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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Saera sat beside her mother's body - watching as she began her labor. There was blood everywhere, seeping through the sheets and staining the mattress. It was a woman's battlefield, and their chances of surviving were far less than a man at war. "Kostagon nyke dohaeragon? (Can I help?)" she asked while feeling her mother's grip on her hand tighten.
"Umbagon paktot nyke, Saera. (Stay beside me,)" Aemma replied while lifting her head slowly to stare at her daughter's face. Saera looked nothing like her parents. Her cheekbones were supple and full, her lips were round and her eyebrows were straight and thick. She looked like Queen Rhaenys. Her beauty wasn't striking or bold - it was calm.
"Nyke kostagon daor iōragon seeing ao isse ōdres. (I cannot stand seeing you in pain.)" The girl lowered her head, at the same time - a dozen handmaidens entered the room. The Queen's pregnancy was delicate, and her labors were painful - there wasn't much hope that she would survive.
"Iksan daor isse ōdres, Saera. (I am not in pain.)" the Queen tried to release a chuckle but pain flooded her body. She groaned loudly, feeling more blood seep out of her. "Iksā! Rual nyke naejot ivestragon kepa. (You are! Allow me to call my father!)" she beckoned, lips slowly parted as her mother tried pushing again. "No!" Aemma replied in the common-tongue.
"If you are uncomfortable, you are allowed to leave." the Maester replied while slightly parting the Queen's legs. He couldn't see the head of the babe, there was only blood and yellow fluid. "I beg your pardon?" Saera glared at the Maester, continuing to comfort her mother.
Needless to say, she did not like the Maesters from Oldtown - she preferred the midwives that her uncle hired from Pentos and Essos. The council had a lot to say about that - they accused her uncle of treason, that Daemon wanted to kill the Queen with his irresponsibility.
"You shouldn't even be here, Saera. Leave and enjoy the tourney." Aemma tapped his daughter's shoulders impatiently, feeling fear brewing deep within Saera's heart. "I cannot enjoy the tourney when I know that this is happening." she responded and three lines formed atop her forehead. Amongst the sisters, Saera had a soft heart. She was sweet and kind. She worried about everyone before worrying about herself.
"You will meet your sibling in a few hours, but your kepus will only compete today." Aemma tried to convince but her daughter already made up her mind. "Kesan daor henujagon ao, muña. (I will not leave you, mother.)" Saera replied, her hand reached for her necklace - fiddling with it as her anxiety grew.
"You've been here for five hours, my dear. You've comforted me enough." Aemma smiled as more pain coursed through her body. She was in pain - but she managed to think about her daughter first. "I'm not leaving, my queen." Saera asserted while pulling her stool closer, resting her legs and leaning her head into Aemma's shoulder - giving her mother a small embrace.
