The Blue-Eyed Storm King

by champblaze

When he was born, a storm signaled his birth, but he was born the second son, the spare and he will grow into someone King worthy. Caster Baratheon will go by many names but his most famous will be The Blue-Eyed Storm King. OC Trueborn Son of Cersei and Robert. Timelines will be messed with. Cross posted on AO3

9. Chapter 8

AN-1: Hello Everyone and I am here with another chapter with Caster traveling out of Astapor with his Unsullied adding to his force of 2,500 plus. A few months will pass and soon a Golden Company comes knocking to claim a bounty on his head. This chapter probably be the whole battle and some fallout with a certain spider. I'll also be using what I think is Fan-theory concerning a member of the Golden Company. The next chapter will have Caster returning to Westeros right around Tyrion's trail or the exact time but Tommen won't be King yet, opening the door for Caster. Anyway I'm Rambling about things ahead. Read on and Kindly Review. Lastly Mr. E Guest, Caster returns in Chapter 9 as I said and will learn about his siblings.

"Speaking"

[..Pause ...Long Pause]

Disclaimer: I Own Nothing

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Chapter 8

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In the weeks that followed astapor has caster establishing a camp on the outskirts of Yunkai, far enough to avoid immediate conflict but close enough to keep the city within their sights. The unsullied were free for the first time in their lives and stand in perfect formation as caster walks among their ranks.

"You are no longer slaves!.. You are soldiers in my army but you are also free men.. Free to choose your own names, free to leave if that is your wish" caster announces, his voice carrying across the assembled warriors. Their eyes show a mixture of confusion and determination as freedom was a concept as foreign to them as the lands beyond Slaver's Bay.

"I need commanders.. Men who will lead their brothers in battle and in peace" caster continues, looking amongst the men as a few step forward. Among them is a lean and serious-faced unsullied who catches caster's attention with his unwavering gaze.

"What is your name" caster asks, studying the man before him.

"This one is called Red Flea" the soldier replies, his voice steady despite the unfamiliar situation.

"Not your slave name.. Choose a new one.. One that belongs only to you" caster says with a shake of his head.

"When this one was cut.. A grey worm was pulled from this one's body.. It brought good fortune.. The name Grey Worm gives this one pride" a second unsullied said, his expression thoughtful and caster thought for a moment.

"Grey Worm it is.. You will lead five hundred of your brothers.. I will have Missandei teach you and you fellow commander Common Tongue.. So we can better understand one another" caster said, nodding approvingly and grey worm nod with his fellow commanders. Grey worm proves himself not just capable but exceptional over the course of several weeks. His tactical mind and unwavering loyalty make him stand out among the other commanders caster has appointed. Together they train the unsullied not just in combat but in thinking for themselves, a skill deliberately stripped from them by their former masters. Missandei enjoys her newfound freedom but finds herself increasingly drawn not only into caster's inner circle but also to daenerys and the dragons that accompany them. She would often pause in her duties to watch daenerys' three small dragons tumble and play among the tents, their scales glittering like jewels in the sunlight. But it is belserion with her magnificent white scales and intelligent purple eyes, who truly captivates missandei.

"You can approach her.. She won't harm you" caster said one evening, noticing missandei watching belserion from a distance. Missandei steps closer to the white dragon with hesitant movement while belserion regards the former translator with curious eyes.

"She's beautiful" missandei whispers, extending a trembling hand and belserion lets missandei's fingers to brush against her scales.

"She likes you" caster said with a small smile. Time continues to pass as caster company of his lion's fury, second sons, sisters of battle and unsullied were a force of over ten thousand soldiers, making them a force rivaling the golden company. About a month or two travel from volantis finds caster in his tent with his commanders arthur, daario, grey worm, ashara, barristan and the sand snakes as the look over a large map spread before them.

"We're about two month's travel Volantis.. We'll further expand our ranks before returning to Tyrosh" caster announces, tracing the route with his finger.

"Volantis has a sizable force of slaves.. Perhaps we ply the measure we used in Astapor" arthur notes, his eyes studying the map intently and caster considers that possibility. Daario leans back in his chair with a characteristic smirk playing on his lips, "We left Tyrosh with twenty-five hundred men.. Now we return with over ten thousand.. The magisters will welcome us with open arms" he remarks, twirling his dagger between his fingers.

"We still have connections in Tyrosh.. As for plying what we did in Astapor.. I'm Good Master Yezzan has spread word of what we did.. Which can be Good and Bad.. But we also need to prepared for what's coming" caster said, his blue eyes serious.

"And what is coming" ashara asks, her dark hair falling over one shoulder. Caster's gaze sweeps over his commanders as his expression darkens slightly, "By now.. I'm sure my exploits have caught the notice of the Spider.. Varys has eyes and ears everywhere.. Even here in Essos" he said, his voice low but clear.

"If Lord Varys knows.. Then the Small Council knows and the King" barristan says, shifting uncomfortably at the mention of the master of whisperers.

"Yes.. Joffrey will not be happy that his younger brother has such a force at his command.. Ten thousand string and growing stronger by the day... It will not sit well with him" caster adds with a grim smile and drinks some wine.

"Let him be unhappy.. What can he do from across the Narrow Sea" obara said with casual dismissal, leaning against a tent pole.

"You underestimate Joffrey's pettiness.. And my mother's influence.. They won't strike directly but they might try to undermine us in other ways" caster says with a shake of his head as he leans back.

"Assassins" arthur suggests, his eyes narrowing at the thought.

"Possible.. Gold motivates people and the crown has plenty of it.. A bag of gold dragons can turn even the most loyal servant into a traitor" caster caster with his expression grave as he leans forward again and looking over the map, "The distance between us and Westeros won't deter them if they're determined enough" he adds, tracing path across the map with his finger from king's landing across the narrow sea to essos. Tyene shifts closer to caster with her hand brushed against his arm, a subtle gesture of protection and intimacy that did not go unnoticed by the others.

"Fear not my lion.. Joffrey has his focus on his war in the North.. The Starks and Stannis occupy his thoughts far more than his brother across the sea" tyene said with her voice soft yet edged with steel, "But we will remain vigilant.. No one will reach you without first going through all of us" she adds, meeting the eyes of each commander in turn and murmurs of agreement ripple through the gathering. Caster's expression softens slightly as he looks at tyene before his face returns to its serious demeanor, "For now.. We focus on heading to Volantis.. Whatever schemes my brother or mother might hatch.. They won't find us unprepared" he declares with his voice carrying the weight of command that is natural to him, "We move at first light.. Make the necessary preparations" he adds, his gaze sweeping across his commanders and all of them nod before dispersing.

-XxX-

Caster's massive army continues moving steadily across the harsh terrain of essos but caste spends many evenings watching belserion soar above their encampment, her white scales catching the dying sunlight. The dragon had grown remarkably with her wingspan now easily the length of three war horses placed nose to tail. She is no longer the hatchling that could fit comfortably on his shoulder or in tyene's arms, his thoughts theorize that she might be growing faster as a response to daenerys' three dragons.

"She'll perhaps be big enough to ride soon" daenerys said one evening as they both watch belserion dive through the clouds before landing gracefully near their camp, causing several nearby horses to whinny nervously. Caster nods with a small smile playing on his lips, "And to fight if needed" he says as they approach her he runs his hand along belserion's snout, her purple eyes intelligent and watchful. The dragon nuzzles against his palm with a low rumble of contentment emanating from her throat.

"I used to dream of it you know" daenerys starts softly, "Returning to Westeros with fire and blood.. Reclaiming what your family took from mine" she adds, her violet eyes reflecting the fading sunlight.

"And now" caster asks, his expression thoughtful rather than defensive.

"Now… Now that desire wanes with each passing day.. Riding among your company has settled me.. It feels different than what my brother Viserys taught me to want" daenerys says, looking across their vast encampment.

"We all find our own paths in the world Daenerys.. You don't have to be defined by the dreams of dead men or the ambitions they placed upon you" caster said with his voice gentle, "Perhaps instead of being Daenerys Targaryen.. Heir to a fallen dynasty.. You could simply be Daenerys Stormborn forging your own legacy" he adds, watching as belserion stretched her wings and the white scales catching the sunset's golden glow. She smiles at that with a genuine smile that reaches her eyes, "My own path" daenerys repeats, tasting the words.

"My Lion speaks wisely… You can find a place of your own with your three children" tyene says, as she approaches them and slipping an arm through caster's with her body warm against his side. Her eyes were on the smaller dragons playing in the distance.

"Children.. Yes I suppose they are" daenerys says, watching her dragons with sudden tenderness.

"Family doesn't always mean returning to what was lost.. Sometimes it means building something new" tyene says muses, squeezing his hand in her own.

