Lyr was coming to realize how much she disliked being in a saddle. Even more, how much she didn't like being surrounded by men with blades whose loyalties could be bought, sold, and even stolen. For the millionth time that day, Lyr's hand brushed against the lightsaber hidden beneath the dress she'd been given, clipped to the trousers she'd had to harass Jon to give her. Apparently women didn't wear pants here, and even less normal was the idea they might fight for themselves rather than have a man do it for them.

She kept a careful eye on Jaime Lannister at all times, wanting to keep from his awareness if she could help it. Her caution was noted by Jon, though. "You avoid the Kingslayer like he carries a plague." Jon's eyes flicked across her face as they rode at the very back of the procession.

"Aye." She quietly confirmed his suspicions. "He scares me, the hate pouring off him. He'd kill us both if he could. Don't let yourself get caught alone with him in a room, Jon."

"Why are you doing all this?" He'd asked many variations of the same question already and each time she'd had a slightly different answer. This instance was no different.

"The kingdom can be saved, and if I turn out to have done it the wrong way, and that is no longer true..." She pierced him with the eyes she'd gotten from her father. "Well then, Jon Snow...I need to make sure it doesn't all burn together."

"Why?" He asked again, probing deeper.

"Because it's how I was raised. I don't just watch whole peoples, entire kingdoms and their civilizations struggling in the mud to better themselves. No. I offer a hand in help."

Jon was quiet as he often was around Lyr. "That's going to get you killed."

Lyr shrugged. "Well if it does, burn my body and put the ashes in the wind, please. Then you may run to the wall if you still wish." This was said nonchalantly. Lyr had thought often of her death, despite it being a time of peace in her home.

A firm grip snaked around her wrist, commanding her attention back to Jon. "Do not speak so casually of your death, as if it doesn't even bother you." There was something in Jon Snow's eyes at this. Was he bothered by her acceptance of the cycle of life?

"Why?" She had the barest hint of a smile as she turned his questions back to him.

"They will use this against you. Or use it to figure you out all the more." It was trouble, then. Jon was troubled by her general air fearlessness. She smiled again and he got more serious. "My lady, this isn't a joke. The nest of vipers you warned King Baratheon of...They will prey upon anything or anyone that stumbles amidst them, including their own. A goddess is no different. Please, for my peace of mind try being skeptical of others first. Until proven wrong."

Lyr was opening her mouth to protest when they were joined by Ned, whom had slowed to join them. "Son, I'd have a word with the young goddess."

Jon rode off, up the train and Lyr turned herself to the head of the Stark house. "Ser." She was learning their terms and mannerisms of speech bit by bit. "What is it?"

"You claim you can feel the poison seeping from the King's advisors from here. How could that be?"

Lyr considered her words a bit more carefully with Jon's warning in mind. "That's not the question you should be asking, Ser. With all respect due to you." Lyr gave him a look meant to make him thoughtful. "What you should ask both for yourself and your daughters...Is who pushed Bran Stark from the tower and why."

"Pushed?" Lyr had both given away knowledge she knew of something she shouldn't and also kept from mentioning that Jaime had threatened her. She still didn't know why and it could be entirely unrelated. So that much she kept to herself.

"Yes. It was an attempted murder." Lyr's voice was grave with the heavy air of certainty. They spoke quietly after that of other things, for neither failed to notice the gold cloaks pressing closer. Odd. What do they not like about us spending time together? There were eyes all over the train, and Lyr couldn't help but feel half of them were upon her.

x

The camp was awash with the sounds of the train getting drunk, and eating, and otherwise making merriment. Lyr picked at the cheese and grapes she had been offered on a plate, the mental weight of so many others completely unburdened was taking some effort to hold back. It was times like these she had wished she had been gifted with Foresight rather than the empathy she had gotten instead. Noting Arya and the butcher's boy Micah sneaking off, Lyr took the chance to follow; away from the full roar of drunken minds against her own.

"Where might you two be headed?" Lyr materialized from the path ahead of them, arms crossed with a slight smirk. "Because if it's away from this madness...Take me with you."

Arya brightened at this and cheerfully complied. "Me and Micah are going to play at swords." The dire wolf by Arya's side whined and the girl laughed. "And Nymeria too." She ruffled the wolf's ears with affection. "Maybe I can teach you a few things."

Lyr was about to laugh and say she didn't need taught much more when she noted barest sparkle within the younger Stark girl. It felt rather like the Force, pulling and tickling at Lyr's awareness. "Alright, Arya. I'll watch. Maybe you can learn from me, too."