game of thrones : storm king

Westeros, The Seven Kingdoms of The North, The Vale, The Iron Islands, The Rock, The Stormlands, The Reach and Dorne constitute its borders. It is ruled by a single King or Queen, many Kings and Queens have tried to rule but this the tale of a King who created a dynasty not seen since the beginning of the Targaryen lineage. This King is known by many names, Second Son, Tamer of a Mountain, Blue-eyed Demon, One Hundred Man-slayer, Rouge Prince, The Black Swordsmen, King Without A Crown, King of the Andals and the First Men, Protector of the Seven Kingdoms but as his Chronicler I knew him as my nephew Caster Baratheon, The Blue-Eyed Storm King.

(280 AC)

In King's Landing the cries of a mother and storm echo, "Push your Grace" a woman says, concern very evident in her voice. Cersei Lannister-Baratheon grips the hands of her maidens as she births her second child. Outside the birthing room were Robert Baratheon and several of his men, "Listen to that storm!.. My child brings out this Fury!" he declares, a rumble of thunder punctuating his words as if in agreement. Cersei lets out a guttural cry and her body tensing in the birthing room but with one final push, the babe slips into the world and his wails mingle with the howling winds beyond the castle walls.

"It's a boy Your Grace" the midwife announces, swaddling the squirming bundle. The door bursts open and robert strides in as his face is alight with pride, "What is it a boy or girl?!" he shouts, his booming voice drowning out the storm.

"Another boy Your Highness" the handmaiden replies, handing the babe to robert. He takes the bundle from her and sees the tuft of black hair on his son's head, not noticing the look of shock on cersei's face. The baby continues to cry as the storm rages but slowly opens his eyes to reveal steel-blue orbs.

"Hahahaha.. Look at those eyes.. A Baratheon through and through.. Look at him Cersei our boy brought the storm" robert says, handing him to cersei. The fierce lioness could barely contain her anger of having robert's child instead of her beloved brother. Cersei accepts the bundle with her lips pressed into a thin line as the babe latches onto her breast, "What shall we call him" she asks, her voice strained and masking the turmoil churning within her.

"Caster.. Caster Baratheon and First of his name" robert declares, oblivious to the storm raging in his wife's eyes. Cersei glances down at the suckling child, "You will Never be loved by me or My son.. You are the Second Son and Unworthy of my Love" she thought bitterly. Robert is still basking in the afterglow of his son's birth and reaches out to touch the tuft of black hair, "He'll be a fierce one.. With a name like Caster.. He'll strike fear into the hearts of our enemies!" he declares, his voice booming like thunder. Cersei forces a smile but her mind is already churning with plots and schemes to use the boy to further her true son, "As you say my love.. Our son will be a force to be reckoned with" she purrs, her tone honey-sweet and lying.

(Narration)

Indeed did Cersei's love for Caster withered like a rose deprived of sunlight. She neglected him from the moment he was born, handing him over to the care of wet nurses and handmaidens. Her attention was solely focused on Joffrey, her firstborn son and the heir she deemed worthy of the Iron Throne. As Caster grew older, his mother's indifference toward him only deepened. She treated him as an afterthought, a mere footnote in the grand tapestry of her ambitions. Cersei's disdain for her second son was palpable, her eyes betraying a cold resentment whenever she looked upon him.

It was a cruel twist of fate that Caster, born of Robert Baratheon's seed, should be so neglected by his own mother. While his father indulged in a never-ending parade of wine and whores, siring countless bastards across the Seven Kingdoms. Caster was often left to find solace in the company of servants and hired swords. Yet, even in the face of such adversity, Caster thrived and loved his father. His heart never hardened, and his spirit remained unbroken. He embraced the teachings of his mentors, honing his mind and body with a fervor that would one day make him a legend among men.

As the years passed, Cersei's contempt for her second son only grew. She had bore two more children, twins Tommen and Myrcella, and they consumed what little maternal affection she had left. Caster was but a shadow in her world, a constant reminder of the duty she had been forced to perform with Robert. His siblings were showered with love and affection, while Caster was not. Yet, the boy seemed content, his steel-blue eyes betraying a quiet contentment that belied his circumstances. I met my nephew when he was but five-years-old, and I'll never forget the depth of his gaze, it was as if he could peer into the very depths of my soul.

From an early age, Caster displayed an insatiable thirst for knowledge, devouring books and histories with a fervor that astounded his tutors. I took it upon myself to nurture his intellect, introducing him to various tomes and scholarly works. With each passing year, his mind blossomed like a flower unfurling its petals, soaking in every droplet of wisdom I could offer. By the time he reached his tenth nameday, Caster had become a scholar in his own right, his grasp of literature, philosophy and the arts rivaling that of men thrice his age. Yet, his scholarly pursuits did not diminish his martial prowess, the boy possessed a natural aptitude for combat, his movements fluid and precise.

Back from the tender age of six, Robert entrusted Caster's martial training to the legendary Ser Barristan Selmy, the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. Under Selmy's tutelage, Caster honed his skills with the blade, his movements becoming fluid and precise with each passing year. By the time he turned twelve, Caster had surpassed many of the younger Kingsguard in his swordsmanship, his natural aptitude for combat matched only by his insatiable drive to improve. It was then that Robert introduced him to Ulthor, a towering man from the North whose imposing stature rivaled that of the dreaded Gregor Clegane, the Mountain that Rides.

From that day forward, Ulthor became Caster's shield and mentor, molding the young Baratheon into a warrior of unparalleled skill. Under Ulthor's tutelage, Caster mastered the art of combat, his training encompassing not only the sword but also axes, daggers, shields and the bow. It was during these grueling training sessions that a bond formed between the young prince and the grizzled sellsword. Ulthor's initial disdain gradually gave way to grudging respect, and then to something akin to affection, though he would never admit it openly. Thus the title of Tamer of a Mountain came about from me. As the years passed, Caster's skills grew sharper, his movements more refined, until he surpassed even some of the seasoned Kingsguard knights. By the age of sixteen, he had bested them all except Barristan and my brother Jaime but his prowess with the blade matched only by his cunning in battle.

While Joffrey embodied Cersei's cruel and arrogant nature, Caster seemed to inherit the best qualities of both his parents. He quickly gained a reputation as a fierce warrior, his prowess on display in the tournaments his father held. It at this tourney that Caster nearly bested Ser Jaime Lannister, my brother in a duel, a feat that left even seasoned knights in awe.

Despite his youth, Caster was entrusted with maintaining order in King's Landing, patrolling the streets alongside his towering protector, Ulthor, and the shield maiden Sylvie. Together, they meted out swift and ruthless justice upon those who dared to break the laws, earning both fear and respect from the smallfolk. Back at the mere age of fourteen, Caster quelled a minor uprising in Casterly Rock, the ancestral seat of House Lannister. His actions demonstrated a tactical acumen and unwavering resolve that belied his years, solidifying his reputation as a formidable warrior.

Two years later, when the treacherous Lord Walder Frey sought to advance his family's standing by proposing a marriage between Caster and one of his daughters, the young prince rebuffed the offer with scathing contempt. Enraged by the insult, Walder plotted to ambush Caster and his men on their journey back from the Twins. The ensuing battle was a slaughter with Caster himself cutting down scores of men with his obsidian blade, Red Dawn. By dawn's light, over a hundred men lay dead at solely my nephew's hand, their blood staining the ground crimson. That day He brought House Frey to near extinction and earned the title One Hundred Man-slayer.

(297 AC)

Caster has turned sixteen but the treacherous lord walder frey seeks to advance his family's standing by proposing a marriage between the young prince and one of his daughters but caster is not one to be manipulated so easily. With a small retinue of thirty guards, his loyal shield maiden sylvie and his mountain ulthor by his side, set out for the twins. The journey is long and arduous but the young prince's steel-blue eyes gleam with determination as they approach the imposing fortress that straddles the Green Fork. Sylvie rides up beside caster as they near the gates, "My prince.. I don't trust this place.. The very air reeks of deceit" she said in a low voice, her white hair braided tightly and her hazel eyes alert.

"Keep your wits about you Sylvie.. And tell Ulthor to be ready for anything" caster says, his jaw set in a grim line. The giant of a man grunts in acknowledgment as his presence alone is enough to make most men think twice about crossing the young baratheon. They enter the courtyard and walder frey actually hobbles out to greet them, his rheumy eyes gleaming with barely concealed avarice.

"Welcome.. Welcome.. My Prince.. You honor us with your presence" walder wheezes, bowing as low as his aged frame would allow.

"Lord Frey.. I trust you received my father's message regarding your... Proposal" caster says, coolly and dismounting smoothly with his steel-blue gaze sweeping over the assembled freys.

"Indeed My Prince.. Come let us discuss matters over a feast.. I'm sure you're famished from your journey" walder says but his smile didn't quite reach his eyes. They enter the great hall as caster couldn't help but notice the way the frey men's hands hover near their weapons. Sylvie and ulthor flank him with their eyes constantly scanning for threats followed by his retinue. The beginning of the feast is a tense affair with walder parading his daughters before caster like prized cattle, each more dower than the last. The young prince endures it with gritted teeth, his patience wearing thin with each passing moment. Soon walder leans forward as the main food is brought out but mainly some meat, "So My Prince.. What do you think of my lovely daughters.. Surely one of them has caught your eye" he says, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. Caster meets the old man's gaze and his steel-blue eyes hard as flint, "Lord Frey.. I'll not sully the Baratheon name by wedding one of your brood.. Find yourself another fool to pawn off your daughters" he said, his voice carrying through the now-silent hall. A collective gasp ripples through the hall and walder's face turns an alarming shade of puce, "You dare insult me in my own home?!" he splutters, spittle flying from his lips.

