Ser Barristan led Robert into the Stark Crypts. Through the Ironwood door, they entered the first section, the one best maintained. It had the most recent tombs and statues of the lords. Ned Stark's statue was also there, with a direwolf by its feet.
Robert paused there for a short moment and looked at it. Looking at himself felt strange. But again, he knew he wasn't Ned anymore. Nor Robert.
"Stark Crypts have always amused me, Your Grace," Barristan said as he walked. "Most crypts are hewn from the top down, yet here they did otherwise. How did they dig so deep to begin with? The oldest kings lie in the lowest vaults. I wonder why."
Robert agreed with that observation. But even he didn't have the answers. He'd explored the crypts when he was young, but he'd never seen the deepest parts as they'd already collapsed. Though he was going to now. With his inhuman strength, he was sure he could dig his way down no matter what might stop him.
"There are many bloody mysteries, Barristan. Bran the Builder was a legend. Not just the Wall and Winterfell, they say he made Storm's End and Hightower too. Seven help me, I cannot guess what rattled in his skull. Men like him walked the world long ago. We are the sorry ones."
Ser Barristan let out a slow breath. "As you say, Your Grace. Many knights of greater renown have stood before me. Yet they call me Barristan the Bold."
Soon enough, the two men went down the spiraling staircase, deeper down through the many levels of the crypts. It was warm there, and damp. Why the lower sections fell was clear. It was a high possibility that some parts were submerged.
Nonetheless, Robert and Ser Barristan kept going down. They counted the levels, five, eight, ten, and finally, the sections started looking more crude. They counted a few old lords, and then the Kings of Winter.
The spiraling staircase turned patchy from there; the walls less refined.
"The way ahead is in ruins, Your Grace."
"Not for long."
Robert went ahead and punched the rubble. Sure, there was a risk of everything collapsing on them, but he'd become far too careless by that point. He didn't bring any shovels or tools; they were too brittle for him anyway.
He used his bare claws to dig through the rubble. Soon enough, he had enough space to crawl forward. It was uncharted territory from there. Nobody had been there before. And sure enough, there was something strange about it.
"It's… cold, Your Grace."
Before that blockade, they were facing heat. They were sweating. But now, all of a sudden, that heat turned into cold.
Robert had a feeling that he was going to find something interesting. So he walked in front, holding the torch in his hands. He noticed things, strange things. The chill was rising. The walls were still damp, but they were on the verge of turning into ice.
Twelve floors, then fifteen floors. Clearing the rubble. They could only imagine how deep they had gotten. And yet, there were still many statues of ancient Stark Kings. The likeness of them was still preserved. Tall, bearded, cloaked, always a direwolf at their feet.
Tap!
They heard dripping water then.
Robert raised the torch and tried to look ahead. They had to cross the entire floor to reach the stairs ahead.
Splash!
Their boots landed in ice-cold water.
"Stay here, Barristan. You'll die in this cold water." Robert said and continued to walk ahead, not even waiting for Barristan to respond.
His ankles were submerged at first, then his knees, and soon enough the water reached all the way up to his waist. He felt things around him, inside the water. Something brushes against him.
What in the Seven Hells is this?
Nothing really scared him at that point. Not the dark, not the unknown. The water didn't affect him much, but he could tell that Barristan would have died by now if he'd followed.
"What's this?"
After what felt like an eternity of walking through the water, it reached his neck. It was even colder. But then, the water started to turn harder and harder. Robert realised what it was—Ice.
Bam!
"Haaa!" He punched ahead when the water around him tried to freeze. Eventually, he found himself climbing up on a subtle incline in his path. He was walking on water at that point, frozen into a thick sheet of ice.
With only a single torch in his hand, he continued ahead for another eternity. Even his breath grew cold. His lashes and beard were coated in ice, turning rock solid.
And that was when he saw it. The passageway he was walking through started to widen. Before, he couldn't see far ahead or back with the torch, but he could see the side walls, covered in ice. Now, slowly, even the sides started to expand, leaving him in a truly dark void.
