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| Daniel Craig as Ser Maldred Rivers |
|
| name: |
Ser Maldred Rivers |
| house: |
Frey |
| father: |
A matter of some dispute; Lord Walder Frey, according to Maldred himself and Bastard Walder; Bastard Walder, according to Lord Walder Frey and most other Freys |
| mother: |
Myrilla, called of Lys, or of the Stepstones |
| spouse: |
None |
| issue: |
None |
|
| gender: |
Male |
| age: |
Seven-and-twenty |
| height: |
Five feet and ten inches |
| weight: |
Sinewy and spare |
| eyes: |
Murky glass-green-grey |
| hair: |
Muddy straw |
|
| honorific: |
Ser |
| title: |
None |
| position: |
Lately a Household Knight at the Twins, now serving as a protector for his various sisters and kinswomen, a messenger, bandit-hunter, inquisitor, and occasional light musician |
| predecessor: |
None |
| heir: |
None |
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|
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MARGARELON.
Turn, slave, and fight.
THERSITES.
What art thou?
MARGARELON.
A bastard son of Priam's.
THERSITES.
I am a bastard too; I love bastards. I am a bastard
begot, bastard instructed, bastard in mind, bastard in valour, in
everything illegitimate. One bear will not bite another, and
wherefore should one bastard? Take heed, the quarrel's most
ominous to us: if the son of a whore fight for a whore, he tempts
judgment. Farewell, bastard.
MARGARELON.
The devil take thee, coward!
- William Shakespeare, Troilus and Cressida
Background
Ser Maldred Rivers is a fellow with two fathers, one a great lord, Walder Frey, the other, like himself, a bastard, Walder’s eldest base son Walder Rivers. It is a curious and contorted story.
At the time of the War of the Ninepenny Kings, Lord Walder Frey, already in middle age and contentedly married to his third wife, of House Crakehall, did not, of course, accompany his Tully liege to battle in person. Instead, in what some considered a slight and others (mainly of the Twins) shrewdness, he sent a contingent led by his bastard son, who was already distinguishing himself as the House’s best field commander.
Back from the wars, a victor and a veteran, came Bastard Walder – but not alone. The girl riding on the crup of his saddle could have passed, some said, for a Lysene. Certainly her hair was yellow, and abundant, her complexion milky. As they approached the Twins by moonlight, both tresses and skin acquired a greenish tinge – whether from nature, or trepidation.
What followed was an unholy tangle. It became known in the castles of the Twins, much to the third Lady Frey’s ire, that Bastard Walder had relinquished his new Stepstones prize of war and offered her up as a present to his father. It was unlikely to have been a wholly willing offer, but soon enough, in any case, it was rescinded. Tiring either of his new mistress or his fiery wife’s complaints, Walder let the girl return to her first captor.
So it was that when she bore a son neither lordly nor bastard Frey were certain they had fathered it, or indeed eager to admit to doing so. It was a small matter to them, who had the charge of the seat’s latest brat. But it was not to be regarded as so unimportant by the child himself.
Named Maldred by his mother, Myrilla of the Stepstones, the boy was left to her rearing in an abandoned wing of the castle for some years. Whoever his father might be, this left him the better class of bastard – a whore’s son, not a peasant’s, and living relatively softly. Too softly for Bastard Walder, who, unwilling even to risk a milksop for a son, took the lad on as a squire of sorts just before his tenth nameday (not a matter of profound celebration).
Maldred Rivers was becoming a perverse and a difficult child in his way, lippy and slippery, defending himself with stinging rebukes as often as backhanded assaults. Uncompromisingly, he referred to Walder Frey as ‘lord father’ and Walder Rivers as ‘ser brother’. Perhaps endearingly, he dropped this pose for his favourite relation, his aunt, or sister, Jaimera Frey, and addressed her with deep respect always as ‘lady aunt’.
As the youth was proving a swordsman and archer just about out of the common run, and could sit straight in the saddle long enough to be unhorsed respectably, he was fitted out in arms by Lord Walder before the battle of the Trident, and knighted by his least loved kinsman Ser Hosteen Frey with a savage blow on the shoulders and ears after it, despite the fact that House Frey had foregone to strike a blow in the Rebellion.
Humdrum years passed as a household knight, hunting occasional wrongdoers through fen and swamp, and few things were notable about Maldred, save his cutting sarcasm and his devotion to his aunt (or sister). When he needs must joust, he wore her favour, though but rarely carried it far. Then, but lately, the Greyjoy Rebellion came.
