Only A Northern Song ~ Game of Thrones / Willas Tyrell ~

Chapter Fifty Five: Widow

"Knock!" Eddmina called out fiercely, her voice loud enough so that all the men could hear her, her breath turning into a cloud in the chilly morning air. "Draw!"

Since arriving in Riverrun a week previous, the Starks had found they had far more time for things they had neglected. Travelling constantly had meant they had to plan and strategise on the move, and while Eddmina had still spent a few mornings each week practicing swords with Garlan, the rest of the men hadn't had as much time to drill. Their practice came from hands-on experience, which was fine for the older men who had decades worth of war stories, but for the younger generation, their skills often benefited from practice drills, and with the addition of the force of the Riverlands, there were plenty of new recruits who needed training to meet the standards the northern army had previously demonstrated.

That was how they fell into the routine of running training drills each morning, from sunrise to mid-afternoon. Robb had taken charge of sword training, advised and directed by his more experienced commanders, while Eddmina had been put in charge of archery. She hadn't volunteered or put herself forward for it, and part of her resented the job since it pulled her away from her other duties and spending time with Uther, but Robb had asked her. He'd asked, and some of the men had laughed, not thinking she was up for the job. They knew she was clever, and knew she was becoming a good strategist, but combat was where they drew the line. Stubborn pride took over, and suddenly a job that Eddmina didn't want became something she needed with a burning passion. She said nothing, she merely shot a few arrows, and that was enough to prove to them all she was the best person for the job, especially when it came to teaching the younger lads who'd never even held a bow before.

That was how she found herself out on the field behind Riverrun, the day still so new the ground was damp and the air turned to clouds when she spoke. It wasn't cold, not like a morning in Winterfell would be, but she was glad for her thick cloak, and glad she'd left Uther inside with her handmaidens. She'd forced herself to trust them, solely because she knew being over-protective unnecessarily would be unhealthy for both of them. The maids were nice, and caring, and despite Eddmina's initial coldness with them they had not shied away. She wouldn't have blamed them if they did, what with her directness and Honour constantly watching them whenever they were around with her fierce yellow eyes, but they kept offering their help, and they kept offering to look after Uther. It took a few attempts, but eventually after a few days in Riverrun and she'd felt settled enough to feel somewhat safe, she decided to trust them. Honour didn't, which was why the wolf stayed wherever Uther was, but Eddmina knew when she returned and Uther was happy and laughing that the maids were more than trustworthy.

Even so, Eddmina knew she'd much rather be with Uther and Honour than our in the fields. She knew she'd also much rather be with Willas, but he was still so far away. Training provided a distraction from missing him, as did councils and war planning, but there was still a burning inside of her, as if half her soul had been taken away. Her heart felt as though it itched, the way a wound did when it was stitching itself back together, but her wound stung, and she knew it wouldn't feel right again until he was back at her side.

She watched as the line of men and boys followed her instruction, their bows held to her exact requirement, the string stretched so that the flights of the arrows were tickling their cheeks. It was a nice sound too, hearing the clatter of arrows slotting into place in the bow, all of them being drawn in unison. She paced down the line, inspecting them individually, checking that her guidance had been followed.

"You, third from the left, stretch any further and you'll take your nose off when you loose your arrow," she called, watching as the young man adjusted his hold of the weapon, correcting his mistake. He had to be older than Robb and herself, surely. "Good. Much better, thank you."