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.