"I am so glad to see you," Willas breathed out as he embraced Sansa, trying not to let his voice shake as relief and shock coursed through him. "Are you..."

He didn't know how to ask if she was alright, because he knew the answer would be surely be negative, and he didn't want to force her into being polite and lying. Instead, he let go of her, and stepped away, taking hold of her hand as he looked her up and down. She wasn't the same girl he had said goodbye to in Winterfell, that was for sure. The Sansa he had waved farewell to on the King's Road had been young and innocent, her eyes shining with naïve joy and a lifetime's worth of dreams.

A few years in the capital had robbed her of that shine. She appeared older, far older than her ten-and-five years. She looked tired, and dirty too from her long journey, but she was alive, which was the main thing. Even so, he couldn't ignore that there was a cut on her lip, and a fading bruise just under her eye, and though he wasn't sure due to the poor lighting of the store room, he thought he could see faint bruises near the edges of her sleeves, as if someone had taken great care to make sure any harm done to her was easy to hide. Those marks sickened him more than the bruise on her eye, more than if her face was completely black and blue, and if he hadn't have been working so hard on maintaining his composure, his grip on his temper might've slipped as he realised all the nights his wife dreamt of his sister in King's Landing, her dreams were not exaggerated.

"Lord Willas, it is good to see you too," Sansa spoke, a little uncertainly, though she at least managed a smile.

She sounded like someone who had relied on formalities for too long, someone who had perfected the art of saying exactly was was necessary and what was polite at court in order to survive. For a moment Willas was reminded of Eddmina when they first met, when they hardly knew each other, and she had spoken formally and said exactly what she had been taught a betrothed would expect and want her to say. The similarities between the girls stung a little, especially when he realised he'd never once thought how alike they were.

Sansa had no doubt expected to be greeted by her mother, or her brother or sister. Compared to the Starks, Willas knew he was a disappointing reunion, especially given the war and the fact she had spent years surrounded by malicious strangers. If Eddmina's nightmares were anything to go off, the fact Sansa was trembling slightly was understandable, as was her formality, but he loved her, and the protective instinct he usually felt for Margaery and Leonette took over.

"Please, don't call me 'Lord', no formalities, please, we're family," he spoke kindly, remembering the girl she'd been the last time he'd seen her, the one who blushed anytime he spoke to her, the one who clearly had an infatuation with his youngest brother. That girl was a ghost in the shell of the person who stood before him. "I didn't think we'd ever see you again. We heard of the riots and all thought the worst. Mina and your mother will be so happy to see you."

At the mention of them a faint smile threatened to overtake and her eyes shone with unshed tears, though his omission of Robb's name didn't go unnoticed. Sansa looked like she had at least a thousand questions but looked too overwhelmed to ask them. Honour nudged her snout into the girl's hand, as if reminding her that she was there, and Sansa immediately knelt again, stroking her hands through the Wolf's thick fur. Willas remembered Lady with a stabbing ache in his gut, and wondered when the last time Sansa felt truly safe was, when she last felt as if she had a protector.

He took the opportunity to glance around to Brynden who had remained in the doorway, watching them cautiously. Willas gave him a nod, one he hoped the Blackfish would understand. He nodded back, the two of them silently confirming that the Stark women needed to be summoned.

"Go find the Princess and Lady Stark," Brynden muttered to the guards nearest to him, who immediately marched off.

Brynden came into the room then, and while he offered Sansa a kind, welcoming smile, he turned his focus onto the other figure in the room, stood off in the shadows of the corner. Willas cursed himself for not even noticing there was someone else there with them, but Brynden had, and he regarded them coldly, his hand on the hilt of the sword on his belt.

"Very kind of you to return my niece home, Clegane," Brynden addressed their visitor. "I doubt your King was pleased to part with her."

At the mention of the King, Sansa flinched, though tried to hide the gesture in her affections to Honour. Willas clenched his jaw, and watched as the large man with a half-melted face stepped out of the shadows and squared up to Brynden, his expression bitter with contempt. He was the last person Willas had expected to see, and though the thought of him being the one to return Sansa to them was a shock, he couldn't help but recall the sour, vile man he had been in Winterfell, and he barely noticed himself step closer to Sansa, putting himself inbetween his wife's little sister and the Hound.

"Fuck the king," Clegane growled. "And I did it out of more than just kindness. Where's your King in the North? Or the Lord of Riverrun?"

"King Robb is currently away fighting, as is Lord Edmure," Willas explained, then remembered how Edmure had marched off with his own men in pursuit of the Mountain. "Fighting your brother, I believe."

"He could be fucking him for all I care, though that's more your brother's interests, isn't it, the knight of the fucking flowers," the Hound spat, turning his glare to Willas, who clenched his jaw and tried to stop his anger from showing. "If they're away, who can pay me my ransom? Who's in charge here?"

