The young King in the North stood dressed in a light shirt, his sword resting on a nearby stand. In front of him, Talisa Maegyr, his pregnant wife, sat in a chair with a soft smile as they spoke.
—Lord Frey has been more understanding than I expected, —Robb said calmly—. Not only has he forgiven me for breaking my betrothal, but he welcomed us with hospitality and offered his congratulations. He may have a bad reputation, but he's proven to be a good ally.
Talisa frowned slightly, crossing her arms over her belly.
—Don't you think that's a bit too generous? —she asked skeptically—. I'm sure he expects something in return. Maybe he's looking for a new match for one of his sons… after all, your sisters are with you now.
Robb smiled, taking her hand affectionately.
—I don't think he's that bad. Just by marrying into House Tully, it's clear he wants a strong alliance with the North.
It was then that the sound of slow, sarcastic clapping filled the room.
Robb turned immediately, his hand instinctively reaching for his sword's hilt—until he saw him.
A man sat comfortably in a chair by the fireplace, legs crossed, wearing an expression of utter disdain on his sharp features. His dark hair framed crimson eyes that shimmered with mockery in the shadows.
—Bravo —Edward Drakul said with a mocking smile—. You must be the most insufferably naïve person I've ever seen.
Robb frowned, and Talisa clung to his arm, startled.
—Who are you? —the young king asked warily.
Edward ignored the question as he stood with elegant, unhurried ease.
—Surely you inherited that stupidity from your father —he continued with scorn—. Remind me, how did he end up again?
Robb tensed and, growling with anger, lunged for his sword—but before his hand could even brush the hilt, Edward lazily raised a hand.
—Don't move.
Robb froze in place, his body rigid like a statue. His eyes widened with fury and disbelief as he struggled to move, but Edward's vampiric compulsion held him with impossible strength.
—It's incredible —Edward went on, folding his arms—. My lord went to great lengths to save your family, and yet you've walked straight into a massacre. All of you. Including your sisters… who, by the way, I saved.
Robb's eyes widened with recognition, and he struggled to speak.
—You… I remember you… —he managed with difficulty—. Why are you here?
Edward looked at him like he was a particularly stupid child.
—My mission is to keep the Stark family alive, —he replied with an exaggerated sigh—. Apparently, against their own wishes, since you lot seem determined to die like a whore charging a sack of gold.
Talisa, until then too shocked to speak, cautiously stepped forward.
—What do you mean by that?
Edward cast her a bored glance before replying.
—Walder Frey has conspired with the Bolton's and the Lannisters to murder every Stark present. Tomorrow, during the wedding, he will betray you, kill your husband, his mother, his bannermen, and any man bearing the direwolf sigil. The North will fall into Bolton hands… and your husband's head will be sent to King's Landing as a gift.
Talisa went pale.
—No… that can't be…
Robb gritted his teeth, fighting the compulsion.
—Lord Bolton… he's one of my most loyal generals… —he growled, eyes full of denial.
Edward snorted with contempt.
—By the gods, Stark, do you have shit for brains? Do you have any idea how many have died already because of your stupidity? The Bolton's will kill you and your family, and finally take control of the North. Don't you get it? You're an inconvenience. In war, they were loyal because their interests aligned with yours, but Tywin Lannister gave them a better offer.
Robb trembled, jaw clenched in frustration.
Edward stepped closer and leaned in slightly.
—This is my last free warning, Stark, —he said in a dangerous tone—. If I have to step in to save your life, it'll be under new terms. If you survive this, it will be because you swore fealty to my lord… or you'll watch your family die.
A deadly silence filled the room.
Edward released Robb from the compulsion with a snap of his fingers, allowing him to regain control of his body. The young king breathed heavily, eyes blazing with fury.
Edward smirked.
—Enjoy the wedding, King in the North —he said mockingly.
And just as effortlessly as he had appeared, Edward vanished into the darkness.
The night passed.
Robb Stark didn't sleep—not only because of Edward's ominous words, but because of the unpleasant sensation his sorcery had left behind. Losing control over his own body was something any man would find disturbing, and he was no exception.
Unfortunately for Robb, Vlad had given Edward free rein to act as he saw fit, including, among other things, the use of his powers.
But Robb didn't know what to make of the man's intentions. He couldn't blindly trust Edward's words, yet he wasn't foolish enough to ignore them when he had nothing to lose.
He quickly arranged for his very recent wife and sisters to be smuggled out of the castle and taken to the camp, where they would await news.
Even so, convincing his mother to leave the Twins along with his sisters and Talisa proved impossible. Catelyn Stark flatly refused, arguing that it would be dishonorable and a grave insult to Lord Frey.
So, with no other option, Robb sent the girls away and attended the banquet, determined to see for himself whether the Bolton's had truly betrayed the North.
Before the celebration, he warned his men, ordering them to stay sober and protect his stubborn mother if anything went wrong.
As for Edward's warning about saving him only if he pledged loyalty to Vlad Drakul Targaryen, Robb thought ironically that the man seemed to take Stark vows far too lightly.
The wedding between Edmure Tully and Roslin Frey went off without a hitch. The ceremony was solemn, vows were exchanged, and the guests clapped politely as the young couple was escorted to the feast.
The banquet began shortly after, with tables laden with roast meats, black bread, and ale. Music filled the hall, the scent of spiced wine hung in the air, and the cheerful clamor of conversation gave the impression of a genuine celebration.
Everything seemed in order.