The rains had stopped falling and the river had stopped growing, and yet it was still half again as wide as it had been the last time Robb had come to cross it. Back then he had been a son looking to rescue his father and had vowed to take a Frey bride as price of his passage.
Now he was the king looking to unite his kingdom, and tomorrow he must fulfil the vow he made.
The host had come across an inn on the road north from Riverrun that had somehow been spared the horrors of the war. The owners had told Robb of how two hedge knights, one old, the other older, had come across the inn early into the war and taken it under their protection. They never gave their names, but remained at the inn throughout the entire conflict, in exchange for food and board they saw off raiders from Jaime Lannister's army, and several forays of broken men until the war had ended. At that time they had thanked the owners for their hospitality and departed, taking with them only a supply of food and one each of the owners' brood of ten sons to serve as pages. When Robb had arrived they had been beyond pleased to host a king. The richest lords in Robb's host took the available rooms, the rest would sleep in the main hall while the army camped outside. Robb himself had the largest room, with what they said was the softest bed.
He would find out soon enough, but first he ate with his men in the hall, laughed with them and cherished them. Despite the departure of his loudest and most troublesome lords, their laughter still seemed to shake the rafters. When dusk was crawling across the sky towards them, Robb stood and announced his intent to retire for the evening. Reminding the others not to wait too long before doing the same.
Back in his room he sat on the bed and placed his crown on the mattress beside him. There he waited. Soon enough, the door opened and Olyvar, Perwyn and his mother entered, his mother closing the door behind them. Olyvar and Perwyn were both dressed for travel. Fur lined cloaks wrapped around their shoulders, mail under their shirts and their swords buckled on. His mother was dressed in a white and grey dress with a cloak and gloves lined with black fox fur. She took them off in the warmth of his room.
"You've made it," Robb said. He stood up. Despite being the youngest in the room, he was the tallest. "Mother, do you have what I asked for?"
"I do," Catelyn replied, drawing out a bundle from beneath her cloak.
"Are we taking that to the Twins with us?" Perwyn asked.
"You will be," Robb said.
"What for?" Olyvar asked. Robb's squire was already concerned that he was being sent back to the Twins before Robb, but Robb needed Freys he could trust, there were few of them, and these two were the closest of them all.
"When I return to your castle, I must choose my bride from among your sisters, but I do not know them and I need a wife who will be suitable as a queen and a wife. I have come to trust you with my company and my life, and now I must trust you to help me find a wife. I understand I will have a large selection laid out before me."
Perwyn snorted. "That depends whether our father will present you only with our sisters, or also our nieces, grand-nieces and those even further removed."
"How many could that be?"
Olyvar and Perwyn glanced at each other. "I'm not sure," Olyvar said. "When we left the Twins, I was seventy-fifth in the line of succession to the Twins," he added by way of explanation.
"A lot then," Robb said. "You see why I need your help. I've only met your father once, but I wouldn't put it beyond him to make me choose on the spot whom I should wed." Lord Walder liked to see displays put before him for his old, petty amusement. Making a king choose a bride without a chance to consider or converse would be within his assorted amusements.
"No, neither would I," Perwyn said. "But most of our sisters and nieces and such would be a good wife for you, your grace. I will not hide that the men in our family can be unscrupulous and spiteful, but that does not extend so much to our women."
Olyvar nodded in agreement with his brother. "It's true, your grace. You will not be the first to be forced to pick a bird out of our flock. Our women know they must present themselves amiably to be most appealing to any potential suitor. Our brothers pride themselves on how close they are to inheriting the Twins. Our sisters pride themselves on who can attract the highest lords."
Robb had been hoping this they would say it would be easy for him. Not so, it seemed. "Are there any in particular that you think would be most suitable?"
"Roslin," they said together.
"You've spoken of her before. Your full sister?" Robb asked.
"Yes, Your Grace. Smaller than most of our half-sisters, but sweeter as well and worth far more," Perwyn said.
Robb nodded. "Roslin. And if Lord Walder has pledged her to another in our absence?"
Olyvar glanced at Perwyn questioningly. "Fair Walda?"
"You'd leave our king with our nephew's leavings?" Perwyn said.
"What do you mean, leavings?" Catelyn demanded.
