The Crossing was exactly as Jon remembered it as was on his journey towards Riverrun. A twin set of keeps, squat, grey, and ugly with a large stone bridge spanning across them, wide enough for two wagons to ride abreast. The keeps themselves were peppered with arrow slits, complete with a thick iron portcullis and a solid gate. There was no majesty or grace to the castles, not like Winterfell or Riverrun. The builders had worked with one intention in mind; to make the castles hard as hell to take.
What made the Crossing so formidable were the twin keeps themselves. Any attacking army would have to break into the first keep on one side of the river and then cross the bridge and attack the second keep while being exposed to arrow fire, rocks, burning oil, and whatever else the defenders could hurl at them. The easiest way to take the Twins would be to assault both castles at the same time and spread out the defenders. Unfortunately, the only way that was possible would be to send part of the army south towards Harrenhal, where there was the only other bridge that crossed the Green Fork. It would take weeks for the other force to get into place. That was time and an option that was unavailable to the northern and riverlander force.
To put it bluntly, the home of the Freys was just as annoying as the family that presided inside.
Jon felt a small smile form on his lips as he remembered when he and Sam had crossed the bridge so many months ago.
Flashback
"House Frey isn't that old." Sam rambled happily as he and Jon passed through the western keep and continued on their path towards the home of House Tully. "But it's quite amazing what they've been able to do."
Jon frowned slightly. He had not dealt with Lord Frey himself, but his steward, a cane-wielding man named Lothar. He had overcharged Jon on the price to cross the bridge, but had also insulted him multiple times once it had been made known that Jon's last name was 'Snow'.
It had been a sour interaction for Jon, and after spending only a few moments in the man's company, Jon had wanted nothing more than to be back on the road and leave the twin castles far behind.
"I'm not you'd say that if you had met the steward." Jon huffed.
Sam shrugged, still happily bliss. "You shouldn't take it to heart Jon, Lord Frey is known for his many children that are said to be constantly competing with each other. How would you feel if you were constantly arguing with your family?"
"I'd feel like I was back at the Wall," Jon muttered. "Just without the cold."
Sam laughed, bringing the conversation to an end and allowing Jon to brood in peace. The two rode on for the rest of the day and camped in the ruins of Oldstones, where Sam once again launched into a history lecture.
"King Tristifer IV Mudd was said to be one of the greatest kings of all the First Men," Sam said excitedly, walking around and looking at the ruins. "He won ninety-nine battles and lost only one when the seven Andal kings banded against him."
"Whatever happened to House Mudd?" Jon asked, leaning against the log he had laid his saddlebags on. It made for a convenient pillow and backrest.
Sam shook his head, taking his seat across from Jon close to the fire. "The same as many other houses I would guess. Time and war took its toll on the house till it was whittled down to nothing."
Jon nodded slowly. "My father always worried that the North was too weak." He said, his mind going to his father for some reason. "I heard him talk about it with Maester Luwin. Apparently, the numbers of some books don't match up."
Sam looked confused. "What does your father mean? The North helped form the backbone of Westeros when Robert Baratheon took the throne."
Jon shrugged. "I know, but I think my father believed that the North was weaker than it should have been."
"Wasn't the Company of the Rose formed after Torrhen Stark bent the knee to the Conqueror?" Sam asked.
"It was, but I think that the company was formed from a small group of nobles who didn't want to live under Targaryen rule. I can't imagine many northerners abandoning House Stark." Jon answered.
"So what will you do after the war?" Sam asked finally.
Jon sighed and leaned back, crossing his arms. "I'm not sure. It's been a long time since I've had so many paths open to me. Whatever it is, I want to help my brother." Jon looked at his large friend. "What about you?"
Sam hesitated, his round face half-illuminated by the flickering firelight. "I don't know." He said quietly. "I'm not used to making decisions for myself."
"Your father," Jon said, already knowing the answer.
Sam nodded. "I don't want to talk about it."
Jon shook his head, grabbing a small twig from the pile of extra firewood and throwing it at the bigger lad. It was a common tactic Robb had used many times with Jon whenever something was on Jon's mind and Robb wanted to help.
