Letters To Family.

Trueborn children are made in a marriage bed and blessed by the Father and the Mother, but bastards are born of lust and weakness.

--George R.R. Martin

7th Month. 296AC.

A month had passed and with it Robb's birthday as well.

Lyarra was presently in the training yard practice fighting with Robb as Rodrik Cassel, the Master at arms of Winterfell watched the two.

Lyarra grunts as her sword was blocked Robb's who used his weight against her.

Lyarra was a rather petite girl growing into a curvaceous body that certainly drew eyes. But she had speed over Robb's brute strength and force and dodged under his armpit, using her feet to hit his back and he stumbled but got himself as he raised his sword with a playful grin.

"New trick hunh?"

Lyarra shrugged as she twirled her blunt sword with a smile.

"You have to do what you have to do to win, brother."

Robb rolled his eyes and charged with his sword and Lyarra dodged, twisting on her feet to catch Robb's equally blunt sword in the air. They both grunted and Robb used his strength to push Lyarra to the ground, but before he could ask her to yield, she used her leg to swipe him off his feet and he fell to the ground with a grunt, eliciting laughter from some gathered around.

Lyarra jumped to her feet with a grin, kicking his sword away from his hand and pointing hers at his bewildered face.

"Yield."

She smirked mockingly, but Robb turned to Rodrik with a look on his face.

"That was cheating! Where's the honor!"

Rodrik snorts as Lyarra helps her brother to his feet and he walked over to them.

"Honor is all well and good boy, but remember, there is no honor on the battlefield. You end up dead if you think otherwise."

Robb scrunches his nose as if wanting to disagree and Lyarra snorted, amused.

Nearby, Arya watches while Sansa and her friend, Jeyne Poole watched a few feet away, trying to look uninterested as usual.

"It's not fair. I want to fight too!"

The 9 year old girl stomps her feet on the ground, a pout appearing on her face as she watches her older siblings do what she wanted to do.

A scoff fills the air around them and she turns to her sister who looked at her with a disappointed look.

"Why you would want to fight with a sword of all things, or even at all baffles me, Arya. It is man's work!"

The redhead insisted and Jeyne nodded rapidly in agreement. Arya glared at the two girls.

"No it's not! Lyarra is no man! And aunt Lyanna fights too! With her husband!"

The younger girl insisted and a hand ruffled her already messy hair. She looks up to see Lyarra who gave her a wink.

"I am honored that you see me as a warrior woman sister of mine."

She playfully bowed and Arya rolled her eyes, though a smile was on her face.

Sansa sniffs, folding her arms.

"Well what else can she do anyways? She's a bastard. She can't do the things us trueborn can."

As soon as she said that, Arya let out a gasp and she could hear Robb's intake of air while Jeyne looked around awkwardly like she didn't want to be involved in the conversation.

And as for Lyarra, while she knew just how much Sansa followed what her mother said and believed, it had certainly been a while since the younger girl had openly called her that word… and it hurt her heart to hear it.

"Sansa, that is not a polite word."

Robb have her a stern look while Arya glared at the girl.

"You take that back!!"

She screamed and some of those still in the yard looked their way.

Sansa's face grew red as she looked around.

"What?? Mother said so! And the septa too!"

"It doesn't matter."

Robb brushed his hand over his face frustrated while Lyarra placed a hand on his shoulder, shaking her head for him not to bother.

She was used to this already… she should be.

"Ahh!!"

Sansa's scream resonated around the yard as everyone turned to see the girl with mud caked on her dress, a look of horror on her face as Jeyne gasps.

Lyarra turned to the culprit just in time to see the smug look on Arya's face and Sansa cried out again.

"You beast! I'm telling mother!"

She ran off, Jeyne right behind her and Robb trying to cover his snickers.

Lyarra chuckled for a few seconds before turning to her younger sister, putting on a stern face and sighing.

"Arya…"

Arya sniffed.

"She deserved it, Lyarra!"

Arya twisted her face away from her favorite sibling while crossing her arms and Lyarra continued.

"You shouldn't have done that."

Robb nodded grimly, having finally collected himself.

"True. She's gone to mother, and now you'll have more punishments."

Arya sighed bit Lyarra wasn't done.

"Also, I just might get punished too."

Arya looked affronted at the thought.

"But you did nothing!"

Lyarra forced a smile on her face.

It never mattered what she did in her Lord Father's household anyways.

