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...
"For a childless mother and a motherless child had found ONE ANOTHER THAT NIGHT."
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
STELSA'S FINGERS PLAYED with the edges of the wax seal, her eyes unmoving from the emblem imprinted into it. In the silence of the night and the seclusion of the secret garden, Stelsa had hoped she would recognize what house sigil it belonged to. Perhaps it might be someone still alive. What would it matter though? She found herself questioning as she sighed, lowering the letter down into her lap. Stelsa's gaze shifted over to the box hiding amongst the taller grass. She had left it open, allowing the letters to spill out and decorate the area surrounding the box. It was almost like a trail — tempting her to pick up another letter. "I thought I would find you here." Stelsa glanced over her shoulder to watch as Aemond emerged from the hidden hall. He wore a lazy grin as he crossed the clearing, but his gaze quickly landed on the letters. "What are those?" Aemond questioned as he kneeled down beside her, reaching for the fallen letters.
"Letters. Written to my mother." Stelsa told him as she extended the letter she already read to him, allowing him to quizzically observe the parchment. "Do you have an idea of what house sigil that is?"
Aemond observed the sigil closely. "I do not know of any house that has a dagger for a sigil. Were the letters not signed?" He questioned as he settled in his spot beside her.
"They have been torn." Stelsa confessed as she lifted another letter, peeling it open and pointing out the scarred edges. "It is as though my mother did not want anyone to know these letters existed.... And here I am, reading them." Stelsa sighed as her hands lowered once more.
"Have you asked your father? Your uncle?" Aemond questioned as he handed the letter back to her, choosing to forgo reading it.
Stelsa slipped it back into the small wooden chest.
"My father would not know... nor do I think my uncle would. They were hidden..." Aemond raised a brow at those words making her softly laugh. "It is not my fault. I merely stumbled upon them." Even she knew how ridiculous she sounded as Aemond chuckled at her, causing her own soft laughter to join him.
But it was the truth. Stelsa had found them hidden beneath the roots of the weirwood, waiting to be found by the next passerby. "...Perhaps my mother might have an idea. They were friends once, were they not?" Stelsa stared at the box full of letters as Aemond suggested this.
Her mother and the Queen had once been friends, that sentiment resides in the stories the Queen has affectionately shared during dinners these past few evenings. They had once been inseparable — it was just the Queen, the Heir, and the Lady of the North against the realm. So what had happened to ruin that?
How was it that the Princess had known her true identity but the Queen had not all these years? If they were friends, would the Queen not have protected her as the Princess had when she first arrived? Why had her father been so pressed to keep her from the Queen?
