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

Chapter Ninety Four: The State of House Tyrell

It was still dark outside, the stars still shimmering while the moon lit the camp, but Eddmina felt as if she had lived several lifetimes in the few hours she had spent in the war tent.

She wasn't tired, and it was a good job too, as sat across from her, Loras looked wide awake and desperate for her tale as he had requested. She was weighing up how best to start, what to include and what details to omit, staring down at the table as she contemplated it all. Eventually she decided the best way to start would be removing Robb's crown from her head, stretching her neck with her eyes closed as she placed it down in front of her. She would never get used to the weight of it, never get used to how bare she felt the moment it was free from her. She hadn't realised it had become a shield, a form of armour that protected her from people seeing her as anything other than a Queen, a queen unafraid of killing and vengeance.

She didn't want to be a Queen with Loras. She wanted to be herself, even if she didn't really know who she was anymore.

"I almost forgot," Loras cursed suddenly before she had the chance to speak. She watched him warily as he reached into the satchel resting on his waist, fishing out a small parcel wrapped in wax paper tied with string. He placed it onto the table, sliding it towards her. "My brother asked me to give you this."

Eddmina raised her eyebrow, suspicious of whatever it was that Willas wanted her to have but couldn't give to her himself. Going against her instincts, she rolled her eyes and sighed as she moved it closer and pulled at the string, allowing the wax paper to fall away and reveal a small lemon cake. It had seen better days, considering it had been in Loras' satchel for a two-week journey, but the sight of it still made her chew at her lip, desperate to fight off any sort of emotion.

She would not cry over a cake, she refused to cry over a cake.

"He said it's one of your favourites," Loras explained with a shrug, rolling his own eyes at the absurdity of his eldest brother. Eddmina was surprised by just how protective she felt, uncomfortable with the thought of Willas being mocked by his brother. "He told me to apologise that it's not a wheel of cheese but given the sugars it was the safer option to send."

"Right," she nodded, not looking anywhere but the cake, wary to touch it as if it was a piece of hot coal, not wanting to eat it in case it was poisoned or her eating it was taken as a sign of surrender.

She hadn't had anything sweet in months. In fact, she'd eaten very little in months. All in the camp had insisted on her having bigger rations since she had Lyarra to look after, and if not for her then she was sure the guilt of getting more food than everyone else would have drowned her. She looked at the small cake barely as big as her hand, and that guilt coursed through her once more. She wanted to break it into pieces, offer a slice to everyone even if the slices ended up the size of crumbs. It was not fair for her to have it alone. Her sister at least deserved it, but she realised with stinging sadness that the sister she was with was not the one who cared about lemon cakes.

Arya had never cared about lemon cakes, but Sansa did. Sansa loved them so much it was easy to forget that they also happened to be Eddmina's favourite too. She hadn't helped that forgetfulness at all throughout her life, because lemons were a rare thing in the north, making the cakes even rarer. On the odd occasion the cakes made their way onto the dinner table or in the kitchen, Eddmina would see how her sister's eyes lit up with delight, and would slide her own portion onto Sansa's plate. It made her sister happy, that was almost better than eating it herself; almost.

It wasn't until Highgarden that she allowed herself to indulge. In Highgarden she didn't have any little siblings to look after, she didn't have any brothers to chase after or sisters to make happy. She'd almost forgotten what that felt like, to simply look after her own desires and interests, to merely eat a cake because she wanted to. She'd almost forgotten what being looked after felt like, what it felt like for someone to look after her and her interests. Willas used to smile each time he saw her treating herself to foods she liked, he used to encourage her to eat then grin whenever she did so. Without him there to remind her, she'd barely realised how often she forgot to eat at all, let alone treat herself.