BLUE MOON ; Jaime Lannister

chapter three ; "the lion."

B L U E   M O O N

ᴄ ʜ ᴀ ᴘ ᴛ ᴇ ʀ  ᴛ ʜ ʀ ᴇ ᴇ ; "ᴛʜᴇ ʟɪᴏɴ."

297 AC | WINTERFELL.

THE BLISSFUL MOMENT WAS ONLY VERY SHORT-LIVED - AS A BLONDE-HAIRED PRINCE SAUNTERED TO THE GROUP. At first sight, Jenny would think the young man to be pure Lannister - he looked more like a lion instead of a stag, a Baratheon; the Kings of the Storms. The Prince Joffrey had a blonde mane, similar to his Uncle's, Jaime Lannister, as well as this he had the Lannister's trademark cat-green eyes - he also had their pristine, unblemished porcelain skin. Jenny's frosty eyes lingered over to the King, who was sat - stinking of wine or ale; laughing away with his whores. The King was fat, old with a disgusting darkly coloured beard; nothing like his lean, young son. 

Of course, as much of all of the siblings held a certain distaste for the Crown Prince - they all bowed or curtsied, out of pure diplomacy. But Prince Joffrey wasn't there to talk to the other Daemadar siblings; he wanted Jenny, no one else and that spoiled brat got whatever he wanted. As Joffrey had previously done, he looked Jenny up and down, running his tongue discretely across his bottom lip - the oldest Daemadar sister's skin crawled. At this, Ashter noticed clenching his jaw; he hated it when anyone made his siblings uncomfortable. 

However, the Prince was polite when he took Jenny's hand - kissing the back of it lightly; like his Uncle had done previously in the morn. But, the Prince's lips did not linger. "My Lady," the Prince greeted her, "You certainly do look," his cat-like eyes scanned her again, "Divine." 

The peroxide-haired woman smiled fakely, nodding, "Thank you, My Prince," she continued, looking at his red and gold attire, "You look rather dashing yourself." 

At this, Joffrey grinned smugly. "Come, My Lady," the Prince told Jenny, who didn't really have a choice in the matter. Once again, she put on a small smile as she was dragged across the Great Hall, to where everyone seemed to dance; though the dancing of overs seemed to stop as the Prince arrived there. "I do not like this tune," Joffrey declared to the local bards, who stopped playing their instruments immediately. The Prince thought about it for a moment, "Play my ancestral song!" 

Instead of any Baratheon theme; the infamous Rains of Castamere began to play. It was a dark song, that breathed history - that sent chills down Jenny's spine. The floral sky coloured dress' skirts swirled elegantly as the taller boy twirled the young woman around, though Joffrey could most likely be classed as a man; he'd never be classed as one - only as a mere boy. From afar, Robb Stark watched - not caring if anyone noticed him doing so; as many of the younger men were doing the same. Jenny was a beauty, there was no denying that and she looked so pretty with those winter roses embedded in her hair.