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Rating:
Teen And Up Audiences
Archive Warnings:
Graphic Depictions Of ViolenceMajor Character Death
Category:
Gen
Fandoms:
House of the Dragon (TV)Warhammer Fantasy
Characters:
Ikit ClawRhaenyra TargaryenJacaerys VelaryonLucerys Velaryon (Son of Rhaenyra)Baela TargaryenRhaena Targaryen (Daughter of Daemon)Daemon TargaryenCorlys "The Sea Snake" VelaryonHelaena TargaryenAddam VelaryonBackground & Cameo CharactersSilverwing | Alysanne Targaryen's DragonOriginal CharactersJoffrey Velaryon
Additional Tags:
Crack Treated SeriouslyCanon-Typical ViolenceThe Dance of the Dragons | Aegon II Targaryen v. Rhaenyra Targaryen EraAlternate Universe - Canon DivergenceCanonical Character DeathCharacter Turned Into a HumanIkit got isekai'd as Jace's twinSkaven Species (Warhammer Fantasy)Death to all GreensHuman ExperimentationScience ExperimentsIkit is his own warningSilverwing still has shit taste in male ridersPOV MultipleBackground RelationshipsBackground Character Deathshow canon onlyDragon RidersAnimal AbuseIkit is an abusive dragonriderTho he's fairly mellow compared to his SkavenselfGood Parent Rhaenyra TargaryenNo beta we die like LucerysDysfunctional FamilyCannibalismBlood and TortureCanon-Typical BehaviorBAMF Helaena Targaryen
Language:
English
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Published:2026-02-26Completed:2026-04-22Words:181,492Chapters:55/55Comments:1,270Kudos:749Bookmarks:160Hits:33,651
The Rat Prince of Westeros
SkilledWarriorKiwi
Chapter 19: Saera
Chapter Text
It had been over half a century but Saera instantly recognized her late mother's dragon.
Certainly Silverwing was substantially larger than Saera remembered, the dragon's wing beats echoing through the streets of Volantis as the great beast flew overhead, yet still those metallic wings were impossible to mistake for any other.
Leaning against the balcony she watched with half lidded eyes as the dragon circled over the First Daughter. It was nearing dusk yet the red and oranges of the sky only made the dragon appear more menacing. Even from her lofty perch Saera could hear the shrieks and yells from down below.
The dragon veered away heart of Volantis and down towards the sprawling deep harbour of the city.
Fool, Saera thought idly. She barely listened to anything to the east and what a lone dragonrider was doing here made her curious. They were stupid though, as Volantis had always been envious of dragons and some that, perhaps, would take an idiotic chance.
There were quite a few noble families within Volantis that called themselves Old Blood, able to prove unbroken descent from Old Valyria itself. Such prestigious families were the only ones allowed to live within the Black Walls of Volantis, walls that had been erected centuries ago and created from fused black dragonstone that was harder than steel or diamond. Worship to the old gods of Valyria was still practiced. She would not be surprised if someone attempted to assassinate the newcomer and tried to steal their dragon. It's what she would do. Ah, if only she was decades younger but her dreams of dragonriding were long behind her.
She pushed away from the balcony and, flicking back the silken drapes upon the archway, entered her manse. Decades incurring her wealth, growing her fortune, had led to her owning one of the most famous pleasure houses in Volantis. Furniture dotted with jewels and goldwork, pillows of satin and blankets of the finest silk, exquisite artwork along the walls and fine marble sculptures in every corner. The high ceilings of each room were painted fantastically, showing everything from blood rituals and sacrifices to orgies and ecstasy.
The upmost floor were her private quarters and she knew none would dare disturb her but as she settled down upon one of the chairs- almost a throne in itself, due to the amount of amber, onyx and topaz etched along the pale weirwood frame -she could hear the distant noises of pleasure upon the floors below.
Nothing was forbidden within the white marble walls of her business, any and every perversion would be satiated and people came for leagues to taste her wares. They were a garden of flowers she had carefully cultivated and nurtured over the years until they were amongst the very skilled, even rivaling the best pillow houses in Lys. Saera had once been the most expensive purchase, but as time passed she had become the business manager and no longer was to be on the menu even if she indulged herself from time to time. It was still a fond memory of how she had started off in Lys, pretending to be a godsworn maiden for the patrons to despoil. Dress up was always popular, especially for the hypocritical religious lot. She always thought those wrinkled hags in the Faith enjoyed caning her far more than simple discipline allowed and certainly learned the truth of it in her years.
