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[color=#74C2A8][sup][i]Star of the Sea[/i][/sup][/color][/CENTER][table][row][/row][row][cell][center][sub][sup][sub][h3][b]
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[sub][COLOR=darkgray][b]Age:[/b] 17 (b. 179AC)
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[b]Allegiance:[/b] House Targaryen[/COLOR][/sub]

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Even at seventeen, Shiera Seastar carries herself with the ease of someone long accustomed to being looked at. Her hair is thick and curling, silver-gold as one of Valyrian blood, worn longer perhaps than is entirely practical. Her face is heart-shaped, her lips full, and large mismatched eyes; one dark blue, one bright green, both of them watchful. Those who find reason to disapprove of her call it a defect though, those who have spent any time in her company tend to stop saying so. She favours ivory, lace, and cloth-of-silver, and considers cloth-of-gold too vulgar. At her throat she wears a heavy silver necklace set with alternating star sapphires and emeralds.
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[COLOR=darkgray][b]◼ Notable Skills:[/b] Multi-lingual
[b]◼ Valuables:[/b] library collection
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Lady Serenei of Lys died giving birth to her, and so Shiera came into the world already defined by absence. Serenei had belonged to an ancient but impoverished Valyrian noble family, the last of Aegon the Unworthy's mistresses, and rumours spread quickly that she had practised dark arts, that she was far older than she appeared. Whether Shiera inherited those gifts or simply the suspicion of them, the effect has been much the same.

Of the Great Bastards, she has always stood apart. Daemon was the warrior made flesh, Aegor a man sharpened by grievance, and Brynden something stranger still, pale and quiet and watchful, trusted by few. Shiera was closest to him, having grown up alongside him in the Red Keep when so many of the others were kept away or were too much her elder for any real closeness. They grew to share a love of reading even as their interests diverged, and it was enough, for a long time, to make the Red Keep feel less like a cage.

She was thirteen, perhaps fourteen, the first time she encountered Aegor. He was fully a man grown, with a cold hunger already evident at that age. She had barely exchanged words with him before, and yet the way he regarded her was different, different from Brynden, different from the way other men had begun to look at her, though she could not yet say how. She had not expected him to speak to her, but in the brief conversation that followed she found him less repulsive than the stories Brynden had told, even if she could not deny the darkness in him either.

Over the years, her closeness with Brynden deepened, and many assumed that the two oddities would eventually wed. He proposed it himself for the first time when she was fifteen and she laughed, not unkindly. While he accepted it at the time, he was clear that she would one day change her mind and accept her offer. He has asked more times than she cares to count since. She gives him her bed, although not exclusively, but not her hand, and he has never made peace with the distinction.

She did not expect to see Aegor Rivers again, though she did once more, in early 196 AC. Brynden may have warned her to avoid him, but if nothing else, the refusal to be told what she should or should not do drove her to seek him out and see again what the fuss was all about. Her memories of him held true, for the most part. Whatever passed between them while the kingdom's unity hung in the balance, she did not speak of to anyone, not even to Brynden, though in her youthful petulance she still took pleasure in stirring his jealousies. Neither did Brynden say anything when she returned. The look in his eyes and the tightness of his lips suggested he had much he would have wished to say, though.

Many things would likely be easier had she accepted any of Brynden's offers, particularly now that war has come again to the Seven Kingdoms. But she wants more from life than that, even with a man as singular as Brynden Rivers. She can see clearly what it would require of her, to become smaller than she is. Her aunt Elaena's words return to her often, the counsel of a woman who chose duty over love twice and has not stopped regretting it.

At court Shiera is admired, circled, written about in verse she finds largely unimpressive. Duels have been fought over the right to sit beside her. None of it satisfies her. She is restless in a way that jewels and songs and even Brynden's careful devotion do nothing to ease, and she suspects, though she would not yet say so aloud, that her place, if she has one, lies somewhere the court cannot see from its windows.

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[COLOR=DARKGRAY][INDENT]Few would have approved of Shiera attending the summit at the Twins, yet her aunt Elaena Targaryen found means to circumvent it all in bringing along the pretty young woman. Shiera had wanted to see what she could do away from the capital and intrigue of the Red Keep, wanted to prove that the hours she spent with her nose in books was not for naught. Now she would be given the chance. She attends the summit ostensibly as an observer, possibly as a distraction, but mostly, she attends it in the hopes of finding a path forward and of her own choosing.
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