Princess Saera Targaryen

((This is, and will continue to be, a work in progress.))

Princess Saera Targaryen is the youngest child of Prince Viserys and his wife, Lady Gwynesse Lannister. Born in 381 A.C., Saera has been as prominent a figure in the royal court as her eldest sibling, Visaera. She has made a name for herself throughout the realm as the 'face' for her family - the silver-tongued, silver-haired dragon-riding waif of a woman who can sway even the coldest of hearts to her cause. There are few in the realm who wouldn't know the name - or the sight - of Saera Targaryen - sweet of word and character, she is well known for travelling the realm either for leisure, or business on her family's behalf. Rarely is there a day she isn't in the sky.

There are whispers, of course - as there are bound to be, with any notable figure - of scandal and seduction. That, silver-tongued or no, she is privy to more than is her right. Or that her bed has known many a lord, in 'swaying opinion'; that, in fact, her tongue isn't all she uses in these meetings. Never to her face, of course, are such things aired.

She was briefly married for a span of years - though tragedy struck, as it is wont to, and left her to fly the skies in her mourning blacks, astride the dragon so similar to her soul. The beast is a small thing; lithe with pearly, opalescent scales and an azure gaze.

Appearance and Character
Much like her eldest sister, Saera has the pale-gold memory of Gwynesse touching starlit, Targaryen locks. Long, curling, and thick strands frame a face flush with life. Eyes imbued with compassionate, amethyst glow rest above a small mouth that always seems on the verge of a smile. There is a gentleness to that violet hold upon your wandering glances, and while you look into her, there is only peace. When she wears even the hint of mirth, the world can only respond with goodwill.

For all that her reputation precedes her in grandiosity, she is an extremely petite woman - a dancer, with the careful footing and lithe proportions such a pastime lends her. Delicate features lend themselves to the appearance of innocence - of feylike delight when she speaks in her soft, yet assertive manner.

The gods saw fit to gift Seara lyrical chords so that others may be entranced by her voice; mellifluous and unending with joy, even nightingales who barely overhear her casual conversations turn green with envy.

The Targaryen princess is much shorter than most her age, having retained the sweetness and supple body of a youth ten years younger. She can usually be found wearing white that hugs or drapes, attempting to accentuate her petite features. When not in an ivory shade of peace, she dresses to fit the occasion, often matching the colors of a house she is visiting. She favors silks, but this is something donned for official function and secret rendevouz.

Unlike her many kin, Saera does not adorn herself with the jewelry or gilded daggers that other members of her station may find appropriate. Instead, she only wears a simple silver band upon her thumb, engraved with some woven pattern and words from an Essosi dialect of Valyrian. When treating with lords and ladies, she finds it necessary to wear a humble broach that signals union of nobles and royalty.

For all that she is small - a flighty creature seemingly always on the move - she still burns with that Targaryen fire, when she must. Never in combat, however. Prowess with a blade was her eldest sibling's forte, where a persuasive personality was hers. Yet she is capable of great passion, when the time calls for as much - most notably, where someone has deeply wronged her family or grated against the ideologies of peace that Saera espouses.

The Early Years
It was not until the middle of her second year that the egg hatched. The celebration was brief, as the little dragon seemed to have designs all its own that did not include its intended partner. While it would follow Saera around, it did not bond with her immediately; or with anyone. Though it never bit anyone, the dragon gave snake-like hisses at anyone that tried to touch it, and the princess was no exception. (Saera recalls it had a particular dislike for Visaera, though she doesn't remember when this became obvious.) Its name was "Blue" as this was Saera's first word; spoken as she looked into the crystalline sky-like eyes of the whelp.

A year went by, and despite attempts to coax the dragon toward closer affections, it maintained a steady distance from others, like a dog that has been wounded, wary of people who've hurt it. When Saera was three and three months, she happened upon a little bird near her window that had fallen from its nest. It was half-feathered, shivering, and dying. Her throat was thick with sadness and urgency as she cried for help. When the guards came to the call of the Targaryen princess, they arrived to a scene of Saera weeping over a lifeless sparrow in cupped hands and Blue coiled around her arm. No one remembers now, but Saera swears she was apologizing to the bird she could not save. From then on, she and Blue were inseparable.

That incident may have been the precursor to an ideology that Saera keeps today. During her formative years, she learned to listen, to be light on her feet, and make friends with those beneath her. Always questing for some way to assist those in the world that suffered. If the histories could be trusted, the world was full of suffering; needless deaths and horrors all for plots of lands.

Further on, around the time she flowered as a young woman the young Princess found her tongue. With it, she had realized her way to assist the world. To make peace with it and within herself for all those that she could not save. And with Blue at her side, there was little that stumped her, or gave her pause - capable of carrying herself at court with the best.

