Chapter 8: The Boy Who Would Be King - Part 7

"No!"

I tried to dig my feet in, but the cobblestone path gave no purchase as Alaric kept dragging me by the hand.

"No,no,no!"

"Irresponsible, reckless, foolhardy!-"

Old gods green and wise, but the man was pissed.

I suppose that the man's concern was driven by concern regarding the results of my last great escape. I'd be touched, honestly, if his concern and anger weren't in the process of quickly and surely fucking up my goddamn plan!

"Alaric!"

He gave me the cold shoulder and kept dragging me away.

What to do, what to do?

Wait. I'm an almost 5-year-old.

I lunged towards the hand holding me and latched on with my teeth before biting. Hard.

I was rewarded with a curse as Alaric let go, and I took the golden opportunity for what it was "Alaric listen to me-"

Fuck. I was an almost 5-year-old.

Alaric flung me over one shoulder like a sack of flour, though he finally deigned to give a response "What in the name of all the fucking gods were you thinking? Did you learn anything?!"

"Alaric" The judgment was starting to get to me, now.

"First the godswood, then the fucking crypts. One day I fear I'll go take a piss, only to come back and find you at the fucking Wall!"

"Alaric!"

"When Lord Stark hears of this, you'll be lucky to leave your chamber for a moon!" He continued ranting "And that would be too soon!"

"Alaric!" I screamed, "Put me the fuck down right now!"

He stilled, before to my immense relief he did just that. He dropped to a knee, then, and placed both hands on my shoulder "Why? If you wish your respects, you need but wait till morn, and I would escort you myself. Why choose to go about in the most ridiculous, foolhardy way possible? What purpose could it serve?"

Fingers crossed? Give me a dues ex Machina to save the world with.

"Alaric" I could hear the frustration in my own voice. How the fuck do I go about this without sounding like an overimaginative child, or a batshit crazy one? "I need to go into the crypts, I'm not going to pay my respects, but there's something I have to find!"

Oh, hell. That didn't sound reassuring at all.

The man agreed with me, given his face scrunched up in confusion, and as I wracked my brain in confusion, I realized...

I realized I was damn tired. I was tired of feeling insecure, tired of feeling the massive lack of control that my life had devolved to, and tired of having my hopes trampled.

So I went with the previously unthinkable option.

"I have strange dreams, Alaric" I gave him a partial truth, something I'd never give anyone in Westeros besides Bloodraven "Dreams that show me things that are yet to happen."

He froze, and I bulldozed ahead anyway

"There's....something horrible coming, Alaric, for everyone. I don't rightly know the full scope of it, but it will result in the end of everything. I need to go down into the crypts because something down there may be the clue to giving me a chance to fight back against the coming storm, please."

I expected disbelief, incredulity, and irritation.

I did not, however, expect the look of horrified realization on his face.

What the hell?!

"Gods be good" He whispered as he pressed his face into his palms "Gods be fucking good, it was all true"

This is not right. This is not a normal reaction to something that, if I didn't know better, I would dismiss as a joke at most and delusional lunacy at worst.

Alaric knew something I didn't, something that made him recognize my warnings.

How?

I blinked, a surge of anger growing inside of me once more

'I swear to all the gods that if the three-eyed jackass has been fucking with Alaric's mind, consequences be damned I'm going to find my way beyond the wall and to his tree, then I'm going to detonate it. With bloody wildfire.'

"You know something," The hint of realization in my tone had him looking up at me, his expression the oddest mix of dismay, shock, and relief 'You know something or suspect at least. Tell me"

But Alaric's face had hardened with grim determination "You must go into the crypts, Jon. I shall accompany you"

...

Say what now?

I went to refuse out of hand, but then I thought better of it. The crypts were known to be structurally unstable and got harder to navigate the further down you went. Going on my own was a dumbass idea.

"...Yes. I must. But I want to know what you-"

"When this is done, I will tell you everything. The time for secrets has long since passed" The man promised, honesty ringing in his tone "I swear it by the old gods and the new, but now we must begin your search"

For a moment, I just stared at him, slack-jawed, before being forced to admit that he was absolutely right. I was on a timer, and every second counted.

Oh, believe me, it burned to be denied an answer at a time like this, but I nodded anyway. Alaric was the one person I knew who was unquestionably in my corner, more so even than Ned Stark. I could grant him this much leeway.

Raising the lantern he held in his right hand, Alaric stepped towards the ironwood door and pushed against it, while I followed behind quickly. The light from the lantern illuminated stone steps that led further down than the light extended. I imagined I could hear the faintest of noises in the dark, and again, given that this was Westeros, that might very well be true.

I sighed dejectedly "And...Here. We. Go"

We descended into darkness.

