Chapter 19: Blood and Laughter
POV: Geralt
The wedding bells of the Twins rang out across the Green Fork like funeral tolls disguised as celebration, their bronze voices echoing from stone walls that had witnessed six hundred years of Frey ambition and betrayal. From my position near the altar, serving wine to guests who would be corpses before the sun set, I watched the greatest trap in Westerosi history prepare to spring.
"It's starting," I thought, my hands steady on the wine pitcher despite the ice water flowing through my veins. "Whatever happens in the next few hours changes everything."
[Red Wedding: Ceremony Phase Initiated]
[Time to Massacre: Estimated 4-6 hours]
[Sabotage Systems: All active and monitoring]
[Intervention Window: Opening in real-time]
[Survival Tracking: 47 priority targets identified]
The Sept of the Twins had been decorated with flowers and banners that transformed the normally austere space into something approaching beauty. White roses from the Reach, blue forget-me-nots from the Riverlands, and silver ribbons that caught the morning light streaming through tall windows.
But beneath the beauty, I could see the infrastructure of murder being carefully positioned.
Frey guards stood at seemingly ceremonial posts, but their hands rested on sword hilts and their eyes tracked Northern guests with predatory focus. Crossbowmen had taken positions in the gallery above, disguised as honor guards but angled for maximum killing efficiency. Even the musicians looked nervous, clutching their sabotaged instruments while trying to remember signal sequences for a song that would trigger slaughter.
[Threat Assessment: Full conspiracy deployment confirmed]
[Guard Positions: 23 armed personnel in optimal killing positions]
[Crossbow Coverage: 8 shooters with overlapping fields of fire]
[Musical Signal: Compromised but backup vocals possible]
[Intervention Priority: Real-time disruption required]
Lord Edmure Tully stood at the altar in his finest doublet, his face bearing the nervous smile of a man who'd accepted his duty but wasn't entirely happy about it. Beside him, Roslin Frey approached in a wedding gown that was genuinely beautiful—and her tears, I realized, weren't the traditional tears of a happy bride.
She knew. The warning I'd left her had been understood, and she was walking into this ceremony with full knowledge of what would follow.
"She's going to try something," I realized, watching the way her hands shook as she carried her bouquet. "The question is whether she'll have the courage when the moment comes."
Behind her, the wedding procession included most of the Northern leadership—Robb Stark, his pregnant wife Talisa, Catelyn Stark, the Blackfish, and a dozen other lords whose deaths would decapitate the rebellion against King's Landing. They moved with the formal dignity appropriate to a political wedding, unaware they were participating in their own funeral march.
[Primary Targets: All present and accounted for]
[Robb Stark: Positioned 23 feet from nearest exit]
[Catelyn Stark: Maternal instincts detecting wrongness]
[Talisa Stark: Pregnancy makes her movement slower]
[Blackfish: Combat veteran, highest natural survival probability]
The ceremony began with traditional words about unity and alliance, spoken by a septon who stumbled over phrases that felt like lies in his mouth. I moved along the chapel's edges, refilling wine cups and positioning myself for the interventions that would determine who lived and who died.
"The Rains of Castamere will be the signal," I reminded myself. "But I've made sure that song won't play properly."
The first sign of my sabotage's effectiveness came during the processional music, when the lead musician's lute string snapped with a sound like a crossbow bolt. He tried to continue playing, but without the melody line, the other instruments couldn't maintain proper harmony.
The music devolved into a confused muddle of competing rhythms and off-key notes that would have been comical if the stakes weren't so deadly.
[Musical Sabotage: Phase One Success]
[Ceremonial Music: Disrupted but ceremony continuing]
[Signal Reliability: Further compromised]
[Frey Coordination: Communication timing disrupted]
Walder Frey sat in the place of honor, his ancient face twisted into what might have been a smile or a grimace of anticipation. Every few minutes, his pale eyes would sweep the assembled guests with the satisfaction of a hunter counting prey.
But I could see frustration beginning to build as the ceremony proceeded without the smooth precision his plan required. The musical disruptions were throwing off the timing, making it harder to coordinate the signals that would unleash his trap.
"Keep pushing," I thought, noting the positions of every guard and crossbowman. "Make them improvise. Improvisation creates mistakes, and mistakes create opportunities."
The wedding vows proceeded with painful slowness, each word feeling like a countdown to catastrophe. Edmure repeated phrases about honor and loyalty while Roslin's tears fell like rain onto white rose petals.
And then, just as the septon was preparing to pronounce them husband and wife, Roslin did something that sent ripples of shock through the assembled witnesses.
She fainted.
Not dramatically, not obviously—just a gentle swaying that became a collapse, her bouquet scattering flowers across the altar as she crumpled to the stone floor in a rustle of silk and terror.
[Unexpected Variable: Roslin Frey medical emergency]
[Ceremony Status: Temporarily halted]
[Timeline Disruption: 15-20 minute delay minimum]
[Strategic Advantage: Extended preparation window]
"Brilliant girl." She was buying time, creating confusion, forcing her family to choose between their schedule and their appearance of legitimacy. A bride fainting at her own wedding required medical attention, sympathy, and delay.
