Saerra sits in the saddle on top of Syrax, nestled into Rhaenyra's arms as the Targaryen steers the dragon off to Driftmark. She attempts to comfort her love, but there's only so much that can be done to soothe Saerra's nerves. She hates it here, always has. And the moment her feet step onto the green grass, a chill runs up her spine as all the horrid memories come flooding back, swelling up her mind and heart, bringing tears to her eyes and bile up her throat. Saerra kneels over a cliff as she empties out the contents of her stomach, and a soothing hand soon places itself upon her back.
Rhaenyra does her best to coddle her lover, even through her own tears. She recognizes the symptoms, for they plagued her many moons ago. The Princess uses a cloth to clean off Saerra's face, then presses a gentle kiss to her forehead.
The families stand together as one for the funeral procession. They stand together and mourn the loss of one of their own, Lady Laena Velaryon. Vaemond is the one to deliver the speech in High Valyrian as the casket is dropped down into the depths of the ocean, and whilst most eyes are on the wooden box... Saerra's eyes are on Daemon.
She sees the old tears that stain his face. She sees his hair has grown over the years. She sees the remenants of the man she once loved... but it is not him. Daemon is not the same man she once loved... as is Saerra not the same woman he once loved.
Time has woven its intricate web, entangling their lives in separate paths, leading them to this moment of heartbreaking separation.
As the funeral procession reaches its solemn climax, with Vaemond delivering the eulogy in the ancient tongue, Saerra's eyes remain fixed on Daemon. She observes his every movement, his gestures, and the way his gaze lingers upon the casket that carries Laena's earthly vessel. In that poignant moment, the weight of their shared history hangs heavily in the air.
Rhaenyra, ever attuned to Saerra's emotions, stands beside her, offering silent support. She knows the complexity of the feelings that intertwine within Saerra's heart, the lingering traces of love and longing that refuse to be extinguished. Rhaenyra's hand finds its way to Saerra's, their fingers intertwining in a gesture of shared understanding and unwavering love.
But as Saerra's eyes wander over to the two twin girls with hair white as snow, she feels the bile creep back up her throat, for Laena was able to give Daemon the very thing she never could. Laena was a wife from a noble house, the richest house in all the realm. She had the dragon's blood coursing through her veins, and was able to give Daemon two children within their marriage, two girls who stand to inherit a bountiful blessing.
It makes Saerra sick to her stomach. She feels the nauseating presence of Ser Otto Hightower, of whom has recently reclaimed his title of Hand. Her ears ring as her stomach churns, and sadly must depart from the crowd to find something that will ease her pain and suffering. She finds a glass of water and chugs it until there's no more, but once she sets the glass down, she finds a pair of eyes staring at her.
Daemon's eyes.
As Saerra's gaze meets Daemon's, a surge of electricity seems to course through the air, crackling with the tension between them. Time hangs suspended, their eyes locked in an unyielding battle of emotions and memories. In those moments, a torrent of unspoken words flows between them, carrying the weight of their shared history and the depth of their unfulfilled desires.
Daemon's eyes, once so familiar and filled with passion, now carry a mix of sorrow, longing, and a hint of regret. They bear witness to the scars left behind by their tumultuous past, a reminder of the love that was lost and the wounds that never fully healed. The intensity of his gaze seems to mirror Saerra's own internal turmoil, a reflection of the tangled emotions that reside within her.
In that single moment, the world around them fades into insignificance, leaving only the magnetic pull that draws them together and pushes them apart simultaneously. The silent exchange between their eyes becomes a battlefield of unspoken truths, of what could have been and what now lies forever beyond their reach.
As the weight of the twin girls' existence settles upon Saerra's heart, her emotions surge, threatening to overwhelm her fragile composure. Jealousy and resentment intertwine with sadness and resignation, creating a potent cocktail of conflicting emotions. She feels the sting of inadequacy, knowing that Laena was able to provide Daemon with the one thing she never could—a legitimate family, a tangible connection to the Targaryen legacy.
The presence of Ser Otto Hightower looms over the crowd like a specter, casting a shadow of discomfort upon Saerra's already troubled soul. His eyes, sharp and calculating, seem to bore into her, amplifying her unease and making her feel like an outsider in her own skin. She yearns for an escape, a respite from the suffocating weight of her emotions.
Daemon's eyes, filled with a mixture of longing and uncertainty, hold her captive. They silently speak volumes, revealing a deep-rooted connection that time and distance have failed to erase. In that moment, Saerra is transported back to the echoes of their past, the passion they once shared, and the undeniable bond that still lingers beneath the surface.