"I dare much more than that Lord Frey.. Your reputation precedes you and I'll not be ensnared in your web of treachery" caster says, rising to his feet and his hand resting casually on the hilt of red dawn. The frey men begin to rise, hands inching towards their weapons. Ulthor steps forward with his massive frame casting a shadow over the nearest attackers. Sylvie's knives appear in her hands as if by magic and her stance ready but also poised as his men draw their swords.

"If any of you wretched cunts so much as twitches.. My men will cut you down where you stand" caster said, his voice low and dangerous. For a long but tense moment, the hall teetered on the brink of violence. Lord walder then raises a slow but trembling hand, "Stand down.. The Prince and his men are to remain... Unharmed" he croaks, his eyes never leaving caster's face. The tension in the room eases slightly but caster remains alert. He notices several of walder's sons slipping out of the hall, their faces twisted with barely concealed anger. Sylvie catches his eye with a silent question in her gaze but caster gives an almost imperceptible shake of his head, signaling her to stay put. Walder's thin lips curve into a forced smile, "Perhaps we've gotten off on the wrong foot My Prince.. Come let us finish our meal in peace… Now I hear you put down a rebellion two summers ago in Casterly Rock.. Quite impressive for one so young" he says, gesturing to the remaining food on the table. Caster slowly lowers himself back into his seat and his hand never straying far from his sword, "You hear correctly Lord Frey.. It was a test set by my grandfather Tywin Lannister" he replies, his voice cool and measured.

"Oh?!.. Do tell Your Grace.. We rarely hear such exciting tales in these parts" walder says, his eyebrows rising with feigned interest. Caster's steel-blue eyes harden as he recall the event, "An arrogant young noble believed himself above the law.. Above even my grandfather.. He thought his family's wealth and influence would shield him from consequences… I reminded him of the Rains of Castamere" he says with a cold smile playing on his lips. A hush falls over the hall at the mention of the infamous song, that even walder seems to pale slightly.

"And how did you manage that Your Grace" walder asks, his voice barely above a whisper and drinking some wine. Caster takes a sip of wine himself before answering, "I gave him a choice.. Face justice or face extinction… He chose poorly.. His family's lands were forfeit.. Their paltry castle razed to the ground.. The message was clear… No one is above the law.. Not even the wealthy and influential of the Westerlands" he explains, setting down his goblet with a soft thud. Ulthor shifts behind caster with his presence seeming to emphasize the young prince's words, a silent reminder of the power at caster's command. Walder swallows hard with his eyes darting between caster and his imposing protector, "A harsh lesson indeed" he mutters but is seething, while reaching for his own wine with a slightly trembling hand.

"But a necessary one.. The stability of the realm depends on respect for the law and those who enforce it.. Wouldn't you agree Lord Frey" caster replies, his voice level and another sip of wine.

"Of course My Prince.. Of course" walder says, nodding quickly but perhaps a bit too eagerly. The meal continues in uneasy silence with the clinking of cutlery against plates the only sound in the great hall. Caster eats sparingly with his senses on high alert for any sign of treachery. Sylvie and ulthor remain vigilant as the last of the dishes were cleared away and caster again rise from his seat, "I thank you for your hospitality Lord Frey.. We'll take our leave now" caster said, his tone making it clear that their business is concluded. Walder's face twists into a forced smile, "Of course My Prince.. Safe travels to you and your... Companions" he says, his rheumy eyes following caster's every move. Caster nods curtly, then turns to leave with sylvie, ulthor and his retinue falling into step beside him. As they make their way through the torch-lit corridors of the twins while caster couldn't shake the feeling that they were being watched. Once outside and the cool night air is a welcome relief from the stifling atmosphere of the great hall. As they approach the stables, a small figure darts out from the shadows and nearly collides with caster.

"Easy Sylvie" caster says, holding his hand up as sylvie goes for her knife. The figure is a young girl with dirt-smudged cheeks and wide, frightened eyes and looking up at him imploringly.

"Please m'lord.. I heard... I heard Lord Walder's sons talking.. They mean to follow you and ambush you on the road" the girl whispers, her voice trembling.

"Is that so?!.. And why would you tell me this child" caster said softly, his eyes narrowing and crouching down to the girl's level.

"My brother... He's one of your guards.. I don't want him hurt" the stable girl says, glancing nervously over her shoulder. Caster nods with his expression softening slightly, "Thank you for your loyalty.. What's your name" he says, reaching into his pocket and pressing a silver stag into the girl's hand.

"Alys m'lord" the girl mumbles, staring at the coin in wonder.

"Well Alys.. You've done a brave thing tonight.. Now hurry back before you're missed" caster said, rising to his full height and adjusting his sword belt. Alys scurries away as caster turns to ulthor and sylvie, "It seems we have a change of plans.. We ride hard and fast but we'll be ready for any pursuit" caster said, his voice low and dangerous.

"And if they catch up to us" sylvie says, nodding and her hazel eyes glinting with anticipation.

"Then we'll teach the Freys what happens to those who break the laws of hospitality" caster says with a cold smile playing across his lips and gripping red dawn. They mount their horses as caster couldn't help but feel a thrill of excitement. The night is young and the road ahead promises danger and adventure.

"We ride at a normal pace.. No need to alert our pursuers that we're aware of their plans" caster instructs, his gaze sweeping over his retinue.

"As you say My Prince. But what of the Freys" ulthor says with a grunt in acknowledgment.

"Let them come.. In fact we'll make it easier for them" caster said, his voice carrying a hint of anticipation.

"What do you have in mind Caster" sylvie asks, raising her eyebrow and gripping the reins of her horse.

"You and I will split from the main group.. We'll create a tempting target and lure the Freys to us while the others continue on" caster says, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Just the two of us against however many Frey men.. That's quite the risk" sylvie says, her hazel eyes widened slightly with a mixture of concern and excitement dancing in their depths. Caster's smile widens with a predatory gleam in his eyes, "The greater the risk.. The sweeter the victory.. Besides I have faith in our abilities.. Don't you Sylvie" he said, his voice filled with confidence.

"Always My Prince" sylvie says with a nod, a fierce grin spreading across her face.

"Men listen closely.. We ride as one for now but be prepared for my signal.. When I give the word.. Sylvie and I will break off.. The rest of you continue on with Ulthor.. Make it look like you're searching for us but do not engage the Freys unless absolutely necessary" caster explains, raising his voice slightly. The guards murmur their assent, hands tightening on reins and weapons as ulthor's brow furrows with concern but he knows better than to question caster's decision. As they ride he could almost feel the eyes of the frey men on their backs, watching from the shadows, waiting for the right moment to strike. The moon hangs low in the sky, casting long shadows across the land but when they were a safe distance from the fortress. Caster gives a subtle nod to sylvie and without a word as they gradually slow their pace, allowing a small gap to form between them and the rest of the group. Caster and sylvie veer off the main path with their horses' hooves muffled by the soft forest floor. They ride in silence for a while, weaving through the trees until they were certain they were out of sight of any potential pursuers.

"This seems like a good spot" caster murmurs, bringing his mount to a halt. Sylvie nods in agreement and her hazel eyes scanning their surroundings, before dismounting swiftly and gather their essential supplies. Caster pats his horse's neck and leaning in close to its ear "Go on boy" he whispers, giving the animal a gentle slap on the flank. The horse neighs softly before trotting away and sylvie's mount following close behind.

"That should throw them off our scent for a while" sylvie remarks, adjusting the straps of her pack.

"Now let's find a suitable spot to make camp.. We want to be ready when our 'guests' arrive" caster says, his steel-blue eyes gleaming in the moonlight. They move deeper into the forest, their footsteps nearly silent on the leaf-strewn ground. Caster's keen eyes spot a decent clearing, partially hidden by a cluster of ancient oaks and points with a nod. They set up a rudimentary camp and caster couldn't help but admire sylvie's efficiency.

"Do you think they'll take the bait" sylvie asks, sharpening her knives and daggers.

"Oh they will.. The Freys are nothing if not predictable in their treachery" caster says, rolling his neck and easing some tension. As the night wears on does the forest come alive with the sounds of nocturnal creatures. An owl hoots in the distance and the rustle of small animals scurrying through the underbrush fills the air while the moon climbs higher, bathing the clearing in silvery light. It is close or after midnight when caster's keen ears pick up the sound of approaching footsteps. He straightens with every muscle in his body tensing in anticipation. Sylvie already has her weapons ready but through the trees, shadowy figures emerge. They move with the caution of men who thought themselves hunters, unaware that they were walking into a trap. As they draw closer does the moonlight reveal their faces and caster's eyes narrow in recognition. Lothar Frey and known as lame lothar for his clubfoot limps at the head of the group. His face is twisted in a cruel sneer, his beady eyes darting about the clearing. Behind him strides his brother Black Walder, his hand resting on the pommel of his sword, a look of arrogant confidence on his face.

