2
The journey to the wall is a grueling one for jon as the cold winds whip at his face and the rough terrain tests his endurance with every step on his horse. He couldn't help but feel a sense of anticipation despite the discomfort. This is the path he has chosen and he is determined to see it through. The group set up camp for the night as jon's gaze fall upon the group of ragged recruits who have been bound and now untied, "What could they have done?!" jon mutters, his brow furrowed. Tyrion is ever the keen observer and catches jon's words and offers an explanation, "Rapers.. They were given a choice no doubt.. Castration or the Wall.. Most choose the knife" he said, settling down beside jon. The bastard of ned's jaw clenches as he regards the recruits with a mix of disgust and pity.
"Not impressed by your new brothers?!" tyrion adds, his tone laced with irony.
"How can men who have committed such vile acts be considered brothers" jon says, gently shaking his head and his lips pressed into a thin line.
"The Watch doesn't care about a man's past.. Once you take the vow.. You're part of a new family.. Leaving your old life behind" caster chimes in, closing the book he has been reading.
"Even Kings have found themselves here.. Forsaking their crowns and titles for the black cloak" tyrion says, nodding in agreement and his eyes gleaming with a hint of mirth. Jon's brow furrows as he ponders tyrion's words, "Even Kings?!.. It's hard to imagine a man of such power and privilege willingly giving it all up for the life of a sworn brother" he murmurs, his voice tinged with disbelief.
"Aye.. It may seem unthinkable to you Snow.. But the Night's Watch cares not for a man's birth or station.. Once you take the vows.. You're stripped of all titles and claims.. Left with naught but the black cloak on your back and the duty to guard the realms of men" tyrion says, nodding sagely and taking a swig from the wineskin he carries. Jon fall silents with his mind grappling and the implications of tyrion's words.
"What would drive a King to make such a choice" jon admits, his brow furrowed in contemplation.
"Perhaps it was a desire for redemption Jon.. A chance to find purpose and honor in a life of service.. Away from the weight of a crown and the burdens of ruler ship" caster says, listening intently.
"Or perhaps the King in question was simply tired of being surrounded by sycophants and fools.. And saw the Night's Watch as a welcome reprieve" tyrion says with a bark of laughter, his eyes sparkling with amusement. Jon couldn't help but crack a small smile at tyrion's quip but his mind remains troubled. The idea of a king surrendering his power and privilege is one he found difficult to fathom, and he couldn't help but wonder what circumstances could drive a man to make such a choice.
"Why do you both read so much" jon asks, changing the subject and his gaze flickering between the two of them.
"Look at me and tell me what you see" tyrion says, regarding jon with a contemplative look and caster lets out a chuckle.
"Is this some sort of trick Lord Lannister" jon says with a slight hesitation, unsure of how to respond.
"What you see is a dwarf.. If I were a peasant.. They would have left me in the woods to die.. But I was fortunate enough to be born a Lannister of Casterly Rock.. Expectations were placed upon me from birth.. As my father was the Hand of the King for two decades" tyrion states matter-of-factly.
"Until your brother killed that King" jon counters, his voice low.
"Yes.. Until my brother killed that King.. Life is full of these little ironies.. My sister married the new King and my repulsive nephew Joffrey will be King after him.. Sometimes I wonder if it would have been better had Caster been their firstborn" tyrion says, his lips curving into a wry smile.
"I'm sure some do wish for that Uncle.. But one must do their part for the honor of their House.. I'll be a Lord somewhere far away if my brother sees fit or perhaps even made a Kingsguard" caster says, shaking his head and a solemn expression on his face.
"Well to answer your question Snow.. My brother and nephew have their swords and I have my mind.. And a mind needs books like a sword needs a whetstone.. I'm sure you would learn such if you follow my nephew's lead" tyrion said, turning to jon with a smile. Jon furrows his brow and wondering if the dwarf had overheard his earlier conversation with the prince back into winterfell.
"A bastard of Ned Stark with nothing to inherit.. Off to join the ancient order of the Night's Watch with his valiant brothers in arms" tyrion continues, a hint of amusement in his voice.
"The Night's Watch protects the realm against..." jon begins but tyrion cuts him off.
"Against the Wildlings your friends in Winterfell warned you about" tyrion asks rhetorically, tossing jon a wineskin. Jon catches the wineskin and his fingers tightening around the leather, while regarding tyrion with a guarded expression and unsure of how to respond.
"Here.. Everything's better with some wine in the belly" tyrion said, gesturing to the wineskin. Caster watches the exchange with mild interest, his gaze flitting between jon and tyrion. He always finds his uncle's sharp wit and cynical observations to be oddly endearing, even if they often borders on insensitive.
"I wouldn't mind going past the Wall with my Rangers.. To see the true wilderness beyond" caster chimes in, a hint of curiosity in his voice.
"Rangers.. What do you mean by that.. Are they like my Uncle Benjen" jon says with his brow furrowed at caster's words.
"My Rangers or Lion's Fury are a group of personally picked soldiers who serve me directly unlike the First Ranger.. My Rangers are those I trust with my life.. Just as they trust me with theirs" caster says, leaning back and a small smile playing on his lips.
"My nephew has always been one for surrounding himself with loyal men and women.. A trait he no doubt inherited from my dear sister" tyrion says and lets out a soft chuckle.
"The Rangers are not merely men-at-arms or household guards.. They are skilled warriors.. Handpicked for their prowess in battle and their unwavering loyalty" caster says, shooting tyrion a brief glance before turning his attention back to jon.
"And you would take them beyond the Wall.. Into the unknown" jon says with his eyes narrowed slightly, his curiosity piqued.
"I would.. The Night's Watch guards the realms of men but few have ventured far beyond the Wall to truly understand what lies in the wilderness.. I believe it is our duty to seek knowledge.. To uncover the secrets that lurk in the shadows" caster replies, his voice steady.
"Ever the adventurous one nephew.. Though I suspect your mother would have a few choice words if she knew of these plans" tyrion says with a shake of his head, a wry smile on his face.
"My mother would be quite happy should she hear that.. I would be far away from her dear Joffrey" caster said with a soft chuckle, his eyes gleaming.
"You speak of your own brother with such disdain" jon says with his brow furrowed at the mention of the prince's name.
"Joffrey is a cruel and vindictive with a penchant for inflicting pain upon those weaker than himself.. He delights in the suffering of others and shows no remorse for his actions" caster says with his expression growing somber and leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees.
