Chapitre 17: Natural Order
Stevron Frey was the firstborn son of Lord Walder Frey, his mother was Lady Perra Royce, of the House Royce from the Vale of the Arryns, and the heir to the Twins that raised his house, House Frey, to their current glory and status.
Much like his aged father, Stevron also placed great importance on family, although he was a tad more amiable and understanding compared to the, as some might say... stingy, patriarch of the house.
Through the Twins, the Freys had placed tolls for the crossing at their own liberty, and amassed wealth few could dream of, elevating themselves to the position of the strongest bannermen under House Tully.
Sadly, his father was dissatisfied with that, Stevron was well aware of this fact... The old man was calculating and ambitious in a way that could cost them greatly.
Owing to their great wealth and power though, the men under them had also grown increasingly arrogant, if not... TOO arrogant, even if they did have the right to it to some extent.
Stevron meant to change that.
But... that was about the farthest thought from his mind at the moment.
"By the Gods... What has happened here?"
The first irregularity he'd noticed was the hushed yet almost desperate pace of the smallfolk, traders and the likes, on the road when he was returning from his hunt, along with a handful of his men.
The second was that, even through his watery grey eyes, he saw pity and fear in their eyes... fear the likes of which he'd never truly seen.
It had started raining then, accompanied by the strong smell of wet Earth.
One of his men had stopped an aged woman too slow to keep up with her kin, but all they'd really gotten from her was incoherent mumblings and apologies that made no sense... and word of an attack.
But who would be that dumb?
He'd wondered.
The Frey commanded many men, were owed favours by numerous houses, the Twins were an impenetrable fortress, and to incur their ire would mean to go against the Riverlands.
It was only when they neared the castle that the horrifying truth became too apparent to write off as a crazed rant.
The proud dark castle seemed to appear like a nightmare out of the dark and rain, burning brightly in crimson fire that ate away at even stone, unhindered by the rain and strong wind in clear defiance of nature itself.
But that wasn't all.
The castle had been blown apart at numerous points by... The devastation was of a nature that could only have been unleashed by the likes of heavy siege engines, like trebuchets or catapults.
The gates had disappeared entirely while the portcullis had been ripped out and tossed aside at the base of the castle... What manner of weaponry could possibly do that?
And that wasn't even the most dreadful detail, no... A significant part of the castle was missing altogether, having fallen into the river beside it, it was large enough that the strong river currents could do naught but fruitlessly crash against it in a desperate bid to move it.
"A... siege?" Stevron weakly mumbled to himself, eyes wider than they'd ever been, and plain clothes so wet they stuck to his body, "B...ut, how?"
He looked around hastily, there were no men there beside them... the gates were hauntingly desolate... The dark forest beyond them held no light, they hadn't even been ambushed.
A massive force then?
No, no force in Westeros could do this to the Twins and not suffer even slightly for it.
His men were worse off than him, mumbling incoherently as their minds refused to accept the facts before them.
In horror, Stevron dismounted from his horse, too lost to stop the animal from running away as soon as he did.
"My family... Father..." He quickly realised, gritting his teeth as a strange power flooded his body, invigorating his old bones.
He ran to the gates... only to come face to face with a sight that left most of his men powerless.
A bloodbath, that was the only word to describe what he saw.
Guts and entrails were strewn about the paved paths, with bodies of men cut apart both flesh and bone, blood flowed freely from the dead, washed into cracks and holes by the rain.
The pungent smell of burnt flesh assaulted his nose.
The walls were burnt, frozen in other places, missing entirely in most.
Yet, even when faced with this, his duty to his family overpowered his fear, Stevron clenched his fists and grit his teeth, "With me, men."
"T-This isn't... the work of... m-men, milord." The footsoldier by his side keeled over, hurling all he'd eaten onto the wet ground.
"What else are we to do then? Run?" Stevron said quietly as blood mixed with water slipped between his boots, "Draw your swords, we stand together."
Perhaps the words of his House would instil some courage in his men... even though his mind doubted they could do much against whatever had caused this.
He...nay, no man alive would ever even dream of coming across a nightmare like this one.
Uttering a silent prayer to whichever God was listening, Stevron steeled his heart and moved past the castle, onto the great arching bridge that gave the Frey their wealth and power... power that amounted to nothing against whoever had attacked them.
Vengeance was a distant thought as he traversed the great stone bridge, forced to see scores of mutilated men, some he knew closely, others he recognised from his daily walks about the Keep.
The bridge was desecrated, much of it had fallen into the river below them, to the point he had to take great care not to be deceived by the dark and constant rain just so he didn't become a nameless corpse for some fisherman to discover.
Thankfully, he saw no women or children... perhaps they'd been escorted away upon the first signs of an attack?
Stevron gripped one of his men by the shoulder, narrowly saving the young man from being swallowed up by the deep and swift waters of the Green Fork, "Watch your foot..."
He managed a nod of gratitude, shaking and trembling.
A swift crack of thunder revealed that the Water Tower that stood tall in the centre of the great bridge had fallen over completely... he couldn't see what else became of it but knowing that it was simply gone was much more horrifying.
