Sansa had sewn her wedding dress herself.
Eddmina had offered to make her a maiden's cloak, but Harrion had refused to marry in the sept or follow any of the traditions of the Seven, and so a cloak was not needed. Her own had been taken back from Highgarden to Winterfell as an heirloom, ready to pass onto her sisters, or any daughters that Robb may have, but Eddmina remembered the details of it so that recreating would have been easy enough. She had wanted the job, wanting something to do for her last few days of bed rest, but it was not to be. Instead she settled for helping Sansa with the embroidery details of the sleeves, helping her sew the weaving vines of red weirwood leaves, and the grey direwolves howling at the silver suns. The rest of the dress was plain white, save the collar and the hems, which Sansa had decorated with red thread that shone when the light caught and complimented her hair perfectly.
"A loan, for today only," Eddmina told her as she wrapped her own Stark locket around her sister's neck the minute she'd finished styling her hair up into a simple braided bun.
She'd taken the necklace off so quickly she didn't give herself chance to think about it. If she did, she would never let it go, but it had been her last gift from both parents, and Sansa deserved a piece of their father on her wedding day. Eddmina was certain that even if her condition didn't make her emotions haywire, she would have wept anyway at letting it go, even if it was just a borrow. She barely heard Sansa's whispered thanks in awe, and she had to look away when her sister's dainty fingers stroked over the pendant lovingly.
It was an evening wedding, and the sun had already begun to set when Robb escorted Sansa into the godswood. It was his duty to, and Eddmina didn't envy him, because the sight sickened her with grief that it was him and not their father. She'd spent the entire morning throwing up, and was surprised she didn't have to bolt and find a shrub the minute reality set in and she realised her sister really was getting married. If not for Willas stood at her side she was unsure if she'd have coped, but his presence was her anchor, and she forced herself to manage.
Despite it all, Eddmina couldn't help but think of the beauty. The godswood looked beautiful in twilight, and it had been decorated with candles along the dirt path to mark the way of the aisle, as well as shimmering lanterns being hung from the other nearby trees. It was only family too, and a few notable bannermen, unlike her own wedding where hundreds had poured into the Highgarden sept to watch her become a Tyrell. Her wedding had been a spectacle, while Sansa's felt close, intimate, and almost redeemed it for what it was; two nervous young people swearing vows to each other purely for alliance. The Greatjon had offered to do the ceremony, mostly to prove his continuing loyalty to Robb, and so he was waiting at the foot of the tree with Harrion, who to his credit had shaved and combed his hair, and in black leathers and a black fur cloak, looked rather handsome. It didn't hide his worried look, or how his hand shook when he took Sansa's and brought her under the tree.
Northern weddings that followed the old ways were much quicker than sept weddings, which was a good thing considering how Eddmina was sure her mother would surely break down if it was any longer. Lady Stark had been serious at the Tyrell-Stark wedding too, but this time she looked positively grief-stricken, and though she hid it well it was a different matter when Harrion took Sansa's hand and the pair of them knelt by the tree to pray. Sansa hadn't hesitated, in fact she had almost smiled, as did Harrion, but Eddmina heard her mother let out a sharp breath that sounded like she was concealing heartbreak. While she so desperately hid her pain, it was obvious the Tyrell's were morbidly curious with the whole thing, almost enjoying seeing the different culture despite the situation, as Garlan kept glancing to his brother as if to check he was also watching as intently too. Jeyne, however, didn't seem to share their interest, because when things differed from the ways of the Seven, she looked at Robb as if expecting him to correct it.
The part that didn't change from Seven weddings was the vows being sealed with a kiss. It had been Willas to make the first move where their wedding was concerned, but Harrion hesitated, his eyes widened uncertainly. Sansa leant to him, her hand that wasn't holding his moving to his shoulder, and as if she knew exactly what she was doing, drew him close as she pushed her lips to his. It was barely a few seconds, but that was all what was needed, and their small crowd applauded.
"I haven't forgotten," Willas leant to Eddmina, whispering in her ear, his voice masked by everyone's claps. "As soon as we are home, we will do the same."
His words settled her mind, and she took his hand, rubbing her thumb over his knuckles. Sansa and Harrion were strangers, but she and Willas had been strangers once too. Things could change, love could grow. She just hoped it did soon, simply so their mother wouldn't have to keep looking at Harrion suspiciously, and at Eddmina like she was a traitor.
A feast had been prepared in the hall, where all the other men awaited the arrival of their party. Much like Uther's nameday, the soldiers revelled in the opportunity for a party, and the newlyweds were greeted with cheers so loud they made Sansa smile sheepishly and Harrion turn as red as his new wife's hair. They took their place at the top table, alone, while the rest of the family found seats at other tables. It was only when the food arrived and the music was playing that Eddmina realised her mother was missing.
"I wouldn't worry," Garlan suggested, moving to pour wine into her goblet until Willas' stern glare told him otherwise.
"I'd not seen her for days until we were out in the godswood, and even then she didn't speak to me," she said quietly, only being heard by the Tyrell's and her own brother, who was sat across from her, his wife to his right. "I didn't suggest the marriage, I merely said it was a good idea for an alliance."
"Edda, leave it," Robb advised, having a lifetime-worth of experience in the matter of his twin and their mother. "She will get over it. Though, it took her months to get over your wedding. Actually, I'm not sure when she got over it."
"Charming," Willas remarked lowly, his grip on her hand tightening as he swigged his wine.
"And your marriage is different, is it?" Eddmina asked, mostly to defend Willas, even if he didn't need it. Jeyne wasn't paying any attention thankfully, busy watching the band, but Robb let out a defeated laugh and nod.
