*So, why keep the Stark cavalry in the North. I have important reasons. 1) Robb already has enough cavalry with him. During these times when hosts were raised, a kingdom did not take all of them with them, it was too expensive. Robb already has a good amount of horse and he doesnt need to currently waste more coin of having more of them with him. 2) Robb is not an idiot. Even in the books he is a brilliant battlefield tactician. The south is not the only threat to the North. Between both the Wall and the threat of a possible Greyjoy attack (he doesnt have Theon to give him false hope) he needs to keep a force North. Footmen are okay, but they are really only useful at defense of castles. If the North needs to send forces to the western coasts, or send an expedition to the Wall, they need a force that can rapidly deploy, not an infantry column that takes weeks to travel. 3) Finally, he understands that most lords keep part of their own host home, it is not unusual. Therefore, to keep the supremacy of House Stark strong, he must keep his own forces at home.

These were my reasons.


299 AC

Robb Stark

"Lord Robb, Lord Frey bids you welcome to the Riverlands!" Ser Stevron Frey called down from the ramparts outside the walls of the Twins, his head barely visible through the crenellations of the walls. He was skinny so far as he could tell, and had a long, pointed nose.

"Please give your father my thanks ser!" He called back. "Now, Ser Stevron, I have come to request passage over the Twins! Your liege lord's castle is threatened and must be protected!"

Ser Stevron frowned in response, though it seemed to be directed inward. That isn't a good sign. I've heard of Walder Frey of course but I expected most stories to be over exaggerated.

"I will pass on your wishes my lord…though, he will expect his toll." Stevron remarked somberly before unceremoniously turning and disappearing behind the walls of the Twins. He let out a sigh and returned with his small party back to the main camp of his army. Before him waited his brother and Lords Umber and Glover.

"What did they wish?" The Greatjon muttered.

"Nothing yet. Ser Stevron met me at the walls. They will send a rider when they wish to parley."

"We've five times their numbers! Let's just take the damned bridge and be done with it!" The Smalljon advised.

"Shut your mouth welp. 'ave I taught you naught? A siege like that could extend for months and we don't have that kind of time." The older Umber scolded his son.

"Very well. Who will we send once they send the riders?" Lord Glover interceded.

"I shall go myself." Robb was surprised at the sudden outcry.

"You cannot do that mi' lord!"

"Why not? I shan't expect to lead men in war if I cannot lead them in peace." He expected the martially minded Lord of Last Hearth to agree with him, he was becoming his most vocal supporter. But apparently he too was against this idea.

"The Twins under Walder Frey will be more likely to sell your head to the Lannisters than to bargain with you under a flag of truce."

"And would guest rights not matter to them?"

"Lord Robb, in the North, guest rights are integral, aye. But here in the South, 'tis nothing but flights of fancy. Especially the Freys of the Twins."

"…very well. Who shall go in my stead than?"

"Allow me mi' lord. I'll smash their heads together till they grant us access south." The Greatjon exclaimed.

He was opposed to that idea. Ever since the incident involving Grey Wind, the Greatjon has turned into Robb's unofficial herald. Following him around the camps and giving him sound advice…as well as being willing to knock sense into the more…rough lords of the North. But the Greatjon had his place. On the front lines or in his command tent, aye. But when it came to the more diplomatic ventures of the campaign…well, he'd need to pick a man or woman with more sense than he had about these things.

But before he could respond to the Greatjon, another voice cut in. "Allow me."

He turned and saw that it was Edwyle who had voiced this opinion.

"They could do the same to you, as they would to me." He hotly countered.

"Robb, sending any other man besides you or me will ensure Walder Frey's enmity, he will see it as an insult. Between the two of us, I am the less valuable."

"My lords, please give me and my brother some space." The surrounding lords nodded and made their way a couple dozen of paces back. After he ensured that no one could easily hear him, he turned on Edwyle. "Do not say that! You are a Stark of Winterfell…and you are my brother."

Edwyle just rolled his eyes. "Spare me Robb-"

"No!" His sudden shout made the lords turn in surprise, but they quickly enough turned back around. "You will not deny me this. You are my brother. Were something to happen to you…well, I wouldn't know what to do."

