They come to an agreement when Walder is young and his word still means something.

"You control the House – you be Lord Frey of the Crossing," she says, knowing her brother better than most – knowing what he will come to be, if she can't stifle it, "and I control the kitchens, household and…suchlike, as Lady of the Twins. Your wife will not rule."

"She'll have my children," Walder dismisses his future wife, in agreement with her, hungry for power. But he watches her, eyes gleaming, aware she's planning, spinning webs like their Webber mother's house sigil does. The careful, spidery scars across her face don't help the image. The man who did it to her is long-dead, just like their mother. "Sister-dear, you used to scare me as a boy. You do not scare me anymore."

"That is why I make you agree to this now," Hollissa Frey says and the siblings share an accord. Their hands clasp the others arms as if they are Northmen or the Dornish, a shared gesture from childhood. "If you try marrying me off, I'll kill you."

"I don't doubt it, Holly," Walder cackles and oh, that grin – Holly can almost love her brother without thinking of dead Kings of Winter, without remembering a world where House Frey is remembered only for what cruelties they dished out to their guests.

Holly smiles back and thinks to herself – not this time.

Their father all but hands over the lordship to Walder once he has his first heir, a toddling blond boy by the name of Stevron, disappearing off to become a man of the Faith. His mother, Perra Royce, competes with Holly for control of the household and to be quite fair, the woman tries. Perra holds her chin high and smug, thinking herself Lady of the Twins, when in truth Holly still looks after everything. She is Walder's Master of Coin, counting golden dragons, silvers and coppers.

We Take Our Toll.

The Frey's gain money from the bridge toll, basically holding merchants for ransom. Holly plays with the toll for five years, listening to merchants' woes and drunken cheers in taverns, through her carefully paid spies. Sometimes, she catches herself calling them little birds, but there's nothing little about any of her tavern wenches, except sometimes the bastards Walder gets on them when they visit her home.

Those bastard children, Holly keeps an eye on. When their mothers approach her brother, Walder rubs their heads and indeed, does hold them dear. He prides himself in his many children, even as Perra grows infuriated at their existence – his bastards outnumber his trueborn children, counting at three with Stevron as the heir and eldest, then four. Holly's first niece is Perra's death, a girl called Perrianne.

"She's mine, now," Holly says to Walder, who pauses, shifting in his seat at his desk.

"Beastly sister – and after I finished signing all those letters for you," he grumbles, glaring at the neat pile of letters Holly means to have couriered to their recipients. There are ravens at the Twins, but they are for their liege-lord in Riverrun, their King in the capital and for the Citadel in Oldtown, not their neighbours and merchants who wish to bring cartloads of goods across their bridge.

"Every daughter you have, I will find a husband for, if that's what they're good for," Holly says, bluntly and evenly. "Have no doubt in that."

"You already look after my bastards, keep them out of the Twins," Walder leans back, rapping his nails across the chair's arm. "What are you planning, Holly-fish?"

Holly's nose wrinkles. "Call me that again, I dare you."

"Here's a deal, instead," Walder fixates, "I won't call you Holly-fish, if you tell me what you're wanting with those strange toll numbers."

The Lady of House Frey is quiet for a time. She imagines trade with the North. The toll for entering the North is cheap – but exiting it is steep. Merchants who don't come by boat to White Harbour cross their bridge and bring their best wares, in fear they won't sell enough to be able to leave. It's a fine con, so long as they don't go to Lord Stark about it. Lord Stark would talk to Lord Tully and Lord Tully would order Walder to lower the toll.

But it's a two-way street, Holly thinks. If merchants are forced to stay North, they add to the North's numbers. Some might eventually settle there, increasing the population and need for trade, creating more numbers in specific lines of work…the return toll keeps the lousy rabble out of the North and Holly always makes it known the toll to come back across their mighty bridge, in case someone should get caught out.

Increasing the population in the North is a long-term goal, but Holly has time. The Late Lord Walder was infamous in her old world – near enough to a hundred years old and here, Holly is the elder of the two of them. She will to live long enough to see change and if she does die, will hope that her brother doesn't reverse it before Robert's Rebellion or if she's even more lucky, the War of the Five Kings. More people in the North means strength to be used against the South, means more civilians left behind when the young men go off to die in wars, means a bolstered country that is meant to be ravaged by Southron politics and an enemy from more north than the North.

To do all that though, to keep power here in the Twins, Holly must keep Walder happy with her appointments and machinations.

