“I don’t want to be a lord,” the little boy scowled, tugging at his wolf’s dark fur as he often did when he was agitated. Shaggydog was far too tough mind the attentions of such small fingers. “I want to go back home to Skagos, and Shaggy does too.” They’d been allowed to run around there to their hearts content, chasing after unicorns, splashing in the streams… The closest they could get to that here was disappearing into the wolfswood, and Rickon had quickly discovered that was not how lords were supposed to spend most of their time. King Stannis had tried to explain the concept of duty to the five year old many times, but he still wasn’t grasping it.
JEYNE WISHED FOR SANSA, as she often did, but the familiarity of baby rickon had been a small respite when the little lord was brought back home. he was all that was left of her dearest friend’s family, besides jon snow. but jon snow was not quite the boy who had left winterfell so long ago ( just as jeyne poole was not quite the girl she had been either ). she watches rickon, her fingers curled towards her palm as she eyes his wolf carefully – she had been as fond as she could be of lady, but the direwolves had frightened her some; only more now that shaggydog is so grown. “but winterfell is your home,” she says. “it is yours by right now, rickon, and one day you shall be as noble a lord as your father had been.”
#aforgottenpride #THREAD: JEYNE & RICKON (aforgottenpride). #VERSE: BROWN NOT GREY
Shireen had only just arrived in Winterfell, having been summoned there from the Wall soon after her father’s victory over Roose Bolton. It had seemed a good idea to get the princess away from the chaos that had broken out among the Night’s Watch after Lord Commander Snow’s assassination and with winter coming, the Starks’ family seat had seemed the safest place for her. Not to mention it had the bonus of her being there to offer comfort and companionship to the girl, only a little older than herself, who had been found stumbling through the snow near the castle with Theon Greyjoy and a frostbitten nose.
“You’re safe now, you know. No one’s going to hurt you anymore, Father will make sure of it. And he’s going to have Ramsay Snow executed very soon, you’ll never have to see him again.”
JEYNE THINKS THE PRINCESS WOULD BE PRETTY if not for the greyscale upon her cheek. jeyne had been pretty once too, and perhaps would be now, if not for the horrors that have befell her. winterfell does not feel like home should upon her return, not even with the impending execution of the monster who had been her groom. she is found staring, curled up in a cloak with her cheeks stained in tears, and she nods upon the princess’s comfort; she wants to believe her very much.
“KING STANNIS HAS BEEN MOST KIND, princess,” she says, her words watery still; her future is not as clear as the girl makes it seem. she does not know what will become of her now. but she offers the princess a smile, one that does not quite touch her eyes. “i am so very grateful for the protection.”
#thekingstrueheir #THREAD: JEYNE & SHIREEN (thekingstrueheir) #VERSE: BROWN NOT GREY #QUEUE.
BIG BROWN EYES LOOK UP when the door is opened. her body tenses out of instinct, pleas upon her lips ready to spill like the tears which already threaten the corners of her eyes. jeyne is wrapped in a blanket on the floor in the corner of the room, lip trembling – body trembling: hands, shoulders, legs – it is fear which freezes her briefly, and subsides when her husband does not enter at theon’s side.
“i-i shall be good,” she says, her voice already watery. “please tell him, theon, please tell him i shall be good.”
THE INN IS FILLED WITH CHILDREN, orphans and unwanteds such as she now is, but she is different all the same. she is defiled and incomplete, her back laden with scars from the brothel; her body laden with scars that aren’t visible upon her skin. she had been headed north to wed a lord as arya stark, and yet she finds herself at this place instead. the way she speaks has branded her a lady, though she tries to keep her words few; she tries to keep to herself – big brown eyes full of sadness; wary. she needs to step outside the crowded place to breathe.
and that leads her to the smith. he cannot be much older than she, and she does not mean to intrude, finding herself in the entryway to his workspace; her eyes downcast as she is caught. “i did not mean to intrude,” she says, bracing herself for what rebuke may follow – she has always been a good girl, but the brothel did leave scars.
