Chapter 25: A Series of Unfortunate Events

The Twins

"So you would suggest that I grant them passage, Elijah? How do you like your new name? Elijah Frey?" asked Walder. He faced the mirror while his young wife ran a comb through his lanky thin hair. It was a surprise that he still had any use for a comb. Although, truth be told, he didn't really.

"You honour me with your name, my lord, although I am not certain what I have done to deserve it," said Elijah. He would much rather not have to call himself Frey, but for now, he was keeping hidden and working his way up, and to be counted amongst the nobility, even if it was minor, couldn't really hurt much.

Except his reputation, of course.

Then again, he had no reputation as yet. Who knew? Perhaps he might even be able to raise the Freys' out of the mud, although he very much doubted it. Salmon might swim upriver when the time came, but they always died at the end of the journey. Elijah Mikaelson was no salmon.

"So, tell me why I should let them pass and make myself an enemy of the Lannisters?" he asked.

"The Lannisters can win this war without us," said Elijah. "They will never thank us for not letting the Starks across, but the Starks are desperate. They will do anything, give us anything, for the crossing. You could ask whatever you wish of them, as long as they have the power to give it."

"Hmm, I do like that," said Walder. He coughed . His wife brought him a copper basin which he hawked into. Elijah felt sorry for the poor frightened girl who had imagined every future but this when she had been little. "What do you think, a Frey-Stark marriage? It has a ring to it, does it not?"

North of the Twins

What could possibly be keeping her? Robb tried not to think about his mother while he discussed the lay of the land and possible plans of attack once they crossed the Twins. Lacking a squire himself, Katherine was currently serving as one, pouring the men drink. When she finished, she sat quietly in the corner to take up her embroidery, although Robb had the strange feeling that despite her proclamations that she was a silly little girl, she could understand everything that was going on. To be quite honest, he could have easily gotten any of his bannermen's sons to squire for him, but the truth was he liked having Katherine there. She never got overly excited, and she was not nervous at all even around men who made killing their mode of living. Perhaps Arya had had a point about letting girls become knights.

He pored over the maps. There were lions all over the place. The pieces representing himself and his bannermen made for a small pack of wolves all gathered at the crossing. Damn the troll on the bridge.

"My lord!"

The guard's shout made him and all his gathered war council look up. A man dressed in the red and gold of the Lannisters was shoved inside, his hands bound behind his back with thick rope. Quicker than the eye could follow, Theon had turned over the map, spilling the pieces everywhere.

"We found him counting our men," said the guard who had caught the spy.

"Are you an idiot?" demanded Theon of the guard. "He could have seen our plans! Now we'll have to kill him. Not that we wouldn't have done it anyway."

A spy. A spy could be used both ways. Robb placed a hand on Theon's chest to hold him back.

"How many did you get up to?" he asked the trembling Lannister man, a boy just a few years older than Bran.

"Twenty thousand, maybe more, my lord," said the man.

"Are you frightened?" said Robb.

"I should be, shouldn't I?"

"You have courage. I can respect that. I won't kill you if you deliver a message for me."

"What?" demanded the Greatjon. "He knows how many men we have!"

"Mercy is sometimes a virtue, Lord Umber," said Bolton. "Too much, however…"

Robb smiled. "Tell Tywin Lannister that twenty thousand northmen are riding south to see if he really does shit gold."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Katherine's fingers pause above her embroidery. Did she know what he meant to do? Up until now, she had acted as if they hadn't been there discussing the most sensitive secrets in front of her. But in truth, she had been listening all along.

"Why would you tell him that?" asked Theon.

"Send him back? Are you touched, boy?" demanded the outraged Greatjon.

"Call me boy again, and that will be the last word you ever speak," said Robb.

Should he tell them? He couldn't. The fewer people who knew of the plan forming in his mind, the smaller chance there would be of it ever reaching Tywin Lannister's ears. His father had trusted men too easily. He was not going to make the same mistake. He was saved from having to fob off his men's questions by his herald's timely interruption.

"Lady Catelyn returns, my lord," said his herald.

"Send her in immediately," said Robb. She was safe, which had to mean that Frey had granted them crossing, did it not? He turned to the spy. "You may go." He dismissed the boy, who bowed to Robb and then left as if he had grown wings on his boots. Moments later, Catelyn ducked inside.