Now however she was free to do as she pleased and she had spent her decades in the First Daughter embracing that with gutso. A twitch of her jewel-encrusted fingers and the slave, silent and still as a statue from where she had been standing in the corner, immediately stepped forward to pour her wine. Like everything else in her palace the slave was beautiful and well kept, clad in a gleaming golden collar studded with amethyst and nothing else. One must keep the furniture in good care.
Volantis was always hot and humid, even the nights were barely any cooler, and as typical Saera was dressed in low-hanging flowing silks of lilac with pearls and amethysts. Even as a woman in her late sixties she was still beautiful. The golden streaks in her hair had faded, leaving behind gleaming pale silver, and lines marred her face with spots upon her hands, but her violet eyes never lost their shrewd gleam. Her limbs were willowy and body lean and lined but she was still of notable looks, even in Volantis where many shared similar colouring. Lounging upon the chair she looked every inch a city-born Volantenes.
As Saera sipped from the jade and onyx goblet, enjoying the familiar taste of the persimmon wine, she mused more upon the unexpected guest. A dragon was a rare sight in Essos, with the last time being Prince Daemon and Lady Laena. Vhagar had been as hideous as she remembered and that deformed Bloodwyrm was no better. The duo hadn't lingered and moved on to another Free City within a few days. She didn't lament.
A lone dragon was curious however, especially one riding Silverwing. As far as she knew the beast had remained unridden ever since her bitch mother died decades ago, much like Vermithor with the pompous Old Fool Jaehaerys.
Saera was vaguely interested in the news coming forth especially when, as the week reached its end, the dragon hadn't left. Needless to say everyone was falling all over themselves to meet the rider as they seemed interested in staying for a longer duration, especially with elections an ever looming threat to the triarchs. Having an endorsement from the last dragonrider family within the world for a candidate, as each had to prove unbroken line from Old Valyria, would be a massive boost in support. A tiger or elephant? Warrior or merchant?
She tended to her affairs, keeping track of her patrons and slaves, loans and payments, her blackmail material, and listened idly to news about the dragonrider. A man apparently, with silver hair and green eyes. She also familiarized herself with what was going on in that boring kingdom across the narrow sea, or least the occasional vague rumour. The daughter of that voted-in idiot was the crown princess, as even after having three sons with his new wife his eldest daughter would take the Iron Throne.
Oh how that Old Fool must be spinning in his urn, considering all the stupidity Jaehaerys went through to avoid naming any woman as queen when his male heirs kept dropping like flies.
It was a great source of amusement to her, even moreso when one of her grandsons came to her and informed her that the dragonrider wasn't a man at all and instead a child.
"A child? Are you sure?" Saera eyed him over her desk.
"Aye, would say he is about thirteen or so. Not yet even a man, much too young to be on his own."
Saera scoffed at that; she had been drinking by the time she was twelve and fucking by the time she was fourteen. When the body knew what it wanted who was she to deny it and it seemed this little dragonrider was of the same.
She thought that over, pondering as to what he was even doing in Volantis. Was that why he was at the First Daughter? Did he had some domineering cunt of a mother and weak-willed father he was running from? And wished to see the closest remnant to Old Valyria? Their ancestors of old hadn't clutched their talismans and recited their idiot scripture, no the Valyrians had known what they wanted and took it. She had certainly tried to claim a dragon in her youth, anything to be rid of the monotony of King's Landing, but had been thwarted. Maybe this little one succeeded and chose to leave a bit more successfully than she did, acting in her spirit.
Also if he had left so abruptly the lost lamb could be a bit lonely. Easily taken advantage of. Manipulable. So vulnerable. Oh she couldn't let that happen.
"Why don't we invite our long lost kinsman to dinner," Saera decided, tracing a painted nail around her goblet as she gave her grandson a slow smile. "The poor little dear may be in need of something familiar."
She didn't fear whoever the newcomer was, as she had her own little personal army all made up of the fatherless offspring of her whores which she had taken under her wing. They ran the district while she ran them. Retirement hadn't stopped her from paying attention, she simply enjoyed her power coming from the shadows more as she enjoyed her leisurely autumn years. And a dragonrider couldn't always be with his beast, numerous siblings of hers died in stupid ways even with dragons.