"That would be me," a quiet voice called from the doorway, and they all turned to see Eddmina.

She was a picture of authority as she stood in the entrance, even if she was holding Uther on her hip and the little boy kept tugging at her hair. She kept her face stoic, despite the fact she glanced down to Sansa and it was obvious she wanted to cry at the sight of her little sister. Willas was sure he was the only person there to notice how his wife was trembling ever so slightly, as well as how she seemed to be forcing herself to breathe. She seemed to be battling every urge to give into her emotions, something he had seen her do a hundred times, yet this time seemed like a true war inside herself. She took a moment to look at Sansa with an expression that spoke of absolute adoration and relief, and though she allowed herself a smile, she did not allow herself the tears she clearly found difficult to reserve.

That expression of emotion lasted barely a second, because it didn't matter how shocked she was, or how relieved and overjoyed. The Hound had called for the person in charge, and that meant she couldn't just be the elated, protective eldest sister. Instead, she had to be the Princess, the Hand of the King, the honorary Lady of Riverrun.

Lady Stark, who was stood just behind her, did not have to stick to such conditions. One glimpse at the red headed girl huddled on the floor with Honour and Lady Stark let out a sob. She quickly bolted across the room, dropping to her knees and enveloping Sansa into her arms, pushing a thousand kisses to the girl's head as the two of them dissolved into tears. He could hear them blurting out mumbled greetings and apologies, as well as affirmations of love, and while it was sweetly heartwrenching to watch, Willas couldn't. He couldn't look anywhere but his wife, knowing how desperate she was to join them on the floor, especially as Honour trotted over to her with a wagging tail.

Business needed to be attended to first though, and so when she crossed the room to Willas' side, she gave him a serious nod, and handed Uther over to him. He wanted to kiss her, he wanted to sweep her into his arms and laugh at the wonderful turn of events. He wanted to take the three Stark women far away and just celebrate the joy of the moment, but he knew they would get their chance for such emotions. At that point in time though, he had to allow her to just be the Princess, and he had to not get carried away in how much he loved his wife as she made herself into a figure of power.

"Here, my boy, go to your father," she whispered to Uther, stroking his hair and cracking a faint flicker of a smile in Willas' direction before she turned her attention back to the Hound, moving to stand with her Uncle. "I am currently acting as the King in the North's representative. Any business you want dealt with can be dealt with by myself. Now, you'll tell me just what you're doing with my sister, and what it is that you want."

"I want as much gold as you can give me," he replied gruffly, staring down at her, though the way Eddmina squared her shoulders and maintained her posture she almost appeared as tall as him, as impossible as that was.

"Why?" she asked, coldly. "When we saw you last you were trailing after Joffrey, doing whatever he bid you without even blinking. You served Joffrey loyally, and now you're just handing his betrothed over to us for gold? What happened to your devotion?"

"You try staying devoted to a prick like that who has little girls beaten for his amusement," he spat at her, and the vile bitterness he spoke with made Willas want to storm to his wife's side. He wasn't sure how she didn't flinch, especially as she glanced down to her sister and recalled all her nightmares of Sansa's torments, but she looked up at him and met his gaze once more as if he hadn't spoken of such evil. "I've been wanting out for a while. The riots happened, I saw my chance and I took it, except it's a difficult fucking world to live in if you've got no money."

"And I trust you've not hurt her?" Eddmina asked protectively, clearly struggling to keep eye contact and not look at Sansa, who was still huddled in Lady Stark's arms.

"Why the fuck would I do that?" he laughed at her as if she was stupid.

Willas clenched his jaw once more, and looked at the ceiling, fighting against the urge to swear and jump to his wife's defence. Honour didn't have the same restraint, not as the wolf let out a low grumble, her lips flicking away from her teeth for a fraction of a second, long enough to show off the fangs that she had previously been using to tear into roast chicken carcasses, long enough to defend Eddmina against the Hound's insults. She placed her hand on Honour's head, and the two made a rather startling pair, looking as if they were two parts of the same soul. Willas knew that if he was a stranger he would find the sight unnerving, and even for a man such as Sandor Clegane, it did not sit comfortably.

"The bruises are from the riots, and..." Sansa spoke up, looking at her sister with a wary look, and the two looked at each other with their matching Tully eyes, speaking more than a thosand words in silence.

"Joffrey?" Eddmina finished her sister's train of thought, swallowing back her anger when Sansa nodded. Lady Stark tightened her hold on her middle daughter, though Sansa never looked away from Eddmina.

"Sandor helped shield me from the worst of his blows, not like the other King's Guards," Sansa explained, her voice hesitant at first until she found some strength. It was admirable and remarkable, and as Eddmina watched her, Willas saw guilt and pride settle in his wife's eyes all at once. "When the riots happened, I... I fled from the King thinking he would face the worst, but I was followed down an alley and..."