At the Battle of Alderbrook Ser Maldred Rivers was not the only Frey, nor the only bastard, to stand out, but he was, by a stroke of luck, the only bastard Frey (his putative father Bastard Walder lay out of action with a touch of the pox). At the relief of Seagard, an attribute that had seemed formerly only to cement Maldred’s unsavoury repute – he is a left-handed swordsman – proved of great use in duelling across spiralling castle staircases. But he accompanied the vengeful Rivermen no further, a light wound preventing him from joining the assault on the Iron Isles. A light wound, or, if you believe illwishers, a preference for his ‘aunt’ Jaimera’s company.
The tricky little injury was apparently a long time healing, but when Jaimera Frey was sent to unwind certain legal controversies around and about Stonebridge, it was as if it had never been. Ser Maldred Rivers leapt up and begged his ‘lord father’ the favour of escorting and guarding her. To amused smiles all round, the boon was granted.
But while Lady Jaimera's mission appeared to fall by the wayside amid the gathering signs of war, Maldred, it seems, took the chance to follow his own path. Long after his lady aunt had returned to the Twins by a deceptive route, Maldred loitered in Stonebridge - perhaps to distract foes from Jaimera's true journey? In any case, the day before hostilities formally commenced he picked up an order from the Stonebridge smith, before riding fully armed back in the direction of the Twins in turn.
Certain rumours hinted at Maldred's presence in all manner of districts since - Heronhurst, the Roost, even back in Stonebridge? - but what's for sure is that he next turned up officially at the new-reared settlement of Highfield, now acting as escort to a cousin, Lady Lyanna Frey. From Highfield he departed in haste and dudgeon, to join his 'lady aunt' on a new mission - to Broadmoor Keep. He's perhaps an unlikely choice to attend an embassy either to former Charltons or Haighs, for an unaccountable yet unsheddable story insists that he fought against both Houses recently, in the cause of Nayland.
Physical Features
This knight in his later twenties is in his way a tough-looking proposition - but it is a subtle, stoaty way. More sinew and manouevrability is manifest in his long limbs than muscle. His height, a couple of inches shy of six feet, is neither exceptionally short or towering among the clan of the Crossing (for the blue-grey blazon on his surcoat and light gabardine marks the young man out instantly as a Frey, even if one tainted by the bar sinister of bastardy). A hand-and-a-half sword (to use the polite term) is strapped diagonally across his back, but the dagger at his side looks as if it sees more frequent, and practical, use. His eyes mirror the dismal surface of a pale mere, his hair its composite murk, showing itself here mud-brown, here wheaten, even with occasional glints near to green, like corroding copper. His smile is in constant employment but firmly confined to his mouth.
Allies and Foes
…Wherefore should I
Stand in the plague of custom, and permit
The curiosity of nations to deprive me,
For that I am some twelve or fourteen moon-shines
Lag of a brother? Why bastard? wherefore base?
When my dimensions are as well compact,
My mind as generous, and my shape as true,
As honest madam's issue?
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House Frey: The first lesson to be learned at the Twins is loyalty. No, I am quite serious. Though I cordially loathe many of my father's legendary get - none more than Ser Hosteen, who, in a pleasant twist of irony, dubbed me knight - my sword shall never falter from my House's service. I have ridden beside the Cape to help entrench Lord Walder's influence, and by the Crone's whiskers I shall see it done. |
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Walder Frey, Lord of the Crossing: One day my lord father shall own me as his son in front of all. And he shall not laugh as he does it, but frown in awe. Gods defend that his mirth be not hindered by any arrow of mine shuddering in his throat. |
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Lady Jaimera Trant, commonly called Frey, former Lady of Gallowsgrey: My lady aunt has need of me and I stand ready to fulfil that need until some other bastard makes a corpse of me. That is all I have to say on this matter. |
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Lady Firth Frey: My headstrong half-sister has had a string of atrocious luck of late, it seems. But her position at Stonebridge may grant her a chance to reverse it. |
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Lady Bryliesa Frey: I knew till latterly little of this one, save that she cleaved more to her foster-House than the line of her birth. But she is a tenderer relative than I would guessed, and a capable lady, too. She has made a high marriage to Heronhurst's heir, and she has earnt it. Sound on Charlton creepery. |
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Lady Lyanna Frey: One of my preferred kinswomen, with a very proper respect for her aunt Lady Trant. It's true Lyanna inhabits a private world of dreams and fairy stories, but I'd happily kill to keep that world inviolate a little longer. Those so-called Ashwoods had better treat her with proper respect. |
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Lady Aralima Frey: A fair little great-niece, who has well preserved her naivete, even as her family proceed to barter it away… |
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Ser Symeon of Sevenstreams: Introduced to me years ago by his cousin, the merry minstrel Tom O'Sevens, this queer natured, semi-invalid, half-Whent hedge knight is nonetheless very skilful and of use to me. He turned up at precisely the right moment after the war for Stonebridge. Less luckily he is deserted or dead now; I care little which, but a little is better than nothing… |
