When Jeyne's parents left the next morning without saying goodbye, she cried.

Eddmina hadn't been there to witness the Queen's tears, because she instead saw her brothers, as, at the same time the Westerlings left, Robb was reunited with Sansa. He wept tears of joy, hugged her close, spouted apologies for not rescuing her. The whole time, Sansa beamed, as if forgetting only the day before she had been complaining about his dishonour in marrying a Westerner. That was the ladies courtesy that they had been taught, after all, and Sansa demonstrated it yet again when introduced to Jeyne, when she curtsied and called her 'sister'. Even so, when Robb hugged her and held her hands, Sansa's smile reached her eyes, which had become a rare thing.

After the reunion, Eddmina left them to it to seek out Willas and go to the godswood, Honour padding alongside them both, her tail wagging. They each held one of Uther's hands, marvelling at every tentative step he took, and when he seemed to tire of it, Eddmina swept him into the air and balanced him on her hip, pushing a storm of kisses onto the top of his dark curls while he clapped and shrieked with laughter. Willas took the opportunity to take hold of her arm, his hand resting in the crook of her elbow as the two made their way down the cobbled path to the weirwood tree.

"Are you alright carrying him?" Willas asked in concern, and when she tore her gaze from her son to look at her husband, she saw him staring at her stomach.

"Of course I am," she said with a roll of her eyes. "I will never not be alright carrying him."

"You will not be saying that if he grows to meet either of our heights," Willas laughed, though Eddmina's eyes narrowed, as if silently saying: 'try me'. "You know what I mean. I don't want you exerting yourself."

"Your father is a soft, silly southerner," Eddmina told Uther with a joking grin, tickling him and making him squeak with laughter. When she did eventually look at Willas again, she offered him an apologetic smile. "I am fine, I promise you. If I am ever not fine, you will be the first to know."

"I just know that yesterday was... eventful, and I don't want you tiring yourself," Willas sighed, and she knew that if he hadn't been holding her arm, his hand would have been tousling his hair the way he always did when he was thinking too much. "I want this time to be easier for you than the last. I know in some ways it will be easier since we know a little more of what to expect, but last time we didn't have the war. Last time you..."

"Weren't a nervous wreck prone to moments of panic?" Eddmina finished for him, and though he sighed, he also nodded. "Will, I was also convinced I was going to die in childbirth and was pleasantly surprised when I didn't. I will be fine, because we will be in Highgarden, and I will be able to ask your mother at least a dozen questions hourly, and I will have Sansa, Margaery and Leonette with me, and I am sure your grandmother will insist on bestowing her opinions disguised as advice. I will be fine. We will be fine."

In truth, that was how she felt. She was not scared at all to have another child. She didn't fear childbirth the way she once did, nor did the childhood fear of disappointing people with her child's gender just as hers had disappointed people haunt over her. Anytime she considered what awaited her she couldn't help but smile, which had become such a rare expression on her face over the last few months. She had almost forgotten how to feel happy, but the news that she was to have another baby had taught her the emotion again.

The only thing she was wary about was telling people. The night before after Eddmina returned from her meeting she had found Willas and Garlan drinking and playing cards as they had so often done in Highgarden, and when she arrived Garlan had hugged her and kissed her cheek, congratulating her and toasting to her health. He had been just a little drunk, but she knew he had meant it, and she also knew she would not get the same joyous reaction from the rest of her family. Perhaps Sansa would be happy, perhaps her mother would see it as a good thing, but she knew that the war hung over them all, and even if they all knew it was good news, the war would loom over the joy they were meant to offer her.

She didn't know what to expect, and so she braced herself for a chilly reception to the news. It had been bad enough insisting she would be returning to Highgarden, but to tell people she was going to the Reach to have a baby would only turn them against her, as they would see it as a real, permanent, irreversable change to their war effort. Without her, their entire approach to dealing with the war and plotting strategy would change, and with another Tyrell child, perhaps people would change their view of her too. It had taken a while for people to respect her opinion as highly as Robb's simply because she was a woman, and being married to a southerner hadn't helped, but if the bannermen found out she was pregnant, they would revert back to viewing her as a simple, hysterical woman.

Truly though, Eddmina was surprised to find out she didn't care as much as she thought she would. If opinions of her were so delicate they could be shifted by nothing more than a pregnancy, they were not opinions she needed or valued. If people respected her less for doing right by her family, than they never really respected her in the first place.

"It is not my grandmother you need to be concerned about," Willas said, squeezing her arm gently as they rounded the path, the weirwood still just out of view. "I have a small army of aunts and cousins who will be sure to want to surround you. Considering we weren't in Highgarden at all while you were pregnant the first time, they will surely surround and fuss over you until you miss this place."

"My father always said war was easier than daughters," Eddmina remembered with a bittersweet smile, feeling the usual ache of longing, wishing he was there to see her children. "I'm sure that sentiment extends to family life in general."

The thought of having another boy, a brother for Uther, a boy with Tyrell curls and Stark eyes, a boy with the name Eddard... It felt too sweet, too surreal. After months of suffering and mourning, after what felt like endless misery and sadness, the thought of two little boys running around Highgarden causing chaos felt like the light at the end of the tunnel. The gap between the two children would be the same as what was between Willas and Garlan too, which made things all the nicer, knowing her boys would enjoy the same bond.

Willas squeezed her arm again, pulling her from her thoughts, and when she looked up, she saw that they were not the only ones to decide to visit the godswood that morning. Whenever she had visited before, the wood had been deserted, and she had been left in complete solitude and peace to pray. Riverrun and the Riverlands mostly followed the Seven, after all, and while the northern army had been in the West she had been one of the only ones within the keep who followed the old gods. Yet that morning it looked as though at least half of the notable bannermen were there.