"Well?" he asked his mother before Catelyn had even sat down. "What did he say?"

"Lord Frey has agreed to your request," said Catelyn. "He has granted us passage across the bridge, and all but four hundred of his men will march with us." She hesitated.

"What are his conditions?" asked Robb. There would be conditions; he had been prepared for that much.

"His grandsons will be fostered at Winterfell," said Catelyn. Reasonable.

"His son Elijah will squire for you." Fair enough.

"Arya will marry one of his sons when she comes of age." A little bit hard to imagine, but Arya would have to make her sacrifices for the sake of the family.

"And…"

"And?" said Robb. He did not like the pregnant pause, so laden with dread and possibilities.

"And when the war is over, you will marry one of his daughters," said Catelyn slowly, as if that made it any better. "Whichever one you choose."

Theon snorted. They had all heard of the beauty of Frey girls, or rather, the lack thereof. Robb glanced at the graceful figure of Katherine, who was still moving about the tent, tidying up the half-empty plates with the remains of their dinner. To have to watch a girl like that, and then think about a Frey girl…

"Have you seen his daughters?" asked Robb.

"I have," said Catelyn.

"And?"

"There was…one who might be suitable."

The things he did for family. At least, he tried to tell himself this. He reminded himself that he needed this bridge to save his father, and he could learn to live with a wife of Frey blood and look past her warts and all. After all, he was the young lord of Winterfell, and he would have had to make a marriage of political benefit sooner or later. No matter how much he liked pretty bards, there was too much standing between them.

"I accept his terms," said Robb.

Family.

Family.

Family.

There was no 'me' in family.

The Riverlands

They said he was his squire, but in truth, Elijah Frey was there to be his father's eyes and ears, and Robb knew it. His mother had said Frey placed a lot of trust in this newly legitimized bastard son of his. He looked the man up and down. It was very hard to make a judgement about him. Everything seemed…fluid. He seemed to be about ten years older than Robb, but he sometimes looked as if he knew secrets no one else knew. He was soft spoken and polite, not at all like Frey. Robb had met Walder Frey briefly during the crossing, and the man had been foul, bordering on rudeness. He had swallowed it because he had needed that bridge.

"Do you understand what your duties are?" he asked.

"I do, my lord," said Elijah.

"You will take care of my horse, my armour, my weapons," said Robb. "And you will ride by my side into battle."

Elijah bowed. "Yes, my lord," he said. Yes, very polite. He must have been raised elsewhere.

"Where are you from?" asked Robb.

"I was born in a small village just north of the Neck, my lord," said Elijah.

"Yet you speak as if you were raised to be a lord." Which was more than he could say for Walder Frey.

"My mother was a learned woman," said Elijah. "She taught me the importance of presenting myself as the man I want to be."

The response presented more questions than it answered. Robb wondered which noblewoman Walder Frey had despoiled to produce Elijah. Probably some gentle southern lady who had been very very blind.

He waved Elijah away as Roose Bolton, Rickard Karstark, and his uncle the Blackfish came in with more reports of Jaime Lannister's incursions.

"Jaime Lannister has grown bold," said Robb.

"He has reason to be," said Karstark. "He has ten thousand more men than we do, and his father behind him with thirty thousand more men who know we're coming because you told him." Karstark. He would have to find one way or another to tame him.

"They are drunken on victory, and drunk men don't make good decisions," said Robb. "Does he know that we have crossed the Trident?"

"Not a clue," said Blackfish. "My outriders made damn sure of that. We shot down all the ravens."

"Good," said Robb. "Keep shooting them down. No word must reach the Lannisters."

"I don't see what good that will do," said Karstark. "They still outnumber us."

"Aye, but they're soft southerners, my lord Karstark," said the Greatjon. "I say we outflank Tywin Lannister and confront the Kingslayer directly. He's the one who has your uncle hostage, my lord."

"We can't outflank them," said Karstark. "I say we charge at Tywin Lannister head on and defeat his army before Jaime Lannister can respond. If we capture Tywin Lannister, the war will be over. A lion without a head is a pretty useless lion."

