Stelsa, the girl crafted from the broken leftovers from the Gods, is far from the expectations of a normal lady. Her father, Aaeron Meryls, and her uncles sought to train her in the way of the blade. Many whisper about her origin - is she bastard li...
"The she-dragon would burn anyone who dared, she would burn entire kingdoms to the ground if something were to ever happen TO HER PRECIOUS CHILDREN."
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THE NEEDLE PRICKED STELSA'S skin for the hundredth time that morning, or so the girl felt. Why must she learn such a tedious skill anyways? Stelsa glanced over at Heleana who sewed away, her fingers delicately weaving the silk as though it was second nature for her. Heleana could be the sewer, Stelsa did not mind. If it meant Stelsa could partake more in activities she truly enjoyed, she did not mind Heleana being gifted in this area for the both of them. Stelsa heard the sounds of laughter outside the window. The girl pulled herself from the seat she occupied to walk over to the open window. Peering out, she noticed the princes walking in the courtyard below. Aegon led the pack of princes with Jace and Luke flanking each side of him – Aemond trailed behind them. Stelsa pushed her palms against the window ledge to take a closer look. The other boys were laughing, but Aemond remained as quiet as a mouse behind them.
"...You should have seen your face, Aemond!" Aegon chortled, throwing his head back and laughing more at the thought. Stelsa watched as Jace snorted and Luke smiled ear to ear. The princes disappeared inside before Stelsa could overhear anymore, but she had heard enough. Stelsa moved from the window and turned to Heleana who had yet to look up from her sewing.
"I believe it is nearing time for dinner." Stelsa spoke softly towards Heleana. The Targaryen princess looked up and blinked before smiling at her dear friend - almost as though she had been pulled from a dreamland, "I shall see you tomorrow." Stelsa smiled back at her friend who nodded wordlessly, watching as the smaller girl scampered off.
It did not take long for Stelsa to enter the quarters. Her father was not back yet, but Harwin was there. He sat near the fire, stirring something in the pot and cleaning his sword, "How was the princess, little wolf?" Harwin greeted her as she came to sit in the spare chair beside him.
"Much better at sewing than I." Stelsa huffed, holding up her hand to show the hundreds of pricks on her skin. Harwin chuckled at that, watching as the girl placed her hand back on her lap and slouched. Her eyes stared at the flames of the fire, watching them dance.
Harwin noted the faraway gaze instantly. It was one he had come to know from her father, and it would appear Stelsa had inherited it as well, "What is on your mind, little wolf?" Harwin asked, shifting his gaze back to his sword.
"Why are the boys so cruel to Aemond?" She questioned, glancing over at her uncle, "He has Targaryen blood coursing through him just as they do. He could claim a dragon any day." Stelsa waved her hand in the air.
To say he was surprised would be an understatement. Harwin did not think Stelsa was friends with Aemond. She did not hang around him at parties or engage him outside of them. Why the sudden interest? The boys had always teased Aemond, much to Harwin's guidance not to. Harwin shakes that thought away and meets her gaze, "I believe the princes believe they are above Aemond, because they have dragons and he does not." Harwin explained, setting his blade down so he could give the girl his full attention. He had questions now too.
