Thank for everyone who favorited and followed this story. As a bonus, tell me the top three OCs whose face claims you want to see me reveal and I'll start doing so.

OCs:

H'alia (Alia) & Leilani (Leila) Stark: Vitoria's & Robb's daughters

Artos Stark: Vitoria's and Robb's son

Lexa Dayne, Luna Rivers & Lyrena "Rena" Stone: Vitoria's friends & ladies

Shadow & Dawn: the direwolves for Vitoria and Robb's children

Allard, Ka, Draco, Andrei, Ryker & Emmett: Vitoria's personal guards

Part 1

she wore ice on her skin as diamonds while the heat in her veins kept her from freezing

The rooms Vitoria and Robb shared in Winterfell were of the warmest rooms the keep had to offer inside the family quarters. They were not the warmest rooms overall, those were reserved for Lady Catelyn (rooms even Vitoria acknowledged were warm, being directly on top of hot springs), yet they were warmer than other rooms and Vitoria was glad that Lord Stark had seen fit to organize those to be their rooms when they married. The rooms were warm, but not enough to remind Vitoria of Sunspear. Yet, they served their purpose in protecting her from the unforgiving cold.

The cold of the North had often been the cause of illness for her, due to her body struggling to cope with the drastic change in temperature. The maester even believed that was the reason she struggled so much with her second pregnancy before losing the babe. It was the same for her loyal ladies from the Sandship and the Martell guards who had all come north with her. But though she had offered to help them return to the familiar and comforting warmth of their homeland, all of them were far too devoted to her family to leave her alone in what they had all considered to be enemy territory, those who had left had done so because they had been recalled home by Doran or their families - with Doran's permission, of course. And they had left making their displeasure known, willing to stay with her in the cold even though it was damaging their health. Lexa was the only one of her ladies that remained, even if she now had Luna and Rena who slowly she came to trust, despite Lady Stark's despise of the three of them since they were all bastards, never mind the fact that Luna was her niece and that Lexa had been legitimized.

After they finished, Robb rolled off of her and left the bed, typical of him. He found their chambers too warm, and since she usually preferred to hold him close after they lay together, he got up to open the windows before laying back down with her. She propped herself up on her elbows, watching silently as he wandered over to the closed window and opened it, allowing the cool air of the night entrance and she shivered despite herself at the cold wind that filled the room. Despite the strides she had made in embracing her husband's homeland, she did not think she would ever be fully comfortable in the cold.

He stayed facing away from her, silent and obviously troubled. Whatever was bothering him, it had upset him enough that he was past the point of pacing, which was never good. Since they had married, she had taken it upon herself to teach him of the southern politics so he would be ready if the day ever came when they had to go to King's Landing or if they ever went the court her father held at Sunspear. She had also learned his mannerisms, never managing to erase his tells from when he lied, but she was content in knowing it was only she who knew that his left hand twitched when he did so. But, in her experience nothing good came out of him looking into the horizon with almost glazed eyes as he was doing now.

Vitoria frowned when she saw him pass a hand through his hair, a sign of his distress. She sighed and rose from the bed as well, ignoring the ache left in her thighs after the way he had frantically and repeatedly taken her. Her wrists ached from his tight grip, and her scalp tingled from when he'd tugged at her hair. Another sign of his distress. Once, she would have resented him for it. But now, she simply welcomed it as a sign of his trust, knowing she did the same if she needed it and that he did not begrudge for it. He was only ever so harsh when he was using her body to distract himself from whatever was haunting him. But considering the circumstances of their current situation, she could not fault him for acting so.

Vitoria downed the cup of moon tea on their nightside table before walking over to her husband. She was certain that if she did not, one of these days her husband's seed would quicken within her again. He'd certainly been doing his best to put another babe in her these past few months. She was but nine and ten, and despite her best efforts to predict her moons' blood, she never knew when it would come which made it all the more harder for her to control when she would conceive. Still, she had managed to remember the tells of her body readying itself for another pregnancy and she was experiencing them right now, meaning she was in the right state for his seed to quicken within her. But as much as she might want to have another child, another baby close in age to Artos, knowing the twins and Rickon would likely grow up close and that left Artos without a default playmate, she couldn't.

The maesters had all but forbidden her from falling pregnant until she had completely healed from the rather traumatic entry of her son into the world. Maester Luwin had wanted them to be celibate, but Maester Vaith, who had worked in Sunspear and been sent North with her, had convinced him against it. She knew that with her son still at her breast it would be harder for her to fall with child, but it had not stopped her from becoming pregnant with the stillborn they'd named Torrhen. As much as she might want to deny it, she knew her body had still not completely recovered from three pregnancies and four births with less than two full years between them all, so for the moment she'd continue drinking moon tea.

