"You look beautiful in that gown, Princess…"

"…and you must wear that necklace today, Princess. It suits you very well and matches a pretty dress like yours."

"No, no, no. This necklace is better…"

"Why the fuss? They are just necklaces."

Lyarra couldn't help but smile. It was typical of Arya to speak her mind in tiny trivial matters like choosing jewellery. When they were at Winterfell, there were a few rather giggly girls like Jeyne Poole; now at court, there were many girls like Jeyne Poole. Surprisingly though, Jeyne Poole herself was more subdued now she was at court in Lyarra's household.

As Lyarra stared at herself in the mirror, listening to her ladies' bicker about a necklace she should wear, her mind wandered. She was allowed to bring ladies of Northern noble families to court as part of her train, but many of her father's lord bannermen disliked the idea of their daughters and sisters in the south. The only northern ladies that came with Lyarra – apart from Arya – were Jeyne Poole and Lady Wylla Manderly, Lord Manderly's younger daughter. Out of all the northern noble families, House Manderly was regarded the most southron; they follow the the Faith of Seven instead of the old gods and held a strong and more affirmative outlook on knighthood than the other northerners. In fact, to Lyarra's knowledge, the majority of House Manderly's men were knighted.

"I will wear the necklace my father gave me," Lyarra decided, ending the petty matter decisively. "The pearls."

"They are beautiful, Princess," said Lady Ana Massey, sighing with admiration. She watched Lady Wylla carefully take the string of pearls from the rune-carved box and place it around Lyarra's neck. Lyarra smiled at Ana, who was of the same age as her. "You wear a lovely pendant," she complimented. Ana blushed, quickly brushing a strand of blonde hair behind her ear.

"Will it be sewing today, Princess?" inquired Lady Ysilla Royce.

Lyarra nodded. "Winter is approaching and not all of the smallfolk are able to afford warm clothes. I talked to the queen and Princess Lyanna yesterday and we agreed that we must do what we can to help the smallfolk. It is said this winter to come will be the coldest and longest in many decades. We must all do our part to help the poor. The queen, Princess Lyanna and I have decided that until winter is here, we'll all sew as many clothes for the poor as we can and every morning and late afternoon, we will walk the streets of King's Landing giving alms to them. If it helps at all, the queen promised she'll convince the king to issue orders for more alms to be handed out to the poor in the Seven Kingdoms."

"A wise and kind plan Princess," praised Lady Chalysse Hightower, who was a granddaughter of Lord Leyton Hightower and Lord and Lady Tully's niece.

"My sewing is terrible," said Arya flatly. "Can I be excused, Lyarra?"

"Your sewing isn't terrible," said Lyarra truthfully. "It has improved, especially with the queen's help. Besides, it is the thought that counts, is it not? You told me that you wanted to help the smallfolk."

Arya nodded uncertainly.

"You can read aloud with me," offered Rosaline Tully. "I'm certain the princess will like to have us reading aloud when she and the other ladies sew."

"Indeed," agreed Lyarra. "Arya, you can sew later if you prefer to read aloud to us with Lady Rosaline here." Both Arya and Rosaline had a knack for mimicking a recognisable person when reading a passage in a book. Usually Rosaline chooses the books which tended to contain stories about knights and damsels. Arya went along with it and rarely complained – she seemed to enjoy reading the words of a villain with different voices she produced.

"What of your own child, Princess?" asked Lady Cassana Baratheon. "Wouldn't it be interesting to sew little dresses and tunics for the babe?"

Lyarra instinctively touched her belly. I will be a mother soon. She still couldn't believe it. Orys hadn't visited her chambers every single day, yet she was blessed by the old gods and new and now carried his child. When Lyarra announced it to her family at supper, everyone was thrilled. Lyarra was delighted, but also afraid. Women died every day giving birth – would she as well?

"Princess?" prompted Cassana.

"Maybe it's a little too early," said Lyarra, biting her lip. "I'm only in my fourth month. Grand Maester Pycelle said that if I am not careful, I might-"

"Don't, Princess!" said Melia Tully wildly. "Don't say it!"

Silence entered Lyarra's chambers. Some of the ladies glanced nervously from the elder Tully girl to Lyarra; others stared at their sewing. Their concerned eyes all expressed a question: had she gone too far? "We will sew clothes for the poor," said Lyarra firmly. Mother had already started sewing baby clothes – having four dozen little socks, caps, tunics and blankets was slightly excessive for one babe. I am to bear more children though.

Lyarra's lips twisted into distaste. A royal breeder. Like every noblewoman in Westeros, she knew since she was a girl that her primary duty would be to bear a litter of heirs for her lord husband, but at least she would have a household to be in charge of. Here at court, there was not much to do. Her good-mother the queen was content though, spending her time with her children, sewing and dispensing alms for the poor…

Was that all a queen did though?

