fics I read

The sun beats down mercilessly as caster leads his small party along the dusty road to dorne. Their horses plod steadily while kicking up clouds of dust with each step. Jon rides beside him as his dark curls are matted with sweat but caster looks remarkably composed despite the heat. Caster wears a white tunic, its fabric light enough to allow some relief from the scorching sun. A black jacket with a hood, which he has pulls up to shield his face from the worst of the glare. His black pants and sturdy boots were well-suited for the long journey, showing only minimal signs of wear and a cloak billows behind him, dancing in the hot desert breeze.

"How are you holding up Jon" caster asks, glancing at his squire with a hint of concern.

"I'll manage.. Though I must admit.. I never thought I'd miss the chill of the North quite so much" jon says, wiping his brow with the back of his hand.

"Aye.. The heat takes some getting used to.. But trust me there's more to Dorne than just its weather" caster says with a chuckle, his hand absently stroking the satchel in his lap that his prize from the north. Tormund's booming voice carries on the wind but it sounds slightly strained in the unfamiliar clothing, "Bah!.. This is nothing.. You southerners are too soft.. Now beyond the Wall.. That's real weather" he shouts behind them, tugging at the collar of his new tunic and clearly uncomfortable in the lighter fabric that clings to his sweaty skin. Ygritte rolls her eyes and adjusting the jacket that feels foreign on her shoulders, "Aye real miserable weather.. I'll take this heat over freezing my arse off any day… Though I'll admit these southern clothes aren't half bad for keeping the sun off" she says, wiping her brow with the back of her hand and leaving a smudge of dust on her forehead.

"At least the boots are sturdy.. But I miss the weight of my furs.. Makes me feel naked without them he says, his massive frame looking almost comical in the fitted jacket and pants.

"You naked.. Now there's a sight to scare even the White Walkers back beyond the Wall" ygritte says, a mischievous glint in her eye. Sylvie and ulthor ride silently with their eyes scanning the horizon for any signs of trouble. They crest a hill and caster raised his hand to signal the group to halt, "Look there.. That must be the rest of my Rangers" he said, pointing to a cloud of dust in the distance. The two groups draw closer as caster could make out the familiar faces of his trusted companions. Arthur is tall and noble while riding at the front with sharp, chiseled features and piercing gaze giving him an air of quiet authority. Dark hair frames his face while peppered with a touch of gray at the temples that only add to his distinguished appearance. Beside him is bors that is a stocky and gruff man with a weathered face that spoke of countless battles. His thick neck and broad shoulders strain against his leather armor, and a scowl seems permanently etched onto his face. The quiet dagonet ride slightly behind, his towering frame making even his sturdy horse look small in comparison. His shaved head gleaming in the sunlight and his stoic expression betrays little emotion. Despite his intimidating size, there is a gentleness in his eyes that hints at a kinder nature beneath the warrior's exterior. Gawain's red hair gleams like burnished copper in the harsh desert sun next to dagonet. His striking features and icy blue eyes, a neatly trimmed beard accentuated his strong jawline and a faint scar across his left cheek hinted at past battles.

"My Prince.. It's good to see you safe" arthur calls out, his voice deep and resonant.

"Aye it's not every day we hear about our Commander gallivanting off to Essos" bors says, his gruff exterior softening slightly as he nods to caster. Dagonet remains silent but his eyes scanned the group and taking in the new faces with quiet curiosity.

"Any friends of Prince Caster are friends of ours" gawain said, his accent hinting at his foreign origins.

"Caster!" a familiar voice calls out, cutting through the dusty air and caster's head snaps up at the sight of his sister mya. She strides towards him with her long dark hair streaming behind her in the hot desert breeze, the resemblance between the siblings is unmistakable with the same striking steel blue eyes.

"Brother!" mya exclaims, her face lighting up with a smile that mirrors caster's own. She reaches him in a few quick strides and throwing her arms around him in a warm embrace. Caster hugs her back tightly and feeling a wave of comfort wash over him at her familiar presence, "It's good to see you Mya" he said, as they pull apart.

"This is Jon Snow my squire.. And these are my Freefolk friends Tormund and Ygritte" caster says, introducing his new companions to his rangers with arthur greeting them cordially. Bors gives a gruff greeting while dagonet gives a quiet nod and gawain gives a smile, "What news from the capital Caster.. Why are we bound for Dorne" gawain says, changing the subject.

"There's much to discuss but not here on the road.. We'll ride on until nightfall and find a suitable place to make camp" caster says, his expression growing serious. The group nod in agreement and they continue their journey as the sun begins its slow descent towards the horizon. The heat of the day gradually gives way to the cooler air of evening, bringing a small measure of relief to the travelers. Caster leads them off the main road and into a small copse of trees as twilight settles over the landscape. The area provided some shelter and a nearby stream offers a welcome source of water for both the horses and the weary riders.

"This looks like a good spot" caster announces, dismounting from his horse. The others follow suit and stretch their legs after the long day's ride. They quickly set about making camp, each person falling into their assigned tasks with practiced ease. Jon and gawain gather firewood, while tormund and ygritte set up the tents. Arthur and bors tend to the horses while dagonet and mya prepare a simple meal from their supplies. The smell of roasted meat and herbs fill the air and for a moment, the group eat in comfortable silence, savoring the food and the chance to rest. Once they have finished their meal and all eyes turn expectantly to caster, "I know you've all been wondering about the purpose of this journey.. The truth is... I've been given a mission by my father King Robert" caster begins and his voice is low but clear in the quiet night, "We're to sail to Essos.. To find the children of the Mad King Aerys Targaryen" he adds, looking around at the attentive faces of his companions as a murmur of surprise rippled through the group.

"The Targaryen children.. I thought they were all dead" arthur asks, his brow furrowed.

"Not all.. Two survived named Viserys and Daenerys.. They've been in exile while moving from place to place in the Free Cities.. My father wants them found" caster says while shaking his head.

"And what does Fa-the King intend to do with them once they're found" mya asks, her voice tinged with concern and nearly saying father. Caster leans back with his hand absently tracing the outline of the satchel at his side, "Father... He left that decision to me.. He trusts my judgment in this matter" he said, his voice thoughtful. A moment of silence falls over the group as they absorbed this information.

"I've been wanting to ask but why are we going to Dorne first.. Wouldn't it be faster to sail directly to Essos" jon asks hesitantly, his curiosity piqued.

"A good question Jon.. We're making a slight detour to pick up some additional... Companions for our journey" caster says, his lips curving into a small smile.

"Companions" jon presses, his interest evident in his voice. Mya's eyes sparkle with mischief as she looks at her brother, "Oh you mean Tyene.. Obara and Nymeria don't you" she said, a smirk playing on her lips. Jon's confusion is apparent as the other rangers have sly looks, "Who are they" he asks, looking between caster and mya. Mya's smirk grows wider as she leans in conspiratorially, "Why they're my dear brother's friends slash lovers.. And the daughters of the Red Viper of Dorne no less" she said, her voice filled with playful teasing. Jon's eyes widen in surprise while tormund lets out a low whistle and ygritte raises an eyebrow but is clearly impressed.

"It's not quite as... Scandalous as Mya makes it sound.. They're skilled warriors in their own right and their knowledge of Essos will be invaluable to our mission" caster says, shooting his sister a mock glare but there is a faint blush creeping up his neck.

"Indeed they are.. If circumstances were different.. They would travel with us full-time apart of the Lion's Fury.. Their skills are truly remarkable" arthur said with his voice carrying a mix of respect and admiration, "However things are... Tense between the crown and Prince Doran at the moment.. It's a delicate situation" he adds while his expression grows serious.

"Arthur's right.. The relationship between the Iron Throne and Dorne has always been complicated.. Recent events have only made it more so" caster says, his voice low and leaning forward.

