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Chapter Text

284 AC

For Elia, King’s Landing had always held an ambiance of impurity to it. It wasn’t the fact that the city smelled of shit and piss. It wasn’t the fact that beggars clogged the streets, their rank odor adding to the smell the ill-made sewers cast over the city. It wasn’t even all the death, which caused the stench of burning flesh to hang over the Crownlands like smog. It was the scheming and backstabbing, the secrets and plots whispered from ear to ear that made this place so grimy to her.

She could remember her mother always moving pieces on her board to this position or that to ensure her children were where they needed to be for Dorne’s prosperity. Doran learned at the feet of their mother, ate up all her secrets and techniques. Oberyn had always had more interest in the spear than the game, but he was hale and healthy so he could afford that. Elia had always been sickly. She was born a month early, she was seen as delicate, her constitution weak and lacking. Everyone waited for her to drop down dead in the halls of Sunspear. It was true sometimes she would faint away, the sun of Dorne too much for her, but she never let it break her. If she fell, she was sure to walk tall the next day, frolic to the Water Gardens, and be seen by as many as possible to prove she was not merely a frail girl. Her health did not leave much time for her mother to pass on her teachings in total, but that did not mean Loreza Martell didn’t hand down some gems of advice to her only daughter before she died.

‘You are a Martell. You know our sigil: a sun and a spear. A spear is sharp and can kill a man swiftly, but the sun can weaken him slowly and burn him if he gazes for too long. It is beautiful and necessary for life, but a dangerous thing if mishandled. You are the sun, my dear daughter. You are the Princess of Dorne and will one day be Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. Do not let your lord husband mishandle you. If he does, make sure he knows who and what you are.’ 

Elia must have forgotten that advice when she first married Rhaegar and moved to King’s Landing. They were happy once, Elia didn’t think she misremembered that. They used to smile at one another. They used to share secrets and strengths. They used to support one another and hold each other in comfort and confidence. He would stay in bed with her during her bad days, and she would clutch him to her breast when he shook with fear and disgust after meetings with his father. Aerys always told Rhaegar when he was going to call upon Rhaella. He was particularly lecherous towards his sister-wife after he’d watched a man or woman burn. He would force Rhaegar and Elia to move to a room closer to his on those nights, close enough so they could hear the queen’s banshee screams and pleas for mercy. The burnings were a warning to those of court to never betray him, but making the prince and princess listen to Rhaella’s suffering was a warning to them: if he treated his wife that way, imagine what he could do to them if pushed to it.

Elia would feel tears well up in her eyes whenever she was forced to hear them, but Rhaegar cried enough for them both, his furious exclamations filling the room along with Rhaella’s screeches. After they knew Aerys had gone, Rhaegar would retreat to their room, rocking on the edge of the bed and clutching the harp gifted to him by his mother. Elia would soothe him to sleep with a song, brushing her fingers through his curly hair before making haste to Rhaella’s chambers to comfort the older woman. Sometimes she leaned into Elia’s hugs and reassurances. Other times she lashed out at her, telling her to return to her husband and produce an heir if she so wanted to soothe Rhaella’s suffering.

Rhaenys had been good for her relationship with Rhaegar, but not so much for Elia’s body. There were times when she was confined to her chambers for days to weeks to allow her body to conserve strength. Rhaegar stayed with her in the beginning, but gradually his visits lessened. He would find himself in the library bringing back book after book and plying her with knowledge about this prophecy or that. She indulged him mostly, but when he became fixated on that thrice-damned shield with a three-headed dragon and the prince that was promised, she should’ve paid more attention to her gut. It told her something was wrong. It said to her that the gleam in her husband’s eye was too similar to Aerys for comfort. It advised her to put a stop to this, push herself out of bed no matter the energy it took, and throw the book into the fire. She did not. She nodded and smiled indulgently as he told her confidently that they would have three children, two girls and a boy, and they would fulfill his grandfather’s prophecy.

And yet he left his children to die, so what does he truly care for this prophecy at all? The one he started a war over, she thought to herself as the watchtower of Dragonstone came into view from the galley she sailed on with her children.

Rhaegar had not come back home after the Battle of the Trident. Whether he was alive or dead, no one had seemed to know. Some said Robert Baratheon slew him with his warhammer, one swift blow that broke his chest to pieces, and threw his body into the Fork. Some said they saw Rhaegar flee wounded and bleeding. Some said Barristan Selmy took him away, riding with the wounded prince astride his horse and cutting down any man that came before him. Elia did not know the truth. She did not know for months whether her husband lived or not.

But she knew now.

Rhaegar had fled to Dorne. He didn’t take her with him, he didn’t call for her and her children to seek refuge in her homeland, find safety with her brothers or friends. He went to Dorne, and he took her, Lyanna Stark. He did not come back for Elia. He didn’t come when Aerys decided to keep her and the children hostage but allow Rhaella and Viserys to flee to Dragonstone. He didn’t come when Aerys had her and the children locked in Maegor’s Holdfast. He didn’t come when Tywin Lannister turned cloak and had his men sack the city. He wasn’t the one who rescued her when she was cowering in a corner, her body weak and frail from the cruel treatment Aerys had her under. She had been unable to effectively fight when the Mountain that Rides and Amory Lorch found her. She recognized the mad bloodlust in their eyes and knew what they would do to her. Lorch had grabbed her children’s faces and was going to make them watch their mother be raped. She fought against the Mountain, despite her physical weakness, and she still had bruises to show for it. He had freed himself from his breeches and was on top of her when Ser Jaime burst into the room, sword red with blood. Before anyone could react, he plunged his sword into the back of the Mountain’s head before ripping Rhaenys from the arms of Amory Lorch and killing him too.

Ser Jaime had stayed close to her since then. He fiercely defended her against Robert Baratheon and Tywin Lannister, who wished to lock her away or harm her and the children to ensure the end of the Targaryen line.

She was not sure how Rhaegar had done it, but soon after the sack, the city was under siege from the sea. Ironborn, she was told along with the royal fleet. Rhaegar had managed to get them to declare for him even though she had heard that they were supporting Baratheon’s cause. The Ironborn were even more savage than the Lannister men were. It hurt Elia’s heart that the city had been raped and pillaged twice in a single fortnight. Rhaegar’s forces proved victorious, overrunning the rebel occupation with brutality. Once the gates to the city were open, Reachmen and Dornishmen flooded in, overwhelming the rebels. The Northmen had already left, and the Rivermen had been close behind, so the rebels’ numbers were not what they once were.

Rhaegar had not been there in the fighting because he had been in Dorne, where he took refuge with the woman he passed her over for.

It had been months since then. Rhaenys kept asking for her father, and all Elia could tell her was she’d see him soon. Now he had them summoned to Dragonstone. Two years after Rhaegar left her. Nearly four moons after he besieged the city. He did not come to her. Instead, he summoned her to come to him.

It caused such rage in Elia that she thought she might burst to flames right there, sinking their galley, but she held it in. It wouldn’t do for the masses to see their new queen work herself into a fit. 

Aegon fussed in her arms, the one-year-old not used to the sea despite the time they’d spent on the warship from King’s Landing to Dragonstone. She was told Rhaegar chose a warship to ferry her because he did not want to take chances with his children’s lives. She imagined herself slapping him if he told her such a thing to her face. He had taken chances with their lives for the past two years, why should he begin to act differently now?

Ser Jaime assisted her off the galley once they made land. Rhaella stood on the beach with Viserys and Ser Willem Darry. Rhaella smiled as she saw her. Elia returned the smile until she noticed the bundle in Rhaella’s arms. The Queen Mother was not due to birth her son or daughter for another month.

“Goodmother, it is good to see you well,” Elia said evenly, remembering her courtesy. 

Rhaenys did no such thing as she ran across the sand to hug her grandmother’s legs. Rhaella smiled down at the girl.

“It has been too long without my family,” Rhaella replied, smiling at Aegon on Elia’s hip. 

She had not seen him since he was newly born.

“Your babe has not dropped yet, I hope. I would hate to have missed it.”

Rhaella heard her silent question and smiled sadly at the younger woman.

“No. This is Jaehaerys, though I know not yet whether his name is Targaryen or Sand,” Rhaella said, moving the blanket so Elia could see his face. 

She did not need to do so to put the pieces together. Targaryen or Sand. Rhaegar took Lyanna to Dorne instead of coming to King’s Landing. The babe had Northern coloring. Dark hair, grey eyes, long face. If one looked closely, they could see the Targaryen genes: his chin and the shape of his eyes. Elia felt strangely numb.

“Is she here?” She asked, her voice steady.

“Died in childbed. Rhaegar brought the boy here along with Ser Barristan, Ser Arthur, Lord Howland Reed, and Lord Eddard Stark.” 

Elia was surprised to hear the Northmen were there.

Her mind turned to Ashara then. Ashara, who she watched dance with Ned Stark at Harrenhal. Ashara, who claimed her time with Stark was a passing fancy, a mere curiosity for he was not as handsome, wild, or matched her in wits like his older brother. Ashara, who whispered to her one night that she would marry Ned once his father gave him permission. Ashara, who watched in naked horror as Rickard and Brandon Stark were killed and then broke down in Elia’s chambers, revealing her pregnancy. Elia had immediately sent her away for fear of her safety. She wondered if Ned Stark thought about Ashara at all when he went to Dorne, but he had married Catelyn Tully, so maybe not. Elia also inwardly questioned if Arthur thought of his sister in Starfall when he was busy defending Rhaegar’s mistress. Then again, he had always been a kingsguard before he was Ashara’s brother or Elia’s friend. He was about his duty, and Elia had never begrudged him that, but her love for him had waned over the years. She no longer saw him as family. That did not lessen the sting of betrayal knowing he was complicit in Rhaegar’s slights against her and their children.

“Where is Rhaegar,” she asked as they walked towards the castle.

“He is treating with his lords. The Stormlands are in disarray since Rhaegar ordered Robert and Stannis Baratheon executed. Some say to give it to Renly as he is the last Baratheon and still a relative of the Targaryens. Others say to disinherit him and place one of his loyal bannermen there. Some men say he should kill Ned Stark and seek out Hoster Tully to do the same, but he will not. He doesn’t want a war with the Riverlands. The Vale is a problem now since Jon Arryn was killed in the siege with no heirs left behind him. Rhaegar will meet with you in time. For now, rest yourself from the journey.” 

Elia wished to protest, but there was no point. Rhaella was silent for a moment before her attention turned to Jaime.

“I hear you killed my husband.” 

He looked startled at the words. She did not turn to him, her eyes firmly ahead as she cooed over Jaehaerys and held Viserys’ hand.

“I did,” he answered simply. 

Rhaella did not answer, but Elia saw her lips curl into a broader smile. She wondered if she would become like Rhaella, joyful at the fact that her husband was betrayed and killed.

It did not seem so impossible.

~*~*~

She did not see Rhaegar for a long while after she reached the island. He was in this castle somewhere, yet somehow in the past month, she saw neither hide nor hair of him. She knew Rhaenys and Aegon had. Rhaella and Viserys had. Even Ser Jaime had, but Elia had not. She sought him out in his solar, in the great hall, asked Ser Barristan and Ser Arthur and servants for his whereabouts, but they wouldn’t tell her or were too afraid to. She was frustrated. 

Rhaella tried to keep her occupied. She had not ever seen the older woman so carefree, but why would she not be? Her tormentor was dead, and her sons and grandchildren were alive. All her family was under one roof with her. Rhaella was in good spirits all the time now, especially the closer she got to giving birth. She thought it was a girl. Daenerys, she said. Her family will be well, she said. Elia didn’t feel the same optimism her goodmother did. She was angry, but how could she fully convey that to Rhaella? The person Elia was mad at was her son. She was not foolish enough to believe her allegiance would lay with Elia over him. Still, she enjoyed spending time with the queen, she always had.

She made her way to Rhaella’s chambers now, Aegon perched on her hip playing with her necklace. She knocked before entering the room and stopped dead.

The babe was there, Rhaegar’s son.

Elia had been ignoring him for the past month, avoiding him. It wasn’t a conscious decision. She wasn’t in the right frame of mind to deal with the implications of his existence yet. The princess knew her husband wasn’t a rapist, but the boy came with questions Elia didn’t want to ask herself. Invasive thoughts crept in, pointing the finger at herself. She asked herself what she did for her husband to abandon her and their children. She knew she should not blame herself, but the doubts were harder to push away when she saw the babe. She was so busy staring at him in Rhaella’s arms that it took her a moment to realize that the queen mother had been calling to her.

“I apologize, Rhaella. I was just… lost in myself for a moment,” Elia said, walking further into the room.

Rhaella gave her an understanding look.

“Parceling through your feelings about him,” she suggested softly, nodding at her dozing grandson.

“That’s just it. I’m not sure I have any feelings. I don’t hate him. I just feel… numb looking at him. Like a great void is opening inside me.”

Rhaella nodded again, her face scrunching thoughtfully before she walked over to the cradle and laid Jaehaerys down.

“Have you seen Rhaegar yet?”

“No. Your son seems to have grown quite adept at avoiding me and is determined to continue doing so.”

“He has much work to do. He has decided Ned Stark is to be a hostage to ensure the behavior of the North. Hoster Tully, in reply, has claimed that he will restore the Riverlands to loyalty towards the crown if Rhaegar dissolves his daughter’s marriage to Lord Eddard so she might be remarried to Benjen Stark. I’m sure that has much to do with the youngest Stark being named the Lord of Winterfell. Rhaegar has agreed on the condition that Lord Eddard’s heir and only son with the Tully girl be sent to King’s Landing to be a hostage as well. His councilors think Lord Tully is getting away scot-free, but the Riverlands are an ungainly beast that none of Rhaegar’s allies understand enough to tame. His associates grow more restless with him every day, especially since Tywin Lannister was also allowed to retreat to Casterly Rock. This was has devastated the crown’s coffers. We need his gold. He has been ordered to pay reparations for the sacking of King’s Landing, and any Lannister men who are known to have any part in the Mountain and Lorch’s attack on you will be executed. Ser Jaime will remain in the kingsguard pardoned of any fault in Aerys’ death, but tantamount to a hostage. Cersei Lannister will be sent for to be one of your ladies-in-waiting, I’m told, to make sure Tywin Lannister behaves.”

“Oh joy,” she replied drolly.

Rhaella smiled in amusement.

“I know. I’ve heard she has some bite, that lioness.”

“I’m more concerned with the fact that I’ve not heard about these decisions from Rhaegar, ones made with no consultation from me.”

