Disclaimer: I don't own ASoIaF/GOT.
Hey, I'm back! How was everyone's Christmas/New Years? Hope it was better than mine was (admitted to hospital for emergency surgery on the 22nd , can you believe it? I'm still wiped).
So, whilst recovering from surgery I started playing around with another new story idea that has taken up all of my (limited) energy. The first chunk of it is quite similar to the books/show, so by now it's about 20 chapters in, and I decided to post it.
I know, I typically don't like to have more than 2 stories on at once, but Star of the North is almost done already, and I've got some writer's block when it comes to the sequel for ASoMS, while A Song of Vengeance is pouring out onto my laptop. Check it out and then tell me in your reviews what you think!
Read, enjoy and review! Your support makes my day and encourages updates!
Chapter Twenty-Nine
The Birth of the Desert Wolves
Sunspear: 10th October, 299 AC
Larra:
Larra woke up in pain, rolling away from Ellaria with a moan that bordered on a small scream. Her movements jostled Ellaria and Oberyn awake as she put her hand on her belly, rubbing across it to try and calm the twisting and squirming babes somehow.
"Larra, what's wrong? Larra?" Oberyn's urgent voice pierced her haze of pain and she managed to focus on his face through the tears of agony filling her eyes.
"Something's wrong!" she gasped, bending double and clutching at her belly.
"Ellaria, go and get Caleotte, get him right now," she heard her husband bark at their lover. She could hear Ellaria scrambling for the door, but she couldn't concentrate. She had been having mild pains all week but only on and off. Caleotte had examined her and declared that they were simply practice pains as the babes moved into position and prepared for their birth.
This, she knew instinctively, was very different and very dangerous. She recalled her mother's troubles with childbearing again, how both of her grandmothers had suffered multiple stillbirths and miscarriages before dying of childbed fever, and felt fear mix in with her pain. Tears fell from her eyes and she struggled to breathe through the tightness in her chest.
"My love, I know it's hard but you must breathe," Oberyn said coaxing, cupping the sides of her face. She groaned in response, hiccupping through her tears.
"It's too soon, they're too early," she whimpered in reply. She could spy the anxiousness in his own gaze, though he was clearly trying to hide it from her. She was still about a moon away from when Caleotte had said she was likely due. The maester had said that multiples often came sooner than expected too, but she knew perfectly well that the earlier a child came, the more dangerous it was. Her husband's late sister had been a moon and a half early, and whilst Elia had survived, she had suffered with ill health her whole life.
Larra was utterly terrified in a way she had not been since the attack on the Tower of the Hand when she was twelve.
"Everything will be fine, just breathe, Caleotte is a genius with childbirth, he will be here soon," Oberyn replied soothingly. "Twins often come early, do not fear. Everything will be fine."
"I want my mother," she sobbed, utterly petrified. She had been longing for Ashara more than ever since the start of her pregnancy, but now the desire for her mother's cool hands and loving purple gaze was almost crushing, it was so overwhelming.
He grimaced. "I know, my love, I know," he muttered.
The door flew open and Caleotte and the midwife, Lady Myriah Wyl, came rushing in with Ellaria at their heels.
Caleotte was barking orders, Oberyn was pushed out of the way, and Larra finally fell unconscious, but not from pain. What tipped her over the edge into blackness was the raw panic she felt when Lady Myriah ripped the blankets away to reveal the blood staining the sheets.
Ellaria:
Ellaria did not remember much about the birth of her youngest daughter. Loreza's birth had been traumatic, as if the child had tried to rip her way out of Ellaria's womb. Ellaria had been only half-conscious the whole time, all of her scattered concentration focused on pushing the child from her womb. Mostly she remembered utter agony and Oberyn's panicked voice demanding that her life be saved and pleading with her to stay with him, with their daughters.
If this was how he had felt when she had nearly died birthing Lorie, then she dearly regretted not comforting him more in the aftermath. This was as bad as the fear she had felt during his battle with the Mountain, and when Larra had disappeared that day to meet her siblings in secret. She was less than pleased with the return of the feeling, to make an understatement. The whole of the Water Gardens were awake and bustling now, for all it was still dark outside.
