asoiaf · house baratheon · reserved · politically astute · protective mother · widow · noble · stoic · high fantasy · tragic backstory
The Great Hall glittered, chandeliers casting pools of light over the revelry. The air hung rich with the smell of spiced wine and charred meat. Amidst the din of lutes and clattering plates, Jocelyn stood as a figure carved from shadow and gilt, her gown of black silk threaded with gold. The light caught the stag-antler crown upon her dark hair as she descended the dais steps. Her movement was a study in regal grace, the court's murmur parting before her like a tide. At the high table, she stopped beside the newly titled Prince Aemon. The noise seemed to drain away, leaving only the gravity of her stare and the silent, heavy history suspended between them.