The years did not see fit to give either Saera, or Blue, the stature that their relations bore. Both remained relatively small, and lithe - quick, but weak. But together, both the young woman and her dragon seemed more confident and capable throughout their youth. In time, Saera came to define herself in a different avenue than her siblings - her chosen weapons were her mind, her tongue, and her words. Her powers of persuasion became all but a mystical effect - for she began to travel far and wide throughout Westeros on diplomatic missions. She may have begun such endeavours with a sibling at her side, but in time she came to prove her capability of her own accord - her name spoken on the lips of lords and peasants alike, as the Ivory wings of peace swept across the land.

Saera's Husband
Since she had first bled, there had been talk of a betrothal between Saera and the Targaryens across the Narrow Sea. A politically sound marriage for someone who was meant to be the emissary of Westerosi rule. Marriage was a sweet thought for the young girl, but what she found in Lys was a man unlike her dreams.

Her vision had been something like Jaecaerys whom she held so dear. A sage-like, stalwart man riding upon a dragon of his very own. Someone who would share her hopes and dreams of a world united beneath a peaceful sky. Instead, her intended was the Sealord of Braavos who rode the crashing waves of churning ocean.

A harder person than she had expected, with a deep voice like rumbling thunder and a thick, muscled body worn smooth by salted winds. He struck a dashing figure, standing atop the prow of his corsair. A shirt unbuttoned and exotic feathers woven into long, pale-yellow hair. But he also wore a sword and had scars upon his chest that marked him for the violent rogue she thought him to be. She would have walked away without a single word, but for his eyes that were the soft blue of her dragon's.

He would spend little time with her at their first greeting, offering only his name and a grin that spoke of boyish mischief. Despite her attempts to maintain composure with so many nobles present and a man of war she could hardly be expected to marry, Saera turned away with a bashful smile.

After whatever talks were conducted within Dragonstone's keep, Saera and Thyros spent several days with chaperones; some at her ancestral home and others on the water. During each of these outings, Saera had meant to explain why she could not marry Thyros, but always found a way to stifle those protests. Maybe it was the way he spoke about far off lands, where there was no pain or sorrow. Lands where men and women made love to solve their differences, and life was so sacred that to shed blood was unheard of.

He was not without his faults. There were many men he had to defend himself against and those that he said needed to die. That a single death would save thousands. Saera would complain at these explanations, entertaining them only to dismiss them as cynical approaches to life. The princess would offer up her own beliefs on the world and how she would save it without anyone needing to die. That she would kill with kindness.

Thorys would always gain boyish qualities when she spoke to him in such a way, and it would follow with a tale or some new knowledge of peoples she had not met. For a girl with so many dreams and wonder, his tales and strong arms were a balm for the pains she saw in the world.

They may have all been lies. but Saera's skepticism was dulled in the nights when Thorys would sneak out of the keep to steal Saera away to walk beneath the stars. There was a need to be stealthy, and on many occasion, they found themselves pressed against a wall or some dark corner to avoid the many eyes of Dragonstone. There, where moonlight could not touch them, he would take little liberties with her skin. At first, she shied away, but in time, she eagerly awaited the moments when they must hide and his lips were pressed against her.

---

He left after only a month in Westeros, but returned two years later upon Saera's sixteenth birthday. They were wed in the Sept on Dragonstone with all the rights that accompany such a union. Thorys only rolled his eyes once at the droning of the rehearsed speech, somber and yawning in the large hall with his bride in a dress whose beauty rivaled her dragon's hide.

Against custom, he had refused to wash the salt from his hair or untie the exotic, vibrant feathers that were braided into his hair. The Septon lifted his nose at it, and the whole hall might have disagreed, but Saera had only joy in her eyes for the familiar features.

Once that was done and they left to what would serve as their honeymoon, they sailed to a tiny island of Braavos and were married anew. This time the ceremony was brief, with trusted friends rather than dignitaries to attend their blessed, second day. She wore a layers of translucent dress cut for days along the sandy shores where they stood. He had only a vest and loose pants. Neither of them wore shoes.

After the two minutes of words that Saera swears they came up with on the spot, Thorys pulled the extravagant ring he had been pressured to place on her hand in Dragonstone, replacing it with a ring he took from his own hand. It was a simple band that had been worn with time and the rigors that her Sealord participated in. There were scrawls upon the band of a design she did not recognize, and a Lysene dialect of Valyrian which read, "All hearts find peace in love."

This, he said, was a ring his grandfather had given to his grandmother ages ago when she was a courtesan. When his father was born from their union, he passed the heirloom on. It had been given to Thorys and now Saera. His grandmother was Eireni of Lys.

Another line of old Valyrians strengthened, they spent their days hopping from one island to the next, trying twice or more for a child at every beach. It was one of the happiest times in Saera's life.