"My sweet sister dotes upon him.. Blind to his true nature.. She sees only the golden prince she wishes him to be.. Not the monster he has become" tyrion says with a nod of agreement, taking a swig from the wineskin.
"And your father.. What does Lord Tywin make of the prince's behavior" jon asks, unable to mask his curiosity.
"My grandfather cares little for Joffrey's cruelty.. So long as it does not tarnish the Lannister name.. He believes in strength and power above all else and sees Joffrey's actions as a means to assert dominance over those beneath him" caster states, a shadow passes over his face and he lets out a weary sigh. Tyrion takes a deep swig from the wineskin, "You know Nephew.. Even my father has come to trust you implicitly.. He wouldn't have allowed you to put down that minor rebellion in the Westerlands when you were merely fourteen if he didn't" he says, his eyes narrowing as he regards his nephew. Caster nods with his expression somber, "Aye.. That was no easy task.. But it had to be done.. That foolish young Lord thought they could challenge the might of Casterly Rock.. They underestimated the resolve of House Lannister" he says with a shake of head, a flicker of disgust crossing his features.
"You led men into battle at such a young age" jon says, listening intently and his brow furrowed.
"I did.. My grandfather believed it was time for me to prove my worth.. To show that I was more than just a spare heir" caster replies, his tone matter-of-fact.
"Leave it to my father to send a boy into the fray.. All in the name of preserving the family legacy" tyrion says, letting out a dry chuckle.
"I thank him for it as it allowed me to gain the first of my rangers.. Bors.. Dagonet and Arthur.. They were mere foot soldiers at the time but their unwavering loyalty and skill in battle caught my eye" caster says, nodding and his expression hardening.
"They must be more than just loyal men" jon says, intrigued and leans forward.
"Aye they are.. They are bound to me by a code of honor.. Sworn to lay down their lives for mine if need be.. In return I treat them as equals.. Valuing their council and trusting them implicitly" caster affirms with a hint of pride in voice. Tyrion takes another swig from the wineskin, "My nephew has always had a knack for inspiring loyalty in those around him.. It's a trait that will serve him well in the years to come" he says, his eyes gleaming with amusement.
"And you dear uncle.. Have a knack for finding humor in even the most serious of situations" caster says, shooting his uncle a wry look.
"What can I say.. Laughter is the only weapon in my arsenal against the follies of the world" tyrion said, letting out a bark of laughter. Jon watches the exchange between the uncle and nephew, "And what of these rangers now" he says, a slight furrow creasing his brow.
"Yes.. My rangers currently number seven.. Though they are accompanied by a contingent of ten men-at-arms" caster replies and pauses for a moment, "You should see them in action Jon.. They are truly a force to be reckoned with on the battlefield" he adds, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
"Indeed.. I've witnessed their prowess firsthand. A group of seven seasoned warriors.. Each one handpicked by my dear nephew for their exceptional skills and unwavering devotion" tyrion says with a chuckle, taking another swig from the wineskin.
"And the other four.. How did they come to join your ranks" jon says with his brow furrowed and his curiosity piqued.
"The first is Sylvie.. An Essosi shield maiden from the Free Cities.. Her fierce loyalty is unwavering" casters and his expression thoughtful but pauses, "She's saved my life on more than one occasion.. Deflecting blades that would have otherwise found their mark" he adds, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
"Ah yes.. I can see the appeal in having such a deadly beauty at your side" tyrion says, nodding and taking another swig from the wineskin.
"Then there's Ulthor.. A man rivaling Gregor Clegane in size and strength.. His prowess in battle is unquestionable and his loyalty is steadfast.. He's a formidable ally to have at one's back" caster says, shooting his uncle a reproachful look.
"You have a man as fearsome as the Mountain in your ranks" jon says, his eyes widening slightly at the mention of the mountain's name.
"Aye.. But Ulthor is no mindless brute" caster affirms with a shift of his weight.
"And let's not forget the skilled archer Gawain.. I've seen him split an arrow from two hundred paces with nary a waver in his aim" tyrion says, letting out a soft chuckle.
"Indeed Gawain's marksmanship is unparalleled.. His arrows have felled many a foe and his keen eye has saved us from ambushes on more than one occasion." caster says, nodding in agreement.
"And the last one you mentioned" jon asks, his respect for caster's rangers growing with each description.
"My half-sister Mya Stone.. A fierce warrior in her own right and one of the few I can truly trust with my life" caster says, a hint of fondness crept into his expression.
"Stone?!.. Is she a Bastard then" jon says, his brow furrowed at the mention of the surname stone.
"Aye she is.. My father's baseborn daughter from one of his many indiscretions" caster affirms, his expression remaining neutral.
"As I've said before.. My nephew doesn't care about one's origins.. Only their skill and heart" tyrion said as he leans back, taking a swig from the wineskin.
"Yes.. Mya may be a bastard but she carries herself with the pride of a true Baratheon" caster says with a hint of pride in his expression.
"My dear sister is appalled to know that her trueborn son keeps such close company with a baseborn daughter" tyrion says with a soft chuckle.
"Mya's loyalty is unwavering and I trust her implicitly" caster says, shooting his uncle a warning glance before turning back to jon.
"As you should.. In times of strife.. It is not a one's name or lineage that matters but the content of their character" tyrion interjects, taking another swig from the wineskin.
"It seems you've surrounded yourself with a formidable group of warriors.. Your.. Gra-Caster" jon says, nodding slowly and his respect for caster's rangers growing with each word.
"Aye.. That I have.. Each one of them has proven their worth time and time again.. They are more than just my men.. They are my brothers and sisters in arms.. My trusted companions" caster says, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
"To your Lion's Fury then.. May their blades stay sharp and their loyalty unwavering" tyrion says, raising the wineskin in a mock toast. Caster lets out a soft chuckle and his eyes gleaming with amusement, "Aye.. To my Rangers.. You'll understand the importance of having trusted allies by your side.. Once you take your vows and don the black cloak" he says and turns to jon, his expression growing more somber. Jon nods and his brow furrowed in contemplation as the night's watch is a brotherhood but could he truly trust the men he would be sworn to serve alongside. Men like the ragged recruits, bound and untied, their crimes a dark stain on their souls.
-XXX-
The journey to castle black has been long and arduous, the bitter cold seeping into their bones with each passing day. Yet as they crest the final hill and laid eyes upon the towering expanse of the wall but jon couldn't help but feel a sense of awe wash over him.
