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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Daemon Targaryen was born long before his niece. He was aware of the fact that he lived a life without her – but he couldn't remember it. He couldn't feel the hilt of his sword, nor the moans of the whores he used to visit in Silk Street. He couldn't remember what life was like without her.
He stares at her from across the garden, feeling heat radiate off his body. His niece used to be a child, but now that she was a woman-grown – his heart couldn't help but mellow at her tune. Her lips were thin and pink, eyes pulsing purple, her mantle was clad in black and red. She was made for him.
"Uncle." the girl opens her mouth to speak, following after him. She was his shadow. Wherever he was – she was sure to follow. "Saera," he states with warmth, turning around to face his little niece. "It is a fine day, is it not?" she questions, attempting to spark small-talk. "It is fine because of you, my dear." he was quick to retort, hands reaching to cup her face.
His beautiful girl.
There was a moment's silence, Saera found herself clamoring to stand beside her uncle. "Did you come here to pester me about the day?" he inquired playfully, hands placed behind his back and walking slowly along the garden. "My father has forbidden me to ride Melarys. I was hoping that you could talk some sense into him." she rested her lips, stopping for a while once she noticed that he stopped walking.
"The trick, my dear, is to not ask for his permission." he winks, hands placed around the small of her waist. Daemon Targaryen was conniving, intimidating and cunty – but when he was around his little niece. He felt weak on his knees. "You want me to become a rebel against my father's orders?" she raised an eyebrow. He shrugged.
He knew for certain that Saera was perfect – obedient and chaste, but it wouldn't save her. She needed to grow thick skin in order to survive their home. "Do what you wish, Saera. I won't stop you." he pondered.
She pauses for a while, thinking about his advice.
"Come with me, Daemon."
—-
They both halted in front of the Dragonpit. Saera's eyes were shining with happiness, Daemon couldn't dare steal it away. "Let's race from here to your keep." he offered, lifting his arms to pet Caraxes. "Why do you arrange a match to lose?" she taunted, doing the same with Melarys.
Her dragon was a beautiful thing. Its wings and scales were pale white. Melarys was the smallest dragon in the Targaryen's roster. Whatever she lacked in scale was made up for with her speed. Melarys was fast, a mere man wouldn't be able to spot her once she flew – but the sound of her whistle always gave her spot away.
"I will not lose, Saera." he defended himself, watching as the dragon keepers saddled the dragons. She rolled her eyes at his statement. "Are you rolling your eyes at me?" he opened his mouth, her lips turned upwards into a smile. "I'm not." she lied, looking away from him.
"Fine, as proof of my seriousness – the winner gets to have something." he laid out, but his plan was already etched weeks in advance. He's been meaning to give her this gift, and now was the perfect time. "Kepus, I don't even worry of what I'll give to you if you ever win. I know for certain that I will." she said in a cocky tone.
He stares at her, a soft smile painted on his lips.
"If you are that certain, give your old man a head start." he chuckled, patting Caraxes gently – prompting the dragon to lift off the ground. His dragon exits the dragon keep. He stared back, watching Saera's figure slowly get smaller and smaller.
He was alone in the skies for the first five minutes. Daemon smiled, feeling victory. 'Finally, for once in my entire fucking life – I'm able to win against Melarys.' he thought to himself, enjoying the pale blue sky in front of him – wind blowing against his hair.
Five minutes turned into ten.
And then he hears whistling.
"Fucking cunt." he mumbled, feeling the whistling move past him. It was Saera – who already bested him another mile. His lips were pressed into a thin line, Caraxes roared underneath him. He leans closer to his dragon. "Everytime, Caraxes." he whispered and the dragon roared once more.
"You always let your mate win." he grumbled and Caraxes moved a little faster. But the dragon's efforts were wasted, because Melarys had already landed at the finish-line. Daemon fishes for the necklace inside his pockets. He sees the grassy fields at the sides of his eyes.
His eyes were blurred, a sign of his old age. Even if he was blind, he could still see her body – even when deaf, could hear her voice – even when dead, could be brought to life by her. He sees a small dot in the middle of the field. It was Saera and she was unamused with his defeat.
Caraxes landed strongly, his claws creating horizontal lines on the grass. She looks up at him. He still couldn't see her properly. "You lose again, uncle." she taunted with a soft smirk, her hands were crossed, eyes giddy with excitement at the possibility of her uncle giving her another gift.
"I intended for that to happen." he argued while descending from his dragon. He was able to see her face now. "I'm sure you did." she snarks while walking closer, chest almost colliding with her uncle. "Now, it's time for my prize." she reminded.
Daemon acted like he was disappointed. A childish show of endearment. "Close your eyes," he commanded. "And hold out your palms." he ordered and she complied obediently. Saera was spoiled by him. He used to give her the most exotic presents, a scarf from the Kingdom of Leng, and jade tiara made by the finest jewelers were examples of his devotion to her.
She holds out her arms in anticipation. A smile couldn't be eased off her lips. He holds her hand, dropping the Valyrian necklace safely on her soft palms. She opens her eyes without his instruction. Saera gasps at the beauty of his gift. "Kepus." she whispers softly, "I cannot possibly receive this." she declines trying to put the necklace back on his hands.
"It was made for you, my dragon." he started. "Do you know what it is made of?" he inquired, testing her knowledge with metals. "Valyrian steel, but I don't understand – why are some parts of it red?" she questioned curiously, she raised her head staring at him with doe eyes. "It is made of my blood, now turn around." he commanded again, taking the necklace off her hands.
She turns around, whisking her hair away from her nape. "It is beautiful, I'll never take it off." she exaggerates, feeling the cold metal touch her neck. His hands were warm while he clasped the necklace together. Tugging on it softly to ensure that it won't be taken off. "I wouldn't want you taking it off," he asserted while pressing a soft kiss on the back of her head.
She turns right back around, eyes meeting his own. Her fingers found itself playing with the chain around the necklace. Daemon found it beautiful, like a babe teething off her mother's fingers. "Thank you, kepus. If I had known, I would've given you ten more minutes." she chuckled while wrapping her arms around him. He welcomed her embrace. Finding her warmth quenching his cold.
