I'm surprised that no one's done this plot line yet. I'm a huge hater of the Red Wedding. I wish Robb was still alive. He's one of the last people alive that I actually liked! I like Jon Snow and Dany and Arya, but seriously, Robb was the only guy that I wanted to be king.

Anyway, Robb gets captured by the Freys instead and Edmure was also captured. This won't go very far, because I think I'll lose inspiration quick.

Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones or Song of Ice and Fire. Seriously, I can never keep track of all the betrayals and webs of lies and plotlines twisting everywhere. It's like ten spider webs piled on top of one another and triyng to follow one strand through it all.

The calm after the battle sickened Edwyn Frey to the point of omitting.

The hall was littered with bodies, and blood ran like a river. There was a dismembered hand laying not a foot from where he stood.

Forcing back bile, he turned to his father, Lord Walder Frey.

His eyes were intent on one convulsing body, as his life blood streamed through the leather hauberk he wore. Three quarrels jutted from his chest, leg, and shoulder, and he was breathing in fast, sharp gasps. His auburn hair was soaked with blood, and the firelight flickering seemed to make it alive.

Edwyn strode towards the body and kicked his side. It groaned and the head turned sharp blue eyes on him, glazed with shock and pain.

"He's still alive."

Walder Frey turned to his second son and demanded "Then kill him."

Drawing a dagger, he held it above his heart. The man, child more like, closed his eyes and convulsed again, more blood trickling down his side.

The dagger tip trembled over his heart, still furiously pumping blood through his body, struggling to keep him alive. Guilt crushed him, like a boulder landed square between his shoulders, weighing heavy on his heart. Killing in the heat of battle was one thing. Cold blooded murder over a wounded man was different.

He hesitated.

"Do it Edwyn, before I stick the knife through him." His one of his family shouted at him.

Still he hesitated.

The cold blue eyes opened again, and seemed to be begging for release. The gift of Mercy. One swift strike and the pain would leave him,

Finally, he stood from kneeling and said "No."

Lord Walder studied his son like a pig, wondering to kill him now or to kill him later.

"No?" his father asked, sitting forward in his seat. "You useless waste of my seed, you deny your father his wish? I should cut out your tongue for that insult."

One brother stepped forward, eager to please.

"No." Edwyn said. His sense had abandoned him, and Edwyn wondered why he was defending his father and the man o the ground, their wish.

Then, another thought struck him. It would please his father, and possible even Lord Tywin Lannister.

"Why not let him live?" Edwyn asked. Everyone nearby stood and stared at him in horror. Walder laughed outright, but it was the false, high reedy laugh he used to humor the lords of the north that were now lying murdered around him.

"Let this stain on our family live? You mock us, surely Edwyn." One brother asked, roaring with laughter at his jest.

Edwyn shook his head and sad "No jest brother or half brother, whatever you are. This boy is a traitor to the crown. Would a public execution please Tywin Lannister and the King Joffrey?"

The laughter fell silent as his father pondered this thought.

"He might be pleased enough to offer a Lannister, Cersei or maybe his grandson Tommen to the Freys for marriage. We can make deals, for the Lannisters. And if not, then we can kill him here."

A slow, sly smile spread across his father's face.

"I had no clue of your cunning Edwyn. Someone fetch the maester. We would have our guest live long enough to survive a trip to King's Landing. It would not due well to die before a public execution."

One of the younger Freys ran for the hall entrance, calling for the maester.

"And someone fetch that River lord from my daughter. Place him in the dungeon and tell him of his sister's passing. And someone through that wretch in the river."

Two Freys grabbed the lady Stark by her ankles and wrists and stripped her of her fine clothes and jewels as they dragged her to the river.

Edwyn grabbed the boy king's wrist and with the help of another brother, hauled him towards the table as Maester Crass was ushered in, holding his sleeve over his nose as he stepped over bodies.

The man bent over the boy and said "Fetch water and ale and hand me linen bandages. We might save the boy yet."

It was three days after the Red Wedding, as many began to call it. Edwyn strode towards the stairs down to the dungeon, deep underneath the Twins. Edmure Tully sat on the ground, holding his knees to his chest.

As soon as he spotted Edwyn, he ran to the door and demanded "Where is my nephew? Is he alright?"

Edwyn held u a hand and said "he's alive for now, but the fever is making itself worse. He might not survive the night."

Edmure tightened his fists and said "Let me see him."

Edwyn said "Lord Walder had said no visitors. Whether the boy lives or dies, it is no concern to us."

Edmure slammed his fist on the door.

"that is your king Frey! You worthless whoreson!"

Edwyn let the insult slide and said "Be fortunate that Lord Walder hasn't killed you yet, like your precious sister, Lady Stark."

Edmure was seething silently in anger, his hands shaking ad glowering at him.

"I hope you and all the other Freys burn in the seven hells." Edmure growled, turning and sitting back down.

Edwyn turned his back on the man and strode down the hallway. In through another door, lit by dim lamplight, Maester Crass was bent over the injured boy king, who was bleeding and fevered and dying.

"He will not make it through the night Edwyn. The fever is too strong, and the boy too weak."

Edwyn shook his head. He felt no grief for the boy in front of his father, but facing the shivering, fever ridden boy, it reminded him of his own son, when he had been his age and also struck with fever. He hadn't died, but it had been too close. Replace auburn with black and he would look like his own son had.

Clenching fists, he said "make sure he stays alive."

Edmure was sulking in the corner, his grief for his sister overwhelming. Edwyn felt a spark of pity for the man, who had lost his whole family except for the boy lying dying merely doors away.

The pity grew, until Edwyn couldn't stand watching the man for a moment longer.

Fishing a key from his pocket, he strode towards the door.

Edmure looked up as the lock was placed in the keyhole.

"You have a moment with your precious nephew. If anyone hears of this, you and I will both be whipped." Edwyn told him. Edmure stood and made no move to escape, merely turning and asked "Where?"

Edwyn was thankfully taller then the man so he wasn't forced to look at those blue eyes, like the accusing eyes in the hall.

"Three doors to your left."

Edmure nodded and almost ran to his nephew. Edwyn, for reasons he couldn't understand, followed.

Edmure had sunk to the nephew's side, and Maester Crass was trying to console him.

"He might live Lord Tully. His fever is starting to lower and the wounds are stitched as best as they can be. It depends on how strong your nephew is."

Edmure nodded and said "He's strong. He will survive."

He stood and placed a hand on the uninjured shoulder and said "You can live Robb, come on."

Something in the slack face twitched, as if responding to his uncle's voice. Edmure had missed the movement, and turned back to Edwyn.

"Thank you."

Edwyn marched the man back to his cell, and locked the doors tightly. Edmure sank to the floor, his eyes intent on the wall, as if able to see through it.

Shaking his head, Edwyn turned and walked up the stairs, leaving the man and his dying nephew.

Never said this before, but I love Game of Thrones. LOVE IT! It is totally in the top three best series, with Heroes of Olympus and Percy Jackson.

Won't update soon. Probably not. Maybe.