As the laughter died down, I kept my head bowed, forcing myself to breathe evenly.
Walder Frey was testing me.
That was the first rule in this viper's nest—never show weakness. The moment you did, someone would sink their teeth in and tear you apart.
I could feel the eyes on me. My half-brothers, my so-called kin, watching like wolves circling an injured deer. Some sneered openly, others whispered behind their hands. To them, I was nothing. Another bastard, one of many, with no name, no power, no future.
But they didn't know what I knew.
They didn't know that within a few years, this hall would be drenched in Frey blood. That our so-called victory would lead to slaughter. That the men laughing at me now would be rotting corpses, forgotten by history.
I clenched my fists, forcing my face into something neutral. For now, I had to play my role—weak, unimportant, a bastard barely worth a glance.
Walder Frey's watery eyes flicked to me once more, sharp despite his frail appearance. "Go on, then," he muttered, waving a hand. "Don't just stand there like a fool."
I bowed once more, deeper this time. "As you command, my lord."
A few of my half-brothers chuckled at that, but I ignored them. With one last glance at the old man—memorizing every wrinkle, every twitch of his fingers—I turned and left the hall.
The real game had begun.
The Bastard's Place
The Twins were an ugly fortress—functional, but uninspiring. Thick stone walls, cold and damp, with narrow halls that smelled of mildew and sweat. The only thing that made them valuable was their location.
The bridge.
House Frey had no rich mines, no vast lands, no ancient lineage to boast of. Their only real power came from their control of the Green Fork. If you wanted to move an army through the Riverlands, you had to go through the Twins.
That was why Walder Frey mattered. That was why everyone hated him.
He was not a great warrior. Not a brilliant tactician. He was a man who had clawed his way to power through opportunism, through pettiness, through an endless string of marriages and alliances.
And I was one of his many, many mistakes.
Bastards in Westeros had little value unless they proved themselves. They were tools—used, discarded, and forgotten. If I wanted to rise, I needed to prove I was more than just another Rivers.
And that started with understanding my enemies.
The Frey Pack
My half-brothers were wolves in a cramped den, all waiting for the old man to die so they could tear each other apart.
The strongest among them were the ones closest to inheritance—black-hearted men like Black Walder, the ruthless, violent son who thought himself untouchable, and Edwin, the schemer, always watching, always waiting.
Then there were the lesser sons, the ones desperate to prove their worth. Lame Lothar, clever but crippled, always using words where his sword failed. The younger sons, eager to throw themselves into battle to make a name.
And the bastards, like me.
We had no inheritance, no lands, no claim to anything.
Unless we took it for ourselves.
The First Lesson
The training yard was nothing special—a muddy, trampled patch of ground with wooden dummies, rusted weapons, and a group of men-at-arms who looked about as enthusiastic as a drunk facing the gallows.
The moment I stepped in, I felt the weight of their stares.
"Look who finally decided to join us," a voice sneered.
I turned to see Ser Danwell Frey, a minor knight of the family, arms crossed over his broad chest. He was a hard man, with thinning hair and a scar along his jaw. Not important enough to be a real player in the Frey succession, but important enough to make my life miserable.
"I was told to report for training," I said, keeping my tone neutral.
Danwell's lips twisted. "Is that so?" He gestured to the nearest weapons rack. "Pick one, bastard. Let's see if you can hold a sword without cutting off your own fingers."
More chuckles.
I forced myself to stay calm.
This wasn't just training. It was another test.
And in House Frey, failure meant more than just bruises.
It meant you were nothing.
And I refused to be nothing.
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A/N : Thanks for reading this chapter.
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