(Collab Sini & Phoebas)

[b]Westeros, The Riverlands, Riverrun[/b]

With a lot of his kinsmen off to Lord Jasper Arryn’s tourney at Gulltown, Lord Calder had left his cousin Ser Benfred in charge of the Twins as its castellan. Spring had come a few months ago, and no real issue demanded he stay at the Crossing. In fact, he had been tempted to attend the event at Gulltown, for the young Arryn was an indirect neighbour of him. Who knows if they need ever band together against the mountain clansmen. Raiding mountain men were unlikely, though, and the Crannogmen were also quiet. Those few he had caught and hung at posts along the marshes had done their jobs as a deterrent, it seemed.

Riverrun always seemed more cheerful than the Twins, the air warmer and filled with the scent of flowers instead of rotting leaves or sheep, the people smiling more. Even the food being served tasted better. Then again, Riverrun lay at the heart of the Riverlands, well-protected and cherished, amidst green pastures and gentle streams.

“My lord,” Calder said when he heard the door open and a respectable looking man entered. Lord Tully had long changed colour for grey in his beard and hair, but had maintained the astute and genial demeanour of a vibrant man. “My gratitude for the wine and cheese.” Lord Frey had genuinely enjoyed the nourishment a maid had deposited some time ago on the table in the solar.

“Frey!” boomed Janos, crossing the richly patterned carpet to clasp forearms with his guest, a white-toothed grin splitting his aged features, “Is that all they gave you? You need meat, man! Darla? Darla!” A young serving girl who hid her face behind her mass of mousy-brown hair scurried into the room, her balance a bit disturbed by her speedy curtsy.

“Yes m’lord?” she asked, the motion revealing a substantial gap between her front teeth.

“Get Lord Frey a platter of that fine roast we’ve got in the kitchens. And some fruit while you’re at it. I feel rather partial to a plum.” The girl curtsied again, this time even more sloppily, and rushed from the room to do as she was bid. Turning back to his guest, he gestured towards the finely upholstered armchairs flanking the intricately carved hardwood table about which the rest of the chamber was organized. “Please, sit! Make yourself comfortable. I will not have it said you received anything but true Tully hospitality.” He leaned towards his companion, whispering conspiratorily. “Mother would kill me.”

With a deep chuckle, Lord Janos lowered himself easily into an armchair of his own, reaching for a silver goblet, the stem a vivid representation of a leaping trout, and filling it with wine. Taking a long sip, he eyed the other man over the rim of his cup, his cobalt blue eyes twinkling in the bright light let in through the immense latticed windows. “So tell me Frey,” he teased, his tone light, “You’ve always been rather sharp. Why do you think I have called you here? Come, you must have a guess.”
The man was too jovial, too likeable. It was fitting Janos had a trout for his sigil, for he was among other men and women like a fish in water. In fact, it was thanks to Tully’s doing that the Brackens of Stone Hedge had been able to retain their lands and rights. Janos had shielded them from Bloodraven’s wrath, and successfully so. 

Calder returned Janos’s playful look with is trademark stoicism. “I do not think I have given cause to offense. And the last incident between myself and Lord Darry dates from two years ago, so this is not a reprimand,” Lord Frey thought out loud. “Instead you offer me food, wine and hospitality, which means you have a proposition to make, or a favour to ask. Mayhaps even a combination of the two.” Calder followed his bannerlord’s example and lifted the silver trout cup to his lips. The wine was honeyed, since it had been made of small, tart grapes that grew on the gentle slopes of the Trident bassin. The vintages it yielded were slightly too… sharp and so honey or fruity nectar dulled it and added to the overall quality.

“Oh bravo!” cheered Janos, knocking his fist against the tabletop in approval, “You are a clever man! Darla, haven’t I always said how clever the Lord Frey can be?” Darla, who had just entered the room with a massive plate stacked high with generous slabs of steaming roast cooked to juicy perfection and a large, gilded bowl filled with fruit balanced in her tiny arms, nodded her head jerkily.

“Yes m’lord,” she confirmed, quickly placing the food on the table between them before retreating to the edge of the room to wait, lest she be called again to offer service. 

“I do indeed have something to ask of you, my dear Frey,” Janos stated, his calloused fingers rooting around in the bowl until the tips located the familiar, smooth skin of his favored fruit, “But I will start off with a simple observation. You are two-and-thirty years of age, without wife, and have been for some years now. I, on the other hand, am plagued by a never-ending gaggle of girls, most of marriageable age, that their mother,” he spoke the word with acidic scorn, as if it soured his mouth, “would see wed. Quickly.” Janos took a bite of plum, chewing fully and swallowing before continuing. “Surely your masterful mind has already thought of a solution to both of our problems.” Janos’s eyes sparkled with something akin to mischief and he leaned back in his chair, waiting for Calder’s response.