All things that worked against a precisely timed massacre.
Chaos erupted in the chapel as people rushed to help the collapsed bride. Maesters were summoned, smelling salts produced, and concerned relatives clustered around the altar while the Northern guests looked on with genuine sympathy.
But I noticed that several Frey guards were looking to their commanders for instructions, unsure whether to maintain their positions or assist with the medical emergency. The confusion I'd hoped to create was spreading through their ranks like wildfire.
[Chaos Factor: Escalating beyond projections]
[Guard Discipline: Breaking down under unexpected circumstances]
[Command Structure: Coordination failure developing]
[Opportunity Window: Opening for preliminary interventions]
I used the distraction to move closer to my priority targets, refilling wine cups and making subtle adjustments to escape routes. A tapestry here, a door latch there, small changes that would make the difference between life and death when the killing started.
"Blackfish first," I decided, approaching the grizzled knight who was watching the medical emergency with professional concern. "He's the most dangerous to their plan and the most likely to survive if given an advantage."
"Ser," I murmured, leaning close as I refilled his wine cup. "The bride looks poorly. Perhaps the stress of crowds? The chapel's quite warm—might be wise to check the river entrance for fresh air circulation."
It was barely a suggestion, but the Blackfish had survived decades of warfare by trusting his instincts and the advice of people who seemed to know things they shouldn't. His weathered eyes fixed on mine for a moment, reading something in my expression that made him nod slowly.
"Aye," he replied quietly. "River air might be just the thing. I'll see to it personally."
[Primary Target: Blackfish positioned near optimal escape route]
[Cover Story: Bride's health concern requiring fresh air]
[Escape Enhancement: Subject moving toward sabotaged exit]
[Intervention: Successful misdirection without suspicion]
The commotion around Roslin continued for another ten minutes before she was pronounced recovered enough to continue. Color had returned to her cheeks, but I could see the steel in her eyes as she took Edmure's hand to complete their vows.
She'd bought precious time, disrupted the schedule, and created confusion among the conspirators. Whatever happened next, she'd given the intended victims their best possible chance of survival.
The ceremony concluded with traditional words about unity and new beginnings, spoken over an undercurrent of tension that was becoming harder to ignore. Even the Northern guests were beginning to notice the wrongness in the atmosphere—too many guards, too much attention from their hosts, too many hands resting on weapon hilts.
[Ceremony Complete: Transition to feast phase]
[Timeline Resumption: Massacre scheduled for dinner]
[Guest Awareness: Subliminal threat recognition increasing]
[Strategic Position: Maximum confusion achieved]
The procession to the great hall should have been triumphant, but instead it felt like a march to execution. I walked with the servants, carrying wine and watching as forty-seven people entered a room that had been carefully prepared for their murder.
The feast began with traditional toasts and ceremonial presentations, but the music remained discordant thanks to my sabotage. Every time the musicians tried to establish rhythm or melody, another instrument would fail—strings snapping, drums producing wrong notes, horns squeaking instead of singing.
The look of growing frustration on Walder Frey's face was almost worth the risk I was taking.
[Musical Sabotage: Continuous disruption]
[Signal Coordination: Impossible with current equipment]
[Frey Leadership: Increasing agitation and impatience]
[Alternative Signals: Visual cues being attempted]
But then, as the third course was being served, I heard it—a voice rising above the failed instrumental music, cracked and hoarse but recognizable.
One of the musicians was attempting to sing "The Rains of Castamere" without instrumental accompaniment.
"Backup plan. Of course they had a backup plan."
The song began raggedly, the musician's throat damaged by my pepper sabotage, but other voices joined in. Frey soldiers throughout the hall began humming the melody, creating a discordant chorus that would serve as well as any instrumental signal.
[Critical Alert: Vocal signal attempt in progress]
[Intervention Required: Immediate disruption necessary]
[Time to Violence: 30-60 seconds estimated]
[Emergency Protocol: Maximum chaos deployment]
I moved through the hall with enhanced reflexes guiding every step, my hands working quickly to trigger the sabotage systems I'd spent days preparing. A slight pressure on Table Seven's support beam. A kick to the loose floorboards beneath Table Four. A whispered word to a servant carrying soup that would result in a spectacular spill across Table Nine.
But my most important action was almost invisible—a small gesture that released Grey Wind from kennels I'd prepared to fail at exactly this moment.
[Grey Wind: Liberation sequence initiated]
[Kennel Systems: Failing as programmed]
[Scent Guidance: Active trail to optimal attack vectors]
[Direwolf Combat Mode: Maximum lethality authorized]
The first sign that things were going catastrophically wrong for the Freys came when the musicians' attempt at "The Rains of Castamere" was interrupted by a sound that made everyone in the hall freeze.
A howl that spoke of winter, death, and predators that had been caged too long.
Grey Wind had broken free, and he was hunting.
The great doors of the hall burst open to reveal eight feet of furious direwolf, his lips pulled back to expose fangs the size of daggers. But instead of attacking randomly, he moved with purpose—following scent trails I'd laid, targeting specific threats while avoiding the Northern guests entirely.