They all seemed to be huddled together, talking in hushed voices which was very unlike the usual raucousness of the northerners. Eddmina couldn't hear what they were talking about, but when she caught sight of Dacey stood next to her mother and saw them both frowning, she knew it was not a pleasant conversation.

"Good day, my lords, my ladies," Eddmina called, greeting them with a nod.

When they turned to face her, they all looked as though they had been interupted from a private discussion. The older men of the group did not seem too fazed, but Harrion Karstark was stood at the side of his father, and immediately looked guilty. Dacey too, as she closed her eyes for a second and let out a sigh as if composing herself. When the men saw it was her, that it was not a stranger to stumble upon them but rather their princess, they set aside their secrecy and many of them bowed, or nodded respectfully, muttering greetings of 'Princess' or 'your grace'.

Willas dropped his hold on her arm then, trying not to look too disappointed. He had thought to have her to himself that morning, he had clearly expected to keep talking of their future as they sat by the weirwood tree. Eddmina had wanted that too, but she couldn't show that, not while so many men were looking at her. She was just grateful Willas understood, even if he was reluctant to share her. How lucky she was, to have a husband who understood the importance of her reputation and the respect she had worked tirelessly to earn.

"What brings you all to the gods today?" Eddmina asked when none of them seemed to want to talk.

"We've been in godless lands, Princess," it was Harrion Karstark who spoke up first, and she noticed how his father muttered something under his breath, hitting his son's shoulder. "Well, there's plenty of gods in the West, but none of them ours."

"That is true, there is nothing quite like a familiar weirwood," Eddmina nodded in agreement, trying not to think about the Winterfell tree, the one who's face felt like another family member, the one who reminded her of her father. "After the past few months of fighting I am sure that is all the more comforting."

"We had wondered if we could have an audience, your grace," the Greatjon said, his usually gruff and boisterous manner calmer than she had grown used to.

"Of course, my lord," Eddmina nodded again, looking among each of them. "You know you may always speak with me."

There were a few murmurs among the crowd at her last comment, all of them sounding vaguely praising. To say it had been the Greatjon who made the statement, he had gone quiet, and no one else seemed to want to talk, each of them nudging another as if volunteering them for the honour. It took a few seconds, but eventually all of them turned to look at Dacey. The girl glared at the floor, and her mother turned red with anger.

"Do not look to my Dacey to say what you are all too scared to say," Lady Maege growled with a glare, making them all shift around uncomfortably.

"What is it?" Willas asked, clearly bored of their hesitance.

A southern man snapping at them did not help their northern egos, and after a few frustrated mutters, Dacey cursed them all to the Others and stepped forward so she was the head of their group. She offered Eddmina an apologetic smile, one that was between friends rather than Princess and soldier.

"Your Grace, my lord, a few of us are... concerned," Dacey began, looking around at the other lords.

"Concerned is putting it mildly," Lord Karstark called disgustedly, spitting onto the floor. At his side, Harrion seemed to grimace.

"I did not see you volunteering to speak earlier, my lord," Dacey turned on him with a glare, before she faced Eddmina again. "We love your brother, he is the King we chose, and we would follow him anywhere, but... His wife is not someone we feel we can trust, and if what we have heard is true, neither can you."

There is was. Eddmina tried not to show how uncomfortable the topic made her, keeping her face still of any emotion, but it was rather difficult. To tell them that she was unbothered was a lie, to tell them the truth would be turning against her brother. Suddenly she was caught between morals and family loyalty, and she felt nerves squirming inside of her.

"What makes you think I disapprove of our new Queen?" Eddmina questioned calmly, wishing Willas would take hold of her arm again so she could feel his support, wishing she wasn't holding Uther so she could think straight as the little boy knotted his hands into her hair.

"We... The king in the North is looking more bruised than he did before we arrived back yesterday," Dacey explained. "Forgive us for jumping to conclusions, but we thought those might have come about from you."

"To hit a king is treason," Eddmina responded calmly, resisting the urge to glare at Willas. To even look at him would suggest his guilt in the matter, and she refused to condemn him like that. "Queen Jeyne is not one of us, that is true. She is an outsider, but you all thought the same of my husband and goodbrother when this all started."

"Aye, we did, but our supposed new Queen isn't one of the greatest warriors of our time, nor does she have a great intellect for strategy like your golden roses," Lord Glover called, and to the side of her Eddmina heard Willas try to quiet a small laugh. "To say you are pleased with his marriage would be a lie, Princess."

"I would never lie to any of you," Eddmina steeled herself. "I didn't like the terms of our alliance with the Freys, but they were necessary. I would have rather seen our King marry a Frey girl, but we cannot change it now. We must instead rework our plans, and carry on. Our alliances might look a little different, but our aim is still the same."

"You're right, we cannot change it, just as I cannot bring back my boys," Lord Karstark grumbled, making his last son flinch again.

Eddmina had never had much dealing with Harrion. His brothers had been more outspoken, bolder and boisterous, and it had been their unflinching bravery that had gotten them killed when they put themselves between Ser Jaime and Robb. Their deaths had gone unforgotten, their Lord father had made sure of that, but she wondered how Harrion felt about that. She wondered if he suffered the same burning grief she felt whenever she was reminded about her own losses, she wondered if each time his father brought them up he felt a dagger twist in his gut. She wondered if he too felt fractured, torn, like a part of himself was missing. She wondered if he constantly compared himself to Torrhen and Eddard, and despite being the eldest, if he ever thought that his father would rather have the other two and him be gone. Eddmina had suffered that thought enough, wondering if her mother would have traded her if it meant her little brothers and little sister could be returned. Logically she knew it was untrue, but grief was so often illogical. It was a hard thing to live with, and that was why she met Lord Karstark's grief with unyielding stoicism.