"Perhaps we toast to that?" Garlan offered, having finished serving out the wine. For Eddmina, he'd poured her a goblet of water. "Three Starks, three terribly disappointing weddings!"
The evening ticked on rather merrily, and Eddmina and Robb who had both been stoic all day managed smiles eventually, though both kept glancing toward the top table to check in on their sister. Harrion Karstark was clearly a man of few words, as the couple seemed to mostly sit in silence as he ate and Sansa picked at her food. Every so often she would say something, and he would look at her with great interest, and the few times Sansa would look away from her new husband, Harrion would take the opportunity to look at her. He didn't seem to smile very often, but he managed a few for her.
He was better than Joffrey, Eddmina settled, and turned to her own food, though none of it was particularly appealing.
"You've barely eaten all day, darling," Willas muttered to her.
"Move that dish of mutton away or you'll see me continue to not eat," she told him lowly, and he made quick work of nudging the bowl of mutton stew over to Garlan, who swept it away subtly onto another nearby table. "Thank you."
"You cannot live off bread and cheese, Mina," he reminded her, gesturing to her plate. Aside from the mentioned foods, it was empty. "Much as you might want to."
She always wanted to live off bread and cheese regardless of condition, but she had no chance to say so as Willas pushed a bowl of roasted potatoes towards her, and served a few slices of duck onto her plate, so warm it was still sizzling. The smell didn't turn her stomach, so she began to eat, noticing the instant relief on her husband's face. She couldn't remember him worrying over her so much the last time, but then again, they found out much later the last time, and they had been through a great deal more in the time that had passed. She didn't particularly like being fretted over, but Eddmina decided to leave him be, and placed the hand that wasn't holding her fork into his.
She managed to eat more than she had for weeks, and when the food was all done Willas wrapped his arm around her waist and she leant into him, not caring that they were surrounded by so many people. The King in the North kept kissing his wife, so why couldn't his Hand show affection? The only thing Ser Garlan was showing affection for was his wine goblet, which he seemed to keep filling to the brim.
"Do you think you might've had enough, brother?" Willas asked eventually, when he reached for the flagon once more. Garlan merely laughed.
"On the contrary!" He retorted brightly. "We're at a northern wedding!"
"Yes, and you don't have a northern alcohol tolerance," Willas reminded him. Garlan rolled his eyes, looking to Eddmina for support, who merely raised her eyebrows. "I'm not carrying you back to your rooms."
"It's normally the other way around," Garlan remarked with a teasing grin. If anyone else would have said it, maybe Willas wouldn't have laughed. "Remember the time father tried to out-drink Uncle Garth?"
"I remember grandmother lecturing them and calling them both oafs," Willas laughed, squeezing Eddmina's hand. "I dread to think whst she would have made to my first visit to Dorne."
"What did happen on your first visit to Dorne?" Eddmina asked, sitting up so she could see him properly, enjoying how his face flushed pink in embarrassment.
"We'll, you've been, you've seen how much more... adventurous they are," Willas began carefully. Garlan snorted out a laugh.
"He drank so much himself and Oberyn woke up in the gardens in each others clothes with a headache that lasted at least a week," Garlan cut in bluntly, still laughing. Willas clenched his jaw and rolled his eyes, turning a deeper shade of pink. It didn't help that Robb and Jeyne had stopped their own conversation to overhear, and while Jeyne looked scandalised, Robb was laughing too. "Or, at least, that is what you told me! I'm sure there's details that only Oberyn and the gardeners if Sundpear are privy to."
"I told you that in confidence, swine," Willas shot, flicking a leftover pea at his brother. He turned to Eddmina, who was trying not to laugh. "It was not as dramatic as he makes out. The clothes swap happened long before we were drunk. Oberyn wanted to see if I could pull off looking Dornish, and he wanted to see if he would suit green."
"Prince Oberyn would look good in anything," Eddmina shrugged with a smirk, and Garlan nodded enthusiastically in agreement. Willas must have been relieved at her humour to the story as he leant over and kissed her cheek lightly.
"I think I would like to visit Dorne, one day," Robb remarked. Jeyne didn't look as if she shared his enthusiasm.
"We will all go!" Garlan decided, toasting his goblet to show his sincerity. "Will and Edda, his grace and Queen Jeyne, myself and my own beautiful, wonderful wife. That is how we will mark the end of the war! We will steal one of Stannis Baratheon's many ships and sail it south, and get magnificently drunk on Dornish reds every night."
At the mention of Stannis, Eddmina and Robb exchanged a slight smile. The two of them had been strategising all week since she had told him of her plan to get the Reach and the Stormlands on her side, and since the Tyrell's and Edric Baratheon were only at least a week away, their trip to Dorne seemed closer than ever.
"Perhaps we should dance?" Jeyne suggested to Robb, her dainty hands wrapped around his arm. She was desperate to not talk of the war, and of Dorne.
"Not yet, not until they have danced," Robb told her, gesturing to the top table where Sansa and Harrion were leant close, talking to each other. Robb leant over the table to Eddmina, lowering his voice. "He doesn't seem too bad. Not half as bold as his father or brothers."
