Kevan for his sons, and when he refused she offered her to Cersei for Joffrey."

Eddmina looked at him while his words settled in. There was a beat of silence, before Eddmina burst into laughter. She had not been able to help it, nor could she stop, and so she laughed until her chest hurt, until her jaw ached, until tears and streamed down her cheeks. Jaime Lannister looked at her as if she was a mad woman, and perhaps he was right. Thankfully Eddmina managed to sober herself before Jaime treated her the way he did the last mad person he was stuck with.

Still, the thought was bitterly amusing, like an ironic punch to the face. How convenient for Jeyne, turned down by one king, then wed to another. One way or another, Jeyne Westerling had ended up a Queen.

"How horrible, to end up with Lady Westerling as a by-law relation," she remarked, stifling a few more chuckles, though those ones felt a little more bitter than the absurd surreal amusement that had dominated her before. "The dull girl, that is Jeyne?"

"Yes," Jaime confirmed, still looking at her warily, as if her laughter had been unnerving. She seemed to unnerve him quite a bit, even if he did try to hide it. "The Westerlings have four children. Reynard and Rollam are the boys, and Jeyne and Eleyna are the girls. Nothing remarkable to report about any of them. The few times I've met them they didn't strike me as particularly interesting, Jeyne especially. She was a sweet girl, though I'm sure you've learnt how well sweet girls fare in our world."

Eddmina thought about Sansa, the sweetest person she knew. She thought about all the bruises that were slowly fading, and the scars that would most likely last a lifetime. Then she thought of how only the day before she had shot her first bullseye, and had squealed with delight, jumping up and down in celebration as Eddmina whooped and cheered. Hours later the two of them were laughing as Sansa scolded Eddmina for trodding on her toes yet again while she tried to teach her how best to twirl. Some sweet girls survived, they just had to adapt.

Jeyne was not Sansa though, that much was clear from their first meeting, even if it had been brief. Sansa, no matter how kind and gentle, had the north in her. She was as much a wolf as the rest of them, her recent circumstances bringing out the fierceness more than ever before. Robb's wife was naive, and obviously not experienced, but she had clearly won his favour somehow. Perhaps it was her innocence that had charmed him, or her kindness, or her beauty. It had been Talisa's beauty that had won him before, that and her intelligence, and Eddmina wondered how Jeyne compared.

Had he simply wed the girl just to spite his sister? Eddmina knew it was self-centred, but she couldn't help consider the idea. Had he simply found the exact opposite girl to the one he had fallen for before and settled for her, knowing she would be perfect in infuriating Eddmina? No, that was impossible. He had been upset with her, but not enough to throw away the whole war just to get back at her.

There had to be an explanation behind why he married Jeyne. It wouldn't change the facts, it wouldn't change the situation they were in. An explanation would not bring back the Freys, or have the Westerlings learn their place, or have Willas forgive Robb and have the two make amends, but it might make planning for the future a little easier. Eddmina couldn't help but hope that somehow Jaime had the information she needed to figure out what had happened with her brother, mostly because she did not want to speak to Robb at all.

"Why was Jeyne not approved for Joffrey then?" Eddmina asked. "Not blonde or inbred enough?"

"She was politely turned down simply because Cersei said so," Jaime shrugged, though there was far more he clearly wasn't telling her. Instead, he raised his eyebrow and offered he'd a smug look. "Meanwhile your sister was approved. Doesn't that feel wonderful?"

"It will feel wonderful when I see Joffrey's head separated from his body," she told him simply with a shrug of her own. "So, Jeyne. You don't think there's anything to be concerned about?"

"Jeyne Westerling is about as much a threat as I thought you were back in Winterfell," Jaime told her, his voice daring to sound like a joke. Eddmina narrowed her eyes, insisting he elaborate, and quickly. "I thought you'd have learnt not to overlook someone, considering plenty of people have overlooked you in your time. Jeyne Westerling might just be a sweet little girl who will get caught up in whatever mess her family gets roped into, just like your sister. Or, Jeyne might be her mother's daughter, just like you."

Eddmina didn't have the chance to wonder if he was insulting her and her mother in one low blow, not as she considered his other statement. If Jeyne was sweet, then that was fine. Perhaps she was sweet and kind, and would love Robb and serve him as a worthy consort. Perhaps with time she would grow bold and learn the northern grit, and would become beloved by the people she served as queen. Or, perhaps she would stay sweet, and instead the bards would love her and sing of the King in the North's kind little wife who loved him despite the troubles. No matter what, she would not pose an issue, or, no more issues than she had already caused.

