Announcements: Cutting Costs (2024) » January 2024 Copyfraud Attack » Finding Universes to Join (and making yours more visible!) » Guide To Universes On RPG » Member Shoutout Thread » Starter Locations & Prompts for Newcomers » RPG Chat — the official app » Frequently Asked Questions » Suggestions & Requests: THE MASTER THREAD »

Latest Discussions: Fulham Bị Cáș„m Chuyển NhÆ°á»Łng Sau VỄ BĂĄn Sao Tráș» Cho Liverpool » Adapa Adapa's for adapa » To the Rich Men North of Richmond » Shake Senora » Good Morning RPG! » Ramblings of a Madman: American History Unkempt » Site Revitalization » Map Making Resources » Lost Poetry » Wishes » Ring of Invisibility » Seeking Roleplayer for Rumple/Mr. Gold from Once Upon a Time » Some political parody for these trying times » What dinosaur are you? » So, I have an Etsy » Train Poetry I » Joker » D&D Alignment Chart: How To Get A Theorem Named After You » Dungeon23 : Creative Challenge » Returning User - Is it dead? »

Players Wanted: Long-term fantasy roleplay partners wanted » Serious Anime Crossover Roleplay (semi-literate) » Looking for a long term partner! » JoJo or Mha roleplay » Seeking long-term rp partners for MxM » [MxF] Ruining Beauty / Beauty x Bastard » Minecraft Rp Help Wanted » CALL FOR WITNESSES: The Public v Zosimos » Social Immortal: A Vampire Only Soiree [The Multiverse] » XENOMORPH EDM TOUR Feat. Synthe Gridd: Get Your Tickets! » Aishna: Tower of Desire » Looking for fellow RPGers/Characters » looking for a RP partner (ABO/BL) » Looking for a long term roleplay partner » Explore the World of Boruto with Our Roleplaying Group on FB » More Jedi, Sith, and Imperials needed! » Role-player's Wanted » OSR Armchair Warrior looking for Kin » Friday the 13th Fun, Anyone? » Writers Wanted! »

0
followers
follow

Leyla Cassel

"Do not test my courage."

0 · 635 views · located in Westeros

a character in “A Tale of a Throne.”, as played by Calvazara

Description

Image



Image



“Do not doubt my courage...I am a match for any man.”








Image Image Image







Role: Daughter of Rokrik Cassel, Cousin of Martyn Cassel

Gender: Female

Age: Nineteen

Nicknames: Lady Ley

House: Cassel

Sigil: Cendrée, ten wolf heads argent within a bordure sable.

Alliance: As her father before her, Leyla is fiercely loyal to the Starks.







Image Image Image







Height: 5” 6’

Weight: 113lbs

Build: Slender

Hair Colour: Honey Blonde

Eye Colour: Blue/Grey

Scars or Markings: None noticeable.

Brief written description:

Leyla is a relatively tall, slender woman, her build she inherited from her mother and something that as a child people would often say made her look sickly. Somewhat lacking in muscle, Leyla is not all that physically strong, however her structure has made her very agile and fast. She is a rather pretty girl with an aura of sweetness and virtue that surrounds her. Her hair is a light shade of honey blonde, which is surprisingly light for a Northern woman, a combination of her mother’s blonde hair and her father’s chestnut colouring; it falls to her waist in soft waves. Her hair frames a cream tone face, high and prominent cheek bones and large teal eyes framed with thick black lashes, making her quite the pretty sight. Leyla does take pride in her appearance, especially since she arrived in the Capital but not so she is called 'vain' she keeps herself and hair clean and smelling nice, she doesn't overly care for fine clothing, opting for more simpler and comfortable dresses and the only jewellery she does own belonged to her mother and even that isn't worth a lot.







Image Image Image







Skills:
-Unlike many other girls of her class, Leyla is very well educated, her father always made sure she achieved a full education, one fit for a Lady. She often got asked to write or read things for other people around Winterfell and even took to teaching some of the lower class children basic learning skills.

-Leyla is a very articulate girl, she can talk her way out of almost anything, she picks her words very carefully, she can express herself clear and effectively, not many people have won in a argument against her.

-Although, perhaps not a master horse rider, Leyla does ride very well, she can ride at speeds and also jump quite efficiently.

-She is a very good dancer, despite her father’s loathing of music and dance, Leyla always participated. She also has a rather beautiful singing voice and quite often was asked to sing at feasts back at Winterfell.


