They rode for the Twins at daybreak.
Greatjon did not have high hopes, the army gathered and lying in wait while Theon Greyjoy, Arnal, and Aspen– their chosen archers– shot down all the ravens leaving the Twins.
"It's a birthday message to his grand-niece Walda," said Robb after the latest message was taken to him.
"Or so Walder Frey would have you think," said Theon.
"Keep shooting them down," advised Lady Catelyn. "We can't risk Lord Walder sending word of your movements to the Lannisters."
Thyrsa figured they shouldn't just be lingering there if that was the case.
"He's Grandfather's bannerman," argued Robb. "We can't expect his support?"
"Expect nothing of Walder Frey," said Greatjon. "And you'll never be surprised. Look."
Two men were riding out to them, holding flags with the sigil of House Frey. "Father rots in a dungeon," murmured Robb. "How long before they take his head? We need to cross the Trident and we need to do it now."
"Just march up to his gates and tell him you're crossing," said Theon. "We've got five times his numbers. You can take the Twins if you have to."
Robb looked at Thyrsa, nodding for her to speak. She said, "It risks their men, which we need and can make use of if a bargain is struck. Taking the Twins by force would take too long and leave us with less men than we set out with. Not to mention the Freys cannot be trusted to react well with what they'll perceive to be an invasion."
"She is right," said Lady Catelyn. "The Freys have held the crossing for six-hundred years and for six-hundred years they've never failed to exact their toll. Demanding to cross will end poorly."
"Have my horse saddled and ready," instructed Robb.
Greatjon huffed. "Enter the Twins alone and he'll sell you to the Lannisters as he likes."
"Or throw you in a dungeon, or slit your throat," said Theon.
"My father would do whatever it took to secure our crossing," said Robb. "Whatever it took. We should strike a bargain. And if I'm going to lead this army, I can't have other men doing my bargaining for me."
"I agree," said Lady Catelyn. "I'll go." The men began to protest, but she interrupted, "I have known Lord Walder since I was a girl. He would never harm me."
"It would not be wise to say 'never' in times of war, my lady," said Aspen quietly. "My father always says there is no telling what anyone would do for the right price; profit is a motivator for murder. If the Frey's loyalty cannot be guaranteed, neither can safety in their home. If she must go, I will ride with her."
Robb relented. Aspen and Catelyn rode out, while Thyrsa took over with the bow and arrows, keeping the ravens grounded and unable to communicate with any Lannisters.
"Lord Robb's taken a liking to you," noticed Greatjon when he found her reading another scroll from a dead raven.
"You better not be thinking what Aspen said you might be," said Thyrsa with a scowl. "I won't be marrying Robb or any other Stark."
"It wasn't what I was going to say," said Greatjon. "He trusts you. It is a good thing."
She sat herself down, laying her sword beside her. "Why did you bring me here?"
"It is time you test your skills on the battlefield."
"Why not Jon? Why me?"
"He's a stubborn lad. He wouldn't get along well with the others and he'd want things his way."
"And you don't?"
He smirked, lowering himself beside her. "Aye, I do like things my way. Except I have fought in many battles and have my reasons. Your brother, well... his words don't come from a place of wisdom. Simply from anger and resentment. Smalljon, he's not suited for battle. For killing, yes. One man at a time. In a war... you would fare better. You adapt, little bear. You are fierce. And more importantly you are careful. You think of everything before you act. We need that here. You and Lady Catelyn, you will be the advisors Robb listens to the most."
"You couldn't have known he'd listen to me when you brought me."
"No, but I had hoped that even if he didn't listen, others would. It was time for Smalljon to assume his duties, to stop acting like a pup who has been kicked. I imagined time as Lord of Last Hearth would remind him who he is. He may despise me but I've only ever wanted for him to take responsibility. His anger has driven him since your mother died. He was angry I could not save her and he's never forgiven me for it."
"So it's better for you that he isn't here," said Thyrsa, knowing what he really wanted to say. "He'd constantly be undermining your decisions, fearing for our safety. He and Aspen would be at odds. If anyone died, it would be... horrible. It's better if he has a distraction."
