Led by a woman with a slightly receding chin, Jon arrived at a side hall.
She likely had Frey blood, or was perhaps even one of Old Walder's granddaughters or great-granddaughters.
While Old Walder wanted to win Jon over, he was strategic about it.
What if Jon, fresh off a victory, thought too highly of himself and tried to bargain?
Walder planned to "cash in" at the most opportune moment.
Still, the side hall was impressive. Murals on the walls depicted scenes of the Twins. The flagstones beneath their feet were clean and level.
As one of the wealthiest families in the Riverlands, they didn't skimp on presentation.
Entering the hall, Jon saw Old Walder seated at the head of the table, surrounded by several of his children and grandchildren.
Their combined ages probably neared a thousand years.
Quite the reception, Jon thought, his guard going up.
He didn't know Old Walder's exact plan, but compared to Old York, this ancient fox was much better at hiding his intentions.
Jon bowed to Old Walder.
"Jon Snow, bastard son of Eddard Stark, greets Lord Walder. May you enjoy eternal good health."
Seeing no trace of arrogance in Jon—in fact, he seemed even more respectful than their first meeting—Old Walder was pleased.
"Jon, I've heard all about your exploits. Turning the tide of a lost battle... thanks to you, my useless offspring didn't die on the field or end up as prisoners. Truly remarkable. If Lord Eddard can get such an outstanding son just by bedding any random woman, if I were him, I'd certainly grant you the Stark name."
Hearing the sudden praise, Jon grew even warier, unsure what the old fox was plotting.
His mind raced, using polite small talk to buy time.
"Lord Walder is too kind. The sons of House Frey fought as bravely as anyone. They set a fine example for me."
Seeing Jon's demeanor, Old Walder could no longer hide his grin. He set down his wine cup and turned to his descendants.
"Hah! Look at him. Truly Ned's son. If it were you lot, your tails would be wagging up to the sky by now!"
Old Walder's descendants put on submissive expressions, laughing along while bowing their heads lower.
"Jon, when the opportunity arises, I will use my influence to propose to Winterfell that you be given the Stark name. Robb's claim is secure, of course, and you'd still be behind Bran and little Rickon in succession, but with your war merits, earning a lordship and becoming a noble shouldn't be difficult."
Hearing this, Jon bowed deeply again.
"T-thank you, Lord Walder, but is this... isn't this..."
Jon acted flustered and incoherent with gratitude.
After all, there wasn't a bastard in the Seven Kingdoms who didn't dream of shedding their bastard name!
Although he still didn't know what the old man wanted, he had to react "normally."
Seeing this, Old Walder laughed heartily.
"You boy. I never do business at a loss. If I help you, how do you intend to thank me?"
"I would vanquish your enemies, climb mountains of blades, or dive into seas of fire to retrieve treasures for you!" Jon promised, thumping his chest.
"Hahahaha—"
Hearing Jon's promise, Old Walder laughed again.
"No need for all that," he said, straightening his expression. "Do you remember when I said you should choose a girl from the Twins to marry into House Frey? That is my condition."
After speaking, Old Walder fixed Jon with a burning gaze.
Good grief, your map reveal is taking forever.
Old Walder clapped his hands, and several girls ranging from fifteen to twenty-five walked out.
Tall, short, fat, thin—they varied greatly.
They filed in and stood beside Jon.
"Among them are my daughters and granddaughters. Pick one. And I will give you her weight in silver stags."
Silver stags were the common currency of Westeros.
Uh...
Jon turned to look at the girls. Honestly, most of them weren't much to look at.
The phrase "next batch" was on the tip of his tongue.
It wasn't that they were ugly, per se, but the Frey genes for weak chins and watery eyes were just too dominant. It was why some people disparagingly said they looked like weasels.
Jon didn't dare refuse immediately. He scanned the girls while frantically calculating how to wiggle out of this.
House Frey definitely had pretty girls; if he looked closely, he could probably find a decent one.
But in the near future, Robb was likely going to lose control of his lower half, break his marriage pact, and enrage Old Walder.
Jon would be caught in the middle, which would be... awkward.
And it wasn't just about awkwardness. After the Battle of the Blackwater, when Stannis was defeated and the North's momentum was lost, Old Walder would plot the Red Wedding.