Quirks and Faults:
-Leyla is a rather stubborn girl, she can hold a grudge like no other, she believes vengeance against the Greyjoy’s and the Lannister’s for killing her father and cousin is her given right and will not rest on the matter until they are in their graves.

-When bored Leyla has the tendency to drum her finger nails on the surface, creating a rather annoying drumming sound.

-She does not like doing nothing, her patience seemed to have been left behind in Winterfell.


Likes:
-Horse Riding
-Reading
-Laughing
-Flowers
-Spending time with her other Northerners
-Festivities
-Dancing
-Wine
-Family
-Loyalty
-Exotic Fruits
-Different Cultures
-Snow
-Stars
-Music
-Children


Dislikes:
-Lannister’s and Greyjoy’s
-Feeling helpless
-Silly women
-Being in the South
-Treachery
-Greed
-Violence
-Pork
-Prospect of war
-Woman who get to close to Robb
-Sewing
-Embroidery


Fears:
-Never having vengeance for her family’s murders.
-Being stuck in the South until the end of her days.


Written description:

Strong willed and Opinionated: Leyla has been very strong willed, as a child she was difficult, stubborn and very rarely did as she was told; traits she has carried on into adulthood. Although after witnessing the murder of her father something changed within her, she will cheat to win at something or lie to achieve something, she is playing a game, a game that will hopefully achieved vengeance for her families murders, although you wouldn’t know as she is very good at it. She knows what she wants in life and is willing to do anything to achieve it, people seldom say no to her and when they do she has her ways of winning them over. She is not one who bows to the social norms for women, as she believes them equal to men, making her a person not easy to control or push around. There are no false pretences with the young woman, if she doesn’t like something then she will state this, regardless the company. Leyla is also a very opinionated lady and she will voice her opinions whether you want to hear them or not.


Passionate: Leyla is a very passionate woman, if she believes in something then she will go for it 100% committing body and soul, she will never give up, which could be a good or bad trait. When in love, she will love like there is no tomorrow, she will be loyal, generous and caring; however this also makes her very protective of the things she loves and dangerous to the things that threaten them. She is quite often blinded by love, take Robb Stark for example, her loyalty and devotion to his family is unprecedented, much like her fathers were.


Low-Tolerance: One of the Lady’s worst qualities, is a rather new development, war not only changed men, but women also, her low-tolerance and fiery temper. She has no time for fools or women with no ambitions, she believes them to be weak and spineless, qualities which cause women to be taken for granted. And this can often lead her to make rash decisions, some which she can come to regret later on.


Warm hearted: Despite some bad qualities, her redeeming one is that she had not seemed to have lost her warm and caring heart, even if there are a few speckles of ice, sure she is quick to anger, potentially too headstrong for her own good, but she does not live her life without great remorse for some of thing she has done, or finds herself wishing she could be a better person. She is caring and loyal to her family and friends, along with those less fortunate; she often gives out food to those in need and will help with the injured and sickly.








Image Image Image








Marital Status: Single

Desired Ships: Leyla/Robb

Bio: Leyla Cassel is the daughter of the late, Ser Rodrik Cassel, Winterfell's master-at-arms and the cousin of Jory who died fighting for Ned's life at Kings Landing. Leyla spent her life at Winterfell, growing up alongside the Stark children, Jon Snow, Theon and her elder cousins Jory and Matryn her father was a very loyal and well respected man, he taught Rob, Jon and Theon how to fight. Leyla was the last child born to Rodrik and his last wife, who like the other died giving birth, her first sister, she never met as she died early in her life but her second sister died when Leyla was ten from a fever, despite these tragedies, they had a relatively happy life at Winterfell. That was until the War of the Five Kings begun, with Ned Stark and her cousin Jory both murdered in King Landing, her life slowly began to fall apart. Catelyn Stark appointed her father castellan of Winterfell, whilst Robb and herself were away; when the ironborm attacked Torrhens square, Rodrik went to drive them away, unbeknown to him, this was just a ploy to drive him and his men away from Winterfell, whilst Theon Greyjoy and his men attacked. Leyla was taken hostage, Theon threatened to hang her if Rodrik retaliates; she was badly treated by Theons men, suffering beatings at their hands, they also made her watch as Theon took the sword to her fathers neck, swinging over and over again.



