Upstream of the Green Fork, just outside the massive stone walls of the Twins.
Robb Stark had marched his Northern host to the river and now sat in a tense war council with his mother Catelyn and his senior bannermen, trying to decide how best to break the siege of Riverrun.
The Northern army had only two real options. The first was to cross the heavily fortified bridge at the Twins and march straight west to Riverrun. It was the fastest and most convenient route, but it required the permission of the notoriously treacherous Lord Walder Frey.
The second option was to march south along the Kingsroad, bypassing the Twins entirely before turning west toward Riverrun. Thanks to Roman Rivers securing the northern Crownlands and eastern Riverlands, this path was relatively safe from Lannister ambushes. The downside was that it would add weeks to their march.
Robb's envoy had just returned from the Twins with bad news. The elderly Walder Frey had no intention of simply letting the Northern army pass.
"The old stoat had the nerve to mock us," the envoy reported bitterly. "He said, 'Yes, I swore an oath to Lord Hoster Tully, but I also swore one to the Iron Throne. Now my liege lord and my king are at war. Which vow am I supposed to honor?'"
Catelyn gave a cold snort. "Lord Walder is trying to extort us. He knows we cannot afford to drag this march out, so he's raising his price."
Robb paced inside the command tent, his blue eyes filled with worry. "Uncle Edmure has been captured at the Golden Tooth, and Riverrun is surrounded. We have to cross this river and reinforce my grandfather immediately."
"Stay calm, Robb," Catelyn said. "Your grandfather sent an encrypted raven. Riverrun is still in his hands, and the fortress is nearly impregnable. Roman Rivers is also bleeding Tywin Lannister's supply lines in the east. Lord Tywin is a calculating man. He won't kill Edmure while Riverrun still stands."
Then the Greatjon Umber slammed his fist on the table. "With respect, Lady Catelyn, it's rumored that Edmure is being guarded by Ser Jaime Lannister. That honorless Kingslayer already broke his vows and killed his own king. How can we be sure a rabid dog like Jaime won't just slit Edmure's throat when he gets bored?"
The Greatjon's words brought the tension in the tent roaring back to life. Most of the Northern lords agreed with his grim assessment. To the men of the North, once a knight broke a sacred oath, he would do it again. They refused to believe the Kingslayer had any honor left when it came to highborn hostages.
"The Greatjon is right," Lord Karstark roared. "We cannot rely on Lannister mercy. Showing that kind of weakness will only encourage them to manipulate us."
Robb listened to his bannermen, his blood rising. He did not want Tywin Lannister to think the Northern host could be paralyzed by a single hostage. Finally, he turned to his mother.
"Mother… could we ask Harrenhal for help? Could we request that Lord Roman strike the rear of Jaime's siege camps at Riverrun?"
Catelyn shook her head firmly. "Roman Rivers commands eight thousand elite Vanguard troops. He is busy defending his new borders against harassment from King's Landing while also holding off Tywin's main host of more than ten thousand men to the west. Asking him to abandon his positions and march on Riverrun would be the same as asking him to surrender his own lands. Lady Shella and Lord Roman will never agree to it."
She paused, her expression serious. "Besides, Robb… we in the North already owe Roman Rivers too many favors. He saved your father's life. If we beg him to fight our battles again, all of Westeros will mock the Starks as helpless children who cannot stand on their own."
The Young Wolf gritted his teeth. He knew they had no real choice but to deal with the Freys. This time, he would negotiate with Lord Walder in person.
The Twins. The Main Hall.
Old Walder Frey sat arrogantly in his carved wooden chair, watching uneasily as the heavily armed Northern delegation entered his hall.
The situation in the Riverlands had shifted sharply in Harrenhal's favor. Tywin Lannister had made no real progress in recent weeks beyond capturing Edmure Tully. Roman Rivers had shown that even if every traditional Riverlord were wiped out, the industrial and military power of House Whent could still stand against the Westerlands.
Robb understood this reality too, which gave him the confidence to march into the Twins with twenty thousand Northern swords at his back.
"Lord Robb," Walder Frey croaked, a nasty smile on his wrinkled face. "What brings the mighty Lord of Winterfell to my humble bridge?"
"Lord Frey," Robb replied coldly, his hand resting on his sword hilt. "Let us skip the formalities. Tell me what price you demand to let my army cross your river."