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Houses Charlton and Ashwood The Charltons were supposed to be 'impeccably loyal', my lord father always insisted. I was not the only voice at the Twins to suspect otherwise. Now my suspicions have come to pass, I'm sure it is only a matter of time ere their ludicrous cadet House, the hypocrites of Highfield, follow their elders' suit. 'Lord' Aleister's oh so very sad passing leaves the latter interestingly vulnerable… |
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Ser Aleister Ashwood: Courtesy and subtlety were alike strangers to this self proclaimed Lord's otherwise overcrowded bed. Now it is a deathbed, and I for one shall shed no tears. |
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Lady Aeliana Ashwood: I remember her, and for now shall speak of her no further than that. |
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Lord Robben Ashwood: A polite weakling. I'd underestimate him if that were possible. |
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Lord (just about) Daryl Ashwood: Undoubtedly a great oaf, and one with but little fondness for me, but in fact I approve of this fellow's guts, rare in his House. I look forward to spilling them. |
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Ser Erik Jast: A formidable fighter who can boast high descent…so what is this mighty Lannister kinsman doing in service to a minor river-House, one which has lately severed even its slight western connections? An outlaw in his own country, I suspect, and an insensate bully in this one. |
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Ser Harold Charlton: An unlikely and apparently unwilling "good-brother", Ser Harold has at least the sense to keep up a veneer of politeness. |
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Lady Serica Charlton: Born a Frey, and bred quiet as a mouse as I recall, she has been quick to adopt the manners and loyalties of her new House. She hates me, and I hate her. I know why it is that I hate her, but have no inkling why it is that she hates me. Does that make me the weaker? Perhaps; unless her strong force of hatred puzzles even her. |
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House Tordane The House that took in my stray half-brother, Wayland, as their ward and then their Champion. Much good it would seem to have done them! The old blood of Tordane is spilt or squandered, and all is to the good of my lord father's pocket. |
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Valda, Lady Tordane: I was most intrigued to see my…niece. She would have last known me as a bastard brat. Now I represented the possible aid from the Twins of which she stood in dire need. Proud as ever, she turned me aside and now her rule is done. |
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House Terrick: The four eagles are looking distinctly scrawny since the Greyjoy War. Rumour has it that for corn, they might be willing to endure a cage. Queer stories of foul play and usurpation are all that comes down Eagle's Way these days…which sounds promising. |
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Ser Justin Terrick: A prudent and peaceable eaglet, well-reputed, except that I judge him too merciful, or perhaps too refined in cruelty, for allowing brigands and captors of noblewomen to die a slow death by chill at the Wall, not a swift one by twine at the gallows. Fine recruits they shall be for his noble eldest brother, ha! His uncle appears to have next thing to bastardised him. I wonder if we shall next meet on an even footing… |
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Ser Jarod Rivers: For the 'luckiest bastard alive', a fall from a horse is a fairly ignominious way to be laid out. But I quite took to the Half-Eagle during our brief acquaintance, during which I managed to give the impression I was Roose Bolton's get, not Walder Frey's. |
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House Mallister: Our family's oldest sparring partner, but since Rusted Rodrik Greyjoy clipped the eagle lord's feathers for good, it's hardly seemed a fair fight. The relief of Seagard was an exciting affair. I would be entertained to meet these traditional opponents on social terms for a change. |
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Lady Muirenn Mallister: An imperious and self-important scold. Some Erenford, they say, has been fool enough to bid to take her on. |
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Lady Nedra Mallister: She may lack her cousin's spirit, yet she loves us of House Frey little enough. Still, she is one for nicely observing courtesies. |
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House Nayland: After getting beyond their grasp indeed, riding for a fall, perhaps? I must discern whether it be in the Twins' interest to arrest that fall or seal it. Hag's Mire is quiet now, and all the House's energy seems to stem from their cadets in Stonebridge, under the new Steward. |
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Isolde Nayland, Lady of Stonebridge: Supposed to chafe at the influence of her mother's House - mine - over her fate, Lady Isolde has nevertheless proved a courteous and forebearing hostess (more so, indeed, than Lady Valda). I had thought her of some promise, but it seems my lord father has been hardened against her rule and her right. I wonder who bent his ear. Now Isolde is all that remains of Tordane blood, cloistered apart in my father's palsied hands. Perhaps Lord Walder'll marry her himself some day! |
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Ser Riordan Nayland, former Lord Regent of Stonebridge: Entertaining rumours of the one-time Lord Regent often reached us at the Twins. He is supposed to be as gallant between the sheets as in the lists, but also possibly afflicted by lunacy. My lord father obviously pretended to acknowledge his putative bastard by the Westerling girl as the next Lord Tordane as an elaborate joke. Heh, heh. A shame the whelp was drowned in its dam's womb before we found out who it resembled. |
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Young Lord 'Ser' Rutger Nayland: Talking of elaborate jokes - The common chatter of my House goes that the fact the now heir apparent to the Mire is an anointed knight is in itself a joke as befouled as his marshy heritage. |
