Zokla | Theon Greyjoy

Chapter 5

Her room had never felt so full.

At the same time, it was the emptiest it had ever been. Her parents should have been there to wipe her forehead and tell her that she was doing just fine. Sansa should have been in the doorway waiting for the babe's arrival with a blanket she made herself, a plush cloak with the emblem of a wolf breaking out of chains. Arya, Bran, and Rickon should've been outside shouting a million questions that were hastily answered by Robb and Jon, who couldn't bring themselves to enter the room but wished for their sister to know that they were present, too, in their own way.

"How long will this take?" she asked, leaning forwards onto her bed as Palla massaged her back. "Gods, it feels as though I've been aching for hours!"

"It's different for every woman, Lyarra," said Maester Luwin, offering Osha another cold rag for her neck and forehead. "You are in the earliest stages, where your body is still preparing for the delivery. It could be hours before you are ready."

She tilted her head back, groaning in agony. "My mother says it is usually longest with the first child. Fuck. Forgive me..." She shook her head, holding the bedposts and breathing heavily as another stab of pain coursed through her. "When... will the men return from Torrhen's Square?"

"They won't return until tomorrow evening, my lady," said Palla, shaking her head. "That's the earliest."

Lyarra slammed her hand into the post, gasping angrily. "Why are there Lannisters so far North in the first place? What does Tywin Lannister stand to gain from sending them to Torrhen's Square? It doesn't sound like the sort of thing he'd do! It sounds like a bloody trap!"

"Hush, now," said Osha, motioning for Palla to take her place. "Come, now, deep breath, I'm going to show you how the wildlings deal with this sort of situation."

She began to knead her hands over Lyarra's lower back, gently palming as she went around her belly but pressing firmly heading up her shoulders and to her neck, sending ripples of pain throughout the entirety of her body. She pressed her palm downwards in circular motions, relieving the tension in her back and letting her breathe without resistance.

"I don't know if I can do this," whispered Lyarra, fingers digging into the wood.

"Yes, you can," said Palla, cleaning her face. "You're a wolf, same as everyone in your family."

Lyarra wondered if wolves faced this much agony in a normal lifespan.

For the entirety of the day she labored, alternating between laying on her face and standing by the window, the discomfort increasing steadily no matter how much she waddled around or massaged her own belly. At nightfall, once the boys had been put to bed, Maester Luwin determined she was ready to begin the delivery.

She held onto Osha and Palla as she pushed past blinding pain and spots dancing in her eyes. By the time the sun was rising, she'd delivered both a babe and the afterbirth, and was bundled up in her bed drinking an herbal mixture Osha prepared.

"There." Maester Luwin lowered the babe into her arms, delicately wrapped in fur. "You've a perfect girl, Lyarra."

"A girl?" She looked down at her, pleased to see a dark head of hair and pouty lips. "Oh, she's as small as Rickon was when he was born. She's beautiful." She held up her little hand, kissing the back of it. "Your Uncle Jon suggested I name you Minisa, for my grandmother, or Lyanna, for my aunt. What do you think of those names, little one?" She smiled, and decided, "Minisa Umber, so I may call you Minnie."

"Your mother will be very pleased to hear it," said Palla. "She's perfect, Lyarra."

She nodded in agreement, bringing the babe beneath her cloak to be fed. "My sweet little girl. My little wolf."