"Robb, I know this isn't an ideal situation for you," Catelyn began, her hand on his shoulder. "But you and I both know Talisa was a lying whore,"
"I know, mother, it took every fiber of my being not to have her executed," He responded with a sigh. What she'd done to him was cruel, beyond cruel. "I don't want to marry after what she did, I know all too well what women are after now,"
"My dear son…" Catelyn sighed and shook her head. "Not all girls are like that, I promise you. I wasn't like that with your father,"
"I know, mother, but…but these Frey girls could care less about me, to be frank with you. Lord Walder just wants to have his daughter as the North's queen," Being the hot-blooded young man Robb is, he was quite frustrated by this. "None of those girls give one shit about me, and you know it mother!"
"Robb, dear Gods…" The Tully woman shook her head. "They will grow to care about you…"
The hotheaded northern man simply sighed, unable to argue with his mother for much longer. It was foolish, really, his mother would never see his point of view. He should know better than this.
"I know, I just…" He shook his head. "Let me get ready, I don't want to present myself like this to them,"
Catelyn nodded in agreement. Her son was still a bit dirty from travel and battle, seeing as he hadn't access to a proper bath for a while.
"Then bathe, dress nice, and I'm sure the girls will be ready to see you by then. Lord Walder will be happy to see his king choose a daughter of his for a bride," She assured, smiling at him as she exited. The guest chambers he was given to stay in were quite nice, certainly fitting of a king.
He had a bath drawn for himself, and there he relaxed and began to think once more. Maybe it's possible that the Frey girls weren't all as ugly and feeble as he'd been told. He couldn't be sure, but he was doing his best to be optimistic about the current situation. He needed to, at the very least, be polite to whoever his bride would be.
Who knows, maybe he even could come to love her as he had his illicit lover. Talisa, she was something. She was alright looking, no perfect beauty, but she had a lovely charm to her and a silver tongue. She knew how to talk (and drink) a man into bed with her, and with kisses and promises of love, Robb truly believed he'd met his queen. How unlucky was he when she got him so drunk that he didn't even remembers the night previous. She claimed they had made love, and that she wanted to be his—but not even a week later she ran away with some blacksmith.
Hopefully, the Frey girl he ended up marrying would be more loyal to him than that. If there was one thing he hated, it was disloyalty. As a Stark, honor was his priority. He was honoring his father by going to war with Joffrey, and now he would honor his promise to marry a young woman of house Frey.
Meanwhile, the Frey girls were all preparing to present themselves to the King in the North. Crammed together like grapes in a barrel, the sisters all struggled to brush their hair, powder their face and put on jewelry in front of the mirror. Each sister desired to be queen, but they all knew that only one would wear the silver tiara.
"What are you wearing?" Tansy Frey asked, looking at the shorter and curvier brunette. Corlisse was freshly eighteen and was one of the youngest of Walder's actual daughters—most sisters at this time were in the middle of their twenties or approaching the end.
"I made it myself…" Corlisse spoke up, looking down at the gown. She was quite proud of it—the rich fabric were hard to come by and the embroidery she'd put on it had taken hours upon hours to complete. "Do you like it?"
"You look like a dream!" Walda piped up with a genuine smile on her rosy, round cheeks. The fat Frey knew that she wouldn't be chosen, so she happily encouraged her sister to look as beautiful as she can. "The king will love it!"
"Oh yes, a dream indeed," Another sister, Prysilla, replied sinisterly. "You really worked on this yourself?"
"She did!" Roslin nodded eagerly. "I helped her a little bit, but mainly it was Corri's work!"
"Give us a twirl!" Walda said excitedly, watching Corlisse spin in the ruby-colored gown.
"It's good enough," Prysilla responded. "But…look at that belt. Doesn't it look familiar, Tansy?"
Corlisse's heart sank a little. She had heard Tansy say she hated the thing, and so she decided to implement the belt into her ensemble. All she wanted was to impress King Robb and look pretty. It was rare she even got to wear such beautiful clothes—she and Roslin were the workhorses of the female Freys.
"Well, I knew you didn't want it anymore…so I decided to take it…" Corlisse explained shyly. "You don't mind—"
"Thieving cunt!" Tansy exclaimed, ripping the belt off of her. "I can't believe you!"
"Why, look Kitty," Prysilla gestured to yet another sister. "She took your necklace! And my ribbon!"