Whether Jon would survive that as a Frey son-in-law was an open question.
Moreover, Jon had bigger ambitions. He didn't want to sell his "founder's shares" this early in the game.
As Jon pondered, he examined the girls with polite distance.
Old Walder drank his wine, but his brown eyes never left Jon.
Then, Jon actually spotted a pretty one.
Fair skin, a delicate chin, and chestnut hair cascading in curls down to her waist. She had a somewhat artistic air about her.
Seeming to sense Jon's gaze, she looked up with large brown eyes, then quickly looked away shyly.
Compared to the other Frey girls, she looked exceptionally lovely.
Old Walder noticed Jon's interest.
In fact, this was part of his test.
Among the girls were two particularly heavy ones, easily over 180 pounds.
This slender girl probably didn't weigh half as much.
If Jon chose the "heavy tanks," it would show he was pragmatic. Fat women were thought to be good for childbearing, and Walder had offered a dowry based on weight.
But it seemed Jon was willing to forgo both the extra silver and the "fertility" for a pretty face.
Still just a young man lusting after beauty, in the end.
Old Walder thought, as a pot-bellied man beside him spoke up:
"Her name is Roslin. She is the only daughter of my father and Lady Rosby."
Jon, recalling his first time awkwardly choosing a masseuse, stammered with feigned shyness:
"Lord... Lord Walder, her... her name is Roslin?"
Seeing Jon choose her, Roslin lowered her head even further.
"Hahaha! Boy, you have an eye! She's the prettiest of all my daughters. But think carefully—if Robb takes a fancy to her later, you might have to give her up."
Hey, you old dishonest bastard. Still trying to drive a wedge between us brothers?
Jon grumbled internally.
He realized the full extent of Old Walder's plan.
Marrying his daughter to Jon was just part one.
Both Jon and Robb had proven their military genius.
If Robb, who cared about looks, had been choosing, he likely would have picked Roslin too.
Then Jon would have been resentful.
This would create a rift between the brothers.
Old Walder would then compensate Jon to win him over, gaining a loyal enforcer.
Truly an old fox. A schemer within a scheme!
But in that split second, Jon figured out how to refuse.
Slap! Slap!
Jon suddenly stepped back and slapped himself hard across the face, twice.
Two red handprints instantly appeared on his pale skin.
His action startled Roslin and the other girls into crying out, and even confused Old Walder.
Jon turned and bowed deeply to Old Walder.
"Lord Walder, I understand your intentions now. You are testing my resolve to save my father. My father has been framed and is in danger, yet here I am picking a bride for myself. I was nearly... nearly no better than a beast."
Old Walder: Huh? Is that what I meant?
Jon turned to Roslin and said:
"Lady Roslin, I truly like you. But you are a trueborn daughter of a High Lord, and I am just a bastard. A little war glory cannot bridge the gap between us."
Jon's sincerity moved Roslin.
"Lord Walder, if one day I can save my father, shed my bastard status, and join the ranks of the nobility, I will return with a magnificent carriage to marry Lady Roslin."
Old Walder's smile stiffened. He couldn't figure out how things had gone off the rails.
He almost had him.
Behind him, the expressions of his descendants shifted subtly.
Jon continued:
"Lord Walder, I assume King's Landing doesn't know about the alliance between the Twins and the North yet. Do you have any news of my father?"
Seeing Jon ask about Ned, Walder knew the marriage plot was dead in the water for today.
After all, forcing someone to marry right after their father died was too ugly, even for him.
The pot-bellied Frey who had introduced Roslin spoke up:
"Father, I forgot to tell you. Lord Eddard has been executed by the false king Joffrey for treason."
"What?!" Old Walder feigned surprise, glancing at Jon out of the corner of his eye. "You scoundrel! Why are you only telling me now?"
"Please punish me, Father."
The pot-bellied man quickly knelt before Walder.
Father and son put on their little play.
"ARGH——————"
Jon suddenly let out a beast-like roar, scaring the girls into retreating several steps.
Jon strode out of the side hall and screamed at the sky:
"Joffrey! I will take your head! I will skin you for a rug and eat your flesh! Tywin! Old thief! Traitor! Villain! REBEL————"
Jon's voice exploded like thunder at the doorway. The Freys, seemingly infected by his grief and rage, fell silent, daring not to speak.