"Black Walder," Perwyn said darkly. "Lord Walder's great grandson by his heir Stevron."
"I fought alongside Black Walder. He was a good fighter and leader, sterner than some."
"Hard in battle and hard in his brother's beds," Olyvar said. "He's horned at least five of our cousins, and there are stories of him with a dozen others. Perwyn caught him with Fair Walda three years ago."
"What does his wife think of that?" Catelyn asked, aghast.
"Black Walder has no wife. He has other people's wives," Perwyn said, unable to hide his disgust. "Black Walder is fourth in line to the Twins. Only his sire Ryman, his brother Edwyn and Edwyn's daughter Walda stand in his path."
"You say that like he is walking up that path," Robb said. Perhaps he should have sent Black Walder in place of his father with Tristan instead of back to the Twins.
Perwyn and Olyvar glanced at each other again. "Let's just say when Lord Walder dies I intend to be as far from Black Walder's sword arm as I can," Perwyn said finally.
"I will tolerate no kinslaying in my kingdom. If Black Walder seeks to murder his way to lordship, he will face justice," Robb said. "I thought it was in drink and anger that Edwyn suggested I take an unflowered maiden or else find Black Walder had been there before me."
"True in character, if exaggerated," Olyvar said.
"I can't wait for a maiden to flower. A king's succession must be clear. I have brothers, it is true, but Brandon is forever crippled, Rickon is a boy and Tristan is…"
"Tristan," his mother added helpfully. Everyone understood.
"So if Fair Walda has been with Black Walder, are there any others?"
"Alyx," Perwyn said.
Olyvar nodded. "Alyx would be suitable. Arwyn?"
"Our sister?"
"No, our niece. Our sister may not be Lord Walder's at all."
Robb raised an eyebrow. "Black Walder again."
Perwyn nodded stiffly. "If the rumours are to be believed, he had relations with our father's seventh wife. Personally I don't believe it, her children are too sweet and kind to be Black Walder's, but I wouldn't leave it to chance for the king. Our niece however, is trueborn and kind."
"And Zia."
"Zia is fit enough to bear children, of that I am certain, but she is also timid."
"Her father is Tytos and her grandfather is Jared," Olyvar pointed out. "When they ride off to tourneys, she shines in their absence. I certainly believe she is worth consideration, your grace."
"And you think that Roslin, Alyx, Arwyn and Zia are the most suitable for my son?" Catelyn asked.
"Roslin most of all, but all would be fine queens," Olyvar said.
Perwyn spent a little more time thinking before agreeing with his brother.
"Very well then," Robb said, and nodded to his mother. Catelyn untied the bundle she had brought out and revealed the woven red and grey scarves hidden within. "When you return to the Twins, I need you to present these scarves to these women, have them wear them when I enter the castle. That way I know who to choose from should your father force me to make the choice in front of him."
Olyvar nodded. "We'll get the scarves to them, my king."
"I'm trusting you," Robb said.
"We won't let you down, Your Grace," Perwyn said, gathering the scarves and bowing as he and his brother left the room.
"What do you think?" He asked his mother.
"I think you trust them," Catelyn said.
Robb frowned. "You don't?"
"It's not that I don't trust them to look after you. They've served you long enough for that, Olyvar especially. But I'm not certain that giving them an open hand to choose your wife for you is the wisest option. You know they will put Roslin first."
"She is their sister."
"And that may blind them. What if Roslin is unsuited to be your wife."
"You don't know her."
"Which is why I doubt her. I would prefer certainty."
"We don't have certainty."
"But we know some things. We know that she is a Rosby. Robb, they aren't a family known for their robustness or fertility, and we know you need an heir as soon as possible."
"Roslin has four brothers, her mother was as fertile as you were."
Catelyn held up her hands. "I know, Robb." She sighed and sat down. "Things have been uncertain for so long, I just want some certainty."
Robb wrapped his arm around her. "Only winter is certain."
She laughed dryly. "One of your father's favourite sayings." Her voice cracked.
"Mother," Robb whispered, holding her close. "Are you sure you don't want to go straight back?" He asked. Bran and Rickon will want to see you. And father's bones will be back by now. You can see him again."
