Saerra paces nervously in the training yard of Dragonstone, her gaze fixed on Prince Daemon Targaryen as he readies his armor and weapons. News has reached her ears that Daemon intends to join the upcoming war in the Stepstones, and she gathers her courage and approaches him, her heart pounding in her chest.

"My Prince," She calls out, her voice quivering slightly, "May I have a word?"

Daemon turns his gaze towards her, his violet eyes locking with hers. He raises an eyebrow inquisitively but remains silent, waiting for her to continue. Saerra takes a deep breath, trying to steady her nerves.

"I... I heard that you're going to war in the Stepstones," She begins hesitantly, "And... I wanted to ask if you could teach me how to fight. I don't want to feel helpless while you're risking your life."

Daemon's expression hardens, his features betraying a mix of concern and reluctance.

"This is no place for you. War is not a game," He says, his voice stern, "You shouldn't involve yourself in such matters."

Saerra's resolve strengthens, and she steps closer to him, her eyes pleading.

"But I don't want to be left behind. I want to be able to protect myself, to help you if needed," The girl nearly begs.

A flicker of vulnerability passes across Daemon's face before he quickly masks it with a dismissive wave of his hand.

"You're of Velaryon blood. You shouldn't have to learn how to fight. Your place is here, safe and protected," He utters.

Saerra's eyes fill with determination as she takes a step closer, her voice filled with conviction.

"My place is where I choose it to be. And right now, I choose to stand by your side, even if it means learning how to wield a weapon," She proclaims, attempting to be strong with her own opinion and wants.

Daemon's gaze softens, his resistance starting to crumble under Saerra's unwavering resolve. He takes a moment to compose himself before finally giving in.

"Very well, if it will put your mind at ease," He concedes, his voice tinged with a mixture of reluctance and concern, "But I won't hold back."

A mix of excitement and nervousness fills Saerra's chest as Daemon leads her to a secluded corner of the training yard. He retrieves a bow and arrow from a nearby rack, his movements fluid and practiced. Saerra watches in awe as he effortlessly pulls back the string, his muscles flexing with strength and precision.

"First, we start with the basics," Daemon explains, his voice taking on a gentle tone, "Focus on your stance, feel the tension in the bow, and release with a smooth, steady motion."

Saerra listens intently, absorbing every word as Daemon guides her through the steps. His presence is commanding, yet there's an undercurrent of tenderness in the way he adjusts her grip and corrects her posture. With each touch, Saerra's skin tingles, her heart skipping a beat. They practice together, side by side, the tension between them growing with every shared moment. Saerra can feel Daemon's breath against her neck, his warm proximity sending shivers down her spine. The air crackles with unspoken desire, though both of them refuse to acknowledge it.

Time seems to lose its meaning as Daemon teaches her, their movements becoming fluid and synchronized. With each arrow she releases, Saerra's confidence swells, fueled by the knowledge that she's gaining the skills to protect herself and the man she's grown to care for so deeply. As the sun begins its descent, casting a warm golden glow across the training yard, Daemon retrieves another arrow from the quiver and hands it to Saerra. His eyes meet hers, and a fleeting moment of vulnerability passes between them, belying the facade of indifference.

"Now," Daemon murmurs, his voice husky with a mixture of admiration and caution, "Show me what you've learned."

Saerra takes a deep breath, feeling a surge of determination coursing through her veins. She steadies her stance, feeling the weight of the bow in her hands. Her fingers brush against Daemon's as he adjusts her grip one final time, their touch sending an electric jolt through her body. With focused intent, Saerra draws back the string, her muscles tensing and her heart pounding in her chest. Time seems to slow as her gaze locks onto the distant target, her mind shutting out all distractions. And then, with a fluid motion, she releases the arrow.

The arrow soars through the air, slicing through the golden light, and strikes the target with a resounding thud, dead center. Saerra's breath catches in her throat as she turns to Daemon, her eyes shining with a mix of triumph and awe. Daemon's face breaks into a rare smile, a blend of admiration and something deeper, flickering in his eyes. He steps closer, his hand reaching out to cup her cheek gently. The tenderness in his touch is undeniable, belying his earlier reservations.

"Saerra," He whispers, his voice laced with a vulnerability he can no longer hide, "You never cease to surprise me."

Saerra's breath hitches as she feels the weight of his words, her heart pounding with a mixture of exhilaration and longing. In that moment, the unspoken tension between them becomes palpable, the air heavy with unfulfilled desires. Their eyes lock, and without a word, the space between them closes. Daemon's lips meet Saerra's in a passionate kiss, igniting a flame that has been building between them since their first encounter. It's a fervent dance of longing and affection, a confession of unspoken emotions. In that stolen moment, Saerra's heart soars, and she realizes that she is not alone in her feelings. Daemon's touch is tender, yet possessive, his arms wrapping around her, pulling her closer as if he never wants to let her go. Their lips part, but their foreheads remain pressed together, their breaths mingling in the shared silence. It's a fragile, tender moment, their unspoken bond laid bare.

