╔════════════╗ LADY JEYNE a song of ice and fire — AU ✧ ⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆
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ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ *ೃ༄ QUEEN OF thorns, xiii.
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FOUR MOONS HAD GONE BY in the time she had spent serving as one of the many handmaids of princess Myrcella. There were many delights that came with being handpicked by the golden-locked queen herself, like sleeping in the softest sheets and on the velvetiest of pillows her little head had touched. Still, the displeasure she was subjected to when all the pretty ladies of the court fawned over her betrothed outweighed every honour she was granted. Jeyne Grace had never had anything that was this covetable and so the longing in every girls eyes when the name Robb Stark was mentioned would have tinged her irises green with envy if they weren't already juniper.
"What is he like?"
It was the unusually grating voice of Lavina Westerling that burnt her ears. She was lovely and willowy with curly chestnut hair, a shy smile and doe-like soft brown eyes. Apparently, the spitting image of her sister jeyne— the Redwyne had heard many times of the older girl with her name. It thrilled Lavina, almost as if she had found her Jeyne in another whilst she was far from home.
Jeyne Grace found her endearing, except for when she fell all over in regards to her blue-eyed wolf. Was it too early to be calling him 'hers', perhaps... but he was to be her husband, was he not.
"He's kind, charming too."
She managed a response, humming while she toyed with the lonely lemon cake in her plate. Her smile was contrite and feigned, tightening more when she was faced with Talla Tarly's wistful eyes. "As charming as a prince?" She asked.
