It's a special kind of agony for Wanda to sit there and watch the sister of her heart be in so much pain and be unable to do anything about it. Or, anything safe about it - her illusions have no use here. But she doesn't share Tyrion's anxieties. Sansa's not going to die from this. She's not. Wanda trusts Altair, and in this especially she trusts her own powers. They've always been more potent where the people she cares about are concerned.

So instead she keeps wiping Sansa's brow with a cool cloth, murmurs encouragements, offers her ringless (for once) hands to hold when needed, and gives whatever assistance Altair needs. And as soon as the baby is born and there is no longer any productive reason for Sansa's pain, Wanda springs into action. She takes up an unobtrusive place by Sansa's hips and lets her power flow into her friend. It's a warm, tingly sensation, and while it's not an instantaneous process, she can compress months of physical healing into the space of a little more than five minutes.

She glances up from her work, since it's mostly a passive process of letting Sansa's body take what it needs from her, and smiles warmly. And those are definitely tears of joy at the corners of her eyes. "I'm so proud of you, Sansa. You did it."