Zokla | Theon Greyjoy

Chapter 2

Her father had it nearly all planned out.

"The betrothal would be the excuse," said Catelyn, beginning a braid. "In a matter of days, it will be settled. Ideally all three of you girls would go with him to King's Landing if he accepted. Robb would remain here as Lord of Winterfell, and I would care for Bran and Rickon. But if you are betrothed, then you must remain in the North. As of this morning, your father has received ravens from the Lords Umber and Cerwyn."

Lyarra tried to remember what their sons looked like. She couldn't recall their faces, only their names. "Smalljon Umber has a son, doesn't he? A boy of four named Ned, for Father?"

"Yes. His wife died on the birthing bed. He is eager to be wed again and quickly. He is, however, five years your senior, and Last Hearth is much further North of here. As for Cley Cerwyn, well, he is more your age, only a year older than Robb. The castle is very near here. He is my preference but he may not be yours. I am told he can be arrogant, he likes to argue. The two of you together... with your tempers... Smalljon will perhaps be more to your liking and I know his son would adore you. He would be a good father to your child even if he knew it was not his. Cley may not be so fond if he learned the truth. He is still immature."

Lyarra gulped. "And who makes the decision, ultimately? Me or Father?"

"Your Father. He will take your preferences into consideration. They are the best options out of the Northern men."

"Better that way," she murmured. "I'd rather he didn't look further South and end up wedding me to one of the millionsons that Lord Frey has."

Catelyn smiled tightly. "If you'd only tell us who fathered your child, perhaps a marriage with him could be arranged, if he is of good stature. You may be happiest that way."

"Father would never allow it. It would not happen no matter what the truth is." She chewed on her lip. "I don't know either of those men. I do not care if Smalljon is older or if he has a son, I do not care if Cley has a temper like mine. What I hear does not mean a thing if I do not see how they act with me, how they treat me knowing the truth. I cannot keep it from them. Even with a quick wedding, they would know. They are old enough to. Why... why is Father not looking here? What about... what about someone I've known, someone like Theon?"

Catelyn dropped the unfinished braid. "If this is how you mean to tell me you allowed a Greyjoy to father your child–"

"No! No, no, not at all! But he is Robb and Jon's friend. I've known him nearly half my life. We get along well enough. I wouldn't have to leave Winterfell."

Her mother hesitated. "I will pose the idea to your father but I doubt he will see it fitting. It could present a host of problems we cannot risk."

"Please tell him, at least. I'd be far more comfortable marrying Theon than Cley or Smalljon..."

She sighed. "Very well. I'll see what can be done."

The banquet was not fun for her. She sat with Sansa and her friend Jeyne, eating a normal portion and watching as the King fondled a wench, much to the Queen's dismay. She didn't like all the noise; the laughter and music bothered her. She would have liked to sit with Robb and Jon, to at least be able to chat about something that could suitably distract her from her concerns.

She became interested in something else when she saw her Uncle Benjen walking in, making a beeline for her father. She tried to lean closer, hoping she might be able to hear what they were talking about without having to get up and make it obvious she was attempting to eavesdrop. She moved just enough to get a good view of their mouths, but before she could try to read their lips, Robb got in the way (perhaps intentionally). She huffed, her view completely blocked.