thosedamnskywalkers | medieval smackdown au open post

A way through the crypts to the springs. Good, at least they just have to continue on. She nods at him, stepping in front of him when he offers that she take the lead, walking fearlessly through the cold and darkness and the intimidating stone sculptures of the dead Kings of Winter.

Though a little while later she's stopping again; not anywhere close to the springs, the crypt still stretching on into the darkness ahead of them, lined with unsealed tombs waiting for the rest of the dead. She turns to the tombs to their side, lifting her torch to see the three tombs side by side. Faces she doesn't recognize, but something about them had called out to her just now, too. A lord in the middle, with a long, stern face that could only belong to a Stark, and two smaller sepulchers on his either side... his children? A boy and a girl.

"Who are they?" she asks Jon, frowning. Unable to help herself, she reaches a hand out towards Lyanna's statue, but her fingers don't touch the stone, not yet. "Who is she?"

Truthfully, he's confident that there's nothing here to fear in the crypts. Honestly, he wouldn't be surprised if they were the last two up right now either, with it being so late. But they're both armed which means they can handle anything that might pop up too.

He blinks when he looks up at the tombs that she stops in front of, three siblings with a fourth still alive and cheating death. It's hard not to know the largest one, the Lord of Winterfell before him, the man who raised him. Jon's hand reaches out to rest on the stone at Ned's feet as he watches her reach a hand out toward Lyanna's statue with her harp. He'd never understood why his father had her carved with the harp, since neither she nor Robert were the musical type. Though Rhaegar was, not that he knows it. He's curious what's drawn her to these statues, if this is where what she's hearing has pulled her to.

"The last generation of Starks before my and Sansa's line," Jon offers gently. "My father," he nods to the one he's resting his hand on, "Ned Stark. His brother Brandon, and that's his sister, Lyanna. She's who Robert Baratheon went to war with the Targaryens over." They'd been raised with the stories, especially because she was family. That Rhaegar had kidnapped her, that Robert had gone to war to get her back. That he'd been too late.

She hasn't quite followed the stories, but something about Lyanna is calling out to her. "She's beautiful," she murmurs, a strange quietness to her voice, and her hand closes around the harp—

There's a scream and Jane turns to the sound of the voice. A tower. She doesn't know how or why, but something tells her she has to hurry. She takes a step forward, yet her body feels impossibly heavy; it's only a moment later that she realizes that she's in armor, and carrying a sword. A man's armor. A man's sword. A man. She's a man.

She blinks, and she's inside the tower. A woman is lying in a bed of blood. She's beautiful. "Lyanna?" she croaks, and her feet move on their own accord and drag her over. She kneels by the woman's side, taking hold of her hand. She's cold. She's dying. "You're not going to die," she says, in a man's voice.

The princess, back in the realm of the living and in the now, doesn't even realize she's slipped away, having grown as pale and as still as the statues in front of her. Except that her eyes are wide and her lips are moving. "Promise me, Ned. Promise me," she echoes the Lyanna in her vision, her brown eyes staring far, far away. Beyond the statue, beyond the crypt, beyond the present. "Aegon. His name is Aegon Targaryen. If Robert finds out, he'll kill him. You know he will. You have to protect him. Promise me, Ned. Promise me."

Then Jane draws her hand back with a gasp that echoes in the darkness, stumbling back and practically into Jon. "Promise me, Ned. Promise me," she continues to mutter, as though delirious with fever.

There's a soft smile from Jon as she says Lyanna is beautiful, but he stills a little as she grows pale and still in front of him and he can't help but worry about what's wrong. He doesn't understand the words that fall from her mouth, because they don't quite make sense. Though something in the pit of his stomach says that he needs to understand them when she has time and comes back to herself to explain.

His arms wrap around her protectively when she stumbles back, having already started moving forward to catch her arm in the hopes of bringing her back to herself. So he just holds her for a moment as she mutters about promises from Ned. Ned his father. Robert had to be Baratheon. But who was Aegon Targaryen? There hadn't been one in any of the stories that revolved around his father or Robert and Lyanna. Only Rhaegar and his siblings. One hand strokes along her back to offer comfort and keep her safe as he looks down at her.

After a moment, his free hand will cup her cheek gently to see if she's starting to come back to herself. He doesn't want to have to call her family to tend to her if she's alright, but he'll lift and carry her to them if she isn't. "Jane?" His voice is soft as his head dips a little closer to hers so he can see her better in the low light. "Are you alright?" The questions about what that was can come after, when he's sure she's okay, when he's sure she's not sounding delirious.

"Promise me, Ned—" She blinks, finally registering the hand on her cheek and feeling a rush of heat as her sight clears and she finds herself staring back at Jon. She's back in the crypt, but the look on his face seems to say that she's just had an episode. How embarrassing. "I... I'm alright," she says after a moment, catching her breath. Her heart's pounding, though she's not entirely sure it's not just because of her vision, either, not with them standing so close together.

She takes hold of his arm to steady herself, for a moment still feeling like the ground is tilting in one direction or another. "Sorry. I—" She glances at the statue of Lyanna, frowning. "I think I just saw her die."

Even as she comes back to herself he doesn't let go of her or back away, instead staying close to her and holding her to ensure she's okay. There's concern in his gray eyes as he watches her, not caring about what that might have been but instead for her as a whole. Though he's seen a few things in his time, someone slipping into a vision isn't going to scare him off either. There's a small look of relief when she says she's alright, though his hand stays settled on her cheek still. He can't quite pull himself to let her go. Instead the urge is to hug her to him, though he's not sure that's right of him to do either since they barely know each other. "Are you sure? Do you need water or somewhere to sit?"

His eyes flicker up to Lyanna and he lets himself draw her into a hug. The hand on her cheek sliding into her hair gently to offer her sturdy arms that won't let her fall even if the ground feels like it's tilting in a direction. "You know of all the tales, that's one of the few that's missing. No one has really said how she died, at least not to me." It's a hole in all the stories. He knew she'd supposedly been kidnapped, and that she had died during the rebellion but he can't remember anyone saying how. "That couldn't have been easy to see," he murmurs softly. "Though, you said Promise me Ned? Did you see my father there with her?" There's a small pause before he shakes his head, "We don't have to talk about it right now if you don't want to though. If you need to rest instead." Was this the thing that had been calling to her down here though? Not an animal but a vision luring her in?

medieval smackdown au open post

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