[Direwolf Attack: Precision targeting active]
[Priority Targets: Crossbowmen in gallery eliminated first]
[Frey Guards: Combat effectiveness decimated]
[Northern Guests: Zero casualties from direwolf action]
The hall erupted into chaos as Grey Wind launched himself at the gallery where crossbowmen had been positioned to rain death on the feast. Screams echoed from above as the direwolf found targets I'd marked with specific scents, his supernatural senses guiding him to the most dangerous threats.
At the same time, my other sabotage systems triggered in rapid succession.
Tables collapsed with crashes that shook the entire hall, sending Frey soldiers tumbling into confusion while Northern guests found themselves with instant cover and concealment. Floorboards gave way beneath specific feet, dropping conspirators into storage cellars while leaving their intended victims unharmed.
And throughout it all, the wine I'd treated with laxatives was beginning to take effect on Frey forces, adding digestive distress to their tactical confusion.
[Sabotage Network: Full deployment successful]
[Frey Combat Effectiveness: Reduced by 70%]
[Northern Escape Opportunities: Maximized]
[Chaos Level: Beyond all reasonable projections]
In the midst of the pandemonium, I saw Catelyn Stark grab her son's arm and pull him toward one of my prepared escape routes. Her maternal instincts had finally overcome political courtesy, and she was getting her family to safety.
The Blackfish was already moving, his soldier's training taking over as he herded other Northern lords toward exits that I'd sabotaged to open easily. Several of the younger lords were following his lead, trusting experience over confusion.
And Talisa—Robb's pregnant wife—was being pushed behind an overturned table by servants who seemed to appear from nowhere, their movements too coordinated to be accidental.
[Escape Sequence: Multiple targets successfully evacuating]
[Catelyn and Robb: En route to sabotaged exit]
[Blackfish: Leading group evacuation]
[Talisa: Protected by coordinated servant action]
[Success Rate: Exceeding all projections]
But even in the chaos, Walder Frey's voice rose above the din, cracked with age and fury but still carrying the authority of absolute command.
"KILL THEM ALL!" he shrieked, pointing a gnarled finger at the fleeing Northern guests. "KILL THEM ALL NOW!"
The remaining Frey soldiers began drawing their weapons, but their movements were clumsy, disorganized, hampered by confusion and the various afflictions I'd visited upon them. Instead of the coordinated massacre they'd planned, they found themselves facing scattered combat against opponents who'd been given every possible advantage.
[Massacre Attempt: Severely compromised]
[Frey Coordination: Complete breakdown]
[Northern Response: Enhanced by preparation and warning]
[Casualty Rate: Dramatically reduced from historical timeline]
Grey Wind's howl echoed through the hall again as he finished with the crossbowmen and began hunting ground-level targets. I watched him follow my scent trails with predatory precision, avoiding Northerners while systematically eliminating the most dangerous Frey soldiers.
But the direwolf wasn't the only predator loose in the hall.
Through the chaos, I caught glimpses of other figures moving with purpose—servants who fought with professional skill, guards who seemed to be protecting Northern guests instead of attacking them, and shadows that moved like Jaqen H'ghar had taught them how to dance with death.
"I'm not the only one who wanted to save these people," I realized. "There are others working against the conspiracy."
[Unexpected Allies: Additional intervention forces detected]
[Coordination: Unknown but beneficial]
[Effect: Synergistic chaos amplification]
[Conclusion: Multiple parties working to prevent massacre]
The hall had become a battlefield where the intended victims were winning against all odds, where careful planning was defeating crude ambush, where the right people were escaping while the wrong people paid for their treachery in blood and humiliation.
As I slipped toward my own escape route, I caught one final glimpse of the high table where this had all started.
Walder Frey sat in his great chair, his ancient face purple with rage and disbelief as he watched his perfect revenge dissolve into farce. Around him, his sons and grandsons struggled with digestive distress, equipment failures, and the growing certainty that their carefully planned massacre had become a catastrophic failure.
[Primary Objective: Achieved beyond all expectations]
[Casualties: Minimized across all priority targets]
[Frey Reputation: Permanently destroyed]
[Historical Timeline: Significantly altered while maintaining core structure]
The Red Wedding was over, but it hadn't gone according to anyone's plan.
Instead of a massacre, it had become a rescue. Instead of the end of the Northern rebellion, it had become a demonstration that even the most careful conspiracies could be undone by the right combination of preparation, timing, and absolute commitment to chaos.
[Mission Status: Overwhelming Success]
[Red Wedding: Subverted but not prevented]
[Timeline Integrity: Maintained through selective intervention]
[Personal Achievement: Maximum possible lives saved]
As I disappeared into the servants' passages that would carry me away from the Twins, I allowed myself a moment of satisfaction.
The Red Wedding would still be remembered as a day of betrayal and bloodshed. But instead of marking the end of the Stark cause, it would be remembered as the day the wolves learned to bite back.
Winter was still coming, but some wolves had survived to howl another day.
And that would have to be enough.
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