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 Starkâs 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 ânever trust a Greyjoy,â 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 fatherâs 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 mouthâŠthat, she swore to the gods.
âSer Rodrik, I sentence you to death.â Theonâs 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 Branâs 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 âNo! No! Please Theon! Do not do this, for the friendship we once shared, I beg of you, do not do thisâ she pleaded her voice desperate.
For a moment she could have sworn that a flicker of guilt passed over Theonâs 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. âThe old man couldnât keep his mouth shutâ 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 âStop!â she cried out repeatedly, each time her voice breaking with emotion, her tears flowed freely now. âHush now child, Iâm off to see your fatherâ 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 couldnât quite put her finger on but it would be something she would remember until her dying day. âAnd your mother and sisters love.â
âFather pleaseâ she cried, wanting him to fight back, shout, scream, do anything, not to welcome his fate so willingly. âTheon, 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.â 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 fatherâs 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 Theonâs capture, when the Iron Islanders had fled back to their rocks upon Viseryâs 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 Martynâs, 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 nightâs dreams.
It wasnât 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.