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TWO;
『 THE SAVIOR 』

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ㅤ THE DARK WAVES RESIDE TO REVEAL A YOUNG WOMAN DRENCHED ON THE SHORE. She faces the sky but her eyes do not open. She has a hand draped over her chest. Water and sand mix all over her face and body. The lack of air combined with the saltwater in her throat had caused Cerilla to black out. Whether it was the terror or the physicality of the situation, no one can be sure.

       A young dragon flies beneath the parting clouds. Daybreak has just begun, and yet the young prince Jacaerys rides. He returns back home from his nighttime ride. The prince hadn't been able to sleep all night, so at the first sign of daybreak he mounted his young dragon and took to the sky to clear his ever troubled mind. As he rides toward the castle on the hill, the prince swears to himself he sees a figure laying in the sand below.

      He tells himself he's just tired, but as he nears the castle on the rocks, he can't help but wonder if he was wrong. He spins Vermax around and they fly back to the coast. He lands the young, yet gallant, green dragon a few yards from where the believed person is. Jacaerys hopes someone is there and that he has not gone mad already, at the age of seventeen. His footsteps puncture the sand behind him as he walks toward the waves.

      Having been born a Velaryon, by right and not by blood, Jace has always been one with the sea. His father— alleged father had been a prince of Driftmark, of High Tide. Yet, the blood of the sea does not run in his veins. Jacaerys knows, and has known for some time now, that his father is not Laenor Velaryon. His father was Ser Harwin Strong. A noble man, indeed, but not a prince or a king.

      As the prince nears the figure in the sand, he realizes that it isn't perhaps a rogue piece of wood that had been pulled ashore. It is a person, a woman. He breaks into a jog and takes to his knees, hovering over the body of the woman. Her hair is matted and tangled and sand has collected all over her body. She wears only a thin yellow nightgown and a cloak around her, neither of which should keep her warm in the slightest.

     Without a second though, the prince lifts her up in his arms. With one hand, he holds her back, with the other hand, the underside of her knees. Her nightgown clings to her body as it has been drenched from the sea. He wonders how she came to be here, washed onto the shore, as he lifts her limp body onto the young dragon. He climbs up after her and does not even grab hold of the mount, instead, he protects her body to ensure he safety as they ride to the castle.

       Her body idly hangs over the lower neck of the dragon. Every few seconds, the prince's eyes switch between her and the direction on which Vermax is flying. He trusts his dragon with his life, Jacaerys knows he will take them in the correct direction.

      The green scaled body lands just before the doors into the castle. The courtyard is small, but just large enough to fit Vermax. Jacaerys pulls the limp body from the dragon and walks toward the doors. The knights posted outside push them open, allowing the prince entry. He catches sight of a knight.

      "Call my mother at once and send her to the maester's chambers!" He shouts across the echoey corridor. The knight spins in the other direction and begins half-jogging at his command. Jacaerys walks the other way, towards the maester's chambers. The woman in his arms grows colder by the second.

      He kicks open the doors to the maester's chambers, whom of which seems to have just woken up. Without a moment of hesitation, the maester clears off the table in his room and Jacaerys lays the cold body there.

      "Who is she? Where did you find her?" The older man demands as he begins picking things from his shelf full of remedies and herbs and everything of the sort. He grabs two bottles and a bowl of what seems to be some crushed up herbs. Jacaerys stands on the opposite side of the table with his arms crossed.

       "I was coming back from my ride and saw her laying in the sand, cold and covered in sand. I have no idea who she is." He answers calmly. The maester shoots him a look then parts the woman's lips. He then places his hands on her chest and begins pressing down slightly.

     "She has inhaled much sea water. Come here, help me." He demands of the prince. Without hesitation, Jace comes to his side. He follows the maester's instructions and lifts her upper body. The maester places two fingers on her lower stomach then presses inward.

      Suddenly, by some miracle or another, she becomes alert with a dramatic gasp. She spews water from her mouth which flies across the table. She continues to cough for a few more moments, as the maester grabs an elixir and pushes it into her hands. He commands her to drink and she does, with difficulty. The liquid tastes miserable, like how one would imagine wood to taste.