His mother shook her head, weary. "No, not yet. I will return when you are wedded. When you have cloaked your bride and secured your place I will go home, pay my respects to your father's grave, begin making amends with Bran and Rickon."
"Prepare Arya for her marriage?"
Catelyn laughed, genuinely this time. "I hope you aren't expecting me to advise in your councils, that will take all my effort."
Robb rubbed her back. "Are you certain you don't wish to go home. The wedding will not be for a little time yet. I could always write to you to come back when the time is right."
"No," Catelyn said. "When I return to Winterfell I intend to stay for many years. I am tired of travel and strife."
"I understand." Robb said. The two of them had already decided against proposing the wedding be held in Winterfell. He intended his lords to be there at the ceremony and to ask his new Riverlords to travel to Winterfell and back when their lands needed urgent tending was irresponsible.
"We just need to get through Lord Walder again," Catelyn said sadly.
()()()
The Twins loomed out of the gloam like spectres solidifying with every step they took. Two castles on opposite sides of the river, mirrored towers of steon and iron linked by a great bridge. Deep trenches surrounded the castles, filled with water from the river, turning them into island fortresses. The portculisses were open and a wagon was trundling across the bridge from west to east.
It had been so long since Robb was at the Twins, and then it had been the dying days of summer. Now it was deep autumn and it all seemed so different. Green gone to yellow and brown and unfamiliar.
Half a dozen riders waited for them along the road. Four dressed in the garb of nobility, in grey cloaks and fine doublets, flanked by two men at arms in heavy plate. Scions of House Frey and their escorts. Robb knew three of them. The leader of the group was Edwyn Frey not a knight, and deservedly so. Robb knew him from his time at the Twins and his convalescence at Riverrun, not the battlefield. His brother Black Walder was behind him. Dark, brooding and wiry. He had fought well in the west and the Reach and while he was harsh, Robb hadn't thought much more of it than simply an unsavoury and brutal warrior, not unlike Tristan, perhaps. But after his discussions with Olyvar and Perwyn, Robb could not help a feeling of revulsion at the sight of the man. The third man was a far more welcome sight, Olyvar, furthest back of the four, but an unmistakable and welcome face nonetheless. And then there was the fourth man. He was plump with close set eyes, a pointed beard and a feather in his cap. Robb noted that he had a cane attached to his saddle.
"Your Grace," Edwyn said, raising his hand in greeting. "We welcome you, the House Frey has eagerly been awaiting your arrival."
"And I have been early looking forward to enjoying the hospitality of your hall."
"Our father is eager to provide that hospitality, Your Grace. He awaits you in the eastern tower."
"I would speak with him as soon as possible. I made him a vow, I would see it fulfilled."
The plump man nudged his horse forwards and when he spoke he did so softly and politely. "My lord, my name is Lothar Frey, steward of the Twins. It would be my pleasure to see you to my father. The Twins are yours and the bridge is open to your host to cross to the other side of the Trident."
Grey Wind edged forward, fangs bared, muscles bunched, clearly troubled by the man. One to watch, to be sure. But his wolf kept his temper and Robb rode behind the four Freys as they approached the twins. Olyvar allowed his horse to fall back until he was riding in his squire's place just behind his liege. "The task I assigned you?" Robb asked, keeping his voice low as he noted that Lothar Frey had twisted slightly in his saddle to follow Olyvar's retreat.
"Handled my king."
"Good."
They passed under the portcullis of the first castle. Through a sharp corridor of grey stone. In it the sounds of the hoofbeats of his battleguard and the first of the heavy horse behind them clattered on the stone. They stepped out on the bridge, the stone wet from heavy rains. By now the wagon he had spied early had completed it's crossing. The bridge was empty and he spied guards at the Water Tower in the middle and at the eastern castle clearing the way. "Lothar ordered that the bridge be closed on the other side when we caught sight of your host," Olyvar explained. Nothing passes until your host is back across."
They passed through the water tower, where heavy scorpions pointing out to the river in both directions on the upper levels hung loose and sagging. A commander called out a greeting to the Frey's and then "hail to the king!" when he saw Robb, a call taken up by the others of his garrison. Robb raised his hand in greeting to the commander. His stoat like features told Robb this was another Frey, but the Lord Walder could have filled all the positions of a household with his brood.