"What kind of events" jon asks, ever eager to learn more history. Caster's expression darkens and he exchanges a somber glance with arthur, "It's a grim tale Jon.. During the Sacking of King's Landing by Lannister forces.. There were... Atrocities committed against the Martell family" he begins, his voice low and tinged with regret.

"Princess Elia Martell who was married to Prince Rhaegar Targaryen and her children were brutally murdered during the chaos" caster continues after taking a deep breath. Jon's eyes widen in horror and a hush falls over the group as even tormund and ygritte remain silent while sensing the gravity of the situation.

"The men responsible for these heinous acts were Ser Gregor Clegane known as the Mountain and Ser Amory Lorch" arthur says, picking up from caster as his voice filled with a mixture of anger and sadness.

"And therein lies the root of Dorne's resentment towards the crown.. My father King Robert didn't punish the Mountain or Amory Lorch for their actions.. In fact they were rewarded for their loyalty to the new regime" caster says, nodding grimly.

"It's not just about justice for Elia and her children.. The Martells see it as a slight against all of Dorne.. They feel that their people's lives are valued less than others in the Seven Kingdoms" mya adds, her face etched with concern.

"But why didn't King Robert punish them.. Surely such acts deserve justice.. Regardless of which side they were committed for" jon asks as he processes this information.

"Politics Jon.. It's always about politics.. My father needed the Lannisters' support to secure his reign.. Punishing their men would have risked that alliance" caster says, running a hand through his hair.

"If Caster had his way.. He'd do to Gregor Clegane and Amory Lorch what he did to Walder Frey.. Castrate the both of them I'd wager" ulthor says, his voice low and gravelly. Sylvie nods solemnly with her eyes glinting in the firelight, "Indeed.. Our Caster has a particular... Distaste for such actions" she adds, her voice barely above a whisper. Caster's jaw tightens with his hand unconsciously clenching into a fist, "What happened to Elia Martell and her children… It was more than just a war crime.. It was an abomination" he says and his voice is strained, "But Ulthor and Sylvie speak true.. If it were up to me.. Clegane and Lorch would have faced justice long ago.. Not just death as that would be too merciful.. They'd suffer as they made others suffer" he adds, meeting each person's gaze as he looks around the circle. A heavy silence fall over the group again, broken only by the crackling of the fire as caster's words hang in the air and a testament to the depth of his convictions.

"However… Regardless of these tensions Prince Oberyn and I have maintained a good relationship.. He and his daughters particularly.. Have been... Welcoming" caster continues, his tone softening after a moment. Mya's eyes sparkle with mischief, "Especially Tyene" she quips, a sly smile playing on her lips.

"Anyway I will ask for Tyene.. Obara and Nymeria to assist us on our mission.. Their skills and knowledge will be invaluable" caster says while ignoring his sister's jest and looking over the group, "Moreover leaving through Dorne keeps our true purpose hidden from prying eyes.. The fewer people who know about our mission the better" he adds, his voice dropping to a near whisper.

"So we're using Dorne as a smokescreen" jon said, his voice low and understanding dawning on his face.

"Exactly Jon.. To the rest of the world we're simply visiting our Dornish allies.. Our true destination remains a secret" caster says, pleased at his squire's quick grasp of the situation.

-XXX-

The group continue their journey southward with the landscape gradually changing as they approach dorne. The lush greenery of the reach give way to more arid terrain with rocky outcrops and sparse vegetation dotting the landscape. The heat grows even more intense with each passing day and they find themselves traveling mostly in the cooler hours of early morning and late evening. One day they crest a hill and see Sunspear in the distance, its golden domes glinting in the sunlight. The sight is impressive but even to those who have seen it before, "There it is.. Sunspear and the seat of House Martell" caster announces, pointing towards the city. Jon's eyes widen as he takes in the view, "It's beautiful" he breathes out, clearly in awe of the dornish capital. As they approach the city, could see the famous Threefold Gates and the main entrance to sunspear. The outer gate is made of bronze, the middle of iron and the inner gate of gold, each more elaborate than the last.

"Remember.. We're here as guests.. Be respectful of Dornish customs and courtesies" caster said, addressing the group. They were met at the gates by a group of dornish guards, their bronze-tipped spears glinting in the sun. The guards eye the newcomers warily with their posture tense and alert as caster dismounts, stepping forward with his demeanor calm and confident.

"A moment if you please" caster said softly to the guard captain, gesturing for him to lean in closer. The captain is a weathered man with sun-darkened skin and tilts his head skeptically but complied. Caster whispers something in his ear and his words were too low for the others to hear. The captain's eyes widen slightly and he nods while stepping back.

"My apologies.. Please you and your companions are welcome in Sunspear" the captain said, his voice carrying a hint of respect that hadn't been there before. With a sharp gesture from the captain, the guards step aside, allowing caster and his group to pass through the magnificent gates. Ygritte nudges jon with a mischievous glint in her eye, "What do you think he said to get us in so quick" she whispers, looking ahead to caster.

"Whatever it was it worked.. Caster seems to have a way with words" jon says, equally curious. As they ride through the bustling streets of sunspear, the group couldn't help but feel the eyes of the locals upon them. Caster leads them with purpose, seemingly unfazed by the attention they were drawing and after a short journey through the winding streets, arrive at a bustling stable near the harbor.

"We'll leave our horses here" caster announces, dismounting gracefully and the others follow suit. Jon helps ygritte down while earning a playful swat for his trouble. Once their mounts were settled and caster quickly turns to address the group, "Arthur.. Dagonet.. Gawain.. Bors.. Mya.. Ygritte.. Tormund and Ulthor.. I have a task for you" he calls out, his voice carrying authority despite its softness.

"We need a ship to take us to Tyrosh.. I need you to go to the docks and secure us passage" caster continues, his gaze moving deliberately from one face to another.

"Aye we can do that.. But what if they don't want to deal with a bunch of northerners" tormund says, his red beard catching the sunlight.

"Then use that famous wildling charm of yours Tormund.. I'm sure between the eight of you.. You can convince someone to take our coin" caster says, a glint of mischief in his eye. The group of eight set off towards the docks while caster, jon and sylvie begin their walk towards the Old Palace. The streets of sunspear bustled with life, the air thick with the scent of spices and sea salt. Sylvie keeps a watchful eye on their surroundings and her hand never far from the hilt of her weapons. Jon turns to caster with curiosity evident in his dark eyes, "Have you been to Sunspear before as you said you knew Prince Oberyn" jon asks as they navigate the winding streets. Caster nods with a faint smile playing on his lips, "Yes when I was thirteen.. My father sent me here with my uncle Renly" he says, his voice holding a touch of nostalgia as he recalls the memory.

"How was it.. I'm sure it was a welcomed reception" jon asks, arching an eyebrow.

"You're right about that.. The reception was rather cold from most of the court.. But… I did meet Tyene and her sisters.. She was taken by my eyes" caster says, his eyes twinkling with a hint of mischief. Jon nods while recalling the earlier conversation about the sand snakes, "Ah right.. But you didn't mention anything about Tyene being fascinated by your eyes.. What was that about" he asks, a curious glint in his eye.

"Well.. I didn't want to sound like I was bragging earlier.. But Tyene always said they reminded her of the sea after a storm" caster says, with a soft chuckle and a hint of nostalgia in his voice.

"And I'm sure you didn't mind the attention from a beautiful Dornish girl" jon says, raising an eyebrow.

"I was a young lad of thirteen Jon.. Of course I didn't mind.. It was a welcome distraction from the cold shoulders I was getting from most of the Dornish court" caster says with smile widening. They walk through the bustling streets with the old palace looming before them and its golden dome gleaming in the harsh dornish sun. Jon marvels at the intricate architecture and that it is so different from the stark stone of winterfell.

