Father had briefly mentioned to him about how jousts could go wrong. He'd made a fleeting comment once when his grandmother had asked how he'd prepared for if he'd fall from his horse. Father had merely laughed and said a boy who loved horses as much as Willas would never be in a situation where he had to worry about falling from his saddle. He boasted with confidence how he was not only the greatest swordsman in the whole of the Reach but would quickly become the greatest jouster in all the seven kingdoms. Father's overwhelming confidence was almost catching, and just as Willas began to consider the slim possibility that he might just make his father proud, all those dreams came crashing down at the same exact moment Willas' horse crashed onto his leg.

Willas was sure he would die from the pain. Surely he should be dead already. Part of him wished he was. The overwhelming burning feeling that consumed his whole body had made his vison haze over. He couldn't see anything at all, not that he was sure he wanted to. He couldn't remember how he got from the arena to the medic tent, but considering the only voice he could hear despite his mother's screams was Garlan, he assumed his brother would have had something to do with it. As if he didn't owe him enough. He didn't want to die, not if Garlan and his mother were nearby, he didn't want them to see that. Out of bitterness he wanted his father to see it though, it was his fault he'd entered the damned tourney anyway.

Someone else was screaming too. Oh gods, not Margie. His little sister certainly didn't need to see him like this. Couldn't someone get her away? Where in seven hells was Loras, surely he wasn't off flirting with Lord Renly when their sister was sobbing like that? He opened his mouth to say something, to call Garlan's name to ask him to clear everyone out, but instead the only noise he could make was a howl of pain. It was the first time he'd even murmured, and it was like opening a barrel of worms, unable to stop himself. Suddenly he couldn't hear Margaery or his mother, not over his own sobs, and it only got worse when he felt someone touching his leg.

He wanted to scream at whoever it was to just leave him alone, leave him to die, but then someone was holding him down to stop him moving. He could hear Garlan speaking to him, his tone desperate and hurried, but he couldn't break through the haze to focus on what he was actually saying. He felt who he assumed was the maester grip onto his leg, the crushed one, and he let out an ear splitting scream, and that seemed to snap him into focus more. He managed to see the chaos around him, his father stood over by the tent's opening, red faced in fury as she shouted at someone, his mother and younger two siblings huddled in the corner, Garlan leaning over his body with a tight grip. Perhaps he was only holding him so tight as to keep his soul in his body, keeping him firmly grounded in the world.

"I'm afraid there may be too much damage... to waste time on the leg would cost his life..." a strained voice explained, though it was only met with cries of outrage from around the tent.

"You're not letting him die," Garlan hissed through his teeth at the maester before looking down at Willas. When was the last time he saw Garlan cry? When they were children, perhaps? "You fucking here me? Don't you dare die,"

Willas certainly didn't want to die, but perhaps he'd know peace upon death. There certainly wasn't peace in that gods-forsaken tent, not while his father was still shouting at whoever it was that insisted on entering the tent. It couldn't have been his grandmother, she would have just barged in by that point surely. The curiosity of a newcomer was the only thing distracting him from the pain, but not even the curiosity could drown out the noise of the maester sharpening his tools. That snapped him to attention, and he managed to see through the haze that the maester was in fact sharpening a bone-saw, the evil steel glinting in the few rays of sunlight managing to break through into the tent.

"Get that thing away from me!" he managed to blurt out, his words coming out as one jumble, yet loud and clear enough that surely someone would understand and put a stop to it. "Please, you can't, it doesn't even hurt! Please!"

A lie that was more than obvious as his vision began to blur again, and he felt sick, truly sick, though he wasn't sure if that was just from the pain or how badly he didn't want the maester to take his leg. He could hear Garlan arguing the exact same point, and even father had quit his yelling at the stranger to turn his anger on the maester. Yet there were three people behind him, two of which he could make out citadel chains lying around their necks, while the third man...

"Since this man is incapable of seeing any option but brutal amputation I've brought my own maesters," a thick Dornish accent spoke.

"Not that that makes up for any of this!" Lord Tyrell argued furiously, and Willas was close enough to hear Garlan swear lowly in frustration.

"The leg is irreparable, the only option is to-" the original maester pressed, his voice laced with exasperation, though he was cut off suddenly.

"You find another option, and you keep the boy alive, is that understood?" the Dornishman spoke slowly, and Willas wondered if he had the maester by the throat he was so silent.