Eddmina had almost started to like Harrion before he became her sister's betrothed. He'd always managed a smile and a dutiful nod for her, and he'd never been as riotous as his father when it came to battle or revenge. He wasn't brash or outspoken, nor was he rude or crude. He was rather gentle, and respectful, and in another world, he was the exact sort of man that Eddmina would have wanted her sister to marry, had it been for love and not the only choice to preserve alliances. He was the sort of man she would have been happy to have her sister's hand, had his father's head not been taken by her brother only days before. Harrion's request of his father's body being returned north so that he may rest alongside his fallen sons had been fulfilled, but Eddmina knew what it meant to grieve a father, and she couldn't help but wonder if Harrion thought of the Starks the way she thought of the Lannisters.
Robb had gotten to his feet, raising his wine goblet in the air. The entire hall had fallen silent, everyone watching their king keenly.
"I'm sure it is time, Lord Karstark, that you treated my sister to a dance," Robb announced, looking at Harrion teasingly, his expression almost brotherly.
Harrion managed to hide most of his dread, but he didn't look particularly keen on the idea of getting up and being the sole point of attention in a crowded hall. Yet again Sansa took the lead, standing up and holding her hand out to him, encouraging him to his feet. Hesitantly, he placed his hand in hers, returning her encouraging smile as he got to his feet and led her way to the dance floor.
"I'm sorry we have never shared a dance," Willas whispered in her ear when the band began to play and Harrion began leading Sansa across the floor, her skirt twirling behind her as she spun.
"We almost have two children, I don't think we particularly need dancing," she remarked lowly, and she didn't need to look at him to know he was pink again. Still, she glanced over to him with a small smile and saw the hidden concern in his eyes. "Is it something that bothers you?"
"I used to be a good dancer," Willas explained, still in a whisper so no one could hear, though the cheers from the crowd easily drowned their conversation out. " I used to be good at a lot of things that I'm not able to do anymore."
"You're good at being a husband, Will, and you're exceptionally good at being a father, that is what matters to me," she attempted to reassure him, and knew her words worked when he pushed a kiss to her temple.
Any further attempts of affection were halted the moment Dacey Mormont appeared at their table, bowing to Robb and nodding to Eddmina, who made room for her to sit on the bench at her side. She had been in the godswood with her mother for the ceremony, and despite Eddmina's nerves, she had noticed how Dacey had smiled at her. She smiled again at the feast as she took a seat beside her Princess, and Eddmina resisted the urge to take hold of the girls hand just because she was happy to see her after so long.
"You look well, Princess," Dacey remarked. "I'm sorry I never called upon you. I thought you wouldn't want visitors. I would hate bed rest."
"It was unbearably dull, perhaps having a free woman visit would have made it worse," Eddmina joked, grateful when Dacey laughed.
Their greetings fell silent as both women turned their focus to the dance floor. Sansa had always been a good dancer, and Harrion was a surprisingly good partner, though Eddmina assumed it was years of sword fighting that had given him good rhythm. He had cracked a smile too, gazing down at Sansa as he spun her with compassion. Their dance finished with an embrace, and after applause, the band played a more rousing number, one that had more people on their feet to seek out partners. Jeyne was looking at Robb piningly again, while Dacey's nose had wrinkled. Eddmina followed her gaze to see a man across the hall raising his hand to her.
"An admirer?" Eddmina joked. Dacey rolled her eyes.
"He's one of your uncle's men, he won't stop flirting with me, it's been all night," Dacey explained with disgust. "He asked me if I would be changing into a pretty gown at some point this evening. I asked him if he would be too."
Eddmina was certain a gown would look beautiful on Dacey, but she looked just as beautiful with her leather skirt and Mormont-green doublet, her hair parted so the top section was braided away and the rest was free down her back. Eddmina was in a Stark grey dress, though each sleeve had a vine of roses and thorns stitched into the hem. The pair of them looked rather opposite, but the look of distaste to the bannerman they shared was almost identical.
Garlan poured Dacey a cup of wine, and as Robb finally held his hand out to a grinning Jeyne to treat her to a dance, the three Tyrell's and the Mormont heir fell into a series of stories and drinking games. As Eddmina found herself laughing she realised it was how a wedding should feel, to be surrounded by people she liked, enjoying herself. It was a rare thing to have a wedding like that in their world when vows were only said for alliances, yet when Eddmina looked up and saw Sansa laugh as Harrion held her hands and moved her across the dance floor in complex practiced steps, she could almost pretend that their marriage was one for happiness.
She tried to focus on her own happiness for once, turning back to her family and friends, though it was not long before a hand was on her shoulder. She turned to see Harrion, stood hesitantly behind her, and the moment her eyes fell onto him he bowed his head respectfully.
"Your grace," he addressed her, before holding his hand out to her. "I would ask you for the honour of a dance."
Her first instinct was to look for Sansa. She was Harrion's wife, why wasn't he dancing with her? That was when she caught sight of her sister, dancing with their brother, Robb holding her protectively, while Jeyne was trying to hide a grimace as some Karstark cousin almost dropped her while twirling her. Robb met Eddmina's gaze and nodded, firmly. It was a silent command.
Even without Robb, Eddmina knew she could hardly refuse. Willas knew too, withdrawing his hands from her, allowing her to stand. She placed her hand in Harrion's, smiling to conceal the nerves. No matter how many lessons Sansa had given her, she was still a terrible dancer, but that was not something she was going to tell Harrion. Admitting to being a bad dancer was like admitting a weakness, and Eddmina felt repulsed at the thought of doing such a thing. Besides, as they found their place on the floor and he put his hand on her waist, beginning to move her to the music, she knew he would find out her abilities first hand soon enough.
He was far too much of a gentleman to say anything in reference to her dancing. Even when she trod on his foot and squished his toes, he remained stoic. As they spun, Eddmina caught sight of Robb again, and he gave her a stern yet encouraging nod. He wanted her to talk to Harrion, as he couldn't, not as king; a crown tended to get in the way of elder sibling duties. Eddmina felt too tense, her mind focused on ensuring she didn't trip, or fall, or bump into anyone, or...
"I am sorry about your father," Eddmina said, deciding it a good place to start to pull herself from her mind.
Harrion grimaced, as she knew he would. Perhaps it was a grim place to start, but it at least got rid of her guilt for not acknowledging the real reason they were all there.
"I am sorry for him too," Harrion replied, almost coldly. "I loved him, he was my father so I always will, but he let grief blind him. My brothers wouldn't have wanted him to do what he did. I... I'm sorry for what he did."
"You shouldn't have to apologise for him," she said, tightening her grip on his arm as the music sped up, desperate to not fall over and keep the conversation going at the same time. "It is dealt with. Now, like everything else, we must try to get on with things."
"Yes, Princess," Harrion nodded in agreement, looking almost relieved. Clearly, guilt went both ways.
"You strike me as a good man, my lord," Eddmina said, waiting for him to finish spinning her before she continued, "I trust you will take good care of my sister."
"I would not have said those vows to her if I intended on treating her otherwise," he frowned, as if baffled she'd imply him being dishonest. "She is a kind woman, and beautiful, too."
"She is the very best of us," Eddmina agreed, her expression softening as she smiled, glancing to Sansa laughing in Robb's arms. She had to force herself to be serious once more. "Therefore she deserves the best. Plenty of people have underestimated her, tried to keep her down and hurt her. I will not allow that to happen again, do you understand?"
"I would never hurt her," Harrion affirmed, meeting Eddmina's gaze with a firm, honest stare. "On my honour, Princess."
"Good, because if you ever did, then I would hurt you," Eddmina promised.
She'd made a similar threat to Joffrey once, a long time ago in Winterfell. The arrogant then-Prince had looked terrified, while Harrion took it in his stride. He nodded, as if accepting her threat as a holy vow, as if agreeing to it. Part of the gesture reminded her of Willas, and how he too had taken his wedding vows seriously from the very moment he said them. For most men they were just words to say to solidify advantage, to get monetary or feudal benefit, barely considering the fact the vows were swearing themselves to another person. Perhaps she was getting ahead of herself, perhaps she was being far too optimistic, but Eddmina realised Harrion was not that sort of man.
"Your grace, I was wondering..." Harrion began, his voice dropping so low she had to lean in to hear. "Will there be a bedding ceremony?"
Suddenly Eddmina felt queasy again, and her face had grown very hot. She glanced over to Sansa, who was now dancing with Garlan, laughing in a way that only Garlan could make people laugh. Was he really so keen to whisk her little sister away, to keep her all to himself, and so soon? Meeting Harrion's eyes once more, Eddmina realised he had not asked out of eagerness, but out of apprehension.
"It hadn't been discusssd, I would assume..." Eddmina began, but their dance made them turn and she caught sight of Willas, who was still chatting eagerly to Dacey, and she recalled his aversion to the tradition and how he'd protected them both from partaking. "On my own wedding we did not have one. Ser Willas snuck me out of the hall before anyone could notice. He employed his siblings in a scheme to keep people distracted."
"I know, I remember," Harrion nodded, and Eddmina flushed red in shame that she had forgotten that a small group of Karstarks had been present for her wedding. "I'd never seen anything like that wedding, though I think the few northerners who went were as much a spectacle to the southerners as their wealth was to us. Some men seemed rather annoyed when they realised you'd gone. They tried to complain to your father and to Lord Tyrell to bring you back, but..."
"I doubt my father saw that as a pressing matter," Eddmina couldn't help but laugh.
"No, he actually seemed rather impressed at the inginuity of you running away," Harrion told her, and she tried to focus on his own nostalgic smile than his words that shot grief through her.
Her father was impressed? He had, after all, only hours before suggested calling the whole thing off if it was not what she wanted. He was not a man who enjoyed spectacle and attention either, perhaps he was secretly glad she'd escaped and carved out her own way. It had been years, but knowing that one little act that she had barely thought of had pleased her father suddenly made her escape from the hall all the more important, and as she noticed Sansa still dancing with Garlan, she knew what she had to do.
"Would you and my sister like the same?" She asked, her voice as low as his. He paused, before nodding quickly. "Right. We finish this song, then afterwards give me the next three songs to put things into place. After that one finishes, you slip out of the hall. Understood?"
"Yes, Princess, thank you," he smiled, relieved. As the music ended and he bowed to her, as every partner did, he added, "A formidable new sister indeed."
They parted ways and she set to work, sneaking back to her table before anyone could grab her for another dance. She did not sit back down, merely placing her hand on Willas' shoulder and whispering instructions to him, doing the exact same to Dacey. Neither said anything, but both nodded and got up, going to their places in the hall that she had suggested. For Willas, that was at a table of rowdy northerners, while Dacey seated herself on a table surrounded by the main bannermen of the Riverlands. They were the tables Eddmina expected to call for the ceremony the most, and so the two were under strict instructions to keep the conversation far from women or lust. She quickly got on with her own side of things, slipping off to find the servants to ask them to bring up a few more plates of food from the kitchens. If food was still being served, no one would notice the hour growing late, and who would think of terrorising a young newlywed couple when they could instead be feasting?
When that was done, she made her way to the edge of the dancefloor, where Garlan and Sansa were, and luckily Robb and Jeyne were also there, and the moment her brother caught sight of her subtly pulling Garlan and Sansa off the floor he dropped his hold on his wife and snuck over.