SHE LEANS OVER THE CRADLE, the babe asleep in warm furs; his dark hair in soft tufts atop his head. jeyne brushes her knuckle against vayard’s soft cheek, not disturbing the peace of her son in the slightest, but needing to feel him; to know. when she notices the form in the doorway, jeyne’s eyes lift to look at jon and she straightens just so. “i needed to see him… that he is real, i just –” her lip quivers slightly and her big, brown eyes fall back to the sleeping babe – their babe – and she smiles and nods her head a little. “he is a pure thing, jon.”
SHE HAD WATCHED RAMSEY’S HEAD taken from his shoulders herself. jeyne had wanted to look away – horrors of any sort have never been easy for her weak heart to handle, but she has been through so many now that this is just another on the list – but she did not, and this is the last image that she shall associate with him; this is her freedom. though she had cried, there is a weight in her chest that does not feel so heavy. when she hears the soft footsteps approach her, jeyne lifts her teary eyes, her tearstained cheeks; looks at rhaenys and smiles with her perfect teeth, the closest echo of whom she had once been. “it is over.”
✹ — RHAENYS HOLDS JEYNE FOR A TIME, SCARCELY a gap between them as her lips brush against jeyne’s hair, and her arms encircling her body. the embrace is warm like a deep and pure hearth, in contrast with how very naturally cold jeyne was. idly, rhaenys wonders if this is due to her being northern, or if this is because of sadder means; as if her inner fire has been staunched. well, rhaenys holds her all the tighter, and offers her own warmth until both are enveloped by it. and when all feels content, rhaenys pulls away to smile.
“ i have a confession … when i claim the throne, i don’t want to rule from king’s landing. i know there’s no choice there, but … i thought about having the keep altered for a time, and perhaps residing in the north for a while to help jon repair it, while dealing with the south. if i do, will you show me your world ? ? ? would you let me help you restore it and its memories ? ? ? ”
rhaenys kisses jeyne’s knuckles just as jeyne had kissed hers, and proceeds to nuzzle her face into her hands. jeyne smells so distinctly winter; it is a cool aroma, yet it is so comforting. and, what better, she smells no longer of blood. in fact, rhaenys dares to say she smells of blue roses.
THERE IS A CHILL that might never leave jeyne’s bones, but, for the moment, she does feel a warmth. leaned into rhaenys’ hold, jeyne does not feel what has been lost to the frost, nor the inescapable chill of the wall; she feels more. at the words that are spoken, jeyne lifts her head to look at rhaenys, she feels her lips turning upwards.
“ – do you mean it?” she asks, as if the horrors that have touched her cannot touch her in this instant; as if she is a hopeful little girl again rather than a broken thing stripped of her youth far before her time. :”truly? rhaenys,” she squeezes her hands delicately, watching the princess grace her knuckles with such reverence as if she were not soiled by what the world has done to her.
little nods touch her head. it is a rare comfort in knowing that their time together can last.
#dracharenae #THREAD: JEYNE & RHAENYS (dracharenae) #VERSE: BROWN NOT GREY
She raised her eyes to his. Brown eyes, not grey. Are all of them so blind? For a long moment she did not speak, but those eyes were begging. This is your chance, [Theon] thought. Tell them. Tell them now. Shout out your name before them all, tell them that you are not Arya Stark, let all the north hear how you were made to play this part. It would mean her death, of course, and his own as well, but Ramsay in his wroth might kill them quickly. The old gods of the north might grant them that small boon.
He hates to see her cry. He closes his own eyes so that he doesn’t have to see and is surprised to feel hot tears slipping down his own twisted face. They trail through the scabs and the scars and dirt and gather at his trembling chin.
She is trying to dry her eyes with the heels of her palms, but to no avail. He reaches out and gently- so gently- wipes the tears from her face with his ruined hand. Just as gently, she takes his hand into hers. Her fingers are cold but Theon doesn’t think he has ever felt something so fine against his skin. Jeyne doesn’t mind about his missing fingers, his filthy, broken body. Jeyne doesn’t care about the fact he was a vile accomplice to Ramsay or a traitor to the north. That he was… that he’s done other things that were just as bad or worse. After seeing just how wretched he has become, she still treats him as if he is a person. And that helps. Because he is trying to figure out whether or not he still is one.