"Seven Hells.. I've heard tales of the Wall but I never imagined it would be so... Massive" one of the recruits mutters, his breath forming a misty cloud in the frigid air. Jon couldn't agree more as the sheer scale of the ancient fortification is staggering, its icy ramparts seeming to stretch endlessly in both directions, a towering barrier against the unknown dangers that lurked beyond.
"Well here I am" jon murmurs to himself, his voice nearly carried away by the biting wind. He has dreamed of this moment for so long, of taking the sacred vows and becoming a sworn brother of the night's watch. And yet as he gazes upon the imposing gates of castle black, a flicker of doubt creeps into his mind and one is caster's voice. Jon's jaw tightens as he considers the gravity of the vows he is about to take. A lifetime of service, of guarding the realms of men against the perils that lay beyond the wall.
"Open the gates!.. The Night's Watch has fresh recruits!" benjen's voice rings out, snapping jon from his reverie. The massive gates of castle black creak open and revealing a bustling courtyard beyond. Jon could make out the stern faces of the night's watch brothers, their dark cloaks billowing in the wind as they go about their duties.
"Move along you lot.. Get off your horses and form a line.. The Lord Commander will want to see you" one of the brothers barks, his voice gruff and authoritative. Jon swings down from his mount, his boots crunching in the snow-dusted ground. He falls into line with the other recruits, his gaze sweeping over the grim faces that surround him. Some appear hardened and world-weary, while others bare the haunted look of men who have seen and endured far too much. Jon couldn't help but feel a sense of trepidation creeping into his heart as they were led into the heart of castle black. These were the men he would be swear to serve alongside, to trust with his life but could he truly find brotherhood among such a disparate group or would the weight of their pasts forever separate them.
"What am I doing" jon thought, casting a final glance over his shoulder at the towering expanse of the wall. The recruits were ushered into the main hall of castle black, where a grizzled man stands waiting and his weathered face etched with lines of experience. Jon recognizes him as Lord Commander Jeor Mormont, the venerable leader of the night's watch. Jeor's steely gaze sweeps over the assembled recruits and his eyes narrowing slightly, "Welcome to Castle Black.. You stand before me as strangers but soon you will be brothers.. Sworn to the ancient order of the Night's Watch" he begins, his voice carrying a weight of authority.
"The vows you will take are for life.. Once you don the black cloak.. There is no turning back.. You will forsake all Lands.. Titles.. Claims and devote yourselves wholly to the defense of the realms of men" jeor adds, allowing his words to sink in before continuing. Jon's jaw tightens as he listens intently, his heart pounding in his chest and this was the moment he has been waiting for and the culmination of his dreams.
"Many of you have led lives of crime and dishonor.. But here.. Your pasts will be forgotten.. The Night's Watch offers you a chance at redemption.. A chance to find purpose and honor in service to the realm" jeor continues, his gaze sweeping over the ragged recruits. Caster watches off to the side from jon and the recruits but his eyes drift to the lord commander with a keen interest. Though he has no intention of taking the vows himself but he couldn't help but respect the weight of the commitment these men were about to undertake.
"You will guard the realms of men against the perils that lurk beyond the Wall.. Wildlings.. White Walkers and whatever else may lurk in the frozen wastelands.. This is no easy task and many before you have given their lives in its pursuit" jeor declares, his voice ringing with conviction. A hush falls over the hall with the recruits exchanging uneasy glances at the mention of white walkers, creatures of legend but also beings of myth and nightmare.
"White Walkers?!.. Surely the old bear doesn't believe in such tales" tyrion says, leaning close to his nephew.
"Who's to say what lurks beyond the Wall Uncle.. Perhaps there are truths yet to be discovered in those frozen lands" caster says, his expression thoughtful.
"The Night's Watch is a brotherhood unlike any other.. Here you will find purpose.. Honor and a chance to make something of yourselves.. But make no mistake.. The road ahead will be fraught with hardship and sacrifice" jeor continues with his voice carrying a weight of conviction, "You will take your vows in a few days.. Swearing your lives to the Watch.. Until then.. You begin training under the watchful eye of Ser Alliser Thorne.. Our Master-at-Arms" he adds, his gaze sweeping over the assembled recruits and his eyes narrowing slightly. At the mention of thorne's name does a murmur ripple through the recruits, some exchanging uneasy glances. Jon has heard whispers of the man's reputation of a stern taskmaster, unforgiving and merciless in his training.
"Ser Alliser.. If you would" jeor says, gesturing to the hawk-faced man standing nearby. Thorne steps forward and his cold eyes appraising the recruits with thinly veiled disdain, "Aye Lord Commander.. I'll whip these sorry lot into shape.. Never you worry" he drawls, his voice laced with a hint of contempt.
"Charming fellow isn't he" tyrion says, leaning closer and a wry smile tugging at his lips.
"Better him than me Uncle.. I'd have half of them soiling their britches within the first hour" caster says, his expression inscrutable. Jon couldn't help but tense as thorne's piercing gaze sweeps over him and the master-at-arms' lip curling into a sneer, "You boy.. You're Eddard Stark's Bastard aren't you" he barks, pointing a calloused finger at jon.
"I am Ser" jon says, refusing to be cowed and holding thorne's gaze.
"Well.. Let's see if you've got the fortitude to match that pretty face or if you're just another pampered lordling playing at being a man of the Watch" thorne said, letting out a derisive snort. Caster's brow furrows slightly at thorne's words but he remains silent, observing the exchange with a keen interest.
"Careful Ser Alliser.. You wouldn't want to come across as too fond of the boy" tyrion says, unable to resist a quip.
"Mind your tongue Lannister.. Or I'll have it cut out and fed to the dogs" alliser says, his face contorting into a mask of contempt. Caster steps forward with his expression hardening, "You would do well to watch your words Ser Alliser.. My uncle may be a dwarf but he is still a Lannister of Casterly Rock.. Show him the respect he is due" he warns, his tone low and dangerous. Thorne's eyes narrow but he said nothing and merely offers a curt nod before turning back to the recruits, "Enough of this prattling.. You lot are here to train.. Not to engage in idle chatter.. Grab your gear and report to the yard.. We'll see what you're made of" he growls, turning on his heels. Jon catches caster's eye as the recruits began to disperse, offering a subtle nod of gratitude. The second prince returns the gesture with a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his lips.
"Well this promises to be entertaining.. Does it not Nephew" tyrion says, being ever the jester and couldn't resist one final quip.
"Come Uncle.. Let us speak with the Lord Commander" caster says, shooting his uncle a reproachful glance but there was a hint of amusement in his eyes. The two make their way through the bustling courtyard, weaving past gruff-looking brothers of the night's watch as they go about their duties. Tyrion couldn't help but take in the sights and sounds of the ancient fortress, his keen eyes missing nothing.
