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 Two

Camille realizes that when her mother said she was the child of someone of great importance, Ashara meant her father. Though they come in such a small party, near the entire household greeted them, a procession of people with a mask of politeness and underneath it, hostility. Though the man Ypolita identified as her father was deathly pale and tall, there was a shorter man, along with a deep skinned woman who was their cousin, Yadira.

Ashara had been protective of Camille since his arrival, and she hosted every meal, except for dinner, in her rooms with her ladies. She wondered if her grandmother objected to that as Ashara seemed to help her run the place. Essine urged her to her chair wearing a honey-colored samite gown with gold jewelry wherever she could hold it. Coos greeted her and Camille said hello to each with her near perfect curtsey and a smile. She loved them: they gave her smiles and kissed on the head to her progress in her courtesies. Camille looked around the table.

To the right was Avya who was Essine's older sister, a Dayne by birth and marriage, both of lower branches of the family, unlike Essine, who married a bannerman of the family. They shared the same auburn hair and onyx eyes and full-lipped smile. Juana had a similar smile but was a Sand, like she was, Ashara's youngest great aunt's child from her visit to Lys, and she had almost all of her father's look with hair and skin white and purple eyes. Her mother eventually married him, but long after she was born, and it was apparently a scandal. Juana was blameless in this and married a prominent knight to the family and had seven kids. Calamya was a child and only twelve, and her favorite. She had dark brown hair and warm brown eyes with olive skin. She was from a bannerman's family, the Ozens. They had moved up in the world, and her mother's favor was key for them. Lyonor married a cousin of her mothers, and was black of hair and eyes, with saturnine skin. She was from her late grandfather's lands, a minor lord's daughter who married high up enough. Lyonor was her mother's best friend and often was the one who caught her when she attempted a jailbreak from her nursery. Lastly were Catalena and Bice: sisters the same age of a great-great uncle busy off beyond Volantis, where ever that was. They couldn't look less alike, one pale, soft indigo eyes and honey hair and the other who looked more like Calamya. The sisters argued frequently and were four years older than her mother and were currently betting over who could find the best husband. Camille thought they were funny.

Camille would always sit to her mother's left, and get fussed over as Marsali and her ladies would help her with her courtesies- how to hold a fork, pick up pomegranates, and other things. She and her mother were often in their bed robes- her six ladies, and their chatelaines Essine and Beretta, dressed in their finery, ready to go on an errand on command. The handmaids serve in lilac and white gowns, or silver, if they are hers. This morning there was mint tea with bread flat and round, and two dozen dishes of different olive oils, butter, honey, jams, pastries, and dried fruit.

Today there was another guest: Yadira. She had deep skin and very curly hair wound up in gold ropes and a rich turquoise gown with lace sleeves. She wore more modest jewelry and sat directly across from her mother for breakfast. Yadira was another cousin of her mother with a Dayne parent from one of her great aunts and uncles, who came to her mother's breakfasts soon after her arrival. Her mother's chatelaine, Beretta, a woman in her fifties with salt and pepper hair and Dyane blue-violet eyes quickly introduced her, and so Camille gave her a curtsey and smile too.

"I see she has your grace Nasha," she gave a sweet smile people gave children, her eyes crinkling at the edges. "But the eyes," she murmured, raising a brow at Ashara.

Her mother gave a beaming smile, still in only her sheer nightgown and her bed robe. "Yes. Lilac. Only grandmother had them." Yadira and Avya exchange a glance.

Camille ate as man pastries as she could while they talked, a soft lull happening as Marsali poured her lemonsweet, or lemonade, as she hated mint tea. Ashara rolled her eyes at Camille's lack of taste for it- she loves it.

"Not too much, it is so early. And no more sweets. Eat your fruit." Her mother raised a perfectly plucked brow when she pouted at her, Ypolita removing her preferred foods to shriveled up pears.

"They are too sour," she complained, but Ashara paid her no mind.

"She is a baby, all they like are sweets Nasha." Her mother rolled her eyes at Lyonor. She spoiled all of her children.

"Everyone likes sweets," Bice nodded, sipping her tea.

"The problem is that the babies do not know how to stop." Beretta had a dozen children, and three dozen grandchildren. She would know.

"It is not only infants with no control," Her mother's snide comment made her ladies look to each other, except for Avya, who looked right at her mother and seemed used to this.

