The Way Of Winter | Robb Stark

ROBB - VII

THE TWINS STOOD in the distance. They were two squat towers, marking either side of a bridge across a river that sparkled under the morning sun. It ran deep, deeper than any man could swim. Impossible to cross with all their armour and supplies. The possibility of building rafts was also disproven by the lack of sufficient trees along the banks. The air was warmer here than in the North and a strange smell carried, of pond scum and blood. Everything seemed half-withered. Robb didn't like the place.

He waited on a hill overlooking the towers, his mother and his closest men with him and an army at their backs. They watched Theon climb up, presenting the scroll carried by a raven attempting to leave the castle. Robb looked it over and huffed. "It's a birthday message to his grand-niece, Walda."

"Or so Walder Frey would have you think," the boy disagreed.

His mother still eyed it warily. "Keep shooting them down. We can't risk Lord Walder sending word of your movements to the Lannisters."

Robb did not understand the extent of their distrust towards the man, though he hardly had much to go on. "He's Grandfather's bannerman. We can't expect his support?"

The Greatjon snorted a laugh. "Expect nothing of Walder Frey and you'll never be surprised. Look."

Two riders were cantering along the riverbank in their direction, both bearing the towered banners of House Frey. He was already growing impatient. They had no time for formal greetings. All he wanted was to get the whole sodding thing over with before Cersei caused more trouble for his family. "Father rots in a dungeon. How long before they take his head?" Ignoring the sharp looks he received from his mother and Ser Rodrik, he persisted, "We need to cross the Trident and we need to do it now."

"Just march up to his gates and tell him you're crossing," Theon counselled him. "We've got five times his numbers. You can take the Twins if you have to."

He rolled his eyes but was saved from a response by the Greatjon. "Not in time. Tywin Lannister marches north as we speak."

"The Freys have held the crossing for six hundred years, and for six hundred years, they have never failed to exact their toll."

At his mother's words, he came to a decision. "Have my horse saddled and ready."

Maege Mormont laughed loudly, throwing back her mane of shaggy grey hair. "Are you mad?"

Scowling his disapproval, Roose Bolton — by far the most composed of all his bannermen, and arguably the most fearsome — attempted to rephrase. "It is an unwise decision, my lord. If you are alone, you are unguarded. You will not fare well in such a place alone."

"He'll sell you to the Lannisters as he likes."

Theon nodded a little too enthusiastically at the Greatjon's words. "Or throw you in a dungeon. Or slit your throat."

He wondered what Jon would say. He wondered that a lot. Surrounded by these strangers and preparing for a battle, he wanted his brother fighting by his side. They had done everything together since they were babies. They'd played together, trained together, been sparring partners and mischief makers. Robb felt his absence in his very heart.

Anyhow, it was too late for any further bleakness. The riders were upon them. "My father would do whatever it took to secure our crossing.. Whatever it took. If I'm going to lead this army, I can't have other men doing my bargaining for me."

His mother nodded. "I agree. I'll go."

"You can't!" he and Theon protested.

"I have known Lord Walder since I was a girl. He would never harm me."