Saera was her mother's favorite daughter, known for being demure and obedient, the smallfolk adored her. She obeyed everything that her king commanded of her, but she protested against her marriage to Ser Harwin Strong.
She catches him in an affai...
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Mysaria peeks her head curiously at the closed curtains of the Princess' chambers. She clears her throat, and all the eyes are suddenly nailed upon her. "Yes?" Leila asked as the Princess continued embroidering her gown. "Your graces, I am the princess' new handmaiden. I was wondering if I could do anything." Mysaria ranted, intimidated by the command Leila bore.
Daemon placed Mysaria in Saera's household - to protect her from harm. Leila nods, recognizing the woman to be one of her husband's ex-whores. Every man in King's Landing has had their fill of Mysaria, everyone sees her plainly but Leila sees something more - she had potential, a hidden fire.
"The princess is currently occupied, would you mind drawing her a bath?" Leila asked, the other woman bows and walks towards the bathroom.
Leila looks back at her friend to see her removing the golden dragons on her favorite gown. "What is the matter, Saera? Are they not to your liking?" Leila asked the younger woman, and she shook her head. "There is no use fashioning this when my uncle is no longer commander." she muttered to herself.
Leila was one of the few people aware of the relationship between uncle and niece. She's kept their secret for many nights now - and it pained her to see Saera torture herself in his absence. "He will return. He promised - and he'll take his position back." she comforted, hearing the trepid water and seeing the candle-lit bath from her peripheral vision.
"I know - he's never broken a promise, but I can't be seen wearing this." she excused, giving up once the fabric moved with her shears. The dress was ruined, and so was her heart. A tear flows down her cheek, and Leila pulls her hand away from the gown. "Saera, calm down." she says firmly, shaking the woman into realization.
Saera takes a shuddering breath, refusing to let another tear flow from her eyes. "Father's already talking about getting me married. I don't want any other lord, Leila. I only want Daemon." she cried, throwing the gown on the floor.
The lioness' hands delicately cup her cheek.
"Don't lose hope," she whispered.
—
Lyonel stared at his oldest son: Harwin was dashing and dutiful, everything that a lord could desire from his heir - but he wasn't married yet, and that posed a threat upon their dynasty. "You are the lord commander of the gold cloaks now. Your position warrants more responsibility." he monologues, thinking of ways to ease marriage into his son's mind.
"I speak of marriage, my boy." the man added, staring at his son from across the luncheon table. "Do you have someone in mind?" Lyonel inquired, and his son turned crimson red. "The Targaryen Princesses are - well, I don't want to impose." he quickly retracted his statement, but his father already had the idea. Lyonel smiles.
"A fine choice, the King is already considering your engagement to Princess Saera." Lyonel informed, and Harwin's cheeks turned carnation pink. He's seen the Princess - all the knights cannot stop talking about her beauty. She was a coy little thing - with round cheeks and a charming smile.
He wouldn't mind being wedded to her.
—
Viserys was in the middle of a corn-field. He could feel the prickling Pentosi sun on his back - he wasn't wearing the clothes of his kin, he was wearing clothes made of horse leather, native to the Dothraki tribe.
"Brother," a woman with silver hair walks towards him. She was wearing the same clothes as him. She had round cheeks and straight eyebrows - she looked like his daughter, Saera, if it weren't for Daemon's nose on her face. "Daenerys." he answered, a mere spectator of the show.
'From the white dragon's blood - come the stallion that will mount the world.' He remembers the string of prophecies that he mumbled when Aemma was heavy with Saera. "The Khalasar tells me that the stallion that will mount the world resides in me." she informed him with a charming smile, holding her stomach protectively.
—
Saera takes a cautious walk towards her father's chambers. He's called for her - for whatever reason. After the death of her mother, he spent his days in the company of the council and his favorite daughter. Saera knew that she'd never be a son, and thus will never earn her father's attention. "Your grace." She bows and he turns around, forgetting about the miniature model of Old Valyria.
"My daughter," he smiled, patting the empty seat beside him. She reluctantly sits down - finding his kindness to be strange. "I had a dream before you were born," he began and she almost laughed out loud. He had a dream with Daegon too, and Aemma died trying to fulfill it.
"You are the white dragon whose blood come the stallion that will mount the world," he recalled, remembering flashes of a red door. She turns to look at him, eyes prying further into his dream. "What does that mean?" she questioned, tilting her head slightly.
What plan did he have for her?
"You are my dutiful girl, you know that?" he praised while gently combing through her silky locks. "You are wise beyond your years, and aware of what is expected of you." he began and her heart thumped furiously. It sounded familiar. He was planning to send her away.
"A lady is expected to marry and provide heirs for her husband." he explained, her eyebrows furrowed - eyes narrowing with every word. She knew where the conversation was leading to! He was going to send her to a random lord, who she's never met before.
"Kepa, please." she bit the insides of her cheeks. She expected this monologue long ago - but she couldn't believe that it was happening right now. "I don't want to go away. I don't want to get married." she pleaded, holding onto his arms tightly.
Saera belonged to herself. Her name was hard to pronounce. It needed the full command of one's voice - and like her name, she was the same. One needed the full command of her soul to have her properly.
"I love Daemon, kepa. I do not wish to marry a man that is not him." she asserted. He takes a deep breath, preparing for another explanation. "I loved a woman before your mother. I loved her deeply and greatly - but marriage is another thing. It is the only thing that one doesn't have a choice upon. You are given someone to marry and you must choose to love them, not the other way around." he answered firmly, hands settling upon Saera's shoulders.
"There is nothing you can do, that will stop your marriage with Ser Harwin Strong." he announced, using his loud and booming voice to dominate over his daughter. A switch flickered inside the young maiden's brain, and her body collapsed - tears flowing out like a newly opened dam.
"Please, kepa - don't do this." She cried like a little girl who was treated unfairly. He wraps his arms around her, burying her face in his cinnamon scented robes. "You will learn to love him, Saera - and you will love him more than Daemon. I promise that." he cooed, rubbing small circles on his daughter's back. "No." she cried out, staining his robes wet.
"Please, I'll do anything - I won't ride Melarys and I promise to never be mean to Rhaenyra again." she begged, wiping the tears away from her eyes to prove that she was saying the truth. "It is not the end of the world, my daughter." he smiled, wiping her cheeks dry.
