“He calls for my bannerman’s head he’ll be offered mine. I won’t let northern blood be split here unless it’s mine.” He never would, letting one of his men die when he was able to save them wasn’t something he would let himself do. “You know how much bloodshed we want, as little as possible. Neither of us want to see great death and the north will fight no where but the north.” That wasn’t the case for House Targaryen, they’d go all over the world for their bloodshed.
“Blindly? You have no idea what we’re running towards, you used to know what we wanted and how we wanted it to happen. Why would I run blindly into a war? Why would I be marrying someone no one wanted if I was running into things without thinking?” Lord Umber was the one who wasn’t thinking, he was opening his mouth drunkenly and yelling about things he had no right to yell about. “It’s not about pride. We don’t belong in the seven kingdoms, your darling husband only wants us because we bring him power, we bring him lands. We don’t worship your gods, he don’t hold the same beliefs. Our gods are mocked and destroyed here, our ways are mocked.” It was the truth, none of the others wanted their people here, they didn’t want anything to do with them. “The pride is of Aemon. Part of his kingdom or not we’ll protect the realm from things beyond the wall, that’s all we’re good for to the crown. It’s his pride and desire to own everything that will bring bloodshed. Not ours.”
each word that left his lips chipped at her faith in him, carving away at the amicability of their agreements. now, it seemed inevitable, that their once-shared interests would diverge like this, but it still infuriated her. she had been sympathetic to his northern ambitions, sworn her loyalty to a land she had rarely seen, because she had believed in the honor of the starks. it seemed to be a lie, something they told themselves to justify themselves. there was no honor in starting a war without cause. a scoff escaped her, sharp and cruel. on her heel, she turned from him, arms crossing over her chest as she refused to meet his gaze. “you're a fool.” insults would not win her this argument, but she was fighting a battle with herself now, wrestling to keep her rage from spilling over. perhaps his dream had been noble once, but impatience and single-mindedness had spoiled it, and wylla feared he might now have ventured beyond reason.
a breath, and she turned back to him, keeping her distance, her jaw clenched. “aemon is twice the king you will ever be. he may bear the name of conquerors and tyrants, but he cares for the realm more than you do. he would have trusted you with his sister to keep the peace, and you would have repaid him with treason.” the calm in her voice held more menace than mellowness, a note of horror at knowing the part she played --- was still playing --- in rickard's plans. “the realm hasn't faced threats from beyond the wall since the time of daenerys and aegon. the only threat to the realm and the peace is you.”
what madness took her over, then, she could not have said, but she heard herself saying, “run home to winterfell, marry some northern girl and father some sons on her. one will be betrothed to visenya. when the time is right, when i've failed to give aemon a son, he will be named heir.” it was a dangerous, even treasonous suggestion. it brought the war to her, her body now the site of battle, some desperate attempt to keep the realm and her family’s safety intact. “ ---... or you can start a war you cannot hope to win. and make no mistake, the blood will be on your hands.”