"The most beautiful woman in the world speaks the truth" caster said softly, his voice carrying just enough for daenerys to hear as well. His blue eyes remains fixed on tyene's face, taking in the subtle blush that colors her cheeks at his words. Tyene's lips part slightly in surprise before curving into a genuine smile and leans closer against him.

"Flattery will get you everywhere my Lion" tyene whispers but the tenderness in her voice reveals how his words have touched her. Daenerys observe their exchange with a thoughtful expression, noting the way caster's typically guarded demeanor softens around the dornish woman. There is something powerful in witnessing such genuine affection amidst of all the planning and the weight of leadership. Time continues to pass as caster has daenerys sit in on his meeting with his commanders and learn more to forge her path. Also each day has belserion hunting farther and farther from their camps, returning with larger prey while daenerys' dragon try to match the white dragon's growth. The closer they get to volantis the more cautious caster grows as reports from villages they pass suggest increased tensions between the ruling triarchs. He decides to send his sister mya to scout ahead with the army remaining several days away from volantis. Mya departs with minimal supplies and dressed in plain traveling clothes that would attract no attention with only caster seeing her off.

"Three days.. If you're not back and we'll come looking" caster told her. clasping her forearm in the warrior's way.

"Save the heroics brother.. I'll be back before you've had time to miss me" mya says, her lips quirking into a half-smile so reminiscent of their father. She disappears into the darkness as caster watches the sky where belserion circled overhead, her white scales gleaming under the moonlight.

"I wonder what awaits me" caster thought, returning to his tent with tyene waiting for him in nothing at all. The three days pass and on the morning on that third day caster is jolted awake by the sound of one of the men on patrol calling out to him that mya has returned. His eyes snaps open and instantly alert despite the early hour as tyene stirs in her sleep, her arm draped across his chest. Caster gently lifts her arm and slides out from under her, careful not to wake her. He pulls on his breeches and pads quietly to the tent entrance and the cool morning air hit him as he steps outside, raising goosebumps on his bare chest. He squints against the pale light of dawn while scanning the camp for his sister, spotting her near the center of the camp and drinking from a wineskin.

"Mya.. What's going on" caster says with his voice still thick from sleep. A few early risers nod in greeting and their eyes widening slightly at the sight of their commander half-dressed and looking concerned.

"Caster.. I've ridden back hard to reach you.. There's trouble brewing" mya said, her voice low and tight with tension. Caster's brow furrows as he leads mya to a quieter corner of the camp and away from curious ears, "What kind of trouble" he asks, his mind already racing through possibilities.

"Someone's put a bounty on your head.. And the Golden Company has taken it" mya says, glancing around and ensuring they weren't overheard.

"By who" caster asks, feeling his stomach drop and takes the wineskin to drink a few gulps.

"I don't know.. I couldn't get that information.. But what I do know is that a force led by Harry Strickland and are on the move" mya says, frustration evident in her expression.

"Strickland?!.. Who else" caster says, pacing with his arms crossed.

"He's got two lieutenants with him.. Men called Griff and Young Griff.. They're bringing a force of close to fifteen thousand" mya continues, after drinking from the wineskin. Caster's breath hitches at the thought of fifteen thousand men and the golden company is no joke. They were one of the most formidable sellsword companies in essos and now they were coming for him.

"Seven Hells.. We need to prepare.. Wake the commander and Daenerys.. Tell them to meet me in the command tent immediately" caster mutters, running a hand through his hair. Mya nods and turns to go but caster catches her arm, "Thank you" he said softly and mya gives him a smile as she pats his shoulder before heading off. Caster soon finds himself in the command tent with his commanders, "Thank you all for coming so quickly.. We have a situation on our hands" caster begins, his voice steady despite the churning in his gut. He quickly relays the information mya brought, watching as expressions of surprise and concern flitting across their faces.

"Fifteen thousand men.. Well we've faced worse odds before and we can nearly match their numbers" daario says being the first to speak and his cocky grin didn't quite reach his eyes.

"This isn't just any sellsword company.. The Golden Company has a reputation for never breaking a contract.. If they're coming for Caster.. They won't stop until the job is done" ashara said, her brow furrowed.

"Unsullied will stand with you.. We do not fear Golden Company" grey worm said, nodding solemnly.

"We have dragons on our side.. They may have numbers but we have fire and blood" daenerys says, stepping forward.

"True but we need to be cautious.. Belserion is the only one big enough to actually fight effectively" caster states, a thoughtful expression crossing his face.

"My children are growing stronger every day.. They could…" daenerys says, frowning slightly.

"I know Daenerys.. And they will be formidable allies in time.. But right now Belserion is our best aerial asset.. Her flames are hot enough to melt stone.. We'll need to use her strategically" caster says, interrupting gently.

"If I may.. The Golden Company is indeed a formidable foe but they are not invincible.. I've faced them before during the War of the Ninepenny Kings" barristan says, his eyes shining with the wisdom of countless battles and all of them turn to the old knight.

"Their strength lies in their discipline and their elephants.. But those very elephants can be turned against them.. They can become more of a liability than an asset" barristan continues after caster encourages him to continue.

"Go on Ser Barristan.. What do you suggest" caster says, hiss eyes lighting up with interest. The old knight strokes his white beard thoughtfully, "We should choose our battlefield carefully.. Rough and uneven ground would hinder their elephants and break their famous discipline.. And if we can use Belserion to target those elephants..." barristan says and trails off, letting the implications hang in the air. Caster unrolls a map on the table in the center of the tent, "We're still a week's ride from Volantis.. The Golden Company will likely try to intercept us before we reach the city" he says, weighing down the corners with small figurines.

"What if we change our route.. Take a less direct path to Volantis" ashara says, studying the map.

"That might buy us some time but it won't solve the problem.. We need to face this head-on" caster says, shaking his head.

"We could set up an ambush.. As Ser Barristan said.. Use the terrain to our advantage" daario said, his eyes lighting up at the prospect of a fight.

"An ambush could indeed work but we'd need to choose our ground carefully" barristan says, his voice carrying the weight of decades of experience.

"What do you suggest" caster says, always respecting the old knight's counsel.

"There's a narrow valley here.. About three days' ride from our current position.. If we could lure them in.. We could use the high ground to our advantage" barristan says, pointing to a spot on the map. They continue to discuss strategies as tyene slips into the tent, her eyes meeting his to see her concern there.

"Here's what we're going to do.. We'll take Ser Barristan's advice and set up in that valley.. But we're not just going to wait for them to come to us.. We'll send out scouts to monitor their approach and small raiding parties to harass their flanks.. We'll wear them down before they even reach the valley" caster says, his mind made up.

"I like it.. Keep them off balance.. Make them jumpy" daario says with a grin, twirling his knife.

"And if we can capture a few of their scouts.. We might be able to feed them false information about our numbers and position.. I can even send out some of the Sister as travelers on pilgramge" ashara says, nodding approvingly.

"Exactly.. We'll use every advantage we can get.. Ser Barristan I want you to oversee our defensive preparations in the valley.. Your experience will be invaluable.. Ashara.. Your plan can work too" caster said, his eyes gleaming.

"It would be my honor my Prince" barristan says, bowing his head as the group continue to refine their plans and they all know the stakes that this battle could very well decide their fates. The coming days would be crucial and caster is determined to be ready for whatever the golden company might throw at them.

[Music: Conqueror Epic Orchestral Music for Battle Powerful Motivation - Victory Epic Music]

Two weeks later and caster sits atop his warhorse with the sun beating down on his armor. He squints at the horizon and the massive is forming to signify the golden company. His harassment attack did their job and lured the company to the valley as planned while ashara's sisters managed to get some info.

"Well this should be fun" daario quips with his second sons armor gleaming in the sunlight, polished to a mirror shine. Ashara rolls her eyes with the movement accentuating the deep violet of her irises, "Your idea of fun needs work Naharis" she says, her own armor far more uniform in design.

"They still outnumber us.. Your Gra-Caster" jon says, his second sons armor fitting him well enough.

"Relax Jon.. We've got a few tricks up our sleeves" caster said while his blue eyes twinkling with a mixture of excitement and mischief as he pats the neck of his horse, feeling the beast's nervous energy beneath him. The five hundred strong cavalry behind them shift restlessly as caster could feel the tension in the air, thick as soup and among them were a hundred dothraki warriors with their long braids adorned with bells that tinkled softly in the breeze and joraq is leading the dothraki riders. Joraq gives his commander a respectful nod as caster turns back to face the approaching enemy.

"Remember stick to the plan.. Let them think they've got us cornered" caster calls out as the dust cloud grows closer but a distant screech that makes his heart soar. His eyes scan the prepared battlefield and begins adjusting his gloves, "Well.. These old things have seen better days" he said, his voice carrying a hint of anticipation.

