The brisk morning air filled Torrhen's lungs as he gazed on the squat fortifications of the Twins. Two squat and sturdy castles connected by a wide stone bridge across the narrowest point of the Green Fork, it was considered one of the most impressive fortifications in the Seven Kingdoms. For House Frey, it was their greatest accomplishment and the primary source of their family's income. For six hundred years, no man crossed without leave given or toll paid to the Freys, be they the mightiest lords or the poorest peasants. It was not as impressive as Winterfell, but it was a fine castle, nonetheless. Of course, his primary attention was not on the architecture or the surrounding landscape, but on the window from which ravens were being sent out with messages. Ravens which Theon was currently shooting out of the sky. He was already on number four, having shot it in the throat with practiced skill. Bringing it to the assembled lords, he removed the scroll tied to its leg and handed it to Robb. Unwrapping it, he scanned the document briefly before letting out a sigh of both relief and disappointment.

"It's a birthday message to his grand-niece Walda at Maidenpool."

"Or so Walder Frey would have you think." Theon was right, of course. In well-trained hands, a seemingly innocuous message could be made to contain all sorts of hidden codes.

"Keep shooting them down, Theon. We cannot let Walder Frey send word of your movements to the Lannisters."

"He's Grandfather's bannerman! How can we not expect his support?" Robb couldn't understand how a bannerman could be so flippant about sacred oaths sworn to their liege lords.

"Expect nothing from Walder Frey and you'll never surprised or disappointed." The Greatjon's remarks were received with mutters of agreement by all assembled.

"All you can truly expect is for Freys to look out for themselves, regardless of circumstance. Bunch of up-jumped toll collectors, they are." The Blackfish spoke from experience, recalling their conduct over the decades regarding both the Riverlands and the Seven Kingdoms. As they looked out, two riders carrying the colors of House Frey emerged from the gate and came riding towards them.

"So, what now? Father rots in a dungeon. How long before they take his head?", Robb spoke through clenched teeth.

"You know they can't do that, Robb. He's no good to the Lannisters if he's dead," Torrhen replied, trying to reassure him that there was still time.

"Even if they need him as a hostage, we need to cross the Trident and we need to do it now!"

"Just march up to his gates and tell him you're crossing," Theon responded. "You've got five times the number of men he has. Hell, you can take the Twins if you want."

"Not enough time for a siege. Tywin Lannister's marching north as we speak."

"Plus, we don't have any siege equipment on hand. The longer we're on this side of the river, the more vulnerable we become. That leaves negotiation as our only option."

"Torrhen's right. The Freys have held the crossing for six hundred years and for six hundred years, they have never failed to exact their toll."

"So be it. Have my horse saddled and readied." Greatjon looked at him like he had just grown a second head.

"Enter the Twins alone?! Seven hells, he'll sell you to the Lannisters as he likes."

"Or throw you in a dungeon. Or just slit your throat and be done with it." Theon's words shared Greatjon's sentiments, which Torrhen agreed with wholeheartedly. To go in there alone would be tantamount to suicide.

"True, but father would do whatever it took to secure our crossing. Whatever it took. If I'm going to lead this army, I can't have other men doing my bargaining for me."

"I agree. I'll go." A cry rose from the assembled lords, Robb's being the loudest, but it was quickly silenced. "I've known Lord Walder since I was six years old. He would never harm me."

"Unless there was a profit in it," Greatjon grumbled.

"Well, if you're going then I'm going with you."

"Torrhen, no!"

"This is not up for discussion, Mother! I don't know them, and I don't trust them. Either I go with you or you're not going." With a nod, she relented and the two of them followed Robb to receive the new arrivals.

(-)

The air felt cloying in Torrhen's throat as he and his mother stood in front of Walder Frey, squatting on his seat like a perching vulture over his assembled family of children and grandchildren, trueborn or otherwise, while his arm disappeared behind the young woman standing to his right. This made Torrhen shudder, though he managed to restrain himself. His loose skin and sunken eyes gave the appearance of someone who had once been a formidable man but had since lost interest with age. And considering the number of descendants surrounding him, he had also lost interest in whatever opinions anyone had of him. This certainly came through in how he greeted them after they had arrived and been announced with Torrhen being reluctantly disarmed.

"What do you want?" It was a bit of a shock to hear words spoken with such a lack of any warmth or sincerity.

