LADY JEYNE ◦ROBB STARK

LADY JEYNE, i. prettier than her

"The hospitality of Winterfell is yours, Lord Desmond." Eddard Stark said kindly, his eyes crinkling as he smiled happily at the sight of a former comrade in war with a family made happy. "I hope your children grow to love the North as much as my sons and daughters do."

"Must we drone on with this unneeded flowery decorum Lord Stark, I think we killed too many men to save each other for us not to be past that that." Desmond said playfully, although the remorse in her voice did no go undetected by Jeyne as her footsteps pattered behind them. Hee father had always found greeting ceremonies ritualistically dark and often theorised it had something to do with red priestesses.

She had been the last to leave the carriage, taking the hand of her older brother who had stood there waiting for her. "I think half my hair turned white with how long you took to get out of that damned thing." He had hissed at her, glaring at the claustrophobic compartment they had all been shoved into for two months to which she only scowled at the red-haired boy before averting her gaze to the ground, lifting the bottoms of her dress as she stepped into the cobbled path that would lead her to the entourage of the Starks.

The lord of Winterfell was looking at Jeyne— something she only knew from her fleeting glances away from her velvety pink pumps (which were not suited for the cobbled roads) and to the occupants of the castle she and her family would be staying in company of.

"Ah, meet my youngest Jeyne."

Her father had looked at her fondly with a warm smile on his face as the apple of his eye strolled daintily towards him, craning his head to look at Jeyne to see her arm hooked onto to Denys' as she made her way to them shyly.

"Lord Stark, I thank you for your kindness—" Jeyne curtsied like a proper lady, offering a meek smile to the warden and it all seemed to be going smoothly until she felt her mothers piercing blue eyes widen in gesture, prompting her to go over the lines they had rehearsed as those they were the lyrics of a song about the dead reynes in the street— "in opening the doors of y— your ho—home—" Jeyne was stuttering now as her nerves had gotten the best of her even further when she felt the woman beside Ned Stark with the orange hair kissed by the angry flames of a fire watched her pitifully, which only made her like more of a fool. "— your beau—beautiful home to us."

She cringed as she finished the sentence, feeling her mother breathe a sigh of relief whilst he father continued to gleam at her heartily as if she had single handedly put all the stars in the sky and painted the moon the same silver the ringlets of his targeryan lover were.

"Thank you for your kind words." Eddard smiled warmly at the girl, "but your father was right, there needn't be any compulsion for these gratuitous formalities, your stay here is a visit from one friend to another." Perhaps he had already taken a liking to the young maid, her nervous manner her could only mean there was no malice to her.

"This is my eldest son, Robb."

He gestured to the boy on his right. His face was smooth like it had been freshly shaved, Jeyne wondered if that was for her pleasure— she had never much liked stubble on younger men— and his hair was the same dark colour of her fathers with red fighting through the strong genes of the raven Stark hair and blue eyes she could see belonged to his lady mother first. He was undeniably good looking and from the way she could see her sister examining him up and down from the corner of her eye, Jeyne could decipher that he was much more beautiful than the crown Prince and her own fiancé.

"Lady Jeyne, you are as beautiful as the fables say." The heir complimented her smoothly like he was used to charming the ladies but it was against the Redwyne girls nature to make it easy for him.

Jeyne was a mousy girl, or at least that was how her Septa would describe her and her self-conscious manner extended to insecurities over the stubbiness of her fingers. Hence why Robb recoiled his own hand away when he realised the girl had no intention of her offering him her knuckles to kiss softly.