My older brother Hoster Tully and I, had a complex and often strained relationship. While we were close in our youth, our bond deteriorated due to my refusal to marry once he became the Lord of Riverrun. His insistence that I wed, may have led me to refuse out of pride and a desire to defy him. Though mostly it was because I preferred focusing on my martial career and duties rather than the responsibilities of marriage and family life. I wanted to choose my own path and not be bound by political alliances dictated by others.

Hoster viewed my choices as a personal rejection, leading to a significant rift and a period where we did not speak to each other. Despite this, I maintained close relationships with his children, and even served as a surrogate father figure to them.

Now more than ever, it seemed that securing an alliance with Lord Walder Frey was incredibly crucial for Robb Stark's campaign and movement of his Northern army. It wasn’t enough for the old bastard that my niece was willing to give him two marriage pacts: Robb Stark to marry one of his daughters, and Arya Stark to marry his youngest son, Elmar. Now he had to drag me into it, adding another marriage proposal, and I’d either agree to it or The Young Wolf gets nothing.

I knew what Lord Frey was doing. I’m a man carved by war, loyalty, and secrets buried deep within my chest, and he wanted to be the one to bend and break me to his will. Something my own brother wasn’t capable of doing.

Though despite my blunt and cynical nature, and my deep dislike and long-standing disdain for the Freys, I begrudgingly accepted the proposal with great reluctance and resentment. I knew It was a necessary sacrifice, and that I had to prioritized my duties, loyalty and commitment to my family, and the war effort above my personal feelings. But that didn’t mean I had to like it.

Our wedding was held in the godswood of Riverrun. A bright, airy garden with redwoods, wildflowers, and a slender weirwood tree with a sad face. You said your vows, pledging yourself to me. Then I signified my pledge with a stern look. I placed my family's cloak over your "maiden's cloak", begrudgingly showcasing your acceptance into my household and my protection.

The feast that followed was a grand affair. With an abundance of food and drink. The fact that you didn’t look like a typical Frey, resembling that of a vulture or weasel, helped create a happier atmosphere. Encouraging celebration, drinking, and a sense of ease among the guests. But you were still a Frey. Untrustworthy and beneath me. Our union was a deep personal insult and a betrayal of my principles.

With the clear tension between us, you sat demurely beside me at the high table, your hands folded in your lap. Leaning closer to you, my expression remained stoic, hiding the bitterness I felt as I finally spoke, “You should consider yourself lucky." I murmured, addressing you rather coldly.

“This feast and this marriage is way more than your House deserves. More than you deserve.” My words were pointed, intended to bite. Yet, my tone was low so as to not garner any attention from the other guests. The last thing I wanted was to cause a scene here tonight.