"I hoped auntie had spoken to you of it," Ashara dropped the bread and jam to her plate.

"Does my mother tell me anything?" Her ladies stayed silent in their answer.

"Nasha," Avya has a soothing tone, looking at Camille and then Ashara. Oh, Camille realized, it must be about her father. Ashara had forbidden her from anywhere else but the suite of rooms that were her mother's and her nursery since he arrived.

"I see no reason why I must be quiet about it. He comes with Arthur near dead and another babe begging for a wet nurse." Ashara's voice cracks and Camille stops eating her bread to turn to her. She hated when her mother cried. Camille noticed Yadira wince out of the corner of her eye.

"Avya, Lyonor you know. You know- you were there! You saw. He swore-"

"We know what he swore, but Nasha, now is not the time for grievances," Lyonor motioned to Calamya, who looked with a frown and motioned for Ypolita to bring her around. She was to be her nanny today.

"You know what northrons are," Bice frowned, looking at Catalena, who preoccupied herself with her food. "And besides, we are in no position now to argue."

Avya nodded at that. Ashara stiffened, eyes going watery and pink. "Let him have that child and his wife and her babe too. Let them keep their problems cousin," Essine sniffed, waving a hand. Camille soaked it in as she was gently pulled up from her seat.

"She will stay right here Ypolita!" her maid shrunk back to the wall, Yadira with a small frown was she observed. Calamya, determined, gave her a bright smile. "Arra can stay with us here, I will take care of her Lady Ashara."

Camille was taken to a seat on the other end of the table as their voices lowered, but not low enough for her not to hear.

"They only cause us pain, you know," Catalena added. She gulped down three cups of tea before speaking. Ashara smacked her hands on the table, bursting to tears. She rose from her seat and everyone else did in response, following her.

"Mamma," she called. Essine caught her before she made for the door, but it was Calamya who calmed her down. Camille tried to make herself to stop breathing so hard.

"Do you want to play come into the castle with me?"

No. she wanted her mother. But as her mother's door to her bedchamber closed, she realized a game would have to do.

Later the next day, Ashara had her dressed in the specially made clothes of rich cloth. A sheer muslin shift, with fine linen stockings, with a white-on-white brocade undergown lined in silver satin with matching slippers, and a silver-and-white damask outer robe lined in the same satin as before. They put a string of white pearls in her hair, in her ears, neck, wrists and half of her fingers. She felt so pretty, but could barely move. Ypolita thought she looked "Very fine". Camille felt like a doll.

Essine came to her nannies to retrieve her, smiling wide. She was to take Camille to her grandmother's solar. The hall was empty of servants leaving only guards. Camille was to meet her father, the Wolf, today. Everyone around her seemed nervous about the meeting when they could stop talking about her uncle Arthur. He was in his rooms and guarded, from what she saws of the armored men outside of his chambers. Camille was not bold enough to go find him through the little birds. When she asked Essine about him one of her other nannies close behind them let out a soft gasp. Essine said he needed much rest. It was her nice way of saying he was a prisoner.

"There is no reason to be nervous Arra." Essine dressed well today, with more jewelry on, and finer clothes.

"I am not Essie!" Camille felt indignant, looking up at her as they walked. She tugged at her sleeves. Maybe she was a little nervous. Her mother didn't want her around him. Maybe he wasn't like the stories Ypolita told her.

"Do you remember your words and curtsey?"

"Yes Essie, I have practiced with you remember?"

"Sometimes it gets hard to remember." She knew to not roll her eyes, and Essine gave a chuckle.

At the door of her grandmother's solar, Essine nodded to the usher, and he entered the room. She had only seen it through the little birds, but Camille that she loved this room. It was a bright, but airy space: wooden screens filtered the light into shapes, with floor to ceiling with books all around, with many chairs, settees, and tables about on Myrish carpets. Ypolita said they were expensive and Camille didn't doubt it. Everything she saw was high quality craftsmanship compared what the servants used.

