"What is wrong my love," Victoria Valiente spoke to her betrothed as they both laid in her bed. His body was strewn over hers, the women sitting upright by the headboard and running her fingers through the soft hair on his chest. She had been content to simply listen to his breathing and the sound of his fingers running up her thighs. He had been quiet since entering her room, not even rushing for sex just simply pulling her to the bed until they were laying in the position they were currently.

Victoria was now concerned, and although she could guess that much of his silence had to do with the war against the Lannisters she had no doubt Robb was still holding back. The Starks hands stopped caressing her and instead he finally spoke, "do you know how many men will be under my command?"

Victoria pretended to think it over before shaking her head, "not a chance."

"18,000, and that's without your fathers forces. 18,000 men of the north who have entrusted themselves in me. That's 18,000 who the majority are older, wiser and likely have more battle time in battle then I ever have." Robb spoke with slight worry. "They'll all be here tomorrow with their Lords, most of which don't know me and certainly don't trust me enough to follow me into battle. How will I convince them of that."

Victoria thought over his words, she couldn't deny how much truth there was in them, after all Robb was not even officially Warden of the North just yet. All these Lords that rode with their cavalries were loyal to Ned Stark not his son. Besides all of this most of the Lords weren't entirely happy that a foreigner was to be Wardeness, most of them had wished their own daughters to have been pledged to Robb and the idea that Targeryen blood ran through her veins added a bitter taste to their mouths. Despite the truth however she knew that it was her duty to assure her future husband that he could do this and it came as no trouble to her because she had all the faith in the world Robb would accomplish more.

Her hands moved from chest to his soft curls, massaging his scalp with her nimble fingers, "You have no faith in yourself my love, all those men are loyal to the Stark name, not your father. They will swear their lives just like their ancestors have done so in the past and you will prevail just like your father, grandfathers and any other Stark who put their mind and soul into an idea."

Robb turned his body so now he could see the face of the women who had showed herself loyal to him, loyal to his family, and above all else, loyal to their love for one another. Robb pressed his hands around her jawline, grasping her soft skin into his hands, "you've got more faith in me then I do myself."

"It's not faith you bloody idiot," Victoria rebutted but pressed her hands over his in an effort to rid him of his worries. "It's you, it's always been you Robb.
Our fathers are rotting in a jail cell for crimes they did not commit over a family that has hated all of us since before our birth. Robb, you're more then just a man now, you have power and strength incomparable. You will do and can do more then any of those Lords think possible."

"You really believe in me, don't you," he spoke in slight wonder, caressing her cheek.

"With my life, my fathers life, and our future." She responded and kissed him to express what was entirely in her soul.

Victoria forgot her troubles, forgot the actual child that was currently growing her, and most importantly forgot the looming war for at least the time in her home. All that lived was her and Robb, and the passion they held for each other.

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"They sent word just before leaving Dorne, my lady, your troops will be meeting us." Sir Marcos handed Lady Valiente the scroll in which the Commander of her army wrote to her with kindness. There was also a second attached from her Uncle Oberyn wishing her luck in the wars to come. He had given up in his attempts to convince her to return and now knew his niece was going to stand by her future husbands side. In response Oberyn had allowed a few of his families armies to join her own.

Victoria hummed with happiness as she took the scroll and drank her pomegranate juice. "Very well, the Commander should arrive shortly."

Elaine settled after bringing the lady her snack and takes an eyebrow, "aren't you worried the troops might be caught by the Lannisters?"

Victoria and Marcos shared a knowing smile, the brunettes confident look settled the blonde who listened, "our Commander is rather different to others. Rest assured, he won't get caught."

The Commander of her army was not a man of noble family nor was he even a knight who had risen in the troops. The Dornes has unconventional ways and even choosing leaders was one of them, none more so then when Lord Valiente had chosen the commander of his armies. Dominick Monterroso had been a pirate, a theft, a liar, and a merchant all before having been caught smuggling into the Dornish boarders. The Lord of the castle luckily had a sense of humor and after finding the Monterroso man both a quick thinker and a man of his word he had offered him a position in his flanks. Dominick had proved himself to be a man of his word and after his life had been spared he had pledged it to the Valiente family.