Even if word had not spread quickly when her ladies-in-waiting were all summoned from their beds to Larra's side to help with the labour, the pandemonium in their rooms would have drawn people's attention. Ellaria and Oberyn were at Larra's bedside, unable to do more than pray for the safety of her and their soon-to-arrive twin daughters. Because she was unconscious, they could not even give her comfort, though Ellaria was repeatedly wiping her sweaty forehead and trying to bring her back to consciousness, Oberyn doing the same and looking pale and worried.
She could not give him any comfort, when she felt the same way.
"We need to wake her up!" Caleotte growled.
"Really, I had not realized that!" Healer Elyse Blackwolf, a woman in her late fifties with grey hair, a scar over the bridge of her nose and a fierce, no-nonsense attitude who had served at Winterfell for generations, narrowly escaping the Bloody Conclave by clambering out of a window with three servants' children, snapped back. Neither of them stopped moving, rustling through vials to pour down Larra's throat, putting palms against her forehead to check for fever, or else checking her progress, even as they argued fiercely over what to do.
"What does your oh-so-excellent southron training suggest that we do to awaken her then?" Healer Blackwolf growled at the Dornish maester. "Do you Citadel fools have some secret way to replenish the effects of blood loss? The University will be delighted to hear it! We have been trying to figure out a solution to that for centuries!"
The pair continued to argue, but Ellaria hardly noticed. Her attention was fixed on the form laying prone on the bed. She had already lost so much blood that her ladies had changed the sheets thrice. All the while, Ellaria was helpless even to do anything but bathe her young lover's forehead, bitterly chiding herself for not being able to do more. She had brought four daughters into the world, yet she was unable to do anything, and she felt almost paralyzed with fear for her young love.
She couldn't believe that this was happening, though the midwife and Healer Blackwolf had both expressed concern over the fact that Larra had not gained much weight during her pregnancy.
When carrying her girls, Ellaria's face, ankles, thighs, everything had seemed to gain a thousand pounds, as was generally typical for most pregnancies, from what she had seen and heard. She had felt like a beached whale, though Oberyn had always insisted that the only time she was more beautiful than when she was with child was when she was with child and surrounded by her already-existing daughters.
Larra's experience with pregnancy had been different. Her stomach had ballooned (and Ellaria definitely agreed with Oberyn that being with child suited the young Lady Paramount of the Winterlands, almost seeming to give her a glow) and the sharp angles of her face had softened and rounded slightly. That was all. In fact, lately she had begun to struggle to walk due to the weight of her belly, requiring somebody to lean on to go more than a few steps, and always tiring quickly.
But Caleotte had dismissed the women's concerns, claiming that it was merely due to her young age, her naturally slim form. They had trusted him, the man who had overseen the birth of Princess Elia, Oberyn himself, and all four of Ellaria's daughters, as well as Doran's children. They had ignored Larra's own worries also, thinking them the normal fretting of a first-time mother.
What had they said, Ellaria tried to recall. When she had expressed her fears after her late mother's difficulties in the birthing bed, the way her grandmothers had both died birthing their youngest children and even over the late Princess Loreza's struggles to bear healthy children and her succession of miscarriages? Ellaria could not remember, only that they had insisted it was only her fears, that she had the best of care and that nothing would happen.
They had ignored Larra's own instincts, the wealth of experience obtained by Lady Wyl and even Healer Blackwolf, who had a vast array of medical knowledge and experience with Larra's family and Larra herself. They had ignored, too, that Larra's thinness had not just been because it was the way she was, but because she had been starved and denied food by the Lannisters at a critical time in her growth, something that Ellaria knew from her male lover typically had effects on a person's body long-term.
If they had taken Larra's concerns more seriously, had been more careful, would they be in this situation? They had not stopped her from attending the meetings to plan for the war, and she had spent many hours bent over reports and letters from the Winterlands, updating herself on the state of her kingdom and gradually taking over as much of its ruling as she could given the constraints she was under. Not to mention the execution of her cousin. In spite of his crimes, killing him weighed on Larra's conscience still. He had once been her playmate, and was her blood as well. It had given her some small measure of closure, but added another grief in its place. Perhaps the stress, which even little Lorie knew a pregnant woman was supposed to avoid as much as she could, had caused this early onset of labour.
"I want to see my sister!" Arya's voice, loud and desperate, came through from the adjoining room. "You cannot stop me!"
"She's our sister, you cannot keep us away from her!" Robb added furiously. "I am the Prince Consort of the Seven Kingdoms!"
"Somebody go and keep them out of here!" Lady Wyl snapped without removing her attention from where she was checking on Larra's progress again. "We need all the space and as little distractions as we can manage."
