Layla I
Her maids did her hair the way she liked it, brushed out and free, with no braids or styling.
"Are you sure, princess, there will be a great many young lords and knights down there. Would you not want something more eye-catching?" asked Nia, A sweet and pretty thing of one and two. She held a freckled face, and an open-air silk dress as befitted her status as a maid for the crown princess.
Layla smiled and shook her head.
"If they truly want me, the way I do my air should be of little significance. Only a fool places an emphasis on that nonsense."
Her last words came out harsher than she entailed, and her maid went back to work graciously.
In truth, Layla wanted to do anything but entertain these boys and men. For many, this tourney was a wonderful event that signified the greatness of the Seven Kingdoms and to see the great and glorious knights from the tales.
To her, it meant the day she had always dreaded.
In the midst of her daydreaming and the work of her maids, barging through the door came her Septa. Moria, the woman sworn to the Seven and ensuring the Princess' were both the perfect future ladies for whomever had the pleasure of having their hands in marriage. It was never enough, no matter how often she sang well, her needlework or her dancing, it all had to be better.
The Princess hated her, from when she was a child, she would cry to mother, begging her to find another Septa, a kind one, but her request was always denied. Now she was at least accepting of the stupid old woman, but that did not mean she liked her any less.
"Princess, you will not go out there looking like a servant, all the lords of the Kingdoms are down there. They have made it all this way just for you. You have to make an impression."
"I never asked them to come." replied Layla, raising her voice ever slightly.
"Young lady, you will not take that tone." Said the Septa.
She looked to the maids.
"Have her hair made into a crowned bun. Your Queen mother will expect it."
"More like you expect it" Thought the Princess.
After some time, her hair came out to the Septa's preferences. She rose from her seat, looking into the mirror, all over again, she felt like a prodded doll waiting to be sold to a child. The Gods cursed her with beauty. Every man wanted her when she wanted nothing from them.
Her dress was yellow, to symbolise her Father's ruling house. Only her silver rings and her Hightower necklace gave a clue to her other family side.
Her ladies helped pick up the sides of her dress which he took herself and proceeded through the door. She could hear the laughs and talking all the way downstairs.
"Are you alright, little Princess?" came a deep and soothing voice from the corner, it came from Uncle Garth, decked out in his King's Guard garb and to anyone else, looked as fierce and unforgiving as a man could be. But she always knew him to be the kindest of men she could ever know. But he was still a man of faith and duty, she could never tell him all her secrets like she could Allyria or Rickard.
She forced a smile, "I'm fine. Excited for the next seven days. It will be wonderful."
He seemed to buy it, "I hope it will, Gods be praised, you will be the most beautiful maiden there is."
She blushed at the praise.
"Will you enter the list, Uncle?"
He smirked.
"Already have, little love. Whether I gain victory, only the Gods know. But I know you'll be the true centre of attention, not some ugly old knight like me."
She wanted to laugh and cry.
"Uncle, you're not ugly."
He looked down at his feet.
"Aye, maybe so. But just know I'll be watching over you as always, okay?"
She hugged him fiercely.
"Now you go out and show them all." he sent her another warm smile and a wink. That gave her some comfort as she continued on her way. Other than Rickard, Uncle Garth could always cheer her up, whether he knew it or not. She held her head up, she would not give into fear, she was a Baratheon and a Hightower. And she would do what she had to.
"Ready my Silver Princess?" asked an accented voice she could have recognised from anywhere. Dressed in her customary purple, a dark shader than normal was Lady Allyria Dayne. Her dearest friend in the whole world. Her hair was free flowing, dark curls like the pure pitch-black night sky, appropriate for the star sigil of her House. Her shoulders were bare, revealing her perfect tanned skin. Those gorgeous eyes, violet and alive. Had any of these Lords or Knights were somehow even to gain a quarter of her dear friend's beauty, she would gladly become theirs willingly. But that was impossible.
She gave a snort, which earned another look from her Septa.
"As ready as I can be. My face will be aching within the hour."
"Oh my silver princess, it will not be as bad as you think." Those lips curled into a smile that Layla wanted to kiss, like before.
"It will" she said simply, demure as a Princess was supposed to be.
They walked along arms interlocked. The Septa gave a sour look to the Lady of Starfall as was customary. She had never approved of the Dornish beauty as her companion, but it had always made Layla happy to upset anything of the annoying Septa.
As they walked through the hallway to the growing noise, they got much closer.
"Whom should I be looking out for the most?" The Princess asked, stroking Allyria's soft hand.
"The Tyrells will likely to be trying to win your favour. You know how much your brother wants nothing to do with them, so why not the secondary prize, they will try to have you married in Highgarden no doubt, some say the King may have sentimentality for Lord Eddard Stark, and he does have a son of age..." The accent of Allyria had always made her smile. Just listening to her voice soothed her, even if the actual content made her shudder.
"How good to know I'm the consolation prize." Layla snarked, causing Allyria to look at her. Concern and a hint of amusement in her eyes. She stopped them both, a gentle hand shifting the Princess's face upwards.