Rhaella was silent for a long moment, her gaze on the ground with a sad but wistful smile on her lips.

“I was in love once, did you know,” the queen said suddenly.

Elia looked at her with surprise.

“My Queen?”

“I was quite young, a teenager. He was a landed knight. Bonifer was his name.”

Rhaella paused then.

“I haven’t said his name in so long. I feared Aerys would hear and seek him out, kill him, or anybody by that name who had the misfortune of falling into his cruel hands. Bonifer loved me. I was so taken by him in that unreserved way that comes with youth, so I didn’t see at the time that it would never be. I was a princess, too noble to marry a mere landed knight, so my father gave me to Aerys. I had no great love for him, neither as a brother or a husband, but I was given to him, and I said my vows. I was his, and he was mine. I dismissed many a lady-in-waiting from my service. I was angry that he was making whores of my ladies. I regretted it later, having his attention so singularly focused on me,” she admitted.

Part of Elia wished to hold her tongue. Another part of her wanted to speak the words that had been heavy on her heart.

“Would that I could compel even a shred of my husband’s attention,” she said after much deliberation.

Rhaella smiled wryly.

“Be careful what you wish for, it may come in a form you least expect or would want. Aerys’ attention wasn’t because he loved me, or because he had found some measure of faithfulness and wanted to be a true husband. He wished to possess me. I belonged to him. I was his to own and do as he pleased with, to take at his leisure and hurt if he wished. It is what men do. Their great desire is to possess. It may be land, money, women, status, material goods, but possessing things and, moreover, possessing more than the man beside them, is a desire the gods have weaved into the very fabric of their being, ingratiated into the meaning of manhood. Even Bonifer wanted to possess me, would have owned me in a way, but it would be different because I would own him too. It would be my choice. Choice is a thing we have so little of as women. It is men who more than not choose for us, who own us. If it is not our husbands, it’s our fathers or our brothers or our sons. Even our mothers forget when they were in our position and instead use us to gain power, prestige, wealth. As a mother, I would hope that I had taught my son better, that he knew never to become anything like his father. And he is not like Aerys, I believe that. That does not mean any of what has happened has made me happy or proud.”

Rhaella approached her, smiling at Aegon when he babbled happily and reached out towards her.

“Rhaegar is my son, I love him completely, but I do adore you, my dear. We are of a kind. We have survived so much, separately and together. Do not allow him to move you about to his leisure. We do not get much say in this world as women, but as individuals of high-standing, we are fortunate enough to have some say. Once you lose your voice, you are truly lost and powerless. Do not let him or anyone else snatch it away,” the older woman advised her.

That was when Elia remembered her mother’s words.

‘You are the sun, do not let your lord husband mishandle you. If he does, remind him who you are.’

A thought came to Elia suddenly. She wondered if Lyanna Stark had a mother like Loreza or someone like Rhaella in her life telling her things like this. She wondered what the girl thought when Rhaegar took her away. Did she genuinely want to go? Did she have a choice? Did it matter what she had wanted? Elia’s feelings, her thoughts, her needs, and wants did not seem to matter to Rhaegar, not in the face of what he thought was divine destiny. Did Lyanna’s matter? She glanced to the cradle where the motherless child lay, one of the last products of the bloody Rebellion.

“How fares the child?”

Rhaella glanced back at the infant’s cradle with a fond smile.

“He’s in good health. He is a quiet babe. That worried me at first, but the maester says each babe is different. One cannot know what their temperament will be. It is a good thing I can nurse him thanks to Daenerys.”

Elia nodded but did not approach the crib. She could not see him just yet, but she could see Rhaegar.

The next day, she was determined to find her husband and had latched on to a familiar maidservant to tell her where he would be once he settled. The maidservant did not come to her for a long time, but around midday, she directed Elia to Rhaegar’s solar. Elia made her way there briskly and entered without knocking. As she did, she saw Rhaegar finally for the first time since the Battle of the Trident. He was hunched over his desk, his surviving kingsguard crowding the table. She noticed and felt a pang in her chest at the absences in the room.

Uncle Lewyn and Jonothor Darry had fallen at the Trident. Oswell Whent and Gerold Hightower had died at the Tower of Joy. Now there were only three. Arthur turned at her arrival and looked surprised to see her before something like shame flooded his eyes, and he looked away. Good. Let him be shamed at how he failed his childhood friend.

Selmy tracked her movements out of the corner of his eye as she entered, his gaze following her as she walked into the room. He always was more observant than most.

Jaime openly looked at her, his eyes curious and asking her a silent question, but she discreetly waved him off.

Rhaegar was doing a spectacular job of ignoring her. He kept his head down at the table as he talked about possible candidates for his kingsguard, but Elia could see his eyes flickering to her. He went on talking, and the others listened. Elia suppressed her anger and perused the room. There was a glass figurine in the shape of a three-headed dragon on a side table. She wondered why glass. It must’ve been imported and expensive. Myrish, if she had to guess at a glance. She made her way to the table, what she assumed was Selmy’s gaze on her all the time. Once she was standing next to it, she turned and saw that Arthur was watching her rather than Selmy. She glared at him as her fingers inched to the table, and she pushed the figurine over, letting it shatter on the floor. All conversation ceased, and the men turned to her.

She stared Rhaegar down. His purple eyes held an air of fatigue and weariness that she had come to recognize in soldiers. She was sure she had a similar look borne of her own horrors. His curly locks were disheveled in a way he usually hated. He did not look like a put-together king, not that she cared.

“I wish to speak to you alone, husband,” Elia said in a voice that was soft in volume but hard in tone. 

Rhaegar held her gaze, an eyebrow slightly raised. Elia resolved to herself that she would not lose this staring match. As petty as it seemed, she refused to lose another thing to Rhaegar. She held his gaze, her eyes hard and cold and angry, her mouth set in a frown, her body tense. She radiated the energy of a sandstorm, one that would cut anyone caught in its grip. The kingsguards appeared to recognize that where Rhaegar didn’t. Selmy cleared his throat a little before speaking.

“Perhaps we should take this up another time, Your Grace. We would not want to impose on you and the queen,” he said, throwing Rhaegar a lifeline.

“It is not an imposit—”

“It is,” Elia said, cutting Rhaegar off. 

He looked annoyed at her interruption.

“It is midday, and the Queen Mother did summon me, Your Grace. I wouldn’t want to keep her waiting,” Jaime said, his voice clearly conveying his nervousness at the tenseness and frost between husband and wife.

“And I would speak to Lord Stark regarding several family matters,” Arthur added.

“By your leave, if it pleases you, my king.” 

Rhaegar held Elia’s gaze a moment longer before his eyes flickered to the men in the room. Elia felt a swell of triumph rise in her breast.

“We shall take this up at a later time. Go.” 

The men swiftly cleared out of the room, each throwing a wary glance at Elia. She enjoyed seeing the fear in their eyes. She preferred that to pity or scrutiny. As if staring at her would show them why Rhaegar could so easily pass her up for a 15-year-old Northern girl who probably barely begun to receive her moonblood.

“I would remind you, wife, that I am the king now. Such insolence shan’t be tolerated, especially in front of my men,” Rhaegar said once they left, his voice carrying that same tiredness she saw in his eyes as he all but collapsed in his chair. 

Before the war, Elia would fret over him and make sure he was well. She approached his desk now, her body losing none of its ice. It was as if the Wall itself had been erected between them, the chill seeping into her bones and heart.

As she got closer, she could see a cradle was next to Rhaegar’s desk. Jaehaerys lay inside, the babe’s grey eyes staring up at the ceiling, his limbs fighting against the quilt laid on him. She wondered at how he hadn’t cried at the figurine crashing to the floor, but Rhaella had said he was a quiet babe. Rhaegar silently watched her staring at his child, and when she looked back at him, he had an indecipherable look on his face. She roused herself. She would say everything she needed to say, and neither would leave this room a moment before.

“Am I?” Elia asked. 

Rhaegar’s brow scrunched lightly at that.

“Are you what?”

“Am I your wife? I wasn’t sure. It hasn’t seemed that way in the past two years with you being elsewhere with another woman, even finding yourself in Dorne, in my home whilst your children and I languished and suffered in King’s Landing in the mess you left behind.” 

Rhaegar looked about to speak, but Elia plowed on.

“Then again, my suffering has been on account of being your wife: Aerys’ cruelty, Tywin Lannister’s heinous orders, Robert Baratheon’s bloodlust, all because I have the misfortune of being your wife. So, you see, while you seemed to have the freedom to run away and forget our marriage, I haven’t had nearly the same luxury. Being your wife so far has led to public humiliation, scorn, abuse, fear, and almost rape. Yet here you sit, finally with what you want. By the gods, you must be the luckiest man on Earth. Aerys is gone, you are king, and you have your three children. It only took a war and a mountain of bodies to get it. Are you proud of yourself? Are you happy now?”

“…no,” he replied quietly.

“Of course you wouldn’t be. Lyanna Stark is dead. Now you are unhappy. Good. That makes me glad.”

Rhaegar’s face turned horrified. Elia rolled her eyes.

“Don’t look at me like that. I’m not glad she’s dead. I even have some sympathy for the girl. What could she know of how all of this would fall apart? What could she know of Aerys’ nature? You should have known. He is your father, you knew his temperament, you knew his madness. Did you think you could run off with the only daughter of Winterfell, and it’d be acceptable? Did you think it would go unanswered by the Northerners? Could you not guess Aerys would answer them back viciously? You were a fool. Your actions have cost us all, have nearly destroyed your house and your family. Now you are unhappy, and I. am. glad,” she replied, her voice growing more and more severe with every word. 

Rhaegar shot up from his seat.

“Fine! I messed everything up! Is that what you want to hear?!” Rhaegar shouted at her. 

Rarely did he ever raise his voice, and it stopped her up for a moment. The silence was broken by Jaehaerys’ fusses of displeasure at being startled. Rhaegar sighed and reached into the cradle, though he hesitated before picking his son up and rocking him back to calmness.

“Peace, Elia. Please.” 

She narrowed her eyes and opened her mouth to retort, but he was quick to continue.

“I know you are angry at me. You have the right of it. When I heard what happened to you in King’s Landing when Tywin sacked the city, I was sickened and shocked. I scrambled as best I could to form a plan to rescue you and the children. It wasn’t easy. Quellon Greyjoy’s sons had all but convinced him to join the rebels, but I managed to win him to my side. Then the siege had to be planned. If I could’ve saved you all sooner, I would’ve.” 

Elia stared at him for a long moment. She could feel something overtaking her anger. She wished to push it back because it felt bewilderingly familiar. It was that old vulnerability, that part of her that was still the girl who first married Rhaegar and sat in the gardens of the Red Keep terrified of her new husband, who smiled at her and made a joke that caused her to laugh long and hard. To this day, she didn’t remember what he had said to her. In that moment, a rosebud grew in her heart for him. He tended it in the beginning. It grew, but didn’t bloom thanks to his neglect. It bore thorns now that pricked her heart and made her bleed. It would be better if she ripped the damn thing out root and stem and threw it away. That was easier said than done. It was not so easy to just stop loving someone even if they stopped loving you. She could feel the emotion in her throat. Her mask cracked, her eyes watering enough to shine but not enough for the tears to fall.

“Why?” She asked, her voice unsteady to her dismay.

“Have I been so horrible to you? Have I ever given you a reason to doubt me? I’ve given you my oaths, my life, my love, two children, support when you needed it, space when you wanted. I’ve kept your secrets, even from your mother. I’ve defended you from my family and friends, who all said I deserved better. I thought they were wrong. They didn’t know you like I did. I thought you would never hurt me. You swore it. On our first night as man and wife, you swore if I gave myself to you that you would never hurt me.” 

A tear fell past her eyes. She felt a flare of anger at the weakness, furiously wiping it away.

“But then again, it was just words and words are wind. I should’ve never believed you.” 

Rhaegar stared at her with a shadow of hurt in his eyes, maybe even heartbreak, but perhaps she only saw what she wanted to see. Rhaegar stared longer before looking away.

“I needed to keep the realm together.”

“Fine job of it.”

“The prophecy was clear to me. The dragon has three heads. You could no longer bear fruit. I could not let that hinder destiny. I’m sorry it meant you were hurt,” he replied. 

His voice had turned emotionless, like he was talking to someone he didn’t know.

“Bugger your bloody prophecy. I am your wife, who you have betrayed and tossed aside. I would have the truth of it.” 

Rhaegar’s eyes narrowed, and something cold seeped in.

“The truth? The truth is my father married me to you so he could insult Tywin Lannister. The truth is, I loved Lyanna, and she loved me. The truth is that this prophecy is bigger than you, it’s bigger than me, it’s about the song of ice and fire. I’ve already brought the prince that was promised to the world. Aegon will be a fine king one day. He will win the dawn, but he still needs Rhaenys. He needed the child Lyanna and I would’ve birthed together had she not been snatched from me…” Rhaegar trailed off here, his voice losing its coldness and veering into sounding forlorn and lost. 

Elia ignored it in favor of confusion.

“What do you mean? Your child with her rests in your arms even now. Do you not see him, or have you inherited your father’s addled mind?” 

Rhaegar shot her a look before looking down at his son. His face went through a series of complicated emotions, but Elia was able to extrapolate a few: sadness, grief, anger, disdain, and was that… yes, that was hate.

Huh.

“He is not what was promised. A princess. Visenya. That’s what should’ve been given for Lyanna’s life. But instead…” Rhaegar trailed off again and sighed heavily as he looked away from his son in what could only be described as disgust. 

Elia felt disquieted by the display.

“You sacrificed her,” she said simply. 

Rhaegar’s eyes flashed with anger.

“I would never. I loved Lyanna.”

“Even if you didn’t intentionally, you did.” 

He looked ready to argue before seeing the truth in her words and looking away with a pained gaze.

“She and I have more in common than I thought,” she mused aloud. 

Rhaegar’s purple eyes shifted restlessly over her before flickering to his son. Those same emotions she saw before and others she couldn’t put a name to went across his face again. She suddenly felt some concern for the babe. She stepped closer, the need to get him away from the man growing in her like a roar.

“Hand him over,” she demanded more than requested. 

Rhaegar hesitated before passing the boy over to her. She adjusted him in her arms as she looked down at him while he stared up at her with wide eyes. She studied his face. Yes, the Targaryen features she briefly noted on the beach held true, but she did see a lot of Lady Lyanna in him.

“Jaehaerys. Did his mother pick that name?”

