Red Snow
Chapter IV: The Price
Robb
Walder Frey was a nasally man. He was shrewd and niggardly, had watery grey eyes that narrowed at every paranoid thought that washed through his splotched white skull. He was old, and in his old age his heart burned with passionate hatred for all the noble and ancient houses that turned their noses at him and slighted him at every chance. He sat pompously on his grand oak chair, carved with the picture of the identical castles that made up their seat called the Twins. When the occasion arose he had to be towed to and from his chair whenever nature called. Six servants would lift his fragile body and placed him on a canvas stretcher, then took him to a side door in the back of the hall.
"Why, pray tell me, boy, should I open my bridge to your band of marauding, frozen northmen, who reek of shit and hunger?" Walder Frey said as his wrinkly brow crinkled in perceived superiority. Walder Frey had many children and they children and they children and even they children. His hall was infested with his weak chinned, grey eyed, rat-like descendents, who stood in rows along the width of the walls.
Robb stood tall and rigid, absorbing the scarcely veiled insults of the decrepit and vile old man who turned his nose at him, most likely because Robb was of a noble and ancient house. Robb's beard was out, reddish brown from days on the march. He stood in his perfectly dirtless steel armor, that glistened insultingly in the eyes of the Freys.
"Lord Frey. I come here, with every viable and conceivable intention, to pay the price, of your choosing, to cross your bridge, which stands in the way of me and your liege lord in Riverrun, who is suffering the pangs of slow starvation at the hands of Lannister besiegement." Robb responded stoically and hard tongued.
"Oh, how noble of you!" Walder Frey cackled. "If you haven't noticed boy, the Tully's are my liege lords, not yours. So, my question to you is, why should I allow Northmen to run rampant through my lands, when I have no security whatsoever of their behavior?"
"Name your price, my lord, and it will be met. You have my word we will only do what I have said here before you." Robb said slowly and deliberately, remaining patient, and keeping his temper within civil confinements.
"Your word means nothing to me, boy, what concerns me is your ability, or inability, if that is the situation, to pay the price I here ask."
"Name the price you here ask, and your concerns will be addressed swiftly." Robb responded quickly, eager to conclude negotiations with a nonnegotiable man.
"You are impatient, boy, it is my advice you remain cordial in such a formal setting." Walder Frey chastised hypocritically. Robb did everything within his power not to burst in furious frustration and slice the old man's head off.
"I will keep that in mind."
"That is good of you, boy."
"Now, your price?"
"What price? Who are you boy? Are you one of Haigh's brood, come to bother me with your insufferable mishaps? Well the answer is no, as usual." Walder Frey said, as a confounded mist enclosed his eyes.
"The price of my army crossing your bridge." Robb replied, unsure.
"An army! At my gates!? You dare bring an army to my doorstep you insipid bug!" Walder Frey hollered angrily. As quickly as the old man erupted, his eldest son Stevron Frey rushed up to the raised dais and whispered into his ear. Stevron Frey was vastly unlike his father, similar only in his desire for power, namely the title his father held greedily. He was an old man himself, but still had a strong voice and a strong arm of the sword. He was comely and soft eyed. He was affable and kind, and constantly praying for his father's death.
"I see." Walder Frey said, realization dawning on his unfortunate face. "Leave you rotten lot. I'll talk to him alone." Walder Frey ordered. The mass of sad brown haired, grey eyed, weak chinned Freys filed out orderly, off to fight bitterly for any advantage they could gain in the war of inheritance.
"So, a price you ask for, and a price you shall receive." Walder Frey continued as if nothing happened.
"Yes, a price." Robb agreed. "For the benefit of Riverrun and the Tullys and for you."
"But not to the benefit of you? What is your agenda, boy? You come here making demands, like I'm some dish washing, chamber pot scrubbing, servant, and you don't even feel the need to explain to me your reasoning and motives?" Walder Frey sputtered with each pronounced and emphasized syllable, while spittle flew from his toothless mouth.
"No hidden motives, I assure you, now if you could just name your pric-."