Jeyne would only truly be a problem if she was like her mother. One brief meeting had told Eddmina everything she needed and wanted to know about Lady Westerling, and Jaime's account had only affirmed her instinct, but her meeting with Jeyne had not been enough. She needed time with her, alone, without Robb or any other Westerling, and only then could Eddmina figure out who her new goodsister truly was. If she understood the girl, planning for the future would be easier. If she understood Jeyne, forgiving Robb would be easier.

"You say your brother has seized the Crag?" Jaime asked, daring to change the conversation.

Even in the dim lighting, Eddmina could make out his frown, and how desperately he was trying to hide how much he wanted news, and how worried he was for his family. At the start of the war she had thought him uncaring and cocky. She had found him unbearably careless and selfish, and the honour her father had instilled in her made her feel utterly repelled by his seeming lack of morality. Yet, as the war had progressed, as she had felt herself shut off parts of herself and freeze her heart, as she had let herself be hardened and changed, as she spent more and more nights in his cell out of morbid curiosity and boredom, her opinion shifted.

People called him Kingslayer. They thought him dishonourable, a monster. People also called her 'Tywin with tits'. They thought her cold and calculating. Eddmina had started to believe them, until she was reminded how much more of her there was. War had made her cold, but Willas and Uther had made her love, and her sister had made her laugh. There were sides to her that men who merely glanced at her would never see, yet her reputation was encouraged by her every move. Perhaps the same was the case for Jaime, that he had made a few wrong moves and had been stuck with no choice but to maintain a persona, no matter how terrible it was or what people called him.

If she was a complex, contradictory being, then so was he. If she was more than the actions war had forced her to make, then so was he.

When she looked at him then, she wondered what sort of man he had been before he killed the mad king, or, what sort of boy he had been. He had been younger than her, after all, when he drove his sword into Aerys Targaryen's back. She wondered who he would have been, had he not condemned himself to a life of dishonour after that one kill.

"Why did you do it?" she couldn't help but ask, forgetting about his own question of the Crag. Not that it mattered anyway, he was her prisoner, she owed him nothing. He looked at her cluelessly. "Why did you kill the Mad King?"

"You're always very quick to tell me how you will kill Joffrey for what he did to your father," he began to explain, and Eddmina couldn't help but tighten her jaw at the mention of her father's execution, remembering how only a few nights before she and Sansa had discussed it all in the early hours, both of them struck by grief-induced insomnia. "Aerys told me to bring him my father's head. If I refused, I was sure he would have asked someone else."

"Your father is a monster," Eddmina couldn't help but point out, remembering the night of her Dornish visit where Oberyn cursed Tywin Lannister's name and plotted the revenge of his sister and her children.

"He is, but he's still my father," Jaime nodded, his agreement surprising her. "Surely you of all people understand how you can love your family regardless of their callousness or stupidity. Your brother, for one. You love him, despite knowing that he is an idiot to have left you behind here."

Eddmina felt a twinge of anger, but it died quickly when she saw Jeyne in her mind, remembering how the Western girl beamed at her twin. She imagined their wedding, a secret ceremony hidden from the disapproving bannermen, and she imagined Robb wrapping Jeyne in a grey cloak of wolves and snowflakes, reciting the names of gods that their house did not even follow. She imagined a wedding feast, less jolly than her own had been, and imagined how even if they hated their new queen, the northmen would have mustered some enthusiasm for a bedding ceremony, the one thing Willas had spared her from on their own wedding day. She didn't want to agree with Jaime, but she couldn't help it. If Robb had taken her with him on his Western campaign, such events would not have happened. If Robb had taken her with him, they would not be in the mess that he had landed them in. He would have remained unmarried until they visited the Twins for him to choose his bride, and Jeyne and her family may have ended up keeping the Kingslayer company as prisoners. It was cruel, but in agreeing with Jaime, Eddmina knew their lives would be much simpler.

Eddmina wanted to storm off and leave him, knowing how much she had to do. She wanted to summon Jeyne for lunch. She wanted to get to know the girl she was meant to call sister and queen, and even if it felt mean, she wanted to trick her into thinking that they were friends. Only then would she get to know what was really happening, and then she could figure out what to do next. She knew how necessary it all was, yet she remained sat next to Jaime Lannister.