"It's quite something isn't it.. The Old Palace has stood for centuries and a testament to Dornish resilience and pride" caster remarks, noticing jon's awe.

"Do you think we'll be welcome this time.. Given recent events…" jon says with a nod, still taking in the sights.

"That remains to be seen Jon.. We must tread carefully here" caster says, his expression turning serious. They approach the imposing gates of the old palace and jon feels a twinge of nervousness. The dornish guards stand at attention and their spears glinting in the harsh sunlight but caster is unfazed as he strides forward with purpose.

"Halt.. State your business" one of the guards calls out, his voice firm.

"I am Caster Baratheon here to see Prince Oberyn Martell" caster says, his posture relaxed but commanding. The guards exchange glances but is clearly surprised by the unexpected visitor, "And what business does a Baratheon have with Prince Oberyn" one says, a senior-looking man with a weathered face while narrowing his eyes.

"An old acquaintance seeking to renew ties.. I believe the Prince will be interested in what I have to say" caster says, a hint of charm in his voice.

"Wait here.. I'll send word to the Prince" the senior guard says after conferring with the others for a moment.

"Do you really think the Red Viper will see us" jon asks in a quiet tone as they wait.

"Oberyn Martell is many things Jon but above all curious.. And I'm willing to bet that a surprise visit from me is too intriguing for him to ignore" caster says, his eyes twinkling with a mix of confidence and mischief. Sylvie remains vigilant with her eyes scanning their surroundings and the bustling courtyard beyond the gates is a hive of activity with servants, guards and nobles going about their business. The air is thick with the scent of exotic spices and blooming flowers, a stark contrast to the salty sea breeze they'd left behind at the docks. After what seems like an eternity but is likely only a few minutes and the guard returns, "Prince Oberyn will see you.. Follow me" the senior says, his face is unreadable as he addresses them.

"Remember be respectful Jon but not subservient.. The Dornish respect strength and wit" caster says, as they pass through the gates. Jon nods while taking a deep breath as they enter the legendary halls of the old palace, ready to face the infamous red viper of dorne.

-XXX-

Caster stares at the man opposite him with sylvie and jon standing behind him, "It's been a long time Prince Oberyn" caster says, his voice carrying a hint of nostalgia. Oberyn chuckles as his paramour Ellaria is sitting next to him, "Indeed little Prince" he says and glancing at ellaria with a warm smile, "This is my Paramour Ellaria and this my love is Second Prince Caster Baratheon.. A demon they say.. Tamer of a mountain and a host of other titles" he adds, his eyes twinkling with amusement. Caster takes a sip of his wine and his gaze fixed on oberyn, "You forgot the most important... Second Son" he comments, a wry smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Something we share in common... So why have you come Caster" oberyn asks, his eyes gleaming with curiosity. Caster leans back in his chair and lets out a sigh, "I've come for the Sand Snakes or namely Three" he declares, his gaze flickering towards ellaria as her eyes narrow.

"May I ask why" oberyn asks, pouring himself another glass of wine and his expression turning serious. Caster finishes his own wine and refills his glass, "My father has tasked me and my Rangers to deal with the Targaryen children and I am in need of their unique skills.. Besides Tyene would kill me if I didn't bring her along" he explains, a smirk playing on his lips.

"She no doubt would" oberyn says letting out a hearty laugh and motioning for ellaria to fetch his daughters. Jon furrows his brow with his curiosity piqued and looks to oberyn, "How many daughters do you have Prince Oberyn" jon asks, his voice tinged with genuine interest. Oberyn's eyes light up at the mention of his children and a proud smile spreading across his face, "I have eight in total.. Each as fierce and beautiful as the Dornish sun" he says and his voice warm with affection, rising to his feet and approaching caster

"If they were legitimate.. His mother would have one of them marry him" oberyn says, his hand coming to rest on caster's shoulder and giving it a friendly squeeze. His eyes twinkle with mischief and accompanied by a sly grin, clearly enjoying the thought of such an arrangement. The door soon swings open and ellaria enters while flanked by three young women. The one with the short cropped hair quickening her pace and leaping into caster's arms with a playful grin as he rises to his feet, "Who am I" she purrs, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

"The most beautiful woman in the world" caster says while pulling her close, capturing her lips in a deep and passionate kiss that sends a ripple of heat through them both. Sylvie clears her throat and offering a slight bow to the sisters, "Lady Nym.. Lady Obara" she acknowledges respectfully. Obara's gaze flicks over sylvie and the newcomer as he inclines his head politely, "Sylvie and a new face" obara remarks, her tone guarded but not unkind. Tyene drops from caster's embrace as nymeria approaches with her movements lithe and graceful, "Nym" he greets, a hint of longing in his voice. Nymeria's hand cracks across his cheek without warning, the stinging slap echoing through the chamber. She leans in and licks the reddened skin with a wicked grin, "Hello my prince" nymeria purrs, her breath hot against his ear.

"Why are you in Dorne" obara asks, her arms folded across her chest and leveling caster with a stern look.

"I'm going across the Narrow Sea to Essos and deal with the Targaryen children of the Mad King.. Those are my father's order but I believe he's keeping me out of King's Landing for a reason other than that" caster explains, his voice low and serious.

"And what reason might that be My Lion" tyene says, tracing a finger along his jawline and her touch feather-light.

"To be rid of me for a time and perhaps alleviate Joffrey's fears.. My brother and by extension our mother.. Believe I'm continuing to overshadow Joffrey" caster says, his gaze moving to oberyn and a faint smile on his lips.

"Can you blame them.. You quelled a rebellion at fourteen and brought House Frey to extinction at sixteen.. The First Prince has cause to worry about his young brother with you outshining him at every turn" oberyn says, letting out a snort of amusement and swirling his wine.

"Let him worry.. You're my lion and lions do not concern themselves with the opinions of lesser lions" tyene says, settling into caster's lap and draping her arms around his neck. Nymeria's eyes glittering with mischief, "Or perhaps he fears you'll take what should rightfully yours as a more qualified Prince" she murmurs, her voice a sultry whisper. Caster's grip tightens on his wine glass and his knuckles turning white, "Careful Nym" he cautions, his tone laced with warning. Obara steps forward with her expression stern, "Enough games.. Our Prince has need of us and we shall answer his call" she admonishes, fixing her sisters with a reproachful look. Ellaria watches the exchange with a faint smile, "Your father sends you to deal with the last remnants of the Targaryen line.. A dangerous task but one you're well-suited for" she muses, her gaze shifting to caster.

"But one is the former King's son and the other a mere child.. Surely you can't mean to kill a little girl" jon says, furrowing his brow. Caster's jaw tightens and he shoots jon a pointed look, "Viserys Targaryen is a grown man and a threat to the throne.. The girl however..." caster says but trails off, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his features.

"Surely even you can't bring yourself to harm an innocent" tyene asks, trailing her fingers along caster's arm with her touch light and teasing.

"Innocence is a luxury few can afford in this game of thrones.. The girl may seem harmless now but left unchecked.. She could grow into a formidable adversary" nymeria says while scoffing, her eyes narrowing.

"Nymeria speaks truly.. The Targaryen line must be severed.. Root and stem.. It's the only way to ensure lasting peace" obara adds, nodding in agreement with her sister. Caster's gaze shifts to oberyn while silently seeking his counsel and the red viper meets his questioning stare with a solemn nod, "My daughters are right Caster.. As distasteful as it may be.. The girl should not be left to live.. Her existence alone poses a threat to your family's claim" oberyn says, tone cold but not with merit. Ellaria rises from her seat and moves to stand beside her paramour, "Perhaps there is another way.. Bring her to your side.. Keep her close when you find her across the Narrow Sea" she suggests, her voice gentle but firm.