"A grim place.. I can see why men would choose the knife over such a fate" tyrion murmurs, his gaze sweeping over the towering walls and icy ramparts.
"The Night's Watch is an honorable order Uncle.. These men guard the realms of men against the perils that lurk beyond the Wall" caster says, his expression impassive and tyrion lets out a derisive snort. They arrive at the lord commander's solar, where jeor sits behind a sturdy oak desk with his weathered face etched with lines of experience.
"Lord Commander" caster greets with a respectful nod.
"It's not every day we get the Second Prince of the Seven Kingdoms" jeor begins with his steely gaze on caster, "And Lord Tyrion Lannister... To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit" he adds gruffly.
"Curiosity mostly.. My nephew and I couldn't help but be intrigued by your tales of White Walkers and the perils that lurk beyond the Wall" tyrion says, a hint of mischief dancing in his mismatched eyes. Mormont's expression hardens and he leans back in his chair, "You would do well to take such tales seriously my Lords.. The Night's Watch has guarded the realms of men for thousands of years and we have seen things that would chill the blood of even the bravest men" he rumbles, regarding the dwarf with a measured gaze. Caster shoots his uncle a warning glance before turning his attention to jeor, "Forgive my uncle's skepticism Lord Commander.. We are merely curious to learn more about the challenges faced by the Night's Watch" he said smoothly.
"The wildlings are a constant threat to be sure.. They raid our villages.. Steal our livestock and kill any who stand in their way.. But there are darker things that lurk in the frozen wastelands.. Ancient evils that have haunted the Night's Watch for centuries" jeor admits, his gaze softening and a weary escaping his lips.
"What sort of ancient evils pray tell" tyrion says, his brow furrowed and his curiosity piqued. Jeor fixes the dwarf with a stern look, "The White Walkers for one.. Beings of ice and malice.. Capable of raising the dead to serve their unholy armies" he says with a pause, allowing his words to sink in. A heavy silence hangs in the air, broken only by the crackling of the fire in the hearth. Caster regards the lord commander with a newfound sense of respect and his expression thoughtful, "And you believe these White Walkers pose a threat to the realms of men" caster asks, his voice measured.
"Aye I do.. But our numbers dwindle with each passing year... If the White Walkers were to breach the Wall.. There would be none to stop them from sweeping across the lands.. Bringing death and destruction in their wake" jeor says, his jaw tightening and nodding grimly.
"Well Lord Commander.. It seems you have your work cut out for you" tyrion says after a low whistle, his expression one of grudging respect.
"If there is any assistance House Lannister and Baratheon can provide.. I will ask my Father and Grandfather.. We would be remiss not to offer our support in such a noble endeavor" caster offers, while shooting his uncle a reproachful glance. Jeor regards the young prince with an appraising look and a hint of surprise flickering across his weathered features, "Your offer is appreciated Prince Caster.. But the Night's Watch must stand on its own.. As it has for generations" he said after a moment.
"As you wish Lord Commander.. But know that I will find a way to offer support and it shall remain present.. Should you ever have need of it" caster says, his expression one of understanding.
"Your words are duly noted.. My Prince.. Now if you'll excuse me.. I have duties to attend to" jeor says, inclining his head in acknowledgment and a hint of respect in his eyes. Caster and tyrion take their leave, stepping back into the bustling courtyard of castle black but as they make their way through the throngs of black-cloaked brothers. Caster couldn't help but notice the intensity with which ser alliser is drilling the new recruits.
"Look at him.. One might think he derives pleasure from tormenting those poor souls" tyrion mutters, his eyes narrowing as they watches thorne bark orders at a group of exhausted recruits. Caster makes a note to himself to keep an on this as they find a room to bed down. About three days pass as caster observes the inner-working of the night's watch and learns a few things but through his observing notices alliser thorne's harsh treatment of jon.
"Is that the best you can do Bastard.. No wonder your father shipped you off to the Watch.. You could never bring honor to the Stark name" thorne sneers, circling jon like a vulture and his voice laced with disdain as he berates the boy for the slightest misstep. Jon's jaw clenches but he remains silent, his eyes fixed straight ahead as he endures thorne's scathing words.
"Leave him be Ser Alliser.. He's doing his best.. Same as the rest of us" one of the other recruits speaks up, his voice tinged with defiance. Thorne whirls on the recruit and his face contorting into a mask of fury, "Did I ask for your input Rast?!.. Or do you fancy yourself a leader among this sorry lot of rapers and thieves" he spits, stalking toward the man menacingly. Rast shrinks back with his bravado dissipating in the face of thorne's wrath.
"Such cruelty serves no purpose.. It breeds resentment and mistrust.. Not the brotherhood the Night's Watch is supposed to represent" caster murmurs, his expression one of disgust.
"Since when has the Night's Watch been about brotherhood nephew.. From what I've seen.. It's a dumping ground for society's unwanted.. Criminals.. Bastards and those seeking to escape their pasts" tyrion says, standing next to caster and letting out a derisive snort. Caster's brow furrows his gaze fixed on jon as he endures thorne's relentless barrage of insults, "Perhaps.. But even the most hardened souls can find purpose and redemption in service to a higher cause" he concedes, his eyes narrowing.
"If you say so nephew" tyrion says, his expression one of skepticism.
"Come on Snow!.. Surely you can do better than that!.. Or are you as weak and useless as the rest of your bastard brood" thorne shouts, laced with derision. Caster's brow furrows as he watches jon struggle against his sparring partner, his movements growing increasingly sloppy as fatigue set in.
"Enough!" caster calls out, his voice cutting through the din like a blade. All eyes turn toward him, the recruits freezing in their tracks as the young baratheon strides forward. Thorne's lip curl into a sneer as he regards caster, "Lord Baratheon.. It seem you have some of your Father's Bluster" thorne drawls, his tone dripping with disdain. Caster's gaze is steely as he meets thorne's contemptuous stare, "I do Ser Alliser and his Temper" he replies, his voice calm but tinged with authority.
"How about you show the recruits your skill with the sword Lord Baratheon.. Unless you're afraid to face a mere Master-at-Arms" thorne challenges, his eyes gleaming with contempt. Caster's expression remains impassive but there is a glint of determination in his eyes, "Very well Ser Alliser" he replies, his voice steady. He turns to the recruits as they were watching the exchange with a mixture of trepidation and curiosity, "Give us room" caster commands, his tone brooking no argument. The recruits hurry to comply, forming a loose circle around the training area. Jon watches with bated breath, his heart pounding in his chest. He heard tales of caster's prowess with a blade from tyrion on their way here but to witness it firsthand is an opportunity he couldn't pass up.