She smiles as she promises not to leave him. She smiles and it is like the sun just came out in this frigid, northern wasteland. Yet in spite of her smile, there are still tears standing in her huge brown eyes, threatening to spill. He reaches out and draws her into him, letting her tears soak into his rags. He held her during their escape, but out of necessity only. This is the first time he’s embraced anyone in years. The last person was probably Robb. That realization settles like a stone inside his heart.
He rubs her shoulder, trying to offer some comfort, trying to be of some use. He can still be useful, even if he cannot make amends, even if he is to die. These last hours or minutes, he can still be of use to her.
“Thank you,” he murmurs into her hair.
JEYNE latches onto him as she is pulled and buries her face against his shoulder. a small, shaky sob escapes her lips. he had been the first glimpse of safety she has seen in so very long a time, and, even though she had endured being the wife of ramsay for a time, in the end theon did so save her. her frozen fingers clutch at his back and she holds him near. how terrified he must be, she wonders, but what will she do once he is gone ??
“BUT i have done nothing,” she says, shaking her head. he saved her, and yet she has no power to save him. they are free, and yet what a cruel jape it is that their freedom has led them to just another horror. though she might stand a chance at jon snow’s mercy, stannis baratheon owes her nothing.
SHE lifts her head to look at him, to hold his cheek; her thumb brushing away his own tears – as if she had left enough water in the world for others to cry too. all jeyne can do now is sit with him. “we can run,” she says, she feels desperate now as the moments drag on – she does not know how much longer they have. “we have made it here, we can go… we can find a village and start anew. we – we can be safe together.”
#saltxwolf #THREAD: JEYNE & THEON (saltxwolf) #VERSE: BROWN NOT GREY
✹ — HEART WRENCHING, RHAENYS REGARDS JEYNE WITH DEEP and affectionate eyes, squeezing their hands together in an effort to ground her. “ would that i could have struck before lord stark traveled south with robert baratheon, then the lannisters would be long dead and these ailments that befell you would never have come to be, ” she says. but even if rhaenys had struck then, it would have been for naught. lord stark’s unwavering loyalty to robert baratheon could never have been swayed. the north could never have been hers, and even if she had rallied most southern houses to her cause, she still would have lost. still, guilt gnaws at her as she looks upon jeyne. “ dorne is so beautiful, jeyne. the waters are blue and warm, and i know the most magical coves where my cousins and i would play games. ”
IT IS A PRETTY THOUGHT, and rhaenys has used so many pretty thoughts to keep her company through the ugliness. perhaps if rhaenys had come sooner, jeyne’s father would still live – and lord and lady stark and robb and the others as well – perhaps she would not have been so irreparably broken from the bright and vibrant girl she had been once. “then we will go together, one day,” she says and she smiles, though it does not quite touch her eyes – she does want it to; she wants to be happy, but she is not truly safe yet. “i would go with you.”
#dracharenae #THREAD: JEYNE & RHAENYS (dracharenae) #VERSE: BROWN NOT GREY
↳ got au // sansa and jeyne escape kings landingtogether
they don’t talk about how sansa was to be a queen, or how jeyne used to sigh over the boys in the training yard. they don’t talk about how neither of them looked back when they clasped sweaty, shaking hands and ran from the kingsguard. they don’t talk about a lot of things but that doesn’t mean they don’t talk. their nights are spent curled around one another as bedmates, huddled together for warmth like they were still girls and they were still safe in winterfell instead of here in this desolate place. at night they didn’t need to worry about food or coin. the nights were for them. and sometimes, in her heart of hearts, jeyne thinks that there’s nothing in the world worth worrying about when her legs are entwined with sansa’s and the other girl’s breath warms her face as they whisper secrets to one another in the dark.
