Trials and Tribulations of the Oathkeeper

Chapter 45: Walder Frey

—The Riverlands—

The Twins...

King Daveth I Baratheon, Lord Edmure Tully and Ser Brynden Tully stood before the head of House Frey and Lord of the Crossing, Walder Frey. An old man having recently celebrated his 92nd nameday, he is considered to be the second oldest man in Westeros with a bald head spotted with age and loose skin, looking a little like a vulture but mostly a sniveling weasel; his seemingly endless legion of children had each inherited his weasel-like appearance. Over the years, Lord Walder was married more than seven times and always had an eye for younger, beautiful women. The woman standing beside him picking her teeth, Lady Joyeuse of House Erenford, is the Lord of the Crossing's eighth wife now.

The Young Stag examined Walder just as closely as he was watching him. He knew the brittle, prickly ill-tempered old man had a sharp tongue, yet his mannerisms were rather blunt—each only having increased with age. As such, Walder Frey is a cautious man, but he is also an ambitious one—lending his aid to whoever is on the winning side; yet he also has a long memory. During Robert's Rebellion, he and his levies sided with the rebels after they won the Battle of the Trident. Because of his late arrival until the outcome was decided, Lord Hoster Tully called him 'The Late Lord Frey', a name Walder has never forgotten. But because he ruled over a strategically important crossing of the Green Fork, Daveth had to deal with him in order to cross. He could feel the eyes of Walder's 21 sons, 36 grandsons, 19 great-grandsons and numerous daughters, granddaughters, bastards and grandbastards staring at him, mostly the women. Walder remained seated in his raised chair as he eyed Daveth up and down.

"Well, well. Isn't this quite a surprise?" Walder exclaimed, squinting his eyes. "His Grace honors me with his presence, unlike so many who've come before him. It's not every day that the Oathkeeper himself pays a personal visit to the Twins."

He acts as if he's above his station. Senile old man, thought Daveth, but kept his composure. He was, after all, a guest. "It is a pleasure to finally meet you in person, Lord Frey," he spoke politely.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Daveth looked as Walder steadily groped his wife Joyeuse's buttocks in circular motion, the young lady giving a brief shudder as the old man touched her. "I seek to lift the ironborn occupation of Moat Cailin north of here, but to do that my men and I need to cross the Trident. As you can see, we are in a bit of a hurry. Anxious, some would say."

"Sounds like the Oathkeeper's in a bit of a pickle, and he needs my help to make this sort of problem go away."

"Mind your manners, Lord Frey!" Edmure chastised him. "You're speaking to the King!"

Sitting above to Walder's right stood his eldest son and heir, Ser Stevron Frey. A man of 62 years with grandchildren of his own, Stevron looked like an especially old and tired weasel, yet polite enough to speak up in Daveth's defense and sided with their liege lord. "Father, I fear that you have forgotten yourself," he said reproachfully. "The King is here at your invitation. It's beneath you to assume—"

Walder glared at his son. "Who asked you? You're not Lord Frey yet, not until I die. Do I look dead to you?"

"Father, please," said Ryder Rivers, one of his younger bastard sons. "This is no way to speak in front of our King—"

"I need lessons in courtesy from you, bastard? I'll speak any way I like, damn you. I've had three kings to guest in my life, and queens as well; do you think I require lessons from the likes of you? Your mother would still be a milkmaid if I hadn't squirted you into her belly!"

Charming, to say the least. Seven hells, why have the Gods cursed me for having to deal with such a man? Daveth could already feel a headache coming on, but kept his posture and hid his growing discomfort.