They all watched, transfixed on the raven that began its flight across the bridge. "Shoot it down," Robb commanded, eyeing the creature. It cawed as it flew by, and again, more a wheeze than a caw, when the arrow pierced it. Theon set down his bow and knelt beside the bird, untying the scroll that was attached to its leg, then handed it to Robb. He sighed, disgruntled. "It's a nameday message to his grandniece, Walda."

"Or so Walder Frey would have you think," Theon replied with an arched brow.

To his other side, his mother spoke out. "Keep shooting them down," she told him. "We can't risk Lord Walder sending word of your movements to the Lannisters." Her words held weight, and the men all nodded in agreement. Robb shook his head.

"He's grandfather's bannerman, we can't expect his support."

One of the men bobbed his head towards Robb. "Expect nothing of Walder Frey and you'll never be surprised." Then his eyes flickered towards the Twins and he tilted his head in that direction. "Look," he said.

Two riders were emerging from the hillside, the banners of Frey flying proudly in their hands. They were coming with word from Lord Walder, Robb assumed, and he shifted, crossing his arms. "Father rots in a dungeon... how long before they take his head? 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 interjected. "We've got five times his numbers, we can take the Twins if we have to."

Lord Umber frowned. "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," Catelyn said, her eyes flickering across the men's faces wearily.

Robb clenched his fist. He wasn't a patient man. He needed to cross, and now. No matter the toll. He looked to Theon. "Have my horse saddled and ready," he ordered.

"Enter the Twins alone and he'll sell you to the Lannisters as he likes," Lord Umber said incredulously.

"Or throw you in a dungeon," Theon added, eyes narrowed against the shine of the sun. "Or slit your throat."

Robb watched as the riders drew nearer and clenched his jaw. "My father would do whatever it took to secure our crossing," he said. "Whatever it took. If I'm going to be leading this army I can't have other men doing my bargaining for me."

"I agree," his mother said, pursing her lips. "I'll go."

"You can't!" Robb and Theon said simultaneously, Ser Rodrick and Lord Umber both going slackjawed.

Lady Catelyn would not be deterred. "I have known Lord Walder since I was a girl, he would never harm me," she reasoned.

"Unless there was a profit in it," Lord Umber stated boldly.

The riders were nearly there, and Catelyn looked to her son, grabbing his arm. "Let me go, and I'll return with the terms before the sun starts to set. I've known this man since I was little, I know what he's like more than any of you." Her eyes flashed across the faces of Theon, Robb, Ser Rodrick, and Lord Umber alike. Her lips pinched in pleading. "I will go, and I promise you I'll be safe."

Robb regarded her for a moment and rubbed the back of his neck in exasperation. "Fine," he allowed, sighing. "You may go."

The keep that sheltered the Freys of the Crossing was different than Catelyn remembered. The walls were danker, wetter, the floors looked old and worn and grey. Still, she entered the castle with her head held high, and walked straight to the throne room, where Lord Walder sat. He looked old and pasty, his head balded and his skin flaccid and brittle. On his lap sat a young lady with soft brown hair that fell to her shoulders and a pinched chin. "What do you want?" he asked, his voice little more than a wheezing croak.

"It is a great pleasure to see you again after so many years, my lord," Catelyn said, bowing her head respectfully.

"Oh spare me," Lord Walder drawled, narrowing his eyes. "Your boy is too proud to come before me himself... What am I supposed to do with you?" His hand, once on the young lady's back, had slid to her bottom, and she looked down shamefully, unable to meet Catelyn's eyes.

"Father, you forget yourself," one of his son's insisted, "Lady Stark is a-"

"- who asked you?" Lord Frey bellowed angrily. "You're not Lord Frey yet, not until I die. Do I look dead to you?"

"Father, please," came another son's intervention.