Greatjon nodded. "Aye. It would be." He sighed, "Your mother, she was a wonderful woman. When she left, it broke us. Jon pushed us away. Esther and Hother fill the emptiness with other things... work, children. The twins fight until the pain dissipates. Sigrid prays to the old gods and pushes aside the thought of murder because she thinks it is what got Saga killed. And you, my little bear, you were too small to know much of what was happening. It pains me that you hardly knew her, hardly remember her."
She leaned against him, watching as two horses rode back up to them. "It pains me, too."
She wondered how many of the men present there had fought with her mother. She wondered how many of them had a story about something funny she said, or something impressive that she did. There had to be loads of them, maybe a way to fill the gaps that she had in her own memory, to at least build a bigger story than what she knew. Her siblings could only remember so much, and both them and her father had a certain perspective.
Being in a war without her felt wrong.
Aspen and Lady Catelyn returned unharmed but also unhappy with Lord Walder's response. They'd been meeting in Robb's war tent when the two walked in, grim expressions on their faces.
"Lord Walder has granted your crossing," Lady Catelyn announced. "His men are yours, as well. Less the four hundred he will keep here to hold the crossing against any who would pursue you."
"What does he want in return?" asked Robb.
"You'll be taking on his son Olyver as your personal squire. He expects a knighthood in good time."
"Fine, fine."
"There's more," said Aspen cautiously, seeing how Lady Catelyn fidgeted with her fingers.
"There always is," muttered Greatjon.
Lady Catelyn hesitated. "Arya will marry his son Waldron when they both come of age."
"She won't be happy about that," said Robb with a weak smirk.
Aspen urged Lady Catelyn to continue. "And... when the fighting is done... you will marry one of his daughters. Whichever you prefer. He has a number he thinks will be... suitable."
The lords all looked at Robb, who nodded slowly, "I see. Did you get a look at his daughters?"
Theon snickered, causing Lady Catelyn to grimace. "I did. One was..." she trailed off. "Do you consent?"
"Can I refuse?" Robb muttered.
"Not if you want to cross."
"Then I consent."
He remained serious as they packed up their tents and began to move out again. Aspen assured her father that Lord Frey's daughters weren't ugly, but perhaps were unremarkable compared to the Northern girls, including them. She still seemed to think that Thyrsa was a better option, something her sister did not wish to think about.
"Doesn't matter if they're unremarkable or not," said Greatjon as they rode. "A bargain has been struck and it must be honored. We do not know how long it will take. Lord Frey has many children. Even if they are not good-looking, surely there is one who will keep the boy entertained. As your mother did with me."
"There's a difference there," said Hother. "Mother was beautiful. You chose one another."
"Aye. She was beautiful. And she was a great warrior, too. I assure you, the latter is what I fell in love with. The looks were the bonus." He laughed heartily, reaching out to thump Arnal on the back. "And because of it you lot look good, not like your father, eh?"
Esther and Sigrid were clearly the spitting image of Saga. They had her blonde hair, her serious expression with high cheekbones and a pointed nose. Aspen and Thyrsa had always looked a tad different, though Aspen at least resembled her mother amidst her dark head of hair.
Thyrsa always thought she looked like a blend of her two parents, not similar enough to either individually. The boys had all inherited their father's strong nose, dark hair, and what was said to be a perpetually 'angry' expression. Their children were similar, though all their mothers were also quite beautiful and gave them fairer traits. If anything, Thyrsa felt she resembled Maege Mormont more than she did her mother or father; families were strange that way.
Once they crossed the Trident, they divided themselves. The majority of them would advance to Jamie's army in the Whispering Wood, set to give him a crushing defeat after all the battles he'd won in the Riverlands so far. Two thousand men, brave souls who would surely perish, were to be sent out to battle Tywin Lannister's forces. They would lose, but cause a sufficient enough distraction for them to dismantle Jamie's army and take him captive before Tywin had any realization of what was going on.
The Umbers insisted on sticking with Robb. They moved quickly, leaving Thyrsa absolutely no time to practice. She supposed it was now or never. All her experiences fighting animals and her own siblings was going to come out; it would either help them and keep her alive or she would find herself as one of the bodies buried at day's end. She didn't know what the outcome would be.
"Stay close, little sister," said Hother as they readied themselves to charge. "And whatever you do, don't show mercy. Aim to kill. They won't be sympathetic towards us."
"Better yet," said Aspen, trading swords with Arnal, "kill them as fast as you can. There's more of them... we have to make up for it somehow. I wager each of us has to kill three of them to make it work. Let's make Mother proud, shall we?"
