Princess Maella of House Targaryen is born on a night cold and dreadful. A storm rages on through the isle of Dragonstone, covering everything in rain as the thunder booms all around. Saerra's cries are heard all throughout the castle as they echo from the stone. Her labors are long and painful with no end in sight.

It brings great fear to Rhaenyra and Daemon, who have both lost a loved one to the hardships of labor. Regardless of what the maesters say, they will do whatever they can to save Saerra. A babe can be reproduced, but Saerra is only one of a kind.

Saerra endures nearly an entire day of labors before her second daughter takes her first breath and is placed on her breast. Her tears are a mixture of pain and relief, love and exhaustion. Saerr kisses the babe atop her head, but can barely keep her eyes open.

Daemon and Rhaenyra are right there with her, the Prince removes the babe to clean her off and put her to bed, whilst the Princess uses a cloth to dab Saerra's wet and sticky skin. Saerra finds sleep fairly quickly after her labor, leaving the Princess and Prince to coddle and coo at the newborn babe.

Maella is now the third true-born child between the three of them, and later becomes a big sister once Rhaenyra births Aegon and Viserys.

And for a moment, just for a small and fleeting moment... everything is perfect. Everything is exactly as it should be. Everyone is happy. Love is in the air and there is a peace within the realm.

But the day Lord Corlys takes a dire wound on the battlefield changes everything.

Saerra refuses to admit how glad she would be if the Lord of the Tides were to die of his wounds and never return, but that would only put her little sunshine in harm's way. Lucerys stands to inherit Driftmark, and though the truth is not spoken, it is well known by now. Ser Vaemond Velaryon wishes to challenge the boy for the Driftwood throne, creating a sense of panic in the long-lasting piece.

The Salt woman watches the young Prince Lucerys Velaryon play with his step-sisters. At the water's edge, the Prince makes them laugh and giggle as they collect sea shells and splash each other with water.

The differences between the sisters is quite clear. Haeyle's hair is dark and curled and eyes that hold secrets. Maella's hair is white as snow and skin that matched her mother's.

They run around the stone and sandy beach with not a care in the world, giving Saerra a reason to smile as Jacaerys approaches his stepmother.

" It's almost time," He announces with his arms folded behind his back.

" Nearly," Saerra corrects, " They are not finished."

" We cannot miss the ship," Jacaerys interjects.

" The ships leave when we say they leave," She softly yet sternly counters, her gaze still fixated on her children, " Let them keep playing."

The boy curtly nods, keeping his hands behind his back and standing up straight as he too looks over to watch his brother play with the children.

" Look at how happy they are," Saerra smiles as Maella squeals in delight from being splashed, " How are the little ones?"

" They won't stop crying," Jace sighs.

" They are young," She adds, " It will only get worse."

The boy scoffs.

" I know it's my duty... but must I really have one?" He asks.

" Unfortunately, dear boy," Saerra admits with a groan as she stands up, " Though, fortunately, you will not be the one to take care of the babes."

She gently pats Jace on his arm, before she begins walking over to her children, of whom immediately run for their mother as soon as they see her.

Across the Narrow Sea on a ship and through King's Landing in a carriage they go, buzzing with anticipation to crawl back to the place they once called home.

" All hail Rhaenyra of  House Targaryen, Princess of Dragonstone and heir to the Iron Throne and  her royal consort, Prince Daemon Targaryen."

Saerra's name is purposefully left out, a blow to which she simply elates to ignore as she seats Maella on her hip and Haeyle holding her hand. They family expands into the illusive castle, where Jace and Luke set out for themselves, and Saerra joins her husband and wife for the heart-wrenching duty of seeing the king.

Viserys is near his death bed. It could happen any day and at any moment, which becomes startlingly obvious once they step through the threshold of his chambers.

" Father.  It's me, my king.  Rhaenyra.  I'm here with Daemon," Rhaenyra softly says as she approaches her father's bedside.

" Daemon?  Daemon?  Daemon.  Help me up," The King wearily commands, barely able to keep his one eye open.

Saerra keeps her distance. She wishes to be there for her loves, but the sight and smell of the king is enough to make her sick. Her breath remains strong and steady throughout the conversation, even as the babes begin to cry from the pure horror that is Viserys Targaryen.

