She sat overlooking the Eyre from her oval-shaped window, with a book Fire and Blood in her delicate hands. She sighed, thinking about Ned Stark and how he kissed her at Harrenhal. It was truly, something passionate, as though he did truly care for her. But now, he was gone and married to his brother’s fiancee, Lady Tully, with a bastard son too. She wondered if her supposed refusal of him there inspired him to do something entirely unbecoming of him. She hadn’t been expecting him to kiss her, not like that, not than, that was the thing – she had always expected her first kiss to be with the Lord Paramount or otherwise Vale Lord she was suppose to marry. The chances of someone like her marrying a secondary son of another Lord Paramount like he was back than was astronomically low… but… the fact he had become the Lord of Winterfell hadn’t been lost on her. She took a sip of her home-made apple juice, which the cook had boiled for her, before settling off of her cream colored bench to go find one of her ladies to help her into her bright blue petticoat and cream colored mountain boots, so that she might go wandering to Runestone to meet her cousins.
But, before that, she walked barefoot across the long blue and cream colored courtyard to get the main part of the Eyre, where the moon door was. Where Alyssa’s tears were, always crying as ever oust the moon door. Her mother, a Royce, had said that she sometimes stood nearby the door and watched all the water go out of the Eyre into the deep, dark depths below. Upon entering the room, she’d see the old blue colored throne of the Old Arryn Kings. It was the strongest chair she’d ever seen, and sometimes Jon sat in to take note of disputes, and he did truly look Kingsly sitting in it. It was strong, made out iron, and had the blue Arryn insigma tattooed to it, as it practically stood on a stage of it’s own. It even had some small steps leading up to it’s cream colored cushion. Sometimes she wondered why the Targaryens didn’t just destroy it, when they first came upon the Eyre with their dragons
“I’ve always like sitting in that chair over the King’s Landing one.” The voice of her uncle startled her, as Jeyne looked to see him sitting up above her, with a clear pint of orange juice and some crestless cucumber sandwiches on a sliver platter, for the Lord to eat and munch at his liking. “It feels more like home, than the Iron Throne itself, with its multiple sharp edges and sharp knives protruding out of it. Sitting on it on is as comfortable as sitting your arse on a pile of a bunch of swords. Not very comfortable, nor very appealing to the eye, if you ask me.” Jon’s blue eyes were full of laughter, to her great annoyance. He just scared her out of her mind, anyhow. She frowned.
“Uncle, what are you doing here? I thought you were suppose to be in King’s Landing?” Jeyne asked, bewildered.
“I’ve come to escort you to your lordly husband, Lord Stannis Baratheon. He’s the Lord of Storm’s End you know, so a perfect match for you, Jenny.” He smiled. It was genuine and heartwarming, like usual. Jeyne didn’t remember her father, he died when she was still suckling at the breast of her mother, so he was about her father as it could get. Her birth mother came visiting from time to time, though she never remarried after her father perished though. Nobody faulted her for her decision.
“Oh.” Jeyne’s blue eyes widened. “I thought, someday, that you yourself might have married me… since you know… your childless and I have good hips for childbearing, as you’ve put it to me so gracefully.” She had been brought up to think this actually, due to the fact she had good hips for childbearing, which was very important, and not to mention, she was pretty and young.
“No, my dear Jenny. Not to you, I have myself a betrothed as it is. You might meet her, given that your husband is Master at Ships.” He smiled, though a bit wearily. He might have been a bit toothless, but Jeyne couldn’t image him anything else as her strong father figure when she was a child. He taught her how to love hawking, which she did from time to time, and taught her self-defense, by shooting arrows and such. She reckoned she could most men a run for their money in terms of being able to shoot arrows, through her brother always defeated her in this. He was blessed with a strong upper body strength than she, and thus could do it. He could beat at her almost everything physical, from sword-fighting, to what not. Though, the one thing she did beat him at was cross-country. She could outrun most people, if she so wished, a lesson she had learned from the Mountain Clans that were haunting the area. In order to shoot arrows at them, one must run very quickly and be very precise whilst doing so. Statuary archery wasn’t very useful in the vale, unless you were somehow above them.
“Oh, alright.” Jeyne trusted his judgement on this. “What’s her name, uncle?”
“Hmm… She’s a Tully. About your age, pretty, slim little thing. Fertile too…” He seemed less than pleased about the fertile part, given how he was frowning. Did she dishonor herself? Jeyne wondered. Jeyne herself had never been dishonored, not by Robert… thank the Gods for that.. and nor by Ned, even though she knew he desperately wanted it. He wanted her. She wondered how he’d react to know that she married a second son? Probably with a measure of disbelief.. or jealousy. That might be it. She hoped her marriage didn’t stir up any tension between him and her own Lordly husband. “I suppose. Which is the only thing that truly matters right now. I need an heir, like you said, Jenny.”
“Huh, you didn’t answer the question, uncle.”
“Her name is Lysa.” He said. So, it was Lord Eddard Stark’s wife youngest sister he was marrying, now was it? The one that got pregnant by that low born Vale man, Petyr Baelish. He was marrying that whore? Jeyne would never ever let a lowborn like that even near her skirts, much less underneath it. It was no wonder why her uncle looked so very unhappy about this arrangement. He was marrying someone of whom dishonored herself before marriage, a sin to the Gods. To the Maiden. And it probably hurt her uncle’s pride too, to not be marrying a maiden, which she should be.
Jeyne nodded. “Lysa Tully. Ah. We’ll all be one big happy family, us, the Starks, and the Baratheons.” Even though they wouldn’t technically be her good sisters, they’d still feel a familiar bond between them, as it was.
Jon chuckled, before standing from his leather seat. He was still a strong man, despite his elderly age. He gave the food and the hoster to a serving girl, of whom bowed before running off meekly. He then walked down the vast, twirling steps to see her one last time, before they went their separate ways for now at least. He’d give her a large hug, which felt nice and fuzzy against her given that he wore the finest myrish clothes and it was such a warm hug, full of a father’s love for what one could prescribe for a daughter , before letting her go gently and taking her arm, escorting her to her chambers. She could still smell his bad breath, but then again, he was a an old man. A old, used up man far past his prime. What else was he supposed to be? She’d no doubt see him again, but she’d never see the bright blue sky of the Vale again, nor the Eyre’s soft, bubbly garden she so enjoyed cruising through along side Elbert as they played hawking games with their birds, to see which one of their birds could go the furthest in the vale before coming back with a worm in tongue. She could’ve never have laughed so hard, that day, after her bird rewarded her with a sticky, wet wiggling red fat little worm her bird plucked from the ground to give to her. Truth to be told, she dearly missed and mourned her brother’s passing…