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

Chapter One Hundred and Fourteen: The Mistake and the Failure

"You wanted to see me, your grace?"

Lord Edric Baratheon's voice was hesitant and betrayed just how young he still was, but there was an edge of confidence to it, as if he knew exactly who he was even if he was still finding his feet. He was trying to sound like he was every bit the lord he was meant to be, and Eddmina assumed if she turned around from the balcony railing overlooking the courtyard to look at him properly, he would be holding the hilt of the sword on his belt; not as a threat, but as a way to show just how much of a man he was. Even so, she could just imagine the uncertain grimace on his face, the same one she had seen on him the night he asked for her sister's hand.

She wanted to put him out of his misery, but she couldn't tear her eyes off the courtyard, not when Uther was down there, padded out in training leathers that were far too big for him, holding a minature training sword that he was clearly pretending wasn't too heavy for him, watching his aunt and uncle. Arya and Loras were still arguing over the best way to teach him, but he hardly cared, swinging the blunt wooden sword at their shins every so often. He kept glancing up at her, to check she was still there watching him, and every time he saw her he grinned and waved up at her, and every time she waved back she felt her heart clench in her chest.

"Is he not still too young?" Edric asked, stepping closer to the railing and following her gaze when he didn't get a response from her.

Eddmina hated the reminder of his age, hated to think that his second nameday passed two months into her imprisonment in the Twins, hated to think of the celebration and time that had been robbed from her. He was far closer to his next nameday than the last, and so far removed from the small boy she had said goodbye to in Riverrun. He had grown up far quicker than most children his age, and she hated to think that it was her fault, the trauma of her absence and the war spurring him on to be older than he should be.

Despite it all though, she felt another proud smirk grow on her face as she watched him jab his sword at his uncle, who dodged the blow with a cheer. Loras ruffled his hair, the same way that all the Tyrells did to each other. Arya, who took to him easier than Lyarra - "he's older, I can have a converstion with him, I'm less likely to drop him," her sister had explained sheepishly once - folded her arms and watched him proudly like he was her finest protégé.

"He was asking to learn, who was I to deny him, especially when he has such good teachers surrounding him to learn from?" She explained to Edric, glancing around her shoulder to him still smiling, and his uncertainty was instantly replaced with surprise; he had never seen her smile before.

It was not as if Uther was down there training alone. In fact, it was rather charming to see the whole courtyard abuzz with the usual daily tasks surrounding the training sessions. Servants and staff bustled around with their different jobs, carrying baskets of laundry and groceries, calling to one and other, while the younger inhabitants of the keep sparred with the older ones. Eddmina fel the itch to go down and join them all, especially when she saw the archery range where Alysane was trying to teach Alys to shoot, the younger Mormonts watching them. Uther was not the only one practicing with a sword, because on the opposite side of the courtyard, working with a master of arms they had brought from the Vale with them, little Lord Robin Arryn was sparring too.

Eddmina frowned, watching as he dropped his sparring sword onto his foot through sheer carelessness, the instructor stood next to him trying to hide a sigh. It was not as if they had been sparring, he had merely been telling him how best to move, but even his stance was wrong, slumped lazily with his legs crossed as he daydreamed up at the sky. She watched the master of arms pick up the sword, placing it into his grip as he began to instruct him properly how to hold the weapon, how to hold his hand around the hilt, only for him to immediately drop it again. She rolled her eyes, and looked back to Uther. He needed two hands to hold his sword, and it seemed to be a little heavy for him, but he was stood properly, moved as quick as he needed to, and was looking up at both Arya and Loras intently, as if his life relied on the information they were giving him; Eddmina supposed there was some truth to that.