A/N: As a reminder for my long-time readers: I changed the title of the story to 'Lyarra' from 'Bastard in the Cradle' (the first arc). This story has been spinning in my head for over a year and is self-indulgent. Let me know your feelings with a review!

The Bastard in The Cradle Arc

Chapter Four

Where the Marches were warm with drizzle, the northern part of the Stormlands is sticky and wet. Camille feels as if she is back in Florida, constantly sweating from the humidity. While traveling Camille doesn't know what is worse: the lack of proper baths somedays, or the constant rain. In Starfall, they washed daily, rubbed with oil and creams for softness and scent. Here, even the nobles bathe only a few days, insisting a wet rag is efficient. It is disgusting, and Yadira, Essie, and all of her Dornish household agree, but they hold their tongue for her father, who is loved in this place.

Eddard makes sure they travel as close to 'five-and-twenty' miles a day, to their misery. The handmaids and the chamberers tie the wheelhouse windows tightly, as they sat under heavy shawls missing home. On the drizzling days, she would find people toiling in the fields, with babies on their backs, or when they passed through little villages, the women and their children would all come out. They were all tired and dirty, living in little huts with straw roofs unless they had a bit of money for a better home. At the sight of her staring and frowns toward the 'small folk', Yadira and Ernatta would keep her far from the windows and occupied with games with Theryse and Aurelia. Whenever they stopped, she made sure she offered something to whomever she saw, which didn't impress her ladies much.

On the road to Storm's End, they had passed Summerhall as well. It loomed a short ways away on the road. Its columns, large windows, and arches all were ruins, darkened by grey skies and rain. Flowers grew everywhere, giving a burst of color to the solemn place, but it gave Camille such an ominous feeling. When the traveling party had passed it, Camille had a violent tremor go through her which gave Ernatta quite a shock. It had scared her as well, and she spent a great deal of time wrapped in Yadira's arms, half drugged from whatever was in the 'tonics and tinctures' she was given to soothe her. It had put her guard up, and in the night she barely slept, making Camille irritable with everyone. She was not able to sleep the entire night for at least a week where Yadira wisely kept her from her father who was unamused with her tantrums. Not that she cared much. She was a toddler, and could as she wished.

At Durran's Point, finally upon Storm's End, they heavy rain beat on the roof of their wheelhouse and soaked everything. They are nearly stranded on the road that has turned to mud and sludge until men come in livery of yellow and black to escort 'Lord Stark and his party' to the castle. The men here are used to this weather and work immediately to get them moving as thunder cracks. When Yadira demands they close the windows and stay inside as they stop and wait. The men had no patience for that, and with great cloaks covered them, she in Yadira's arms, and put on horses with men. She didn't have to deal with this back home– Starfall or Chicago –where there are umbrellas and paved roads. They then thunder down the road. It took everything in her not to scream, but she did cry herself to sleep: a better way to endure the ride.

Eventually, she finds herself at Yadira's feet, and terribly wet. She is in Zirimiri, Yadira's dog, she realizes instantly. Her tall boots are covered in mud, her gown as well, as she debates with a man, who seems put out to be in the situation

"Ser Henry, surely you understand these rooms are unsatisfactory?" Yadira's Common Tongue is heavily accented, but her brows are pinched. Ser Henry is taller than Yadira, who is of average height for a woman, but nothing else is special about him: straight brown hair, brown eyes, and a beard. He was sort of attractive if you looked at him long enough. Yadira probably didn't feel that way though.

"I have been given orders–" "By who?"

Yadira stands close to Ser Henry, unblinking, sopping wet, and angry. She doesn't have her fists together, but she is stiff. Henry is irritated and maybe a bit intimidated, the way he keeps looking away.

"By the steward himself. These rooms are for Lord Stark's bastards–" he stutters as Yadira's feet reposition themselves, and she wishes she had a higher view to see what face she makes now as she turns her head. Yadira is relentless.

"Do you have children of your own?"

"Yes, I have three–"

"Then you know that fresh air is good for the health of babes. That light is good for children."

"Lady Yadira, these are the rooms assigned to you–" "These rooms are kin to dungeons, not sleeping chambers!"