Corlisse began to scream and begged them to stop tearing at the delicate fabrics and beads, but not even her benevolent sisters could stop the overwhelming crowd. Her dress was left in tatters.
"That ought to teach you!" One of the sisters spoke, another one smacking her. "Don't touch our things, Whorelisse!"
"I'm sorry…" She began to cry. "I'm so sorry…"
"You're all so horrible…" Roslin glared and knelt down to comfort her sister. "I'm sorry Corlisse…"
"It was an ugly dress anyways," She responded, looking at the ruined gown on her body. "I'll have no time to fix this…"
"It's alright Corlisse, here, maybe there's a dress in the wardrobe!" Walda said optimistically, searching through a wardrobe closet. "Ah, here's something! Me and Ros were waiting till your nameday to give this to you!"
"Are you sure—" Corlisse looked up and saw the dress Walda held up. It was a beautiful shade of green, made of a lovely velvet and brought out the beauty of the brunette's eyes. She gasped.
"It's…amazing…" She spoke, her hands going to cover her mouth. "It's the most wonderful gown I've seen, Walda…"
"Amazing how I find such wonderful things on coincidence!" The chubby Frey said proudly. "Ros, maybe she can wear that to you and Lord Edumure's wedding!"
Roslin giggled a little. "Oh, wouldn't she look lovely in that? She'd outshine me as the bride!"
"Oh, well, I would never want to do that to you!" Corlisse spoke as her sisters helped her get changed into the gown.
"You'll be Queen in the North, I bet you'd outshine me anyways," Roslin joked, the sisters stepping back to admire the smallest of them.
"How do I look?" Corlisse asked, ask they moved to give her a view of herself in the mirror.
"Like a Queen," They spoke in unison.
As Corlisse looked at herself in the mirror she was in awe. She twirled once more, her heart fluttering as she imagined how Robb Stark may react to seeing her in the lineup of Frey ladies.
Roslin got down on her knee and threw a cloak around her shoulders, taking Corlisse's hand.
"Lady Corlisse," She deepened her voice as if to imitate a man. "You are the most beautiful girl in the Twins—marry me?"
She giggled at her sister's roleplay and nodded in response,
"Of course, my king," She took her hand, feeling Roslin place a kiss on it. "I would like nothing more!"
Roslin laughed to herself and made an attempt to pick Corlisse up bridal style, but she quickly gave up.
"I'm sorry my lady," She continued in her fake-masculine voice. "I guess the war has made tired,"
The sisters all laughed together, enjoying seeing eachother so happy. It was moments like this when the Frey girls felt a little less unhappy at the Twins.
Soon enough, the Frey girls were all lined up and ready to be introduced to their possible bridegroom. All of them were stood in a row, like dolls on a shelf that were waiting to be sold.
All but one, as Corlisse was hidden behind Tansy and Prysilla. They'd made sure to conceal her, for they knew that she would most certainly get Robb's attention if she were visible.
"It's about time, your grace, my girls have been dying to meet you," Lord Frey began in his raspy voice. "Take your pick,"
Robb couldn't help but notice how young some of these Frey girls were. Girls as young as twelve stood in hopes to be chosen, but of course Robb took no interest in children. He found it shocking that Walder would send out his youngest daughters and granddaughters in hopes they'd be married. His parents would never have allowed such a thing.
"Some of these girls are quite young, aren't they Lord Frey? I can't imagine you'd want a girl of twelve married…" He commented in concern.
"Eh, they've flowered, it's alright," The old Frey lord spoke, laughing. "Guess you prefer your girls mature?"
"Yes, I suppose I prefer adults, Lord Frey, not mere children," Robb responded, getting frustrated with the old man. He continued to scan the crowd of young women, and he wasn't too impressed by them.
There were a great plethora of young women; very few of which looked attractive. Some were thin as sticks, eyes sunken in with dark circles beneath, and some were wide and stocky as men. One in particular had a nasty cold sore on her lip, and it made him wonder if Lord Frey took care of his girls at all. They all seemed in such ill health, even through the powder, rouge and various other products they'd applied to their faces.
However, Robb tried to stay optimistic. He came upon two sisters standing oddly close together, and raised a brow. He could tell there was a girl standing behind them, and she was behind held back.
"You two ladies," He gestured to them, "What are your names?"
