Riverrun, inside the Great Hall.
The music was melodious, yet it carried an indescribable falseness and strangeness.
The bard was clearly playing joyful tunes celebrating a wedding, but to Edmure Tully, every note sounded like a funeral dirge.
He sat in the main seat, his ceremonial robes beautiful but binding him like a prisoner's uniform.
Roslin Frey.
A beautiful girl, yet as timid as a startled bird, she kept her head down, not daring to look at anyone, merely mechanically taking small bites of the food on her plate.
Edmure's gaze swept past the Frey family descendants, who were clinking cups and wearing fake smiles, finally settling on the culprit.
Lysa Arryn, at this moment, was like a hostess, holding a wine glass and accepting the flattery of the Frey family members.
Her face, slightly twisted by paranoia, was flushed with a sickly glow.
Just then!
"Boom—!"
The two heavy, oak and steel doors of the Great Hall were violently forced open from the outside!
The immense sound instantly drowned out all music and clamor!
The entire hall fell silent in an instant.
Everyone was stunned by this sudden turn of events, their gazes uniformly fixed on the doorway.
Who was it?
Who had such audacity to cause trouble at Walder Frey and Lysa Arryn's wedding feast?!
At the doorway, silhouetted against the light, stood several figures.
The two leading figures made everyone's pupils in the hall sharply contract in an instant!
Ned Stark!
He wore a suit of black leather armor, covered by a grey cloak embroidered with the Direwolf sigil.
His resolute and stern face, illuminated by the firelight, was like granite.
His hand rested always on the hilt of his valyrian steel greatsword, "Ice".
And by his side stood a woman.
Catelyn Tully!
She had returned.
Returned to the castle of her birth.
But there was no joy on her face at returning home, only a chilling murderous intent.
Those blue eyes, characteristic of House Tully, were now like two blocks of ancient, unmelting ice, fixed intently on the woman in the main seat.
Her sister, Lysa Arryn.
Behind them were eight tall Northern guards, also draped in Direwolf cloaks.
They stood there silently, hands on sword hilts, like seven silent statues, exuding a suffocating pressure.
Ten people in total.
They had just barged into a den of dragons and tigers, filled with hundreds of Frey soldiers.
"Sister?"
Lysa Arryn was the first to snap out of her shock.
She looked at Catelyn's cold face, a flicker of panic in her eyes, which was immediately replaced by extreme malice and wild joy.
Walking right into a trap!
This was simply the best gift the Seven Gods could have given her!
She was just worried about finding an opportunity to deal with Robb, and now his parents had delivered themselves to her!
"Ned Stark! Catelyn Tully!"
Walder Frey's aged voice rang out.
He squinted his rat-like eyes and chuckled.
"What wind has blown the King and Queen of the North to my humble Riverrun?"
His words were full of undisguised mockery.
Ned Stark ignored him.
He and Catelyn walked with steady steps, moving towards the main seat.
The surrounding Frey soldiers instinctively gripped their weapons, but not a single one dared to step forward to block them.
Ned Stark's aura was too strong.
It was a killing intent honed in mountains of corpses and the majesty of long-held power.
Edmure Tully looked at his sister, his lips moving, wanting to say something, but ultimately unable to utter a single word.
He knew they were here to save him.
But there were only a few of them.
"Stop!"
A Frey knight, one of Walder Frey's sons, bravely drew his sword and stood in front of them.
"This is Riverrun! Not your Winterfell!"
Ned's steps did not falter in the slightest.
He didn't even glance at the knight.
It was Catelyn behind him who spoke coldly.
"Riverrun is House Tully's castle."
"Do I, Catelyn Tully, need Frey's permission to return to my own home?"
Her voice was not loud, but it was like a resounding slap, fiercely striking the faces of all the Frey family members!
The knight's face instantly turned a purplish-red, and he roared, raising his sword to strike!
However, his sword had barely been raised halfway before it could move no further.
A hand, a hand clad in a black leather glove, had seized his wrist at some unknown moment.
It was one of Ned Stark's guards from behind him.
The guard merely squeezed gently.
"Crack!"
A bone-chilling crunch echoed!
The knight let out a bloodcurdling scream, and the longsword in his hand clattered to the ground.
The entire hall fell into dead silence once more.
In this tense moment, Edmure Tully finally mustered his courage and stood up.