So, Holly tells her brother part of it. She tells him: what point is a toll if there's no-one living on the other side? Walder is clever enough to fill most of the rest. Passage to and from the North is their livelihood – we take our toll. If there are none to toll, there is nothing for House Frey.

Walder looks at the letters in her hands and nods vacantly. In return, awaiting the next new piece of information she has to give, he tells her of Ambrose Butterwell's proposal.

Holly laughs at the proposal. Equalling him, she talks of a babe called Violetta Hasty of the Stormlands, who could one day be Stevron's bride.

Perrianne is a handful. Walder takes her almost too seriously when Holly says Perrianne is hers, now, ordering her small crib to Holly's quarters and the wet-nurse to the room next door. Holly doesn't like how she's separated from her brothers – Walder lives in the castle west of the river and Holly, the east, now with Perrianne, too.

"I am never having my own children, no I am not," Holly coos to her niece when she is young, slinging her across her front when she works. The wet-nurse is useful, but Holly buys some goats quickly. If she ensures Perrianne gets goat's pox when she's eight moons old and herself, as well, that's no-one's business but hers.

Her old world – the one she's known about, the one she died in at the middling age of thirty-two – installed many important lessons in her from a young age. Hygiene, vaccinations, basic schooling and facts of life and nature, many of which confounded the maester who taught her how to write with a quill. That same maester taught her High Valyrian while her brother was learning his letters, while her lady mother made her capable of balancing books and running a household from an early age.

It was Holly's own mind that caused her kidnapping. She thought herself invincible, an adult, even though her body was only ten namedays. She wandered too far from the Twins and the guards. It took half a year for the cruel scars he wrought upon her face to heal.

Holly still shudders in fear, remembering how hot his blood had been. She'd kicked and screamed and then, when he thought her stunned from the mutilation, Holly had taken his wrist and rammed it through his neck at such a terrible angle. Her father's men found her with him on top of her, long dead and too heavy for her to wriggle out from underneath. Lord Frey had barely heard more than a few words of her quiet request to learn weapons before ordering it done with all haste.

Now, older and wiser, Holly uses what she knows without regret. The Twins are the cleanest they can be at all times, the kitchen staff trained to wash themselves and their surroundings properly. In her past life, Holly was a chef. It gives her a fright, whenever she sees someone new in the kitchen that refuses to follow her hygiene protocols and then, it makes her angry.

Once, a cook tried to tell her she knew best and that highborn ladies are best off keeping stock of the pantry and leaving the kitchen to the cooks. Holly had sent her away, but not before her head cook and best friend, Rayna Paege, had clobbered her with a wooden spoon hard enough to bruise.

Rayna is a much similar woman to Holly, except for the fact that she lacks ambition. Being appointed head cook for Holly's east castle had been a progression upwards, yes, but she is mostly ambivalent to the posting, to Holly's frustration.

"Oh, don't you worry about me," Rayna says with a laugh afterwards, when Holly has ground her teeth at her lack of want for anything, "and don't you worry about these clotheads, either. We'll keep your rules and health right, my lady, same as Willam in the west-castle."

Holly smiles grimly, later. Rayna catches the goat's pox, too, as do her two boys, sons of a fisherman who cares naught for them. The boys spread it around and a few months later, a landed knight appears on behalf of Lord Tully, investigating the mystery outbreak.

"Didn't come from the Twins," Walder dismisses him, looking to Holly, "Ask my sister. She keeps an eye on things."

"T'was a merchant from the North, most probably," Holly replies, but later, Walder sits her in his study and clenches his fist.

"It's got all the way to the Westerlands. You started this, I know you did. Everyone in the Twins had your damn goat pox. What do you know?"

"Inoculation," Holly says, before giving him the definition. Walder obviously doesn't know whether to be horrified or not, knowing that all anyone has to do not to get the Deathly Pox is to have an animal pox instead. "It'll be stopped eventually. It's not widespread enough for people to notice or to know. Every few years, we'll have to do it again, Walder."

"You're playing with fire," he snaps, then asks, "Why?"

"The children," Holly replies. "It has to happen again and again, over and over. We'll get caught eventually, but by the time someone arrests us, we won't have had an outbreak in pox for years. It happens, Walder and if it's really gone as far as the Westerlands, someone will notice, once we point them in the right direction."

Walder curses her name and rages, but he lets her go – with a warning.