Family:

Ser Rodrik Cassel | Father | Deceased
Leyla and her father were very close, she being his only living heir; although he was very stern and protective, they shared a very special bond, uniting in sorrow of her mother and sister’s deaths. The day she watched him slain at the hands of Ramsay Snow, her heart split into a million pieces.

Ser Martyn Cassel | Cousin | Alive
Martyn is the only family member of Leyla’s still living and so the share a protectiveness and loyalty to one another, they are more siblings than cousins, truth be told.






Image

So begins...

Leyla Cassel's Story

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Leyla Cassel
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

Image







The moment Leyla Cassel saw her father, Rodrik spit on Theon Greyjoy, she knew in her heart his end was nigh. Her grey eyes closed as tears swelled in her ducts as she prayed to the gods, old and the new for an intervention of any sort, surely they would not so cruel to take not only her cousin, by such a heinous act of violence but her father also? What had she done in her life to deserve such a curse? Leyla had grown most of her life, motherless, Lady Stark came closer to any that she had, yet still she was not of Catelyn Stark’s flesh, she could not- would not depend on her. That had been her first curse, the second had come when her dear cousin, Jory received a dagger through his socket at the hands of Jaime Lannister and now, the forth was before her.

Theon Greyjoy was the biggest piece of scum Leyla had ever laid eyes on; it just pained her that it took this long to realise. As children they would play together, herself, Robb, Jon and Theon, she would watch them as they trained with her father; they use to have the most splendid of times together. If she had seen the future then, if only she had seen the selfishness and greed in his eyes, if only she had heeded the words ‘never trust a Greyjoy,’ If only she had gutted him like a fish. They had been friends once, yet it would seem that meant nothing to Theon, he had betrayed his true family and although he may not realise it yet but he would eventually, for one Leyla would never forgive him, he had let his men beat and humiliate her, threatened to hang her in order to gain her father’s cooperation. He would not get away with this and one day she would drive her dagger through his belly and cut him open from balls to mouth
that, she swore to the gods.

“Ser Rodrik, I sentence you to death.” Theon’s words rang through the courtyard of Winterfell, piercing Leyla like a knife, although she had been expecting them. She wanted to call out and struggle against the Ironborn soldiers who held her still, yet she was frozen blinking back what she could not decipher from rain or tears. In the background she vaguely heard Bran’s voice calling out for him to stop, his voice sounding more forceful than she had ever heard it but there was a level of fear evident that could not disguised, even with authority. Leyla brought her gaze up from the muddy floor as her father was forced to his knees in front of a wooden block, that time she did cry out and struggle “No! No! Please Theon! Do not do this, for the friendship we once shared, I beg of you, do not do this” she pleaded her voice desperate.

For a moment she could have sworn that a flicker of guilt passed over Theon’s eyes as he glanced at Leyla, his eyes raking over her form, her blue dress mud splattered and soaked, her long hair damp from the rain and the ugly bruises that blemished her beautiful creamy flesh, still it was not enough to sway him. “The old man couldn’t keep his mouth shut” he shouted towards Bran and herself before Maester Luwin hurried over in an attempt to salvage anything of the situation, it did no good.

Leyla struggled harder against the guards as Bran and Rickon cried out, gods how she wanted to shelter them, shelter herself, but she could do neither. Maester Luwin glanced over at her as the boys cried into his side, he was urging her to look away, she wanted to with her whole heart but she needed to see it, to remember it, it would be the only way she would be able to get her revenge. Her eyes widened as Theon drew his sword “Stop!” she cried out repeatedly, each time her voice breaking with emotion, her tears flowed freely now. “Hush now child, I’m off to see your father” Rodrik spoke as gently as he could towards Bran, before turning towards Leyla, his smile small, yet his eyes shone with something else, something Leyla couldn’t quite put her finger on but it would be something she would remember until her dying day. “And your mother and sisters love.”

“Father please” she cried, wanting him to fight back, shout, scream, do anything, not to welcome his fate so willingly. “Theon, you do this and I swear to every god in this land and the next that I will not stop until I have your head on a spike, mark my words, I will kill you.” Leyla seethed, her teeth gritted, she may not look so intimidating now but wait until she told Martyn and Robb about what happened here today, they would aid her with everything she needed. Theon glared at her, before raising his sword, bringing it swiftly down upon her father’s neck, again and again.


