Rogue | Daemon&Rhaenyra

19

" Fuck!"

Saerra's eyes flutter shut, her head is thrown back and her legs are spread white open as two white heads and two pale hands work magic on her core, giving her relief over and over and over again.

The two Targaryens love making their shared wife feel oh-so-good. It brings them great joy to see her writhing in pleasure upon the silk sheets.

The marriage between Daemon, Rhaenyra, and Saerra is a marriage quite new, and one that has shocked the realm. Princess Rhaenys and Lord Corlys have not only lost a daughter, but then a son, both of the spouses of which have now banded together in a new marriage... with the bastard girl of Driftmark.

Lord Corlys believes it to have been a ploy. He believes that both Laena and Laenor's deaths were planned so that the three could be together in an uncivil union, and to much surprise, it is Rhaenys to talk her husband out of such thoughts. For once, Rhaenys is the voice of reason... and almost seems to defend Saerra.

He clings to the shattered fragments of his family, his mind consumed by suspicion and grief. The loss of his daughter, Laena, and his son, Laenor, has left him bereft, their deaths casting a dark shadow over the once-mighty House Velaryon.

The whispers of the realm echo in his ears, painting a picture of a scandalous union that defies convention and tradition. The marriage of Daemon, Rhaenyra, and Saerra is a flame that ignites the tongues of gossip, fueling the speculations of intrigue and conspiracy. In the eyes of Lord Corlys, it is a betrayal, a calculated ploy to seize power and rewrite the rules of society.

His heart is heavy with suspicion, his mind clouded by anger.

"My Lord-husband," Rhaenys' voice is gentle, her touch light as she reaches for her husband's hand, " To place the blame on Saerra is an action unfair."

Lord Corlys's grip tightens around his wife's hand, his gaze searching her face for answers. He yearns for the solace of certainty, the comfort of a world where everything is neatly defined. But Rhaenys challenges his preconceptions, urging him to look beyond the surface and embrace the complexities of their situation.

"Saerra is not to blame for the tragedies that have befallen our family," Rhaenys continues, her voice steady.

" You believe our children's death to be a mere accident?" Corlys seethes.

" Those were not my words, husband," The Princess corrects, " I am simply saying I do not believe Saerra to be at fault. Despite our... difficulties, she is not the one to blame."

Lord Corlys's features soften as his wife's words sink in, a flicker of understanding dancing in his eyes. He recalls the fleeting moments when he witnessed Saerra's pain, the torment etched upon her face. She is not the scheming seductress he once believed her to be, but a woman who has found solace and love in the arms of those who truly see her.

The morning sun rises over the tranquil waters that surround Dragonstone, casting a warm glow upon the ancient fortress. Within its walls, a symphony of anticipation echoes through the air, as if the very stones themselves are aware of the momentous event about to unfold. The castle seems to hold its breath, as if in reverence for the love and sacrifice that has brought Saerra, Rhaenyra, and Daemon together. Saerra's delicate fingers trace the contours of her burgeoning belly, feeling the life within stir in response. Her heart is a tempest of emotions, a swirling whirlpool of joy, hope, and the lingering ache of lost love. Ser Harwin's absence is a ghostly presence that haunts her, a constant reminder of the love they once shared and the life that was cut short by tragedy. And yet, amidst the echoes of her past, she finds solace and love in the arms of Rhaenyra and Daemon.