"Bring these things to me first," he orders, voice dark, "or I'll stop doing the same."

There isn't much Holly can do, outside of the Twins. She can write letters and recruit spies in barmaids all she wants – but she has no true power. Being a woman in Westeros is a predictable dam and a fucking hindrance.

"Fosterlings," Walder offers her the answer on a silver platter in 249 AC.

"Fosterlings," Holly breathes, Perrianne at her side tugging at her skirts.

"Aunty, what's fosterling mean?"

Walder's new wife, Cyrenna Swann from the Stormlands, reaches over to sweep her step-daughter up, twirling her around and making her squeal, before answering her.

"It means we borrow some lord's child for a few years and take care of them, let them grow wings and learn what other colours their feathers could turn," Cyrenna says and Holly likes Cyrenna, damn it. If it means cockblocking her brother to keep her, Holly will do it. Just to make that clear, she points at her goodsister and looks Walder in the eye.

"If childbed kills her, I am going to cut your balls off."

Walder flinches.

Cyrenna, settling Perrianne on her hip, gives Holly an odd look. "Why threaten your brother that way? He's your lord."

"Cyrenna, darling," Holly says, looking at this woman who is beautiful and so kind to her stepchildren with wide, starry eyes, "I'm trying to keep you alive. Don't curse me for doing so."

Walder and Holly drink, later. The siblings look at each other, quiet until Walder speaks his mind, tongue loosened by the wine.

"You want to fuck my wife."

Holly downs her goblet, stomach twisting. "Ashamed of your depraved sister?"

"…no. Cyrenna's no harpy, not like Perra. I'll try not to fuck her to death, but I'm a man."

"You can be a man without your cock, Wally," Holly grins, watching him roll his eyes.

"A eunuch is no man," he whines, before reaching over to knock his knuckles against her forehead, ignoring how she fends him off, "Where's my clever sister's mind gone? What wooden carcass are you?"

"Oh, shut it." Holly says, but there's a weight off her heart and a free smile on her face.

Rayna's two boys, Dunc and Beren, are older than Perrianne by a year and three years, respectively. Dunc has Rayna's brown curls that Holly neatly cuts into a gentle mop every few months and his absent father's pale green eyes. Beren is the opposite, with Rayna's Paege-blue eyes and his father's fine waves, though Rayna's dark colouring came through after his toddling years were over.

Perrianne, in contrast, has a Walder's thin face and her mother's thick blonde rats-nest for hair which Holly combs through every morning and braids into two large plaits. Sometimes, if she was good the day before, Holly ties them off with Frey-blue ribbons.

"Aunty, why don't I look like you?" Dunc asks Holly one day, when Holly is teaching the seven-namedays Beren how to fight with his first spear on the bridge between the two castles. "You're our aunty, so we should look like you!"

"She's not blood," their new fosterling says from the stone wall nearby, legs swinging. Desmond of House Grell watches on, at his side their other new fosterling, a huffy young girl, Evalyn of House Keath. Desmond continues, "You're not a Frey, so you're not her blood nephew. That's just what you call her."

Dunc immediately goes red in anger, shouting hotly, "She is my aunty!"

"Duncan Paege, are you shouting?" Holly questions, interrupting. Dunc hesitates, anger wilting like a flower as he looks to her. "I love your mother. That's why you call me aunty. Not all family ends in blood – you don't look like me because we're not of the same tree."

"Like Perri?" Beren asks, "She's our sister, but she's not our sister really?"

"Aye, like Perri," Holly confirms.

Evalyn shakes her head. "That's not right. I don't like it. You've got everything mixed up and wrong."

"She is our sister!" Dunc shouts and Holly puts her spear to the side, pausing in showing Beren his manoeuvres to grab her little boy, swinging him up onto her hip before he can storm across to where Evalyn sits and – most likely – push her into the Green Fork.

"Enough," Holly says, voice testy. She looks over to their master-at-arms, a quiet knight called Ronar who had been watching her teach Beren spear-forms. "Ser Ronar, young Desmond and Beren would both benefit from an hour of your time. Miss Evalyn, too, if she wishes."

Evalyn, not expecting her words, startles more than she did upon first seeing Holly in breeches. "You want to teach me the spear?"

"Spear and a knife, if I can," Holly replies. "Perrianne can already throw her knife very well, can't you, Perri?"

"Yes," Perri says, reaching up to take Holly's hand. Dunc on her hip squirms. "Dunc?"