"We've spoken about my relationship with Lady Stark," Jon said. "You would think, for a woman who tried her best to make my life miserable, I don't hate her."
"You're a good person," Sam explained.
Jon shrugged. "That's not for me to say, but I realized after I tried to run away and spent a long night in the Wolfswood that, while there is one person who hates me, there are many more that love me. That's why I can talk about Lady Stark without feeling her sting."
Sam frowned. "You didn't grow up with my father."
"Did you grow up alone?" Jon challenged. "What about your mother, your sisters, or your brother? Perhaps you have been so focused on the abuse you received from your father that you forgot those who actually loved you."
Sam didn't speak for a long time, not even looking at Jon.
Jon waited patiently as Sam thought over what had been said. Jon knew he was right. Sam needed to get over the fear he had for his father and the sad memories that still tormented him. He couldn't run from it forever.
"Jon," Sam said quietly, still not looking at Jon.
"Yes?"
"Thank you."
Flashback
"Jon, Lord Frey has sent his response." Eddard Karstark said, breaking Jon from his thoughts.
The Bastard of Winterfell nodded and strode back towards the command tent, Ghost at his heels. He had stepped outside to wait while the Blackfish's messenger had given Walder Frey terms of surrender. Now, it was time to see what the old lord had to say.
"My lord father has rejected your terms." A chubby man bearing Frey colors sneered. The Frey messenger was finely dressed, with dark ringlets and a pointed beard. He leaned heavily on his cane.
"Walder Frey is no longer a lord of the Riverlands," Edmure growled. "He lost that privilege when he turned his back on King Robb."
Lame Lothar, the steward of the Twins, named after his twisted leg, shrugged, glaring at the assembled lords from his place at the other end of the table. Obviously, the man knew that he would not be touched, not while under a banner of peace that he had smartly brought with him.
"House Frey is recognized by King Joffrey as Lord Paramounts of the Riverlands, a title we claim through our relation to yourself Edmure and your marriage to my sister Roslin," Lothar said smugly.
The Lord of Riverrun gripped the hilt of his blade, looking like he wanted to run the cripple through there and then, but Patrek and Jason Mallister moved a little closer to the man, discreetly putting hands on his arms to hold him back.
"I told your father to stand down and surrender his castle. He said no." Ser Brynden said gruffly. "He has forfeited his right to any sort of courtesy offered to enemies of the King in the North."
Lothar scoffed. "Courtesy? That's a fine way of saying freeze your balls off at the Wall, Blackfish."
The old knight growled, gripping the edge of the table. "Get the hell out of here and tell your father that I will drag him from his bloody table and see him executed for treason. It is only a matter of time."
Lothar sneered. "The Crossing has never been taken. Keep that in mind. Attack us at your own risk. Fishes should learn to stay in the water."
"You're not only dealing with Tully's," Jon commented, stepping forward with Ghost at his side, the giant wolf baring his teeth at the steward.
The sight of the massive beast caused the man to go deathly pale with fright, unable to keep up his cocky composure. He hurriedly took a few steps back, stumbling over his bad leg. The others in the room chuckled darkly at the man's fear.
"I remember you." Lothar spat, trying to regain control of himself. "The bastard!"
Jon shrugged. "I know you as well," he answered. "The traitor."
Once again, the table laughed. Even the Blackfish smiled grimly as Jon faced down the Frey man. Out of all the Freys, Lame Lothar was just as black-hearted as his father. He was cocky and arrogant, and the old knight was enjoying the sight of the man stumbling over his words, constantly glancing towards the massive direwolf at Jon's side.
Sending one more glare towards Edmure, Jon, and Brynden, Lothar stalked out of the room, unable to respond to Jon's claim. When he was out of the room, Edmure slammed his fists on the table.
"Damn and blast that fucking family," he growled. "My father should have stripped them of lands and titles long ago."
"Better late than never." Lord Mallister agreed grimly. "Walder Frey is bold and has good reason to be. The Twins will be very hard to take and we don't have the men to spare on a quick and bloody attack."
"We have nearly thirty thousand men." Eddard Karstark countered.
