I do not own anything you recognize. And I am poor (so don't sue)
A/N: I'm just gonna leave this angst fest here and run...
"And if I only could, I'd make a deal with god, and I'd get him to swap our places. Be running up that road, be running up that hill, be running up that building. If I only could…" – Kate Bush
The birthing chamber was filled with sobs, the young girl laboring on the bed, too weak with blood loss to scream. She'd been laboring for hours, her pains had begun at breakfast the day before and it was now the wee hours of the morning, the sun's first rays had not even broken over the horizon. Her half-sister sat beside her holding her hands, and there was a midwife kneeling between her legs.
"The head is just there my Lady, just two more pushes should do it."
"Did you hear that Roslin?" Tyta said, smiling even though she looked exhausted, her eyes ringed with dark circles. "Just two more pushes, you can do it can't you?"
Roslin nodded her head weakly, her face as pale as the sheets, her hair sweat-dampened and sticking to her. She licked her lips and tried to speak, to say yes or something in affirmation, but she couldn't find her voice so she simply nodded again, stronger this time, and braced herself for the next wave of pain.
The babe slid out and Roslin sobbed with relief, but then Tyta asked, "It's not crying! Why isn't it crying, don't all babes cry when they're born?"
"Not always, sometimes they're a bit stunned from the birthing, especially if it took a long time." The midwife swatted the babe on its bottom and when it made a startled gasping noise, she smiled. "There he is, breathing just fine, though he's a bit muddled I should think. Give him some time to rest and some food in his belly and he'll be right as rain."
She held the babe out to Roslin, but Roslin didn't move to take him. Instead, she looked from the babe to the midwife with a stunned expression on her face and whispered, "He?"
"Yes Roslin, you have a fine, strong boy." Tyta laughed as she took the babe from the midwife and placed him in her sister's arms. "Papa will be pleased."
She can hear them whispering outside the door of her bedchamber, Tyta and a man whose voice she thinks she recognizes. She pulls Bethany closer and strokes her daughter's cheek.
The door opens and Olyvar enters slowly, as though afraid to.
"Olyvar!" She cries, "You've come to see me! I thought Papa forbid you to come?"
Olyvar smiles sadly as he pulls her into his arms. "He seems to think that it won't make much difference now."
Roslin gives him a wry look, "You mean because I had a worthless girl instead of a boy he could use as a pawn?"
Olyvar looks at her with his mouth gaping, looking as though he is about to weep and she wonders if papa has been taking his anger out on her brothers, but then he gives her a watery grin and nods.
"Aye, that. Sister, have you been getting enough rest?"
"Oh yes, Bethany hardly ever cries, she is such a good baby Olyvar. Here, you should hold her."
Roslin places the babe in her brother's arms, blissfully unaware of the long look he shares with Tyta who is standing at the doorway.
Olyvar visits her once a week, and after a few months he brings Perwyn with him.
Perwyn has been to Casterly Rock, has seen her husband. She asks after him, asks if he is safe and well. She does not ask if he hates her, she knows he must, she hates herself too. Perwyn tells her that Edmure is a valued prisoner and well looked after.
"Of course," She says happily. "I didn't have a boy for them to use so they have to keep him alive and well."
Perwyn frowns and says her name in a harsh voice, but Olyvar stops him.
"Come brother, Roslin has had enough for today."
It is Bethany's first birthday and Roslin laughs as she twirls about the room with her daughter in her arms.
"Your father will love you when he meets you. You will be his fine lady. He will hate me, he must, but you saved his life."
Tyta watches her from the doorway and it makes her uncomfortable.
"Why do always look at me in that way Tyta, Edmure will come for her, he will!"
Tyta looks down at the floor, then turns and leaves the room.
Roslin holds Bethany close and hums a lullaby in her ear.
It is a year later, Bethany's second birthday, when the halls of The Twins are alive with the sound of battle, men in armor battling each other, women screaming, children crying, the sounds of battle and death.
Tyta bars the doors of Roslin's chambers, their younger sister Arwyn huddled in the corner with their father's wife and their youngest siblings.
Roslin curls up into a corner, places Bethany on her lap and covers her ears with her hands, rocking back and forth trying to block out the dreadful screams.
Suddenly, there is a banging on the doors, and they can hear the men in the hallway using their weapons to break it down. Tyta stands and moves to the middle of the room with a candlestick in her hands, ready to defend her charges.
The door breaks open and Roslin stands and stares at the handsome man with red curls and piercing blue eyes who strides into the room, a bloody sword in his hand, and smears of blood on his armor.
His eyes find hers and she cannot breathe. She stares at blue eyes and hears screams and sees flashes and she is so overcome with the memories, she drops Bethany.
The doll shatters on the floor and she stares at the broken pieces of porcelain. She can hear Tyta calling her name in panic, just as she had two years before.
She feels a mail gloved hand touch her face and she looks up into her husband's eyes with tears in her own.
"I killed him." She whispers. "I killed him so you could live."
"Yes Roslin, you have a fine, strong boy." Tyta laughed as she took the babe from the midwife and placed him in her sister's arms. "Papa will be pleased."
Roslin stare at the babe in her arms in despair. This was Edmure's doom she held. Her father would demand to have Edmure killed, and though Ser Jaime had said that he wanted to keep him alive, having the heir of Riverrun in their clutches might change the Lannister's minds. He would be a puppet, a pawn.
That was no life.
And Edmure would be killed.
No, she would not be responsible for his death as well.
"You were supposed to be a girl." She whispers in despair.
"A girl. You were supposed to be a girl."
Vaguely, she can hear the Tyta's panicked voice in the distance asking her what it is she is doing, but all she can think is that it wasn't supposed to be this way.
A girl.
You were supposed to be a girl.
A girl.
A girl.
A GIRL!
When she comes to, she is clutching the babe in one hand and the cord that had connected him to her in the other. She had wrapped it around his neck and pulled. Tyta had thrown herself on top of her, trying to stop her, but she had succeeded, the babe wasn't living any longer. Edmure would live.
When the guards burst into the rooms, it is Tyta who saves her.
"The babe was born stillborn." She hears her sister choke out. "Lady Roslin was overcome with grief and attacked the midwife." She gives the midwife a look and the woman hastily agrees with her story.
And so it is that the word that reaches Lord Edmure is that his wife lives, but that his son was born dead.
Only Tyta and Olyvar knew the truth.
Edmure stares at the pale, ghost of a woman in front of him.
Her long, matted brown hair hangs like a curtain around her, her eyes are sunken and ringed with dark circles from lack of sleep.
And her words, her words shake him to the very core.
"I killed my son. I killed my son to save you. They were going to kill you; they would have killed you if he'd lived. I killed my son…" Roslin breaks down and covers her face with her hands as she sobs. Her knees give out from under her and he instinctively catches her.
He feels sick.
He looks down at the woman in his arms and he does not know what to do.
So he picks her up in his arms and carries her out of the room and away from the Twins.
A/N: The End. (don't kill me)