Zokla | Theon Greyjoy

Chapter 6

Minisa was her only reason to stay alive.

She couldn't see Maester Luwin– the Ironborn wouldn't have allowed it. Theon was treating him like a servant, making him pass messages and complaining to him loud enough that she could hear his voice echoing through the walls.

Theon felt not an ounce of remorse for what he'd done. At least, not from what she could hear. He thought he'd done a wonderful thing, killing two little boys that'd posed no real threat to them.

She felt so truly alone. Her husband, father, and two brothers were dead. Jon could not come, even if he was closest. Her sisters were suffering in who knew what awful ways. Her mother and Robb were in the middle of the war and probably wouldn't make it back home.

And poor Ned Umber was alone in the forest, trying to survive. Would he make it to Last Hearth? How long would it take, if he did? Were the Umbers already aware of what'd happened or would they learn only if that frail little boy made it back home despite holding no knowledge of what way was north or south?

If anyone was to survive this, it would have to be her daughter. She had to get Minisa out of the castle without the Ironborn harming them. Perhaps she could figure her own way out to Last Hearth, perhaps she'd find Ned along the way.

(She realized she had no idea what path to follow, how long the journey would be, what food rations to bring so she might survive. She'd barely be able to nourish herself on such a journey, and if she couldn't feed herself, how would she feed her daughter?)

A few days later came a scuffle at the gates. She peered out the window, seeing a woman on horseback arrive with twenty new Ironborn men. Yara Greyjoy had not delivered five hundred, much to Theon's dismay. Lyarra wondered what her goal was, if not to aid her brother.

The Ironborn forced her door open as Minisa was napping through the afternoon. Lyarra sat up, holding up her lamp and glaring at the woman as she entered her chambers unannounced.

"You won't be needing that," said Yara, motioning for her to set it down. "I'm not here to hurt you." She nodded to her men, beckoning them out of the room. "You're Lady Umber, I hear. Wife to the late Smalljon Umber."

"Your brother killed him," said Lyarra venomously, not letting go of the lamp. "He killed my brothers. I've no guarantee you lot won't kill me and my daughter next."

"No, I suppose you don't." Yara leaned against the wall. "But I can guarantee you that I know very well how much of a dumb cunt my brother is."

Lyarra faltered. "You think him a dumb cunt?"

"That's what he is. He never should have laid a hand on your brothers. They were valuable hostages. Now we have... only you. A widow of House Umber, the only living Stark at Winterfell. The Northerners are already gathering men to retake this castle... My brother will be lucky if Ned Umber never makes it to Last Hearth to reveal what was done to him and to his father."

Yara moved closer, holding her arms out in a non-threatening gesture. "You won't be harmed further, and no one will dare to lay a hand on you or your daughter. You'll be kept comfortable. I'm here to bring my brother back to the Iron Islands. I'd like to bring you with us, but only if you're willing to come."

Lyarra furrowed her brows. "Why?"

"Every man in the North wants my brother dead. There will be a siege if he does not join me. You will be safe in the Iron Islands. I'd place you under my permanent protection."

"You mean you'd like a hostage that you can use against Robb so he doesn't kill Theon for what he's done," said Lyarra coldly. "I will remain here if it is my choice. The Northern men will protect me. I will not abandon my home."