"A Shield in the Storm: The Captain’s Oath"

The ruins of Kaer Morhen had faded.

Now, Steve Rogers found himself in a shattered fortress, its walls crumbling under the weight of time and war. Unlike the cold, solemn home of the School of the Wolf, this place felt different—wilder, sharper, dangerous.

Kaer Dhu, the lost stronghold of the School of the Cat.

A place built for outcasts. Killers. Survivors.

The air smelled of rust and leather, of old blood soaked into the stone. The shadows stretched unnaturally long, twisting around Steve as if watching him.

And then, he felt it.

Eyes. Dozens of them.

"The Wolf walks into a den of Cats."

The voice came from the darkness. Smooth. Mocking.

From the shadows, they emerged—figures clad in faded, tattered Witcher armor. Their feline eyes gleamed like molten gold in the dim light. The Witchers of the Cat School—or rather, the echoes of those who had long since perished.

At their center stood Gaetan, the Butcher of Stettin, his scarred face twisted in amusement. Beside him, a lithe, deadly figure—Brehen, the Mad Cat. And behind them, others: Astrid, Kiyan, Jad Karadin, Serrit, Aiden.

All killers.

All watching him like a pack of predators sizing up their prey.

---

Lesson One: No Honor Among Ghosts

"What do you think, boys?" Brehen tilted his head, a smirk playing at his lips. "Does the good little soldier have what it takes?"

Steve remained still, meeting their gazes. "I'm here to learn."

Gaetan laughed—a low, dangerous sound. "Then let's start."

The attack came without warning.

A dagger whistled through the air—Steve barely twisted in time, the blade slicing a thin line across his cheek. Before he could react, another came from the opposite direction.

He deflected it with his shield.

But they were already on him.

They moved like ghosts, darting in and out of the shadows. Their blades whispered against the air, aiming for the soft gaps in his armor—his throat, his ribs, the backs of his knees.

Steve blocked, dodged, countered—but they never fought fair.

One of them threw dirt into his eyes. Another went for his legs, sweeping them out from under him. As he hit the ground, he barely rolled in time to avoid a boot slamming toward his skull.

Brehen grinned down at him, spinning a dagger between his fingers. "Honor is a Wolf's leash, Rogers. Here? You either cheat, or you die."

Steve wiped the blood from his lip. He wasn't a stranger to dirty fights—he'd brawled in alleys before he ever picked up a shield.

But this was different.

This was a world where mercy got you killed.

And so—he adapted.

---

Lesson Two: The Blade You Don't See

Steve stopped fighting like a soldier.

He stopped trying to match their rhythm—and instead, he broke it.

When Gaetan lunged, Steve didn't block—he sidestepped, letting the Witcher stumble past before grabbing his wrist and twisting, breaking the hold on his dagger.

When Brehen tried to sweep his legs again, Steve didn't jump—he stepped into the attack, using the momentum to drive his elbow into the Witcher's throat.

The others joined in, their strikes faster, wilder. But now, Steve moved with them, rather than against them. He let the chaos flow, dodging by inches, striking only when the moment was perfect.

And then—he disappeared.

Using the ruined pillars as cover, he slipped into the shadows, just like them.

Brehen frowned, scanning the darkness. "Oh? The good little soldier is learning."

A whisper of movement—

And Steve struck from behind, slamming his fist into Brehen's jaw, sending the Witcher sprawling.

For a moment—silence.

Then, Gaetan laughed. "Not bad."

---

The Trial of Poisons – The Cat's Bite

Steve had already endured the Trial of Grasses. His body had been reforged through pain, through fire, through death.

But the Cats had their own test.

They called it the Trial of Poisons.

Steve stood in the center of Kaer Dhu's great hall, stripped of armor, his hands bound behind his back.

Before him, a table of vials, each filled with a different liquid.

Gaetan gestured. "One of these will kill you instantly. One will make you wish you were dead. The rest?" He smirked. "Survive them all, and you become one of us."

Steve met his gaze. "I don't get a choice, do I?"

Astrid grinned. "You never do."

The first vial burned like acid, his veins screaming as though set alight. His stomach twisted, his muscles locked, his mind reeled.

The second made his vision blur, the walls shifting, the floor melting beneath his feet. Illusions. Voices whispered in his ears—ghosts of the past, the dead crying for vengeance.

The third was cold, colder than anything he'd ever felt, as though death itself wrapped around his bones. His breath came ragged, his heartbeat slowing.

And yet—he endured.

One after another, he drank them all, never breaking, never falling.

When it was over, Steve collapsed to his knees, his body forever changed.

His senses sharpened beyond what even the Super Soldier Serum had given him. He could hear the heartbeat of a rat scurrying in the rafters, see the faintest shift in the shadows, smell the hidden blade coated in oil behind Brehen's back.

The Witchers of the Cat watched in silence.

Then, Gaetan stepped forward, offering his hand.

Steve took it.

"Welcome to the path, Cat of the North."

---

The Final Lesson: Mercy Has a Price

Steve had passed their trials.

But one test remained.

Gaetan led him outside, where a man knelt in the snow, wrists bound, eyes filled with terror.

"Kill him."

Steve's stomach twisted. "Who is he?"

"A deserter. A traitor. The price for the power you've gained is blood."

The man begged. "Please! I didn't betray anyone, I just ran! I didn't want to kill anymore!"

Steve clenched his jaw.

He had killed before. In war, in battle. But this? An execution?

Gaetan's eyes were unreadable. "We all make choices, Rogers. We all have lines we won't cross."

The dagger was placed in Steve's hand. The cold steel burned against his palm.

Steve looked down at the man.

And then—

He turned.

He dropped the dagger in the snow.

"Find another way."**

The Witchers of the Cat watched him in silence.

Brehen smirked. "Tch. Knew you weren't one of us."

Gaetan, however, only nodded. "No. But you've learned what you needed to."

And then—like ghosts—they vanished.

---

A Witcher and a Soldier

When Steve stood again, he was stronger, faster, sharper.

The Wolf had taught him discipline. The Cat had taught him adaptability.

Now, only one thing remained.

The next trial.

And the road to Westeros.