"Prysilla, your grace," She interjected. "Tansy here's my sister,"
"Well, Prysilla, Tansy, I'd like you to stand aside," He spoke with little to no emotion. "If you'd please, my ladies,"
"There's nothing behind us," Tansy spoke, stamping down on Corlisse's foot in hopes that this would deter her from trying to get past her and her sister.
The harsh stomp caused Corlisse to let out a yelp of pain, which drew Robb's attention to her.
"Now, clearly someone is behind you. Please, I'll ask you again to step aside," He instructed, now mildly irritated.
The girls relented and moved aside, allowing Robb to look at the young woman that was originally being concealed from him. In Robb's mind, it was as if he was living in one of Sansa's favorite songs; where this young woman was the fair maid that he was bound for. Her hair was the color of rich dark chocolate, her eyes sparkling emerald stones, and skin an unblemished porcelain—save for the rosy flush that had come to her cheeks. She was perfect, perfectly beautiful and demure. The dark green gown she wore drew attention to every lovely thing about her—her curves, her eyes, her petite stature—everything.
"What's your name, my lady?" He asked, going and taking her hand. He was so charmed by her already.
"My name? I'm…I'm Corlisse, your grace," She spoke, stunned by the fact he'd noticed her at all. "It's an honor to meet you,"
"Oh, no, the honor is all mine," He said softly, kissing her dainty hand. "You are quite lovely, Corlisse,"
"Thank you so much, your gr—" She was cut off by him shaking his head.
"Please, just call me Robb. I think I can be on a first name basis with my queen, can't I?" He responded with a charming smile. "If you'll accept my offer, my dear, I would love to name you Queen Corlisse Stark,"
Her green eyes widened, and her heart fluttered once more. He wanted her as his queen, out of all the women of house Frey, her. She had never been so happy. A smile crossed her lips.
"I'd accept any day," She said happily, still holding his hands. "I promise I'll be a good queen for you, Robb,"
"Then it's settled, I will marry you," He spoke, stroking her cheek.
"Wait," Prysilla spoke up, crossing her arms. "I thought the king would wish to marry a virgin,"
"What do you mean by that?" Robb asked, turning to look at the skinny brunette.
"Corlisse whores herself at night, how do you think she afforded such a dress? She gave herself up at twelve!" Prysilla accused. "You wouldn't want a whore wife, would you your grace?"
"Corlisse, is this true?" Robb asked, only slightly concerned. The young wolf was no idiot, this was quite clearly a lie. Still, he had an urge to humiliate this girl in front of her family for being so disrespectful.
"No, it isn't!" Corlisse denied it wholeheartedly, feeling mortified that such an accusation was made towards her. "I would never do something like that, I'm not a whore, I swear!"
"Where did you get your dress?" He asked calmly. "It is quite lovely,"
"We got it!" Walda spoke up, smiling a little. "Me and Roslin did. It was a gift for her, your grace, her nameday is in a few weeks!"
"Is that so? And you would not lie to me, would you?" Robb continued, his eyes conveying to Walda that he believed her entirely.
"Of course not, my lord, I would never lie to a king—that'd be quite foolish, after all," Walda responded sheepishly.
"Good, good. I have no reason to believe you, Prysilla," Robb looked at the scrawny female once more. "I know you're concerned for your house's honor, but I have no doubt that Corlisse is an honest young woman,"
"But—I—" Prysilla had no more words.
"That will be all, girl, hold your tongue," Catelyn interjected. "Your king has made his decision,"
"I most certainly have, mother. Lord Frey, I will marry Corlisse," He announced to the old man.
"About time you chose…" He huffed. "Roslin's wedding shall be tomorrow night, and afterwards you're free to go back to Winterfell and pop out some heirs,"
The Frey maiden rolled her eyes a little at that. She would love to be a mother, but she hoped that her womb wasn't the only valuable part of her.
The sisters all began to file out, and Corlisse remained alone with Robb in the great hall.
"Robb, may I stay with you tonight?" She asked softly. "I don't want to be with my sisters…"
"I understand completely, they seem quite…well, how should I put it…" Robb didn't want to be too rude about their behavior, but he was truly appalled.
"Nasty? Mean? Bitchy?" Corlisse suggested a few words.
"Yeah, those and a few more," Robb chuckled a little and put an arm around her. "But don't worry, when you come to Winterfell, nobody will treat you like that,"
"Do you promise me?" She asked, looking up into his eyes.
"I promise, by the old Gods and the new," He responded, kissing her forehead. "Nobody will hurt you from here on out,"