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Part 1

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

A frown comes to her face when she sees Robb twirling a strand of Mona Umber's dark hair around his finger on the other side of the table. She looks to her son in an attempt to calm herself and starts feeding him small pieces of the meat they've been served.

It doesn't matter, she tells herself, it's only for a few more days. The girl will only be here for a few more nights, before she continues her journey further North back home after fostering with the Manderlys in White Harbor. She can only hope that Robb will not take her maidenhead and leave them in a struggle with the Greatjon.

Yet, she can't keep the nerves from getting to her as she tries to ignore her husband's blatant flirting. With that in mind, she takes Artos into her arms and Leila's hand into her own and strides away from the dining hall to the nursery, to tend to Alia who is fighting off a chill.

She shouldn't be so worried, she tells herself as she paces the nursery with Alia in her arms. She has already given Robb a son and two daughters, she cannot be displaced, her children's inheritance can't be stolen from them. But still she worries.

Because she can tolerate her husband going to the whorehouses and bedding the serving girls, but that is completely different from desiring a bannerman's daughter. The Umbers had considerable power and if Robb dishonored their only daughter, the Greatjon would seek reparations for it and that could easily mean marriage. While she may have given birth to a son, the knowledge of the toll it took on her body had not been contained to Winterfell and most of the North's Ealdormen knew what it had meant in the long run. They also knew of the Martells issues with fertility, of the amount of siblings her father lost in the cradle or before they could live. Whispers ran amok of how Alia was plagued by the same weakness her aunt fought all her life. As such, many were just holding their breaths for a missive saying one of her children had died. And she was not naive enough to think that some would not hope she would die the next time she took to the birthing bed, so their daughter or sister could step up and replace her.

They had not been keen to accept their as their future liege lady, the ghosts of the rebellion being too fresh even after more than a decade. There was the matter of the broken betrothal between Lord Stark and the Lady Ashara, who was her own distant kin. There is Jon, with all the Stark coloring possible and having been born in Dorne. There is the fact that her aunt was slighted by her husband spiriting away her own husband's aunt.

There are too many ghosts that threaten to make her position even more fragile than it already is and the thought of adding another problem to it makes her want to scream.

Two days later, Vitoria got to her feet when she saw the smoke coming from the library, running through the halls barking orders until she found Rena and Robb.

"What happened?" she panted, out of breath as she leaned against one of the walls.

"I was there," Rena admitted, "But I was the only one. I didn't hear anything until I -"

She was cut off by an agonizing scream they recognized belonged to Catelyn. And once again, they set off running, this time hoping they would not get there too late.

Rena did not think she had ever seen so much blood. Unlike Lexa and Luna or even Vitoria, she wasn't a fighter. She'd never been able to feel comfortable holding a blade in her hands. She knew enough to defend herself, having learned at Vitoria's insistence, but she disliked blood as a rule. She did not think there had been so much blood in one of the keep's chambers since Vitoria miscarried her second pregnancy.

Bran was still unconscious on the bed, looking unharmed. Lady Catelyn was slumped on the floor, clutching her bloodied hand close to her chest.

Yet, no one was truly looking at them. Rather, they were looking at the mutilated body in the floor. Bran's direwolf was licking his paws over the body, a content expression on his face with the knowledge that he had defended his master. Rena thought she could faintly see that the man's chest was still rising shallowly, the direwolf keeping a fierce eye on the man in case he rose up again to attack his young master.

"I assume someone sent for the maesters," Vitoria's voice rang out and a few of the servants nodded. "Is the attacker still alive?"

Someone moved to check.

"He is," the guard spat.

"Take him to the cells and keep him alive."

294 AC

The letter Ned held in his hands was far too pleasant to be about something so serious. The fact that it was an order did not help matters.

Ned might not be well versed in politics, but he could easily see how Robert's accession to the throne had not been accepted by all. Dorne had been waiting silently for over a decade already, since their beloved Princess Elia and her children had been brutally murdered. They had not rebelled but it had merely been because of Prince Doran and his prudent policy.

It was vital to unite Dorne to the rest of the Kingdoms, and what better way than by marriage?

He thought of his wife and the hard time she had had adjusting to life in the Winterlands and winced. If Catelyn of House Tully had a hard time adjusting to the sudden shift in her life, how much harder would it be for Vitoria Martell, a princess of Dorne?

He had to find a way to talk to Robb. It would not do to hide it from his son, not when Jon Arryn had expressed the urgency of the matter in the letter.