"Really.. You're worried about your gloves now" jon says, sitting beside him and raising his eyebrow.

"A good warrior is always prepared Jon.. Can't have these slipping off in the middle of a fight can we" caster muses, flexing his fingers. The advancing dust cloud suddenly comes to a halt about three miles away and caster squints, trying to make out the details.

"So those... Are the elephants" jon asks, his voice a mix of awe and concern as caster nods grimly.

"Always full of surprises" daario says with a chuckle. Three riders break off from the main force and approach with a white flag raised high.

"Parley?!" ashara murmurs, raising an eyebrow and her violet eyes narrowing with suspicion behind her mask.

"Could be a trick.. The Golden Company aren't known for their honesty" daario comments in a low voice.

"You could right Daario" caster said, his voice low enough that only those closest to him could hear. The three riders soon come to a stop about fifteen feet away but the one in the center is a handsome looking man with a weathered face.

"Caster Storm.. Or should I call you Caster Baratheon… I'm Harry Strickland and commander of the Golden Company" the center man calls out, his voice carrying across the gap. Caster eyes him warily but then glances at jon, daario and ashara but with a subtle nod, they all nudge their horses forward and close the distance until both sides were just five feet apart. The tension in the air is palpable like a bowstring drawn taut and ready to snap.

"What suits you best Harry Strickland… And your companions" caster asks, his voice carrying a hint of challenge beneath its casual tone.

"This is Griff" harry says, gesturing to his left. The man has graying red hair and a stern expression that seems carved from granite as his eyes are hard and unyielding, meeting caster's gaze without flinching.

"And Young Griff" harry adds, nodding to his right. Caster's eyes widen as he studies the young man before him as there is something eerily familiar about young griff's features. The same dark hair as tyene, the similar shape of the eyes, even the way he holds himself. Jon shifts slightly in his saddle as daario seems almost amused by the situation, a faint smirk playing on his lips.

"That's quite the welcoming party you've brought Strickland.. I don't suppose you've come all this way just to exchange pleasantries" ashara says, her violet eyes sharp and alert behind her mask.

"The famed leader of the Sisters of Battle.. Your reputation precedes you" harry says, his face tightening slight but gives her a curt nod.

"Well.. Now that the pleasantries are finished.. What brings the famed Golden Company here" caster said, trying to keep his voice light.

"We have a contract Baratheon.. Your head for a tidy sum of gold" harry says, his lips curling into a humorless smile. Caster couldn't help but chuckle as his eyes glint with a mixture of amusement and defiance, "Is that so Strickland?!.. Well I hate to disappoint you but you're not the first to try.. Many have sought my head for gold or glory and yet here I stand" he says, a cocky grin spreading across his face. He spread his arms wide as if inviting harry to take a good look at him and the battlefield around them seems to fade into the background as the two men lock eyes.

"You see.. I've made quite a habit of keeping my head firmly attached to my shoulders.. It's a trait I've grown rather fond of" caster continues, his voice carrying a hint of steel beneath the casual tone.

"You're awfully confident for a man outnumbered and cornered in this valley" harry says, his jaw tightening at the arrogance of the prince before him.

"It doesn't have to end in bloodshed.. Surrender and we'll make your death quick" young griff says, his voice oddly familiar and caster's steel blue orbs narrow.

"Tell me… Who exactly wants me dead this time.. I've lost track to be honest.. Friends of the Good Masters I killed in Astapor maybe" caster said while leaning forward in his saddle, his voice carrying a hint of challenge.

"That's not your concern Boy" griff says, his weathered face creasing into a scowl.

"Boy?!.. Oh I think it is Old Man" caster shoots back as his blue eyes glinting with a mixture of curiosity and defiance but his gaze moves back to young griff, "You know.. You remind me of someone.. Family in Dorne by any chance?" he adds, studying the young man's features more closely.

"I don't see how that's relevant" young griff says, a flicker of unease passing across his face.

"Just making conversation.. It's not every day I meet someone who looks like they could be my lover's long-lost brother or cousin" caster says with a shrug, a lazy grin spreading across his face and a flicker of unease passes across young griff's face in an instant, replaced by a carefully neutral expression.

"Seems our Commander has touched a nerve eh?!" daario says with a soft chuckle. Ashara's eyes dart between young griff and caster as her mind works to piece together the puzzle, "Interesting" she murmurs, just loud enough for caster to hear.

"Enough chatter.. What's your answer Baratheon?!.. Will you come quietly or do we do this the hard way" harry says, clearing his throat and breaking the apart the situation forming.

"Well Harry Strickland.. Since you asked so nicely... I think I'll have to decline.. You see I'm quite attached to my head.. It's where I keep all my charming quips" caster says with a wide smile, all teeth and no warmth.

"Last chance Boy" griff growls, nearly seeing the demon of the trident overlapping his son. Caster's grin widens with a dangerous glint in his eyes, "Come now Strickland.. Why sacrifice scores of men and women just to kill little old me?!.. Surely there are easier ways to make coin" he said, his voice deceptively light.

"We take a job and we finish it... That's how the Golden Company has maintained its reputation for centuries" harry says, gripping the reins of his horse tighter.

"Ah yes.. The famous Golden Company reputation.. Tell me.. Does that reputation include getting your men slaughtered for a fool's errand.. To charge head-long into a Storm and be shattered upon the rocks" caster says with a nod, feigning understanding.

"You can spare your forces from being wiped out by simply surrendering Baratheon.. It's your choice" harry says, remaining impassive as young griff shifts uneasily in his saddle. Caster pretends to consider this for a moment while tapping his chin thoughtfully, "I could couldn't I.. But you see I won't" his says and his eyes lock onto harry's, "Tell me something Strickland.. Does elephant meat taste good" he adds, all traces of humor gone.

"What?!" harry says, clearly caught off guard by the question.

"Elephant meat" caster repeats slowly as if speaking to a child, "I'm just curious because my friend here… She might enjoy a little snack after we're done" he continues, jerking his thumb towards the sky. As if on cue does a piercing screech split the air while belserion's shadow passes overhead, causing the horses to shift nervously.

"Your beast doesn't scare us.. We've faced worse" harry says, his eyes widening momentarily but he quickly composes himself.

"Have you though.. Have you really" caster says, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. Jon's hand tightens on sword's hilt while daario's fingers dance along the edge of his arakh, a predatory smile playing on his lips. Harry's face twisted into a scowl and without another word, wheels his horse around, kicking up dust as he gallops back to his company. Young griff lingers for a moment with his eyes locked on caster's before following suit and griff following him.

"Daario head to our forces.. Tell Grey Worm to bring the Unsullied forward.. Make sure Arthur and the others know to have the second cavalry ready and Ser Barristan with our archers" caster says, his voice low and urgent.

"On it boss.. This'll be fun" daario says with a grin, giving a mock salute.

"See to your Sisters Ashara.. Have them ready for anything" caster says as daario rides off, his eyes shifting to ashara.

"They've been itching for a good fight.. They won't let you down.. It is not everyday we face such a famous company" ashara says, her violet eyes gleaming with anticipation and wheels her horse around.

"You're with me Jon.. Stay at my side" caster says with a grin on his face. Jon nods as he glances up at the sky and squinting against the bright sun, "Her white scales will make her hard to be seen on such a sunny" he says, gesturing to a barely visible white shape high above them.

"Indeed.. Perfect for a surprise attack" caster says with a proud smile playing on his lips, "You know, if things go well.. We might be celebrating in Tyene and Ygritte's beds tonight" he adds, lowering his voice.

"Let's focus on surviving first" jon says, his face flushing red a bit but there is smile tugging at his lips.

"Hahahaha.. Always so serious Jon.. But you're right of course" caster says with a laugh, clapping his his thigh.

"Aye I'm ready.. Let's show them what real warriors look like" jon says, his eyes hardening. Caster's eyes flick to the black longsword strapped to his saddle and without hesitation. He grabs it and unsheathes it as he wheels his horse around to face his cavalry, a fire burning in his eyes. Red dawn glints in the sunlight while casting a crimson reflection across his armor. The sight of their leader wielding his legendary blade seems to invigorate the troops, their postures straightening and eyes sharpening with focus.

"MEN!… For over two years.. Some less but you've fought at my side.. We've bled together.. Laughed together and conquered together!" caster shouts with his voice carrying across the field. A murmur of agreement ripples through the ranks and caster could see the fire etched on their faces.

"Now the Golden Company thinks they can waltz in and take my head for simple Gold!.. I can hear your doubts.. They have elephants you say?!.. So what!.. They have more men?!.. So bloody what!" caster continued, his voice rising. A roar erupts from his forces as the sound washes over caster like a wave and he grins, feeling the energy of his men feeding his own resolve.