"I cannot bring my brothers back either, my lord," Eddmina reminded him, her jaw clenched. "Nor can I bring back any of the other brave men we have lost. I wish I could. I wish none of this ever happened, but it has. We are at war, we have lost loved ones, and all we can do now is keep fighting, and remember."

"Did your brother remember whenever he bedded that foreign whore? Did he remember when he ran off to a sept with that half-witted westerner?" Lord Karstark practically snarled. There were a few quiet murmurs of agreement from the others. "Will you remember when you flee back to Highgarden and leave us all to die?"

An instant need to defend Robb shot through her, but not before the sting of his insult to her hit. It was not just his words, but the way he was looking at her, the way they were suddenly all looking at her, as if they were disappointed, as if she had betrayed them. When the war first started none of them had wanted to look to her, they had only cared about Robb. What had happened, when had it all changed, that suddenly men twice her age cared so much about her presence? How had she succeeded in earning respect without even realising until it was lost?

She had never wanted to show even an inch of weakness in fear of them disregarding her, yet their plans of returning to the Reach had leaked and ruined everything she had worked for. Despite herself, despite the determination to be seen as strong, as a sole entity in charge of herself, she looked to Willas, hoping she did not look as concerned or alarmed as she felt, not as her heart began to race. She adjusted her hold on Uther, readjusting his seat on her hip as if trying to forget or ignore the sudden panic that was threatening to creep in.

"We are not fleeing," Willas spoke firmly, before she could speak for herself. "Our situation has changed, and so we must return home."

"If you are to go home, what is stopping the rest of us?" another called, lord Cerwyn, looking like he was trying not to be angry.

"You promised us a Baratheon alliance? What will happen to that?" Lord Overton asked, more worried than angry.

"False promises!" Lord Karstark spat, glaring at Willas. "Just like the damned alliance your fat fool father made with Lord Ned, gods rest his soul."

Eddmina looked to the floor, desperately trying to steady herself, keep her breathing calm, remember where she was. If she showed how their words felt like getting caught in a tornado, she would be lost. It she showed how she wanted to crumple to the ground and scream they would lose all hope in her. All she wanted was peace, victory, vengeance, and safety. Surely all of them wanted that too, that was where their anger and concern had come from. She couldn't blame them for targeting it at her, she was the one who was in front of them, after all, but she hated how it made her feel.

If she had been facing it all a few years before, maybe she would have been stronger. The passage of time and age had made her softer, less sure of the world around her. Knowing so many people relied on her had made her more hesitant, countless losses had made her skin thinner and her mind easier to spin. It was not weakness, it was grief and a reluctance to feel it, but in the moment, it felt as though she was a small girl who wanted nothing more than to hide.

She looked at the ground, and wished it was covered in snow. She wished she was in Winterfell, safe and young and under the protection of other people. Yet, the other people who had protected her were all mostly dead, or now relied upon her for guidance. She couldn't be protected anymore, she was the one who had to protect others. It was normally something she could manage, but not then, not when she could feel her breath catch in her throat and her mind kept forcing her into imagining doom.

If she was uncertain, Willas was the opposite. Lord Karstark's words had stung him deeper, because not only had she been insulted, but so had the integrity of his house. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him step forward a little, so he was just a little in front of her, and she saw how his hand clenched around his cane until his knuckles turned white. He was looking Lord Karstark direct in the eye, and his gaze was unflinchingly stern.

"Insulting my father will get you nowhere, my lord," he spoke, his voice tight and controlled.

"Lord Stark was a good man, an honourable man, we all loved him, but he was a fool," Lord Karstark continued, either not noticing the cold fury Willas felt or not caring. Eddmina's hands ached with the sudden desire to punch the man in front of her. "He was a bloody fool to trust the Lannisters, and even more so for trusting the Tyrells."

"Is that what you think?" Eddmina burst, trying and failing not to feel the burning hurt that raced through her, desperately wanting to defend the man she had trusted more than anyone save her husband, the man who could not defend himself anymore. "Perhaps he was, but I am no fool, and I trust the Tyrells as much as any of my blood family. Considering the times Ser Garlan has taken injury defending northerners and the hours my husband has spent plotting and planning, you should also trust the Tyrells. They have been here this whole time, they have sacrificed for this cause just as much as the rest of us."

"But if you all leave for Highgarden then they won't be here," Lord Glover pointed out.

"And the rest of us will be left with some clueless queen who has never even seen snow," the Greatjon finished, and the rest of them made calls of agreement.

Eddmina felt Willas reach out and squeeze her arm. When she glanced at him, she saw him looking at her though narrowed eyes, and he gave her a nod. It took a moment to realise what he was trying to silently tell her, but when she caught on she shook her head. He wanted her to tell the truth, to tell them why they were leaving. It would stop them thinking of her as a deserting traitor as they so clearly did, but that meant telling them, that meant announcing her condition, and she certainly didn't feel ready for that.

The idea of confessing the real reason behind their departure had her head reeling more than it already was, and suddenly it felt like everything was caving in on her. Without a second thought, the moment she felt her stomach turn, she spun to Willas, quickly passing Uther into his arms, and ran. It felt cowardly, but there was not much time to linger on that as she fled from the view of the bannermen, running into the shrubbery so that they wouldn't see her throw up. She had run from their view, but definitely not from their hearing range, which only made her feel worse. There was plenty to distract her from the embarrassment though, and so she cared very little.

She did, however, care when she heard footsteps aproaching, and she quickly tried to right herself so that no one saw her in her moment of weakness. When she stood too fast, her head spun dizzily, and she fell back to the ground, making her face burn with embarrassment that did not fade even when she realised it was Dacey stood in front of her, her hands clasped behind her back and her gaze fixed on the sky, as if she knew Eddmina didn't want her to look. When she eventually managed to pull herself back to her feet, only then did Dacey look at her.