While Willas didn't particularly enjoy being called boy - he was ten-and-six, after all - he certainly enjoyed the fact that the bone-saw was cast aside, all thanks to the Dornishman who could only be Prince Oberyn. Even with his blurred vision Willas could make out the prince, who was now kneeling at his bedside, helping Garlan to keep him still while the two new maesters examined the wreck of his leg. He recalled how he had thought just how handsome the Prince was when they were a-top their horses about to joust. He was certainly the most handsome man he'd ever seen, and now he'd saved his life, he'd stopped them from taking his leg... No, if not for him he wouldn't be in the sick-tent, he would still be completely healthy and unknowing of the dangers of jousting. The agony was all Oberyn's fault, and yet as the Dornishman whispered a dozen shaken apologies into his ear, Willas couldn't find it in him to lay blame with him.

Clearly his father didn't think the same way, as he shouted for the Martell Prince to be banished from the tent once more, but Garlan silenced him with a single look. By that point the three masters had figured out a plan and though Willas could barely hear them over the pain, as well as the fact that Prince Oberyn was still whispering things into his ear that he couldn't quite make out yet sounded infinitely nicer, he knew whatever they had figured was no easy feat. He realised the pain wasn't going to end, not when he felt his brother tighten his grip on his shoulders and even his father fell quiet. He didn't know what was happening, not really, but whatever it was wasn't good, and he found himself really, truly fearing for his life. It was all only the beginning, an awful sense of the dire situation falling onto him, his emotions spiralling into fear.

"You're not going to die," Garlan hissed at him quietly, his voice barely audible though it shook nervously. "Promise me, big brother,"

"I don't want to," Willas shook his head weakly, his body beginning to tremble out of anxiety and anticipation for whatever the maesters were going to do to his surely-ruined leg. "What are they doing?"

"Keep looking at your brother," the voice of Prince Oberyn advised, his lips still close to his ear to make sure he heard him well enough. "Don't look down. t's going to hurt, but it won't be for long. I'm sorry,"

Willas didn't look down. In fact, he didn't really look anywhere, because the moment the maesters began to rebreak his leg in order to set it back correctly, the agony finally overtook him and he passed out into a dizzy dream of woodlands and meadows that was so sweet he was certain it was the heavens welcoming him.

There was nothing he hated more - Willas decided, as he woke with a slight jolt - than being forced to relive the worst moments of his life in his dreams. Especially when those dreams came while he was sleeping next to his dear wife who made life seem so wonderful and full of potential, the dreams acting as the perfect reminder of how close he danced on the edge of death.

He was used to the resurfacing of the memory ebbing and flowing, he used to dream about it a lot when the accident was still new, but then as the years went by and it became a distant thing of the past that occasionally surfaced to haunt him. Yet ever since retelling the tale to Eddmina and the Starks the dreams had made a reappearance, which had certainly not helped when the cold of the far north made his leg ache. After such a long journey to and from the Wall, not to mention rather uncomfortable lodgings both in Castle Black and on the road, he needed nothing more than a good night's sleep, but even being back in a bed that was his own with Eddmina beside him couldn't keep the nightmare at bay.

It always surprised him how he forgot so many things from that day. He knew he would never forget Oberyn coming to his rescue at the last minute and helping to hold him down, but he had forgotten how he had spoke to him the whole time, squeezing him tightly as if he was his greatest friend and not a stranger he'd met only hours previous. He'd forgotten the way he told him to look at Garlan, as if his brother would be able to make everything better.

He'd certainly not forgotten the look on Garlan's face though, or his mother's sobs, or the smell, or...

'No,' he thought suddenly, sitting up in bed and running his hands through his hair, taking deep breaths to calm down. 'Don't think about that. Think about anything else. Think of the woodlands, or the meadows, or anything. Think of Mina.'

Thinking of his wife was a good enough distraction, especially while she was still sleeping soundly at his side, though he could tell she was a little uncomfortable. It always amused him how she tended to sleep on her stomach whenever they didn't fall asleep in each other's arms, yet that had clearly become impossible in the past few weeks so she had instead curled into a ball, her hair a wild mane across the pillow. He had to stop himself from reaching out and stroking her curls, thinking about how when he had found himself unable to sleep at the Wall he had thought about running his hands through her hair. He had thought of her daily while he had been away, most of all at night when he realised just how lonely he was without her. He'd missed her more than he thought, so reuniting with her left him feeling as though a part of him had been restored.

Of course he had still enjoyed the trip. Willas always loved travelling, even if his leg did add a few complications now and then, but the trip to the Wall was something rather surreal. Ever since marrying Eddmina Willas had tried to learn all about her northern heritage as well as the history of the kingdom, and so to visit a site of so many books and stories felt like stepping right into one of the timeworn pages of a Maester's novel. He knew how much the trip meant to Eddmina too due to her childhood interest in the Night's Watch, and so he had memorised every detail he'd noticed, every fact he'd learnt, every conversation he'd engaged in. He couldn't wait to recall it all to her as soon as they had the chance considering their reunion the day before had been side tracked. He couldn't wait to tell her all about Castle Black, because while it was so different from the stories - so much more rundown and weary from lack of true maintenance -  he'd decided all the ways the Reach could help. Financial aid to help rebuild the the damaged areas of the keep, food packages to make sure there was enough in store for the inevitable horror of Winter, recruitment programs to ensure there were enough men to guard the fortress properly, his ideas were endless and he knew Eddmina would relish the opportunity to offer support. It would at least give her the opportunity to remain close to her northern roots even while she was so far from home, a way to stay close to her family, especially since her brother was actually a brother of the night's watch.