Calder swirled the Riverland wine around in his mouth. It irked him slightly that Janos kept referring to him by his last name, and last name only. No title, no first name, just Frey. As if they had been best of friends for eternity. Matters of marriage always made him think of Janei Piper, his dead wife. She had died when giving birth to his youngest, and only son, in spite of having squeezed out four healthy baby girls before young Walder’s coming. Perhaps that lay at the root of why he did not like his son and heir, the fact Walder was a difficult and… well, mean toddler did not help. A single son… children died all the time, perhaps a second one could not hurt? “Ah, I see. It is only their mother who wishes to see them be given husbands then? I am sure there are many suitable suitors out there, nay?” The notion of a Tully bride was appealing, but it would not do to appear desperate or blindly accept before brokering the deal.

Janos sighed heavily, his vital strength fleeing his body for a moment, making him appear much more his age. “I will not feign having any particular fondness for my offpsring,” he stated simply, looking directly into Calder’s gray eyes, “But they are my children, and that distinction comes with certain… priviliges.” He took another bite of plum, a bit of his joviality returning as he swallowed the sweet flesh. “But I am sure you are already well aware of this, Lord Frey. Any of my daughters would be a good match.” Janos hesitated a moment, trying think of the proper way to phrase his next statement.

“And yet…?” Calder ventured. He enjoyed seeing Janos wriggle like this, as more comparisons with fish came to mind.

“Cheeky,” muttered Janos with a laugh, placing the stone of his plum on the silver plate before him, “And yet, my honorable Lord Calder Frey, I ask you here not to take any of my daughters to wife, but one daughter in particular. Joan,” he paused again, his eyes gauging his companion’s reaction, “My… eldest.”

Lord Calder placed his goblet of wine back on the table, purposefully slowly, then proceeded to fold his hands together in his lap and merely look at his liege lord. Silence stretched out between the two men, as he contemplated the proposal. He pursed his lips before breaking it. “What makes you think I will be able to… breach the castle where so many have failed? Is it because I have two?”

The Lord of Riverrun blinked a couple of times before his laughter rent the silence in the room asunder. “Clever and funny,” chuckled Janos when he had calmed down a bit, “I always knew I liked you, Frey.” Wiping one last mirthful tear from his eye, Janos sombered a bit as he thought of his daughter. So stubborn, so willful, so wild. His mother often said that she was the child that took the most after him, but frankly he simply didn’t see it. “Joan requires a firm hand,” he said finally, “Even the stormiest seas break against the rocks. And I most highly doubt that you, Black Calder, will have too much difficulty in that arena.” Lord Tully didn’t bother to mention the ultimatum he would attach to the engagement: Joan would marry Calder Frey without complaint or never again would she be welcome in the house of her father.

“I will be frank with you, Calder,” Janos said, crossing his arms about his burly chest, “Joan is hardly the comeliest of my offspring, but by all accounts she is the most… tolerable. Her age is of course an issue, but the chambermaids tell me her monthly cycle is still strong. You will get a few child-bearing years out of the girl yet, and if her mother is any sort of example they could prove to be rather fruitful. Such an alliance would be of benefit, to both of us. Do you not think so?” 

So, Calder it was suddenly. It probably suited better for a son-in-law. “That is beside the point, my lord. As your bannerman, I already owe you my allegiance. Have I given you a reason to doubt my loyalty?” The question hung in the air, unignorable like a bloated corpse. Calder Frey waved his hand. “A bad joke,” he said apologetically. Nevertheless it was a genuine test to see if Janos Tully had not laid a trap he was walking into. “I would gladly wed Joan Tully, for I am convinced that bonds of blood with your House brings with it a lot of… generosity.”

Janos breathed in deeply, righting himself in his chair so that he showed his full stature before regarding his companion seriously. By the Seven, he just needed to get some of these bloody girls off of his hand. “Yes,” he said finally, “I thought you would come to that sooner rather than later.” He lifted his goblet and took a steady swig of wine, using the fork in his other hand to serve Calder and himself some of the roast. “I like you, Calder,” he said when he had drained the last dregs from his cup, “Therefore I will let you name a price. If it is within my means, I swear I will do my best to grant it.”

“I have a thing for bridges, and some experience with them too,” he said. Particularly with making money off of them. “I want Fairmarket as Joan’s dowry.” Calder looked his liege lord dead in the eye, not insolently, but patiently. The town and its bridge were a high price, but not beyond reason. Control of the town and its bridge would make him master of the Blue and Green Fork, capable to project his influence and power from the Twins down to the Red Fork and Riverrun. Not even the Mallisters in Seagard would be his immediate contender any longer.

Lord Tully chuckled darkly. “You do not pull your punches, do you Lord Frey?” No, this man was sharp. Possibly too sharp for his own good, but only time would tell. Janos laced his fingers together, leaning forward to meet Calder’s gaze. It was a gamble, giving that amount of political power to a man as intelligent (and therefore dangerous) as Calder Frey, but Janos trusted him, as he had trusted his predecessor, and when he wed Joan the two houses would be bonded by blood. Yes, thought Janos, he would grant him this favor, see how things played out and simply hope for the best. “Very well,” he said finally, taking a bite of roast and winking at the younger man, “It seems we have an accord.”

Calder lifted his cup ceremoniously. “To bridges and brides.”