“My good brother’s bastard has no power over me dear. And my
good brother knows I will slit his bastard’s throat if the boy so much as raises
a hand to me.” Barbrey often thought the girls of this age had been raised to
soft. In her youth if she didn’t wish to be touched she made that known by the
offending party losing a finger. Now everyone was so caught up on acting proper
and behaving in courtly manners, no one remembered what it meant to be of the
north anymore. The girls were quick in their business and soon the bath was
ready for her.
“Into the tub my dear. It’ll be hot but that’s needed to
clean out those wounds.” The steam was coming off of the water now, hot enough
to be felt even through her clothes. With a motion of her hand the maids
started to throw the shutters open to air the room out and she hummed softly at
the slight chill in the air that now was allowed around. Another motion and the
maids left them silently, better them to be ignorant to any conversation that
was about to happen so Ramsey couldn’t justify a reason to take any anger out on
them. “And finish you tea, make sure the cup is drained.”
As she left the girl to get into the tub Barbrey made a new
pot of tea for them, this one without the medicine hidden inside of it. “There are
things to be discussed and your fire to be relit, unless you mean to tell me
you aren’t a daughter of the north?” She would get the girl’s pride sparked
again if it killed the both of them. Some of the plans the men spoke of would
only work if the girl was on their side, and unbroken at that. Ramsey held a
talent for breaking people, Theon was more than enough proof that Roose should’ve
never allowed this to happen.
QUICKLY, SHE DRAINS THE CONTENTS OF HER CUP. despite the horrid taste and the way it makes her belly feel. jeyne has learned that obedience earns the lesser of two evils, and she she complies. she is shakey to her feet, her hands careful as they try to cover herself; maintain what modesty she might, though her hands fall more so to the worst of her markings rather than the definers of her sex.
THE CHILL FROM THE WINDOW ONLY ADDS TO HER SHAKES, and she looks down upon the scalding water before she goes to step into the tub. it is too hot, and the tears spill from her eyes to drop against the surface, dissolving salt into brief ripples until her body is submerged. she makes herself small.
THE EMPTY CUP STAYS CRADLED IN HER PALMS, and she keeps it above the surface. her eyes, empty, stare at the water – at the distorted reflection of herself – until they lift to look at lady dustin. her words spark nothing but a hollow sadness; she had been the daughter of the north, of vayon poole. he is dead now. no, SHE IS ARYA STARK; the daughter of lord stark and lady catelyn. they are dead now too. “i – i am, my lady,” she says and swallows; she stills her tears. “but i only hope to be a good wife.” i only hope to be saved. “will… will you help me?”
JEYNE’S FINGERS CLUTCH TO HIS CLOAK as if she will fall off the tallest mountaintop were she to let go. she looked up at him, her eyes big and full of sadness, brimming with a flow of tears that seem to be endless. they cause her head to ache, and were she thinking clearly, perhaps even she would wonder how she still has water left to spare. when her sad eyes, brown and not grey as they ought be, look upon the familiar features of his face, she nods her head and exhales shakily. “do you promise?” she asks, hopeful despite all she has endured, innocent despite all that has been stripped from her, and yet not all that naïve. safe. where is safe ??
