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

Chapter Twenty Nine: The Crypts

"I never thought I'd enjoy coming down here," Eddmina commented jokingly as she held onto Willas' arm tightly, helping him down the steep stairs into the Crypts. Her other hand was fixed onto the lantern she was holding out, the fire casting just enough light for the pair of them to see the steps ahead and the small shadow of Honour, the wolf who had gone trotting off on her own. "But it's certainly an escape from the other southerners,"

It was the morning after the welcome feast, and Willas had woken up with the wish to visit the crypts of Winterfell. It was an odd, morbid request, but it was rather thoughtful considering he thought that if the King who had no legal connections to the Starks went to pay his respects, it was only right for him to go down too. Of course, Eddmina had woken up feeling sick from all the wine once again so the last place she wanted to visit was the tomb of her ancestors, but to say no made her feel guilty, not just to him, but to the Starks. She hadn't been to the crypts for a long time, since before she was married, and to not visit felt disrespectful, so she pulled herself together and got ready.

"I feel honoured that you class me as an acceptable southerner," he joked, mostly to distract himself from how badly his leg was aching from the stairs, trying to take his mind away from the thought that he must be clenching onto his wife's arm rather painfully, not to mention the thought that he would have to climb back up at some point.

"Did I ever tell you about when Robb, Jon and I played a prank on the younger ones down here?" she said, smiling at the memory. "I think we were about nine since Bran was still quite little, Jon covered himself in flour from the kitchens, while I threw an old white bedsheet over myself. We hid behind one of the statues, I think it was behind King Harlon Stark's, and then when Robb led the girls and Bran down, giving them this big long story about how the crypts are haunted and you can sometimes hear the voices of the old Kings, we both jumped out screaming. Bran started crying, Arya was angry at us for upsetting him, but Sansa ran all the way back up to our mother in floods of tears. We paid for that prank for months,"

"Reminds me of how we all used to play hide and seek in the woodlands, and then one day Garlan found the most remarkable hiding place, so remarkable he missed supper and an entire search party had to be sent out for him, only to find him hiding inside an old hollow tree, he'd brought out an old brown cloak to put over himself so no one would find him," Willas chuckled, hoping his quiet laughter and anecdote would hide the hushed sigh of relief he expelled as they completed the stairs. "Of course I was the one who got in trouble for it, as the oldest. I thought my grandmother was going to have me disowned,"

"I think that was the first time I fully realised my mother prefers all her other children over me," Eddmina joked, not paying any mind over how sad her words were. "Did your parents make out that it was you leading the others astray?"

"How else would they make me realise the importance of my role as eldest?" Willas raised his eyebrow mockingly, and the two of them made eye contact before breaking down into laughter. "I say, humour like this in a Crypt, I'm sure your ancestors are horrified,"

"Probably more horrified by the fact that their ancestral keep is filled with Lannisters who think the north is a desolate waste land," she pointed out with a small sigh.

"Or perhaps, horrified that their own descendant has departed the north for the warmth of Highgarden?" He teased, making her roll her eyes. "Where's Honour?"

Eddmina whistled, and in a few seconds the wolf came bounding back over, taking her place at the side of her mistress as they began their walk through the crypt. It was an eerie place, yet strangely comforting at the same time. All those great, historic people, buried beneath her home and what was once their home too. All those magnificent names of iconic stories, and they all shared the same blood, her family history all together in one place. It was tradition for every Stark to be buried down there, and it felt oddly humbling, knowing that despite being so great, all of her ancestors ended up in the same place, a place where she might end up too. She wasn't so sure on the latter, she didn't know what the Tyrell traditions were, and it seemed a little premature to be thinking about her resting place. Even if she did end up in the crypt, she wasn't a King, or a future Lord, so she wouldn't get a statue, not like the Kings of Winter of former Wardens of the North.