They made it to the eastern twin where Robb and his guard dismounted with the Frey escort. Grooms swarmed from the end to take their horses to the stables. Lothar Frey was the slowest dismounting, and when he took out his cane and walked slowly over to Robb, he realised why. He hadn't been able to tell when he was mounted, but Lothar Frey had a clubfoot. Still, when he walked his hid it well. "King Robb, I must ask how long you intend your host to remain here? House Frey cannot feed fifteen thousand men and horses indefinitely. We need to start stockpiling for winter."
"They only need one meal tonight. The war is over, tomorrow the army makes for the Causeway and home. The men need to till their fields and return to their wives and children."
Lothar nodded. "In that case I will ensure we deliver them the best foods we have for their last evening at a Riverlands castle. But for now, if you would like to follow me." He made his way to the iron banded mahogany door leading into the great hall.
"One moment, if it please you," Robb said. He turned to his guard and beckoned. "Mother, Arya."
His guard parted and his mother and Arya, who had been riding behind his companions came to the fore. They were dressed in fine cloaks with finer dresses beneath them. Arya's cheeks had been rouged and her lips glossed while gold and silver hung around her neck and from her ears. "Lady Catelyn. Princess Arya," Lothar said, bowing at the waist. If he was surprised he didn't show it. "I wasn't aware you would be joining us."
"It is our pleasure to come," Catelyn said.
"Yes my lord, I have waited long to see the home of the family I will wed," Arya replied, all sweetness and smiles with her rehearsed lines.
"And we have waited long to see you. But I fear my brother Elmar, your betrothed, is riding south as we speak, if you were hoping to meet him."
"I met him for the first time at Harrenhal. But I long for the day when I will see him again."
Lothar nodded, pleased. "If you will all follow." Robb, his family, his chosen guard and his highest lords followed Lothar Frey into the hall.
Freys were in the hall. They lined the walls, sat at the tables, talked in small groups and watched with excitement as the northmen entered. Above them all, above Frey and riverlord, above family and king, sat old Lord Frey. Time had taken it's toll on the Lord of the Crossing. He sat on a hard throne of black oak, softened by cushions and a soft ermine cloak wrapped around his knees. His bald, spotted head sat atop a long pink neck which sat upon a body hunched with bitterness and age. He was so aged that Robb had no inkling what he had looked like in his youth, but a single sweeping look around the hall would allow him to guess from the infants, children, striplings prime aged knights and weathered old men that had sprung from this man's seed. "Your Grace," he cackled from his chair. "You'll forgive me if I don't kneel, these old knees of mine don't work as well as they used to, but what hangs between 'em works well enough heh."
Robb kept his lip from curling. Just. "Lord Walder, I must thank you for your hospitality, and the support of your House during the war. We would not have our freedom without your sons, grandsons and knights."
"Aye, the thanks of kings. Other kings have thanked me in the past, for my knights and my food and my castle, not that one ever gave me thanks with more than words."
"I intend to do just that," Robb said.
"You intend to fulfil a promise you made. I'm not so old that I forget, though I'm sure you wished I did, heh."
Robb ignored him. "Lord Walder, I wish to present you the maiden who will wed your son Elmar." Without instruction, Arya stepped forward and curtsied deeply. "This is my sister Arya."
Lord Walder's watery eyes suddenly focussed and Robb had to stop himself stepping in front of Arya protectively. "My Lord," Arya smiled at him. Only Robb and Catelyn would have been able to see that it didn't reach her eyes.
"Oh, so you are the young lass for my young ladd. Heh, if I didn't have this old lass beside me, I might have been pleased to make you my own lady wife. You'd have found that more enjoyable no doubt, heh."
Robb placed his hand on Arya's shoulder. "My lord, my sister is yet unflowered."
"I've still got time in me, I'm old, not dead, heh."
Robb felt the shudder of revulsion go around the room, although more than he would like were indifferent to Lord Walder's filth. Perhaps they were just good at masking it. Robb was more thankful than ever that Tristan wasn't here.