"You do not need to speak of it," Lady Stark cut in, and Willas wondered if she was protecting Sansa from having to speak of her traumas, or if she was saving herself from having to hear of her daughter's struggles.

"Had it not been for him, I would be dead," Sansa concluded anyway, looking hardened and determined.

Eddmina looked at her sister, and Willas watched as his wife forced herself to breathe again. Had he not been holding Uther, had he not known he needed to keep his distance to allow her to appear strong, he would have taken her hand. He would have done anything he could to reassure her that her guilt was unfounded, because he knew the elder sibling instinct had taken over and she was battling the crippling guilt that not only had she not been able to protect her from such pain and danger, she had not been the one to save her. As Willas glanced at Sansa, he saw her wear a look he had seen on Eddmina's face so many times, the look of ladylike bravery and need to continue despite the odds. He felt foolish for not thinking it before, not as Eddmina and her youngest sister seemed to be the ones who where most obviously brave, but perhaps Sansa was the strongest of the pack of Stark sisters.

Forcing her emotions away once more, Eddmina looked to her Uncle, as if asking him what to do. Brynden, however, merely shrugged, gesturing for her to take the lead. She swallowed, as if attempting to abandon her nerves, and Willas wondered what she was thinking. He was usually able to read her rather well, but in that moment, he was clueless as to what was happening in her mind. He wondered if she was trying to think about her brother, and what he would make to it all, or if she was trying to think of what her father would do if he was in her situation. Either way, she took a deep breath, and turned back to the Hound with a small, diplomatic smile.

"In that case then, I thank you for your actions, and I am sure we can negotiate a suitable reward for your return of my sister," Eddmina said, steeled and controlled. "Yet, it is late, and I am not dealing with such matters in the middle of the night. You will be provided with a room, and a hot meal, and whatever else you wish, and then come the morning, we can discuss the matter with clear heads."

"You trying to keep me as a prisoner?" he taunted her. Eddmina smiled again.

"Not a prisoner, an honoured guest," she corrected him, before she turned to her uncle. "Ser Brynden, perhaps you could show our guest to suitable accommodations? Show him the usual guest rights so that we are all of an understanding that no harm will come to him."

"As you wish, Princess," he agreed, winking at her proudly. His expression turned to one of scorn as he looked to the Hound. "You heard her, Clegane."

With that, Brynden and the guards moved to the doorway, gesturing for the Hound to follow. He didn't, not straight away, not as he instead looked down at Sansa on the floor in her mother's protective embrace. He frowned at her, and everyone in the room saw how she nodded at him, smiling. It was odd, and unexpected. Not once had Willas thought that his wife's sister would show that man any sort of kindness, not since he was ransoming her off, yet she did, and while it was typical of Sansa's sweet nature, it confirmed to all of them that he was not her captor, but her protector.

"Thank you, Sandor," Sansa spoke quietly, sounding exhausted, but still managing a smile.

Only then once she had spoken did he nod at her with his usual gruffness, before he followed the Tullys out of the room. Eddmina watched them go, and when the door shut and she heard the click of the latch to confirm their privacy, she immediately ran to them, throwing herself to the floor and joining her mother and sister's embrace. Willas had seen her suffer enough nightmares and nervous attacks to be able to tell she was struggling not to spiral, and he knew she was only seconds away from dissolving into tears, but she wrapped her arms around Sansa's shoulders anyway, and began to sob. It was sweet and lovely to see just how glad she was to see her sister, but heart-breaking too, knowing how much pain and suffering each girl had been through, knowing the unspeakable traumas they had faced. To face so much pain and still manage their way back to each other, it was unheard of. It seemed like a miracle, but Willas wasn't going to question it, he was merely relieved that, for once, things were turning out well for the Starks.

He watched as Lady Stark wrapped her arms around both girls as they hugged, pressing a kiss to both of their heads, and suddenly he was aware of the glaring absence in their reunion. There was another Stark girl, another person missing from their embrace, and only seeing the three of them together made him realise that perhaps Arya Stark would not be as lucky as Sansa to make her way back to her family. Perhaps while the gods had been generous enough to grant Sansa back to them, they would not be considerate to reunite all the Stark women. He wasn't going to point that out though, not as they all wept with joy for what they had, not for what they had lost.

"I love you," Eddmina whispered, kissing her sister's cheek, wiping away the girl's tears. "I love you. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. I should have fought harder to get you home sooner, I should have never let you go. I should have-"

"It's alright, I'm here now," Sansa told her, her voice only shaking a little, because they all knew that things were far from alright. Still though, she put on a brave face. "Sandor didn't hurt me, I promise. When he saved me from the riots I thought he was taking me back to... back to the King, but then we were out of the city, and he stole some horses, and... he said Robb would pay for my return, but I thought he wouldn't want to see me again."

