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The Red Woman had taken a troubling interest in the arrival of the Northern King's widow, and even more in the child growing inside her. Layla was not naive enough to pay it no concern. She had heard the whispers of Melisandre's obsession with king's blood and burning. The sorceress was not wrong when she claimed there was power in blood, that Layla knew, but she was naive herself if she thought Layla would willingly allow her child to burn for some God.
If that was what Melisandre wanted, then she would have to take her child from her bloodied body, and die in the attempt.
"My lady, it is cold out," the woman in question said, coming to stand beside her, "Would you not be warmer inside?"
"The cold does not bother me." Layla replied, "Just as it does not seem to bother you."
"The Lord of Light keeps me warm," Melisandre said, "He feeds my body and soul."
And fills your mind with prophecies you twist to your will, she thought but dared not to speak it.
"If that is so, my lady." She said, "It must be hard, to come to a place where your religion is so little understood. It is no wonder you wish to convert so that others can understand you."
"They are only accepting the Lord of Light," Melisandre said, curtly, "They seek their salvation."
"Yes, that does seem to be an eternal concern of many." She admitted, "Though I thought your concern was serving Stannis, you believe him to be the Prince That Was Promised."
"You doubt me?" Melisandre asked, to which she only shrugged
"I do not presume to predict the future." She said, "Visions and prophecies can be interpreted in many ways, one cannot know which is correct."
That is what she had told herself for many nights after that fateful encounter with the Asshai'i. Putting it to the back of her mind. Convincing herself that they were nothing but lies. There had, of course, been some truth in the words. Two men she had a wed, and a third would follow if she were to believe it. But it had spoken of shadows and storms and winter. Of wolves and dragons, sun and moon, sand and snow, ice and fire.
Whatever truth it held she would not try to decipher. To live by a prophecy was to live without true freedom.
"Having trouble sleeping, my lady?" Melisandre asked, and Layla did not bother to question how she knew such a thing. It was easier not to want to know the intricacies of magic
"It is the Wall, its magic finds its way into my dreams," Layla answered, "And I fear I cannot tell the difference between what my mind creates and what is a warning."
"And what do you see?"
"Snow and ice and death." She replied, "I see a blood-stained ground. I see a fire, and hear the screams of those burning."
Even awake, she could still hear the screams.
But they were not the only dreams that haunted her. At night, sometimes her mind roamed the forests, but she was no human then, but a wolf. And when she awoke, she did not find Greywind by her side, as he had been since Robb's death. But she could still taste the blood in her mouth from the wolf's dinner, and she hoped tHess dreams would disappear with the birth of her child.
"The Lord of Light gives you these visions," Melisandre said, "They are a gift so you can better serve him."
"If it's a gift he can have them back, and I've never been very good at serving."
"What do you believe then?" Melisandre asked, "The Old Gods, the New?"
"My parents were the devout ones, not I." She answered, "What God I believe in does not matter."
"There is only one true God."
"I've been to many places, and encountered many religions," she said, "And they all seem to claim theirs to be the true one."
"And where is it that you have been?" Melisandre inquired, "I hear Braavos, but you do not sound like it. There is something Dornish in your voice, but you look Myreneese. Though your eyes are too light. Are they your father's?"
"My mother's." Layla corrected, turning to look back down into the yard where the Night's Watchmen trained, "My brother has our father's eyes."
"You have a brother?"
"I have many brothers, and many sisters." She replied, "And you?" She asked, looking back at her, "I refuse to believe you simply sprouted into existence. You must have parents."
"A slave has no family."
Never had the sorceress seemed more human than in that moment, and Layla was reminded that just like all others, Melisandre had once been nothing more than a children. Though, how long ago that was she could not say.
"My family were slaves once." She revealed, "And that is all I will speak of them."
Without so much as a second glance, she stalked away from the woman, who still put her on edge. Even if Melisandre had proved herself to be but a human, or at least have a human past, Layla had found that humans were all the monsters the world needed.
And if learning of Layla's past was her goal, then it would be one she would never achieve. For even the Spider had been unable to learn anything of you, though his birds reached into the East. Only in Braavos and Westeros had she used her real name. Everywhere else, she wore a new name, and carried a different story.