"I need lessons in courtesy from you, bastard?" he growled, giving his other son a sharp, cold glance. "Your mother would still be a milkmaid if I hadn't squirted you into her belly." Catelyn looked at her boots, mouth pressed in a firm line. She did not recall Lord Walder ever being a kind soul, but this brutal man was not what she expected. "Alright, you," he ushered, "come forward."

She hesitated a moment, then took the five steps that stood between them. She held out her hand, and he planted a sloppy, dry kiss on the back of it. "There," he grunted, "now that I've observed the courtesies, perhaps my sons will do me the honor of shutting their mouths." The two men both looked down, embarrassed, and Catelyn repressed a sigh.

"Is there somewhere we can... talk?" she asked. There were watery brown eyes all around them, and this was no conversation for the masses.

"We're talking right now," Walder Frey insisted, raising a brow. She held a firm gaze on him, and after a moment he understood her. "Fine," he said, "Out! All of you!" He slapped the young lady on his lap's bottom and added, "you too."

She rose and made her way out of the room quietly. "Do you see that?" Lord Frey asked, rising to stand beside Catelyn. "Fifteen she is. A little flower," he licked his lips and grinned, "and her honey's all mine."

"I'm sure she will give you many sons," was all Catelyn could say, turning to face him as he passed by her to stand before the hearth.

"Your father didn't come to the wedding," he noted, warming his hands in the flames.

"He is quite ill, my lord," she replied.

"He didn't come to the last one either," Walder Frey said bluntly, "or the one before that. Your family has always pissed on me."

"My lord, I-"

"- don't deny it, you know it's true," he said, shaking his head. "Fine Lord Tully would never marry any of his children to mine."

Catleyn rounded to him. "I'm sure there were reasons why," she insisted.

"I didn't need reasons," he replied, turning from the fire. "I needed to get rid of sons and daughters. You see how they pile up?" He grabbed the tail of his cloak and held it up so his rump could be warmed by the flickering flames. "Why are you here?" he asked.

"To ask you to open your gates, my lord," Catelyn said directly. "So my son and his bannermen can cross the Trident and be on their way."

"Why should I let him?" he wondered, narrowing his eyes.

"If you could climb your own battlements you could see that he had twenty thousand men outside your walls," she replied levelly.

Walder Frey scoffed. "They'll be twenty thousand corpses when Tywin Lannister gets here. Don't try and fight me, Lady Stark. Your husband's in a cell beneath the Red Keep, and your son's got no fur to keep his balls warm."

"You swore an oath to my father," she replied, heat rising to her cheeks.

"Oh yes, I said some words," Walder returned. "But then, I swore oaths to the crown too, if I remember right. Joffrey's king now, which make your boy and his corpses to be nothing but rebels, it seems to me," he barked. "If I had the sense the gods gave a fish I'd hand you both over to the Lannisters."

"Why don't you?" Catelyn asked, raising a brow.

"Stark, Tully, Lannister, Baratheon... give me one good reason why I should waste a single thought on any of you."

"Because if my son crosses the Trident there will be nothing to stop him from getting his justice, and you, my lord, will be on the winning side of this battle." Catelyn's words were steel, and Lord Walder eyed her, pursing his lips.

"Nothing? The Lannisters are nothing to you?" His words were quizzical and challenging.

She stood her ground. "Yes."

After a moment he relented. "Fine," he said. "You may cross." She exhaled quickly, not remembering when she last took so deep a breath. "But I want something in return."

"Anything," Catelyn replied.

Walder Frey smirked. "Very well. I shall have one of my sons, Olyvar, as your boy's personal squire. I want a knighthood soon. And two others will be sent to Winterfell to ward."

Catelyn nodded. "That's fine," she agreed.

"I want my younger boy, Waldren, to marry your daughter, too," he added.

"Sansa is already betrothed, my lord," Catelyn replied. It choked her to admit it, and she'd done her best to forget her eldest daughter's position.

"I'm no fool, I know that," he replied briskly. "I meant the other one. The younger one. They can wait to wed until they're older, I suppose, but I want it done."

