╔════════════╗ LADY JEYNE a song of ice and fire — AU ✧ ⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆
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— jeyne wondered if flowers grew in winterfell like they did in highgarden. she had asked her mother the question and lady redwyne told her to hush and stop asking silly questions. yet that did nothing to dissuade her nerves as she bit at the dry skin peeling off her lips, thinking how she would style her hair pretty without any roses if she was to charm the future lord of winterfell into being her betrothed. her silky pure hair was her only forte; jeyne's looks otherwise would not have your breath hitching in your throat upon sight.
the shiny shy of black mop pulled back into what was supposed to an elegant bun, even in all its momentary mess, was her saving grace. the two loose curls at the front that framed her face had fallen flat against cheekbones so structured they could cut and a dazzlingly sharp jawline, although they made her look a little scary when paired with a gangly figure such as hers, her physique so thin it looked like they hadn't been feeding her back at the arbour.
golden petals littered her pearly white fur petticoat over her dress that gleamed the rays of a tuscan sun as the roses intertwined with her fine strands of hair, getting tangled with the dozens of pins prodded into her head to maintain the updo. jeyne's gown was visibly much more lavish than any other ladies with intricate subtle green threads to outline the leaves of the glorious red roses drawn onto her dress by fabric, that was because it had to be.
Jeyne was not beautiful like the other women of her house though of course that was since she didn't look like any of them. she was still somewhat easy on the eyes, a bumpy nose she hated along with skin tattered with marks along the edges of her face and a permanent frown line in her forehead and so her appearance certainly wasn't one that sent men into reveries of infidelity which was why as she made her grand entrance out of her family's carriage and being the last to leave it, kept her eyes trained on the ground so as not to meet the disappointed ones of the Northen heir.
"Lord Stark, thank you for inviting us to your home."
The well-mannered words fell eloquently from the polite mouth of her father Desmond Redwyne, rich auburn stubborn around travelling handsomely from above his upper lip to the surface of his chin and stretching til' reaching the bones in his jaw that were as rigid as his youngest daughters. He was ruggedly handsome in a damaged kind of way and his brown eyes were radiant with youth against a face wrinkled with the stories of a kind knight who has never liked to kill and watched his friends around him die in the battle of a dragon versus stag they had no part of.
