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PROLOGUE.

The North was no stranger to change. It was no stranger to the secrets the lands inhabited, and the one castle Dreadfort was infamous for. The siege of men stalked its solid grounds and gathered seven miles from Dreadfort's walls. Two camps, victims of the North's impending chill reminded Richard Stark that the Bolton's were no strangers to flaying their enemies alive. A flayed man held no secrets. And for that, Richard Stark refused to repeat the Age of Heros. A savage age in which the Houses of the First men, waged an endless amount of bloodshed against one another.

And for thousands of years, they've ruled as monarchs of the North. The choices were arbitrary for Richard Stark. The only choice was to unify both houses, though that would prove to be an impassable task. But his determination seized each fire against his enemies. Kerrigan Bolton firstborn of King Malazan Bolton, heir to the Dreadfort, tightened his cloak. Kerrigan and his allied soldiers stalked the forest's soil. His deprived gaze circled the swirl of smoke that cascaded among the thick branches, that saluted the marble-grey sky.

Snow, lighter than a feather, danced in the light like a choreographed ballet conducted by the gentle wind. Small snowflakes rested among Kerrigan's cloak and were slowly erased by the conducting heat of his body. A restful breath escapes his lips before he began to quicken his pace.

The soles of Kirigan's boots crushed the snow beneath him, as his men trailed onto his heels. His auburn eyes cast a cautious glance upon the camp, which was heavily guarded. Kerrigan and his men marched through the camp and approached the wide-ranged tent. Two men accompanied the front entrance of the tent. Their eyes showed visual signs of exhaustion. The guards drew their swords. Kerrigan raised his brow, and the corner of his lip ascended into a sly smile. Kerrigan's men mirrored the knight's intentions, a hand ghosted over their swords, ready for the unexpected.

"If I was going to kill your camp, I would have done it so, behind closed doors and above the shade of night-"

"Lower your weapons." a raspy voice commanded. Kerrigan's head raised, upon sight of Richard Stark. He stood a couple of inches taller than the young Prince, but it was insufficient if Stark believed he could intimidate Kerrigan so easily.

"Prince Kerrigan, I see you have agreed to accompany me in this urgent matter." Richard acknowledged. Richard pulled his cloak tightly and shifted a piece of his long, chocolate, hair to the side.

"Aye. Your men stood on a thread-"

Kerrigan's words came to a halt, his hand jolted to his temple. His slender fingers curled around the spine of an arrow. His grip tightened around the spine and the needle of an arrow snapped in two.

Kerrigan's head whipped in the forced direction where the arrow's master stood.

"Enough is enough, Stark. Your plans of killing me in broad daylight are no more."

Richard's mouth was left agape from the sudden actions. His eyes surveyed the hill behind the trees. There stood a young man, around the age of nine.

"Stand down!" Richard gave his men a final warning, covering for the kid's sudden retreat.

"Our intentions weren't of killing you, Kerrigan." Richard ensured the tempered prince.

"Than what? Simply injuring me?!" Kerrigan exclaimed. Kerrigan stood only twenty years of age and his actions passed many men who stood on the battlefield. The blood of vengeance ran through his veins like the startled prance of a Baratheon stag.

"I will not yield to such actions, Stark. By nightfall, you'll bring me the man held accountable for his actions. Are we not on common ground?" Kerrigan ordered.

Richard's mind shifted to the thought of sending his men after the minor child. Perhaps if Kerrigan saw the bold intentions of the child, he would show an act of mercy for the kid, as so it would remind Kerrigan of himself when he was in his youth.

Stark exchanged a nod with Kerrigan as an agreement. Stark refused to keep his word, if any harm shall come to the boy, he would sacrifice himself to keep the child alive. The North despised the Boltons for their silver-tongued persuasion and their tactics for torturing an answer from their enemies.

"There we go." Kerrigan paused and his eyes reflected upon the grey sky.