"Arya." She would not like that at all, but Catelyn nodded her head all the same. They needed to cross. Whatever it took. "Anything else, my lord?" she asked.

The old man smiled. "Aye. I want your son to wed one of my daughters."

At that Catelyn went numb. Robb was still so young. "When we return from the south I'm sure my son would be more than grateful to claim one of your daughters," she began, but Lord Walder raised a hand to her.

"I'll have them wedded and bedded by evenfall, my lady. How could I trust him to keep his word once he's crossed? It will be tonight or not at all."

Her mouth went dry. Robb said he would to do anything to cross. Anything at all. "May I have a look at your daughters?" she asked wearily.

"Only have two close to his age," Walder replied shortly. "Waldyn," he shouted. A small, weasel-faced boy appeared in the room immediately. "Fetch Roslin and Julianna." The boy ran off at once, and Catelyn waited anxiously for his return. When he came back, there were two shadows behind him.

Both girls were indeed Robb's age, very young and rather dainty, the lot of them. One was taller than the other, with light brown hair that fell to her waist and pale, pale skin. Her brown eyes were glossy, as though she'd been roused from sleep. Catelyn hadn't noticed how late it was getting. "This is Roslin," Lord Frey introduced with a flick of his wrist. She offered a shy smile, revealing a set of pearly teeth, a gap in the middle of them. It only made her more charming.

Beside her stood another young girl, perhaps a year her junior, with hair far darker and far curlier than her sister's, which fell to the small of her back. Her skin was pale as well, and her eyes were large, like a hunted doe, shining pale green in the firelight. When Catelyn neared she could see a dusting of pale freckles across the bridge of her upturned nose and on the tops of her cheekbones. "That one is Julianna," Walder said. When she smiled there was no gap between her teeth. "Finest girls in my lot, they are. Pretty enough to tempt your boy?"

Catelyn pursed her lips. They were both lovely creatures indeed, far lovelier than she'd expected of one of his daughters. "I shall speak with my son on the matter. We will return soon."

That was enough for Walder Frey. He smiled and spanked the girls on the bottoms to usher them away. "I'm eager to meet this boy of yours, my lady. Or perhaps, I shall call him my boy? By the night's end he'll be my goodson under the eyes of the gods." It was the first and last time Catelyn Stark thought of that.

It was dark before Robb could see his mother enter the tent, her cloak drawn close to her, to shield herself from the cold winds that rose from the Trident. The men all rose as he did, and he pursed his lips. Her expression told nothing. "Well?" he asked, "What did he say?"

His mother bowed her head. "Lord Walder has granted your crossing," she said. They all looked to one another in relief, and Robb sighed, a weight lifted from his shoulders. "His men are yours as well, plus the four hundred he will keep here to hold the Crossing against any who would pursue you."

"And what does he want in return?" Robb asked, curious at the Frey forces being sent to his aid.

"You will be taking on his son, Olyvar, as your personal squire," Catelyn told him, "he expects a knighthood in good time."

"Fine, fine," Robb agreed. But his mother looked nervous. There was more. "And?"

"And Arya... will marry his son Waldren when they both come of age," she continued.

"She won't be happy about that," Robb said, frowning. His mother smiled and nodded in agreement, then sighed. There was more yet. "And?" he asked again, furrowing his brows.

"And... Now, before we may cross, you will marry one of his daughters. Whichever you prefer. He had a number he thinks will be... suitable."

"I see." It was all Robb could muster. His heart felt as heavy as a broadsword. "Did... did you get a look at his daughters?" he asked nervously. Beside him, Theon chuckled under his breath.

"I did," his mother replied, nodding her head. "There were two he showed me. Roslin and Julianna. They were both pretty." Robb looked away, sighing heavily. "Do you consent?" she asked.

"Can I refuse?"

"Not if you want to cross."