"What's going on?" Sansa asked concernedly, noticing the determination on her sister's face.
"Ser Garlan, would you please go and entertain Lord Harrion, at least until the end of the next song? That is when you both will slip out the hall and you will show him where my sister's chambers are," Eddmina instructed, glad that Garlan was nodding with a grin, and that Sansa sighed with relief as she turned to her, placing her hands on her shoulders. "You and I are going to go for a walk, if that is alright?"
"Seamless planning, Edd," Robb complimented, clearly relieved; Eddmina doubted he wanted to witness the ceremony too. "What do you want me to do?"
"Just... do what Kings do," Eddmina shrugged, suddenly realising she hadn't found a role for him in her plan. She thought fast, before adding, "The longer you and your Queen are here the longer people can watch you and not notice Sansa disappear."
"But what if I don't want to be used as a distraction?" Jeyne opposed. No one had even noticed she'd been listening in, not even Robb, who instantly turned to her with a kind smile, holding his hand out to her. "It is tradition."
"Fuck tradition!" Garlan remarked, rolling his eyes. He too hadn't engaged in the ceremony at his wedding. Eddmina nodded along with him.
"But..." Jeyne began, though looked disappointed when she didn't see Robb's agreement, her expression growing sad when she realised her own husband wasn't on her side. "It's what is done. It's proper. It's-"
"I don't want to do it," Sansa muttered quietly, looking between Eddmina, Robb, and Garlan, knowing they were to be trusted. "The thought of being carried off, all these men grabbing at my clothes, it reminds me of-"
She didn't need to say King's Landing, but they all knew. Robb and Eddmina shared a protective glance, one that somehow also silently screamed their hatred of Lannisters, while Garlan simply nodded and went to his suggested battle station. Jeyne looked sympathetic, not to mention embarrassed that her talk of tradition had upset her goodsister, but no one was paying any attention to Jeyne. Eddmina still had her hand on her sister's shoulder, but Robb stepped forward too, leaning over to push a brotherly kiss onto her forehead.
"You'll be safe, I promise, I am so proud of you," he whispered to her, and her eyes shut as if savouring the compliment. Robb looked over to Eddmina before instructing her, "Get her out of here."
Neither woman needed telling twice. They linked arms and made their way to the doors of the hall via the edges of the room, thankfully going unnoticed, even as they slipped out of the hall through the great oak doors. From there they began to make their way down the corridors to their chambers, leaving behind the madness of the celebration. They slowed their pace, not having to rush to avoid people noticing them leaving in the deserted hallways, but they both knew that the sooner they got to the rooms, the sooner they would have to say goodbye, and the next time they saw each other, everything would be different.
Things were already different, everything had already changed once, but after the wedding, nothing would ever be the same. Sansa would always be Eddmina's little sister, always the girl she would do anything for, but she was now also a married woman. She was Lady Karstark, Lord Karstark's wife, the Lady of the Karhold, and soon she would have her own family. Perhaps things would be different if she was still unmarried herself, if she didn't fully grasp how life changing it all was, but Eddmina knew exactly what getting married meant, she knew exactly how her life was turned upside down, and even if she adored Willas, becoming his wife had forever changed her life and who she was. Sansa had always dreamed of a love match that would put her in a position of power, not out of ambition but out of a want to be beloved. She had always wanted to be loved and regarded, that had all been forgotten in the capital as she endured the Lannisters, only for her to sacrifice it once more for the cause. It wasn't fair. So much in their world was unjust, but Eddmina thought bitterly that the hands dealt to Sansa were particularly difficult. It didn't matter that Harrion seemed to be good and reasonable, the situation and circumstances of the marriage were unfair, and not at all what Sansa deserved.
"If I could trade places with you, I would," Eddmina said quickly, guilt stirring inside of her as Sansa squeezed her arm. "If I could-"
"You're already married," Sansa countered.
"And I would still trade," Eddmina looked at her beautiful sister, her chest tightening. "I am sorry, I really am. You deserve better than a marriage of contractual obligations. You deserve what you used to make me sing about. I just want you to be safe and happy."
"Who says that I'm not already?" Sansa asked, her voice firm. "I'm not in the capital anymore, I'm with my family again. Just knowing I never have to see Joffrey again is enough to make me happy."
"But..." Eddmina protested, cutting herself off when Sansa squeezed her arm.
"You are just like mother, fretting over me," Sansa remarked with a slight laugh, though noticed how Eddmina sighed. "I promise, I'm alright. This was my idea, after all. He's not a bad man. I think you will like him, when you get to know him. He's not the man I always dreamed of, but that's okay, I doubt you dreamed of Willas."
"I never once let myself consider that marrying someone could make me happy," Eddmina agreed, and despite Sansa's persistent content, she couldn't help but still feel guilty. "I spent my entire youth wishing that you would learn life is not a fairytale, yet now it breaks my heart that you don't think that way."
Sansa didn't say anything. She didn't need to, as her face betrayed the emotions her words were trying to disguise. She was trying so desperately to be brave, and she was, but there was a part of her that was afraid. There was a part of her that couldn't quite hide from everything that had happened in the past, and all the ghosts that continued to haunt her.