"Dunc can, too," Holly smiles at her niece, before looking to Evalyn. "I'm having breeches made for you, so you can practice out of your skirts. You'll move onto fighting in them after you've got the basics down."

"You- but-" Evalyn stutters, speechless as Desmond pulls her down off the wall, Ronar and his squire, Andrey Charlton, organising the space more effectively for three pupils.

Happy with what she's seeing, Holly leads Perri inside, Dunc quiet.

"She is our sister," he eventually mutters, once they're inside the east fortress. Holly lets go of Perri's hand to rub his back soothingly and it seems to work. He loosens more, head dropping down onto her shoulder.

In return for Evalyn and Desmond, Holly had been able to find stable homes and jobs for some of Walder's bastards and even some of their mothers, too – the ones who wanted to leave, at least. Some had gone with their children to work in castle kitchens and serve noble houses, while some had simply sent their children onwards. Holly had managed to get fifteen children places in the world.

Fifteen.

Fifteen.

All from the fostering of two noble children, the livelihood of fifteen children who might have gone on to be peasants or squat in the Twins for the rest of their lives now had purpose and secured futures. Never mind that Walder had so many bastards in the first place and that those fifteen weren't all of them – Holly knew his eldest was born when Walder was fifteen. She had him and his mother sent away to work for a merchant in Seagard who owed her a favour, who had gone on to marry the woman. Really, he owed her another favour, now.

Children were children, no matter their origins and if there's one thing about being a Frey that Holly is proud of, it's that they hold their family close – all their family.

In 258 AC, Cyrenna dies from an infection of the blood, after giving birth to a second son called Luceon. He's a pretty little thing and Holly can't help but hate him for a time, for taking such a good woman from the world. Then, she gets off her high horse and discards herself of that hate, wrangling a promise out of Walder never to marry again.

"You owe me, now," he says, ominous and that truth is never far from her mind. Let it be said that it is not just House Lannister that pay their debts and honestly, Holly is scared as to what kind of favour she now owes her younger brother.

Perri was four when Cyrenna came into their household and now she is nearly ten years older. Like Holly, she wears breeches more often than not, though she can still fight in full skirts and a young girl's corset. Her favoured sparring partner is Dunc, who has grown into a fine young man – Lord Tully even approved of him and his brother legally being called Paege like their mother, rather than Rivers…not that Holly had ever let them think otherwise in the first place.

Perrianne's brothers are less cordial. Perrianne is the only girl of six, with five brothers and Emmon's betrothed, Genna of House Lannister, likes to laugh at how she beats them with only a long stick and if they manage to disarm her, either her fists or long-knife. Seeing as how Holly was the one to teach her how to wield a long-knife – having spent many hours during childhood learning herself – Holly can't help but be more pleased when Perri beats them with her weapon, even if the bruises she leaves are like colourful flowers all over her brothers' bodies.

Genna is a year younger than Perri. Betrothed to Emmon at seven, Holly had at first been furious, before Walder brought her home and she'd actually seen the angry little girl who her nephew would be marrying.

Holly had been fifty-two namedays, then, now she is fifty-eight. I'm getting on in life, she thinks in amusement. Her plain hair is fading and there are many wrinkles around her eyes. It's getting harder to keep to her training regime, but it inspires her to keep going.

Perri is a good girl. The best daughter Holly could ever ask for. Evalyn Keath had been a spoiled brat she'd whipped some sense into, who'd gone on to marry Ser Desmond Grell himself when they both left Frey keeping four years ago. Evalyn's last letter told of Desmond's acceptance into the higher ranks of Riverrun's guard and how they'd be keeping there for the time being.

Genna herself had turned into something of a goldmine, though. Holly gained her trust and with only two letters sent home after, a carriage of fosterlings from the Westerlands showed up to be taken into Holly's care.

Holly's care. Not Walder's – Hollissa Frey's care.

The east tower turned into a different home. Each rich little girl who knew Genna brought their allowances with them, as well as different standards. Apparently, Holly's sense of interior design was lacking, so slowly – though, at times it felt quite fast – the east castle became a haven of colour and warmth.

The tapestries – all of similar size, strand and shade, mimicking the Twins as they were built over the centuries, telling a history in their own right in every room – were switched out for prettier, brighter versions. In the east castle's great feasting hall, small sigils and banners began to rise in an orderly fashion around the room to represent the fosterlings that House Frey had the honour of hosting – when Holly saw the presentation, she asked her girls for a small, impromptu lesson on the houses of the Westerlands.