Thyrsa wondered if Saga would have applauded them.
It was messy. Far messier than hunting, but not as messy as sparring. She realized she wasn't used to the feeling of blood splattering onto her face. She had no idea it came out hot and sticky, nearly blinding her when it landed near her eye. She had never seen men burst open at the neck, she'd never heard them cry out in pain.
All around her people were dying, Stark and Lannister men alike. It was too loud, too much. She had no choice but to fight her way forward, clearing the path for Robb to head toward the Kingslayer. Her arms and legs ached, she felt like her body would drop. But it couldn't. If she staggered, she would be killed. If she wasn't, she could be taken prisoner and she'd already heard the horrible stories about what happened to women who were taken as spoils of war.
She couldn't be another body on the ground. She wouldn't be another body trapped in a tent.
"Here," said Aspen, offering her a pouch of wine. "Drink and pour some on your wounds. You did well, little sister."
Thyrsa gulped it down, then held out her arms, crying out in discomfort as it stung on the cuts she'd received. "I don't even know how many I killed..."
"That's a good sign," said Arnal, who was adjusting his shoulder after it was left bent at an odd angle. "Means you killed several men. You pulled your weight, little bear."
"A good start," added Hother, "but not the end. Come, we have to ride back now." He grabbed onto Arnal, popping his shoulder back into place. "Smalljon will be fuming at Last Hearth when he finds out. We captured the Kingslayer."
"Are we going to kill him?" asked Thyrsa as they went looking for their horses.
"No, of course not," said Aspen. "We need him alive to get the other Starks back." Arnal seemed to disagree, as did Hother, but Aspen glared at them, insisting she was right.
"All that aside," said Hother, reaching out for his horse's reins. "A death on the battlefield is too honorable for the Kingslayer. When he dies, he will die screaming and begging for mercy."
They rode back proudly, all covered in blood, tired and sweaty, some more injured than others. They followed Robb through the Whispering Wood until they saw Lady Catelyn and Ser Rodrik in the clearing, glad to see that they were back. Robb's face was incredibly dirty, but he bore a smirk of pride, pleased with the day's outcome.
"By the time they knew what was happening, it'd already happened," he said, throwing the Kingslayer at his mother's feet.
Jamie Lannister panted, sitting up on his knees and staring at Lady Catelyn. "Lady Stark. I'd offer you my sword but I seem to have lost it."
"It is not your sword I want," said Lady Catelyn venomously. "Give me my daughters back. Give me my husband."
He looked down. "I've lost them, too, I'm afraid."
"Kill him, Robb!" urged Theon. "Send his head to his father. He cut down ten of our men, you saw him."
"He's more use to us alive than dead," reasoned Robb, which made Aspen nudge Thyrsa for emphasis.
"Take him away and put him in irons," commanded Lady Catelyn.
Greatjon lifted him up, pressing his sword to Jamie's throat. He, like his sons, had a different opinion than Aspen, Robb, and Lady Catelyn, but he would do whatever Robb commanded.
"We could end this war right now, boy," said Jamie. "Save thousands of lives. You fight for the Starks, I fight for the Lannisters. Swords or lances, teeth, nails– choose your weapons and let's end this here and now."
Thyrsa looked at her siblings, who nodded to confirm that was she was thinking was correct. Jamie had requested one-on-one combat.
Robb was not going to falter so easily; he wasn't that arrogant. "If we do it your way, Kingslayer, you'd win. We're not doing it your way."
"Come on, pretty man," said Greatjon mockingly, dragging Jamie away. He alone could have defeated Jamie if he wanted to, but it wouldn't mean the same for an Umber to best a Lannister. It had to be Robb, and if he couldn't or wouldn't, it was out of the question.
The men began to cheer, causing Robb to frown. Thyrsa and Theon approached as he whispered, "I sent two-thousand men to their grave today."
"The bards will sing songs of their sacrifice," reasoned Theon.
"Aye," said Robb. "But the dead won't hear them." He spoke aloud to his men, "One victory does not make us conquerors. Did we free my father? Did we rescue my sisters from the Queen? Did we free the North from those who want us on our knees? This war is far from over."
