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...
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THE TRAINING YARD WAS far more occupied than normal — full of squires, knights, and guards from all around Westeros. Stelsa shot a glance towards Caspian who stood by her side. His fingers fiddled with the string on his tunic, glancing around at the strangers. It was easier for Stelsa to brush off them as such, but Caspian would have to endure all the glances. "I can tell them you fell ill." Stelsa tried, watching as Caspian's blue eyes glanced towards her. The unease that preened in his gaze seemed to retract at the sound of her voice. He stared at her for a moment longer before he shook his head, Caspian straightened his shoulders and turned his gaze back to the courtyard.
"I will be okay with my protector." Caspian threw out the joke with a small, cheeky smile, though it was humorless. Stelsa tightened her lips in a small smile in return, taking the first step with Caspian trailing behind her.
Rhyk stood with one hand tussling his graying, dark curls. His grin could be seen even from where they stood across the training yard. Stelsa caught sight of her father shifting between his feet, talking with another taller, older man. This man had little hair that was streaked with hints of red from where he stood, directly in the sun. Who was this man? Stelsa glanced over her shoulder at Caspian who shrugged, just as confused as her.
Caspian's lanky form moved closer as he whispered, "They are staring at you." Stelsa blinked, glancing out of the corner of her eye towards the men surrounding them. It reminded Stelsa of a predator stalking its prey — except she was the prey. She internally thanked Caspian for using his tall, lanky body to block her from their gaze. Her eyes briefly caught the dark ones of Dalton Greyjoy who turned to his sparring partner and muttered something she could not hear.
As they drew closer, the duo slowed their steps to eye the man that stood with their uncle and Stelsa's father. His forehead was creased through the years he undoubtedly spent pressing them into his skin — molded by the stress of the realm. He stood at almost equal height of her father, only coming to stand a few inches shorter than him. The dark eyes that belonged to the mysterious male shifted as her father and uncle did, eyeing the two kids as they approached. "Caspian, Stelsa. Meet Elmo Tully. He is an old friend of mine." Her father introduced the mysterious man whose gaze softened, looking over the duo.
Suddenly, Stelsa was trying to imagine this man in his younger years. Where did her father and Elmo become acquainted? Were they close? Stelsa bowed her head towards the male, coming to stand beside her father. "A friend of my father's is a friend of mine." Stelsa greeted, fighting the smile as Elmo's dark eyes glanced between herself and her father.
"You have a daughter?" Elmo sounds breathless in his question. His dark eyes took Stelsa in, eyeing the sword secured at her side. He let out an amused huff, unable to hide his grin. "I should have expected nothing less from you." Elmo comments, glancing towards his old friend. Stelsa noted the twitch of his nose as he contemplated his next words.