Leyla woke up screaming as she shot up in bed, her breathing laboured as her chest heaved heavily, sweat drenched her brow and nightgown; she pinched the bridge of her nose, attempting to suppress the memory but not forget it, hells, even if she wanted too that memory would haunt her until her dying days. Once she had regained some of her composure, her cool eyes darted around her room, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings, it took her a moment to realise where about she actually was.

Kings Landing.

The mere thought brought a frown to her lips, gods how she loathed this place, it was a snake pit full of some of the most venomous snakes in the entire world, no matter how beautiful they were disguised, their venom would kill you all the same. You could trust no one, well no one mew anyway and even those you could trust, you could not speak to them about anything of importance as spies were lurking behind every corner, after all, every good Lord has at least a dozen eyes and ear. Leyla longed for the North, longed for the cold; although the days were growing colder with the impending winter, the heat was still too much on some days and that made everything worse.

Finally she rose from her bed, walking over to an ornate basin a maid had filled with cool water, dampening a cloth she ran it over her face and down her neck before dressing in one of her new dresses, which Lady Stark had commissioned for her. She supposed it could be worse, after she had escaped Theon’s capture, when the Iron Islanders had fled back to their rocks upon Visery’s landing, she had luckily come across Stark bannermen soon, and there she had been reunited with Martyn and the Stark. Lady Stark had taken her in for open arms, she had expected nothing else really, her father had always been such a loyal man to their family, she had cried when she said it would be their honour to care for his daughter. And after the siege of Kings Landing, she had stayed by their side and by Martyn’s, she would not leave the only family she had left and her loyalty to the Starks ran as deep as her fathers had.

Leyla pulled a comb through her long waves and clasped a necklace around her neck before she was ready to leave, opening the door, she swiftly exited her room and heading for the gardens, she needed the fresh air to clear her mind from last night’s dreams.

It wasn’t long until Leyla reached her destination, taking her usual path, she found herself walking down a couple of steps to a rather secluded overlook of Blackwater Bay, from here she could see for miles over the darkened, ship-wreck littered sea, it was not beautiful but Leyla found herself hypnotised by the view all the same.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Margaery Tyrell Character Portrait: Robb Stark Character Portrait: Daenerys Targaryen Character Portrait: Martyn Cassel Character Portrait: Viserys Targaryen Character Portrait: Leyla Cassel
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

Image

"You look lovely today, dear sister." Viserys stated upon her entering, and she stayed silent, nibbling at the small portions in front of her. "I fear the council will start a war over you if they see you." He smiled in her direction, and the sight made her cringe. His smiles were never genuine, never warm. It was the type of smile you saw a sick child make before plucking the wings off of a butterfly. "Not that I would let them." he added, waving his hand. "Thank you, Your Grace," she responded simply. If she wouldn't be his, she would be no one's. At least that is what she assumed he was thinking. He still hated her for everything the Dothraki and Khal Drogo had put him through.. all because of her. She wasn't exactly sorry about anything she had done. If anything, she wished it would have woken him up and changed him for the better. It only made him more hateful. They never talked about the Dothraki or Khal Drogo, because of the memories it resurfaced.

"Ah, yes. They should be arriving within a few minutes, I do believe. I still need to get changed." he answered after her question regarding the council. "The Northerners should be here." Dany perked up at his words. The Northerners were actually good people, and she enjoyed being in their company. They had honor, a quality her brother hadn't been gifted with. She wasn't sure what they thought of her, as they hadn't had any time to converse without Viserys present. The King made sure she was always by his side, or in her room. He feared her turning her back on him, betraying him. "Today will be an excellent day, I do believe. I get to discuss the matters of my bride as well as my tourney." Her thoughts went to the Lannister boy, the previous King of Westeros. Viserys liked to talk about how Joffrey was a scared little child, not worthy to hold the throne. Yet here was her brother, worried more about his tournament and bride than the people of the Seven Kingdoms. He wasn't doing anything but worrying about his own needs. He was more similar to Joffrey than he realized.