Her heart pounds in her chest, torn between the desire to flee and the yearning to bridge the chasm that separates them. The tension between them becomes palpable, a silent dance of unresolved emotions and unspoken words. It is a fragile balance, one that threatens to shatter at the slightest provocation.
In the depths of their locked gaze, the complexities of their shared history unravel, intertwining with the present moment. It is a collision of love and loss, of what might have been and what can never be. In those eyes, Saerra glimpses a flicker of the passion they once shared, a spark that refuses to be extinguished despite the passage of time.
" Have you eaten?" He asks softly, being the one to finally break the silence.
Saerra's breath catches in her throat at the sound of Daemon's voice. It is a bittersweet melody that stirs a flurry of emotions within her. His words, though simple and practical, carry a weight of concern and tenderness that pierces through the layers of their complicated history.
She pauses, her eyes still locked with his, and for a fleeting moment, she considers the possibility of surrendering to the pull that has always existed between them. But the walls she has built around her heart, fortified by years of pain and longing, remain steadfast. She takes a small step back, breaking their intense gaze, and a hint of sadness flickers across her features.
"I... I have not," She finally responds, her voice tinged with a mix of vulnerability and reservation.
Her gaze shifts to the ground, unable to meet his eyes fully. The distance between them feels tangible, an unspoken reminder of the years they spent apart, the choices made, and the wounds that still linger.
The tension in the air remains, like a taut wire waiting to snap. Saerra feels the weight of unspoken words hanging heavily on her tongue, words that hold the power to rekindle the flame or douse it entirely. But fear, doubt, and the scars of their past keep her restrained. All those years spent building up her confidence, only for the wall to crash right at this very moment.
Daemon's gaze softens, his eyes searching for a connection that seems just beyond their grasp. He takes a step forward, closing the physical gap between them but unable to bridge the emotional chasm that separates their souls. His hand twitches, as if longing to reach out and touch her, to bridge the gap and erase the years of pain and longing.
Her fingers curl into tight fists at her side, a silent battle raging within her. The conflicting emotions swirl in her eyes, a dance of hesitation and longing. But in the end, she takes a step back, her expression a mix of resignation and self-preservation.
Daemon's face falls, a glimmer of disappointment flickering in his eyes. The silence between them stretches, heavy with unspoken regrets and untold stories.
The bile slowly and slowly starts building up, reminding Saerra that she needs to step away. She needs help and she needs support, but she is willing to accept neither. She cannot in good faith just forgive the man who stands before her. Her body tells her to run, and she does just that. Once more, Saerra bolts to the nearest ledge so that she may empty the contents of her stomach out into the sea, as salty tears prickle her eyes.
As Saerra leans over the ledge, her body racked with sobs and her heart heavy with unresolved pain, she hears footsteps behind her. She knows it is Daemon, but she refuses to acknowledge him, to grant him the solace of her vulnerability. She wipes away the tears that stain her cheeks, her jaw clenched with anger and hurt.
Daemon's presence lingers, a shadow cast upon her trembling form. His voice, soft and filled with regret, reaches her ears.
"Saerra, please... let me help you," He implores, his voice tinged with desperation.
But his words only stoke the flames of her anger, rekindling the bitter resentment that has smoldered within her for so long.
She whirls around, her eyes blazing with a mix of sorrow and fury.
"Help me?" She spits out, the words dripping with scorn, "You think you can simply waltz back into my life, offer your comfort, and expect forgiveness? After what you did? After you made that deal with my father?"
Her voice trembles with a mixture of pain and accusation. The years of longing, of feeling discarded and betrayed, come rushing to the surface. The weight of their shared history bears down upon her, threatening to crush her fragile resolve.
"You had a choice, Daemon," She continues, her voice raw with emotion, "You had the power to choose me, to fight for us. But instead, you chose the path of least resistance. You married Laena, not because you loved her, but because it was convenient. Because it was the only way to keep me close."
Her voice cracks, the anger giving way to a deep, seething sadness. She takes a step closer, her eyes locked with his, her voice barely a whisper.
"You made a mockery of our love, Daemon. And I cannot just forgive you for that. Not now, not ever."
Daemon's face contorts with anguish, the weight of her words etching lines of regret upon his features. He reaches out, his hand trembling, but she flinches away. The pain in his eyes mirrors her own, a reflection of the shattered dreams and irreparable damage that lingers between them.
"I never wanted to hurt you," He murmurs, his voice heavy with remorse, "I was desperate, Saerra. I thought... I thought I could find a way to make things right. But I was wrong. I made a terrible mistake, and I will carry that regret for the rest of my days."
