I wanted to just leave it here, because I can't remember if I've said this. Worst case, scenario, I say this for the second time.
I'm using a mix of the book and show timeline. In the books, around 3 years have passed between the 5 books. In the show, each season represented one year. I'm not having each season be a year, but it won't be as little time as it is in the books.
I also wanted to say this, as a slight warning. I'm considering re-writing the story. If I do decide to go down that route, I think I'd post a sort of epilogue so you can at least know how this story ends before deleting it once the new story is up. I have thought of a name, a change in her face claim and how to expand on Vitoria's backstory. I feel I made a mistake jumping directly into show-canon and I want to fix it and the flashbacks aren't cutting it
Part 1
She wore ice on her skin like diamonds while the heat in her veins kept her from freezing
"I've yielded Winterfell to Theon."
"Louder. Say Prince Theon."
"I've yielded Winterfell to Prince Theon."
Theon stepped forward. "You all know me," he called over the murmurs of the crowds.
Whatever he was to say next was cut off by a man in the crowd. "Aye, we know you for steaming sack of shit."
"Farlen, you be silent," Bran cut in. Theon started towards the man.
"Listen to your little lord, Farlen," he said, with just enough haughtiness that Vitoria wanted to punch him in the nose with all the strength she could muster. But she remained behind Bran with Benjen in her arms and her shawl drawn over her head. "He has more sense than you do!"
"All of you should do as he commands," Bran continued.
"My father has donned the ancient crown of salt and rock, and declared himself King of the Iron Islands! He claims the North as well by right of conquest. You are all his subjects -"
"Bugger that!" Farlen spoke up again, staring at Theon with disgust. "If you think you can hold the North with this -"
An Ironborn soldier came from behind and hit Farlen over the head. Vitoria gave a sharp intake of breath, holding her baby closer to her chest. Farlen's daughter went to her knees to help her father.
"If you serve me as loyally as you served Ned Stark, I will be as good to you as he ever was! Betray me," he warned, "and you'll wish you hadn't."
"And the Queen?" another asked, pointing at Vitoria almost accusingly. Her head snapped up. "What has she to say of this?"
Vitoria looked from Theon, who stared at her with a warning clear in his eyes, to her son, sleeping in her arms and unaware of the events around him, to the citizen who pointed at her still.
"We will yield Winterfell to the Ironborn," she agreed, swallowing the lump in her throat.
Theon gave her a smug smile, before turning around. "Maester Luwin! Send a raven to Pyke informing my father of my victory here, and one to Deepwood Motte to my sister. Inform her that she's to bring 500 men to camp two miles from Winterfell." When Maester Luwin made no move to go, Theon turned to face him fully. "You are a Maester of the citadel, sworn to serve the Lord of Winterfell, are you not?"
"I am."
"I am the Lord of Winterfell, as Bran just informed you. Send the ravens."
The Maester looked in the eye, before nodding his head just slightly. "My Lord."
Vitoria was startled when Osha spoke up, and moved to address Theon. She felt the surge of fury burn in her chest when the wild woman offered her services to the traitor.
"Get up," Theon spat, and pushed her roughly away. "Step aside!"
"Why?" Bran asked softly when she came near enough to hear.
"It's your dream, little lord," she responded lowly. "The ocean has come to swallow this place. I ain't lettin' it drown me."
Vitoria wanted to be so mad, she knew she should, but the first thing she could think was that perhaps now she might have to do unthinkable things to keep herself and her family safe. Even offering herself to Theon.
"Greyjoy!" a great roar came up from the gates, and Vitoria felt her heart drop when she saw Rodrik being led by two Ironborn into the courtyard. Theon approached him.
"We caught this one on his way back from Torrhen's Square," one of the brutes spat. "He took out two of ours before we got his sword."
"Ser Rodrik," Theon said, "it grieves me that we meet as foes."
"It grieves me that you've less honor than a back alley whore!" Rodrik barked. "You were raised here, under this roof! These people are your people -"
"They are not my people," Theon said sharply.
"King Robb thought of you as a brother!"
"My brothers are dead. They died fighting Stark men – men like you!"
The conversation continued in lower tones, ones Vitoria couldn't hear. She felt sick to her stomach, holding her daughters close to her skirts.
"You've served this house faithfully, old man," Theon began in a warning tone. "But keep talking, and I'll -"
He went silent when Rodrik spit in his face. The Ironborn hit Rodrik over the head and wrestled him to the ground as Theon recoiled.
"Take him to the cells! Lock him up -"
"My Prince!" an Ironborn called. He spoke to Theon in low tones, apparently trying to convince him of something. Vitoria felt her heart beating wildly in the silence of the courtyard.
