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

Chapter One Hundred and Seventeen: The Mad Queen

Days sat singing in the tower of the Twins seemed retrospectively easy compared to the three days that crept by sat by Willas' sickbed.

The Maester did all he could, but nothing seemed to be enough. He advised to keep Willas bare, the shutters of the room kept wide open to let in the cold northern air, and his burning skin was constantly being dressed with iced compresses. Eddmina's job was to hold a damp cloth to his face, constantly battling to cool his flushed forehead, constantly ringing it out and rechilling it, over and over. The bedsheets seemed to be constantly changed to replace the sweat-soaked sheets he laid on, and the bandages dressing his knee were redone twice a day just to keep them fresh. He was provided plenty of fluids, and milk of the poppy when they were sure he wouldn't just throw it back up.

All of that, and yet he didn't seem to get any better. Nor did he seem to get particularly worse, which was a relief, but Eddmina hardly saw that as a success when he was still so absent. He kept breathing, kept mumbling incoherent nonsense in his sleep every so often, but he didn't open his eyes. Occasionally he shook and trembled as if he was cold,  and he went through phases where his breathing became more struggled and staggered, and though everyone sprung into action and watched him for signs of serious deterioration, it never truly happened. The maester and Oberyn spent a great deal of time examining him, and they were almost sure the purgatives had gotten the poison out of his system, which was another relief until they considered just why he hadn't come around more, and why his fever was yet to break. Perhaps it was to do with his leg, which had remained propped up, elevated straight in front of him, because in all the years of knowing him, Eddmina had never seen his knee be such a state. Neither had Loras or Oberyn, both men having seen it immediately after the joust, which only made Eddmina worry more.

She tried to be helpful, insisting that Maester Walken put her to work whenever he required assistance, and she did whatever he asked as soon as he asked it with very little thought. Yet, there were long stretches of time where there was nothing to be done, and that was when she sat at his side, held his hands, and sang. She was never sure what she was singing, but she did it anyway, because he liked her voice, and if he could hear her then she hoped it might bring some sort of comfort.

The rare occasions when she stopped singing, she would try to pray, but was never sure who to pray to, or how, or what to say. It made her feel a fool, but she thought Willas would like her trying, remembering their night together in the Sept. She also thought that he'd like how she took to wearing a seven-pointed-star necklace that Margaery found for her when she overheard her stumbling her way through the hymns Willas had taught her the first time she was permitted to visit. She knew it was stupid to wear such a thing as a Stark, feeling the pendant sit so close to the one her father had given her, but she knew they were Willas' gods, and wearing it made her feel closer to him. She had never cared for the Seven, had never been particularly religious, but if the Maester had done all he could to help him, perhaps the only thing left to help were the gods.

Perhaps it was silly, but Eddmina knew she would try anything. That was also why she didn't protest to her mother sitting guard outside the chamber. She was not allowed in by the Maester to control infection risks, but on the fleeting occasions Eddmina did leave, she would see her mother sitting outside with Honour, a half-woven wreath on her lap that she focused her energy on. It was the same she had made for Robb during the war, the same she had made for Bran after his fall, and Eddmina ignored the implications that it was only supposed to be made by mothers for their children.

She only left the chamber briefly. Mostly it was to see Uther and Lyarra, leaving Willas with his brother to put her children to bed at night. Uther asked constant questions, and Lyarra's resemblance to her dying father broke Eddmina's heart more than Uther asking if his father was going to come and see him. She brushed the questions off gently, told him stories, played with him, sang to him, did everything she could to distract him. She held Lyarra close, sending her maids away to nurse her herself just to feel like she was useful for something, and managed to get a little sleep as she brought both children to bed with her. Only when they were settled did she leave them again to return to Willas, but only because Ghost and Grey Wind sat guard outside the nursery.