And perhaps Lord Walder felt that he had gone too far, for he changed the subject. "She's a fine young lady. I suppose his grace would like to see some fine young ladies of his own," he said, smothering every word in sarcasm. He waved his hand and a wing of womanhood swept down to position themselves beneath his table. Robb scanned his eyes across them and noted the four women wearing the scarves that he had given Olyvar and Perwyn the day before. Lord Walder named the names and relationship to him. "My daughter Arwyn and my granddaughter, also Arwyn. Shirei, my youngest Serra and Sarra, twins, perhaps you and your brother would like one each, you can share them if you like, Your Grace, my daughter Delmera - wait, what are you doing there you baseborn bitch! I remember your mother scrubbing my floors while I squirted you inside her, get out, the King in the North wants no baseborn wretches for his bed." The girl burst into tears and ran from the hall as Lord Walder kept reciting names. There was an Ami, a Cersei known as Little Bea, two Rosamunds and so many Waldas that Robb struggled to keep track of them. By the time he was done, Lord Walder had named thirty daughters, granddaughters and great granddaughters. From the expressions on several of their faces when their names were announced, Robb would have wagered Winterfell that Lord Walder had got some of their names wrong. "You may have yourself any one of them," Lord Walder said before sitting back and allowing silence to fall.
And so it was Robb had feared, Lord Walder Frey was going to force him to choose now, in full sight of his lords and the other Frey daughters he would not be choosing. He saw the looks of misery in the faces of some of the less comely Freys who thought themselves as having no chance of competing for a King's attention next to their more beautiful sisters. "Lord Walder, you honour me, all of them are too lovely."
"And I'm told my eyes are bad," Lord Walder snorted. "Some will do well enough, I suppose. Others you might want to leave for the noble sons I spy behind you."
Grey Wind padded forward a few steps and stopped, staring at the Lord of the Crossing. "Heh, perhaps your beast wants one of them as well, can't be many bitches for that one down here in the south."
Robb stepped forward to Grey Wind's side. "My Lord, I can assure you, whichever of your ladies becomes my queen, they will be Grey Wind's as well, and he will protect them as well as he has protected me from all who would do them harm or dishonour."
Robb heard Lord Hornwood snort from behind him, joined by Marq Piper and the Smalljon.
"So, who would the King in the North like to take for his bride, I'm old your grace, but not so old you can hope I'll keel over and let you weasel out of this."
The King changed his tone. "Lord Walder, I have given you no reason to be suspect of my intentions. I would ask that you give me time that I may see all of these ladies you have presented to me and allow each of them to shine in my eyes."
Lord Walder looked as though he wanted to spit, but Robb approached the mass of femininity and he grumbled unheard words instead. He looked over each of them in turn, reciting each of their names to them as Lord Walder had said it, accepting the corrections of the four who had been misnamed. He made sure to speak with each of them, especially those less comely that they felt included and valued as they should be. It was a disgrace in his heart that he had already identified the small number from whom he would choose. He allowed each of them to place their hands on Grey Wind's fur if they wished.
Zia was the first of the scarved Freys he spoke with. Were it not for the scarf, Robb would never have picked her out of the crowd. She shared the stoat like features of Lord Walder and much of his brood. She was demure and sweet but spoke practiced words, never her own mind. Alyx was the opposite. Comely next to her sisters and bold, stroking Grey Wind's fur like he was a hound she had known for years, and when Robb spoke her words of courtesy she replied with cannily masked innuendo mixed with bold forthrightness. There was something to be said for that. She was certainly fun, and boldness was not a bad characteristic for a Queen.
Three Waldas and Mirei Frey separated Alyx from Arwyn, who at first spoke with such grace but soon became tongue tied and trembling. Robb placed a hand on her cheek and smiled and she regained her voice. He invited her to touch Grey Wind as the others had and thanked her for her words.
Roslin, the last of the four. Olyvar and Perwyn's sister. Small, pale as milk, with a delicate face and large brown eyes. Her chestnut hair fell over the scarf and all the way to her waist in thick waves, a waist that was so tiny that Robb felt he might be able to wrap his hands around it. When she spoke she did so kindly and revealed a small gap between her teeth. He could tell she was masking nerves, but she did it well and she showed no fear when presented with Grey Wind.