Thyrsa sat with her siblings, tending her wounds and mimicking what they did with theirs. They weren't complaining, only pouring wine and stitching as needed, already patched up and waiting for their bodies to adjust before the next battle came. And it would come soon.
The casualties began to roll in, names called out to identify the fallen. Daryn Hornwood, Sigrid's husband, had died in the battle. Many of Lord Karstark's sons were lost. Two thousand men that would never return home, would never see their families again. Necessary, but still painful. Thyrsa mourned all of them, even the ones she'd never known.
"My lady," said a knight at the door. "Lord Stark has requested your presence in his tent."
Aspen and Arnal began to 'ooh,' while Hother clapped and whispered, "He wants to celebrate that victory."
"Shut up, it's not like that," said Thyrsa, annoyed. They'd tease her even though they knew the truth. Robb trusted her, that was all.
She was led into his tent, where he sat alone, looking down at the map. She still didn't understand what many of the symbols over it meant, but she hoped to learn as they progressed.
"You wished to see me?" she asked, closing the flap of the tent behind her.
"Yes," he said. "Do you believe I did the right thing, keeping the Kingslayer hostage?"
"Do you really need my approval, Robb?"
"I don't. But it wouldn't hurt to hear another opinion. My mother is desperate to get the girls and my father back. I don't blame her– I am, too. But she thinks only of that, not what costs are being forced by it. We have to be strategic. Theon, your father, your brothers, most of the lords, they think Jamie should be killed. Take out the strongest of the Lannister armies, minimize any risk that he may escape and send word of our movements to his family. I believe in my choice but I... I admit, it is difficult knowing not everyone shares that sentiment."
"For the record," said Thyrsa, sitting down, "my sister believes you did the right thing. Killing him will anger the Lannisters. Tywin will already be upset that we snuck him out from right under their noses. We need a bargaining chip, and that is the Kingslayer. They won't return the girls and your father for him alone. We need more. We need to keep him until we have everything they want in exchange. Give them no choice but to negotiate. I thought it made sense to kill him, initially, but hearing what you and Aspen have to say about it brings me a different perspective. Killing rashly does no one any good. You're right, you have to be strategic. The goal remains the same, to get them back. But you must consider the costs to your men. We've lost some today; how can we compensate? Surely giving the Kingslayer back dead or alive this soon won't gain us anything."
He smiled. "Indeed." He rubbed the back of his head, settling across from her. "I admit, the whole day I've been uneasy. The choices I make, they affect everyone. I am trying to listen to the advice given to me. But when men like your father and Lord Glover, both seasoned warriors, give oppose counsel... I have to decide which to follow, or forge my own path that combines the approaches. Testing new things, I don't know if it will be better or worse. And if I weigh the opinion of one more heavily than the other, the men might feel I distrust them or do not value them."
"They have to understand you value them," said Thyrsa. "We're your banners, we all care about your father and the girls too. I don't have younger siblings but I imagine what I would feel if any of my nephews or nieces were taken... I would do anything to get them back. At the end of the day you must make the choice that is best for everyone. My father will say what is best based on the Umber way. Lord Glover will do the same, the Karstarks, everyone has their own theories. You may have your own. You must take risks to advance. As long as you talk it out with someone that knows better... you can receive a fruitful amount of feedback." She tilted her head, "is something else bothering you?"
"Yes," he admitted. "I always knew marriages were useful for alliances. My mother was betrothed to my father's brother but when he died, they were married quickly and he immediately left to fight in Robert's Rebellion. My aunt Lysa, she was used for an alliance with the Lord of the Vale, the late Jon Arryn. I suppose I hoped that my life would never come to that."
"You grow to like people, eventually," said Thyrsa. "Most of my siblings were wed to individuals they hardly knew. But everyone plays their role and tries to be kind; that's what matters. It's not as unbearable as you think."
She tapped on her fingers with each sibling she spoke of, "My sister, Esther, her husband is Wendel Manderly. He's stubborn, and so is she. A terrible combination. But in it they found a shared desire to keep their children safe. They've bonded over it, that protective instinct, and now after seven years, they've grown to protect each other, too.
"My sister, Sigrid, thought Daryn Hornwood was perfect from the moment she met him." She sighed, realizing that soon, a raven would arrive at Last Hearth to tell her that her husband was dead. "He wasn't so fond of her, or it seemed so, because he was quite shy. She helped him come out of his shell and he helped her reveal to us how she truly felt about all the things we'd grown up doing. They made each other stronger. Their marriage brought honesty and respect. She came to love him.