SOFTER: “ stop doing that— stop trying to hide your emotions from me. ” “ i can’t make you trust me. but i’m gonna stick around long enough for you to realize you can. ” “ not everyone is just gonna become another scar. some people will stay, if you let them. ” “ i feel like i’ve been living in a storm for so long, like i’m just drifting from wave or wave hoping i won’t drown. ” “ what happened to you? what made you so scared to stay still long enough to let someone in? ” “ i don’t wanna be scared anymore. ” “ even when you smile, your eyes are still sad. ” “ you’re safe with me. you can let go. breathe. ” “ i just want to belong somewhere again. or to someone, i guess. ” “ the thing about never having a home, is you don’t know what to do when you’re finally given one. you just feel like you’re waiting for something to take it away again. ” “ would you just sit still? you’re gonna get an infection if you don’t let me clean this up. ” “ i’m not gonna hurt you. i’m just here to help. ” “ close your eyes. go back to sleep. nothing can hurt you while i’m here. ” “ you looked so peaceful while you were sleeping…i couldn’t bring myself to wake you up. ” “ why do you trust me? ” “ don’t do that— don’t shut down on me. let me in. ” “ you were talking in your sleep again. i’m starting to think they’re memories and not just dreams. ” “ i’m not used to letting people close. i don’t like being vulnerable— but i want to, with you. i want to let you in. ” “ how did you get this scar? ” “ i don’t always need you to fix everything. i just— sometimes i just want you to listen. ” “ you’re so beautiful when you laugh. i wish i could see it more, but maybe it’s the rarity of it that makes it so captivating. ”
DARKER: “ every time i touch you, there’s a moment where you look like you think it will hurt. ” “ why aren’t you scared of me? ” “ you’d accept a caress from the same hands that leave you bruised, just to feel warm. ” “ i’ll kill anyone that makes you hurt like that again. i’d kill them just for taking your smile. ” “ i want to keep you all to myself. i don’t want anyone but us to know the things we do in secret. ” “ you’re mine now. and i won’t let anyone take you from me. ” “ would you kill for me? ” “ i’d cut my heart out and place it in your hands if it would prove my devotion to you. ” “ you love me so fiercely. i’m almost afraid of it. ” “ i know if anyone hurt me, you’d never let them see another day. and i think i like that a little too much. ” “ i know you’re dangerous, but i also know you won’t hurt me. you bark, and you growl, but you never bite. not me, at least. ” “ who hurt you? who made you so sad and lonely? tell me so i can make them pay. ” “ i don’t like the way they look at you. perhaps i’ll cut their eyes out. ” “ “ they hurt me. now i want you to make it better. make them hurt too. ” “ if anyone lays even a single finger on you, i’ll cut it off and feed it to them. ” “ yes. i killed them— but i did it for you. ” “ i had to do it. no one gets to make you sad and get away with it. ” “ i told you, i’ll love you no matter what. i’ll wipe the blood off your skin. i’ll clean the dirt off your hands from every grave you dig. i don’t care if you’re a monster. ” “ you should be scared of me. i like that you’re not. ” “ don’t you know my love could destroy you? ” “ come, sit in my lap and tell me whose blood i should spill tonight. ”
#MEME ORIGIN. #( if you're a multi please specify! )
✹ — CLASPING JEYNE’S HANDS IN HER OWN, RHAENYS raises them them to kiss them affectionately, and a promise resides in that act, as well. “ i am told that winterfell is beautiful. once it is reclaimed and the banners restored, i would be honored if you showed me parts of the castle. that is to say, when you are ready, of course. ” winterfell has left it scars upon poor jeyne, and rhaenys does not mean to add to them so soon. the castle’s memory must firstly be healed, along with jeyne’s. “ and perhaps i shall show you sunspear one day, or the water gardens. you could never imagine warmer air and cooler waters, sweet jeyne. you would love it. ”
THE AFFECTIONATE GESTURE causes jeyne’s eyes to pool, and she nods her head a little more. “if you would like,” she says. her return to winterfell had had her confined to a tower room. it had not been home, even then. there had been no sansa, no robb and jon in the yard at play; theon had been there, but he had been as changed as she – perhaps more. would she have recognized him if she had not been told to ?? “the thought of going south again does frighten me some. the last time.. it was the end of everything.”
#dracharenae #THREAD: JEYNE & RHAENYS (dracharenae) #VERSE: BROWN NOT GREY
❇ —JEYNE IS RIGHT. SHE’S SAFE HERE NOW, under his eye and his guard. the night watch’s loyalty has been tested and he could never fully entrust them with her now, but the wildlings are another case. she could be no safer here, at least until he reclaimed winterfell. it would be a haunted and cursed place for a time, bearing the ghosts of what was done to her and to his family. but he must reclaim it, all the same. “ i can’t undo what happened to you, jeyne, but i can avenge you, ” he says. avenge her, avenge his brothers, his sisters, his father. winterfell does not belong to the flayed man; it is a house of direwolves. with a hum, jon reaches or her hand. “ i kept your letter. ”
HER LETTER ?? it had been written of childish love that had never quite faded, even through all the darkness. jeyne had had thoughts of jon to keep her warm when she would need to leave the moment and wrap herself up in a memory to endure the present. her brown eyes fall down to their hands, she gives his a small squeeze in response. “though we were different people when i gave it to you, i do still mean every word that i wrote.”
