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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In his day there was not a man so admired, so beloved, and so feared. To his enemies, he was the blackest of villains. There was not a rebel in the Stepstones that lived after his crusade.
But fatherhood has softened him to some extent.
Having children made him want to become a better person. When a man reaches his age, they only yearn for a warm home filled with healthy sons and daughters.
The old crown has chipped, but fragments of his past remain. He still acted upon impulse, allowing his fury to govern over rational thought, or in this case governing over his ability to do the right thing.
He closes his eyes, 'what would his wife do?'
He licks his lips, taking a sip of his wife's wine that Elinda Massey generously laid out for him.
Saera would return to Harrenhal, gather their losses and remain in the castle until the war is over. She'd do that to protect their other children. Saera would do the good thing.
There was a voice in the back of his ears, preying upon this vulnerability. All these years you tried to be a good person, but this is what fate gives in return. Set this ghost of yours free. Peace can only be achieved through violence.
An iron fist that would rule Westeros.
'I am not my wife' he told himself.
And therefore his actions must hinge upon what he desires to do.
---
He took mammoth strides towards Rhaenyra's chambers; the Dark Sister twirling around his fingers as he prepares for easy battle. He was not a sentimental person, he didn't feel love for anyone outside of his family. He believed that he loved Rhaenyra, because behind her eyes he sees his brother, Viserys.
But that love has turned into hatred now.
"Daemon," her lips turned into a thin line.
She knows that he knows.
"Rhaenyra," he replied.
A member of the Queensguard stands in front of him. Ser Erryk, a follower of his oaths. "- I apologize, uncle, but it needed to be done." she articulated, the aura of command radiates her figure.
"You have slaughtered your legacy," he responds coldly. "- those bastard sons of yours will not birth trueborn dragons." he added.
She laughs at him.
"Daegon and Alyssa are bastards too, fathered by your very own." she raises her voice, the madness of dragons behind her eyes.
"I'm tired of your whitewashing, uncle - tired of Saera boasting her children's Valyrian features when their claims stand upon lies." she gritted her teeth. "- you are greedy, the both of you have always been." she berated, not a shred of guilt behind her eyes.