His company was not particularly enjoyable, but curiosity was eating away at her. He had spoken of the Mad King, and a dozen more questions were swirling around her mind. One question in particular was practically screaming at her, and even as she knotted her fingers together to distract herself from the whirlpool of her thoughts, she knew she could not resist.

"I have another question," she stated before she could stop herself, before the burning shame took over. As if to compensate, she sat up straighter, forcing herself to be taller than him as he was slumped down. "You we're there, when my Uncle Brandon and my Grandfather Rickard died. You watched it happen. What... How..."

It was unlike her to be unable to find the right words. It was unlike her to speak when feeling uncertain. She had thought her words ready and prepared, but as soon as she spoke her Uncle's name, she thought of her father, and the time she found him in the crypts knelt by his brother and sister. As soon as she spoke her Uncle's name, she thought of her own brothers, and how she was now the same as her father, a sibling of a broken pack, left behind and torn from the rest. She had always wanted to be like her father, but the sudden comparison was enough to steal her senses and her words. Her stomach churned for a moment, and she resisted the urge of placing her hand against it.

"Your father never told you?" Jaime asked, genuinely surprised and thankfully not drawing attention to her speechlessness. "I do not think it is the sort of story to be told to young ladies. You may just faint from the shock, and then what will happen? The guards will find you rotting down here right next to me, and I wouldn't want your husband and his family to think we were conducting ourselves in some sort of affair."

"Do I strike you as the sort of woman who faints?" She narrowed her eyes furiously, ignoring the way he spoke of the Tyrells. "Tell me. Please."

"Do you know how many Tyrell's and Hightowers were also present at court that day?" Jaime pointed out, clearly trying to find any excuse out of telling her the tale. Eddmina merely stared at him blankly. "Your husband can tell you, surely he is useful for something, other than falling off horses and boring men to tears with tales of wildlife."

She knew why he had said it. She knew he was trying to make her so angry she would storm off and leave him not needing to talk. She knew, yet still felt fury course through her. She forced it away quickly, and kept her gaze focused on him.

"You insult Willas one more time and he will tell me what happened, simply because you will not have a tongue to tell me," she explained coldly, making sure he saw his her hand moved to her belt, her fist clenching around the hilt of the dagger resting at her hip. "Final chance."

"Your Uncle was vastly different from your father, I barely knew either of them but anyone could tell you that," Jaime began, a look glazing over his eyes as he recalled the past. Deep inside, Eddmina felt an ache, knowing that if things had been different, her Uncle Brandon would have been her friend, just the way her Uncle Benjen was. "He was bold and brash, and that was what got him killed. As I remember he was on the way to the Riverlands for his wedding when he heard that Prince Rhaegar had taken his sister and ridden off with her into nowhere, and if he had stopped and thought his actions through he could have settled things easier and still ended up married to your mother. Instead he rode straight down to the capital and stormed the Red Keep, calling for Rhaegar to 'come out and die'. Not a bright man, was he?"

'Maybe not, or maybe he was just an eldest sibling who would do anything to protect his family,' Eddmina thought, the idea sounding a little too familiar.

"Your grandfather was summoned to answer for his son's crimes, and when Aerys demanded a trial for their treasons, Rickard Stark asked for a trial by combat," Jaime continued when Eddmina remained silent, still fiddling with her fingers. "He was to represent himself, but Aerys chose fire as his champion, and so your grandfather was suspended from the rafters of the throne room, the pyromancers lit a fire beneath him, and the whole court watched as he burned alive in his own armour. Your uncle watched too, of course, but there was not much he could do. Aerys had him chained just below, with a rope around his neck, and his sword just out of reach. He strangled himself trying to get to his sword to cut himself and his father free. A year later I put my own sword through the King's back."

Unsure of how to feel, Eddmina merely stared at the floor. She hadn't known what to expect, but that wasn't it, and very quickly her father's silence towards the matter made sense. His refusal to talk about their deaths, his short responses when asked about his siblings, his dislike for going south, it all made sense. She thought about all the nights she heard her own siblings' screams in her dreams, recalled all the nightmares where she saw Bran and Rickon die and saw Sansa's tortures, and she knew she had never understood her father more.

Asking Jaime to tell her all of that was a betrayal to her father. He had wanted her to not know for a reason, to hide her from the truth that haunted over him. Eddmina wished she had not asked, simply so she didn't feel the guilt of her lack of loyalty to her father's memory. That, and she knew she would spend that night tossing and turning, forced to listen to her uncle's strangled cries, and her grandfather's screams of agony.