"Price, price, price, price, you keep asking for my price like I'm some common whore!" Walder Frey whined childishly. "Well I don't need gold. My coffers are flooded with golden dragons, and I have no need of your penniless army, so I see no reason for you to pass." Walder Frey admitted finally. Robb was just happy he was finally given something other than a dagger to his pride.
"So, you price is, you don't have a price? You are refusing me passage?" Robb confirmed.
"Don't twist my words, boy! Everything has a price." Walder Frey said.
"What is your price then?" Robb sighed.
"Don't get short with me, boy." Walder Frey told him.
"My lord, my time is shrinking, I need an answer soon, if at all possible."
"You speak to me of time?" Walder Frey asked. "I have outlived six wives, or seven? Let's see one, two three, four, fiv- no, she was a wench, five, si-, it is of little importance!" He yelled finally. "Now, the price of you and your army crossing my bridge is of no relation to gold, or perhaps it is. What I ask is for you to do something with all these worthless descendents of mine, who do nothing but name their spawn Walder and Walda, like that would make me favor them? I don't even know any of their names, I hardly even know my own children's names! When I see one of them, I don't know their name, so I just yell Walder! You go to this and that, and they always do it! Ha!" Walder Frey laughed. "They just fight and argue like vultures over a carcass, and I'm the carcass! I may be old, but my heart's still beating! They're all cold, ungrateful little bastards, and I hate them." Walder Frey rambled.
"So...?"
Walder Frey tilted his head back and shouted into the ceiling, "Heavenly Father, this boy needs to respect his elders, and shut his damn hole!" The silent wooden rafters remained silent, and the pigeons cooed and ruffled their feathers in indignation.
"Ahem, as I was saying, you will marry one of my daughters, your eldest sister will marry one of my boys, your eldest brother will marry one of my girls, some boys will be wards in Winterfell, you will take boys as squires, and my sons will be on your council, and lead regiments of my men, four-thousand in total. That is my price, nonnegotiable." Walder Frey finally declared.
"This is a great price for the crossing of your bridge. Only my sister and brother will marry. I must marry a northern girl." Robb declared.
"No. You must marry."
"Just me."
"No."
"Three of my other siblings."
"No."
"All four of my other siblings." Robb declared desperately. Walder Frey contemplated the offer before promptly declaring-
"No."
"My youngest sister and I."
"Deal. You may pass." Walder Frey announced to the empty court with a snide smirk on his face. "I expect the marriage to commence when you return this way when the war is finished."
Robb met his councilors outside the eastern gate which was half of the Twins.
"What happened?" Jon asked, worried.
"I made a deal with the devil."
"The devil?"
"Walder Frey."
"How much?"
"Arya and I."
"Excuse me?"
"Arya and I must marry two of them."
"Oh." Jon said quietly.
"Who?" Jon asked.
"He told me to just, line them up, and pick whichever tickles my fancy."
"Just like that?"
"Just like that."
"I'm sure it won't be so bad."
"If any of them have a fraction of the same blood as that hairless, miserable, bitter old man, than, yes Jon, it will be that bad."
"He was that bad?"
"More than you can imagine."
"I imagine a wretched old toothless man."
"Worse."
"But he's letting us pass."
"Yes."
"We didn't even have to pay him."
"Yes we did."
"With gold, I mean."
"Some things are worth more than gold."
"I suppose so. But not in this case." Jon disagreed. They stayed quiet, contemplating the most recent change of events.
"Four thousand of his men are joining our ranks." Robb said to break the silence.
"What?" Jon asked surprised.
"Four thousand-"
"No, I heard. That's incredible, brother!"
"But the price I must pay."
"All for the good of the people! Just imagine, we stick the Freys in the front of our army, have them climb the walls first of Lannister castles! Have them get boiling tubs of oil dumped on their faces instead of our brothers."
"The price..."
"Yes, so you may not love her, but what does it matter? You fuck her, she pops out some sons, by the looks of it Frey women are as fertile as the lands they till."
"They'll be rotten little bastards, sullied by bad blood, and I don't want the North to be inherited by these people."
"Your half of these people, you know."
"I'm half Tully, that's entirely different, and although I may look of the south, I am one with Winter."