The streets of Volantis were broad and wide, as it was a belief of the people of the First Daughter that those of quality should never walk as it would indicate a lack of worth and prestige. Instead traveling by palanquin or in a hathay was a must and many would use elephants especially to declare their allegiance to the elephants, one of the political parties which ruled Volantis via the voted in triarchs. Tigers were less common, even if many noble families would keep them as exotic pets. Saera had some tiger pelts within her manse.
But it meant the streets were wide enough for Silverwing to walk down, which the dragon did as Saera's little lost relative accepted her invitation. One of her grandchildren informed her that her son was leading the dragon down the street and would be there in time for supper and Saera was deeply amused by the situation. Well, at least he wouldn't be thought lesser by walking on foot.
She owned another building adjacent to her pleasure palace, one where her more personal inquires would go and just in case the Westerosi was prone to embarrassment. Saera had long since lost that useless shame, if she ever had it to begin with, but knew professionalism when needed. Everything was especially radiant as she waited in the alcove, breathing in that approaching smell that could never be mistaken for anything other than dragon.
A curious crowd followed along as the dragon leisurely walked down the great street on all fours, claws clacking on the stone and tail sweeping to and fro. Upon its back Saera could make out a slight figure.
The she-dragon gave no indication she recognized Saera or her scent, not even casting her a disinterested glance as she settled down upon her belly. The slight form of the rider scurried down, with slaves quickly laying down the velvet carpet so he needn't sully his feet upon the stone road.
The dragon remained settled down like a cat, large enough any elephants would have to see a different route, but otherwise the rider, who indeed was barely more than a boy, did not seem concerned for his beast.
Saera, clad in resplendent robes of plum with sheer lilac trails with silver jewellery, awaited her guest with a benign smile. He was young, with solid silver hair and eyes a vibrant green she had never once seen before. His bearing was all little lordling, entitled and proud. Yet there was a tinge of viciousness to his gaze that intrigued her, the same way he had a blade on one hip and an iron canister on the other.
"Hello, my prince," she greeted warmly, easily slipping into her 'matronly mother' role she so easily used for new whores and slaves in her care. They all quickly learned it was a mask but she was amused to use it here. "Welcome to my humble home, I am honoured you accepted my invitation, great-great grandnephew. I am Saera, proprietor of this estate."
"Hm. You are Saera. Of Alysanne and Jaehaerys, Clan Targaryen," the boy said, in way of greeting. His voice was harsh and he had long front teeth that almost reminded her of fangs. A little dragon.
Her smile didn't so much as twitch, "I gave up my ties to my parents many many decades ago. But our Targaryen blood, we can share in that. Please come in. I have a meal laid out for you and we can speak more of our families and histories. I can even share my own adventures, as I've heard you're interested in the history of this city."
"Volantis smells of blood and magic, many secrets to be had here," the boy said, vindicating her information.
She ushered him inside, smug at how the dragon outside was a glittering doorstop beyond with many curious onlookers, saying, "I never got your name, young prince."
"Ikit," he said, not bothering to give her a family name either. They both knew it anyway.
She did feel rather baffled by the name though. That was not a Valyrian name, not even Westerosi. Maybe from Asshai? They had queer names there but even then it didn't fit. Oh well, his father was probably an idiot that named him something exotic. At the very least it was its own name and not a cluster of repeating soup like near all her siblings to the point King's Landing was ill fitting any originality.
"I've lived in Volantis for many years, and I know a vast amount of the nobility. I would be honoured to guide your search towards those who practice magic. We aren't Westeros, where they cringe and flee from shadows and fire and pray to the witless Seven," Saera said, playing the gracious host as she led the little dragonrider through the marble archway into the dining room.
It was lit with dozens of candles, vines threading along the ceiling with sweet-smelling flowers in bloom. The walls were covered in paintings of Old Valyria as it was in its glory with blood sacrifices and fornication, slavery and wealth, dragons burning and killing. In one corner was a fountain in the form of a dragon spilling forth the clear water, the constant burble of noise. Slaves stood in the corner, clad in shimmering silk loincloths, gold collars and nothing else. The table was waiting, something more intimate so she hadn't bothered inviting her children. She ruled this place, she had made it clear through her own brand of mothering.
She settled down with refined elegance, silk sliding around her and pearls clicking together. The boy sat down without any grace, clad in his riding leathers with a gleaming breastplate of unknown make. She did note the vambraces that were dotted with strange green stones that held a gleam to them, same for the necklace he was wearing. Hm, so it would seem he was a little would be warlock. No wonder he left Westeros.