She realised she needed to be sick again, but knew it was impossible without proving Jaime right and making herself seem weak. She forced the urge away, desperate to ignore that her sickness was not simply disgust for the story he had told, and thankfully the grief-driven anger took over. Was that truly how her family had been killed, in such a barbaric, evil way? Both men had been strong, and yet they had been destroyed so brutally. Eddmina felt a twisting ache in her heart, imagining how scared her uncle must have been to see his father in such agony. His last action was to attempt to save them both, an attempt that forced him into killing himself. It was sickening and heartbreaking, and to think that he had done it with an audience only fueled her anger.

"You stood and watched," she said simply, imagining him in his golden armour of the King's Guard, an order her little brother had once wanted to belong to. "You watched and let them die."

"So did the rest of the court," Jaime shrugged again. "At least a thousand people stood and watched, and none of them dared do a thing."

"I'm glad you killed him," she said before she could stop herself. "I'm glad he is dead. He was an evil man. You are not."

Eddmina hated herself for saying it, disgusted that she would offer such a statement to the man who had nearly killed her little brother. She could barely settle her insides enough before, but the thought that her words had implied forgiveness to such a man had her stomach churning again, and she got to her feet quickly. She had no time for farewell, no time to turn back as he called her name and asked for her to return, not as she ran out of the cellar-turned-prisoncell, desperate to find the nearest privy.

There was far too much swirling around her mind, and not even the cold silence the privy provided for her was enough to calm her down. She shouldn't have asked about her Uncle and her Grandfather, she should have just focused on the Westerlings, but even his words about them had her reeling. For a moment, she felt the sudden urge to run to the stores where the alcohol was kept, desperate for the peace her binge-drinking had provided, but she quickly told herself that was out of the question as she heaved. It had been a terrible coping mechanism, and definitely not one she could fall back into, not if her suspicions were right, knowing it would simply cause more harm than good.

Instead, she forced herself to contend with everything she had learnt, forced herself to think through the entire conversation and everything Jaime Lannister had told her. She did that until she had nothing else to think about, until her mind fell silent and the pressure in her chest loosened, and only then did she feel a little calmer. That was when she allowed herself to think of Willas, the man she had refused to think of all day, deciding that his fury would have been too much of a painful distraction for her.

He had been angry about Jeyne and the Westerlings. He had been furious at the dishonour such a marriage had caused, especially to Eddmina. Eddmina usually hated her husband's temper, hated the things it made him do, but she was almost flattered that his temper had driven him to such extents to defend her honour. He had struck a king to protect her, and Eddmina was surprised to realise that she didn't care that the King just so happened to be her brother. Willas had loved her enough to be driven to such mad carelessness, and while she wanted to hate it, wanted to want him to always be the kind, calm man she knew he usually was, she couldn't help but smile a little. He loved her, he took pride in her, and he would defend her however possible. He had hit her brother, but Eddmina couldn't help but admire the strength and blind love that had driven him to such action.

He had, however, proclaimed that they would be leaving, and while she wanted to agree, she knew it was impossible. He had made that decision bluntly and without consulting her, and though she wanted to run as far away from the Westerlings as possible to get her family to safety from the Lannisters, she could not leave Robb like that. He might have insulted her by forgetting all of her sacrifices, but there was an explanation behind it all, and he was her twin. It didn't matter what he had done, Eddmina couldn't leave him in the claws of the Westerlings.

Eddmina didn't mind following Willas' lead. She didn't mind letting him take charge and order them to return to the Reach, but she had work to do first. That was why, as soon as she felt well enough to leave the privy, Eddmina asked her guards to find Jeyne and invite her to lunch.

***

"I groomed my horse just last night, you know," Garlan's voice called from outside the stall as he entered the stable. The fact he knew exactly where to find him made Willas sigh and curse under his breath.

Still, his frustration was not with his brother's horse, a fine stallion he had reared himself, and so he continued combing through the animal's mane. He had already picked the horseshoes clean, and scrubbed the mud away from the horse's usually shining-gold coat. When Willas had gifted the horse to his brother four namedays before, Garlan had named him Silver, just to be ironic. It had made them all laugh and roll their eyes, none of them expecting the horse to be the animal that carried the second Tyrell off into war.

"Clearly not well enough, there are tangles in his hair," Willas pointed out through gritted teeth.

