At this moment, The Twins were all smiles.
The twin towers spanning Green Fork were spotless inside and out, and the Old Marquis—no, now the Duke of Walder —was so pleased that he even rewarded each guard with a silver deer and each maid with a new ribbon.
For six hundred years, the Frey family has finally tasted the life of dukes. From now on, they will no longer need to pay taxes to the Riverrun, nor will they need to answer the Riverrun's call during wartime; they will answer directly to the Iron Throne!
Having risen to become a close family member of the king, Stannis indicated that the Frey family would be recruited in large numbers into the future capital's garrison, and even a seat before the king would not be an unattainable dream.
The taste of power was like a glass of fine red wine, bringing a long-lost rosy glow to the face of the ninety-year-old Old Walder.
In the study, even the incense couldn't mask the lingering scent of age emanating from the old man. Rhaegar Frey stood before his father, hands at his sides, reporting the final news from King's Landing.
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"—In short, Your Majesty has decreed a marriage for Jon Snow with Margaery Tyrell. " Young Miss is engaged.
" Tyrell ————" Old Walder stroked the newly engraved ducal coat of arms with his withered fingers, his cloudy eyes revealing neither joy nor anger.
"I can still remember the first time that kid came to Riverrun, sitting behind Robb, looking like he'd just arrived that morning. I was ready to marry him off to any illegitimate daughter of his, thirty or forty years old, widowed, fat, ugly. If he dared to refuse, hmph—" Old Walder's eyes were vacant, as if he had returned to the day Robb led his army south.
"This kid has risen too fast; in the blink of an eye, he's on par with me." Thinking of this, Old Walder felt that the newly carved seal in his hand was no longer so appealing.
With a thud, he casually tossed the seal onto the table, where it rolled half a circle before stopping.
Old Walder looked at the seal, then finally picked it up. He paused, his tone as calm as if discussing tomorrow's weather: " What about Roslin? Does she know? "
"I should have received the letter a few days ago." Rhaegar Frey's voice lowered. These days he had heard that Roslin had been staying at home almost all the time, and the food sent to him was often untouched. He had been through it all before, so he could guess the truth pretty accurately.
"Call her here." Old Walder's order was simple and direct.
When Roslin came in, it was like a leaf blown in by the autumn wind.
She had lost a lot of weight, and her once-fitting dress now looked somewhat loose. Her eyelids were slightly swollen, but she still forced herself to bow and softly called out to Dao, "Father, brother."
After all, she was his sister, whom he had called "brother" since childhood, and nearly forty years his senior. Rhaegar Frey couldn't help but feel a little sorry for her, while Old Walder was unusually amiable: "Did you receive that kid's letter?"
Roslin pressed her lips together sharply, as if to stifle the sob that was about to spill from her throat. She nodded vigorously, her delicate chin trembling slightly.
Normally, this would be an absolutely rude gesture, but now neither Rhaegar Frey nor Old Walder both found fault with her.
"He said—he was sorry." She almost said "Dao" in a Qi sound, and tears finally rolled down her cheeks silently.
She immediately wiped it with the back of her hand, as if it were a breach of etiquette.
Old Walder looked at her as if assessing the remaining value of an item. After a long while, he sighed, a sigh devoid of warmth, but rather a resolute decision after careful consideration.
"Child," he said, using an unusually gentle tone that sent a chill down Roslin's spine, " how has the family treated you?"
Roslin was stunned, and subconsciously replied, "— Riverrun gave me life and raised me."
"Now, Family needs you to make a small sacrifice." Old Walder's words were as if she were asking him to give up a piece of dessert.
"You are my most beautiful daughter. I was going to marry you off to Robb, but that guy broke his promise. I also promised to marry you off to Jon, and I think he would be willing too. It would have been a wonderful thing, but unfortunately the gods did not favor the Frey family."
Roslin lowered her head. She understood the reasoning Old Walder was giving, so she lowered her head even further.