#vivitanima #THREAD: JEYNE & JON ( vivitanima) #VERSE: BROWN NOT GREY #( HERPES WHAT HERPES I DONT SEE ANY HERPES!!! ) #( NOTHING TO SEE THERE!!! )
✹ — TO SAY THAT RHAENYS IS PROUD OF JAYNE would be an understatement. when she first arrived to the wall, she had been a tender and fractured creature, and time has been kind in slowly piecing her together again. upon first sight, rhaenys had recognized the horror and sadness burrowed deep in those lovely brown eyes. now her eyes are warmer - still wary, though rhaenys expects she shall always be this way; guarded of herself, mind and body. yet despite the horrors she has endured, jayne claims ownership of her actions, and of herself. for her hands raise to cup rhaenys’ cheeks, the kiss continuous and gentle. there is certainty in the way their lips mold together than swells rhaenys’ chest with a deep and fierce warmth. although jayne disagrees, rhaenys believes her to be one of the strongest individuals she has ever met.
her lips are soft and taste of bread and porridge, but rhaenys finds them utterly wonderful. they mold finely to her own, though neither do anything to progress the kiss further, and she is content this way. when they break for air, jeyne kisses her again, this time so softly, and presses her forehead to hers. eyes closing, rhaenys folds her hands over jeyne’s and basks pleasantly in the moment for as long as she can. the fire warms them even as terrible chills try to slither through the walls, but rhaenys has never felt warmer being so close to her. each others’ breathing is quieted, almost syncing together.
eventually, rhaenys must open her eyes to take in the sweet expression of jeyne’s. although content, rhaenys sees that jeyne also has a deep furrow in her brow and her eyes are distant; not faraway, per say, but rhaenys fears she shall travel far and to dark places. so, rhaenys kisses jeyne’s forehead, and squeezes her hands. “ i’m here, jeyne. sweet jeyne. i won’t go anywhere, ” she says, in a voice scarcely above a whisper, and yet as a fierce promise.
HER EYES CLOSE AS RHAENYS presses a kiss to her forehead. she sighs softly, letting the breath fill her and release; letting whatever tension might have arisen back into her shoulders fall with her breath. and when she opens her eyes – big and brown and perhaps perpetually sad – she does so nod her head at the promise. “please,” she says softly and takes rhaenys’ hands in her own. “please stay, rhaenys.”
THE PROMISE IS ENOUGH, the kiss had been enough, but jeyne must hear herself ask the words all the same. she must make known that she needs rhaenys there; that she wants her there. jeyne’s capacity to be touched came less with her shrinking away as time passed. she knows that rhaenys and jon and all those around her are not ramsay or the men in the brothels or – or – they will not hurt her.
SAFE, she thinks to herself, i am safe now. with rhaenys, i am safe. jeyne squeezes her hands a bit tighter and lifts them so that she might press a kiss to rhaenys’ knuckles. her head continues to nod, small, reaffirming herself to these truths.
Jeyne’s is the only touch he can bear. Jeyne is the only person he can bear to touch. He is completely attune to her, to his detriment. He feels her shiver and quake inside as her head is pressed against his. Tears claw at his throat as her words lash him. He did promise. He promised he would be right beside her. But hadn’t she learned the promises of a Turncloak are meaningless? Hadn’t she learned that there were no true heroes? As her trembling hands cup his face, he feels his rotten heart break.
He bows his head. He doesn’t want to leave her. He continues to repeat “Jon will protect you.” but will he? Will he? No one cares about Jeyne, perhaps least of all the brother who will be desperate to see little Arya’s face. Even he remembered Asha’s face this time. Jon is certain to remember his sister’s face, in spite of the years apart. But it won’t do to upset her. He’s allowing his mind to fracture with fear. He has to keep steady. He has to reassure her.