Garlan said nothing else as he opened the door to the stall, latching it behind himself as he leant against the half-door, watching as his brother worked. The stables, the aviary, and the kennels had always been Willas' refuge, and it didn't matter that they weren't in Highgarden. It didn't matter that they were so far from home and in the middle of a war. It didn't matter that they were not boys anymore, or that they were both meant to be grown men with families of their own. It turned out, when a crisis hit, Willas coped the way he always did; burying his feelings into his animals, pretending that he was not battling with himself and his emotions. Marrying a northern girl, becoming a father, living through a war, all of it had changed Willas a great deal, but as he stood in the stall refusing to look at him as he tended to the horse, Garlan realised that, at his core, Willas was still the same man, still the same boy. If the circumstances were different, he would have almost enjoyed the revelation.

Rather than staying quiet and watching, Garlan retrieved a comb himself, and began working on Silver's tail. As he braided it with inexperienced hands, he couldn't help but remember all the times Leonette had plaited the horse's tail in an attempt to teach him how to do it. She had remarked that it would be good practice for if they ever had any daughters, but he knew she had enjoyed it, otherwise she might not have tied such pretty ribbons into the horse's hair. They had been simple, unimportant memories, but suddenly they felt bittersweet, and the lack of his wife stung more than any of his wartime injuries.

Both brothers worked in silence, not looking at each other, at least until they had done everything and Silver looked pristine. Willas clearly still wanted to avoid talking as he fiddled around with the tac box, reorganising the grooming equipment he had been using. His dedication to avoiding the obvious conversation they were inevitably going to have made Garlan snort out a laugh, which made his elder brother glare up at him.

"Shall we just get on with it?" Garlan suggested with a shrug. Willas rolled his eyes stubbornly. "I must say, you do have an impressive punch. It will leave quite a mark, I'm sure."

"Are you capable of talking not through jests and having a real conversation?" Willas snapped, spinning to face his brother properly. By the look on his face he immediately regretted his harshness.

"You sound like father," Garlan pointed out dryly with raised eyebrows. "Don't shout at me. Your issue isn't with me."

"No, my issue is that I have made a mess of things, and now my wife will never forgive me for what I've done," Willas explained, still seething, but when he flopped back into the stool behind him that he'd placed there for dealing with Silver's hooves, he let out a long sigh, instantly deflating. His head fell in his hands, and as one hand ran through his hair, the other pinched at the bridge of his nose, his eyes screwed shut. "I should not have hit him. That was foolish. It was possibly one of the stupidest things I've ever done."

"I don't know, can't you remember when you accidentally shaved your eyebrow off when you were twelve?" Garlan shrugged, moving from the back of the stall to sit on the floor at the side of Willas' stool. Willas remained as he was, and didn't look at his brother. "And for what, to clear away some stray hairs that only grew back worse? Grandmother called you a half-pruned rose for weeks, Loras couldn't look at you without bursting into laughter until it grew back. Father made you take proper lessons in shaving, mother made you style your hair over the damage and cried everytime the wind moved it and reminded her how terrible it looked."

The brothers looked at each other, and while Willas was still deathly serious, Garlan was wearing a faint nostalgic smile. Willas couldn't muster the same amusement to their childhood, not as he remembered how horrified his family had been at the sudden drastic change of his appearance. It felt bitterly ironic, given what happened to him almost four years later; a shaven eyebrow was nothing compared to a mangled leg.

"All I'm saying is, that was stupid, defending your wife's honour was not stupid," Garlan continued, elbowing Willas in the side. "The way you went about it probably wasn't the best, but in truth I do not think Edda minded."

"I punched her twin brother, her last living full-blooded brother, I spoke on her behalf, I withdrew our support from his cause without even consulting her, what about any of that suggests to you that Mina will not hate me?" Willas listed off, his voice laced with embarrassed frustration. He sighed again. "I saw how the Westerlings looked at me and I did not care, but I saw how they looked at her, how they looked down at her and spoke to her as if she was some simple child and not at all the remarkable force of nature we know her to be. It was a dishonour to the Freys, what Robb has done, but it is a greater dishonour to Eddmina, and I know what she is like. I know she will try and negotiate and find an excuse for it, because she loves and cares for her family more than she does herself, especially Robb. Her love for them makes her blind sometimes, and I could not bare it any longer. I couldn't bare knowing how much we have all sacrificed for this cause, and Robb had acted without thought. I knew Eddmina would just work to clean up his errors without complaint, the way she always does, and I could not bare it."