"You know you are the prime prize that any man or woman would be lucky to have." As she spoke, the Dornish maidan looked into her eyes, those eyes had mesmerized her more times than she could count.
"Do I? looks may help, but it's the fact my children will be a direct line to the Throne for them is all the matters."
Allyria continued to implore otherwise, but it meant little to the melancholic girl. She knew this was coming and had made peace with it, but it did not mean she wanted it or would be easy for these men. What was not helped was knowing what she had learned only a few weeks earlier. Her beloved would be leaving, to marry Lord Beric Dondarrion from Blackhaven, a marriage to promote peace between the Marches and Dorne. She tried to not begrudge this young lord whom Allyria had assured was sweet and kind. But it only comforted the Princess so far, for the girl she dreamed of would soon leave her.
She felt like cattle about to step onto the auction block, ripe and ready for sale.
"Layla, are you well?" came the deep, yet refined baritone of her elder brother. He looked at her with concern in those deep blue eyes he had inherited from their Father.
He looked the image of what a crown prince should look like. Not that she expected anything less, just as he would not.
He was muscled and broad, even when he was of a younger age than her, he had always stood taller than most men and boys with few exceptions. His pitch-black hair was short and simple, never having been a fan of having her own hair long, she envied him.
His looks alone were enough to charm maidens and inspire envy. His face was sharp and streamline, cheekbones that looked handcrafted, with teeth that shone perfectly white.
His clothing matched his appearance. A dark silk shirt, with the triumphant yellow and dark crowned stag in the middle. Dark trousers and knee-high black boots
His face showed he did not buy her answer for a second.
"You know you can't fool me. You never have and never will." He smiled at the last part, which managed to get a small one from her. She knew she would gain nothing by trying to hide her feelings any longer.
"I… I cant do this, Rick, what if Father has been married to someone horrible, evil, who'll have his way with-" Her brother cut her off by grabbing both her shoulders.
"If anyone dares harm you, I will have them beheaded and their keep burned to the ground – with or without Father's leave if I must. Father will set you up with a good man, I know. A husband who will cherish you."
"I don't want a husband. I don't want children. I just want to have a choice." The sharp words did not seem to impress her brother.
"We have our duties, sister. Duty and honour matter, especially for you and me. Whomever father chooses for me when its time, I'll have no choice. Can you not see that?"
She gave a petulant frown.
"Its my life. I never wanted this."
A tear rolled down her cheek. Her smoky eyes showing her pain.
Her Brother took her in his arms. Her sweet big brother who always did his best for her, from when she was a just babe and taking the time to always visit her and mother, to when she came to him, revealing her secret that she would never tell anyone else besides another.
His hug was warm and as reassuring as anything else.
"I know, little sister… I know."
It took a moment, she regathered herself, getting into the mindset of Princess Layla Baratheon. She wiped the tears from her eyes. He offered his arm to hers as the horn blowers on the other side of the door signalled their arrival.
The scribe, loud and refined, announced the two, drawing all eyes to them as they walked through.
"The crown prince, Rickard, of the house Baratheon and his sister, princess Layla!"
While Rickard walked proud and powerful, sword buckled to his belt and not a stain on his clothing and his smile clearly melting the hearts of the many lovely ladies in the crowd. She smiled like a shy maid who was taken aback by all the attention and waved sweetly.
"I doubt it." She spoke honestly, seated right next to her brother on the high dais overlooking the entire massive chamber. She looked over to the far-off table on the left where the younger children of the lords and ladies were seated, Delina placed at the head. She looked to be having a good time, itself making Layla more than happy. All around, music played and the smells of dishes filled the air.
"Come on, what else could he and the Mad Maid be doing?" she looked back to Rickard, who would not let the subject drop.
She sighed; her brother was never one to check his words.
"She's our aunt, do you have to call her that?"
He didn't look bothered as he stabbed a piece of chicken on his plate.
"Why not, she hasn't seen us in five years. Grandfather even more than that. He doesn't come down from the tower, you know that. He must be consulting something."
The question of her grandfather was one that was as big a mystery as it was a cause of bitterness. Lord Leyton had not descended from the Hightower for twelve years, constant messages had gone over the years, yet all were answered by either the Maester or Uncle Baelor, who was the Lord in all but name. He himself had few answers to their grandfather's hermit status.
It was not fair on him in her opinion. Instead of governing Oldtown as he should, Grandfather hid away, in recent years joined by their aunt Malora, whom many called "the Mad Maid" and rumours persisted that she was obsessed with spells, sorcery and prophecies.
Neither would be at her name day tourney, as expected, as they had not showed for anything in the last dozen years. She missed her Aunt Malora especially, when she had visited Oldtown, or even rarer, Malora had made the trip to King's Landing, she was odd and peculiar, but always fun and loved to show her the books she was reading. Only a raven with a message wishing her a happy name day. She ignored the hurt their absence had.
Deciding to change the subject to something lighter, she chose this new girl Rickard had not stopped talking about.
"Point to which of these ladies you've taken a fancy to."
Rickard's eyes lit up immediately.