If it is, I'd be happier being the Lady of the Dreadfort. Lyarra prodded her patch of linen she began sewing into a long-sleeved tunic. After sewing for the last four days without doing much else, she felt something new: boredom. As she listened to Arya and Rosaline read aloud, her eyes swivelled around the room. Apart from Arya, Wylla Manderly and herself, the only other northerner present in the room was her newly appointed sworn shield, Jory Cassel. He stood silently at the door, two other Baratheon guards nearby. In Lyarra's circle of ladies, there were ladies from all over the Seven Kingdoms, including female relatives of the late Lannister lord. There were three of them: nineteen year old Myrielle Lannister, niece of the late Lord Tywin; fifteen year old Joanna Swyft, niece of Ser Kevan Lannister; and Joy Hill, the illegitimate niece of Lord Tywin who, despite Lannister disgrace, was betrothed to Lyarra's illegitimate good-brother Edric Storm. None of them were picked to honour House Lannister; it was to ensure Lannister loyalty. Joanna was there more to warn Ser Kevan, who was selected by the king to be the temporary Warden of the West until the Lannister successor was decided, as her father was Ser Kevan's good-brother.

After a few minutes of quietude, the ladies began conversing to each other. It's what usually happened – silence and then chatter. Unsurprisingly, the subject of discussion was betrothals. "I will not stay here for long," Ysilla was saying. "Once the royal court leaves for the Eyrie, I'll be going too and after Ser Harrold and the Lady Sansa's wedding, I have mine own wedding to attend to. My lord father had wanted me to wed one of Lord Redfort's sons for years – Lord Redfort finally said yes after he discovered his youngest son Ser Mychel promising marriage to Mya Stone. I suppose I'll be marrying Ser Mychel in a few weeks, but better a married woman than an old maid."

Melia nodded in agreement. "Are you upset at the prospect of wedding a third son, Lady Ysilla?"

Ysilla shrugged. "I have no choice in the matter, Lady Melia. Besides unlike you, I'm not my father's firstborn daughter. I have two older sisters who are now both in illustrious noble houses due to fine matches. Even if Ser Mychel's the third and youngest of Lord Redfort's sons, House Redfort is one of the most powerful noble houses in the Vale. What of you, Lady Melia? Will you wed soon?"

"I was to wed Ser Lancel Lannister," Melia responded, "but my father chose to end the betrothal after…what happened."

"My cousin is innocent of Lady Cersei's crimes," spoke Joanna Swyft sharply. "I hope you are aware of that, Lady Melia."

Lyarra continued poking her linen cloth. Poor Melia. If only she knew what her royal uncle the king was planning for her! Once Melia found out, she would wish a hundred times over that she was still to wed Ser Lancel Lannister.

"Who will rule the Seven Kingdoms in the king's place?" asked Rosaline, who'd abandoned the idea of reading aloud. "Will it be Lord Stannis again?"

"Quite so," said Lyarra with a nod. "He is the Hand of the King. More so, I don't think he desires to journey to the Eyrie for the wedding."

"Who does not like a wedding? Cousin Lyanna's was wonderful! Mother said I could stay up and dance like Melia! I cannot wait for Cousin Sansa's wedding! It'll be my first time in the Eyrie too."

"Mine as well. My father spoke often of how he loved it there."

"When do you think we will leave?"

"Not long now. A couple of days maybe? A week?" Lyarra stood up. There was no point sewing when her mind wasn't into it. "Arya," she said, putting her patch of linen away. "Walk with me?"


"I wish we don't have to go back inside," said Arya with a sigh. "If I have to live here for the rest of my life, I prefer the outside to the inside." She kicked the dirt with her feet. "I still feel like a prisoner," she confessed. "I thought I would adjust to living here, but…I miss Winterfell."

"I do too," said Lyarra truthfully. "At least you can return home."

Arya scowled. "I won't if the king and Father marry me off to some southroner. Mother likes to remind me that I am not a child anymore. You will be thirteen very shortly," she mimicked Mother. "As a child, you can run around and fight; as a lady, you cannot do that anymore. I fear we have indulged you for far too long."

"You won't marry a southroner," Lyarra told her. "Father promised that there will be no more southron matches in our family for some time. If the king insists, Father will put his foot down and refuse. Don't worry Arya, you'll be home soon. I know you will."

"Father said a countless number of times that he and Mother will be able to go back to Winterfell after the Vale wedding – you'll be all alone here."

"Bran will be with me."