"This should be entertaining.. A noble lord playing at swordplay" thorne sneers with his sword already drawn in the makeshift ring. Caster unclips the heavy cloak to keep him warm and unsheathes red dawn in a fluid motion, the steel hissing as it left its scabbard. The unnatural looking blade causes many of the recruits to murmur amongst themselves. Thorne launches his attack without warning, his blade slashing in a vicious arc but caster is ready and parries the blow with ease, his movements swift and precise. The two men trade strikes and parries, their swords clashing with a rhythmic intensity. Caster's footwork is impeccable with his movements fluid and graceful, belying his training with the likes of barristan the bold and his uncle. Thorne is for all his bluster, a skilled swordsman in his own right that served the former king and his house faithfully. He presses the attack relentlessly, his blade a blur of steel as he seek to overwhelm caster with sheer aggression.
"Amazing" a few recruits thought, as caster remains resolute and his defense impenetrable. He seems to them, anticipating thorne's every move with his counterattacks precise and lightning-fast. The recruits watch in awe with their eyes wide as they witness the display of swordsmanship unfold before them. Even jon is captivated by the grace and skill exhibited by caster. Thorne's face is flush with exertion and finally steps back while his chest heaves, "Enough!.. I concede.. You are a skilled swordsman Lord Baratheon" he growled, his eyes narrowed.
"And you Ser Alliser are a capable warrior.. But your methods of training these recruits leave much to be desired" caster acknowledges, lowering his blade and his expression unreadable.
"These men are criminals and lowborns.. They require a firm hand.. Lest they forget their place" throne says, bristling at the implied criticism.
"These men have sworn themselves to the Night's Watch.. They deserve to be treated with respect.. Not subjected to endless bereavement and humiliation" caster said, his gaze hardening while sheathing red dawn. The recruits exchange furtive glances with their expressions a mix of surprise and cautious hope.
"And what would you have me do my Lord.. Coddle them like babes.. They're not here for comfort.. They're here to become men of the Night's Watch" throne says, his lips curling in disdain.
"These men will fight and die for the Watch.. Side by side.. They must learn to trust one another and forge bonds of brotherhood" caster replies evenly and pauses, "How can they do that when you treat them with such contempt Ser Alliser.. When you single out one among them for endless torment and scorn" he adds, his gaze sweeping over the recruits. Jon's brow furrows as he realizes caster is referring to him as he has endured thorne and others' cruelty in silence but to have the second prince of the seven kingdoms publicly denounce the master-at-arms' treatment of him is almost surreal. Thorne's face is flush with anger but holds his tongue, seeming to realize that any further outburst would only undermine his authority further.
"I will speak with the Lord Commander about this.. The Night's Watch cannot afford to breed division and mistrust within its ranks.. Not with the threats that lurk beyond the Wall" caster says, sweeping his warm cloak around his form and his expression resolute. He turns on his heels and strides away, leaving a seething thorne and a group of stunned recruits in his wake. The silence that follows is thick with tension, the recruits exchanging furtive glances as they try to process what has just transpired. Jon's brow furrows as he finds himself gravitating towards the stables, seeking a moment of solitude to gather his thoughts. The familiar scent of hay and horses envelope him as jon lets out a weary sigh while running a hand through his dark curls, his mind replaying the events of the training yard over and over again.
"Jon" a voice says and jon whirls around, startled and sees caster with an inscrutable expression.
"Your Gra-Caster" jon acknowledges, inclining his head respectfully.
"You've endured much at the hands of Ser Alliser" caster said, his tone even and his gaze steady.
"It's nothing I can't handle" jon says, averting his gaze and his jaw tightening.
"Perhaps.. But a man should not have to endure such cruelty from those who are meant to guide and teach him" caster concedes, moving closer and his arms folded.
"Is this not what the Night's Watch is about.. Hardship and sacrifice" jon says with his brow furrowed and lifts his gaze to meet caster's.
"Aye.. The Night's Watch demands much of its brothers.. Ser Alliser's actions undermine the very brotherhood the Watch is meant to embody" caster acknowledges and his expression softening slightly. Jon falls silent while mulling over caster's words as he has heard tales of the night's watch since he was a boy, of the noble order that guards the realms of men against the perils that lurked beyond the wall. But the reality he has encountered thus far was far from what he had envisioned.
"Is this not what you believed the Night's Watch to be" caster asks, his gaze piercing.
"I'm not sure what I believed.. I only knew that I wanted to be a part of something greater than myself.. To find purpose and honor in service to the realm" jon admits, while hesitating.
"And yet the reality you've encountered thus far has fallen short of those ideals" caster muses, his eyes betraying a hint of understanding.
"Aye.. Ser Alliser's treatment of the recruits.. Myself included" jon says, nodding and his jaw tightening.
"Which is why I again extend the offer to join my Rangers Jon.. Become one of my trusted companions.. A sworn brother in all but name" caster says, his expression growing more pensive. Jon feels a surge of emotion well up within him of a mix of pride and trepidation as the second prince of the seven kingdoms would honor a bastard like him with such a position.
"I... I'm honored... But... I... I need more time to consider this" jon stammers, his voice thick with humility. Caster nods with his expression understanding, "Of course.. This is no small decision and one not to be made lightly.. Speak to your Uncle Benjen.. He knows the ways of the Night's Watch better than most.. Seek his counsel and then decide the path that feels true to your heart" caster says, while placing a hand on jon's shoulder and his gaze steady. With that does caster turn and stride out of the stables, leaving jon to his thoughts. The young stark bastard stands there for a long moment, his mind whirling as he had come to the wall with a singular purpose. To join the ancient order of the night's watch and find meaning in a life of service but now there is caster's offer, opening up a new path and one that promises honor but purpose of a different kind.
"I need to find Uncle Benjen" jon thought with resolve, making his way through the bustling courtyard of castle black and his eyes scanning the throngs of black-cloaked brothers until he spots his uncle.
"Uncle Benjen!" jon calls out, quickening his pace. Benjen turns with his weathered face breaking into a warm smile as he catches sight of his nephew, "Jon.. I was just about to head out with the Rangers.. What's on your mind" he greets, clasping the young man's forearm in a firm grip.
"Uncle.. I... I've been offered a chance to join Caster Baratheon's group the Lion's Fury.. To serve alongside him as one of his trusted companions" jon said with slight hesitation.