"You suggest to spare the girl and bring her into the fold" oberyn says with his brow furrowed, considering ellaria's proposal.

"If she remains unchecked.. Her mere existence poses a threat indeed,. But if she is brought under your protection.. Taught loyalty to you and your family and she could become an asset rather than a liability" ellaria says with a small nod.

"And what better way to ensure her loyalty than perhaps through marriage.. A little wife to warm your bed and bear your heirs" tyene says, her lips curving into a mischievous smile.

"You cannot be serious.. The girl a Targaryen.. She would sooner slit his throat than pledge fealty" nymeria says, running her finger across her throat.

"Not if she is raised to understand the futility of her cause.. Mold her and she will know no other allegiance than to House Baratheon" ellaria counters with a smirk. Caster remains silent with his expression contemplative and sylvie cups her chin in thought while jon shifts uncomfortably, "Forgive me but this seems... Dishonorable.. To manipulate her in such a way..." jon ventures hesitantly.

"Is necessary.. Honor has no place in the game of thrones.. If this is the path to securing the realm.. Then so be it" obara cut him off, her tone sharp.

"What say you Caster.. Shall we bring the Targaryen girl into the fold" sylvie says, her eyes flickering between caster and ellaria. Caster remains silent for a moment with his brow furrowed in contemplation, "I will judge her when I find her.. If she proves to be a threat.. I will deal with her accordingly... But if there is a chance to sway her allegiance.. We would be foolish not to explore it" he said at last, his voice low and resolute. Oberyn lets out a low chuckle as his eyes twinkle with amusement, "Spoken like a true King.. Though I shudder to think of the havoc you might wreak if you were to ascend the throne" he remarks, raising his glass in a mock toast.

"You need not worry.. As the second son.. I will not see the Iron Throne.. My ambitions lie elsewhere" caster says as tyene's fingers lazily tracing patterns on his chest. Tyene's eyes sparkle with mischief as she leans in and her lips brushing against caster's ear, "And what ambitions might those be my lion" she purrs, her voice a sultry whisper.

"Spare us the seduction Ty.. We all know where Your ambitions truly lie.. In the bedchambers and little else" nymeria says, her eyes fixed on caster with a pointed look.

"Alright.. We have our course set.. Now we must prepare for the journey across the Narrow Sea" caster declares, rising to his feet and gently guiding tyene from his lap.

-XXX-

Caster, the sand snakes and his lion's fury find themselves on the shores of tyrosh several weeks later, a vibrant island city known for its colorful dyes and fierce sellswords. The journey across the narrow sea had been long and arduous but their destination is finally within sight. They disembark from their ship and the group is immediately assaulted by the pungent scent of various dyes that permeate the air. The harbor bustle with activity, merchants hawking their wares and sailors unloading cargo from ships of all sizes. Caster surveys the scene with his keen eyes taking in every detail, "We'll need to tread carefully here on.. Tyrosh is neutral ground but that doesn't mean we won't find trouble if we're not cautious" he murmurs to his companions.

"Trouble has a way of finding us regardless my lion" tyene says, sidling up to him and her arm brushing against his.

"Speak for yourself sister.. I for one intend to keep a low profile" nymeria says, adjusting the strap of her weapon.

"We're here for information nothing more.. The less attention we draw to ourselves the better" obara says, nodding in agreement and her expression stern. As they make their way through the bustling streets has jon marveling at the sights and sounds of the foreign city. The tyroshi with their flamboyant clothes and brightly dyed beards, were unlike anything he had ever seen before.

"It's... Different from what I expected" jon admits, his brow furrowed as he takes in the colorful surroundings.

"It's a far cry from Westeros.. But each of the Free Cities has its own unique charm" sylvie says, offering him a small smile.

"Charm?!.. Is that what you call it.. Looks like a bunch of peacocks strutting about to me" tormund says, letting out a hearty laugh and clapping jon on the back.

"Hush you great oaf.. We're supposed to be blending in not insulting the locals" ygritte says while elbowing tormund in the ribs, though her eyes dance with amusement. They venture deeper into the city as caster's gaze remains alert, scanning the crowds for any sign of potential informants or threats.

"Arthur.. Take Gawain.. Bors.. Ulthor.. Tormund and Dagonet with you to scout the taverns near the harbor.. See what whispers you can catch" caster calls, motioning for his trusted ranger to join him.

"As you command.. We'll be discreet and report back with anything we find" arthur says, his hand resting on the pommel of his sword.

"Are you certain it's wise to split up in a foreign city" dagonet begins, his deep voice rumbling like distant thunder.

"Your concern is noted Dag" caster replies, placing a reassuring hand on dagonet's broad shoulder. The gesture carries the weight of their shared history, "But we'll cover more ground this way.. Besides.. I trust in your abilities" he added with a hint of a smile.

"We won't let you down" dagonet says, his eyes scanning the bustling streets around them with renewed vigilance.

"As for the rest of us.. We'll split into smaller groups.. Obara and Nymeria with me.. We'll head to the marketplace and see what information we can glean from the merchants" caster says, his eyes narrowed while considering what do next.

"The marketplace.. Where coin loosens tongues and secrets flow like wine" nymeria says, her lips curving into a sly smile.

"We'll keep our eyes and ears open" obara says, her grip tightening on her spear.

"Tyene.. Take Jon.. Sylvie.. Ygritte and Mya with you to explore the streets near the Archon's palace" caster says, turning to tyene.

"The palace district.. Oh how delightful.. I'm sure we'll uncover all sorts of interesting tidbits there" tyene says, her eyes lighting up with excitement.

"Are you sure it's wise to venture so close to the seat of power" jon says, looking uncertain.

"Don't worry Jon.. We'll be careful.. Besides sometimes the best information comes from unexpected places" mya says, clapping jon on the shoulder.

"Well said sister" caster says, nodding approvingly and the group disperse with their own mission. The vibrant colors of tyrosh surround them, from the bright fabrics adorning merchant stalls to the dyed beards of passing men. The air is thick with the scent of spices and the chatter of a dozen different languages.

"Keep your wits about you" caster murmurs to his companions.

"Agreed.. Though I must say.. These Tyroshi make it difficult to focus with all their gaudy displays" obara says with a nod.

"Speak for yourself sister.. I find their flair rather charming.. Reminds me somewhat of home" nymeria says with a smirk, her eyes glinting with amusement. As they turn a corner, come across a group of men lounging near a tavern. Their armor is weathered but bare the unmistakable insignia of the second sons and something caster was looking for.

"Well.. What have we here.. Some fresh meat for the grinder" one of the men calls out, catching sight of them.

"We're merely passing through friend.. No need for trouble" caster says, his voice level.

"Friend he says!.. I am no friend to pretty boys and their exotic companions" the man laughs out, a deep but resonant sound that seems to carry an undercurrent of danger.

"Watch your tongue sellsword or you may find yourself missing it" obara says, her eyes narrowing dangerously.

"Oh ho!.. The little viper has teeth! I am Kars and I'll speak as I please" the man exclaims, pushing himself off the wall he'd been leaning against.

"Kars is it.. I've heard tales of the Second Sons.. Tell me do you still flee from real battles or have you finally learned to stand your ground" nymeria says, her voice silky smooth but laced with venom.

"You dare insult the Second Sons?!.. I'll have your head for that!" kars says, his face darkening, his hand moving to the hilt of his sword and the air around him seems to crackle with tension. Caster moves swiftly while placing himself between kars and the sand snakes, "That's quite enough" he said, his voice carrying an edge of steel. Kars' eyes narrow as he studies caster more closely, "Wait... You're a Real Killer pretty boy.. Your eyes say it" kars says, a flicker of recognition passing across his features.

"Indeed I am and I'm looking to make coin" caster says, his expression one of confidence.