Ned was not afraid of his reaction, his son would not complain. He would do his duty and marry who he was told to. He only worried he would resent the girl for tearing him away from his foster brothers in the Karhold.

After dinner, he stood up and told his son to follow him into the godswood where they would talk.

Robb looked up at him in disbelief when he finished explaining, "A Princess of Dorne? Here, in Winterfell?"

"I know this catches you by surprise, but it is vital to tie Dorne to the throne, my boy."

"Why us? Why not send her somewhere south? It will be a great and sudden change for the girl. Why us?" Ned had to note the logic of his question.

"Offering a Lannister or a Baratheon would be a mistake as Dorne still mourns Princess Elia and her children. Robert and Jon are both hesitant to trust the Reach with this and offering your Uncle Edmure could be taken as an insult since he is so much older than both of Prince Doran's daughters. The task of uniting Westeros is of House Stark."

Robb nods. "I understand, father. What do you know of my intended?"

"Vitoria Martell is Prince Doran's second child and daughter after the Princess Arianne. She has two younger brothers, Princes Quentyn and Trystane. I've heard great tales or her beauty and virtue from visitors to Dorne. However, as I told you, the Martells still mourn the late Princess Elia and her children. The Dornish are proud and I do not expect them to have taken the news of your marriage well. That is why Lord Arryn added a clause to the preliminary marriage contract which says that despite her marital status, she will remain a princess as she would have done had she married within Dorne, which is usually the case for the spare heir of House Martell. We expect her in three moons.. The wedding will be held a week after she arrives."

Vitoria examined the dagger as she walked back into the keep, breathing the fresh air once again.

It was very well made, Valyrian steel and dragonbone; its edge looked as deadly as the ancestral greatswords. The entire questioning hadn't revealed much more than they could've worked out themselves.

He had cracked quickly enough. It was clear he did not know much, but she was certain that they now knew everything he knew. The blonde hair was an interesting detail, though. Her mind immediately jumped to the Lannisters, of course, but she had no idea why any of them would want to kill Bran.

"Princess Vitoria to see you, Lady Catelyn," Emmett bowed her through the door of Ned's solar, where her goodmother was sat behind the desk, looking over some ledgers. She hadn't looked herself since Bran's fall, and now after his attack she looked even worse, with dark circles around her eyes and a pale complexion. Ever the lady, however, she was sat up straight and raised her chin as Vitoria entered.

"What did he say?" Catelyn didn't bother with pleasantries. "Who sent him?"

"He doesn't know," Vitoria sat down opposite her, without invitation, playing with the dagger in her lap. She'd rather like to keep it; it would be excellent to fight with, and was small enough to hide on her with ease. Perhaps she could keep it for one her children, when they were older. Artos would be expected to wield Ice or another sword, but the girls could use daggers. "We asked him his name. He's a nobody, a poor sellsword who joined with the king's party on their way north, hoping for some work as a guard," She placed the dagger between them on the desk with a soft clunk. "This is the dagger he used. He says a cloaked figure gave it to him, and paid him to kill young Brandon Stark. They gave him directions to Bran's chamber, so he would have had to have known the castle at least a little,"

"Are you sure he wasn't lying?" Catelyn took the dagger, eyeing it darkly with tired eyes. "He could be withholding information. He knows the moment we've got everything, he's dead,"

"I'm sure," Vitoria nodded shortly. "We were very thorough," Her goodmother wrinkled her nose ever so slightly at that, making Vitoria' lips twitch, but still she looked unsure. "If you like, you can go and see him yourself. He's still alive, just."

"No," Catelyn shook her head. "It's fine. Did he have anything else to say about this cloaked figure?"

Vitoria hesitated, knowing how reckless Catelyn Tully could be. "He remembered seeing a lock of blond hair fall out of the hood," she spoke carefully, watching Catelyn's reaction.

"Blond," The woman's eyes narrowed in dislike and suspicion, and Vitoria immediately wished she had said nothing. Catelyn was silent for a moment, thinking, but then seemed to remember herself. "Was that all?"

"It was," Vitoria nodded, reaching out to take the dagger. Her goodmother's fingers twitched towards it, as though to take it first, and Vitoria raised an eyebrow. "Do you want it?"

"No. Apologies," She blatantly did want it, but Vitoria still took it and immediately sheathed it to her leg. "Thank you, Vitoria," She nodded in acknowledgement, and left, passing Maester Luwin on the way out, heading towards the courtyard.

