He closed his eyes. His people waited in the grand chamber, hearts in their throats, hoping against hope that his wife, too fragile by far, would survive this. They hoped for a son, they hoped for a daughter, they hoped to still have a lady when this was done. He closed his eyes and his ears against her screams, and promised on his honor as a Lord, he would not let her die.
There was a second of breathless silence, and he grabbed for the handle into her chambers. As the heavy oak door opened, a new voice screamed, a very loud voice coming from the tiny bundle held in one of the midwives arms. He let out a breath that sounded like a gasp and collapsed against the doorframe. From the bed, his beautiful, beautiful wife smiled at him, pale with exertion but otherwise alright.
He moved to her side, and was given the tiny bundle of cloth. One small, pudgy hand reached up towards his face, and he felt himself smile tenderly as he handed their child to his wife. The little hand grabbed hold of his finger, and he leaned forward to see the tiny face.
"And who are you, little one?" His wife smiled at him and bounced the newborn a little.
"This is Levail Reyne, of Castamere, and your daughter, my love."