She just had a feeling this would come back to bite her in the ass.

And so it did.

Lyarra stifled a groan as she stood in front of the door leading to her Lord Father's solar that evening, feeling slightly nervous.

She hadn't been called to his solar in about 2 moons or so. The last time being when letters arrived for her from her Dayne relatives for her birthday.

She ignored the two guards stationed by the door, pacing a little and wondering if she was about to be punished or she was just overworking her mind.

"Ah well… better to get it over with."

She mumbled to herself before stiffing up her shoulders, blank face on and knocking on the door.

"Enter."

His familiar voice sounded sharply through the door and she walked into the slightly large and semi-circle shaped room.

It was warmer than the passages of the castle and had some rows of books to a side, a running fire with a comfy chair to the side and a skinned bear rug on the ground.

Lord's Stark's table was to the middle, with two chairs opposite him. And he sat in his chair, the majestic lord he usually his, with his Lady wife standing next to him, upright and with a glare on her face which presently followed Lyarra… like it always did.

She curtseyed as soon as she stood in front of his desk, doing the same for his wife.

"You called for me, Lord Stark."

Her Lord Father nodded before clearing his throat, suddenly looking like he wanted to be elsewhere entirely.

"I heard about the commotion at the practice yard today."

Lyarra opened her mouth, preparing to argue but a hand from him stopped her.

"I already spoke with Rodrik and Robb about the incident. I understand you didn't tell Arya to disfigure her sister's gown after all."

Lady Stark huffed, pinning a glare on the silver haired brute, as she liked to call Lyarra.

"She might not have told Arya, but she has certainly encouraged the girl's wild ways! Running around in breeches and sparring with no shame! Arya is already demanding the same thing husband!"

The Lady ranted slightly and Lyarra looked down at her feet, not wanting to gain extra attention.

Lord Stark sighed.

"Yes. She has come to me a time or two. Obviously Arya will be punished, but certain others believe you as well should be punished."

Lyarra looked up, defeat shining in her eyes but not backing down or begging.

She might not have either name, but she had the blood of the Starks and Daynes. She wasn't about to make Lady Catelyn the winner.

Said woman nodded firmly as her husband spoke up once more.

"You will be punished, for a month. No practice sparring. You will assist the maids in the day to day running of errands work as well as helping out Maester Luwin should he need the help. You shall also be confined to your room whenever you have no job, except perhaps when you are to eat. Am I understood?"

He pinned her with a stern look, though she did spot sad reluctance in his cold grey eyes.

Lyarra nodded stiffly.

"Of course, Lord Father."

"Good. You may go."

The following month was a very tedious one for Lyarra Snow as she was worked to the bones through some of Catelyn Stark's personal servants. It was to be expected, the woman seemed to always have the last laugh in some ways.

Lyarra basically had no time for herself nor her siblings.

She didn't have enough time to eat well, bath well or even sleep well. Her hair was usually a mess of a bun all the time and she was usually almost always irritated all the time… as well as tired. Even her confusing dreams didn't keep her up as much as her workload now did.

She also stopped eating in the great hall after the first few days. The time for that was long gone at the moment, seeing as the free time she could catch for eating was usually sitting in the kitchen with the numerous kitchen maids and servants and exchanging a jape or two before getting back to work.

Oh how Lady Stark must be enjoying herself right now, not having to run into the blight of her marriage as much anymore.

At least she was making fast friends of some of the younger servant boys and girls. Some good did come out of this, maybe.

But it didn't stop the frustration and fatigue that usually clung to the girl almost everyday.

Even now, as she walked back to winter town after delivering some old clothes to a mender in town as well as some mini errands she had been told to do.

She had dark circles beneath her eyes, even as the cold drizzle beat down from the skies and she felt like falling to the ground.

As she turned a corner, she slipped and with a cry, landed in mud, much to her anger and pain.

Looking around, she saw some pitying eyes follow her as she gathered herself back up and tears rushed to the surface as she rapidly blinked back tears, marching off in humiliation, face, hands and parts of her gown caked with mud.

She bit down on her trembling lips as she rushed towards the godswood and immediately fell to her knees by the giant weirwood tree and her tears finally fell free.

She cried quietly as she washed her face and hands in the little stream beneath the tree and fought to remove the mud in her hair.

Lyarra heard footsteps heading towards her and immediately looked up to see Theon walking towards her, slightly wet from the drizzle but certainly okay.