"Of course he would, he will be so glad to see you, I promise," Eddmina vowed, cupping Sansa's face with her hands. "We have missed you so, so much."

"I called you all traitors," Sansa confessed, trembling in her mother and sister's arms, though Eddmina didn't flinch. "I had to, I had to so that they wouldn't kill me. I'm sorry, I never thought you were traitors. I called father a traitor too. I told Joffrey it was all a mistake, a misunderstanding, I begged for father's life and he told me he would be merciful but then-"

"You've been so incredibly brave, sweet girl," Lady Stark told her, Eddmina nodding along eagerly as she fought to contain her tears, and Willas wondered if she had interrupted her because she couldn't bare to hear anymore, not as Lord Stark had been mentioned. "My sweet girl, beautiful girl."

For a moment, Willas thought that such words would foreshadow the crumbling of everything that Eddmina and her mother had built. Eddmina had always told him how Sansa was her mother's favourite daughter, and upon the two of them being the only person the other had, the two of them had begun to connect and understand each other better than they ever had before. Their developing relationship was the only silver lining to come out of all their hardships, and Willas desperately didn't want it to be shelved with Sansa's return. Eddmina clearly didn't think the same, not as she beamed a tearful smile, nodding as her mother spoke. He remembered Eddmina once saying that she loved Sansa more than she ever liked herself, and Willas made a note to kiss her the first chance he got and tell her just how much he adored her.

That was when Uther began to cry. He was overtired and unsettled, and wanted nothing more than his mother's arms. Eddmina looked up from her sister, as if the bubble burst and she remembered that her husband and son were also in the room, and though she seemed reluctant to leave her mother and Sansa, her instinct took over, and she rose to her feet and crossed to Willas' side. When she leant over to him to take Uther from him, he pressed a kiss to her forehead. She cracked a small smile, though looked as though she was going to join Uther in his tears. She too looked exhausted, and he wanted to take his little family to the privacy of their own chambers to escape the world, but he knew that wasn't fair. He was glad to see Sansa, overjoyed to have her returned, but her arrival meant them having to face up to the horrors that had happened to the Starks in the capital, and Willas wanted to protect Eddmina from that for as long as possible.

Perhaps Eddmina wanted to avoid that too, as she quickly busied herself with calming their son down, stroking his hair and humming to him softly. Willas watched her proudly, but he knew he was not the only one watching.

"Is that..." Sansa's voice called from the floor.

Eddmina shut her eyes, fighting against more tears as she realised that her sister had never even met her son. The only siblings who had met him were Robb, Bran, and Rickon, and as the latter two were no longer with them, it seemed to hit harder that he was a year old and still hardly knew any of his family. Willas moved to wrap a protective arm around her, kissing her temple before he leant down to kiss his son.

"This is Uther, our son," Eddmina confirmed, sounding as if she was trying so badly not to cry. "Uther Jon Tyrell."

Sansa was on her feet then, still trembling as she hesitantly made her way to the trio of Tyrells. Perhaps if he was in a better mood Eddmina would have offered him for her to hold, but Uther instead buried his face into the crook of her neck, desperately wanting the peace and safety she always provided for him. He needed his bed, both of his parents knew that, but for the time being Eddmina's arms would have to do. She gestured for her sister to come closer, to get a better look at him, and when she did Sansa's eyes widened.

"He looks just like..." she began, but trailed off, the comparison clearly too painful to speak. It didn't stop her from reaching out and stroking his arm.

"Like your father," it was Lady Stark who finished her statement off. Eddmina didn't speak, nor did she look anywhere but Uther, even when her mother approached and placed her hand on her daughter's shoulder, squeezing it lovingly. "You should take him to bed, Edda, it's been a long night."

"It's his nameday, you always let us stay up late on our namedays," Eddmina argued, though it was obvious why she was fighting it, not wanting to leave Sansa's side. Uther continued to whinge though, and Eddmina sighed, the struggle between being a good mother or a good sister coming to an end as she settled for the former, though either way guilt was inevitable. "Shall I meet you both again once I have him asleep?"

"Mina, you need sleep too," Willas told her quietly, looking at her despite knowing she wouldn't meet his eye, not in case he saw just how tired she was. "I think we all do."

Willas looked around at the the Stark women then, knowing that they were all tired, not just physically but from the sheer emotions of the reunion and the traumas they had gone through. It didn't matter that Lady Stark and Eddmina had previously been enjoying the festivities of the feast that was still going strong without the presence of them all, not as Sansa's arrival had suddenly dragged up every pain and every struggle of the last year. Sansa too was stood looking as though she needed to fall into a bed and sleep for a week, as Willas was sure he couldn't imagine how difficult things had been for her, not just her journey to them but everything that had happened in the capital too.