Other things were changed as well over time, like the curtains and even the doors in certain areas – that came out of Emmon's pocket, she later learnt. Genna had no issue with creaky doors, but rotting ones? Even Holly could see the wisdom in her actions, though slowly replacing the furniture so it matched was a bit too much, in her opinion. When that began happening, Holly gathered her fosterlings and told them to begin redecorating the west castle, too, before Walder kicked them out to take over the prettier part of the fortress.

"House Frey could stand to be one of the most powerful Houses in the Riverlands," Cerra Estren had said after they agreed. "You just need to make a better impression, if you want any of your nephews to marry us."

'Us' being Cerra Estren of Wyndhall; Lissa Banefort of Banefort; Syvlia Serrett of Silverhill; Ellara Lydden of Deep Den; Anna Algood, of the household of House Lydden; and Bessie Broom, of the household of House Prester of Feastfires. Many of the girls are second and third daughters, meant to find a match outside the Westerlands. Naturally, as fosterlings of House Frey, one or two might find themselves betrothed to the remaining few nephews Holly has.

Since arriving six years ago, only one girl has left to return home – that girl being Anna Algood, ward of Ellara Lydden's father, Lord Eithan, who had found her a suitable match. As one of the elder girls of the group, a whole four years older that Genna, it was to be expected, given her age. Holly simply hoped that her betrothed wouldn't hold a grudge against House Frey for arming the vicious snake of a girl.

House Frey had gained a certain amount of renown, however. Anna Algood may have left, but several other fosterlings had come to be taken into Holly's care.

Kenelm Piper, second-born son of Lord Edmund Piper of Pinkmaiden, had come to earn a knighthood under Ser Ronar after fostering with them for a minimum of five years. His mother, Alyssa, who had been a good acquaintance of Holly's for several years before she married Edmund, had been adamant her seven-year old son not leave Holly's care until he was at least twelve.

Similarly, though to gain his knighthood from Ser Ronar's former squire, the recently knighted Ser Andrey Charlton, Michel Erenford had joined their household. However, unlike Kenelm, Michel is the first-born son and only heir of his father. Holly doesn't expect for Michel to remain in the Twins for much longer, but she still has his sigil hung in the east hall amongst the rest of the Fosterling Banners.

Wynafrei Whent also graces the Twins. Little more than a toddling babe from disinterested parents, Rayna looks after her usually, when Holly is busy supervising her girls' lessons in fine penmanship, arithmetic and histories of the Seven Kingdoms.

"It's time," Holly says to Walder, when Stevron's newest babe by Violetta is past six moons old. "I'm going to spread the goat's pox among the children and the fosterlings."

"They'll tell their kin," Walder warns her, "Be careful."

"I won't implicate myself," Holly scolds him, before arranging it. Rayna, aware of her plans, makes sure Wynafrei plays with the infected animals and Holly is the one to bring her to an embroidery circle when the first spot appears.

Holly isn't implicated.

That doesn't mean she doesn't tell the fosterlings she trusts. Lissa Banefort and Genna Lannister herself is told and Genna has the brilliant idea to say to those who question why she isn't in confinement, don't you know? Having goat's pox is how you don't get the Deathly Pox. Word spreads, as it does and Lissa is the one to lie, to say she was told by a maester in Lannisport.

By the time autumn begins, it's well known around the Riverlands. According to her Westerlands girls, similar rumours are swirling, too. A contentment settles in her belly and Holly hopes for Westeros. Perhaps she can even have her prissy little rich girls instigate good hygiene practices into their homes, too – though, Holly knows that may be too much.

Holly has lived sixty-two years, now and she knows her limitations. Her gender is a limitation she has learnt to work around, somehow.

"Aunt Holly," Beren questions the night of Genna's wedding to Emmon, when they are in the Twins alone, Walder halfway across the country and all Holly's fosterlings from the Westerlands gone home. "Why did you do everything you did? Why not get married and have a family of your own?"

Holly – Holly, who has lived those sixty-two years and told no-one her true origins, not even Rayna – decides to tell him everything. Beren, who she helped raise, sits across from her in front of a fireplace and thinks deeply. She can see he believes her, or at least, knows she wouldn't lie to him. Holly tries never to lie to her children – especially the three who mean most to her.

