A/N: I do not own. It all belongs to GRRM. Yes, I am a Roslin Frey fan, haters to the left please.
TURNING and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
When Roslin Frey was born, her father took one look at her, grunted, and left the room mumbling something about worthless girls. She was the fifth daughter of Old Walder Frey and entirely unimportant, all things considered. So it was, that her arrival into the world was regarded as unimportant by all but her mother Bethany and her brothers, Perwyn, Benfrey, Willamen, and Olyvar.
Her childhood is a lonely one, for although she has many brothers and sisters, theirs is not a happy family and she learns early on that it is better to remain invisible if you want to be safe. Her brother Olyvar is her only true friend, and after the loss of their mother, her protector. Perwyn and Benfrey were also kind, but they were much older and prone to forgetting about her existence, and Willamen leaves to squire when she is still young and she doesn't hear much from him after.
She finds her solace in books, glorying in the tales of handsome knights and fair ladies, and at the tender age of eight she determines that, one day, a handsome lord will come and rescue her and carry her as far away from the Twins as possible. She prays to the Seven every night, begging them to grant her this one blessing, but she is only the fifth daughter of Old Walder, and if she is lucky she'll marry a Lannister. If not, well, her prospects are slim.
It is only a few moons after her sixteenth nameday when it appears that all her prayers will be answered.
Her father calls all of the girls into the hall and lines them up in front of him. He stalks down the line, inspecting and prodding at each girl in turn. By the time he gets to Roslin, her face is pale and her hands are clenched to prevent them from shaking. He circles her like a hawk circling it's prey, his eyes noting every detail of her features. From her small, thin frame, to her large, brown eyes and delicate face; her long, thick, brown hair to her pale, white skin, nothing escapes his notice.
"Well!" He barks, "Which one are you?" "Roslin, Father." "Roslin? Roslin..." He puzzles over her name for a moment as though trying to recall if he had heard it before. "And which one of my wives was your mother?" "Bethany Rosby, Father." She says softly, though every part of her longs to scream at him for not having the decency to remember the woman who bore him four children. "Ah, yes, Bethany. That makes you, what, five and ten?" "Six and ten, Father." "Hmph. Well have you bled yet?" Roslin feels her face flush. "Yes, Father." "Hmph." He looks her up and down once more before stating, "Aye, you'll do." Then he turns and leaves the hall.
Later that evening, Olyvar explains to her that young Robb Stark had agreed to marry one of her father's daughter in exchange for passage across the Neck. Old Walder had chosen her to be the one to marry the young Heir of Winterfell. She goes to the sept and weeps tears of joy as she gives thanks for her miracle.
She cries when Olyvar goes to join the northern army as Robb Stark's squire, but he kisses her head and tells her that he will write news to her of her young wolf.
The news comes fast from all corners over the next few months. Ned Stark's beheading upon the steps of The Great Sept, her good sisters held hostage at Kings Landing, Robb's victories, his men crowning him King in the North. Her father had been thrilled when he had recieved word of the latter.
Every one seems to have an opinion of the Young Wolf, as they have come to call him. They say he rides into battle on the back of a giant direwolf, that he can turn into a wolf himself, and that he is as bloodthirsty as his sigil. She would have been terrified of these reports if her brother hadn't already refuted them. As it is, Olyvar has never lied to her, and she thinks he would not start now. He writes to her of a young man who is good and honorable, with a handsome face and a kind smile. At night, her dreams are filled with red curls and Tully-blue eyes.
She prays for him in the sept every morning before going about her day, prays to the Warrior for protection over her beloved wolf. When word reaches her that her Robb lies wounded at the Craig, she runs to the sept and throws herself down before the Seven, weeping, begging for his life. Perhaps her motives are selfish, but she knows, if Robb Stark dies, she will never leave the Twins.
More news filters in, Robb lives but lies ill from his wounds, The Ironborn raid the North and Theon Greyjoy takes Winterfell and kills her good brothers. She weeps for them in the sept and prays that the Warrior will give her betrothed the strength and wisdom to fight on in the face of such grief. Mostly, she prays for his life. She prays he will survive and come to carry her away.
Robb lives, but her dreams still come crashing down around her. It was inevitable really, she is the fifth daughter of Walder Frey and it was foolish to think that true happiness could ever be hers. She cannot hate him though, no matter what her father and brothers say, she cannot hate him How could she? When she knows that he would not have been the man she'd thought him to be if he had not married the Westering girl. Her Robb would never dishonor a maid and then abandon her.
