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Chapter 53: The First Conquest.
🕑 Added 2024-08-27 06:31:40 +0000 UTCThree days later.
Robb Stark.
“You will never get away with this!” Black Frey shouted from where he was tied up. The bastard had woken up a couple of hours ago, and he hadn’t been able to stay silent. I didn’t know where he got his bravado from, as the only things spewing from his mouth were insults and threats against my people.
Even after a particularly rough beating delivered by Dacey Mormont—after hearing him threaten to rape his way through Bear Island—the stupid bastard hadn’t learned his lesson. Dacey only stopped because I ordered it, but I could see she wasn’t calm enough. Because of that, I left her in charge of the rest of our hostages, with the only order being to keep them alive. I didn’t care much about what happened to them, but I needed them alive for a little longer.
Walking around the camp, I quietly observed how my soldiers were feeling. I could see that “normal” meant nervousness with a hint of giddiness. The normal age for men to be allowed to fight in a war here in Westeros was fifteen, though, of course, exceptions existed. At least, that’s how it was for the Northern army.
The younger soldiers hoped to make a name for themselves and gain riches, status, and the like, while the older men just hoped to come back alive to their families. The only thing they all shared was the determination to fight for the betterment of our kingdom. Most of my men would die happily, knowing they were fighting for a good cause.
To be honest, it was kinda scary having this burden thrust upon my shoulders, but I needed to act accordingly.
For now, we were just waiting for support from the Mallisters to arrive. They were sending only a thousand soldiers, led by Patrek Mallister, while Jason waited for us in Seagard. The Frey forces had been dwindling for the last three days since we attacked, as more and more soldiers decided to run away or bend the knee to me.
I was pretty sure I had most of the Frey main family—at least the males—and the women didn’t have the support needed for the remaining soldiers to rally behind them. At the very least, since we killed most of the bad apples in the castle, there hadn’t been many problems like soldiers taking unwanted liberties, though I wasn’t sure how long that would last.
My insects had been hard at work, and I even opted to allow the soldiers who left to return to the castle with food, since I wanted them weak, not dead. So I had them stop buzzing after the second day, at which point I also stopped grabbing the soldiers.
As I walked across the camp to the main tent, I nodded at everyone who saluted me. It was weird, but I was getting used to the Northerners treating me like a King. I was sure this would complicate things in the long run, but whatever.
“Smalljon, any news?” I asked with a smile.
“Nothing pressing, just a message that arrived a few hours ago from Lord Mallister. It appears his heir will arrive tomorrow,” he answered, and I nodded. The distance between Seagard and the Twins wasn’t that big, and since most of those soldiers hadn’t seen battle in recent times, I was sure they were well-rested.
“Good, we’ll ask them to surrender tomorrow, then,” I nodded resolutely. “I want you to prepare the hostages for our arrival. We’ll kill every single one of them except old Walder. He will have the honor of dying in his great hall.”
“Nasty...” he murmured. “I like it.”
“I knew you would,” I scoffed. “You’re all a bunch of barbarians,” I joked, imitating a Southern Lady.
As we joked around, more people arrived at the tent, and I explained how things would proceed.
“After we take the Twins, we’ll wait for some of the fifteen thousand soldiers in the Neck to arrive. They’ll stay in the castle while we go ahead to help the Riverlands,” I said firmly. “Is there anyone who wants the honor of lording the Twins while we’re at war?”
I knew no one would accept my generous offer, but I needed to ask all the same.
“You will not fight the Lannisters without me, Robb,” Jon said with a deadpan expression. “I don’t know if I should pity them if I leave you to your own devices.”
I scoffed good-naturedly. “I wouldn’t do that much.”
The others gave me deadpan looks, and Eddard Karstark asked what everyone had in mind. “How did you escape from the Red Keep again?”
“It was one time!” I rolled my eyes. “We were short on time, and that door was in the way,” I defended myself.
“Whatever. If you lot are so sure about this, I’ll send a message to Lord Glover to pick someone capable,” I mumbled to myself. “Maybe Lord Flint wants to do it.”
“Aye, the Flints are a good idea. They’re the biggest family in the North, with all those branches. I’m sure they’ve got someone capable,” said Thorren Karstark while eating some venison.
“Sylvyrn, be ready to start planting weirwoods,” I told the leader of the Green Men. “Is there anything you need for it?”
“Yes, my king,” he said, bowing his head. “I need some blood so the trees can grow.”
I rolled my eyes. Since meeting the Old Gods and getting closer to the Green Men, I’ve learned a lot about them. I was right: they were eldritch beings. But whatever. We made a pact, and I would fulfill my part.
“How much blood, Sylvyrn?” I asked firmly, hoping there wouldn’t be a need for an unnecessary bloodbath wherever I visited.
“Not much, my king,” he replied while taking out a jar. “If this jar is filled to the brim, I can plant over fifty trees.”