"If that is the case.. How about a chat with my friend Daario.. I think you'll get along.. He's inside" kars says, barking out a laugh. Caster's brow furrows with his curiosity piqued, "Daario" he questions, his voice cautious.

"Aye Daario Naharis.. He's got a nose for interesting folk and you are certainly that" kars says with a grin, revealing a set of perfect teeth that seemed at odds with his rugged appearance.

"And why would your friend be interested in us" nymeria asks, her voice deceptively sweet.

"Who knows.. Maybe he's bored.. Maybe he's looking for a new challenge" kars says, his grin widening.

"Lead the way then Kars" caster said with an amused smile on his face. Kars leads them into the tavern with the air thick with smoke and the scent of ale.

"I don't trust this Kars or his mysterious friend" nymeria says, leaning closer to caster's ear.

"Nor do I but my intent for coming to Tyrosh was the Second Sons" caster murmurs back with a small nod. The tavern is dimly lit with patrons of various nationalities hunched over their drinks. In a corner booth is a man with dark hair and a forked beard, his eyes following their approach with keen interest.

"Daario!.. I've brought you some new friends to play with!" kars calls out, his voice booming through the smoky air. The tall and handsome man with dark hair and keen eyes stands as they approach, his movements were fluid and graceful, exuding confidence with every step. Daario bows with an exaggerated flourish, a mischievous grin playing on his lips as his eyes sparkle with amusement and curiosity.

"Well.. Well.. What have you brought me Kars" daario said, his voice smooth as silk.

"Just call me Caster Storm.. I'm from Westeros" caster says, his voice calm but carrying his own bravado. He settles into a chair at the table with nymeria and obara flanking him on either side, their postures were relaxed but their eyes remain alert, scanning the tavern for any potential threats. Daario raises an eyebrow with a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth, "Caster Storm.. I like the sound of that.. So what brings you to Tyrosh" he says and leans back in his chair, studying caster with open curiosity. Caster takes a moment to consider his response and his fingers drumming lightly on the table, "I'm looking for glory but also hunting a pair of siblings" he said at last, his voice deliberately vague.

"Glory and Siblings you say.. How intriguing.. Though why is a Stormlander from Westeros hunting these siblings" daario says, his eyes glinting with interest.

"That's a rather personal question wouldn't you agree.. Let's just say it's a matter of some importance to me and my family" caster says, his lips curving into a faint smile. Daario chuckles while reaching for his cup of wine, "Family matters can be so complicated can't they.. Especially when they involve hunting people across the Narrow Sea" he says and takes a long sip, his eyes never leaving caster's face. Caster grabs an empty cup and pours himself some wine, "I've heard tales of the Second Sons.. How they were formed by second and third sons who sought to take what they wanted.. Men like us Daario.. Men who weren't content with the hand fate dealt them" he says, after down the glass in several gulps and his eyes on daario's.

"Interesting perspective Storm.. You seem to know quite a bit about us sellswords" daario says, a flicker of intrigue passing across his features. He reaches out and pours another full glass for caster with a faint smile.

"Our Storm makes it his business to know many things Daario Naharis.. It's part of what makes him so... Formidable" nymeria said, her voice a silky purr.

"You're right about the Second Sons you know.. We do take what we want.. But sometimes.. What we want is more than just gold" daario says, a sly smile playing on his lips as both drink.

"And what is it you want Daario" caster says, pouring them both wine and a glint of curiosity in his eyes. Daario leans back in his chair with his fingers drumming a lazy rhythm on the table, "Adventure my friend.. Excitement.. The thrill of the unknown and it seems to me that you and your companions might just be the bearers of such thrills" he says, his gaze sweeping over caster and the two sand snakes.

"Ride with me Daario and I'll get you what you wish.. Adventure.. Excitement... And perhaps even more" daario says, downing his wine and a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. Daario's eyebrows shoot up with a grin spreading across his face, "Now that does sound interesting Storm.. Very interesting indeed" he says and takes a long swig of his wine, "But there's a small matter we need to address first" he adds while considering the offer.

"And what matter might that be" nymeria says while shifting in her seat, her hand never straying far from her concealed blade.

"The current leadership of the Second Sons.. Mero and Prendahl na Ghezn to be precise.. They're... How shall I put this delicately.. Stuck in their ways" daario says with his expression turning serious, his eyes glinting in the dim tavern light.

"Sellsword captains often are.. What of it" obara says, her voice laced with disdain.

"It's more than that.. Many of the men are discontent.. Mero and Prendahl lack vision you see.. They're content with small contracts and petty squabbles" daario says, shaking his head. Caster leans back with his fingers steepled before him, "And you believe you could lead the Second Sons to greater glory" he asks, his tone carefully neutral.

"With the right allies perhaps.. The men respect strength you see.. And I can tell you've got that in spades Storm" daario says with a slow but predatory smile spreading across his face.

"Are you proposing what I think you are" nymeria says, her eyes glittering dangerously.

"I'm merely pointing out that change is in the air.. And those who are prepared for it tend to profit the most" daario said, spreading his hands wide and his smile never wavering.

"And if such a change were to occur.. What would you expect from us" caster says, his steel-blue eyes studying daario intently.

"A mutually beneficial arrangement.. You help me secure leadership of the Second Sons and in return.. You gain the loyalty of one of the most formidable sellsword companies in Essos" daario says and leans forward, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. Obara is about to question daario about trust but caster raises his hand, "It's an intriguing proposition.. I'll give you that.. But tell me.. What makes you so certain your men would follow you" he says, running his finger around the rim of his glass

"Because.. I offer them what Mero and Prendahl cannot.. A chance at true glory and not just coin.. The men are tired of fighting in petty squabbles.. They yearn for a cause.. For a leader who can inspire them" daario says as his eyes gleam with confidence.

"And you believe you're that leader" nymeria says, her voice dripping with skepticism.

"I know I am.. The men respect me.. They know I fight alongside them.. Not from the safety of the rear lines like Mero" daario replies without hesitation. Caster drums his fingers on the table with his mind working through the possibilities as this was his goal, "Before we discuss this further.. I need to know more about the Second Sons.. How many men do you currently have under your banner" he said, his voice low and measured.

"Quite the strategist aren't you Storm.. Well we're close to 2,000 strong at present" daario says, his lips curving into a knowing smile and takes a sip of his wine. Nymeria's eyebrows raise slightly at this information, "That's a considerable force" she murmurs, exchanging a quick glance with obara.

"Indeed it is.. And all of them seasoned fighters I presume" caster says, his expression thoughtful.

"You presume correctly.. Each man in the Second Sons is worth at least three ordinary soldiers.. We don't accept just anyone into our ranks" daario replies, a hint of pride in his voice.

"And how many of these men would follow you if you were to... Make your move" obara says, her eyes narrowing slightly.

"More than enough to tip the scales in our favor.. The men respect strength and vision.. Two qualities I possess in abundance" daario says with a wide grin.

"What vision do you have in mind" caster says, addressing the sellsword captain.

"Whatever vision you deem worthy Storm.. The Second Sons under my command would be at your disposal.. Whether it's hunting down lost siblings or... Pursuing grander ambitions" daario says, his eyes glinting with a mixture of ambition and mischief. The implication hang heavy in the air between them as caster's lips curve into a faint smile but his eyes remained sharp and calculating.

"A generous offer indeed Daario Naharis.. But words are wind as they say.. I'd like to see this discontent among your men for myself… Take me to meet Mero and Prendahl.. I want to... Assess the situation firsthand" caster said, his voice carrying a hint of curiosity and his blue eyes locked onto daario's.

"Is that wise.. Walking into the lion's den so to speak" nymeria says, her eyes widening and her tone urgent.

"We don't know if this is a trap.. The Second Sons aren't known for their hospitality to strangers" obara says, while nodding in agreement with her voice low and tense.

