Chapter 4—Queendom.

"The strength of a kingdom comes from its King, The strength of a King comes from his Queen."

--Cody Edward Lee Miller.

10th Month. 296AC

Lyarra paced slightly as she waited to be invited in.

It was the second day and the full first day since the Royal family arrived in Winterfell and the castle was still bustling.

Lyarra had woken up this morning, preparing to head to the godswood to pray when a maid had knocked on her door, informing her that the Queen required her presence.

She had obviously been tongue tied for a minute, confused and not really getting what the girl had said. That is, until she realized she had heard the word 'Queen' and quickly rushed to make herself even more presentable and then running out of her room without looking too crazy.

Now here she was, patting down her grey colored dress and wringing her fingers as she breathed out rapidly.

She ignored the looks the two guards exchanged.

They wouldn't understand.

She was meeting the Queen. She was going to talk to her. To her mother's friend. Someone apart from her uncle who had known her mother. It was very nerve-wracking.

Hopefully the Queen wasn't as… pushy, as her son.

The door opened and Lyarra straightened up immediately, staring at the maid.

"You may go in now."

Lyarra nodded, putting up a polite face and slowly walking inside.

It was a quaint room set aside for the queen as some sort of tea room. Warm, with the fireplace burning softly and quite comfy as well.

The Queen sat comfortably, dressed in a light cream and gold saree two piece with a silky almost transparent drape over one shoulder.

Now in close proximity to the woman, Lyarra could see the aging beauty of Elia Targaryen.

Presently 38, and the woman's golden skin was glowing, healthy and flawless and she couldn't spot wrinkles on her face, rather only slight laugh lines. She had fierce looking light brown eyes that seemed almost golden in the right ray of light. And her hair, so black and luscious.

She held a cup of steaming tea in her hand and a closed book sat on the table opposite her.

She looked up at Lyarra with a warm smile and Lyarra immediately curtseyed.

"Your grace. I am so honored to be in your presence."

It sounded a bit weird, but Lyarra wasn't about to correct herself and then look even more like an idiot.

The Queen gestured to the free space next to her.

"Come. Sit."

Lyarra immediately moved and settled down as Elia placed the cup of tea on the table and looked at Lyarra so attentively, it made the silver haired bastard almost uncomfortable.

Elia sighed, a wistful look on her face, raising her hands.

"May I?"

She gestured to Lyarra's face and she nodded softly, and immediately, Elia moved closer, taking Lyarra's face in her palms softly.

"Let me look at you…"

She said softly, and Lyarra was pleasantly surprised at how soft and warm the woman was.

And her hands. She saw them now. They were decorated by traditional Dornish artwork made with something called Henna. She had flowery work on her hands up to her wrist, but the tips of her fingers were totally brown with henna. It was fascinating and beautiful.

She heard Elia stifle what seemed to be a sniffle and she looked into the woman's eyes.

There was pain, regret and happiness all rolled into one. She looked at Lyarra so warmly, it was like looking at what she thought could be the physical representation of The Mother.

Elia's eyes were so pure regardless of how fierce looking they were

Her smile was true, and her scent was pleasing to Lyarra's nose.

She wondered, if this was perhaps how her mother used to scent like.

Lyarra never knew her mother. Only stories her uncle told her. Perhaps, if she were alive, this was how warm she'd be?

The warmth that radiated motherhood?

Unknowingly, a tear slid down her left eye and Elia frowned sadly as she used a thumb to clean it off, startling Lyanna.

"Oh, you poor thing. I am so sorry it took so long to meet you."

She said softly and Lyarra shook her head as if trying to reassure the woman.

"Perhaps I and Ser Arthur have been rather lax, but I assure you not anymore. I shall do what my dearest friend couldn't when it comes to you. I shall honor her daughter till my last breathe. By the mother Rhoyne I swear it so."

She dropped her hands with a smile and Lyarra smiled back, before looking away slightly flustered.