I sighed in relief, but then I remembered something. “Any blood will suffice, I hope?” I asked, fearing they might need something more powerful, like R’hllor.
“Yes, my king,” he replied. “The blood is just a catalyst, nothing more. Think of it as adding some fertilizer to normal plants.”
I slumped in my seat before noticing the silence in the tent. I almost burst out laughing, seeing the rest of my friends inching away from Sylvyrn. They couldn’t deny the advantages he and his group provided, but that didn’t make it any easier to stomach some of their customs. Thankfully, we hadn’t had any problems yet. Something I was sure would change when we started mingling with the Riverlanders.
“Any news from the Riverlands?” I asked aloud.
“I’m afraid the Lannisters are pushing the Blackfish,” Harrion said, shaking his head. “They’ll be overrun if they don’t get our support soon.”
I nodded grimly. “I’m sure my great-uncle can hold them off for a while, but fret not—the Lannisters will rue the day they conspired against us.”
“Aye, they deserve no less,” Jon added with surprising heat.
The next day
I stood atop a rise, surveying my army with satisfaction. Heir Patrek was already at my side, his thousand men waiting for orders. The rest of my generals stood nearby, attentive to my command.
The Twins loomed in the distance, but they were no longer what they had once been. Despair hung over the place like a shroud, visible even through the eyes of my insects. Fewer than two thousand souls remained within the castle, all of them gaunt with hunger, their faces with black bags beneath their eyes.
Behind me, my army of twenty thousand stood in disciplined ranks, banners fluttering in the wind. The direwolf of House Stark bore a new addition—a crown upon its head. Sansa had gotten the idea into her head after Father returned to Winterfell and told the girls about my being named king. She insisted we needed a new sigil.
Apart from the new Stark banner, the eagle of House Mallister flew alongside others from the North. I was certain it was an imposing sight, one that would strike fear into the hearts of the remaining Freys.
At the base of the rise stood a column of Frey hostages—old Walder, his sons, and grandsons—bound and haggard with hunger and fear, at least most of them. I couldn’t help but feel a sliver of respect for Black Walder’s defiance, petty to the end.
Walder Frey, the frail old man, stood at the front of the group. Even in chains, his eyes still burned with venom as they fixed on me.
“Lord Frey,” I called, my voice carrying over the quiet army. “You chose to sit idle while your liege lords suffered, hindering my kingdom’s efforts to aid my mother’s family. Now, because of your actions, your own family suffers. While you gorged on food and laughed, the Tullys fought for their lands, and now the Freys are starving because of you.”
I paused, letting my words sink in before continuing. “Your men are on the brink of starvation. The food in your stores has spoiled, and the only reason they aren’t dead yet is because I don’t hold them accountable for your decisions. Submit with some semblance of pride. You and your sons will die, but I give you my word that we will not harm a single hair on your daughters. Perhaps, in time, a better kind of Freys will return to the Twins.”
Walder’s lips quivered as he shuffled his feet. “You think you’ve already won, boy? My soldiers still hold the Twins. You won’t take them with words. Stark blood is easily spilled, I’m sure.”
My jaw tightened, but I didn’t let my anger show. “It seems you need more convincing,” I said, summoning my insects.
Turning to Dacey, I ordered, “Untie his sons. Let’s put their misery on display.”
I glanced back at the old lord and snorted. “If any of your sons can make it back to the Twins before they die, I’ll let them leave.”
There was just over a kilometer between them and the gates—more than enough distance for my swarm to catch them.
“Go on, boys. Run for your lives,” I said as I called my millions of insects to form a cloud in the sky.
An eerie twilight descended as the sun dimmed, and the only sound was the incessant buzzing of my swarm. Glancing back, I saw the Mallister men, pale with fear as they looked up at the swarm blocking out the sun. I knew that if the swarm turned on us, they would flee. Thankfully, Jon was close enough to Patrek to calm him.
“This is what will happen to the rest of your family if you don’t comply,” I said, my voice calm as I lowered my hand.
The cloud of insects surged forward, enveloping the fleeing sons of Walder Frey. Their screams of terror and pain echoed, like music to my ears. The swarm was so thick that nothing could be seen, but after a minute, I dispersed it, commanding the insects to remain in the open air.
All that remained were bones in some places, and in others, hollow husks of flesh barely clinging to the skeletons.
Walder Frey whimpered at the sight, but I didn’t give him a chance to gather his thoughts. “This is your last chance. Order the gates to open, submit to my reign, and I’ll spare what’s left of your family. Resist, and your bloodline will be erased from history—a mere footnote in tales of foolish men.”
Behind him, my army stirred, ready for my command. The howl of the wind seemed to carry the Stark banner, with Ghost and Shadow’s howls echoing alongside it.
Walder spared a glance at the bodies and then at the castle before slumping in defeat, his breath a faint, shaky exhale.
“You win this time, Stark,” he croaked. “Open the gates!” he shouted and I smiled seeing his order being carried by the guards.