Serena Whitewolf, one of the Winterlanders who had appeared at Sunspear three moons past, announcing that they were Larra's retinue, as was appropriate for a lady of a Great House who had come to another kingdom, shoved the bloody sheets she was holding into Jynessa's arms and hurried out to the other room to see to the two distraught and frantic siblings. In the back of her mind, behind the worry for Larra and their babes, Ellaria approved of it being Serena who went. Arya was still prickly around a lot of southrons, she would be more likely to listen to one of her childhood companions than a Dornish lady.
"She's waking up!" Myria cried, and indeed the young heiress of the Tor was correct.
Larra, who was still so terrifyingly pale, had her eyelids opened just a fraction, and she twitched her gaze towards them, too weak even to turn her head in their direction.
"Keep her awake, my prince, milady," Caleotte ordered. "The first babe is twisted around, she cannot get out. The princess will need to stay awake to push."
Oberyn gave a curt confirmation, before smiling as comfortingly as he could at their lover, whilst Ellaria bathed her forehead gently.
"Mm?" Larra mumbled, gaze foggy and confused, with fear beginning to creep in.
"The babes are coming, my love," Ellaria cooed to her lovingly. "You must push."
"Can'," Larra whimpered, voice hoarse.
"Yes you can, and you will," Oberyn insisted, leaning closer to her. "You are a Stark and a Martell, the Lady Paramount of the Winterlands and a Princess of Dorne. You will not be defeated in this battle, my love. I am your husband, and I forbid you to die."
Ellaria thought that was taking the authority of a husband a bit too far, but if it worked than she would gladly kiss him breathless in relief. Larra's lips quirked up at the edges, but she didn't even attempt a reply. Healer Blackwolf spoke up, coming over to them to speak, her expression grave.
"We are going to perform a maneuver to help the babes out," she announced bluntly. "But it will pain you greatly, my lady. You will have to use all of your strength to do it."
Oberyn:
Oberyn had seen many a battlefield during his life, had fought in a sellsword company for several years and yet, he was convinced that no sight was more awful than that of a woman's battle to bring a child into the world. It always stunned him that something so bloody and painful could bring forth such joy for a person.
The first time he had witnessed a labour had been Lia's birth, and he had been convinced that something was most definitely wrong, that Ellaria was going die and he would lose the woman who had become the anchor for his sanity. Surely nobody who lost so much blood could survive? Yet he had been proven wrong on both counts. Not only had Ellaria survived and recovered in record time, but Caleotte and the midwife had both declared it to have been a smooth, easy labour. After that, Oberyn had prayed that he would never have to see a difficult one, if that was what they considered to be easy.
Yet now, for the second time, a woman he was in love with was on the verge of death from attempting to give him a child. Irrationally, he blamed himself. If he had not gotten her pregnant, if he'd been able to keep his hands to himself until she was older, her body more recovered from the trauma the cursed lions had put it through, then Larra would not currently be screaming an inhuman shriek as Caleotte and Blackwolf did something to force the first babe into the correct position for birth.
He blamed the lions too, for forcing her into a position where she had to be wed at such a young age. It provided him with no comfort to think that, were she married to a Lannister or one of their sycophants, the midwives probably would have let her bleed out during her labour.
He really wished there was somebody around that he could kill. It was awful, being unable to fight the thing that was causing his wife such pain. He was meant to keep her safe, yet she was at risk of death due to him and his lust for her.
He could not decide if things were going better or worse than Ellaria's struggle to birth Loreza. That had certainly been quicker, though it had not felt like it at the time. Loreza had been born within two hours. Larra had woken them with her pain-filled cry almost seven hours ago now. Dawn had broken already.
"Such a pity, is not my beloved," Ellaria jested with false light-heartedness. "That these twins of ours are as much as trouble-maker as their father, and from such a young age! We shall both go grey trying to keep them all in line."
Larra simply sobbed in response, shattering his heart and increasing his guilt.
"The first babe is coming," Blackwolf declared. "When the next contraction comes, milady, push down. You are a Stark, you shall endure. This will all be worth it when your babes are in your arms."
Larra groaned and screwed up her face, inhaling deeply. A second later her face twisted into an expression of pure agony as she howled like a direwolf (and given that Tai had been howling her own distress from below the window since Larra's labour had begun, Oberyn was able to say so for certain), her body arching upwards even as she pushed.
