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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When the news of Rhaenyra's labor reached the ears of the Strongs, they both bolted out of their rooms for different reasons. Saera loved her sister - and couldn't bear the thought of her alone in the birthing bed, while Harwin was excited to meet his child. They halted in front of the Princess' chambers - freezing at the sound of her screams.
"Is she alright?" Saera asks, while settling on the bench outside of the door. "Yes," Alicent replies - sitting beside her daughter.
Harwin Strong was pale - nervous for the safety of his beloved. "She'll be fine," Laenor touches the man's shoulder before bolting inside the room. He was the father, but they didn't know that.
"How long has she been in labor?" the Princess inquires, watching the Queen peel the skin back at her fingers. "Ten hours, she started at dawn." the woman confirmed, trying not to show her fear. Rhaenyra and Alicent were no longer friends - but the affection was still there.
"Gods," Harwin mumbled, finding his place beside his wife.
—
Saera bites back a gasp, exchanging confused glances with Queen Alicent. "He is a handsome young boy." Viserys smiles, holding his grandson with tenderness and love. Even a blind man could see that the child wasn't a Velaryon. Prince Jacaerys had brown hair and brown eyes - Saera has spent two-years with Harwin to know that the babe had his nose and his smile.
Harwin grins from behind his wife, both at them staring at the Prince's face. He was adorable and charming - Saera couldn't find herself hating him. "He is delightful," she cooed, smiling at the sight of the little boy.
"Thank you," Rhaenyra breathed a sigh of relief, exchanging a knowing stare with her lover. "Would you like to hold him?" she offers, but it comes across as teasing.
Saera's lips settled into a thin line.
It wasn't an insult but it sounded like an insult.
"No thank you," she declined, gathering her gown and excusing herself from the room.
—
Harwin enters Saera's separate chamber, he could sense that there was something wrong. His heart jumped out of his chest at the sight of her, arms crossed and with a frown. He was in trouble.
"Good morrow," she greeted, slowly filling her cup with wine. He had the broad shoulders of the Andals, and he was the perfect husband for Viserys' second daughter - but she did not need his protection. Matter of fact, he should protect himself from her.
Rhaenyra was fire and avarice, but her sister was calm as spring. It unnerved him - as he could do anything but it would never anger her. At least not in the way that Rhaenyra would be angered.
"It's a shame that my nephew inherited his grandmother's Baratheon blood," she hummed, looking at his face and seeing it drop with every word that escaped her tongue. " - his face is void of Valyrian blood." she added.
"He is still a dragon," he defended and she raised an eyebrow. "Of course," she looked at the side, taking a sip of her wine.
Saera figures that it was the alcohol that had her speaking of things that she couldn't understand. She takes another sip, sitting on top of her vanity. "I've heard rumors," she began - already regretting her capriciousness.
"Rumors about?" he acted clueless, but that seemed to feed more into her desire for the truth. "Her son looks like you," she pipes - leaving out the fact that she had concrete evidence of his betrayal.
She glances up from her cup to his face.
If he were to admit the affair - then she'd bring forth an agreement. She could have Daemon and he could have Rhaenyra.
"They are efforts to besmirch the crown's reputation. Do not believe them, my wife." he shuts her down, the grip on her goblet tightened - she bites the insides of her cheeks. She knew in that very moment - all of her trust diminished with her husband - even the mere possibility of friendship was impossible. That he would lie to get what he wanted.
"I won't be mad," she gives him a chance to redeem himself, but he begins walking in her direction - wrapping her around his arms. "You are the only woman that I love." he pressed a reluctant kiss on the top of her head. " - that is a promise." he vowed - sealing his fate.
—
Daemon and Saera impatiently walk inside the Maester's chambers. He was never a big fan of Maesters, they were stupid and incompetent. He'd rather fly to Essos and Pentos to get a proper diagnosis. He places a protective arm around her shoulder - twisting the doorknob without knocking. He'd have more decorum if the Maester wasn't the one that killed his sister, Aemma.
"Prince Daemon," the man stands up and he points at his niece. "Princess Saera," the man bows, walking to help them. "I think I'm with a child." she announces bluntly, and the man nods.
Daemon points at a chair and she sits on it.
The Maester hands her a small bowl, "You must pee in it." the man reports, and she pales slightly. "Do I have to?" she stares up at her uncle."How will we know, my princess?" The Maester replies, returning to his paperwork.
Daemon turns to glare at the man, "Do not be curt with the Princess." he gritted his teeth, eyes softening once his gaze returns to Saera. "Kessa, iksan zūgagon sīr. (Yes, I'm afraid so.)" he hums, combing through her hair.
"Skorkydoso kessa gaoman bona? Kessa ao ūndegon ziry? (How will I do that? Will you catch it?)" she joked while rising to her feet. She was happy at the thought of having a child, but the process to know if she was going to - was quite embarrassing.
"Disgusting," he chuckled.
Saera turned to look at the Maester. "We'll be back in an hour," she announces, walking out of the door. "Īlē jāre naejot emagon nyke ūndegon ziry? (You were going to have me catch it)" a faint whisper of Daemon's voice echoed through the halls as they exited the room.
"Bona iksin iā joke, uēpa vala. (That was a joke, old man.)" she huffed, running to the direction of her room.
"Careful, konir sagon ñuha riña iemnȳ hen ao. (that's my child inside of you.)" he warned with a cheeky smirk, knowing that none around him were capable of listening in to their conversation.
—
Saera holds her breath, staring at the bowl and watching the Maester inspect her pee. The man raises his glass, a small formal smile on his lips. "You are with a child, princess - I extend my congratulations to you and Lord Strong." he announces, and her grip on Daemon's hand tightens.
"Thank the seven," she breathes - a smile spreading onto her lips.
