" 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.

"Harwin!" She calls, her voice echoing through the desolation, "Harwin!"

A figure emerges from the smoke, tall and strong, with familiar broad shoulders and kind eyes. Harwin strides towards her, his expression both pained and tender.

"Saerra," He says, reaching out to her.

She runs to him, flinging herself into his arms, and he holds her tightly, as if he never wants to let go. Saerra sobs against his chest, clutching at his shirt. Harwin strokes her hair, his touch gentle and soothing.

"I'm here," He murmurs, "I'm here."

She looks up at him, her heart breaking all over again.

"But you're not," She says, her voice barely a whisper, "You're gone, and I can't bring you back."

Harwin's eyes fill with sorrow as he cups her face in his hands.

"You must be strong," He says, "For our children, for Rhaenyra. They need you."

Saerra nods, tears streaming down her face. He presses a tender kiss to her forehead. The scene begins to fade, and Saerra clings to Harwin, not wanting to let go.

"I love you," She whispers, her voice breaking, "I love you so much."

"I love you too," Harwin says, his voice echoing in the fading light, "Always."

Saerra wakes with a start, her heart pounding in her chest. The chamber is silent, the only sound the gentle breathing of Rhaenyra beside her. She takes a deep, shuddering breath, wiping the tears from her cheeks.

She looks down at Rhaenyra, her heart swelling with love and determination. She will protect her family, no matter the cost. She will be strong, just as Harwin and Luke believed she could be.

As the first light of dawn begins to seep into the room, a gentle knock echoes from the door. Saerra tenses, her hand darting to the bow. The door creaks open, and Elinda Massey, Rhaenyra's most loyal servant, steps inside. Saerra's grip tightens for a moment before she recognizes Elinda's familiar face. She relaxes, her hand falling away from the weapon.

Elinda moves with practiced grace, her steps almost silent as she approaches the bed. Saerra watches her intently, every muscle in her body coiled and ready. Elinda gives her a respectful nod, understanding the tension in the air. She begins to gather the items needed to prepare Rhaenyra for the day.

Saerra refuses to leave the chamber, her eyes never straying far from her wife. She knows that Elinda is trustworthy, but the fear and anxiety gnaw at her, making her skin prickle. She stands and stretches, her movements slow and deliberate, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep and dreams.

Elinda gently rouses Rhaenyra, who stirs and opens her eyes with a soft smile. Saerra's heart lifts at the sight, and she feels a surge of warmth. Rhaenyra sits up, her hair cascading around her like a silken waterfall. Elinda helps her out of bed, and Saerra watches as they move to the vanity.

Rhaenyra glances back at Saerra, her eyes filled with understanding and love. Saerra steps forward, taking the brush from Elinda's hand. She begins to work on Rhaenyra's hair, her fingers deftly weaving the strands into intricate braids that resemble those of Visenya Targaryen.

Rhaenyra's reflection in the mirror is serene, her eyes locked on Saerra's. There is no need for words; their connection is a language all its own. Saerra focuses on the task, her hands moving with a practiced ease, the familiarity of the ritual grounding her.

The room is silent, save for the soft rustle of hair and the occasional crackle of the hearth. Elinda steps back, giving Saerra space to work. Saerra's fingers move with a steady rhythm, her touch gentle but firm. The braids take shape, each one a testament to her love and devotion.

Rhaenyra's eyes never leave Saerra's, the bond between them palpable. Saerra finishes the final braid, securing it with a delicate clasp. She steps back, her eyes meeting Rhaenyra's in the mirror. There is a depth of understanding in those violet eyes, a silent promise that they will face whatever comes together.

Elinda steps forward to assist with the rest of Rhaenyra's preparations, but Saerra remains close, her presence a constant reassurance. She watches as Rhaenyra dons her robes, the fabric shimmering in the morning light. Elinda's hands move with practiced efficiency, but it is Saerra's eyes that linger on every detail, ensuring that nothing is amiss.

The room begins to fill with the sounds of the castle waking up, distant footsteps and murmured conversations. Saerra remains vigilant, her senses attuned to every noise. She knows that danger could come from any corner, and she is determined to be ready.

Rhaenyra rises, her regal bearing unmistakable. She turns to Saerra, a soft smile playing on her lips. Saerra reaches out, her fingers brushing against Rhaenyra's cheek, a silent promise of her unwavering support. They stand there for a moment, their eyes locked, the bond between them unbreakable.

Elinda clears her throat softly, reminding them of the day's responsibilities. Rhaenyra nods, her gaze shifting to the door, but Saerra's hand lingers on her arm for a moment longer. She knows that the world outside is fraught with peril, but she draws strength from this moment, from the love that binds them.

As Rhaenyra steps forward, Saerra falls into step beside her, her bow still within reach. They walk together, their shoulders brushing, a silent testament to their partnership. The halls of Dragonstone echo with the promise of the day ahead, but Saerra's mind remains sharp, her heart steadfast.

The Queen and her consort make their way down to the sandy shores in order to bury the King's Guard and the Queen's Guard who met their untimely deaths. Ser Arryk and Ser Erryk were born of the same womb and are buried in the same grave.