"Ser Willas has sent the rest of them away," she told her. "I'm sorry, Princess, I told them that if we bombarded you it wouldn't be fair, but most of them are worried enough not to care. They don't want anyone to know they're worried though, they're still men, they're still stubborn."

"They're also northern, stubbornness is one of the things I admire most of them," Eddmina shrugged. "I am sorry too, I'm sorry I don't have the answers they all so desperately want."

"You're one woman, you're not capable to do everything they're asking of you," Dacey pointed out. She looked as though she wanted to reach out and take her hand, or hold her shoulder, or do any sort of physical gesture of friendship and solidarity, but remembered herself, remembered that she was talking to a Princess and such gestures would be a breach of protocol. "If I may, though, Princess... I do not think you should leave. I think it would be bad for morale, it will look as though you're deserting a sinking ship."

"I don't want to leave," Eddmina began, biting her lip to stop the sudden urge of tears.

"Is it Ser Willas' decision?" Dacey asked with a raised eyebrow, as if surprised. "I did not take him for the sort of man who would remove such a choice from you."

"No, no, he has not forced me into doing anything," Eddmina shook her head, and it was her who stepped forward and reached for the Mormont girl's hand. "It was me who told him that I wanted to go to Highgarden."

"But why?" Dacey asked, forgetting the courtesies she so often used for Eddmina. That was fine though, Eddmina didn't care that her voice was raised, feeling as if she was acting like a real friend and not a subject. She almost felt disappointed when Dacey's eyes widened, and she looked down, apologetic. "Forgive me, Princess, I shouldn't speak out of turn."

"Speak how you feel, everyone else does," Eddmina shrugged again, and despite it all, offering her an encouraging smile. "Tell me why you think I should stay."

"Because without you we will be lost," Dacey explained, and both women knew they had never spoken like that, so honest, baring the truth of their situation. "Your brother is our king, he is an excellent strategist, a good soldier, and he is a good king. He cares for us all, your father taught him well. You, on the other hand, are the heart of this cause. It is a hard thing, to be a woman in all of this, but I hope that when this war makes the history books, they do not forget you. Without you we might not have been as victorious. You keep the men in line, you remind them of what matters, and... I think you remind them of the ones from before."

"From before?" Eddmina frowned, knowing Dacey was hedging her words, avoiding naming names.

"You've your father's honour, your grace, but... my mother tells me you remind her of your uncle Brandon," Dacey continued hesitantly, and Eddmina winced, Jaime's story echoing in her mind.

Brandon Stark, who died young. Brandon, who ran to the capitol without second thought when he heard his sister had been taken. He had gone straight to the Red Keep and called for Prince Rhaegar to 'come out and die'. He was brave, he was bold, and she was not at all a worthy comparison in Eddmina's mind.
Instead he felt like an omen, a dark cloud of family history hanging over her. He had died young, he'd failed to save his sister. Would she do the same?

Dacey was watching her close, studying her face to see what she made of her words, but her eyes eventually glanced down to their still-intertwined hands. Both of their fingers were calloused, Eddmina's from years of archery, sewing, and lute-playing, while a lifetime of sword and axe training had marked the Mormont heir's hands. Eddmina wore her wedding ring and the little wolf ring on her thumb her father had given her years ago, while Dacey wore an aged, battered signet ring, an heirloom marked with the roaring bear of her house. When Eddmina was five, her mother had gifted her her first embroidery hoop and a doll with hair as red as flames. When Dacey was five, her mother had given her a morningstar and a tourney sword. When Eddmina was corrected and disciplined for running off with the boys to play fight, Dacey was being taught combat alongside her sisters. When the Mormonts visited Winterfell, when both girls had been children and had been drawn to each other, Lady Stark had silently guided her eldest daughter away from Lady Mormont's eldest daughter, thinking she would be a bad influence. Yet, there they were, still drawn to each other, pulled together by a sick circumstance.

Kindred spirits, with vastly different upbringings. Both northern, both headstrong, both dutiful. Life had taken them in different paths, gifted them different roles, yet there they were, together. The men were boisterous and brash, yet none of them had the courage to track their Princess down and address the matter straight. Dacey Mormont had fought fearlessly alongside men twice her age, and killed plenty to ensure her own survival and the life of her King. It was only then that Eddmina realised that Dacey was the friend she had always wanted, the companion she had yearned for her whole life.

'If I had a daughter, I would be remarkably proud if she turned out half as strong as Dacey,' Eddmina thought then, unable to help herself.

"Princess, I know you do not need me to remind you of all we have been through," Dacey sighed, her hold on Eddmina's hand tightening. "You've made it all a little more bearable, for all of us, mostly for me."

"I could say the same to you," Eddmina said with a faint, sad smile. "I think you're the only person I'm not related to that I think of as a friend."

"Then why are you leaving?" Dacey asked, her voice laced with sadness and frustration, and it looked almost like she wanted to cry.

"Because I have to, because..." Eddmina looked to the sky, gathering her thoughts. If she was anyone else, she would have refused to answer. If she was any other banner, she would have stayed silent, but she was Dacey, and so Eddmina looked her in the eye as she explained. "Because I'm pregnant. I want to keep going, and keep fighting, for the sake of my family and the whole north, but I know that I cannot. If not for this, I wouldn't be leaving. I would see this war to the very end, until the moment I see Joffrey dead and my brother rules the North as its official King, but doing that would put my children in danger, and I can't do that, not anymore. I know that will disappoint everyone, I know people will think I'm a traitor and a deserter."

"With all respect, Princess, fuck what they all think," Dacey cut in, harsh at first, but then she cracked a smile. "If we truly cared what men thought of us, neither of us would be here."

Dacey did not seem surprised, nor did she seem annoyed. She did not go wide-eyed, or act upset. Instead she just smiled at her, and it was the first time since finding out that she was expecting that it felt as if someone was just genuinely happy for her. It didn't matter that it had happened in the middle of a war, it didn't matter that the timing was atrocious, Dacey merely squeezed her hand.