“If he is angry, he won’t be angry at you. And you can tell him about his brothers. That will calm him.” Jeyne was the only one who knew about the miller’s boys. He hasn’t told Stannis. What is the point? He wouldn’t believe him. It would be dismissed as mad ravings or an attempt to save himself. And the fact that Bran and Rickon were alive didn’t erase the blood spilt, the burned bodies hanging… He shrank back from her. Some things hurt more than Ramsay’s flaying knife. Being Theon hurt more.
“Will you stay with me? Until it is time?” He wasn’t sure if he meant until it was time for his execution or until it was time for Jeyne to leave. He didn’t know Stannis’ plans. But Jeyne being here with him was a comfort he had not thought to have again. The comfort of being with someone kind.
WHEN THEON MOVES FROM HER TOUCH, jeyne pulls her hands back to rub her tearstained cheeks with the heels of her palms; it is useless. she had not stopped crying since her wedding night, perhaps earlier – she had not stopped crying since her last night in the red keep, tucked away in sansa stark’s arms as if her once treasured friend had been able to save her from every horror she had faced since.
TO THINK THAT THEON could save her too was a little girl’s dream, but jeyne’s clinging to hope is the one thing that had guaranteed her survival thus far. losing theon is the one thing that threatens to shatter what remains of that hope, already fragile pieces all but dust now. jeyne had begged him to save her at the start, to run away together and be safe. nowhere is safe.
STILL SHE NODS, small affirmations. she will tell jon snow about bran and rickon; she will tell him of how theon had saved her, and hope that with him the hurts of the world will touch her less. she reaches for theon’s hands, careful around the fingers that still remain, and lifts her big, sad eyes to look at him. “i will not leave you,” she says, until i am forced to; until i lose my choice again. jeyne smiles, though it is but a ghost of her once pretty smile – though her teeth are still straight and white, her happiness does not linger – and she nods. “i promise you.”
#saltxwolf #THREAD: JEYNE & THEON (saltxwolf) #( the FEELINGS I WAS HIT WITH logging back onto this!!! #i'm good to continue #and to start something new whatever works tbh! #i hope you're well also <3 ) #QUEUE.
the sun will never set upon her happiness. it had dawned the moment the prince had smiled at her and it will remain shining as long as they are together, which, if the gods are kind, will be for a very long time. ❝ we shall have our pick of the most talented and handsome singers IN ALL THE REALM! perhaps even from essos as well. ❞ it’s all but impossible to bring any singer to winterfell, and her father hardly makes an effort to invite many despite her pleadings. ❝ yes !! think of how HANDSOME the prince looks in armor. i bet he wears golden armor that shines in the sun ❞
THEIR JOURNEY SOUTH sounds like a dream to jeyne. she has never been so excited for anything in all her young life. “oh, i am sure he looks just as his uncle, the kingslayer, does – only younger and far prettier.” jeyne giggles and looks at her friend. “do you suppose his father was handsome once too? he must have been, mustn’t he have? queen cersei is so lovely after all. it seems a shame that she must be married to such a fat king.”
❇ —JON SMILES. THE BANTER IS ODDLY COMFORTABLE between them, falling into a back and forth that he finds natural. still, when she does mention robb, he feels that familiar ache in his chest; a shadow he lives under, as loving as he might be. robb will have winterfell, and even theon will inherit something, loathe as jon is to admit it. “ robb has poor judge in character. besides, they’ve known each others since they were boys, so robb is far more forgiving. ” still, even robb sometimes loses patience with theon, though it is a matter jon never has for the ironborn.
