The banner displaying the Frey Family's Twin Towers and Jon's black banner with the white wolf stood side-by-side in the great hall of Riverrun, signifying the highest degree of welcome.
Inside the hall, singers and harpists sang loudly, their tinkling, flowing music accompanying the men and women in the center of the dance floor.
Even if they didn't dance, it didn't matter; the Frey Family had prepared a lavish banquet, serving over twenty roasted suckling pigs at once.
The heat and aroma of the food raised the temperature inside the hall by several degrees, leaving many guests sweating profusely while they ate.
Sandor looked with some disdain at Maester Qyburn, who was wearing a grey robe.
He had joined Jon's company midway, claiming he wished to serve Jon. Jon accepted him and brought him along to Riverrun.
However, Sandor knew why: Jon was heading to war in the Westerlands soon, and this fellow wanted to get his hands on some fresh corpses.
Although Sandor looked ferocious and acted violently, compared to a guy who was only interested in corpses, he felt that he was incredibly kind and normal.
He also didn't understand why Jon would accept this notorious individual. He had no right to interfere with his liege lord's choices, so he silently distanced himself from Qyburn and turned his gaze toward the center of the dance floor.
Sansa was dancing not far from him with a Frey Family boy. However, Sansa had been thoroughly exhausted by Arya during the journey, leaving her body aching. Moreover, the Frey Family boy's appearance was rather underwhelming. Although Sansa tried her best to maintain the required etiquette and composure, the disdain was practically spilling out of her eyes.
The soreness in her muscles, in particular, made her involuntarily grimace now and then, which further increased the difficulty of maintaining a lady's demeanor.
Yet, the Frey Family boy seemed utterly oblivious to being scorned; he just stared foolishly at Sansa, practically drooling.
Meanwhile, Arya, the "mastermind" behind all this, was sitting in a forward position, munching on an apple and watching gleefully.
Next, Sandor spotted Ser Davos in the crowd. Old Walder's judgment was sharp; knowing Ser Davos's deeds, he cordially invited him to join the dancing as well.
Ser Davos clearly hadn't received training in this area, appearing somewhat clumsy and nearly stepping off his partner's shoe.
Finally, Sandor saw Jon at the very center of the dance floor. Dancing with Jon was Roslin Frey, Old Walder's prettiest daughter.
Even from a distance, Sandor could sense that the atmosphere between the two was off. Every movement made by the dancing pair seemed exceptionally stiff.
Jon, being right in the middle of it, naturally felt a bit awkward.
He hadn't intended to dance earlier, but he couldn't refuse Old Walder's fervent invitation. What surprised him even more was that Roslin had actively invited him, yet her dancing movements and expression were so rigid. Jon knew there must be some hidden reason.
Fortunately, this awkward shared dance ended shortly thereafter.
Everyone returned to their respective places. Jon headed towards the raised platform reserved for him to dine with Arya and Sansa.
Old Walder tapped the wine cup in his hand with a silver fork, signaling everyone to look at him.
The musicians' instruments, the maids' footsteps, and the nobles' whispers all ceased. Only scattered sounds of plates clinking, chairs scraping, and faint coughs remained as the noise subsided.
Soon the entire hall fell silent, and everyone looked towards Old Walder.
Old Walder raised the wine cup in his hand high and then declared loudly: "Let us toast Duke Jon! Long live the Duke!"
Led by Old Walder, the members of the Frey Family and the nobles near Riverrun all raised their cups and loudly celebrated Jon.
"Long live the White Wolf Knight!"
"Long live the Duke!"
"Long live Jon Stark!"
The sound of the celebration was so loud that even the wine in the cups rippled slightly.
Jon, as the one being celebrated, stood up, raised his cup, and drained the wine in one gulp as thanks for the standing ovation.
Afterwards, Stevron Frey and his old brothers all stood up one after another to express their praise and congratulations to Jon.
However, once the pleasantries were over, the conversation inevitably returned to serious matters.
As the others resumed eating, drinking, chatting, and boasting, Old Walder asked Jon: "Jon, you and Ser Davos are going to Riverrun to persuade Robb to give up independence. How confident are you, and do you need any men?"
"Duke Walder, since His Majesty entrusted this matter to me, success primarily depends on me. Sending too many people wouldn't make much difference, but thank you for your kind offer."
Rhaegar Frey, standing nearby, thought perhaps Old Walder had been too subtle, so he stepped in to "speak for him."