The Faiths of Essos
While Dragonstone is where she has spent the majority of her life, Essos has always called across the sea. As part of the schism of the Seven, she and others travelled to Braavos, Lys, and additional free cities. Their goal was to reinvigorate the Baelerion faith along with strengthening ties with the Targaryens of Lys.

Almost immediately, Saera found herself taken with the varied peoples and religions that collected together in relative harmony. More numerous than the ships in Braavos' harbor were the gods to which these people prayed. Marbled manses to rival Baelor's sept rising over the sea with worshippers chanting to fire, charred edifices of a cloven-hoofed beast, androgynous voices calling to the moon, and even an old Valyrian religion to name barely an ounce of available faiths. It was both a humbling and exhilarating experience, for now there was living precedent for co-habitation among such a diverse set of beliefs and values.

During these months, she explored many different religions and peoples, often speaking with them about the precepts of their religion, the mechanics of different rituals, and what the future held for it. While all of them were happy to share with the princess, she did not enjoy some of their practices. For instance, she found the Black Goat disgusting to the extreme, despising the idea that you might gain favor through ceremonial murder.

After a time, she settled on a mixture of ideas and rites of the Summer Isles, the old Valyrian religion, and the Lord of Light. Together, they formed the basis of a personal religious philosophy. Sexual desire and love as a way to curb the violent hearts of men, light and fire of the soul that burns within every heart, and a humility that dragons server as an exemplar of lesser gods, against whom, men are powerless.

In these ventures, a sister Malora (who shared a room in the Lysenne Targaryen's manse) became wary of Saera's wandering from the "true" path of the Starry Rights, nudging her back to the fold. Selenya - with whom Saera and the sister were staying - did not help Malora's efforts, seemingly to play a game with either side. Encouraging them both to change a little in every direction. While the princess could not be sure how this affected the priestess, Saera adored her Lysene kin for encouraging broadened horizons.

A Princess' Tragedy
Beyond meeting with her relatives in Lys, with whom she now felt an even closer connection, she spent many nights on a one-man sloop with Thorys beside her. They made love beneath midnight sails that blotted out curious stars above.

She having just turned twenty and he seventeen turns her senior, they continued their attempts at conceiving. Once, every week Saera was in Lys and every day treating in Braavos, the Sealord was unexpectedly unavailable in the evenings. And while their passion for one another had only grown, their hopes for a baby were never realized. After months in Lys and repeated attempts, Saera had to return to her duties in Westeros.

Around 401 AC, tragedy struck both her and Selenya. Evaeline had fallen ill and died, while Saera's husband was lost at sea. For a Sealord to be lost in a world that was second nature was beyond belief for the young princess. Unbelieving and grief-stricken, she eschewed all responsibility and searched for Thorys. She soared across the seas, skirting the waves with every ship should could find to see if her husband was the strong-armed man at the helm, perhaps sailing beneath an unfamiliar sail.

But it was in vain, for Thorys had seemingly swallowed by storms and now feasted with the drowned god.

Saera found such sorrow in those latter days that it soured into anger. There was no relief for her as she raged against the world, travelling to each island they had gone upon their honeymoon, calling out for her love to return. When he did not, she screamed and cursed, trying to smash trees or other things with sharp-edged rocks. As nothing could summon Thorys and she began to fade from hunger, Blue curled around her and they both slept. Weak and exhausted, they eventually traveled back to Braavos and then to Lys.

Taming a God
Selenya had been a good friend to Saera in all the time shew was at Lys, so when her old friend asked if she would go on a journaey to tame Rhaegal, Saera accepted. She had only meant to go as support outside of the fray - a calm voice to offer whatever wisdom might avail someone attempting to tame a beast. Saera's usual tactics of being gentle and trying to understand others, however, would do Selenya any good out there. Ultimately, Saera felt her offerings amounted to more than pleasant smiles.

It was Jacaerys who convinced Saera to actually attend the dragon taming. Blue was fast enough - Jacaerys wagered - that she could get Selenya and Saera both out to safety if something should go awry. Nevermind that she wouldn't deny him after so long apart, Saera knew from their years together that it best to follow her learned prince's plans to the letter.

If not her outlook, at least everyone seemed to share Saera's understanding of following good sense. All of them except fro Rhaegar who could not allow himself a steely moment under duress. When Rhaegal balked at Selenya's offering, whipping her to the ground and standing over his prize, Rhaegar had thought it best to rush out in a blaze of rash stupidity, leaving Jacaerys to fend off Rhaegl's rage. In the end, Saera made it out with Selenya, rushing them both to safety as fast as wings would carry them while Jacaerys tumbled over the cliff-side in a fight with that behemoth of flame and smoke.