She came to his side shivering and he pulled her against his muscled chest, giving her a brief kiss atop her tangled hair before wrapping his arms around her.

"He asked your father to be his Hand, then," she stated, not needing an answer, though he gave one anyway.

"Aye, as we had expected."

"Will he accept?" she kept her voice as even as she could, but she could feel her heart beating against her ribcage wildly, the idea of being Lady of Winterfell in truth rather than just in name a thought too attractive to ignore; even with her personal feelings about a man as honorable as Ned going to such a cursed place.

Robb hesitated as she leaned her head against his chest. "I don't know," he admitted, pressing a kiss to her hair.

Vitoria was unhappy with his answer. She'd much prefer him to state immediately that his father had no intention of going to a place filled with murderous lions and treachery, but she supposed that it was better than a 'yes'. But once Ned had decided something, almost nothing could make him change his mind. Certainly not the opinions of his Southern gooddaughter, not even if she was the mother to his heir's heir and acting Lady of Winterfell considering the less than stellar job Catelyn had been doing.

"Why not?" she asked evenly, trying not to react to his hand's movements across her lower back.

He sighed heavily, looking burdened beyond his eight and ten years. She kissed his chest, leaning against him and tilting her head back to look at him. His eyes were distant and his brows furrowed.

"He is my father's oldest friend, he needs help," Robb said. "He feels that he must to give it to him."

"Your father's duty to the North and to his family outweighs any debts to a friend," Vitoria pointed out. "If he is truly his friend, then surely he will understand."

In truth, she did not think he owed Robert anything at all. If anything, given the key part the North's army had played in the Rebellion, then Robert owed Ned, for being such an integral part of him gaining the Iron Throne. Robb would not share her opinion, however, so she said nothing of it.

"That is not all," Robb went on reluctantly. "The King has suggested betrothals between our houses, starting with Sansa and the crown prince."

Vitoria tensed as she took a sharp intake of breath, trying to calm herself down before speaking. Sansa truly was a sweet child, even if she was rather spoilt. In all honesty, Sansa reminded her of who she might have been had she been born to another Great House, one outside of Dorne. But Sansa would not survive in the capital, at least not without Vitoria first teaching her how to do so. And, the simple thought of a marriage between her and Joffrey made her skin crawl. From the few interactions, she'd had with the prince she knew he was bad news. And, from the way she had felt his eyes on her through the dance floor and the whole feast that evening, she knew he would not be the husband Sansa wanted.

"Vi, that is not all. He wishes to betroth Lia and his son, Tommen."

Vitoria went rigid and pulled away from him, feeling her expression turn colder than the ice-covered landscape her husband's family had ruled for so long. "Over my dead body," she hissed in utter rage, clenching her fists so tightly she felt blood well up from the indents she made. Her daughter, wed to the grandson of the man who'd had her aunt Elia and her children murdered? The son of the bloodhound who had waded through her cousins' blood in order to steal her aunt's crown? She would prefer her daughter to be dead than marry a relative of the Lannisters.

Robb hastily grabbed hold of her arms lightly, tugging her to him again and ignoring her attempts to pull away and demand that he tell her that he had refused.

"I have not agreed yet, Vi, I promise," he insisted earnestly. "But these are high honours. How can we refuse all of them without offending the king?"

"I thought he was your father's dearest friend," she scoffed back. "How much faith do you think your father has in his love for him, if he is reluctant to tempt his wrath?"

Vitoria took a deep breath, shivering at the cold. She looked back at her husband, "I'll go to King's Landing with your father and siblings. Once they are settled and I feel comfortable leaving Sansa at Joffrey's clutches, I'll come back and we'll secure a betrothal for our daughters, so none of them can marry the prince."

Robb frowned, disliking the thought of his sister married to the cruel Crown Prince. "The King offered for Tommen to be fostered here, so he and Lia will not be strangers when they marry."

She turned her head away from him, "No. Let him be fostered here if you want, but my daughters will not be wed to the son and grandson of butchers. We can say that it would look uncouth for both princes to be promised to the North or something of the sort, but no daughter of mine will wed a Baratheon, much less one such as he with his Lannister blood. His grandfather is responsible for my aunt's death."

"Fair enough," he acceded.

She frowned as she looked at the parchment stretched out on the wall, the figures she was painting not clear still.

Vitoria dipped the tip of her brush into the small jar, coating it with scarlet paint. She let out a deep breath and allowed her hand to work freely over the canvas, staining it with red.