"Well.. You are full of surprises Storm.. I must admit.. I didn't expect such a bold move" daario says, a look of genuine surprise crossing his face before it is quickly replaced by his usual roguish grin.

"Sometimes the best way to understand a situation is to see it with your own eyes.. Don't you agree Daario" caster says, his expression impassive but there is a glint of determination in his eyes.

"Oh I agree wholeheartedly.. But I must warn you.. Mero and Prendahl aren't the most... Welcoming of hosts.. Especially to potential rivals" daario says, stroking his beard thoughtfully.

"Then it's a good thing we're not arriving as rivals Merely as... Interested parties looking to potentially hire the services of the esteemed Second Sons" caster replies smoothly. Daario's grin widens with a spark of admiration in his eyes, "Clever.. Very clever.. Playing the role of a potential client.. It just might work.. I'll take you to meet our illustrious leaders.. But remember.. You're walking into a viper's nest and One wrong move..." he says before standing up, downing the last of his wine. Caster rises as well with his movements fluid and confident, "I'm quite familiar with vipers.. "I think we'll manage just fine he said, casting a meaningful glance at the sand snakes.

"We'll follow your lead.. But at the first sign of treachery…" nymeria whispers as she and her sister exchange looks, their bodies tense and ready for action.

"You'll do what you do best" caster finishes for her with a hint of a smile playing on his lips, "Lead on Naharis.. Let's meet these captains of yours" he adds, turning back to daario with his expression once again neutral. As they make their way out of the tavern and into the bustling streets of tyrosh, "I must say Storm.. You surprise me.. Most men would balk at the idea of walking into a sellsword camp uninvited" daario says, falling in step beside caster. His eyes scans the colorful crowds around them, "Most men haven't faced down a hundred men alone and lived to tell the tale" caster replies, his voice low enough that only daario could hear.

"That's quite story.. I heard rumors about something some similar about a Prince.. A song called the Storm of the Frey" daario says, a mixture of surprise and intrigue dancing across his features but his tone is equally hushed.

"Rumors have a way of growing in the telling" caster says carefully but is quite interested in learning his action against the frey has reached essos.

"Come now Storm.. We're about to walk into a den of sellswords together.. Surely you can share if you and this rumored Demon are one in the same" daario says, leaning closer towards caster.

"If I were this rumored Prince.. Stories says House Frey didn't appreciate His answer of refusing to marry one of their daughters" caster says, after glancing around and ensuring no one else is within earshot.

"One of their fat and squabbling daughters you mean" nymeria said with a smirk.

"As I was saying.. Apparently didn't take kindly to my refusal.. Old Walder Frey took it as a personal insult" caster says after shooting her a warning look but there is a hint of amusement in his eyes.

"Your refusal?!" daario prompts, clearly engrossed in the story and caster freezes a little as he slipped up.

"Yes.. I am That Prince... And they tried to kill me.. I rode to the Twins under the guise of renegotiating the marriage proposal.. I refused and they planned to make me disappear" caster said simply, now realizing how comfortable daario makes him.

"It seems I've made Quite the powerful friend.. Making things more interesting" daario says, clapping caster on the back.

"Indeed.. Now their plan backfired.. I dealt with their treason..." caster says, nodding in agreement and his eyes distant for a moment.

"You slaughtered them all" daario finishes, a note of admiration in his voice. Caster's expression darkens with his voice dropping to a low but dangerous tone, "I did more than just slaughter them.. I killed all of Walder's sons too" he corrects, his blue eyes glinting with a cold fury.

"Ruthless yet not without mercy.. You're full of surprises Storm" daario says, a look of newfound respect on his face.

"The Freys learned a hard lesson that day.. Some storms are best left unbothered.. Cross me and you'll find yourself swept away in the tempest" caster said, his voice low and intense. They continue their journey through the vibrant streets of tyrosh but caster spots a familiar group of figures approaching.

"Perfect timing.. We've got quite the interesting situation developing" caster calls out, raising a hand in greeting.

"Is everything alright" arthur says, eyeing daario with suspicion.

"Indeed Arthur.. We've made a new... Acquaintance.. This is Daario Naharis of the Second Sons" caster says, his expression reassuring.

"A pleasure to meet you all.. Any friend of Storm's is a friend of mine" daario says, while bowing with a flourish.

"Second Sons eh.. Heard you lot are more trouble than you're worth" bors says, his eyes narrowing.

"Oh we're trouble alright.. But the kind of trouble that wins wars" daario says and merely laughs, seemingly unfazed by bors' bluntness.

"Indeed.. Now let's continue to the Second Sons' camp.. We have things to do" caster says, looking over his lion's fury and they each nod as tyene sidles up to him to loop her arm with him.

-XxX-

"You know.. Mero and Prendahl aren't known for their hospitality.. This could get... Interesting" daario said casually, glancing back at the group.

"Relax.. We're not walking in unprepared" caster says while remaining calm, his blue eyes alert but his posture relaxed. They approach the outskirts of the second sons' camp, the sounds of raucous laughter and clashing steel fill the air. Tents of various sizes dot the landscape and rough-looking men lounge about, cleaning weapons or engaged in games of chance.

"Welcome my new friends to the home of the Second Sons.. I hope you're ready for a truly unforgettable experience" daario says, spreading his arms wide and a grin splitting his face. Caster's eyes sweep over the camp while taking in every detail. His mind is already working, calculating possibilities and potential outcomes to gain the second sons as his force. Daario leads the group through the maze of tents, his stride confident and purposeful. As they walked, curious eyes follow their progress and whispers ripple through the camp like a wave.

"Quite the welcoming committee" nymeria mutters, her hand never straying far from her hidden blade and caster says simply stay alert.

"I don't like this.. It feels like we're walking into a trap" jon says, his brow furrowed with concern.

"Perhaps Jon But sometimes the best way to avoid a trap is to step right into it" caster replies, a hint of a smile playing at his lips. They approach a large but ornate tent at the center of the camp, "Let me do the talking at first" daario says, turning to face them. Before anyone could respond, the flap of the tent flies open and a large but brutish man steps out, his face is scarred and his eyes hold a cruel gleam.

"Well.. What have you brought us Daario" the man growls, his gaze sweeping over the group.

"Mero my friend!.. I've brought potential clients and possible new recruits" daario says, bowing with exaggerated flourish. Another man emerges from the tent but this one is leaner and with a more calculating look in his eyes, "Clients and Recruits you say" he asks, his voice silky smooth.

"Perhaps we should discuss that in private gentlemen.. I assure you our proposition is worth your time" caster says, stepping forward and his cloak flourishing. Mero lets out a bark of laughter, "Bold little shit aren't you.. I like that.. Come on then. Let's hear what you have to say" he says, jerking his head towards the tent.

"Be careful my lion.. These men reek of treachery" tyene whispers, as they enter the tent.

"Don't worry" caster says, nodding almost imperceptibly. Inside the tent has the air thick with the scent of wine and sweat, maps and weapons were scattered about, and a large table dominates the center of the space.

"So stranger.. What brings you to the Second Sons.. And more importantly what can you offer us" prendahl says, gesturing for them to sit. Caster's eyes sweep the room and settle on prendahl before glancing briefly at daario, a hint of a smile playing at his lips.

"My name is Caster Storm.. And I find myself in an interesting position. You see.. I'm looking to either hire you... Or perhaps join your ranks" caster said, his voice carrying a note of confidence that belies his young age.

"Join us?!.. A pretty boy like you.. What makes you think you're worthy of the Second Sons" mero says, his eyes gleaming with amusement.

"Well for one.. I'm a second son myself.. No titles and no lands to inherit.. Plus I offer you settle skilled fighters to assist you" caster says, leaning back in his chair.

