Catelyn I

Robb Stark stood with a furrowed brow, his gaze locked onto the detailed map sprawled before him. The path to King's Landing, marked with winding routes and treacherous terrain, was more than just a route—it was the path to his father's freedom. Each time he traced the road with his finger, the looming shadow of the Freys loomed larger. Their formidable toll for crossing the bridge was a block he couldn't afford to lose any more time at. Every alternative he considered would grind their march to a crawl, jeopardising any chance of rescuing his father or his sisters.

The war room buzzed with overwhelming noise as Northern lords engaged in heated debate. Voices clashed over the next move—some clamouring for retribution against Walder Frey for his failure to answer Edmure Tully's call, others urging caution to avoid the Freys altogether. The only other person who seemed to be as quiet and thoughtful as Robb was his mother, Lady Catelyn Stark sat silently, her eyes reflecting the same troubled contemplation as her son. Finally, her voice cut through the noise like a blade.

"Robb, what are you willing to give to cross?" Lady Catelyn's question fell heavy in the air, bringing the room's discord to an abrupt halt as every gaze shifted to their young lord.

"Everything," Robb replied firmly, though his mother could see the tremor of fear beneath his hard exterior. The lords' murmurings swelled again, the room echoing with renewed disputes over Robb's decision. "We don't have the luxury of searching for another route to King's Landing. This is our only option." He slammed the wooden wolf emblem down on the map, right atop the marked location of The Twins, silencing the room once more.

"Are you sure? Walder Frey doesn't make light demands" Lady Catelyn said, her eyes meeting Robb's with a penetrating gaze.

"Mother, there is no other choice," Robb insisted. "Walder Frey will have his demands, and I'm prepared to meet them. There is no price too large to save Father and the girls."

A murmur of surprise swept through the lords before the room once again falling into chaos. Roose Bolton's voice cut through the noise, practical and sharp. "Who will speak with Lord Frey? I know you likely wish to go yourself, but we need a plan for what comes next in King's Landing if things go awry."

"There is no next if we cannot cross this bridge. We cannot reach King's Landing without Walder Frey," Robb snapped.

"I'll go," Catelyn said, rising from her chair. "I've known Walder Frey since I was a girl. Perhaps he will respond better to a Tully than a Stark." She offered her son a reassuring smile, though she was unsure if it would comfort him. With a determined nod, she departed the tent to confront the old lord.

A small escort of soldiers accompanied Catelyn to the imposing stronghold of House Frey. The large wooden doors groaned open, their eerie creaks echoing her fear. The grand hall beyond was as cold and unwelcoming as she had worried. Despite the number of Frey offspring, the room was eerily silent, save for the figure of Lord Walder Frey seated in a grand chair with only a young frail and thin girl by his side.

Catelyn curtsied deeply before the withered lord, her heart heavy with apprehension. Walder Frey's smile, wide and unsettling, revealed a few remaining golden teeth.

"Lady Stark," he greeted, his voice tinged with a childlike glee, despite his advanced age.

"Lord Frey," Catelyn replied, striving to keep her voice calm and respectful as she rose to meet his eyes.

"To what do I owe this pleasure?" His gaze lingered over her in a way that made Catelyn deeply uncomfortable, even though his young wife sat uncomfortably beside him.

"Surely you know of my son's journey south…" Catelyn began.

"And you wish me to open my gates to your young wolf?" Walder Frey's eyes narrowed, a knowing smile playing on his lips.

"It is the fastest route south, my lord," Catelyn confirmed.

"You must understand, I'll require something in return," Walder Frey said, his fingers tightening possessively around the waist of his young bride.

"I have come to hear your demands on behalf of my son. What is it that you want?" Catelyn asked, bracing herself for the inevitable.

"I have a great many daughters, granddaughters, and even great-granddaughters. Too many, if you ask me. I need to dispose of a few."

"You want Robb to marry one of them?" Catelyn guessed, and a satisfied grin spread across the old lord's face.

"He may choose as he likes, though I must warn you, they're not the prettiest bunch... If he picks an ugly one, he can select another to warm his bed," Frey cackled.

"My son will have one wife and he will be faithful. The Starks value loyalty above all else," Catelyn said firmly.

"I don't care about his loyalty, I've always found it overrated. Just give me a Stark grandson, and then he can send her to live with the wildlings for all I care," Walder Frey replied dismissively.