"My soldiers!.. We do not buckle or yield when faced with the cruelty of this world!" caster calls out with his voice taking on a fierce edge, "My soldiers push forward!.. My soldiers scream out!" he bellows out across the cavalry, "My soldiers RAAAAAGE!" he roars, raising red dawn to the skies. The answering roar is deafening as caster's heart pounds in his chest, the thrill of the impending battle coursing through his veins.

"Well.. That ought to get their blood pumping" jon said with a wry smile as caster rests his sword on his shoulder.

"That it will my friend.. That it will" caster says with a laugh, the sound full of fierce joy. The enemy's horns of a deep, haunting sound echoes across the battlefield and caster's smile fades as the storm lion prepares to ride into the frenzy of battle.

"Looks like they're ready for us" jon mutters, his hand tightening on his longsword's hilt.

"And we're ready for them" caster says, his eyes scanning the horizon. The steady rhythm of marching feet fills the air, growing louder with each passing moment as grey worm leads the unsullied forward, their bronze-tipped spears glinting in the sunlight.

"Grey Worm!.. Are your brothers ready?!" Caster called out, raising red dawn in salute.

"Unsullied always ready.. We fight for you.. We die for you" grey worm declares, his voice crisp and confident.

"Let's hope it doesn't come to that.. But if it does.. We'll make the Golden Company rue the day they took this contract" caster shouts and looks to jon, "Right then.. We're the vanguard.. Let's show these Golden Company Cunts what we're made of" he adds, his voice tinged with excitement and jon returns the grin. Caster raises red dawn high as he feels the familiar rush of pre-battle adrenaline coursing through his veins, "Come my soldiers!.. Scream your rage!" he roars, his voice carrying across the field. The cacophony of voices unite in their rage as caster's cavalry surges forward with a wave of steel and fury. The thunder of hooves fill the air, mixing with the battle cries of his men. Behind them the unsullied advance in perfect formation, their spears a forest of deadly points. Caster's cavalry picks up speed and their battle cries echo across the field, a mix of excitement and fury.

"Come on my Soldiers!" caster shouts, his voice barely audible over the chaos. The golden company have formed their lines as caster could see the glint of their armor, the tips of their spears catching the light and at the rear is harry, griff and young griff.

"Look at that fool.. The usurper's son thinks he can take us on with a ragtag bunch of sellswords and a lizard" griff says with a scowl, his eyes fixed on the approaching cavalry.

"Aye he's a fool alright.. But he's fool enough to have survived this long and put the fear of the Seven into King's Landing.. Don't underestimate him" harry says with a chuckle, a sound devoid of humor.

"We should end this quickly.. Before..." young griff says, shifting uneasily in his saddle. An ear-splitting screech cuts through the air and drowning out his words as harry's eyes sees a white shape diving from the sun, "Archers!.. Nock!.. Draw" he bellows, sweeping his arm out but it is too late. Belserion swoops down with her jaws opening wide and a stream of blue fire that is so hot it made the air shimmer, erupts from her maw and the front lines dissolve into screams and the sickening smell of melting metal and burning flesh.

"Seven Hells" griff breathes out, his face pale and in the ensuing chaos. Caster's cavalry smashes into their lines like a battering ram with swords slicing into their enemies. Horses and men alike scream as steel met flesh with lances shattering and bodies went flying. The golden company's tight formation buckles under the sheer force of the charge, their disciplined lines crumbling like sand castles before a wave. The dothraki screamers whoop with savage joy as they ride down their foes, their curved arakhs flashing in the sun, reaping a gruesome harvest of limbs and heads. Caster's cavalry pushes deeper into the enemy lines as the chaos only intensifies, mixing with the screams of men and horses. Blood and mud churn beneath hooves and boots alike, turning the battlefield into a treacherous quagmire.

"No Man!" caster roars, sending heads flying from shoulders with each swing his sword. A foolish soldier is emboldened by desperation or madness and charges at caster with a wild cry and blue-eyed demon's lips curls into a savage grin as he wheels his horse around. Red dawn flashes through the and the man's head sails through the air, a look of surprise forever frozen on his face. Caster spurs his horse forward, cutting a swath through the enemy ranks and heads roll in his wake.

"Seven Hells!.. You're enjoying this a bit too much!" jon calls out nearby, parrying a blow from a golden company soldier.

"Hahahaha!.. What can I say?!.. I've got a knack for getting ahead in life!" caster shouts, his laughter sending chills down the spines of nearby enemies and quickly separates two more heads from their bodies in one fluid motion. The heads hitting the muddy ground with a sickening thud, their eyes still wide with shock. The golden company's lines further falter as the advancing unsullied and sisters of battle reach them while arrows begin to pelt them as well.

"Archers!.. Bring that beast down!" harry shouts from the rear, his teeth gritted in anger. A hail of arrows arc towards belserion but the dragon rolls in the air, the sun glinting off her white scales. The arrows fall harmlessly to the ground while missing their mark, "Clever" young griff mutters, a mix of fear and admiration in his voice. The battle continues to rage on as harry couldn't shake the feeling that they'd underestimated caster baratheon and it might just cost them everything.

"Unsullied!.. Show them no mercy!" grey worm shouts, clear and commanding. The disciplined ranks of eunuch warriors move as one, their bronze-tipped spears rising and falling in perfect unison. Their sandaled feet striking the ground in a rhythmic thunder that rivals the hoofbeats of the cavalry ahead. Ashara reaches behind her back, drawing her twin swords in a single and seamless motion as the blades sing as they left their scabbards. A sound reminiscent of her legendary uncle arthur dayne, the sword of the morning.

"Sisters!.. Let's show these boys how it's done!" ashara calls out, her voice carrying over the din of battle. The sisters let out a collective scream that is a haunting, otherworldly wail that seems to pierce through the very souls of those who heard it. One Sister twirls a pair of dothraki arakhs with deadly precision, while another fought with a braavosi water dancer's grace. A towering woman from the Summer Isles looses arrow after arrow from her great bow, each finding its mark with unerring accuracy. The golden company, for all their vaunted discipline, find themselves caught between the hammer of vaster's cavalry and the anvil of these fresh troops.

"Seven Hells" harry hisses, seeing the tide of battle changing.

"It doesn't matter.. They're still outnumbered" griff says, spitting on the ground.

"We need to do something!" young griff says, panic creeping into his voice.

"Release the elephants.. Now!" harry shouts, sweeping his arm out. The massive beasts lumber forward with their trumpeting drowning out the sounds of battle. Belserion sees the beast and swoops low, her blue flames engulfing the nearest elephant. The beast's agonized screams send the others into a panic and when harry thought things could get any worse, a deafening war horn echoes across the battlefield. He looks to see a second cavalry charge led by a grinning daario, flanked by caster's lions fury.

"Oh come on!" harry snaps, rubbing his temples. The new cavalry smashes into the golden company's flank like a ram with arthur cutting through enemies like a hot knife through butter.

"Time to show my little brother I can be just as much of a demon as him!" mya roars, her voice carrying over the din of battle. She brings her war hammer down on an enemy's shield, shattering it and sending the man sprawling as dagonet slices into a horse to send it and its rider crashing into the ground.

"Come on you Golden bastards!.. Is this the best you can do" mya taunts, her blue eyes flashing with a fire that would have make her father proud.

"No man!" bors bellows, his voice carrying across the chaos and already on the ground in the fray of battle. Ulthor is right alongside with his massive greatsword swinging in wide arcs, sending soldiers flying back.

"Come on you Cunts!" ulthor roars, his northern accent thick with battle-lust. Sylvie's essosi shield gleaming as she moves with deadly grace and her spear finding gaps in armor in unerring accuracy.

"Watch this!" tormund bellows to sylvie, as he spotted a cluster of soldiers trying to regroup. He spurs his horse forward and launches himself from the saddle, sailing through the air like a great bearded bird of prey. He crashed into the soldiers with bone-jarring force, his momentum bowling them over like skittles. Armor clangs and men yell as they went down in a tangle of limbs and steel. Tormund emerges from the pile with a roar of laughter with his axe already swinging.

"This is what I call a proper scrap!" tormund bellows, headbutting a stunned opponent who is still trying to regain his feet. Ygritte is with the other archers while her bow sings as she looses arrow after arrow into the fray and she grins fiercely, seeing gawain nearby and matching her shot for shot.

"Not bad!" ygritte calls out to him, her fingers already nocking another arrow. Gawain flashes her a quick smile before turning his attention back to the battle, "I'll show you 'not bad' Wildling!" he retorts good-naturedly, his own bow thrumming as he sends another arrow into the throat of a charging enemy. They rain death from above with their arrows finding gaps in armor and exposed flesh with deadly accuracy. They move almost in perfect sync, covering each other as they reposition the others, never letting up their relentless barrage.

