The Young Usurper

Jocelyn watched her curiously. She was such a fun little doll, wasn't she? She cocked her head, aiming her crossbow at the little tiara tucked into her hair. Sansa seemed to tremble; she enjoyed that.

        The god through back his head and laughed. "You think I am afraid of you, child?" he asked. "I am a god—you cannot kill me child." She was an idiot child, but rather than killing her on the spot—which was something he was more than pron to doing. He decided to toy with her—make her fear him. Then he would most likely kill her. After all—he was a god, he deserved at least some respect. Lightning snapped behind golden hues. 

Her blood boiled as he threw his head back and laughed. How dare this stranger come into her kingdom and speak to her as if she held no power at all? Would he care to see the heads that sat upon the Keep? Those were the men and women who had crossed her; that was where his head would be soon.

"Sister?"

One part of Jocelyn wanted to insist upon the yellow dress; it would make the young girl look quite sallow and why should her simple sister look as lovely? Yet another part wanted everyone to look their best in her court and so she nodded slightly.