Not like her… she practically looked half dead! Was this how the small folk felt everyday of their lives??

She certainly respected them even more now.

"You really are fast, Snow."

Lyarra snorted as she continued washing at her hair, ignoring her red nose and puffy red eyes.

After all, it was Theon. He already made fun of her everyday of her life, what difference would it make for him seeing her at her possible worst.

Oh, her glorious hair!

"Have you come to laugh at me?"

She sniped at him and he crouched down, grinning amusedly at her.

"On the contrary, I'm here to make you feel better. I never did like this place all that much, you know?"

"And how exactly are you making me feel better? Talking about hating the old gods??"

She scoffed, rinsing her now mud-free hair and braiding it into one single braid.

While Lyarra worshipped the old gods, she didn't fully take the seven for granted either. She was half Stark and half Dayne. The Daynes followed the seven too, and while she'd never stepped foot in the Sept of Winterfell so as not to be chased out by Septa Mordane for 'befouling' the place with her bastardy filth, she still read up on them and knew quite a lot on the religion.

"Hmm… well…"

Theon pretended to be deep in thought.

"I bring news on your siblings. Let's see… Robb. Well, he misses his so-called 'twin sister'. Not having you around him in the practice yard has him even more moody than usual. Arya, well… the little rascal has taken to huffing around and glaring at Sansa all the time. Bran, well he usually follows Arya so… and then Rickon. Little man has asked of you a couple of times over the few weeks and I have to say, I had no idea Lady Stark's face could twist and turn so many shades in the span of a few seconds."

As he spoke, a smile did indeed grow across Lyarra's beautiful face, even as the drizzle began to stop and the silence of the godswood encompassed them once more.

She did miss her sibling too. She missed sitting in the great hall to eat. Yes, she didn't eat at the same table as them, but it still felt good to be able to eat in the same room as her family.

A sigh, escaped her lips and a forlorn look appeared on her face as she wrapped her arms around her legs, resting her chin on her knees.

"I'm tired… of the North."

Theon hums but doesn't say anything.

"Sometimes… I just… I want to leave."

"Where would you go though?"

Lyarra shrugged.

There were many places she could go to.

In Dorne, bastards were treated better than the rest of Westeros. Also, she had Dayne relatives there. Edric had just turned 14 and though he was planning to begin his squire-ship soon, she knew he wouldn't mind having her around. His mother had died when he was months old from an underlying sickness and apparently, they had shared milk mothers. His father was also her mother's elder brother, and while she had only ever gotten two letters from him, she knew he wouldn't turn her away. She even had a younger aunt who stayed at Starfall too!

Maybe even with her kingsguard uncle in Kingslanding! She had only met him once but she made sure to keep in touch with him as much as she could. Maybe he could invite her to Kingslanding?? She could even squire for him! Surely he wouldn't mind. Maybe the royal family wouldn't too. She'd heard about her mother being best of friends with the Queen Elia, and though she didn't know the woman, she heard about how nice and sweet the beloved queen was. She who thought about the small folk all around the seven kingdoms. Perhaps she wouldn't mind seeing the ghost of her beloved friend in another face.

There was even the Stormlands! Her aunt Lyanna had always taken an interest in her whenever she visited.

The head strong woman never did seem to be a fan of Last Catelyn, and she'd once heard from the servants how she had thrown a tantrum the time her father announced her oldest brother's betrothal to the woman.

Rest his soul.

Her aunt thought the woman too proper for the north and Lyarra thought she might have an ally in the woman.

Besides, her husband had a bastard daughter named Mya Stone who was welcome at Storms End.

Aunt Lyanna hadn't been a fan of the girl in the beginning, but over the years hearts seemed to have softened. Also, aunt Lyanna always wanted a daughter, but after two difficult pregnancies and two boys, she made do with what she had.

From what she'd heard of Mya Stone, like Lyarra, she loved to sword fight and was a warrior woman in her own right, and from the last letter her aunt had sent to the north, said girl had struck a friendship with another girl from the Stormlands who similarly loved the thrill of the sword.

These were they type of friends Lyarra wanted! Friends who didn't care about status but about strength, power and ability!

And yet… here she was, in the North… working her ass off and her dreams seemingly floating put of her reach.

Theon finally broke the silence when he saw the stormy look on her face.

He stood up, shaking his head and preparing to leave. He'd had enough of this place.

