Vitoria Martell had one goal in her life: gain revenge for the murder of her aunt and cousins.
𝙰𝚛𝚛𝚢𝚗. 𝙱𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚘𝚗. 𝙻𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛. 𝚂𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚔. Those were the names on her list (in no particular order) and that's why she sees the com...
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Vitoria wrapped the furs tighter around her as she walked into the great hall, hurrying her steps until she could sit next to Robb, quickly melting into him, his arms wrapping around her slim body.
"The children went down alright?" Her husband asked, his breath hot against her hair as he pulled her closer. She simply nodded, trying to warm up. The storm that had delayed their marching was subsiding, but it was still bitingly cold. Especially towards her, who even after almost four years was not fully accustomed to the cold. She saw her brother across from her, bundled up in even more furs and stifled a laugh as she tried to focus on the stories the men were telling. The heirs and younger lords who had come to Winterfell and the few ladies that were also at the castle had all arranged for a small meeting at the hall to remember their faith before the battles to come. If the storm continued to subside, the men would be able to leave tomorrow and start marching South.
"So if Odin lives in Valhalla, is he the only god that lives in a great hall?"
Most of the northerners snickered at her brother's question, the Smalljon letting out a loud laugh.
"No, there are many halls," Dacey Mormont answered. "Thor lives in Thrudheim."
"And Frey was given the hall at Alfheim when he cut his first tooth!" Harrion Karstark chimed in, unbothered by the scowl that appeared on his brother's (Torrhen's) face at his enthusiasm. Despite Robb having fostered at the Karhold, only Harry seemed completely at ease with him. Torrhen and Brenan treated him respectfully, yes, and warmly enough, but there was a distance there. Perhaps it was simply the closeness in age, Harry was only a year younger, whereas Torrhen and Brenan were six and four years older, but she thought there was something more there.
"Nearby is Valhalla, vast and gold-bright. And every day, Odin chooses slain men to join him. They arm themselves and fight in the great courtyard. They kill one another; but every night they rise again and ride back to the hall and feast," her husband started the tale, and with a nod prompted Theon to finish it.
"The roof is made out of shields. The rafters are spears. Coats of mail litter the benches. A wolf stands at the western door and an eagle hovers above it. It has 540 doors, and when Ragnarok comes, 800 warriors will march out of each door, shoulder to shoulder."
"What is Ragnarok?" Only silence remained after her brother asked that question.
─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
"Stay just a bit more," Vitoria whispered, her voice hoarse from the night before as her hand grasped his wrist with uncharacteristic strength for her slim frame. He complies after looking at her, understanding that the decision to march is also taking a toll on her. She's the one who will have to hold the North while he marches South and he knows that sometimes, she still feels like an outsider. Not as much as she had when she first arrived, but every now and then she still felt as if she didn't belong in Winterfell and in the North.