Walder had not expected the young lord to be so direct, but the desperation in Robb's voice made the old man think he could extract major concessions.
"Lord Robb, you must understand my difficult position," Walder sneered. "We Freys are loyal to both Lord Hoster and the Iron Throne. Opening my gates would put my family in a dangerous spot."
He leaned forward greedily. "House Frey needs a permanent guarantee that we will not be purged by the Iron Throne once this war ends."
Robb suppressed his anger and tapped his armored fingers on the table, his voice growing dangerous. "Lord Frey, you swore an oath to my grandfather, Lord Hoster. Right now, his lands are being burned by Tywin Lannister's men, and you still have the nerve to haggle?"
Robb stepped closer, eyes burning. "If your eyes still work, old man, climb your battlements and look at my army. I command twenty thousand hardened Northern veterans. If you refuse me, you know what will happen."
Walder's face flushed with anger. "Twenty thousand starving men? I control the bridge. Not one of your barbarians crosses this river without my permission. When Lord Tywin marches north, your army will become twenty thousand corpses rotting against my walls."
At the open insult, the Greatjon and the other Northern lords gripped their swords, ready to act on Robb's command.
But Catelyn stepped smoothly in front of her son and raised her hand. She looked perfectly calm as she faced the old lord.
"You are correct, Lord Frey," she said softly, her voice carrying through the silent hall. "We cannot force our way into the Twins without suffering terrible losses."
Catelyn tilted her head, her blue eyes turning cold. "But what about the Dragon of Harrenhal?"
Every Frey in the hall froze, their mocking expressions vanishing instantly. Catelyn continued without pause.
"If you refuse us, I will send a raven to my father at Riverrun. I will ask Lord Hoster to strip House Frey of all its lands, titles, and incomes for high treason, and formally grant the Twins to House Whent."
She stepped closer. "Roman Rivers used his magic to breach the dungeons of the Red Keep. He could fly over your towers and burn you in your bed. You were the 'Late Lord Frey' during Robert's Rebellion, and now you are trying the same game again—waiting to see who wins. I assure you, my father and Lord Roman will gladly accept my proposal."
Not just Walder, but every heir and bastard in the hall was struck silent by the threat.
Everyone in Westeros knew Roman Rivers protected his subjects and showed mercy to those who surrendered. But no one underestimated Harrenhal's military power. Thousands had seen Roman fly through the skies wrapped in white flame. The Riverlords might pretend the dragon did not exist because he had not yet come for them, but the threat was real.
Lord Hoster had chosen to tolerate Roman's expansions in the Crownlands under a tense, unspoken agreement. But if House Tully legally granted Roman the right to take the Twins? Walder had no doubt the Dragon of Harrenhal would descend on them without hesitation.
Cold sweat broke out on Walder Frey's forehead. He swallowed hard. His attempt at extortion had collapsed.
In the end, the old man surrendered.
Catelyn negotiated a swift agreement that gave Walder just enough dignity to save face. Several of Walder's capable heirs would ride with Robb in the vanguard. Some younger grandsons would go to Winterfell as wards. And Robb would personally knight several of Frey's glory-seeking sons after the war.
As for a marriage alliance between Stark and Frey? Walder briefly considered demanding one of his daughters for Robb, but he was far more afraid that Roman Rivers would see a Stark-Frey union as a threat and come for him in the night.
The Northern host crossed the bridge successfully. Robb left four hundred men behind to build a secondary ferry crossing and keep watch over the Freys, making sure they could not cut his supply lines or send word to Tywin.
As the army marched south, the Stark bannermen laughed loudly about the sour, humiliated look on Old Walder's face.
But Robb walked up to his mother with a grave, conflicted expression.
"Mother," he murmured, staring at his armored hands. "The gap between Roman Rivers and me is growing into an unbridgeable chasm. No matter how well I plan or how hard I fight, he accomplishes so much more without even being here."
Robb felt deeply frustrated. Roman was hundreds of miles away fighting his own war, yet simply mentioning his name had been enough to break a stubborn, arrogant lord like Walder Frey.
House Stark had already received too many life-saving favors from him, and it stung the proud Young Wolf.
Catelyn pulled her armored son into a warm embrace. "It is alright, Robb. Roman's achievements come from his extraordinary gifts. You have done incredible things with only the strength of a mortal man. It is not impossible for you to surpass his legacy one day."
Despite his mother's comforting words, the Young Wolf remained deeply skeptical.
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