"How predictably arrogant" caster thought, his lips curling into a satisfied smirk. The freys have indeed taken the bait and now they would pay the price for their treachery. He catches sylvie's eye and gives her an almost imperceptible nod as the group of men draw closer. Caster and sylvie instinctively move back-to-back with their weapons at the ready while the air crackles with tension, like the calm before a storm.

"I don't believe Walder Frey would be foolish enough to attack a prince of the Seven Kingdoms.. What's the meaning of this?!" caster calls out, his voice dripping with mock surprise.

"We're not Freys.. We're Brothers Without Banners and you'll pay for your arrogance" black walder says while stepping forward, a cruel grin twisting his features.

"So that is your plan Walder Frey" caster thought, as without warning do several men charge forward and their weapons glinting in the moonlight. Caster's steel-blue eyes flash dangerously as he swings red dawn in a deadly arc. The blade singing through the air, slicing through the belly of the first attacker and the man's gut spill out, and he falls to the ground with a sickening thud. Not missing a beat as caster pivots, bringing his sword up in a swift motion. The second man's throat opens in a spray of crimson and his war cry turning into a gurgle as he collapses. Sylvie is a whirlwind of gleaming blades behind caster as she ducks under a wild swing, her blades flashing as she slits the throat of her attacker. Blood sprays across her face but she pays it no mind, already moving to engage the next foe and slicing under his arm.

"Some Brothers Without Banners!.. You fight like green boys!" caster shouts over the clash of steel. Black walder snarls as his face is contorted with rage, "Send more men!" he barks at his brothers, who were watching from a safe distance. The next wave of attackers surge forward as caster's steel-blue eyes glint dangerously. Red dawn sings through the air, a blur of deadly precision and with each swing, another man falls, their bodies crumpling to the forest floor. Sylvie dances between opponents with her daggers flashing in the moonlight. She moves with fluid grace, dodging blows and striking with lethal accuracy.

"We have over a hundred men brother.. They're only two.. How are they holding their own?!" lothar says to stevron, his voice low and urgent. Stevron's eyes narrows as he watches the young prince and his shield maiden cut through their forces like a scythe through wheat, "I've never seen anything like it" he mutters, a hint of fear creeping into his voice.

"Surround them you idiots!.. They can't fight what they can't see!" black walder shouts, growing more frustrated by the second. As the frey men begin to encircle caster and sylvie but they stay back to back to protect their blind spots, moving in perfect sync and creating a deadly barrier around them.

"This isn't going according to plan.. Father will have our heads if we fail" lothar grumbles, his clubfoot scraping the ground nervously.

"We won't fail.. They're good.. I'll give them that.. But they're still outnumbered.. They'll tire eventually" black walder says, spitting on the ground and his eyes never leaving the fray. The battle rages on as caster has a faint smile tugging at his lips, the clash of steel, the thrill of combat and each fallen foe only fuels his determination.

"Sylvie!.. Break off from me and go get Ulthor and the men.. I'll hold things here!" caster shouts over the din of battle, taking the head of another frey. Sylvie's eyes widen in disbelief as she ducks a foe, "I can't leave you!.. I'm your shield" she yells back, her daggers flashing as she fends off another attacker. Just then, a volley of arrows whistle through the air and aimed straight at them. Caster unfastens his cape and sweeps it in a wide arc with the heavy fabric catching the arrows, their sharp points harmlessly tangling in the thick material.

"Nice trick" sylvie mutters, impressed despite herself. Caster grins but his eyes were serious, "Now go.. That's an order Sylvie" he orders, his voice brooking no argument. Sylvie hesitates for a split second, torn between her duty and her instinct to protect him but she knows caster can handle himself and with a quick nod, turns and sprints into the darkness of the forest.

"Looks like your little friend abandoned you" black walder sneers, stepping closer. Caster's steel-blue eyes glint dangerously with a grin, "Oh she'll be back and you'll wish you'd never left the Twins" he said, his voice low and menacing. Caster charges back into the fray with a roar like a lion and his sword cutting through any in his path. The frey men fall back and are momentarily stunned by his ferocity, the prince taking advantage by slicing through flesh and bone.

"Surround him!.. He's just one man!" black walder bellows, his face red with rage and exertion. The frey men close in to form a tight circle around caster as red dawn becomes a blur as he fends off attacks from all sides. A sword slips pass his guard, opening a shallow cut on his arm and caster hisses in pain but didn't falter.

"Is this the best the great House Frey can muster?!.. I've had tougher fights with practice dummies!" caster taunts, his voice carrying across the clearing. His words had the desired effect as several men charge forward, their anger making them sloppy. Caster takes advantage of their recklessness his black sword finding its mark again and again, "Archers!.. Fire another volley!" a shout rings out, as casters cuts through another attacker. Another volley of arrows whistled through the air and caster's eyes dart around, spotting a wounded frey soldier nearby. He grabs the man without hesitation and uses him as a human shield. Arrows thud into the unfortunate soul but one bolt slips past, piercing caster's left hand and his grip on red dawn loosening. Lothar's voice carries across the clearing, "Good!.. We've crippled him!" he shouts, tinged with cruel satisfaction. A few emboldened men charge, while thinking caster weakened but the young prince is far from done. He swings his sword with his right hand, the blade singing through the air with deadly precision and the attackers fell, their shocked expressions frozen on their faces. Caster glances at his injured hand and then does something that makes even the hardened frey men blanch as with a snarl, gripped the arrow shaft with his teeth and yanks it free. Blood gushes from the wound but caster paid it no mind. He flexes his fingers, relieved to find he could still move them. A chilling smile plays on his lips as he readies his stance once more, "You'll have to do better than that.. Come on then.. Who's next" caster calls out, his voice dripping with disdain. A hush fall over the clearing as the frey men exchanged uneasy glances, "He's not human!.. Did you see how he pulled out that arrow?!" one soldier stammers, his face pale with fear.

"Every time he swings that sword.. Someone dies.. It's like he's Death himself!" another adds, his voice trembling. Black walder's face contorts with rage, "Cowards!.. He's no demon.. Just a boy with a fancy sword.. Get him!" he bellows, spittle flying from his lips. Caster's eyes glint as black walder charges forward but the young prince moved with lightning speed. He sidesteps the attack, grabbing black walder's arm and using the man's momentum to launch him into a group of approaching soldiers. The blade meets flesh and bone as caster wastes no time, cleaving clean through a man's torso. For a moment, time seems to stand still but then, in a grotesque display. The man's upper half slides off his lower body, both parts hitting the ground with a sickening thud. A collective gasp rises as some stumbled back, their faces pale with shock and fear. Caster stands amidst the carnage with his steel-blue eyes scanning the crowd, "Archers!" lothar's panicked voice rings out. Caster's gaze snaps to the treeline, where several men were hastily loading their weapons and with a growl, charges forward with his sword glinting in the moonlight. The first crossbow bolt whistles past his ear but caster didn't flinch. He reaches the first archer before the man could reload, his sword slicing through the air in a deadly arc. The archer's head rolls to the ground, his body following a moment later. Two more archers meet similar fates, their bodies crumpling before they could even raise their weapons. The remaining crossbowmen throw down their weapons and flee, terror evident in their eyes. Caster turns back to the main group as his chest is heaving with exertion. Blood drips from red dawn's and forming a small pool at his feet. The clearing has fallen silent, save for the labored breathing of the surviving frey.

"You demon!.. You've killed fifty of my men!" black walder shouts, his face twisted from rage.

"Only fifty?!.. Might be dawn before I finish the job" caster says with a demonic laugh, the sound sending chills down the spines of the remaining soldiers. He charged forward as men begin to fall left and right, their screams echoing through the forest. Stevron tries to run but caster is faster and in one swift strike, stevron's head rolls across the ground.

"Please mercy!" lothar begs, stumbling back and his limp slowing him down.

"Mercy?!.. Like the mercy you showed me?!.. You are trying to kill a Prince!" caster shouts, his eyes flashing ominously and red dawn swings with another silent forever.

"What are you?!" black walder shouts, watching in horror as his brother have fallen in near quick succession.

"I'm a Baratheon... And Our Fury knows no bounds" caster says with a wide grin, blood splattered across his face. He keeps fighting with his movements fluid despite his wounds. The frey's numbers continue to dwindle, their bodies littering the forest floor. Caster's blood pumps faster with each kill and driving him forward, "Is this all you've got!.. I thought the Freys were supposed to be tough!" he taunts, cutting down another man. Black walder's face pales as he watches his men continue to fall. The night is far from over and caster baratheon shows no signs of slowing down. The young prince's relentless assault continues until the first light of dawn begins to paint the sky in soft hues of pink and gold.

-XXX-

The sun's rays filter through the trees as sylvie, ulthor and the thirty men finally reach the area after dealing with frey stragglers. The scene that greets them is one of unimaginable carnage as bodies litter the forest floor, their blood staining the earth a dark crimson. Sylvie's eyes widen in shock as she surveys the battlefield, "Where's Caster?!" she asks, her voice tight with worry.

"Is this real?!.. There must be at least a hundred bodies here" one of the men who is alys' brother says with his face pale with disbelief. Ulthor's massive frame tenses with concern and scans the area but suddenly points towards a large oak tree at the edge of the clearing, "Look there" he said, his voice gruff northern accent showing. They all turn to see caster slumped against the tree trunk with red dawn resting on his chest but the young prince wasn't moving.