"Of course! Would you like some tea then?"

She had already started pouring the nice scenting tea in a cup so Lyarra only nodded.

As she dropped the tea pot, she picked up the cup and daintily handed it to Lyarra who took it respectfully with a small bow.

"Thank you, your grace."

Elia smiles amusedly.

"In another life, you would have called me Elia."

Lyarra blinked rapidly, not sure what to say and Elia laughed, covering her mouth, amused.

"Don't worry. We may reach that point one day. Drink up."

Perhaps the prince really did have his mother's Dornish attitude after all.

She brought the cup to her lips and slowly took a sip, a surprised sound escaping her lips and the queen smiled as she picked up her own cup.

"Masala chai. Or just chai tea. One of Dorne's specialties. We do love our spices."

"It's amazing, your grace."

Elia nods.

"I'm glad you think so. Not all Westerosi outside of Dorne have the taste for it. But I believe it could do well in the North, what with the chill that always seems to stay in your bones. However did you do it?"

She jokingly asked and Lyarra's smile widened. The queen was easy to talk to. It was no wonder she won over the people of King's Landing, from what Lyarra had heard.

"Well your grace, I am half Stark, and it is usually said that Starks are born of ice."

Elia grinned wryly.

"I think I can believe it. In fact, I think I can believe it for all Northerners. But if they ever come to Dorne, they'd never want to return. The hotness is on our bones. If the North are of Ice, then we Dornish are of Fire."

"So I am Ice and Fire?"

The woman tilted her head as if in thought.

"It sounds like a poem. But it seems you are, Lyarra."

She dropped her cup, pouring herself more tea, and Lyarra could feel her insides warm, but in a nice way. This chai tea seemed like something she should look into.

"You know, you remind me of your mother in some ways."

Lyarra looked at the woman with intrigue, even as she accepted more tea from her.

The room smelled amazing, with jasmine incense and the chai tea intermingling in the air and leaving an almost soothing scent with the undertone of spice, and relaxing Lyarra in a way she never thought before.

"My mother?"

Elia hummed.

"Indeed. You have her face, though your eyes are a brighter color and your hair Valyrian silver. But anyone would recognize her in your face. Ashara's face is… was, one of those unforgettable ones. The one you see and marvel at it's beauty, exotic in a Stony Dornish sense."

Elia grinned impishly.

"She used to have a lot of admirers, even before I was betrothed to my husband and we moved to the Crownlands. In fact, the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard used to have a thing for her."

Lyarra's jaw dropped in surprise.

"Ser Barristan used to fancy my mother??"

Elia giggled and nodded.

"Yes! But he could do nothing of course. Ashara was a sweet woman. Friendly, fierce and drew people in. I remember when we used to race in the Water Gardens of Dorne. Sometimes whenever I was too sick to play or move around when I was still a child, she'd steal a book from my Lord Father's study to read to me. I couldn't tell her some of her pronunciations were bad because she was my friend… or that I really didn't want to know about the sales of spice in Quath, or the magisters of Pentos."

Elia's eyes glittered amusingly and Lyarra chuckled, imagining her mother as a child with some book, thinking it would be fun to read out.

"I heard she was your Lady in waiting? One of them?"

Elia nodded with a wistful smile.

"She was a kind friend to me. When I was new in the Red Keep, there were a lot of vipers waiting for me to make a mistake and utterly fail. Ashara was sort of a shield for me. The more vocal one with a tongue so sweet yet dangerous that it drew scornful eyes away from me and curious eyes towards her. She was the kind of friend to defend me. And I know Arthur used to teach her some knife wielding to chase some unwanted suitors off."

Lyarra giggled with a nod.

"Yes. Uncle Arthur did tell me."

Elia smiled.

"I was very happy to hear you were quite the talented swordswoman."

Lyarra nodded with a shy smile, though she sat up straight at the compliment.

"I am not that great, but I'm proud of what I've accomplished too, your grace."

