King of the Narrow Sea. A moniker fitting of the man who ended the war in the Stepstones. Daemon holds all the credit, even if it was not his actions alone that ended the war. Saerra, as always, is pushed to the sidelines and barely even seen as a respected name to be held with such grace and importance. She watches as Daemon takes all the credit and basks in the glory of celebration. She was the one who stood with him and fought for years. She was the one who pushed for herself to be in the fight. She was the one who fought on that beach as well, and trimmed his blood-soaked hair in the aftermath. Where is her reward? Where is her honor?
For months, Saerra is viewed as nothing more than Daemon's whore. Her quiet and dutiful nature makes it ever so easy for her to be cast aside. Her temper is not as ill-fated as the Rogue Prince, but her frustrations fester and bubble up inside. She is eternally grateful to Daemon for giving her the life she now has, but cannot, in good faith, continue being treated this way. She spent an entire lifetime being no one, and will not allow the King of the Narrow Sea to subject her to the same fate.
On their way back to King's Landing, Daemon flies Caraxes down to one of the Targaryen ships. He nearly topples it, but it's all just amusing to him. It's all just a game. He's sat up on his high horse where nothing can knock him down. Saerra's back is pressed against his chest, and the moment they land, she rushes down to the ground and smoothes out the material of her fine dress.
All gather inside the Great Hall, where King Viserys sits upon his throne with the crown on his head, and soon comes his brother. Daemon dawns a crown made out of bone with hair shaved and cut down as he carries an axe with him to address the King.
" Add it to the chair," He utters, then drops the axe at his feet.
" You wear a crown. Do you also call yourself King?" Viserys questions.
" Once we smashed the Triarchy, they named me King of the Narrow Sea."
Saerra has to physically restrain herself from rolling her eyes as she seamlessly blends in with the crowd.
" But I know that there is only one true King, your Grace," Daemon continues, then bends his knee before his brother, " My crown and the Stepstones... are yours."
" Where is Lord Corlys?" Viserys ponders as he attempts to hide his smile.
" He sailed home to Driftmark," The Prince responds.
" Who holds the Stepstones?"
" The tides, the crabs, and 2,000 dead Triarchy corsairs, staked to the sand to warn those who may follow."
The King, sword-in-hand, marches down the steps to stand before his brother, who continues to kneel as he offers the makeshift crown. Viserys takes the makeshift crown an examines it in his hands, before flickering his eyes back to his brother. The people wait as the tension grows thick, waiting for the King to speak as he hands off the crown to a member of his guard.
" Rise."
The brothers join each other in an embrace, which prompts the crowd of people to clap their hands together and celebrate the momentous occasion, though not all wish to stay and watch. Princess Rhaenyra attempts to flee, walking through the sea of people to exit the Great Hall, only for her to accidentally bump into the Salt girl.
" I'm so sorry!"
The girls speak to each other in synch, both apologizing at the same time before their eyes ever meet, and as soon as Saerra sees who stands before her, she instantly goes to bow her head.
" There's no need," Rhaenyra softly utters, her eyebrows furrowing just the slightest bit as she examines the girl's face, " Have we met?"
" N-No, my Princess," Saerra stutters as she feels her cheeks heat up.
" I could have sworn I've seen you somewhere..." The Princess trails, before the moment of clarity strikes, and her eyebrows raise, " The tourney... you are Lord Corlys's daughter."
" Bastard daughter."
" Daughter, nonetheless."
Saerra's smile spreads across her face, showing off her beautiful teeth and her kind eyes, which seem to twinkle as she gazes at the beautiful Targaryen girl. Her heart flutters just from being recognized and remembered, especially when Rhaenyra has not seen her for many years. Rhaenyra politely departs and goes on about her day in whichever way she intends, leaving Saerra alone in the Great Hall with a giant grin, that only fades as she watches Daemon walk off with his brother, of which he doesn't even bother to look for her. As if he's forgotten about her, entirely.
And in the courtyard, the Targaryens feast. Daemon and Viserys laugh together, as if nothing has changed, whilst Rhaenyra and Alicent find it difficult for their presence to be taken seriously, and Saerra's presence is ignored entirely. She stands by the banquet table, completely surrounded by food with a growling stomach, yet is unable to eat any of it. She feels too many eyes on her.