The room was divided in half. On the left was her mother, and uncle Alistair, and her Aunt, Cerenna. Her uncle stood in a fine damask robe that flowed in deep blue and her Aunt Cerenna a gown of bright blue velvet and covered with as many jewels as she could carry. This was usual for her- she rarely visited her, but was as beautiful as the rest of her family with light blonde hair and pale blue eyes. The only difference was that her skin was pale where her uncle had olive skin and blue-violet eyes. Last was her mother Ashara, who stood stunning as she always was, but stiff. Camille knew a fake smile when she saw one. Though Ashara usually put her hair in elaborate styles picked with gold pins of jewels and ropes of gold, today she styled it with only a series of gold chains that went across the forehead with pearls and little purple gems. Her hair curled past her hips, brushing an outfit similar to hers.

Ariadne was unimpressed by their matching outfits. She sat as she ever was in the hall, stoic, eyes going between her and her mother and finally to her father.

Camille looked to the right. The man was tall but lean. He wore clothes the color of copper, no doubt supplied from her uncle. When she looked at him, she saw a pale and sunburnt face but with straight brown hair to his collar, and a serious, and withdrawn look. His face was plain, except for his eyes, which were grey. Camille felt… disappointed. This was the boy that her mother fell in love with? He didn't seem the type that moved mountains in a woman, and a girl least of all.

She did as she practiced for a whole two weeks and curtseyed when they were introduced. Camille looked to her mother after, and that brought out a laugh. Behind and to the side of her father was a shorter man introduced as Lord Howland Reed. He seemed warm enough, more than her father, and she smiled at him. Lord Reed seemed amused by the baby before him. She didn't let silence settle after the laugh.

"Are you for true my papa, the wolf?" Lord Eddard brows goes up.

"Aye, I am your father, little one." He had a nice deep voice that brought a smile to her face.

"Then I want to kiss you, papa." Camille held out her arms as the people in the room cooed and laughed. He seemed moved by her, reaching down and bringing her up in the heights of the room with him. Camille smiled at him, and Eddard's face seemed to morph into a slight smile then back to a mask.

"You have grown so. Your mother said you were a small babe."

"Well, I like lemon cakes." There was a puzzled expression on his face.

"Aunt Cerenna says lemon cakes make you grow."

She could hear her aunt laugh in response. "It is true my lord."

Her father gives a sad little smile to her as Camille placed a kiss on a slightly scruffy beard. Looking around she could see her uncle now holding her mother's hand. Ashara's lips pursed, and her free hand tense on her side. They spoke to too fast for her — Camille learned enough common tongue but not as much as she had learned of Dornish.

"She is a sweet girl, Lord Eddard, and with your face, too." Her grandmother's deep commanding voice seemed sharper. Camille looked at Lord Eddard's face. She looked nothing like this man. He looked back at Camille in the same way, inspecting.

"Mamma," she calls, and Ashara rips her arm from her uncle to grab her- luckily Essine grabs her first from her father to hand her to her mother. Ashara holds her far tighter than usual.

"This must overwhelm her. Arra is just a babe. I will have her put for a rest," Ashara excuses. She cannot see any of her family's faces, but there is silence.

"Very well." Her grandmother's voice is final, and it ushers them out.

Camille in her mother's bedchamber soon, on her favorite settee to staring out at the sea. She sings and does not mention her father at all. It continues this way, being secluded with Ashara unless it is time for meals, where Camille doesn't even get to go. She does not see her father again for the next five days, but she doubts he would be welcome should he try to.

It had been two weeks since Lord Eddard and his party arrived, and now he was leaving to head back north. Camille watched as her mother become more wretched, wringing her hands and letting her play in her bed instead of her nursery. She was still in her linen nightgown, with her toys and her rockers, when Essine came into the rooms.

Ashara dressed in a sheer muslin night shift at midday, a bed robe of light linen with gold work over her as Camille dozed in Ernatta, one of her nannies, arms. The guards in bronze armor stepped aside, and when her usher, another Dayne cousin, whispered to Calamya. Her mother was having her feet massaged and hair oiled into an elaborate style when she came back in, announcing her chatelaine. Ashara kissed Essine on both cheeks in greeting.

"Did you see the arrangement?"

"Yes, your mother was clear."

"And?"

"A household of fifty, for now, with a promise to enlarge it should she make it past six."

"Fifty?"

"Nasha half would be her guard-"

"What about the other child?"