"Yes, I apologize, brother, but don't be so down."
"But, the price." Robb said forlornly and dejectedly, looking at the ground with sad eyes.
"Necessary. A sacrifice."
"I won't do it."
"You have to."
"Not if she dies."
"You wouldn't kill an innocent girl."
"Of course not." Robb said staring at Jon in morbid excitement.
"No."
"Yes."
"No."
"Yes."
"NO."
"You wouldn't let your own brother live a life of drudgery and despair by the hands of a petty, imbecilic, weasel wench? ?"
"Would you?"
"Are you marrying a Frey?"
"I don't know, am I? You seem to be selling your siblings off as of late."
"There's enough Freys. I'm sure the old man would allow you to marry one if you wished."
"I don't want to marry one." Jon explained.
"We'll kill each others Frey wife." Robb pleaded.
"No. The gods will cut you down if you do it."
"The gods don't have Heart Trees here. They can't see."
"Then their gods will."
"The idol worshiper's gods have no power, nor sway, over me."
"Regardless."
"I will form a plan. I'll hire a man for the job."
"Men plan, and the gods laugh."
"Enough of your depressing religious preaching."
"What is a man without honor? You must always keep your word. Don't kill the girl."
"I distinctly recall Walder Frey say 'your word means nothing'."
"He was making a point."
"A valid point I have come to agree with."
"What's that?"
"A man's honor is only as good as how sharp his blade is."
"And Walder Frey has enough sharp swords to make you bleed a slow, painful death. Remember the four-thousand men he 'gifted' you?"
"I'll let Roose Bolton's bastard peel that Old Man's wrinkly skin right off, and I'll hang it from the rafters. Have you heard of what they say of him, by the way?" Robb asked.
"I hear nothing, but see fear, gut wrenching fear."
"Bad things, I think. Stick him in the front, I think."
"I don't agree. He might be useful."
"How so?" Robb asked.
"Raiding and reaving. Burning villages and stealing cattle and burning crops, as much as it pains me to say – he would be perfect for the job."
"Putting a man like that in command of a regiment? Could be a disaster."
"Hopefully the disaster will occur in Lannister lands."
"Hopefully. Anyway, we must call the war council." Robb declared.
There was a new addition to the war council - Stevron Frey, as per the agreement with Walder Frey. Stevron was the oldest man there, and Robb the youngest. They met inside a large chamber in the Eastern castle of the Twins.
"Let us begin. As you might have noticed, Stevron Frey has joined us in our congregation, for Lord Walder Frey of the Crossing has permitted the use of his bridge, to us, and has pledged four thousand men-at-arms to our cause." Robb informed the group. They all cheered and clapped in response.
"What was the price charged?" Roose Bolton asked solemnly, always the one to sour the mood. The others quietened in frightful anticipation as they contemplated the amount of gold they would have to give up from their personal coffers.
"Yea? How much 'as the weasel charged us?" The Gretjon asked loudly, either ignorant or uncaring of Stevron Frey's presence.
Robb cleared his voice. "Walder Frey and I have agreed on a price of a unique nature."
"Such as?" Karstark asked impatiently.
"My sister, Arya, is to marry a Frey boy." The council did not look upset by this, instead they found the news to be good.
"That's a bargain!"
"Which one's Arya?"
"Lord negotiator!" Were among some things shouted.
"Councilmen! That is not all." Robb announced. They quietened again. "I, also, am to marry a Frey girl, of my choosing."
They took the news with mixed feelings.
"Your father married a Southron! It's time for the Lords of Winter to start marrying northern girls again!" Someone yelled. Most yelled in agreement.
"Many of us assembled have daughters who are nice northern maids, willing to marry, and give nice northern sons to inherent the north!" Karstark yelled. That was in fact, not true. There were, in fact, not that many nice northern maids of the same, or near the same, age as Robb, but the councilmen did not feel the need to voice that. Rickard Karstark only yelled that because, many years ago, Robb's father spurned Karstark's marriage proposal between Robb and his daughter, of which his pride was still recovering.