"Stop brooding too much. It'll ruin your pretty face."

Lyarra watched him leave with a scowl on her face.

He'd never understand.

She paused, tilting her head a bit.

Pretty?

Was it just her, or had he just called her pretty?

She blinked for a few seconds, slightly confused, before shrugging as she turned to the weirwood tree.

It wasn't exactly a new thing for her to be called pretty, or a different variation of the word. Besides… it was Theon. He was probably just messing with her.

She got on her knees, her mind going a mile a minute as she thought about what to pray for.

To be able to leave Winterfell?

Find her way in the world? Somewhere her bastardry didn't matter?

She looked up into the carved face of the tree and gave it a pleading look.

"Please, tell me there is somewhere I at least belong…"

The cold wind of the godswood bristled slightly and the leaves of the tree rustled and she sighed, slowly getting to her feet.

It didn't matter. This place was comfort enough for her lonely soul.

Shivering slightly, she turned on her knees to leave when a loud croak stopped her, and she turned to the tree. Up in it's branches sat tree ravens, fluttering about leisurely.

Strange… Lyarra thought.

But she paid no mind to it as she walks off.

Later that night, as she sat in her room, exhausted but her job done for the day at least, she sat by her desk, a small oil lamp on her table as she wrote a letter.

Dearest Uncle,

It pleases me to write to you after so long.

How is the south? How is Kingslanding?

I hope all is well.

The North is cold, as usual.

As you know, Winter is Coming, so things are slightly hectic here.

I have kept up with my sparring just like I told you I would… of course I haven't been able to for weeks now due to a punishment. But that is besides the point.

Uncle, perhaps there is a way I could come visit you all the way in Kingslanding.

That is of you don't mind, of course.

Maybe I could even come live there. Perhaps an opening for a maid. Or I could even squire for you. Crazy, I know.

I would really like to leave the North for a while. It is home but, perhaps a new place would be better for me.

That way Lady Stark doesn't have to keep seeing the blight result of her husband's previous relationship in her face.

Things are honestly not as smooth as it could be. I don't want to alarm you or anything but perhaps I would be better able to serve the family away from said family.

I know I sound overly childish, but please uncle, of there is even a modicum of warmth you have for me as the daughter of your beloved sister, then perhaps you could do this one thing for me?

I hope you are in good health uncle, and I look forward to hearing from you in a moon or two.

Your dearest niece,

Lyarra Snow.

Few days later.
The Red Keep.
Kingslanding.
Sparring Yard.

"Again."

Ser Arthur Dayne barked at the young man grabbing his sword from the ground, a firm look on his face as he held a blunt sword, and his opponent attacked with vigor, swords clashing with a loud clang around the large area.

The platinum blonde haired member of the Kingsguard grunted slightly as he blocked a hit from his opponents shield and a flying kick to the face, before he dodged and placed a specific hit to said opponents stomach and which they shook off with a grunt.

The sound of their swords meeting the other's resonated for a while across the yard before Arthur finally got one over his opponent, sending them to the ground.

He grinned, a slight look of approval in his purple eyes at the youth breathing in and out, slightly out of breath.

"You know, you're better than your father was when he was your age."

The youth huffed slightly, a wry grin on his face as he brushes his silver hair out of his face, his purple eyes glinting in the sunlight of the day.

"Well I'm glad you think I'm better than my old man."

Jaime Lannister snorted where he stood watch nearby, a grin on his handsome face.

"I don't think your father is as old as you believe, my prince."

Arthur held out a hand for the young prince who gladly took it, standing up to his feet and Arthur got slightly sentimental, remembering just years past when the boy didn't even reach his waist.

"Perhaps we should spar late, Ser Lannister."

Jaime gave him a shit eating grin that occasionally irritated a lot of people before shrugging.

"If you think you can win against me, then perhaps tomorrow. After you walk off your beating."

Aegon Targaryen rolled his eyes though amusement shone on his face.

He turned towards Arthur with a curious look on his face. A look Arthur usually strove to avoid as it always reminded him of Oberyn Martell.

"Say, has my father discussed his plans to go to the Wall with you again?"

Arthur shook his head as he handed his blunt sword to one of the squires around the yard.

"Not at the moment."

Aegon hummed, looking so much like his father and yet still seeming like his own person.

"It is a good idea of course. It has been decades since a Targaryen king headed to the North. Or even saw the wall. And besides, we have kin at the wall. It'll be good to see a relic of the old times, pardon my words."