"I will not tell anyone, I will just tell all the men to leave you be until you feel it is appropriate to announce," Dacey told her. "I'm sure once they get over the news of you leaving it will actually be a morale boost. Another heir, after all."

Eddmina didn't have the energy to fight or correct her. Dacey had been so good, so understanding, she did not want to point out that her boys were heirs to the Reach and not the North. If that was what the northerners thought, if that was what helped them accept her leaving, then she would be fine with that, at least for a while.

***

"I really don't want to do this," Willas sighed, his head in his hands as he sat on the edge of their bed.

"Pull yourself together, Ser," Eddmina rolled her eyes, not even looking at him as she continued to focus on braiding her hair.

The tension in the godswood had gone unmentioned for the rest of the day, as the two of them spent their time busying themselves with work. Even if Willas had made Eddmina work from their bed so she could get some rest, she had enjoyed a fairly productive day, with at least ten sheets of parchment worth of notes to show Robb regarding various matters. It varied from the line of succession, reforms to their original terms that could be re-presented to the Lannisters, future battle tactics, and how they could make amends with house Frey. Willas had spent his day between the stables, assisting with the horses returned from the west, and their chambers, assisting Eddmina with her research. If it wasn't war, if it wasn't work that could affect their lives, she would have almost enjoyed it. She couldn't help but think they made a rather good team, and she was reminded of when they first met, when Willas told her he wanted a clever woman to be his consort when the time came to rule the Reach. When she thought like that, then the war almost felt like practice, like they were trialling out how they would operate when the time came for them to rule their own lands. When she allowed herself to think of work as an opportunity to spend time with Willas, then she found it more bearable, more of a pleasure than a chore.

A family dinner, however, did feel like a chore. Not that she could show her own dread, knowing they needed to attend, knowing exactly why Willas didn't want to go. She would have thought it an amusing turn of tables with him becoming the anti-social one, but she could hardly think that when she knew the truth of it, when she knew he simply didn't want to see Robb and face the consequences of his temper by seeing his black eye.

She didn't want to go simply because her stomach had felt off all day, but to voice that to Willas was to give him an excuse out of going. It didn't matter how much she would have rather spent time alone with him and Uther, she knew a family dinner would mean sitting with Sansa and laughing with Garlan. It would probably also mean having to tell people about her condition, but that would have to happen at some point anyway, and she would have rather gotten on with it, and so she refused to let Willas get out of the meal, staring at him sternly until he got dressed for the evening out of his untidy stable clothes and into something more respectable, something dark green with gold detailing.

She had dressed to match, in a gown so dark it was almost black, but when it caught th light one could see how deep green the velvet was, and while Willas was marked with roses and thorns, she was decorated with a pair of bowing direwolves with snarls on the waist. There were flowers too, intricately sewn in vines that looped around the neck and the sleeves. It was the sort of gown she would have never dreamt of wearing years before, even at the start of her time in Highgarden, far too decadent, too decorated, yet she was comfortable, and when she stood at her husband's side, felt as though she belonged. He liked it too, as when she was stood at the mirror and attached a thin belt around her waist to hold her dagger, he stood behind her and leant down, pushing a kiss to the exposed skin of the crook of her neck.

"My princess," he sighed out, his voice low and quiet. One of his hands snaked around her from behind and moved to hold her stomach lightly. He kissed her neck again. "Are you sure you would not rather stay here tonight, in our chambers, just the two of us?"

"Staying in our chambers just the two of us is how you got me in this condition, Will," she pointed out dryly, though both of her hands moved to rest on his. "You're not being fair. Our whole relationship is built around you being the social one and me being the one who wants to hide from company. You cannot reverse the roles now."

"Perhaps I only want the company of my wife?" he tried, but she craned her neck to look at him with a single arched eyebrow. He sighed, defeated. "How do I know that I will not walk in that dinner hall for Robb to immediately demand my head?"

"You're being ridiculous," it was her turn to sigh, though the noise sounded more like a laugh. "You might have hit him, but he deserved it, and even he knows that."

"Does his wife? Does your mother? Does your Uncle?" Willas listed off, but she could tell he was not truly worried. "I swear, your Uncle Brynden has always been looking for an excuse to hit me himself."

"Well, we won't know until we get there, will we?" she shrugged, pulling out of his hold to turn and face him properly.

She took the opportunity to reach up with both hands and hold his face, drawing him closer so she could kiss him. It was just a quick peck, not having the time for anything more, not suggesting anything more lest his hands ventured to the ties of her dress and he made good on his offer of keeping her to himself that night. Instead, she pulled away and offered him her arm. With a begrudging sigh, he looped his arm through hers, and they made their way to the hall.

While they walked they talked of anything and everything, save the war. Willas had seen some birds that afternoon nesting in the rafters of the stables, and he was keen to tell her all about them. She silently hoped that Uther grew up to have his passion. Her husband was a knowledgeable man who cared deeply for his interests, and she wanted to see that reflected in their son. There was a great deal about Willas that she wanted their children to inherit, though when she thought about it, she wasn't sure what qualities of her own she wanted them to have. Uther already had her look, and she hoped the rest of him was all Willas, because when she tried to think about what she could pass on, all that came to mind was her doubts, her insecurities, her stubbornness, and how desperate she was for her children to not inherit those.

They reached the hall before her mind could wander too far down that path, and she was instantly met by plenty of distractions. They were on time for once, and the two of them took their place at the table, Eddmina sat next to Sansa, Willas sat next to Garlan. The rest of the family were on the other side of the table, save Robb, who was at the head, Jeyne perched next to him. It wasn't really wide enough for two to sit comfortably in that position, but they made it look comfortable enough, because even if Jeyne didn't look as bright and happy as she had done the day before upon her arrival, she still beamed at Robb whenever he looked to her.