"Enough!" Robb commanded. "I have agreed to these terms willingly, as were presented, and I will keep my word, and marry a Frey girl. Now, that is the end of that matter, because we must discuss now our next move." Robb finished deliberately. The disgruntled councilmen stayed disgruntled, but they were no longer shouting over one another, but grumbled quietly instead.
"Now Riverrun lay besieged to the west. They are our main priority. It is unlikely that the castle will be stormed, due to it's highly defensible position, yet they remain there, starving. So, we must ride as quickly as possible. It is also of note that Tywin Lannister holds Harrenhal with a force of twenty thousand men, and controls this portion of the Kingsroad." Robb said, encircling a part of the Kingsroad on the map in the middle of the table. "And he can move swiftly, easily, and without opposition to nearly every part of the south."
"With the addition of the Frey's men, the size of our host is now twenty-four thousand, nine thousand horse, and fifteen thousand infantry."
"We must split our host. The cavalry rides first and engages the enemy at Riverrun. The majority of the host will follow later." Jon said.
"A good plan."
"We cannot do that with Tywin sitting on the Kingsroad and in Harrenhal. It will take him much less time for his men to reach Riverrun than ours. Say our horse liberates Riverrun, than we have Tywin's host there, and we are in the same situation, but our men are split and weakened." Brynden Tully said.
"What do you suggest?" Jon asked.
"We do split up our horse and foot, but the majority of the infantry and four thousand horse move south to engage Tywin Lannister, while diverting attention away from Riverrun, and allowing our horse to surprise the Kingslayer."
"That is risky." Roose Bolton observed. "What if Lannister's intelligence network is existent this far north? Are cavalry will be ambushed and our host will be stranded."
"And if we don't do it?" Brynden countered. "If we take our whole host south to Riverrun? We would be outnumbered greatly. It is know that the force surrounding Riverrun is numbered at fourteen thousand. Coupled with Tywin Lannister's force at Harrenhal, we stand no chance."
"Yes. I do like the strategy Ser Brynden presents. All in agreement?" Robb asked. It was irrelevant what they all agreed, because Robb had the final decision and would pick which one he wanted. Most everybody voiced affirmation.
"Now I would go west to liberate Riverrun and my mother's family, along with the noble sons and daughters that will consist of my honor guard." Robb explained. "Who will command the main host?" Robb asked.
Many men of the war council stood all at once.
"I will." Jon Umber volunteered first in a thunderous boom, as he stood up and slapped the table, sending wine chastises tumbling.
"I will." Rickard Karstark offered in a gruff tone.
"I will." Roose Bolton whispered gently.
"I will." Stevron Frey announced proudly.
"I will." Wylis Manderly yawned lazily from his chair.
"A difficult decision." Jon remarked wisely.
"Indeed." Robb agreed. The objective was not to pick the best candidate for the position, but to pick the person who will offend the least amount of people. "But that is for tomorrow. Right now- we feast!" Robb changed the subject quickly, avoiding the pressure of picking a second in command. Ordinarily the post would go to the most decorated, the most experienced, or in many cases, the closest friend of the commander.
The men and one woman clambered out of the chamber and towards the great hall that smelled of honeyed ham, sweet summer wine, and chalky smoke. "Who do I choose?" Robb asked Jon.
"Whomever you want." He replied.
It was moments like this when Robb needed advice desperately. Jon always had held Robb's interests as his own, but Jon was not experienced enough to serve as a personal adviser to the commander of a host his size. Robb needed his father. He would know what to do, who to pick.
Jon Umber was the easy choice. He was the eldest man out of them all. He was bold, courageous, honorable, loyal, and a great warrior, but as every coin has two sides, he was reckless and often times dull and oblivious. His pride would be injured greatly if not chosen, but could be convinced easily that his presence was needed at the side of the Starks.
