Willas tried not to think too much.
It was easy enough, which was a surprise given he used to love thinking, but somehow he had perfected shutting his thoughts off completely over the past few months. He'd learnt how to stop his mind from wandering, and how to stop himself from feeling the absolute sheer agony of his existence.
In the day that consisted of work, of hobbies, of his son. He would spend his morning hunched over his desk working through paperwork about taxes and harvests, reading reports and ensuring all was in place for his newly-inherited kingdom to thrive, then it would be a trip to the kennels, or the aviary, or the stables. Immersing himself in his animals once more was a blessing, for they always seemed happy to see him, especially the dogs who always came running up to him with wagging tails. It was more than Honour had acknowledged him with in the past few months, the wolf sulking around Highgarden like everyone else, everyone but Willas, who had put the pain aside in favour of ignoring it for an easy existence. His evenings were spent alone, a supper tray brought to him in his rooms that often left the next day untouched, as late at night he was only interested in drink. He only indulged in that itch that followed him all day the moment he knew his son was in bed and couldn't see what a mess he would become, but he spent whole nights sat out on the veranda of his chamber with a pitcher of wine and several cups of rum. He wasn't sure how much he drank, just enough to still his screaming mind and dull the aching in his chest, though that amount seemed to grow greater with each day. He often passed out there, slumped on the flagstone floor with his cane discarded out of reach only to wake with the birdsong with a horrific headache.
It was either the veranda or the sofa, but he never slept in the bed. He was tempted to ask for the whole thing to be destroyed, sickened just by the sight of it, but making such a request would make people think that he wasn't fine, which he was. He was completely fine, or at least, he was coping.
He was coping better than everyone else, that was for sure. Uther was all smiles and laughter all day, and once he had found his words he had never stopped talking, but come nightfall when he realised she was not there to sing him to sleep, the tears and the screaming would start, and would only stop the moment he passed out into an unsettled sleep from pure exhaustion. Willas was not sure if he'd seen his mother eat a full meal since the news came, and her fuse was so short the slightest little thing would send her temper awry. His grandmother was plotting, though what she plotted he wasn't sure as Willas had avoided her vigilantly, not wanting any part in any scheme. He hadn't seen Loras properly, his youngest - gods, his last - brother dedicated to nothing but the training yard. Margaery seemed to float between them all, trying to look after them as if she was the only one strong enough to do so, but he'd heard the servants whispering about his sister weeping herself to sleep. As for Leonette... Leonette's condition was not even worth considering, not if Willas wanted to continue to cope as well as he was. It was too sad, too bittersweet yet agonisingly painful, and as the weeks passed, Willas made sure not to cross paths with her, not wanting the reminder.
He tried to stay out of the keep all together. It was ridiculous how full of memories the castle was, considering the one person he was desperately trying not to think of had lived there for barely a year. They were not memories he wanted to spend time on, so when he was sobered up enough and the sun was up, he took his boy out, walking the dogs and Honour in the woodlands with him, almost managing to smile when he would run after the hounds or point to the trees asking about the birds. Honour never left his side, and he'd had to train Uther's pony not to spook at the direwolf's closeness, because even during his riding lessons in the training ring, the wolf refused to leave him. Willas didn't care, glad his son had such a dedicated protector, but that didn't stop him stationing ten guards outside of every entrance into Uther's bedchamber.
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Only A Northern Song ~ Game of Thrones / Willas Tyrell ~
Fanfiction"I cannot sing for you. You want me to sing you the songs of the south, where the pretty ladies fall in love with the brave knights and all is well with the world. I don't know those songs. I only know Northern songs, about winter and wolves, and yo...