The King's drunkenness is quite obvious. He almost makes a fool out of himself as he spills his cup of wine. His daughter soon leaves him, opting to sit alone on a bench inside of endure any more suffering. Something pulls at Saerra, something that tells her to go sit with the Princess, but her hesitation is her downfall, for Rhaenyra is quickly joined by the Queen.
Saerra sees how they look at each other. The love they have in their eyes hasn't faded over time. She sees just how much they truly care for one another, and it's almost enough to bring a smile to her lips. Almost.
" Eat," Daemon commands as he suddenly appears by her side.
" I'm not hungry," Saerra counters.
" I did not ask if you are hungry, I told you to eat," He utters.
" No," Saerra states.
She pays him no mind and does not look him in the eyes before she walks away. She picks up her dress so it doesn't touch the grass as she goes back inside the walls of the castle, off to find whatever quarters she has been given.
Daemon brushes off her actions and doesn't take them to heart. Inside, he enjoys the solace of the courtyard as it empties, and points his head up towards the sky as he basks in the sunlight.
" Ao vestretan sīr content va Zaldrīzesdōron ( You seemed so content on Dragonstone )" Rhaenyra speaks as she joins her uncle in the courtyard by the tree, " Skoro syt gōntan ao māzigon arlī? ( Why did you come back?)"
Daemon's lips curl up in a slight smile, but he remains silent as he steps forward and gently touches the Valyrian steel necklace.
" So... what do you want?" Rhaenyra asks.
" Only the comforts of home," Daemon shrugs as he moves to take his seat back at the banquet table.
" I had not thought you particularly comfortable in this home," The Princess continues, " Though I do suppose you seem changed by your adventures. More mature, perhaps."
" You've matured yourself these last four years, Princess," He observes as he pours himself a cup of wine, " You'll get used to the attention."
" The attention I can endure. It's the rest I could do without. My father seems content to sell me off to whichever lord has the biggest castle."
" There are worse things to be sold for. Marriage is only a political arrangement," Daemon utters as he props his feet up, " Istin iksā, kostā gaomagon hae ao have ( Once you are wed, you can do as you like )"
" Syt vali, dīnilūks kostagon mērī sagon bona. Syt ābrar, issa iā morghon ( For men, marriage may only be a political arrangement. For women, it is like a death sentence)" Rhaenyra counters.
" Lo bona sia drēje, nyke emagon issare hen ñuha brāedāzma aspo ( If that were true, I would have been rid of my Bronze Bitch ages ago)"
" Ao vestragon naejot emagon zirȳla olvie sȳrī ( You seem to have replaced her quite well)"
" Saerra iksis daor iā syt ñuha ābrazȳrys ( Saerra is not a replacement for my wife)"
" Pār skoros iksis ziry? ( Then what is she?)"
And for once, Daemon is stumped as he looks up at his niece with a smile.
" Gaoman daor gīmigon ( I do not know)" He answers honestly.
" Jorepagon kessa daor emagon naejot aōha riñar ( Pray she will not have to bare your children)" Rhaenyra utters, then takes a sip of wine, " Ziry would sagon syt zirȳla naejot emagon keskydoso vējes hae ñuha muña ( It would be unfortunate for her to have the same fate as my mother )"
" Skoros massitas naejot aōha muña iksin iā. Yn īlon glaesagon isse iā vys. Ao daor glaesagon aōha ābrar isse zūgagon, iā kesā se sȳrje ( What happened to your mother was a tragedy, but we live in a tragic world. You cannot live your life in fear, or you will forsake the best parts)"
" Eman daor desire naejot glaesagon isse zūgagon. Mērī mērī ( I have no desire to live in fear. Only alone)"
" Such a lonely prospect," Daemon remarks with a cheeky grin as the bells toll in the background.
He cannot deny that the girl standing in front of him has no attraction to him. Rhaenyra is someone who can hold his gaze. She's intriguing and utterly beautiful. She's strong-willed and mesmerizing. Rhaenyra lives up to her moniker of the 'Realm's Delight', and whilst Daemon has spent many a year with the Salt bastard... his mind cannot help but wonder what these years would have been life if both Rhaenyra and Saerra were with him on Dragonstone.
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