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Ser Rygar Nayland, Sheriff of Stonebridge: Looking gaunt and fevered, but still an impressive presence and a superb captain in war for all that. It bears watching what accommodation he shall reach with the new regime now he cannot depend upon Lady Valda, whom every serf and beggar knew for his mistress… |
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Ser Tyroan Nayland, Steward of Stonebridge: By an odd quirk of fate, I met the new master of Stonebridge hours before I quitted the Nayland cause. He's a man who strikes me as less granitic than the world makes him out to be. |
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Ser Bruce Longbough: Too stalwart and true a man for shiftless times. I am glad he does not know how false I played him and his, by the petty war's end. |
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Lord Hugh Asterholm: Ser Riordan's squire is excessively youthful, and from an exceeding minor House, but shows sparks of promise and is quick to obey. |
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Hoekenn Stenhammar: A lowborn and slow-witted youth of Stonebridge who has, somehow, found himself a squire. In fact I can see why - he is not as hopeless as he seems. He will never make knighthood, I judge, but would be surprisingly perilous in battle. If I desired such an ungainly pupil, myself, well…in any case, he will suit Ser Bruce well. But wait. The boy knows too much. This could be most irksome, but I had not the heart to slay him, though I had the chance. |
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Ser Wayland Frey: My poor confused 'brother' has finally, I think, left his senses and forgotten whether he is in truth a Frey, a Nayland, a Tordane, or indeed a man. In his place I would turn outlaw and express my discontent with force. |
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House Haigh: More openly contumacious vassals than the Charltons, and so, I would guess, far less dangerous. I now find myself inteminably marooned at their backwater of Broadmoor. |
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Ser Aron Haigh: I well remember this one's skill and impetuosity from Alderbrook fight. |
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Lady Ceinlys Erenford: She seems to keep a twin to her brother's sword inside her head, but I quite enjoy crossing it. Of course she's a dangerous harlot; but she certainly lent a drop of half-Frey style to the establishment of that lout, Ser Aleister. One of the few obvious diversions Broadmoor has to offer. |
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Lady Laryssa Haigh: A proper maiden, who rises as easily as a perch to any faintly disturbing worm. |
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Young Lord Alric Fenster: A peacemaker needs more than good intentions. I'd wager there's more subtlety in my steel than this petty heirling's tongue. |
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Young Lady Ilaria Fenster: It took her approaching, then solemnised, marriage to a fool and coxcomb for me to realise how rare a pearl House Haigh had proffered before so scrawny a swine. |
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House Erenford: The waterfowl of Heronhurst Court are courtly and fair in their bearing, at times too much so. Roosting less with lordly eagles would benefit their humbler nests. |
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Young Lord Ser Marvish Erenford: I took orders from the accidental heir to Heronhurst Court, when fighting on the left flank at Alderbrook. I do not relish subordinacy, but have known worse captains, some of mine own blood. News of his decease in puny circumstances depresses me, I confess. |
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Ser Brennart Erenford, the new Young Lord: His words are as courteous as the rest of his kin, and his deeds show circumspect thought. They say, too, in war he is no dastard. He makes Bryliesa Frey a fine husband, capable and biddable both. |
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Ser Nevan Erenford: A promising knightling, if scarcely a prudent one. Apter for courting than smiting, I suspect. |
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Lady Aemy Erenford: A sweet, prudent maiden, aye, with proper regard for my standing as a son to Lord Walder, unlike some I could name… |
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Ser Holden Rivers: It seems Ser Holden is to be my regular foil in the lists of bastardly honour. In our separate ways, we both joust to lose in this tilt of courtesy, which shows a kind of bastard's respect. He's said to have broken his heart over one of the Mallisters now, and sold his sword far away. |
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House Westerling: Quixotic, overbred, hopeless with money, and still meddlers. What precisely are they playing at? Do they know themselves? We of the Twins could tutor them well in family solidarity. |
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House Camden: This peculiar little clan's fall has had unexpectedly far-reaching effects on the balance of power hereabouts, it seems. |
| House Trant of Gallowsgrey: My lady aunt once ruled as Lady of this Stormlands House, and has taught me to disdain its deeds but esteem its words. |
| House Ryger of Willow Wood: Weakly braggarts. |
| Smallfolk outside one's own immediate fief are not worthy of trust or sympathy, though their company can be entertaining. |
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Catryn Taken: Even the gods love an impious joke, and so they contrive to throw me again and again into this songstress's ambit. I confess it is hardly displeasing to me… |
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Garion 'Goldenbreath': A skilled musician and a comical being, especially when he is surprised or frightened, both states I like to encourage in him. |
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