"No" sylvie whispers, her heart clenching with fear and without hesitation, sprinted towards caster. Her feet barely touching the ground as she races across the blood-soaked clearing. She approaches but could see the numerous cuts and bruises that marring caster's skin. His clothes were torn and soaked with blood, both his own and that of his enemies. Sylvie falls to her knees beside him, her hands shaking as she reaches out to check for signs of life.

"Caster... Caster.. Can you hear me" sylvie calls, her voice trembling and shaking him. For a heart-stopping moment, there is no response but slowly. Caster's eyes flutter open with his steel-blue gaze, usually so sharp and alert, is now clouded with exhaustion and pain. He blinks a few times, trying to focus on sylvie's worried face hovering in front of him.

"Don't shake me too much.. Everything hurts" caster mumbles tiredly, his voice barely above a whisper and winces as he tries to shift his position against the tree trunk. Sylvie lets out a shaky breath with relief washing over her, "You're alive.. I thought... I feared the worst" she said softly, her hands gently steadying him. Caster manages a weak smile but it looks more like a grimace, "Can't get rid of me that easily" he quips, then lets out a wet cough and a trickle of blood appears at the corner of his mouth.

"You've proven yourself again My Prince" ulthor says, coming to kneel the young prince.

"Indeed.. They underestimated me.. A mistake they won't live to repeat" caster says, his voice hoarse and his eyes sweeping over the carnage. Sylvie begins to carefully examine his wounds with her touch gentle but efficient, "We need to set up a camp.. You've lost a lot of blood" she said, her brow furrowed with worry. Caster nods weakly but then grimaces at the movement, "Just... G-give me a moment" he breathes, closing his eyes briefly. Sylvie and ulthor exchange worried glances as sylvie immediately sets to work examining caster's injuries more closely. Her fingers moving deftly, probing for broken bones and assessing the severity of his wounds.

"You're lucky.. Nothing seems to be broken but you've got some nasty cuts that need attention" sylvie mutters, pulling supplies from her pack. Caster hisses as she begins cleaning a particularly deep gash on his arm, "Just some new scars to show off" he grunts, though his pale face betrays the pain he is in. Sylvie works quickly, applying salves and bandages to the worst of his injuries but as she ties off the last bandage. Caster's eyes flicker open with his eyes now on his mountain, "Ulthor.. I want you to gather the heads of Walder's sons.. Any and all you can find" he says, his voice stronger now.

"As you command my Prince.. But why" ulthor asks with his brow furrowed but nods without question.

"Walder Frey has made a grave mistake.. He attacked not just House Baratheon but House Lannister and the King as well.. We're going to remind him of the consequences of such actions" caster says with a cold tone.

"You mean to return to the Twins" sylvie says, her eyes widening in understanding.

"As soon as I'm mobile.. Which might take a moment or two" caster confirms, attempting to push himself up but winces and falls back against the tree trunk.

"I'll see to it my Prince.. And I'll have the men prepare for our return journey" ulthor says with his face set in grim determination. Ulthor moves away to carry out his orders as sylvie helps caster to his feet and he leans heavily on her, his breath coming in short gasps.

"Are you sure about this.. You're in no condition to travel.. Let alone confront Walder Frey" sylvie asked, concern evident in her voice. Caster's eyes harden as a cold fury is burning within them, "I'm sure.. Walder Frey needs to learn that actions have consequences.. And I intend to teach him that lesson personally" he said, his voice low and dangerous. The sun climbs higher in the sky, casting its warm light over the blood-soaked clearing. Caster and his loyal companions begin their preparations as the heads of walder's sons were collected, a grim trophy of the night's battle. The air is thick with the metallic scent of blood, piss and shit but also the determination of a prince set on vengeance. Caster attempts to mount his horse but stumble and his face contorts in pain as sylvie is at his side in an instant, her hand steadying him.

"You need time to heal.. We can't risk your health on a hasty return" sylvie said, her voice firm but gentle. Caster's steel-blue eyes flash with frustration but he knows she is right as he nods reluctantly, allowing ulthor to help him to a makeshift bed of furs.

"We'll wait.. But not for long.. Walder Frey must answer for this treachery" caster concedes, his voice hoarse. Over the next few days, their camp buzzed with activity as sylvie continues to tend to caster's wounds, her skilled hands working tirelessly to speed his recovery. Ulthor oversees the men while keeping watch and preparing for their eventual return to the twins. Caster would call for one of his men, "Ride to Riverrun.. Inform the Tullys of what has transpired here.. Tell them of the Freys' treachery and our impending return to the Twins" caster instructs, his voice still weak but filled with authority.

"It will be done my Prince" the soldier says, nodding solemnly and understanding the gravity of his mission, before mounting his horse and galloping away. The days continue to pass as caster's strength gradually returns, his wounds beginning to heal and leaving behind scars that would serve as permanent reminders of the battle. The prince spends his time planning with his mind sharp even as his body recovers. Caster deems himself fit to travel after a week of recovery from the battle. The company set out at dawn, the bag containing the heads of walder's sons tied securely to caster's horse, a macabre warning of what awaits at the twins. They soon approach the imposing fortress once again as a hush fell over the countryside. Caster sits tall in his saddle with his steel-blue eyes fixed on the gates of the twins. The bag of heads sways gently with each step of his horse, a grim reminder of the price of treachery. The young prince's face remains impassive as the great iron gates of the twins creak open. The courtyard beyond is filled with frey men-at-arms, their faces a mixture of fear and defiance. At the center of it all stands walder frey, his wrinkled face set in an arrogant smirk that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Well.. Well.. The young Prince returns.. Come to accept my generous offer after all have you" walder calls out, his voice carrying across the courtyard. Caster's steel-blue eyes narrow as he dismounts, his movements fluid despite his recent injuries. The bag of heads swing ominously from his saddle, drawing fearful glances from the assembled frey men.

"Lord Frey.. I've indeed come to discuss the terms of our... Arrangement" caster said, his voice cool and controlled. He reaches to his belt and for a moment, the frey men tense, fully expecting him to draw his weapon but instead. Caster pulls out a riding crop with its leather surface gleaming in the sunlight. Walder's smirk falters and a flicker of uncertainty crossing his face, "What's the meaning of this?!" he demands, his voice losing some of its earlier bravado. Caster takes a step forward with his gaze never leaving walder's face, "Kneel" caster said simply and coldly, his voice carrying the weight of command. A hush falls over the courtyard as walder's eyes dart from caster to the riding crop, then to the bag of heads still hanging from the prince's saddle and the old lord's face pale as realization begins to dawn on him.

"You can't be serious.. I am the Lord of the Crossing.. I don't kneel to anyone!" walder sputters, his earlier arrogance crumbling. Caster's lips curls into a cold smile, "You'll kneel to me Lord Frey.. Or you'll join your sons in that bag or the rest left to rot in the forest" he said, his voice low and dangerous. A collective gasp ripples through the crowd. Walder's eyes widen in horror as he finally understands the contents of the mysterious bag and his sons' failure. His legs tremble but whether from fear or his advanced age has yet to be determined, "You... You wouldn't dare" walder stammers but the quaver in his voice betrays his uncertainty. Caster takes another step forward with the riding crop tapping ominously against his uninjured hand, "I've already dared much Lord Frey.. I've faced your ambush and emerged victorious.. I've sent a hundred of your men to meet the Stranger.. Do you truly wish to test my resolve further" he said, his voice carrying across the now-silent courtyard. The tension in the air is palpable as all eyes turn to walder frey. The old lord's face twists with a mixture of fear and rage, his pride warring with his instinct for self-preservation. For a long moment, stands frozen while caught between defiance and submission. Walder then begins to slowly lower himself to the ground. His old bones creaking in protest as he sinks to his knees before the young prince. The sight of the once-proud lord kneeling in the dirt sends shockwaves through the assembled crowd. Caster stands over him with the riding crop loosely in his hand. His steel-blue eyes bore into walder, a storm of fury barely contained within them. The old lord trembles before him with his bravado long since evaporated.

"Now Lord Frey.. Let's discuss the true Price of your treachery" caster said with his voice carrying a hint of grim satisfaction and pauses, "You attempted to kill a Prince of the Seven Kingdoms.. Do you deny it!" he adds, the weight of his words settling over the courtyard. Walder's rheumy eyes darted around and seeking an escape that wasn't there, "I... I did not" he says with his voice a mere whisper and his thin lips quivering. Caster's grip on the riding crop tightens and his knuckles turning white. The leather creaks under the pressure with a sound that seems to echo in the tense silence of the courtyard, "Yet your sons' heads say otherwise" he said, his voice low and dangerous.

"My moronic sons… They acted without my knowledge.. I swear it!" walder mumbles, his voice breaking and his eyes fixed on the bag. Caster's lips curls into a thin but chilling smile, "A Lord who can't control his own sons is no Lord at all.. And a Lord who lies to a Prince of the Seven Kingdoms..." he said, his voice carrying across the courtyard as his words hang in the air and heavy with unspoken threat. Walder and lord of the crossing and breaks with tears began to stream down his wrinkled cheeks, "Mercy my Prince.. I beg you mercy" he whimpers put, his pride completely shattered. The young prince stands tall with his face an impassive mask as he looks down at the broken man before him. The courtyard holds its collective breath, waiting to see what judgment would be passed. Caster's steel-blue eyes sweep across the assembled crowd, his gaze as cold and unyielding as the wall itself.