Arya's scowl turned into a look of uncomfortableness. "Actually Lyarra, Father plans to bring Bran back to Winterfell."

Lyarra stopped in her tracks and stared at her. "What?" Bran leaving too? That was unexpected. Though Bran spent more of his time with Ormund than with her, it was still surprising. Bran was happy here…wasn't he? "When did our father tell you about this?" Lyarra pressed on.

"He…didn't," Arya admitted. "I might have heard it when I was trying to catch a cat a few days ago. He was talking to Mother when they were walking out of the Great Hall and I accidently overheard them."

"What else did they say?"

"Bran learnt enough here and he should learn to be a northerner now. That is a reason why Wylla is here. She and Bran will spend time together and when the time is ripe to return home, Bran will squire for Wylla's father Ser Wylis in White Harbour. If all goes to plan, Bran will be knighted, married to Wylla and with the agreement of Lord Manderly, Bran will be Lord of Wolf's Den."

"You heard all that when you were eavesdropping?" said Lyarra questioningly. It seemed like a solid plan though. Bran would still be a knight.

"I might have followed them a little bit to hear the rest of their conversation. I couldn't help it!" Arya exclaimed when Lyarra arched an eyebrow. "I thought it'd be worth listening to! What if they wanted me to marry Ormund? I'd run home to Winterfell if I am forced to marry Ormund. It is not my path to marry a prince. I'd be a terrible princess." Arya huffed. "At least we'll be visiting the Eyrie," she said, a smile on her face now. "I always wanted to travel around Westeros. Oh, can you believe we never visited Mother's family in Dorne before? We saw them here and even in Highgarden, but never on Dornish land!"

"We will one day."

"Is it true, Lyarra?"

"What is?"

"You wrote to Syrio, asking him to come here to continue instructing me in the art of water dancing?"

Lyarra nodded. "If he returns to Braavos, Father will never be able to find you another instructor like him. I asked Syrio Forel to meet us before the wedding in the Vale. If you are to return home, Syrio will go with you. If you are to come back here with me, Syrio will come as well. I will ensure Robb pays for his journey."

Arya smirked. "What if he doesn't pay?"

"He'll have to on my orders." Lyarra's eyes gleamed. It felt like the old days at Winterfell when Arya plotted revenge against Jeyne Poole. Lyarra never plotted a speck of revenge, but there was always a first. Though she was satisfied with her marriage to Orys up to now, she still remembered Robb's crime and wasn't ready to forgive him – even now.

"Lyarra." Orys walked up to her. Behind him were his companions: his cousins Steffon Baratheon and Hoster Tully, Gerold Hightower (Chalysse's brother), Cley Cerwyn (why was he still here? He was to have left seven months ago yet he was still at King's Landing), the Blackwood brothers Hoster and Edmund, Ser Hendry Bracken, Radford Rykker, Jared Buckwell and Arthur Estermont. Orys glanced at Arya. "Lady Arya," he acknowledged.

"Lord husband." Lyarra dipped her head as Arya wobbled a curtsey. "I thought you had business with the small council today?"

"I did," said Orys, taking her hand as he did every time they went for a walk in the gardens every morning and every evening. As usual, Lyarra felt duty rather a sense of affection when her fingers curled around Orys's. Perhaps in a number of years, fondness would replace obligation. At least Orys was solemn rather than a hot-blooded man who chased after every woman he lusted after. Lyarra wouldn't know what to do if she was married to a lusty man. "It finished early with both of my uncles and my father storming out angrily," Orys went on. "Not a pretty sight, I can assure you. Not a pretty sight at all."

Should I ask him what happened? Some men did not like curious wives. Lyarra decided to be bold. "What happened?" she inquired warily.

"The small council was dealing with all of the inheritance dilemmas," Orys told her without hesitation. "Two to be precise: Rosby and Casterly Rock. Rosby is ah, more troublesome. There are many who claim Rosby lands, chiefly Ser Perwyn of House Frey, Lady Stokeworth and Lord Hightower." They slowly walked towards the courtyard. Arya darted away and Orys's companions began to separate. "My uncle Renly supports Lord Hightower," Orys continued, "while Uncle Stannis is in favour of Ser Perwyn."

"Who does my father support?"

"I believe Lord Stark was favouring Ser Perwyn as he is twice great nephew to the late Lord Rosby through his late mother. Lady Stokeworth is aunt to the Lord Rosby's second wife who was also his third cousin and Lord Hightower has…the weakest claim as he was widower to Lady Jeyne Rosby, Lord Rosby's niece. They – Lord Hightower and Lady Jeyne – had no children. If they had, their child would have been the next Lord or Lady of Rosby."