"As for my brothers, well, Smalljon and Hother were just happy that their brides were kind and motherly. In the end, looks don't truly matter unless you make them matter. And they shouldn't, because you could go blind the day after you are wed, your own face could be scarred in a hunting mishap. My father says my mother always taught us to focus on the emotional, not the physical. She believed our bodies were only shells to protect our true being. In the end it wouldn't matter. We'd die and our looks wouldn't matter. What would is if we'd helped anyone, if we'd left children behind, if we were known for any great deeds."
She traced her fingertips over where Last Hearth resided on the map. "I suppose what I mean to say is that you might find happiness if you make it your mission to. The Frey girls may not be the best looking but in the end that is not what matters. We all have duties, unfortunately. Alliances– making and maintaining them. We do what we must to survive. And we find what is beautiful in that sacrifice. We make the best of it, and it may turn out not to be so bad after all."
"I can see why you've not been married," he teased.
"That's quite rude! I simply don't want to be."
"Neither do I. I want to find someone of my own. Someone who... quips back and has their own values, is strong about them. Who is gentle and sweet, who cares for everyone, no matter who they are."
"There are plenty of girls like that," she assured him. "I don't doubt one of the Frey girls may have those traits."
"And you? What traits do you look for?"
"I want someone... who makes an impression. Who will hunt with me and is filled with passion. Loyal and true, who understands when I want things a certain way and doesn't question it. When I leave Last Hearth I don't want to be confined to another castle elsewhere. I want to be more free than that. You know, I often think that marriage has no point. I'd rather serve on the Wall and have no responsibilities. At least then I'd have a bit of excitement."
"You could join my brother up there, if they let women be part of the Night's Watch. I am sure he would like you as much as I do. It hasn't been easy, being the oldest."
"If they let me, I'd join in a heartbeat. Trust me, being the youngest is no small feat either. I would have liked to have more siblings."
"As would I. But before me, because I have plenty after."
She smiled weakly. "We'll get them back, Robb. One way or another."
"That's my hope," he said quietly.
Her siblings were already asleep when she slipped back into their tent, lowering herself beside Aspen and tucking her hands under her head. Her sister stirred lightly, shushed by Thyrsa so she wouldn't wake up.
They all looked so peaceful. As if they hadn't just killed about twenty men each. The blood may have been washed off, but Thyrsa could still remember the hot splashes as she sliced the Lannister soldiers apart. She could remember how they cried out, how she'd had to tune out the loud noises behind her because she couldn't risk losing focus.
What about their families? Did those men truly believe in what they fought for? Aspen might've said all Lannisters were the same. Arrogant and power-hungry. Hother would've said they all deserved to die. Arnal liked killing because it was fun; Lannisters were playthings to him.
She wondered if her mother had always been alright with the idea of war. Was Thyrsa the only one questioning what they did? The only one who wasn't sure she liked it?
This is what I was taught to do, this is how I serve my liege lord, this is how I bring honor to my family.
I'm not sure I like it. I have to do it so we can win the war, then after that, I don't know. I am not sure I will do this again when we emerge victorious.
If.
It was still going to take some getting used to. Killing was in her blood but not in her heart.
She didn't understand the emotions that drove someone in battle. Her siblings all had something different, but what was hers? What should it be, what could it be?
Hother fought out of fear. Fear that their liege lord, the Stark girls, his wife and sons, and the rest of the family would all suffer if he didn't do his part.
Arnal fought to chase the pleasurable feeling he'd always had when he accomplished something. The feeling that coursed through him when he won anything.
Aspen fought for pride. Protecting them and the North brought her honor, made her feel closer to the heroes that came before them. She needed it to show everyone that she was better than they assumed.
Thyrsa was afraid of what would come. She wanted to make her father and mother proud. She wanted it to be over so she could go home and see the beautiful faces of her nephews and nieces.
But the war would not end anytime soon.
A raven came in the morning, a sign that they'd already failed. King Joffrey had executed Lord Eddard Stark, the girls still captive and at the mercy of the wretched Queen Cersei. There was no telling what would happen now.
All Thyrsa was sure of was that they wouldn't be going home.
Not now, maybe not ever.