"I hear your aunt Lyanna is just like that too. And I've heard your younger sister might be taking after the both of you?"

Lyarra grinned at the mention of her baby sister, Arya.

"Yes. She is quite the wild wolf. Drives us all up the wall, that one. Not a lady, she says. But a warrior."

"Nothing wrong with that. She should perhaps meet my nieces some day. They'd teach her all there is to know. Besides, warrior women are popping up around Westeros. Not as much mind you, but more from kingdoms that don't totally ignore the girl child. Like the North, Dorne and even the Stormlands. Perhaps young Arya might have a chance to be who she wants to be."

Lyarra snorted unintentionally.

"Maybe not with her Lady Mother's approval, your grace."

Elia frowned a bit.

"Hm. Yes. The Lady Catelyn Stark. Lovely mother with lovely children."

Lyarra shrugged, not sure of what to say to that.

Elia sighs, dropping her cup.

"She hasn't been good to you, has she?"

Lyarra's eyes widened at that, immediately shaking her head and hands, her heartbeat quickening.

"No! I mean yes! I mean… she's Lady of Winterfell, your grace. She hasn't touched me. We are cordial, as is to be expected."

She sighed as she tried to put her words together.

"Lady Catelyn is… complicated. She is a great mother to my siblings, loves them and takes care of them, and she loves Lord Stark… but I don't think I can get too angry about her treatment of me."

"Oh? And why is that?"

Lyarra swallowed tightly, wringing her hands a bit as she stared at them.

"Because… well, I mean… I'm a bastard. A blight on her marriage. Everyday she is reminded of the one stain on her perfect family. It is understandable if she is bitter towards me for that."

Elia scoffed, tutting as she placed a hand on Lyarra's.

"Sweet child, it is not a child's fault for being born. A bastard never asked their parents to commit the act without planning some way to stop said pregnancy. Blame it on the parents instead. Also, your father was sweet on your mother. She was his first love, from what I could gather. And he meant to marry her. But then the war happened… Brandon Stark ran off to fight in a war that his father had declared neutral in. He died, leaving his betrothal for his younger brother, and Lord Stark had to forego his love. He didn't have you when he was married to the Lady Stark. He had you before that, and during a painful goodbye to your mother."

Elia sighed softly as if in a memory, as Lyarra listened closely to the woman.

"Love. Love… makes you do crazy things. Love makes you forget important things. Love is sweet. But it can be cruel too. When I heard of her death in Dorne, oh how anguished I had been. She was my soulmate you know. Everyone used to comment on how close we were. Like sisters. Twins. Connected. I wanted you in King's Landing with me and Arthur, you know?"

Lyarra slowly shook her head, teary eyed.

"I had wanted to raise you with my children. No one would have dared say otherwise. I would have legitimized you if your father had asked. But he never did. And it was also his power to take you with him. He is your father. Even as a queen, I dare not separate a child from their parent, especially when they want them. That would be cruelty. And so, I let him take you. Arthur let him take you, even when it pained him to do so."

Elia's face then darkened.

"I expected him to treat you as you deserved. In Dorne, bastards are taken care of by their parents or house of their kin. No matter if said kin wasn't sure about them. It is best you keep family close, so they can't be turned against you in the future. Imagine my surprise when Arthur showed me your letter, begging to come to King's Landing and work as something as ridiculous as a maid!"

Lyarra stared at the queen with a mortified look on her face.

"Y-you read my letter?"

Elia patted her hand, looking unconcerned as she nodded.

"Indeed. My husband has been planning a visit to the North for moons now. But the visit was to be in the coming year, and I was to stay back at King's Landing while he and my son did a royal procession of some sort. But that letter, spurred me out of my negligence of you and I knew I had to come North and see you with my own eyes."

Lyarra gasped.

"You came here… for, me?"

Elia grinned, slowly caressing the younger girl's cheek.

"Of course. You are Ashara Dayne's child. You are my child too."

