The Weight of Children
At this moment, the the Twins was filled with joy and celebration.
The Twin Towers spanning the the Green Fork were cleaned inside and out, and the Old Walder Ward—no, now the Walder Ward—was so pleased that he even rewarded each guard with a Silver Stag and each maid with a new ribbon.
Six hundred years later, House Frey has finally tasted the life of a duke. From now on, they will no longer need to pay taxes to Riverrun, nor will they need to answer Riverrun's call during wartime; they will answer directly to the Iron Throne!
Having risen to become a close family to the king, Stannis stated that the House Frey would be heavily recruited into the future City Watch, 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, aged scent emanating from the old man. Rhaegar Frey stood before his father, reporting the latest news from King's Landing.
"In conclusion, by His Majesty's decree, Jon Snow will be engaged to Lady Margaery Tyrell."
"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 the Twins. He sat behind Robb, looking like he had just arrived that morning. I was prepared 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 glazed over, as if he had returned to the day Robb led his army south.
"This kid's risen so fast, in the blink of an eye he's on par with me." Thinking this, Old Walder suddenly felt his newly carved seal wasn't so appealing anymore.
With a thud, he casually tossed the seal onto the table, where it rolled half a circle before coming to a stop.
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 her 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 entered, she 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, "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 tightly together, as if to stifle a sob that was about to spill from her throat. She nodded vigorously, her small 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 said almost in a whisper, Tears finally rolling 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 that contained little warmth but rather a weighed decision.
"Child," he said, using an unusually gentle tone that sent a chill down Roslin's spine, "How has your family treated you?"
Roslin was stunned, and subconsciously replied, "---- the Twins gave me life and raised me."
"Well then, the family needs you to make a small sacrifice." Old Walder's tone was as if he were asking her to give up a piece of dessert.
"You are my most beautiful daughter. I was going to marry you to Robb, but that fellow broke his promise. I also promised to marry you to Jon, and I think he would have been willing. It would have been a wonderful thing, but unfortunately, the gods did not favor the House Frey."
Roslin lowered her head. She understood the principles Old Walder was talking about, so she lowered her head even further.
"As for Florent? They'll only see it as an insult. Other families? They wouldn't dare want you, nor would they even consider you, and Tully is even less likely to agree." Old Walder's analysis was cold and precise. "Marrying you off to a distant land would bring no benefit to the family, 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 the Twins, Old Walder has no shortage of sons. If he wants to become the Duke of the Twins 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, and although her intuition told her that this cold-hearted father would not give her any warmth, he was, after all, her only direct blood relative.
Old Walder leaned forward, lowered his voice, and uttered the decision he had already made. "Follow him."
Roslin looked up abruptly, her eyes filled with confusion.
"Be his mistress." Old Walder uttered these words calmly, as if remarking on the pleasant weather.
The study was deathly silent. Roslin could hear her own heartbeat clearly. She felt frozen, and even her Tears stopped flowing down her cheeks.
"He's about to become Warden of the West. Casterly Rock might not be able to be taken, but that lad is practically invincible. Taking half of the Westerlands won't be a problem. There are so many gold and silver mines in the Westerlands. 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, gloomy the Twins." Old Walder painted a "wonderful" picture of the future for her. "If you can bear his child—a child with Stark and House Frey blood flowing in his veins, even a bastard might get you 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 soft as a feather.
"This is for the sake of the family, and it's also the best way out for you." Old Walder didn't answer directly, but his meaning was self-evident.
At this moment, Rhaegar Frey spoke again, "Little sister, you don't need to be so pessimistic. Jon's conquest of the Westerlands makes him a future ally, and the House Frey will also send troops to help. Moreover, our the Twins 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 him, offering a gentler, more emotional comfort compared to Old Walder's Rhaegar Frey on cold, calculating interests.
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 gentle. "I will—try to reach out to him, to 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, yet 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 what Old Walder's intention was in putting her, the most beautiful girl in the House Frey, with his other sisters when they first met.
She was just following Old Walder's orders at the time; she didn't think there was anything between her and Jon.
No one could have imagined that in just over six months, an illegitimate child 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 needs to confront the gap.