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

Chapter Ninety Nine: Dragonstone

Honour hated sailing just as much as Eddmina had once upon a time.

The direwolf had spent her days on board the ship to Dragonstone pacing and whimpering, and in the night when she curled at the foot of Willas' bunk, he whispered endless apologies to her as she shivered. He didn't blame her, not since the sea was so rough that even he struggled to sleep and each gust of wind that caught them had his mind race to the worst case scenario. He wished he could see the whole journey as an adventure, but unlike Uther, he missed home the moment he stepped foot on the ship. Unlike himself and the direwolf, Uther revelled in the sailing, loving every second his father permitted him to stand on the deck and watch the waves, cheering each time a gust of wind caught them forcefully or the sea foam splashed onboard. It was not the first time Willas had experienced masking his own thoughts and fears from his son, but hiding how greensick the current around the island made him felt like yet another great trial of fatherhood. He could not, however, mask the relief he felt to be getting off the ship, relating more to Honour's snarl and disdainful stare back at the sea as they reached land than his son's pout.

He soon cheered up the moment he saw who was waiting to greet them on the beach front, and all of Willas' travelling grievances left him too the moment he saw his sister waving at them, beaming as if they were not in the middle of a brewing storm - both politically and weather-wise. Because of the latter, she was wearing a thick woolen dress that was so unlike anything she usually wore, not her usual blues or greens but a bland dark beige, and the heavy cloak she wore about her shoulders made her look more dainty than usual and did nothing but remind him just how much his little sister hated the cold. The sight of her made him forget the great stone fortress looming on the cliffs above, and the fact his Queen and a council were waiting for him, because his sister was grinning at him, and the sight of his son sprinting across the sand screaming her name was enough to make him grin too. Margaery swept Uther up into the air, and Willas took the opportunity to scratch behind Honour's ears as she continued to shiver and grumble in the direction of the sea.

"I'm so sorry, girl," he sighed, though she paid him no mind as she huffed and padded up the beach, following Uther's footsteps, giving Willas no choice but to greet his sister. "Are you well, Margie?"

"Better for seeing you all," she beamed at him, especially as he pulled her into an embrace. "You truly do have a thing for strong women, don't you? We send you to Dorne to make an alliance and you come back with a new Queen."

"And you're widowed twice over now, perhaps you are cursed, sister," he hit back dryly, making her gasp and hit his arm as she scowled out a smirk. Uther laughed at the pair of them, not noticing how his father's face grew serious only moments after his joke. "I'm sorry though. I truly am. If there had been another way to deceive the Lannisters then-"

"Then I would have resented it for making me useless," she shrugged, rolling her eyes at his obvious concern. With the arm that wasn't holding Uther, she looped her hand onto her elder brother's elbow, nodding in the direction of the trail up to the keep that Honour had already plodded over to. "I did barely anything. It was grandmother who poisoned the monster, not that anyone noticed. Cersei was too busy screaming and blaming her brother, it was only when he escaped that she turned her focus on us, and by then we were ready to come here."

Willas glanced up at the path that spiralled around the cliffs of Dragonstone, leading up to the castle that had once been the stronghold of the Targaryens from before the conquest. He had read about the island a great deal, but had never visited. As always when visiting a new place, the first thing he tried to note was the wildlife, and while moss and slight greenry prevailed against the harsh weather, he couldn't help but feel as if he was stood atop a volcano. He took in a deep breath, and rather than the smell of salt and sea, all he got was sulfur and burning, yet there was not a single fire close by save the lanterns the guards manning the path ahead; not because it was nightfall, but because even in the middle of the day the fog was thick enough to justify light. As hostile as it felt for him as a newcomer, he could tell something liked it at least, as the whole island seemed to smoke and creak just like a dragon. The fact that the three children of the queen were already swooping and chasing each other the way they did when they were content said everything about how at home they felt.