|Note: they are censoring her last name.

You had seen your husband kiss her hand, a polite greeting for the queen. But it stirred something in you. You did not like the Queen, you decided as you curtseyed, and greeted her with a polite "Your Grace.". It wasn't jealousy for your husband you knew. It was something more...

You were a Stark wife and mother, you took Ned's name; you were now of fur tippets over your shoulders with an intricate Northern braid draped over it, long wool cloaks with the red thread embroidered in the shape of fallen Weirwood tree leaves. You spent your days inside the Keep, making sure the children did what they needed to do, managing the servants, and keeping the fires warm. This was your role as a Lady Wife. To be dutiful in taking care of the household, and the children. To honor your husband and his legacy.

But you can tell the Queen was different from you. She was not a Baratheon wife and mother, like you expected her to be. You imagined her dressed in yellow and black, with the Stag embroidered on her clothing, as she walked tall and proud, with the fury of the Stormlands in her. But she wasn't what you expected. Instead of meeting Cersei Baratheon, you met Cersei Lanister. Who didn't hold her husband's legacy close to her like you did. She walked proudly with a lion flag flying high above her, and metal lions heads attached to her red gown. She was a Lanister. And that disquieted you. Your family contributed just as much to the Rebellion as the Lanisters had, but never in all your years would you ever expect your house’s sigil next to the Stark Direwolf.

However... you felt as though you weren't being fair to the Queen. It was unbecoming of a Lady to judge one's character without properly knowing them. Just because she wasn't like you did not make her unpleasant. So at the feast, you sat beside her, you in your Nothern fur and her in her Western gold. Her face was pinched in a mix of anger and disgust as she watched the King laugh with serving wenches.