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 Three

Camille woke to the sounds of the castle. For the past few days it had been her mother's weeping, but this morning she found mother speaking to her ladies, fully dressed in gold and silk, and giving orders in her room. The moment that Lyonor saw her blink her eyes, she nodded to her mother who went to her and gathered her up, the scent of sweet perfume coming before Ashara sat on the bed.

"Little Arra. You are up so early," she cooed, holding her in her lap. Camille rubbed her eyes in response. She had been tired– her small body demanded it no matter how much she wanted to stay awake.

Her mother made a gesture, and Ernatta, one of her rockers, came forward with a silver platter of foods taken from a groom to break her fast.

"Little Lady Arra," Ernatta smiled. "There is lemon sweet, eggs, bread and apricot jam, and apple tarts." Camille couldn't hide her smile. They are all her favorites. Her mother must be distraught to give them all to her at once.

Ashara puts her in a chair at a smaller table and watches her eat with a stiff smile. Camille's grandmother had decided she would go far from her mother, and there was no changing that now. She had heard her cry through the nursery door– she didn't even need another puppy or a bird to see– but she seemed fine for now.

Camille watched as her and her mother's ladies folded her clothes to great chests and called for grooms and pages to have them corded and sealed. Her mirror is wrapped and taken, her rugs rolled and tied and carried out. Her lace hangings and curtains stay on the windows and so does her bedding. Her mother looks near to ears when Camille turns back to her. She puts a finger into one of her curls.

"Arra, today you go on a great journey with your father. Do you know what that means?" Camille could see Lyonor and Avya linger on the wall. She knew it meant she was going far from all she knew in this short life. Camille was very nervous about this- she had only begun to adjust.

"Yes, we are going north." Ashara gave a look then, her previously controlled face melting into a frown.

"More than that," she insists. "You are going to the North. It is there your father rules half of Westeros, and answers only to the king himself."

"But it is north?" Ashara gave a slight chuckle then, eyes glistening.

"As far north as you can go."

"That is far away."

"Yes. But you are lucky for you– you will not be alone," She cocks her head to the side a bit as her mother's smile fades. "Essine will be with you, and so will Ernatta."

"Ypolita comes as well?" Her mother's lip thins at the mention of her chamberer's name.

"And her too. Best of all Theryse and Aurelia will be with you. You remember your cousins?"

Theryse and Aurelia were Ernatta's and Essie's daughters. They were fun enough for toddlers. Camille nods in response and watches as Lyonor gives other women and men in the room bag of dark velvet and lilac wax.

"Yadira will also be with you. She will be your Lady Mistress. You are to listen to her, Arra. You cannot run off once you leave Starfall. It is dangerous, do you understand?" She nods again, feeling only slightly guilty at all her attempts to break free of her nursery to explore the castle. Her mother gives her one last smile.

"Finish your food, and then Marsali will dress you. You leave soon my love."

Her departure with her father was nothing as spectacular as his arrival. The household had all arrived to see them off, but there was relief at their departure, judging by their smiles. As she went through the halls to the yard, every servant and person in the castle to say goodbye. In the yard were her grandmother Ariadne, her uncle Alistair, her aunt Cerenna, and only one of her cousins– sickly little Maryssa was still in bed, but Balthazar, who was only a year older than her, was there. She rarely saw him, but he gave a grin in goodbye anyway that made her grin back. Her aunt Allyria, with honey like hair, was there as well and gave more mature wishes, and kissed her cheek.

There is a large mass of people: hundreds of armored men swarm the yard, flirting with servants while waiting to depart. They are on horses and on foot, and some are just in livery or her family's colors. There are about thirty-five wagons from what she could count– guards at the front and back; the valuables near the front with boxes chained to the sides of wagons as well. Yadira sees them through the crowd and Ashara hands her off to her with a look that has a meaning she didn't understand.

While Eddard speaks to her family, Yadira points out where her linens and cutlery are stored along with her glassware, salt cellars, and spice pots. She mentions the expensive mahogany furniture and picks her up to let her touch them. As they pass through the crowd, everyone gives her little smiles and winks. There in that wagon was all her satins, velvets, and samites; the next has her hangings, sheets, and pillows; in one wagon was all of the Myrish rugs her mother loved. Her bed is there too along with several down mattresses and its rope. There are two wagons just for her tapestries, too.