Lyarra had to fight down the tears that wanted to spill out at what the woman was saying.

Feeling so much love and emotions from this woman was so nerve-wracking that Lyarra was feeling exhausted.

"It really was wonderful being able to speak to you, Lyarra. You are a gem. I had once hoped to bring you to court to be one of my daughter's Lady in waiting, but I can't let that happen now. Rhaenys might be getting married soon, and then she'd have to leave for her husband's seat. If it all comes to that, I can't let you leave when I've just had you in my grasp."

Lyarra nodded dumbly and Elia smiled, her mood brightening up again.

"I'm glad we could do this. I hope you won't mind keeping me company every now and then for the duration of my stay here?"

"I… of course not your grace. I'd be honored."

Later, as Lyarra left the room after what seemed to be over two hours of talk between the two, Elia had a smile fixed on her face as she walked back to her quarters she shared with her husband, her two guards following behind her.

They closed the door for her as she walked in, and she saw Rhaegar sitting behind a desk, reading a large tome he'd probably gotten from the Winterfell library.

She smiled softly, folding her arms as she watched him turn a page, not knowing she was in the room already.

She was already used to his absentmindedness. In fact, it had been worse in the beginnings not their marriage.

A lot had happened though, between them. In and out of their marriage, and a compromise was met sometime after, and now, years later, she was happy with her marriage. Satisfied even.

And she had done what was required by her. Bear him a son and heir. She had done well for her home too. Dorne.

Rhaegar muttered something under his breathe, letting out a small chuckle and absentmindedly moving his hand towards a goblet of water. A goblet that was now being pushed towards the edge of the table because of his lack of attention.

Elia huffed with a smile, walking behind him, grabbing and putting the goblet in his hand.

"Thank you…"

He muttered, bringing the goblet to his lips before pausing and turning to her as she moved to his side, looking down at him amused.

"Elia, you're back."

His soft whispery honey-like voice resonated around the room and she nodded.

"Indeed husband. Yet, here you still are, with the book you were reading when I left."

He smiled before turning back to it.

"It is absolutely amazing, Elia. I have to read it before we head on back to Kingslanding. It has a lot of information on the North, as well as the history it holds. This is a rare find, my love."

The Dornish woman sighed, before placing a kiss on her husband's head, ruffling his silky hair a bit before walking towards their bed and sitting down softly on it.

"How was your meeting with Ashara's daughter?"

He asked, closing his book and walking over to sit next to her and she smiled.

"It went absolutely amazing. She is Ashara's daughter indeed. But she differs in quite a lot of ways too."

Rhaegar hummed, wrapping his hand around his wife's shoulder and she leant on him.

"I have to say, when Arthur told me all those years back how her Valyrian blood had shone through, I had thought perhaps lighter hair than the usual light blonde. But to see her silver hair and purple eyes, she could almost pass off as one of us."

Elia hummed.

"Very peculiar, but not too surprising. The Daynes always had purple eyes before they married into your family. They even had the occasional light blonde too. The blood most be strong."

Rhaegar nods before speaking up again.

"I know you're planning something, wife."

Elia grinned.

"Oh?"

Rhaegar chuckles.

"I know you. I have lived with you and witnessed a number of your schemes. Try not to permanently harm Lord Stark and his wife. I need my Warden of the North protecting this lands for me."

Elia sniffed.

"He has a son."

"Elia…"

"Fine. But he glad I didn't involve Oberyn in this. You know, he wanted to join us for this journey."

Rhaegar sighed ruefully.

"Viserys too. I'm glad I gave him something else to put his mind on."

Elia chuckled before staring impishly at her husband.

"We have very weird brothers, do we not?"

Rhaegar grins down at her, placing a hand on her chin.

"Indeed. But perhaps it is one of the reasons we are so compatible."

He placed a loving peck on her lips before she rolled her eyes, dragging him towards her and he let out a startled laugh.