The 17 year old boy nodded slightly and Arthur found no wrong in his assessment.

It really was one of the reasons Rhaegar wanted to go North. The place was cold and in Arthur's opinion, rather desolate too, but as king, Rhaegar should ensure his realm is as united as could be. And while as a prince, he had toured most of the kingdoms, also doing the same as a new king, the North was a place most people never ventured too… the farthest being the Riverlands.

And Arthur was rather curious about the wall too. He wanted to see just what was special about an ice wall, and just what had made the First Men build something like that. He was also curious about how it was still standing strong after thousands of years. Some said magic of the children of the forest had something to do with it, but Arthur preferred to see things rationally before jumping into conclusions.

"In any case, the visit should take a year or so to plan. Father is just as thorough as mother when it comes to planning anything."

Arthur have him a look.

"You could just ask him yourself."

A grin appeared on Aegon's face, and if there were maidens of any kind out there, Arthur was sure he would have heard a lot of sighs or even the occasional female fainting.

"Father got a letter from Uncle Viserys this morning. I think he's cracking his head trying to decipher his brother's words still."

Arthur snorted.

Prince Viserys was a very… peculiar young man.

As a child, Rhaegar and his mother had worried for him. Having been raised in rather close proximity to the Mad King, he had quite the temper and was very stubborn though absolutely loyal to his brother. But as he grew, he became sort of eccentric in his behavior. He could be laughing at something one minute, angry the next and then sulking a minute after.

He remembered the time Aegon described him as akin to the one uncle on a side of the family that was fun to be around but said and did things that made one scratch their head in confusion.

To Aegon, Oberyn was the weird uncle on his Martell side. Something Oberyn usually welcomed with a creepy grin whenever it was said.

"I should leave him to his… distressing work then."

Aegon grinned wryly before cracking his neck and wincing slightly.

"And I'll go take a well needed hot bath."

Arthur grinned.

"You deserve it my prince. You're definitely going to make a great knight sometime in the future."

He said to his squire who huffed as he walked away, Jaime Lannister behind him, acting as a guard.

"Perhaps you could knight me now and save us all the pain and work, yes?"

Arthur chuckled.

"I think not, my prince!"

Arthur shook his head as he headed towards his destination, the White Sword Tower.

Where the 7 kingsguard members who protected the royal family lived.

He took a deep breath as he hooked 'Dawn' back to his waist and smiled as he walked towards the tower.

Kingslanding had certainly changed from how it used to be almost two decades ago.

After the War of The Mad King, Rhaegar ascended the throne, with his wife, Elia Martell becoming the queen and his mother Rhaella Targaryen becoming known as the Queen Mother.

He overhauled a lot of Aerys' laws and made a lot of changes that benefited the realm.

He made the Small Council into what he wanted it to be, albeit with some old faces in there. New ones like Jon Connington, Monford Velaryon, Wyman Manderly, Barristan Selmy and in recent years, Stannis Baratheon, joined Varys and Pycelle on the council.

Kingslanding for one was not what it used to be as well.

After the war, Queen Elia Targaryen had asked her husband for leave to do something about Flea Bottom and the smell around Kingslanding.

His old friend definitely impressed everyone with what she has accomplished.

Starting off with Flea Bottom, she'd completely overhauled and torn down the place, building it up again from scratch by hiring Bravosi architects who threw ideas around for a functioning city instead of the mess it used to be. She also hired people who had ideas on workable drainage and sewer systems for cities as big as Kingslanding. And then, she hired the small folks. Those who had lived in Flea Bottom, those who needed the money, those who wanted to work. She hired them to build their homes and clean their messes.

Bathhouses were built, better buildings and houses, some almost architecturally eye pleasing. Organized proper waste disposal as well. A good enough water system connected to the Blackwater.

It took more than a decade to fix this issues as at first, the small folks weren't all that happy with a lot of the changes such as pouring their waste into the streets, polluting the areas or even obstructing work being done around. But then fines were put in place and the Gold Cloaks doubled and tripled over the years in number and power and the people slowly began getting used to the changes.

Even at present, after over 15 years of the overhaul, some buildings were still being done and issues still came up occasionally, but Elia's Haven, the unofficial name for Flea Bottom, was as different as could be from two decades ago.

Apart from that, while Elia had been doing her own thing, Rhaegar had been just as busy.