"It'll be nightfall soon, how about we discuss the matters on a hunt?" Kerrigan propositioned.

"Aye, will you bring your soldiers then?" Richard humoured his men with his remark.

"No, I don't think I will. They'll be hunting for the scoundrel that decided it was the best place and time to execute me."

A pit formed in Richard's stomach and thick beads of sweat clung to the back of his neck. An uneasy feeling began to swell in his gut, after acknowledging Kerrigan was one step ahead of him.

"Just you and I then. Let's get a move on," Stark turned his back to Kerrigan. A guard passed him a bow and a quiver full of arrows. Kerrigan joined his side, the two didn't exchange a glance or words with each other until they were deep in the forest. Small rays of light intersected through the trees and glistened on the beads of thick snow. The forest was accompanied by an eerie and nocturnal silence.

Kerrigan licked his chapped lips before speaking, "An urgent matter? I hear you need my assistance." Kerrigan comments in an amused voice.

Stark kept his mind fixed on Bolton's political support to ally with his house, to ensure both houses have political dominance of the North.

"Aye, I am afraid each noble house of the North will be challenging for a seat in the council. That's why I've asked you to answer the call-"

Kerrigan impatiently cut offΒ Richard Stark, "Aye, I know you're asking for my father's support, but this isn't my decision." Kerrigan remindedΒ Richard. Richard's eyes narrowed to Kerrigan, confused for the reason he refused to cooperate.

"Isn't that why your father sent you?"Β Richard brought up.

"Seemingly so, my father has been in bedrest for weeks. But may I remind you, Stark? House Bolton aided you, my men found you grievously wounded, closeby to the grounds of Castle Dreadfort-"

"Where are you going with this?"

"Bend the knee, and I ensure the bloodline of the Starks will continue. Better yet, you'll represent this loyalty in front of your camp, so your men won't acquire the thought of killing me." Kerrigan replied.

Richard's lips rolled into a thin line, and Kerrigan's answer crawled under the depths of his skin.

Kerrigan removed his leather glove and held out his hand. Stark stared at his hand, debating whether he should accept Kerrigan's proposition.

"Spare the man that tried to kill you, and I'll agree,"Β Richard added into the proposition.

Kerrigan's face wrinkled in agitation. He suspected Stark was going to add more to his side of the bargain.

"Fine." Kerrigan agreed.

*Snap!*

Richard spun around and he drew an arrow back behind his ear.

Kerrigan drew his sword before barking a vicious threat, "Remove yourself from concealed sight and show yourself. Or I'll skin you here and now!"

Silence overcame his words, and a woman raised from her crouched position. Her hair was long, and the colour of fire met her frosted skin. Kerrigan sheathed his sword and stood quietly. His eyes stood glued to hers. The familiar sight of her face reminded him whenever her presence was known; it meant she brought an omen of dreadful news.

"My lord, your as bright as the Lord of light predicted." the red witch flattered Kerrigan. The woman's age consisted of more than a couple of thousands of years. But her remarkable beauty was known throughout the North.

"Valencia, what news do you bring?" Kerrigan questioned impatiently.

"It involves your sister. She is a danger to Winterfell and the North, sire." the witch answered, she crossed her thin arms.

Kerrigan raised his hands and shook his head in disagreement.

"Celeste is twelve months old. An infant cannot cause harm to the realms. If you expect me to believe your silver-tongued nonsense then you are very wrong." Kerrigan answered the witch.

Richard ignored Kerrigan's reply, "What danger does she offer to the realm?" he questioned.

"One that'll burn the realms to ash. She was born beneath the black sun, the lord's curse to the realm. Every twenty-five years if a child is born beneath the black sun, the Lord of Light offers a weapon with an unquenchable thirst for blood."

Kerrigan inhaled deeply at the thought of her absence.

"Bring her to the Kindom of Driftmark to ensure her safety. You cannot prevail protecting her, Kerrigan. As I am afraid you'll never sit upon Dreadfort's throne."


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