He couldn't wait to get started, yet Eddmina was still asleep, and he certainly didn't have the heart to wake her while she seemed so peaceful. Usually she would be awake long before him but pregnancy had clearly exhausted her, and even though he wanted to remain in bed by her side he knew the best way to clear his dream out of his mind was to get up and get going with his day. He pulled himself out of bed, grimacing as he felt the dull ache of his leg that inevitably reminded him of his dream again, reminding him of the tight grip of the maester's hand as they reset the bone. He refused to let his mind settle on that thought as he quickly pulled a robe around himself, making sure to be as quiet as possible, not that it really mattered. Eddmina was a heavy sleeper, so she didn't wake even as he made his way over to the desk, his cane clicking on the stone floor.

The first thing he saw was the pile of letters intended for him. He had wanted to read them the day before but hadn't had the chance and part of him was glad for it as it would provide the perfect distraction from the bad memories threatening to claw their way to the front of his mind. He hadn't realised he was nervous to read of his family's reactions until he looked at the golden rose embossed into the wax seal of the letter, and considering his current mood he tossed that one aside for the time being, deciding to start with one that was clearly from Oberyn. He was glad of that decision, the penmanship as familiar to Willas as his own, and his tales of horses, hunting and whores made him stifle back laughter. The prince should be a novelist he had such a way with words. He finished the letter the way he always did, with an invitation to visit. It worked safer that way, for Willas to visit Dorne rather than Oberyn visit Highgarden, considering Willas was never entirely certain that he was joking whenever he remarked about his grandmother's desire to poison the prince.

Of course when Oberyn's letter was finished that meant he had nothing left to read but the letters of his family. There were four in total, two with a green wax seal, while the other two were golden. The green, he assumed, were from his siblings, so he decided to read those first, as surely dealing with Margaery and Loras would be far easier than dealing with his parents.

'Dear big brother,

Congratulations, I am so thrilled to hear of your news! I always swore I would become the greatest of aunts, and I know that while Mina has sisters of her own and Leonette will surely want to be present, I am certain I will be the favourite aunt. I make it my life's mission to achieve that title.

I wanted to write to you myself to express my excitement, but to also encourage you to answer the letter our parents sent previously. They're concerned to have not heard back from you, and even though I reminded them that you informed us of your journey to the Wall with Garlan (a curious travel destination in all of our opinions) they are determined for you to answer them as soon as possible. Please, for my sake, dearest brother, so that I don't have to listen to any more complaints or grumbles.

Give my love to Garlan and Leo, as well as Mina and her family.

Love from your favourite sister, Margaery x'

As sweet as it was to hear from his sister, Willas couldn't help but glance to the two gold-sealed letters with dread. Margaery had obviously written hers after his parents' first letter. Still, he shrugged them off again, opening the other green one next.

'Willas,

I'm in King's Landing accompanying Lord Renly but Margie wrote to me with your news. Congratulations to you both, no one will make greater parents.

Speaking of parents, could you please acknowledge our own? They've not heard back from you, not since you wrote to tell them you were off to the Wall. I imagine father will be falling victim to all sorts of fantasies of you abandoning your duties to the House to go live as a Ranger of the Watch. Please save our sister and mother the trouble of having to deal with father and grandmother.

Renly sends his regards and I wish you all well.

Loras.'

Briefer than Margaery's, yet that was no surprise. The brothers loved each other, but Willas was nowhere near as close to Loras as he was to Garlan. The age gap didn't help, as well as his recurring absence from Highgarden, but if anyone ever caused him pain or threatened him with unhappiness Willas was certain he'd not rest until the gesture was returned. Regardless of everything, they were family, and even if he'd never said it Willas truly adored his little brother, so it was nice to read his regards.

Yet, just like Margaery, Loras hinted at some sort of unrest within Highgarden. Of course he and Garlan had joked about how their parents would react to the the news, but never had Willas considered anything that would cause more annoyance than amusement. Without hesitation, he quickly tore open the gold seal of the first letter, his eyes scanning over it quickly as he felt something bubbling deep inside of him. It wasn't something he felt regularly in regards to his family, but every so often, on rare occasions... but no, no other instance had come close to causing the frustration and hurt he was experiencing upon reading the words in his father's neat penmanship. They weren't really his words though, as he read them in his head and found it impossible to not imagine them being spoken by his grandmother.

He didn't bother reading the second letter. Instead he got up from the desk and dressed as quickly as he could, buckling the brace around his leg as he bit his lip to stop himself hissing in pain and waking his wife. If she woke up she'd see the letters, if she saw the letters she'd want to read them, and Willas wasn't ready for her to experience the disappointment he felt in regards to his family. She hadn't seen that side of them yet, and he had hoped to protect her for as long as possible. Garlan, however, was more than used to their family, and so as soon as he was dressed, wrapping himself up in a thick fur cloak to shield from the early morning chill of Winterfell, he headed off in search of his brother, both letters in his tight grip while his other hand clenched his cane so tightly his knuckles stung and turned snow white.

Willas barely noticed the fact that he had to struggle up a set of stairs to get to Garlan and Leonette's chambers, and he paid no mind to the fact that dawn was barely breaking. As soon as he was faced with his brother's door, he pounded his fist against it. When an answer didn't come quick enough he knocked again, biting back the urge to call out to demand entrance. Willas couldn't remember the last time he felt so impatient, but as soon as the door creaked open to reveal Garlan stood shirtless with a robe wrapped around him, his hair a vicious bird's nest, he realised what time it was and instantly felt guilty for the disruption.

"What in seven hells do you want?" Garlan grumbled, rubbing his face with both hands in exhausted frustration. "Gods, I hate you sometimes, I thought that was a bloody battering ram at the door."

"Why would there be a battering ram in Winterfell?" Willas raised a single eyebrow in amusement, forgetting his anger for a brief moment as his brother glared daggers.

"Perhaps I thought that simply due to the fact Lady Stark seems to have a vendetta against the Lannisters and I've heard the Rains-of-bloody-Castamere enough times to know that's not the wisest idea," he snapped tiredly. "What do you want that couldn't possibly wait until the sun is up? Not that the sun is often up in Winterfell."

Willas didn't speak. Instead he merely held the two letters up for his brother to see. He'd not realised that the letters had crumpled in his fist, but Garlan still saw the golden seal embossed with the rose. He sighed, before stepping backwards and opening the door, gesturing defeatedly for Willas to enter. As soon as he stepped inside and Garlan barred the door behind him, Willas' guilt grew immensely as he saw Leonette perched nervously on the edge of the bed, still wiping sleep from her eyes as Garlan crossed to room to hand her a cloak. Neither of them were impressed by his intrusion, though Leonette at least attempted a smile.

"Are those letters from home?" she asked, supressing a yawn. Willas nodded, and they both recognised a look of disdain cross his face. "What?"

"Read them," he replied simply, thrusting them both at his brother  before he sat down at the desk opposite their bed.

Garlan didn't seem particularly in the mood for reading, but he obliged anyway, taking the scrunched up letters from Willas' fist as he sat at Leonette's side, shuffling closer to the bedside candle to make out the writing. It only took a few lines for his expression to darken, and as he looked up to his brother, Willas could tell that Garlan not only understood exactly why he had intruded on them in the early hours, but he also felt the same sort of shocked displeasure.

"Is this-" Garlan began, glancing between the letter and his brother.

"It's father's handwriting," Willas cut in, clenching his jaw as his stomach tightened.

Willas recalled being a boy and spending countless months visiting his maternal family, the Hightower of Old Town becoming more like home than Highgarden at one stage. He remembered how his father used to write at least once a week, sometimes to check in out of parental protectiveness, but mostly to remind him that he was a Tyrell and his duties lay in Highgarden not in Old Town. There had been so many letters he was sure he'd be able to recognise his father's handwriting anywhere, even when he so desperately wanted it not to be. He felt like a little boy again, a little boy being summoned home despite his own wishes.

"Will someone please tell me what's going on?" Leonette inquired, growing bored of the tension and unknowing.

"'Willas,'" Garlan began to read aloud, and part of Willas was grateful for it, certain he needed to hear the words spoken to make sure he hadn't dreamt them. "'While we are all pleased at your news and offer our sincerest congratulations to you and your wife, we must express our concern regarding your decision to remain North. While we understand the situation with the Starks following the aftermath of the Royal visit and little Lord Brandon's accident, you must not forget the importance of your role in our house. You are heir to House Tyrell and will one day become the Warden of the Reach and Lord Paramount of the Mander. Your wife might be descended from ancient Kings, but we are not, and you must be wary of any possible threat to your claim. It was not too long ago that some of our bannermen attempted to oppose your position, you must not give them any reason to doubt you further. If your wife births a son while hiding away in the North you will throw all your hard work to prove your strength to waste. A marriage between yourself and the daughter of the King's best friend was meant to strengthen our house, not the other way around. We expect you home in time to welcome your heir, so we may plan the proper celebrations. With kind regards, your family.'"

"'With kind regards?'" Leonette quoted after a moment of silence, clearly holding back a baffled laugh. "And, I am sorry, but they do remember what your wife is called, don't they? To say the letter berated her it never mentioned Eddmina by name once."

"You'd think the fuss they made in encouraging the betrothal they'd have to curtesy to remember her name, though I'm surprised they didn't resort back to 'the Stark Girl' like they used to call her," Garlan shrugged, tossing the letter back down onto the bed before he glanced at the second, the seal still unbroken. "Perhaps this one is an apology for the overreaction, or at least they remember Edda's name."

"Don't read it yet," Willas grimaced, still not over the first one.

"What did it mean, 'don't give them any excuse to doubt you further'?" Leonette frowned, picking the page back up and scanning over it all again.

"You remember after the joust, after I was well enough to travel home?" Willas folded his arms across his chest as he lent back in his chair, looking to the floor. "The bannermen came, it was meant to be a celebration of my survival, yet it quickly turned into them all deciding I wasn't fit as heir."

"If I recall it was Randyll Tarly who started the opposition," Garlan muttered disgustedly.

"No surprises there," Leonette shuddered.

"Yes, awful man, but he was rather persuasive when it comes to convincing people that I was only mere hours from death," Willas continued, his voice cold. "They thought that if I didn't perish to my injuries then there was a very real possibility that I'd been hurt in a more permanent way that would leave me unable to have children. Several of the lords were in agreement, Randyll Tarly, Arthur Ambrose, Mathis Rowan, a few others but those three were the loudest, and they all thought that I should be made to step down as heir and allow Garlan to take my place."

"No one cared to listen when I shouted that I didn't want it," Garlan remembered, letting out a bitter laugh. "Thankfully there were enough Hightower's and Tyrell's to shout over the lot of them."

Willas merely rolled his eyes at that. Garlan clearly had a better memory of the night in question, and the days following, in which the bannermen were all lectured back into their place both by Lady Olenna and Lord Leyton Hightower, his grandparents of both houses being the most vicious of his supporters. Garlan could clearly remember the endless meetings and tiresome lunches in which the only topic of conversation was Willas and his health, most of which Willas was there for though was often treated by the bannermen as if he was invisible. At the time it had grated on him, and he had been desperate to banish all of them far from Highgarden, though upon reflection it was not just the bannermen's ignorance that had led to his poor treatment. He might have been in the room physically while the conversations took place, but his memories of it all were a haze thanks to the vast amount of poppy's milk the maester had dosed him up on, and he was certain he was so benumbed he was unable to string more than three words together at once.

It was no wonder they all thought him unworthy when they saw him like that. More than once when he could gather his thoughts he attempted to tell Garlan or his parents or grandparents or any damned relation who would listen that he truly no longer wished to be heir, but none of them would hear it. It was his birth right, regardless of the state of his leg. He was still healing, that was all any of them would say as they waved their hands at him dismissively. He was still healing, soon enough the maester would be able to help him get moving again, maybe even get him back on horseback, and he'd no longer need anything to dull the pain so he'd be back to running intellectual rings around them all. It had seemed so impossible at the time, but eventually, when all the bannermen departed in sullen fealty, he realised that they had been right, and his father and grandmother wouldn't let him forget that they had been right. His mother cared more about the fact that he was simply alive, but his father and grandmother were more motivated by the doubts of the vassal houses, and quickly his journey of recovery shifted focus onto proving them all wrong.

His marriage was unfortunately a proof of status, a way for his family to show that one of the oldest houses in Westeros thought him worthy as well as the royal family, even Eddmina understood that. Willas remembered the first time they went out riding together, when she gave him the winter rose he still kept pressed as a bookmark in a novel about the north, and how she had explained her understanding of why their betrothal seemed to work advantageously for both families. His family could use their marriage to show him worthy to the bannermen, even if he truly hated it, but he would not let them use their child. He would not let their child become a piece in some game before they were even born.

"I never wanted Mina to feel as though she was just there as a status symbol," he spoke quietly, feeling his temper burning deep inside. "It's one of the reasons I liked to take Mina travelling, the less time she spends in Highgarden the less chance of any of them making her feel like she was just there to prove something about me. I'll not let anyone do that to her, especially not now, and did you notice what they said? 'If your wife births a son'. Do you know how badly that will hurt her if she read that, let alone if any of them say it to her face?"

"You can't hide her away from the family forever, Willas," Leonette sighed, leaning over and squeezing Willas' arm, seeing how badly the situation was bothering him. Meanwhile, Garlan went unnoticed as he read the second letter, rubbing his hand over his creased brow.