Rickard Karstark was Robb's next choice. He was not needed especially at Robb's side. He didn't offer much, except his soldiers from his own lands, who were big and hairy. Despite this he enticed the respect of the men he commanded, through fear and threats. He was not lovable, entirely the opposite. He was cruel, mean, and petty. Rickard Karstark, in Robb's opinion, would be the first of his bannermen to cause problems. All the more reason to grant him the position, or deny him? Robb was confused. He couldn't ask anyone but himself. Everyone around him vied for personal gain. They wanted to acquire the most gold from plundering the Westerlands and the Crownlands, they wanted war prizes, they wanted jewels and they wanted new 'servants', who were really just slaves. That was the real reason they showed up.
Roose Bolton was a conundrum. He was queer. He was called the Leech Lord mockingly behind his back, never in his company for fear of similar consequence of the man who did so once. He was taken into the bowels of the icy Dreadfort, never to be seen again, but his tortured wailing and groans of pain are still heard through the thick stone flooring and walls. He bled the bad blood from his system, leaving only an emotionless shell with cold empty eyes. He whispered like a frightened child, but was anything but. Unlike Umber and Karstark he was cautious and paranoid. He skills in battle were not exemplary, merely passable, and do to this rose his aptitude for politics and intellect. If Robb chose Roose Bolton he was afraid it would insult the other lords more than if he picked Jon Umber or Rickard Karstark. Choosing Roose Bolton would be a direct affront to Rickard Karstark, who was positioned directly over Bolton and was his liege lord.
Stevron Frey and Wylis Manderly were out of the question. Robb would have a mutiny on his hands if he allowed a Southron to take command of Northern men. Wylis Manderly was almost to fat to sit a horse, and to fat to even care that he was almost to fat to sit a horse. He was in no state to lead thousands of men, even though his father was the richest lord in the north.
Jon left for the feast, but Robb stayed behind and thought further on the turn his life took. Outside his guardsmen yelped in fright and terror.
"Let him in you cravens!" Robb yelled at them through the door, knowing without really knowing that the source of fright was Grey Wind. The door swung open quickly and the great best strode in menacingly. The beast knew he frightened people just by barring his teeth and growling throatily, and took great pleasure in doing so.
"Hello friend. How fare you?" Robb asked, honestly expecting an answer.
The wolf yawned and curled up at his feet in response.
"Well, I suppose." Robb guessed. "I, on the other hand, am not doing so well. Gods, who should I choose?" He said and looked into Grey Wind's eyes. A sweet coolness washed over him and whispered in his ear, and at that moment he knew who not to choose.
The feast was drunk, rowdy, and sweaty, in other words, an average feast. The ale, wine, and mead flowed freely from fat oak barrels, while skinny mongrels fought for scraps under the lower tables and shapely serving girls brought legs of mutton to the gluttons patrons.
Robb envied Jon and the other less entitled, who sat merrily on the lower tables, joking and laughing. Jon was adequately drunk and was caught in a myriad of wet kisses, received from a servant girl transformed into a maiden princess by the power of copious amounts of ale consumed.
Robb, on the other hand, had the great misfortune of being the guest of honor. This meant that Robb was required to sit on Walder Frey's right side, which, supposedly, was far worse than his left side. All through the feast he never once ceased in his perpetual quest of spewing and spitting foul, quarrelsome, and nasty insults.
Robb decided to distract himself from his depressing situation by drinking and eying women and the sweet swell of their bosoms and the curve of their backside. He spied a girl that made him itch, and cursed his spell of sex sobriety. She had a small gap between her front teeth that made her even more comely. She reminded him of Jeyne Poole and the life he left behind in Winterfell. What if the next time I return home Rickon is a man, mother looks like Old Nan, and Jeyne has forgotten me?
He spotted the girl smiling at him and bash her eyelashes, as drunk and unabashed as a sailor. He decided to fuck away his regrets and worries. He walked down from the high table of inflated egos and down to where she was sitting.
"I'll dance with you, but I won't let you fuck me." She said at once.
"Who asked you?" He asked her.
"You don't want to fuck me?" She asked confused in drunken honesty.
"I don't want to dance." Robb answered her in drunken honesty. She giggled and he smiled.
"What's your name?" Robb asked.
"Roslin."
"Well, dear Roslin, would you care to see my sword?" He asked. "It's big and scary looking."
"Sure...?"
When can we get to the killing? I'm bored.