"The damages to the structure were minor. And few men have injuries, none of them serious," one of the servants explained to Vitoria. "We have yet to find the source for the fire, but thank the gods for their mercy since no one is in danger of leaving this world."

Vitoria's amber eyes were hard as she assessed the damage the men were cleaning, stroking her daughter's flaming hair over her shoulder. She wondered about who could have done it and came up with a blank. Who could have wanted to set fire to the castle and murder an innocent child?

"Alright, go help tending to the injured. And I'd like an evaluation of the damages as soon as possible."

The man walked off after a bow and left Vitoria tending to her daughter's sobs. Leila had started crying when she heard her father say he was going towards the tower affected by the fire and by now, Vitoria thought the only way to calm her down would be for her to see that Robb was alive and uninjured. She'd quickly relieved Lexa of the task when she went to the nursery, but so far she had not had more luck than her friend in calming her down.

"Vi," she turned around and saw Robb, his face void of emotion but his eyes lighted up when he took their daughter into her arms, rubbing her back soothingly with one arm while he extended the other one to loop it around his wife's. Vitoria allowed it, walking with him across the castle.

In the godswood, Catelyn held council with the people she trusted most in Winterfell, even if to her chagrin she'd had to include Vitoria and Quentyn in the meeting.

"What I am about to tell you must remain here," the woman sighed. "I don't think Bran fell. I think he was pushed from the tower."

"What makes you say that?" Quentyn questioned, his brows furrowing together.

"The boy was always sure footed," Maester Luwin remarked, sharing a look with Sir Rodrick.

"Someone tried to murder him twice," Catelyn pointed out. "Why? Why kill an innocent child? Unless he saw something he wasn't meant to see."

"Saw what milady?" Theon asked, looking concerned at the thought of Bran's injuries being inflicted upon him rather than an accident. After all, he had grown up in Winterfell and known the younger Starks since they were babes.

"I am not sure. But I would bet on the Lannisters being responsible. We already have reason to suspect their loyalty to the crown."

"Did you notice the dagger the killer used?" Ser Rodrick posed the question, a thoughtful look on his face. "It is too fine for a simple man. Made of dragonbone and Valyrian steel. Someone must have given it to him."

"They come into our home and try to murder my brother? If it's war they want -"

"Robb…" Vitoria started, her voice low as she grasped his arm.

"If it comes to that, you know I'll stand behind you," Theon agreed without hesitation causing Vitoria to glare at him.

"What? Is there going to be a battle on the godswood?" Maester Luwin asked the three young adults.

"Words of war become acts of war too easily," Quentyn remarked, locking eyes with his sister. Both siblings were thinking the same thing; perhaps now they could finally avenge their aunt Elia and their cousins. But this wasn't the way. They needed time to prepare for every eventuality as they had been taught during their lessons. They needed time to prepare; time to make various plans so if one failed, they could rely on the other as a backup.

"Lord Stark must be told of this," Maester Luwin looked at Catelyn.

"I don't trust a raven to carry these words," Catelyn argued, shaking her head.

"I'll ride to King's Landing," Robb offered, stepping forward.

"No. I'll go," Vitoria stepped forward as well. Robb needed to remain in the North, acting as the Warden and the Lord of Winterfell. "There must always be a Stark in Winterfell."

"I'll go with you," Quentyn voiced.

"No. The Lannisters hate the dornish more than anyone else. Neither of you would make it out alive," Robb shook his head.

"No. Neither of you will go," Catelyn denied, making the three young adults to look at her. "There must always be a Stark in Winterfell. And Robb and your children need you, Vitoria. If anything happened to you, Prince Quentyn, we could find ourselves in conflict with Dorne. I will go myself."

"Mother, you can't."

"I must," Catelyn's voice was firm as she stared at her son.

"I'll send Hal and a squad of guards to watch you," Ser Rodrick inclined his head.

"Too large a party attracts too much attention. I don't want them to know I'm going," Catelyn argued, shaking her head.

"Let me go with you at least. The Kingsroad can be a dangerous place for a woman traveling alone," Ser Rodrick insisted and Catelyn relented, nodding her head.

"What about Bran?" Robb asked as he twined his fingers with Vitoria's.

Catelyn looked down, sorrow in her eyes. "I have prayed to the Seven for more than a month. Bran's fate is in their hands now."