      Cerilla seems to be gaining consciousness. She looks around the room and takes it in. She knows she isn't in Sunspear, the rooms in Sunspear do not have this much stone. She does not think she is in King's Landing, either. She always thought the Red Keep would have a larger quarter for the maesters. Then, she remembers, she was swimming to Dragonstone, the isle just off the coast. Someone must have brought her inside, the last thing she remembers was being pushed under the water and being unable to breathe.

      Suddenly, she notices the warm hand on her back, like it hadn't been there the whole time. She turns slowly, and meets the eyes of the boy just behind her. His eyes are dark and his hair is a mess. He's wearing the colors of house Targaryen, red and black, but he could not look more different than one. Of all the books she's read, she knows Targaryens are indemnified by their shimmering white hair, fair complexions, and violet-blue eyes.

      "Where do you come from?" A man's voice suddenly says. The princess whips her head around to her other side, where an older man stands. She licks the sand off her lips before speaking.

"I am Princess Cerilla Martell of Sunspear." She answers hesitantly. The taste of sea salt still lingers in her throat. She feels the hand slide off her back, the one that had been propping her up.

      "Why did you wash up on our shore?" Another question. She opens her mouth to answer, but suddenly a burst of wind flows into the room. Cerilla turns her head to see a woman with flowing white hair and those Targaryen eyes. Behind her stands a man of the same looks, but greater height.

"Jacaerys, what is the meaning of this?" The woman asks in a demanding tone. Suddenly, the Princess wonders if it is right for her to be here. The boy that has been standing behind her steps forward, to the two individuals in the doorway.

"I was returning and saw a figure from the sky. When I landed, I realized it to be a person. I brought her back here and she has just awoken." He answers. In his response, Cerilla realizes that this is a son speaking to his mother.

The woman strides across the room to her side. She places a hand on the princess' forehead and frowns. Cerilla watches her closely, with wide eyes and parted lips. The woman before her, examining her, wears a crown. She must be a Queen. Cerilla is entranced by the thought. She has never met a Queen before.

"Where do you come from?" The woman asks quietly. Her tone is much nicer than the older man's that had given her the elixir.

"Sunspear," Cerilla answers. "We hit a storm and our ship sank. I was told to jump overboard and I did. I was battling the waves and then... I ended up here." Her story is blocky and unsure, but she has put only the pieces together than she can remember. The white-haired woman nods and turns around to face the two in the doorway- the boy who had his hand on her back and the older man with white hair.

"Jacaerys, take her to the guest chambers. Fetch a servant as well to draw her a bath. Once she has bathed, bring her to my chambers so we may discuss." She commands. The prince, named Jacaerys, nods as she and the man exit and make their way down the corridor.

He returns to Cerilla's side and takes her hand. He helps her off the table and to her feet. Her legs wobble and shake but she stands her ground. With her hand on his arm, he leads her down the corridor to the guest chambers. The walk is silent, as Cerilla regains her strength and flushes the vile taste of salt and sand from her mouth.

He opens the chamber doors and the two of them step inside. It's small and cozy, with only one window. In Sunspear, Cerilla has a giant room made of tile and beautiful pillars with open windows and her own private courtyard with a fountain. This room is dark and dreary compared to what she has grown to know. He leaves her standing in the room, alone, while he fetches a servant.

She stands there, alone and shaking as the yellow nightgown clings pitifully to her body. She has the cloak still wrapped around her, what's left of it. Most of it has been tattered and torn from its battle with the sea. He returns moment later with a woman who silently enters the room through a door in the corner. Jacaerys stands in front of Cerilla with a nurturing grin.

"I can't imagine you're quite comfortable yet, but I do hope you will be granted a warm bath so that you may heat up?" His question lingers in the air for a few moments. Cerilla is still unsure of this place, of the people in it, but they are taking her in. They appear to be harmless, for now, so perhaps it might be best she listens to him.