Robb's lips were firmly pressed. "Then I consent."

They entered the Twins within the hour. Robb had changed into cleaner garb and his mother carried in her arms a cloak with the sigil of their House to use in the ceremony. He walked quickly, wanting to get this done and past, so he might continue his campaign to the south come morning. "There he is," came an old, wizened voice. Robb looked up to see an old man, bald and rat-like in his features. "Robb Stark, come to see me himself." He clenched his jaw at that, but let the slight pass. "I expect you'll be wanting to see the girls, eh? To pick your bride?"

"If it please you," Robb replied through his teeth. He could do without the blatant crudeness, but then, by morning he would be far gone, and he could leave his wife at the Twins until the war was done. There was no need to bring a woman into a war camp, and Robb wasn't inclined to look upon any version of Lord Walder's face each morning as he woke.

"What would please me would be getting one of these buggers out of my hair. Girls!" Lord Frey snapped, and out from the shadows came two dainty figures. He swallowed hard, expecting the worst, but felt the warmth of pleasant surprise when the light shined on them. They were both pretty girls, as his mother had promised. "To the right is Roslin, and on the left is Julianna. Take one or both to bride, I haven't a care either way."

Robb's eyes first glanced right. Roslin was at least a head taller than her sister, though she was still small. Her frame was narrow, her eyes were warm and brown, and her hair, a lighter brown, hung straight to her hips. When she smiled at him- nervously at that- he could see the small gap in her teeth. His eyes swung left, then.

Julianna Frey was the smaller of the two sisters, and, Robb thought, from a different mother. Her hair was darker than Roslin's, almost black, and curled softly to the small of her back. Her eyes were wide and round and anxious, a soft green color. She was pale, like her sister, and across the bridge of her upturned nose were faint freckles that Robb hardly noticed until she bowed her head. Her father snapped at her to look up and smile for him, and she did. Her teeth had no gap.

"Well?" Walder Frey asked, impatient. "Choose."

Robb went back and forth between them. There would be no reason to choose one way or the other, yet he felt his eyes grace over the younger of the two, with the dark brown curls. Her eyes met his, and he could feel her fear. He'd known the same fear, when he first called upon the banners, and again when word of his father's capture reached him. She seemed weaker than her sister, but he couldn't look away. She seemed pleasant enough, and fair to be sure. "Her," he called out, nodding to Lady Julianna.

He watched as more panic flooded through her and he wondered for a moment if he made the wrong choice. It was too late to change his mind. She was being whisked away by her sister, to be readied, he presumed, and Lord Walder called for a feast. Beside him, his mother pursed her lips. "She is weaker," she told him.

Robb nodded. "I know," he replied. He should have picked Roslin, the taller, stronger looking one, but there was no going back. Instead he steeled himself and followed Lord Frey to the greathall, where, within moments, he would be wed.

Julianna hadn't a moment to think from the time that she was dragged from her bed to be inspected by Lady Stark till now, as her sister Roslin helped her from her bedgown into a finer gown of dark green that went well with her eyes. It all happened so suddenly that, now she had a moment alone, she didn't know what to think. All she could register was her fear. That morning she'd woken and expected nothing of the day. Tomorrow morning she would wake and be a wife. The idea frightened her, almost as much as her intended did.

Robb Stark was a tall, burly sort, with dark auburn hair and blue eyes that pierced her when he looked at her. He seemed the type that could be cruel, but she hoped with all her heart that he would be kind, the way she expected his mother was. She hadn't spoken to Lady Stark herself, but the woman had smiled warmly at her, albeit with pity in her eyes.

"Shall we pin your hair up?" Roslin asked, holding a silver-backed brush in her left hand.

Julianna shook her head. "No, I... I think we should leave it. There's no time."

Her sister nodded and instead went to brushing out her curls quietly. Julianna felt a pang of worry that her sister was angry at her for being picked by Robb, but the thought was foolish. She and Roslin were thick as thieves. She couldn't imagine that her sister held any contempt with her for being thrust into marriage with a stranger.

