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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She'd asked Lexa and Luna for help in herding the children to the godswood. Their complaints had almost made her change her mind, but seeing them now she could not regret it. She knew they had tired during the day, having spent most of it splashing in the springs, but this was needed.
They needed the closure. They all did.
Tasking each of them with finding something Ned had given them, she had made sure they understood it would not be something they could see again. That had stopped Rickon from choosing one of his toys soldiers, at least. She did not want to even think about the headache he would cause her, asking for it back.
It was a simple ceremony and it could not even be called a funeral. When a Stark died, the funeral was an extensive process ending with the family members seeing the body interred in the crypts below the castle, but they did not even have Ned's body and even if they did, Robb, Sansa and Arya deserved to be there as their father was laid to rest one final time.
Instead, Rena had come up with the idea for each of them to bury something in the godswood, basing it off a tradition held in the Eyrie. According to her, all Arryns were supposed to throw a belonging of the deceased into the Weeping Woman's falling waters when an Arryn died. They were burying them instead of throwing it into the abbyss, but it still held a feeling of finality. And the children needed it.
─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
Vi,
Forgive the lack of formality and the length of this letter, but I thought it best that I relay this message as a husband would to a wife and not as a lord to his lady or as a king to his queen. Yes, a king to his queen. We received word today of my father's unjustified murder and immediately converged to discuss our next course of action.
Some wish to pledge for Stannis and others for Renly. But the Greatjon had the idea that was most-liked. The Starks only bowed down to the dragons and those dragons are dead now, my love. I have been raised from Lord Stark to King Robb the First of His Name, with you as mine own queen.
Robb
─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
"Mama, look! We 'ave new dolls to play with!" Leila held out a cloth doll, dressed in an orange gown.
"It's beautiful, my sweet," Vitoria said, crouching down carefully. "Have you named her yet?"
Leila nodded enthusiastically and Vitoria asked, "What are you calling her?"
"Meria, like the warror 'een," her little daughter said, remembering the tales her mother told her sometimes before bed. Her heart soared in pride.
"That's perfect," she said softly, reaching out to smooth Leila's hair. "So tell me, what adventures have Meria and Alia's new doll gotten into?"
"Vitoria, did you have to ask that at the same time I did?" Lexa said, sounding exasperated, as Leila and Alia launched into a tale of how Meria and Sera – Alia's doll, dressed in gray – had gone to a feast, and Artos's toy soldiers had come, and they all stayed up for the entire night because no one was allowed to tell them that they had to go to bed.