"Lady Margery Tyrell is a fine woman. The Tyrell's are a powerful family, I wonder if Renly Baratheon would fancy another, in place of her? I think Lady Margery is quite lovely. What are your thoughts on this, sweet sister?" Dany pondered his question for a moment, finishing her last bits of toast and fruit. She had to be careful with her words. Anything she said that her brother didn't agree with, he would see as her going against his wishes. "Margaery Tyrell is power hungry, I believe. A woman who would leave her husband to further herself is only in for the title, nothing more." She paused, considering her next words. "But I trust you will make the best decision, Your Grace." That should please The Dragon, she thought. Although he was no dragon. She wasn't a cowering little girl anymore like she once was. She had learned courage and fire from her late husband. And while many Westerosi people saw her as timid for following her brother, that wasn't it at all. She was just smart. She wasn't going to anger him for no reason, knowing that many of his guards wouldn't hesitate to beat her at his word. She preferred to put her energies into other things, things that would actually get her somewhere. Talking back to her brother wouldn't accomplish anything other than anger.

Their conversation was interrupted by footsteps approaching, and her head snapped up to the new addition as he spoke. "Good Morrow your Grace." It was Robb Stark, once King in the North. Now he was kept in King's Landing like a prisoner, but with better accommodations. His situation was so similar to hers, she wished they could just sit and discuss it. But that would never happen, her brother would make sure of that. Her eyes followed him longingly. Not in a romantic way, although Robb was extremely handsome. His dark, curly locks and rugged handsomeness were undeniable. Yet she longed for a friend, someone she could connect with. She felt like a caged animal in this damned castle. She nodded in Robb's direction, so he would know she acknowledged his presence. Robb's appearance must have set off a chain reaction, because not long after, her and her brother's topic of conversation entered the dining hall as well. Margaery Tyrell.

The woman gave Daenerys an uncomfortable feeling, but she had no idea why. She watched Margaery sweep into an elegant bow upon seeing Viserys, a smile plastered on her pretty little face. Dany was not impressed by the girl, her eyes watching, a smile not appearing on her face. They followed the girl as she sat down at the table. She could only imagine what Viserys was thinking at the display from Margaery. The last one to join their table was Sansa, Robb's younger sister. She looked positively uncomfortable, giving a small curtsy and heading straight for Robb. Dany's motherly instincts kicked in, and she wished she could soothe Sansa's fears. That was one girl Dany would never let Viserys touch. A soft smile appeared on her face. "Sansa, you look absolutely beautiful today," she said, hoping it would ease Sansa's tensions.

Daenerys hoped the meeting would not last longer than needed. She loved playing the game of politics, but today's topics were not something she cared to discuss. Viserys' bride and tournament were not going to better Westeros. Only make the crown more in debt. She felt a need to roam the castle, perhaps even go out into town. Her need for adventure was rising, and she would even sneak past her brother's men if she had to. She was more than capable.





Image

Martyn had woken early, before the sun was fully visible in the morning sky. Sleep never came easily for him anymore, not after everything he had endured, after his family was slaughtered. Sleep was plagued with nightmares, images he never wished to relive. So he tossed and turned all night, and then would give up and retreat to the yard to practice his swordplay, or bow and arrow if he felt like giving himself a challenge. That morning, he felt like having the comfort of the sword in his hand. It felt familiar and welcome as he mimicked thrusts, fighting an invisible enemy. He'd had the sword for eight long years, a gift from his late uncle when he had only been fifteen. It had perfect balance, seemingly meant for his hand only. As the sun rose higher in the sky, the sword began to shine brilliantly, the silver gleaming.

Beads of sweat began to form on his forehead, dripping down his face and finally falling to the ground. Already it was becoming too warm for his liking, and it was still early morning. The weather down in King's Landing was unbearable for him, he didn't know how everyone lived here year round. He longed for the cool air of the North, Winterfell specifically. Although, his home was lost now, thanks to the Greyjoys. The thought made him furious, and he began hacking away at his invisible enemy with fervor. Then the thought of Jaime Lannister popped into his head, cutting his brother down. His invisible enemy began to form a face, in the image of the Kingslayer. He swung his sword, aiming for the neck, but it was blocked. He swung with blind rage, a yell escaping his lips. He became careless, however, and wasn't able to block the thrust that was aimed at his heart. He sunk to his knees, his enemy fading away before his eyes. He was out of breath, his chest heaving with every breath.

When he got to his feet once more, he removed his cotton shirt, exposing his well-muscled chest. He grabbed a bow, aiming for the circular target yards away. The bow was never one of his strongest weapons, but he tried to practice with it as often as possible, so he could improve and be the best he can be. He pulled the string back, slowing his breathing. He released, and the arrow sailed through the air, connecting with the target. He lowered the bow, admiring his work. He growled when he saw the arrow had barely made contact, hitting the very edge of the target. He loosed a handful of arrows, improving slightly each time, but never making it in the center.