Upon leaving Winterfell, she had still been a child, but like so many, trauma had forced her to grow up. Sansa could be as brave and strong as she wanted, but somewhere below the surface, there was still a scared little girl. Wasn't that why they had gone to such efforts to skip the ceremony? Yet, Harrion had also insisted on avoiding it. Harrion had to watch his father die in the same way Sansa watched hers, and just like her he had been forced into a new position in life. He had been just the heir, just like Sansa had merely been the daughter of the Hand, neither of them massively important, at least for the time being, until circumstance forced them into other roles, and there they were, married to preserve an alliance. Perhaps that was a good thing. Perhaps that was common ground.
"You cannot be a girl forever," Eddmina sighed, stopping as they reached the door of Sansa's chamber. "I just wish we all got a little bit longer to be young."
Sansa nodded, pulling her sister into a tight hug. Eddmina wondered what it was for, until she felt Sansa trembling.
"I'm not scared," Sansa assured her firmly, but she pulled from their embrace to look her in the eye before asking the next part. "Does it hurt?"
"A little, at first," Eddmina admitted, though the memory was a struggle, the first time being overshadowed by countless other nights of mad passion where she felt nothing but pure love and pleasure. "Uncomfortable, more than anything, but it doesn't last very long. As you say, he is a good man, I am sure he will be very good to you, and if there is anything you don't want to do, you say so."
Sansa nodded again, a look of determination in her gaze. Eddmina wanted to be proud, and she had a dozen other things to tell her, countless little pieces of advice on married life that all came rushing to her that seemed essential to inform her on, if only Harrion and Garlan's arrival didn't overshadow everything. She could hardly talk freely in front of the two men, no matter how much she trusted them, as some sisterly conversations had to be private. Instead, she bowed her head, and took hold of Sansa's hand, squeezing it tightly.
"Lady Karstark," Eddmina addressed her, and felt relieved when Sansa blushed and failed in hiding a smile; perhaps she was truly as contented as she said. "You know where I am if you need me."
"I think I will always need you," Sansa said, squeezing her hand lovingly. "Thank you for always looking after me."
"Your grace," Harrion said before Eddmina could reply, taking his place at his new wife's side. "Thank you for all your help this evening."
"It was no trouble, my lord," Eddmina replied, glancing to Garlan, who was leaning against the wall jauntily, realising it wasn't because he was trying to look cool, but because he was drunk. "We better return to the celebration before they notice too many of us missing. Goodnight."
The last part was hard to say, and it was even harder to watch Harrion take Sansa's hand, letting her lead him into her chamber. Though, Eddmina supposed it was his too now, a thought which didn't bother her only because she saw the smile the two exchanged before the door closed. They were small, uncertain, but kind. It was a smile that reminded Eddmina of the awkwardness of her own wedding night, and how uncertain Willas had been, how sure he was thst nothing had to happen if that was what she wanted. No man that smiled like that was any threat.
Still, it was a comfort when Garlan wrapped his arm around her shoulder. His brotherly embrace stilled her mind, and as he led her down the hallway back towards the feasting hall, she found herself yet again thinking of her wedding. It was not just a husband she gained that day, but a whole new family. She was unsure how the rest of the Tyrell's felt about her, the war had probably skewed their opinions of her, but Garlan was different.
"I'm glad you're my brother," Eddmina told him before she could stop herself, regretting it when he laughed, stumbling slightly in shock. "You've always been good to me. Too good."
"And you've always made that miserable prick of a brother I've got incredibly, smittenly happy," Garlan reminded her with a shrug. "Thank you for that. He needed a bit of happiness. Somehow even in the middle of a war he walks around with a grin so wide it's like he's the happiest man in the known world."
"You don't mean it when you call him a prick," she pointed out with a laugh, mostly to detract from how her face burnt at his compliment. "The pair of you adore each other."
"Yes, but where is the fun in that?" Garlan prodded her arm jokingly, rolling his eyes.
When they made it back to the hall, no one had noticed that they had even gone, and if anyone had realised the newlyweds had disappeared then they didn't care. Garlan went straight back into the action, heading over to a table full of younger northerners, men he'd fought with, men who were bonded to him over shared bloodshed. Eddmina lingered in the doorway, wanting to slip back into place at Willas' side, but he had clearly stayed true to the plan as he sat at a table full of obnoxiously loud northerners, laughing as rowdily as the rest of them. She wondered if he was drunk, but decided not to find out, because if she went over to them the men would want her to drink too, and she wasn't ready to tell everyone the reason why she wasn't drinking. She could have gone to find Robb, but he too was occupied, twirling Jeyne around the dance floor, his wife beaming happily. There was Dacey, but she looked rather content too, sat with the other northern heirs, playing a drinking game. With a small sigh, Eddmina realised how exhausted she was, and perhaps it was time to call it a night. She'd hardly seen Uther all day, after all, leaving him under the care of her handmaidens, and if she got to him soon enough he may still be awake. She hoped he was, not realising from all the nerves of the day just how much she'd missed him.
She slipped out of the hall once more, going unnoticed yet again, though before she could make it back to her chambers she noticed something amiss. The servants who weren't in the hall seemed to be rushing about, muttering things to each other, looking far more concerned than usual. Eddmina wanted to ignore it, but she'd spent a year of her life at war, and her mind went to the worst possible scenario. If something was wrong, surely they'd let Robb know, or any other authority figure, wouldn't they? Yet, Brynden and Edmure had been missing from the hall too. Eddmina hadn't thought too much on their absence, but had that been the first sign of something being wrong? Were they under attack? Had the guards noticed and called the two Tully's to battle stations?
One young guard was walking towards her, his head down, but before he could rush past her she grabbed his arm. He looked at her with alarm, which did nothing to calm her concerns.
"Is something going on?" She asked him seriously.
