Zokla | Theon Greyjoy

Chapter 3

A/N: I didn't think it needed to be said but if you don't like a fic... simply don't read it? Pretty easy to do tbh. No need for comments that make no sense. I'm proud to say I've never used ChatGPT cause my depressed mind is already so chaotically hyperactive lucid-dreaming crack activated that I come up with insane shit on my own. I write for myself first and foremost 'cause there's no way I could normally burst out these sorts of fics and expect everyone to like them– I'm glad when they are liked and indifferent when they are not. So again, don't read if you don't like it. Not sure why people think that's going to stop me from continuing a fic that I want to write.

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He was quiet.

Or maybe, he was simply listening. Hearing as she told him about her past, how she'd grown up, how she practically raised her youngest brothers, especially Rickon. She told him in vague detail the circumstances of her pregnancy, and he merely nodded, prying no further and letting her share only what she was comfortable with.

He then told her about himself, how he married at seventeen, had his son before he turned eighteen. His late wife, Astrid, had bled out on the birthing bed, leaving him a single father when he was still practically a child himself. Ned was his whole world, and he loved him. His sisters had helped him where they could, but he'd cared for the boy mostly on his own while also preparing to become Lord of Last Hearth after his father, Greatjon Umber.

"He adores you, that much is clear," she said as they toured the courtyard. "He seems like a very sweet little thing."

"He is," promised Smalljon. "He's no trouble at all. A good lad. Sometimes too good. I've a brother, Hother, and he isn't the friendliest, but Ned always tries to chat with him, teases that Hother is his favorite uncle."

"I'm sure he and Rickon will get along swimmingly," she assured him.

They stopped in front of the entrance to the dining hall, and he reached out, asking silently if he could place his hand on her stomach. She allowed it, and he pressed gently. "My intuition tells me it'll be a boy."

"My brother says I ought to name it Brynden if it is one," she said. "What do you think of that?"

"Brynden Umber is a fine name for a little lad. Ned is already excited. I told him he'd have a new mother and perhaps a brother or sister. He wished for a sister, but claimed he'd be happy with a brother, too. He requested quite specifically that he have three sisters."

Lyarra blushed. "Three sisters, well, I suppose he ought to ask one of my brothers what it is like to have three sisters."

Smalljon watched her closely. "Lyarra, I do not wish you to ever feel as though you need to have another child after this. If you do not wish to share a bed intimately with me, we will not. I would never force you into anything. All I want is a mother for my son. And I know you need a father for yours. That is fine with me. I pledge to honor you as a husband should. I ask only that you honor my son."

"I will do so," she promised. "Thank you, Jon. It means a great deal to me. Truth be told these past months have not been easy. I didn't know what to expect from a husband."

He smirked. "Well, I haven't much practice being one but I do have practice, which is more than what can be said for the other contestants, eh?"

"Indeed," she agreed. "I have only one question, Jon. Are we to share a bed... even if there is to be no intimacy?"

"We do not have to if you do not wish to. But if you would like to share living quarters, you ought to know Ned is used to sleeping beside me. He is still frightened to be on his own."