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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Saera takes a deep breath; moving the curtains back, allowing the morning rays to enter their shared chambers. She feels his hands settle around her waist. "Daemon," she whispered. "You should come with Daegon to Harrenhal. Spread out before Aegon makes a move." he commands, staring deep into her purple eyes.
She knows what the command means.
He wants her away from the battle.
"- bring our children too, they'll be safer there." he added.
Elinda Massey pours him a goblet of wine. He reaches for it - silently dismissing the handmaiden.
"My father was a slave to his omens and portents," she started, sitting on the foot of the bed.
"He dreamt of you wearing a crown before you were born." Daemon took a sip of his wine. "He dreamt that I'd be his son. He was wrong - could he have been wrong about Daegon?" her teeth burrowed into her lower lip.
Daemon shifts.
"What about him?" he inquired.
She reaches for her ear, playing with her earrings. She stares off to the horizon, evidently contemplating. "Saera." he repeats her name, more firmly this time. "He said that Daegon should be King." she informs, reasoning with herself.
"You should've told me." he scolded.
He felt betrayed.
"I wasn't certain, kepus. I didn't want to ruin our quiet life." she reasoned, eyes watery with tears threatening to spill. "- I didn't want to risk any of our children's life for something I did not have proof of." she added, fearing that the rift between them would grow.
Love and hate were the same thing, and if allowed to fester - may never return to adoration.
"Daemon, please say something." her voice comes out as a whisper. Daemon snaps out of his trance. He looks at her face - tearful eyes, teeth burrowing into her lower lips.
He vowed to never cause her sorrow, vowed to always protect her.
He kneels in front of her, cupping her cheeks and placing a kiss on her lips. "It was the wisest choice, all the more reason to keep our family in Harrenhal." he placed another kiss on her lips.
He didn't want to be a pessimist, but this could be their last meeting. The Hightowers will not chafe their knees.
"Pack your bags, and the children's too. I'll have the gold cloaks escort you after luncheon." he stood up, forcing a smile on his lips. "You'll come with us?" she asked in a pleading tone.
"You know better than that." he teased.
"When will we see each other again?" she inquired.
They've never apart in all the twelve years they've been together; their apartness only brought turmoil, like the War in Stepstones. She fears of what their distance may bring, what it would do to him.
