Before I start this chapter, I'd like to get the ages out of the way. I wanted to do this in the last chapter but I completely forgot about it lol. I'm going to keep the ages similar to the show. The changes that come in due to my OC are in the age of The Baratheon/Lannister children. The rest of the ages are the same as the show.

Edric: 16; Joffrey: 14; Myrcella: 10; Tommen: 8

The following morning greeted Edric with more cold. He took his time getting out of bed, unwilling to leave the comforts of the covers and the bed. Eventually, he had to push himself out of his bed and freshen up for the day. He sat with his family to break his fast, his father was not there, probably breaking fast with Lord Stark. His mother was silently eating the food presented to them. Joffrey looked half asleep still, Tommen dozing off and Myrcella sleepily playing with her food. All of them were used to waking up early, but none of them wanted to leave the comforts of their beds just yet from the looks of things.

Once breakfast was done they all went their respective ways. The Queen went to find her brother, the twin but not the imp. Joffrey and Tommen went to the courtyard, where the training would begin. Myrcella went to the Septa for her studies. It left Edric on his lonesome, free to wander and have a look around. Something he had done the previous day, all but one place. The crypts should be empty at this point unless Lord Stark was down there to pay his respects. He doubted it, who pays their dead respects almost every day?

The Crypts were located in the oldest section of Winterfell, its ironwood doors located near the First Keep and the Lichyard were old and heavy. Lucky for him though they were wide open. The stone steps down were winding spiral and narrow, the darkness of it messing with his senses and the chilly air prickling on his skin. From what he had read, these stone steps lead to multiple levels. One of these multiple levels contained a vaulted ceiling, a long line of granite pillars, two by two, between which are entombed the dead of House Stark. These were the crypts, which contained the tombs of the deceased Stark family members.

Edric walked down this very crypt, feeling the gaze of multiple men on him. There were no men down here, just statues of the previous Stark Kings and Lords of Winterfell. Their gaze told him that he didn't belong down here, that he was not one of them. Edric ignored them all. They were dead, just statues with rusted iron longswords across their lap and a direwolf statue curled at their feet. It was in a way fascinating to him, how even after their death these men lived on in a fashion.

It reminded him of the dark cellars below the Red Keep. Nobody went down there usually, it was dark and the way down was treacherous, where one wrong step and fall could end in a broken limb at best and death at worst. But it was also the place where his father had moved the dragon banners and skulls once he had won the rebellion and anointed King of The Seven Kingdoms. Nineteen Skulls were down there, each of varying sizes. Some were as small as a mastiff dog's skull, while some were large enough to squash a man easily. Three amongst them stood out as the largest, the skulls of the dragons that belonged to The Conqueror and his sisters-wives. Those three skulls were perfectly known, but for the rest, nobody was sure of which dragon they came from. There were theories that possibly Meleys of Rhaenys Targaryen, Arrax of Lucerys Velaryon, and Caraxes of Daemon Targaryen were down there. Jon Arryn had told him about the skulls when Edric had learned of their existence when he was young and had also provided him with the material when he wanted to learn more about these dragons. The Prince and Heir had a fascination with dragons and loved to spend time as a child in the cellars with these skulls. His father had berated him for this, after which his trips down there were in secret. He would spend hours down there, talking to these skulls, reading from the books the stories that were written about them. His favourite to talk to had been the Conqueror's dragon Balerion, on whose skull he would sit and pretend that he was riding the dragon into battle.

But unlike the fun atmosphere that he had carved for himself around those dragon skulls, the atmosphere here was cold and unwelcoming. Every statue seemed to roar at him to leave, that this place was not for him. The Starks of Old were known to be renowned warriors and ruthless at that. Seeing the statues' faces was enough to tell him that these men were not men that you could take lightly, intimidating to talk to when they lived. He only wondered what it was like when they were alive.

Eventually the last of the statues had come and before it stood two men. Lord Stark and his Father were there, head dipped in front of the statue that was the only female statue in the crypts that he had run into. They both looked around and the King narrowed his eyes on his eldest.

"What are you doing down here, Edric?" the King asked.

"I was just exploring the crypts father. I didn't expect to run into you or Lord Stark at this time" answered the prince.

"The Crypts are not a place for you to explore boy. This is the resting place of the Starks that have passed on. It's disrespectful to come down here without permission" the man chastised his oldest, who lowered his head in shame. His father was not wrong.

