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When Layla had inquired as to the whereabouts of the Lord Commander she was much surprised to learn that he was meeting with the king. Of course, that surprise soon turned to outrage. There was only one reason the king sought Jon's counsel. And if he plans on marching then he will need my own counsel, she thought, but of course, to him I am nothing more than the false king's widow.
Harlon attempted to temper her anger, but she ignored his protests. Still, he followed her march to the King's Tower. He knows I am right, she thought, Stannis has disrespected us with his lack of invitation.
Arriving at the door, she found two of Stannis' guards hovering outside, blocking her entry.
"Can we help you?" The one she recognised as Ser Godry the Giantslayer, though by the way she heard it the tale was not nearly as impressive told by anyone that wasn't him
"I would like to speak to Stannis," she said, before quickly adding, "Please."
"He's currently indisposed," the one she did not know said, "I am sure you can come back later."
"I'm sorry, I don't think I've had the pleasure of being introduced."
And it was a pleasure, for he certainly wasn't hard on the eyes.
"Ser Justin Massey," he answered, smiling sweetly at her, "My lady."
"Well, Ser Justin, let me rephrase my statement." She said, smiling just as sweetly back, "Get out of my way. Right now."
"I hardly think a woman is in any position to threaten us," Ser Godry scoffed, "Especially one heavy with child."
"You'd be surprised." Harlon grumbled behind him, though the southron knight did not heed the warning
"I do not fear -"
But whatever it was that Ser Godry did not fear they would never know, for in one swift movement she had swung her arm to connect her enclosed fist with his jaw. There was a moment of shock as the man stumbled back, before his enraged eyes locked with hers. Before he could even think to react, however, they were interrupted by the opening of the door.
"What is the meaning of this?" Stannis demanded
"He would not let me in." Layla replied plainly, not waiting for an invitation to enter, Harlon closing the door behind them,
"And so you thought to hit him?"
"It's not like there's any permanent damage." She shrugged, "Though I do wish to know why Harlon and I were not invited. You are planning how to take back the North, are you not?" She continued, all the while maintaining her pleasant smile, "Or did you. not think we would have any contributions?"
"I certainly did not think you would barge in here unannounced and uninvited." Stannis said, indignantly, "I have half the mind to throw you out."
"Half a mind?"
"If you really think you can be of use, then sit." He ordered, turning back to Jon, who had been careful not to look her way, "Now, continue."
And so Jon continued to explain his plan to the southern king. It was a good plan, she could not deny that, though she doubted Stannis possessed the charisma to win the loyalty of the Mountain Clans. They loved Ned, she reminded herself, if they know of my child they will fight.
"They will fight for me, you believe?" Stannis asked
"If you ask them."
"Why should I beg for what is owed to me."
"These men owe you nothing." Layla suddenly spoke, "You demand they risk their lives for you, when you have done nothing to earn their loyalty."
"I am their rightful king."
"Any man can declare himself king, the war should've taught you that." She spat out, "The Northerners will never follow you, if you keep acting like a self-righteous spoilt brat."
She had taken it too far, she knew, but entitlement had never sat well with her. The world certainly hadn't ever owed her anything, and she did not ask it to. You got only what you fought for.
"Careful, girl," Melisandre warned, "That is your king you are speaking to."
"Forgive me, Your Grace, but the lives of myself and my family rest on your victory." She said, once again the regal lady, "Everything I have heard about you led me to believe you would not begrudge me for honesty. And I would not speak so frankly to you if I thought we were not in trusted company."
It seemed the king was almost impressed by that. After all, if her outburst had been anything it was honest. Good, she thought, then he is the man I thought he was.
"I could accompany you, Your Grace," Harlon offered, in an attempt to ease the tension, "The Flint's of Widow's Watch are tied by blood to the Flint's of the Mountain Clans. They are my kin, Layla's too. I can help convince them."
Stanniss simply grunted in response, and they all took that as confirmation.
"You mean for him to take Deepwood Motte?" She asked, and Jon nodded grimly, his glance to her lasting barely even a second, "Good. The Ironborn have spent too much time in the North."
As they worked out the finer points, Layla sat and listened, annoyed at her own inability to offer any worthwhile input. Not that Stannis had really given her a chance. But he would see, she thought, once I have this child the Northern lords will flock to our cause, and then he would not dare to think not to invite me again.
On her way out she was stopped by Ser Justin Massey, offering to see her hand was taken care of. Even if she did not really need it, he sure had a handsome smile, and it had been so long since a man had smiled at her like that. And he met her eyes, unlike Jon.
"I'm sure I just need some ice," she said as she took his arm, "It's not like there's a shortage here."
Ser Justin led her to the dining hall, sitting her down at one of the tables, taking the seat beside her. He took her wounded hand, examining her knuckles.
"Looks alright to me," he observed, "Slight bruising maybe, but no lasting damage."
"Do you think this is the part where I confess I should not have hit him, and that it was an incredibly unladylike thing to do?" She asked, "Because I'm not going to say that."