Edwyle stared at him for a moment before stepping closer to him. "Thank you for your words brother. But…the reality needs to be faced. You are Robb Stark, the heir to Winterfell. However unfair it sounds, I am merely the spare, the second son."

He made a motion to speak but was cut off. "Further." Edwyle said sternly. "Further, I am expendable. Should something happen to me, this host would not be destroyed."

He hated it, hated it more than anything. But he remembered the words that Edwyle spoke to him nearly four years ago, atop that crag when Robb had first learned he was to be married.

Forsake honor first, and our lives last.

He had to be strong for Edwyle. "Fine. But do not mistake my consent for acceptance."

"I never would Robb. But before anything can be made, you are our leader now. Tell me, what is off the table for negotiations? What are we willing to give?"

He thought to himself a moment. Assuming the worst of Walder Frey's reputation, he came to some conclusions. "Most likely he shall demand marriages of some kind. Obviously Sansa and I are no longer options."

"What about me?"

"Oh don't be ridiculous, father has plans for you, I'm sure." Edwyle gave him a look of…sadness, but he moved on.

"Bran and Arya…can be considered. Rickon is off the table. I care not for any wards that he demands."

"Good. Then I'm ready."

"What do you mean?"

Edwyle pointed over his shoulder. Turning, he saw two riders gallop towards them, touting the banner of House Frey. When he turned back around, he found Edwyle already marching over to his horse, preparing for his mission. Before Edwyle could join the riders however, Robb grabbed the reins.

"It is just after noon. You have until sundown. Should we not hear back from you by then, we'll assume the worst and assault the fortress."

Edwyle just nodded and gently took the reins from him. Guiding his horse through the camp, he joined with the two riders.

He hoped it wasn't for the last time he saw his brother.


Edwyle Stark

He had been led by the two riders back to the Twins. As he rode through the fortress, he couldn't help but to think of his own birth home. Winterfell was dark and brooding in its own way. Those of the south would scoff at the lack of decorum or flashes of wealth. Yet, it had its own coziness, its own…character. Unlike the Twins. From the people to the buildings, to the very air and bricks in the walls, it all felt…greasy, like he had a film of oil over himself, and he wanted to wash himself clean. From the stables, he had been led through some passages until he was brought before the north side's great hall. It was lesser than the south tower's, but it was acceptable. Walder Frey was a weasel-like man. His long, un-natural, neck was quite the eye sore.

It seemed like the Lord of the Crossing saw fit to include his nest of rodents in the audience. The closest man to him was his heir, Ser Stevron, though even he sat far away.

Approaching the throne, Edwyle bowed from the neck. "My lord."

"What do you want?" The man unceremoniously asked.

"It is a pleasure to be welcomed to these storied halls."

"Oh spare me. Your brother is too proud to come before me himself. What am I supposed to do with you?"

A new voice popped up. "Father, you forget yourself. Lord Edwyle is here-" Ser Stevron interrupted.

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

"Father, please-"

"I need lessons in courtesy from you, bastard? Your mother would still be a milkmaid if I hadn't squirted you into her belly."

Edwyle internally cringed at the thought. This was not a pleasant man. Lord Frey looked around then nodded to himself.

"All right, you come forward."

Edwyle walked another step forward.

Lord Frey sarcastically bowed from his neck. "Welcome to my hall." He turned back and looked at the rest of his family. "Now that I have observed my courtesies, perhaps my sons will do me the honor of shutting their mouths."

Edwyle sighed politely. "Is there somewhere we can talk?"

"We are talking right now." Edwyle continued to stare at the man before he let out his own sigh. "Fine. Out! All of you!"

They waited until the entire Frey party had left the chambers. As soon as the last door was shut, Lord Frey stood and walked over to a fireplace.

"What is stopping me from simply giving you to Tywin Lannister?"

"If Lord Lannister wishes to defend his children, he shall share in their treason. Are you a traitor Lord Frey?"

The old weasel turned sharply; his eyebrows raised in anger. "You dare call a lord a traitor in his own castle?"

"It was only a query my lord. One that you have yet to answer."

"I see you child. You are no better than the others who mock me. I shall be insulted no longer."

"What do you want?"

"Marriages. One of my daughters shall marry your brother."

