The life of Saera Targaryen told in four acts.
She was her father's forgotten daughter, cast aside as she looked nothing like her mother. Her younger days were spent beside her uncle. Years following her marriage with Ser Harwin Strong, she catches...
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The battle proved to be one worthy of songs. Daemon fought alongside the Velaryons armed with nothing but his wits and beloved Dark Sister. He was beautiful in the prickling heat - glowing with Valryian prowess.
"You intend to use my dragon, my prince?" Laenor shifted uncomfortably, but it was a plan that would happen nonetheless. "I was sent here to end the war, and end the war I will do." the prince responded coldly, his mind somewhere else. He worried about his Saera - how scared she must be.
—
Daemon was vengeful - easy to anger and slow to forgive. He sits atop the small boat - rowing in small circles, seeing the island on the horizon. He rowed his boat in a steady rhythm - mind placed upon the people he was fighting this war for; Saera, his baby niece and one true love. Viserys, his brother who didn't believe him and Aemma - his sister.
The Triarchy will know no god - none other than him and the inferno he was about to bring. He smiles, hearing his dragon roar in the distance. The Stranger knows him by name - the Father prays for his death, and the Smith tries to mend the bonds he's broken. The Seven were afraid of him.
He could see the muddied ground and yellow sand in-front of him. Death was the only thing in his mind. He takes the Dark Sister - wobbling as he adjusted to gravity - he fantasizes the look of blood on his blonde hair, bodies limp around him while he brings honor to the realm.
"I've come to surrender," he screams, waiting for a few seconds to scan his surroundings - they were cautious, he had to give that to them. He places the Dark Sister on his palms, kneeling in he surrender. The Crabfeeder comes out, and starts walking towards him with a smug grin.
He could feel the man's body standing hovering over him, watching him with the thought of victory. Daemon lowers his head, feeling uneasy at the look of a Greyscaled man. The Crabfeeder reaches for his darling sword, and hell breaks loose - like a swift horse, the prince leaps - slicing the man in half.
Wounds and bruises went from blue, red and black - but Daemon could only see red. Red like the blood that would flow like the rivers. Red like the massacre he'll bring unto those that threaten to defeat him.
The man was dead. He knew that. It wasn't enough. It was never enough.
His hands hold unto his sword tightly - even tighter than before. He impales the man with his dark sister, smiling to himself. To his allies, his existence was a sigh of relief - but to his enemies it was a warning. This was the dragon that they needed to be scared of. The madness that was warned.