Painting came naturally to her, like it did to her Lady Grandmother before her. Her mind released the images that haunted her dreams this way, her nimble fingers bringing them to life if she had the material at her disposal.

Vitoria switched to a deeper red and started painting the details on the male's chest, then his companion's hair. She was about to paint her eyes when a pair strong arms wrapped themselves around her waist.

"Come back to bed," he murmured against the fabric of her nightgown, his arm tugging at her sleeve.

"Wait a bit," she snapped back, trailing her brush over the canvas again before gasping in shock as she truly looked at the image she had painted.

Arya glared down at her needlework. It was crooked, again. She looked to Vitoria and saw she had abandoned her own needlework, instead focusing on braiding her daughter's hair while she looked around the room, her eyes lingering on Sansa who was sitting next to her. Of course, Sansa's needlework was perfect. Sansa was much better at being a lady than her. She tried to tune out her sister's giggles, smiling when Vitoria slipped her a sweet and taking it quietly, dividing it to give a part of it to Leila who was sitting at her feet, playing with her dolls.

"Vi?" she whispered, "can you help me? Like we did before?" Vitoria looked up from Alia's dark hair and quickly swapped their needlework when she saw Septa Mordane wasn't watching them, rather she was chatting with Princess Myrcella's septa.

"That's not your work, Vitoria," Sansa observed the piece of material in Vitoria's hand. "Did you switch with Arya? You know that Septa Mordane won't be happy."

"Then she won't find out unless you tell her," Vitoria said threateningly. "Which you won't. Because we're your sisters."

Sansa pursed her lips together in a thin line that made her look like her mother. The resemblance between Sansa and Catelyn was uncanny, even though Sansa had some purely Stark features like her pale skin. At least Catelyn had not succeeded in poisoning her children against Vitoria, even three year old Rickon ran into her arms much to his mother's displeasure. There was no love lost between the two women, that was for sure.

When Septa Mordane was finished talking with the other septa, she came over to the girls and inspected their work. Sansa's was met with praise, as always, and Jeyne Poole was given a nod, which she seemed to take offence from. She cooed over Arya's needlework, pleased that it finally improved and while she pressed her lips thinly when she saw Vitoria's, she did not say anything, having learned not to cross her.

"Princess, what is the capital like?" Sansa suddenly spoke, looking at the Princess Myrcella who was sitting next to her cousins at the other side of the room.

Princess Myrcella jolted, her emerald eyes wide. "Oh," she stammered. "I, I suppose that it is King's Landing. I have never really been anywhere else, except to visit to my grandfather at Casterly Rock. And here of course. I do not know what to say about it. Mother does not like us to leave the Red Keep, so I have never actually spent much time in the city."

Sansa and Jeyne Poole frowned in disappointment at that.

"What about Prince Joffrey?" Jeyne inquired, leaning forward with wide eyes. "He is so handsome! What is he like?"

Princess Myrcella shifted, looking uncomfortable. "Well, he is handsome enough I suppose," she conceded uncertainly. "He is my brother of course. I do not notice such things about him."

"He likes Sansa," Kat Cassel declared proudly, as if she had somehow arranged the whole thing. "He told her that she was very beautiful."

"Imagine what would happen if he married her," Jeyne said dreamily, as she hugged herself. "Then Sansa would be Queen of all the realm."

"He might," Sansa pointed out with sparkling blue eyes. "Father is the king's dearest friend. A betrothal between our houses would be a likely thing."

Arya shifted in discomfort. She thought that if a bethrothal were to happen, it was likely to be between Tommen and one of her nieces, likely Alia as she was the younger one and she remembered Robb and Vitoria saying their eldest daughter would marry to a northern heir. Joffrey seemed simply foul, she did not think her father would agree with Sansa marrying him. Tommen so far had been a sweet boy and the age difference was not so much for it to be unreasonable for him to marry Alia or Leila. She had no doubt that King Robert was aware of his son's temperament and that even if he wanted to join their houses, he would not make his dear friend's daughter suffer such a fate.

Even so, she did not want their families mixing with one another, not after what Vitoria had told her when she'd stormed into her rooms a moon past, demanding to know about the Rebellion after overhearing a discussion between her parents. Vitoria had not told her the glossy version of things, despite her own pain at retelling the story. Her aunt, the Princess Elia and her cousins, the little Princess Rhaenys and Prince Aegon had all died at he Sack, she had known that. But she had not known that the Princess Elia had been raped with the blood of her son smeared across her body or that the little Princess had been stabbed till her body was unrecognizable. And the King had stood over the bodies of Vitoria's cousins, laughing as he called them dragonspawn.