"It is a great pleasure to see you again after so many years, my lord." His mother's words were calm and polite, almost rehearsed. Lord Walder's only response was to roll his eyes.

"Oh, spare me! Your boy's too proud to come before me himself. What am I to do with you two?" Torrhen found himself impressed by Lord Frey's behavior. "Which one are you? Robb or Torrhen?"

"Torrhen. It's a pleasure to meet you, Lord Frey."

"I'm sure it is. Bet you've heard all sorts of stories from your mother about me, eh? I could tell you things about me that would make your hairs curl. Isn't that right, my dear?" His suggestive leers towards his young companion made Torrhen think that the things he spoke of would not have been appropriate in polite society.

"Father, you forget yourself. Lady Stark is here…" The voice of protest was immediately silenced under Lord Walder's withering gaze.

"Who asked you, Stevron?! You're not Lord Frey yet, not until I die. Do I look dead to you?"

"Father, please!" Another voice joined and was given the same scathing treatment.

"Do I need lessons in courtesy from you, bastard?! Your mother would still be milking cows if I hadn't put you in her belly." No one else spoke before a long sigh came from the old lord. "Alright. You, step forward." Waving to Catelyn, Torrhen watched as she slowly stepped forward and extended her hand to Lord Frey who took it and gave it the most perfunctory of kisses. "There, now that I have observed the proper courtesies, perhaps my sons will do me the courtesy of SHUTTING UP?!" Only silence followed before Catelyn stepped forward and leaned in towards the old lord.

"Is there somewhere where we could talk?"

"We're talking right now." With a few subtle gestures, she conveyed the need for discretion. "Oh, alright then. Out, ALL OF YOU!" All at once, the assembled Freys rose and wordlessly walked out. With a nod from his mother, he and Rhaegar followed them. The doors closed behind them and Torrhen released a breath he didn't know he was holding. Locating a bench, he sat down and stretched his legs.

"Well, boy, I guess we wait." At this, Rhaegar curled up at his feet. Before he could close his eyes, a man came walking down the hall. His appearance was that of an old man with weasel-like features, but his eyes had a great deal more warmth that Lord Walder's. He looked to be what Lord Walder looked like some twenty or thirty years ago.

"I hope you can find it possible to forgive my father for his behavior. Old age has loosened his tongue to an almost absurd degree." The man's sincere plea made Torrhen think that perhaps the rest of the realm judged the Frey's too harshly.

"It's quite alright. When you've lived for as long as he has, I suppose formality doesn't carry the same level of importance."

"That may be true, but you would at least hope that he would try to make an effort to behave himself."

"Quite a fickle thing, this hope you speak of." The two men shared a small laugh at the thought before Torrhen rose and extended his hand. "Torrhen Stark."

"Stevron Frey, at your service." His grip was strong and firm, full of confidence. This brought a smile to Torrhen's face.

"Ah, yes. Lord Walder's heir."

"Correct, though I've been waiting for nearly forty years. It's more likely one of my sons will inherit the title before I do."

"There's still time, I think."

Yes, if they live that long. With the way some of my brothers and their children are, it's entirely possible that they might come to some sort of unsavory end."

"Gods, I hope not."

"With our family, you never know." Their conversation was interrupted by soft whining from Rhaegar, who chose this moment to demand a scratch behind his ears. A demand that Torrhen readily agreed to. "So, is that a real direwolf?"

"His name's Rhaegar." With a silent nod from him, Stevron extended his hand and was warmly received by the wolf.

"He's magnificent. I didn't think direwolves still lived in Westeros."

"Maybe not this far south, but we found him and his brothers and sisters a few miles north of Winterfell. Their mother was killed trying to bring down a full-grown stag. Now, they're as much a part of our family as my brothers and sisters."

"Speaking of your father, I'm truly sorry about what happened to him. I'm a great admirer of him and I do wish we could help you and your brother free him. Of course, my father doesn't want us involved. At least until he knows for sure who has the best chance of winning."

"It's not the most honorable choice, but it is the smartest. After all, he backs us and we lose, your family would probably lose the Twins. Maybe even worse." Torrhen grimaced as he remembered what he learned of those families who had lost everything in ill-fated attempts to gain or hold on to power; the Reynes, Tarbecks, Darklyns, Gardeners and, of course, the Blackfyres. All swept away by either their greed, ambition or outright stupidity.

