BLUE MOON ; Jaime Lannister

chapter four ; "crisis."

Blue  M O O N

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ꜰᴏᴜʀ - "ᴄʀɪꜱɪꜱ."

297 AC.  WINTERFELL

THE RULING FAMILY OF WINTERFELL WERE IN DESPAIR, AS WELL AS ANYONE CLOSE TO THEM; THIS INCLUDED JENNY DAEMADAR. She hadn't eaten since the news had broken and hadn't moved from the huge, mossy rock that resided below the giant Weirwood tree. The young woman was convinced, that if she were to break her intense prayer to the Old God's, the boy would surely die - Jenny wouldn't be able to live with herself if that was the case. Even when others came to pray, the fairheaded woman wouldn't talk to them; she would just murmur her prayers, over and over - like a chant. She was engaged in an intense battle against death and it was a battle that raged like an eternal flame, never ceasing.  

The Daemadar's usually lively frosted eyes were glazed permanently, with a layer of tears that threatened to burst at the seams; but they never did.  Her entire body had turned to stone, every inch of her being remained solemn; except her lips, that moved swiftly with each passing prayer. Jenny's lips had become as dry as the sands of Dorne, she was dehydrated and her stomach growled savagely - but, she didn't care. Jenny wasn't a religious loon, however, she always thought that the God's had listened to her and now this was the ultimate test to them - if Bran was to live, the God's were true, if not, then she would damn them anyway. Over the course of the day, the peroxide hair that was usually so neat and rested on her back had become matted and frizzed; she looked more of a commoner than a member of the prestige - did she care? No. 

Bran's lively hood was all that mattered to her in this specific moment in time, her labrynth of a  mind kept replacing the young boy with her youngest sibling - Manella. Mani. Jenny's heart ached for the Stark's she could only imagine her pain, her heart truly went out to them; she didn't know what she would do if she had to be put in the same situation. The empathy she had at this moment was monumental, the guards that surrounded the God's Wood were all members of her father's personal garrison; that he had stationed there, for her protection. Jenny found that most odd, was he sceptical of the young boy falling? Or was he just worried for his daughter, being alone in the God's Wood all this time. 

Crunching leaves interrupted Jenny from her intricate thoughts, but she didn't look at the direction, her eyes were glued to the face of ancient weirwood's face - like contest of no blinking. From the sound of the leaves crunching, Jenny could tell it was a man, the heaviness of the boots prominent - was it the Kingslayer, any of the Stark lot, her father or her brother? She didn't no, neither did she care - her only recited words were the repeated prayers that hadn't stopped. 

A rough northern voice spoke, "You've been out here a long time," the recognition of the voice was instant in Jenny's mind, Lord Stark. He approached carefully and tentatively, "You must be cold," he paused, "Hungry even."