"With all due respect, my lords," said Katherine all of a sudden, "what is the likelihood of that ever happening? One out of one hundred? One out of a thousand? Tywin Lannister did not get to where he is through incompetence." For a moment, there was silence. One, no one had really noticed that she was there, except for Robb, and two, no one had expected a common woman to interrupt a war council so... Well, in such a spirited manner.

Then Karstark broke the silence. "What do you know about it, woman?" he demanded.

"Tywin Lannister has the largest standing army in all of Westeros," said Katherine, completely unfazed by his anger. "They are well-trained, disciplined, and I may not know much about warfare, but I do believe if a small pack of wolves confronts a larger pride of lions head on, all you will have in the end are dead wolves."

"So you recommend just sitting here and letting them smash us, then, girl?" demanded Karstark.

"Wolves are pack animals," said Elijah. No one had noticed he was there either. He had been an excellent squire thus far, for he knew when he was needed, and when he wasn't. "They take down other animals not because they are bigger or stronger, but because they have strategy. From what I have observed in the wild, one wolf in a pack would isolate the intended prey from the rest of the herd and chase it towards the other stronger wolves lying in ambush, and together, surrounding it on all sides, they take it down."

Robb smiled. "Lord Bolton, take your men to pull Tywin Lannister's tail," he said. "I have a rather longstanding dispute with the young lion that I would like to resolve."

And it seemed he needed new pack members if a girl and a Frey could see the situation more clearly than his war council.

Well, well, if it wasn't the one and only Elijah. Elijah Frey. Please. She wanted to laugh. Who was he trying to kid? He was a thousand year old original vampire reduced to serving as a seventeen year old boy's squire, although the fact that this seventeen year old boy was going to be the next Alexander the Great probably made it less ridiculous.

Katherine had had to refrain from laughing, or even looking in his direction too much when she had first seen him walking meekly through the camp following one of the Stark men. He had seen her too, she knew, and he had been surprised, but he had schooled his expression into one of impassivity immediately afterwards and they now both politely regarded each other as strangers, knowing fully well that to show any sign of familiarity was to raise unwanted suspicion. They would be able to talk soon enough, at any rate, she expected. If there was anything she was good at, it was subterfuge.

She was very good at it.

With Elijah now squiring for him, Robb technically had no need of her services, but he insisted on keeping her around to do odd jobs about his tent, practically acting as his housekeeper. She wasn't particularly fond of her job, but she was growing fond of Robb Stark despite herself. He had a very good head for strategy, and it didn't hurt that he was very cute. He knew when he had to commit little evils to do a greater good, and he was willing to do it. But when it came to her, he was surprisingly gentlemanly and mild-mannered, completely unlike his gruff fellow northmen or his friend Theon Greyjoy who only stopped making lewd comments at her after Robb had commanded him to cease and desist.

She sighed as she cleared away yet another load of dirty plates to take back to the mess tent where they would be washed in barrels of slightly cleaner water with bits of old food floating on top. This was the lowest she had ever fallen in her five hundred years of existence. Even when she had been exiled and on the run, she had been a gentlewoman with beautiful dresses and she had never had to clear up a single table in her life. Until now.

If it had been anyone else but Robb Stark, she would have left immediately, but something about him was keeping her here. He made it bearable.

Also, when one hit her lowest point, she could only head upwards. This world, what with its kings and queens and lords, offered a very tall ladder for her to climb. She had always been an excellent climber, and this was a more solid rung than most.

The Neck, somewhere near the Kingsroad

With Lord Jaime taking care of the Riverlands, Lord Tywin had sent Stefan north to continue raiding northern villages, terrorizing them into submission and disrupting Robb Stark's supply lines. It wasn't hard. Once he'd buried that man, word had spread like wildfire about the man who buried people alive. Very few villages dared to resist him, which was for the best. He loathed what he had to do, but he had to survive in this harsh new reality where the words 'human' and 'rights' had never been uttered in the same breath. For his 'achievements', he had been made a knight already. Not that anything he was doing was remotely knightly.

