The banner of wolves, bears, flayed men, sunburst, battle-axe, armoured silver fist, black lizard lion, black moose, roaring giant, merman and many more fluttered against the wind, each carried by the men of their respective houses. But one banner stood taller and prouder than the rest. The three-headed dragon fluttered bolder than the rest.
Jon sat on horseback under it and before him stood his first obstacle in gaining The Iron Throne. The Twins stood proudly on the margin of the Green Fork of the Trident. The Twins consisted of two identical stone castles, after which it was named after. It had high curtain walls, deep moats and a barbican and portcullis in each. A stone bridge arches between the castles with the footings rising from within the inner keeps. The bridge was wide enough for two wagons to cross abreast. The bridge was also guarded by a tower known as The Water Tower, which has arrow slits, murder holes and portcullises for defence. House Frey had held this crossing for more than six hundred years, which began when a petty lord built a rickety wooden bridge over the narrowest portion of the river. It took them a good part of three generations to complete the bridge in stone.
"How many men do The Twins house?" Jon asked.
"About four thousand able men at arms" Ned answered.
"And how many were sent to aid when The Lannisters began their attack on The Riverlands?"
"Not one" Brynden answered.
"The Late Lord Frey" The Greatjon spat, "probably waiting for the right moment to join in so he could get some glory."
"Well his time has come then" Jon mused, scratching the chin of Lya, who stood beside his horse. The horse looked spooked but remained standing. Jon couldn't blame the poor animal. In the short few months that Lya had hatched, she had already grown to the size of the horse Jon rode. Not big enough to fly on, Jon was told by Brynden. Lya wasn't the only one though. All three of Daenerys' dragons had grown as well. Rhaegal was flying high in the sky right now while the other two remained with their mother back at Winterfell. Daenerys had wanted to come with Jon, and have her dragons assist in this war. But the treatment she was going through to restore her fertility made her too weak to move around much. And two of the three dragons refused to leave her side.
They had grown too fast, Jon had told Brynden. Brynden in reply said that Dragons thrive the more they eat and the more magic they basked in. And Winterfell was not some ordinary castle. There was magic in the walls and even the soil and water. All of which factored in them growing so big. That might have been why the dragons loved the spring where Jon had found the eggs. Another path had to be carved for the dragons to enter the hot spring cavern. They had gotten too big for the one in The Crypts.
"Walder Frey won't make it easy for us" Ned stated, "he'll try to marry one of his daughters to you or have you take one of his younger sons for squire. Or if our luck's any worse he'll try to do both."
Jon hummed in reply. He was already aware of all that Ned told him. The old man had done it to Robb in a time no longer coming to pass. Jon had no doubt he'll do something similar with Jon. The Old Man had ambitions and took slight easier than a lady would. But Jon had his plans for the old man and his ambitions.
"Lord Bolton" Jon called and Roose Bolton moved forward. "Robb has told me about your hand in securing The Skaagosi alliance and I want to tell you that I am pleased by it" Jon declared and Roose lowered his head. "Which is why I would like for you to broker a deal between me and Lord Frey. I trust that you can manage it?"
"I can, your Grace" Roose said simply, his head still lowered.
"Take your son with you. Having him witness such a thing would do him a world of good. It did for me and Robb when we watched Uncle Eddard do his work as Warden" Jon explained. Roose gave a short nod and called Ramsay forward. The first impression had Jon hating the boy more than anyone he could hate. But that was because he was influenced by the memories he held. Ramsay was an ugly young man no matter how he dressed. He was big-boned and slope-shouldered, with a fleshiness indicating he will be fat later in life. His skin was pink and blotchy, his nose broad, his hair long and dark and dry. Although his mouth was small, Ramsay's lips are wide and meaty, wormy looking, and he smiles a wet-lipped smile. His distinctive eyes resemble his father's, small, close-set, and oddly pale, like two chips of dirty ice. Unlike his father, he did not have the finesses to hide his emotions from floating in his eyes. He hated Jon, loathed even. May have been because he looked to Jon still as a bastard and as such he wanted what Jon had, something he bragged to his circle of friends. Brynden had told him as much and Jon liked it not one bit.
"Take some men with you. Just in case" Jon added. Roose called up some of his men while Ramsay, much to Jon's secret pleasure, called his friends to join them.
"We give them too much power" Ned whispered to Jon once Roose was out of earshot. "The other Lords would not see your favouring of him in the best light."
"House Bolton is probably our shakiest ally in all of The North. All Lords present know this better than anyone, including you. I want to make sure that Roose Bolton knows that we see him as an ally without any suspicions."