"As a Prince of the Seven Kingdoms.. I hand down this sentence" caster declares, his words slicing through the tension like valyrian steel and his voice carrying the weight of his authority with it echoing through the silent courtyard. He pauses, allowing the gravity of the moment to settle over the crowd as walder's trembling form seems to shrink even further, his rheumy eyes wide with fear.

"Ulthor… Kill every Frey man above the age of sixteen" caster continues, turning to his towering comrade. A collective gasp ripples through the courtyard as frey men exchange panicked glances, some reaching for their weapons while others look ready to flee.

"Those below will be sent to the Wall" caster adds, his voice cutting through the rising murmur. Walder's face contorts in horror and opens his mouth to protest, "You can't..." he says, his wrinkled hands reaching out in supplication. The crack of the riding crop against flesh silencing him as caster's arm moves with lightning speed, the leather strap leaving an angry red welt across walder's cheek. The old lord crumples further and cradling his face as he whimpers. Caster's voice remains steady and betrays no emotion as he continues, "And you Walder Frey" he says and looms over the cowering lord, "I have a different punishment in mind for you" he adds, his shadow falling across the man like a shroud. The courtyard falls deathly silent once more, all eyes fixed on the young prince and the broken lord at his feet. Caster's steel-blue eyes glint dangerously as he turns to sylvie with his voice calm but filled by an icy determination, "Sylvie.. Tie Lord Frey to that post.. And strip him naked" he commands, pointing to a sturdy wooden beam near the center of the courtyard. Sylvie nods with her face a mask of grim resolve. She moves swiftly, grabbing walder frey by his bony arms and hauling him to his feet. The old lord stumbles, his legs weak and trembling as she drags him towards the post.

"No!.. I'm an old man.. Have mercy!" walder whimpers but caster's face remains impassive, unmoved by the pathetic pleas. He watches as sylvie roughly tie walder's wrists behind the post, the rope biting into his wrinkled skin. Sylvie begins to strip away walder's fine clothes with quick and efficient movements. First went his ornate doublet, then his silken shirt as each layer is removed. The old lord's body is revealed as pale and sagging skin stretches over fragile bones. The assembled crowd watch in stunned silence, a mixture of horror and morbid fascination on their faces. Some turn away, unable to bear the sight of their once-proud lord reduced to such a state as the last of walder's garments fall away, leaving him naked and exposed to the chill air. Caster steps forward with his steel-blue eyes sweeping over the pitiful figure before him, taking in every detail of Walder Frey's humiliation.

"Let this serve as a reminder.. Of the price of treachery against the crown" caster says with his tone clear and cold but pauses, "But death would be too merciful for you Lord Frey" he adds, his steel-blue eyes sweeping over the stunned crowd before settling back on the trembling form of walder frey. Caster turns to sylvie with his face a mask of grim intent, "Sylvie… Geld Lord Frey" he commands, his voice low but carrying across the now-silent courtyard. A collective gasp ripples through the crowd but walder's eyes widen in horror, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water as he struggles to comprehend the sentence passed upon him.

"No.. Please my Prince.. Anything but that.. I'm an old man.. I..." walder says, his voice cracking with fear. His pleas were cut short as sylvie steps forward with one of her sharp knives glinting in her hand. Her face is set in stone while betraying no emotion as she approaches the bound and naked lord, "This will hurt.. But not as much as your treachery has hurt others or this Thing has done to many women" she said, her voice devoid of sympathy. Walder's cries echoes through the courtyard as sylvie carries out her grim task. Many in the crowd turn away and are unable to watch. Even some of the hardened soldiers wince at the sound of walder's agonized screams. Caster watches impassively as his steel-blue eyes never leaves walder's face but winces as the task is finished, "You will live Lord Frey… You will live with the shame of your actions and the knowledge that your line ends with you.. Let your remaining days serve as a warning to all who would dare betray the crown" caster declares, his voice carrying across the courtyard. Eyes wide with a mixture of fear and awe, the onlookers watch as the young prince turns his back on the broken form of walder frey. A timid voice breaks through the murmurs, barely audible above the rustling of the wind.

"My Prince" it calls, trembling with uncertainty. Caster turns with his steel-blue eyes falling upon a young woman having mousy brown hair and a face pinched with worry. She is one of walder's many daughters, though her name escaped him at the moment.

"What of us.. What is to become of the women of House Frey" she asks, her voice gaining strength as she speaks. The crowd falls silent once more, all eyes darting between the young prince and the brave girl who dares to question him. Caster's face remains impassive but a flicker of respect passes through his eyes, "What is your name" he asks, his voice level and calm.

"Roslin my Prince" she replies, dropping into a curtsy despite her obvious fear. Caster nods with his gaze sweeping over the assembled frey women. They huddle together as a sea of frightened faces and trembling hands. He could see the terror in their eyes, the uncertainty of their fate weighing heavily upon them.

"The women of House Frey have two choices before them.. You may swear allegiance to Lord Holster Tully.. Renouncing all claims to the Twins and the lands of House Frey.. Or…" caster starts after a moment of consideration but pauses, "You may choose to marry.. Forging new alliances and starting anew under different banners" he adds, his eyes meeting roslin's. A collective sigh of relief sweeps through the group of women as it wasn't freedom, not truly but it is far better than the fate that has befallen their male relatives.

"And our younger brothers my Prince.. Those you've sentenced to the Wall" roslin asks, emboldened by the prince's measured response.

"They will serve the realm as is their duty.. In time they may find honor in their service to the Night's Watch" caster says with his expression softening, though his voice remained firm. Caster could see the wheels turning in roslin's mind as she is clever and perhaps braver than she knew. He makes a mental note to keep an eye on her future, such spirit could be valuable, if properly directed.

"You have until the next full moon to make your decision.. Those who choose to swear allegiance will be escorted to Riverrun.. Those who wish to marry will be granted time to find suitable matches" caster continues while addressing all the frey women and looks to the others, "This day.. Marks the end of House Frey as we know it.. Let it be known throughout the Seven Kingdoms that treachery against the crown will not go unpunished" he adds, his steel-blue eyes sweeping over the assembled throng.

"Thank you my Prince.. For your... Mercy" roslin says, as caster prepares to take his leave.

"Do not mistake this for mercy Lady Roslin.. This is justice.. Remember that and ensure your kin remember it as well" caster says, meeting her gaze and his steel-blue eyes unreadable. The air seems to crackle with tension as caster's words sink in. As the days and weeks that follow, tales of the event spread like wildfire across the riverlands and beyond. In taverns and great halls alike, people spoke in hushed tones of the second prince who had brought house frey to its knees.

"Did you hear?!.. They say the Second Prince's eyes glowed like blue fire as he passed judgment.. A demon in human form they say" a merchant whispers to his companion over ale.

"Aye I heard tell of it.. The Blue-Eyed Demon.. They're calling him now.. Says he cut down a hundred Frey men with his black sword before the sun had risen" his friend says, nodding solemnly. As the stories grows and changes with each retelling, so too did caster's reputation. Some speak of him with proper admiration, others with fear but all agreed on one thing, the second prince is not to be trifled with. In the halls of the great houses, lords and ladies debate the events at the twins. Some liken it to the infamous Rains of Castamere, dubbing it the "Storm of the Frey." as the name sticks and soon bards were composing ballads of the fateful night when the baratheon prince brought low the treacherous freys. A month after the event, word reaches king's landing that the late walder frey has breathed his last. Rumors swirl that in his final moments, the old lord screams of a blue-eyed demon coming to claim his soul. As caster rides back to the capital, the whispers followed him of "The Black Swordsman" some called him, while others simply muttered "Blue-Eyed Demon" as he passed or even "Rouge Prince". The young prince paid them no mind, his face a mask of calm determination. Yet in the privacy of his chambers does caster allow himself a moment of reflection. He gazes out over the city, his steel-blue eyes distant as he ponders the weight of his actions. The extinction of house frey would long be remembered and whether as a tale of just retribution or a cautionary tale of ruthlessness, only time would tell.

(298 AC)

Tyrion Lannister makes his way towards the main training areas of kings landing with several knights training or guarding the area. The clang of the sword catches tyrion's attention and a ghost of smirk forms on his face. Not far from him is his seventeen-year-old nephew caster sparring with his mountain. Caster's wavy shoulder length black hair is tied in a crude bun a tyrion notes caster resembles his father in his youth, "Nephew!" tyrion announces, his tone laced with amusement. Caster stops mid-swing with his faithful red dawn as it slices through the air, "Uncle.. To what do I owe the pleasure" he says, sheathing his sword and a nod of respect to ulthor.

"I was told you changed your mind and will accompany the family to Winterfell" tyrion states, his tone laced with a hint of mischief. Caster grabs a bucket of water and doses himself, "I felt it best or rather Tommen and Myrcella begged me to go.. Ulthor and Sylvie will remain behind to keep the Fat Prick Janos in line" he says, droplets flying from his damp locks.

"He can't never deny his younger siblings" a playful voice chimes in and tyrion spies the shield maiden slyvie, her white tresses in a braided ponytail.

"Indeed" tyrion says, his eyes flicking between the two. Caster slips on a white tunic with a shake of his head and pulling the bun free.