...​

"Gods!" I swore violently as I stumbled over a pile of rubble and barely avoided tumbling headfirst down the steps.

"Mind your step, Jon" Alaric's voice was sharper than I'd ever heard it, his very posture unyielding. I was grateful I hadn't argued over him accompanying me. Aside from the nerves brought on from traversing underground chambers filled with entombed corpses, the crypts took the words 'structural hazard' and made them their own. With vigor.

The upper floors, containing the most recent dearly departed relatives of mine were perfectly safe to traverse. It's when you made it past the three upper levels that things got dangerous. Twice now the very stairs had nearly crumbled out from underneath us, and thrice we had to literally climb over oceans of rubble.

Add to that we had to move slowly to avoid the lantern going out and, well.

Cremation is the way to fucking go, in my opinion.

I nearly cheered in relief once we finally reached our destination. See, each level had stone tablets carved into their entrances, spelling out the names of the Starks that lay there. I needed to find the grave of the one Stark who was deeply connected to Prince Jacaerys. Lord Cregan Stark's tomb, stood beside that of his Father, Rickon, and his bastard sister, Saera Snow. Their visages were stern, though it was impossible to tell individual features on their stone statues. Time and a lack of maintenance hadn't been kind to those, though the massive stone tombs were in nigh-perfect condition.

And that was it.

"Jon?" Alaric's voice rang with uncertainty "What are you searching for?"

"I don't know" I felt stumped and looked down What to do now? Open the tombs? That would be a special kind of morbid shit. I had no clue where to begin.

(Damn you, Bloodraven. To hell with your arrogance and to hell with your destiny. To hell with you, you one-eyed-!)

My thoughts were cut off and my head snapped up as I focused on something new. "What's that noise?"

"Jo-?"

"Ssssh!" I waved my hands at him, a habit I'd picked up from Robb. I tried to focus on the odd noise, and I caught Alaric's small exhale. He'd heard it too.

"Below us!" We both exclaimed at the same time.

I lay flat against the ground, pressing my ears to the stone. Below I could hear the sound of .... movement of sorts. my eyes widened.

"Rushing water from the pipes that connect to the hot springs and circle through the castle" I murmured.

I crawled across the floor, following the movement to... Oh. Of fucking course.

I stood up, a miserable expression on my face that Alaric somewhat mirrored as we both gazed directly at Sara Snow's tomb.

"Gods be good" Alaric sighed in misery

"Let me know when that happens." I muttered to myself, then I spoke louder "Alaric, open it up"

To his credit, he didn't even protest. Leaning to one side of the ancient stone tomb after placing the lantern safely away, he crouched, got a firm grip on the lid, and heaved.

Half of it was wrenched off, the rest crumbling inwards. I choked on the dust cloud that was raised. When it cleared, though, my mouth dropped open. there were no remains. There was no inside of the coffin, instead, metal rungs extended down into darkness in the form of a ladder.

Alaric and I shared an incredulous gaze before staring back down.

"Well, I've got to hand it to them. When they wanted stuff hidden, they hid it damn well."

"Indeed. I would say this settles the debate of Sara Snow, but it only raises more questions in turn."

I raised an eyebrow "Debate?"

"Though the tales of the Prince Jacaerys and his love for Sara Snow are known far and wide, particularly among the small folk for the romantic value if nothing else, there is much debate on whether she actually ever existed, for her supposed father, Lord Rickon, was never known to have mentioned her. Yet many believe the pact of Ice and Fire was created as a result of the love the prince and his Lady Snow shared. It is... a conundrum, made all the worse by poor record keeping."

Huh.

Confusing secrets in Westeros? Who'd have thought it?"

"But if she never existed, why use her tomb as a passageway? Why not use anything else? It is less secure, especially given that bastards are not normally given the funeral rites of their true-born kin, and the Starks were no exception. Her tomb would draw attention if it was noticed. Therefore, something is missing" I reasoned

He nodded "Just so"

"And what do you think?" I asked. I had to admit I was getting curious myself "About all of this?"

He was silent for a moment, then he answered "I think that one must keep an open mind when it comes to the affairs of Targaryens."

I grinned "Had a lot of experience with Targaryens then, Alaric?"

He looked outright amused then, before moving forward again "Come. We have tarried too long."

Well, then.

Pushing back my raging curiosity at what could have triggered that kind of response, I followed suit. I'd have my answers soon enough in any case.

Naturally, the man decided to climb down the rungs first after tying his lantern to his hand using a strip of his tunic that he tore off. He warned me to go carefully.

The temperature rose the farther down we went.

"The piping connected to the hot springs runs directly through this tunnel, so no wonder."