The man was good, he could sneak anyone anywhere which is exactly why the Valiente forces were well on their way to the North.

"The Lords are in the Great Hall, Lord Stark is going over strategy with them, I think it best if I go and represent your House my lady." Ser Marcos spoke, shifting the sword at his waist and standing proudly.

Victoria thought his words over and swiveled the juice in her hand as she thought it over, gods she wishes she could drink. A nice taste of Dornish wine would have helped clear her mind for a moment. All the stress and worry was now beginning to weigh on her and as much as she craved a nice bitter drink of even the wretched ale the Northermen loved she would not do that to her child. She ran a hand over her soon to grow bump and set the chalice down. "No, we will all go."

Elaine and Marcos looked at the lady in silence, both eyes wide as if confused by her words. The Knight was the first to speak, he thought over the best way to soak before stating. "Forgive me my lady but a hall full of Lords won't take too kindly to a Dornish lady—or any lady for that matter, being in there meeting."

"Victoria he's quite right, Northern Lords are a bit old fashioned that way." Elaine's blue eyes spoke with truth.

Victoria knew they meant nothing but respect for their lady but she did not care, if her people were going to die for her then she might as well know what exactly was going on. She stood with her arms by her side and looked at both her Knight and Handmaid the way a respected Lady of the house would. "I understand and hear both of your concerns but Winterfell is now mine as much as it is Robb's, our people will be fighting this war so I owe it to them to bear a few harsh stares from these stale old men. Now unless you two want to stay in here I suggest you follow me now."

Marcos and Elaine had no objection after that, her mind was made up and Victoria was as stubborn as anyone.

Together they marched through Winterfell, past the soldiers who were ramped amongst the fortress, only silencing once they caught sight of the Winter Sun and future Lady of Winterfell walking past them.
Victoria smiled at them despite some of their silenced looks and whispers, they could have said all they wanted about her, her family, her heritage or even her skin color and she would not have cared. This home would be hers soon enough officially but even so they were her guests, and soon would be her own people. She would have northern children, she would birth the following Warden, like it or not she was going to be as much like them as they were.

The Great Hall was rowdy as ever when company was here, only this time the tension was loud and anger clung to the air like disease but even so Victoria faced it without fear. The doors opened with a roar and she was met with a cluster of stares from drunk old men and silent glares from those still bitter over her title.

Victoria offers them glances and silent responses as she sweeps her eyes over the crowd and sizes them up. She finds her lover, Robb, sitting at the head of the table and just peaking above the table she notices GreyWind by his side, the wolf eyeing his mother for a moment before laying down again. Robb looks at her and a small smile appears, nothing to big to show happiness but enough so to let her know he's glad to see her. You should be here, she can tell he wishes to speak and indeed she knows she should. She nods her head at him and takes a seat at one of the emptier tables, only it's quite unconventional.

Sitting against the benches she cannot see over the tall men and those walking so she steps on the bench and plants herself against the table. Marcos eyes her for a moment but stays silent and takes a seat next to her legs, his hand on the hilt of his sword. Elaine seems not at all surprised by the decision and curtsies to her lady as a sign of respect, "is there something I can get you, my lady?"

"Pomegranate juice, Elaine, bring a pitcher if you can. I believe it's going to be a long night."

The blonde handmaid hurries off, ducking and maneuvering around the other servants and the lords.

Victoria watched her go, noting how she easily avoids the Karstark table and heads out, before returning her eyes to the main table. The banner men of great houses sit there amongst Robb, Theon, and little Bran who is soaking everything in like a wet rag. Victoria furrows her brows, she's had plenty doubts about Bran being involved in these matters but has kept her mouth silent as she knows it's not her place. The Northeners were strict on a boy aging to a man quickly and she supposed there was no better way then with war.

