The sun shone brightly over Pyke, casting a warm glow that seemed almost out of place on the often stormy Iron Islands. Inside the chambers of your daughters, however, the mood was anything but gloomy. You were around five moons pregnant with your fifth child, and the joy of your growing family was evident in every corner of the room.

As you walked down the corridor towards your daughters' chambers, you could hear laughter and the sounds of playful chatter. Pushing the door open gently, you were greeted by an amusing sight: Theon, your husband and the Lord of the Iron Islands, was sitting on the floor, surrounded by your daughters. They had him firmly in their grasp, holding him hostage in their game of 'dress up.'

Your eldest daughter was diligently brushing Theon's hair, while the twins busily adorned him with shells and bows. The youngest daughter, not wanting to be left out, was happily adding jewelry to the mix. Theon, despite his predicament, wore a bemused smile, his grey-green eyes twinkling with affection for his daughters.

"Well, what do we have here?" you teased, leaning against the doorframe and placing a hand on your growing belly. "Lord Greyjoy, you seem to be at the mercy of a fierce group of ladies."

Theon looked up, a playful grin spreading across his face. "Ah, my lady," he said with mock seriousness. "I fear I am completely outnumbered and at their mercy. They are relentless in their pursuit of making me 'pretty.'"

Your eldest daughter giggled, placing a particularly large bow on Theon's head. "Papa, you look beautiful!" she declared, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

The twins chimed in, each taking a turn to add their own touch. "Papa, you need more shells!" one of them said, while the other insisted, "No, more bows!"

The youngest daughter, her eyes wide with excitement, carefully placed a delicate necklace around Theon's neck. "Now you're perfect, Papa," she said with a proud smile.