Yadira is pleased when Camille can point out all the animals the servants are carrying: hen, capon, duck, geese, sheep. There is even a cow, and Yadira moos to make her laugh. She insists on touching every one of them, her senses still so new, and Yadira calls for a servant to bring a basin of water for her hands. She is distracted from that by the sight of large birds in their special wagon with leather covers over it. Yadira says she isn't to touch them.

"They are for hawking, little one." Her father's voice is startling. Yadira gives a curtsey with her in her arms. Lord Eddard dismisses it as soon as she rises

"We depart soon my lady." Yadira is skittish around him and makes apologies. Camille decides to distract them.

"I touched a sheep!"

Her father gives her a smile, breaking the watchful look he had given Yadira, though it is a sad one.

"They are soft aren't they?" She smiles and laughs and agrees in her toddler way, and Eddard is more than happy to please her for one moment before directing her governess to the wheelhouse so they can depart. She did not even get to say goodbye to her mother.

The wheelhouse was bumpy and jarring on the road. They rode at the beginning of the procession, with Eddard and Lord Reed ahead of them. In her wheelhouse she played with Theryse and Aurelia, her ladies carefully adjusting them as they went on the road so they wouldn't hurt themselves. The wet nurse in the wheelhouse who held her brother Jon was alert and held him carefully as he slept soundly. Ashara insisted he was her half-brother, but she recognized bitter and hurt, and decided he would just be 'Baby Jon'. Yadira said aloud that he was a peaceful and Camille agreed. If she were still his size, she would scream the entire ride.

Camille had quickly become bored and asked Yadira and Ernatta a hundred questions on their trip. What bird was that? What color was that brick? Why are the wells made that way? When can they eat? She felt bad as they grew exhausted and irritable but answered all the comments patiently. But she could not complain about the view. The Torrentine Valley, or just the Valley, was stunningly beautiful. The meadow was a lush green, with rolling hills and colorful flowers. The mountains stood tall and colossal as their backdrop, the river reflecting the bright light of the sun.

At every stop, it was Yadira who smoothed over the looks of hate from her grandmother's bannermen, and when beyond their lands and up the valley, to the others of Dorne. Soon enough they had gone into the Prince's Pass.

Eddard was not fond of this part of their itinerary. In every little tower, keep, and holdfast, every lord and lady made the same request: mercy for their living kin, and bones of the dead ones. Lord Howland would only collect the names, and pass his sympathies. Every request seemed to wear his mask away into a look of depressed acceptance.

At every place when able to, she enjoyed their travels. They picked flowers at their stops, and with the lords and ladies Camille played with their children, ate rich food, and was given gifts. She rarely saw her father, who was stiff and uncomfortable, always in a hurry to leave. It is not quite the same in Skyreach.

She is speechless as she sees it. Every Castle is as impressive as the last, and Yadira and Essie enjoy seeing her gasp every time. Where Starfall was carved from a meteor, and Blackmont nestled on an Isle at the joining of two Rivers, Skyreach is carved and built into sandstone. You could only approach it from the narrow passage, the entire castle surrounded by towering rocks.

It is Lady Jennelyn, Lord Franklin Fowler's wife, who greets them. Her hair is long and in elaborate braids, her clothes black, down to her jewels. She is so tall and blonde she has to ask Ernatta if she is even Dornish, which makes her laugh.

"Of course she is," she laughs, "It is not your looks that marks you from Dorne."

Lady Fowler offers them the finest rooms they have, with the best food available, and hosts them all in her hall. While their men eat below, Camille and Eddard who sit with her and her children at the high dais. The feelings here are no different from the valley– desperation, hatred, pain, all wrapped in courtesies.

Lady Jennelyn makes no hesitation to speak with her father alone. Lady Jennelyn is braver than most, Yadira murmurs to her uncle Arthur, as she wanted to know of their Princess and her children. Her father is not the type of man to lie, she realizes when she sees the tears in the proud woman's eyes. She does not know what he actually says, as it is a common reaction, and Camille decides she will devote more time to learn more words in the common tongue.