Scrrrr~
To ensure he wasn't walking in circles, he dragged the sword he was carrying with him. He let its tip make a line that he could look back on and ensure it wasn't curved.
After what felt like another eternity, he finally noticed something in the distance.
"Light? This deep?"
There was a very bright blue dot ahead.
It started to grow bigger as he followed it.
Then even bigger.
Soon enough, it became clear that it wasn't a dot. No, it was a rather large cavern made of ice. The floor was rough, full of spikes, as was the ceiling, long and sharp stalactites. It was somehow shining bright blue, illuminating everything.
It looked magical.
Robert grabbed his sword in both hands, ready to battle. The place was too bizarre and didn't make any sense. If anything, he expected hot lava under Winterfell. But instead, there was ice, so much of it. As he walked deeper, there was only bright blue ice around him in every direction for as far as he could see.
But he followed the direction that showed him the blue light was becoming brighter.
Further, and further into it.
Then more, and some more.
And at last, he saw something different. A large block of ice with perfect edges and shape, a cuboid. It was see-through, and sure enough, it was more of a coffin than a mere chunk of ice. The figure inside that ice was clearly visible—otherworldly.
"What in the Seven hells is this? A woman?"
At a glance, it was clear that the bright light in that cave was coming from her body. Her hair, to be exact. They were so white that they were shining. Her face was sunken to almost bones, and whatever skin was there looked pale. She was tall and clearly not a human.
Moreover, there was also a sword right beside her. Contrasting all the blue there, the sword was burning red in color, as if made of ice but red.
With no regard for anything around him, Robert raised his common sword and slammed it down on the ice block.
Clank!
The sword broke apart.
"Fine, I'll punch it."
Perhaps it really was his destiny. Robert punched with all his might, and it only cracked the surface of the ice block. His fist could kill dragons, and that meant… if not for Robert's heightened strength, nobody would have been able to break the ice.
Bam!
Bam!
He punched with both hands. The entire block of ice started to grow massive cracks.
Crack!
Bam!
He kept doing it, and first got access to the red sword inside it. It was long, big, like the common longsword.
"Let's give this one a try, then," Robert said and grabbed the sword. The hilt felt warm to touch. And then, he slashed it down.
Wooosh!
"Seven!" Robert jumped back. "It… blows fire!"
Woosh!
Woosh!
Robert swung the longsword around, and with each arc, it spewed flames.
Then, he looked at the woman's body inside the ice.
"Time to come out, sleeping corpse."
####
Ser Barristan waited silently by the water. He was nervous, as it was his duty to follow and protect the King. But he could feel it. The water was so cold that he wouldn't last a moment. He'd also seen the King do the impossible.
Still, it didn't remove all his fears.
"Your Grace?!"
Just on the verge of rushing forward, he finally saw something ahead. Flickering light… but blue. His own torch was red, the same one the King had taken.
Moments later, the King had arrived.
"W-W…"
Ser Barristan lacked words to describe what the King was holding.
"Who…"
Ser Barristan had seen Robert Baratheon do a lot of insane things. But this was amongst the most shocking.
"W-Who is she, Your Grace?"
"Bah, I've no bloody clue. Some dead rotting bitch."
"..."
Ser Barristan sighed, wondering if it was a pitiful sight. Robert had the woman gripped by her long, shining, bright white hair. And from the looks of it, Robert had dragged her by her hair all the way back.
"Had this fine flaming sword beside her. I'd wager whoever this Night King bastard is, that'd stick him good." Robert grunted and lifted the dead woman's head. "Looks like his woman to me."
"..."
Ser Barristan was speechless. But at that point, he didn't refuse whatever was happening. Dragons had returned, and Robert killed them back to extinction. Killed the last of the Targaryens. And soon, possibly the Night King.
"This gives us our chance to face their dead, Your Grace," Ser Barristan said. "But what will you do with the woman? She's dead."
Robert shrugged and used the bright, red flaming sword like a torch. "Seven bloody hells. She might be worth keeping. At dawn, we head for the Wall and deal with this Night King face to face."
Indeed, nothing scared Robert anymore.
He had two sons in King's Landing.
He'd fulfilled his duty.
______________________
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