The sun was higher in the sky now, so he retreated back into the castle, cleaning up for the day. Once the sweat had been wiped from his brow, and he smelled pleasant, he left his room, adjacent from Leyla's, and began looking for her. He had tried knocking on her door, but the handmaiden had said she had already departed earlier that morning. He searched throughout the castle, but had no luck. He saw a few familiar faces, but most were from the South, complete strangers to him. He didn't like being in the city, not being able to trust a single soul, watching what you say even in privacy, for you never know who would be listening. It was all too much for him, this game of thrones.

Finally, after searching countless places, he found his cousin. She was in a secluded overlook of Blackwater Bay, staring out at the shipwrecked water. He approached her, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Leyla," he said softly, placing an arm around her and pulling her close. He knew she hated it here as much as he did, that she was miserable. She was more like a sister to him than anything else, and all he wanted was to keep her safe and happy. After Winterfell had been overtaken, he had feared for Leyla's safety. The day she had stumbled upon the Stark army had been one of the happiest he could remember. He didn't know what to say, so he stood by her side, staring out across the water with her, his arm still lovingly wrapped around her shoulders.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Martyn Cassel Character Portrait: Leyla Cassel
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

Image






Blackwater Bay was not beautiful, not really anyway. The waters were a dark blue adorned with the rotten brown timber of sunken vessels, with occasional still floating ship navigating their way around the wrecks, oh how Leyla wished she were aboard one of them, sailing to a far off land or simply even anywhere else in Westeros, she was not particularly fussed as long as it was away from Kings Landing. Leyla had read a book about Dorne once, apparently the waters there were a similar blue to a summer sky, with soft white sands upon nobles and low-born’s alike would walk bear footed relishing in the sun glorious rays. She use to dream about a time when she would do the same but now she truly had no idea when they would be allowed to leave the capital. As a girl Leyla always dreamt of far off places, as a escape from the cold, hard life of Winterfell, she supposed she was a little like Sansa in that aspect, except Leyla did not dream of riches and Princes, no, she dreamed of lands across the narrow sea, new sights, sounds and smells. Now however, her dreams were dark and of death, when she closed her eyes she saw no calming images, just the ones of Theon swinging his sword over and over again; she would give anything to go back to a time at Winterfell, before Jory and her father’s death, before the war, she would give her life to go back to that time but alas, that would be nothing more than a fantasy.

As much as she dreamt about Winterfell, the thought of hopefully returning one day still scared her. Leyla had always been a strong woman, she was privy to hardship and heartache from an early age, not only had she endured the death of her mother but her sister also and then to be raised in a male household, were swordplay came hand in hand with breaking your fast, she had learnt early how to defend herself. Yet all of her cousins teasing and her father’s sternness could prepare her strength wise for what had happened at Winterfell under Theon’s rule. Bran and little Rickon’s bodies burnt beyond recognition hanging from the gates still made her stomach churn, she should have protected them, she had promised Catelyn that but Theon’s cruelty had been unprecedented.

At least Leyla was not alone in Capital like Sansa had been for so long, she had Martyn and the Stark’s and that in its self set her apart from most, she could trust the people she was with. A rather uncommon privilege in King Landing, the place where deceit and treachery were as common as breathing, where everyone was spying for some lord or another and it would seem that even the walls, doors and mortar could be bought by someone.

“Leyla” Her cousins voice sounded from behind her but she did not turn, instead she simply let him wrap his arm around her shoulder, pulling her into a warming embrace. It still amazed and saddened her how she and Martyn were the only two Cassel’s left; never did she imagine herself in such a position, but it was the one the gods had given to her and one she would have to make the most of.

With a heavy sigh Leyla looked up at Martyn through a stormy blue eyes “I saw Jaime Lannister yesterday” she uttered, her breath catching in her throat at the very mention of his name. There was not an interaction between the two but Leyla had been walking through the throne room when she spotted him, his face still full of arrogance and smugness despite his fall from grace and the revelation about him and his own sister. It had caught her off guard and the sudden surge of anger and hatred towards her cousin’s murderer was almost unbearable, “I wanted so much just to slit his throat right then” continued Leyla bluntly; there was no use in hiding her intentions, especially with Martyn, he knew her too well, he to shared the same vengeance inside him and if she weren’t able to exact her revenge then she had every faith in her cousin.