The sound of thousands of footsteps marked the advance of the Northern army. Upon reaching the Green Fork, the river roared as if the very earth knew that war was approaching. Before them stood The Twins, the twin fortresses that guarded the passage between the North and the lands of the Trident—the only crossing for leagues around.
The war caravan halted before the covered bridge that connected the towers. Northern banners waved like a sea of wolves, bears, stags, and giants. At the front rode Eddard Stark, silent and solemn as always, and to his right, Halys Hornwood, whose expression was grave but confident. This was a moment he had been preparing for years.
The gates opened, and surrounded by his sons, grandsons, and even great-grandsons, appeared Lord Walder Frey, the Old Lord, as dry and hunched as ever, but with eyes sharp as blades.
"Welcome to The Twins, Lords of the North," he said, his voice as sharp as a winter river. "I expected nothing less than a tide of steel... and the arrival of my good son-in-law by future promise."
Halys was the first to dismount, and with a measured bow, greeted his ally.
"Lord Frey," he said firmly. "I come in the name of the North, under the banner of the Starks, and with the ties that have bound us for years. Today, the South burns, and the North answers. I hope the Trident will do the same..."
Lord Walder gave a crooked smile and raised his staff.
"Five thousand men," he announced. "A thousand knights, two thousand spearmen, a thousand archers, and another thousand in reserve. They will march under the banner of the river and the tower... thanks to you, Halys Hornwood, and the marriage that will soon unite our houses."
A murmur ran through the ranks. Even Eddard Stark, seldom given to emotion, nodded respectfully.
"Your support will not be forgotten, Lord Frey," Ned said solemnly. "The North will remember who stood when fire consumed the realm."
"I care not for the memory of the North, Lord Eddard," Walder replied with a dry laugh. "I care that the bridge stands when all is done. And Halys Hornwood promised me it would."
That night, the troops camped on both sides of the river, and the banners of the North and the Trident flew together for the first time. The alliances woven in times of peace now bore fruit. The army grew, and with it, the hope for justice.
Halys, from his tent, surveyed the camp. He knew the road south would be long, but he also knew few in Westeros had woven so strong a network. What had begun as a simple trade caravan... now carried the weight of a just war behind it.
The Bond of the Rivers
Three days later, the army crossed The Twins. In the fertile lands of the Trident, they were met with expectation and doubt. The Trident was a land of open wounds: Prince Rhaegar had abducted Lyanna Stark, yet not all dared to challenge King Aerys without certainty.
Certainty came in the form of marriage.
At Riverrun, under the watchful eyes of the elderly Lord Hoster Tully, a sober but deeply symbolic wedding was held. Eddard Stark wed Catelyn Tully, originally betrothed to his brother Brandon. The ceremony, presided over by septons of the Trident, was witnessed by lords of the North and the Riverlands.
The maester read the vows between Ned and Catelyn. The bride wore blue trimmed in silver, the colors of House Tully. Ned, still clad in his chainmail beneath his ceremonial doublet, took her hand without a hint of doubt.
"From this day until the last," he swore.
The applause was sincere but restrained. What they sealed was not only a marriage but a military and political alliance. By that oath, the Riverlands joined the rebellion.
The lords present exchanged looks. Things were accelerating. War was no longer a possibility, but a certainty.
War Council
At dusk, beneath a canvas pavilion embroidered with the silver trout of the Tullys, the leaders of the rebellion gathered: Eddard Stark, Halys Hornwood, Hoster Tully, Jason Mallister, Walder Frey, and emissaries of the Blackwoods and Brackens.
"Robert Baratheon has gathered his forces in the Vale of the Mander," Hoster said in a hoarse voice. "Jon Arryn holds the mountains. If we march decisively, and the Tyrells stay out, we have a real chance."
"We cannot trust the silence of the Reach," Halys said. "But every day we lose is a dagger in the heart of our cause. The key will be to take the Crossing of the Rivers and advance on the Deep South before the loyalists organize."
"And Harrenhal?" Jason Mallister asked.
"Burned or not, it's no obstacle," Ned replied. "If the houses of the Trident march, we all march together."
And so it was agreed. In the following days, the twenty-eight thousand men of the North and the five thousand Freys, along with more than fifteen thousand from the Tullys and their vassals, would march southward on what would become known as the Path of Steel and the Oath.
The war had begun.