"In that…other world," Beren whispers, "you loved a woman, you said. Do you love my mother like that?"

"Sometimes," Holly says, surprised that of all things, he would focus on that. "I was never sure how Rayna would react, so…I never did anything."

The next night, Rayna slips into her room and under the covers of her bed, hands slip across to hold hers tightly.

"Beren goes North," she whispers in the dark. "He's making plans to last a lifetime, my friend. What have you been up to?"

"I'm a scheming harpy," Holly jokes and Rayna moves into her rooms, after that, their belongings mingling, becoming shared. In front of all the servants and kitchen staff, Rayna kisses her full on the mouth and Holly begins that progression from loving at a distance to loving in person.

Beren goes North and takes Dunc with him, the two Paege boys finding places in the guard at Winterfell. Holly and Rayna miss them both and then, Perri visits them and falls in love with one of their friends. Their children leave them and despite being sad, both think it good they've found their places in the world. They have each other

Walder, when he hears of Perrianne's decision, grunts and doesn't get angry like Holly thought he would. "She's yours, like you said when she was born," he brushes it off and talks of his sons, of how Jared is to marry Alyssa Blackwood; how Aenys is back to sleeping with stableboys now Tyana Wylde has borne him two children; and how Luceon is planning on leaving to join the Night's Watch with a dozen half-brothers who'd come to ask for free passage across the Green Fork, which by law Walder is required to grant.

Holly falls even more in love with Rayna. It's almost ridiculous how they raise Wynafrei together, though, because if Holly remembers correctly, Wynafrei Whent would have, in another timeline, married one of Walder's many descendants, if not Walder himself. That is definitely not happening, Holly thinks multiple times, often with a dark chuckle.

Stevron tries to manipulate Holly exactly once, after she refuses to have any involvement in Walder's lordship being passed over to him. In retaliation, Holly arranges the fostering of all his heirs in far-off keeps and holds, even his eldest who is almost too old to be fostered, now. Luckily, Sylvia Serrett, whom Stevron always liked the least out of all Holly's girls, manages to get him taken into her household as a favour to her favourite Aunt Holly.

"You're a beastly woman, Aunt Hollissa," Stevron blusters and glares. "When I'm Lord of the Crossing, I'll see you off to be a Septa, you'll see."

Holly raises an eyebrow at him. "Really? Me? The least devout woman in Westeros?"

"We both know you're devout enough, if to the wrong gods," Stevron says, referencing one of the few true things Holly has embraced in this life.

But when greenseers, wargs and the Night King are real, who can blame Holly for believing in the Old Gods, too?

313 AC – Winterfell, Seat of the Queen of Winter

Sansa is just finishing a letter to Dany when a knock comes from the door. Glancing up, the Northern monarch rearranges her messy desk as she replies, calling out a clear come in. The door opens, admitting the aging captain of Winterfell's guard, Duncan Paege, who lived through Winterfell's destruction in a way he still has not revealed. He bows.

"Master Paege, what brings you to my solar?" Sansa questions.

"Your Grace," Duncan stands, "A visitor at the gates wishes to greet you."

Sansa frowns lightly, a crease appearing between her brows. "A visitor? We're not expecting anyone. Who are they to ask a meeting?"

Duncan hesitates, "Your Grace…they are from the Twins."

Almost immediately, Sansa angers. "The Twins? A Frey in Winterfell?"

It has been many years since Robb's death, but still, Sansa's righteous fury burns in her gullet. The Frey's had too many friends in the South when she and Daenerys called their lord to court, a weaselly man by the name of Cleos who had survived Arya's vengeance by being in Casterly Rock at the time. Many minor noble houses from all across Westeros had begged a pardon for the remaining Frey's in an unexplainable show of loyalty.

"Walder is dead," Lord Piper of Pinkmaiden had said, fierce despite Sansa's death-glare. "Let not the mistakes of his and of those who lived in the west castle be death to those in the east."

Sansa remembers the story. House Frey had been at war with itself, the Twin Towers hosting each side of the conflict. Arya hadn't cared to tell her the particulars, having spent weeks among them in disguise studying them all and wanting to wash her hands of everything Frey. Frankly, while Sansa had been annoyed at her silence, Sansa wanted little to do with them either.

However, it had been made clear in that very session of court that neither Queen would see any living Frey at either capital city for the next three generations. For one to come here to Winterfell, at the lodestone of the North only a year after the edict, was asking for death.