“No. She wanted something Northern. Jon for a boy. Lyarra for a girl. He is a Targaryen. He will have our name. She was fine with it.” 

Elia remembered how she accepted Targaryen names for her children and understood why, but that hadn’t made her want a say in their naming any less. Rhaegar wouldn’t know that. Why would he?

The king watched her before walking around her towards the door of his solar.

“Should’ve been a girl,” she heard him mumble to himself. 

She smiled a humorless smile at his back before calling to him.

“Your son will have a mother. The kingdoms will have a queen. You will no longer have a wife.” 

They stared at each other for one more long moment before he turned to leave. She watched him go before looking back down at the babe.

“So, you have been abandoned and pushed aside too then? Unwanted by the great Rhaegar Targaryen,” she surmised, her voice a coo as the infant flailed in her arms.

“Well, being wanted by him is not all it appears to be, trust me,” she continued. 

She pressed a finger into one of his little hands and could not fight the smile that found its way to her lips at his secure grip.

“Stay with me, little one, and you’ll be alright. It’s not so bad to be unwanted when you’re not facing the prospect alone. I fear you’ll have no choice but to stay with me, elsewise your life will not be pleasant. I shan’t put Rhaegar’s folly on your head, and I shan’t punish you for any lingering feeling I may have for your mother. Perhaps she did not know the consequences of her actions until it was too late to fix them. I know such regrets. If not for Rhaenys and Aegon, I’d flee to Dorne and leave Rhaegar to his ruin. But you stick with me, Jaehaerys, and you’ll be alright.”

Chapter Text

290 AC

The gardens of the Red Keep were not the Water Gardens, but Elia made an effort with it, especially with help from her Reachmen ladies-in-waiting. Now, flowers bloomed beautifully, and lily pads and blossoms floated in the large, pool-like fountain she had installed in the center of the main sitting area. Elia felt sorry for the flowers for they were now trapped under the feet of the children living in the Red Keep. She sat under the trees with her ladies-in-waiting, watching the children out of the corner of her eye. Rhaenys, Daenerys, and Allyria splashed in the fountain, their happy shrieks filling the air. Jaehaerys, Robb, and Dickon played some game where they were meant to fight for the honor of saving Margaery from a dragon, which poor Samwell had the misfortune of portraying. All the while, little Arya toddled around, trying to steal Robb and Jae’s attention. Aegon and Loras were fighting with sticks off to the side while Talla blushed and fawned over herself, watching the two.

It was a rare moment of real peace at the keep that Elia liked to enjoy. In these gardens, the world could melt away, and she could be content. King’s Landing still held that veneer of grime and probably always would. People snickered and talked about her out of one side of their mouth, more so after she was embarrassed by her husband. Hearing Rhaenys’ laughter, seeing Aegon’s smile and hearing Jaehaerys call her ‘Mother’ calmed her heart and her mind from racing with thoughts left unvoiced. She was about to turn back to her ladies, the smile still on her face when it suddenly vanished. She was coming to her gardens, the ambitious whore, Queen Consort now.

Cersei Lannister waddled across the lawn, her belly big in front of her, eight moons into her pregnancy now. Rhaegar was escorting her, his arm around her back to support her as she somehow managed to look graceful even while unable to walk properly.

Elia felt the same anger she’d been feeling for the past year, if not longer. She could not tell how long her former lady-in-waiting had been sleeping with her husband, seducing him, whispering her poison in his ears. Rhaegar had announced months ago his plan to take Cersei as his second queen under the title of Queen Consort like Targaryens had done before him. He had the support of both maesters and septons alike and, of course, Tywin Lannister himself. Elia had been livid, but Rhaegar’s mind was made. He needed Lannister gold, he said, but Elia thought it was his precious Visenya he was after most of all. The prophecy was still not fulfilled, but soon after the wedding, her traitorous lady fell pregnant. Twins from the size of her belly. Rhaegar’s Visenya, and another child to spare.

Elia felt a hand curl into hers, dragging her attention from the couple as the children greeted their father, brother, and king. She turned to see Ashara staring at her imploringly.

“Ignore them,” she mumbled so the other ladies couldn’t hear.

Elia nodded discreetly, squeezing her friend’s hand gratefully.

She did not know what she would do if Ashara hadn’t come back to King’s Landing to be with her. Her best friend was already on her way back to her when Rhaegar’s coronation had occurred. She had arrived faster than Elia expected and with a daughter to boot, Allyria. She had Dornish coloring but her grey eyes and long face told the world who her father was. However, Allyria’s name remained Sand and her sisters, Arya and baby twins Alysane and Alanna, bore the name Waters since Rhaegar refused any requests of Ashara and Ned to marry. He thought it would show weakness on his part to allow his hostage, a former rebel to the realm, the honor of marriage to one of the ladies-of-court, a woman deep in his wife’s counsel. That hadn’t stopped them, most everyone knew that they were consorting and unmarried in the eyes of the Seven, though Ned claimed they were married in the eyes of the Old Gods and needed no blessing from a High Septon of a religion he did not follow. Some tried to convince her to send Ashara and the children away from the castle, claiming it brought shame to Elia’s reputation to have a lady with four bastards in her company, Cersei’s being one of the loudest voices. That was all the more reason to do the exact opposite of what they wanted her to do. Elia knew it wasn’t just because Ashara’s supposed bastard brood assaulted Cersei’s sensibilities that she wished her sent away, it was because Ashara was Elia’s staunchest supporter. She would have her isolated and alone.

“How dare she come here, flaunting herself about. The harlot,” Lysa said venomously beside her. 

Elia repressed an eyeroll. She had no doubt her lady’s anger wasn’t mostly brought about because she wasn’t the one who managed to steal Rhaegar. Lysa was still unmarried after Jon Arryn’s death, though the queen was not ignorant of her attachment to Lord Baelish. It made her untrustworthy.

“Calm Lysa, let’s play nice. We are ladies… unlike her,” Melessa advised, her voice turning derisive towards the end as she sent a comforting smile towards Elia. 

Melessa Florent was a nice, understanding woman with a large heart. A stark opposite to her husband, Randyll Tarly. Elia knew she could count on her secrecy and loyalty.

“Sex-crazed whore,” Togaria Bar Emmon muttered under her breath with no small amount of jealousy in her voice. 

Elia and Ashara shared an amused look between themselves. Togaria was the wildcard of Elia’s ladies, her allegiance tending to flit to whoever could buy her. Bar Emmon was an old house pledged to Dragonstone but had fallen on harder times. Togaria had developed a taste for finer things in King’s Landing. It made her unreliable but predictable. As long as Elia could provide for her and Varys kept a wealth of Togaria’s secrets in his back pocket for a rainy day, she was not overly worried by her.

“Sex itself is not such a sinful thing,” Alerie began.

“Oh, don’t start, Lady Hightower,” Darlyssa Marbrand complained. 

Elia was as confident the Westerland woman was a spy of Cersei’s as she was that Alerie was reporting all the happenings of the castle to Lady Olenna, but she allowed them to think she knew nothing.

“It’s Lady Tyrell,” Alerie corrected.

“Don’t let Lady Olenna hear you claim that name,” Darlyssa quipped back, twirling her reddish-blonde curls around her nimble fingers, but Alerie continued like she hadn’t spoken.

“Sex can be quite a powerful tool. It can connect you to a person in a way that cannot be erased, and it can give you leverage over weak-minded men. And when it comes to sex, every man is weak-minded,” Alerie said, a coy smile on her face as she flipped her braided light blonde hair over her shoulder.

She watched the interaction between Margaery and Cersei intensely. Elia wasn’t sure if she was watching for fear of her daughter’s safety or because she hoped the Queen Consort would take kindly to her daughter. Probably both.

“Did your mother teach you that? Or did Lady Olenna decide she needed something to keep her simpleton son’s attention?” Petra Mallister asked. 

She was the youngest of her ladies, and the girl had no filter. It hadn’t gained her a husband so far, and it was going to get her in trouble one day, but she was loyal enough, if unreliable with delicate matters. Alerie threw the younger girl a glare for the comment, mentions of her tense relations with her goodmother finally getting to her.

Elia turned back to the tableau before her. Cersei was sneering at Rhaenys and Daenerys in the fountain. Probably bemoaning both the fact that they were splashing in their smallclothes and that they were playing with Allyria, a bastard. She watched the woman walk pass Jaehaerys without a glance as he hesitantly shuffled up to her to greet her. Rhaegar followed after her, his eyes on Aegon. Robb patted his cousin’s back comfortingly, but she could tell his disappointment and heartbreak by the way his shoulders slumped in defeat. Elia felt sympathy and anger roiling inside her.

“Jaehaer— Jon!” She called after the boy. 

Recently, the seven-year-old had decided that he wanted to be called Jon rather than Jaehaerys. Elia knew why so she didn’t begrudge him his choice. He got so little of it even though he bore the name Targaryen. He was still considered a bastard by a large number of people despite Rhaegar’s claim to have married Lyanna on the Isle of Faces, Elia’s acceptance of him, and Ned vouching that he was not born of rape. Still, some did not recognize the marriage because it was shrouded in such secrecy, unlike his marriage to Cersei. The lioness hated Jaehaerys. If she had her way, he’d be named Sand, and any sons she had would be before him in the line of succession.

Jae turned around before running towards her. She could see that his eyes were shining with tears that he wouldn’t let fall in present company. Elia stood up and held a hand to him, leading him away from this section of the garden. Her eyes caught Rhaegar’s as she passed him. She sent a glare his way, and he looked away from her.

When they got to a place where the others couldn’t hear, Jaehaerys stopped walking and let the tears fall down his face. Elia sighed and picked him up, placing him on her hip. He was always small for his age. Even so, she would not be able to carry him long, despite her health being better as of late.

“A good omen. The ceremony to Lady Cersei was most smiled upon by the gods. Even Queen Elia has benefited from it.” 

She had wanted to cuff the septon who said such an asinine statement.

She took Jae to a bench and sat down with him on her lap, rubbing her hand up and down his back.

“Shh, it’ll be alright, little wolf,” she said, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

“I—I don’t understand,” he mumbled through his tears.

“Why do they hate me so?”

Elia sighed internally. She had known Rhaegar could not see Jae for himself since he was a babe. She hoped he would have gotten over it by now, but the more Jae grew, the more he looked like Lyanna, so the less Rhaegar seemed to be able to stand the sight of him. He was the embodiment of his failures. He failed to get the princess he wanted, he was unable to keep Lyanna, he almost destroyed the realm. Seven years later, the kingdoms weren’t whole or without fractures.

Elia tried not to hesitate to answer. Rhaella would probably know how to answer this question. She was wise beyond her years, always with a piece of pertinent advice that she knew Elia needed. She had been gone since Daenerys was born. She had died happy. Her last few months were the best of her life. She’d even started sending ravens back and forth with her Bonifer before she died. The Queen Mother passed away with a smile on her face, clutching her daughter after extracting a promise from Elia to protect her children. Now Elia was stuck surrounded by panderers and sycophants, by dragons, lions, and liars. She had to protect the people who she called family.

“They don’t hate you.” 

Jae gave her a look of disbelief at that.

“At least your father doesn’t. He’s just… hard to reach sometimes, especially to his family.”

“He spends time with Rhae and Egg. Viserys says that it’s because I killed my birth mother. That you only pretend to care about me, but when I reach majority, you’ll stop pretending and send me away.” 

Elia restrained an eyeroll.

“Your first mistake is listening to anything Viserys says. Your second is not coming to me first. If you did, I would’ve told you that I am most certainly not pretending to care about you. I’ve never been one to put on airs with you or lie. The situation with your parents wasn’t ideal for any of us involved, but I hope you know I’ve never blamed you for it. None of it was your fault. Lyanna died because she didn’t have a midwife there to help her through it, not because of you.”

“But Dany’s mother died too, and she had a midwife and maesters with her.” 

Elia paused before taking Jaehaerys’ face in her palm.

“Listen to me, sometimes things happen, and we can try all we might to stop it, but we can’t always do anything to change the outcome. Your birth mother died, but one of the last things she got to do was bring you into the world, so I’m sure she didn’t regret it,” Elia soothed, brushing her fingers through Jaehaerys’ curly hair.

“Rhaegar is still hurt by the loss, and Cersei is… well, she is a Lannister. She has quite narrow views. But even without them, you have your siblings and your cousins and your aunts and uncles—”

“And you?”

“Of course, sweetling. Is that even a question that needs asking,” she assured, wiping his face clean and leaning forward to press another kiss to his forehead. 

She was about to stand and return to the central gardens when the bushes nearby suddenly rustled. She stood up instantly, sliding Jae off her lap and pushing him behind her, her body on high alert for a possible threat, her fingers inching to the dagger she hid among the fabric of her dress.

“Mother?” Jae asked with confusion due to the sudden change in her countenance. 

She relaxed as she saw Jaime come out from the trees, his white cape secured to his black and red armor.

“Ser Jaime!” Jae exclaimed excitedly, running off to greet the man happily.

“Hello, little prince. Are you defending the queen from ne’er-do-wells and ill-wishers?” 

Jae nodded his head, a serious look on his face.

“Of course, Ser. I will protect Mother from the monsters.”

“Monsters come in many forms. Remember that, lad. Besides that, I know you could make a fine knight one day. And I’ve got just the thing to help you along.” 

Jaime pulled out a small wooden sword from behind his back. Elia felt a smile touch her lips as Jae looked at it reverently. He had just started training a year prior but did not have his own practice sword just yet. Rhaegar gifted Rhaenys and Aegon with one when they began training. Ned fashioned ones for Robb and Allyria of his own hand. Even Randyll gave one to Samwell, who it was clear was more into his books than he would ever be a sword, but Rhaegar had not bequeathed one to Jae. He had ignored him, taking for granted that Elia would oversee his upbringing and maintenance on her own. Ned watched out for his nephew, and Jaime was also a huge help.

Jae looked back at Elia for permission, and she nodded her head. He took the wooden sword from the knight and held it aloft like it was made of gold.

“Thank you, Ser,” he said, his voice filled with genuine gratitude. 

Elia walked up behind him and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Let’s go back so you can show everyone your new present, hmm?” 

Jae nodded enthusiastically, running ahead of them to return to the others.

“Thank you, Ser Jaime. I was going to have one fashioned for him, but I think receiving one from you is all the better,” Elia said as they began walking back, side-by-side.

“He’s a good child. You’ve done a good job with him.”