Even so, none of them wanted to make the call of what to do next. They either didn't want to, or didn't have the strength to. Lady Stark seemed unable to even consider letting either girl out of her sight, and Eddmina, who was usually so strong, didn't want to move or order anyone else to move either. He hated to do it, he hated to feel like he was involving himself where he wasn't meant to, but Willas knew if he didn't do something then they would stand there all night just looking at each other.

He turned to Sansa first, offering her a small smile that he hoped was welcoming, hoping that she would trust him.

"Are you hungry?" He asked, realising that none of them had asked her that yet. She shook her head, glancing to her mother for a moment before looking back to him. "When was the last time you ate?"

"This morning... Sandor hunted some rabbits," she explained hesitantly. "I don't think I can eat anything, my lor- Willas."

"I'll have the servants bring you something anyway just in case you are hungry, you just might not realise it yet, nerves and shock can do that," he told her reassuringly, keeping his focus on her rather than glancing to Lady Stark, who was staring at him intently, or Eddmina, who seemed to be torn between keeping Uther from crying and watching her sister as if checking she was really with them. "I am sure that there is much you will want to tell us, or at least tell your mother and Eddmina, but it is late, and you would benefit from a good nights sleep far more. There's spare bedchambers near ours, if you want to be close to your sister, or would you prefer to be near your mother's chambers? Ours are on the groundfloor so they are closer to here, but the rooms near your mother's are more likely far more comfortable."

He knew it was difficult, making her choose between her mother and her sister, not just for Sansa but for the two other Stark women. Lady Stark wrapped her hands around Sansa's arm, as if to keep her as close to her as possible, yet Sansa looked at Eddmina, who tore her eyes away from Uther long enough to nod at her sister.

"Could I have a room close to Edda, please?" she asked politely, and suddenly Willas was back in their chambers in Winterfell, the night Bran Stark fell from the broken tower, and he was watching his wife and her little sister huddle together on their bed, Eddmina stroking Sansa's flaming locks as she tried to stop her tears. "I don't want to cause any fuss-"

"You are not making a fuss," Eddmina insisted firmly, shaking her head. "I will go and find my handmaidens, they will be more than happy to look after you. I'll go and have one of the rooms readied for you."

Eddmina shot Willas a look, and though he noticed with slight dread that her expression had steeled the way it did before a battle or a council meeting, he realised that was a good thing. His suggestion of arranging chambers had given her a task, and she had always relied on work as a distraction. In giving her a job, it had given her an excuse to turn her mind away from the horrors of all the questions she wanted to ask, all the things she needed to say. She leant over to Sansa to kiss her cheek once more, but as soon as she did that Uther cried tiredly again, and Eddmina dismissed herself, hurrying off to find the servants. Honour looked between the Stark girls, before she huffed and trotted off after Eddmina, her tail wagging.

"Let me stay with you," Lady Stark asked, still holding onto Sansa as if she was scared the girl would disappear again. "Let me-"

"Please," Sansa nodded, her eyes threatening tears again. Lady Stark nodded, wrapping her arms around her middle daughter tightly, despite the fact Sansa appeared taller than her by a few inches at least.

"Come, we cannot camp out in here all night," Willas gestured towards the door where there was an abundance of Tully and Stark guards waiting for them. When Willas was close enough, he lowered his voice and spoke to the one who seemed to be in command. "You're to ensure that her chambers are guarded throughout the whole night as if the King in the North himself was residing in them, and no one barring the guards who are in this room are to know the truth of who she is. If anyone asks, they are to be told that she is my cousin from Old Town visiting for my son's nameday. Is that understood?"

"Yes, my Lord," the Stark guard nodded solemnly, though gave Willas a look that almost resembled respect. He was used to his own guards looking like that, the ones who wore green and bore golden roses, but not the ones who wore snarling direwolves. "I'll make sure everyone receives that order."

"Good, thank you," Willas nodded with a grateful smile, before he turned back to Lady Stark and Sansa, who were stood behind him. "I'll show you the way."

Eddmina had done as she said, because when they reached the bedchamber closest to theirs, her handmaidens were there waiting, the bed made with fresh linens and a tub of steaming bathwater waiting. Somehow Willas' command had reached even them, either that or Eddmina had the same idea, as the handmaidens greeted her as 'my lady' rather than 'princess'. Willas didn't linger with them, not as the girls busied themselves in making Sansa welcome and comfortable, not as Lady Stark remained, watching over her daughter protectively, though the moment she realised Willas was leaving she fled to his side and took hold of his hand, squeezing it tightly.

"You are a good man, Ser Willas, thank you," she told him, her voice shaking as she struggled against the emotions of the night.

He didn't know what to say, so instead of speaking he merely nodded at her and smiled. The moment she released his hand he bid them all a good night and headed back to his own chamber across the hall. He wanted nothing more than to crash into bed, to pull his wife close and kiss her until they both forgot all that was wrong with the world and their lives. He thought that he also wouldn't mind a bath too, though he knew that was just because his knee was aching and he had seen the tub in Sansa's room and had accidentally begun to covet the relief of hot water. It wouldn't be fair on anyone to ask for a bath though, not since most of the staff were still at the feast, and so he knew Eddmina's company would have to suffice; it always did.