"I'm not trying to hide her away!" he snapped, feeling guilty instantly considering how kind Leonette was, undeserving of his frustrations. "I'm sorry."

"You don't need to apologise," she smiled kindly before she glanced to her husband. "What's wrong?"

"Perhaps I should read you this second letter?" he suggested, holding the parchment closer to the candle as he cleared his throat. "'Willas, as your family we request that you do not ignore us. We understand you may still be off on your outlandish northern expedition to the Wall, and to save her from aggravation we will not write to your wife with our concerns, but the moment you return to Winterfell we expect your attention. Stubbornness has always been your greatest flaw, and so to ensure you do not ignore the importance of your rank we will be bringing you home ourselves. Our journey to Winterfell should take just over a month, and upon our arrival we will give you and your wife (as well as Garlan and Leonette, do not assume we have forgotten about them) time to get your affairs in order before we sail home to the Reach. Your heir will be born in the kingdom he will one day inherit. With loving regards, your family.'"

None of them had time to feel any sort of irritation towards the letter, not as Leonette pointed out that the letter had arrived a fortnight before, giving them just two weeks before they were joined by the family.

***
"Sansa writes of the tourney, she says it was the most spectacular day of her life," Eddmina summarised as she re-read the letter at the breakfast table, the letter of her sister's pretty penmanship in one hand while the other held up a slice of thick bread topped with salted bacon. She took a bite, feeling hungrier than usual, before continuing. "Loras asked for her favour and gave her a rose, which is good since I asked him to watch out for her the last time I wrote to him. I fear she may be smitten but I suppose I prefer him vastly to the Prince. She doesn't mention Arya at all though."

"I'll take that over them bickering mercilessly," Robb shrugged as he leant over to look at the letter himself, placing the one from their youngest sister down on the table. "Arya says the tourney was rather dull other than when a knight ended up with a jousting pike through his neck... Sorry."

Eddmina, who's mind instantly went to Willas any time she thought about jousting, shuddered. She took another bite of her breakfast before she put it back down onto her plate, the thought of the violent sport turning her stomach. As if sensing her distaste the baby kicked away at her. She heard a whine from under the table and saw Honour and Grey Wind eying up her food. No matter how hungry she was the thought of jousting made her unable to even consider eating any more so she tossed the bread to the wolves, the pair of them fighting over every last scrap as if they were starving.

"Tell me what else Arya says," she asked, sounding almost desperate. "How are her dancing lessons going? Does she mention father? How is he?"

"She just says he's busy and clearly missing home," Robb frowned, the simplicity of Arya's writing worrying him. "As for her lessons, she reckons she'd be able to duel you by the time she next visits Highgarden."

Eddmina smiled at that. She missed her sisters more than she even thought possible. The moment she returned to Highgarden she was sure she would be inviting them to stay. That wouldn't be too long considering she was due in just under three months, and if Maester Luwin reckoned she'd need to rest and recover for a few weeks, she could see Sansa and Arya within the year. Perhaps their father would accompany them too, perhaps she'd get to introduce her child to their grandfather as well as their aunts. The thought made her want to smile, until she dwelled on the fact that the child was due in at least three months and her mother still wasn't home.

She'd promised too. It was rare Eddmina put her full trust in her mother, rare that she completely and utterly felt like she needed her, but for once she did, and for once she had told her just that. Even so, her mother had left, and with every day that passed Eddmina couldn't help but think that Lady Stark would break her promise and leave her completely alone when she needed her most. She wouldn't really be alone of course, not while she had Willas, but still, Eddmina couldn't help but be bitter and frustrated.

"Will you help Rickon with his lessons today?" Robb asked, noticing his sister drowning in her thoughts. "He keeps trying to hide from Maester Luwin, and you're smart when if comes to history, maybe he'll want to listen to you."

"No six year old wants to listen to their dull older sister drone on about long dead kings," she pointed out. "He'd much rather you take him out riding, it'd get his energy out so he'd stop running riot around the castle with Shaggydog."

"I told Bran I'd spend time with him today," Robb spoke before sighing. "And I've got to meet with Luwin about finding a new steward, and a new stablemaster, as well as talk through the finances."

"I can deal with the financial matters, I always was better at sums than you," Eddmina attempted to hide her desire to help under a joke. "I wish father had put replacements in place before he left and took half of Winterfell with him."