“ i’m sorry for speaking so poorly of him, jeyne. i just … i’m not fond of him. ” jon has sharper words set towards theon, but he imagines they would mortify her. so rather he smiles. “ this way. mind your steps. if we’re caught, i suspect we’ll have to run. ”
“YOU ARE ENTITLED TO YOUR OPINIONS,” she tells him, her smile still apparent upon her lips. jeyne is, perhaps, glad that he speaks them to her so frankly. she is interested to see what sorts of thoughts jon snow seems to think; to know why he awakes so early before the rest of the world, or why he would so willingly accompany her to the kitchens when neither of them should be out of bed at all. she finds she might enjoy his company, and perhaps would not have thought these things if she hadn’t awoken so early herself.
jeyne walks with him towards the kitchen doors and stands before it. she feels a nervousness aflutter in her tummy which seems to conflict with her hunger. she glances up at him. “this is it,” she says, dropping her voice to a whisper just in case someone else might actually be in the kitchens before they have a chance to take their berries.
“You are most welcome,” Catelyn says, her smile widening at Jeyne’s excitement. She sends a serving girl to her chambers to fetch her silvered looking glass and a comb, and when she returns, hands the looking glass to Jeyne. “Hold this.” She then positions herself behind Jeyne’s chair and begins taking the pins from the girl’s long, dark hair. “You have such lovely hair, Jeyne,” Catelyn comments as her hands sweep the brown tresses behind Jeyne’s shoulders.
JEYNE TAKES THE LOOKING GLASS AND HOLDS IT UP. she admires herself briefly. perhaps she is not as beautiful as sansa, but she is pretty. and even more so when she smiles at lady catelyn’s complement. “thank you, my lady,” she said and glanced at her briefly in the reflection before her eyes fell back onto the way her fingers braided through her hair. “father says i look very much as my mother had. i suspect she would know how to braid as well, though perhaps not as lovely as you do it.”
❇ —“ YOU’RE ALIVE BECAUSE YOU’RE STRONG. ” JON SHUDDERS as he considers the terrible possibility of ramsay snow claiming her life, one way or another, or if she had been massacred with the rest in king’s landing. her father had been slain that day, hadn’t he ? ? ? he was a good man, though he could never have approved of a bastard holding her hands the way he does now. with a low sound, he holds her cheek with his free hand, gently coaxing her gaze towards his. her eyes are a deep brown, not grey as arya’s were - but the boltons cared for name only, didn’t they ? ? ? - and, all the same, he has missed them fiercely. they are sad eyes now, yet he still sees the remnants of warmth there. “ i wanted to ride with robb when i heard what happened to my father. i could’ve saved you sooner … i hope you can forgive me for that. ”
STRONG ?? ARYA STARK HAD BEEN STRONG, and jeyne had never truly been arya, not really. only by name. they stripped her of EVERYTHING, down to her name. how cruel the world could be !! but now, with jon, she is jeyne poole again – but WHO IS JEYNE POOLE NOW when she has lost everything – when she has been so CHANGED?? “you aren’t at fault for what’s happened to me jon.” she shakes her head. “i cannot forgive you when you are innocent of the crimes. i – i am safe now.” if she says it enough, it will sound true; it will BECOME true, it must !!
#vivitanima #THREAD: JEYNE & JON ( vivitanima) #QUEUE. #VERSE: BROWN NOT GREY
THE FURTHER SOUTH JEYNE SEEMS TO GO, the stranger things seem. prince oberyn had SAVED HER, told her that she would be safe in dorne where they did not hurt little girls ( but all the things jeyne poole has done, she does not feel like a little girl any longer ). her escort is meager, the party which she had gone to king’s landing with had been so large, but it had made the venture tedious with so many rests and other things – it had been wonderful, jeyne thinks, if only i had known.
HER PRESENCE IS EXPLAINED TO PRINCESS ARIANNE, as prince doran is away from sunspear at the water gardens, and jeyne is cleaned and tended to and told that no one will touch her unless she wants them to from now on.
JEYNE TAKES HER TIME BEFORE SHE WANDERS, and she finds herself in the stables where she happens upon one of prince oberyn’s bastard daughters ( she had never needed to have a high opinion of bastards before, but the brothel had changed her opinion; many of the other girls were bastards, and many of them had treated her kindly when the men did not… ), the one, jeyne is sure, is closest to her own age. “do you truly joust??” she asks her, thinking that arya stark would like prince oberyn’s daughters if arya stark were not dead. “i have never seen a woman do it.”