There was much discussion about the war as the food was served, which Eddmina was happy for, as it meant that she could focus her mind on something other than their meal. She usually preferred bird meats, with chicken or duck being her favourite, but never had the smell of mutton unsettled her as much as the platter in front of her that night did, and so she was glad to hear her brother recall all they had been through as she picked at her plate. Her Uncle Edmure told them that they had captured two young Lannister boys, teenaged nephews of Tywin Lannister that now kept their Kingslayer cousin company, and Eddmina listened intently to distract herself from how the meat in front of her made her stomach roll. Garlan told them about how he had danced with death at least three times, and Eddmina found it refreshing to feel sick at the thought of losing her brother rather than the smell of the food.

"You've hardly eaten," Sansa whispered to her when the men began to talk of battle a little louder, and Eddmina glared down at her plate, annoyed that she had not been as good at hiding her struggle as she had hoped. "Are you alright?"

"Fine," Eddmina offered her a tight, practiced smile, though the gesture was made more genuine by how she took her little sister's hand underneath the table, giving it a squeeze.

"You like mutton," Sansa pointed out, still quiet, though their mother had noticed the two girls talking and was watching them a little closer. "The only meat you don't like is-"

"Please stop," Eddmina cut her off, closing her eyes as she reached for her goblet of water. When she dared look at her sister again, Sansa was giving her a look that seemed as though she was putting pieces together, wearing a small frown.

"You didn't like it before either," she continued, her voice still barely above a whisper, but the two girls had spent enough of their childhood whispering to each other that Eddmina could understand her perfectly. "They served it at one of the feasts when the King visited Winterfell. You went pale then too."

"Did I?" Eddmina kept her eyes fixed on Sansa, refusing to glance to her mother and see that she was still watching them both, trying to figure out what they were talking about.

"Are you..." she began quietly, but trailed off, clearly unsure of how to phrase it. "You said you needed to tell me something."

"I do," Eddmina nodded to her, glad Sansa was clever enough that she didn't need to say it aloud. "Why else do you think I am going back to Highgarden?"

Sansa looked as though she wanted to scream with joy while simultanously burst into tears, but with everyone else around them, she settled for a grin that was so like her old self that Eddmina wanted to weep. Suddenly they were back in Winterfell, in their own hall, embroidery hoops on their lap and a fire raging in the hearth. They were girls again, with very few worries and troubles. They were sisters, unknowing of the traumas that were about to unfold for them. Sansa gripped Eddmina's hand tightly, bringing her back to the present, and all either of them could do was grin at each other.

"I'm coming with you," Sansa told her, still grinning. "To Highgarden. I told Robb this morning. I want to come with you. You always promised, and Lady Margaery told me at your wedding that I was always welcome."

"You are," Eddmina nodded, feeling her eyes sting a little.

Sansa looked so happy, so pleased, that for a moment, Eddmina forgot that there may be people around that table that would not see her news as a good thing. Either she forgot, or decided she didn't care, and so when she managed to tear her gaze away from Sansa, she looked to Willas, taking hold of one of his hands and squeezing it until he looked at her. His face was confused and unsure, until she gave him a smile and a nod, and the moment a suitable break in conversation occurred, she cleared her throat. Nearly everyone had finished eating, most of the platters and plates empty, except for Eddmina's. Her hands were still in her sisters and her husbands.

"Ser Willas and I have some news," she said before she could regret it, before everyone's gaze on her could make her shy away from it. She turned to look at Willas, because it was better than seeing the growing concern in her mother's eyes, or the dawning realisation on Robb's face. "Do you want to say, or shall I?"

"Eddmina's going to have a baby," Willas told them all with a proud smile, lifting her hand to his lips and kissing her knuckles. "Or, I should say, another one, that is."

Robb dropped his fork, and it clattered down onto his dinner plate noisily. Jeyne let out a sharp gasp and burst into tears, fleeing the hall. Edmure choked on the wine he was drinking. Garlan whooped happily, lifting his goblet in a toast. Sansa grinned again, leaning over and wrapping her arms around her sister's shoulders. Brynden narrowed his eyes and folded his arms across his chest, leaning back in his seat. Lady Stark merely stared at them both, dumbfounded. Suddenly Eddmina's happiness didn't feel as invincible, the reactions so polarising and contradicting, and it took everything to focus on Willas' hand on hers.

Jeyne and Robb seemed like the easiest ones to deal with first. Eddmina glanced to the door that she had left wide open, before she looked to her brother.

"Do you think you should go after your wife?" she asked calmly. Robb got up from his seat but did not move other than that.

"Is this why you're going back to Highgarden?" Robb asked, his voice the exact same as hers: calm, controlled, perfectly hiding the trouble he felt from everyone but his twin.

"Do you expect me to give birth on a battlefield?" she raised her eyebrow. She was reminded of how he had left her behind in Riverrun while he went West, claiming she was unneeded in the campaign. She wanted to bring it up, but thought it would be cruel.

"Of course I don't," he said, defensive. He was clearly shocked, looking between his sister and the door. He cracked a smile, an expression she had once been so familiar with, but the war had made it a stranger. "Congratulations, Edd."

He did not look at Willas, but that was fine. Neither of them had looked at the other all night, so she didn't expect anything else. She focused on his smile instead, and knew it was genuine. He was happy for her, he wasn't acting. Yet, while his smile was real, so was the heartbreak in his eyes, as if he knew she would really be leaving. He raised a toast, one that everyone followed, before he left to find his wife. Eddmina was surprised to find that hardly bothered her.

She used Robb's exit as the perfect time to focus on dealing with the others. Sansa and Garlan were fine enough, they both seemed happy, but her mother and the Tully uncles were all still looking between each other and Eddmina. She leant back in her seat, glad that Sansa and Willas were still holding her hands. She wanted to look down at the table to hide from the matter at hand, but instead she met her mother's gaze, and saw how conflicted Lady Stark was. It looked as though she wanted to be happy, yet the trials they had lived through the past few months were hanging over her like a dark storm cloud, and she clearly didn't know how to act. When she realised Eddmina was looking at her, waiting for her to react, she smiled. It wasn't a happy expression, rather, one that carried years worth of heartbreak.

"Mother, are you going to say something?" Sansa asked, clearly uncomfortable with the silence they had fallen into. When Lady Stark remained quiet, the Stark girl looked to her Uncles too. "Is anyone going to say anything?"

"Congratulations, niece, Ser Willas," Edmure spoke up first, offering them both a smile that seemed almost genuine. In fact, the only thing that seemed to be bothering him other than the shock of the reveal was the extended silence. "If you'll excuse me."

With that, he got up and left too, following the footsteps of his Kingly nephew. When the door closed, Garlan broke down into fits of laughter, and Sansa shifted in her seat uncomfortably, her hands still gripped to Eddmina's, looking as though she didn't know where to look. Willas sighed, taking a swig of his wine and tensing his jaw, clearly frustrated that very few in the room shared their joy. Eddmina was fine with that though, as she felt like she had emotionally prepared herself for a chilly reaction.

Even so, when Brynden's chair scraped against the flagstone floor and he got up from his seat, she braced herself. She expected him to walk out too, but instead he walked around to her side of the table, and when he was stood behind her seat, she couldn't help but rise to her feet. That was when he embraced her, pushing a kiss to the top of her head. It felt warm, it felt fatherly, and she couldn't help but close her eyes and sigh, relaxing into his hold. When he let her go after what felt like forever, he reached out and shook Willas' hand, Willas who looked relieved that someone had finally acted like he expected.

"I am glad for you both," he told them honestly. "If anyone deserves a bit of happiness in this whole mess it's the two of you."

"Thank you," Eddmina breathed out, hoping he could tell how grateful she truly was.

He ruffled her hair with a slight smile, before he moved away, going to stand behind his other niece. He placed a gentle hand on Sansa's shoulder, so gentle she barely flinched. She was still a little cautious with people who weren't her mother or sister touching her, yet with their Uncle Brynden she understood what he was doing. She looked reluctant to leave, and only got up when Eddmina nodded at her. It took a moment for Garlan to realise that Brynden was looking at him, expecting him to go too, and with a huff, he filled his wine goblet to the brim before he too got up. With the hand that wasn't clutching his goblet, he clapped Willas on the back and squeezed Eddmina's shoulder, before he offered his arm to Sansa, and escorted her out of the hall. Brynden was not far behind them, and when he left the room he shut the door, unlike the rest of them, leaving Eddmina alone with her husband and her mother.

"Mother," she spoke uncertainly, not even noticing that her hand had gone to rest on her stomach. She remained standing, but Willas reached out and took hold of her spare hand, giving it three loving squeezes. "Mother, please say something."

Lady Stark had shut her eyes, and her head fell into her hands. Eddmina and Willas shared a glance, neither of them knowing what to do, though it was easy enough to see Willas was more hurt than her. He had expected people to be happy for them, he hadn't expected Jeyne's tears, or Robb's stoicism, or Edmure's awkwardness. He took another swig of his wine, before he reached for his cane and heaved himself to his feet.

"We're at war, Will," Eddmina reminded him softly, holding his arm to stop him from storming off. "Our timing is not great, we cannot expect people to share our joy when it may have such a negative impact on the cause."

"I do not care, Mina," he fumed, his voice low and frustrated. "You deserve better than all of this."

He offered her his hand, nodding towards the door, but she glanced to her mother and shook her head. Everyone had reacted exactly as she thought they would, and so she could hardly resent them the way he did, especially her mother. Perhaps a few years ago, even a few months ago, her mother's reaction would have hurt. She would have seen it as a personal offence and taken in to heart, yet after everything that had happened, after everything she and her mother had been through together, she felt sorry for her, and knew her reaction was much bigger than the news itself.

Eddmina didn't have to say all of that though, as Willas sighed, looking between his wife and his goodmother, knowing there was far too much at play between the two women for him to even come close to understanding. He had tried many times to wrap his mind around the relationship between the two of them, and every time he got close to figuring out how they felt about each other the game changed and he was left confused again. He was sure Eddmina probably thought the same about him and his father, and so he knew not to comment.

It didn't matter if he was hurt by how everyone had acted, not if Eddmina seemed so fine. It didn't matter if he thought she should have been treated better, not just for their news but for everything throughout her whole life, because soon he would get to take her home where they would be safe, where he would make sure she was always treated with love and respect, exactly how she deserved.

That was why he gave her a kiss on the cheek and left her in the hall, alone with her mother, who still couldn't look at her. Eddmina remained in her spot for a moment, until she plucked up the courage to move to her mother's side, pulling out the chair Edmure had just abandoned and sitting down, reaching out and placing her hand on her mother's arm. Lady Stark hestated, before she glanced up at her, her eyes that were the exact same colour as Eddmina's shining. Somehow, she managed another smile, but it was not a happy one. A few years before, Eddmina might have thought her mother was being stubbornly rude, refusing to set aside a grudge to be happy for her. Now they had lived through a war and countless losses, Eddmina recognised her mother's fear as clear as day.

"You won't be safe in Highgarden, none of you will be," Lady Stark spoke eventually.

"Safer than we would be here," Eddmina tried, mostly because it was unhelpful for her mother to voice the thoughts she had not allowed to reach the front of her mind.

"Just as Bran and Rickon were safe in Winterfell? Just as safe as Sansa and Arya with your father in the capital?" Lady Stark pointed out, instantly regretting it as Eddmina flinched. "You are not safe anywhere. At least here there is an army surrounding you, and your brother... Are you going just because of what he has done?"

"Of course I am not," Eddmina couldn't help how defensive she became, sitting up straighter and withdrawing her hands from her mother's arm. "I've given Robb everything I have. If I stay here any longer I risk losing everything else I have, losing every other part of myself that has not already been lost."

"Eddmina, you are not like Tywin Lannister," Lady Stark told her firmly, recognising exactly where her daughter's mind had wandered to. "Do not flee this cause just because you are scared of doing things that the war has forced you to do."

"I want to go home," she sighed. "I want to go home, raise my children, be with my husband. It was not the life I thought I would want, but it is. I want to be safe, to have a family, to be happy. After everything we have been through, do you not think I deserve that?"

"You do, out of everyone here, no one deserves that more than you, but none of us are able to have that sort of life until we have won the war," Lady Stark reminded her, and she felt the nerves twisting inside of her, knowing her mother was saying everything she had been too scared to think. "If you leave now, after you have made yourself such an integral part of Robb's cause, do you really think we stand a chance at winning?"

"Mother, please," Eddmina shut her eyes for a moment, though opened them the moment she saw the bloodstained Stark flag that flashed in her mind every so often. Out of instinct, she wrapped her arms around her stomach. "I am not doing this out of spite. I'm not doing this to hurt anyone. You are to have another grandchild, can we not just celebrate that?"

Lady Stark looked as though she wanted to sigh and nod, to smile and hug her. Yet there was something making her hold back. Something inside of her was causing too much conflict and forcing her to not see the joy. Eddmina could hardly blame her, she had certainly had her moments of absolute despair throughout the last year, even when faced with something that was meant to be happy. There was far too much to worry over, too much to lose, and whenever Eddmina's mind considered that, happiness was always impossible.

Lady Stark took a moment to sigh, before she reached out and held her daughter's face with both hands. She brought her closer, pushing a kiss to her forehead, before looking over each of her features, memorising the details of her as if she was about to disappear. Eddmina had done that with Uther plenty of times, usually when he slept, usually to remember what he looked like while he was still small and growing into his looks. She had seen her mother do it to Robb, each time he rode off to battle or to a campaign, and it was then that Eddmina realised just how tragic it was to be someone's mother, to have to watch the life you created grow and risk danger, to change and become something you are both proud and despairing over.

"You will do what's best for your family, as you always have," Lady Stark told her with a smile that seemed as genuine as it was heartbroken. "You are a good person, Edda. You have always been a good person, but the woman you have become is... Well, your father would be very proud of you. He would be happy for you too. He would tell you to do what is right, and trust that you know what right is."

Trying not to cry felt harder at the mention of her father, especially as she considered that she was possibly carrying another Eddard. It felt like a lifetime ago that she had last been with her father. It felt as though she had lived a thousand lives since she last spoke to him, his memory feeling so ever-present yet so far away. Sometimes she forgot she had once had a father, his loss and void in her life feeling too consuming to ever consider something else having been there. Talking of him still hurt, thinking of him hurt too. Everything she had done in the war had been for him, either to save him or to avenge him, and to think of him approving of her stepping away felt like a weight off her shoulders.

Her father might have approved, but her mother probably didn't. It was obvious that Lady Stark would remain in Riverrun, not just because of her ill father but because of Robb. She probably thought he needed her more, to the point that Eddmina knew she couldn't even bare to ask if she would come along to Highgarden with her, knowing it would sting when she turned her down. She knew her mother thought her decision to step away was not the right one, but Lady Stark had learnt not to comment, knowing Eddmina would do as she pleased. That was the perk of being grown, not having to follow parental instruction; what was Eddmina's blessing was her mother's blight.

"You shouldn't tell anyone else," Lady Stark suggested after a long silence.

"Dacey knows," Eddmina admitted, hating how scandalised her mother looked, as if she was hurt that the Mormont girl knew before any of the family. "I could hardly keep it a secret, she caught me throwing up in a shrub."

"Gods, Edda," Lady Stark sighed, shaking her head. It was the sort of expression she would have pulled when Eddmina was still a girl, when the two of them were often at odds. Eddmina was surprised how much she enjoyed it. "Tell no one else, though. It would be too dangerous, for all of you."

The thought of talking about more danger made her stomach twist more than the smell of the mutton had, so all Eddmina could do was nod. It was exhausting, to constantly be considering how one's life was on the line, and she had had enough of that for a lifetime, let alone a night.

"I am sure you will be well cared for in Highgarden," Lady Stark concluded, noting how weary Eddmina looked. "You should go and get some rest. The early weeks are the worst ones."

"I thought it was the final weeks which were rougher," Eddmina shrugged, watching as her mother tried not to look guilty and regretful, recalling how she had missed those weeks in favour of capturing Lannisters. "I'm going to bed. I will see you in the morning."

Eddmina didn't look back as she got up and left the hall, wary that even looking at her mother might make her think of all the dangers and worries she had tried to repress. She had enough on without also thinking that her mother was worried about her, which was something she'd never really considered to great extents until becoming a mother herself.

She was tired, and after a long, turbulent day, she knew all she should want was her bed and her husband's arms. That was the logical choice, to want to go to her chamber and retire. She and Willas would curl up together and talk about everything and anything until they fell asleep, the way they always did. She would drift asleep with her head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat, with his hand stroking through her hair. That was what she should want, and the fact that her feet carried her in the opposite direction to her chambers almost hurt.

It almost hurt, because there was too much running through her mind to try to sleep, and, from experience, there was one thing that helped settle her thoughts more than anything.

Eddmina made sure to find a wineskin filled to the brim before she snuck down to the cells.

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