"We must do our best to preserve our men lad." Galbert Glover advised. "The riverlanders must return to King Robb and the northern lords will need all the sword arms we can get once we return home."
"Rodrik Ryswell and his idiot daughter kept their men back when his grace first went south. Now, all their troops are bearing down on Eagle's Roost." Lord Hawker explained grimly.
While Robb and Jon had learned of the events at Winterfell, Roland Hawker had received bad news himself. His brother Bowden had sent one last message to his brother, telling him of how he had returned to Eagle's Roost to protect their ancestral home against the advancing might of the Ryswells and Dustins. Now, without the Western Fleet to protect the northern coastline, the ironborn were free to pillage and rape at their heart's desire.
Jon crossed his arms, looking over the map of the area as the conversation continued. Something was getting at him, a memory that he was trying to recall that had something to do with the Twins….
"Ser Brynden, have your men scout down here," Jon said suddenly, pointing to a spot a mile south of the castle.
The old knight frowned as the conversation came to a stop. "There's nothing there lad," he said. "Just the river."
Jon shook his head. "There isn't. I traveled with Tyrion Lannister when I went to the Wall. He said that there was a small grove of trees on either bank that hides a ford where horses could cross." he explained. "He used it to bypass the Twins when meeting with King Robert's party on their way to Winterfell."
Brynden's expression hardened. "How does the Imp know this?" He asked, his tone dangerously annoyed.
Jon glanced at Edmure, who had suddenly gone red. "He had heard it from a drunk riverlander during a feast," Jon said vaguely, trying to save the other man from what was about to happen.
"Like hell he did. Edmure told him!" Brynden growled, turning on his nephew. "Damn and blast it man!"
"Why is that so bad?" Eddard Karstark asked, mystified at the knight's anger.
The Blackfish huffed. "The ford is a secret known only to the Tully's. It's how I was able to get into the Riverlands so fast when the Kingslayer attacked Riverrun. Now, apparently, Tyrion Lannister knows of it and now so does everyone. All because my nephew got fucking drunk."
Jon looked between the two men before continuing with his point. "Nevertheless, we can use it to our advantage. Walder Frey expects us to attack one keep, then march across and attack the other."
"Of course he would expect that." the Greatjon grunted. "That's all we can bloody do."
Jon shook his head. "If we brought some of our cavalry across the ford and attacked the other keep at the same time, we might be able to breach and take Frey hostage."
Brynden nodded, instantly catching on. "We'll have the men bring grapples and lots of rope. We'll tear down the portcullis and the gate."
"You'll be shot full of arrows. It won't work." Lord Karstark said gruffly, crossing his arms.
"Not if we commit all our men to the attack here," Jon said, gesturing out the tent towards the nearest keep. "Eddard pointed it out already; we have more men. Whoever is commanding the defense will have to put most of his defenders in the western keep, if he has not already. By the time we're in on the other side, there will be nothing they can do. Try to charge across the bridge and be slaughtered, or stay holed up in their keep and wait to be killed while the doors below are broken open."
That last part had been the clincher for many in the room. The idea was daring, especially since the group of cavalry would have no siege weapons, but ropes and grapples would work just fine as a substitute.
"I'll make sure the men bring extra horses to help bring down the gates," Brynden said. "Lord Hawker, you will command the attack in two days' time, as close to dusk as you can. Do not be stupid, but commit as many men as you can without too much loss of life."
The Lord of Eagle's Roost nodded firmly. "We'll build a few fake rams, give the bastards hope when one breaks. When you're in position, we will begin the real attack."
"Speaking of which, how will we know that you're attacking the other gate?" Eddard Karstark asked.
"My bow Eyan will go with you." Lord Hawker answered. "He will shoot a signal arrow when the gate is down."
"A sound plan, my lord," Brynden said. "Lord Glover, Lady Mormont, you will come with Jon and I. We will seek out Walder Frey and deal with him while you two lead the others and secure the keep. Lord Hawker, when we are through and you begin your actual assault, secure the keep first and wait till I send word that the attack was a success."
The muscular northern lord nodded. "It will be done," he promised.
"Right, we have work to do," Brynden said, concluding the meeting. "In two days' time, we take the Twins."