"It's like this, Your Grace. Although Riverrun is strongly fortified, Robb currently commands twenty or thirty thousand troops. Naturally, we hope you succeed, but what if Robb remains determined to be independent? The Northern army is certainly going back to The North, and the Riverlands army won't stand by and watch us cut off the connection between the North and the Riverlands—" Rhaegar Frey didn't finish his sentence, but the implication was clear: What if you fail to persuade Robb, and Robb decides to attack us?
After all, Stannis doesn't seem to have many troops to spare right now.
How can the safety of Riverrun be guaranteed?
As Rhaegar Frey posed the question, Jon noticed that the chatter in the hall quieted down, and many people looked in his direction.
No wonder Old Walder wanted to discuss this matter publicly; he likely wanted a promise and assurance.
Ser Davos also put down his knife and fork and looked at Jon.
In fact, Rhaegar Frey's question hit Stannis's greatest weakness: their military strength was severely stretched, and it would take at least six months to replenish it.
Stannis hadn't had a good plan before they left, merely instructing the two of them to act according to circumstances and try to bluff their way through if possible.
But Old Walder was clearly not so easily fooled. Roslin, not far away, also strained her ears, eager to know how Jon would respond.
Jon lowered his gaze to the table, then stood up with a solemn expression and spoke clearly: "Duke Walder, please rest assured. If Robb chooses to keep his crown and remains an enemy of His Majesty Stannis, then Riverrun will be the first place targeted. However, please be relieved, Duke Walder; I will naturally lead troops here to assist. Should fate lead me to kill Robb, then I shall follow him to the grave. I only ask that Lord Walder properly collect the bones of us brothers and send them back to Winterfell." Jon's impassioned and tragic words plunged the entire hall into silence.
Sansa, who was closest to him, froze, her hand holding a piece of pudding suspended in mid-air. Arya, beside her, urgently asked: "Sansa, Jon, what is Jon saying? Why does he have to kill Robb, and what does he mean by following Robb to the grave? Sansa, Sansa, say something."
Arya, who had been cheerful all along the journey, now had a tremor in her voice. The two sisters felt as if they had been dragged back to the execution grounds where Eddard Stark was executed that day, the searing pain of losing a loved one returning from memory and nightmares back into reality.
Rhaegar Walder, who had just asked the question, was momentarily speechless by Jon's declaration. He opened and closed his mouth repeatedly, unable to utter a single word.
Ser Davos unconsciously sat up straight, believing fate to be too cruel to Jon. He had only just managed to shed the base identity of a bastard, only to now face such a difficult moral dilemma.
He wanted to persuade Jon not to go to such extremes, but he didn't know where to start.
Roslin, who was slightly further away, also threw all etiquette and composure out the window, staring intently at Jon, her brown eyes practically welling up with tears.
She had originally harbored some resentment over the "breakup letter," but now she realized that the choice Jon faced was a hundred times harder and more painful than her own.
It was then that she remembered that, judging by age, she was actually a year or two older than Jon.
A complex mixture of resentment, pity, and affection swirled together, making Roslin feel as if she were seeing the young man before her for the very first time.
Sandor, who was the furthest away, also heard Jon's words through others. He had only one feeling—
Gutsy. Too gutsy.
A man like Jon, who was both capable in a fight and reckless with his life, was truly hard to deal with. It would be better for him to simply follow Jon obediently.
However, Jon also knew that once he had a real fiefdom and children, no one would likely believe these death-or-glory threats anymore.
After all, even Eddard, a man universally recognized as perfect throughout the Seven Kingdoms, chose to sacrifice his honor and confess to non-existent treason when Cersei threatened his daughter.
Finally, after a long silence, Old Walder spoke up to smooth things over: "Oh, Jon, things are far from reaching that point. I am over ninety years old, and the only lesson long life has taught me is that as long as you live, problems will disappear even if they aren't solved. A heroic young man like you must live well, for only by living can your Family prosper."
"Exactly, Jon—Your Grace. Your words reassure us. But I believe the Gods are merciful and absolutely won't allow such a tragedy to happen," Stevron quickly consoled him.
After the banquet, Old Walder also agreed to Jon's future relocation of the Mountain Clan Tribes. He even stated that when Jon attacked the Westerlands, he would dispatch all the Frey Family's knights.