"The young Prince has taken an interest in you it seems.. That's no small honor Jon" benjen muses, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise.
"Aye.. But... To turn my back on the Night's Watch.. The sacred vows I came here to take... It feels almost sacrilegious..." jon trails off, uncertainty clouding his expression. Benjen regards his nephew for a long moment with his gaze contemplative, "The Night's Watch is an honorable order Jon.. But it is not the only path to finding purpose and honor in this world" he said finally and places a hand on jon's shoulder, "You are a Stark through and through.. No matter what name you bear.. The blood of the First Men runs strong in your veins and with it comes a sense of duty and honor that few can match" he adds, his expression earnest. Jon listens intently with his eyes fixed on his uncle's weathered features, "Caster Baratheon is a young man of great promise.. If he sees something in you.. Something worthy of his trust and loyalty.. Then it is a testament to your character Jon" benjen continues, having heard some stories about the second son of king robert.
"Follow your heart lad.. Whether it leads you to the Night's Watch or to the ranks of Caster's rangers.. Know that you walk a path of honor and sacrifice" benjen finishes, giving his nephew's shoulder a gentle squeeze. Jon feels a weight lift from his shoulders as benjen's words resonate deep within him and he nods with a newfound sense of clarity settling over him.
"Thank you Uncle.. I... I know what I must do" jon said, his voice thick with emotion.
"Then go forth Jon Snow and make your mark on this world.. Whatever path you choose" benjen says with a smile, a glint of pride in his eyes. With a final embrace do the two men part ways and jon's steps feeling lighter, his mind clear and resolved. He would seek out caster and pledge his sword to his cause, joining the ranks of his elite rangers and finding purpose in a life of service unlike any he had imagined.
-XXX-
The next day does jon find himself standing before the lord commander's solar, his heart pounding in his chest. Beside him is caster with his expression calm and resolute.
"Enter" came the gruff voice of jeor. Jon takes a deep breath and pushes open the door, stepping into the dimly lit room. The lord commander sits behind his desk, his weathered face etched with lines of experience.
"Lord Commander" caster greets with a respectful nod.
"Prince Caster.. Snow.. What brings you both before me" jeor says, his steely gaze flicking between the two young men.
"Lord Commander.. I have made an offer to Jon Snow.. One that I believe will serve both him and the Night's Watch well" caster explains, his posture straight and unwavering.
"Go on" jeor says, his brow furrowed and leaning back in his chair.
"I have asked Jon to join my personal guard.. The Lion's Fury.. To serve as one of my trusted men" caster explains, glancing to jon and back to jeor. A heavy silence hangs in the air, broken only by the crackling of the fire in the hearth and jon's heart races as his palms grow damp with anticipation.
"And what of the vows you intend to take Snow.. The Night's Watch is a brotherhood and a sacred order" jeor asks, his gaze fixed on jon. The young bastard swallows hard with his throat suddenly dry, "I know Lord Commander.. And I have given this decision much thought.. Even seeking counsel from my Uncle Benjen" jon said, his voice steady despite his nerves and pauses
"The Night's Watch is an honorable order.. One that I came here to serve with pride.. But Lord Caster has offered me a chance to find purpose and honor in a different way.. To serve alongside men of valor and integrity" jon adds, after gathering his thoughts.
"And you trust this boy Lord Baratheon.. You would place your life in his hands" jeor asks, his gaze shifting to caster and his expression inscrutable.
"I do Lord Commander.. Jon Snow may be young but he possesses a strength of character and a sense of honor that few men his age can match" caster replies, meeting the lord commander's stare unflinchingly.
"You speak highly of him Lord Baratheon.. And I trust your judgment in such matters" jeor says, a hint of respect flickered across his features as he regards the young prince.
"Snow you came to Castle Black seeking to join the Night's Watch.. To take the sacred vows that bind our brotherhood together.. To turn your back on that path is no small decision" jeor continues, his attention turning back to jon and his expression growing somber.
"I know Lord Commander.. And it is not a decision I have made lightly.. But I feel that serving alongside Lord Caster as one of his Rangers.. Will allow me to find purpose and honor in a different way.. One that is true to my heart" jon says with a nod and his jaw set with determination.
"Very well Jon Snow.. If this is the path you have chosen.. Then I will not stand in your way" jeor says, letting out a weary sigh after regarding jon for a long moment with his gaze piercing.
"Thank you Lord Commander" jon says, inclining his respectfully with relief washing over him as a weight leaves his shoulders.
"Go then.. And may your service to Prince Caster be as honorable as the one you would have given to the Night's Watch" jeor says, waving a dismissive hand.
"Lord Baratheon" jeor says, as jon and caster turn to leave. The young prince pauses and glances over his shoulder, "Protect the realms of men in whatever path you walk.. For the Night's Watch may dwindle but the threats beyond the Wall remain ever-present" jeor said, his voice carrying a weight of conviction.
"You have my word Lord Mormont.. The safety of the realms will always be my priority" caster says and meets met the lord commander's gaze, his expression solemn. With a final nod do the two young men take their leave, stepping out into the bustling courtyard of castle black. Jon feel a sense of relief and anticipation wash over him, a new chapter of his life unfolding before him. Caster turns to jon with a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips, "Welcome to the Rangers Jon Snow" caster said, clasping the young man's forearm in a firm grip.
-XXX-
Around midday caster and tyrion find themselves atop the massive wall with jon accompanying them. The young stark bastard gazes out in awe at the vast expanse of frozen wilderness that stretches before them and the icy winds whipping at their cloaks.
"Seven Hells.. It's as if the Gods themselves have fashioned a barrier to keep the world of men separate from whatever lurks beyond" tyrion mutters, his mismatched eyes squinting against the glare of the sun on the snow.
"Aye Uncle.. The Wall stands as a testament to the courage and resilience of those who came before us.. A Bulwark against the unknown dangers that lie in the frozen north" caster says with a nod, his expression thoughtful. Jon's brow furrows as he scans the horizon with his eyes searching for any sign of movement, "What do you suppose is out there" he asked, his voice tinged with a mix of trepidation and curiosity.
"Wildlings most like.. Savage brutes who live like animals or so we're told" tyrion says, letting out a derisive snort.
"The wildlings are a proud people Uncle with their own customs and traditions.. We would do well not to dismiss them so readily" caster says, shooting his uncle a disapproving glance.
"Aye and they're also known for their proclivity for raiding and pillaging.. But by all means.. Let us reserve judgment until they've had a chance to slit our throats and make off with our valuables" tyrion counters, his tone sardonic.