Yadira's face is cool, but her face is pinched, and Ser Henry is unimpressed. He is simply an usher, the poor man. He doesn't make those decisions. Yadira blocks the way into the rooms and makes a crowd of the servants and ladies as Baby Jon starts to cry in his wet nurse's arms. Lord Howland arrives then- she recognized the wraps around his boots, and when she looks up, he has a soft smile on his face, amused at Yadira no doubt. Looking to Henry she can tell he dwarfs sweet Howland- but he was a short man so that wasn't hard to do. His usual smile is gone, and devoid of much emotion, and his tone is flat. Howland had not hidden how he had little love for 'Southrons' once they went into the Marches. They were fond of mocking him. Howland wasted no time speaking with him: yes he knows what the steward had organized, but the chambers will be rearranged. Lord Starks demands it.

The poor usher has no choice but relent, opening the parchment handed to him, and gestures to several grooms to go back into the windowless-chambers and to gather their things. She notices Ernatta holds Camille herself in her arms. She had wondered where her body went. Yadira finds humor in the situation as she gives a silent hard faced look as the men pack up their things and move.

"Through this noise, the babe fusses, but Arra barely moves." Essine, who had come from the other end of the hall, had her brows lifted.

"I suspected it was Arra making complaint myself." Camille felt insulted. She wasn't that bad. Ernatta chuckled, "When she sleeps she is like the dead, my lady. Let us count it as a blessing, she has fussed a great deal on this trip."

Camille awakes in her nursery, a bright sky greeting her and the smell of smoke tickling her nostrils. Theryse and Aurelia sleep sprawled behind her, the velvet hangings around her bed are drawn all around to block the light, except for one small opening. Ypolita who sits and sews in there, giving her a look to see if she would move and wake. When she doesn't move again, Ypolita looks back down at her work– a brightly colored yellow gown of hers– thinking she might sleep again. Without thought, she slips into Zirimiri.

Her bedchamber has grey stone walls, three windows, with a large spacious bed, and rugs on the floor, though they were not Myrish. All around were tapestries of vivid colors, gold, and silver. The furniture was magnificent- it was all expertly carved with stags and antlers everywhere. Camille was grateful to be away from the compact space of the wheelhouse. Ernatta, Essine, and Yadira sat on the settees huddled together, as her usher, Ladron, was nodded off to keep the door. There was tea and treats untouched on the table: a special jam from Starfall, peach cakes, nuts, and bread and a large flagon of wine. Their ladies were all elsewhere and Camille had found that they were insulted by the Steward of the castle, Ser Courtnay Penrose, giving them inadequate rooms and arguing with Essine about the rest of her small household. For Essie, the final insult was that he apologized only to Eddard, and paid little mind to 'the Dornish women' at all.

"He has much nerve to admit so," Ernatta had shirts she was sewing in her lap,

"And in front of you!"

"I am but a Dornish woman in Northron's world. What importance does a chatelaine have?" Decidedly little, Camille realized, and Essine felt the same.

"And Lord Stark, he said nothing?"

"Well he owes no loyalty to us," Ernata stated, putting her shirts and items to the side. "We are far from Dorne now. What use is it to show too much kindness to us in this kingdom?"

Yadira and Essie exchange looks, and Yadira turns away and looks into the fire. "He had not shown much more kindness in Dorne." Essine scoffed, rolling her eyes. Yadira gave a pause again, and then picked up a cake.

"How is the household? They are boarded? Are any put in the town?"

"No, that would be mad. For now, everyone shares a few rooms, even on cots. I would rather them not be alone. There have been complaints about the food though."

"I think the Stormlanders are still hungry." Ernatta quips, sipping some wine.

They all chuckle at that, picking at their food, but hushing as one of their ladies, a younger handmaid, enters to announce their guest.

"Lord Baratheon is here, my lady."

"Why ever would he come?" Ernatta looks between Yadira and Essine confused.

"Tell him to wait Odall." Yadira rolls her eyes and rises to smooth out her clothes, a vivid rose damask with a sunflower overrobe. Her customary gold jewelry is there as well, at her head, ears, neck, bosom, and wrists. Yadira gives a serious look to both women and they sober up adjusting themselves.