"As for the Florents? They'd only see it as an insult. Other families? They wouldn't dare take them, nor would they even consider them, and Tully is even less likely." Old Walder's analysis was cold and precise. "Marrying you off to a distant land would do the family no good, especially at this time."
Rhaegar stood to the side, head bowed, not daring to look at his sister. His lips moved, but he ultimately swallowed his words.
In this household, Old Walder's will is the law. Most importantly, in Riverrun, Old Walder has no shortage of sons. If he wants to become the Duke of Riverrun or gain greater benefits for himself, he needs to win Old Walder's favor.
"Then—what should I do?" Roslin's voice trembled with despair, but also contained a glimmer of hope. She looked at Old Walder, even though her intuition told her that this cold-hearted father would not give her any warmth, but after all, he was her only direct blood relative.
Old Walder leaned forward, lowered his voice, and uttered the decision he had already made: "Follow him."
Roslin suddenly looked up, his eyes filled with confusion.
"Be his mistress." Old Walder uttered these words calmly, as if to say, "The weather's pretty good today. "
The study was deathly silent. Roslin could clearly hear her own heartbeat. She felt frozen, and even her tears stopped flowing down her cheeks.
"He's about to become the Warden of the West. Casterly Rock might not be taken, but that kid is practically invincible. He'll be able to take half the West without a problem. There are so many Gold Mine mines in the West. If you go with him, you can at least enjoy wealth and luxury, living in the warm south, instead of wasting your life in this cold Riverrun." Old Walder painted a "wonderful" picture for her. "If you can bear his child—a child with the blood of Stark and Frey —even a bastard might get a territory in the future. That's a thousand times better than marrying some country knight."
Old Walder used the most pragmatic interests to package the most cruel arrangements.
"Is this—an order, Father?" Roslin's voice was as light as a feather.
"This is for the family, and it's also the best way out for you." Old Walder didn't answer directly, but the meaning was self-evident.
At this point, Rhaegar Frey spoke up again, saying to Dao, "Little sister, you don't need to be so pessimistic. Jon's conquest of the West will make him our future ally, and the Frey Family will also send troops to help. Moreover, our Riverrun is located between Winterfell and Riverrun, making us an indispensable ally of Stannis and Jon. Although you won't get the status of the principal wife, your treatment won't be much lower than Margaery's. Besides, men get tired of seeing the same face every day; they'll only miss each other if they don't see each other often." Rhaegar Frey comforted Dao, while Old Walder approached the issue from a cold, calculating perspective, offering comfort from a relatively gentler emotional standpoint.
"After hearing her brother's words of comfort," Roslin stood still, motionless. She didn't cry or argue; she simply kept her head down, looking at the delicate embroidery on her skirt, letting feelings of shame, resentment, and bitterness tear at her heart.
After what felt like an eternity, she finally raised her head, her face expressionless, like a delicate porcelain doll.
"I understand, Father," she said softly, her voice heartbreakingly meek. "I will—try to reach out to him and win his favor."
She even slightly curtsied, performing a perfect bow. "If there's nothing else, I'll take my leave."
Her decision to leave was her last, small act of defiance.
Old Walder didn't find fault with her and simply nodded.
Roslin turned and walked out of the study step by step. Her back was straight, but it exuded a deathly stillness.
Back in the cold, empty corridor, she leaned against the stone wall, barely managing to stand. A profound sense of humiliation and powerlessness overwhelmed her like a tidal wave. She felt no anger, only deep exhaustion and resignation.
"He won dignity and status with his sword," she thought blankly. Roslin wasn't stupid; she knew perfectly well what Old Walder's intention was in putting her, the prettiest girl in the Frey family, with his other sisters when they first met.
At the time, she was just following Old Walder's orders; she didn't think there was any possibility between her and Jon.
No one could have imagined that in just over six months, a bastard who could be manipulated at will would rise to become a duke! It's practically a myth.
The song Jon sang to her back then still applies today, only now the roles have reversed.
Now I'm the one who has to face the gap.