"Unfortunately my brother Robb is already married and-"

"Bah, such things can be dissolved."

"-and has been consummated. My nephew is surely to be a great man someday."

Lord Frey grew silent after listening to the news. "Very well. You have a sister, the one that looks like your mother. I shall have her then."

"My sister Sansa is already betrothed and given a blessing by the King himself."

Lord Frey whipped around to face the fire once more. "Very well. Take a son or two of mine and cross the bridge."

"And your troops?" He'd hate to admit it, but the Freys were amongst the Riverlands most powerful lords. Their troops could be integral to the war ahead.

"No! You may cross the bridge with wards, but without marriages, my men shall stay here!"

Edwyle knew what he had to do. He hated it, but he saw one or two comely Frey girls. He had once told his brother long ago, he'd marry out of duty to the North, for the kingdom. If this is what it takes. So be it.

"My lord…perhaps I may be willing to take the hand of one of your daughters."

Lord Frey turned and looked at him. "You are a second son, with nothing to inherent."

"Oh quite the contrary. I have been gifted the castle of Moat Cailin as my future seat. In addition, 'twas me whom my brother sent to you, not another lord."

He let the implication hang in the air. He was his brother's closest advisor. Perhaps he wouldn't inherent Winterfell, but he'd be a powerful noble in his own right.

"Oh I see." Lord Frey muttered greedily. "Very well. Go, go boy. Tell you brother I have agreed to your terms."

"Very good my lord."


He was escorted from the castle by the same two riders. He had traveled safely through his brother's camp. Soon, he was before the command tent once more. Robb was leaning over the table while Lords Umber, Karstark, Bolton, Glover and other lords surrounded the table on the other sides. It wasn't until he got close that Robb, and the other lords in turn, looked up. He could see Robb let out a sigh.

"Brother, it is good to see you safe. We were just discussing possible siege plans."

He smiled politely. "My thanks Robb."

The tent was silent for a moment before Robb raised his arm. "Well? What is your report? Successful?"

"Lord Frey has given us his blessing to cross the bridge, in return, we are to take a minimum of two of his boys as wards and squires. Though I suggest more to stay on his good side."

He could tell that the lords were relieved at the report. Even the stone-faced Roose Bolton seemed to decompress a little. "My lords…" He looked around. "…would you give me and my brothers a moment?"

They looked amongst each other before the Greatjon nodded. "Alright, ya 'eard the lad. Go, all of ya!" Edwyle nodded his thanks. Robb waited until the tent was empty before he approached him closer.

"What is it?"

"I am afraid that…well the Freys will not send their own troops."

Robb hit his palm with his fist. "Those…rats!"

"Robb, Robb. I was able to…barter for their soldiers too." He stated apprehensively.

Robb gave a smile before it soon soured. "What…what did you give them?"

"…Me."

"What?"

He drew himself up, fixing his posture. "I have pledged to marry a Frey girl to secure the alliance."

"No! Absolutely not! I know that father had plans for-"

"Robb! Must I educate you every time you lose your head?!"

"Don't! Don't you dare! Can I not be upset over my family?!"

"If I can live with it, you certainly can!" He turned and waved all around. "Look around you Robb! By the gods just open your eyes!" He begged. "We are at war. We do not know if father shall survive, I don't know if you or I shall. I did what was needed for this family."

Robb gazed at the floor. "And…you are, well you are sure about this? I mean say the word, I will tear down the castle."

"You'll do no such thing. I am sure. We must secure ourselves here."

The two were silent before Robb smirked like they were young once. "So…"

"Shut it."

Robb just smiled and looked to the side. He turned and faced him once again, the smirk only growing. "…So, you know her name yet?"

This time, Edwyle couldn't keep the blush from his face. "I saw a couple comely ladies in the keep, though only two caught my eye."

"And their names?"

"I think one of them was called Walda…though if I have a choice, I think Roslin would be my fair lady."

Robb just slowly walked up to him before he was but a hair-width apart. He then said the same words that Edwyle spoke to him at his wedding.

"Well…make me an uncle, Edwyle."


*I know, it may be icky. But I ask, beg, that you TRUST me. I have a plan for everything. Even this pairing has an important reason later on. A not-insignificant sub-plot is based entirely on this decision.