“As have you. I didn’t teach him to hold a sword. Though, I’m sure Oberyn will have something to say about both his nephews and his niece wielding swords with no spear training whatsoever.”

“I’m not much for spears… or poison.” 

Elia threw him a look, but Jaime just shrugged lightly in response. That incident had been years before, and though Oberyn had not returned to Dorne yet following Doran’s banishment, he still visited King’s Landing all the time and sometimes with his girls in tow.

“Speaking of brothers, how’s yours?”

“Tyrion is well enough. Still as bright as ever and has more wit and intellect in his littlest finger than I do in my whole body. Our father doesn’t see that though, all he sees is a dwarf who killed his mother in childbirth.” 

Elia’s mood soured almost immediately.

“Yes, Tywin Lannister always did have very particular views, didn’t he?” 

That was the man who ordered her and her children killed. She would never forget, even if Rhaegar did. Jaime did not forget either. Elia turned as his hand brushed against hers.

“I’m sorry to bring him up. I wasn’t thinking.” 

Elia smiled tremulously in return.

“There is no need for you to apologize. You have always been an attentive guard, Ser.”

“I did get something for you too.” 

Elia looked at him curiously as he produced a perfume bottle from his pocket. She sniffed it briefly before smiling at the blonde man.

“Blood orange.”

“A Myrish merchant stopped at Lannisport while I was there. He happened to have that at what I’m sure is triplicate the price in Dorne, but I thought you might like it.”

“I do. Thank you,” she said, gracing him with another smile as they made it back to where Jae was already showing Robb and Aegon his new toy. 

Rhaegar was watching them wordlessly and looked up at Elia when she returned with Jaime. There was something in his eyes. It was always there in moments like these where the children seemed happy and Elia was smiling. She sometimes thought that Rhaegar felt left out in his own family, but then she would think of all he had done to make it that way for himself, and she would not feel bad. He had Cersei now. Soon he would have his precious Visenya, what did he have to feel bad about?

~*~*~

Except he would not.

Cersei’s labor was long and hard. Her screams could be heard from across the keep. Elia tried to offer some assistance, but the woman did not want her there. Instead, Elia stayed with the children who were frightened at Cersei’s pain despite how mean she was to them. Elia played hide and search with them, quizzed them on their studies, read books, and ate sweets until Rhae, Egg, and Dany had passed out on her bed. Jaehaerys stayed up, silently holding Elia’s threads as she sewed a blanket to gift to the twins. No matter how she felt about their mother and father, the babes were innocent and didn’t know the mess they were born into. Besides, it was expected of her.

“Is Cersei going to die like my mother did?” Jae asked her after a long, comfortable silence.

Elia paused with her needles and looked at the boy calculatingly. He looked innocently curious, but there was something else in his gaze that made her ask her next question.

“Would you like that, little wolf?”

He shook his head after a pause.

“No, I don’t think so, but...”

Elia nodded encouragingly.

“Would it make you happier if she did?”

Elia cocked her head inquisitively.

“People wouldn’t whisper about you anymore, wouldn’t make fun of you because of her, and usually, if Father’s happy, you’re sad. Maybe if he’s sad instead, then you’ll be happy.”

Elia looked down, not quite sure how to answer that. Jaehaerys was the most perceptive of her children. Rhaenys and Aegon were her children by birth, but their lives were already all but mapped out for them. Little by little, they were being taken from her and belonging more to the realm, to the people, to the Targaryen dynasty. Jae had no aspirations on him and virtually no other parent, so he was more attached to her side. He could read her as easily as her brothers could. His intuition was a skill that Elia’s mother would say she should hone and tend to for her benefit later on in life. Maybe when he was older.

“No sweetling, I do not want Cersei to die. And your father’s sadness does not make me happy.”

“What does make you happy then?”

“Them, of course,” she answered immediately, gesturing to the three children asleep.

“And you.”

Jae nodded with satisfaction after a moment, and they went back to silence.

Once Jae was asleep, Elia ventured towards the corridor where Cersei was. When she visited before, Rhaegar was pacing outside the door with Jaime standing stoically nearby while Viserys sat on a bench, trying to distract his brother from his worry. It must’ve been déjà vu for Rhaegar. This was the third woman who was birthing his children, who he was waiting on to see if she would give life to his prophecy or give him more disappointment.

Elia should’ve been more concerned about the almost vicious delight she felt at learning that Cersei had birthed twin boys, Aerion and Daeron. Maybe Jae had been a little right in his estimation that Rhaegar’s failures resulted in Elia’s happiness, but what was the point of examining all the times she felt joy at her husband’s shortcomings?

~*~*~

Rhaegar shut himself away like a sulking child for a time after the twins were born, but Elia’s delight was short-lived because soon after, the nightmares came back. Every night in her dreams, she would see countless men and women burning in the throne room while Aerys watched in sick fascination. She would hear Rhaella’s screams, those born of her rape at her husband’s hands and the haunting wails during her last time on the birthing bed. She would see Aerys standing in her doorway, his long, gnarled fingernails like claws beside him as he stared Elia down with equal parts loathing and arousal. She would feel the horror and fear as she watched Amory Lorch grab her children’s faces, and Gregor Clegane stand over her, his hard cock already free from his breeches, a manic look on his face.

In her dreams, Jaime doesn’t save her. She can feel Clegane force himself inside her. She can hear Rhaenys’ screams and Aegon’s cries. She can see the moment that Lorch plunges his blade into her daughter’s chest over and over again until her screams fade to nothing. She can see Clegane crush her son’s head until it pops like a melon. She can feel when his fingers dig into her eyes, and the pressure in her head builds and builds until there is suddenly nothing but darkness.

Her eyes popped open, flying around her dark bedroom wildly until there was a tug on her hand. She looked over to see Jae standing by her bedside, a look of wide-eyed concern on his face.

“Jon? What’s wrong? It’s late.”

“I heard you screaming,” he explained.

His room was closer to hers than Egg or Rhae’s. Rhaegar’s choice.

“I had a bad dream. There is no need to worry,” she explained, rubbing a hand over her face.

He stared at her contemplatively before climbing into her bed.

She felt amusement tug at her as she noticed he had his wooden sword in hand.

“I will protect you from the monsters, Mother,” he proclaimed.

A smile tugged at her lips.

“I shall truly know peace with a knight as true as you to protect me, Ser Jon,” she replied, laying down in bed with her son curled into her side.

She managed some sleep with Jae there, if fitfully, but the images stayed seared to her eyelids and on her mind the whole day.

Her ladies noticed her disquiet but put it down to Cersei and imbued her with empty words about her place not being usurped. All they really did was ply her with more worry than anything else, pointing out things she hadn’t thought of before. Cersei had two heirs. If something should happen to Aegon and the Queen Consort managed to convince Rhaegar to disinherit Jaehaerys, her son would be on the throne. She would be Queen Mother. She would suddenly have the power.

Those worries followed Elia as much as the dreams did to bed the next night, and she found the nightmare reoccurring, but not just the War of the Usurper ending horribly for her, she could see in her mind Cersei killing Aegon, her little boy’s body too still and angelic. She could see Jaehaerys banished to the wintry wasteland of the Wall to live out his days in exile. She could see Rhaenys forced to marry some old man like Walder Frey and shuffled off to live a life of sadness while Elia was helpless to do anything.

She found herself being shaken awake once more, but this time it was Jaime hovering over her.

“Ser Jaime, what are you…” Elia trailed off, her voice breaking a little as her throat felt rubbed raw.

“Prince Jaehaerys asked me to guard your door tonight. He was worried. He wanted you safe from the monsters, he said. I don’t know how much help I’ll be from the ones that plague you.”

Elia settled back into the bed, her eyes staring at the ceiling above her.

“I didn’t know you still had the dreams,” Jaime said after a long silence.

“I’ll never forget. They sometimes fade, recede to the very edges of my mind, then they come back.”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Elia asked with bemusement.

“I did not save you, not completely.”

“At that point, Ser, it was already too late.”

Another long silence stretched between them before Jaime went to leave the room. Elia grabbed his arm, stopping him.

“Don’t. Don’t leave,” she said in a low tone.

Jaime paused, his body stiffening.

“The king is here.”

“He’s still off sulking about the birth of his male heirs. Stay with me, please,” she replied.

Jaime’s body loosened before he sat back down on the edge of the bed. Elia sat up, her dark hair falling into her face in loose waves, and pulled Jaime towards her, pressing her lips to his.

This was not the first time they had done this, nor the second or even fifth or sixth. She could not say precisely when it began. It didn’t start until after whatever he had going on with Cersei ended. Elia never pried, but she noticed that their countenance and arguments spoke more to lovers than siblings in the beginning. She supposed it ended when Cersei began pursuing Rhaegar. How ironic then that her twin should fall into the queen’s bed while she fell into the king’s.

Elia’s relationship with Jaime was not one born of lust for power or even carnal need, but due to comfort and understanding. They survived the last few years of Aerys’ reign together. They were among those left behind by Rhaegar. Jaime was in that room at Maegor’s Holdfast and saw what almost happened to her and the children. Jaime knew about the nightmares, fears, and doubts that plagued her because he cared enough to ask. She wouldn’t say it was love, not in the romantic sense, at least. Elia would never be so quick to relinquish herself to that emotion again after Rhaegar tore her heart apart. What she had with the knight was comfortable, a friendship that offered pleasurable benefits, and he cared for her children. Jaime didn’t just protect them but befriended them. He made Elia feel lighter, so she never felt guilty about her actions.

Rhaegar was the last person she had to feel bad about being unfaithful to.

~*~*~

Weeks passed before Rhaegar stopped throwing a tantrum over having male children rather than his Visenya. Cersei emerged from the birthing bed glowing golden even more than before. She and Rhaegar allowed the children to meet the babes, even though Jae and Ashara’s girls were not allowed to hold them as per Cersei’s demands. Elia was sitting in a corner observing four of Rhaegar’s kingsguards. Addam Marbrand, Aurane Velaryon, Caspian Celtigar, and Adrian Redfort secured the four corners of the room with serious looks on their faces. She wondered what trouble they thought he could run into during a visit with children but left them to it as Ashara, Melessa, and Petra approached her with varying levels of misery on their faces.

“What’s all this?” Elia asked with amusement.

Ashara looked at her like she had grown a second head.

“What do you mean? Our moonblood,” Petra said, unusually discreet.

“We usually all get it at the same time, but yours starts before us. Have you not gotten it?” Melessa asked.

It hadn’t occurred to Elia until then that she hadn’t had her moonblood. That was not so unusual. She could be irregular at times. It didn’t come that week or the one after or the one after that. As she began to vomit into her chamber pot in the mornings and her breasts grew sore, she knew she must face facts.

She was pregnant.

That put her at a loss because it was supposed to be impossible. Birthing Rhae almost completely drained her and birthing Egg all but killed her, she wasn’t meant to be able to become pregnant again. Yes, it had been eight years since she had Egg, and she supposed that her health had been on an upswing as of late, but it was still presumed impossible by the maesters. And what was she to do with the child? She hadn’t laid with Rhaegar in years. He would realize if she had the child that he was not the father. Could she bring herself to rid her body of the child? That came with its own risks and could kill her, but having the child could kill her as well.

That night she had a dream of a little girl. A little girl who looked almost just like Elia: Dornish coloring like Rhae’s. However, rather than having Rhaegar’s purple eyes like her sister, the girl had Elia’s black orbs. Elia could hear the girl’s name whispered in her head in Rhaegar’s voice, Visenya.

Even in her sleep, she felt satisfied that this girl, who was not Rhaegar’s, was looked upon by him as if she were his saving grace. She wondered what his face would reflect if he knew the truth.

In her waking hours, she was filled with turmoil. She felt several things at wanting to have the child as a form of revenge against Rhaegar: shame, guilt, longing, want. Her dreams had brought these feelings on before, feelings she had no way to fight in her sleep. She had dreamt of Rhaegar dead many times. She used to dream of Lyanna dead too, but the older Jaehaerys grew, the more like Lyanna he looked, so those dreams turned to nightmares. Rhaegar deceased had been a common feature and a saving grace from the horrors of Maegor’s Holdfast and Aerys. In reality, she could not say how she would react if Rhaegar died. She didn’t know that she could allow him to love a child that wasn’t his without his knowledge that it wasn’t. At least he had given her as much truth as she dared ask for when it came to Jae’s conception.

She found herself standing outside his bedroom door soon after. She had not been there in some time. It felt like years, but it was probably months, and never without the children anymore. She felt hesitant to knock on his door, but the choice was taken from her as it suddenly swung open, and she was face to face with Cersei and Rhaegar.

“Elia,” Rhaegar said with surprise.

“Your Grace. I wished to speak with you,” she said, her eyes flickering to Cersei, whose face was red with anger.

“I was taking my leave anyway,” she said, walking past Elia, her shoulder knocking into hers as she went.

Elia’s eyes followed her before turning to Rhaegar, who still stared at her with surprise.

“What did you do to manage that? You two seem like such a happy couple,” Elia said, sarcasm heavy in her voice.

“We just… had a disagreement about some things,” Rhaegar replied, opening the door to allow her entry.

Elia walked into the room, her eyes casting around to look for changes. He changed the curtains on the window, and his desk was new. She liked this one better.

“Things?”

“I… I told her about the prophecy. It was not what she wanted to hear after providing me with two male heirs.”

Elia huffed a breath of amusement.

“After laboring for nigh on two days, I should think not.”

“This prophecy, it’s the most important thing in my life,” Rhaegar said, his eyes slightly glassy as he stared into space.

Elia knew the look for what it was. It wasn’t one of madness, at least not the kind that afflicted Aerys. It was the look of dreamers, of people who had little concept of reality. What did he even know about any of his family beyond how they fit and worked into his prophecy? Still, to hear him admit what she already knew stung, even after all this time. Rhaegar seemed to realize this as he came back to himself. A look of regret passed his face.

“I didn’t mean—”

“You meant exactly what you said. You just didn’t expect to say it. In truth, I didn’t expect you to admit it either. Do try to make sure none of the children hear you say that. I fear it would break their little hearts, though I’m sure Jon at least is already used to it from you,” she said simply.

“Jaehaerys, his name is not Jon.”

“He’d beg to differ, so would Lyanna if you remember her anymore. Strange, isn’t it? All this time, everyone that’s been lost, and it’s never enough. It still somehow comes back to you and this prophecy. I should’ve burned the book and your grandfather’s mad ramblings about it when I had the chance. I should’ve burned it when I burned your harp all those years ago.”