"Eight!" ygritte crows as another of her arrows found its mark. The sand snake sisters were poetry in motion as their unique fighting styles blend seamlessly, creating a deadly dance that left a trail of bodies in their wake. Tyene's daggers flash in the sunlight and finding gaps in armor with deadly precision. Obara's spear whirls and thrust to keep enemies at bay while she seeks out weak points as nymeria's dark eyes glinting, wielding her whip with masterful skill. A soldier charges towards her while thinking her weaponless but nymeria's lips curl into a predatory smile and with a flick of her wrist, the whip snakes out, wrapping around the man's ankle.

"Going somewhere" nymeria taunts, her voice low and dangerous. Nymeria yanks hard on the whip before the soldier could react. The man's feet fly out from under him and he crashes to the ground with a clang of armor as he struggles to rise while spitting curses. Nymeria's whip lashes out again but this time, it coils around his neck and she pulls him towards her sisters. Tyene and obara see their sister's catch as move in perfect sync to flank the prone man, "Nice catch Nym" tyene calls out, her daggers glinting ominously.

"Shall we finish him together sisters" obara says, twirling her spear. The unfortunate soldier barely has time to scream before the sand snakes' combined assault silenced him forever.

"Well… That was invigorating.. Who's next" nymeria said, brushing a strand of hair from her face. Griff turns to harry at the rear with his face pale as he gripped his horse's reins, the anger in his eyes is palpable but underneath it lurks a growing fear as he watches their lines begin to crumble.

"We need to retreat" griff growls, his voice rough with frustration and barely concealed panic. Harry opens his mouth to respond but his words were drowned out by a familiar screech that tears through the air like a knife. Belserion is coming for another bombing run with blue fire engulfing any in her path as their screams were cut short from the dragonfire consuming them, leaving nothing but ash and melted armor in its wake. The acrid smell of burning flesh continues to fill the air, mixing with the already potent stench of blood and fear that permeates. Griff's horse rears in panic and nearly throws him from the saddle. He struggles to regain control, cursing under his breath as he watches more of his men fall to the dragon's wrath.

"That beast... It's not natural.. How can he wield it" harry mutters, his face ashen as he watches the destruction unfold. Griff's jaw clenches as he finally steadies his mount, "Natural or not.. It's turned the tide against us" he spits, his eyes darting across the battlefield in search of a way out of this mess as the white she-dragon banks for another pass with the legend of the white dread being born. In the heart of the battle is caster and jon riding side by side, their horses' hooves thundering across the blood-soaked ground. The clash of steel and the screams of dying men filled the air as the two sides collided in a brutal dance of death. Caster's massive black destrier, snorts and rears with its iron-shod hooves crushing skulls and shattering bones.

"Now this!… This is what I call a Battle!" caster shouts over the din of battle, gesturing at the chaos around them with a blood-stained red dawn.

"You're completely mad you know that" jon calls back but there is a hint of a smile on his usually solemn face. Caster laughs with a booming sound that carries across the battlefield and he spurs his horse forward, red dawn flashing as he cuts down two more golden company soldiers.

"Enough of this!.. We're joining the fight. If Baratheon dies.. It all falls apart!" harry growls, drawing his sword with a metallic hiss.

"Yes!.. Death to the usurper's son!" griff hisses, regaining his vigor and unsheathing his own blade. Young griff hesitates for a moment with his eyes fixed on the white shape of belserion wheeling overhead. His hand tightened on his sword hilt as a thought flashes through his mind that he must claim that dragon.

"Well?!.. Are you with us?!" harry barks to young griff, already turning his horse. Young griff draw his sword after snapping out of his reverie, "Let's end this" he said, his voice steady despite the chaos around them. The three men spur their horses forward and plunge into the heart of the battle. Harry's sword flashes in the sunlight as he cuts down a dothraki screamer, "Push forward!.. For the Golden Company!" he roars to his men. Griff fights like a man possessed with his blade singing as it clashes against unsullied spears, "Where are you Baratheon?!" he thought, his eyes scanning the battlefield. Young griff is already off his horse amidst the chaos and face-to-face with obara, her spear a blur of motion as he parries her strikes but his mind still half on the dragon above.

"You fight well… But not well enough" obara says with a grin, blood trickling from a cut on her cheek. They continue their duel but young griff soon catches sight of caster in the distance and for a moment their eyes meet across the chaos.

"Well Jon.. Looks like the Stars of this battle have come" caster says, his eyes on the forms of harry and griff but most of all young griff.

"Shall we give them a proper welcome" jon says, gripping his reins and longsword.

"Oh absolutely.. Let's show them why they call us the Storm Lion and the White Wolf" caster crows, a wild light in his eyes. They wheel their horses towards harry and griff to brings this battle to an end, cementing the second sons as the premier mercenary company.

To Be Continued -Just Kidding

"You pansies need to fight like Free folk" tormund bellows, headbutting a stunned opponent and slicing open his belly with his axe as his guts spill out. Ulthor brings his greatsword down in a devastating overhead strike as the blade cleaves through his opponent from head to crotch, splitting the man in two with a sickening crunch. Blood sprays across Ulthor's armor as he wrenches his sword free, already searching for his next target. Dagonet is in contrast to his companion's ferocity, maintaining an eerily calm demeanor despite the chaos surrounding him. His movements were precise and economical, each swing of his greatsword calculated for maximum effect.

"We should keep up with Arthur.. He'll be needing our support" dagonet calls out to ulthor, his voice steady and controlled as ulthor nods. Sylvie and tyene have linked as they were fighting to reach caster with sylvie's spear danced between opponents.

"We need to find Caster!" tyene called out to sylvie, her voice barely audible over the din of battle. On the other side of the battlefield is grey worm leading his brothers with cold efficiency, his spear a blur of motion. Ashara is on the ground with him as twin short swords dance with deadly grace, her violet eyes blazing with determination.

"Push forward!.. For the Storm Lion" grey worm barks, his voice steady despite the chaos.

"For Caster!" ashara shouts, her blades singing as they cut through the air. Daario cuts through the golden company soldiers like a scythe through wheat, his arakh whistling through the air and leaving a trail of crimson in its wake.

"Come on you golden shits!" daario bellows, sidestepping a clumsy attack as his arakh finding the gap between the man's helmet and breastplate. The soldier crumples to the ground while gurgling as blood fills his throat, "Is that all?!.. I've had more challenge from Meereenese noblemen!" daario taunts, spinning to face his next opponent. Two more soldiers rush him while thinking to overwhelm the flamboyant sellsword with numbers but daario grins. He ducks under the first man's swing, coming up inside his guard and the arakh flashes once, twice, and the man stumbles back with his entrails spilling onto the muddy ground. The second soldier hesitates and daario makes him pay as he lunges forward, his stiletto appearing in his left hand as if by magic. The thin blade slips between the plates of the man's armor and finds his heart with unerring accuracy. The bodies fell around him as daario laugh but his laughter dies in his throat as he catches sight of a familiar face amidst the carnage. Lysara is locked in combat with three soldiers, her hair whipping around her face as she fights with desperate ferocity.

"Lysara!" daario calls out, his voice lost in the din of battle. He watches as an arrow whistles through the air, burying itself in lysara's shoulder and she stumbles but keeps fighting. Another arrow finds its mark in her thigh and daario sees her falter as he fights towards his lieutenant. Lysara manages to take down one of her attackers with a vicious slash across the throat, blood spraying across her face as she turns to face the remaining two but another arrow strikes her in the back and daario sees her knees buckle.

"Damn it!" daario shouts, desperately trying to reach her. Lysara lunges forward with her last ounce of strength, her sword piercing the chest of a second attacker. She collapses to her knees as he falls but two arrows hit her back, her strength finally giving out. The last golden company soldier raises his sword for the killing blow but daario is still too far away, his heart pounding in his chest as he realizes he wouldn't make it in time. But lysara in her final moments, wasn't done fighting as the sword begins its downward arc and she surges upward, driving her dagger into the man's groin. He screams in agony with his sword clattering to the ground as he falls and lysara slumps on her side. Daario finally reaches her side but lysara was already dead and a faint smile on her bloodied lips before closing her eyes, "For Lysara" he growls, charging back into the fray with renewed vigor. Caster and jon were meanwhile nearing harry and griff but the battlefield is a real mess The air stinks of blood, sweat and worse things but caster's heart is racing, pumped up on the thrill of the fight. Griff is the first to reach caster as his weathered face contorted with rage as he spurs his horse forward. The beast's hooves thunder across the blood-soaked ground, carrying its rider with deadly intent. Griff swings his sword in a wild arc but caster brings red dawn to meet griff's attack. The two swords clash with a resounding clang that seems to echo across the battlefield.