"An offer like this not made freely. What do you want in turn?" Ikit asked, kneading at the table cover.
"No outlander, freedman, slave, or foreigner is allowed inside the Black Wall unless they are invited by the Old Blood. They hold to the old ways there, if you wish to know more of Old Valyria and the secrets the dragonlords of yore held. I can help that happen, little one," Saera said, leaning across the table and folding her arms to prop up her bosom.
He didn't even spare the slightest look at her exposed cleavage and instead kept his gaze focused entirely upon his face as he frowned at her, "Still not say what you want. If you are so rich then there is no need for gold."
"Perhaps friendship," Saera explained, voice kind. "It has been very long since I have met any fellow Targaryens. I have become nostalgic in my old age. So when I saw my mother's dragon- may the Seven rest her soul -I just knew I had to reach out to you."
His green eyes narrowed, "For what? Work-toil for you?"
"Not in my pleasure house, though if you offer I certainly won't turn it down. Many would pay barrels of gold to lay with such a beautiful dragonrider."
Saera didn't care, she had whores in her pleasure house younger than this one. Pity she hadn't met him back when she was expanding her business. With those exotic eyes and teeth he would've been her number one boy.
"However," she continued, seeing the boy's face twist in disgust and cutting him off before he could retort. "It needn't be like that, and simply look for a more simple and transactional friendship. But we can speak of more serious things after supper. For now let us know one another better. You can tell me how you tamed my darling late mother's dragon and I can tell you about my acquisition of this place and when I lived in Lys."
She snapped her fingers and slaves appeared to set the table. It wasn't a true feast, she had been aiming for something more 'family' and intimate, so they were served creamy mushroom soup, fresh bread, roasted apples and pears frosted with cinnamon, chicken wrapped in bacon, buttered snails with carrots, peppers stuffed with cheese, roasted grasshoppers, and finished with a roasted peacock that still had its tail fan artfully attached. Wine was on offer but that was the only thing with the meal he declined.
Ikit ate everything within reach, a part of Saera rather amused at how he didn't seem at all concerned about poison. She hadn't actually poisoned anything but still, he was eating as if he was a starving peasant.
As they ate Saera happily recounted her time back in Westeros, speaking fondly of her siblings and how wild and willful she was. How it broke her heart to leave, to disobey her parents, but life as a silent sister wasn't for her. As she drank her wine and ate the fruit she recounted her time in Lys the Lovely, experiencing life free and wild and then her travels to Volantis. The boy was more focused on the food but she certainly didn't mind it when a boy knew when to shut his mouth and listen.
She also noted that it wasn't just her cleavage he didn't care about, he seemed to not even notice any of the bare skin on display in general. When one of the slaves leaned too close to him to put down a blueberry tart, briefly obscuring his view of Saera with her gold-dusted nude upper half, he shoved the slave violently out of the way. It was hard enough she fell over but the girl was well trained so uttered not a single word. Simply got back up to her feet and withdrew. Saera thought the girl should count herself lucky she hadn't dropped or slipped the plate. The nerve of a slave, if it dared to embarrass her before a guest.
"But enough about my own history. Tell me, sweet thing, how you came to bond with Silverwing? I tried yet none seemed fond of me," she sighed once most of the meal was done, taking a sip from her goblet.
Ikit shrugged, "Servant-slave seemed to think I was kin, fell in the eggs while trying to find the cave-den. Smell and silver hair made it think I was familiar. So she then bowed to me and now is mine."
Saera blinked, surprised he had openly addressed his dragon in such a rude manner. Hm, what an interesting boy.
"Well dragons are just beasts. Fantastical ones to be sure, yet still beasts," Saera said lightly. "I'm sure your mother was very proud when you claimed Silverwing. The Realm's Delight, is she not?"
"Yes, that is title for her. Not fearsome, she should fix that," Ikit said, wrinkling his nose before stuffing the last of the roasted grasshoppers into his mouth. The boy certainly didn't like cutlery but Saera understood. She intentionally ate like that oft at his age, just to shock all those idiot septas who acted like it was the most outrageous thing ever.
"I have heard stories of her famed beauty and wit. Why don't you tell me more about your mother?"
"No."
Protective? Or just not wanting to think of the old hag he left behind?