A weak nod is made by the princess. "Indeed, that would be lovely. Might you wait for me, or am I to find you when I have finished?" Her voice is weaker than it normally is. In regular conditions, she would be able to fill a room with her voice alone. The prince nods and leads her to the bathing chambers.

She steps inside and looks at the bath that has been filled with steaming liquid. She's never been more excited to be touched by heat before. The servant peels off the drenched nightgown from her body and drops it to the floor. She helps the princess into the bath then scoops up her hair and pins it on top of her head. The servant dips the cloth in the boiling water, to clean the princess off, but she shakes her head.

"In Dorne we clean ourselves," Cerilla says gently to the woman. "It is a sign of good health, that we are able to care for our bodies." The other woman, with dark brown hair and doe eyes nods at her request and departs from the room. She is quick to close the door behind her, so that the Prince may not see Cerilla bathing.

      Jacaerys looks confused as the servant woman begins to walk out of the room. "Why have you left the bathing chambers?" He asks, rather unsure. She stops in her tracks at the princes voice and turns to face him. Her hands stay prominently behind her back when she speaks.

      "She has requested to bathe alone, as part of Dorne tradition." Her answer is short and to the point.

       "Very well, thank you." The prince never fails to end a conversation with a thank you, when it is needed. He realizes, and has known for a while, that kindness can go a long way, especially to a servant who works endlessly.

      "Your Grace." She says in closure as she leaves the chambers. She disappears through the doors, leaving it shut in her wake. The prince takes a seat on the edge of the bed and stares through glass window. He had forgotten all about his exhaustion while rescuing the woman on the shore.

      Cerilla bathes herself like she has done a hundred times before. She is very precise in her actions. She always starts at her feet then works her way up to her face, covering every inch of her body. She uses the cloth as a sort of exfoliator, as it is rugged and tugs just right at her skin. The warm water feels perfect on her skin, like she has been reminded of home. She breathes in the steam as it warms the air around her.

      Exhaustion engulfs her body, too. She is not used to journeying anywhere outside of home, let alone on a ship that sunk. She has swam only in the ponds of Dorne, never in the sea. She must send word to her mother at once of the events, of the fact that she did not make it to King's Landing. She gets up in the tub and reaches for her clothes, only to realize that they aren't there. The servant woman must have forgotten to get them. Oh dear.

      "Excuse me?" She calls from inside the bathing chambers. She hopes the walls aren't so thick that they block out her voice. Jacaerys gets up from the bed and approaches the door. He stands sideways with his ear pressed against the wood.

      "Is everything alright?" He calls back. She can just barely hear him through the walls, but thankfully she can make out his words. She covers her body the best that she can with her hands, with is nearly nothing.

     "There are no clothes in here," she says loudly. "And my nightgown is too soaked to be worn." Her voice spans the bathing chambers. Jacaerys looks from the door to the wardrobe across the room. He takes long strides. The prince opens the doors and scans the interior. There isn't much of a selection, but most of it is women's wear. He grabs a bright yellow dress and walks back to the door.

"I have something for you." He calls into the door. There is shuffling on the other side of the room. Cerilla grabs the towel and wraps it over her body while still standing in the tub. She allows him to enter and the doors opens just as quickly as it closes. The dress is thrown inside onto the floor.

Once the door shuts the princess drops the towel and dresses into the gown. She takes the clip out of her hair and allows the black curls to flow down her back. She opens the chamber door slowly. Jacaerys sits on the edge of the bed and raises his head whenever the princess steps out. He glimpses at her for no longer than a moment.

"We should go to my mothers chambers at once, as she had requested." His voice is uncertain. The princess nods and follows him down the corridor. The walk is silent, other than the sounds of footsteps on the stone floor.

      The duo steps into the dimly lit chambers. A window is open to the balcony, allowing in crisp nighttime air. The Queen gets up from her desk and approaches the princess and the prince. She offers a sincere smile.

      "Please, sit." She requests, gesturing toward the seating area. The three of them walk across the room and take their seats, Cerilla and Jacaerys on one sofa and the Queen on the one opposite them.