" That cunt is poisoning him," Daemon mutters as he opts to take a seat on a chair.

" Daemon!" Saerra scolds as she gently passes her girls to the nanny, " Hold your tongue."

Daemon's eyes meet hers as Rhaenyra comes around to hold her husband's hand. Rhaenyra's bump grows larger with each and every passing day, and her pregnancy is what makes her more on edge, and what causes her to jump slightly as the wooden doors creak open.

" It has been so long since we were granted the joy of your presence," The Queen curtly smiles as she greets them.

" Indeed, Your Grace," Rhaenyra nods.

" Though not long enough to merit a greeting upon our arrival," Daemon notes.

" I'm sure the Queen had pressing business, my love," Saerra sourly adds.

" What can any of us know of ruling a kingdom?" Rhaenyra ponders.

" I do not rule, as you well know," Alicent counters, " My father and I are mere stewards of the King's will and wisdom."

" And how exactly is that wisdom expressed?  Hmm?" Daemon asks, " In blinks and wheezes?  I'd be surprised if he could remember his own name.  Or if you could."

" King Viserys's condition has worsened since you saw him last," The Queen states, which only earns a scoff in return, "  It subjects him to considerable pain.  On the advice of the maesters...

" Oh, the maesters.  Of course. It is they who keep him... addled on milk of the poppy while  the Hightowers warm his throne," Rhaenyra objects as she takes a bold step forward.

" Rhaenyra, if you would see him without it, almost blind with suffering."

" Oh.  Alicent, I have no doubt it was an act of the purest mercy, but tell me,  for the King's suffering, did the maesters also prescribe the removal  of Targaryen heraldry and the installation in its stead of various  statues and stars?" The Prince ponders.

" The emblems of the Seven serve only to guide us on an uncertain path," The Queen replies, "  To remind us of a higher authority. "

" And on the morrow, which authority will sit in judgment of my son's  claim on his own inheritance?" Rhaenyra ponders.

" That would be mine... and the Hand's," Alicent states,"  But be assured, the Father is just and commands me to forget the  accusations you have hurled in this room today."

Alicent, regal and composed, holds her ground, her words laced with authority and a hint of defiance. Saerra can't help but admire her ability to maintain her poise amidst the storm, even as her words sting like venom.

The Queen departs not long after the conversation rears its head, allowing a breath of fresh air to be had between the throuple.

" I believe we deserve a drink," Saerra announces as she saunters off to the nearest table and pours herself a goblet of wine.

" I am not one to drink when with child, Saerra," Rhaenyra counters.

" Then I will drink for the both of us, my love," Saerra sighs, then brings the sweet wine to her lips.

There is a single moon between their arrival and the trial, and already, tensions are quite high. Rhaenyra and Alicent still have their feud, despite once being madly in love. And the boys, oh, the poor boys. They've poked the sleeping bear and have celebrated their survival, not knowing that this bear does not provoke easily.

Prince Aemond Targaryen, as dangerous as he is, will not simply allow his nephews to get him that easily, not whilst in the training yard. But when Aemond does get his hands on his little nephew... he will get revenge for the eye he no longer has.

And then, as the moon passes, the day of the petition is upon the realm. Saerra stands with her girls by her side, and she stands with her husband and wife, who both seem to attract the attention of the Queen's children, but the one-eyed Prince's attention is on that of the Salt bastard.

" Though it is the great hope of this court that Lord Corlys Velaryon survives his wounds, we gather here with the grim task of dealing with the succession of Driftmark," Otto announces as he stands on the steps before the throne, " As Hand, I speak with the King's voice on this and all other matters. The crown will now hear the petitions. Ser Vaemond of Hous Velaryon."

The younger Velaryon brother steps forward, standing before the throne as he casts a snide glance over to Rhaenyra and her children.