"Well... Did someone piss in your wine this morning Griff.. Or did you just wake up on the wrong side of the saddle" caster quips, a fierce grin on his face. Griff snarls and wheels his horse around for another charge. The animal's nostrils flare with breath coming in hot bursts as it senses its rider's fury, "Shut your mouth Boy!" griff roars, pressing forward with another vicious strike. Caster's mount sidesteps nimbly while responding to its rider's subtle cues and parries the blow with a flourish, red dawn singing as it deflects griff's attack. Griff urges his horse forward once more as the beast's hooves churn up clods of blood-soaked earth, "I'll teach you respect.. You insolent pup!" griff bellows, his sword slicing through the air. Caster's horse pivots sharply and the sudden movement let griff's momentum carry him past, his blade whistling harmlessly through the space caster occupied a moment before.

"Respect?!.. Ha!.. You clearly don't know the Baratheon very well.. We're not exactly known for our meek and humble nature!" caster shouts with a booming laugh and standing up slightly in his stirrups, balancing effortlessly as his mount pranced beneath him. Griff wheels his horse around once more as his eyes blaze with fury but as he prepares for another charge, a flicker of something else passed across his weathered features. It seems as though he is seeing a ghost from the past of a robert baratheon in his prime, full of life and laughter even in the midst of battle. The resemblance is uncanny and it shakes griff to his core and for a heartbeat, wasn't facing caster baratheon but the demon of the trident himself.

"What's the matter?!.. Seeing ghosts?!.. Or did all that scowling finally catch up with you?!" caster shouts, urging his mount forward and closing the distance between them. Griff shakes his head while trying to clear the vision from his mind. His horse shifts uneasily beneath him and senses its rider's agitation, "You... You're just like him" griff mutters, more to himself than to caster and his voice nearly lost in the clash of steel and the snorting of their mounts.

"Like who?!" caster asks, curiosity piqued despite the danger of their duel. He adjusts his grip on the reins while keeping his horse steady as they circle each other. But griff didn't answer and instead, renews his attack with even greater ferocity as if trying to banish the specter of robert baratheon through sheer force of will. Their swords clang as they pass and quickly wheel their horses for another quick pass.

"Come on Griff.. Don't tell me you're getting tired already.. I thought we were just getting started!" caster taunts, a grin spreading across his face as he wheels his horse around for another pass. The two men and their mounts dance a deadly waltz across the battlefield. Horses snort and whinny with their powerful bodies responding to the subtle cues of their riders. Harry joins the fray from behind and goes for caster's horse, aiming his sword low to cut the legs of the horse and possibly kill caster.

"Oh no you don't" caster shouts, leaping off his horse just as harry's blade whistles through the air. The sharp edge catches the horse's flank and drawing a deep gash as the animal let out a pained whinny, rearing up on its hind legs. Caster had crashed into griff, sending them both tumbling to the ground in a tangle of limbs and curses. They roll in the mud with the smell of shit and piss making caster's nose wrinkle.

"Seven Hells!.. You Golden Company boys sure know how to show a guy a good time" caster says with a groan, spitting out dirt.

"I'll show you a good time.. You insolent pup!" griff hisses, struggling to his feet and his face a mask of fury. They square off again as screams mix with the clash of steel and the sickening squelch of blades finding flesh.

"Caster!.. Watch your back!" jon yells, still on his horse. Caster spins just in time to see harry charging at him, sword raised high on his sword and caster ducks while feeling the whoosh of air as the blade passes over his head.

"Close shave!.. Thanks for the trim Harry.. I was getting a bit shaggy" caster says with a chuckle, his heart pounding. Harry's face turns an interesting shade of purple as he swings his leg over his horse's back, dismounting with his boots squelch in the mud as he lands. His eyes never leaving caster's face, "You won't be laughing when I'm done with you Baratheon" harry growls, his hand tightening on the hilt of his sword. Caster's grin widens with a look of excitement dancing in his blue eyes and twirls red dawn with a flourish, "Oh I don't know about that" he quips, his voice light despite the tension in the air. Harry's scowl deepens but before he could retort as jon vaults off his mount and lands beside caster with a solid thud, mud splattering up his legs.

"Thought you could use a hand" jon said, his voice gruff but with a hint of warmth. Caster's grin grows even wider as he claps jon on the shoulder and leaving a muddy handprint on the other man's armor, "Always welcome Jon.. Shall we dance" he said with a chuckle. The four men square off with each other, tension crackling in the air as harry and griff lunge forward in unison. Steel clash against steel as the fight begins in earnest as caster and jon move like they've been fighting together their whole lives, covering each other's blind spots and creating openings.

"I'm starting to think you don't like me very much" caster pants out, parrying a strike from harry.

"Clever lad aren't you" griff snarls, swinging his sword in a vicious arc and jon ducks under the blow but comes up with a counter that has griff stumbling back. Young griff meanwhile is locked in a fierce duel with obara, sweat glistening on their brows as they dance their deadly waltz. Obara's spear is a blur of motion as she jabs and thrusts with practiced precision, born from years of training in the unforgiving heat of dorne. Young griff matches her blow for blow, his sword singing as it meets her spear and his footwork is impeccable, a testament to the rigorous training he had endured since childhood.

"You do fight well" obara grunts out, her spear whistling past young griff's ear. Young griff simply smirks while parrying her strike with a flourish, "I've had good teachers" he replies, his voice steady despite the exertion. The air is thick with the metallic scent of blood and the acrid stench of fear. Screams of pain and war cries create a cacophony of chaos that seems to pulse with each heartbeat. Obara presses forward with her spear a relentless force. Young griff is forced to give ground with his boots squelching in the mud and gore beneath them. He could feel the eyes of his men on him, their hopes riding on his survival. Obara on the other hand couldn't shake the feeling that something was off as she studies young griff's face, noting the shape of his eyes, the curve of his jaw.

"Wait… You look like..." obara mutters, her brow furrowing and young griff presses forward while trying to end the fight quickly.

"Who are you?!" obara demands, dancing back and avoiding his pace. Young griff said nothing but his eyes dart around the chaotic battlefield. The clash of steel and screams of dying men fill the air as belserion's piercing shriek cuts through it all, blue flames erupting from her maw.

"Cat got your tongue?!" obara taunts, circling him warily. An elephant with its hide smoldering from belserion's attack, reared up with a deafening trumpet. The massive beast teeters for a moment before crashing down, crushing friend and foe alike beneath its bulk. Obara is momentarily distracted as young griff seizes the opportunity and lunges forward with his blade. Obara barely manages to deflect the strike with her spear singing as it meets his sword, "Nice try pretty boy" she said, a wild light in her eyes. Caster is nearby and ducks under a vicious strike from harry with blood trickling down his cheek from a nasty cut on his forehead. The crimson trail mixes with sweat and grime, giving him a wild and feral look.

"Aw come on Harry.. I thought we were becoming friends" caster quips, his breath coming in short gasps.

"I'll be your friend when you're dead" harry hisses, sporting a fresh cut across his chin and spitting blood onto the muddy ground.

"Bit morbid don't you think" caster says, parrying another blow.

"You fight well for a bastard" griff growls, pressing his attacks on jon as their swords meet. The battle rages on around them as a symphony of steel and screams. At the rear of caster's forces there is another fierce struggle unfolding. Daenerys with her silver hair whipping in the wind is atop a small rise, beside her are her three smaller dragons.

"There!… Dracarys!" daenerys shouts, pointing towards a group of soldiers attempting to flank their position. Rhaegal dives with green flames erupting from his maw and the soldiers scatter, their screams lost in the dragon's roar as arrow pelt them. Akhar is nearby and is another of daario's lieutenants, clashing with the enemy and curved blade cuts through the air.

"For the Storm Lion!" akhar bellows, cutting down another soldier. To daenerys' left are a group of sisters of battle, formed a protective ring around her position. At their head stands Bara, a towering woman and her mace crushes through shields and helmets alike, leaving a trail of broken bodies in her wake.

"Hold the line!.. No one gets through to our little fighter!" bara roars, her deep voice inspiring those around her. Daenerys feels a thrill run through her as she watches her new allies fight and for the first time in her life, feels like a warrior. Gone is the timid girl sold to a her beloved khal and in her place stands a slowly battle-tested warrior. She nocks an arrow to her bow with trembling hands but she pushes aside her doubts. She has lost so much like her son, her khal, her birthright but here among caster's forces, slowly finds a new purpose, new allies and perhaps even friends. Daenerys takes a deep breath and aims at a soldier charging towards akhar's flank. She releases the arrow while watching with a mixture of surprise and satisfaction as it finds its mark in the man's throat.

"Well shot Dany!" bara calls out, grinning fiercely. Daenerys feels a smile tug at her lips as she may have lost everything she once held dear but in this moment, surrounded by the chaos of battle and the loyalty of her new companions makes her feel alive. Back with caster and harry as they clash again, their swords ringing out in a deafening cacophony of steel on steel.