"Still, what is more important? What is smart, or what is right?"

"That's an excellent question. I see that your father taught you well."

"Don't tell him that. He might start getting ideas." As if on cue, the doors opened and Lord Walder and mother walked out, he with a look of barely concealed triumph and she with a look that seemed to combine both satisfaction and resignation. "Father."

"Keeping our guest entertained, are you?"

"Your son and I have been having a most pleasant conversation, my lord."

"Were you? Well, you'll have plenty of time to continue it. Your mother has convinced me of the worthiness of your cause, and I have decided that not only may you cross, but House Frey will join your army. Stevron here will command our forces and will join you in the morning. I trust you have no objections to that."

"None at all. You have our thanks, Lord Frey. We are in your debt."

"Yes, you are. Stevron, show our guests out." With a nod, the four made their way to the gatehouse with the elderly heir in the lead. "Just so you know, I make it a point to collect on my debts. Don't forget that." Though spoken calmly, there was a faint sinister undertone that sent a chill up Torrhen's spine. A chill he did his best to conceal, for the last thing he could do was show weakness in the face of their new ally.

"I won't, my lord, and thank you again." As they walked away, Torrhen's mind was buzzing at what Lord Walder has said. He knew that whatever he and his mother had agreed to was quite costly and prayed that Robb could live up to whatever was asked of him.

(-)

The sun was nearing the horizon by the time they returned to camp. As they dismounted, Renly came up and told them that Robb and the other lords were in a meeting and wanted them to join as soon as they arrived. Without breaking stride, they walked to Robb's tent and entered to see Robb, Theon, and the others all congregated around a map of the region and debating their next move. Even Dacey was there, which gave Torrhen a warm feeling in his breast, along with Renly and Ronnel. When Robb saw them, he stood up and the others followed his lead. Torrhen and Dacey locked eyes and give each other small smiles before giving small nods to his companions.

"Well, what did he say?"

"Lord Walder has granted your crossing. His men are yours as well, minus the four hundred he will keep at the Twins to hold the crossing against any pursuers."

"Ser Stevron will be leading them, and they'll be waiting to join us on the far bank in the morning."

"And what does he want in return for his support?"

"You will be taking his son Olyvar as your squire. He expects a knighthood in good time."

"Fine, fine. What else?"

"And Arya will marry his youngest son Elmar when they both come of age." Torrhen's stifled a laugh at the thought of his hellion of a sister being a blushing bride. That poor boy had no idea of what he was getting into.

"She won't be happy about that." Robb shared his thought as well, which made him smile even more. "Is there more?"

"When the fighting is done…you will marry one of his daughters." A small groan could be heard from some of the lords. "Whichever one you would prefer, of course. He has a number he thinks would be…suitable."

"I see. Did you get a look at his daughters?" Theon sniggered at the question while Robb's eyes looked troubled while the other lords had their own unique reactions, imagining all sorts of horrors that awaited the poor soul forced to marry into that family.

"One was…"

"They were all very charming and well-mannered. Any of them would make a lovely wife." Torrhen's quick answer seemed to pacify Robb and was graciously accepted by their mother.

"Do you consent?"

"Can I refuse?"

"Not if you want to cross."

"It is a fair offer, my lord. One that we cannot afford to spurn, given our situation." Roose Bolton's words met with agreement from the other occupants.

"A bride for a bridge." Robb sighed while rubbing the bridge of his nose "Very well, then. Tell Lord Frey…that I consent."

"I'll ride out at once." Torrhen gave a quick nod and made his way out to remount his horse. Suddenly, Dacey was right alongside him.

"Well, this is the first bit of good news we've had in a while." Torrhen tried to smile at her words but remembered his suggestion to Robb about Roose Bolton leading the diversionary attack along the Kingsroad. He may have just sent him, and all the men under his command, to their deaths.

"Indeed, but let's not celebrate just yet. It's a long way to Riverrun."

(-)

As dawn broke, the camp mustered with Roose Bolton and his men having departed earlier to head south along the Kingsroad. The Stark brothers, rested, washed, fed, and dressed, sat together with the tent flaps closed. What was spoken between them would remain between them. It had to be.

"Torrhen, am I doing the right thing?"

"Why do you ask?"

"Because I'm scared. I always imagined what it would be like to go to war, to fight for king and kingdoms. I thought it would be glorious. But now here I am making plans and giving orders, and all I feel is…terrified."

