Rogue | Daemon&Rhaenyra

4.0

" Saerra--"

" I will not rest tonight."

The two wives are at a standstill. Rhaenyra wishes for her wife to join her in the realm of sleep, and Saerra refuses to bat an eyelid. She has a bow and many arrows next to the bed, and though Saerra is sitting in the bed with her wife, she will not sleep, not tonight. She cannot risk another attack. Saerra is hardly a stranger to battle, but the attempt on her wife's life has caused her fingers to twitch and her heart to burst in her chest.

" My love--"

" Please, Rhaenyra."

The two women lock eyes, and an entire conversation passes between them in a matter of seconds. Rhaenyra leans forward to kiss Saerra before she lays her head on the pillow in an attempt to drift off to sleep.

Meanwhile, Saerra stays guarded. She knows that they have a guard posted right outside the door, but it matters little to her. All that matters is her wife's safety.

In the back of her mind, she knows that they have not heard from their husband in quite some time, but trusts that Daemon will due his duty... he has to.

Saerra sits in the dimly lit chamber, her back against the headboard, fingers resting on the bow beside her. Her eyes remain sharp, scanning the room for any sign of danger. Her mind, however, is a battlefield of its own, filled with memories that she struggles to keep at bay.

Rhaenyra's gentle breathing is the only sound that breaks the silence, a rhythmic reassurance of her presence. Saerra glances down at her wife, who lies curled beside her, one hand resting on Saerra's thigh. The touch is warm and grounding, but it does little to quell the storm within her.

The night stretches on, and despite her resolve, Saerra feels her eyelids grow heavy. She fights against it, her grip tightening on the bow, but the pull of sleep is insidious. Her head dips forward, and she jerks it back up, shaking herself awake. Rhaenyra stirs but does not wake, and Saerra sighs softly.

She leans back, resting her head against the headboard, eyes fluttering shut for just a moment. Images begin to swirl in her mind, pulling her into a world she both longs for and dreads.

"Saerra—"

The voice is soft and familiar, and Saerra turns to see her son, Lucerys. He stands before her, a radiant smile on his face, his eyes bright with mischief and joy. Her heart aches with a fierce, unyielding love as she reaches out to him.

"Luke," She whispers, her voice trembling. She pulls him into her arms, holding him tightly, afraid to let go, "My little sunshine."

The warmth of his small body against hers is almost too much to bear. She kisses the top of his head, breathing in his scent, so familiar and comforting. But even as she holds him, she knows this moment is fleeting, a cruel trick of her mind.

"Mother," Luke says, his voice muffled against her shoulder, "Why are you sad?"

Tears spill down Saerra's cheeks as she pulls back to look at him.

"Because I miss you," She says, her voice breaking, "Every day, I miss you."

Luke's smile falters, and he reaches up to wipe away her tears.

"I'm always with you, Mother," He says.

Saerra nods, her chest tight with emotion.

"I know," She whispers, pressing a kiss to his forehead, "I know."

The scene shifts, and Saerra finds herself standing in the ruins of Harrenhal. The air is thick with smoke, and the stench of burning wood and flesh fills her nostrils. She looks around, panic rising in her chest, searching for someone.