His heart begs him to come clean and tell the truth. His heart yells at him to tell her how he feels... but Daemon has always been his own worst enemy. Daemon has always gotten in the way of his own happiness.

Saerra's eyes light up with hope as his lips part to speak, but the light fades away as nothing escapes his lips. Daemon remains silent and refuses to speak his own mind. And so he leaves her there with nothing more than a kiss and a thumping heart, one that aches for the man who walks away from her.

The air is charged with anticipation as the fleet sails towards the Stepstones, the rhythmic sound of the waves accompanying the pounding of Saerra's heart. She stands on the deck of the ship, her gaze fixed on the horizon, where the distant silhouette of battle awaits. She has convinced Daemon to let her join him in the fight, to stand by his side despite his reservations. As the ships anchor near the shores of the Stepstones, Saerra readies herself for the impending conflict. She dons a suit of armor that seems both unfamiliar and heavy upon her frame, the weight of her decision settling on her shoulders. Lord Corlys, however, watches her with a disapproving gaze, his brows furrowed deeply.

" This is no place for a woman," He admonishes, his voice heavy with concern," You have no training, no experience in the art of war. It's madness to even consider this."

Saerra meets his gaze with a steely determination, her voice resolute.

" Yes, fath-- My Lord," She quickly corrects herself, " I have been training. I would like the chance to prove myself."

" Bastards do not get that luxury," He shakes his head.

The Salt girl inhales deeply through her nostrils and fills her chest with whatever courage she can muster,

" I will fight," She utters, " And I will not ask for permission."

Saerra turns her attention to Daemon, who stands nearby, preparing his own weapons with focused intent. She watches him, her heart aching with a longing that he refuses to acknowledge. She knows he cares, in his own way, but his walls remain intact, shielding his emotions from her.

"Daemon," She speaks softly, her voice carrying the weight of both vulnerability and determination,"I won't let you fight alone."

Daemon's eyes meet hers, flickering with a mixture of concern and concealed affection. He opens his mouth to protest, to tell her that she should stay behind, but the words die on his lips. Instead, he nods, a silent acknowledgment that he understands her conviction.

The battle begins, chaos descending upon the shores of the Stepstones. Saerra's heart races as she unsheathes her sword, her hands trembling slightly. The clash of steel fills the air, mingling with the cries of pain and the thunderous roar of dragons overhead.

Fear grips Saerra as she faces her first opponent, a seasoned warrior lunging toward her with lethal intent. She tries to recall Daemon's teachings, but her movements are unsteady, her blows lacking finesse. In the heat of the battle, she finds herself stumbling, the weight of her armor becoming an unwelcome burden. Her eyes meet Daemon's across the battlefield, and for a brief moment, a flicker of concern crosses his face. But before she can register it fully, her attention is yanked back to the fight at hand. She's knocked to the ground, pain shooting through her body as her sword slips from her grasp.

In that moment of vulnerability, fear grips her, threatening to overwhelm her resolve. But as she lies there, her breaths coming in ragged gasps, a spark of determination ignites within her. She refuses to be defeated so easily. Saerra spots her bow lying a few feet away, its slender form a beacon of hope. Summoning her courage, she crawls toward it, the chaos of battle fading into the background as she focuses solely on her goal.

With the bow in hand, Saerra rises to her feet, a renewed sense of purpose fueling her every move. She takes a deep breath, steadying her trembling hands, and notches an arrow onto the bowstring. Her eyes scan the battlefield, searching for a target. In the distance, she spots a group of enemy soldiers advancing, their armor glinting ominously in the sunlight. Saerra's heart pounds in her chest as she raises the bow, her gaze unwavering, her focus sharpened. She releases the arrow with a resolute determination, watching it soar through the air.

The arrow finds its mark, striking true, felling one of the enemy soldiers. A surge of triumph rushes through her veins, mingling with a newfound sense of empowerment. It is a small victory, but it fuels her resolve to fight on. Saerra continues to unleash arrows upon her adversaries, each shot fueled by a mix of skill and determination. Her aim improves with each attempt, her confidence growing alongside her desire to prove herself. She fights with the conviction that she will not be a liability, and that she can hold her own in this brutal dance of warfare.

Yet, despite her growing prowess, the battlefield remains a treacherous place, and fear lurks in the shadows. Saerra's heart races with each clash of steel, her breath quickens as danger lurks around every corner. Doubt gnaws at her, threatening to unravel her resolve. It is in one such moment of vulnerability that her worst fears manifest. An enemy soldier, larger and more experienced, charges toward her with a fury unmatched. Panic seizes Saerra, her fingers fumbling with the arrow, her movements erratic. She stumbles backward, her legs threatening to give way.