"Ser Perwyn is the rightful heir then, is he not? He has Rosby blood."

Orys nodded and scowled. "My uncle Renly only supports Lord Hightower due to his affection towards his lover, the Knight of Flowers. Everyone in the council is aware that Ser Perwyn Frey has the best claim."

"You mentioned Casterly Rock too."

"Yes. Three claimants: my cousin Steffon, his uncle Tyrion and his great uncle, Ser Kevan. It should be Tyrion as he is the late Lord Tywin's son and heir, but he is a dwarf and Uncle Renly thinks Casterly Rock would be better under Ser Kevan. I believe he said that because if Ser Kevan is Lord of Casterly Rock, his heir is Ser Lancel and the Tyrells want him to marry one of their own. The Lannisters aren't in much of a position to refuse that offer. Uncle Stannis says that being a dwarf is not an excuse for Tyrion not to inherit." He darkened. "And then Uncle Renly said that of course Uncle Stannis would defend him because he loves those disfigured, common born and flawed. When he said disfigured, everyone knew he referred to my cousin Shireen. That insulted Uncle Stannis greatly and that was when the shouting began. Father was wise enough to end the meeting then."

"How cruel of Lord Renly," said Lyarra softly. She had met and spoken to Lady Shireen a few times and found her to be a sweet girl.

Orys nodded. "He never liked Uncle Stannis's opinions. He said I should not be attending small council meetings," he added with a look of distaste. "I wager that he only said that because it was Uncle Stannis who insisted that as I'm the crown prince, it is my duty to attend and learn."

"Lord Stannis is right though."

"Indeed. My uncle Stannis is often right." Silence joined their conversation for a moment. "I fear my mother will never forgive him," Orys said softly, "or my lord father when she discovers what they are planning for Melia." He sighed. "She is a sweet lady, Melia Tully."

"Cassana says Tyrion is kind. Whenever he visited Storm's End, he would give her and her siblings gifts almost every time."

"That is nothing to marriage."

"How is our child?" said Orys, changing the subject. Lyarra smiled. "All is well," she answered. "The Grand Maester says I should still be careful."

"You should stay here instead of going to the Vale," Orys said decidedly. "I fear the journey might be too straining for you. It will be disastrous if you miscarry or deliver a stillborn due to that." He brightened. "I'll talk to my father and mother – they will understand our concerns. Maybe you will be able to stay here and rest. I am certain my aunt Lady Arryn will understand. She birthed three children."

No! Lyarra wanted to shout. Don't leave me here! If her good-sister Lyanna did not leave for a progress around the Reach, perhaps remaining behind would be a little bit more tolerable. When Lyarra settled in King's Landing, Lyanna chose not to speak to her unless required. Lyarra expected it fully. However, Lyanna did at the end, warm up to her again. By the time Lyarra attended Lyanna's wedding (it was held at King's Landing five months ago), tears appeared in both of their eyes when it was time for Lyanna to leave for her new home.

As they entered the courtyard, Lyarra wondered where Lyanna was now. Had she reached Highgarden yet? Surely she would've. She took a deep breath. "If it is decided that I stay behind," she said bravely, "may I invite Lyanna back? I fear I'd be bored without company as all of you except Lord Stannis will be journeying to the Eyrie for the wedding. I cannot possibly ask your mother to remain with me – it's her sister's daughter getting married after all." Her heart pounded quicker as her husband frowned slightly. I have never made a request before – what if he says no? Why would he? Orys didn't despise his sister.

"It will be up to Lyanna," Orys said at last. "She is a married woman now and if she wishes to come to King's Landing, I will have no objection." He looked a little more thoughtful now. "I believe Willas said he wouldn't be going to the Vale – his leg couldn't handle the long journey or something."

Lyarra smiled. "You can represent me and our unborn child."

"I will." Orys didn't smile. Lyarra almost sighed. Of course Orys would deem it his duty to represent them. "I will be busy tonight," he said, releasing her hand as the stopped near the middle of the courtyard. "Council matters." More like you do not need to share a bed with me, thought Lyarra. "I'll break my fast with you," her husband promised, "in the morning."

"Of course my lord," murmured Lyarra. She watched Orys walk inside, some of his friends rejoining him. This time she sighed out loud. Breakfasting with Orys – that was what occurred every day…for the last seven to eight months. Orys was a man of schedule and routine, and nothing would ever change that.


I thought it would be nice to write a chapter about what's happening at court in Lyarra's POV (especially as the last was in Domeric's) and how her marriage with Orys is going. As for all that Stannis and Renly business, I always liked Stannis better in canon (the TV show had to have him sacrifice Shireen and for him to die offscreen though?).