Robb slowed his pace, the faint glow of the torch in his hand sweeping over the carved stone faces on either side.
"These are all Starks of the past," he said softly. His voice echoed through the vast, enclosed crypt, sounding slightly distorted. "They were the Kings in the North and Dukes of Winterfell. By the traditions of House Stark, only they were entitled to statues in the crypt. Everyone else was simply buried here."
Robb stopped before an empty platform that still looked rather new, his tone wistful. "This place was reserved for my father. His statue hasn't been finished yet, so for now, it stands empty."
He paused, then stopped before another statue. The torchlight illuminated its face, which looked relatively young, at least compared with most of the statues in the crypt.
His face had sharply defined features, and the corners of his mouth curved upward slightly, as though he were smiling. There was an indescribable sharpness in his eyes.
"This is Brandon Stark," Robb said, his voice so quiet that he seemed afraid of disturbing Viserys beside him. "My uncle, my father's elder brother, and the rightful heir to House Stark before my father. But he died in King's Landing."
As he spoke, Robb occasionally glanced out of the corner of his eye at Viserys, who stood beside him without expression.
Viserys said nothing. He merely looked at the statue. A direwolf lay curled at Brandon Stark's feet, its pose echoing Brandon's own, full of restless energy and strength poised to erupt.
But Viserys only gave it a brief glance before turning his attention to the statue beside Brandon's. After all, he wasn't attracted to men, nor did he feel any regret over Brandon's death. Otherwise, he would already have tried to change the earlier events