Just as the soldier's blade inches closer, a powerful gust of wind sweeps through the battlefield, the familiar sound of wings beating against the air. Daemon descends upon them, astride his dragon, his eyes ablaze with fury. With one swift movement, he dispatches the enemy soldier, his skill unmatched. Saerra's heart pounds in her chest as Daemon lands beside her, his eyes meeting hers with a mix of relief and masked concern. His voice is gruff, laced with unspoken emotions.

"I told you to stay safe. You are not a warrior," He utters.

Saerra's pride stings at his words, her gaze locking with his.

"I refuse to be a bystander," She retorts, her voice tinged with determination, "I-I may not be a warrior yet, but I will become one. I will fight for what I believe in, for our cause."

Daemon's grip tightens on his weapon, his features etched with a mix of pride and a hint of fear. His voice softens, though his words retain a layer of caution.

"You are stubborn," He remarks.

Saerra steps closer to him, their proximity charged with unspoken desires and unsaid confessions. She places a gentle hand on his armored chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath her touch. Her voice is a whisper, laced with vulnerability, " I won't be deterred. Let me fight by your side, not as a burden, but as an ally."

For a long moment, Daemon's gaze searches hers, his eyes flickering with conflicting emotions. And then, he nods, a silent agreement passing between them. He can no longer deny the fire that burns within them, the unspoken connection that binds them together.

"Very well," He finally concedes, his voice a gentle murmur. "If fighting is what you desire, then fight you shall. But promise me this: promise me that you will stay close to me, that you will trust my judgment, and that you will not take unnecessary risks."

Saerra's eyes glisten with a mixture of gratitude and determination. She nods, her voice filled with unwavering resolve.

"I promise."

A soft smile tugs at the corners of Daemon's lips, and he reaches out to brush a strand of hair away from Saerra's face. His touch is gentle, tender, a testament to the emotions he can no longer conceal.

Saerra's heart swells with gratitude and a burgeoning affection. She takes a step closer, the space between them vanishing. The clatter of the battlefield fades into the background as they find solace in each other's presence.

With renewed determination, Saerra and Daemon stand side by side, their spirits intertwined amidst the chaos of war. Saerra's bow is nocked once more, her fingers steady, as she gazes out into the fray. The echoes of battle and the scent of blood mingle in the air, but she remains resolute. Together, they charge forward, their steps synchronized, as they navigate the treacherous battlefield. Daemon's strength and skill serve as an anchor for Saerra, a source of both comfort and inspiration. His mere presence emboldens her, driving her to push past her own limits. Saerra faces each obstacle with a mix of caution and determination, her arrow finding its mark time and again. She fights alongside Daemon, their movements intertwined, their instincts harmonized. And in those fleeting moments, as their eyes meet amidst the chaos, they communicate a silent understanding—a connection that transcends the battlefield.

But even with her newfound resolve, fear still gnaws at Saerra's core. The reality of war weighs heavily upon her, each clash of steel a stark reminder of the dangers that lurk. Doubt and apprehension creep in, threatening to unravel her resolve. As the battle rages on, Saerra finds herself caught in a moment of paralyzing fear. The screams of the wounded and the clash of weapons overwhelm her senses, and her grip on the bow trembles. Doubt gnaws at her, but she refuses to succumb.

Suddenly, a flurry of arrows hurtles towards her, their trajectory aiming for her vulnerable form. Panic surges through her veins, threatening to immobilize her.

The Velaryon bastard is carried out of the battle and flown back to Dragonstone on a dragon, where Prince Daemon himself brings her to bed as the maesters tend to her wounds. The entire time, his arms are crossed and his brows are furrowed as he watches her, and doesn't think about speaking till she does.

" What is wrong, my Prince?" Saerra asks as anxiety fills her heart, " Did I do something wrong."

" No," He says, " I did."

Her heart then sinks down into her stomach as her throat goes dry.

" Lord Corlys was right. It is no place for a woman," Daemon recalls.

" I-I proved myself. Did I not?" Saerra questions as she sits up in her bed, " With your training I--"

" Nearly died in battle," He interjects, " That is not a death I will allow you to have."

Her jaw trembles as the tears prickle her dark eyes.

" Your place is here, on Dragonstone. You are a woman... not a warrior," The Prince proclaims before he turns to leave the room.

Yet something possesses the girl, something that gives her the strength to stand on her injured legs and speak her truth.

" I am both!" She exclaims with a slight shake in her voice, " I am a woman... and one day I will be a warrior. I will prove myself to you, my Prince."

" Don't do it for me," Daemon snarls as he turns back to face her, now only inches apart, " I want you here, not out there."

" I want to be out there," Saerra states strongly as the tears burn her eyes and fall down her cheeks, " I want to fight!"

For the first time, Saerra is able to stand up for herself without fear of punishment. For the first time, she can advocate for what she wants, even if her body still trembles while doing so. And for the first time, Daemon sees her in a different light. Before him is still the same girl, yet with a different look in her eyes, one he hasn't seen till this very moment.

Courage.

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[ saerra deserves to be protected at all costs. and yes, we will be getting to the poly part of the story soon ]