"A boy!"
For a moment, Oberyn thought that he must have misheard the Northron healer's words. Had she really just said that...? His head whipped around to stare at her incredulously, just in time to see her deftly slap his child on the buttocks and draw out a wail, before handing the small babe (smaller than any of the babe's elder sisters, even Dorea who had seemed small enough to curl up twice in his palm when she was first born) over to Lady Myria, who was looking with wide-eyed shock at the child. The expression made him consider the chance of him not having misheard Blackwolf's words after all.
"A what?" Ellaria sounded as astonished as he felt.
"A boy," Blackwolf repeated impatiently, returning to her position with Caleotte and Wyl. "Honestly, what is so shocking about that? There is a chance either way, you know."
"But I only have daughters!" Oberyn objected. "This is my tenth child, and never a girl before! How-"
"These things are the Gods' wills," Blackwolf snapped, blatantly annoyed at what she probably considered to be 'southron stupidity'. The Winterlanders had a very low opinion of southron intelligence, from their attitudes, though Larra had apparently intervened before they could majorly offend anybody by expressing their opinions. Given some of the people he had met at court, Oberyn understood why they felt that way.
"But-" he began to protest again.
"Enough!" Blackwolf snapped, cutting him off. "The next child is coming. Ready, milady?"
Larra simply moaned, the moan turning into another scream. Well, it would have been a scream if she'd had the energy and her voice wasn't destroyed by her earlier cries. But a few moments later, his second son was being born.
He'd have felt more overjoyed if he and Ellaria were not promptly handed the babes and shoved outside of the room so that Larra could be tended to.
Sunspear: 15th October, 299 AC
Larra:
Larra's mind felt as if it were filled with fog when she awoke. Her eyelids seemed absurdly heavy, and she felt as if she were trying to lift a mountain as she pulled them apart. Her stomach and lower half felt more sore than she had ever felt before. She'd thought that she was quite familiar with pain after all of the torture Joffrey and his brutes had put her through, but it now seemed that she was wrong.
"Larra, Larra my love?" Ellaria's voice pierced her haze-filled mind and she turned her head towards it.
"'Laria?" she mumbled, her voice hoarse and her throat dry and sore, as if she had been screaming for hours straight.
Perhaps she had been. She did not remember what had happened to make her feel so weak and pained, and alarm began to form.
"You're alright, my darling," Ellaria murmured soothingly, stroking her forehead. Larra sighed in relief at her cool hand, a lovely contrast with the scorching heat. The touch soothed her rising distress. "Do you wish to meet our two new babes? They have been eagerly waiting to meet their máthair."
"Babes?" Larra repeated, her voice more of a croak than anything else. For a moment, she was bemused. Then suddenly she recalled waking with the awful pain in her stomach and the blood, and she tried to jolt upright only to cry out as it made the pain in her stomach flare. Ellaria quickly pressed her back down, cooing soothingly.
"They are fine, I promise, as are you. I-"
The door opened, and Larra recognised Oberyn's urgent footsteps.
"She's awake," Ellaria announced triumphantly.
"Thank the Old Gods and the New," he exclaimed in reply, footsteps gathering speed and urgency. A second later his face came into view, one hand cupping her cheek. "My love, how do you feel?"
"I want to see our daughters," Larra answered, calmer now that Ellaria had assured her of the babes' well-being. She was puzzled at the mysterious smiles and glints in her lovers' eyes at her words, and Oberyn swiftly leaned down to kiss her forehead.
"I will fetch the babes immediately, my love," he promised, before going to do just that.
"I am glad that you have woken at last," Ellaria told her as they awaited his return. "You have been asleep for five days now. We feared you would never awaken."
"I'm sorry," Larra murmured, guilt spiking at having caused her loves distress.
"Do not be," Ellaria replied, with a gently chiding tone. "But do as the healers say, yes? Without argument, that you might recover quicker."
"I will," Larra promised. A thought occurred to her and she inquired, trying to hide the hurt she felt at the thought. "Has a wet-nurse been feeding them, then?"
The Winterlands did not approve of using wet-nurses. It was believed that they interfered with the bond of a mother and her child. Larra had always loathed the thought of her child being fed by another woman. She didn't understand how anyone could prefer such.
To her surprise, Ellaria grinned and shook her head. "No, my love. I have been feeding them myself. The gods very kindly gave me milk for them, to allow you to rest."