"There's more to it than that surely.. The Night's Watch has guarded the realms of men against something far more sinister than mere wildlings for thousands of years" jon says with a shake of his head, his gaze still fixed on the vast expanse of white before them.
"Indeed and the Weirwood trees seem to call to me.. There is an ancient power in their roots, a connection to the old Gods that I feel compelled to seek out" caster said, his voice carrying a hint of reverence.
"Not me I'm afraid.. I'll leave the communing with nature to you and your ranger Nephew.. Give me a good book and a flagon of wine and I'll be content" tyrion says while raising an eyebrow, regarding his nephew with a mix of amusement and skepticism.
"Always the cynic Uncle.. But very well I shall indulge my curiosities alone" caster says with a chuckle, shaking his head. Jon watches the exchange with a furrowed brow, his mind grappling with the implications of caster's words. The weirwood trees hold a sacred significance in the old ways, a connection to the ancient religions that had once dominated the north.
"You believe there is truth to the old legends.. That the weirwood trees hold some deeper power or purpose" jon asks, his voice laced with curiosity. Caster's gaze drifts back to the vast expanse of frozen wilderness, "I cannot say for certain Jon.. But there are mysteries in this world that defy simple explanation.. Forces that have shaped our existence in ways we may never fully comprehend" he says, his expression growing contemplative. The next day caster and jon find themselves venturing beyond the wall, accompanying by a group of seasoned rangers from the night's watch on patrol. The air is crisp and biting, the icy winds whipping at their cloaks as they trek across the frozen expanse.
"Stay sharp lads.. These lands are treacherous and the wildlings are known to strike without warning" one of the rangers, a grizzled man named Edric calls out to his patrol. Jon nods with his hand resting on the hilt of his sword, his senses alert for any signs of danger. He couldn't help but steal glances at caster, marveling at the young lord's composure in the face of such harsh and unforgiving terrain. As they venture deeper into the forest, the trees grow dense and twisted, their branches gnarled and reaching like skeletal fingers towards the pale sky. Jon feels a shiver run down his spine, though whether it is from the biting cold or the eerie atmosphere. One of the rangers holds up a fist suddenly and signaling for the group to halt, "Hold" he hisses, his eyes narrowing as he scans the treeline.
"What is it?!" caster says, his gaze following the ranger's and his grip tightening on the hilt of his sword.
"Movement up ahead.. Could be wildlings or worse" the grizzled man says while shaking his head, his expression grim. Jon's heart races with his mind racing as the tales of the dangers that lurk beyond the wall, casting a sidelong glance at caster and noting the young lord's steely resolve.
"Stay close.. And be ready for anything" caster murmurs, his voice low. The scouts disperse into the woods, leaving caster and jon to continue their trek alone to the squire's shock. Jon could sense caster's focus shifting, an unseen force seeming to drawing him deeper into the forest.
"Caster?!.. They've left us" jon says, his brow furrowed with curiosity. Caster didn't respond with his gaze fixed on some unseen point in the distance. His steps quickened and his movements purposeful as he navigates through the twisted labyrinth of gnarled trees, no care for the scouts leaving them. Jon hurries to keep pace, his hand never straying far from the hilt of his sword. The eerie stillness of the forest is oppressive and he couldn't shake the feeling that they were being watched but suddenly. Caster comes to an abrupt halt with his eyes widening as he takes in the sight before them. In a small clearing, standing tall and imposing is a weirwood tree, its pale bark carved with intricate faces, its crimson leaves a stark contrast against the endless white of the snow. Caster's breath catches in his throat as he moves closer to the weirwood tree, like drawn by an unseen force. The air seems to crackle with energy and whispers dance on the wind, beckoning him forward.
"Jon.. Do you hear it" caster murmurs, his voice laced with awe.
"Hear what" jon says, his brow furrowed as he steps closer and straining to catch the faint whispers that caster seems to only hear. Caster didn't respond and his attention is wholly consumed by the ancient weirwood. He reaches out a tentative hand, his fingers brushing against the pale bark etched with faces that seems to come alive before his eyes. Suddenly does the bark crack and shift, revealing a strange but egg-shaped rock nestled within the heart of the tree. Caster gasps with his eyes widening as he tentatively reaches for the object, his fingers tracing its smooth surface.
"What is it?!" jon asks, his voice tinged with concern as he draws closer.
"I... I don't know.. But it's calling to me and beckoning me to unlock its secrets" caster says, shaking his head and his expression one of wonder and bewilderment. Jon's hand instinctively keeps his hand on the hilt of his sword, "Be cautious Caster.. We know not what dangers lurk in these ancient woods" he says, his senses on high alert. Caster's gaze remains transfixed on the strange rock, "There is power here Jon.. A connection to the old Gods and to the very fabric of this world" he murmurs, his fingers gently caressing its surface. Suddenly there is the crunching of snow echoing through the clearing and caster whip around, his hand going for his sword. Jon tenses beside him with his own weapon drawn as they face the newcomers. Two figures emerge from the shadows of the trees, their features obscured by thick furs and hoods. One is a woman with her movements lithe and graceful, while the other is a man with a shock of fiery red hair and a beard to match.
"Wildlings" jon hisses, his grip tightening on the hilt of his sword.
"Well Crows.. All alone are you" the woman says first, her voice carrying a lilting accent. The man steps forward with his eyes narrowing as he catches sight of the strange rock cradled in caster's hands, "Found Something interesting.. Did ya Crows?!" he calls out, his voice gruff and laced with a hint of mockery. The woman beside him fixes caster and jon with a scrutinizing gaze while her eyes narrow beneath the furs that frame her face, "They don't look like normal crows Tormund" she observes, her tone measured. Caster straightens and holds the strange rock against his chest as he regards the wildlings with a calm demeanor, "I am not a man of the Night's Watch.. I am Caster Baratheon.. The second prince and son of King Robert Baratheon" he states, his voice clear and unwavering. The wildling woman's eyes widen slightly at caster's declaration but tormund lets out a gruff chuckle, "A prince ya say.. And what's a fancy lad like yourself doing out here in the frozen wilds" he said with a scoff, his bushy eyebrows arching in amusement. Jon tenses beside caster and his sword still gripped tightly in his hand, "We mean you no harm.. We were simply exploring these ancient woods.. Seeking knowledge of the Old Gods" he said, his tone cautious but even. Tormund lets out a boisterous laugh and his bushy beard quivering with mirth, "Can ya fight little prince?!.. Or are ya more accustomed to having others do yer battling for ya" he taunts, his eyes glinting with amusement. Caster's gaze narrows with his grip tightening around the strange rock, "I can fight.. And I would be more than willing to demonstrate my skill against you Wildling" he states, his voice tinged with steel. The woman beside tormund tenses, her hand instinctively moving towards the hunting knife at her belt but tormund seems unfazed by caster's challenge, his lips curling into a broad grin.