"That is all well and good Storm.. But the Second Sons require more than just words. We need skill.. Strength and most importantly loyalty" prendahl says with his eyes narrowed, his gaze flickering between caster and the people behind him.

"Oh I assure you.. Caster has all of those in abundance.. Perhaps even more than some of your current... Leadership" nymeria says with sly look on her face.

"Watch your tongue or I'll cut it out myself!" mero snaps, his face contorting with anger.

"Now let's not be hasty.. I believe our friend Caster here has an interesting proposition.. Why don't we hear him out" daario says, his hands raised in a placating gesture.

"Indeed.. As I said.. I'm here with two options.. The first is to hire your services.. Something that could bring great glory to the Second Sons" caster says, nodding gratefully to daario before turning back to the captains.

"And the second option is to join us" prendahl says, his interest piqued.

"Indeed" caster said, his steel blue eyes glinting with determination.

"You're just some pretty boy" mero says with a scoff, his arms folded.

"Well... I've faced down a hundred men alone and lived to tell the tale.. And I have a knack for... Inspiring loyalty in those around me" caster says, his lips curving into a dangerous smile.

"It's true.. I've seen him turn enemies into allies with nothing but his words and his sword" obara adds, standing behind him.

"Interesting claims Storm.. But words are wind.. How do we know you're not just another braggart looking to make a name for himself" prendahl says while exchanging a glance with mero, their expressions unreadable.

"Give me a chance to prove myself.. Set me any task or any challenge.. If I fail.. I'll walk away and never darken your door again.. But if I succeed..." caster says, letting the words hang in the air and heavy with possibility.

"I say we give him a chance.. After all what have we got to lose" daario says, watching the exchange.

"And what do you think Naharis.. Is this pretty boy worth our time" mero says, his eyes never leaving caster's face.

"Oh I think he's full of surprises.. And if nothing else.. He'll certainly make things more... Interesting around here" daario says with his lips curving into a sly smile.

"Very well Storm.. We'll give you your chance.. But be warned… Fail us and you'll wish you'd never set foot in our camp" prendahl says, drumming his fingers on the table. Mero's face split into a wide and menacing grin, "I have the perfect test for our pretty boy here" he says, his eyes gleaming with malicious intent.

"And what might that be" caster asks, his posture remaining relaxed despite the tension in the air.

"You claim to be a skilled fighter Storm.. Let's put that to the test.. You'll fight Mero here… To the death" prendahl replies, a cruel smile playing on his lips and a hushed silence fell over the tent. Daario's eyes widen slightly with a flicker of concern passing across his face, "Now.. Now.. Surely there's no need for such... Extreme measures" he said, his voice light but with an undercurrent of tension.

"Scared for your new friend Naharis.. Or perhaps you're worried he might actually win" mero says, letting out a booming laugh.

"I accept your challenge" caster declares before his companions before they could protest and his eyes locked on mero.

"Caster.. You can't be serious.. This is madness!" jon says, his face etched with worry.

"Sometimes Jon.. The only way to prove your worth is to dance with death itself… I've done it before and I'll do it again" caster says, glancing to jon and a faint smile on his lips.

"Excellent!.. We'll hold the fight at sunset in the training yard.. It should prove to be quite the spectacle" prendahl says while clapping his hands together, his eyes glittering with anticipation. Caster's group leave the tent with daario following but caster could see the looks on his comrades, "I've faced worse odds before" he says, a steely glint in his eyes.

"I hope you know what you're doing Storm.. Mero isn't known for his mercy in the ring.. He's a brutal fighter and he'll stop at nothing to win" daario murmurs, his voice low enough that only caster could hear.

"Good thing I'm not planning on asking for any mercy" caster says and his voice equally quiet but filled with an undercurrent of steel, "In fact Daario.. I have a proposition for you" he adds, his hand resting casually on the hilt of his sword.

" And what might that be" daario asks, taking them to his tent in the camp.

"I'll kill Mero in the ring.. Your job is to deal with Prendahl in the chaos that follows" caster says after glancing around, ensuring no one else was within earshot.

"Bold plan.. And what do I get out of this little arrangement" daario says, a mixture of surprise and admiration flickering across his face.

"The Second Sons will be yours.. With Mero and Prendahl out of the picture.. Who else would the men follow but their charismatic lieutenant" caster says, a dangerous glint in his eye. Daario strokes his beard thoughtfully while considering the offer as they enter his tent, "You know.. I think I'm starting to like you.. It's a deal" he says after a moment, a slow grin spread across his face.

"Remember.. Timing is everything.. The moment Mero dies.. Then make your move on Prendahl" caster says, his expression serious once more and the two men shakes hands. The camp bustles around them, oblivious to the deadly plot unfolding in their midst.

[Background Music - Medieval Battle Music Compilation: Sword and Faith(Loop)]

News of the impending duel has spread like wildfire and soon the entire camp is buzzing with anticipation. Caster is inside daario's tent while checking his sword and hidden blades with jon helping him, "Caster.. This is reckless.. We can find another way to gain their trust" jon says, his face etched with concern.

"Trust me.. This is more than just a test of strength.. It's a chance to show these men what true leadership looks like" caster says, pacing a reassuring hand on jon's shoulder. The sun begins to dip towards the horizon as caster stands at the edge of the training yard. He rolls his shoulders and loosens his muscles as he watches mero swagger into the ring, brandishing a massive broadsword. The air is thick with tension and the gathered crowd of sellswords muttering and jostling, eager for the spectacle to begin. Prendahl steps forward with his voice cutting through the murmur of the crowd, "Silence!.. This is a match to the death between Mero of Braavos.. Captain of the Second Sons and Caster Storm.. Who seeks to prove his worth" he calls out and a hush fell over the gathered men. A ripple of excitement run through the crowd as death matches were rare, even among the hardened sellswords of the second sons. Many eyes turned to caster, assessing the young man who dares to challenge their brutal captain.

"So Pretty boy is going to challenge Mero.. He looks like his balls haven't dropped" one soldier says, as caster's face is impassive.

"Look at his sword.. It's black as night" a second says, as caster's sword gleams in the fading light. Mero grins with a cruel twist of his lips that promised pain, "Last chance to back out pretty boy.. I'd hate to ruin that pretty face of yours.. Though I suppose it won't matter much when you're dead" he calls out, his voice dripping with mockery. A few chuckles ripple through the crowd but caster didn't rise to the bait as a small and dangerous smile to play across his lips, "Don't worry about my face Mero.. Worry about keeping your head on your shoulders" he replies, his voice carrying clearly across the ring. The crowd falls silent at caster's bold response, even mero seems taken aback for a moment before his face contorts with rage.

"The match begins when I lower my arm.. And it ends only when one of you lies dead in the dirt. There are no other rules" prendahl announces and raises his hand, looking between the two combatants. Tension rises up as caster grips his sword and prendahl's arm begins to descend as mero lets out a roar of challenge. He lashes out with his sword, a vicious overhead strike that would have cleave a lesser man in two. But caster is no ordinary opponent as with a fluid grace, sidestepped the attack and his own blade singing through the air to meet mero's. The clash of steel echo across the training yard, drawing gasps and cheers from the gathered crowd. Mero's eyes widen in surprise as he was clearly not expecting such swift retaliation.

"Lucky dodge boy" mero growls, his face contorting with anger and launches into a flurry of attacks, each strike powerful enough to shatter bone. But caster parries each blow with ease, his movements economical and precise. Where mero relies solely on brute strength, while caster fights with calculated precision, conserving his energy while letting his opponent tire himself out.

"Stand still and die!" mero roars, frustration evident in his voice as another of his attacks met nothing but air. Caster allows himself a small smile with his eyes never leaving mero's face, "Now where would be the fun in that?!" he taunts, his voice calm despite the deadly dance they were engaged in.