That Lady Jennelyn is sweet to her at meals, even private dinners with her father and Lord Reed. She and her daughters curtsey to her, and call her 'Lady Lyarra' as they call him 'Lord Stark'. It seems they all mean it too, though Yadira is everywhere with her father and her, who watches everyone like a hawk.

"We are Dornish," she whispers to Essie one evening, "It is not our way to give in so easily." She can see them through a small bird and wonders what they mean.

Lady Jennelyn joins them unexpectedly while she stretches, in the gardens, with light that is angled between stones, with only Ernatta attendant, and one of her ladies. Ernatta immediately bows, while she does not. She hates the curtsey and bowing, but it isn't her world, and if she can avoid it, she will. Ernatta isn't afforded such options.

"Hello, sweetling," The woman coos, the way all people do to babies.

"My Lady Jennelyn," she says, remembering her courtesies. Lady Fowler smiles brighter.

"You have the look of your grandmother, did you know that?"

"Yes." Camille cannot help but smile at her– she is so nice. Used to being held by her during this trip, she reaches out her arms, and Jennelyn has her high in the air where she can see everything– the gardens are wide with pools of water, and she can even briefly see the river a ways away.

"Send for him," Jennelyn says in a tone that gave no room for argument. Ernatta disapproves but feels and stalls– her lady has run off leaving them alone. She immediately knows now that this would go badly. She thinks her father will arrive, but a short moment passes before Arthur comes to them in the shade. Ser Arthur disapproves of her in Jennelyn's arms. Camille is shocked to see him– her uncle comes to see her only at meals or when she is asleep to Yadira tells him about her day. He was handsome as all of her family was and tall.

Arthur's face is hard, his look is threatening. His violet-blue eyes are unblinking, and his mouth is in a scowl but Lady Jennelyn seems undisturbed.

"My Lady." Arthur nods his head as he does at every person, his eyes never leaving her face. Lady Fowler only nods back in response. Ernatta wisely is quiet. Her uncle's voice is deep, but stern.

"My niece is one for adventure, Lady Fowler. For that, it was not intentional for her to disturb you. I will have her handmaid take her to her chambers–"

"There is no need, Ser Arthur." Jennelyn holds her tighter. She wants to get down now, but afraid of being dropped. She gives her uncle a smile, holding out her arms. Lady Jennelyn steps away as he reaches for her.

"Tell me, Ser Arthur, what will become of you when you arrive at the capital?" Arthur seems to harden, his armor a blinding white at this angle in the sun.

"It is the decision of the king." Lady Jennelyn smiles and kisses her head, smoothing her curls.

"The new king?" Her tone is sharp. "What of your prince?"

Jennelyn ignores her uncles movement for her.

"Surely you have not forgotten our Prince? Doran. Will you go to him when this is done?"

Camille feels uncomfortable then, uncomfortable in the woman's arms.

"Have you nothing to say?"

"I am of the Kingsguard, and my duty–"

"Your duty laid with our princess. Elia was to be our queen. That is where your duty should be placed along with your loyalty!"

Desperate to get out of the situation, she lets out a shriek, the little animals around do so as well. Jennelyn is shocked, but Yadira is there, pulling her from Jennelyn's arms. Ernatta's handmaid is close behind, her red and out of breath. Yadira smooths the tension as she always does, giving excuses and they leave quickly. Lady Fowler is full of anger, not restrained by the necessity of playing nice with her father. Her voice echoes.

"May the mother give you mercy, Ser Arthur," she hisses, "I pray the Prince shall not."

Yadira goes against telling her father, focusing on Baby Jon, while her uncle goes behind his mask once again and gives her no attention for the rest of their stay at Skyreach. Camille wants her mother and finds no joy in searching the chambers, passages, and gorges of the castle.

A drizzling rain joins them as they pass into the Marches. Essie pointed out the border between Dorne and the Stormlands, separated only by a broken down wall once used when Dorne was its own Kingdom. Here, instead of pain, the nobles and people alike cheered her father and the king. There were no requests for mercy, or negotiations, or thin-veiled hate. Only feasts and joy.

