The surviving northerners who had paid witness to the wedding the night before had been gathered in the hall that was the scene of Eddmina's worst nightmares, forced into the middle of the room, in chains and shackles.
It was a sickening sight to take in from the top table she'd been forced to sit at, made even worse when she realised that Lady Maege was stood in the exact spot where her daughter died. Eddmina remembered her friend's face, the one that had so often broken out into smiles or determined frowns, and how at the end all other expressions had been replaced with fear. Poor Dacey, loyal and protective, kind and fierce, cut down without honour or dignity. The fact her dearest friend was one of the first to fall filled Eddmina with a sort of rage that she couldn't name or control, and it took everything in her not to scream. Any relief she felt upon seeing that her friend's mother had survived was completely overtaken by numbing grief.
In fact, her whole body seemed to be struggling with being back in the hall, right from the moment the guards marched her through the doors and she had to walk over the floorboards where Garlan had taken her hand and told her not to cry. Remembering the way his voice cut off in the middle of saying his wife's name made Eddmina want to forget his instruction, feeling as if she wanted to keel over and sob for her bonus brother who'd fought so hard in vain, but she forgot any inkling of tears when the guards pulled her along and she caught sight of where she and Garlan had taken shelter while his father saved their lives. He'd not even liked her, yet he'd died for her all the same. It steeled her, and when she saw where her twin had collapsed with a knife to his heart, she was cold with grief and rage. They may have scrubbed all the blood away from the floors, but Eddmina could remember how it felt for her Robb to bleed out onto her, and how it felt to choke the life out of his killer. Her dress was as red as their blood had been, and as she was led to take a seat at the top table next to Jaime, it was the blood she thought of.
Memories surrounded her mind so suffocatingly that she barely realised it was not just Jaime joining her at the table. His father was also there, watching her coldly like the proud old lion he was, and simply because it was his castle and he could, Lord Walder was there too. His gaze was not as wary as the looks his offspring always gave her, and instead wore his usual smugly superior sneer. She did not even look at him, not finding him worth that. She thought about all the sons of his that she'd hurt or killed, and how even though she couldn't always remember the details of what she'd done, the thought of doing the same to him repulsed her; she didn't even want to lower herself to touch him.
"Here comes our guest of honour," Lord Walder called as she moved into place, and when he shuffled around in his seat as she walked behind him she barely felt how his hand groped at her behind. "Not singing or strangling now are you, now you've bedded a lion?"
"Ignore him," Jaime whispered, taking her hand with a touch of protectiveness, though she barely flinched at the lord's words.
She could feel the northerners looking at her, not just staring at her stomach as everyone constantly seemed to do, but studying her face. It was like they were desperately trying to seek out any sort of sign from her, trying to spot a flicker of rebellion or an inkling of hatred. They were looking for a signal from her, a clue to her wanting revenge. It didn't matter that they were unarmed and in chains, knowing northerners and their fierceness, she was certain that if they thought she called for it, then they would have attempted anything. It didn't matter that Eddmina wanted Frey blood to spill and flow more than anything, for the safety of her countrymen, she kept her eyes fixed down onto the table.
Lord Tywin took his place next to her, and cleared his throat quiet enough for no one but her to hear. She didn't look at him, wanting him to force her to look, wanting him to do something that would show his true colours and break the united front he was so desperately trying to portray, but then she realised that he knew it was what she wanted. He knew if he took hold of her in any way and forced her to look at him, that would only anger the northerners. With that, she clenched her jaw and met his gaze.
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Only A Northern Song ~ Game of Thrones / Willas Tyrell ~
Fanfiction"I cannot sing for you. You want me to sing you the songs of the south, where the pretty ladies fall in love with the brave knights and all is well with the world. I don't know those songs. I only know Northern songs, about winter and wolves, and yo...