"Getting tired yet?!" caster taunts, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

"I'll show you tired!" harry snarls, his blade whistling through the air. The two men dance their deadly waltz as dothraki screamers whoop and holler, cutting through a line of pikemen and the screams of the dying mixing with the battle cries of the living in a hellish symphony. Caster ducks under a particularly vicious swing from harry and counters with a quick thrust, forcing harry to stumble back a step. A couple of golden company soldiers try to sneak up on caster's flank but sylvie and tyene burst on the scene like avenging angels.

"I am here my lion!" tyene calls out, her daggers flashing and cutting throats.

"Perfect timing love!.. Mind giving Jon a hand" caster shouts, avoiding a wide swing from harry.

"On it!" tyene declares, already moving towards jon's fight with griff.

"I am here my Prince" sylvie says, falling beside with her shield and spear at the ready.

"Always welcome Sylvie" caster said, parrying another of harry's strikes and sending him backwards. Caster lunges at harry as their swords clash with their faces inches apart as they push against each other in a test of strength.

"Look at you… A Prince of the Seven Kingdoms.. Fighting near Volantis like a common savage" harry hisses, his breath hot on caster's face.

"Perhaps but I'm doing what I need to survive Harry.. You should try it sometime" caster says, his lips curls into a faint smile. Caster suddenly pushes harder and catches harry off guard, sending him stumbling back a step and his eyes widening as he realizes his error. Sylvie darts forward like a viper striking from the grass, the spear finding its mark and sinking into his side with a sickening squelch. Harry's face contorts in pain and shock, "Y-you... Sneaky bastard" he gasps out, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth.

"All's fair in love and war Harry.. And this.. This is definitely war" caster says, his grin turning wolfish. Harry sinks to his knees while clutching his side and gasping for breath, blood bubbling at his lips.

"You... You think this is over?!" harry wheezes out, his voice barely audible and caster crouches to his level.

"Looks pretty over to me.. Any last words" caster says, bringing his face level with harry's.

"You're... A fool Baratheon.. You have no idea... What's coming for you" harry says, his lips curling into a pained grimace that might have been a smile.

"Oh?!.. And what might that be" caster said, his curiosity piqued despite himself.

"The one who hired us... They're from King's Landing" harry says and coughs, spitting blood onto the muddy ground and caster narrows his eyes. He rises to his full as shadow hides his face for a moment but he grips red dawn tighter, "A Shame you died a Fool's death" caster says before swinging his sword and severing harry's head with a one-armed swing.

"Caster" sylvie says, as harry's lifeless body slumps to the ground.

"Let's end this Sylvie" caster says seriously, turning his attention to where jon and tyene are locked in combat with griff. Caster charges back into the fray with red dawn gleaming from fresh blood but griff has other plans. He'd seen caster take harry's head with such ease and something inside him snaps, causing a lion like roar to erupt from him as he bulls into jon.

"Jon!" tyene cries out, her dagger whistling through the air where griff's head had been a second before. Griff is like a man possessed with his eyes wild as he searches the battlefield, "Young Griff!.. Where are you my prince?!" he bellows, knowing it will be all for naught is young griff is killed or taken prisoner.

"Sylvie with me!" caster shouts, his head whipping around at the commotion. They race towards jon and tyene, dodging sword swings and arrow volleys while cutting down any in their path.

"The rightful king!.. I must find him!" griff shouts, parrying jon's strikes with desperate strength and having a full-blown meltdown.

"What in the bloody Hells are you on about" jon manages to get out, countering the strength of griff. Tyene is ever the opportunist and tries to flank griff but the old man is crafty, keeping jon between them like a human shield.

"Oi Griff!" caster calls out, cutting two charging golden company soldiers and griff's head snaps towards caster and his eyes narrowing.

"You!.. Gods be damned.. You are truly Robert's son" griff snarls with his voice a mixture of rage and disbelief, "You ruined everything!.. You and your cursed bloodline!" he roars, spittle flying from his lips.

"Well that's a bit harsh" caster says, caught off guard by the sudden outburst. Griff is beyond reason now as years of carefully laid plans, of nurturing a hidden prince, all seeming to crumble before his eyes by the son of the man who started this.

"You're the spitting image of him.. That same damned smile.. That same arrogance.. As if the Gods themselves are mocking me" griff growls, his voice low and dangerous while gripping his longsword. He lunges at caster without warning and his sword lashing but caster meets him with a ring of steel, his faint smile long slipped into a serious countenance. Griff's face is twisted with rage and his eyes wild before swinging again and again, each strike fueled by a madness that seems to have infected him.

"You and your father!.. Your grandfather!.. You've ruined everything!" griff screams, spittle flying from his lips as caster parries blow after blow.

"What are you talking about" caster demands, sidestepping a particularly vicious swing but griff sees not reason only rage.

"The rightful King!.. It should have been him!.. Not your brother!" griff howls, pressing forward and his attack growing wilder and more frenzied. Caster dodges a wild swing from griff with the blade whistling past his ear but as he spins away, his eyes catches sight of young griff across the battlefield battling obara. Caster's breath hitches as their eyes meet and every coincident since meeting him begins to fall into place, old memories from his time as child and reading about his father's rebellion.

"No… It's impossible. He died as a baby" caster thought, parrying several of griff's strikes. But the seed of doubt has been planted and caster's mind whirls as he fights, pieces of a puzzle he didn't even know existed starting to fall into place.

"Or maybe… A secret Blackfyre" caster thought, ducking under griff's blade.

"You'll never understand!.. The sacrifices we've made!" griff roars, lost in his rage and caster's curiosity is now burning as hot as belserion's flames. A familiar screech fills the air and belserion's shadow passes over them and in that moment. Caster sees young griff's eyes fixed on belserion, his hand reaching out towards the dragon for some inexplicable need but his distraction cost him dearly. Obara seizes the opportunity and drives her spear deep into young griff's stomach, the sickening crunch of steel meeting flesh cut through the chaos of battle. Young griff's eyes widen in shock as his outstretched hand falling limply to his side. He looks down at the spear protruding from his gut as if he couldn't quite believe what has happened.

"NO!… My Prince!" griff howls, his anguished scream tearing through the air. Caster is momentarily forgotten as griff's face contorts with a rage unlike anything he'd ever seen and griff charges at obara, murderous intent on his mind and his sword ready to cut her down. Obara yanks her spear free from young griff's body but barely has time to look up, her eyes widening as she sees the madman bearing down on her. Caster quickly grabs one of tyene's daggers and sends it sailing through the air, burying itself in the back of griff's head. The old warrior's charge falters as his steps becoming unsteady before crumpling to the ground, his sword clattering uselessly beside him. Caster's eyes lock onto young griff as he is clutching his stomach and struggling to stay upright while the second prince approaches, "This wasn't supposed to happen" he says, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth and his eyes flashing in anger.

"Times change" caster said, his voice devoid of care as young griff crashes to his knee. Caster drives red dawn into the ground before going down to his level and grips the young man's shoulder with their eyes meeting but as quick as a snake, his other hand comes up to drive a knife into young griff's throat. His eyes widen in shock with his mouth working soundlessly and caster holds his gaze as the light fades from his eyes. Caster yanks his knife free while wiping the blood on his already stained breeches before rising his feet, his eyes surveying the ebbing chaos and pulls his sword free.

"Let's send these fuckers to the Seven!" caster shouts, his voice carrying the men around. A thunderous cheer went up from his men while the remaining golden company soldiers look around nervously. Caster and company charge forward as they plunge back into the fray, the tide of battle firmly in their favor. The remaining golden company soldiers fight with the desperation of cornered animals but it is clear the day was lost for them. The sun soon begins to set across the blood-soaked battlefield as the last of the golden company throw down their weapons in surrender. Caster's armor is caked with mud and gore, "Well.. That was bit fun" he pants out, wiping sweat from his brow and surveying things.

"You have a strange idea of fun" jon says, looking equally disheveled. Their men begin the grim task of counting the dead and tending to the wounded and caster couldn't shake the nagging feeling about young griff. That the son of Rhaegar Targaryen lay dead on this battlefield instead of as a babe in king's land at the hands of his grandfather's mad dog.

"We should check their camp.. There might be valuable information there" caster calls out to his companions near him and shaking his thoughts clear.

"Aye and we could use some fresh supplies" jon says, nodding in agreement.

"Let's grab some mounts first.. It'll be quicker that way" caster says, spotting a group of riderless horses nearby. They make their way through the field of bodies with the squelch of mud and gore under their boots a grim reminder of the day's toll. Caster approaches a sturdy brown stallion with its coat spattered with blood but otherwise unharmed.