Her father finds it easier here. With Lord Howland at his side, does what he can to food, goods or coin where he can. He has also accepted people into his retinue and train, which was smaller than needed for a 'man of his rank'.

This is has caused Yadira to virtually isolate her and baby Jon in their nursery whenever they have a room. For the baby, she knows it is no different, but she went from picking flowers to staring at stones walls. Though she has now managed to soar in the sky and look down at miles of lovely wilderness, and cattle and the people, the sight does not hold her attention too long. Theryrse and Aurelia play with her, but she is rebellious as ever to get out of the box deemed a suite room. Ernatta has complained to Camille enough that it draws her uncle's attention, who has a room across from hers.

Arthur barters with Camille and escorts Ernatta and her out to a small sunny space in a tiny holdfast so she isn't so restless. He even reads to her as well after supper, where she falls asleep before he finishes anything. Arthur promises he will let her read next time and Camille is pleased. His eyes crinkle in the corner for once when she tells him so.

After a day of travel, Arthur sits in the grass in the sun in only his white breeches and tunic, his feet out of his boots and bright in the sunlight. He is alone, on the edge of the camp, and no one seeks to disturb him. Even Ernatta, her handmaid, urges Camille to turn around, for Ser Arthur is 'busy'. Her uncle had promised to let her read a book, and so she is determined to read it and show him how far she has gotten in her lessons. Ernatta, who refuses to lose her again, relents. Camille wastes no time when she comes to him, giving him a bob of a curtsey.

"You promised I could read you a book, Uncle Arthur." She tries not to make it an accusation, but her squeaky voice can hardly hide it. She wasn't that practiced yet in this body.

"I did." She notices her uncle's voice is not like other Dornishmen– while his voice is deep, his words do not roll as much as others. Camille is happy when he pulls her to his lap and smiles off Ernatta. She smooths out her dress and turns the page as her uncle holds the book. The cover is leather with little studs, and each spread has an illumination on the left, and on the right large words, about six lines each.

"This is about Florian and Jonquil," she says immediately. Her uncle cocks his head to the side, brows furrowed as he looks at her.

"Indeed Arra. And how did you know?"

"It says here on the page." It was funny to her to see him be so confused. He turned the page, and she starts to read aloud, as no one reads silently here. Honestly, her mother's maester gave her harder books. Halfway through her uncle stops her, closing the book. He stares at her in wonder, and she fights back a laugh. He was very confused now.

"I did not know you read so, Arra."

"I read to momma all the time." she beams. It was always good to play dumb. Her uncle sits for a moment, studying her.

"And how often is that?"

"Nightly."

Her uncle looks truly shocked now, appraising her, his purple sapphire eyes to her lilac. Some type of understanding comes as his brows rise and then lower.

"And what else did you do with your mother?"

"I practice my High Valyrian," she says, laying back, "Or Rhoynish," the words rolled as she spoke them. "And Common too," she says, mimicking what she had once heard her mother say in the stilting tongue. "But I need more practice."

Her uncle's brows raise again before he places the book back in front of her.

Later that day when she has awoken from her nap, that Ypolita announces her uncle, who comes with more books, deposited by her page, who is Essine's son, Felix. He adores Arthur, and bows after her uncle gives him a solemn knightly nod. He attempts to do the same, and leaves. Camille is delighted by the books, and there are several: The first is the tale of a knight against a dragon, and she reads it, delicately turning the page and stopping to ask about the illustrations. Her uncle gives her a blank look all the while. Arthur gives her another book, a tale about a traveler who went from Oldtown to Winterfell by foot, in Dornish. Next was a Rhoynish tale of water wizards of old. The next book was the story of King Aegon, and his queens Visyena and Rhaenys. Then, the story of Harrenhall in common which was more like a tomb and difficult. It was so dusty she coughs. It was also so horrific and Camille wondered why her uncle even gave it to her.

"Uncle, may I dress for supper?" She is tired of reading now and hungry, and his stare makes her uncomfortable. Ashara was thrilled at her skill in books, but now she thinks that maybe she shouldn't have let him know just how far she had gotten.