She wonders if her child is a male will he be given the same treatment, will Robb be kind or cruel? Will he hold the young babe close as he wins the war or will he send the child packing with him and his mother. No, Robb would never do that, she doubts her thoughts, he's good but even good men may change when pressured in war. Her hand goes to her stomach out of instinct but under the thickness of her fathers winter coat no one but Marcos notices as he looks to her hand and then back to her face. She can tell he's not pleased she's here, these men were drunk and angry, a deadly combination waiting to happen.

Lord Umber catches her attention and distracts her thoughts as the mans loud voice commands attention and she hears her fathers voice in her head. "Lord Umber was a man who uses his sword more then his mind, he was good in war but not great, that was for a leader."

She can tell by his hardened face and the scars that are scattered he must like to pick fights. She's heard about his great house and can tell her father spoke the truth, even know there is a clear examples. The mans downed a pitcher of ale practically in the time he's been speaking to Robb, and the young wolf does not seemed pleased by it.

Elaine appears then and hands her lady a cup before pouring her juice into the pitcher and taking a seat next her to her on the bench. Her head is ducked just like an good handmaid and she only listens.

"For 30 years I've been making corpses out of men, boy." Lord Umber speaks so boldly and loudly it's a downright command instead of a option he gives Robb. "I'm the man you want leading the Vanguard."

The curled haired man is much more political and organized about his words. He's also sober which seems to help as he speaks with calmness but abrupt decision. "Galbart Glover will lead the Van."

Greatjon is not happy at all as he practically spits back, "The bloody Wall will melt before an Umber marches behind a Glover. I will lead the Van or I will take my men and march them home.

And then Robb shows what a true Stark he is because the room goes silent waiting for his response. His jaw is tense and his blue eyes are now darker, GreyWind has also allowed a dark growl to escape his lips but he remains under the table so it appears like Robb himself has done it. The Lord of Winterfell then speaks with finality. "You are welcome to do so, Lord Umber. And when I am done with the Lannisters, I will march back North, root you out of your Keep and hang you for an oathbreaker."

The room grew tense as everyone knew Robb had a right to say those words but they all knew the Umbers and their tempers. Despite it all Robb had no fears after his words and anticipated the reaction from the lord. "Oathbreaker, is it?!" Greatjon stands immediately and grabs at his sword. "I'll not sit here and swallow insults from a boy so green he pisses grass."

His tone is so threatening that the room follows swiftly, with his bannermen standing to defend and even Theon going to defend his friend. Ser Marcos stands and puts his hand on the sword, keeping a close distance to his Lady while Elaine also now lifts herself to sit on the table and place an arm protectively over Victoria.

It is the most unexpected twist however when GreyWind springs from underneath the table and lunges straight for Lord Umber. His teeth lock on the hand ready to unsheath his sword and push him to the ground while the Lord screams in pain. GreyWind is quick as he severs a few fingers and then pulls back, mouth bloody. He growls with the two fingers between his lips and then steps back to sit beside Robb who's angered sneer is now want everyone seems to be staring at.

"My Lord father taught me it was death to bare steel against your Liege Lord." Robb Stark reminds each of the Lord sitting in his hall. One would have heard a pin drop in the place had it not been for his convicting voice. Luckily for Lord Umbee it seems Robb is smarter and merciful like his father. "But doubtless the Greatjon only meant to cut my meat for me."

Greatjon stands and digests his words, and a smile cracks upon his face as he speaks. "Your meat...is bloody tough." A loud laugh follows from him, his bleeding fingers lifted high in the air but he continues to cackle as clearly now he seems to have
Greatjon Umber starts laughing breaking the tension, making everyone laughing along with him.

Victoria glanced between Ser Marcos Trout and Elaine Snow, their expression matching as the three were clearly confused with what had just happen. The Dornish highborn raises a brow of amusement and dipped her chalice of juice.

Well, she thought to herself, the games had begun.

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