Afterwards, he cordially insisted that Jon stay at Riverrun for a few more days, and finally, after repeated back-and-forth,
negotiation, Jon and Ser Davos decided to stay for three days.
Of course, Old Walder was actually creating opportunities for Roslin.
Rhaegar Frey even revealed an excellent fishing spot to Jon, stating that fishing was more exciting than hunting now that he was older.
That day, Jon went to the agreed spot to fish with Rhaegar Frey. However, after waiting and waiting, Rhaegar never showed up. After a long while, Roslin arrived instead.
Although she was spotted before she even got close to Jon, her appearance still greatly surprised him.
"Your Grace." Roslin knew her mission, but her long-held composure made it difficult for her to speak.
"Young Miss Roslin, I hope you are well." How to interact with a woman one has already rejected is a perennial problem.
But Jon knew she must be here on some kind of mission. Sure enough, Jon noticed that Roslin's attire today seemed to have involved considerable effort, with a few simple small flowers adorning her chestnut hair, which was tied back in a braid.
A thin silk belt outlined the curve of her body, and her slightly forced straight posture seemed intended to enhance the swell of her chest.
Her exposed, fair arms resembled lotus roots, and her slender fingers were slightly pink from clenching her handkerchief too tightly. She looked like a rose waiting to be plucked.
"Jon, I—I heard you were engaged? I, I mean, you are already with Young Miss Margaery—" Roslin stammered incoherently.
"Yes," Jon replied, noticing Roslin slowly moving closer to him.
"I still remember the song you sang for me that day. I, I actually don't mind, I don't mind. I will always—" As she spoke, Roslin reached out a trembling hand to hook Jon's sleeve.
But Jon instinctively stepped back, preventing her from touching him.
Roslin froze for a second, and then tears streamed down her face. A bitter feeling combining humiliation, hope, and helplessness tore at her heart.
Jon realized that something might have happened, so he asked, "Young Miss Roslin, can you tell me what happened? This isn't like you. I believe this isn't you."
Hearing Jon's question, Roslin could no longer hold back and burst into tears. But no matter how Jon asked, she couldn't bring herself to say it.
"Alright, Young Miss Roslin, let me guess. Is it your father?"
Roslin nodded, but then shook her head as if trying to deny it.
"He hopes to use you to solidify the relationship between The Twins and me, correct?"
This time, Roslin neither nodded nor shook her head.
Jon looked at the crying girl before him and sighed softly. He sat down and said to himself: "Young Miss Roslin, our relationship began with deception. At the time, I saw through your father's intentions: he hoped to use you to sow seeds of suspicion between Robb and me. Even earlier, when he singled me out among the crowd to assert his authority, I was actually displeased with him."
Seeing Jon's honesty, Roslin felt that the situation had spun wildly out of control and didn't know what to do, just standing there blankly.
"The half-song I sang for you afterwards was also a form of counterattack. I was thinking at the time that, through my raven, you might become my—eyes and ears—in The Twins."
Roslin's body stiffened. She felt like a small boat caught in a whirlpool, and the maneuvering between Jon and her father sent shivers down her spine.
But what Roslin didn't understand was why Jon was telling her all this.
"But I genuinely considered marrying you." Jon met her brown eyes. "You have a pure heart, and I knew that spending the rest of my life with you would be peaceful—especially after I took King's Landing and repelled the Tyrells and Lannisters."
Roslin pursed her lips, placed her hand on her chest, and tightly clasped both hands together, as if trying to hold onto that fleeting illusion.
"Unfortunately, Tywin escaped. If he had died in the trap I set for him, I could have quickly taken Casterly Rock and the Westerlands without anyone's help. But that is fate; it doesn't care about our intentions."
"Jon." Roslin's lips trembled slightly. She wore no lip balm, but her slightly moist lips still looked soft in the light.
"Your father's terms are very tempting. I certainly need a lot of troops to attack the Westerlands, and if I can gain such an ally, my position will be more secure. Plus, with a beautiful mistress like you, I stand to gain everything and lose nothing, while refusing you offers me no benefit—" Jon looked at Roslin, his words remaining candid.
Roslin, meanwhile, looked somewhat flustered and helpless.
"However, I can give you a promise. Although I cannot give you a wedding, our children in the future can inherit the Stark surname, though their right of inheritance will be ranked after the children Margaery and I have. And one day, I will openly bring you to my side, just like Aegon the Conqueror and his two wives."
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