"  My queen," He greets, " The history of our noble houses extends beyond the Seven Kingdoms to the days of Old Valyria. For as long as House  Targaryen has ruled the skies, House Velaryon has ruled the seas. When the doom fell on Valyria, our houses became the last of their kind. Our forebearers came to this new land, knowing that were they to fail, it would mean the end of their bloodlines and their name. I have spent my entire life on Driftmark defending my brother's seat. I am Lord Corlys's closest kin, his own blood. The true, impeachable blood of House  Velaryon runs through my veins."

"  As it does in my sons, the offspring of Laenor Velaryon," Rhaenyra quips, " If you cared so much about your house's blood, Ser Vaemond, you would not be so bold as to supplant its rightful heir. No, you only  speak for yourself, and for your own ambition."

"  You will have a chance to make your own petition, Princess Rhaenyra,"  Alicent interjects, " Do Ser Vaemomd the courtesy of allowing his to be  heard."

The princess shuts her mouth as the Velaryon turns to face her with a smug grin.

"  What do you know of Velaryon blood, princess? I could cut my veins and show it to you, and you still wouldn't recognize it. This is about the future and survival of my house, not yours," he glances over to the brunette boys and raven-haired woman before he turns to face the throne yet again, " My Queen, my Lord Hand. This is a matter of blood,  not ambition. I place the continuation of the survival of my house and my line above all. I humbly put myself before you as my brother's  successor... the Lord of Driftmark, and Lord of the Tides."

Before Rhaenyra even has the chance to speak, the doors open, the sound loud and booming and demands attention.

"  King Viserys Targaryen. First of his name, King of the Andals and the  Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of  the Realm."

The  King hobbles to the Iron Throne with a golden mask upon his face. The sight of him brings many tears to many eyes, especially as he wheezes and groans up the steps. His crown falls from his head, and without a second of hesitation, Daemon is already there, helping his brother to his throne, then places the crown back on his head.

" I must admit my confusion," He starts, " I do not understand why petitions are being heard over a settled succession. The only one present...  who  might offer keener insight into Lord Corlys's wishes is Princess  Rhaenys."

"  Indeed, Your Grace," The Princess nods, " It was ever my husband's will that Driftmark pass through Ser Laenor to his trueborn son...  Lucerys  Velaryon.  His mind never changed.  Nor did my support of him.  As a  matter of fact, the Princess Rhaenyra has just informed me of her desire to marry her sons Jace and Luke to Lord Corlys's granddaughters,   Baela and Rhaena.  A proposal to which I heartily agree."

"  Well... the matter is settled.  Again," The King sighs, "   I hereby  reaffirm Prince Lucerys of House Velaryon as heir to Driftmark,  the  Driftwood Throne, and the next Lord of the Tides."

But his words only act as fuel to the fire within the true heir.

"  You break law... and centuries of tradition to install your daughter as heir.  Yet you dare tell me... who deserves to inherit the name  Velaryon," Vaemond nearly seethes, "No.  I will not allow it."

"Allow it?  Do not forget yourself, Vaemond," Viserys utters.

"  That is no true Velaryon, and certainly no nephew of mine," Vaemond shouts as he points an accusing finger at the bastard boy.

"  You have said enough.  Lucerys is my true-born grandson," The King affirms, "And you... are no more than the second son of Driftmark."

"  You... may run your house as you see fit... but you will not decide the future of mine.  My house survived the Doom and a thousand tribulations besides.  And gods be damned...  I will not see it ended on  the account of this..."

He pauses, stopping himself from saying something he may come to regret. But he already knows. His words will bring him only death.

" Say it," Daemon whispers, as if to challenge him.

Saerra's jaw tightens and her nostrils flare as she locks eyes with the man who refuses to call himself her uncle.

" Her children... are bastards!  And she... is... a whοre."

" I... will have your tongue for that," Viserys wheezes as he stands up with his blade.

In a flash, Daemon's hand grabs his sword and thoroughly and quickly removes half Vaemond's head.

" He can keep his tongue," Daemon remarks as he nonchalantly stands before the body.

The Rogue Prince bears no consequences for murdering a man of royal blood in front of the court. He is the king's brother and the heir's husband, even if Otto would gladly strip him of his titles and send him across the Narrow Sea.

And unfortunately for all, the king wishes to have supper with his family... of which now includes Saerra Salt and her two daughters.