"Why is Father riding North.. Does it concern the Hand Jon Arryn's death" caster asks and tyrion nods, "So he intends for Ned Stark to be the new Hand" he adds, his expression sober.

"Perceptive as always Nephew.. I am only going to Piss off the edge of the world at the Wall" tyrion says with a sly grin and caster laughs.

"Second Son" a snide voice says, drawing their attention. Caster sees his nineteen-year-old brother joffery, his golden locks gleaming in the sunlight and dressed regal garb but no sword at his side.

"Brother.. I hope the day finds you well" caster comments with a cordial tone but joffery ignores him, instead leering at slyvie.

"A fine whore you keep Second Son" joffery says with a lecherous sneer. Sylvie bristles with her hand instinctively reaching for the dagger at her hip but caster raises a placating hand.

"Sylvie is no whore brother.. She is fine warrior and I would not trade her for anyone else" caster says his tone level and laced with steel but joffery scoffs, walking off.

"Well nephew I will see you on the journey north" tyrion says with a shake of his head and excusing himself. Caster sighs and pinches his nose, "Sylvie I apologize on my brother's behalf" he says, exhaling a weary breath.

"You don't need to" sylvie says, her hazel eyes shining with understanding.

"She'll take it out on those Cunts in Flea Bottom" ulthor comments with a chuckle rumbling his massive frame. Caster couldn't help but laugh at the northman's crass remark, the tension of the moment dissipating like smoke on the wind.

(Winterfell)

The journey to winterfell seems unending and the procession snaking slowly through the Kingsroad. Robert's impatience is palpable and his booming voice echoes through the caravan as he berates the wheelhouse driver for the broken axle that has slowed their progress, "We should have been there days ago!" he bellows, his face flushed with anger as he struggles to maintain his seat atop the massive destrier. His considerable girth strains against the saddle and the leather creaking with each shift of his bulk. Caster is riding beside his father and arched an eyebrow, donning leather armor over thick clothing and black cape, while red dawn is sheathed at his hip.

"You know Father.. If you hadn't indulged in quite so many feasts.. Your horse wouldn't strain so under your weight" caster said, his steel-blue eyes twinkling with mirth and his eyes on destrier.

"Cheeky pup!.. You're as sharp-tongued as your Imp Uncle" robert says, glaring at his son but it quickly melts into a booming laugh that shakes his ample belly. Robert gestures to the procession behind them, "Ned will think I've grown soft and complacent.. If we don't pick up the pace" he says, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes.

"A little soft perhaps but never complacent.. Though I fear our horses may flounder if we rush them" caster says, patting the strong neck of his horse.

"Well said boy!.. I guess a few more days won't matter.. Ned's waited years for my company.. He can suffer a little longer" robert says, letting out another hearty guffaw and his laughter echoing through the caravan. The sound of hooves echo as joffery rides up beside them, his golden locks whipping in the wind. A hulking figure flanks him, the fearsome Sandor Clegane, known as the Hound and his scarred face twisted into a perpetual scowl under his hound shaped helm.

"What's the delay Father?!.. We should have been in Winterfell days ago" joffery demands, his voice dripping with impatience. Robert turns his gaze upon his eldest son, "Mind your tongue boy.. A broken wheel slowed our progress but we'll be there soon enough" he says as his booming laughter fades. Joffrey scowls and his lips curl into a sneer, "Incompetence" he spits, his emerald eyes flashing with disdain.

"Easy Brother" caster says while arching an eyebrow, his steel-blue gaze flickering to the hound's towering frame but sandor remains silent. Joffrey opens his mouth to retort but a sharp look from robert silences him. With a huff of frustration, wheels his horse around and gallops back to cersei's wheelhouse, the hound trailing behind him like a hulking shadow. Robert shakes his head as his merriment is replaced by a weary sigh, "That boy will be the death of me.. Sometimes I wonder if you shouldn't have been born first" he mutters, his gaze flickering to caster.

"We cannot change the past Father.. Only shape the future" caster says while meeting his father's gaze, his steel-blue eyes revealing nothing.

"Aye and the future grows darker with each passing day" robert grunts, urging his destrier forward. The procession soon gets moving as a few days later and the towering walls of winterfell come into view as the common folk line the road, their faces a mix of awe and trepidation as the royal procession passes. Caster sees a young girl in a helmet as she scampers ahead, her movements agile and confident. The procession soon comes to halt in the courtyard and everyone bows to one knee as robert dismounts with the aid of a box.

"Your Grace.. Winterfell is yours" Eddard or Ned Stark greets, his voice solemn. Robert stares down at ned but waves a dismissive hand for him to rise and he does, "You've got fat" robert declares with a once over of ned. The warden of the north's eyes drift to robert's girth and his face saying you too, before both men laugh and embrace with a hug. Caster watches as his father greet ned's family one by one as he dismounts his horse, "Who's he" he hears and sees one of the stark children looking at him.

"That's the King's Second Son" Robb Stark says, his eyes filled with curiosity. Caster approaches the stark children as his father takes ned to the crypt, "Indeed I am Caster Baratheon and you are" he says, his voice resonant and rich.

"Robb Stark and these are my siblings.. Rickon.. Bran.. Sansa and Arya" robb says, shaking caster's hand with his grip strong.

"Winterfell is quite the sight.. Lady Catelyn" caster comments, nodding to the lady of winterfell.

"Thank you for your words my Prince" cat says and dips into a graceful curtsy.

"Please call me Caster.. I am not one for titles or we'd be here all day" caster says with a disarming smile and arya giggles, her grey eyes sparkling with mirth but earning a reproachful glance from her mother.

"Caster is true what they say" robb asks, as they head inside the keep.

"That I killed a hundred men in a single night or that I feast on the souls of the damned.. And all such things.. Well ask my Uncle.. He loves telling my exploits but the hundred is indeed true" caster says, his steel-blue eyes dancing with amusement.

"How'd you do it" bran asks, his eyes wide with curiosity.

"A bit of Time and a Lot of luck" caster says with a chuckle, the sound rich and resonant. Caster makes a point to acquaint himself with each of the stark children as the day wears on. He exchanges tales of his exploits with robb, earning the young man's rapt attention and admiration. He shares a few jokes with arya and some playful banter, her quick wit and mischievous spirit a sight to see. Even bran and rickon were not spared caster's attention. The prince indulges the boys' incessant questions, regaling him with stories of battles and adventure to their delight. When he approaches sansa, found her gaze fixed upon joffery and her eyes shining with an infatuated gleam. The golden-haired prince preens under her adoring gaze, basking in the attention like a cat in the sun. Caster is undeterred and attempts to engage sansa in conversation but her responses were distracted and halfhearted, her mind clearly occupied by thoughts of joffery. Caster could not pry her attention away from the arrogant prince despite his efforts and eventually relented, leaving her to her girlish fantasies. A pang of pity stirs within caster's heart as he observes sansa's infatuation with his older brother. He knows the truth of joffery's cruel and petulant nature, a truth that sansa seems blissfully unaware of as he holds his tongue, unwilling to shatter the young girl's illusions. Night soon comes and the feast commences but caster is not one for such boisterous celebrations. He slips away and his footsteps are silent as he makes his way through the dimly lit corridors, while his wandering leads him to the training yards.

"Never Forget What you are.. The world certainly Won't.. Wear it like armor and it can never be made to hurt you" caster hears and sees his uncle walking off. Caster recognizes the form of Jon Snow, the bastard son of ned swinging his sword in a series of practiced arcs. The young man's movements were fluid and graceful, each strike cutting through the night air with a whisper of steel. Beads of sweat glisten on his brow, his dark curls clinging to his forehead as he works through the intricate forms. Caster leans against a nearby pillar with his arms folded and intrigue on his face, his steel-blue eyes studying jon's technique with a critical eye. He could see the raw potential in the jon's movements, a natural aptitude that few possess. As jon executes a particularly intricate maneuver, his blade catches the torchlight, reflecting a fleeting glimmer of orange across the steel. Caster couldn't help but be impressed by the skill on display and a faint smile tugging at his lips.

"Are you Good with a sword Jon Snow" caster announces, startling jon and he whips around.

"You're the King's son" jon says with awe in his tone and caster nods, drawing his black blade and drives it in the dirt with a resounding thud.

"I am but The Second Son mind you.. Like you're not The son of Ned Stark" caster says, rolling his right arm and jon frowns. Jon then looks over red dawn with curious eyes and sees the ruby in the pommel, "This sword is made very well" he notes, pulling on it but has to use both hands to lift it.

"Seven Hells" jon says, his brow furrowed in exertion but caster takes it with one hand into several easy swings.

"Hahaha.. I found it Red Keep's Armory at six.. It was bigger than me.. It Never Chips.. Never Rusts.. Never Dulls.. Some called the sword cursed for it.. Fitting for a demon" caster says, his steel-blue eyes glinting in the torchlight.

"Do you believe that Your Grace" jon asks but caster raises his hand.

"Call me Caster and no but it helps the reputation" caster says and sighs, "Tell me Jon Snow.. If I asked you to be my Squire would agree" he adds, shocking the young bastard. Jon's eyes widen and his mouth parts in surprise, "Why me" he manages after a moment, finding his voice. Caster looks up at the night sky and its stars, "You've caught my interest.. You want to go to the Wall but its not what you believe it is" he says, studying the twinkling constellations.