"Stop!"
He walked over to Ned and Catelyn.
His attendant carried a plate with bread and salt.
"Brother-in-law, sister,"
Edmure's voice trembled slightly, but he persisted in completing House Tully's guest rite.
"Please partake of the bread and salt."
Ned Stark picked up a piece of bread, dipped it in salt, and put it in his mouth.
Catelyn did the same.
Guest Right.
On the continent of Westeros, this was an ancient law more sacred than the king's own laws.
Once a host offered a guest bread and salt, it meant that both parties had entered into a covenant of peace.
Under the same roof, the host could not harm the guest, nor could the guest harm the host.
Anyone who violated Guest Right, be they king or commoner, would be considered to have forsaken the gods, would be scorned and cursed by all, and would never find peace.
When Ned and Catelyn ate the bread, Walder Frey and Lysa Arryn's expressions both turned rather ugly.
They hadn't expected Edmure, that good-for-nothing, to pull this trick at such a moment.
Now, even if they wanted to act, they had to find a foolproof reason.
"Alright, now, we can talk."
Catelyn's gaze once again fell upon Lysa.
"Lysa,"
Her voice held not a trace of sisterly affection, only cold interrogation.
"What exactly do you intend to do?"
"What am I doing?"
Lysa seemed to have heard the greatest joke, and she shrieked with laughter.
"Sister, are you asking me?"
"Your precious son-in-law, that wildling bastard named Lynn, he led an army, flattened my Vale, and imprisoned my son!"
"And now you ask me what I intend to do?!"
"Of course I want revenge!"
Her voice became hysterical.
"I will make Robb, make Lynn, make all of you in House Stark pay the price!"
"So, you delusionally want to drag the entire Riverlands into war?"
Catelyn's tone was full of disdain.
"Shut up!"
Lysa, hit where it hurt, suddenly stood up and shrieked, pointing at Catelyn's nose.
"What right do you have to lecture me?!"
"I'll just ask you one thing,"
Catelyn was unmoved, her voice terrifyingly calm.
"Robb's army is now south of The Twins."
"Are you surrendering or not?"
"If not, Lynn and Robb's armies will appear beneath the walls of Riverrun tomorrow."
"Are you threatening me?"
Lysa laughed, tears almost streaming from her eyes.
She scanned the hundreds of fully armed Frey soldiers in the hall, her face filled with an arrogant madness.
"Sister, look carefully, whose territory is this!"
"Do you think, with just a few of you, after eating a few pieces of stale bread, you can dictate to me here?"
Ned Stark finally spoke.
"We are not here to negotiate with you."
His voice was deep and filled with undeniable authority.
"We are here to inform you."
"Surrender immediately and beg Lynn for forgiveness."
"Otherwise, you will bear the consequences."
Lysa's smile froze on her face.
She looked into Ned's deep, grey eyes, and a chill ran through her heart.
But soon, this chill was replaced by deeper malice and madness.
Beg for forgiveness?
Make her beg for forgiveness from that bastard who ruined everything for her?
Dream on!
Her original plan was to poison all the disobedient Tully family members at tonight's wedding feast and completely take control of Riverrun.
But now, these two fools from House Stark had delivered themselves to her!
Kill them!
As long as Ned and Catelyn were killed, Robb would be leaderless, and the North would surely fall into chaos!
Then she would ally with the Iron Islands, attacking from both north and south, and even if that Lynn had three heads and six arms, he would surely die!
Guest Right?
To hell with Guest Right!
Guest Right was shit!
As long as it was done cleanly, and the blame was pushed onto House Stark for provoking first, who could do anything to her?
A mad and vicious plan instantly formed in Lysa's mind.
A smile reappeared on her face.
Only this time, the smile contained a chilling eeriness.
"Alright, sister, brother-in-law,"
She sat back down, picked up her wine glass, as if the hysteria from moments ago had never happened.
"Let's not talk about these things for now."
"You've come a long way, you must be tired."
"Whatever matters there are, we sisters can discuss them slowly after the wedding feast."
She gave Walder Frey beside her a look that only the two of them understood.
Walder Frey's wrinkled old face creased into a chrysanthemum-like smile.
"Yes, yes, first drink, first watch the dancing!"
He clapped his hands and shouted to the band.
"Play! Play! Play that song... 'The Rains of Castamere'!"
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