"You see her?" asked her brother, not so subtly pointing to the woman in red seated near Lord Tywin and the gathered lords from the West.
"The Lannisters" she realised.
The girl, whom her brother wouldn't stop going on about, was the Lady Ceresa Crakehall, Lord Tywin's granddaughter.
"Isn't she beautiful, sister, Lady Ceresa, she may be the most perfect girl I've ever seen… excluding you and Del of course." He said was a laugh, which she smiled at.
"She certainly is… but you say pretty much the same thing about half the girls you bed, and this is Lord Tywin's granddaughter you're speaking of." She spoke as serious as she could then, to try and get the message to her brother, who's passions always ran deep.
"Rick don't do anything stupid. If you were to fuck and discard her-"
He interrupted.
"This is different.
She gave him a bemused look.
"You say that all the time. And when will you make time to deal with… other matters." As she drank from her cup, she gestured towards the direction of one of the far-off tables towards the eager eyes of Renessa Mallery, sat next to her lord Father, obliviously absorbed in a conversation with the man next to him. She took a grape as she held his attention, suckling it before finally chewing it and sending a wink his way.
He smirked and spoke.
"Yes well, I'll have to shake that problem off."
Renessa suitably pulled at the front colour of her dress, showing both skin and a hint of her glorious breasts."
"But for tonight, I think I'll hold off."
Layla looked at him with an amusement.
"You're disgusting."
As the night that was of many to come dragged, she was forced to dance with numerous dance partners. Many of varying skill and tolerability.
Many of the younger ones, including the friends of her brother, talked so much of their feats and skill even as they all blended in with each other.
"So as you see, my princess. I may not win this tourney, but I'll improve and hopefully win the next one." Spoke one of the Lannister twins of Tywin's brother. She forgot which one was which.
"Yes, I'm sure you will, Ser…" she held out through the awkward pause as thankfully they switched partners. Her relief was short-lived as she saw whom she would have to face for the next five minutes.
"My princess." Came the elderly voice of Lord Jon Arryn.
She forced another smile.
"My Lord."
He smiled kindly to her and that only made it harder make her realise how terrible she sounded to herself. She had nothing against the old lord who was most kind to her, but oh did he ramble and smell of bad cheese and something else she was unable categorise.
He talked of his first attendance to a tourney. He talked about his first tilt. He talked about how he earned his knight hood. Every time a gust of his breath and the sight of his missing teeth make her want to vomit.
"Gods give me strength." She thought.
She focused her mind elsewhere, the Gods seemingly gave her a way out as she spotted her dear Allyria, who looked so beautiful as she danced and twirled with Rickard. The lights above emanated off her jewellery, she outshone the stars as she danced. What she would have given to be in her brother's position. She took the chance to picture herself in such a position, taking her mind away from Jon Arryn.
"She is a Goddess in mortal form." She dreamingly thought.
She had managed to get through her final few partners with little issue. She looked forward to finding Allyria soon after this having been unable to reach her for the last few hours.
The final man she looked to be pared with was Lord Tywin. His green orbs looked right through her as they took their position.
"Lord Tywin, I hope you are well." She spoke politely. He smelled better than lord Arryn, of leather and a light perfume.
He looked down on her, and by his facial expressions, in more ways than one.
"Princess…"
It was mostly silent as they did, she did not know what to discuss. He was no silly boy trying desperately to win her attention, nor some rambling old lord. His reputation for wealth and what he did to those who slighted him was well-known. Even as his son was a King's guard who had always done a good job, was polite and kind, even funny, at least to her when it was his duty to watch over her. Even as they were surrounded by men whose loyalty should be towards her family, Lord Tywin made it all seem moot. He radiated power and influence.
"Do you look forward to the jousting, princess?" the question snapped her out of her daydreaming.
"Oh… yes my lord. I've never been a good one myself though."
Her lapse in remembering who she was speaking to drew a momentary chuckle from the lord. She took that as some sort of good sign, as good of a sign one could get when concerning lord Tywin.
"No princess, I would imagine you would not."
"How do you find the city, my lord?"
That seemed to draw the lord into a moment that left his face in an expression of stone.
"I remember it well enough. When I took this city, It took me all day to the early morning until the resistance of the Mad King's final followers was pacified. For that, I was told to make haste and leave while I still had a head for my reward."
The seething in his voice made her blood turn cold. The lord held her close, she heard distinct laughing that she knew to be of her brother. Turning at an angle, she looked to him as he danced with the Lady Ceresa, he was dramatic and flamboyant as he always was when he was chasing a girl he liked, he whispered in her ear things that made her blush and laugh in equal measure.
It was Lord Tywin's voice brought her back.
"It does help when injustice is settled, sometimes it may only take time. But it will." His hard features did not change, but as he stared at his daughter and her brother, she noticed the suitable change of his face that resembled what seemed to be his version of a smile.
Author's note:
Tywin isn't playing anymore.
As many of you can tell, these hundreds of lords and ladies aren't making the trip to King's Landing just to have a chance of wishing Layla well on her Name day, politics and the chance to have a shot at the crown prince and princess and other vendettas and scores to settle. who would turn that down?