Sansa knew none of this, however, and she was glowing brightly at the prospect of wedding the Crown Prince.

Arya was eager to change the subject (especially seeing how Vitoria's hands knuckles were whitening) and the mention of the prince had given her an idea. "Well, Father and Mother will be the ones to decide on our marriages, not anybody else," she stated abruptly. "But look at the time! Septa Mordane, might we please go and watch the boys train? Please."

The Septa did not look pleased by the idea, even if she had not stopped the gossip despite how umcomfortable it was clearly making Vitoria, but her hands became tied when Vitoria spoke up.

"That's a great idea, Arya. Come on girls, let's go watch them train."

Septa Mordane led them out of the palace to the sparring yard. They arrived to a chorus of thuds and grunts from the men and boys in the yard and Arya was unsurpsied to see that her goodsister had disappeared in the time it took them to reach the yard. Perhaps she had gone to collect herself for a few moments. She quickly grabbed the hands of her nieces, not wanting them to wander off.

To the disappointment of them all, it was the younger boys drilling. Bran was so heavily padded he looked as though he had belted on a featherbed, and Prince Tommen, who was plump to begin with, seemed more like a ball than a boy. They were huffing and puffing and hitting at each other with padded wooden swords under the watchful eye of Rodrick Cassel, the master-of-arms for Winterfell. A dozen spectators, men and boys, were calling out encouragement, Robb's voice the loudest among them. She spotted him standing in with Theon Greyjoy, Theon's black doublet emblazoned with the golden kraken of his House with a look of wry contempt on his face. From the way that both of the combatants were staggering, Arya judged that they had been at it awhile.

"Where's Prince Joffrey?" Sansa wondered, sounding disappointed. Arya looked around again, then pointed at the heir to the Iron Throne when she spotted him in the back, sheltered from the sun by a high stone wall. He was surrounded by men she did not recognize, young squires in the livery of Lannister and Baratheon, strangers all. There were a few older men among them; his guards, she assumed.

"There he is," she told her sister, who looked eagerly at the boy. Arya suppressed an eyeroll. Her sister could be so foolish sometimes. Father would be irritated that she was letting the title and looks of the prince affect her opinion of him. How many times had he warned them that the most beautiful and powerful of people could often be the cruellest? She was suddenly glad that Vitoria had disappeared, she would certainly scold Sansa for saying such things.

Their attention was drawn back to the courtyard by a shout. When they looked away from the Crown Prince, it was to see that Prince Tommen was rolling in the dust, trying to get up and failing. All the padding made him look like a turtle on its back. Bran was standing over him with upraised wooden sword, ready to whack him again once he regained his feet. The men began to laugh.

"Enough!" Ser Rodrick called out. He gave the prince a hand and yanked him back to his feet. "Well fought." He looked around. "Prince Joffrey, Robb, will you go another round?"

Robb, already sweaty from a previous bout, moved forward eagerly. "Gladly."

Joffrey moved into the sunlight in response to Ser Rodrick's summons. His hair shone like spun gold. He looked bored. "This is a game for children, Cassel. And Robb may be a child," Joffrey said haughtily. "But I am a prince. And I grow tired of swatting at Starks with a play sword."

"You got more swats than you gave, Joffrey," Robb retorted. "Are you afraid?"

Prince Joffrey looked at him. "Oh, terrified," he sneered. "You're so much older." Some of the Lannister men laughed.

Arya glanced at the other girls. Sansa was frowning at the prince, and the other girls looked disappointed. The princess looked a mixture of resigned and familiar with her older brother's attitude. Her sister and her friends were clearly disappointed with the way Prince Joffrey acted away from the girls he desired to impress. Arya herself thought the boy to be all bark and no bite. She'd seen his hands the night before and they were as smooth as a baby's skin, with no evidence of callouses even beginning to form. Even Bran had more callouses than the prince did. Joffrey clearly didn't practice weaponry often, if at all. A shame that the son of the Demon of the Trident was so weak.

Ser Rodrik ran a thoughtfully over his chin. "What are you suggesting?" he asked the prince.

"Live steel."

"Done," Robb shot back. "You'll be sorry!"

The master-at-arms put a hand on Robb's shoulder to quiet him. "Live steel is too dangerous. I will permit you tourney swords, with blunted edges."

Arya did not see what was the point in denying them steel when Robb regularly trained with true swords with Vitoria, Theon and Jon. Maybe it was for the Prince's benefit, she supposed; he didn't look as if he could fight with a real sword.