"Ah I suppose you're here to get away from all that nonsense, no point in bringing it up then" Saera said, even as the slaves started to clear the table. The boy had eaten the majority of it, with Saera mostly staying to the peppers and fruit.
"You know everyone in Volantis," he said. There was a strange undercurrent to his voice she couldn't decipher.
"I know the important ones," she nodded, as the last dish was taken away. "And have had children from others, including triarchs. And if not then many have visited here. So as I said, we could help each other. I heard of what happened Qarth."
The boy grunted, "I did not split-shatter the ground. Even now those things are beyond one such as me."
"Oh the Qarth are milk men, everyone knows it," she waved a hand dismissively. "They spook at shadows and their assassins so spineless they apologize before they kill you. Useless. It was the killing of the Undying which fascinated me."
"They died very quick for Undead."
"Well it's more a title, like the elephants and tigers here in Volantis. They aren't skinchangers. But no matter, let the Qartheen whine and sob like they always do. I'm more curious about you and those gemstones. Magic, aren't they? Did you take them from the House of Dust?"
He held up his hands, "Warpstone. You want me to share secrets, yes-yes?"
Saera found his way of talking rather endearing along with his savage eating. He seemed soft in the head, like that idiot Daella or Tom Turnip. Oh well, he had a dragon and magic, she would be more than happy to guide the little lamb in his tantrum in fleeing from his mother. She knew enough what it was like, drunk on that freedom. So tender and exposed. She wouldn't be the woman she was today- rich, living in decadence, slaves to tend to her every whim -if it wasn't for those to teach her such lessons. She just hand to dangle the carrot first.
"Let me be blunt, Prince Ikit, I will see to the end of my point," she said. "I want to form a partnership, a mutually beneficial relationship. You stay here, in my care and protection, and I will aid you in meeting my contacts. I have them all across Volantis, I have been in this game for decades. I can get you into the Black Walls if that is what you desire, I can gain you meetings with the maegi in this city. In turn, I want you to share whatever magical anomalies you have discovered. This warpstone you possess. Warlocks, wizards, alchemists, moonsingers, red priests, black alchemists, necromancers, aeromancers, pyromancers, bloodmages, torturers, inquisitors, poisoners, godswives, night-walkers, shapechangers and so many others all cross paths in the First Daughter. Asshai may know more yet Volantis holds blood of Old Valyria and many still remember the ways. I can help you find them, cultivate your gift and your desire for knowledge. And in turn you will aid in me in a few things here and there. Some enemies I need burned, displays of strength, shipping lines needing a check up and perhaps a good burning. Influences and favours I can offer if you render the aid of a dragonrider in turn. Especially as there are the upcoming candidates for the triarchs, many would be grateful for my backing, for your backing. It will be a mutually beneficial arrangement."
The boy stared at her as Saera continued to watch him once done.
"What-what makes you think you can protect me more than other lords here? Makes you more worthy? Or trustful?" he finally asked.
"We're blood, we're kin. Blood is important, the blood of the dragon is what we share," she insisted, as she rose from the table to approach him. It meant nothing to her but it was another means of leverage and she wouldn't hesitate to use it. She waited for him to rise as well, before taking one of his hands in hers as she said gently, "Perhaps it is my old age, yet I dream of lost kin some nights. I do not believe it by chance you are here, and I understand what you're doing. Let me help you, as no one did for me."
"You have many offspring," he said instead of answering, tugging his hand from hers which she allowed without protest.
"Oh quite a few and even more grandchildren and a few great-grandchildren," she answered, laughing gently. "But they all obey me and know the price of disobedience. If you wish I will ensure none of them ever look upon you. Or some can, quite a few of my grandchildren and great-grandchildren are working in my pleasure house. If you have a preference, even in any of my slaves here, I will supply them to you free of charge if you accept."
"Blood of dragon," he muttered to himself instead, eyes half lidded.
"A Targaryen alone in the world is a terrible thing, let me be here for you," she said gently.
She watched him calmly, radiating an air of maternal concern and interest, before seeing him nod to himself.
He straightened up, crossing himself in an upside down triangular motion before giving her a toothy grin, "Very well. I swear, by the Horned One, I will honour the deal-pact you offer."
She laughed, bright and clear, before steering the boy from the dining room off towards the stairs, "I accept, dear one. I believe this will be a wonderful start to your journey in Volantis and I have many things to show you. Yet first, how about we get you off to bed? I'm sure you're tired. We can talk more upon the morrow."
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