"I would have to decline Your Grace" jon says, his throat suddenly dry and caster arches an eyebrow.

"I see.. Well if you change your mind.. I am heading to the Wall for a bit of time.. Give me your final answer then" caster states, excusing himself and jon watches him depart. A maelstrom of emotions swirl within jon like confusion, intrigue and a newfound sense of yearning. The offer to become the second son's squire caught him off guard, stirring a longing he hadn't realized he harbored as the wall is his chosen path but was it. The next day robert puts together a hunting party but caster declines to accompany them. He moves through the forests near the river to see arya, a boy and her dire wolf nymeria but his brother tries to ruin things dragging along sansa with him.

"A boy and little savage playing at swords" joffery sneers, his gaze lingering on the boy with open contempt and draws his sword. Arya immediately bristles as her grey eyes flash with defiance but in a blur of motion, disarms joffery and his sword clatters to the ground.

"You'll pay for that.. You little bitch!" joffery snarls, his hand raised to strike. Caster decides to intervene with a small rock to his brother's head before nymeria acts, "What are you doing?!" joffery shrieks, clutching his temple.

"Whatever do you mean Brother" caster says, a faint smile on his face and joffery glares.

"I'm telling Mother" joffery snaps, fury etching his features.

"And tell her what.. You let a little girl disarmed you" caster says and almost imitating their father, as joffery grits his teeth in anger and stalks off with sansa quickly following him.

"Thanks Caster" arya says, gratitude shining in her grey eyes.

"I don't like Bullies is all" caster says, a faint smile playing on his lips. His mother indeed did summon him later that day and her emerald were eyes smoldering with anger, "How Dare you strike your brother!" she hisses, her voice laced with venom. Caster meets her gaze unflinchingly but as he did, couldn't help but notice joffery basking in the adoring gaze of sansa and preening like a peacock as sansa's eyes shine with infatuation.

"He was going to hit a child Mother.. Would you have me stand idly by while my brother harms a mere girl" caster said, turning his attention back to cersei. Before cersei could respond does the door swing open and robert strides in with jaime resplendent in his white cloak and golden armor.

"What's this about striking your brother boy?!" robert demands, his brow furrowed in a scowl. Jaime arches a golden eyebrow as his emerald gaze flickering between caster and joffery, "It seems there's been a quarrel among the royal brood" he remarks, his tone laced with amusement. Caster meet his uncle and father's gaze evenly as his steel-blue eyes revealing nothing, "Joffrey was going to strike Arya Stark and I simply intervened" he explains, his voice level and devoid of emotion. Robert lets out a bellowing laugh and his eyes twinkling with mirth, "Aye that's my son!.. Always sticking up for the little ones" he says, clapping caster on the shoulder and ignoring cersei's fury.

"Don't involve yourself in this Robert" cersei snaps, her tone sharp as a whip.

"Come now sweet sister.. Surely you don't begrudge your other son for defending a lady's honor.. Even if she is but a child" jaime says, his emerald eyes dancing with amusement.

"This is a matter of discipline Jaime.. My son was well within his rights to..." cersei says, shooting her twin a withering glare.

"To strike a defenseless girl?!.. Forgive me Mother but I cannot condone such actions.. Regardless of who commits them" caster interrupts, his tone laced with disdain. Joffrey bristles and his face contorted with rage, "I am the Crown Prince!.. I'll not be lectured by the likes of you Second Son.. One day.. I'll wear the crown and you'll be nothing but a speck of dust beneath my heel" he snarls, his fists clenched at his sides and his emerald eyes flashing with disdain. The chamber falls deathly silent as the tension is palpable in the air while caster's hand drifts towards the hilt of his obsidian blade, his steel-blue eyes narrowing dangerously. Cersei steps forward and her emerald eyes flashing with fury but towards one of her sons, "Joffrey.. That's enough my little Lion" she hisses, placing a hand on her son's arm and placating him. Joffrey opens his mouth to protest but a sharp look from his mother stills his tongue as he glares at caster, his nostrils flaring with barely contained rage.

"You speak of wearing the Crown brother... Yet you lack the wisdom and temperament to rule.. A true King does not strike at the defenseless.. Nor does he make idle threats" he said, his voice laced with contempt and meeting his brother's gaze unflinchingly.

"Well said boy!.. Joffrey could learn a thing or two from you" robert says, letting out a booming laugh and his belly shaking with mirth.

"It seems my nephew has inherited more than just your looks Your Grace" jaime says, arching a golden eyebrow.

"That may be true Uncle.. But Joffrey needs a few battles under his belt before he can truly understand the weight of his words" caster says, turning his attention to his uncle.

"You speak of wisdom and temperament.. Yet you're nothing but a glorified sellsword.. Beholden to Father's whims.. You truly are the Rouge Prince" joffery says, his voice dripping with disdain.

"Perhaps but I destroyed House Frey that bards call it the Storm of the Frey and dealt with the rebellion for our Grandfather.. Their blood stains my blade and their screams still echo in my dreams.. Do not presume to know the weight of my actions brother" caster said, his voice low and dangerous. Joffrey takes a step back with his bravado faltering momentarily in the face of caster's intensity and cersei quickly intervenes, sensing the brewing confrontation.

"Enough of this!.. We should not quarrel like common rabble" cersei snaps, her tone sharp as a whip. Robert lets out a gruff chuckle and shaking his head, "Cersei speaks true.. Let's not sour the festivities with petty squabbles.. Come boy!.. Let's drink and be merry" he says, clapping caster on the shoulder and his booming laughter echoing through the chamber. Jaime's eyes were fixed on caster with a glint of curiosity, "Perhaps we shall cross blades again Nephew and see whose's steel is sharper" jaime says, his tone laced with grudging respect. Jaime strides out with roguish wink, leaving caster and robert alone to guard outside. Cersei ushers joffery away, her emerald eyes smoldering with fury while sansa trails behind while shooting furtive glances at the golden-haired prince and his dark-haired brother.

"You've got a storm in you boy.. Just like the night you were born" robert says, letting out a laugh.

"Perhaps.. I'm going to take a walk Father" caster said, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

"Suit yourself boy.. But don't wander too far" robert says with a dismissive wave as caster turns to leave. Caster strolls through the grounds of winterfell but he catches sight of arya, her movements lithe and graceful as she nocks an arrow and draws back the bowstring. She holds her stance with the poise of a seasoned archer, her grey eyes narrowed in concentration.

"You handle that bow well" caster says, his tone intrigued and his footsteps barely audible on the packed earth. Arya turns and is startled by his presence but quickly regains her composure, "Thank you Your Grace.. I mean Caster.. Jon taught me" she replies, lowering the bow.

"Your brother has a keen eye for talent.. Would you care to show me your skills" caster says, nodding approvingly. Arya's eyes lit up at the prospect and she eagerly retrieves a fresh quiver of arrows. She nocks an arrow with a fluid motion, drawing back the bowstring as she looses the shaft. It sails through the air, burying itself in the center of the target with a satisfying thunk.

"Impressive.. Tell me.. Have you ever considered taking up archery in a more formal capacity" caster murmurs, stroking his chin thoughtfully.

"I'm not sure I understand.. Mother wouldn't let me and the Septa says it isn't ladylike" arya says with her brow furrowed, her grey eyes flickering with uncertainty.

"Arya.. I've seen my fair share of women fight and read about a few historic warrior women.. Your mother's concerns are understandable but true skill knows no gender" caster says with a chuckle, shaking his head.

"But... I'm supposed to be a lady like Sansa" arya hesitates, her small hands toying with the bowstring.

"And what's wrong with being a Lady who can defend herself.. Besides I've seen you handle that bow.. You have a natural talent.. One that shouldn't be wasted" caster counters, his steel-blue eyes twinkling.

"You really think so?!" arya says with her eyes lighting up, her grip tightening on the bow.

"I know so... And now how about a tale of my exploits.. Like killing a hundred men" caster assures her, his eyes twinkling.

"Sure" arya said, her grey eyes alight with curiosity as she places her bow down and plopping down on a nearby bench. Caster clears his throat and takes a seat on the bench next to her, "It started when I was Four and Ten.. I had put down a rebellion in Casterly Rock for my grandfather as a test.. An arrogant young noble needed to be reminded of things and two years later that old weasel Walder Frey saw an opportunity to advance his family's standing" he begins, a glint in his steel-blue eyes.

"He had the audacity to ask my father to marry me to one of his fat and wretched daughters.. Can you imagine a Baratheon wedding a Frey" caster adds, shaking his head at the memory.

"That's awful!.. What did you do?!" arya says, wrinkling her nose in disgust.

"I rode to the Twins to meet Walder with about thirty men.. Also my shield maiden Sylvie and my mountain Ulthor.. The old weasel put on quite a show for the daughters in question.. A dour faced girl with more hair on her lip than my chest stuck out" caster continues, his steel-blue eyes gleaming with amusement as arya giggles and covers her mouth.

"I flat out told the Late Walder Frey it wouldn't happen.. I said I'll not sully the Baratheon name by wedding one of your brood Frey.. Find yourself another fool to pawn off your daughter" caster said, his voice taking on a gruff tone and arya tries to envision it. Caster leans back and chuckles at the memory, "Oh you should have seen the look on Walder's face!.. He turned as red as a beet and his sons started shifting in their seats.. Hands inching towards their blades... I then I said If any of you wretched cunts so much as twitch.. My men and I will cut you down where you stand" he says, his gaze turning mischievous. Arya's eyes widen while being scandalized and enthralled by caster's crass language, "And what did Walder Frey do then" she asks, her eyes wide with anticipation.