It was dark when she returned to the campsite after seeing to Selenya. No one else had come to call upon the Targaryen of Lys, and Saera thought them all dead. That same dumb luck that had saved Rhaegar had cursed Jacaerys who all had given up on. But Saera did not, could not, simply leave, and felt somewhere in her heart that he yet lived.

Like the damned fool Visaera thought her to be, Saera waited until dawn to look for Jacaerys, convinced that the night was too dark and trees too thick to make out a rider or its dragon. For her foolish patience, she was rewarded with the sight of her lover's mud-soaked body after he'd crawled miles to get back to safety. Saera eventually kissed his face and cleaned him as best she could before carrying her sweet Jayce back to Dragonstone. For weeks after, she was not seen in Westeros, having flown away to the East.

The Mummer's War
In the weeks after Jacaerys had gone, there were stories of Saera sailing off Pentos in an old Braavossi Sealord's longcoat. Others swear they had heard the sugary, unmistakable lilt of Saera's cries in a whorehouse, ridding herself of whatever grief she held behind layers of silk shades. Some sailors say they saw her flying overhead towards old Valyria with curses upon soft lips, while more still say she hunted for ancient tomes and silent evenings in Myr.

Whatever the truth, it would be some time before the rumors of conflict in the West were dire enough to see pearled, opalescent wings soar over Westeros again.

Thorys Nahelar
Her now deceased husband who was once (and may still be) the love of her life. Thoryn was lost in a storm some seven years ago and hasn't been seen since. Saera still wears his ring on her thumb.

Selenya Targaryen
Exceptionally good friends. After discovering that she was related to Eireni of Lys via marriage, Saera mixed business with pleasure in Essos, hoping to understand a branch of the family she had not known. Selenya's mother was as cold as Viseara, but Selenya herself more open and direct. They became fast friends, each encouraging the other to explore the world.

While Saera does not use violence, Selenya will only if defensively necessary. This fact is either ignored by or unknown to the princess, who sees Selenya as a sister; close in both mind and manner.

Rhaenys Targaryen
When Rhaenys needed a teacher in statecraft, many were called, but only Saera seemed to keep the princess' attention. The elder woman was supposed to assist the (at the time) ten and fourteen year old girl gain an understanding of the people she had become familiar with as an emissary to other lords and ladies.

While bored and inattentive in a chair, Saera found that Rhaenys was more receptive out in the wind. On occasion, their lessons would take place outside, with the actual people the young princess was meant to learn about. This may be the only reason Rhaenys knows the Tullys from the Tyrells.

Kaelon Targaryen
In the beginning Kaelon and Saera were a mischievous pair who would patrol Lys, looking for fun. At the moment, Kaelon and Saera have a strained relationship.

The last time she visited, she and Kaelon went out to a mummer's show. While there, a large blue-bearded Tyroshi became enraged over something and drew a sword. He grabbed another man nearby, threatening to kill him due to some slight (imagined or otherwise).

Saera immediately tried to talk him down and believed it was working. But Kaelon had seen it differently. What he saw was the fear and madness in the man's eyes, and Saera was getting too close. It's common knowlege that Saera was worthless with a blade and didn't wear one, besides. Unbeknownst to her, Kaelon drew his sword and silently positioned himself within striking distance in case things went awry wrong.

Eventually, the riled Tyroshi calmed, and his grip on the other man began to fade. He was almost letting him go, and at the same time, Saera is reaching out to touch the madman as that everlasting hope is springing from her. But a firework goes off in the city and the man panics. Saera is the closest thing to him, and his sword arm stirs anew.

Kaelon responds by gutting the Tyroshi from behind, and Saera is washed in his hot blood. All she can do is hold the man who may have been about to kill her and weeps. For Saera, it is like the little bird in her youth all over again.

Kaelon tries to console her, to explain himself, but she looks at him with such pain, it's as though Kaelon stabbed her. The princess spent the next day in her room, quiet or crying, permitting only Selenya within, and then left a few days after without speaking to Kaelon again.

Jaecaerys Targaryen
When Saera thought of what her husband might be like, it was Jayce she framed the idea from. Jayce and her have been very close since they were children. They would play and explore together when time would permit, and as the years passed, they began to share philosophy, problems, and even a kind of love.

Jayce would often find his kin in the day, and talk long into the evening, speaking of the ways of the world. As the day dwindled, so did their their concern with propriety. They never took things far enough to where they might risk conception, but there was plenty of affection for one another in the style of other Targaryen royalty.

Viseara Targaryen
Saera holds only the affection a sister might for Viseara, but little more. In ideology and form, they are polar opposites. Viseara is cold and political, while the young princess is lighter than air. Though they may be dissimilar, and Viseara cautious of the close ties her little sister has with the Lysene Targaryens, she knows Saera would never to do anything to endanger her family or the peace.