LADY JEYNE, v. the lady of winterfell

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           LADY JEYNE      
a song of ice and fire   — AU    ✧
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╔════════════╗           LADY JEYNE       a song of ice and fire   — AU    ✧⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆

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HER ENTIRE LIFE, MAEGELLE had been treated like she was some sort of ethereal painting. It came with being as alluring to the man's eye as she was but there was many pretty ladies situated in the seven kingdoms of Westeros. Her beauty would get her far, as her father estimated, but still there was a limitation to the heights she could reach. It was the wit and guile she had inherited from her last mother that would transport her further in this life. More Hightower than Redwyne, Maegelle Hightower, that's what everyone had always said her name should have been. She looked like them, she grew up mostly in their care— per Denyse's insistence— and she even acted/ behaved like them.

Alicent and Otto Hightower had been the downfall of their house virtue and name, well their greed and power hungry ambition. Setting up Aegon Targeryan to steal the throne from his sister, the rightfully appointed heir, had been what ended their direct lineage. Their ancestors still, the Hightowers had more reason to despise them for than to owe them for the noble house had never quite regained their same level of status and power. Never trust a Hightower. That is what people would say it, was like how you should never be in debt to a Lannister.

"You have done your hair different today."

       The observation came from Robb Stark, who had invited himself onto her stroll. He too treated her like a painting. Usually, her chestnut waves were left undone, it's natural glory enough to be bewitching aside from the sporadic ribbon she would adorn the mop of brown with. Today, however, Maegelle had chosen to braid a few locks into a crown style resting on the back of her head.

LADY JEYNE ◦ROBB STARKWhere stories live. Discover now