"I suppose that means that you won't behave recklessly."

"Theon said something similar to me before we left Winterfell."

"Well, he does have his moments of intelligence. For an Ironborn, of course." The laughter between them did succeed in lifting their spirits and for now, it was enough. "I never wanted this to happen in the first place, but I will follow you and see this to the end. Whatever that end may be. But I can't give an answer with any degree of certainty. I was certain that Tyrion and I would be in King's Landing by now, getting up to all sorts of mischief. But here I am, and here we are. All I can say is that I believe you're doing the right thing, but you must answer that question for yourself. You're the only one who can. Now others like the Greatjon, Roose Bolton, and even Mother can give you advice, but you are the Lord of Winterfell. You have the last word, and you must show them that you do. Make them believe it because the moment they see you start doubting yourself, then it's over."

"Thank you, Torrhen. I'll try to remember that."

"Hey, if anybody can lead this army, it's you. And speaking of this army, isn't it about time we got on the move? I'd hate to keep the Kingslayer waiting."

"Makes two of us."

(-)

Torrhen reminded himself to give extra thanks to the gods for their favors. After two days of riding, no Lannister forces had met them in battle. Of course, that could have to do with the Blackfish killing their scouts and Ser Marq Piper harassing their supply trains but in this kind of ordeal, one took all the help one could get. But now, as they camped south of Oldstones, Torrhen had to remind himself that divine favors could only go so far.

"So far, the Kingslayer is blind to our movements and the raids by both the Blackfish and Ser Marq have put him on edge. The siege is wearing his patience thin. He's liable to snap at any moment."

"But a direct assault would be almost suicidal. As long as he's leading them, we'll be hard-pressed to drive the Lannisters off the field and liberate Riverrun. The cost in lives would be high."

"Then it's obvious what we need to do: remove Jamie Lannister from the field."

"How in the Seven Hells do we do that?"

"We provoke him. If there is anything that defines him, it's his ego." Torrhen declared. "He was the youngest man to ever join the Kingsguard and the man who killed the Mad King. He constantly feels a need to prove himself. What better way to do just that…then fight and defeat a legend? And who among us is more famous than the Blackfish?"

"I could lead a small raiding party against his main camp. Might be enough to get him to follow."

"But follow him to where?" As the assembled lords began to discuss where a suitable battlefield might be found, Torrhen watched as Robb focused on the map. He could almost see the wheels turning in his mind, examining all the important details that could mean the difference between victory and defeat. They both knew that victory depended on speed and control of the battlefield, as well as isolating Jamie Lannister from the rest of his army. Therefore, it had to be a location that would allow them to cut off any retreat. Someplace remote, surrounded by trees, perhaps…

"Here. This is our battlefield." Robb pointed to a point on the map where the Tumblestone cuts across a valley of thick forests. North of the river and surrounded by thick forests was a large clearing. A perfect place…for an ambush.

"Robb, you're a genius."

"I'm glad you think so, brother. Lord Karstark, you'll position your men to the north and Ser Brynden will join you when he arrives. Torrhen, you and the Greatjon will take the east with Lady Maege and Lord Jason and I will take the west with Ser Stevron. Once Ser Jamie and his men cross the river, Torrhen and his forces will swing in from the south and cross the river, putting you on Ser Jamie's flank. With the river to his right and our forces coming from three directions, he won't have room to maneuver or regroup."

"Sounds like a proper fight to me." Dacey's enthusiasm, reminding Torrhen of a child being allowed to have an extra bowl of pudding after dinner, brought a grin to his face which he failed to hide before she saw and returned it with a wink as well.

"Indeed. Ser Brynden, you'll ride out immediately. Take three hundred men and raise hell for the Kingslayer. We'll use the full moon tonight and exercise noise discipline once we're in position. And once the Lannisters arrive, we'll show them that when the wolves are hungry, they eat."

For those of you still invested in this story, I am so sorry about the delay! I am finally finished with my studies at Portland State University, giving my parents the Christmas present of a Bachelor's Degree. But now, Spring is here and so is the plague which means that outside activities are at a bare minimum, aside from exercise and a new job. I will be continuing this story through the coming weeks and hopefully will have it completed by the end of May. Fingers crossed.

Again, thank you for your patience and continued support. I love you all!