"Your Grace, I beg you grant her clemency," Duncan kneels then, abrupt and pleading, in a way his knees surely will not forgive him for. Sansa, who had grown up seeing the Paege brothers in the house guard, who had played with her and kept Bran from harm during the battles against the Night King, is confounded at his words now. "Hollissa Frey is her name and she comes with her paramour here, an extremely old woman who has never left the Riverlands. I ask you this favour, Your Grace, as a loyal servant and vassal."

"I've never heard of her," Sansa says, gritting her teeth. "Why? Why ask me this? I'd rather have her head taken, at the moment. No Frey's are welcome in Winterfell."

Duncan's face twists and a pained smile appears, "I'm aware. We're all aware. Holly is different, though. Please, Your Grace, grant her this one audience."

Sansa is silent for a time. Eventually, she grants Duncan leave to rise, but does not say anything, watching him shuffle in place, tense and worried. After several minutes of quiet, Sansa leaves her solar with Duncan and her Queensguard at her back.

They go to the great hall. Sansa sits on her throne.

"Bring her here," she orders Duncan, who doesn't even say your grace as he leaves, rushing to retrieve the Frey woman who dared come North.

"Your Grace," Tormund starts, eyebrow rising, "not to be rude, but aren't we supposed to murder those Frey's if we see 'em?"

Sansa inclines her head, "Aye."

"…then, do you want me to kill her when she comes out?" her Queensguard questions, nose scrunching up as he shakes his foot out. Sansa glances at him, frowning slightly. His back must be bothering him, she thinks, knowing he'd taken a heavy blow during the Fight for the Dawn. "Or do you want your little executioner fetched?"

"I'm sure Arya is already on her way or stalking her already," Sansa says, looking towards the doors as they open. Duncan walks with an elderly woman, her arm tucked into his side – but she is but a commoner, Sansa is sure.

The crone at her left, however, is most definitely a Frey.

The woman has a long face and many wrinkles, with spidery silver scars marring her visage. Posture straight, but weary, the woman wears rich cloth in a pleasant shade of blue, with many layers of silver and a Riverlands-style stitching. In her hand she holds a tall cane, using it to stand as much as it is obviously her weapon of choice. Sansa wonders dubiously if she can use it, or if it is just for show. There's also two slim knifes strapped to her inner forearms and a long knife at her belt. All at once, Sansa wonders if this is where that trend came from, fingers gently coming to brush against her own long-knife, a present Tyrion gave her on the eve of their first marriage.

A Westerlands tradition, he'd said, so all our women can protect themselves. Cersei won't mind – she'd be a hypocrite, otherwise. Just because she doesn't carry one now, doesn't mean she didn't used to or can't.

Hollissa Frey's cane clicks against the stone ground as she approaches, eyes drifting around the hall, squinting in the dim light. They approach slowly, but they get there in the end, the Frey woman offering the lowest curtsy she can in her old age, matched by the woman on Duncan's arm.

"Your Grace," she utters.

"Hollissa Frey," Sansa replies. "What business do you have in a place where Frey's are banned?"

"Not much. I'm holding up well, despite my age," Hollissa says mildly, eyes drifting to the knife at her belt. "Thought I'd die on the road here. Apparently not."

"I won't ask you again, Lady Frey. Get to the point," Sansa orders, almost snapping. To her right, a door opens, admitting her consort in all his dwarfness. Tyrion is quiet as he comes to stand by her side, not attracting as much attention as Hollissa obviously pays.

"Like a dream," the Frey mutters, before bowing her head slightly. "Apologies, Your Grace. How is the Three-Eyed Raven? I'm surprised he's not here, too, unless he's taking a look into my past."

Sansa almost startles, but by now, Bran's powers are common knowledge. She's doing it to unsettle you, Sansa thinks, shaking her head. "My brother's business is none of yours to know. As I said, I won't ask again. Your business here."

"…I just wanted to see," Hollissa admits. "Imagine if you could do everything again, from the very beginning of your life. It would take too long for me to explain and in truth, I don't want to. I came here today to see change – and also my grandchildren, because Dunc, Beren and Perri refuse to come visit me with their bairns."

There's a moment where Sansa allows that to sink in, before her eyes drift to Duncan. "You're a Frey?" the words exit her mouth in a tone of revulsion, but it puts the whole hall on alert and Sansa feels betrayed.