The road was still and silent in the night, and so dark that it was almost impossible to see, if one were a regular man. The moon was new and the stars were mostly blocked by clouds. The leafy canopy above blocked all the rest. Stefan, of course, was no ordinary human being. Vampires, being creatures of the night, did not need light to see anything. The wind howled as it blasted them with its icy breath, making it known that Lannister men were not welcome in the north. It also brought something else; the smell of horses, wolves, and unwashed northman.

Yes, northmen smelled different, although Stefan suspected if southerners started subsisting on hard bread and salted roast meat with little seasoning, they would start smelling the same as well. He motioned to the men to be ready. Soon he could hear them. There were two, actually, with one asking when they might be able to stop for the night and find shelter, and the other insisting that the pair should push on because they needed to catch up with 'Robb' before he moved.

Robb Stark.

Well, he wouldn't be doing his job correctly if he let any of Robb Stark's allies or friends slip through his fingers. This one, however, he would not be burying in the ground. He wanted him alive.

Jon ignored all of Sam's protests and pleas to stop for the night. It wasn't as if they would be able to get much shelter or rest out here anyway, and sometimes bandits haunted these roads. He wanted to find some place defensible before they stopped.

"The horses are tired," Sam said. "And isn't Ghost tired too?"

At the sound of his name, Ghost glanced backwards and cocked his head to the side, as if he was wondering why Sam was dragging him into it because he was not going to show any sign of tiredness if Jon did not. He continued trotting on, before suddenly stopping, one paw raised in mid step.

"Ghost?" asked Jon.

An arrow whistled past Jon's ear, and if it wasn't for the fact that the archer had misjudged the wind, it probably would have hit him. He drew his sword. "Sam! Sword!"

"What?!" said Sam. "I can't do this!"

"You have to!"

Men burst out from the side of the road. Torches were lit. They were surrounded by at least a dozen men. The party of bandits was not big, but it was more than big enough. At best, Jon had three fighters, including Sam. Sam was not really a fighter.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" said their leader. He was a handsome man, possibly of a similar age to Jon. His hair was cropped short, and he had deeply set eyes which, in the dark, became pools of shadow. "Surrender now and no harm will come to you."

Jon clutched his sword more tightly.

"Take them alive," said the man.

"Alive? What do we want with them, Salvatore?"

"Question me again, and I will bury you."

Salvatore. He only knew of two Salvatores in existence, and this was not Damon.

Jon thought he knew about vampires. He knew they didn't like vervain, but he didn't have any vervain. They didn't like wood either, and that he had plenty of all around him. He looked around at the men, their hostile southern features illuminated unnaturally by the flickering orange torchlight, making them seem more like monsters than men. If they had been just men, he would have been able to charge through their ranks, perhaps, but there was a vampire. But if he could ride down Stefan Salvatore and take his head, then hopefully their ranks would break.

"Now, Ghost!"

Ghost leapt at the men, a white blur in the darkness. Some scattered. Torches were dropped and extinguished when they rolled on the ground, trampled beneath iron-shod feet and hooves. Jon dug his heels into his horse's flanks and charged at Stefan Salvatore. Salvatore sidestepped him easily and grabbed the animal's bridle, making his mount rear in fear.

Jon was thrown from the saddle. The ground drove his breath from his lungs.

Salvatore was almost upon him. "Elena!" shouted Jon.

Immediately, the vampire's expression changed and he glanced around wildly. Jon seized the chance. Snatching up a fallen branch, he thrust it into the vampire's side, aiming for the heart. He would send his condolences to Damon later. Damon would understand, right?

Stefan roared in pain as he sank to his knees and his eyes darkened as his fangs extended. However, he must have had immense self-control, because he retracted them an instant later. That lull, however, was enough to save Jon. He scrambled to his feet and flung himself at another man who looked as if he were about to gut Sam. The other boy had fallen from his horse and was valiantly trying to put his new sparring skills to use, but alas, he was rather unused to actually having to fight for his life.

And these men were good; better than most of the rangers on the Wall, in fact. He would never be able to defeat them, even without the presence of a vampire. He grabbed Sam. "Run!" he shouted. "Come, Ghost!"

They didn't bother looking back as they ran blindly into the underbrush. Brambles tore at their hands and clothing. Branches smacked them in the face. Roots tripped them. But they ran as if all the walkers from beyond the Wall were after them. They could still hear the shouts of the men, but they were getting further and further away.