"No, Princess, not at all, don't worry yourself-" he attempted, but she could tell he was lying, not looking her in the eye and shuffling his feet. She hardened her stare, until he eventually cracked. "It's your grandfather, Princess. They say he's unwell."
For as long as Eddmina had been in Riverrun Lord Tully had been unwell. It was not shocking, breaking news that he was ill, but what was different was the way the staff were acting. Usually they just carried on as normal, yet they all looked so concerned, rushing around so hurriedly, and the guard who stood before her had a panicked look about him that told her that it was not the same as normal.
Part of her wished she had never asked. If she didn't know, she could have stuck with her plan, she could have gone to see Uther then gone to bed, none the wiser, but how could she carry on in good conscience? She couldn't help the small, exhausted sigh that escaped, but she pushed away her own desires as she looked at the guard once more.
"My mother? My uncles?" she asked, remembering their absences at the feast. She had thought it was just because they disagreed with the wedding, but now things made more sense.
She barely heard him confirm that they were all with the dying lord, and she barely felt her feet carry her across the keep and up to the lord's chambers. She had visited a few times with her mother, but it wasn't a part of the keep she liked to visit. In truth, she hated visiting her grandfather. She barely knew him, other than the few times she'd visited Riverrun as a child, though he'd never made great efforts to know her like he did Robb, and calling upon him during her most recent visit meant sitting at his bedside and mostly watching him sleep. There were few times he spoke, and when he did it never really made much sense, and it always made her insides squirm and want to flee. It was selfish and cruel, but she didn't want to be around sickness. She had already seen so much loss and witnessed enough suffering, so why would she willingly go and make herself sit through even more?
The last time she had visited his chambers had been with her mother, and she had tried so desperately to get her lord father to remember her name. Eddmina had sat on the edge of her seat, perched uncomfortably, staring at the ceiling as she tried to imagine that she was anywhere else, ignoring how her skin itched and her stomach churned. Perhaps she had been with child then and hadn't realised, but at the time she thought it had been out of uncomfortable sadness at seeing her mother's pain, and jealousy that her mother was double her age and still had a father. It was awful to watch a loved one suffer, but Eddmina knew she would've done anything to have seen her own father reach such an age. When her lord grandfather had managed to croak out something about his Cat and her wedding to a younger brother, Eddmina had been unable to stay, running out before tears caught up with her.
She couldn't run like that this time, she knew, trying so desperately to steel herself. Focusing on taking deep breaths and switching off her emotions, she reached the doors of the lords chambers, surrounded by guards. It took a moment to notice that her Uncle Edmure was sat on the floor by the door, his eyes closed, his head tilted back and resting on the wall behind him.
"Are you well, Uncle?" she asked, only because she knew she had to greet him but had no idea what else to say.
"Princess," he called in surprise. His eyes snapped open, and he rose to his feet so quickly he nearly stumbled. "What are you doing here?"
"I..." she began, but cut herself off. To say she wanted to see her grandfather would have been a lie, and she'd always hated being untruthful. "What are you doing outside? I thought you would be in there."
"I don't know," he shook his head, regarding her uncomfortably. "I do not know if I can face it."
If it was as grave as the staff were making it out to be, there was not a great deal of time for them to play with, and she could tell that was bothering her uncle. He so desperately wanted to be in the room, at his father's side, yet at the same time, the pain was too great. It was a pain she knew all too well, and she wasn't sure if that was a help or a hindrance.
"I can go in with you, if you like," she suggested, holding her hand out to him.
They did not get on as famously as she got on with Brynden, practically everyone in Riverrun knew that. They had never really made great efforts to spend time together, and whenever they did they usually ended up not seeing eye to eye. There was a lack of understanding between them that neither had made the effort to bridge, and it was obvious that her offer was as unexpected to him as it was to her. He looked at her with uncertain, narrowed eyes, glancing between her deadpan face and her outstretched hand.
"If you're not going in, then I will just sit out here and keep you company," she shrugged, dropping her hand as she'd started to feel foolish. "But I think you might regret not going in."
"How would you know?" he asked, snapping slightly. She didn't mind, knowing the strange things grief did to people.
"Because I live with enough regrets of my own about my father," she explained calmly, unable to help the sad smile or the slight shake in her voice. "You might not think it, but you are lucky. You had your father for your whole youth and a large part of your adulthood. You have had double the time I had with mine, and you don't have to live with the knowledge that he was killed the way mine was. The maesters are looking after him, he is in the comfort of his own home, surrounded by loved ones, and he's old. It doesn't make it easier, I know, but how many men in Westeros get to say that they grew old?"
Edmure considered her words for a moment, unable to look at her as he stared at the floor instead. When he eventually looked up at her, his eyes were tinged red, and he seemed to be fighting a battle in his mind. That was something she knew well too. Her insides were tightening, feeling as if there was a brick in her stomach and a knot in her throat, but when her Uncle reached out for her hand, she shoved her feelings away and took it with hers, and didn't hesitate when the guards opened the chamber door for them both.
She couldn't help but stop in the doorway though, because the first thing she saw was he mother, perched on the edge of her father's bed. The frail lord was there too, obviously, but Eddmina hardly saw him in favour of Lady Stark. She'd ignored her for the past few days, and hadn't spoken to her at the wedding. Would she want her there? She felt Edmure tug at her arm, but her other hand had unconsciously wrapped around the edge of the doorway, anchoring her there, her feet frozen and refusing to move.
"Mother?" Eddmina called hesitantly, knowing she would only be able to move if she was given permission to be there.
