Rogue | Daemon&Rhaenyra

10

Saerra paces nervously in the training yard of Dragonstone, her gaze fixed on Prince Daemon Targaryen as he readies his armor and weapons. News has reached her ears that Daemon intends to join the upcoming war in the Stepstones, and she gathers her courage and approaches him, her heart pounding in her chest.

"My Prince," She calls out, her voice quivering slightly, "May I have a word?"

Daemon turns his gaze towards her, his violet eyes locking with hers. He raises an eyebrow inquisitively but remains silent, waiting for her to continue. Saerra takes a deep breath, trying to steady her nerves.

"I... I heard that you're going to war in the Stepstones," She begins hesitantly, "And... I wanted to ask if you could teach me how to fight. I don't want to feel helpless while you're risking your life."

Daemon's expression hardens, his features betraying a mix of concern and reluctance.

"This is no place for you. War is not a game," He says, his voice stern, "You shouldn't involve yourself in such matters."

Saerra's resolve strengthens, and she steps closer to him, her eyes pleading.

"But I don't want to be left behind. I want to be able to protect myself, to help you if needed," The girl nearly begs.

A flicker of vulnerability passes across Daemon's face before he quickly masks it with a dismissive wave of his hand.

"You're of Velaryon blood. You shouldn't have to learn how to fight. Your place is here, safe and protected," He utters.

Saerra's eyes fill with determination as she takes a step closer, her voice filled with conviction.

"My place is where I choose it to be. And right now, I choose to stand by your side, even if it means learning how to wield a weapon," She proclaims, attempting to be strong with her own opinion and wants.

Daemon's gaze softens, his resistance starting to crumble under Saerra's unwavering resolve. He takes a moment to compose himself before finally giving in.

"Very well, if it will put your mind at ease," He concedes, his voice tinged with a mixture of reluctance and concern, "But I won't hold back."

A mix of excitement and nervousness fills Saerra's chest as Daemon leads her to a secluded corner of the training yard. He retrieves a bow and arrow from a nearby rack, his movements fluid and practiced. Saerra watches in awe as he effortlessly pulls back the string, his muscles flexing with strength and precision.

"First, we start with the basics," Daemon explains, his voice taking on a gentle tone, "Focus on your stance, feel the tension in the bow, and release with a smooth, steady motion."

Saerra listens intently, absorbing every word as Daemon guides her through the steps. His presence is commanding, yet there's an undercurrent of tenderness in the way he adjusts her grip and corrects her posture. With each touch, Saerra's skin tingles, her heart skipping a beat. They practice together, side by side, the tension between them growing with every shared moment. Saerra can feel Daemon's breath against her neck, his warm proximity sending shivers down her spine. The air crackles with unspoken desire, though both of them refuse to acknowledge it.

Time seems to lose its meaning as Daemon teaches her, their movements becoming fluid and synchronized. With each arrow she releases, Saerra's confidence swells, fueled by the knowledge that she's gaining the skills to protect herself and the man she's grown to care for so deeply. As the sun begins its descent, casting a warm golden glow across the training yard, Daemon retrieves another arrow from the quiver and hands it to Saerra. His eyes meet hers, and a fleeting moment of vulnerability passes between them, belying the facade of indifference.