"That is a fine line you walk" Ned cautioned.
"I'm aware" Jon answered. A pause, "He won't broker a marriage for me. The next best thing would be Robb. Robb might find himself a Frey wife as payment for our crossing" Jon informed him. Ned did not look pleased with the notion. "Can you relay the message to Robb, so he isn't caught off guard if it happens?"
Ned sighed and left, Brynden taking his place soon after. "Are you going to let this happen? Whatever deal Roose Bolton and Walder Frey cook up?" the raven questioned.
"You and I both know that is not the case" Jon gave him a look. "You know what you have to do" he added. Brynden gave a stiff nod and rode away from Jon and away from the camp.
The Twins - Great Hall
A shudder ran down the spine of one Lothar Frey and his vision blurred for a moment before steadying. Looking down at himself he couldn't help the disgust roll through him. Plump and unable to move properly, Lothar felt useless. But he had two able hands and that's all he needed at this time.
"I'll allow his Grace passing, only if he agrees to marry one of my daughters. He'll have free reign of course. I'm an old man coming close to death. It would do my old heart a lot of good to see my daughters married" Old Walder Frey spoke. He talked sweet but Lothar was all too familiar with the slight edge. The old man was insulted The King didn't come himself.
"The King's hand has been called for" Roose Bolton spoke smoothly. A lie, but a necessary one Lothar understood. "That can't be accomplished."
"Then maybe his heir could take one of my daughters then? I hear he named his Stark cousins his heir should he die childless. And maybe a squire from one of my sons or grandson!"
The two men talked, one suggesting and the other declining. Lothar hobbled his way to the balcony on the second floor of the room. From one of the bowmen there, he snatched a crossbow and aimed.
"The Lannisters send their fucking regards!" Lothar laughed and let loose an arrow. The last thing he saw before blacking out was the face of Roose Bolton and the arrow lodged in his skull.
Outside The Twins
Jon heard the commotion before Brynden had come back. One of Bolton's men came stumbling out, arrows puncturing his left leg.
"TRAITORS!" he shouted. "THE FREY'S ARE IN BED WITH THE LANNISTERS. THEY'VE SLAIN LORD BOLTON, HIS MEN AND HIS BASTARD!" he fell over after and immediately there was uproar in the camp. The Frey men had little time on their hands, watching in horror as The Northern Army charged in led by their King. It escaped their minds that they could have pulled the bridge up. By the time they realized, they had run off to save their asses.
The Great Hall was bloodied when The Northern men had come in. At Jon's word the men separated to bring in as many Frey's as they could find. The men found many and the Frey men at arms looked reluctant to protect them, too shocked and unprepared to do it. So the Freys were brought before Jon, Lame Lothar being thrown at Jon's feet.
"He's the one that killed Lord Bolton" spat the injured Bolton man. "Shot a bolt right into his skull."
"Your Grace!" Lothar stuttered out and found himself missing a head. The screams of Frey women echoed through the halls, but the shouts of triumph from The Northern were louder, The Boltons loudest amongst them. Jon's cold eyes turned to the dark oak chair, where Walder Frey's body sat limp, a knife in his throat and blood dripping from the wound. ON top of him was Ramsey, with multiple arrows puncturing his back. The bastard had killed Old Frey and the men killed him from the looks of it.
"Who here is the heir to Walder Frey" Jon roared, and resonating with his roar, the dragons soaring outside roared as well. The Frey cowered before one of them shakily moved forward.
"That would be me, your Grace" Ser Stevron spoke, kneeling and shaking. Like his father, the old Knight resembled a weasel. He was in his sixties and from what Jon knew of him, he was a polite and well-spoken man.
"Your brother has killed one of my loyal bannermen. And that too shouting his support for The Lannisters. Is that correct?" Jon questioned.
"Your Grace" Stevron stuttered, then froze when he felt the cold tip of a sword at his chin. Slowly he lifted his head as the sword pushed him to do so. His grey eyes met the dark cold eyes of Jon Targaryen and he felt his blood freeze over.
"It is a simple yes or no question, Ser" Jon ground out, channelling the hate he felt for The Freys to spew out venom. "Did he? Or did he not?"
"He did, your Grace. But the rest of us had nothing to do with it! I swear on my name and honour!" Ser Stevron blurted out. He watched Jon's eyes scan over the collected Frey and then back to him. He stood when Jon told him to stand.
"Why have you not sent any men to support your liege lord?" Jon questioned. "The Lannisters attack your lands and you don't help out your people? Are you not duty-bound to help your liege and answer his call? Or was that the deal you made with The Lions? Neutrality for a possible appointment as Lord Paramount?"
