Chapter 264: Crossing the River

The Twins was the stronghold of House Frey, situated in the Riverlands. It consisted of two castles standing on opposite banks of the Green Fork, connected by a stone arch bridge.

This location served as the only crossing point on the Green Fork for hundreds of miles in either direction, conveniently positioned on the road from Winterfell to Riverrun.

House Frey took three generations to build this fortress, which allowed them to charge exorbitant tolls for crossing. This transformed the once-obscure family into one of the wealthiest and most powerful lords in the Riverlands.

Eddard Stark frowned as he gazed at the imposing fortress ahead.

During this campaign against House Lannister, Hoster Tully had summoned the Riverlords to arms. All other houses quickly responded, sending troops to meet the Northern army at the inn on the crossroads. Only House Frey delayed for over a month before reluctantly dispatching a mere 300 infantry.

It was no wonder Lord Hoster frequently referred to the lord of the Twins as "the Late Lord Frey."

Eddard himself harbored no fondness for the proud, irritable, and hypersensitive old Walder Frey. Were it not for his need to return to the North as swiftly as possible, he would have preferred to take a detour rather than pass through the Twins.

At the gate, four Freys rode out, each wrapped in heavy gray wool cloaks.

Lord Walder Frey had over a hundred offspring, a result of marrying eight wives throughout his life. Despite being over ninety, the old lord was rumored to have impregnated his newest bride.

"Lord Eddard, welcome to the Twins."

Eddard nodded curtly, unable to distinguish between the Freys. They all looked like weasels to him.

Passing through the portcullis and into the castle, Eddard finally met the lord of the crossing.

Lord Walder Frey, though long-lived, suffered from gout. He sat in a large oaken chair with a back carved into the shape of the twin castles connected by the bridge.

Surrounded by his sons, daughters, grandchildren, great-grandchildren, and sons-in-law, the gathering seemed large enough to form an army.

"Lord Eddard." Walder Frey opened his toothless mouth in a dismissive smile. "Forgive me for not rising to greet you."

"You need not trouble yourself," Eddard replied, bowing slightly. "I've come to request your permission to allow my army to cross your bridge. Rest assured, you will receive full toll payment."

Walder Frey chuckled. "Lord Eddard, your army is not small. And during such times of war, with battles and deaths everywhere, tolls must naturally increase."

Suppressing his anger, Eddard asked, "How much more?"

"No rush, Lord Eddard. I've prepared a sumptuous feast. We can discuss this over dinner. For now, please enter the castle, change your clothes, and rest."

"Very well." Eddard took a deep breath, suppressing his irritation. He decided that no matter the toll, he would agree.

As he was about to proceed, a squire whispered in his ear, "My lord, Lord Walder has not offered us bread and salt."

Eddard halted immediately.

Before he could speak, Walder Frey, either overhearing or anticipating this, remarked, "Ah yes, the ancient guest right. I almost forgot. Lord Eddard, would you like some bread and salt?"

"Yes," Eddard replied, "and perhaps some wine as well."

"As you wish." Walder clapped, and servants brought bread, salt, and wine.

The old lord poured himself a glass, raising it high. "My honored guests, welcome under my roof!"

Eddard and his companions ate the bread dipped in salt and raised their cups. "We are grateful for our host's hospitality."

Inside the castle, Eddard was led to an ornate room. He tried to sleep but found himself tossing and turning.

Outside, a light drizzle began.

Worried about his army left outside the castle, Eddard called for his squire and gave him instructions.

Finally, as night fell, Eddard changed his clohes and headed to the banquet hall.

Upon entering, the cacophony of music made him frown again, but he said nothing as he took his seat.

"And who are you, that I must bow so low…"

Eddard noticed the musicians were playing The Rains of Castamere—a song recounting Tywin Lannister's annihilation of House Reyne for their betrayal.

Was this a threat? A warning?

"Lord Walder!" Eddard protested. "Isn't it time for a change of tune?"

Walder Frey chuckled, waving his hand. "You hear that, you fools? Lord Eddard doesn't like this one. Change it!"

The musicians quickly switched to a northern folk song.

"Lord Eddard, how about this?"

"It'll do," Eddard replied distractedly, sipping his wine.

"Lord Eddard," Walder began, "have you heard the outcome of the battle at King's Landing?"

"Yes. Stannis was defeated, and his fleet destroyed."

"You didn't call him 'Your Grace,'" Walder remarked with a weasel-like grin.

"He has yet to be formally crowned," Eddard replied, adding, "But Stannis Baratheon is the rightful heir to the Iron Throne."

Walder smiled ambiguously. "Lord Eddard, Stannis is defeated, and even if alive, he has no power to compete in this game of thrones. The Stormlands are nearly occupied by the Reach. The Iron Throne is beyond the Baratheons now."

Eddard glared coldly. "Are you suggesting I surrender to the Lannisters?"

"Of course not." Walder leaned closer. "I suggest you crown yourself king."

Eddard froze.

Walder, mistaking his reaction for interest, continued enthusiastically, "If you're willing, the Riverlands, the Vale, and of course the North would support your claim. What do you think?"

"Not much," Eddard replied flatly. "This country has suffered enough division. I won't add to it. And neither should you."

"Are you certain?"

"Absolutely!" Eddard's voice was firm.

Walder shrugged in disappointment.

Eddard changed the subject. "Lord Walder, about the increased toll…"

"Ah yes," Walder replied. "Lord Eddard, what would you pay to cross?"

"What do you want?"

"I want you."

"Me?" Eddard set his cup down, glaring. "Walder Frey, I don't have time for your games. My castle, my wife, my children are in enemy hands. Name your price!"

"Don't be angry, Lord Eddard," Walder replied, unperturbed. "I want you as my son-in-law."

Eddard laughed bitterly. "I already have a wife."

"Yes, Catelyn Tully. Just as insufferable as her father," Walder sneered. "But I hear she's gone missing."

"Missing?" Eddard's heart sank.

"A polite way of saying she's dead," Walder added. "So, it's time for a new wife. I have many daughters. Or if you prefer, one of my granddaughters…"

Bang!

Eddard slammed his hand on the table. "Walder Frey, even if Catelyn has perished, I will never remarry. Give up this notion!"

"Why not? New is better than old. Look at me—I've had eight wives!"

"That's your business," Eddard snapped. "I won't agree. Name another condition."

Walder sighed dramatically. "So many daughters and granddaughters, all unmarried. Fine. If you won't, then let your son Robb marry one."

"Robb…" Eddard pondered before asking, "If my son doesn't marry a Frey, you won't let my army cross, will you?"

"Such harsh words. I merely wish to strengthen the bond between our houses. Unless you think my daughters unworthy of the noble Starks."

Clenching his jaw, Eddard finally relented. "Fine. My son will marry one of your granddaughters."

"Wonderful!" Walder clapped, raising his glass. "To this joyous union!"

Eddard reluctantly raised his cup.

Draining his wine, Walder added, "Since we're now family, your troubles are mine. Those damned ironborn in Winterfell have overstepped. Lord Eddard, I'll send two thousand men north to aid you in reclaiming your castle."

For once, Eddard forced a smile. "Thank you for your support."

(End of Chapter)