"I told him not to marry her, but he felt as though he had no choice," Garlan explained with a sigh of his own. "When he tells you what happened, you will understand, but I know it doesn't make up for the whole mess. He was terrified for Eddmina and Lady Stark to find out. All he said to me the entire journey home was 'what will Edda say?'"

"Terror didn't stop him though, did it," Willas pointed out, too tired to feel angry again. "I do not want to leave, not truly. I care about this cause, I do, and I want us to reach an end where we are the victors, but I cannot let Mina continue to work herself to oblivion when her efforts are not recognised or appreciated. I cannot let Uther continue to grow up in this environment. I don't want Sansa-"

Willas cut himself off then, realisation running through him like an electric shock. That was only enhanced the moment he saw his brother's deep frown of confusion. He didn't blame him, as the last he knew Sansa was a hostage in King's Landing.

Garlan still didn't know. More importantly, Robb still didn't know.

"Gods," Willas breathed out, and the thought of his goodsister was enough to make him forget his exhaustion and frustration. It was almost enough to make him smile. "One of our cousins is visiting Riverrun. Lady Alyce Hightower."

"We don't have a cousin called Alyce," Garlan frowned obliviously.

"We do now, and she bares a striking yet coincidental likeness to Sansa Stark, who has also coincidentally disappeared from the capital without a trace," Willas explained vaguely, and though it took Garlan a moment, his frown loosened into an expression of surprised joy. Both brothers shared a smile, and a laugh of disbelief. "The Hound returned her to us, of all people."

"Well, seven hells, that's an unexpected twist of fate, isn't it?" Garlan exclaimed, laughing in disbelief. Garlan had always been fond of Eddmina's sisters, and Willas remembered how he had happily danced with Sansa multiple times at their wedding, and even at the feast in Winterfell to cheer her up after the youngest Stark girl had flicked potato into her hair. "Is she well? And what of Arya?"

"Sansa is healing, the Lannisters left more mental scars than physical, but she has been remarkably brave, and it has done Mina good to have her sister home," Willas spoke. "As for Arya, we still don't know. Sansa told us she disappeared just after King Robert died. She was always a courageous little thing, and we have been lucky to have Sansa back, but... I doubt the gods will be kind enough to give them both back."

"Bran and Rickon too," Garlan sighed with a wince, and for once there was no trace of amusement in his voice, sounding deflated in disbelief that this was what their lives had become. "I don't know how Robb and Edda have done it, how they've coped. I know we are all caught in this war, but at least our family has been untouched for the most part, save Renly, the poor fool. If something were to happen to you, or Margie and Loras... I don't know what I would become, but Edd and Robb have lost their father, and three of their siblings. They were children too, they hadn't done anything. How do you go on after losses like that?"

"I would rather not find out," Willas muttered grimly, knowing the only way he would find out where his wife's strength came from would be if he was put in her position.

"What a shit world we live in," Garlan summarised after a long silence. Willas could do nothing but nod in agreement.

They sat like that for a while, longer than either of them really intended. The silence was peaceful, and the company even more so. Willas had hardly realised how much he had missed Garlan, having far too much to contend with since his departure. It was only upon his return that he felt a weight lifted off him, as if part of him had been restored. It had felt like an itch deep inside that he could hardly reach, and upon having his little brother back at his side, the sensation subsided, and he could think straight again.

Or, he could think straighter, at least. It was only sitting and talking with Garlan that drew his attention to the other niggling itches in his brain, the ones he had suppressed and ignored until he had almost forgotten them. His parents, his grandmother, Margaery, Loras, Leonette. The Tyrell cousins. The Hightower cousins. Countless Aunts and Uncles. He had grown up surrounded by such a large family, so vast it spread out across most of the South, and it was only then then that he realised just how lonely he was. He had his own little family, and they were certainly a consolation, but he was also surrounded by northmen who tolerated rather than liked him, while the people he grew up around were far, far away. He had barely registered how much he had missed his family, but upon his mind setting on that path, he realised how incomplete he felt.

Perhaps that was how Eddmina felt too. He wasn't too sure, as she hardly talked about Winterfell and her lost siblings with him, except in the dead of night as she escaped the clutches of nightmares, but he was sure that the sensation of being fragmented was something she felt too. He had hardly realised they had that in common, but upon that realisation he knew he wanted to take her home more than ever.

"If I stay true to my word, if Mina and I leave tonight..." he began, running his hands through his curls once more as he thought, his head aching.