Before either of them had the chance to dwell on the matter footsteps echoed in the hall, as well as the sound of a cane. Honour leapt out from under the table, bounding in happiness to see Willas, the wolf missing him almost as much as Eddmina had done. Eddmina expected to hear Garlan and Leonette too, but it was only Willas who took a seat next to her. He reached out and took her hands, squeezing them three times before he lifted them to his lips to kiss her knuckles. Out of the corner of her eye Eddmina noticed Robb roll his eyes, but she trained her focus on her husband, especially when she noted that he seemed a little pale, his hair a mess.

His side of the bed had been cold when she woke up. She had wondered where he had gotten to as he wasn't really an early riser, and while her brother was fine enough company she had missed Willas. She'd missed waking up with him still sound asleep at her side, she'd missed the way he woke with a sheepish smile whenever he opened his eyes and realised she'd been watching him. The sweet thought made her want to smile, but the Willas sat beside her inspired concern rather than contentment. The Willas beside her seemed lost for words, as if he was hurt beyond words but trying to conceal it to protect her, but if anything that made her worry more.

"Are you well?" she asked with a frown.

"Yes, don't worry," he forced a smile, though his gaze quickly moved away from her to Robb. "I'm afraid I must be the bearer of some rather annoying news. The rest of my family want to be present for when Mina has the baby. I'm afraid Winterfell is going to have to tolerate more southern visitors."

Just the way he said it told Eddmina that all was not well, but she knew better to question what the situation was, at least while they were with Robb. Willas rarely looked so serious, so tense, and so she decided to put her curiosity aside, squeezing his hand and forcing a smile.

"That's okay," she said lightly, hoping she sounded reassuring. "It will be nice to welcome them back North."

Willas nodded, but the tense way he held his shoulders told her otherwise.

***

In the weeks that passed, Eddmina could barely get a word out of Willas about the arrival of his family. He barely spoke of it at all, and whenever she attempted to discuss the matter he would change the subject immediately. After a while she became frustrated by his stubborn silence but rather than pursue her curiosity about what was actually wrong she decided to just let him tell her when he was ready.

Besides, she had enough on her mind without preoccupying herself with Willas' badly-hidden troubles. It had been two months, and she still caught herself looking over her shoulder every time she heard a creak behind her. Each night before she fell asleep she made sure to bar the door properly and ensured her dagger was placed within reach on the bedside cabinet. Somehow Willas hadn't noticed her extra caution, and whatever was bothering him meant he also hadn't noticed the dark circles growing under her eyes from exhaustion as she struggled to sleep each night. Perhaps she would be able to get some rest if she wasn't constantly remembering how she almost died, but the closer she got to having the baby the worse her nightmares became, and just the thought of the horrific dreams was enough to keep her wide awake. She longed for another wolf dream, another night of running wild through the woods, another dream where she could escape her own mind and enter Honour's. It was far less problematic to be a wolf.

Except it wasn't really, not when she finally asked Old Nan about those sorts of dreams, and the sweet old woman only worried her more as she told her tales of the children of the forest. She told her all about green-seers, and how the Starks - with their old blood of the First Men - may still have that sort of power. She told her of men who could transform into animals by entering into their mind, men who could see the past, the future, and everything in between. So, either it was just an interesting coincidence that Eddmina occasionally dreamed of Honour hunting, or she had some kind of magical blood inherited from the First Men. Eddmina decided her life was complicated enough without the latter being the truth.

Even so, the wolf dreams were a nice distraction whenever they did occur. They always managed to turn her thoughts away from her almost-murder and the fact that every day which passed her fear of childbirth grew alarmingly. It became harder and harder to ignore that fear too, especially as her stomach grew and the baby continued to move around and kick her what felt like every hour of the day. It was rather remarkable, she was in awe of her body and what has happening inside of her, but when she stopped to think about it that was when the panic kicked in. The memories of Sansa and Arya being born were blurry, but she was able to remember how she and Robb had hid under his bed when they could hear their mother's screams from down the corridor. She could recall Bran and Rickon easier, the haunting screams, the otherwise silent castle, and the way that she had sat outside the chamber door until the early hours expecting a fatal ending. Of course everything went well each time, and each time the bells rang in celebration, but Eddmina couldn't forget what had happened only seconds before, and she couldn't forget the morbid curiosity about what lie on the other side of the chamber door.

In truth she didn't really know what happened in the birthing chamber, and that made her feel not only stupid but awfully naïve too. How in Seven Hells was she meant to prepare herself for something when she didn't really know what awaited her? How was she meant to stay positive about a situation when all she could expect was excruciating pain?

Two nights before the Tyrell arrival Eddmina found herself spiralling down that dread-filled avenue of thought after she woke from another bad dream. Even feeling Willas' arm wrapped around her shoulder embracing her in his sleep didn't act as any comfort, and for once she couldn't bare to be in bed any longer. No point pretending she would be able to get back to sleep. She managed to shrug Willas off her gently without stirring him, slowly but surely heaving herself up off the bed. There was still a candle burning at their desk so it couldn't have been that long since Willas had abandoned his book in favour of their bed. It was a big dusty thing he'd found at the back of the library about the wildlife of the north, and though it wasn't usually her sort of book she decided it might be the best way to ease her mind.