" How good it is... to see you all tonight... together," Viserys starts, glancing over at his secondborn and smiling.

"   Prayer before we begin?" The Queen suggests, earning a quiet scoff from the King's secondborn as she claps her hand and closes her eyes, "  May the mother smile down on this gathering with love. May the Smith mend the bonds that have been broken for too long. And to Vaemond  Velaryon,  may gods give him rest."

Daemon smiles to himself at the choice of words. Rhaenyra is sat to his right, whilst Saerra is sat to his left with her daughters beside her.

"   This is an occasion for celebration, it seems," The King observes, "  My grandsons, Jace and Luke, will marry their cousins, Baela and  Rhaena,  further strengthening the bond between our houses. A toast to  the young  princes... and their betrothed."

The goblets are raised and then brought to their mouths to drink as Aegon leans over to his nephew.

" Well done, Jace. You'll finally get to lie with a woman," He smugly whispers.

" Let's toast as well to Prince Lucerys... the future Lord of the Tides," Viserys adds.

The goblets are raised once more as Rhaena smiles at her betrothed, but   Aemond only keeps his sharp eye on his young nephew as he drinks his wine.

" You do know   how the act is done, I presume?" Aegon asks as he leans to his nephew once more, " At least in principle? Where to put your cock and all   that."

" Let it be, cousin," Baela states.

" You can play jester if you wish, but hold your tongue before my betrothed," Jace bites back.

Aegon nods like a fool as he backs off for now. King   Viserys groans as he uses his cane to stand up straight, wanting to address his family in a more serious and formal manner, for it may be the last.

" It both gladdens my heart and fills me with sorrow to see these faces around the table," He starts as he looks around at each of his family's faces, "   The faces most dear to me in all the world... yet grown so distant from each other in the years past," he then brings his hand up to remove his golden mask to reveal his true form, his true face that has become horrid and decayed over time from his illness, which comes to a shock to most of his family, for very few have seen it, " My own face... is no longer a handsome one... if indeed it ever was. But tonight, I wish you to see me as I am. Not just a king, but your father, your brother,  your husband... and your grandsire. Who may not, it seems, walk for much longer among you. Let us no longer hold ill feelings in our hearts. The crown cannot stand strong if the House of the Dragon remains divided.  But set aside your grievances, if not for the sake of  the crown... then  for the sake of this old man who loves you all so  dearly."

The queen aids her husband as he collapses back into his chair, his speech having  touched most at the table. His words stick in their hearts,  though it means having to let go of the past and just be a family.

"   I wish to raise my cup to her grace, the Queen," Rhaenyra states as she stands up and brings the attention to her, " I love my father. But I must admit that no one has stood more loyally by his side than his good wife. She has tended to him with unfailing devotion, love, and honor. And for that, she has my   gratitude... and my apology."

And not long after, the queen stands as well.

"   Your graciousness moves me deeply, princess. We are both mothers, and we love our children. We have more in common than we sometimes allow,"   Alicent starts, " I raise my cup to you... and to your house. You will   make a fine queen."

Her words catch not only Otto by surprise but Saerra as well. Considering the scar that still burns itself on Rhaenyra's forearm, she never thought they would be able to make amends.

"   To Prince Aegon and Prince Aemond," Jacaerys starts after he's promptly slammed the table, " We have not seen each other in years, but I have found memories of our shared youth.  And as men, I hope we may yet be friends and allies. To you and your   family's good health, uncles."

" To you, as well," Aegon coughs as his nephew pats his shoulder.

The music begins to play, filling the room with a sense of peace and happiness as the feast continues. Though the family may be feuding, in this one moment, they are a family. It's enough to bring tears to the king's eyes, whom is escorted back to his chambers not long after. He's old, tired, and feeble, but truly needed this dinner. He needed to see his family together at least one last time.

Jacaerys invites Helaena to dance, Haelye and Maella are whispering with one another, sharing secrets that only they know, as their mother watches with her elbow propped up on the table and her chin resting in her hand. Her eyes sparkle in amazement as she watches her girls, her pride and joys. It's a moment that brings a genuine smile to her face.

One that fades the moment a roasted pig is placed on the table and Lucerys can't help but chuckle.

