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 rubs her son's back - comforting him away from the thought of his father brutally hurting his mentor. The fight in the courtyard seemed to rattle his brain, prompting him to look at his parental figures in a different light. 'Father attacks, and mother protects.'
"Are you alright, ñuha ōños? (my light)" she inquires, while handing him a goblet of water. "Kessa, (yes)" he answers, muttering a round of thanks while he gobbles the drink down. As soon as she realizes that her son was alright - her eyes begin to nail daggers into Harwin's body.
"You couldn't have avoided it?" she antagonized, but with a soft voice - not expecting him to cleverly maim Ser Criston. "He tried to stain my honor," he argued, earning another glare from his wife. " - and by reacting, you have confirmed it in their eyes." she nagged. After Prince's Joffrey's birth, Saera's anger for Harwin seemed to grow even further.
"Do you suggest that I stand there and take his insults lightly?" he inquired with a sarcastic tone, crossing his arms in a standoffish demeanor. "Yes!" she answered. " - even when it brings my loyalty into question?" he scoffed, and her eyes widened slightly. "Your loyalty is not for disloyal men to decide. If it is - then perhaps it isn't yours to begin with." she raised her voice slowly - not wanting to fight in front of her child.
He was about to say another word - but his eyes trail down to his son. Daegon was the thickest of his blood, his heir, and son. He took a deep breath, "The situation was in control," he hummed, crossing his arms - not wanting to surrender the battle. "I don't want it happening again." she said firmly, hands tight around her son's back.
He nodded his head.
"Of course," his lips settled into a thin line.
He turns his back behind his family - feeling an ache form in his head. How long has it been since he's had a proper conversation with his wife? Three years ago? Four years ago? He couldn't even remember the smell of her perfume at night, or her calm breathing. There was a time where he promised to give her his best self - but those were gone, never to return.
He sees the way that she stares at him - with storms in her eyes, braving a battle between loving or hating him forever. He doesn't want that - because all his heart ever desires is Rhaenyra. Rhaenyra whose eyes held constellations and colors that he's never seen. Rhaenyra who has given him three healthy sons.
He has reached a point too far to ever return - and perhaps, he doesn't want to return at all.
—
"Aegon and Jacaerys were talking about you." Helaena hums, petting the small centipede hidden in her palms. Helaena was Viserys' true forgotten daughter - the Princess that no one remembers. "You cried, they said - and Princess Saera had to comfort you." she explains with no reluctance, not realizing that Daegon's face was turning a pink hue.