Suddenly, she realizes that he is not her Robb anymore, and she tries not to hate the Westerling girl.
When Benfrey tells her that she is to marry the Lord of Riverrun, she is shocked speechless. Not that she isn't pleased, oh no, but because her father is known for his cruelty to those who slight him. But her suspicions of her father's motives are drowned out by her joy, and she loses herself once more in daydreams of red curls and Tully-blue eyes, and Riverrun...
She is so close to freedom, she can almost taste it, and she dances around her room laughing for the sheer joy of it. She decides that she will be friends with Queen Jeyne, that they will look after Riverrun together while their husbands are away at war, and perhaps they shall have their first babes at the same time, beautiful babes with red hair and blue eyes, and everything will be perfect.
She is so lost in her fantasy that when Benfrey tells her the reality of her father's plans, the cold truth of it washes over her like a flood of ice water and stuns her speechless. She is being used as bait to lure the Young Wolf and his men to their deaths. It is a full three minutes before she is able to speak again.
"But Benfrey, you can't! The guest rights! And to kill all of them! Why would you do this? They are trying to make it right, why can't you just let it be?" Her brother's face twists into an expression of anger and disgust so potent she shrinks back from him in fear, "Let it be? He insulted us! He insulted this family, he insulted you! And you want us to let it be?!" Benfrey rages, throwing his arms about, face filled with fury, eyes wild.
"No, Roslin. The King in the North will pay for what he has done." She feels something boiling inside of her, anger and betrayal, hurt and fear. They push upward and burst out of her with, " I won't let you! I won't let you do this, I won't go along with it! I will tell someone, Lady Catelyn, or... someone, I will tell them!" Benfrey turns back to her, his face still as stone. Suddenly she is up against the wall, her older brother's arm against her throat. "Perwyn and Olyvar said the same thing and you know what? Father locked them away in their rooms. And if you say anyhing about it to anyone, he'll have them killed. Do you want that Roslin? Could you live with yourself knowing that you got your brothers killed because you couldn't keep your mouth shut?"
Olyvar's face flashes through her mind and she shakes her head no, the fight gone out of her. Benfrey gives her a smile that does nothing to calm the anger in his eyes or the fear in her heart. "That's a good girl." He removes his arm from her throat, "Just remember sister, when Robb Stark married the Westerling whore, he insulted you." He presses a kiss to her forehead, "We're doing this for you."
Robb arrives with his mother and her betrothed and his northern bannerman. They are all wonderful, Lady Catelyn is kind and everything she remembers her own mother being, and the Mormont women are fierce and wonderful and she would be in awe of them if she were not sick with the knowledge that they will be dead soon. Edmure is handsome, with bright eyes that look at her with an emotion she cannot name, and then there is Robb. Dear, sweet Robb who looks at her with kind eyes and an apologetic smile, and she knows that he was only trying to do the right thing and he's trying to make it right, and oh it hurts!
She starts crying and is quickly removed from the room.
The feast is a poor one, and she is sick already with fear and grief and anger at her family for what is about to happen. She looks at Edmure and sees the kindness in his smile, the laughter in his eyes, and she thinks they would have been happy if it wasn't for her family. They call for the bedding and she knows that the northerners think she weeps out of fear, but in truth, she looks at each man's jolly, good natured face, and sees another life that will be cut short by the morrow.
She pictures Olyvar in her mind, I must be silent, I must be silent for him. When Edmure takes her, he is gentle and kind. He tries to make it good for her, and she feels the heat inside in spite of her grief. But she weeps and as he kisses away her tears, telling her that the pain will be gone soon, she wishes that she could tell him that she did not weep for herself, but for the boy king below who is fighting for his life.
They come at dawn and drag Edmure out of bed. The look on her husband's face when he sees the bodies of his sister and nephew is heartbreaking, and she weeps as she tells him all the things she could not say before (I didn't want to, they made me go along with it, please, forgive me!)
All Roslin ever wanted, was to leave the Twins. In the end, the cursed place becomes her prison. She strokes the gentle swell of her belly as she looks out the window of her rooms. She still prays to the Seven, but it is not for her own salvation anymore. She prays for her husband's salvation, she prays for a girl.
She'll name her Catelyn.
Things fall apart, the center cannot hold,
mere anarchy is loosed upon the world. - William Butler Yeats