She sat down at the desk with a small huff, wrapping one arm around her stomach while she used her other hand to open the book at whatever page Willas had marked; there were two sheets of parchment holding his place. The moment the book fell open Eddmina had to bite her lip in surprise as she realised what the bookmarks were. She'd not expected him to use his letters from Highgarden as a way to mark his page, and while she was opposed to reading someone else's correspondence her eyes had already zoned in on the letters before she could stop herself. She wanted to stop herself, but once she read the first line of the top letter she couldn't, and soon she found herself reading them both over and over again, desperate to understand exactly what they meant and why she felt ill and exhausted reading them.

No wonder Willas had been short whenever she asked about his family. No wonder he seemed oddly protective over her whenever she would bring up the visit. He'd lied about the true nature of the visit, sure, but he'd lied to protect her, he'd lied to save her feelings. She glanced over her shoulder at her sleeping husband, considering just how much she loved him, and just how remarkable he was. He'd kept the truth from her to save her from feeling upset even though it was more painful for him. That had been for nothing, she was upset anyway, but not for the things written about her.

They wrote as if he was a boy who needed instruction and guidance, a boy who couldn't even look after himself. They wrote as if she was there simply to prove his honour and give him heirs. Perhaps that was all they saw her for, but she didn't really care. She cared more about the fact that they cared so little for her and her heritage that it was unimaginable for that to be a part of her child's life. They expected her and Willas to live their lives for the expectations of other people, and they were only coming north to bring them home. Yet, for Eddmina, the north was home, and she would refuse to be forced to leave a second time, at least not until she'd had the baby.

Only when forced to consider the idea of leaving so soon did Eddmina realise she was actually scared to go. She was scared of what lie ahead of her regardless, but at least in Winterfell, surrounded by the people she grew up with in the castle she called home for eighteen years, she felt safe. She was sure she'd feel safe in Highgarden too, but considering giving birth there after a rushed journey home made her feel even more nervous for it all. She couldn't leave Winterfell. They couldn't force them to leave, or to do anything, surely?

"My darling, where are you?" Willas' voice called tiredly from their bed, and she heard him behind to sit up.

She tried to close the book in time, hoping that her back to him would hide that she had read the private letters that had clearly been hidden, but her hopes were in vain. He'd spotted her at the desk, and he could clearly see the open book. He let out a cursed sigh, and she glanced to him to see he was running his hands through his hair.

"I didn't mean to read the letters," she said quietly.

"Come here," he beckoned, and as his face was clearly lined with frustration she could tell it wasn't directed to her.

As soon as she took her place next to him he wrapped his arms around her tightly, one hand squeezing the small of her back while the other held her stomach. He pushed his lips to hers in what was meant to be a soft kiss of apology, but their love quickly took charge. She held him close, wanting to never let go, but when she felt him begin to break away from their kiss she quickly moved her hands to the back of his head, pulling him close again to kiss his cheeks.

"We're not going back to Highgarden, not until Luwin says it's safe for you to return, I promise," he told her firmly, the hand on her back going up to hold her cheek instead. "I'm sorry, Mina, gods, I'm sorry."

"Sometimes I forget that this was an arranged marriage," she whispered with a sad smile. "And then I'm reminded of it the moment someone expects us to follow their demands."

"To hell with all of them," Willas cursed, kissing her forehead. She shut her eyes, revelling in the gentle contact. "For once in my life I'm doing as I want to, and I want to look after my wife, and our child."

"Willas," she sighed, remembering a specific part of the letter with a grimace. "Willas, the letter kept saying 'heir', and 'son'. What if-"

"Do you really think I care about if our child is a boy or a girl?" he frowned, sounding hurt. "Eddmina, I love you, and I love our child. Either way I adore you, and anyone who does care isn't worth bothering with."

"I don't want to go back to Highgarden yet," she said quickly, feeling her eyes sting with tears desperate to be shed.

"Then we stay here for as long as you want, we do whatever makes you feel comfortable and at ease," he assured, his lips softly kissing her temple.

As the two of them settled back into their bed still embracing, Eddmina thought of how lucky she felt to have Willas, and as she eventually drifted to sleep she dreamt of him on horseback, a small child with his caramel curls, her Tully eyes and a delighted smile sat at the front of his saddle gripping the reins. It was a sweet dream, but it wasn't long before it transformed and she became a wolf, pounding through the woodlands and howling at the moon, the smell of blood thick in the air.

***
Word count: 8542

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