"I will leave with you," Garlan vowed. "I love Robb. I have put my life on the line for him, I would follow him into any battle, but you are my brother. Damn you, you're my future liege lord. You say the word, and we will take the few guards we have and go home. I for one wouldn't mind, my wife even more so, I'm sure."

"I just worry that..." Willas sighed, not knowing what to say, or how to say what he thought without it sounding cruel. "If we leave, if we withdraw support... What will happen to Robb? What will happen to the north?"

Garlan didn't answer. His silence instead spoke more then his words ever could, and that told Willas all he needed to know.

"Do you ever wish we were all a little bit more Dornish?" Garlan blurted out after another long silence. Willas didn't have a clue what he meant, but when it dawned on him he felt sick. "I simply mean, if we followed their customs of inheritance and monarchy... I doubt we would be in this mess."

"Mina wouldn't want it," Willas said quickly, swallowing nervously.

"Wouldn't she?" Garlan raised his eyebrows. "Or does she simply not want it because she was taught not to? You can't want something you've always been told wasn't yours to ever want."

"She wouldn't want it," Willas repeated, his voice significantly firmer. He cleared his throat, regaining his composure. "Robb is a fine enough king."

"Your right hook would say you think otherwise," Garlan pointed out sarcastically, laughing as his brother groaned, his head falling back into his hands. "You are right though. He's a good king, and a good man. He loves Edd more than anything. His recent actions don't really prove any of that, of course, but there is still time for him to rectify those mistakes."

Neither one said it, but they were both praying that was the case. Their lives depended on it, after all.

***

Spending time with Sansa made Eddmina feel whole, it made her feel as close to happy as one could be in the middle of a war, and given the morning she had suffered, the time with her sister was all the more appreciated. Even if it was time spent in her study, even if it was to kill time while her handmaidens organised afternoon tea for herself and the new Queen, even if it meant having to explain the entire situation to Sansa, the time was still precious.

She hadn't told Sansa everything though. Eddmina decided to omit the detail of her husband punching their brother, simply because she was too tired to think about it herself, and knew it would cause far too many questions. Sansa already had plenty of questions.

"Why has he married some other woman?" Sansa frowned as she sat cross-legged on the floor, an embroidery hoop on her lap. Eddmina was sat at her desk, studying the notes she had made before Robb rode west. "You said he was betrothed to a Frey girl, him and Arya both."

"He was," Eddmina nodded, suppressing a sigh. She flicked through the pages she had written about the Crag, and picked up her quill, beginning to scribble down the details that Jaime Lannister had told her. "I do not know yet why he broke his vow."

"At least that means Arya will not have to marry a Frey either," Sansa muttered but quickly remembered herself and looked up at her sister regretfully. "I'm sorry, I mean, if she were here, if she was still-"

"I had the exact same thought, don't worry," Eddmina offered her sister what she thought was a reassuring smile, but it felt sadder and more forced than she intended. "If it was any other circumstance, I would understand, I would try and negotiate, but Walder Frey was not an easy man to settle deals with. If we were not at war, I would not have made those betrothals to begin with."

"Why?" Sansa frowned again, though glanced down at her work as her needle pierced through the fabric, making yet another stitch. Eddmina wanted to ask whst she was seeing, but decided it was unimportant. "They would have had to marry at some point. The Freys are bannermen to the Tullys. There have been worse deals made."

"When I married Willas, father asked me before we went to the sept if it was truly what I wanted," Eddmina began to explain, remembering that morning in Highgarden and how desperate she had felt to not disappoint anyone; What had happened to that scared, cautious girl? "He said if I didn't want to do it, if it really was against my wishes, he would help me find a way out of it. I told him I liked Will and I was sure he would be a fine husband, but he offered to help me all the same. I always thought how brave that was, to tell me he would help me and put my happiness above duty and vows, but I know if I had married Willas and our lives depended on it for a cause, I would not have been given that offer. I'm trying to figure out what Father would make of Robb's situation."

"He would be disappointed," Sansa stated bluntly, her candor shocking both of them. Eddmina set her notes aside, and Sansa put her embroidery down, getting up and walking to her sister's desk, sitting on the chair opposite. "Father could see the sort of man Joffrey was becoming, yet he never once broke off our betrothal. I think he thought Joffrey could be taught and shown how to behave, but he also knew to put a stop to the match would mean breaking a vow, and that would be dishonourable."

