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

Chapter Forty One: Family

The pains had come on so severely in such a short space of time Eddmina could barely think, her mind lingering on nothing but the fear that had haunted her throughout most of her pregnancy. Her grandmothers, one of which was buried not far from where she had knelt, and the gods. The damned gods who had sent the assassin after her, they now wanted to claim her back as their own. It was rather poetic and horribly ironic that the whole thing would begin while she was surrounded by death, and some awful thought appeared in her head as to whether she would be buried down there with her long-gone family, in a tomb next to Aunt Lyanna and Uncle Brandon, or if the Tyrell's had their own claim on her. She didn't even know their rituals or traditions.

As another contraction faded away slowly, Eddmina attempted to catch her breath though her heart was still racing, her chest aching as though her lungs had been hollowed out with a blunt wooden spoon. She needed to move, she needed to get out of the crypts if she had any intention of survival, but she just couldn't get the strength or the motivation. What would be the point? They were all going to die soon enough, did it truly matter if she died in childbirth or in a matter of weeks at the hand of the Lannisters in revenge for her mother's actions? They were all going to die because of her mother's stupidity.

She choked out a sob at that thought. Her mother had preferred to put them all in danger rather than just come home to be at her side. Was she really so bad? Had she really been such a terrible, wicked daughter that her mother would've rather taken a Lannister prisoner and put everyone she loved at risk instead of be at her side, especially when she had asked? Eddmina was usually so diplomatic with her self-judgement, but not in that moment. No, all she could think was how awful of a person she was. Perhaps no one truly loved her at all, perhaps it would be easier to disappear from life quietly in the crypts, a cellar so full of death no one would notice her addition. Even if Willas had ever loved her he surely wouldn't now, not now his connection to her and the Starks endangered his whole family. The Lannisters would destroy them all, even the Tyrells, and it was all her fault. She sobbed again, cursing herself.

Life wasn't meant to be so painful. Eddmina wanted nothing more than to be back in Highgarden, safe and happy in the sunshine, surrounded by nothing but peace. Everything seemed more peaceful in the Reach, everything more joyful. If they'd have stayed there rather than travel north for the Royal visit, everything would be fine. Her pregnancy would have gone smoothly and easily, without any of the emotional complications that she'd endured in the north. Maybe Bran wouldn't have fallen, her father and sisters might have never gone south, her brother might still call Winterfell home. She'd be the only one to have left, but that would have been alright. She would've had Willas's love, she would've had their baby safely and without any of the turmoil the Tyrell's had put onto them. The celebrations would have been grand, and their baby would know just how loved they were without ever having to feel as though they weren't good enough. It could have all been so sweet, so good, but instead she was curled up on the floor of the crypts, at the feet of her Aunt.

"When I always said I wished I knew you I never meant like this," Eddmina groaned, squinting through her clenched eyes to look at Lyanna Stark. Another pain struck her and she let out a small cry.

Eddmina didn't want to die. It felt like she was going to, though. The pain was unbearable, and it had only just begun. She remembered when her mother was having her little siblings, how sometimes she would be locked away for days. How could she go on like that for so long, in so much pain? She desperately wished she knew more of the details of what it all entailed, because at least that way she would know what to expect, she would know how the pain would continue, and maybe she'd be better at dealing with it rather than spiralling in despairing agony. She clenched her hand to her stomach again, grimacing as the contraction passed, and as she glanced up at the statues again, she knew she truly didn't want to join them, not yet at least.