"  Final tribute," Aemond announces, after he's slammed his fists on the table and stands up from his chair, goblet of wine in hand as his eye narrows on Luke, " To the health of my nephews. Jace... Luke... and  Joffrey. Each of them handsome, wise... strong."

The air is sucked from the room as the tension only grows.

" Let us drain our cups to these three.... strong boys."

" I dare you to say that again," Jace seethes.

" Why? 'Twas only a compliment," Aemond smirks as his nephew marches straight for him, "Do you not think yourself Strong?"

Jace lands a hard blow to his uncle's face, who only chuckles and pushes him to the ground. Saerra sees Aegon pinning Lucerys down to the table,  prompting her to stand from her chair and shove the prince off of his nephew.

" You dare touch me?!" Aegon all but seethes as he looks at the woman in disgust.

" Do not touch my son," Saerra snarls at the unworthy prince.

" Why would you say such a thing before these people?" Alicent questions as she stands before her son.

  " I was merely expressing how proud I am of my family, Mother," Aemond simply responds. "Mmm. Though it seems my nephews aren't quite as proud  of theirs."

Jace attempts to lunge forward, but he's stopped and silenced by his stepfather. Daemon faces Aemond, two men who appear to be quite similar, yet ever so different.

Saerra gathers her children in her arms and removes them from any sign of danger. Her pride is completely unaffected as she flees with her children to bring them to the safety of their chambers.

Once inside, Saerra closes the door behind them, shutting out the chaos and turmoil that swirls beyond. The room is bathed in a soft, warm glow, emanating from the flickering candles that cast dancing shadows on the walls. Saerra releases a breath she hadn't realized she was holding, her body relaxing slightly.

As the tension begins to subside, Saerra turns her attention to Haelye and Maella, her beautiful daughters who bear the weight of their Targaryen lineage with innocence and grace. She kneels down before them, her eyes filled with love and concern.

She opens her arms wide, and Haelye and Maella rush into her embrace, their small bodies pressing against her. Saerra wraps her arms around them, holding them close, as if trying to shield them from the harsh realities that exist beyond these walls.

"You are safe here, my loves," Saerra whispers, her voice a soft melody that calms their restless souls, "No harm shall befall you while I am by your side. Remember that always."

Haelye, wise beyond her years, gazes up at her mother with eyes that reflect both vulnerability and strength.

"Why are they fighting, Mama?" She asks, her voice filled with innocence and confusion.

Saerra brushes a strand of hair behind Haelye's ear, her touch tender and comforting. "

Sometimes, people forget what truly matters," She explains, her words carefully chosen, "But we, my sweet girl, we have each other. And that is the greatest gift of all."

Maella, still too young to fully comprehend the gravity of the situation, clings to her mother's dress, seeking solace in the familiar warmth of her presence. Saerra lowers herself to the floor, enveloping Maella in her arms, creating a cocoon of love and safety.

"Remember, my little gem," Saerra murmurs, pressing a gentle kiss to Maella's forehead, "No matter what happens out there, we will always have each other. Our love will guide us through the darkest of times."

They stay like that for a while, the three of them huddled together in a sanctuary of love and tenderness. Saerra whispers words of comfort and reassurance, filling the room with a soothing melody that washes away their fears and replaces them with a sense of security.

Daemon is the one to retrieve his girls, slowly opening the creaking door to find the children shielded in their mother's arms, a warrior who will defend her babies with all of her strength. Daemon is cautious and gentle with her approach, making sure to be as calm as possible.

" The ship is ready--"

" Sh!"

The Prince is scolded by his wife, who looks over her shoulder to meet his gaze.

" They are asleep," She whispers, her voice carrying the weight of her words.

Daemon then nods, watching as Saerra scoops up both of the girls in her arms. He attempts to help her as she nears the door, but she refuses. Saerra insists that she is ever so capable of handling her children all by herself. She holds her girls with her in the carriage and on the ship.

Yet the moment the first Targaryen foot steps onto the isle of Dragonstone... King Viserys Targaryen takes his final breath.

✦
✦
✦
✦
✦
✦
✦
✦
✦
✦

[ getting closer to the finale 😅 ]