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

Chapter One Hundred and Seven: The Night

Willas had told her to sleep well; It seemed almost out of subconsious spite that Eddmina spent most of the night tossing and turning.

The feast had drawn to a close hours ago, though from the open window of her chambers she could still hear the occassional laugh and brash drunken voice carrying up from the courtyard as men returned to camp or the residents of Winterfell found their own chambers. She supposed it was a good thing to hear, a much better sound than the aftermath of the last feast she had attended. Eventually it quietened so all she could hear were the usual night time castle sounds, the owls hooting, the wolves howling, and the ocassional servant whispering as they bustled about their duties. Perhaps if her door were not left cracked open the noises would be easier to drown out, but she didn't want them hidden anyway. Noise kept her mind busy, away from any horrors, away from thinking about Willas.

Why in seven hells had he moved his face away so she couldn't kiss him? Wasn't it him who was begging for reconcilation, for forgiveness? Shouldn't he have been desperate for her to kiss him?

She let out another frustrated groan, and rolled over once more in bed, drawing the heavy furs over her face to muffle the long sigh, before she quickly threw the sheets away from her head. It didn't matter how tired she was, or how comfortable the bed that had once been her parents was, sleep alluded her. She had considered drinking dreamwine, or poppy's milk, or essence of nightshade, all of which the maester had recommended to her upon her reclamation of Winterfell. Recommendation had turned to urging, however, when the weeks ticked on and he saw the dark shadows under her eyes from lack of sleep grow, but it didn't make her any more keen. If it was a choice between nightmares and feeling like her mind was constantly foggy and dead to the world in the night, she knew which option she preferred; at least she knew she was alive when suffering a nightmare.

Perhaps she had slept that night for an hour, before a nightmare woke her with her heart thundering in her chest, her pulse practically choking her. She wasn't even sure what the terror was, if it was the war, or her father, or her brothers, or Ramsay. Either way, she forced her eyelids open, and stared up at the canopy above her, willing herself to remember where she was. That did not help though, because the moment she knew she was in the Lord's Chambers, where she was never supposed to belong, she felt the dam walls collapse and she began to sob.

The noise was enough to mask the sound of the bedroom door creaking slightly, making her completely oblivious to someone entering the room when she would usually have sat up and faced them, dagger in hand. Perhaps it was a good thing she didn't hear, since she felt a tugging on her bedsheets, and as she jolted aware, her breath hitching in her throat, she rolled to her side once more to see Uther.

She would have sworn she was so shocked, until she remembered exactly who it was she was faced with. Instead, she forced a smile, wiping away any tears in record time, and frowned through the darkness to take in the sight of him. In an oversized fur robe, he looked smaller than before, his hair messed as if he too had been unable to sleep properly, while his eyes were tired and tearful. At his side was Honour, who wasted no time in leaning over and licking her cheek before leaping onto the bed, while tucked under his arm was a wolf of his own, well-loved and held protectively.

"What are you doing here, little love?" she asked, hoping her voice sounded tired and not at all like she had just sobbed through a nightmare. "I thought your father put you to bed in your own room?"

"I wanted you," he told her, though he didn't move any closer, as if he felt like he had to wait for permission. "Honour helped me find you."

She was glad he explained that, because she had momentarily plotted killing all of her guards for letting her boy wander the halls of a castle he didn't know well alone, until she realised all of them knew not to get in the way of the wolves. The wolf in question had curled up at her feet and had begun snoring, as if she knew her work was done for the night. Eddmina's however, was just beginning, as she sat up and held her arms out, beckoning Uther close.