" Did you love her?" Saerra ponders, attempting to remain strong, though her voice trembles as she meets his eyes.
" I cared for her as my wife and the mother of my children," Daemon softly utters, " But I could not love her."
As the weight of Daemon's admission hangs in the air, Saerra feels a flicker of hope ignite within her wounded heart. The intensity of their gaze holds a myriad of unspoken words, a fragile bridge between past and present.
"Then why?" Saerra's voice quivers, her anger softening into a mix of vulnerability and confusion, "Why did you make that deal with my father? Why did you choose her over me?"
Daemon's eyes search hers, his voice laden with regret.
" I thought I could protect you, Saerra. I thought by marrying Laena, I could ensure your safety, keep you close. I was a fool."
Saerra's resolve wavers, the wall she has built around her heart beginning to crumble. Her voice, now laced with a touch of longing, whispers,
"But you didn't have to sacrifice us. We could have found another way, a path that didn't require such a sacrifice."
Daemon's gaze softens, his hand reaching out once more, but this time he hesitates, his fingers hovering in the space between them.
"I know that now, Saerra," He confesses, his voice filled with remorse, "I cannot change what was... but I say this now... I will not leave you. Not ever again."
Saerra's heart clenches, caught between the pain of the past and the flicker of hope in the present. The desire for forgiveness battles with the scars etched upon her soul. She takes a deep breath, ready to respond, to offer him a glimpse of the possibility of redemption.
But just as the words begin to form on her lips, a commotion erupts from the distance. The mourners have scattered, their somber gathering disrupted by an unexpected interruption. Saerra and Daemon turn their heads, their attention drawn away from their fragile reconciliation.
A figure emerges from the crowd, a thin black veil covering their face.
" Your daughters require your presence, cousin," Rhaenys utters as she stands before them, her hands clasped in front of her.
Daemon's gaze lingers on Saerra, a mixture of regret and determination etched upon his features.
As Saerra watches him walk away, her heart aches with uncertainty. The moment of forgiveness, of closure, slips through her fingers once more. She stands alone on the precipice of a decision, caught between the pull of the past and the tentative promise of the future.
All alone, if not for Rhaenys standing there, eyes locked on the bastard girl.
Saerra's eyes meet Rhaenys', and in that moment, a lifetime of pain and resentment simmers beneath the surface. The complexities of their relationship unfold like a tapestry woven with bitterness and unspoken emotions. Rhaenys has always seen Saerra as a constant reminder of her husband's betrayal, an enduring symbol of his infidelity and their shattered trust.
For years, Rhaenys has ignored Saerra's existence, refusing to acknowledge her as anything more than a bastard child, a stain upon their noble lineage. In Rhaenys' eyes, Saerra is a living embodiment of her husband's weakness, an unwelcome reminder of the past that she has chosen to bury deep within the recesses of her heart.
Yet, here they stand, two women bound by blood and shared experiences, their lives forever intertwined by the choices of those who came before them. Saerra feels a mixture of longing and trepidation, the yearning for acceptance from the woman who has consistently denied her existence.
Rhaenys' gaze remains unyielding, her expression guarded and stoic. The silence between them stretches, heavy with unspoken words and the weight of their complicated history. Saerra can see the walls that Rhaenys has erected, the barriers that keep them perpetually apart, and she wonders if they will ever crumble.
For a fleeting moment, Rhaenys' eyes flicker down to Saerra's stomach, noticing the girl instinctively placing her hand over it. Her eyes flicker back to meet Saerra's, and for a moment, just a singular moment... there is an ounce of peace between them.
The day grows tired. The sun begins to set, and even still, Saerra remains alone by the water's edge. Her exhaustion and nausea make her feeble and weak. Unable to move and barely able to breathe.
A hand soon rests itself on her back, and her head turns to see that Daemon has returned, with a small piece of bread in hand. Her eyes never meet his, though she gladly accepts the bread and begins to consume it, as another hand brings itself to her back. Rhaenyra plants a kiss on Saerra's shoulder, then another right next to her ear.
Saerra cannot deny what she feels, for this is what she has always wanted. To be with them both, even if the complications still remain.
Once Saerra is finished with the bread, Rhaenyra interlocks their hands and guides Saerra down the stone steps so they may walk along the beach. Daemon walks alongside Saerra, caging her between the two Targaryens, though his hands remain at his side.
" Laenor has been restless for years, but now, he will be useless. Or worse," Rhaenyra utters as she begins the conversation, "I know better than anyone that our marriage is a farce. But I at least make the effort to maintain appearances."
