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...
"It was not the Gods who ruled the land, IT WAS TARGARYENS."
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
THERE WAS A STILLNESS in the air as Stelsa and the Princes exited the carriage that had carried them from the Dragon Pit — the Red Keep seemed much larger than Stelsa had ever believed it to be. The gates were quick to open and Stelsa looked down, watching as Ser Criston Cole stepped from inside. His gold cloak swooshed with every step he took, coming to stand before the large gates as though he was their sworn protector. "My Princes, Lady Stark." The knight greeted them with a quick bow, offering his respect for them.
Each of them.
Stelsa blinked, causing Cole to look at her. "I hope that was as odd to say as it was to hear from you." Stelsa told him, causing a small grin to form on his lips.
"I see your wit still remains, my lady." Cole offered in return, it was not much but Stelsa appreciated his attempt. She knew upon her return that things would not be the same, but that young girl in her wished to cling to the little parts as much as she could. "The Northern colors suit you." He complimented, shooting a glance at the dress she had chosen before departing early in the morning.
It was not a color that represented her House, but Stelsa felt like it resembled her home closely. The shoulders were wrapped in the smallest amount of white fur, hinting towards the full cloak she had worn for so long. It was joined by tiny jewels that cascaded down and around her chest and torso — reminding her of falling snow when the light catches it just right. Her sleeves were made of a see through fabric, allowing her to breathe as she returned to the warmer climate of Kings Landing. The color of the dress was the lightest shade of blue she had ever worn. It blended in between pieces of light gray to symbolize her House color.
Stelsa desired to represent her home in every way she could. She had never been a dress lady, but found herself embracing it for the sake of her people.
"I must agree with you, Ser Cole." Stelsa mused, her lips lifting up into a small smile as he stepped aside for them to enter.
"The Queen will wish to see you two immediately. As will the Council." Cole told them as they began to embark inside. Stelsa found her lips tightening the moment they entered the Keep's doors, her fingers pressed into Aemond's arm that had found its home entangling in hers.
Stelsa looked around the high ceilings she had known her whole life, yet felt like they would swallow her whole any minute. She had never felt so small. Life had been so different before her time away. Yet, Stelsa caught sight of the sigil that hung high and found her breath almost catching. She knew that sigil had not been there when she left.
The sigil of the Seven.
It almost seemed to laugh at the group as they passed beneath it, climbing the stairs and past the other bystanders. Stelsa wished she could say she found some source of comfort in it, but she did not. How could she? Aba and Dyana frequently prayed to the Gods but Stelsa did not. It was not something that comforted her like it did for them. Her father had not raised her under its belief. To see it hanging above her gave her a feeling she could not quite describe.