A few years into being king, he decided that Dragonstone would no longer be the seat of a Targaryen crowned prince, but now belonged to the Targaryen family itself.

A Targaryen family of Dragonstone, which he awarded to his brother, Viserys. The 23 years old making it his own home with the help of his mother.

As for the princely seat. There, it had gotten better.

The new holding to be held by crowned prince's of the realm became Summerhall.

Yes. It ended up getting rebuilt, and just like it had taken Flea Bottom close to two decades to be completely redone, it took over a decade to rebuild Summerhall back to it's beauty and elegance. The beauty that made many a Lord Paramount envy and drool.

It had taken a lot of planning, patience and gold. Lots and lots of gold.

Gold of course, which came from Casterly Rock's mines.

Ah yes, it had been one of the punishments Rhaegar had seen fit to place on House Lannister after the war.

After Tywin Lannister's death, with no other heir, seeing as Jaime Lannister decided to stay a member of the Kingsguard, his younger brother, Tyrion Lannister or the imp as he was usually called, became its new Lord and the Warden of the West. Of course, Rhaegar had played with the idea of stripping the Lannisters of their Wardenship, but he'd later decided not to, opting to instead wait for the golden haired people to make a mistake, either now or in the future, and then completely strip them of their home and then title. Harsh, but Arthur definitely approved.

At the moment, Tyrion Lannister seemed to have a good head on his shoulder. Presently 28 years of age, he'd married some lowborn girl when he was 16, much to the consternation of plenty nobles, and they had two twin children. A boy and a girl with darker blonde hair and the strange colored eyes of their father.

Jaime, sometimes in his drunken state, usually joked about his father's reaction if he was still alive to hear just who the Lady of Casterly Rock now was.

But using quite a large part of the Lannister mine gold wasn't the only thing Rhaegar had done, no.

Apart from having a modicum of control over the people their parents might want them to marry, the heir, Tion Lannister would be fostering in the Red Keep and squiring under his Kingsguard uncle when he turned the age of 12.

Castamere had also been taken by the royal family, and after a long few years of draining the water out as well as a massive rebuild… still with Lannister money, it was turned into a castellan holding of sorts, under the Royal family and in a way, separate from the leadership of the West.

It now had a couple of surrounding villages to it's holding and the mines had been reopened too, giving the Targaryen family another edge money wise and power-wise.

Summerhall in Arthur's opinion, was almost as beautiful as the Red Keep, but it's beauty differed though. Summerhall was built to attain a golden glow to itself. With golds, whites and silvers with the occasional blues here and there.

It was spectacular and huge and it was the beauty of the Stormlands. Just like Castamere, it had a couple of surrounding villages to it's holding, owned completely by the crown and a bit more of an independent holding to the crown itself.

It was the future home of Aegon once he found a bride and got married. Of course, the beauty of the castle made the young man visit his holding quite a lot. It also helped that his steward was a great man loyal to the Targaryen family.

As for his elder sister Rhaenys, the 19 years old princess was a very headstrong and active lady. Similar in appearance to her mother, except for her startling purple eyes much like her grandmother Rhaella. Like her bastard Dornish cousins, she loved the thrill of a fight and her favorite weapon was a spear gifted to her by her father when she was but 11. But like her other cousin, Arianne Martell, she wasn't all that obsessed with fighting, and was more interested in power in his opinion. He saw how she watched people who got close to her family. She was a mini politician in her own right and he knew Rhaegar would never settle for less for his beloved daughter.

At the moment, she was being courted by Willas Tyrell, the heir to Highgarden, and although Arthur wasn't into politics and the game, he wished her well on her endeavor. Besides, it would be like rewarding the loyalty of the Tyrells after all this while. They had hungered to have Targaryen blood in their line, and now they had it.

Of course, Arthur knew they wanted the real deal, which was Aegon himself. To have their daughter sit with him and become princess and future Queen, but Rhaegar was not interested in that.

Ever since the war, the then new king had done a lot of thinking. It had something to do with blood. He hadn't truly understood what his friend had been saying, but he knew it pertained to the prophecy he used to be so obsessed with. Something about Ice and Fire, A promised prince, and also how anyone looking to marry a crowned prince or king in his line from that moment onward MUST have SOME Targaryen blood or Valyrian blood in them, or they would not be suitable candidates for his son and future descendants.