Essine wastes no time. "Ernatta, dress Lyarra now."

Ypolita was already ahead of her orders, gently shaking her and her ladies awake in bed. She has cloth-of-silver bed robes on Theryse and Aurelia in seconds, insisting they not yawn. Ernatta has smoothed both of their heads as they move to the side, and slips her cream silk slippers full of seed pearls on and tightly wraps a gold-on-cream silk brocade robe on her, a small band of pearls to contain her hair off to the side.

"My lady, Lord Baratheon comes now to see you," Ernatta says.

"Be sure to curtsey, and be sure to make no faces," Essine quickly follows, "Though he comes unannounced."

Yadira has gone to speak with the Lord Paramount first. The words Essine makes her practice are familiar in her mouth, as she is reminded to great him in common. Essine doubts he can speak anything else. Camille is escorted into her solar and there Theryse and Aurelia stand three steps behind her, Ernatta to the side, and Essie on the other a bit of a distance away. Then some of her guards come, and then guards of yellow and black, and then Yadira, whose three ladies follow behind her in violet gowns and heavy gold jewelry similar to their mistress. Yadira gives a smile to her then, announcing that Lord Baratheon is eager to meet her, and she says she is delighted to meet him, too, as is customary.

Camille was curious about the Lord Paramount. Why would such a great lord want to meet her anyway? She was a baby.

Soon the room was filled with men in cambric, samite, velvets, brocades, and damask, covered in jewels with large hats. Grooms also filled the room, and after all of them came a boy in a dark navy velvet doublet, two large gold chains, and breeches to match. He had black hair, and blue eyes, and looked to be as old as a page. There was a look of expectation on his face, and when he finally looked over to her, his face broke into a large smile. He waited no time in introductions.

"So they are right– you do look like a doll!"

Camille fought the urge to look at Essine or Yadira. They had been strict in reminding her to look about everywhere as if she was common because a lady held eye contact when she spoke. Camille instead looked for them out the corners of her eyes. They stood still as stone with no gesture of assistance, while all of Lord Baratheon's men made noise and gave made postures. Why did they act so in front of their Lord? Her grandmother had ill-mannered courtiers moved out of her court, and sent to a septon or septa for etiquette if they did anything close to what these men were doing.

"Lord Baratheon." She did as she practiced curtseying the best she could. She then stood back up straight, and gave a little smile, but didn't move. He ranks higher, she remembered from her lessons. He must greet me first.

"I'm Renly!" The boy gave larger smile and walked over to her. Camille then gave him the smile that made her baby dimples show and saw how his eyes lit up. People really do love babies.

"Well met, Renly." He moved to pinch her cheek and Ernatta shifted slightly. She knew she hated it when people she didn't know touched her. She would have to forget that now. Renly looked at her expectantly. Lord Baratheon was really just a kid and so she found it was easy. He told her she was pretty as a doll-like everyone had told him, and then gave her a doll as a gift. It was a woman in the latest Stormlands fashions, expertly carved and painted. However Aurelia and Theryse burst into joy at the sight of it, and Renly's grooms given them their own dolls too, similar to hers, as gifts. He gave everyone in her household a gift, actually. Small wooden coffers and bags of trinkets or gold pieces. That had brought a smile to Yadira's face, a real one. Renly had insisted she go everywhere with him, and after Yadira insisted that she would dress and eat, they could play making a quiet arrangement with his Lady Mistress, an elderly Baratheon woman by marriage, named Drucylla.

In the mornings she has her lessons in her languages and visits Baby Jon. She also has to practice her courtesies. It is the worst part of her day. Yadira was strict, quick to reprimand. She insists she is 'Lord Stark's daughter, and Ashara Dayne's as well' and must 'act like the lady she is'. Camille is reminded again and again: she must not cough or sneeze into her hand, she should not scream, she should not yawn, ladies stand up straight, ladies do not curse (which she had heard Essine do plenty of times), ladies are courteous, they always give thanks, Ladies pay attention to what is said, ladies do not touch random things, ladies mind what they say, don't look about, wait until your elders address you, and ladies must sit still. That was the worst. Maybe in her old life, she could do it, but at only two and some months, Camille felt like she would die if she had to be still longer than five minutes. Along with the test of her patience, she had to practice walking (she must glide), the act of sitting down on chairs, stools, and benches, with or without people; how to give thanks; her curtsey, which she would do multiple times in a row until Yadira was satisfied; how to grab cups, a goblet, a fork, a knife, a spoon, how to eat soup, and pull bread. She even had to practice how to use the chamber pot. Camille felt she would go insane.