"Your Grace! Nothing of the sorts!" Stevron assured him with haste and fear, "my father is-"
"Was," Jon corrected him, "The Late Lord Walder Frey. That is what people call him, yes?" Jon inquired and Stevron nodded shakily. "Does the same vein of treachery run through your veins too, Ser?" Jon spat out.
"Never! I'm a loyal man your Grace and I'll serve my Liege loyally till my last breath" the man assured.
"Then kneel and swear fealty," Jon said and immediately Stevron went to his knees. He looked to the rest and they too fell in line. "Say the words, Lord Stevron Frey" Jon hissed.
"House Frey owe their allegiance to King Jon Targaryen and will answer his call for battle without hesitation" Ser Stevron spoke clearly.
"Ready your men" Jon wiped the blood on Lothar's body. "We march towards The Riverlands at sunrise tomorrow. All four thousand of your men, leave none behind. Am I understood?" Jon asked and Ser Stevron nodded his head. Jon sheathed his blade and turned on his heels. "We'll be staying here tonight. Prepare quarters for all our Lords and Ladies and make accommodations for the men outside your walls. Understood?"
"Your Grace" Ser Stevron shouted and Jon walked out of the room, followed by his loyal Lords and Ladies. The men stayed behind to make sure nobody acted out of order.
Jon's Guest Quarters – Nighttime
There was a knock at the door and with his permission, the door opened to let Ned Stark in. Jon looked at his uncle with a smile but all he received in return was a cold mask.
"Did you know?" was the simple question.
"I did" was the simple answer.
"And you still let it happen?!" Ned practically screamed. "Roose Bolton, as frayed as h0e was, was still a loyal bannerman of mine! He bent the Knee to you!"
"And would have stabbed me through the heart when he felt the time was right" Jon stated calmly, putting the sword he was sharpening aside. "I had a dream" he motioned for Ned to sit. "Back at Winterfell, I had a dream that Roose Bolton had received a letter from The Capital. An offer, a simple one. Kill you, Kill Robb, Kill Rickon and then me. IN return he would be given Wardenship of The North" Jon explained and saw Ned's face pale. "I saw you and Robb come in and broker a deal for our passing. We are invited to dinner to continue talks for the next morning. Walder Frey breaks guest rights and we are all slaughtered here. Our men were too drunk to fight properly. Our Lords incapacitated. Some die while some run for their lives. But none of us or the head of noble houses survive it."
"Do you have proof?" Ned asked, after a moment of silence, of him just taking it all in.
"I knew you'd ask for it" Jon reached into the pocket of his vest and from inside pulled out a letter. He handed it to Ned who took it and read. The more he read the paler he got. In the end, he threw it into the fire. "I had Brynden check-in to see if my dream was correct or paranoia. He came back with that. I'm sorry Uncle, it had to be done."
"I need some air" Ned got up abruptly and left just as abruptly. Jon watched him go with a sad look. All of what Jon told was a lie, a necessary one. He knew his honourable uncle would never allow Jon to kill Roose or Walder or even Ramsay for crimes they had not yet committed. The letter was a forgery at the hands of Quaithe, or Shiera as is her real name, at the order of Jon.
The man shook his head and turned back to sharpen his sword. He didn't need to though. Valyria Steel never lost its edge no matter how many years it has been used in battle. Such was the magic of Valyria. The one Jon held though was special. Dark Sister, re-forged to become a Bastard Sword back at Kings Landing was a gift from Brynden to him when he was crowned King by The Northern Allies. A Targaryen King must have his Valyrian Sword. Like Aegon, the Conqueror had, he had said. Jon could have sworn he had seen some emotion in the man's eyes.
A sudden gust of wind made Jon shiver, a shudder running down his spine. The candle flickered and Jon's grip on the sword tightened, Ghost beside him standing straight and growling. He stood, turned towards the open balcony and saw a man standing there. No, not a man, a shadow, a shadow with the face of a man. Jon had to expect that would come for him, a shadow from Melissandre, courtesy of Stannis Baratheon. Ghost moved in front of Jon, standing protectively while the shadow roared but before it could do so much a move a stream of white and blue flames hit it from behind and instantly its entire body ignited in flames. Jon watched the shadow scream in agony as the ice like flames devoured it whole. The thing burst and Jon felt relief flood him. Lya flew in right then and stopped at Jon's side, nuzzling his arm and side and looking at him to see if he was alright.
"You saved me tonight girl," Jon said affectionately, wrapping his arms around Lya's neck while the dragon rested her head on Jon's shoulder.