The silence seemed to last a million years, and then Theon's voice came crashing down. "Ser Rodrik, I sentence you to death!"
"No!" Bran cried. Maester Luwin immediately moved away from them and began to approach Theon. "You said no harm would come to them if I yielded!"
"The old man wouldn't keep his mouth shut," Theon defended harshly. Luwin had reached him, now, and was trying to make him see reason – but there was no changing Theon's mind.
Rickon turned to her, tugging at her gown and staring up at her with fear in his eyes. She pulled him close to her side, attempting to sooth him as best she could.
"Theon, see reason!" Lexa called, voice thick with pain, but it went unheard.
The Ironborn brutes began to force Rodrik to the center of the courtyard. Rickon cried out but Osha pulled him back, keeping him firm between her and Vitoria. Bran was begging, pleading with Theon with despair in his voice. Luwin returned to them, pulling Rickon close to his side.
"Theon, you gave your word!" Vitoria cried, reaching for Bran and urging him to close his eyes. "Bran, please -"
"Stop! Stop right now!"
"You don't give commands anymore, little lord," Theon called, looking up briefly to meet their eyes as his sword hung inches above Rodrik's neck.
"Hush now, child." Rodrik's voice cut through Bran's pleas and effectively silenced him. Even on his knees with a sword at his neck, the old soldier's voice was without a trace of fear. "I'm off to see your father."
"Bran, look away," Vitoria pleaded, tugging on his hand.
"You said no harm would come!" Bran's voice broke. "You said no harm would come! Theon, please! Theon, please don't!"
"Do something," she heard Rickon whine, his face buried in the Maester's side. Vitoria's cheeks were wet. She tugged on Bran's hand again.
"Look away," she begged. "Bran – please."
"I'll do anything, please – no please stop it - !" But Bran's cry came even as Theon lowered his sword upon Rodrik's neck. If Vitoria had wanted to close her eyes, she couldn't now, and even if she could, the image of Theon's sword slicing through Rodrik's neck was forever in her mind.
Theon dragged her up the stairs roughly and pulled her towards her rooms — the rooms she had shared with Robb — as she struggled vainly against his hold. He paid no mind to the fight she was putting up, dragging her inside her chambers.
For a moment they both stood still, just staring at one another and then he went at her, his hands tearing at her woolen dress as she tried to resist his assault. She cried out as the sleeve of her dress was ripped away by his hands, but he ignored her, pushing her roughly onto the bed. As soon as she landed, she twisted her body and landed a kick to his chest, crawling away from him but he grabbed her by the legs and pulled her back, throwing his own weight on top of so she was pinned in place.
"… Please Theon …" Vitoria cried out, as he pulled her legs apart underneath him and forced his body between them. "Theon don't do this!" She screamed at the feeling of his hands pulling at her dress again, trying to squirm free of him but it was no use. She could do nothing but scream and shout and beg him to take his hands off her body.
"Forgive me, Vitoria," he whispered into her ear, "I had to do it, they followed us up … I had to make them believe it was real, they have to trust me," he continued urgently, his voice barely audible. Relief flooded through her body and she sobbed harder.
"I am sorry for this too," Theon said quietly as he dabbed at her forehead with a wet rag.
"What have you done?"
"Robb told me to get ships," he said.
"So you decided to take Winterfell?" She questioned, her voice rising. They asked him to get ships and he attacked Winterfell, the place he had grown up in, the place he had learned to fight in, where he had taught both Bran and Arya to shoot arrows.
"Please … keep your voice down," Theon hushed, looking towards the door, "they have to believe I am on their side or my plan will never work."
"Oh so you have a plan then?" She asked sarcastically, venom in her voice.
"I can get Robb ships and rid myself of my father with one move," he told me.
Vitoria scoffed. "What move?"
"You aren't stupid, Vi, your men outnumber mine, I only need time to inform them of that."
"And then you will turn on your own people?"
"My people are here," he said with finality.
"Then you cannot risk them," she said shaking my head.
"Winterfell will win!" he tried to assure her.
"At what cost?" I asked, "Men will die, perhaps women and children too, I cannot let you do this"
"Then what would you have me do?" he asked desperately.
"Send them to the Dreadfort or Barowtown," she answered after a moment.
"I don't understand," Theon frowned, "People would die there as well."
"It is different," she started explaining. "Lady Dustin never forgave Lord Stark for her husband's death. She barely sent any men. Barrowtown is protected. And Lord Bolton would never leave his lands undefended. He wants Winterfell. Attack the Dreadfort and we eliminate men who could fight against us. Attack Barrowton and there will be men waiting and ready."