If their father had expected Sansa to put up with a monster in the name of duty, then he would have expected Robb to do his duty for the cause of war. The fact that Sansa had been the one to point it out hurt more, and Eddmina couldn't help but think of all the cruelty she had faced in the name of duty. She had put up with so much and remained respectable and the dutiful good little lady she was expected to be. She had dealt with so much, and Robb had caved from his duty upon his first opportunity.

Eddmina wanted to try and understand Robb. It was in her nature, it was all part of being a twin. Yet, one look at Sansa as she tried not to look bitterly melancholic, Eddmina knew there was no excuse for Robb's behaviour.

"Would you like to come to Highgarden?" Eddmina asked, and Sansa was immediately bewildered. A few years previous and the same offer would have had her in joyous tears, while instead she was frowning, her lips parted as she tried to figure out why she would be going to the Reach. "Willas was... unhappy, with Robb's choice. He suggested that we go home, but I will not leave without you, or your blessing."

"If it is what your husband wants," Sansa began, immediately falling onto custom and tradition, though cut herself off when she saw Eddmina's raised eyebrow. "Would you really leave? Would you want to?"

"It feels cowardly and dishonourable, I doubt father would be pleased with such a decision, but..." Eddmina felt as though she was thinking aloud, weighing up her options before she trailed off.

"But there is already so much about our lives that father would be displeased about," Sansa finished, and Eddmina nodded in agreement.

Their father had taught them honour and duty. Most of Eddmina's childhood memories of him usually routed back to some sort of lesson in morality. She had tried her best to live up to his expectations, tried to live by his example, yet there was a rather large fault in that standard. Their father was dead, and if they all lived with his actions and beliefs, Eddmina was scared she would join him. 

"His honour was our father's greatest quality, but it was his downfall," Eddmina decided, hating herself for speaking of the greatest man she knew in a negative way. "He had a remarkable sense of duty, but in that forgot that the rest of the world does not live by the same moral code."

She had spent her entire life wanting to be like him. She had ridden off to war to try to save him, and continued to fight to avenge him. She had lived by his morality in the hopes of making him proud, yet where had that gotten her? She had instead become like him in unexpected ways, inheriting duties that were not meant to be hers by birthright, losing a parent, losing siblings, all while having to still fight and put on a good front for the people who relied on her. She was already so alike to him, she would not tempt fate by putting her life at risk too.

'Not if the suspicions are true,' she thought against her will. 'Putting myself at risk means putting them at risk too. It hasn't been fair on Uther, to make another child live under such conditions is cruel'.

"I don't want to, but..." Eddmina began, nerves swirling in her. She fought the urge to touch her stomach, staring at the desk as she plucked up the courage to look at Sansa directly. When she did, she saw her little sister's concern. "Sansa... I have something I need to tell you, but you cannot tell anyone. Not mother, not Robb, certainly not Willas. I have reason to believe that-"

When a knock at the study door interrupted her, Eddmina wanted to scream every curse word she knew. Sansa jumped, so invested in her sister's words that she had forgotten how busy Riverrun had become. It had taken a lot of guts to bring herself to almost say the words she was scared to even think, so when Eddmina's handmaiden opened the door and smiled politely at them both, she felt disappointment settle over her, and wanted nothing more than to flee the scene. Even so, she smiled back at the handmaiden.

"Princess," she called from the doorway. They had given up curtsying to her, but always insisted on titles. "Your guest is waiting for you in your solar, as requested."

"Thank you," Eddmina smiled. "And is she alone? Her mother isn't with her?"

"No, Princess, and we've kept watch over her to make sure she hasn't snooped over anything," the handmaiden replied loyally. Eddmina couldn't help but smile.

"Good," she nodded, before looking back at her sister as she rose from her seat. Sansa was trying not to show her own disappointment, but it was clear she hated the suspense Eddmina was leaving her with. "Will you go back to your room? I don't want any of the Westerlings to see you."

"I don't want to see them," she agreed, very unladylike to the point that Eddmina couldn't help but smirk. "I have had enough Westerners to last a lifetime."

The sisters parted ways, as Sansa went off to her chambers, her embroidery under her arm, while Eddmina began to steel herself, preparing her best courtesies and southern-speak. Suddenly she was grateful for all the practice living in the south had given her, as she knew she wold have to play a game with Jeyne to figure out who she truly was.

It didn't matter if she was intending on leaving. It didn't matter if she felt selfish for wanting to go home. She had been selfless enough for long enough, yet she could not leave Robb without knowing what he had gotten himself into. She could not leave without first making sure he was safe. She owed him that much, as his Hand, as his sister.

***

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