Chapter 43 — The Beginning
After Robb left, Catelyn still could not put her mind at ease.
She sought out her uncle, Brynden "the Blackfish" Tully, to discuss how they might respond should the rumored Red Wedding truly come to pass.
The Blackfish had already read the mysterious letter. Like Catelyn, he had been deeply shaken by its contents. He found it hard to believe that Walder Frey would dare to massacre nobles from two regions during his own daughter's wedding—but if he truly did so, the consequences would be beyond imagining.
He also knew of Catelyn's attempt to dissuade Robb. His view was simple: even if they attended the wedding, they must be fully prepared. Even if nothing happened and Walder later took offense, that was far preferable to being slaughtered to a man.
Catelyn feared Robb might not follow her instructions. She asked the Blackfish to keep a close watch on him—and, above all, not to let Roose Bolton learn of their suspicions.
Though Robb did not believe Walder Frey would dare harm them, he agreed that basic precautions were necessary. Quietly, he consulted with the commanders he trusted most, discussing how to respond should an assassination attempt occur.
The Twins straddled both banks of the Green Fork of the Trident, formed by two castles connected by a great stone bridge. It was the unavoidable gateway between the North and the southern kingdoms. House Frey had grown rich by charging tolls for passage—an enterprise other nobles despised, excluding the Freys from the ranks of the great houses, though they themselves never cared in the slightest.
Walder Frey, though only a lord, commanded an enormous clan. He alone had seven wives, each more fertile than the last. His children, grandchildren, and extended kin were countless. Among the nobility, House Frey was mockingly called the family that could breed an army.
As Edmure's wedding day approached and the party drew nearer to the Twins, Catelyn's heart tightened with dread. She glanced at Robb and subtly motioned for him to remain vigilant.
The castle guards were commanded by Walder's son, Ser Davon Frey. When he saw Robb arrive with a thousand soldiers in tow, his expression hardened.
"You bring an army to a wedding," Davon said coldly. "Is this the North's idea of courtesy?"
Robb felt a flash of embarrassment. Had it been his choice alone, he would never have done this—but his mother's ultimatum left him no room to refuse.
Fortunately, he had prepared an explanation.
"Tywin Lannister's forces are roaming the Riverlands," Robb replied evenly. "I feared he might attempt an attack while we were distracted by the wedding."
"Hmph. The Young Wolf is certainly thorough," Davon sneered.
Nonetheless, he allowed Robb and the attending nobles to enter the castle. The thousand northern soldiers, however, were ordered to remain outside the walls, waiting until the wedding concluded.
Robb forced a bitter smile to hide his embarrassment and entered the Twins, surrounded by his guards.
Seeing the unusually large number of retainers Robb had brought, Ser Davon Frey cursed inwardly once again.
Inside the wedding hall, candles had already been lit and tables were laden with rich food and wine. Musicians played cheerful melodies as Lord Walder Frey sat enthroned at the high table, welcoming Robb and his party.
When Walder took in the number of northern nobles and guards present, his brow twitched almost imperceptibly.
The moment she stepped inside, Catelyn carefully surveyed the hall—its layout, the Frey family members, every corner she could see. She detected nothing out of place.
Once the guests were seated, Robb rose to apologize publicly for breaking his betrothal. Walder Frey immediately summoned Talisa forward, insisting on seeing for himself the woman who had replaced his daughter as Robb's bride.
"Very beautiful," Walder said with narrowed eyes, appraising her openly. "A fine figure too. Pity the clothes hide everything—though I'm certain what lies beneath is even more pleasing. A body like that, no wonder King Robb forgot his vows."
Talisa stiffened, clearly uncomfortable, and glanced nervously at Robb. Robb could only signal for her to endure it.
Walder soon lost interest in her and continued casually, "I imagine our Duke Edmure is growing impatient. You'll meet your bride soon enough."
With that, he descended from the high seat and walked toward the hall entrance, returning moments later with his daughter and leading her before Edmure.
Having already seen the looks of Walder's other daughters, Edmure's expectations were low. He stood there grim-faced, bracing himself.
Walder raised a hand and lifted the bride's veil.
A gasp rippled through the hall.
Beneath it was a striking young woman with bright eyes and delicate features. Edmure slowly raised his head—and froze, staring in disbelief. He had never imagined Walder possessed such a beautiful daughter. Had he known, he would never have resisted the match so fiercely in the first place.
The vows were exchanged. The wedding feast began.
Wine flowed freely as the Freys and the northern nobles sat opposite one another, laughing, drinking, and feasting. The atmosphere was lively—too lively. Still, nothing seemed amiss.
"I'm stepping out to piss, then I'll drink some more," the Blackfish said after downing two cups of wine.
As he passed Roose Bolton, he stumbled slightly on a chair. Roose reached out to steady him. The Blackfish nodded in thanks, then cast a meaningful glance toward Catelyn before continuing on.
Watching him leave, Catelyn raised her goblet and drained it, forcing down the surge of dread rising in her chest.
Outside, long tables had also been set for feasting. The Blackfish scanned the area, then walked farther off, slipping behind a haystack. After checking that no one was nearby, he struck flint to tinder and set the dry hay ablaze—then immediately turned back.
"Great-uncle!"
He paused, startled by the whisper, but heard nothing further. Thinking he had imagined it, he quickened his pace toward the hall.
Hidden behind a cart, Arya was about to call out again when a patrol of Frey soldiers ran past. Unsure whether the fire was connected to her great-uncle, she fell silent.
Arya had witnessed her father's execution with her own eyes. She had nearly shouted at Joffrey in fury, only to be dragged away by the Night's Watch, saving her life. Wandering in disguise, she eventually learned of Edmure's wedding—and that her mother and brother were here. She had come to find them.
Just as the Blackfish reached the hall entrance, shouts of "Fire!" rose outside. Inside, the music and laughter drowned them out completely.
He grabbed a wine cup and a bottle from a nearby table and staggered up to the second floor. Shortly after, a burly noble rose casually from his seat, glanced around, and followed him upstairs.
The Blackfish tested several doors—locked.
Then he slammed one open.
A startled cry rang out in the dark, cramped room. He lunged forward, plunging his dagger into flesh. He pulled it free and struck again—twice—then spun and stabbed at another shadow.
By the time the others reacted, it was too late. Steel flashed; a throat was cut open.
The last man bolted for the door, only to be stabbed through the back as he fled.
Stepping out, the Blackfish saw the burly noble slip into another room. He moved to follow—but at that moment, the hall doors burst open.
"A fire! There's a fire outside!" a Frey soldier shouted.
The Blackfish rushed back down, seized a large drum from the musicians, and hurled it into the center of the hall.
The sudden crash silenced the room.
For a single heartbeat.
Then northern nobles and guards drew hidden daggers and plunged them into the Freys seated beside them.
Screams erupted. Blood spilled across the tables.
A moment later, Frey men recovered from their shock and drew weapons of their own.
The Red Wedding had begun.