“That’s where it went, the harp my mother gave me, you burnt it?” Rhaegar asked with shocked hurt.

He was always startled when Elia was ever anything but silently suffering.

“Of course I did. You ran off. You left it behind, the harp your mother gave you, so what did you truly care for it or her for that matter? You left her alone with Aerys, the same as you left the children and me. Now you’ve left Jon, or you were never present for him, I can’t tell which anymore. I’m left to pick up the pieces every time you break him. He may not share my blood, but Jon is truly my son, a boy after my own heart. He keeps hoping that you’ll change your mind one day. That you’ll love him and see him the way you do Egg and Rhae, but he can’t know that your reasons go so far beyond Lyanna’s death. It’s your bloody prophecy, your precious Visenya. You pay attention to nothing save your poems and books.”

Rhaegar continued staring at her. What was the point of this? Why was Elia even there? What courtesy did she owe him? He never showed any to her. He just showed up after a war with a child he placed in her arms and was having her raise almost by herself. Perhaps she should do the same to him, birth the child and let the chips fall where they may.

She moved to walk towards the door. As she passed him, Rhaegar grabbed her arm and stopped her from leaving.

“Wait.”

“Why?”

“You… you wanted to talk to me.”

“I did. I’ve changed my mind.”

“Elia…” he trailed off, shaking his head with a humorless laugh.

“I haven’t seen you alone in my chambers in, what, eight years? Nine? This used to be ours alone. I… sometimes I do wish that I’d never found those books, that I never investigated it, that we never went to that tourney, that we could go back to how we were before. I know you said I would no longer have a wife in you, but we were friends once, not just lovers. We were good together, weren’t we,” he asked as if he were desperate for affirmation.

Memories of them long past flooded Elia’s head. She hated to admit it, but she still had that weakness for Rhaegar that she saw in Jaehaerys because she could not help but soften, even if only minutely.

“Once. It feels like a lifetime ago.”

“How did we…?”

“That’s something you should look into the mirror and ask yourself.”

“… I miss you.”

Elia scoffed in response.

“I do, it’s true. I… I’m not the same without you by my side, in my ear. Nothing’s the same.”

Rhaegar sounded like a child. There was always a childlike quality to him. Inside, he was a little boy who wanted to run away from the world, his harp his only companion. A boy who still had barely any idea how to deal with his emotions and adversity. She supposed that was down to Aerys and even Rhaella, but Elia was not Rhaegar’s mother. She had children of her own to raise.

“You’ve got Cersei now, you’re not alone.”

“She’s not you. Elia…”

His lips against hers was a surprise. She pushed him away at first, and he didn’t fight her, but something stirred in her. It was something decrepit and long thought dead, but it was enough to spur her to go back to him.

When he took her that night, it wasn’t like Jaime. Jaime took her apart slowly and thoroughly, a piece at a time, with care and time they didn’t have. That was a part of the thrill of it, knowing that any moment they could be caught only made them want to go slower, prolong the tension. That night with Rhaegar was not even like how they were in the beginning, inexperienced fumbling in the dark and laughter over their ineptitudes. This was fast and hard and hot and entirely pleasurable. Her world shrunk down to the press of bodies, the bunching of sheets, his mouth and his hands touching, stroking and sucking, her nails digging into his skin until she was shaking underneath him and demanding more.

They lasted a few weeks that way. More than not, they just had sex. Any conversation they tried to have was filled with stunted words and barbed sentences, so they did not speak much even though there was a gulf of issues they should address.

Soon every time she went to his chambers, Cersei was there with her twins. Elia refused to actively share her husband’s bed with another woman, so they drifted again. When she finally went to a maester to have her pregnancy confirmed, she was sure to make sure he did not relay to the king how far along she was.

Everyone was surprised by the news, none more so than Rhaegar himself. The children were delighted, Cersei was livid, her brothers and Ashara were worried, Jaime was terrified, but Elia was serene. The pregnancy did not drain her the way the others did, did not force her abed as often. If she was confined, Rhae, Egg, and Jae spent as much time in her room with her as possible, never allowing her to lift a finger.

When she did give birth, it was a long and bloody affair. More than once, she thought it would be the end of her. By the end of the ordeal, she held her daughter in her arms, her coal-black eyes staring up at her under tufts of dark hair.

Rhaegar named her Visenya with tears in his eyes and something that looked suspiciously like love when he gazed at Elia. She wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it. What must her husband be thinking as he stared down at her holding what he thought was the daughter he longed for? After Lyanna, after Cersei, here the girl was.

Rhaegar’s Visenya.

Lannister cheekbones and all.

Chapter Text

299 AC

Elia had always wanted a lot of children. Spending her days surrounded by playmates in the Water Gardens primed her for that. Still, she could admit that the number of children that now flitted around the Red Keep was ridiculous. Oberyn had dropped in on the royal family, completely unannounced because he knew it annoyed Rhaegar that the Red Viper of Dorne could slip into the city without alerting a solitary person. It chaffed her husband even more now because Oberyn had managed to do it with his paramour, the Sand Snakes, Arianne, Quentyn and Trystane to boot.

Elia’s children were excited at their arrival. They did not get to spend much time with their cousins, but they all got along. Elia remembered a time when it was not so smooth. Oberyn was not pleased in the beginning that Elia raised Rhaegar’s child. He felt it was an insult to her honor. After he found Ellaria, who acted as a mother to his older children, he was much more understanding about things.

Rhaenys fit right in with her cousins, especially because she was as fierce and dedicated to training as they were. She was often bringing Allyria along with her for spear practice with Obara or learning how to throw blades with Nymeria. Elia wondered if Rhaegar regretted allowing Rhae to train with the boys. At nearly nineteen, she was more a warrior than Egg was.

Aegon was fast friends with Quentyn and Trystane, learning Volantanese from the older boy and cyvasse from the younger. She could walk past his bedroom now and find him and Loras sitting down for hours playing the board game. She would be surprised at the patience if it were anyone other than Egg. He was young, but he had always been an understanding person, and he had a good head for politics. Elia was proud to say her son would be a just but dogmatic king, the best the realm could hope for given his two predecessors.

Jaehaerys found himself in the company of Tyene and Sarella more times than not. The two girls were a lesson in contrasts: Tyene with her pale skin, wavy blonde hair, delicate features and a sweet smile that might as well be a weapon. Then there was Sarella with her ebony skin, rough-textured hair, sharp features, and expressive eyes, always holding curiosity at everything she saw. Sarella was inquisitive but quiet, much like Jae and his best friend, Samwell, so she fit right in. Tyene was clearly trying to seduce Jae. Elia wanted to tell the girl she was wasting her time but left them to figure it out amongst themselves.

Visenya was often running around causing all kinds of mayhem with Dorea, Loreza, Alysane, and Alanna. She was a wild one, her youngest. Rhaegar thought it was the dragon’s blood in her. Jaime thought it was the lion’s blood. Elia thought it was the sun that lighted a fire under her daughter’s feet, kept her running, and it was the spear that kept her sharp and oft times prickly. She enjoyed occasional chaos but also liked silent moments to herself where she could play with her animal friends in the gardens. It bemused Elia, Visenya’s love of animals. She could find her daughter holding full conversations with cats or birds or horses. She left her to it. It was harmless.

The visit from Oberyn did not just serve to overflow the castle with children, but also present an opportunity for Viserys to meet Arianne. Viserys and Daenerys were visiting from Dragonstone for a short while. Daenerys was pleased to be in the company of other children again. She grew up in King’s Landing until Rhaegar sent her and Viserys back to Dragonstone. She must’ve been lonely on that island with no family but her bratty older brother.

Arianne and Viserys should’ve been married already, but the meeting had been postponed. Elia soon realized why. The two got along as well as anyone with half a brain figured they would. Viserys was his usual arrogant self. Arianne had no shortage of arrogance either. They clashed more than not, screeching at one another like a pair of toddlers rather than 23-year-old adults.

Rhaegar didn’t worry about it, but Elia recognized the willfulness in her niece. It was the same willfulness she saw in her elder daughter. Rhae should’ve been married by now too, or at least betrothed, but she had found a way to subvert every suggestion made or rumored by embarrassing her prospect or making herself seem unattractive. Elia was certain Rhaegar allowed it because he planned to marry Aegon to Rhaenys and Visenya, have them be the original conquerors come again.

It wasn’t going to happen. Elia would make sure of that. Whatever her feelings on her children marrying one another for no reason other than Rhaegar’s songs and scribbles, they had no intentions of following through with his wishes. Rhaegar didn’t notice the relationships developing with his children, even though they would be obvious if he only paid attention. Elia had been spotting Rhaenys sneaking out of Robb Stark’s bedroom with kiss-swollen lips for quite a few months now. Aegon’s match would be handled most delicately by Elia if she wasn’t wrong about the gleam she caught in his eye when he stared at his friend Loras. Jae had been in love with Talla Tarly for as long as Elia could remember, not that she thought Rhaegar had given any thought to a match for him, but Elia noticed it all the same.

It was to be expected, Elia supposed: Rhae and Robb, Egg and Loras, Jae and Talla. They could not have so many boys and girls of age with one another spending time together and not expect them to find themselves feeling emotions and urges beyond childish friendship. Her two sons were fast nearing adulthood, and Rhaenys was a woman grown. Matches needed to be made correctly. Rhaegar had no idea what any of his children wanted or how to make sure both their happiness and the realm was preserved. He wasn’t after both he would not know. He didn’t seem to notice much about his family more and more these days, save for Visenya who he coddled and cherished above the others as his miracle child, his proof of prophecy given life. Little did he know. He’d see the truth if he looked closely at the girl, would see no Targaryen features in her face. The Martell blood overpowered the Lannister blood in her youngest mostly, she looked like Elia’s spitting image with echoes enough to Rhae and Egg that people accepted that she was Rhaegar’s, giving no thought to Jaime Lannister at all. Rhaegar never saw things he didn’t want to see, especially where his family was concerned.

Case in point: Viserys.

Viserys troubled Elia. He was vile as a child years ago after Rhaella died, an entitled brat of a prince. But now he was cruel and almost manic. He threatened people for the littlest things. He always spoke down to Aegon as if he were not to be his king. He was a bad influence on Aerion, the little boy following in his uncle’s callous footsteps and alienating himself from his half-siblings and his sweet-mannered twin to a lesser extent. Lysa had reported that Lord Baelish told her Viserys had a penchant for beating his whores which was good for Baelish’s business since the Prince of Dragonstone had to shell out more money for his compulsions, but bad for the whores under his abuse. She noticed that Daenerys was meek around him, meeker than usual anyway. The young princess withered under her older brother’s gaze. Elia had her suspicions, though she saw no marks on the girl.

She was not particularly happy to have Viserys at the Red Keep, but she promised Rhaella she’d care for her children. Rhaegar was no child, and truthfully Viserys was a man grown now, but Dany was different. She was quieter than before, her smiles meager at best. Cersei seemed to take wicked pleasure in watching the girl slowly wilt and trail off into silence. Out of sight, out of mind was all the better for her. Dany enjoyed being invisible to everyone, but she was not antisocial. Margaery and Talla attached themselves to Dany quickly, striking their old friendship back up. Daenerys also spent a fair amount of time with Quentyn and Jaehaerys, all of whom were quieter souls and so they seemed to enjoy each other’s company. Besides, wherever Talla was, Jae tended to be close, so that was not surprising. What was surprising was how well Dany and Arianne got along. Arianne would often take the younger girl away and chat her up about this or that in private. She was sure her niece was plotting something. Elia did not know what, but she thought it had something to do with Viserys, who Arianne hated more and more. She could not blame her, especially after what she had walked in on the other day.

She was passing by the corridor where one of the children’s playrooms were when she heard scuffling, struggling and outraged cries. She went towards the noise with much concern. As she walked down the hallway, Quentyn came out of the room, his arm around Dany’s shoulders. The girl was crying. Elia paused as Quentyn met her eyes before continuing down the corridor. She approached the room and pushed the door open, freezing when she took in the scene. Jae was on the floor struggling under Viserys’ weight as the elder boy tried to hit his face. Aerion was egging them on.

“Punch the uppity git, Uncle,” Aerion urged, a gleeful smile on his face.

Daeron knocked his shoulder into his twin’s.

“Stop it. He’s our brother.”

“He’s not my brother, he’s Father’s urchin off some Northern savage. He’s just a bastard,” Aerion replied, spitting the last word like it was the lowest thing in the world.

She marveled at how a nine-year-old could speak with such venom and hatred. Daeron appeared to wonder at it as well before shaking his head, his blonde hair falling into his purple eyes. He started pulling at Viserys’ arm to get him off Jae. Viserys lashed out, pushing the boy so he fell on his back. The older boy raised his hand to hit Jae again, but Elia shook out of her stupor. She walked into the room and stopped Viserys, her hand wrapping around his wrist before he could lower it again. He looked up at her with a sneer that turned to surprise as he realized it was her. She saw a wealth of emotion pass through his eyes, everything from anger to fear before he tempered it with disgust and defiance.

“Don’t touch me,” he snarled at her, scrabbling up and stepping away from her.

Elia looked down at Jae who would not meet her gaze. His lip was busted and he would have a bruise under his eye. His knuckles were also red and as she looked back at Viserys, she saw his cheek was bruising.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Elia asked, her voice calm and her eyes set in a hard glare.

Fear flashed in Viserys’ face once more before disappearing.

“I don’t have to answer to you. You’re just my brother’s broodmare.”

Jae stepped in front of Elia then.

“Don’t talk about my mother like that,” He warned, his voice as cold and hard as Elia’s had been.

“Your mother is dead because of you, Jaehaerys. That woman behind you isn’t your mother, and she’s even less deserving of my attention than my brother’s golden whore.”

Aerion and Daeron made noises of outrage at the slight against their mother while Jae went to take a step towards his uncle, probably to strike up their fight again, but Elia placed a hand on his shoulder, stopping him. She stepped around her son and approached the entitled prince who shrunk minutely under her blazing glare.

“You can call me whatever you like, Viserys. I don’t care. I know myself. However, if you ever put your hands on Jon or any of my other children again, I will have you stripped of your title, named Waters, and shipped off to Essos so fast you’ll barely know it’s happening when it does. Do you understand me?”

Viserys scoffed in response.

Elia grabbed the younger man’s face, her nails digging into his flesh.

“Do you understand me?”

