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

Chapter Sixty Seven: Down in the Cells

Jaime Lannister was quite drunk after less than half the wineskin.

Eddmina wanted to mock his lack of alcohol tolerance, but that was hardly his fault. It was a bad thing to drink on an empty stomach, the effects of the alcohol hitting harder, and given the fact she could see his ribs anytime his shirt lifted away, she knew that was certainly the case.

If she couldn't poke fun at him for that, then she decided to mock him for his lack of hospitality, as he didn't offer any wine to the two cowering boys chained to the left of him, huddled together so the lack of light made them look like one mass dressed in faded crimson. That was fine, as the dark meant Eddmina didn't have to see the fear in their faces, especially whenever she looked over at them.

They had tried to hush their murmurs of fear when she came down to the cells, but Eddmina had heard them anyway, and she had heard Jaime's laughter as he introduced her to them as 'his wolf friend'. The fact she had visited him enough for him to jokingly call her a friend was a little sickening, but had brought that upon herself, even if she had no idea why she was drawn to visiting him. He was a terrible person who had done terrible things, yet something about visiting him stilled her mind. Something about sitting with him in the damp, dreary cells of Riverrun made her feel more normal. She supposed it had something to do with feeling like a bad person herself. Either visiting Jaime reassured her into knowing she wasn't as bad as she could be, or it made her feel less alone in being bad; Eddmina was yet to decide which it was.

"Does your father like when people sing the reins of Castamere?" Eddmina asked out of nowhere.

That was the good thing about Jaime. She could ask whatever she wanted, even if the question barely lingered in her mind for less than a second. He was her prisoner, so he had to answer. She was the only one who visited, the only one who helped him pass the time, and she thought he had perhaps started answering her every question out of gratitude, as if her visits helped him keep a grasp on his sanity.

"My father doesn't particularly like anyone singing anything, let alone his own song," Jaime shrugged, taking another swig of his wine, the sound of it sloshing in the skin echoing throughout the draughty cells. "Do you think you will get a song after all of this?"

"Gods, I hope not," she shuddered, wrinkling her nose. Jaime's laughter rang out, though it turned into coughing.

"Shame, I heard you once in Winterfell," Jaime told her. "Even in King's Landing, it was known that Ned Stark's eldest daughter had a voice to rival the most famous of bards. You could have made a living from it, if you ever tired of freezing to death. You could have ran off and toured all of Westeros, singing and winning the hearts of millions. Not very honourable though, is it? What do you think your father would have thought to it?"

"Doesn't matter, I didn't run off and my father's not here to ask," Eddmina shrugged bitterly, recalling the satchel of supplies she kept under her bed as a teenager.

Fear of dishonour and disobedience had kept her in Winterfell, and before she had the chance to even consider running, Willas and the Tyrell's had wrecked her plans in the best possible way. She hadn't thought of her childhood desire to run for a while, yet upon Jaime's suggestion she felt uncomfortable, wondering if her plan to return to Highgarden was the same. Would her childhood-self be proud, pleased that she was finally running? Eddmina didn't want to think about it, and glared down at the floor.

"Will you sing for me now, Princess?" Jaime asked with a wink.

"Get fucked," she replied curtly, hating that she enjoyed his laughter. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed the two boys watching them, though they pretended not to the moment they saw her looking. "I'm not going to hurt you. What are your names? How old are you?"