A few days had passed since Lyarra's meeting with the Queen, and whenever she thought about the woman, a smile usually appeared on her face.

Lyarra's days were spent doing her chores, going into town for one thing or the other. Buying some sweets and sneaking some to Rickon. A sweet tooth he had, and he always came to her asking whenever he could. It was their little secret between them.

A week and some days had passed in total since the Royal family had arrived and things were still as rowdy.

The Lady Stark was the perfect host, and Sansa kept attempting to be a mini her, though sometimes she trailed behind the crown prince with her friend, Jeyne, giggling and sighing dreamily while seemingly having nothing to do.

Speaking of, Lyarra had also not practiced sparring in the yard for a while now. Rather, in the godswood.

Perhaps she was avoiding something. Or someone.

But it wasn't her fault. His mother might be absolutely wonderful, but to be caught in public with him was oh so scary. The rumor mongers. Oh how they'd love the drama.

Also, Lyarra REALLY didn't want to tempt fate and take his head off by mistake. Twice was a coincidence, thrice though… no. She wasn't going to push her luck.

Lyarra sat by the spring in the godswood as not too far away, in the bushes, Ghost was busy playing and getting used to his environment. The pups were now more than three weeks old and were a curious bunch. Now able to move about a bit and explore, if only for a short period of time.

The skies were clearer as well, so Lyarra quite enjoyed her quiet time. Robb had taken to asking her to spar with him in the yard but at the moment, Lyarra hadn't taken him up on that. She'd make it up to him later on.

Lyarra twitched slightly when she heard footsteps and looked up to see the prince walking towards her, Ser Gendry close behind in his Kingsguard apparel.

"Lyarra. I thought I'd find you here."

Lyarra immediately got to her feet, slightly disgruntled but still curtseyed.

"My prin—Aegon. Were you perhaps looking for me?"

She asked him, though there was an undertone of moodiness behind it that she couldn't quite hide, and the prince smiled rather shamelessly.

"Perhaps. I won't deny it and lie that I am not curious about the daughter of the woman my mother claims was her most staunchest supporter in the politics and backstabbing that is King's Landing when she was but newly wedded to my father."

Lyarra sighed quietly, watching Ser Gendry sneakily as he walked haphazardly around the godswood as if trying not to listen to their conversation, yet watching out for his prince.

"I admit I was quite curious of your mother as well."

"And not me?"

He smirked wryly and Lyarra smiled back before she wiped it off, replacing it with a frown.

"You are the crown prince though. Perhaps you should be more wary with the company you keep. The Stark bastard is not really who you'd want to be seen with."

She said rather grumpily as she sat on one of the sitting rocks in the godswood, Aegon moving to sit next to her.

"Oh?"

Lyarra sighed moodily, some frustration leaking out of her as she suddenly stands, startling the prince a little.

"Indeed. I can just imagine the rumors. Local wench seduces the prince, grasping tightly onto him with her ugly claws and leaving him a shell of his former self. A travesty."

She finished rather sarcastically, and Aegon smiled at her, laughter in his eyes, while Ser Gendry didn't bother covering his amused snort, and she turned to him, narrow eyed while he looked away, unconcerned.

"Are you sure you're not being overly dramatic? Also, I really don't care that you are a bastard."

"Why though?"

It sounded like she was whining in her ear, but she didn't really care at the moment.

Aegon though bit his lip, trying to hold in his laughter though a couple of chuckles did escape out.

"Lyarra, you forget that I am half Dornish, like you. Why do you care about others' opinion of you? And why do you think I'd care about bastards, when my uncle Oberyn has over 5 of them running around? And everyone knows I associate with them openly. It leaves the tongue of most nobles wagging, but I don't care. They are my family."

Lyarra stared at him a bit confused, mouth opening and closing, a bit unsure of what to say, and a smug look appeared on his face.

Seeing that, she narrowed her eyes, looking away from him while hissing under her breath.