The ladies looked to Ashara, and she pulled Essine to a window on the far side of the chamber. She wanted to be near her mother to find out what she was talking about, but as always her ladies were far too efficient for that and quickly distracted her with lemonsweet, sweets, and if she smiled, a sip of strong wine. When Ashara came back, Camille had dozed off again in Lyonor's arms when the guards on the door stepped aside. Calamya hardly had any time to announce her uncle as he came in right behind her.

Though he walked with a limp, her uncle Alistair was tall, over six feet, and intimidating. He never smiled, even at her. Or even her aunt. He and her mother glared at each other in greeting. Everyone in the room except the guards stands and bow and curtsey in an echo of "My Lord".

"Ali."

"Nasha."

They hold each other's stare; the ladies are silent and watching.

"Leave."

Everyone curtseys and bows again and heads for the door. Ashara does not like that. "You will all stay. These are my chambers."

They stop, and with an exasperated chuckle, Alistair waves his hands. "I care not either way." Everyone is close to the wall now.

"Good."

She feels nervous now, with her uncle here, and so does everyone else, looking between her mother and uncle. No one dares say a word.

"You had told me you had wanted Lyarra to go north, sister, and yet now you hide her away."

"I wanted us both to go north, as Starks."

Her uncle sighs. "This is the best option."

"Being torn for your mother and taken as a hostage is the best option?"

"Lord Eddard is now Lord Stark and rules all the North. The King proclaims him as his brother. She is his daughter and will enjoy that. We will benefit from that."

"She is his bastard Ali, play no games with me. You know how they treat their children beyond Dorne."

"Then you should have thought of that before you-"

"Cousin," Essine gives a sharp look. Her uncle's stare is hard. Camille looks at every tense face. He had gone away to the war and came back with a limp, and bitter too. Unlike her aunt or Grandmother, he never visited her. He looks at her, with blue-violet eyes, hard and unmoving.

"You and Arthur have always made mistakes, and I am always the one to clean them up. Now I am the one who is wrong?"

"My daughter is no mistake."

"Nasha you knew better. You knew better, and you still went along with this folly. My niece will go with her father Lord Stark. It will help remind him to save our brother's life. You remember Arthur don't you?"

"Arra is a babe." Ashara bit her lip, coming toward her.

"This babe will help our brother. I know you hate it, so when you see Arthur again, be sure to tell him how it is his fault. If he had not helped his dear Prince Rhaegar steal the little She-wolf, mayhaps you would be your precious northron's wife instead of here, in this shame."

"You are no septon yourself!"

"My dalliances has never been so fruitful, Nasha."

"No, I do not think they would be."

They stare at each other again, her uncle now close to her, and her mother halfway blocking her.

"Lyarra will go with her father." His voice was low and calm and held his arms out to her. Camille froze. She would not go to him, and her mother pushed in front, knocking his arms out of the way.

"My daughter will stay here, with me," Ashara's voice was hard and demanding, like her grandmother's. Alistair gave her an unblinking stare.

"She will go with her father, and you will beg him to convince the king to spare Arthur's life. Then - if the gods see fit to give you more sense Nasha - you will give up your poppy dreams and marry a dornishman, as you should have always planned!"

Her mother goes bright red at that, her eyes bulging.

"Essie, arrange the travel. They leave in the morning."

"Lyarra will not leave this castle!" Ashara's voice is shrill, and her skill is a deep red.

"It is mother's wish, it is my wish, and I shall do it!" Her uncle's voice booms making her tremble.

"No." Her mother's voice is loud too, yelling. Ashara's hands are in fists, tight. Alistair's jaw flexes and they soon dissolve to screams. Ashara does not move from in front of her.

"She will come with me now. Release her Essine. I tire of this."

They both start to yell. Camille finds Ashara is a fighter too — she is so close to her uncle Camille thinks she might even swing. Spot doesn't like the yelling, however, and barks, and pulls at Alistair's pants. She tries to slip in, but he is too angry, and she is too scared, and she is unsuccessful. Spot snaps one, twice at her uncle, and she tries again, this time in him, moving away as fast as she could. Instead, uncle kicks her so hard she cannot move or breathe, and she screams in pain in her body. Camille, scared, more scared than flying for the first time or experiences her first death, and then the dogs bark, cats hiss, and her mother's birds screech.

Alistair backs away alarmed. Inky black spots touch the sides of Camille's vision as she thrashed about, and her mother screamed for her maester.

No one noticed Spot laying so still.