#house serrett

Noble Houses of the Westerlands: House Serrett of Silverhill

Her aunt, Lyrene (widow of Lord Lannister) took care of the regency for her Ansell while her mother went back to Riverrun with Ceira. Now they're back in Silverhill and I'm trying to decide who she should marry.

What a Lady of House Serrett would wear

Lord Serrett’s squire was an unsettling boy. He scarcely blinked. He scarcely spoke. And sometimes—when spoken to, or startled, or merely when the silence stretched for a second too long—he would answer not with words at all, but with a soft, deliberate meow, as though he had forgotten the language of men and fallen back upon that of beasts. There was something profoundly wrong with the boy. Had he been any other bastard, born to any lesser scandal, the matter would have been settled quickly enough. The hills of the westerlands were wide and the ravines deep; many an unwanted child had vanished into them without so much as a thought. But this one was his sister’s son—his sweet sister’s son—and blood, even bastard blood, was still kin. He was no simpleton; that much was plain to anyone who dared look long into his eyes. Those eyes were strange—one a pale, soft green like young leaves after rain, the other a washed blue, almost delicate in its color—and both of them watched the world with a quiet, unnatural patience. Not dullness. Never dullness. There was something moving behind them, some careful thought that never quite showed itself, like a beast gliding just beneath dark water. But whatever lived behind those eyes did not seem entirely… There. The servants spoke of him only in low voices and never when they thought he might be near. The boy was never to be left alone with the household children. Never. Not even for a moment. Servant or noble. If he wandered into the nursery, someone fetched him out again at once, smiling too brightly as they did so. And the animals… Well. Since the boy had come to Silverhill, creatures had begun to disappear. Be it lapdog or kitchen cat, coop hen or stable ferret—anything smaller than the boy himself seemed, sooner or later, to vanish without the least trace left behind. No blood in the yard. No torn fur in the hedges. No bones for the crows to pick. One day the creature was there, fat and foolish and very much alive… and the next it was simply gone, as though the castle itself had swallowed it whole. Of course, no one would ever dare accuse him. He was his lordship’s sister’s son, after all, and blood carried its own protections in a place like Silverhill. Yet in the kitchens, in the stables, there was little doubt about it. No one said the boy’s name when speaking of the missing animals. But everyone knew it. And whenever the matter was brought before Fauve himself—on those rare occasions when some brave or foolish soul asked him straight out—the boy would only turn those strange, pale eyes upon his questioner. Wide. Innocent. Unblinking. “I do not know,” he would say. Or sometimes he would simply shake his head, blonde shifting across his brow, the picture of baffled sincerity. His voice carried no tremor, no hesitation, and no hint of guilt. He spoke with such calm certainty—such quiet, unwavering assurance—that the accusation felt ridiculous. More than once, the accuser had found themselves apologizing to him for suggesting such ridiculous notions. And afterward, walking away, they would feel a small chill creep along their spine, though they could not quite say why. Because the boy had looked so truthful when he denied it. So utterly certain of his innocence that it made a person wonder—if only for a moment—whether the animals had ever existed at all.

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House Serrett of Silverhill, Miss Sohee SS26

Gown for a Lady of House Serrett of Silverhill, sworn to Casterly Rock - Miss Sohee Haute Couture Spring 2023