After she was readied and she'd donned boots and gloves, Roslin draped a cloak across her shoulders. It was the old, worn cloak their father used to drape over his wives when they wed. It smelled of mildew and dust, but she did her best not to notice. Roslin smiled weakly at her. "You are lovely," she said.

Julianna took her sister's hand and felt herself shake. "Thank you."

Robb Stark was waiting for her at the end of the hall. He was facing away from her, speaking lowly with the Septon. Her father had come on her left, taking her arm and helping her down the isle between the long tables. Her brothers and sisters all sat, watching as she went. Lady Catelyn was there too, and offered another warm, pitiful smile. She couldn't find the courage to return it.

When she reached Robb, he turned, taking in the sigh of her. Whatever he thought in that moment, whether it be regret, remorse, or worse, it mattered little. The Septon bound their hands together with a silk ribbon and they said their words, and as Robb tore away her Frey cloak and draped her in the silvers of House Stark, pressing his lips to hers, she knew it was over. She was his and he was hers, from that day until the end of their days.

No time was wasted. As soon as they'd said their words they were sat down to eat, and only moments later her father was calling for the bedding. In truth, Julianna knew very little of what to expect on her wedding night. Her only knowledge on the subject was given to her by her father just before Robb had arrived. He told her there would be pain and she would bleed, and it had stricken fear into her heart.

She must have been noticeably terrified, for she felt a large, warm hand rest over her own. When she looked up, she saw it was her husband's hand. She tried to smile, but couldn't. He gripped her hand a little tighter, then, and clenched his jaw. "There will be no bedding ceremony tonight," he announced, his words ringing off the walls though he barely spoke over a whisper.

"There must be proof," her father insisted, but her husband had none of it.

"You'll get your proof. In the morning. Tonight we'll be leaving in peace." His face softened as he looked back at her and they both rose, exiting the hall hand in hand. When they were far enough away Robb stopped and looked down at her. She could feel his breath on her cheeks, he was so close. "I... I don't know where we should go," he said sheepishly, and she smiled, feeling less intimidated as he asked her for directions to her chamber.

"This way," she said, tugging on his sleeve. He followed without a word, and when they reached the chamber he bolted the door behind them. She eyed him quizzically.

"So they can't spy on us," he explained, and she nodded, looking away. Suddenly she felt cold. As if the understanding of what they would soon have to do had seeped into her bones and chilled her. It wasn't a pleasant sensation, and she felt fear creeping back into her. A hand was on her shoulder. "We don't have to," he murmured, looking down on her.

Julianna shook her head. "It is my duty and my honor to please my husband," she told him eyes wide.

He left her side for a moment and returned with a flask of wine, which had been left to gather dust on her vanity. Olyvar had left it there two weeks passed. "They won't know the difference. It's red, all the same."

She pursed her lips and felt relief flood through her. "Thank you, my lord," she breathed shakily, taking his hand as they went to her bed. Her chambers were small and cramped, but they sufficed enough for a bed, a vanity, and a hearth. They climbed into her bed and Robb opened the flask, dripping some of the aged wine onto her sheets. It absorbed quickly, and faded from a bright red to a dull brownish crimson, the same color as dried blood.

"There," he said, draining the rest of the wine and tossing the flask behind the vanity. "You should rest," he told her, settling in to the furs. "It'll be a long day tomorrow, and we leave at dawn."

"You want me to go with you?" It seemed an ill omen to bring ones wife to war with them, but Robb nodded after a moment and she curled up beside him, not quite touching his skin. "Good night, Robb," she breathed after a few minutes, when she'd thought him asleep.

It was only when she was asleep herself that he replied, his voice a soft whisper in the dark. "Goodnight."

AN: Please feel free to comment and critique! I'd love some feedback on how you like the story so far!