Arthur still thinks it's a bit drastic, after all, not many had the blood in them, except perhaps for the surviving distant family members in Dorne. But at least with Rhaenys probably becoming Lady of Highgarden in the nearest future, their blood would replenish and generations down the line the Tyrells could have a daughter sit the throne with the king. For now though, they weren't so lucky.

But he knew that wouldn't stop them though. It wouldn't stop the stubborn lords and ladies with daughters unwed.

Too bad for them, Aegon didn't even look to be searching at the moment. He seemed to be enjoying his youth and the freedom his title brought him.

Different from his father, that one was. But a good different.

The Tyrells should look elsewhere for their flower. Perhaps Viserys. After all he knew Rhaegar had been trying to influence his younger delinquent brother to search for a wife.

The 16 year old girl would do well with Viserys.

Still though, he knew how greedy Lords and Ladies could be when it came to power, so he was holding his breath on that one.

As Arthur reached the White Sword Tower, he was stopped by a servant boy who bowed respectfully, holding an envelope for him.

"Ser, you have a letter."

Arthur raised an eyebrow as he took it, waving the boy off who scurried away.

He wasn't expecting any letters from his brother Alastair, or even his sister Allyria. Perhaps something had come up?

Walking into the tower, be checked who it was from, and a grin appeared on his face.

His niece, Lyarra.

Oh, how he longed to see her again. It had been exactly a decade since he first and last saw her.

The little thing has been her mother in looks though with Stark similarities. Her hair had been a lighter blonde than the usual Daynes, bothering on Valyrian coloring which was understandable from the blood that ran through her veins. He had met her when he visited the Stormlands on a mission and she had been a little spitfire just like her mother.

He knew Elia really wished to meet her. In fact, at some point she had wanted the girl to come south and become one of Rhaenys' ladies in waiting, wanting her daughter to have the same long lasting friendship she'd had with Ashara.

Those two had been as close as he and Rhaegar are, and it had almost torn Elia apart when she heard of her friends death in Dorne. It had driven her sick in fact.

He still remembered how she offered to have Rhaegar legitimize the girl to a Stark, but Eddard Stark had refused.

It had pissed Arthur off and he had almost rode North so as to drive the bastard through with a sword, but he'd been calmed down. And he later understood how it would have looked to have her legitimized when he was married and had a family along the way.

He didn't care anyways. Lyarra was his niece regardless of her name. Snow, Sand, Stark. It didn't matter.

She was a Dayne through and through in his opinion.

Elia had even volunteered to raise the girl because she knew bastards weren't looked well upon by the people of Westeros as much as Dorne. But he had still refused, sighting something about Starks not doing well in the South.

Arthur could understand, seeing as at that time, Eddard Stark's father and brother had just died. But his sister seemed to be doing fine as the Lady of Stormsend.

He'd even heard that wore the breeches in that marriage and her husband didn't seem to mind one bit. Even his bannermen seemed to respect her.

Frankly, he wasn't really a fan of the so-called honorable man. Perhaps it was his brotherly bond warring in him, but what brother wouldn't hate the man who deflowered their sister and left her with child? Granted he had to fulfill his father's wishes, but there was a lot he could take and this was not one of it… especially when his sister ended up dying in childbirth.

Shaking his head and trying to rid himself of dark memories, he moved closer to a window in the circular room of the first floor and quickly unfurled the letter to read.

And as he read… and read… his smile turned into a frown and his frown have way to slight anger.

Why his niece was asking for a place as a maid was beyond him! Didn't she know who she was??

But the more he read and saw between the lines she tried to hide, the more everything seemed to clarify in his mind.

He had hoped… truly hoped, that Lyarra was being treated as good as could be in the North.

While he'd heard some base rumors that the North treated their bastards better than other places, he hadn't been too trusting of that. But his work as a kingsguard couldn't let him roam as freely as he wanted.

His elder brother had assured him she would be well taken care of, as he had an agreement with the Stark Lord. But yet, here she was, asking if she could come join him in Kingslanding… it said a lot.

And then there was the sentence on Lady Stark. His eyes narrowed and his fists tightened as the urge to punch something filled him up.

He could take a lot. Really, he could. But when it came to anything relating to either of his sisters, he was ready to die for them.

One already left him to join their parents, and she'd left him a relic of sorts to watch over and protect, and while his duties as a kingsguard stopped him from doing much, it didn't stop him from feeling familial towards her.

She was the only thing he had of his sister's memory. And he damn well was going to protect it.