"Yes, we have sat too long." Her uncle stands, telling Ypolita to leave the books as they are and to find Ernatta and Yadira. Ypolita, used to this reaction does as she is told, and then ushers Camille behind her Ebony wood screen to dress before her father and the servers arrive. Yadira, Ernatta, and Essine are not surprised, and when she comes out in a new dress for the feast at the holdfast, her uncle is gone and a knowing look is being exchanged between the women.

As she watches through Yadira's pet dog, Arthur does not believe Essine at first about her reading or speaking. She is used to her talking in whichever language she had remembered to speak, and Yadira's shock at her 'devouring of books' had worn off quickly at their arrival at Starfall. Camille overhears Yadira tell her uncle in her chambers that the entire court of Starfall knew she was hallowborn. Ashara was convinced it was the gods, the Old Gods, that made her this way and was sensitive about any word against her. She encouraged her learning, in fact. Her uncle is unnerved by the idea. She wonders what he would believe if she told him she was from another world. Camille did worry about one thing– what was a hallowborn? She had never heard of that.

The questions stuck with her as they were welcomed into Blackhaven, a castle great and monstrous, intimidating and beautiful. Her uncle, on his horse next to her carriage, whispers of Daynes and other Dornishmen who set fire to it a hundred times. Camille knows he should not say it, but she will admit it made her laugh and gasp at the story. Their banners snap in the air and as they enter the castle, Yadira says the Dornish do not like the marchers, and she can tell by the looks of the people in the yard the feeling is mutual. They are greeted by young Lord Beric Dondarrion, who is only a child, and his aunt and regent, Alysanne, a Dondarrion by birth. Both have red-gold hair similar to what they saw on throughout the Marshes and the Prince's Pass, and she wonders what the real difference is between the people here besides food, language, and an old wall.

Lyarra stays with Ned in his multiple chambers. They are feasted with her father celebrated, and her aunt mourned. Camille always goes off to bed soon after supper– she is so tired in this body and takes a bath, where she is put into her father's bed. When he arrives after supper, tall and lean, everyone near drops to the floor while she looked at him under furs. She was surprised her father was in the mood to give her a little smile. Her father dismissed everyone in the room, and with one last look from Ernatta who stayed with her, they were gone.

"Arra," Eddard's northern brogue was a question and command at once. She could tell it was more summoning by how he sat straight in his chair, and so she moved her furs and put her feet in her silk slippers and scuttled over. Her mother would shriek if she did such a thing with her. Camille eyes the books on the table next to him uncertainly, sure that Arthur had told where everyone else left her talent unsaid.

"Pappa." Eddard had become used to keeping her with him, where she would sleep cuddled close to him on the softest bed and under the warmest furs.

"I have been told a curious thing from Ser Arthur." His eyes follow her, in a knowing way.

"The garden?" Her father shook his head.

"He says you take to your letters quite well."

"Yes, the maester taught me." She did not know what else to say. She didn't know Eddard, even if he was nice, even if he was her father. She resented being so far from her mother and was not open to telling him anything. He made Ashara cry, even without Baby Jon being mentioned.

"Come here." The Old tongue sounded almost Scottish to her but was heavy and sliding and certainly not English. She knows what that means, however, Lord Reed had taught her a bit, and she comes a bit closer to Eddard until he is able to reach down and pull Camille to his lap.

"These are books I liked as a boy." He points to each book as he tells her of them: the tale of a young warrior and his lady love, the tale of a rivermaid who was stolen by wolves, and of the goddess of the Wolfswood. They didn't even make it through half of the first book, because Camille asked him about almost every word. Shyly she looked at her father who gives a knowing look.

"Who taught you your letters?"

"Essine, and the maester." Her father searches her face one more time.

"There are maesters in the north for you Arra. And the Kindred as well. Do you know what they are?"

She shakes her head and feigns tiredness laying back, and rubbing her eyes and blinking hard. He decides to end their conversation then, and hoists her to the bed and pulls the furs up Relieved, Camille falls asleep quickly. She would have to be careful here.