He expected her to still be in Uther's room, or at the window sill with a book, as that was usually where he found her when she couldn't sleep, and he knew that night in particular she would struggle to settle down for the night. He imagined the maester's teas of dreamwine and essence of nightshade would be particularly helpful to her that night, and if he didn't know how much she relied upon it to get proper rest he would help himself to some, as even his mind was racing. He couldn't stop thinking about Sansa and everything she must have been through. She had so much to tell them, so much that was probably so horrific she wouldn't want to relive it and no one would want to hear it, but horror seemed to be how they lived lately. The feast had been a nice distraction, the joy of his family providing a happy little bubble, but every bubble had to burst eventually.

The bubble burst specifically when he creaked the door of his chamber open to hear voices, and that was when he realised Eddmina was sat on the window sill, but not with a book. She was sat with her hands in her lap neatly, with her Uncle Brynden sat at her side. Willas didn't want to pry, but neither had noticed him, and he couldn't help but overhear them in the middle of a conversation. Eddmina looked exhaustedly dazed, while Brynden's face was blank, as if he couldn't figure out how to feel.

"It's really her, then?" Willas heard Brynden's gruff voice sigh in amazement. "Well then."

"Well, indeed," he heard Eddmina let out a single, tired laugh. "I never thought I would see her again. I thought I was cursed to be alone for the rest of my life, the last Stark who's technically not even a Stark anymore."

"Doesn't matter what wedding vows you said, it doesn't stop you being a wolf," Brynden told her, sounding as if he was rolling his eyes. Willas watched from the doorway as he leant over and took Eddmina's hands. "Your sister's return will do you and your mother good, but should your brother not return-"

"Don't," Eddmina snapped, cutting him off sharply. "Robb will come home, he has to."

"We have all skirted around the situation to protect you from the harsh truth, especially with how you have been the last few months," Brynden sighed, as if he was preparing himself to speak of something horrid, something he didn't want to discuss yet had to.

"I don't need you to coddle me or protect me," Eddmina cut in, coldly defensive.

"No, you don't, and that is why I will speak plainly, the moment the northerners put a crown on Robb's head they put a target on his back," Brynden continued, and Willas couldn't help but respect his determination to speak the uncomfortable truth. "Perhaps he will return, perhaps he will kill all the Lannisters and retake Winterfell and rule over the whole North for the rest of his life, but should he not, should he fall..."

"Then I will avenge him and win the war for him, for my father, for my brothers, and I will have the northerners crown Sansa Queen in Robb's honour," Eddmina explained coldly. Willas saw her clench her jaw, her stare unflinching. "If something happens to Sansa, which it won't, then I have another brother, Jon. King Robb has plenty of heirs, no one need look to me for anything other than being Hand."

Brynden was silent for a moment as he studied her face, though he sighed, squeezing her hands and offering her a sad smile. It was as if he had been waiting for her to crack, waiting for a façade to drop and for her to actually reveal she did really want to be Queen in the North. It was as if he expected her to envy her brother's crown. Willas remembered his own father asking over Eddmina's ambitions, and the memory made his insides squirm uneasily, knowing how much Eddmina would hate to be in that position. It seemed as though everyone wanted her to be someone she wasn't, or at least wanted her to want to be someone else. He knew his wife hated sympathy, but he couldn't help it.

Brynden didn't seem to want her to be a Queen though, that much was clear by how he looked at her. He didn't seem disappointed at her lack of regal ambition, nor did he seem upset at her decision to forgo her own position in the line of northern succession. He simply looked like he cared about her, looking at her not like a Princess or a King's Hand, but simply his niece.

"I can tell you are the eldest child of a second son," he observed, raising his eyebrows at her. "You put everyone before yourself, constantly. Family and duty above everything, isn't that right?"

"You tell me, those are your house words," Eddmina shrugged, before she mirrored her uncle's sad smile. "The last thing my father knew of me was that I was one day going to be the Lady of Highgarden, and mother to the future heir to the Reach. That is the life he set me up for, just how he set Sansa up to one day be Queen, and Robb go be Warden of the North. He wasn't an ambitious man, he wasn't interested in politics or power or games, it just seemed to fall that way. I think all he wanted for all of us was to live honourably and be happy. I don't think any of us expected this turn of events, least of all him."

"I think your father would be remarkably proud of all of you, merely for staying alive despite the circumstances," Brynden told her firmly, and even from the doorway, he noticed the sad glint in Eddmina's eye. Brynden must have seen it too, as he changed the conversation. "What do you intend to do with Clegane?"