Lady Stark did not speak, nor did she even look over to her. Her eyes were fixed to Lord Tully beneath her, her hands gripping both of his. He always looked pale whenever Eddmina had visited, but the way his rasping breath was echoing in the chamber was not normal. She remembered the way Willem and Martyn Lannister breathed their final gasps of life, and though they had been murdered, the situations completely different, the memory hit her harsh, and she grimaced, feeling as if she was going to be sick. Edmure squeezed her hand, noticing how her previous forced confidence had departed her. The sound of lord Tully's staggered, uneven gasps of breath was all she could focus on, until she felt someone grip her shoulder, and she looked up to see Brynden.
She hadn't noticed him stood in the corner of the room, but he was stood before her now, looking at her with as much care as he could muster. That was clearly difficult, given the uncomfortable, solemn look on his face. He tried to shed it as quickly as possible before addressing her, but there was no hiding his impending grief.
"Princess, you do not have to be here," he told her quietly. He glanced to Edmure with concern, before looking back to her. "Go back to the feast."
Eddmina shook her head, knowing she would hate herself if she fled. She could hardly tell Edmure to be there only to lose her courage. Brynden sighed, glancing behind him as his brother croaked out a cough, but he quickly looked back to the two of them. He regarded Edmure with a serious stare, gesturing for him to go to his father's bedside, and he did, dropping Eddmina's hand in favour of sitting opposite his sister, perching awkwardly as if he did not know what to do with himself. That was when Brynden's hand moved down from her shoulder to take her hand, so quick she hardly noticed the absence of Edmure's.
"It will not be long," he whispered to her, his voice cracking. "An hour, perhaps. Most likely less than that. You don't have to be here, Edda. Go to bed, get some rest."
Eddmina shook her head again, but could not find her voice, the knot in her throat tightening to the point she thought she may never speak again. Her head felt dizzy, and she felt the room spin around her when Brynden led her further into the room. He stopped when they got to the bedside, stood only inches away from where her mother was hunched over.
"Cat," Brynden called. She made no acknowledgement of hearing him. "Cat, Edda is here."
It took a moment, but eventually Lady Stark sat up, and turned to face her uncle and daughter. She looked as pale as she did when they got the news of Bran and Rickon, though it did not look as if she had been crying. Her gaze was hard, but when she looked at Eddmina, it almost softened, and she removed one of her hands from her father's to reach out for her. Eddmina swallowed nervously, gently pulling herself free from Brynden's grip to join her mother, managing not to flinch when Lady Stark gripped her hand with a vice-like grip.
"Do you want me to go?" Eddmina asked, managing to find her voice, though it escaped as barely a whisper. "I can go and get Robb, if you would prefer."
"Stay," her mother said insistently. She was so firm that Eddmina dare not argue, and even if she did want to run out of the room she knew she was unable to.
Eddmina wished someone would say something, just so that she didn't have to listen to her grandfather breathing. She wished it was still light out so the shutters of the window would be open and she would have something else to look at besides his face. It was like watching someone sleep, yet with a terrible sense of foreboding hanging over them all. Each time he paused between breaths she convinced herself that it had been his last, that it was over, but then he would choke out another, and the process would begin again. She found herself counting the time in between each breath, and the fact it was getting longer made her feel as relieved as it made her sick.
She wanted to be in her own room, with her husband, safe and away from any sort of sadness, but that was cowardly, and made her feel ashamed. She wanted to tell one of the guards to summon Willas, but knew that the vast amount of stairs between the lord's chambers and their own rooms would be a bit of a hurdle. He had somehow forced himself up the stairs in Winterfell after Bran's fall, and she remembered how he'd tried not to let her see how badly it had made his knee strain. She knew he'd do the same again if he knew what was happening, and so she forced away any sort of instinct to call for him.
She wanted to summon Robb, because he was the king. He was he brother, Lord Tully's grandson, he should be there too. Yet, she hated how the room was making her feel, hated how she knew she would always remember the sound of her grandfather dying, and decided that she would protect her brother from that. There were not many horrors left in the world that she could shield him from anymore, after all.
"Will you name them after him?" her mother spoke up, her voice only slightly shaken. No one but Eddmina looked at her, frowning. "Your baby. If it is a boy, will you name him Hoster?"
'His name is Eddard,' Eddmina thought with a wince. 'My next boy is called Ned.'
Saying such a thing out loud might only make the mood worse, and to deny her mother such a request felt cruel. Suddenly she wasn't only feeling sick at what was happening but at her mother's words. She wished she'd not said anything at all, because Eddmina's mind spun in a desperate attempt of figuring out what to do.
"I will ask Ser Willas," she managed to say.
That somehow seemed to suffice, but Eddmina barely had chance to recover before her mother's next request came. To be asked to sing was one thing, but to sing a hymn... All the ones that Septa Mordane had forced her to learn had been lost to time, choosing to forget them in favour of sad ballads and funny epics. Why would she remember hymns anyway? They were always about the Seven, and those weren't the gods she had chosen. She could vaguely remember the tune and a few verses of one that Margaery taught her once when they visited the orphanages around Highgarden, and so she quietly began to hum it. She wasn't sure if her voice could take singing, her throat still feeling as if it was closed, but when her mother squeezed her hand she forced the words out, cringing as she noted how out of key she sounded.
No one else seemed to care. No one else cared that it was the same two verses repeated over and over. Everyone was simply glad for something else to listen to besides the dying man. Eddmina kept singing, until she paused between the verses to catch her breath, and realised that her grandfather had gone completely still. The room was then completely silent, no one daring to say anything, until the bells began to ring.
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