"The old weasel tried to play it off but I could see the fury simmering beneath his false smiles.. He agreed but I knew it wouldn't be the end of it" caster says, his expression hardening and his steel-blue eyes glint with a hint of menace.

"I left soon after but I caught wind of a plot.. Walder had sent his sons Lothar.. Black Walder and Stevron with a hundred men to ambush us on our way back.. Make it look like raiders or the Brotherhood Without Banners" caster adds and clenches his left hand as the leather cracks.

"That's treacherous!" arya says with a gasp, her hand flying to her mouth.

"Aye that it was.. I split off from my group with Sylvie to lay a trap" caster agrees with his jaw clenching, "They soon struck in the woods with arrows and swords but with Red Dawn in my hand..." he adds, his gaze distant and if reliving the memory.

"But you had a plan" arya breathes, leaning forward in rapt attention.

"Not a normal one.. I simply fought.. Making sure every time I struck.. Someone died" caster replies and rises, unsheathing red dawn with a practiced flourish.

"I fought like a man possessed.. Arrows whistled past.. One finding its mark and burying itself in my hand... But I fought on unfazed.. A soldier's blade slashed my body but still I fought.. My obsidian longsword a whirlwind of death.. I sent Sylvie to get Ulthor and the men while I continued killing" caster says, flexing his fingers as if feeling the phantom sting. Arya's eyes were wide with her breath coming in ragged gasps as she hangs on caster's every word.

"By dawn's light.. All one hundred men lay dead at my feet.. Their blood staining the ground crimson.. Walder's sons were among the slain" caster said, his voice low and intense. He sheathes red dawn and sits back on the bench, "After being tended to and some rest.. I had their heads struck from their shoulders and returned to the Twins.. Where I tossed them at Walder Frey's feet" caster says, rubbing his right leg.

"What did the old weasel do" arya says with a shudder, equal parts horrified and enthralled.

"He tried to feign outrage but I could see the fear in his eyes.. The Freys had not only attacked the King's son but also struck at House Baratheon and House Lannister.. Such treachery could not go unpunished" caster said, his steel-blue gaze hardening.

"I had the remaining men above sixteen put to the sword.. Their lives forfeit for their betrayal.. As for the boys younger than myself.. I had sent them to the Wall" caster says, gripping his leg and his knuckles white with fury.

"But Walder Frey himself… I sought a more fitting punishment for the old weasel" caster says, his voice lowering to a menacing hush. Arya swallows hard as her grey eyes are wide with a mixture of horror and morbid fascination.

"I had Sylvie seize him.. Dragging him to a post in the courtyard like a common criminal.. In front of his remaining household.. I ordered him stripped" caster continues, his tone laced with cold fury but pauses.

"I had Sylvie castrate him.. His screams echoing through the Twins.. I laid House Frey to extinction or as the Starks would say.. Winter came for House Frey" caster finishes, his steel-blue gaze piercing arya's. She sits frozen with her mouth agape as caster's words sink in. The brutality of his actions left her equal parts horrified and captivated, a twisted fascination stirring within her young mind.

"By the Gods... That's... That's better than any story" arya whispers, her grey eyes wide.

"Such is the way of Battles Arya" a gruff voice sounds from behind them. Caster turns to see ned stark approaching and his face etched with grim disapproval, "Lord Stark" caster greets, his tone respectfully. Ned's steely gaze flickers between caster and arya, "Your tale is not suitable for a child's ears Your Grace" he admonishes, his tone laced with paternal concern. Arya bristles and opens her mouth to protest but caster nods slowly, "Your father is right... Perhaps I went too far in sharing the grisly details" caster said, raising a placating hand.

"Though I suspect young Arya has heard far worse from her brothers" ned says, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he regards his youngest daughter.

"It was just a story Father.. And Caster was kind enough to share it with me" arya says, her initial shock giving way to admiration for caster's boldness. Ned sends arya on her way with a nod and she scampers off, her mind buzzing with the tales of caster's exploits. The lord of winterfell then takes a seat beside the second son, his weathered features etched with a mixture of concern and curiosity.

"I must admit.. I've heard many stories about you Your Grace.. Tales of a fierce young warrior.. Unafraid to mete out justice with steel and fire.. Some call you The Rouge Prince.. Almost like Daemon Targaryen" ned said, his tone measured. Caster meets ned's gaze evenly, "I am the Second Son Lord Stark like he was.. I must do what I can for myself" he says, his steel-blue eyes revealing nothing.

"Indeed and yet the tales paint a picture of a young man who revels in violence.. Who takes pleasure in the suffering of others" ned says, his expression grave.

"You would do well not to believe every tale you hear Lord Stark.. I am a warrior true but I do not revel in death or suffering" caster replied, his voice level.

"And what of your actions against House Frey" ned says and leans back, studying caster intently.

"The Freys betrayed the crown Lord Stark.. They sought to ambush and kill me.. The King's son.. Such treachery could go unanswered" caster reiterates, his steel-blue eyes hardening with conviction.

"Indeed you did.. You destroyed House Frey and left only women alive.. Their children were sent to the Wall" ned says, regarding him with a solemn gaze.

"Aye.. I showed no mercy to the men of that accursed house.. They plotted to murder me in cold blood and I took no joy in sending children to the Wall" caster says, his jaw tightening at the memory.

"And what of Walder Frey himself?!" ned presses, his voice grave.

"The old weasel cursed my name until his last breath.. But he brought that fate upon himself.. I heard the tales about him" caster says, his steel-blue eyes hardening with the memory. Ned leans forward and his piercing gaze fixes on caster, "You... You indeed gelded him as the tale says" he says after a pause, searching for the right words.

"Aye I did.. A fitting punishment for the treachery he committed and the actions on the women that came into his House" caster says with a muscle twitching in his jaw as meets ned's scrutiny.

"Surely there were more honorable ways to mete out justice" ned says, recoiling slightly and his expression one of muted disgust.

"Honor?!.. The Freys knew nothing of honor Lord Stark.. You even behead Deserters" caster says with scoff, his lips curling into a sardonic smile.

"Even so.. Such cruelty serves only to beget more violence" ned said, his brow furrowed.

"And what would you have done Lord Stark.. Shown mercy to those who betrayed their King and sought to slay his son" caster asks, arching an eyebrow and his steel-blue eyes glinting with a hint of challenge. Ned falls silent and his jaw clenching as he contemplates his response, "Sometimes Justice must be tempered with mercy.. Lest we become no better than the criminals we punish" he says finally and shaking his head, his expression solemn.

"A noble sentiment Lord Stark and I hope your counsel tempers my father as Hand of the King" caster says, regarding ned with a mixture of respect and skepticism.

"Your father is a good man but he has a tendency towards brashness.. I shall endeavor to guide him with wisdom and honor" ned said, nodding solemnly.

"As will I.. Though our methods may differ.. Our ultimate goal is the same.. To protect the realm and uphold the King's peace" caster assures him. Ned studies caster intently and his grey eyes searching the prince's steely gaze, "I hope to hear more of your stories on the way back to King's Landing" ned said, his voice tinged with curiosity.

"Unfortunately.. I shall not be returning with you Lord Stark.. My path takes me northward to the Wall" caster says, his steel-blue eyes flickering with a hint of regret.

"The Wall?!.. But why would the King's son venture so far afield" ned says, his brow furrowed in surprise.

"I'm accompanying my Uncle Tyrion.. He seeks to piss off the edge of the world.. As he so eloquently puts it" caster explains, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

"Aye.. That sounds like Tyrion Lannister.. But what of you Your Grace.. What draws you to the frozen wastelands of the Night's Watch" ned says with a chuckle rumbling deep in his chest at the dwarf's irreverence.

"I want to see the edge of the world and the majesty of the Wall.. Ever since I was a boy.. I've been fascinated by the tales of the Night's Watch.. The sworn brothers who guard the realms of men against the terrors that lurk beyond the Wall" caster said, a wistful gleam in his steel-blue eyes.

"The Wall is a desolate and unforgiving place Your Grace.. Surely you don't intend to take the Black" ned says, his brow furrowing in contemplation.

"Nay Lord Stark.. I have no desire to forsake my claim or spend the rest of my days freezing my balls off.. But I would be remiss if I did not witness the grandeur of the Wall for myself" caster says with a chuckle, shaking his head.

"I imagine the Night's Watch would welcome a visit from the King's son.. Perhaps you could offer them counsel or aid in their recruitment efforts" ned muses, thinking of his brother benjen.

"Perhaps.. Though I suspect the men of the Watch would be more interested in hearing tales of my exploits than any advice I might offer" caster allows, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

"Aye.. I suspect you're right.. But still it would do them good to have a reminder that the realms of men have not forgotten them entirely" ned says and he couldn't help but chuckle at the prince's candor.

"You're probably right Lord Stark.. Now.. We should find my father before he pisses himself drinking" caster said with a nod.

"Aye.. The King has always had a thirst that could put a fish to shame" ned says with a hearty chuckle, shaking his head in amusement. The two men make their way through the winding corridors of winterfell, their footsteps echoing against the stone walls.