It was almost dawn before they stopped running, and by then, neither of them had any idea where they were.

Then it began to rain.

Outside Riverrun

They wouldn't hold for very long. Sooner or later, Riverrun would capitulate. He had taken most of the Riverlands, beyond a few futile raids by remnants of Tully forces. Once the castle fell, all of the Tully lands would be, technically, under Lannister rule.

With that in mind, Jaime didn't know why he needed to have his men build wooden fortifications. It wasn't as if the Tullys could just sally out and confront him head on. They didn't even have Edmure anymore! Although, come to think of it, that probably helped the Tully cause. Poor Edmure.

However, being the good little boy that he was, Jaime did as his father told him and had his men cut down trees to build wooden fortifications, but he saved them the trouble of having to build ones that faced the forest behind them. They were already grumbling about blisters on their hands. What was going to attack them from the forest anyway? Sprites? Ghosts? Walkers? Maybe even vampires? Perhaps his father had taken that northern tale a little too seriously. It was thrilling, to be sure, what with the blood and ancient castles with forgotten secret passages and monstrous immortal counts with fangs and fair ladies in need of rescuing by valiant men.

But surely Tywin Lannister was far too sensible a man to believe in tales of men who rose from the dead to drink the blood of the living while having an unnatural fear for garlic, of all things. It was a ridiculous story made up to scare children. Jaime Lannister was not scared.

All was quiet outside. With all the new fortifications, he didn't see the point in having so many sentries, so he only kept a few on watch and sent the rest to bed. After all, the boys needed their beauty sleep. Did his father not say that well-rested men were deadlier than any blade?

The new moon gave no light, and the stars were not much better. The men spoke to each other softly around the camp fires. Some sang songs about sailing out to fish in Lannisport while their less musically inclined companions hummed along or beat rhythms out on empty dinner bowls. Horses snuffled at their hay, and the war hounds gnawed on bones left over from tonight's soup.

He idly thought that perhaps he ought to go and raid some villages on the morrow just to break up the monotony, and he was almost regretting not bringing Rebekah with him. She would have entertained him and improved the view from where he stood inside his tent, at least. None of the camp followers were to his taste. He'd never made use of them. He was not Tyrion; if Jaime Lannister wanted a roll, he shouldn't have to pay for it.

With a sigh, he lay down on his camp roll and stared at the ceiling of his tent. The lamp burnt out by itself, but there was enough torchlight and fire light coming from outside to see by, not that there was anything to see.

He didn't know when he fell asleep, but he dreamed.

Rebekah stood before him, her hair loosened from their customary braids. The golden tresses fell over her shoulders, but they could not cover the round swell of her breasts and the deep pink nipples. Darker hair hid the junction between her legs. Behind her, the river sparkled, and red and gold banners flew from Riverrun's battlements.

She held out her hand to him, beckoning him to join her in the river.

"I will come if you promise to help me wash my back," he said as he grinned, reaching out to take her hand. She stepped backwards, keeping just out of reach. Gradually, her face changed into Cersei's. They really were very similar, the two of them, except Rebekah had no wiles to speak of.

"They are attacking from behind us, my lord," she said.

"They are attacking us from behind, my lord!"

He opened his eyes. This was not the way he wanted to be woken up, during the darkest hour before dawn by a panicking soldier telling him that Robb Stark's army had suddenly materialized from the wood behind their camp. Why hadn't he listened to his father and built those damn fortifications facing the wood? And didn't he have scouts?! Oh, wait. He'd sent them to bed.

He leapt out of bed and pulled on his boots. "Help me with my armour." He only managed the breast plate and the gauntlets, and did not even bother with a cloak. Cloaks only ever got in the way during a fight anyway.

Izzchase: Of course Elena would tell her best friend about her newest beau. ;) Damon thinks he has a masterplan. We shall have to see if it is that great a plan.

JordieFan: Regarding Elijah and Walder Frey and Robb… Well, as you can see, Elijah has met Robb. We'll see how they develop from there. ;)

A/N: Nobody is having a good day, it seems. :P Let's see if anyone's day improves next chapter.