"Is that so?!.. Well then.. How about we make this interesting?!" tormund rumbles, his eyes alight with curiosity. Jon shoots caster a warning glance and his brow furrowed with concern, "Perhaps we should exercise caution" he murmured, his eyes moving between tormund and the wildling woman.
"What did you have in mind Wildling?!" caster says, his attention fixed on tormund.
"A wager prince.. You and me in the ancient ways.. If ya win.. Me and the woman here.. We'll swear our weapons to ya and serve ya" tormund says, his grin widening and he gestures around them with a sweeping motion of his arm.
"But if I win.. Yer life is mine to take" tormund says and his eyes glinting with a hint of challenge. The woman beside him bristles with her eyes narrowing, "Tormund.. We cannot make such bargains with Crows" she hisses, her voice low and urgent but tormund waved her off.
"Well little prince?!.. Do ya have the stomach for such a wager" tormund says, his gaze locked on caster. The prince of the seven kingdom's gaze remaining fixed on tormund, a smile on his face and a glint of determination flickers in his eyes as he turns towards jon.
"Hold this for me Jon" caster said, handing the rock to jon before unfastening his cloak and draping it over a nearby branch. Jon's brow furrows with concern, "This is madness.. We know not the ways of these Wildlings.. Nor the dangers they might pose" he murmurs, cradling the rock in his hands. Caster's lips curves into a wider smile and a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes, "I've faced far greater dangers than these Wildlings Jon" he replies and his tone laced with confidence, "This one will be fun to fight" he adds, casting a sidelong glance at tormund and his gaze unwavering. Tormund lets out a boisterous laugh, "Interesting little prince ain't ya.. Let's see if ya can back up them big words of yours with steel" he says with a chuckle, shrugging off his own furs and tossing them aside. The woman beside tormund looks on with a mix of apprehension and curiosity, "Be careful Tormund.. This one is no mere prince" she warns, her hand resting on the hilt of her hunting knife and her voice low.
"Worry not Ygritte.. I'll have this princely lad on his knees before long and begging for mercy" tormund rumbles, waving her off dismissively as his eyes remaining locked on caster. Ygritte's brow furrows with concern as she has seen tormund in many a battle, his fearsome reputation well-earned. But there is something about this young prince that give her pause, a sense of quiet confidence and skill that belies his noble upbringing.
"Don't underestimate him Tormund.. He moves like a seasoned warrior and not some soft-handed prince" ygritte cautions, her voice low but laced with a hint of warning. Tormund lets out a boisterous laugh and his bushy beard quivering, "Aye.. He moves well enough.. But he's still just a green boy Ygritte.. I'll show him the true ways of the Wildlings.. Teach him what it means to bleed and fight for survival" he concedes, his eyes glinting with amusement. Caster's expression remains impassive as he drew his sword, the steel hissing as it left its scabbard. He fell into a defensive stance, his movements fluid and controlled, a testament to the countless hours of training he had endured. Tormund charges forward with a guttural roar, his massive axe gripped tightly in his calloused hands. The icy air whistles as the deadly blade cleaves through it, its razor-sharp edge glinting in the pale light of the frozen clearing. Caster braces himself with his sword at the ready as the wildling's ferocious assault bearing down upon him. The clash of steel against steel rings out like a thunderclap, the force of tormund's strike causing caster's arms to tremble. The young lord grunts with the effort, his feet sliding back in the snow as he parries the powerful blow.
"Not Bad" tormund says and presses his advantage, his axe whirling in a dizzying arc as he rains down a furious volley of strikes upon his foe. Caster's blade becomes a blur of motion, deflecting and parrying each savage attack with a fluidity born of countless hours of training. His footwork is impeccable, his body weaving and dodging with a dancer's grace, always keeping just out of reach of tormund's deadly axe. Jon watches with bated breath, his grip tightening around the strange rock as he witnesses the display of swordsmanship unfold before him. Caster's movements were graceful and precise but there is power behind it, each strike and counter a testament to his skill and training. Tormund with his brute strength and ferocity but finds himself hard-pressed to match the young lord's finesse but time and again does caster's blade slip past his defenses, nicking and cutting at his flesh. Ygritte's eyes widen as she watches caster weave and dance around tormund's relentless onslaught, his movements almost effortless in their fluidity. Tormund's frustration grows with each passing moment, his strikes becoming more reckless and desperate but a smile is only his face. Caster also has a smile on his face as he clashes with tormund, his blood pumping and finally tormund makes a mistake. The wildling lunges with his axe aiming for caster's heart but the young lord is ready, his movements swift and precise. In a blur of steel does caster deflect tormund's strike, his own blade lashing out in a vicious arc. The wildling lets out a grunting cry as caster's sword catches him across the chest, slicing through his furs and drawing some blood. He stumbles back with his eyes widening in disbelief as he clutches at the wound. Caster stands poised and composed with his blade at the ready, his breathing measured and controlled.
"Yield Wildling.. You've lost this fight" caster says, his voice steady and unwavering. Tormund's eyes narrow and he spits a mouthful of blood onto the snow as for a long moment, remains silent and his chest heaving a little exertion but laughs loudly.
"Aye little prince.. Ya bested me fair and square.. You know how to fight little prince" tormund concedes, dropping his blade into the snow. Ygritte's eyes were wide with amazement but steps forward and kneels before caster, "My bow is yours" she vows, her head bowed in submission.
"And mine as well little prince.. Ya fought like a true warrior and I'll be proud to call ya my leader" tormund adds, following suit and sinking to one knee with a wince of pain. Jon watches the scene unfold with a mixture of awe and disbelief, the strange rock still cradled in his hands. Caster has not only emerged victorious against a seasoned wildling warrior but he had also gained the allegiance of two formidable allies in the process. As caster sheathes his sword and retrieves his cloak, his gaze meets jon's with a hint of pride and satisfaction glinting in his eyes. The young stark bastard could only shake his head in wonder, marveling at the unexpected turn of events. It seems that caster baratheon's journey beyond the wall had yielded him many thing and the mysteries but challenges lay ahead were sure to test the mettle of even the bravest of men.