He glared down at her before his face shifted to discomfort at her grip and he wordlessly nodded. She let him go and watched him brush a hand against his face. Her fingernails had cut into his flesh. A bead of blood formed from the wound and trickled down his skin. He stared at the blood on his fingers for long enough to worry her before he shot her a look and stalked out of the room angrily. Aerion paused, glancing at Daeron, before running off after his uncle. Elia shook her head at it. Aerion would grow to be a problem without proper influence. Cersei wasn’t an adequate role model, Viserys wasn’t either and Rhaegar was barely more of a father to his twins than he was to Jae. They needed a proper parent. Elia wouldn’t even mind guiding young Aerion down a better path, helping to raise him. She’d done so with Jae after all. Cersei would hardly ever allow Elia around her children.

Elia looked at Daeron, the young boy glancing between her and Jae and shifting nervously. Elia wondered that such a sweet boy could be born of a woman as vicious as Cersei and a man as absentminded as Rhaegar.

“Are you alright? I saw him push you.”

Daeron nodded in response.

“I’m okay, Queen Elia. I tried to stop him, but…”

“It’s alright. I know you would if you could,” Elia replied, ruffling the boy’s hair lightly and earning a smile in response from her stepson.

Daeron walked over to his older half-brother with a sheepish expression.

“I’m sorry about Aerion. He’s strange sometimes. Stranger with Uncle Viserys here. He knows you’re our brother, Jon. He just… forgets himself sometimes.”

Jae gave the younger boy a smile.

“You don’t have to apologize for him. If you start now, you’ll be doing it for the rest of your life.”

Daeron took in his brother’s words with wide eyes.

Elia felt a ghost of a smile on her lips. Daeron may have parents that left much to be desired, but perhaps his siblings could make up that difference. She’d hate to see the little boy lose his gentle soul, even if it wouldn’t do him favors in King’s Landing. Daeron nodded at Jae’s sage words before giving him a quick hug and running out of the room.

Elia approached her son and lifted his face, her thumb brushing against the drying blood on his lips.

“What was that about?”

Jae’s eyes glanced to the left quickly and his nostrils flared, telling her he was about to lie.

“Nothing. It’s not important,” he replied.

Her children didn’t lie to her often. It concerned her, but she decided not to pull his teeth about it and instead brought him to the maester to be looked over. He’d tell her in his own time.

She did not have to wait long.

Elia sat in front of her mirror, brushing her hair before going to sleep when a hesitant knock came at the door.

“It’s Jon,” she heard on the other side of the door.

She bid her son entry, and Jae walked into the room with a look of conflict on his face.

“What’s the matter?”

Jae shrugged lightly in response. Elia nodded to herself, understanding his position immediately. He wanted to tell her but didn’t have the words yet.

“Help me with my hair, will you?”

Jae nodded as Elia sat in the chair before her vanity, handing the brush to her son. They used to do this all the time when he was younger. His hair used to be much longer and with his soft face, Rhaegar did not like it. He said it made Jae look too effeminate and pretty. Jae liked it that way, so Elia never forced him to cut or trim it. She used to brush and braid his hair along with Rhae’s before they went to bed so it didn’t tangle, and in turn, they would do hers together. However, as he grew older, he began cutting it to cheek-length and pulling it back before bed, ending their ritual.

He brushed through her shiny locks gently, making sure there were no knots as he went along. As he did, she wracked her brain for what could be bothering him.

“Is it your father?”

He didn’t bother asking what she meant, just shook his head in response.

“Have you dreamt of Lyanna again?”

Another headshake.

“Is it Talla?”

Jae blushed but shook his head.

“Are you having an argument with Egg or Robb?”

“No.”

“Viserys?”

Jae paused then, his fingers stuttering in her hair before he continued running them through the tresses so he could part it in sections to braid it.

“Ah. Well, Viserys is a bother to everyone. What’s he done now?”

Jaehaerys said nothing for a long while, silently plaiting her hair before tying off the end with a band so it didn’t loosen. She allowed him his quiet reflection, strutting over to her bed and letting him follow. She laid down on her side, propping herself up on her elbow. He sat in front of her, leaning against her stomach lightly as he wrung his fingers together before he steeled himself.

“I will marry Daenerys,” he said suddenly.

That threw Elia for a loop. She knew she was right in thinking her son to have affections for Talla, so where was this coming from? And why did his voice sound like that? Grimly determined?

“What are you talking about?”

“The king will make Egg marry our sisters when Enya’s of age. I don’t know what betrothal he will have in mind for me, but I will tell him that I will marry Daenerys.”

“I’m not blind, you know. I see the way you look at Talla. You like her. There’s nothing to stop your betrothal.”

It would be much more complicated if it were Margaery that Jae’s heart belonged to. Alerie and Olenna wanted Margaery to be queen, but Talla was not betrothed. Rhaegar’s second and unfavored son could afford to marry the eldest daughter of a secondary house in the Reach. Jae paused before answering.

“I don’t like Talla, I love her,” he answered.

If she were anyone else, she might scoff at it, her son of ten and five proclaiming himself in love, but Jae had always been the most realistic of her children, the most grounded. If he said he was in love, then she believed him. That made his proclamation make less sense.

“Then why are you suddenly so determined to marry Dany? And what does it have to do with Viserys?”

He stared down at his lap and didn’t answer her.

“Jon.”

“She made me promise not to tell.”

She could see that fact caused her son pain. She brushed her fingers through his curls and stroked a soft hand over his cheek before gently pulling on his chin so they were looking at one another.

“I know promises are important to you, as they should be. Sometimes, better judgment must be put first. I want to help you, and I want to help Daenerys, but if you don’t tell me what’s going on, then I can’t do anything about whatever is wrong.”

Jae heaved a heavy breath before speaking.

“Viserys says that Dany belongs to him. That, as is our family’s customs, she will be his even if he marries Princess Arianne. But he’s horrible to her. He puts her down and makes fun of her all the time. And... he hits her. She’s shown me the bruises on her back, on her stomach and her chest, where people won’t see. She says he sneaks into her room at night and tells her that she’s his. She says she has been hiding her moonblood for months because he has told her that when she flowers, she will be his in every way. He threatens her every night and… and he touches her. She’s afraid of him but she doesn’t think His Grace will care. She thinks King Rhaegar will give her to Viserys like so many other Targaryen women were given to their brothers against their will. But… but if I were to marry Daenerys, then I could keep her safe.”

Elia felt a part of her heart break. She was failing to keep her promise to Rhaella. It was harder to keep the former queen’s children safe when one child was hurting the other and another did not seem to care or was too blind to see it. However, Elia also felt pride. Her son was willing to put his happiness aside for the good of someone else because that was who he was.

“You want to know something, Jon,” Elia asked after a moment.

He looked at her curiously.

“It’s moments like these that mystifies me because I can hardly believe that I’ve raised a son as good, kind and selfless as you.”

A blush colored his cheeks as he looked down. Elia lifted his face so his grey eyes met her black ones.

“But you don’t have to throw yourself on a knife for Dany. You needn’t have worried yourself over this. All you had to do was come to me. I’m glad you did. I’ll handle everything. That’s what I’m here for,” she reassured him.

His brow creased in confusion.

“But how? Viserys is—”

“Viserys is fifth in line for the throne and believes himself much more important and smarter than he actually is. Do not worry yourself. You will not have to marry Daenerys and she does not belong to Viserys. Trust me, it’s already fixed. I want you to find Ser Jaime or Ser Barristan before you go to bed and tell them that I wish for them to guard Dany’s door tonight and not let Viserys in if he should come,” she replied, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

He nodded after a moment before standing up and walking to the door.

“Mother?”

“Hmm?”

“Thank you.”

Elia smiled back at him.

“You don’t have to thank me, my little wolf. I’m your mother.”

He smiled at that before continuing out the room.

Elia let her face fall into a frown once he was gone. It was worse with Viserys than she thought. She knew he had a sense of entitlement that knew no bounds, but she hadn’t imagined just how much like his father he was. Elia got a sudden flash of Aerys standing in her doorway, his gaze heavy with loathing and lust. She imagined poor Dany feeling the same fear and disgust Elia had at that moment and felt her heart ache even more for her goodsister.

Watching Viserys reminded Elia frighteningly of the Blackfyre rebellions. She did not want to see another war in her lifetime, not after Robert’s Rebellion. She did not want to see the realm torn apart, people choosing sides and dying in droves. She did not want her family to be ripped apart again. It was barely holding on now. It was stitched together loosely, the threads coming out in places, but it was still her family and protecting them was her prime initiative, even if it meant against other family members.

She could not go to Rhaegar. Jae was right, they couldn’t trust him to act accordingly with this. It wasn’t like she could talk Viserys down from his abusive obsession with his sister. He would never listen to her, who he viewed as beneath him. He was all but beyond reason from anyone except perhaps Rhaegar. Viserys resented and admired him all at once in the way second sons tended to do towards their older brothers.

Elia needed to make sure Daenerys was protected, was far out of the reach of Viserys. She also wanted to keep her promise to Rhaella all those years ago and that meant protecting Viserys as well. If he married Arianne, Elia was certain he’d be dead as soon as a baby was put in her niece’s belly. Elia sighed to herself. She promised Jae she would fix this, but she didn’t know where to start.

~*~*~

Elia had long ago had a separate sector installed into the gardens of the Red Keep to afford her some privacy. It was not an easy find for those who did not know where it was. Her clearing was surrounded by a maze inspired by the ones of Highgarden Alerie told her about. Only Elia and the children knew the exact way. Not even Ashara or the kingsguards were privy to it. Even so, Elia was not surprised when Oberyn came strutting into the clearing as she listened to birds chirp and sipped a mug of lemon tea.

“I see you’ve made sure these gardens have their touch of Dorne,” he commented as he swaggered up to her with a wine goblet in hand, taking in the lemon trees, rockroses, red carnations, bluebells, water lilies and orange bougainvillea blooming in her hideaway.

“I am a Martell. It was a small part of my duty to my house.”

“Now, now dear sister. You are Queen Elia Targaryen, Queen of the Andals, the First Men and the Rhoynar,” Oberyn said, his voice teasing as he pressed a kiss to her cheek and sat across from her.

“I will always be a Martell, no matter what my name is,” she replied, placing her mug down.

“You’ve got the worry lines for it, I suppose. You’re just as bad as Doran, brooding by yourself about this or that.”

“Have you considered that it might be that you’re too carefree?”

“Never once. Everyone should be more like me.”

“I don’t think the world could survive that.”

Oberyn smiled a little at the comment before it fell away.

“What’s wrong?”

“What isn’t wrong?”

Oberyn gave her an expectant look and Elia sighed. Perhaps telling her brother would help her.

“Jaehaerys came to me and told me that Viserys has been abusing Daenerys for years. He was ready to throw himself into the line of fire, marry her against his wishes to protect her. I told him I’d take care of it, but I haven’t the faintest idea where to start. If it were anyone else, he’d be dead by now, but I told Rhaella I’d protect all her children. Bang up job I’ve been doing of it. One abuses the other, and the oldest doesn’t pay enough attention to realize it. Besides which, Aerion seems to be going down the same path of Viserys. I can practically see history repeating itself before my eyes, if not with Viserys than Aerion. The first Aerion was mad, wasn’t he? He drank wildfire thinking he’d become a dragon. Daeron is sweet, almost too sweet. Not enough dragon or lion in him. He’ll get eaten alive in this place if he’s not careful. Rhaenys has too much fire in her. She’s going to set her own path in life and what the consequences of that may be terrifies me. Aegon is closer to sitting on a throne every day. There is such potential in him, but the closer to it he gets, the more Rhaegar will groom him. What if he fills his head with songs and prophecies and I lose my son like I did my husband? And Cersei’s plotting as much as ever. I could just as likely lose both Aegon and Jon to her scheming and manipulation. She’s been trying to convince Rhaegar to disinherit Jon for years. I promised myself I would never let that happen. I—”

Oberyn reached across the table and pressed a finger to her lips, effectively stopping her ranting. He wordlessly took her lemon tea from her hands and replaced it with his goblet of Dornish red. Elia did not imbibe much, but she found herself taking two long gulps of the wine before placing it down on the table and looking back to her brother.

“You’re certainly more forthcoming with your problems than Doran,” Oberyn commented after a while.

“What should I do?” Elia asked, defeat in her voice.

“What do you think of all this?” Oberyn asked.

“I think my family is one act from falling apart and it feels like I’m the only one keeping it together.”

“Not a position you’re unfamiliar with.”

“One I take up far too often, left defending a member of my family time and again by myself until something else comes up.”

“Did it ever occur to you to ask for help?”

Elia glanced at Oberyn before looking away.

“I know you, dear sister. You are not egotistical, but you’ve always had your pride. Ever since you were a little girl, having to ask for help chaffed. You would work yourself to exhaustion rather than admit you may need assistance for fear of appearing weak. I don’t imagine that is something that’s changed. But do you know why I came to this stinking, shit-pile of a city?”

“To annoy my husband?”

“That, yes. But mostly? For you.”

Elia met Oberyn’s black eyes and saw the sincerity in them. She felt her lips quirk into a smile.

“I need help,” she admitted.

The words did not burn her throat or leave a bad taste in her mouth as she had thought they would. Oberyn nodded to himself and spent time silently thinking. He had a reputation for being a hothead, and he was, but he was no fool.

“Well, there are already certain things in motion.”

“Such as?”

“Arianne.”

“Yes, I noticed her making her plans. I assume the marriage between her and Viserys will not go as planned.”

“The second she met the Prince of Dragonstone, she decided she wouldn’t marry him no matter what plans Doran and Rhaella cooked up. She’s tried to run away from Dorne before to Highgarden with intentions of marrying a friend of mine, Lord Willas Tyrell.”

“A Martell and a Tyrell?” Elia asked incredulously.

“I know, but Arianne has no care for history. I know Willas to be a worthy man. The match could’ve been made if he were not heir to Highgarden, but since when has Arianne cared about propriety or complications? Obella tells me she overheard Tyene and Arianne planning another excursion. To escape Doran’s ire, our niece has been putting notions of Princess Daenerys’ betrothal to Quentyn in the girl’s head. Arianne would rule Dorne no matter who she marries, whether Prince Viserys would’ve thought himself ruler or not. I don’t think he’d be able to withstand the sun of Dorne anyway, not the right kind of fire in him.”

“No, he would not survive Dorne. I see something in Daenerys though. I think it would be a better match, Dany and Quent. I can propose it to Rhaegar after Arianne runs off.”

“And there is the other matter. Visenya.”

Elia paused and looked up at her brother. He wore a knowing expression on his face. She leaned back in her chair, not bothering to deny anything.