"It's alright your Grace. Curiosity is something that you can't deal with unless you sate it. I remember someone being just like that" the Lord of Winterfell stated with a smile and the King snorted.

The King then motioned for Edric to come forward and the prince did. "This is Lady Lyanna Stark, Lord Stark's younger sister and the woman I was betrothed to. The woman for whom I fought the war. The woman I loved" the King spoke. The Lord of Winterfell looked a little uncomfortable at the discussion between father and son, thinking that maybe it was not the right person to say that to. But Edric was used to it. Around him, the King was completely frank about everything.

The statue that the King pointed to looked the most at ease compared to the rest, regally made with a crown of roses on her head. He could see that in her life she was a pretty thing, the Stark features making her look somewhat boyish. But other than that, there was nothing more he saw in the statue of note.

"She must have been quite a beauty in her living days" Edric finally spoke, looking at Lord Stark with a smile.

"Aye, she was" Lord Stark smiled. "She was your age when she died."

"Murdered you mean" the King growled and Edric sighed. Rhaegar Targaryen was brought back into the conversation.

"There's no use bringing him up now, father," Edric said gently, a hand on the man's shoulder. "You took the man down, caved his chest in and made his death agonizing. And now he suffers in hell for everything he did" the prince said with practised ease. He had been saying these words for as long as he could remember, every time his father would talk of Rhaegar Targaryen.

"Aye," the King grunted. "Ned, let's go hunt now. I need to clear my mind."

"Of course, your Grace" the Lord of Winterfell bowed his head.

"Edric, will you be joining us?" the King asked his heir.

"Not this time father" Edric smiled. "I'm sure you and Lord Stark need some time to yourselves to reminisce. Maybe another time."

The King and his friend left not long after, but Edric lingered for a moment longer. Eventually, he left as well but stopped in front of a certain statue. The man's face was stern and his look of him was formidable. Edric did not know who this man was, no name being written anywhere or an indication of who this statue might be of. The prince shrugged and exited the crypts.

He heard the shouts of people cheering and moved to see what the commission was about. He found two boys having a duel, surrounded by men who cheered them on. Tommen and Brandon Stark were fighting under the supervision of the master at arms, morning training from the looks of it. Brandon was strapped up reasonably, while Tommen looked a little too strapped, his protection making him look like a giant ball. Eventually, the young prince fell over and was no longer able to get up. Brandon was declared the winner.

Edric stood a little way away and watched the spar, not wanting to take the attention away from his brother. They were using wooden swords, which to Joffrey was a step-down. The younger Baratheon had been deemed skilled enough to use live steel by Ser Aaron Santagar, the master at arms at The Red Keep. The fight went on for a bit, both fighters seemed to be evenly matched. But Joffrey looked bored, while Robb looked to be exerting himself a little bit more. Joffrey was a better swordsman, Edric felt. At least at this point.

Joffrey then let out a loud and drawn-out sigh, and Edric knew the boy was about to say something that would grate on Robb's nerves. And he did. Edric did not interfere, instead choosing to listen to his brother's words. It was a little disappointing that The Master at Arms was refusing to let either combatant use live steel, but it was also understandable. Robb Stark was not ready for it yet. Joffrey and his group eventually left the practice yard, leaving an angry and frustrated Robb behind. Edric met up with his brother's group once they were far from the practice yard.

"You did well out there" Edric's compliment made them stop. The group stood straighter while Tommen smiled, rushing over to greet his oldest brother. Joffrey though scowled at him.

"And?" he asked, waiting for some kind of a 'but' statement. Edric was hard on his brother on this front. He was a prince and the heir to the throne wanted him to be graceful and strong.

"Nothing more" Edric grinned at his brother. "It's a shame you couldn't use live steel today. A real downgrade for you" he added, Joffrey's brows raising in surprise.

"Uh… Thanks, I guess" the younger brother muttered, a little uncomfortable at the rare compliment from his older brother.

"How about you and I go out there and spar a bit? You looked bored, which tells me you haven't had enough yet" Edric suggested and a smug smile made its home on Joffrey's face.

The group returned to the practice yard, where Robb and a few others were cleaning the yard. After a talk with Ser Rodrick, the heir and his brother both drew their swords. The group that gathered around them was bigger than the one before. It was expected, it wasn't always that you saw Princes fighting with live steel. It was also a showcase of the skill gap between them and the rest of the northern boys Edric's or Joffrey's age. Robb's brows furrowed at the realization of that.

Their 'show' was cut before the climax when they all heard a scream, followed by a wolf's pained howl.