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 two preened like lions atop a rock — overlooking the land that they NOW CLAIMED AS THEIR OWN."
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STELSA SAT IN THE WARM sun, basking beneath its rays in content. "I know you can shoot better than that." Her voice resonated through the empty training yard, save for herself and the increasingly frustrated prince before her. Stelsa's eyes never strayed from Aemond's form from where she sat atop a barrel, legs swinging mindlessly in the space between the ground and her feet. Aemond looked over his shoulder at her making a small smirk tug at the corner of her lips — his nostrils flared before he swung his head back and lifted the bow once more.
His shoulders drew back, causing his spine to straighten more than Stelsa thought it ever could. Trust her, she has seen him at parties and always questioned how his spine remained so straight while sitting. Aemond's platinum hair whisked back dramatically, dangling down his back. It was not nearly as long as hers but it was getting there. However, it lacked the unruly curls that Heleana dealt with. As did Aegon before he chopped his hair off. Stelsa watched his shoulders lift in a breath before he exhaled and released the arrow — yet it barely hit the hay before them. Aemond stomped over, pulling the arrow from the hay with a huff. "I do not need to do this. I ride a dragon who breathes fire, why would I need to master the bow?" Aemond grumbled beneath his breath, but Stelsa heard him and could not stop herself from giggling.
"I never knew Aemond Targaryen to be a quitter." Aemond's head snapped back to look at her, glaring his purple eye in her direction as she smiled from ear to ear.
"I am not." Aemond said pointedly, lips pulling into a tight line as he pulled the last arrow free. He turned back to her, clutching the bundle of arrows in one hand and the bow in the other. Stelsa raised a brow and leaned forward, resting her hands on her knees as she did so. She tilted her head, letting the loose strands of hair tickle her face.
"What if one day you are in battle and the only weapon you can use to save someone's life is a bow? What will you do then, my prince? Aim and hope it hits?" Stelsa mused, watching Aemond roll his violet eye at her.
"That will not happen." Aemond grumbled, placing the arrows down on the barrel near him. Stelsa leaned back and sat straight, legs coming to a stand still against the wood.
"It could!" Stelsa challenged in an exasperated tone, waving her hands in emphasis. The prince raised his brow now, eyeing Stelsa carefully like he was considering her hypothetical.
"You dramatize." Aemond reaffirmed his answer after a moment, striding forward to stand closer to Stelsa.
The girl placed a hand against her chest as though she had been shot. Someone else must have shot her because Aemond would have missed, Stelsa thought. "I am simply offering you my expertise, my Prince." Stelsa gasped out, watching him smirk and slowly shake his head at her.
"Expertise of what? Foolery?" Aemond shot back, lips curled into a tight smile as Stelsa fixed a glare towards him. "Let us see what you can do, pest." Aemond challenged, holding the bow out for Stelsa to take. She jumped from the barrel, taking a few quick strides to grab the corner of the bow from the Prince.