"Storm has got some skill" daario says, leaning to prendahl and keeping his voice low.

"Skill yes.. But Mero has the strength.. He'll tire the boy out eventually" prendahl grunts out, his eyes narrowed as he studies the fight. Around the edge of the training yard are caster's companions, watching with a mixture of tension and pride.

"Your brother is holding his own as usual but many of these Second Sons boast of Mero's strength" gawain says, leaning close to mya.

"Watch how he's letting Mero wear himself out.. Plus we Baratheon has stamina for days" mya says, her blue eyes never leaving the fight.

"I've never seen anyone move like that.. It's like he can predict Mero's every move" jon says to sylvie while his dark eyes follow every movement of the fight, analyzing and learning.

"That's our prince.. Always full of surprises" sylvie says low, a small smile playing on her lips.

"Look at how my lion moves.. Like water around a rock" tyene says standing to her sisters, her eyes glittering with admiration.

"Let's just hope he doesn't get overconfident" obara says, her grip tightening on her spear.

"Oh I don't think we need to worry about that.. Our Storm knows exactly what he's doing" nymeria says with a sly smile. As the fight continues, the group maintain their vigilant watch, each ready to spring into action if needed while mero's attacks begin to grow more desperate. His attacks grow wilder, less controlled while caster seems to move with an almost supernatural grace.

"Enough of this!" mero snarls and spits on the ground, "Time to end this game!" he adds with a roar and charges at caster, his massive sword held high. Caster holds his ground with his stance relaxed but ready and at the last moment, pivots to let mero's momentum carry him past. In one fluid motion has caster's blade flashes out and drawing a line of red across mero's back. The crowd gasps as mero stumbles with blood staining his tunic while his face is a mask of rage and disbelief, "You'll pay for that!" he growls, his voice low and dangerous. Caster merely raises an eyebrow with his sword at the ready, "I'm still waiting for you to make me pay for anything Mero.. So far.. All I've seen is a lot of swinging and missing" he replies, his tone almost conversational. Mero's face turns an alarming shade of purple and with a bellow of rage, charges again but caster meets mero's charge head-on and their swords clashing in a shower of sparks. They both push for the upper-hand and neither giving ground but with a sudden burst of strength. Caster shoves mero back, following up with a series of lightning-fast strikes that has the bigger man stumbling backward.

"Impossible!.. How can he be so fast?!" prendahl mutters, his eyes wide with disbelief.

"I told you.. Storm's full of surprises" daario says, his hand moving subtly to the hilt of his hidden weapon and his eyes never leaving the fight. Mero is growing desperate in the ring with blood flowing from a dozen small cuts, each a testament to caster's skill with a blade.

"What are you?!.. No one fights like this" mero gasps out, his chest heaving as he struggles to catch his breath. Caster's eyes glint dangerously in the fading light, "I am the storm.. And you Mero are about to be swept away" he replies, his voice carrying across the now-silent training yard. Caster suddenly closes the distance between them, moving with a speed that seems almost inhuman. Mero is caught off guard by the sudden advance and lashes out with a desperate, sweeping strike aimed at caster's midsection. But caster is ready and drop low with the blade whistling harmlessly over his head as mero's momentum carries him forward. Time seems to slow as caster's sword flashes upward, finding the gap in mero's defense and the blade biting deep, slicing through leather and flesh alike, opening a vicious gash across mero's belly. A collective gasp rises from the crowd as mero stumbles backward, his free hand clutching at the wound and blood seeps between his fingers while staining the dusty ground beneath him.

"You... You..." mero sputters, his face a mask of pain and disbelief. He tries to raise his sword but the strength is rapidly leaving his body. Caster stands tall with his blade dripping red in the fading sunlight, "It's over Mero," he said, his voice calm but firm.

"This can't be happening" prendahl mutters, his face pale and his eyes darting from mero's faltering form to caster's dance. Daario senses the shift in the air and subtly adjusts his position, ready to make his move. Mero roars with defiance and charges at caster one last time, his sword high despite the blood flowing freely from his wound. Caster sidesteps the clumsy attack with ease and his own blade flashing out once more but this time catches mero's throat, opening a crimson smile across the sellsword captain's neck. Mero's eyes widen in shock as he collapses to his knees, his sword clattering to the ground beside him. He tries to speak but only a gurgle escapes his lips as blood fills his mouth. The training yard falls deathly silent as mero topples forward, face-first into the dirt with his body twitching once, twice and then still. Caster stands over his fallen opponent, his chest heaving slightly from the exertion. He looks up with his blue eyes scanning the crowd of stunned sellswords before settling on prendahl.

"I believe.. That I've proven my worth.. Now about that position in the Second Sons..." caster said, his voice carrying clearly in the silence. Daario's voice cut through the tension before anyone could respond, "Indeed you have Storm" he declares, his eyes glinting with a mixture of admiration and cunning as he plunges his hidden knife deep into prendahl's throat. His eyes widen in shock with his hands clawing at his neck as blood spurts from the wound and stumbles backward, gurgling before collapsing to the ground in a heap. The camp erupts into chaos as swords were drawn and shouts of confusion but also anger fill the air. Many of the second sons advance on daario and caster separately, their faces contorted with rage and uncertainty but caster's lions surround him.

"Brothers!.. Hear me!" daario shouts and his voice ringing out above the tumult, "Too long have Mero and Prendahl laid us low!.. Too long have we languished under their greed and short-sightedness!" he shouts, his charisma palpable even in the face of potential mutiny. The advancing sellswords hesitate with their weapons still raised but their faces now showing a mix of emotions like anger, confusion and a glimmer of hope.

"Your captain spoke of my worth.. But what of your worth?!.. What of the Second Sons' worth?!.. Are you content to be mere sellswords and fighting for scraps?!.. Or do you yearn for something greater" caster calls out, his blue eyes scanning the crowd and a murmur runs through the crowd.

"We have a chance now brothers!.. A chance to be greater than we've ever been before!.. With Storm's skill and my knowledge of our company.. We can rise above our current station!" daario declares, his voice passionate and persuasive.

"And why should we follow you Daario?!.. Or this newcomer for that matter.. What makes you any better than Mero or Prendahl?!" one of the older sellswords says, a grizzled veteran with a scar running down his cheek. Caster meets the man's gaze steadily, "Because we offer you a choice.. A choice to be more than just swords for hire.. A chance to be part of something truly greater than before" he said, his voice calm but intense.

"Think of it brothers!.. With Storm and my knowledge of Essos.. We could become the most sought-after company in all the Free Cities!.. No more gutter contracts and no more scraping by!" daario declares, building on Caster's words. The tension in the air is palpable as the sellswords look at each other, uncertainty warring with hope on their faces. Slowly and one by one, swords began to lower as the grizzled veteran looks between caster and daario.

"You speak pretty words" the veteran said gruffly, his expression thoughtful.

"You've seen what I can do in combat and I have connections across Westeros.. Contracts that could set the Second Sons up for years to come" caster declares while gesturing to mero's fallen form, his gaze sweeping across the assembled men. The veteran considers this for a long moment before nodding slowly, "Alright.. We'll give you a chance.. But remember.. Sellswords' loyalty only runs as deep as their purses" he said, his voice gruff but carrying a note of hope. A cheer goes up from the crowd as the tension finally breaks with swords were sheathed and men begin to gather around caster and daario, eager to hear more about this new future for the second sons.

"Well played Storm.. I think we might just pull this off" daario says, his voice low enough that only they could hear and a grin spreading across his face.

"Indeed.. But remember Daario.. This is just the beginning.. We have much work to do" caster says, his own lips curving into a small smile. As the sun finally dips below the horizon and casting long shadows across the camp. The second sons were now under new leadership and with them has caster one step closer to his ultimate goal.