Joffrey said nothing, but a man strange to Arya, a tall knight with black hair and ugly burn scars on his face, pushed forward in front of the prince. "This is your prince. Who are you to tell him he may not have an edge on his sword?"

"Master-at-arms of Winterfell, Clegane, and you would do well not to forget it."

"Are you training women here?"

"I am training warriors," Ser Rodrik replied pointedly. "They will have steel when they are ready." So it was for Joffrey's benefit, since Robb had been training with steel since before the twins were born.

The burned man looked at Robb. "How old are you, boy?"

"Eighteen," Robb responded.

"I killed a man at twelve. You can be sure it was not with a blunt sword."

Arya could see her older brother bristle. His pride was wounded. He turned to Ser Rodrick "Let me do it. I can beat him."

"Give them steel," Vitoria's voice cut across Rodrick before he could respond. They all turned to see her stride into the yard, holding Artos close to her chest.

"Princess, I do not believe-" the Master-at-Arms began to say, only for her to make him fall silent with an upraised hand.

"My husband, the aetheling, has proven himself already and Prince Joffrey is the heir to a great warrior," Arya was amazed at how well her goodsister was at keeping her disdain and loathing from her tone and face. "Let them fight with steel," the future Lady of Winterfell ordered, and the matter was settled. Theon helped Robb ready himself, while a pair of Lannister men aided the prince in preparing.

"Begin!" Ser Rodrik cried once the pair was ready.

Immediately, Robb went on the offensive. He swung his sword in an overhead arc towards Joffrey's head. Through what appeared to be dumb luck, the prince somehow managed to catch the blow upon his blade. Then Joffrey swung his own blade, but Robb knocked it aside with ease, before launching back, and driving Joffrey across the yard with a series of sweeps and shoves.

Arya watched proudly as her brother pushed Joffrey right up to the wall of men that surrounded them before he finally decided to finish it. With an elaborate twist of his blade, Joffrey's sword was wrenched from his grasp and landed a few feet away.

Almost before Arya could comprehend what was happening, Joffrey had ended up flat on his back with Robb's foot holding him down and the point of his sword pressed against his neck.

"Match!" Ser Rodrick cried. "Lord Robb is the winner!"

Arya saw Robb grin and then he stepped back, releasing the prince. He held out his hand to help the other boy up, but Joffrey snarled angrily. Arya couldn't help letting out a giggle, drawing the men's attention to the group of watching ladies. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her goodsister smirk momentarily before the expression smoothed out into a proud smile directed at her husband.

Joffrey's face flushed as he realised the position that he was in. He sprung to his feet. "You cheated!" he claimed, jabbing a finger at Robb angrily.

"I did not!" Robb denied immediately, his expression darkening.

"You did!" the prince insisted. "I am the prince! Nobody can beat me! You should be executed for daring to harm me!"

"SHUT UP BOY!"

They all turned and saw him stamping towards them, face red and with Arya's father at his heels, looking concerned.

"Father!" Joffrey exclaimed. "Father, we were sparring and he cheat-"

"I said shut up!" King Robert snapped. "I saw the whole damn thing. He did not cheat, you are simply useless with a blade! By the Gods, I'll not have you shaming us in the home of my dearest friend with your nonsense and spoiled attitude! Not another word, you shall go to your rooms with Ser Barristan and remain there until I grant you leave to come out! Understood?"

"But I-" the boy whined.

"I said is that understood?" The king demanded furiously.

Pouting, the prince nodded sullenly, and the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard left the king's side to escort him away. Just after, Vitoria, her expression even, curtsied to the king before approaching her husband, allowing him to press a kiss to her cheek and whispering something to Robb, making him smirk. Arya decided she truly did not want to know what Vitoria had said, if the look Robb shot her as she walked off was anything to go by.

"Let us go, girls,"Septa Mordane ordered softly, directing them away from the yard, the lot of them silent. Arya was relieved to have gotten away from the Lannister men and the king. Their group was silent, everybody brooding on the scene that they had witnessed as they left. They were intercepted by a girl as they returned to their solar.

The girl, who Arya later realized was one of Vitoria's ladies, curtsied to them deeply. "Lady Sansa, Lady Arya, my lady desires to speak to you," she informed them. "She bids you come to your rooms to speak with her."

"We shall be there momentarily," Sansa said before Arya got the chance to answer. Arya nodded in agreement and Rena smiled, curtsied again and hurried off to her other duties.

"Off you go then girls," Septa Mordane ordered them briskly. "You must not keep the Princess waiting."

"Aye," they muttered before running off.