"Easy there boy" caster murmurs, reaching out slowly and the horse snorts while eyeing him warily but allows caster to take hold of its reins. Sylvie has already mounted a sleek black mare while jon is helping tyene onto a dappled grey as ashara joins them on a white charger with practiced ease.

"Ready" caster asks, looking around at his companions and they nod. They set out for the golden company's camp as the distant sounds of men tending to the wounded and gathering the dead fade behind them.

"What do you think we'll find" tyene asks, her voice coming over the rhythmic thud of hooves.

"With any luck.. Something that'll tell us who's really behind all this" caster says with a shrug but his mind still grappling with the idea that his mother truly sent people to kill him. They close a half hour and soon crest a small hill as the golden company's camp comes into view. Tents stand in neat rows with their golden banners as the camp is eerily quiet, a stark contrast to the chaos they'd left behind on the battlefield.

"Stay alert.. There might be stragglers" jon warns, his hand resting on the pommel of his sword. They dismount at the edge of the camp while tying their horses to a nearby tree.

"Let's see what secrets you're hiding" caster mutters, striding towards the largest tent at the center of the camp. The group move cautiously with their eyes scanning for any signs of danger, "That must be Harry's tent" caster said, his eyes shifting for enemies. They enter the tent with the smell of leather and old parchment hitting them as they step inside. The interior is sparse but well-organized and befitting a military commander, "Look around" caster instructs, checking a table with a map. They search but jon's eye catches something in the corner, "Over here" he calls out, gesturing to what looked like a weapons chest.

"Well.. What have we here" caster says, makes his way over with curiosity piqued as the chest is ornate and adorned by golden filigree that seems out of place in a military camp. He kneels and lifts the heavy lid and nestled on a bed of velvet, lay a longsword unlike any he has ever seen.

"Seven Hells" jon said, leaning in for a closer look. Caster carefully lifts the sword while marveling at its craftsmanship as the pointed crossguard features an intricate dragon design, each arm ending in a fierce dragon's face. The top of the dragon's mouth extends, forming another dragon head. At the center of the guard, a point faced towards the blade and adorned with delicate scrollwork. The hilt is designed for a two-handed grip and wrapped in black leather over cord. A golden band encircles the center of the grip, adding a touch of elegance to the deadly weapon.

"This is no ordinary sword.. Look at the detailing on these dragons.. It's almost as if they're alive" caster said, his voice filled with awe.

"Aye but what's a sword like this doing here.. It doesn't seem like something the Golden Company would just leave behind" jon says, his brow furrowed. Caster didn't respond immediately but brings the sword closer to his face, his eyes narrowing as he examines the intricate details.

"It can't be" caster whispers with a sharp intake of breath, his voice a mixture of awe and disbelief.

"What is it Caster.. What do you mean" ashara says, her violet eyes filled with curiosity. Caster's grip on the hilt tightens and with a swift motion, draws the sword fully from its scabbard. The blade seems to sing as it cut through the air, a haunting melody that sent shivers down everyone's spine.

"This sword… Is Blackfyre" caster said, his voice filled with reverence. A collective gasp fills the tent as jon's eyes widen in disbelief while tyene leans in for a closer look.

"Blackfyre?!.. But that's impossible.. The sword has been lost for years" ashara said, her voice filled with wonder.

"Aye.. But here it is in our hands" caster says, his eyes never leaving the blade but begins swinging the sword experimentally and marveling at its perfect balance.

"I used to read stories about this sword.. How it was wielded by Aegon the Conqueror himself.. Then passed down through generations of Targaryens with Dark Sister.. Until..." caster said, a faraway look in his eyes.

"Until the Blackfyre Rebellion" tyene finishes, her voice grim.

"Exactly.. It disappeared after that.. Presumed lost or hidden away.. By the Golden Company it seems" caster says with a slow nod, "And it's ours" he adds as his blue eyes glinting with excitement, "It'll be yours Jon.. When we get to Volantis.. You can make it your own" he finishes, looking to jon and a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

"Me?!.. But... Why me" jon says, his mouth dropping open slightly. Caster clasps jon's shoulder with his grip warm and reassuring, "You're my technically squire aren't you.. Only the best for my comrade… Unless you'd rather I give it to Ashara or Mya" caster said, a mischievous glint in his eye forming.

"No.. I... I'm honored Caster.. Truly.. But are you sure" jon says, still looking bewildered.

"You've proven yourself time and time again Jon.. You deserve this.. Our Fathers fought side by side.. it is fitting you have a proper Named Sword" caster says, his face growing serious for a moment.

"It's a remarkable gesture Caster.. But are you certain you don't want to keep it for yourself.. Blackfyre is a sword of Kings after all" ashara says, stepping closer.

"And what would I do with a Sword of Kings?!.. I'm quite content with Red Dawn.. Besides.. I have a feeling Blackfyre will serve Jon far better than it ever could me" caster says with a laughing echoing in the tent and holds the sword out horizontally to jon. The bastard of winterfell slow takes the sword and runs his hand along the flat of the blade, "I... I don't know what to say Caster" he says, his expression a mixture of awe and uncertainty.

"Well it seems Blackfyre has found a new wielder.. The Golden Company's loss is our gain" tyene says with a faint smile,

"Indeed.. And who knows what other treasures we might find here.. Let's keep searching.. The Golden Company's secrets are ours for the taking" caster says, his eyes scanning the tent. The group spread out and rifle through chests and searching every nook and cranny of the tent. The discovery of blackfyre had energized them all and each of them wonder what other surprises the golden company's camp might hold. [song ends finally]

-XxX-

Four moons later and in the shadowy corners of the red keep there is a spider weaving his web. Lord varys the master of whisperers has received a small scroll carried by one of his little birds in essos. He reads the contents as his face remains impassive but his mind races with the implications. The news of the golden company's defeat near volantis is troubling to say the least. He knows full well that the queen regent and the young king hired them, a fact that could prove disastrous if it ever comes to light but for now. Their attention is firmly fixed on joffrey's upcoming wedding, a spectacle that promises to be as grand as it is politically charged. Varys folds the scroll and tosses it into the nearby brazier, watching as the flames consume the damning information. The paper curls and blackens as he couldn't help but reflect on the hidden prince within the golden company, the boy he so carefully placed as a contingency and a possible piece to play in the great game.

"A shame.. I had such high hopes for you young Aegon.. But it seems the Rouge Prince has proven himself quite... Formidable" varys murmurs to himself, his soft voice mingling with the crackling fire. The spymaster's thoughts turn back to caster baratheon, the unexpected variable in his carefully laid plans. The young prince has grown into a force to be reckoned with, his victories in essos sending ripples across the narrow sea. Varys had to admit, albeit grudgingly that he has underestimated robert's trueborn son. He gazes out the window at the sprawling city below and varys couldn't help but wonder what other surprises the rouge baratheon might have in store. The game of thrones is ever-changing and this new player has just made a very bold move.

"Well played young stag.. You are indeed a King Without a Crown.. Well played indeed" varys whispers, a faint smile playing on his lips. He turns away from the window and varys feels a spark of satisfaction ignite within him as his mind drifts back to the tumultuous days following robert baratheon's death. When he made the calculated decision to send word to caster, urging him to remain in essos and build an army and at the time it was a gamble. Many would have question the wisdom of encouraging a potential claimant to the throne to amass power across the narrow sea but varys is nothing if not a master of the long game.

"Perhaps.. I have inadvertently nurtured a force capable of upsetting the entire board" varys muses, his soft voice barely audible even to himself. The thought both thrilled and unnerved him as caster baratheon has proven to be far more capable than anyone had anticipated.

"You've exceeded all expectations my Prince.. But then again that was rather the point" varys thought, shaking his head in bemused admiration. He moves to his desk with fingers tracing the outline of the seven kingdoms on a worn map. The current state of affairs in westeros is precarious at best, a delicate balance of power held together by alliances as brittle as autumn ice.

"And now.. We have a wild card across the sea.. A Leader with the blood of the Stag and the Lion with firepower of Dragons" varys murmurs, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. The possibilities were endless as caster could be the force need to break the stagnation gripping the realm, to shake loose the old power structures and pave the way for true change. He settles into his chair as varys' mind is already racing, plotting new schemes and contingencies. The spider has woven a complex web and now he has a new and powerful strand to work with. The game of thrones is about to become far more interesting.

To Be Continued For Real

AN2: Caster's army has toppled the Golden Company hired by Cersei and Joffrey but they failed, even Varys' piece is now dead as well, though he sees some who can kick the board into pieces. I urge you to find the song I used on YouTube just copy and paste, it inspired to me to write. Next chapter Caster is in Volantis where he meets another partner and Caster returns to Westeros just in time to save his Uncle from death. Thank you for reading and Would You Kindly Review.