Still, the heir to the Twins... steeled his heart and hurriedly crossed the bridge to the Eastern castle which, thank the Gods, was much better preserved... Most of it was burning, but it was in better shape compared to the rest of the Crossing, which was a blessing on it's own.
Stevron's thoughts changed when he entered the castle.
The first thing his grey eyes fell on was the corpse of one of his brothers, along with many of his grown nephews... As before, it seemed whatever had attacked them encountered little resistance as it carved a path through the Twins.
How Stevron managed to remain on his two feet, only the Gods knew.
His face paled, he bit his lips to keep himself awake and drew blood.
Closing his eyes was the only way he could move past, desperate to ensure the well-being of his father and family. He marched through the corridors and halls he was raised in with watery eyes, places that reminded him of better times and fond memories were now bloody ruins.
In his stupor, he failed to realise that the few men with him had abandoned him for their lives and now, only two remained, one the boy he saved from an early death, the other an aged knight that served his house.
All the questions plaguing in his mind were answered in one fell swoop when he threw himself against the large doors of the castle's Great Hall, using what little strength his body allowed him to hoist them with the help of his men.
It was also at that time that his old body gave out, his knees gave away under him and he crumbled, forcing himself up with his hands, he lifted his chin, "...Father."
His father, Lord Walder Frey, small and crooked of form lay dead on the stone floor, stabbed through the mouth by his own blade, the bodies of Stevron's siblings and sons accompanied his father... but, what drew his attention was the seat of the Lord of the Crossing.
A tall chair of black oak, it's back carved into the likeness of two towers joined by a bridge.
A large man in dark garb sat on it, one foot crossed over the other, and chin resting in the palm of one hand, a longsword leaned against his other hand... His eyes... were what made Stevron finally accept the tragedy that had befallen his house wasn't the work of any man.
After all, what man had eyes like those?
A swirl of deep crimson in an abyss of black.
"Oh? Finally, I've been sitting here for a few hours." He started in amusement, eyes calmly studying haggard Stevron's form, "There's way too many of you guys, man. At least you aren't into incest like the rest of this world seems to be... I'm getting carried away, are you going to avenge your house?"
"...Why?" Stevron murmured.
The man pursed his lips before sitting up, "I'm a bleeding heart is all. I was trying to pass but one of your men tried to rob me... then I noticed the unfair tolls you guys are placing on poor folk... so I punched him, and then everyone attacked me."
He stood up, hands behind his back, "So... I, naturally, retaliated in self-defense. Then they thought they were being sieged for some reason and more came out, so naturally, I dealt with them too... really, it was an act of self-defense. And, I was bored."
"Y...ou were... bored?"
"Yeah, turns out when fighting and dying is the only thing you ever do, you suffer withdrawal of some kind... but I reel it in." He shrugged cluelessly, like what he'd done here was normal, like it was nothing, like the lives of hundreds meant nothing, "Then I saw a few of yous raping a poor lady, what's with that, by the way? Why the fuck do you have to rape so much?"
Stevron looked at the man's nonchalance with deep trouble... how could he be so relaxed? So undisturbed?
"But, I'm sorry for my part, crushing resistance completely is really all I know." He bowed curtly, a slight smile tugging at the corner of his thin lips, "It's the only way you could have peace... And Lord Godfrey did it, so I figure it's fine."
"My...children?"
"Dunno." The stranger shrugged, "I only went after those that tried to stop me. I told everyone castles and me don't blend well... this always happens."
"Then... m-my father?"
His father was calculating and smart, he would never has resisted once things turned too bleak... no, he would most certainly have tried to cut a bargai-
"Oh I just didn't like his face." He chuckled at Stevron.
"...What?"
The slaughterer held up a hand, "Sorry, bad joke, he's the head of the family, same as you... I can tell by the smell..." He tapped his nose, "You guys reek, take a bath sometimes damn. Anyway, it's your job to control your men... That's just how being a noble works... least where I'm from."
Before Stevron could speak further, the stranger stretched his arms and let out a small grunt, "Now then, my flair for the dramatic has been sufficiently catered to so... toodles."
He walked by Stevron as calmly as one took a stroll in the gardens, like it was second nature for him to do something so horrid... those were the last thoughts of Stevron Frey before his head rolled off his body and fell into his lap.
"No loose ends, I'm sure you can understand. I'm not particularly hungry for this kind of fame and recognition."
-
Hope you enjoyed.
Holy fuck that turned out more grim than I was originally going for.
Anyway, before you say something, know that Karl has NOTHING against the Freys or any house in Westeros as of now, this is only his natural mindset after his time in the Lands Between. As in, try to be amiable but annihilate all resistance if it comes to a fight without particular feelings about it since there was pretty much nothing to mellow him out. I hope I was able to convey it properly.
His time on Earth isn't even like 0.1% of his total age.
P.S: Canon is screwed.
P.P.S: Drop some actual reviews plz
P.P.P.S: I learned today that people are a lot stupider than I peviously believed.
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone