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    Summary

    At the ripe age of sixty-four, Saera Targaryen made her way back to Westeros to witness the coronation of her fifty-seven-year-old niece, Rhaenys, in 131 AC. It seemed that her father's chosen heir and his descendants had exterminated their family more efficient than the Doom of Valyria.

    Or: Saera laughing at everyone and her father's stupid decision.

    AU: Viserys payed the consequence of his decision. Rhaenys became the queen after the Dance.

    (This is a crack fic. I just want to write Saera dancing over Jaehaerys' body and make him savor the irony).

    Language:
    English
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