1 A Dragon Arrives

264 AC

A Dragon Arrives

Lyarra Stark was never known for a tender heart, especially to those who had threatened her family.

She was currently stood in the courtyard of Winterfell, her milkmaids and two children next to her, wearing a new light grey dress. In true Northern weather fashion, it had been raining the day before. She was used to it by now, but the chilly morning air still sent a shiver through her body.

Brandon, her eldest and heir to Winterfell, who had just passed his second name day, was holding tightly to his milkmaid's dress. He had recently perfected the skill of walking but the young child was weary of the muddy floor beneath him. Eddard, or Ned as he was known by his family, was just a year younger than Brandon and was cooing from his milkmaid's hands, reaching out to grab a strand of hair that the maid hadn't brushed back.

They were waiting for Rickard's return from Kingslanding, of which he had been gone an entire year. Leaving when Ned was born and returning just shy of his name day. She sighed once more, excited to hear of what her husband had experienced at Kingslanding. From his letters throughout the year, she gauged something was keeping him, the Queen most likely. He was only supposed to leave for two moons but, a Queen's orders were her orders Lyarra guessed. She wanted to be there with him, experiencing the lively court of the South but had to stay in Winterfell as Ned and Brandon were still young and she had a household to run. As Rickard made sure of reminding her, there always had to be a Stark in Winterfell.

Lyarra placed her hands in front of her, honestly how long does it take to get here? She thought to herself. The entire household had come to a standstill waiting for their lords' return. Lord Rickard Stark, the Warden of the North and the holder of the Stark ancestral home Winterfell.

He and Lyarra were distantly related. She was the youngest daughter of Arya Flint and Rodrik Stark also known as the Wandering Wolf, for his employment under the second sons. Rodrik's father and Lyarra's grandfather was Beron Stark, who happened to be the father of William Stark. William Stark then went onto marry Melantha Blackwood and Lyanna Glover. Of his first marriage, he fathered two children, Jocelyn and Edwyle Stark. Edwyle, the previous Lord of Winterfell, married Marna Locke, who gave birth to Rickard Stark. Thus Beron Stark was the grandfather of Lyarra and great-grandfather of Rickard, making them first cousins once removed.

It confused Lyarra as well.

Finally, she smiled, watching as her husband trotted through the castle gates. He was wearing a large coat, with red fox fur at its top, and had sported a new beard that Lyarra thought made him all the more handsome. He jumped from his horse, handing the reins to a stable boy and walked over to his wife and children. "Children," Rickard smiled, bending down to kiss Brandon who squealed and hugged him back. "Little Ned," he moved the dark-haired child's thumb from his mouth to get a better look at him.

"Hello," Lyarra smiled, hugging him tightly. "How did Kingslanding fare?" Rickard nodded, unsure of how he'd present the idea to Lyarra. Lyarra furrowed her brow, knowing all too well her husband's mannerisms by now. He was hiding something. "Well?"

"Come child."

Child?

Lyarra peeked behind his shoulder, it wasn't a child but rather a maid holding one. A tanned girl with kinky hair moved from behind a crowd and shuffled towards Rickard.

By the old gods, what has this man brought into my household?

Rickard took the child from the maid and presented her to Lyarra. She looked as if she hadn't passed her first name day and was skinny for a babe. She had wispy and matted hair that stuck to her unwashed face. Lyarra felt her face contort but quickly corrected it, knowing that the castle's inhabitants would cling onto every word they had said from here on out.

"She is my bastard, from Kingslanding," Rickard boldly said, waiting for Lyarra's response.

Bastard.

Lyarra felt like taking the babe from his hands and hurling her over the castle walls.

"Rickard Stark," she began, all the anger in the world centring at her chest, "you will explain this properly and you will explain it properly now." Lyarra did not recall becoming an orphanage, how dare he bring a bastard back to her.

Rather than respond to her, Rickard returned the little girl to her maid. "Come, we cannot discuss it here." He took Lyarra's hand and led her to the Great Hall, where many feasts had and would be held for years to come. Behind them there was the scuffle of workers moving about their day, he heard Brandon's little voice squealing in excitement as he was picked up by Lord Manderly.

She jolted her hand back once they had entered the semi-private area. "Is this why you took so long to return? Waiting for your whore to give birth so you could bring a bastard child into our home."

"Lyarra please, lower your voice," Rickard said as his wife began to ramble incoherently.

"Lower my voice? My voice!? This is a child you fathered Rickard!" Lyarra pushed him with both her hands. Now her anger was directed towards him. Oh, how she wanted to slap him silly until that ridiculous beard was falling from his face!

The push didn't send him far, Rickard was large and had a big chest and compared to Lyarra's small frame he looked like a giant. "Lyarra, you will stop it this instant. She is to grow up here along with her siblings and that is final."

"What," Lyarra pushed him again, "was the whore an exotic one?" She was hitting him now. "Did she have purple eyes that captured you?" Lyarra couldn't control herself anymore, feeling her face grow hot as Rickard held her hands back. "Did she seduce you, Rickard!? Did she show you something I could not offer? A great beauty perhaps, one that you and your men placed a bet over." Her mind was running circles around her. "A bastard," Lyarra freed herself from his grip. "A bastard in my home! Me the wife of the Warden of the North."

"Lyarra!" he felt his voice boom, scaring his wife into silence. "Her mother is dead. It was a drunken night and I regret it, I will for the rest of my life. I know it is something that is hard to forgive but, I am truly sorry," Rickard sighed, nearing her.

Lyarra held her index finger out to him, "Rickard," her face was wet with her tears and her hair had since fallen from the two strands updo she had braided it into, "Rickard what am I supposed to tell people who ask questions? We are who they look to for example."

"We will tell them the truth," Rickard replied, taking her hand gently in his. "It is uncomfortable, but it must be done."

"Why can't we put her in an orphanage Rickard?" Lyarra pleaded, her blue eyes looking up at his own grey ones.

"I will have no more questions about it Lyarra. She is my child and she will stay."

Lyarra swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat. "What is her name?"

"Ellena, Ellena Snow."

A hideous name for a hideous child, Lyarra thought to herself. "I will never love her." Lyarra played with Rickard's hair as she wrapped her hand around her neck. He was after all her husband and she had missed him greatly, even if he had succumbed to a whore's antiques. Well, at least she was dead now.

Rickard placed his head on her chest, wrapping his arms around her waist. "You will treat her with respect."

Never.

Lyarra wouldn't say that to him though, she was after all his daughter and Rickard would love her as a father loved a daughter.

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