"No," he answered, "To be honest, I'm glad that someone did it. He's rather insufferable."
If she was being honest, she found most of the Queen's Men to be rather insufferable. But not this man, he seemed to be one of the better ones. And so she made it her mission to learn about this southern lord who had taken such an interest in her.
"You are a follower of the Red God," she said, "Yes?"
"Yes." He nodded, "And you?"
"I'm not strong in belief," she shrugged, "Though R'hollor has many followers in the east. Tell me, Ser Justin, what do you know of A'sshai?"
"Only that it is the Lady Melisandre's birthplace."
"Well, that is incorrect." She replied, "For there are no children in A'sshai."
"And how is it that you know this?" Ser Justin asked, with light-hearted skepticism, an easy smile on his face
"I once knew a woman who had spent much time in A'sshai," Layla revealed, "She told me that they had all good carried in by barge, for nothing grew there, and they had no livestock. What fish did grow in the rivers were mutated and blind. She said that it was a land of wonders, as well as horrors."
Azeeza had been one of her many guardians in her youth, a maegi in Myr who traded in love potions and healing. Though this was not the extent of her of her powers, for she had learnt much darker magic in the Far East. It was this magic that she used to kill those who enslaved her.
Of course, there was a cost, there was always a cost. For the woman had given the life of her unborn child, so that death may take its father. She had sacrificed her first child so that all others would be born free.
Even now, years later, she remembered the words that Azeeza had told her, the incantation to bring forth death, with almost perfect clarity. Though she had never spoken them herself. Not that it stopped her from reading through the book that Azeeza had gifted her.
A book I put to good use, she thought, but pushed away reminders of such unpleasant business. The past was the past.
"Is that way you are so suspicious of her?"
"I do not distrust her foreign origins," she answered, "Of that you can be sure."
"You are foreign yourself, are you not?" He replied, "I have heard you are Braavosi, but another said Myrenese, what is the truth?"
"I was raised by a Braavosi trader, but he often saw fit to leave me at ports with friends to be cared for." She explained, "He did not think a life at sea was one for a child."
"Raised?" Ser Justin asked, "What of your parents?"
"I have them, as we all do." She answered, "And that is all I will say as to the matter."
Clearly that was not the answer he desired, for he opened his mouth to speak again, but was cut of with her bidding him farewell, thanking him for the kindness he had shown her. From what she gathered he was no fanatic, though perhaps he did smile too much, and she liked not how his eyes had hovered over her breasts which had swelled as her stomach grew. But that was not such a complaint that she would wrong the only ally she had found in Stannis' retinue.
That night she joined the Lord Commander for dinner, apparently he felt badly enough about the events of the day to not scorn her presence. He had been relentless in his avoiding of her since their initial embrace upon her arrival.
"My apologies for Stannis," he said, his eyes trained on the fire, "He should have invited you."
"It is not your fault." She said, "I fear I have much to do to prove myself to our king."
"You are indispensable to him." Jon said, "Your child will give him the North."
And he thought that would be her only contribution, after all, a woman was only worth her womb. He'll soon see, she thought, when the Northern lords follow my lead and not his. They were her people, and they loved her.
"What do you know of Ser Justin Massey?" She asked, and Jon finally looked up at her with his perpetual frown
"He's a southern lord, lost his lands during the war." Jon explained, his hands gripped together, "Stannis said he wants to marry you and claim Winterfell."
"Yes," she replied, casting her eyes towards the flames, "I'm sure a great many lords will want that."
Even if he was not as utterly repulsive as the rest of the Queen's Men, it was only power he lusted after. No man will ever wed me for love now, she realised, it will always be for the power I could give them. But Ser Justin was fooling himself if he thought he could woo her into wedding a southern lord with no lands. If a man would only marry her for power, than she may as well return the favour.
Though to do so would mean to leave her child behind. She would already be forced to part with Willam and Rickard, whose place was at Widow's Watch. But to remain at Winterfell would mean to yield rule to whoever became her lord husband, and that was not something she planned to ever do.
Rickard is young, she thought, I might dare to keep him with me a little longer. But the brothers would not stand to be parted, that she knew.
"What will you do?" Jon asked, tentatively, and the softness in his voice made her meet his eyes
His face was so open to her, far more than the stoic guard he usually presented. As much as he tried to mask it, she knew he still cared for her. Perhaps that was why he avoided her so, guilt for having even the remotest of feelings for his brother's widow, or simply because they could never be together.
It would be so much easier if I could marry you, she mused, the North would take you as their liege lord, and you would raise my child as a true Northerner, and we could grow old together in Winterfell.
But honour was second nature to Jon. He would not break his oaths for her, not as Robb did.
"I don't know." She admitted, "I know I will have to marry again. The war continues, and alliances are needed." She said, reaching out to grasp his hand, offering him an encouraging smile, "But do not worry for me, fret for the poor man that will have to wed me."
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