When the rings came to an apparent end, Alaric told me to halt, while he let go and fell gracefully, landing on both feet. I could hear him below me, though seeing him proved difficult.

"Let go!", he called up

"What?" I yelled down at him indignantly "No!"

"We came all this way, and you want to turn back now?" He asked incredulously "I'll catch you, I swear it"

"I just-" It was likely one and a half meters down, and while that's next to nothing to an adult, I was physically a small child.

That was terrifying.

"Craven!"

….. I was going to kill that asshole. I didn't know how, but I would.

Before I could lose my nerve, I let go. One heart-stopping moment of free fall, and Alaric plucked me out of the air before lowering me to my feet.

"Seven hells!" He voiced as he rubbed the sweat off his forehead. "This heat is unbearable!"

"It's not that bad" I replied, giving him a strange look.

It was a bit toasty, sure, but nothing that warranted that kind of response.

He shot me a flat look before untying his lantern and raising it overhead. The light illuminated our surroundings, and I sucked in a sharp breath.

We were in an open chamber of sorts, with a large domed ceiling hanging above us, supported by six great pillars engraved in what at first looked like gibberish, but on closer look were revealed to be lines and lines of painted runes and symbols, interlocked to form strange shapes.

I touched the nearest one curiously "I've never seen these before. Old tongue, perhaps?"

"I wouldn't rightly know" he murmured as he turned around, and I followed his gaze.

The walls of the chamber acted as murals, depicting stories I wasn't sure I recognized.

I saw what I assumed were illustrations of the Stark Winter Kings, and what had to be their ancient direwolve companions…. only they weren't fighting together, as I would expect.

From what I could see, it seemed as if the Starks were fighting against them, at the signal of a twisted, beast-like man on a throne made of bones. His features were gnarled and ghastly, as though he himself was half-wolf, and his posture was hunched and predatory.

I shuddered at the sight, before panning my eyes over to the next mural.

There, the same beastly man was run through by a Stark king, while several men shattered the throne of bones and seemed to carting the fragments away. Near the end, there were several women who appeared and knelt around the corpse of the beast-man, as though in grief.

Then, on the final mural, there was yet another depiction of the Stark king, this time with one of those very same women from before, the both of them tied at the arms before what was unmistakably heart tree in some sort of ceremony, and there men and Direwolves kneeling to both.

What was this?

"You possess a rich ancestry, Jon. You should be proud" Alaric murmured, too oddly faint. "I daresay that no man of Stark blood has set foot in this chamber for centuries at least."

I turned around and didn't reply. It was fascinating (and more than a little discomforting) but it wasn't what I was here for.

Behind us, the source of the heat was revealed.

Steam rose from a beautiful hot spring, the air around it shimmering and the waters themselves somehow a striking litany of colors. Blue, green, yellow, and sky blue.

It was gorgeous.

But it still wasn't what I was here for.

Looking around the chamber once more, my stomach dropped when I realized that I'd seen everything it had to offer, and still nothing screamed "Targaryen" at me.

Had all this been for nothing?

And, typically, the moment I had that though was the moment that the situation started to get even worse.

"Have you found that which you seek?" If Alaric's voice had been weak before, now it sounded strained beyond reason.

I glanced at him to ask him what was wrong, only to immediately recoil in shock.

The man looked awful, sweat pouring down his now visibly red face in waves, and he looked slightly unsteady, as though he was moments away from collapse.

What the hell? The heat wasn't even that bad!

Then it hit me.

Heat. Targaryens.

I thought about Jacaerys's words, really thought about them.

"Hidden where only the blood of the dragon can reach it."

The blood of the dragon is a term that was used almost exclusively to refer to those of Targaryen blood. Like Aegon the First, like Jacaerys, and like…

Daenerys…

My currently exiled biological aunt, who, in the story, I'd loved was famous not only for hatching dragon eggs long believed to be fossilized but for how she did it.

Walking into a raging pyre, and coming out unburnt.

If that same level of immunity or at least resistance to heat ran in the family, and the difference in my and Alaric's reaction proved that it was…

If I was a Targaryen prince (hah!) convinced of my incoming death and determined to hide something in this chamber where only I or one of my kinsmen could retrieve it, where would I put it?

Slowly, I turned to stare at the positively steaming hot spring.

"...Honestly, I feel like I should've seen this one coming at this point"

***

A/N: Just a little bit left before the end of the arc, my dear readers, and the revelations it will bring.

Hope you enjoy the story so far and how I'm starting to dig into the deeper lore of Planetos.

As always, leave your comments and feedback, love to have them! If you don't like it, please be courteous.

Next Chapter: The Boy Who Would Be King - Part 8

P.S. - Early chapter for 100 collections Kudos to me!