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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Alicent was a beautiful lady - her hair was a light shade of brown, and her eyes were dark pools of honey that one could drown upon. She was always trailing behind Rhaenyra - as one of her closest friends.
"I announce my betrothal to Lady Alicent Hightower, who has brought me comfort in my coldest nights." Viserys smiles, his eyes dripping with sweetness. He truly believed that he was doing the right thing, but in the eyes of his daughters - he was doing it for his own benefit.
Saera's grip on her sister's forearm tightens, the council room erupts in a band of cheers. She was unaffected by Alicent's betrayal - her heart heaved more at the betrayal of her own father. It was the second time Viserys did something without consulting his children.
Rhaenyra's lips settled into a thin line - she wasn't going to make a scene in the middle of a celebration. "Congratulations," Saera broke their shared silence, walking towards Alicent with false-niceties. " - you will make a fine Queen." she complimented but Rhaenyra was able to make out the undertone of her statement.
'You will never be as good as my mother.'
Alicent smiles shyly, and mutters a few words of appreciation. Her eyes darted towards Rhaenyra, her friend, who was now beginning her retreat out of the chambers. Alicent's gaze falters, and her lungs threaten to collapse with the pain that she was feeling. Did she betray her only friend?
"When will the wedding be held?" Saera turned to look at her father, putting on a mask of acceptance around the council-men. The house of the dragon needed to be united - or appear to be united. "Two months after your wedding with Ser Harwin. I do not wish to outshine you, my dear." Viserys smiled, thinking that the wounds between him and his daughter were finally healed.
" - And I assume that Lady Alicent would need time to pick out the details of our wedding." Viserys turned to his betrothed who nodded dutifully. Saera's lips settle into a thin line - when Alicent arrived at court, she had to curtsy to the Princesses - but after her marriage to the King. Will they have to bow to her?
"It has to be perfect, the scrolls speak of your wedding to my lady mother and it was nothing short of a Targaryen celebration." Saera complimented but insulted in a way that only a woman would be able to understand. She stared at Alicent - attempting to pry further inside the lady's personality.
"I would offer my help - but I am currently occupied with planning my own wedding." Saera added, silently excusing herself and leaving the corridors.
—
Saera quickly found herself inside her chambers - flipping through the dozens of letters she created for her uncle, not one of them were able to make it into Daemon's hands. "You were not able to go to Stepstones, my princess?" Mysaria asked, shocked at the appearance of her lady.
"Ser Harwin found me - and I'm sure the dragon keepers were able to hear, they have barred Melarys." she answered with disdain, hiding the bands of letters underneath her desk. She hasn't seen Mysaria in a day - the woman took her leave to fulfill duties in Flea-Bottom.
Mysaria walks forward, helping Saera hide the remaining letters. "There are other ways, my princess - Lady Leila has offered her help." the woman informed but the Princess' rolled her eyes. "I do not trust Leila right now, not when she and her husband have begun staying at the same chambers again." she mumbled, pulling the chair and settling herself on the desk.
Leila wouldn't betray her willingly - but after a few cups of wine, even a child could get the truth out of her.
"I fear I'm not doing enough to inform Daemon." Saera sighed, burying her face in her palms. She felt like a failure incapable of protecting herself. "There is only so much that a princess can do." Mysaria comforts by pouring Saera a goblet of wine.
"I can do more, trust me. But I don't know how." she huffed, feeling frustrated with herself. Mysaria takes a deep breath, placing the cup beside the Princess. "I will send him the letter - but promise me not to ask any questions." the woman caved, and Saera's ears perked up.
"You will do that for me? But I don't want you using your 'clients' as a method." Saera rose to her full posture. Mysaria shakes her head, "No questions, my princess." the woman smiles. "Alright then, but please inform him." she pleaded, holding unto Mysaria's soft and delicate fingers.
—
Daemon stood in the middle of the tent surrounded by the loyal men of Driftmark. In his week-long stay in the battlefield, he has earned the respect of Lord Corlys' - a feat that he found surprising. He plays with the ring on his finger, the Valyrian ring that matched his niece's necklace. He's been thinking about her - she's the only thing that he thinks of, apart from war.
"We cannot utilize Caraxes - the Crabfeeder will spot him from miles away. The Free-Cities have weapons that can slay dragons - and we cannot lose mine." he asserted, pointing at the map in front of him. "We cannot build trenches as we are covered in sea. What do you suggest, Lord Corlys?" Daemon stared at the older man, watching as he tried to analyze the map.
"They must be threatened out of their holdfast. The island is dangerous, they will see our boats and dragons from miles away, our men cannot land and they do not want to escape." Lord Corlys stated the obvious.
"And how do we do that?" Daemon asked, staring intensely at the map. They were able to take a hold of the island a few days ago, and he earned burned marks and injuries that would take forever to fade away. The island was easily retaken due to the lack of men that Viserys sent. It was a losing game, but Daemon liked turning the tides when he was about to lose.
A squire enters the tent - there was sweat dripping down his forehead. "What?" Daemon turned his head sharply, glaring at the man who entered the tent without permission. "T-there's a letter for you, my prince." the man bows his head, and with a shaking hand - he reaches for his pocket, taking out the stained papyrus.
"Who is it from?" he asked, opening the papyrus cautiously. He was prepared for a flurry of insults coming from his brother. "Mysaria, my lord." the man answers, his eyebrows raised in intrigue. Mysaria was a whore he used to visit before Saera was born - he wanted pleasure, and she needed gold. He willingly provided it. Mysaria was tasked to protect his baby niece, and he prayed that she did a good job.
His eyes browse against Saera's beautiful writing. "If you will excuse me," he turned to Corlys and the man granted him leave. He walks out of the tent, bringing the paper to his nose - smelling scents of Saera's perfume. It smelled like flowers and vanilla. He missed her.
Kepus, I write to you because kepa has engaged me to Ser Harwin Strong. I do not wish to wed him and I promise to do my best and make sure that I never will. I long for you, and I pray for your return. Your niece.
He reads through her neat handwriting, every word lodged on his throat. He was about to clench his fists, but he prevented himself in an effort to make sure that the paper remained straight.
"Laenor," he called out to the boy who was peeing on a bush. Laenor quickly zips himself up, running towards Daemon who was beginning to fold the paper neatly. "How is Seasmoke faring nowadays?" he inquired in a cold tone, with a plan already brewing inside his mind.
