Rogue | Daemon&Rhaenyra

5.0

The night is a restless one for Saerra. Her mind is a tempest of worry and guilt, her heart heavy with the weight of her perceived failure. Rhaenyra is missing, and nobody knows where the Queen has gone. The castle is abuzz with whispers and hushed conversations, but none of it brings her any comfort. She paces the floor, her thoughts a chaotic swirl, unable to find peace.

When dawn breaks, Saerra decides she cannot simply wait and do nothing. She heads to the training yard, her bow in hand, seeking the solace of familiarity in the face of uncertainty. The cool morning air greets her, and she breathes it in deeply, trying to steady her nerves.

She sets up a target at the far end of the yard and begins to practice. Drawing an arrow from her quiver, she nocks it and takes aim. The bow feels familiar in her hands, yet her muscles are stiff, her movements not as fluid as they once were. She releases the arrow, and it flies wide, missing the target by a good margin.

Frustration gnaws at her, and she nocks another arrow. This time she takes more care, drawing the string back and holding her breath as she aims. But the doubts in her mind are a persistent distraction, and once again, the arrow flies off course.

She continues to practice, her frustration growing with each missed shot. Years away from the battlefield have made her rusty, and the realization only adds to her sense of failure. The memories of battles past, of the precision and skill she once possessed, haunt her every move.

As she draws the string back for another shot, a voice calls out to her.

"Saerra," says Jace, stepping into the training yard. His presence startles her, and she releases the arrow prematurely. It misses the target entirely, embedding itself in the ground several feet away.

Saerra lowers her bow, her shoulders slumping in defeat. She turns to face Jace, who stands there with a determined look on his face.

"I'm sorry," He says, though there's an edge of impatience in his voice, "I didn't mean to distract you."

"It's all right," Saerra replies, her voice tinged with weariness.

She can see the fire in Jace's eyes, the same fire that burns in Daemon's, and perhaps even Harwin's. It's a restless energy, a need to act, to be useful.

Jace steps closer, his expression earnest, "I can't just stand around and do nothing. I want to help, to fight. I can't bear being stuck here while there's a war out there."

Saerra sighs, understanding his frustration all too well.

"I know how you feel," She says, her voice softening, "But sometimes doing the right thing doesn't feel good. Sometimes it feels like you're betraying everything you hold dear."

Jace's brow furrows, and he shakes his head, "But I can't just sit here and do nothing. I need to do something."

Saerra looks at him, her eyes filled with a mixture of sorrow and understanding.

"I sent my own children away," She says, her voice trembling slightly, "I did it to keep them safe, to do the right thing. But it doesn't feel good, Jace. It tears me apart inside."

Jace's expression softens, and he takes a step closer to her.

"You did what you had to do," He says, his voice gentle, "You protected them."

Saerra nods, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

"And you want to do the same," She says, her voice barely above a whisper, "But rushing into battle won't always bring the results you hope for. Sometimes, patience and restraint are the hardest but most necessary choices."