" He is the basest of villains," Jace says as he looks down at the supposed traitor," He sullies the grave of his brother."

" I cannot fault him for keeping his oath," Rhaenyra says as she tosses a handful of dirt into the grave.

" And what of those who sent him?"

With his final words, Jace departs the burial, only giving Saerra a brief nod of respect. The two wives stand side by side in front of the grave, their eyes staring down at the corpses below as the assumed Hand of the Queen steps next to them, speaking in a hushed tone," Otto Hightower would never have allowed this. Hotter blood has prevailed, I think. The young men have taken the bit in their teeth. They wish to punish, to avenge. Soon they will not even remember what it was that began the war in the first place."

" That is easy enough. They usurped my throne," Rhaenyra says.

" That is one answer," Rhaenys nods," Or was it when the child was beheaded? Or when Aemond killed Luke... or when Luke took Aemond's eye? We teeter now at the point where none of it will matter. And the desire to kill and burn takes hold and reason is forgotten.

" There may be another way," The Queen utters," Alicent Hightower. When last we met, Alicent said I would make a fine queen."

" You've seen what has happened since then," Rhaenys counters," She came to me in the hours after your lord father's death. She knows war is coming, and that it'll be savage beyond all compare. There is no war so hateful to the gods as a war between kin. And no war so bloody as a war between dragons."

" I do not believe she wants it. She sent a raven. I do not care to read her message. What she did..."

" It is not her but the men around her who seek bloodshed."

" She permitted it," Saerra interjects.

" As you permitted the murder of a little boy in his bed," Rhaenys says, their eyes locking as her daughter inhales sharply.

" Alicent is in King's Landing. Her son sits my throne," The Queen speaks," There is nothing more to be said."

Rhaenyra is the first of the women to leave the burial, and the mother and daughter in name nay blood stand side by side, enough room between them to fit yet another.

" Do you believe yourself to be the only one?" Rhaenys asks, her words having many meanings, some obvious and some not.

" No," Saerra answers honestly," But why was I the only one to be raised in the castle?"

" Your mother was a friend," Rhaenys sighs," Once a servant in the Red Keep... my servant," she stands tall, even as she recalls the memory," Corlys and I had out disagreements, and he took to the Street of Silk. She had just dawned the silk, the very night my lord husband came looking for a whore... the very night you were created."

" What was her name... my mother?"

" Johari."

Saerra dawns a little smile as tears sting her eyes, feeling her heart tremble after learning about the woman who brought her into this world, a woman who's name she never even knew up until today.

" Thank you," Saerra whispers.

The Salt girl takes no time in returning to the castle, feeling as though she's already left Rhaenyra alone too long as it. Her pace is quick and determined, taking the steps two at a time as she wipes her tears and settles her heart.

But the sight she sees only makes her heart ache. Her daughter, her niece, her beloved Rhaena in tears as she exits the Queen's chambers.

" Rhaena..." Saerra whispers.

" Are you going to send me away as well?" The young girl spits.

" Rhaena, I would never--"

" Don't lie to me."

Saerra pauses, allowing them both to take a deep breath," What happened?"

" I am to be nothing more than a nanny. The Queen is sending me, her young children, and dragon eggs to the Vale," Rhaena lists off.

" That sounds quite important," Saerra suggests," It sounds like she trusts you."

" I know that I haven't a dragon... but is this the life I am to have?" The girl asks as her voice cracks.

Saerra steps forward, gently cupping the young girl's face in her hands," You do not need a dragon to be important. You do not need a dragon to have worth. You are a Targaryen. You are strong, and wise, and kind... and you are important, Rhaena."

Rhaena bites her inner cheeks," Than why am I not treated as such?"

The young girl removes herself from Saerra's grasp in order to seek comfortable from her sister, who joins her outside the castle gates in order to say goodbye. The entire family comes together to say goodbye, though Rhaena's father is obviously missing.

Saerra stands by Rhaenyra's side, holding both of her daughter's hands as they all watch Rhaena depart Dragonstone. But something happens to Saerra, something speaks to her as she looks down at her little girls... her everything.

" Wait," Saerra calls out, halting the departure as she steps forward with her daughters," Take them."

The mother kneels down to her girls, looking at them both as she places a hand on either of their cheeks," I love you both with my entire heart and my entire soul. I will do anything to protect you and keep you safe," she swallows a cry," Our separation will be temporary. We will see each other again, and we will listen to the waves another day."

Saerra's goodbye is painful and gutwrenching, she gives a kiss to each daughter, then stands to watch them walk away, feeling as though a piece of her is leaving with them.

Saerra doesn't return to the castle, instead sitting on the sandy shore in order to listen to the waves, attempting to drown her sorrows in something other than wine as the tears slip down her cheeks. Each beat of her heart reminds her of the agonizing reality of living, every beat reminds her that life is full of pain.

Her feet are buried in the sand, her eyes locked on the horizon before her, listening to footsteps get louder and louder until someone sits beside her.

" I think you did the right thing," Baela says," It's not safe for them here."

" Then why do I feel as though someone has carved out my heart with a rusty blade?" Saerra asks, her eyes still on the horizon," This war may be the end of us, you know."

" We're not at war, Saerra."

" Aren't we?"

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