Thankfully, after dinner, Camille was allowed out and about with her guard for one or two hours, playing in the yard and gardens, or chasing Renly and the boys that were his companions along with Aurelia and Theryse until it was time for her nap. She relishes in the freedom. But soon after her hour nap, Yadira puts her in another round of vigorous training- she has to learn dances, and songs to sing, and how to thread a large over-sized needle, and her numbers. Everyone in her household is relieved at Yadira's fierce and grueling torture: this is the first place she has been too tired to escape on her own. She spends her naptimes actually sleeping if she can help it, though she does explore at night.

Storm's End punches the sky in one great drum tower, large enough to hold several parts of the castle within it. Camille saw through seagulls that the seaward side of the castle went straight to the sea that constantly crashed against it. Inside the walls were the barracks and armory, and hundreds of servants. She did not think Starfall or any other castle had so many, all lingering just out of sight. It was nerve-racking, knowing someone was always watching. The walls are all uncommonly smooth compared to what she knew of castles in her own world. Touching them lead brought little sparks in her fingers and toes and on the back of her neck. Yadira catches her one time with a curious smile, in between her nap and supper, and touches the wall with her.

"This is a strange castle, isn't it Arra?" She agrees with Yadira giving only a little smile to her knowing look. The most fascinating part was the damp passage at the bottom of the castle. It was blocked off, men patrolling. It was frightening looking.

The most important thing, to Eddard, is that there is a proper Godswood. Both her father and Lord Howland go to the Godswood every night for prayer, for hours, where the other few northmen who had met them at the castle do so throughout the day. Eddard decides it is good for her to learn her prayers as well, and after her supper takes her to the holy place where his gods live. Yadira and the others too afraid to accompany them at this time of day, and with strange, solemn looks, watches them depart from her solar.

The Godswood is dark and overgrown but the sight of the weirwood startles her– she had never seen a tree that wept blood. Her father insisted it was a sap, but Camille had never seen red sap before. It had a solemn face like the one her father wore. It is here Camille is taught to pray with her father, where he tells her of the Old Gods. It is here that he teaches her to pray for her grandfather, and uncle, and her aunt, all gone from this life now, for her baby brothers who are new to the world and her uncle Benjen, who is too young to be alone. His voice shakes and cracks as he does, and she keeps quiet, making sure to at least pretend she is doing so.

Eddard might cry if she doesn't.

This schedule lasts for a month. Breaking fast in her father's solar, languages, visiting her brother, courtesies, dinner, playtime, naptime, sing, dance, thread needles, supper, prayer, and sleeping. Lord Howland interrupts her etiquette lessons one morning and she is beyond grateful, though she stays standing still. Eddard has received word from the king, and they are to leave within days for the trip.

But her father is very irritable with the wheelhouse and is busy working with the steward and Essie. There is the suggestion she rides with Ernatta on horseback, but Yadira instantly shoots that idea down. Horses are too large for her. She is a baby. Lord Howland agrees, and surprisingly so does her father, but must act with the steward that his words have some weight. He leaves, exchanging a smile with her. No matter how they traveled, they would be gone soon.

Yadira and Essie have enough gossip away, later in the day, Ernatta now in charge of her lessons with the needle. At all meals, her household was like perfect, well-dressed statues, compared to what the Stormlanders wore in their bulky clothes. Even worse their manners at the table were nowhere near as polished as her household, which made her stare a bit. It was no shock that the Stormlanders don't trust her household- there had already been someone 'put to the stocks' for attacking one of her guards. There was an air of distrust of the castle in general toward them whenever she did anything and they followed, and her Uncle Arthur had no help either, who was equally revered and looked down on and hidden away from her except for rare occasions. Any question she had about him was vaguely answered and the topic switched to something else. It frustrated her how many times had she done this with kids, but not that she was one she wanted to shriek. Camille wasn't stupid. She knew something was going on. When she would look through birds, she would only find him praying, eating, and kneeling on the side of his bed in his room.