" You have more to lose," Daemon notes.
" Yes, well, that has been my lot since my father named me heir," She continues, her hand still tightly clutching Saerra's, "We did try... to conceive a child. We performed our duty as best we could. But to no avail. There was no joy in it. I found that elsewhere. It felt good to be desired."
" Mmm," He hums as he watches Rhaenyra roll her thumb over Saerra's knuckles," I understand Ser Harwin was quite... devoted to you both."
" Yes, he was," Rhaenyra all but smiles, " And I trusted him. Should've forbidden Ser Harwin from returning to the Riverlands. Harren's curse is said to be as strong now as it was after the Conquest."
" That's a ghost story, one Ser Otto and the Queen would gladly exploit."
" I do not believe Alicent capable of cold murder."
" Each of us is capable of depravity. And more than you would believe."
" I believe it of you."
" If you're accusing me of some depravity, you'll need to be more specific."
" You left her," Rhaenyra harshly claims as she comes to a halt, her head tilting over to the woman whose hand she holds, " You left me, us!"
" I spared you. You were a child," Daemon interjects.
" Yes. Yes, I was a child," She nods in agreement, " And look at what our lives became without you. Droll tragedy."
" And I wonder what you think of mine by comparison?" He ponders.
" I know little of it," Rhaenyra retorts.
Saerra's eyes prickle with tears. She removes her hand from Rhaenyra's grasp as she turns to face the sea, her mind and body breaking altogether.
" Saerra?" Rhaenyra asks as her brows furrow.
" It's too much," Saerra whispers through the tears, " It's all too much, I..."
A sob wracks through Saerra's throat, rendering her unable to continue speaking as the tears flow freely.
The sound of Saerra's sobs echoes through the evening air, a heart-wrenching symphony that reaches the ears of both Daemon and Rhaenyra. Their eyes meet, a shared understanding passing between them. With a wordless agreement, they step closer to Saerra, encircling her in a cocoon of warmth and solace.
Daemon's arm wraps around Saerra's trembling shoulders, offering a gentle, comforting presence. Rhaenyra, her own eyes glistening with unshed tears, takes a step forward and softly cups Saerra's tear-streaked face in her hands. Their touch is tender, a delicate caress that speaks volumes of the unspoken love and yearning that has lingered between them for far too long.
"Shhh, my sweet Saerra," Rhaenyra murmurs, her voice a soothing balm against the turmoil in Saerra's soul, "We are here. We are with you."
Daemon's grip tightens ever so slightly, his touch serving as an anchor amidst the storm of emotions that threaten to consume Saerra. His voice, though tinged with regret and remorse, carries a deep sense of devotion.
"We will not leave you again, Saerra," He whispers, his words filled with a mixture of apology and unspoken promises, "We are here to stay."
As Saerra's sobs gradually subside, she leans into their embrace, finding solace and strength in the presence of the two people who have shaped her life in such profound ways. Their love, though complex and fraught with mistakes, has woven a tapestry of connection and longing within her heart.
Ten years, all for this moment, right here and right now on this very beach.
Saerra's head lifts up, her glossy eyes meeting with Daemon's. His eyes appear softer now, filled with unstoppable love, one that's cemented itself in his heart all those years ago. Their bond was forged countless moons ago... and it is rekindled the moment their eyes meet.
Their lips are brought together, for the first time in a decade. It's an addictive sensation that courses through their veins, one that echoes the love they still hold for one another.
Rhaenyra's heart flutters as she watches her sweet Saerra mend her broken bond. She feels herself compelled to take what she has wanted for far too long.
After Saerra pulls away from her kiss, Rhaenyra then leans in to gather hers. She tastes Daemon's lip in a moment of clarity. Their lips lock, and it creates a sensation that Saerra has felt only one before. It brings her back to the night of Rhaenyra's wedding. The Targaryens pull away to find Saerra with pupils blown, creating the seemingly perfect atmosphere.
Together, their clothes are carefully removed. Daemon holds Saerra's face in his hands, kisses away her stale tears as Rhaenyra bends down, her lips planting loving kisses on the slight bulge of Saerra's stomach. It has a small curve that will only grow with time, and they find it beautiful.
Their bodies work magic on each others. They share each other in pure ecstasy. Saerra lays on top of Rhaenyra, lips locked and core gliding as Daemon thrusts in and out of the Princess whilst kissing Saerra's back
Their night is spent together, as one. Harmonious and melodic as expected, with over a decade of complex emotions and desires to fuel the fire that exists between the three.
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[ poly!marriage scene coming soon 👀 ]