He spoke with all the remaining Freys, making sure not to rush now that he had spoken to his four.
When he had spoken to the last Walda, he stepped back. "I'm sure you've heard enough yammering of women by now, Your Grace. Heh, if they aren't making a noise with your prick in them, they shouldn't make any noise at all. So, which one do you wish to make your queen, which of my daughters will wear a crown?"
Robb walked back along the line until he stopped before Roslin Frey. "My Lady," he said to her, holding out his hand."
"Your grace," she gently placed her hand in his. "I hope I did not disappoint you."
"You did not, and I do not believe you ever could. Lady Roslin, would you honour me by becoming my queen?"
Roslin's face broke into a wide smile. "Yes, your grace."
Robb leant down and brushed his fingers across the back of her hand as his guard erupted behind him in typical northern exuberance. Robb pulled Roslin in and kissed her forehead. "I look forward to our marriage," he said.
"I look forward to serving you. I promise you, I shall be a good and true wife to you, and the wisest queen I can be."
The other ladies of House Frey bowed and retreated as the cheers of the northmen died down. Robb turned to a triumphant looking Lord Walder Frey.
"A good choice, Your Grace," he laughed a wheezy hiccup of a laugh. "It would be my pleasure to see you wedded this very evening."
"My lord, there is no need for such haste," Robb said with a smile. "The war is over, and such a grand wedding should be available for all the nobility of my lands to attend it. Not all of them are here. My brother, your own heir Ser Ryman and many other are right now riding for King's Landing. I would not have them miss out on this ceremony of a lifetime, and I am sure you would not miss out on the opportunity to host them all."
"I've hosted more than you can think, your grace."
"Lord Walder, as the father of my bride to be, I am offering you the opportunity to host the first grand ceremony of this kingdom. I would of course, be covering half the expenses. But if such a burden is too much, then I am sure my uncle would be prepared to host at Riverrun."
Walder Frey's face twisted in open disgust. "We will host," he declared. "And it will be the finest ceremony that the Riverlands has seen since the double-marriage of your mother and aunt. Mayhaps you know when you plan us to hold your wedding?"
"Tomorrow I intend to begin a grand progress of my new kingdom. I will begin with a circuit of the south and then the north. The wedding will take place at the end of the southern circuit before I return north. It would be my pleasure and honour to have my future queen with me, that all may see her at my side in this progress and pay her the respect owed."
Robb and Lord Walder locked eyes with the whole room holding it's breath. But beneath the watery orbs, Robb could see that Lord Walder accepted the truth. Robb had won this round.
"And now, my Lord, I believe there was one more promise I owe you." He drew his sword and held it before him. Black Walder Frey stood, his hand drifting toward his own blade and others took their lead from him. Robb ignored them. "Olyvar, my faithful squire. It is time I repaid the services you have done me." He lowered the sword so that the tip touched the stone ground. Olyvar stepped forward, his eagerness restrained behind his tight expression. "Take a knee."
The next day Robb departed the Twins on his great grey stallion. Beside him, Roslin rode on a dappled bay gelding in a fine gown of blue and grey. Behind them came Robb's guard and a dozen Frey knights, commanded by ser Perwyn and the knewly knighted ser Olyvar as a guard for their sister. Behind them a wheelhouse in which Arya and Catelyn would take the journey. Robb had offered Roslin a place in it, but she insisted on riding at his side for at least this first leg of the journey. Behind the wheelhouse came the lords, heirs and their escorts, as well as travelling singers and troubadours hoping for patronage, hedge knights looking for a lord to serve and more who thought to gain from a king's progress.
As they rode south, Robb could not help but turn his gaze and look behind him as the army of the north marched in the opposite direction. Thousands of levies and lancers marched for the Causeway, commanded by second sons, stewards and subordinates to return to their lands, till the fields and kiss their wives and children. Winterfell lay in that direction. But it was not Robb's destination yet. For so long, Robb had marched with an army at his back, that army. Now it was gone, but he did not miss their absence. The war was done, he had other battles to fight now.
Vandal55: The Lannisters as a whole don't have a plan, different Lannisters have different ideas about what to do with her, but because of the war, the politics with the Tyrells and Tywin's death, they haven't had a chance to come up with a plan as a House.