Duncan shakes his head, though, as the woman on his arm rolls her eyes. "Your Grace, this is my mother, Rayna Paege. She's Aunt Holly's paramour. Lady Hollissa helped raise me and my brother, as well as Walder Frey's only daughter, Perrianne, who married a common man."

"And Wynafrei, don't forget," Hollissa scolds him, unashamed as she looks to Sansa, "Wynafrei Whent, that is. A cousin of sorts of your grandmother. I was the foster-mother to over a dozen others."

"Lord Piper, who spoke for the Frey's," Sansa says and finally, something dawns on her that she hadn't wanted to look into. A conspiracy, no – it was an alliance. They fostered at the Twins together. They knew each other through this woman and worked to protect her from destitution.

"Kenelm, aye," Hollissa replies, grim. "His brother and nephews all died in Robb Stark's service, leaving him as Lord of Pinkmaiden. He never ate his vegetables."

"House Frey would have been ended, a new family placed in the Twins," Sansa says, "and they spoke out because of you."

"Aunt Holly," Duncan says, smiling slightly. "Nana Holly to some."

"I tried to help," Hollissa speaks and very clearly, the subject has changed, "I knew of the Red Wedding. Walder had mine own hands tied in a knot, though. Owed favours, my word…he knew I'd never break guest rite, or any of my household. I was forced to swear oaths of silence."

"The word of a Frey means nothing," Arya says from the shadows behind the old woman, who tenses and looks behind her, grimacing.

"To you. To everyone else. My word stands, though."

"Aye," says Rayna, Duncan Paege's mother. "She's a scheming old woman, but she's true to her word."

"I'm here to swear allegiance," Hollissa Frey states, "and offer you my name to use if you ever want to gain allies in the South."

"Your name," Sansa says, looking to Tyrion, "What does her name mean?"

Tyrion frowns. "You said before- Aunt Holly. Aunt Holly. I've heard that name before, from Genna. You're to be trusted, according to her."

"Genna, yes," Hollissa looks to Duncan, "You remember her? Little blonde girl who laughed when Perri beat up her brothers."

Duncan's face contorts, before he slowly nods, "Aye. Aye, I think so. She redecorated."

"I have a network of sorts. Finite, but useful," Hollissa says, reaching into a bag at her waist, withdrawing a folded piece of paper. She dangles it out to Arya, who takes it slowly. Sansa motions her upwards to the dais and Arya comes, reading it before handing it over.

On it, there are a list of names, with notes beside them. Most are women's names, with their husbands' names and titles beside them, as well as any important details. Sansa notices how most are from the Westerlands, but a fair few are from the Riverlands. Some married across Westeros, to lords in the Vale, the Stormlands and even Dorne, when it came to one Anna Manwoody, formerly of House Algood.

"You offer these names to me in good faith," Sansa says slowly, cautiously, "and offer to swear fealty to me. But you are just one woman and Cleos Frey is Lord of the Crossing, now. Your time has passed."

"I know," Hollissa says, solemn. "But I was serious when I said I was here to see my grandchildren. Rayna's grandchildren, as well. If you don't want a Frey in Winterfell, then I even have a proposal for you."

"One that doesn't see your head shorn from your shoulders?" Sansa smiles slightly, deciding that mayhaps, she can afford to be lenient.

Hollissa gives a bark of laughter, "Aye. It also involves a bit of gold, to tell the truth."

The woman, Rayna, suddenly starts to giggle and Duncan narrows his eyes, looking down at her.

"Mother…what did you do?"

"Nothing- nothing that Holly didn't have any right to do," Rayna laughs, Hollissa sniggering to herself. "Walder Frey and Holly came to an agreement nearly a century ago. Many things changed over time, but eventually it included Holly's right to divvying up the household funds and giving out personal allowances. Cleos is a dimwit and Holly got his word to keep the same arrangement."

"Wait," Sansa's eyes widen in glee as she realises what perhaps Lord Frey had unwittingly allowed his great-aunt to do. The two Crowns are always in desperate need of funds, anyway. "You were in charge of finances?"

Hollissa cackles. "My House will live on, I've ensured, but are they rich anymore? Oh no. Your Grace, in exchange for letting me marry my beloved Rayna, how would you like two thirds of the entire Frey fortune?"

Revenge, Sansa thinks later, after Rayna and Holly Paege have left the Godswood to spend time with their grandchildren, is a dish best served cold. Stark cold.