      "Tell me, Princess Cerilla, where were you headed, before your ship became penetrated?" Her voice fills the cold room with a particular warmth. The young princess does not see the Queen as a threat, in fact, she seems to be thankful that it was Rhaenyra who resides here at Dragonstone and not someone who may harm her.

     "I was going to King's Landing, for the coronation, though I know I was already too late. The ravens arrive at Sunspear slowly." She explains quickly. The Queen and the Prince exchange a look of concern. The young princess does not know what to make of this.

      "Prince Aegon is not the true King. It is I, Queen Rhaenyra, who deserves the Iron Throne." Her voice trembles as she announces herself. With wide eyes the princess stands up and pulls herself into a deep curtsey. She hadn't realized she was speaking to Queen Rhaenyra this entire time.

      "Your Grace," she says delicately. "I apologize for my informality. I had not realized." She explains swiftly before sitting back down. The Queen grins and nods her head slightly in acceptance of her presence.

      "Prince Aegon has stolen my birthright as the firstborn of King Viserys. He has taken my throne and my kingdom with it. Not only that, but his brother has also claimed my son." Her voice goes dull and harsh at the mention of her son. The Queen clenches her jaw as she remembers her young boy. He was so young, so careless, and he died at the hands of Aemond Targaryen, having been sliced in half by the great Vhagar.

      The princess does not know what to say to this. She can't imagine what it must be like to loose a child, especially to someone who's brother has taken your rightful place on the throne. The Queen blinks a few times then directs her attention back to Cerilla, who sits contently.

      "My mother also hoped for me to find a match in King's Landing, but I'm afraid that if the Red Keep has been taken over by the wrong blood, I cannot travel there. I must bow to only the true Queen." Her words are wise and punctuated, practiced. She is a woman of a bright mind. Sunspear has sworn to the Queen Rhaenyra once, and that is enough for them to keep their faith.

      She is the true queen. King's Landing only tends to recognize men as rulers, but in Sunspear, a ruler is a ruler, no matter what gender. Her father had sworn an oath to the Queen, one that will not be forgotten. The princess knows she will honors his words no matter what.

      "I will send word myself to Sunspear, to your mother, to allow her the knowledge that you are here, at Dragonstone. Our ravens fly fast. Word will return in two days, perhaps." The queen states. In dismissal, the prince and the princess rise from the sofa and tip their heads to the queen. She watches them closely as they walk out of the chamber.

      Cerilla follows the prince silently, unsure of what she might say. She watches him walk from a few strides behind him. The way he carries himself is prominent and poised, practiced to perfection. He turns suddenly when the hallway splits into two directions.

     "Our morning meal is to be served now, if you would like to join me in the courtyard?" He asks suddenly. The princess examines him with her gentle brown eyes. A slow smile spreads across her lips at his request.

      "Very well." She says calmly. The prince shares that same sheepish smile then the two of them walk in synchrony to the courtyard, where the smell of fresh foods linger in the air.

      The table is set for three, only. The princess wonders why his parents will not be joining them, but she decides it best not to ask. The prince pulls out Cerilla's chair then pushes it in once she is seated. He takes the seat next to her, leaving one empty chair in front of them. A few moments after they have seated, a young boy with floppy brown curls waddles into the courtyard rubbing his eyes.

      He climbs into the chair and looks at Cerilla with sudden surprise. The boy is young, perhaps seven or so.

      "Good morning, Joffrey," the prince says from beside Cerilla. "We have a guest with us, Lady Cerilla of Sunspear, Princess of Dorne." He says her title elegantly and with the smoothness of silk. The young boy waves in greeting then grabs a handful of meat in his hands from the center plate.

      "Joffrey," the prince rolls his eyes. "You're supposed to use silverware." He holds up a fork in demonstration, but Joffrey has already begun feasting with his hands. Cerilla giggles as she watches the young boy feast.

      "Thank you for saving me." The princess says suddenly, snapping her eyes to the prince beside her. He meets her gaze, hypnotized by the depth of her eyes. For a few moments, he has no words to say, but finally his thoughts return to him.

      "I would do it a hundred more times." He answers with a smile.

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