"He returned my sister to me, I intend to give him what he wants, within reason," Eddmina said simply, though she sounded exhausted.

It was then that Willas decided to step in, creaking open the door so he could enter properly, and both uncle and niece looked up at him. Eddmina got to her feet, stroking down the skirt of her dress to neaten herself at the sight of him, while Brynden folded his arms and regarded him as seriously as he had before. Willas wasn't intimidated, not since they were in his chambers.

"Sansa is safe, your mother is with her," Willas explained, answering Eddmina's question before she could even ask it. He turned his focus to Brynden then. "It is late, my lord. The two of you can talk business in the morning, as for now we all need our sleep."

Brynden looked as though he intended on never moving. Willas was sure it was because he didn't respect his authority, instead relying on his niece, yet Willas knew Eddmina at her core was a people-pleaser when it came to her family. She would do anything any of them would ask of her, and she would always put them first. If Brynden wanted to stay up all night and discuss the Sansa situation, Eddmina would shove aside her exhaustion and accommodate her Uncle's wish. Willas wouldn't allow that.

"Come back tomorrow," he said, his voice firmer.

Brynden still looked at Eddmina, and though it seemed to take a while, she eventually nodded, agreeing with Willas. Only then did Brynden get to his feet.

"If that is what the Princess wishes," he said, nodding his head to Eddmina respectfully before he crossed the room to Willas. He didn't expect it, but Brynden stood at his side and put his hand on his shoulder, leant in close to him, and without looking at him, muttered, "Thank you for your help back there."

"It was no trouble, I'd do anything for my family," Willas told him without looking at him either, instead staring ahead to Eddmina.

Brynden left then without another word. He had barely closed the door behind himself before Eddmina had run into Willas' arms, being welcomed into a tight embrace. He felt her relax, releasing all of her pent-up tension as she let out a long, shaky sigh. Willas stroked her hair, feeling her arms around him tighten.

"Are you alright?" He asked the moment he heard her sniff and knew she was trying not to cry. He felt her nod, before resting her forehead on his shoulder and nuzzling her face into the crook of his neck. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"My little sister, Willas," she said with an exhausted sigh of amazement. "I never thought I'd see her again, I thought she was-"

"I know, I thought so too, we all did," he nodded, stroking her hair and pushing a kiss to the part of her head that he could reach. "It's been a wonderful shock."

"I can't tell you how relieved I am, but..." Eddmina's voice was quiet and it shook slightly, as if she didn't want to speak. "I failed her. I should have protected her. I should have never let father take the girls South."

"You were not to know what would happen, Mina, you cannot blame yourself," he reassured her softly, though knew if the roles were reversed and it had been Margaery stood before them returned as a bruised hostage, he would feel the same guilt. "Sansa is safe now, that is what matters. She is safe, and come the morning, we can deal with everything else."

"What do you mean by everything else?" Eddmina pulled away from his embrace to look at him properly, and he immediately noticed the unshed tears brimming in her eyes. "Do you mean paying the Hound whatever he thinks he is owed for returning her and breaking his vows to the Lannisters? Do you mean the fact Sansa is covered in scars and bruises and is clearly traumatised by what the Lannisters have done to her? Or, do you mean that Arya not being with her is confirmation that while I have one sister back, the other is still lost, most likely forever?"

Willas didn't know how to answer, as he realised by everything, he did mean all that Eddmina spoke of. It was hard sometimes to have such a clever wife, as Eddmina's insightfulness made it rather difficult to protect her from the harsh realities they lived in. How could he protect her from such things if she could see them immediately? He wished she hadn't thought of Arya, he wished she hadn't seen Sansa's bruises, as it had been bad enough when he'd spotted them and when he thought of her youngest sister. The things she spoke of had been enough to anger him, but for Eddmina, the protective elder sister, it was clearly fuel for not just great guilt, but revenge too.

Instead of speaking, he kissed her. If they spoke it would only unleash more harsh truths that neither would really want to talk about, not at such a late hour. He kissed her, and was relieved when she kissed back. Clearly she wanted to escape from it all as much as he did. When their lips broke apart, neither spoke again, at least not until they were changed into their bed clothes and Willas was sat on their bed, watching as Eddmina sat at the vanity table, unpinning her hair. He remembered their wedding night, and how he had brushed her hair and untangled all of her braids. He'd done it to hide how nervous he was, and over the course of their marriage he had learnt he was a much better as a spectator when in came to Eddmina's hair, especially as he realised over time that Eddmina liked to do her own hair to give herself time to think. It was sometimes the only time in a day that she would set aside for herself, and Willas found it a privilege to watch her, knowing she was his.

When her hair had been combed through thoroughly and rebraided in one simple plait, he saw how she sighed. She rested her elbows on the table, propping her chin up on one hand, staring at her reflection. He saw her look briefly at the scar on her cheek, and he bit back the fury he always felt when he considered how she had gotten it, how a Lannister man had pinned her down and taken his blade to her cheek. He remembered Sansa's bruises then, and knew his wife was comparing her own run-in with Lannisters to her sister.