"I promise to you upon my honour as a Stark and as a Tully that, upon our return to Winterfell, Robb will marry one of your daughters," Catelyn vowed.

"Oh no," Frey laughed mirthlessly. "I don't trust you'll return. If he survives this campaign, he will become a young man high on the thrill of battle, with girls falling at his feet, what will he care for an oath made between an old man and a woman? But as you say loyalty is above all for the Starks, he will marry her before making the crossing."

"But he must cross quickly!" Catelyn pleaded.

"Then he better choose swiftly," Lord Frey retorted, his tone final.

Understanding the futility of further argument, Catelyn resigned herself to the situation. "Very well."

"Now!" Frey bellowed, startling her. "I'll spare you the sight of the whole ugly lot. My young wife will fetch the girls who are suitable for the great Stark lord."

"Which ones, my lord?" Lady Frey, barely past her teens, asked timidly.

"Alyx, Walda, and Roslin," Frey replied, his gaze fixed on Catelyn.

"Which Walda?" Catelyn inquired.

"The buxom one, Walton's girl!" Frey snapped, turning to his wife.

The young woman hurried off, almost tripping over her skirts. "And bring Tyta. I have need for her" Frey added.

Once the young woman left, Frey's eyes turned back to Catelyn. "Now, my other demands. Your son will take my son Olyvar as his squire and two young boys will be sent to Winterfell as wards."

"I believe Robb will agree to these terms—" Catelyn started before Frey interrupted.

"You will help these boys find wives, and you, Lady Stark, will take my daughter Tyta as your personal companion. I've given up trying to marry her off; she's too old for children. But should a Northern lord lose a wife at forty and need someone to manage his household and warm his bed, I expect you to recommend Tyta."

Catelyn nodded, as Lord Frey continued "And will the Young Wolf be choosing his bride himself?"

"I presume he will wish to pick his own wife," Catelyn said with resolve, "and what choices he will have." the old lord sneered.

Turning to one of her son's men, she instructed, "Inform Robb of what has transpired and the choice he must make. He is needed here."

The man nodded and hurried out, picking up his pace at Lord Frey's mocking comment. "Better turn that walk into a run"

"Ah! Here they are, my gems," Frey announced as three girls appeared. Catelyn felt a pang of relief as she saw that the three young women were indeed quite lovely—a small mercy in an otherwise grim situation.

"This is Alyx, my granddaughter, nearing her sixteenth name day." Frey introduced the first girl, who curtsied gracefully. Her face was adorned with freckles, and her dark-brown hair fell just past her shoulders. She had high cheekbones and deep blue eyes, she looked very young.

"Walda, another granddaughter, just turned seventeen." The second girl curtsied deeply. Taller than her cousin, she had a more womanly figure and blonde hair that contrasted sharply with the darker tones of her kin. Her beauty was undeniable and would surely appeal to many.

"And finally, Roslin, my daughter, who has just turned sixteen." The shortest girl stepped forward, she was dainty and her pale skin almost made her look like one of Sansa's clay dolls. Her features matched this claim; she had a delicate nose and large brown eyes. She curtseyed to Catelyn before standing up and greeting her.

"It is an honour Lady Stark" As she spoke Catelyn noticed a small gap between her 2 front teeth that added to her features whereas in other girls it would have drawn all of the focus. Her mahogany-coloured hair reached the bottom of her back and had slight curls at the bottom.

"And this is Tyta," Frey concluded, introducing an older woman, perhaps close to five and twenty. Though not as slender as the younger girls, Tyta's demeanour suggested a quiet strength that Catelyn felt would serve her well in Winterfell. "Tyta will move to Winterfell as Lady Stark's companion."

"While one of you girls will marry Robb Stark," Lord Frey added.

Catelyn observed the girls' reactions—Roslin's eyes widened, though her emotions remained controlled, while the youngest, Alyx, visibly trembled. The room's oppressive atmosphere made it clear that their fate was not to be taken lightly.

"You've seen them, now piss off to your son, and tell me when he's decided" Catelyn merely tipped her head to him and began to walk to the door and the girls left the room the way they had come. Just as she reached the door, she was met with the face of the messenger she had sent for Robb.

"Lord Stark has been delayed by Lord Bolton," he informed her. "He has asked that you use your experience to choose the most suitable bride."