It is the day of the departure feast. Her father had given in to another wheelhouse, but it would be of Stormlander design, promised to ride better on the Kingsroad. Essine scoffed at that during their discussion while she and her friends napped. An Early nap, as she seemed tired. And she was tired. Of her lessons. She is woken for dinner, and then she is outside to play with Renly and his friends, the adults all watching. They are hidden in trees, hidden from sight, however. It is there that one of the boys, Aslac Caron, asks about her eyes.

"They are my grandmother's eyes," she says proudly. Renly likes to stare at them, as others do. They are a rare color indeed. The boy then asks if Lady Catelyn has the same eyes.

"The Lady Catelyn?" She is confused.

"My mother is the Lady Ashara Dayne." Camille isn't sure who Catelyn is or why he would think she is her mother. Everyone knows Ashara is her mother. Everyone says she looks like a Dayne, too. No one in her family had that name either.

"But Lord Stark is married to Lady Catelyn." Her father is married? She pulls a face. No one has ever mentioned her before. Before she can ask questions, grooms and ladies pour into their space, forcing them to separate. When she asks who Catelyn is, her ladies all have the look on their face. Like with her uncle, they change the topic.

"Let her ask her father," Ernatta insists between them when they think she is asleep and she is in in the dog. Yadira and Essie had agreed.

She was not going to ask her father who Catelyn was. This felt similar to asking her mother what a bastard was and if they were hesitant enough to not answer, she did not want her ladies in trouble with her father later. While her Ashara could get angry, her father had a sharp rage. She was comfortable playing an ignorant two-year-old. She was sure she would meet the woman.

At the feast, Camille takes two bites of everything that passes her- lamb, beef, pork, boar, carrots, turnips, lobster, all sorts of vegetables all in butter and sauces that are delicious. She even has a light ale, and it is near the end of the meal, she has given up on talking to her father and Lord Howland who she was next too. They are amused as she tries to keep her manners, but she is sleepy now. A look from her father has someone gathering her up from the dais and hustled off.

In her sleep, she searches for Yadira and finds her in her uncle's room after pawing the door. Zirimiri. There her uncle sits in a chair and Yadira across from him. The flames throw light on the skin as they sit in silence and she settles at his feet.

"Are you sure to let the dog stay?"

"Let them tell Lord Stark. I will hide nothing." Yadira is very bold about her father. Silence overcomes them until her uncle opens his mouth. She had not noticed before, but he had a sweet face- handsome, but open now with Yadira, who is relaxed, her normal formal posture lax and slouched.

"In the capital, I will be seized until trial."

"You are sure of it?"

"Lord Stark has been gracious enough to tell me what the King plans to do."

"Or foolish," she insists. "Mayhaps he wishes for you to escape across the sea."

"He knows I will not leave." They look at each other for some time.

"Has he told you what he plans to do after you're in the dungeons?" Yadira's voice is incredulous, shaking her head.

"No."

"Then the king must not know either. You are of the Kingsguard." Arthur seemed unconvinced. Silence comes again, heavier as Yadira takes another goblet of wine, a deep red, judging by her lips. She gives a resigned smile

Arthur just looks into the fire. "This is not the life I imagined, Yadi."

"It will be hard cousin, but should we play this right, we shall weather the storm."

"You have nothing to be punished for." Arthur is shocked, and turning his head sharply. Yadira gives a shrug. She tries to be calm, but Camille sees her free hand tremble.

"Lord Stark has told me things as well. The new king wants to speak to me– mayhaps alone, and without Lord Eddard. Who knows what he will judge. He spared the man who vowed to protect the king but killed him like a dirty peasant, mad or not."

"What will we do?" A resigned look came to his face then, hands clasped as he leans on his knees, as if willing himself in the fire.

Yadira seemed astonished.

"What we will do Arthur, is tell the truth."