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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"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 a 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 Artos 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 son 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 him 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.