“How long have you known?”

“I knew the moment I laid eyes on her. I see a lot of you in her, but the parts that aren’t was easy to tell who they belonged to. I don’t underestimate your husband’s willful blindness on things that actually matter, but he isn’t the only person interested in your daughter. Cersei pays her no mind now, but when it comes time for Aegon to take the throne, she will do whatever she can to clear the way for her children. If she pays enough attention, she will realize the truth and she will tell Rhaegar if it suits her.”

“I always thought I would… I was going to tell him before she was even born, but he made me so angry and I…”

“You wanted to get back at him.”

Elia sighed to herself, shaking her head at her own actions but not at her brother’s words.

“I love Jon. He’s my son in every way but for blood. I’ve never held hate in my heart for him, not even in the beginning.”

“True enough. But the circumstances he came to exist under are not the ideal. Then there is Cersei and her boys. I don’t believe you to hold any ill will towards Rhaegar’s sons, but that does not mean you are okay with Cersei and your husband’s relationship any more than his and the Stark girl. Visenya was your vindication. You should not have been able to have children again, but you did, and she is who she is. I’m certain that has brought a smile to your face every now and again.”

“It has,” she admitted, her voice cracking a little in the middle.

“Does that make me a bad mother? I love my daughter. I love all my children. And yet there have been times when I’ve seen my daughter as a tool, a weapon against my husband.”

“I think that makes you human.”

“He loves her so much and if I told him, it would break him.”

“Do you want that?” He asked, no judgment in his voice.

“When I was laboring with Enya, do you know what got me through it? What kept me fighting to stay alive? It wasn’t the realm. It wasn’t you and Doran or the children or Ser Jaime or the prospect of seeing my daughter’s face; it was Rhaegar. It was the thought of his face. I kept thinking about what his face would look like years down the line when I finally told him the truth about her. I thought of the heartbreak and hurt he’d feel at his prophecy turning to ashes in his hands. I latched onto that image, and I made it through. It’s faded over the years; dealing with Rhaegar and everything he’s done, everything he wants to do, it gets so exhausting. Him and this bloody prophecy, I don’t care anymore. If he wants to chase it to the ends of the earth he may, I just want to care for my children. I want to make sure they take no damage from his exploits. But at the same time…”

“At the same time?”

Elia smiled wryly to herself.

“At the same time, I don’t think that telling him the truth will bring me much joy. I think I just deluded myself and filled the hole he left in my heart with bitterness for him because loving him hurts too much, it still does. It always will. But it means nothing to me now. It’s just a weakness. I have no use for it. Isn’t that what Mother always used to say? There’s no point to useless pain? If it can’t make you better, cast it aside and move on.”

“Granted it had a different meaning to a sickly little girl, but that was the gist of what she used to say. Hear me now, Elia,” Oberyn said, his fingers gripping her chin.

“You will be fine. You play your games differently than Doran. You play in service to your children and there is no dishonor in it. You’re one of the best mothers I’ve ever known. You love your hatchlings, pup, and cub just the same. No one can deny your efforts to raise them right and make them happy. This place has corrupted many a man and woman, but not you. You are still you. You are still alive, and so long as there is breath in your body, you will fight. You are the sun and spear; you are Elia of House Martell. Do what you feel you must and feel no shame when you do. I have faith and confidence that you’ll do what you know to be right and fair.”

Elia smiled at her brother’s confidence in her before leaning in to press a kiss to his cheek.

“Thank you.”

~*~*~

Four moon turns found the Red Keep in utter disarray. Arianne ran away with Tyene. Soon word reached Rhaegar that Arianne married Willas Tyrell in a secret ceremony in the Reach. From the letter he sent her, Elia could tell Doran was not pleased. Ever since he and Mellario separated, his relationship with Arianne deteriorated. This stunt of her niece’s looked like it may be the straw to break the camel’s back. She could only do so much to help them reconcile from King’s Landing. She hoped Oberyn would be more of a help than a hinderance in the months to come, but she doubted he would do much more than sit back, amused with the silent war between father and daughter. 

Viserys was not upset about it so much as offended that the Dornish whore would insult him by passing him over for a flowery cripple. He decided he was better than Arianne and thought to go back to his usual ways with his sister. Elia had been quick to throw out a betrothal between Daenerys and Quentyn after she got the girl’s approval on it. Rhaegar and Doran were content with that compromise. Though Viserys fumed over it, a delighted Daenerys was sent to Dorne along with Oberyn, his children, a self-satisfied Arianne, and her new Prince Consort.

Jae, Egg, and Robb had their nameday celebrations not long after that, Jae and Robb’s sixteenth and Aegon’s seventeenth. They combined the festivities into one feast. The crown didn’t need the weight of two celebrations, despite Lord Baelish’s wish to borrow from the Iron Bank to supply for the parties. Elia squashed that idea. They were in enough debt as it was.

That celebration had been where things took a drastic turn.

Rhaegar announced that his nameday gift to Robb would be to release him from his ties to King’s Landing. He would no longer be a political hostage. Instead, he would be returned to Winterfell to live with his birth mother and his half-siblings. He would learn all he could so he could become the Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North one day, a warden unquestioningly loyal to the crown.

Ned had gone stock-still at the announcement, and Ashara’s tawny skin went silvery-white like the Daynes of old. Robb was just as dumbstruck. Poor Rhaenys barely had time to recover from the future loss of her lover before Rhaegar announced both she and Enya’s betrothal to Aegon to be carried out when her youngest daughter came of age. That had sent tongues wagging. Not because of their familial relationship, but because the lords without daughters available to marry Aerion and Daeron were not pleased about losing the prospect of marrying into the royal family. That could become a bigger problem later on.

Elia didn’t even have time to talk to Rhaegar about it before it was discovered that both Rhae and Robb were gone, having fled the capital together. Elia was both unsurprised and concerned. Rhae was a woman grown, but Elia worried about her daughter being out in the world without her mother to protect her. Rhaegar was more exasperated than worried. He sent out guards and alerts far and wide that Rhaenys should be returned to the capital and Robb be brought to his mother and stepfather/uncle in the North. 

It was many weeks after that Elia received several documents by way of a messenger from the Riverlands and made haste to Rhaegar’s solar.

She did not knock on his door even though she probably should have. She did not often find herself in this place, but she was still his queen and his wife. She wouldn’t knock. If he were in an important meeting, there would be guards posted at the door. As she entered, she saw Arthur in the corner of the room standing sentinel for Rhaegar.

There was gray at the edges of his hair, probably more from stress than age. When did that happen? She paid such little attention to the kingsguards, save Jaime. Arthur was once her friend. Duty and their respective roles in Rhaegar’s life drew them apart. Ashara was a point of some commonality between them, but not enough to mend the gulf his actions during the Rebellion caused between them. Arthur took note of her, that hint of guilt that had been there since the War of the Usurper flashing in his eyes, before he nodded discreetly and looked ahead again.

Cersei sat perched on Rhaegar’s desk, leaning forward over him as he read missives.

“What’s the point of him staying here? He is not a part of your original prophecy, is he? The ungrateful Stark boy has run off with your daughter, but that boy is more Northern than even his cousin. He follows their pagan god, he has their look, knows their stories. His mother was Northern. He may as well be a Northman. Send the bastard to Winterfell. It’s where he belongs.” 

Elia felt a chill come over her before anger swiftly replaced it as she realized what Cersei was talking about.

“Actually, he was born in Dorne,” Elia said, making herself known to the couple who looked at her with surprise.

“Some amongst the Stony Dornish follow the Old Gods. He has many of Lyanna Stark’s Northern features but has the blood of Old Valyria as well. He could probably tell you the Targaryen history front-to-back, his knowledge only surpassed by Daenerys. At the same time, while he knows enough Northern tales to keep the children up at night, he knows just as much about Queen Nymeria of the Rhoynar and the First Dornish War and the failed Conquest of Dorne by Daeron I. Not so far off from Aerion I’s birth. Aerion the Monstrous, his brother Daeron III called him.”

“Elia,” Rhaegar said in a warning tone as Cersei’s lip curled into a sneer.

“I only mean to say who can know where Jon belongs besides Jon. His blood and upbringing is vast and varied. He will find his place on his own, not because someone who barely knows him thinks they know his place for him,” she replied, her voice turning hard towards the end as she glared at Cersei.

“Besides, he is second-in-line for the throne.” 

Cersei smirked again.

“He didn’t tell you? Your precious bastard abdicated his claim, says he has no wish to sit on the throne if something should happen to Rhaegar’s heir.” 

Elia felt shocked. She glanced at Rhaegar behind Cersei. His calm face confirmed it.

“Besides, who will he marry?” Cersei continued.

“You’ve seen fit to send Princess Daenerys to Dorne, Princess Rhaenys is gone, Princess Visenya is betrothed to Prince Aegon and who among the noble families will want to marry their daughter to a Northern bastard?”

“Cersei, enough. Jaehaerys is not a bastard. He is as much my son as Aerion or Daeron are. As for his marriage, I will leave that in Elia’s hands.” 

Elia was surprised that Rhaegar spoke up, though his voice sounded tired and annoyed as if their bickering vexed him.

“I wish to speak with you. Without Lady Cersei.” 

Cersei silently fumed at the use of the title lady rather than queen, but Elia gave it no mind. Rhaegar stared after her for a moment before nodding.

“We will continue this at a later date, Cersei.”

“I’m your wife, whatever your children’s mother needs to say to you—” Cersei started.

“You are the queen consort. She is the queen and my first wife. You will respect her as such.”

“You weren’t so worried about titles a moment ago when she called me a lady rather than your queen.”

“We can continue our conversation later if it so concerns you. I will speak to the queen alone, now.” 

Elia watched them share a heated look before Cersei left, almost stomping her way out. She turned to Rhaegar with a lifted eyebrow.

“She has not been herself lately since Rhae was taken. She wishes to protect her sons. They will be sought after all the more with the children’s betrothals and Jaehaerys’ abdication.”

Elia was sure that was not the source of Cersei’s behavior. No doubt she was scheming, trying to find an angle to remove as many of Elia’s children from her path as possible, but she did not say so. Politics and court matters rarely mattered to Rhaegar.

“What do you mean taken,” She said instead, sitting across from Rhaegar.

“Robb Stark took Rhaenys away from here, away from her duty, her destiny.” 

Elia barely restrained an eye roll.

“The boy didn’t force her to go anywhere. She left with him because she didn’t want to marry her brother like you were going to force her to. She wasn’t kidnapped, she ran,” she said, giving Rhaegar a pointed look that said he should understand the situation all too well. 

He glanced away with what she thought might be embarrassment before he spoke again.

“How do you know for sure? How do I know this boy didn’t just whisk her off to some cold, barren wasteland to do what he pleases with her?” 

Elia glanced at Arthur. True enough, there was no connection between him and Robb by blood, but that hardly meant much in Elia’s experience. Ashara loved Robb just as fiercely as she did her daughters. It was as if he had come from her womb as well. He was the only son Ashara had to raise. She was more mother to him than Catelyn Stark, who only got to know her son through letters and brief visits to the capital because Rhaegar would not let him leave the Crownlands. To have her son labeled a rapist and a kidnapper would break Ashara’s heart. She wondered if Arthur cared at all. Did he even remember how to have his own opinion?

Those questions sometimes flitted through Elia’s mind on the nights she could not sleep. She knew Jaime felt and felt deeply. Ser Barristan had a charming wit and irreproachable honor, but she did not know that she could ever say she discerned his feeling on any matter of the heart. She barely paid much attention to Ser Addam, Ser Aurane, Ser Caspian, or Ser Adrian. Their appointments were purely political. She did give them some credit. They weren’t among those standing outside Aerys’ chambers listening to Rhaella’s pleas and doing nothing to stop her suffering. Arthur was among those bystanders. He stood by for years. He ran off with Rhaegar to Dorne, leaving her and the rest of her family alone in King’s Landing. Elia noticed his jaw twitch minutely at Rhaegar’s insinuations about Robb, but his eyes stared straight ahead.

She expected no different.

“It seems your daughter had that thought up. A messenger from Riverrun brought me this yesterday,” she said, holding up the papers in her hand.

“What is that?”

“A letter from Rhae. It bears the Tully seal. Look at how she signed it.”

“Signed Princess Rhaenys Stark,” Rhaegar said, looking up at Elia with an unreadable expression on his face.

“She says that she and Robb’s marriage was officiated on the Isle of Faces by a septon in front of a weirwood tree. She says that before they left the Riverlands, Lord Edmure’s maester said the babe in her belly is healthy and strong. She is about twenty-five sennights into the pregnancy, meaning she was with child before they fled. She says that they will not return until after the babe is born. Even then, she does not know if they will come back to King’s Landing, or go to Winterfell, Sunspear or Dragonstone,” Elia said as she passed along the copy of the marriage certificate. 

She had the original stashed away for safekeeping in case a day should come when her daughter, goodson, and grandchild needed it.

Rhaegar was silent for a long moment before he suddenly began laughing.

“Should I be concerned for your sanity?” Elia asked dubiously. 

Rhaegar shook his head with an undeniably fond expression.

“She is so much your daughter.” 

Elia rose an eyebrow.

“I didn’t run off with anyone. I wasn’t wed on the Isle of Faces, that was you,” she said with no malice in her voice.

“She knew what she wanted and damn me if I got in the way. She is a force on her own. She didn’t learn that from me.” 

Elia let a reluctant smile pass her lips.

“She fell in love,” she said simply.

“It seems so,” Rhaegar said, his eyes skimming Rhae’s letter.

“You are not angry?”

“No. I will not have Robb Stark arrested. I will recall most of the men back to the Crownlands and leave only an elite few that I can trust to bring Rhae back.”

“What?” Elia asked with a frown.

“Her place is in King’s Landing with her family, by Aegon and Visenya’s side.” 

Elia did not even realize that hope had begun to rise in her heart before she felt it flee from her.

“Rhaegar—”

“I know you believe this prophecy folly. You think I’m somewhere between insane and stupid, but I have something that would tell another story,” he said, excitement in his voice. 

He stood up and walked over to a trunk that rested under the window. She hadn’t noticed it before. It was black for the most part with red accents and a dragon-shaped lock.

“Come,” he beckoned eagerly. 

Elia felt something she hadn’t in a while with Rhaegar: fear. She had decided not to fear him the day she received his summons to Dragonstone after he laid siege to King’s Landing and yet now walking towards him felt like a daunting task. She made herself approach the trunk. Rhaegar paused before opening it with a flourish.