Lyarra might think herself unneeded and unwanted in the North, but she was a Dayne of Starfall by blood, and by the gods she was wanted.

If Eddard Stark didn't want her, he would be taking her, and there really was nothing he could do about it. She was practically a grown woman of marriageable age as well as a bastard in the eyes of Westeros, she had certain freedoms just as well as setbacks. If she wanted to leave the North, she had his approval.

And she would have the approval of his mother's greatest friend ally.

And bringing said letter to the Dornish woman was exactly what he planned to do right now.

Lyarra would get her wish to leave the North one way or the other, by his life's blood he willed it.

Notes

--In case you all wanted to know the ages of the characters and the years they were born. Some of them are correct, either bookwise or show-wise. I mixed them up because I needed the ages to be as good enough as could be.

--Remember, the year is still 296AC so they're younger than when show-wise canon began. But it still works in my favor this way as things will pick up faster rather than packing a whole lot of plots into a short period of years. I'd get burned that way. There are things I need to deal with after all.

--296AC

--Lyarra Robb are 16. Born 280AC. Lyarra is a month older than Robb.

--Sansa and Jeyne are both 13. Born 283AC.

--Arya is 10. Born 286AC.

--Bran is 9. Born 287AC.

--Rickon is 4. Born 292AC.

--Ned is 36. Born 260AC.

--Cat is 33. Born 263AC.

--Theon is 18. Born 278AC.

--Rhaegar is 39. Born 257AC.

--Elia is 38. Born 258AC.

--Rhaenys is 19. Born 277AC.

--Aegon is 17. Born 279AC.

--Viserys is 23. Born 273AC.

--Ashara was born 259. A year older than Ned.

--Arthur was born 258AC. 38 years old.(Arthur has platinum blonde hair and purple eyes like most of his Dayne relatives. Ashara and Alastair too. Allyria has black hair but they all have the purple eyes. The Daynes are known to have light blonde or dark hair and purple eyes. Also, they are Stony Dornish, and the Stony Dornish are known to have fairer skin than the rest of the Dornish population.)

--Alastair Dayne(had to think of a name for the eldest Dayne brother.) Born in 256AC. 40 years.

--Allyria Dayne. Born in 277AC.

--Edric Dayne. Son of Alastair Dayne, heir of Starfall. Born in 282AC. 14 years.

--Cersei and Jaime Lannister. Born 264AC. 32 years old.

--Tyrion Lannister. Born 268AC. 28 years old.

--I'll add other characters as they come in, or as I post other chapters.

--I'm not going to bash Catelyn or Sansa. Keep calm. Catelyn is a mother who wants the best for her children but she can be cold and a bit ruthless when it comes to Lyarra because Lyarra is her husband's bastard. A beautiful one at that, which Northern lords wouldn't mind marrying their children too. She even has Stark blood in her veins! More than enough for them. In a way, she might see it as usurping her daughters. It doesn't also help she is older than Robb. Catelyn detests bastards and sees them as creatures of lust and evil, and in a way, Lyarra was created in a haze of lust as two lovers nodded each other goodbye in order for one to honor the last wishes of his father.

As for Sansa, she is literally 13 years old, recently going through puberty, with dreams of knights and princes riding horses and whisking her away to her happily ever after. Sansa from the start was a girl with her brain filled with floweriness until her eyes were opened to the reality and harshness of the world. It will take a while, but she will realize not everything about the world is as black and white as she once thought. For now, she is a girl raised by her mother and a septa who have filled her head with what and who a bastard is, as well as given her ideas of what her future will be like. Leave her to be a child and come into her own.

--Ned Stark is a good man, but a bright man he is not. He has made a lot of mistakes and those mistakes tie to his honor. Honor is something he stands by and if he has to honor his dead lover by raising their daughter in Winterfell then he shall. Why not just leave her in Dorne, you wonder? Because at that time he was still in love with Ashara Dayne and the only thing he had of her when she died was their daughter. A daughter who shares a face with said woman, even though different features are smack dab in it. Eddard Stark is also a family man. She is a bastard but she is his blood. But he would also never go against his wife and make her happy. Honor demands that since he has brought a bastard into their marriage, he do right by her as much as he can without giving her too much leeway. They've obviously fought a lot about Lyarra and he hasn't backed down on sending her away, but his relationship with his daughter has soured in the process, much to his chagrin.