"Oh," Larra breathed, relaxing. It was different, Ellaria feeding the babes. She was their mother too, it was probably better. They would bond with Ellaria as well. That was reassuring.
At last, the doors opened again and Oberyn entered, carefully cradling a small bundle. Robb was at his heels and also holding a bundle, slightly larger. He gave Larra a broad, relieved grin as he entered.
Ellaria helped Larra sit up straighter as the pair came over.
"My lovely wife," Oberyn began as he sat beside her so she could see the babe's small face. "Meet our firstborn son."
Larra's eyes went wide with surprise. "A boy?"
"Twin boys," Robb corrected her. "But this one is bigger, even though he was second to arrive."
"Trouble makers from birth, both of them," Ellaria jested.
"They have their father's big head," Larra agreed with mock solemness. Oberyn feigned a look of indignation as the others laughed. "Did you name them then?" Larra asked uncertainly. They had never bothered discussing boys' names, everyone had been so very certain that she would bear girls. "Shara and Mariah will not do for boys."
Shara to honour her mother without causing too much of an ache, and Mariah because it had been used by both the Starks and (more frequently) the Martells, as well as the Ullers. Ellaria's great-grandmother had borne the name also, so it had seemed a good way to honour the families of all of the children's parents.
"We would not name them without your input, my love," Oberyn assured her softly, kissing her forehead. Larra brightened at that. She had a name in mind for their firstborn already. She'd always had it in the back of her mind, but given the amount of daughters her husband had, with not a son to be seen among them, she had figured there was no point in hoping.
"Here," Robb said. "I will give him to you and leave you be for a while."
There were a few moments of fussing, and at last Larra was holding her sons in her arms. Of course, Oberyn and Ellaria were right beside her ready to intervene if she lost all of her energy, and she had a dozen pillows supporting her. But she was holding her sons.
Robb kissed her forehead and muttered some quiet words of love and relief at her being awake before leaving them in peace. She guiltily acknowledged that she barely noticed him go, too entranced by the small forms that she held.
Looking at them, she could not possibly imagine any other child in existence could ever be as perfect as the two boys in her arms. Their faces were squished and red, they were both bald, and they were tiny.
Perfect.
"What shall we name them?" Oberyn asked, looking at her.
"Eddard?" Ellaria glanced at her as she spoke. "Or perhaps Arthur would be better?"
"I want to name our older boy Eddaryn," Larra answered softly. "For his father and grandfather."
Oberyn inhaled sharply at that. Then he leaned into kiss her deeply. "Thank you, beloved," he murmured.
She smiled at him, feeling tears sting her eyes. "I hope he will be half the man his namesakes were, though 'twill be a great legacy to live up to," she answered, making him kiss her again.
"Ellaria should name our second son," she added once he had pulled away. "But perhaps his own name instead of honouring somebody we love?" He nodded immediately.
"I agree," he said, looking to their paramour, who was watching with a smile.
Ellaria's smile broadened. "What about Garin?" she suggested. "For Garin the Great of Chroyane. I always admired him, and thought to name a son for him if I had one."
"Princes Eddaryn and Garin Stark of the Winterlands and Dorne," Oberyn tested the names. Larra let out a shaky exhale. The next generation of Starks, when but a year past she had feared the name would die with her, an eight-thousand-year-old legacy reduced to ashes. The twins in her arms were a safeguard against that tragedy occurring.
"A grand pair of boys," Ellaria declared.
"They are wonderful," Larra breathed, still fixated by her boys' peaceful faces. Eddaryn scrunched up his small nose and sneezed, and she thought it the most beautiful and perfect sound that she'd ever been blessed enough to hear.
"They are," Oberyn agreed, leaning in to kiss her again. "I love you," he said sincerely when he pulled away.
"As do I," Ellaria added, also going in for a kiss. "I pray to the Gods that you never scare us in such a manner again," she went on, eyes glazing slightly with tears and voice trembling.
Larra swallowed, looking at her two lovers. If there had ever been a time for her to say the real words, it was now, when she had nearly died without doing so, with their babes in her arms.
"I love you both," she said, putting all of her genuineness into her voice so that they would hear the truth of it in them.
Ellaria's eyes widened before a smile brighter than the sun split her face, while Oberyn stared at her with such a look of adoration on his face she thought he must think her some sort of goddess.
"I," he began lowly. "Have never heard a more welcome or wonderful set of words."