Aegon crossed his arms, looking regal though he was doing absolutely nothing.

"I'm waiting for your counter."

Lyarra could do nothing, but sigh. Her shoulders drooping a bit.

Perhaps she had been too hard on herself. It certainly wasn't her fault, seeing as she knew the stigma behind being a bastard. It wasn't fun. It never was. But she didn't think the prince would ever get it anyways.

Better to agree with him. Her uncle was right. The prince probably got what he wanted most, if not all of the time.

"Fine. You're the prince, you are free to do what you want."

Aegon chuckles.

"So, if I find you at the sparring yard, mayhap tomorrow morning, and I asked for a spar, you won't turn me down and flee for the godswood, would you?"

Her nostrils flared for a second but she nods, giving the prince a small bow in agreement with his words and his smile widened, his pearly white teeth showing.

"Perfect."

And Lyarra is struck by how his smile seemed to carry the sun in it's glow.

Just then, there is a small rustle and Ghost comes running over to her, toddling over a little before he got to her and his snow white fur dirty as he moved to sniff at her feet.

Lyarra tittered a bit, patting his head with a smile.

"What will I do with you Ghost?"

He looked up at her, his tongue sliding out as he licked at his paws, jumping excitedly and wagging his tail.

Aegon looked at the pup with interest and curiosity.

"I had heard of the Stark children having Direwolves. I am not embarrassed to say I had thought it a lie when I was first told. But then I've seen them in passing with some of your siblings."

He raised his hand slowly towards Ghost, and waited.

Ghost moved towards the hand, immediately sniffing it for a few seconds before licking it and Aegon grinned as he touched the fur of the albino wolf.

"Very soft."

"But dirty."

Lyarra sighed ruefully, and Ghost moved back to her after hearing her voice.

"I'll have to clean him up. I mean, I expected it anyways. He's only a few weeks old and basically a baby."

He hummed, before asking her a question.

"What do you think about the sudden reappearance of Direwolves?"

Lyarra thought for a second before shrugging.

"I have heard some of the servants talk about it being a blessing from the old gods. I like to believe that is true."

Aegon chuckles.

"I think you would get along with my father. He is rather superstitious. He rarely thinks things coincidences but more destiny, or the will of the gods. Prophecies, magic and things like that are real, or at least used to be, in his opinion."

"And what do you think?"

She looked at the 17 name days old boy who was quiet for a second, a strange light in his eyes.

"I believe… in making my own destiny."

And that was that.

Lyarra nods, agreeing with his ideals.

"I respect that."

Aegon smiled softly, but said nothing else, and the two enjoyed companionable silence that had settled between them both.

In a way, it was certainly refreshing, being able to talk to someone who didn't care that she wasn't trueborn, and who didn't want to befriend her because she had some ties to the Starks.

Suddenly, Ghost yanked on her dress, giving her the puppy eyes which tended to melt those around the pups, his bright red eyes shining, and Lyarra immediately knew he was asking for food.

She then stood up, the prince watching her as she put Ghost in her arms.

"I'm afraid I have to leave now. I need to clean Ghost up before the mud and dirt dry up and get tangled in his fur. Also, he's rather hungry."

"I understand. It was nice talking to you again."

Lyarra curtseyed before walking off, and Aegon spoke up again.

"And I look forward to our sparring on the morrow!"

Lyarra kept walking though she smiled as she left.

When she was gone, Gendry finally broke character, a shit eating grin on his face as he moved to rest on the weirwood tree and Aegon turned to him, and scowled slightly.

"Oh, don't you start."

Gendry ignored him.

"I wasn't going to say anything. Really. Anyways, she does remind me of your sister a bit. Her seeming wit. Though, it looks like Snow doesn't quite know whether to eat you up or knock you into the dirt."

It sounded quite ridiculous to Aegon's ears as he let out a booming laughter that resonated around.

"Such great options! Careful though, my friend. Eyes follow you even in this place."

Gendry scoffs.

