Rogue | Daemon&Rhaenyra

1.0

Grief is a storm that never seems to end.

Grief is a constant presence.

Grief is a wound that refuses to heal.

The tempest inside Saerra has turned her heart into a battlefield, her soul into a war-torn land.

She can scarcely remember a time when she did not feel this hollow ache, this unrelenting pain.

The world outside her chamber seems like a distant dream, a place where her sunshine, Lucerys, still smiles and laughs.

Saerra has always been a fighter, but grief has a way of stripping away even the strongest armor.

She lies in her bed, staring at the ceiling, the weight of her sorrow pressing down on her chest.

Every breath is a struggle, every moment an eternity. She has forgotten the thrill of battle, the satisfaction of a well-fought victory. All she knows now is loss.

Rhaenyra, her wife, has been gone for days. She is driven by a desperate need to find proof of Luke's death, to confirm the nightmare that has consumed their lives.

Saerra, however, has already accepted the unbearable truth. She has fallen into a deep depression, unable to find the strength to rise from her bed.

Daemon, ever the warrior, wants revenge for Luke's death. He cares for Saerra, but his desire for vengeance runs deep.

" You need to eat," Daemon insists, his voice a mixture of frustration and concern. He stands by the bedside, a tray of food in his hands, "You cannot waste away like this."

Saerra turns her head away, her eyes closing as if to shut out the world, "I can't, Daemon. I just can't."

Daemon sets the tray down, his hands clenching into fists, "This isn't you. The woman I know would never let herself be defeated so easily."

"The woman you knew is gone," Saerra murmurs, her voice barely a whisper.

Daemon sighs, his anger getting the best of him. He wants to be there for his wife, but the actions of his other wife make it more difficult for him. With the Queen gone, he's stuck waging her war instead of bending knees at Harrenhal.

And so alone she sits through the night.

" Mama?" A little voice asks, one that Saerra knows all too well.

" Haelye," Saerra whispers as she turns around to see her six-year-old walking toward the bed," What's wrong?"

" Are you okay?" Haeyle asks, her big brown eyes illuminated by the candlelight.

" I'm alright, angel," Saerra utters as the child climbs into bed, seeking out her mother's arms.

" Why didn't Luke come back?"

The question completely shatters Saerra's heart. More tears slip down her cheeks as she holds her eldest child close to her chest, attempting to steady her breathing.

" I do not know," Saerra lies.

As if on cue, Maella toddles into the room, rubbing her sleepy eyes, "Mama, can I sleep with you?"

" Of course, my gem," Saerra replies, her heart aching as she gathers both of her daughters into her arms.

They are her reason for living, her anchor in the storm of her grief. As she holds them close, she feels a flicker of determination ignite within her. She must protect them, no matter the cost.

Daemon watches from the doorway, his expression softening as he sees the fragile strength in Saerra's eyes. He knows that she is still there, beneath the layers of sorrow and pain. And he knows that, together, they will find a way to move forward.