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Another day of sweltering heat in Sunspear, and Layla was glad for their far more lax standards of covering than the rest of Westeros, for her only respite was the feeling of the wind against her bare arms. But she was glad for the heat, it reminded her of summer days as a child. When she had been young and carefree.
A different life, she thought, I was a different girl then.
"My lady," a voice greeted, interrupting her reminiscing
Turning to face the person, she saw it to be the young Dornish Prince looking at her with his usual awkwardness. A plain and solemn boy, she thought, with none of the charm of his sister. But a good man, nonetheless.
"Hello, my prince," she said, with a small smile, "What can I do for you?"
"Nothing." Quentyn answered, far too quickly, "I mean, I just saw you there and you looked lonely. Well, not lonely, just, occupied."
"If one was occupied then why would you think to interrupt?" She teased, her smile widening as his blush grew, "And yes, I am lonely, I am always lonely."
"A lady as lovely as you should not be lonely."
For a second, she thought she could see a flash of his sister in him. But it was a farce. He did not speak to seduce, but with honesty.
"We are all lonely, I'm afraid. That is the burden of living." She said, "But, alas, we continue."
"What would make you less lonely?" He asked, tentatively moving closer
He wants to cure me of my loneliness, she realized, a fool's quest many others had attempted. For she had a lonesome heart and aching soul. Nothing would ever satisfy her. And if she let herself, she'd devour this poor innocent boy. He's too gentle for me, she thought, soft and kind and nothing like her.
He thinks me a blushing maiden and he the gallant knight. But if only he knew the truth. He would not want her then.
"Do you miss Yronwood?" She asked, "I suspect you will return there soon."
"Yes, I will return soon, and I do miss it. It has been my home for many years." Quentyn said, a faint smile on her lips, "It is very lovely there, you would like it."
"And do you have a maiden waiting for you there?" She asked, "One of Lord Yronwood's daughters?"
"I am not betrothed."
"That was not the question." She said, "If you could, would you not wed one of them. Spend your life in Yronwood?"
"Perhaps. I'm not sure." He muttered, "I take it you do not wish to come with Yronwood with me."
I might, she admitted, if I let myself. But the life of a lord's wife was one of constriction, rules and regulations. She couldn't very well pick up all her things and run away on a whim. Not if she had a husband and children. And try as she might, she could not make herself want the life that Quentyn would give her.
"One day, you will find a lovely lady, and the pair of you will fall madly in love." She said, "She will be your wife, and you will have children, and you will be happy. But that lady cannot be me."
All she could manage was to give him a quick kiss on the cheek, before fleeing back to her room, unable to see the heartbreak on his face and know she was the architect of his pain. He's too good for you, she told herself, much to good, and much to kind, you would poison everything good about him.
He deserves more than you can give.
He deserves someone who is not broken and spiteful and lonely.
He's too good for you.
This will have a few chapters, but each will act as a one-shot rather than a complete story.