"What eyes? The only eyes here are yours, mine and probably those stupid crows fluttering about. Seriously, how my uncle's wife grew up in such a cold place I'd never know."

He grumbled and Aegon smirks as he gets up to his feet, pointing at the tree.

Gendry, confused, looked down at the tree and the sight of the carved face seemingly staring at him in horrific mournfulness, startled him into a loud shriek, jumping away from the tree and almost falling on his face.

Aegon laughed once again, even as his friend swore rather loudly in the holy place.

"Seven hells! I swear it looked at me! Fucking northerners and their trees!"

The following morning, Lyarra walked into the sparring yard, nervousness in her very veins, but she was no craven.

She had honor, and she'd promised to be here for a spar, so she would be here.

Robb looked at her in pleasant surprise when she walked towards him as he watched Theon fire some arrows rather accurately.

"Sister. You actually came. I was just about thinking of guilt tripping you back here."

Lyarra chuckled as she grabbed a practice sword and patted her brother slightly.

"If you had done such a thing, I would have hit you where the sun doesn't shine."

She gave him a smile too sweet he didn't believe it for one second.

"I shall pretend I didn't hear that. Come. Let us spar. I haven't knocked you down in a while."

Robb smirked as he twirled his sword, even as some Targaryen guards watched the siblings interestedly.

Lyarra bit her lip before shaking her head.

"Maybe not at the moment. Let me practice on the sparring dummy to get myself before I knock you out."

Robb chuckled.

"Of course, of course you need the help anyways."

She tried to swipe at his head but he ducked away with a laugh and she moved to one of the free practice dummies. Some Stark guards and soldiers greeted her with nods as she passed and she slowly began to calm down again.

She was no craven.

She had no idea how long she went all out on the dummy when the chatter of the yard began to quieten up as she felt someone standing behind her, but this time though, she didn't swing her sword as she guessed who it was.

He cleared his throat quietly.

"Lady Lyarra. I had hoped to catch you in the yard since I heard you were a swordswoman. Perhaps a spar between us would be welcomed by you?"

Scattered mutters filled the air and a bit further away, Robb and Theon watched with slight frowns on their faces, but Lyarra wasn't focused on them as she took a deep breath and bowed, ignoring her smirking uncle behind the prince.

"Of course, my prince."

And she raised her sword.

Later on, Lyarra realized that, though more stares were directed her way as she sparred with the prince, she was able to ignore them whenever the prince spoke up, throwing advices here and there about things like her grip, her stance, her form and even Arthur adding a thing or two in between while watching their spar closely.

She found herself able to ignore the eyes and bask in the feeling of doing what she liked, and for that moment, her bastardry didn't matter to her.

Instead, she felt free.

Up next--The King, Lord Stark and both their heirs travel to the wall.

--P.s. Lyarra is no swordmaster. I believe the Northern way of fighting is different from the Southern. Northerners probably prefer brute and sheer force. Power and getting a fight over with, compared to Southerners who perfect fighting styles

and spend years being squires and hosting tourneys. Lyarra is agile and fast and uses that in a fight. If she fought with Rodrik Cassel, he'd win. Theon is a better archer which is why she said she could beat him in the last chapter. Robb is burly, has the strength, but when faced with someone more agile and faster, there will be slight difficulties.

Which brings in the Southerners. Someone like Arthur Dayne doesn't even need more than a minute to probably get her to the ground, and Aegon trained under Arthur. She's not a great swordswoman, she WANTS to be. It will be difficult obviously, she has some disadvantages, compared to Brienne.

As for the silvery hair that she has, I'd like to think of it as a sort of recessive gene/carrier trait. That's why it comes and goes in the Dayne line. Lyarra isn't the only one who has the hair. I haven't introduced other Daynes yet after all.

P.s. Elia might be known as a soft, kind woman, but she is still Dornish and the sister of Doran and Oberyn. She has the fire buried beneath too.

Thanks for reading.