"Come to bed, darling," he called, offering her a small smile. She looked at him through the mirror, looking as though he had torn her from the deepest parts of her thoughts.

She did as he asked, immediately joining him under the covers and settling into his arms. He felt her push her head into his chest, listening for his heartbeat, and he stroked her braid, playing with the end, twirling the hair around his fingers. If they were at home in Highgarden, he imagined she would sing something, though they were not at home.

"Was Uther alright?" He asked after a moment of silence that was filled only with the sound of their breathing.

"Fine, asleep before his head even touched the pillow," she told him, tracing her fingers over his chest absentmindedly as she stared down at their bedsheets. She let silence settle again before she sat up, looking at him properly. "I've asked the guards to double the watch outside his door tonight, and for every night the Hound stays here. I don't care what he says, I don't trust him, at least not with Uther."

"There's very few people I trust with Uther's life," Willas agreed, his gentle shrug reassuring Eddmina's own insecurities. "He will be alright. If tonight's feast showed anything, it's that hundreds of people love our boy."

"And hundreds of people expect him to inherit titles and greatness, and I have read far too many history books to know how well little children fare in wartimes, especially when they're as important as my Uncle made Uther out to be," Eddmina spoke calmly, despite it being something that was clearly eating away at her, her jaw tightening as she forced herself to breathe. Even in the dim light of their chamber Willas could see the fear in her eyes. "Helaena Targaryen's children, Elia Martell's children-"

"Eddmina, no one is going to let anything like that happen to our son," Willas cut her off, feeling sick at the thought of it, remembering his history lessons and drunk nights with Oberyn where he learnt all about the horrors Eddmina referenced. "I will not let it happen. Honour will not let anyone get near him."

"My father probably wanted to protect his own children from the horrors of the world too, but where has that gotten all of us?" Eddmina asked, her eyebrows raised as she fought away the obvious heartbreak. "Bran and Rickon are dead, so is Arya most likely. Robb is injured, and Sansa... We are at war, Will, and our enemy is a cruel one."

He didn't know what to say, knowing she spoke the truth. He reached out and took her hands, stroking his thumb over her knuckles.

"Do you think Joffrey is the sort of person who will happily let someone take his betrothed away? Do you think he will be quite content in Sansa's disappearance, knowing how much enjoyment he had gotten from torturing and tormenting her?" Eddmina theorised, posing questions that they both knew the dark, awful answers to. "Do you think that Cersei will be pleased they have lost their one bargaining tool? She will have seen Sansa as the key to getting Jaime Lannister back. Without them holding her, we could do anything to him without fearing the consequences, I could offer him up to Lord Karstark for him to get the revenge for his two eldest sons that he has been so desperate for, or I could give him to the other northerners and let them tear him to shreds. Cersei will know that, and so she will not care what sort of violence Joffrey or Tywin sends our way."

"Then we will just have to keep fighting," Willas tried, feeling his head spin at the possibilities she spoke of, knowing she was far too clever to just feel the relief of Sansa's return. "We fight for what is ours until we win, and we make sure that they do not get the chance to get to us."

"They already have, you've seen Sansa's bruises, you heard how she spoke about having to call us traitors," Eddmina winced slightly before steeling herself, looking at Willas with equal parts heartbreak and determination. "They hurt her, and for that I want to hurt them. I want Joffrey to pay for what he's done, but I'm just scared they will act on their own anger before we have chance for our revenge."

Willas lifted her hands to his lips, kissing each of her knuckles as he thought. She was right, as she usually was, and the way she spoke made him realise that having Sansa back allowed them to understand their enemy a little better. They had a first hand example of what the Lannisters could do, what Joffrey was capable of. They no longer had to rely on nothing but Eddmina's dreams and the words of other men. With Sansa back in their custody, they had an upper hand of no longer having to think of her wellbeing as a hostage, but they owed her safety, they had to work to keep her safe. It solved one of their problems yet created a whole new one.

The way Eddmina spoke of Uther too... It was as if seeing Sansa had put their son's position in the war camp in a whole new perspective. Seeing what the Lannisters had done to her sister had obviously made her realise that should they lose, should the Lannisters gain on them, they were capable of far more horrors than they had previously thought.

Willas sighed as he realised they had two specific things they needed to focus on.

"We win the war," he told her, his green eyes meeting her blue, their conviction matched perfectly. "And we keep our loved ones safe. That is all we can do now."

Rather than falling into the peaceful sleep he had hoped for, Willas instead spent the night wide awake. Eddmina was curled into him, using his chest as a pillow, yet he did not join her, nor did he reach for her dreamwine. No, he spent the night planning what to do to help, and that meant planning a letter to his father.

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