“What do you think?” He asked excitedly.

“Where did you find these?” She asked, her voice deceptively calm.

“An associate of mine from Essos, Illyrio Mopatis, sent them over. They were discovered in Asshai-by-the-Shadow. He knew they belonged with me.” 

Elia stared down at the six dragon eggs: ash black, moss green, snow white, platinum-silver, blood orange, and crimson red.

“One for each of the children. I always thought there would just be three, the dragon has three heads, but six eggs for six children. My children will win the War for the Dawn. They will unite the kingdoms with these dragons, and the legacy of the Targaryens will live on, uncontested for centuries to come.” 

Elia shook her head slowly.

“Dragons are not pets. They are dangerous. They are killers.”

“The children will bond with them and control them.”

“They live for centuries. Who is to say who their grandchildren or great-grandchildren will be? This could cause another Dance of Dragons. Civil wars amongst this family have been bad enough without dragons. That is if they grow. The last dragons were the size of cats.” 

Rhaegar turned to her with a strange look on his face.

“Why are you acting like this? These eggs cannot be a coincidence. Years of nothing, no sign of them existing besides the bones in the throne room, and now six eggs. Then there are the whispers from the North. An uptick in wildling raids. Melisandre believes—”

“Melisandre?”

“A priestess from Asshai. Illyrio got the eggs from her. She has seen things in the flames.”

“A red priestess,” Elia said, realization dawning on her. 

More prophecies, and yet another interpretation of the same prophecy that had been haunting her for the last seventeen years.

“There are temples to R’hollr in Dorne.” Rhaegar pointed out.

“And what does Melisandre say about the children?”

“All she says is every one of them has a part to play in this war. Aegon, Rhaenys, and Visenya’s parts, however, cannot be downplayed. They are the conquerors come again. They must be together.”

“Rhaenys is married. She has a child on the way.”

“The child can return with its father to the North. Rhaenys can visit them as often as is possible.” 

Elia looked down, shaking her head. She could not let him force Rhae to leave the life she’d made for herself. She could not allow her children’s lives to be pawns so Rhaegar could prove this prophecy right. She took him by the hand and pulled him back over to his desk, sitting in one of the chairs and motioning for him to do the same.

“Elia, I know you think all of this is mad. I know I’ve put you through more than you’ve deserved. I haven’t been a good husband to you. I haven’t been a good father to any of the children, but especially to Jaeha— to Jon. I want this to be over just as much as you do. Once it is, we can all start over... if you want. We can be happy again. That’s what I want, that’s what I’ve always wanted.” 

Elia opened her mouth to speak before sighing to herself again.

“This is harder than I thought it would be,” she mumbled to herself.

“What is?” He asked with some confusion.

“Telling you the truth. Even after everything you’ve put me through, how angry I have been with you, I still don’t want to hurt you. And this will hurt, very much.”

“What are you talking about?” 

Elia took a deep breath.

“There is one huge flaw in your proclamations of prophecy, in your logic for Aegon to marry Visenya and Rhaenys. The truth is Enya…” Elia trailed off, the words getting stuck in her throat.

“Visenya is more dragon than any of the children,” Rhaegar said with fondness in his voice. 

It hurt Elia’s heart.

“But she’s not. She’s not a dragon. Visenya is not your daughter.” 

The air felt like it was sucked out of the room after her admission. It was so silent a pin drop could sound like thunder rolling through the Stormlands. Elia could not bring herself to meet Rhaegar’s eyes. Instead, she listened to his stuttering breaths as he tried to regain his composure.

“What are you— what do you mean she’s… you’re lying.” 

Elia shook her head in response.

“I’m not.”

“You are, you have to be,” Rhaegar replied with finality in his voice. 

He stood up to pace towards the door as if to escape from the truth. Elia stood up as well.

“Everyone thought she was born early, but she wasn’t,” she called after him. 

He stopped walking, but wouldn’t look back at her.

“The maesters remarked on how healthy she was for a babe born more than a fortnight earlier than she should’ve been, especially to a woman with such notoriously poor health. They put her premature birth down to my health and her healthiness down to happenstance, but the truth is she wasn’t born early. She came right on time because you aren’t her father.” 

Rhaegar stood stiff as a board, his back still to her. She glanced over to Arthur and saw he was just as shell-shocked and frozen. Elia looked down, shame growing in her. She did not conceive of this conversation going this way.

“I used to dream about you dying. I used to dream that Robert Baratheon smashed your ribs at the Trident. I would be happy to have those dreams because at least it meant I wasn’t dreaming about them. You left. You ran away. Aerys blamed me. He wanted to see what it was about me that bored you so quickly. He came into our room one night. I still have faint scars from his nails on my arms. Rhaella came before he could do what he wanted. She made him leave me alone and took the punishment for me. Then there was what happened at Maegor’s Holdfast with that oversized beast. The way he looked at me and how he touched me… it was too much sometimes… most times. I sought comfort from the memories elsewhere. Falling pregnant was just as much of a surprise to me as it was to everyone else. I went to your room one night to tell you the truth, but then I just didn’t. The words wouldn’t come out. I was angry enough at you that I wanted you to find out the truth one day so you would hurt the same way I was, but this isn’t about you anymore. It isn’t about me. It’s about the children. I was being selfish. I was thinking of myself and my own satisfaction, but I have to think of them now. Visenya is not yours. She’s not a dragon. She’s not the girl of your prophecies,” she explained, letting out a thick breath after her words. 

Rhaegar stayed motionless for a long moment more before speaking.

“Who?” He asked quietly. 

Elia did not answer.

“Who?”

“I won’t tell.”

“Elia.”

“I can’t.”

“You will tell me who you—”

“I will not give up—”

“Tell me who it is!” Rhaegar shouted suddenly, turning around to face her. 

Elia felt herself jump at the shift. Rhaegar’s eyes blazed with anger and fury. She saw it then, the embodiment of his house’s words in his eyes: Fire and Blood. It was all the more reason for her to keep mum on his question. She steeled herself with her own house’s words: Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken. House Martell never fell to House Targaryen. She wasn’t going to start that trend now, even if the bed of nails was one of her own making.

“Why should I? What’s the point? So you can kill him?”

“A man has shared my wife’s bed, has fathered a child under my roof, and you refuse to give me a name because you fear for this man’s life,” he asked incredulously.

“You share your bed with Cersei often. You did so before you two married under my roof. You fathered children with her under my roof. You never once asked me what I thought about it before you did it. I will not tell you who it is.” 

Rhaegar glared daggers at her. Elia felt an acute pang, wondering if this was how he felt all those years ago on Dragonstone being the target of her ire for his actions. Hers decidedly hurt the realm far less, but they were meant to hurt him, and they had. After a moment, the fury melted away to melancholy and heartbreak.

“I can’t have any more children,” he admitted in a broken tone. 

Elia drew back, taken by surprise.

“What are you talking about?”

“The Grand Maester informed me of this a year ago after a routine physical, which means that the Visenya of the prophecy will never be born.”

“Or it means the prophecy is not real. You’ve interpreted it three different ways over the years. First, you were the Prince That Was Promised, Now it is Aegon. Then everything hinged on the three-headed dragon, three dragon eggs, but there are six. You were certain Lyanna was pregnant with a girl, but she wasn’t. Cersei didn’t have a daughter. Enya’s not… Maybe this is all just not meant to be. Your children should just be your children. They’re your family. They have loved you for years and watched you barely return any sort of regard towards them. They don’t deserve to be pawns in some game of thrones, prophecy, and fallacy. They deserve a life. This thing you’re working towards, maybe it’s all just been a fool’s errand. I don’t mean to hurt you, but—”

“You keep saying that. ‘I don’t want to hurt you.’ It’s too late.”

“You’re right. It’s just… too late. I think it’s always been. There’s too much. Lyanna and Cersei, Jon and the twins, Aerys and the Lannisters and their dogs, now Enya. It’s all just... too much.” 

They stood silently across from each other for a long moment, neither speaking, before Elia made a quick decision.

“I haven’t seen Doran in so long. Seeing Oberyn those months ago made me miss my older brother. I miss Dorne. Enya’s never seen it.” 

Rhaegar’s eyes flickered to her for the first time since her confession. He slowly nodded after a moment.

“Yes. Dorne. Vi… Enya would like it there.” 

Rhaegar never called her Enya before. He said the name with frost in his voice. He always said her name with warmth, always love. She was his favorite. Elia felt her heart constrict that she might have taken that away from her youngest daughter. Jaime could not be a true father to her. He could protect her as much as he protected any other member of the royal family, but he was sworn to protect Rhaegar above all else. That was his place.

Rhaegar had been a present and warm figure in little Enya’s life. He never minded that she was rough and brash. He didn’t care that she stared at the sky wistfully. He didn’t mind the stray animals that took to following her daughter around. He didn’t find it odd that she could hold full conversations with birds or woodland creatures as if she could understand them. He saw everything she did as endearing. Ironically, he was the father he never was to his biological children towards the daughter that was not his. Elia didn’t know if the loss of his prophecy or his favored child hurt him more.

She did not think she wanted to know.

~*~*~

Packing for Dorne was an arduous task, partly because Elia was not sure how much she should pack and was concerned about the message it would send to people. She could not let people know the truth. It would put Enya in more danger than before, though she was sure people speculated enough already about what had suddenly sent her to Dorne so soon after her brother’s visit and Rhae’s absence. Rhaegar hadn’t made a formal announcement, but it had quickly spread that Rhaenys and Robb were married, Jaehaerys had abdicated the throne and that the betrothal between Enya and Aegon was severed. Alerie had been particularly happy about that from her self-satisfied grin, though Lady Olenna had stared at her like she was the dumbest thing to walk on two legs. Gods, she hated her gooddaughter.

Enya was excited about the news that she and her mother were soon to visit Sunspear. She had enjoyed her cousins’ company immensely, and she wished to meet her Uncle Doran. Cersei and Viserys were also happy that she was leaving, though for entirely different reasons. No one else seemed glad.

Egg got it in his head that Elia was leaving because she spoke out against his and Enya’s betrothal, and Rhaegar had banished her. He had taken to glaring at his father and not speaking to him.

Ashara was upset about it too, though Elia had been quick to tell her best friend the truth of things. That had made Ashara want to go with her all the more and bring her girls as well. It had been a long time since they visited Starfall. However, Ned could not leave the capital, and there was no way for Elia to know how long she’d be gone. If worse came to worse with Robb and Rhaenys, Ash and Ned should be in King’s Landing. Ashara had reluctantly accepted that reasoning.

Daeron was dejected, though Elia thought it was because Enya was leaving. Daeron was closer to his half-siblings than Aerion was. He frequently sought Enya out when Aerion ran off after Viserys.

Jaime was angry, both with her and Rhaegar. He did not think it was a good idea to put their lives in such a precarious position. Elia assured him that Rhaegar would not harm them, but he had still wanted to go with them to Dorne, despite knowing it was impossible. Elia appreciated the sentiment.

Jae was the one taking it hardest. He barely spoke to anyone and spent his time in Ned and Ashara’s wing. His quietness troubled Elia, but he would not talk to her either. She could not approach him. Every time she tried, he would somehow disappear without a trace.

The day before Elia was meant to leave found her in the gardens, walking through the rose hedges. It was fitting that that was where she found Lady Olenna.

“Queen Elia, fancy finding you here among the roses,” she said from her spot surrounded by younger Tyrell girls and relations fast at work with their embroidery.

“Lady Olenna. I was just passing through.”

“Please join me if you would,” she said cordially enough, shooing the girls away.

Elia made her way to Olenna’s nest, taking a seat across from the elderly woman. She offered her fig tea and lemon cake. Elia took it graciously, knowing that there had to be a reason for the Queen of Thorns to beckon her over for a conversation.

“Your departure to Dorne comes quite suddenly,” Lady Olenna said, not bothering with small talk.

“I always figured I would return one day. I have not been to my home since the war. I never thought to be away so long, but matters in the capital kept me.”

Olenna smirked slightly then.

“I found myself in your home quite unexpectedly. Before Willas became Prince Consort of Dorne, the last Tyrell there was poisoned to death. I did not think to ever wed Martell and Tyrell. It’s been an unspoken rule for quite some time in my family, and it’s broken under my watch.”

“According to Oberyn, Arianne’s been trying to run off to marry your grandson for some time,” Elia replied.

“Willas acted as if he was none the wiser, swooning about with surprise like a blushing maiden. My idiot son might have bought that act, but I saw right through it. Even his twit of a wife could see the truth. I allowed Willas his fancies, whatever they’ve been born from. Willas will remain heir of our house for now. Further arrangements for succession will have to be hashed out, but Willas is a sight better than his brothers at any rate. And ever since your brother permanently damaged my grandson’s leg, marriage prospects have not been as fruitful as I would hope. Prince Consort is more than he has hoped for in some time and an acceptable title along with heir to Highgarden.”

Elia knew Lady Olenna would not say such a thing to her without having a reason to. She was certain she knew where this conversation was going, but she played it off.

“Arianne knew what she wanted and made sure she got it.”

“A family trait. Your daughter shares the same quality.”

Elia nodded with a fond smile.

“She made her way for herself.”

“And helped clear a path to her brother’s hand. One that is getting all the clearer with you taking your youngest away to Dorne and the only other Targaryen female already betrothed to your nephew. House Martell has fostered quite advantageous matches: a Targaryen twice over and a Tyrell. Your daughter has managed to make herself a Stark. Dornish blood, your blood, is seeping its way into every major house of Westeros. Well done, My Queen,” Olenna said, raising her goblet a little towards Elia.

Elia took a moment to think about it before realizing Olenna was right. Her blood had mixed and aligned itself with dragons, lions, wolves, and roses, four of the major houses in Westeros, all without her realizing it until now. She released a breathy chuckle at that.

“Would you believe me if I said it was completely accidental?”

Olenna rose an eyebrow at that. Elia corrected herself.

“Almost. Mostly, anyway.”

Olenna stared a moment before seeming satisfied with this correction.

“I pay closer attention to my ladies’ activities than people seem to think, especially after being betrayed by one. I know you want Margaery to be queen. Whatever you’ve done to make that happen, I know not. I know Alerie has made her deals, spoke into whatever ears she’s needed to curry favor. She’s never been particularly quiet about it, not enough for whispers and birdsong not to make its way to me.”

Olenna let an eyeroll slip through.

“Twittering fool,” she mumbled.

Elia let a smile slip through.

“Alerie’s not so bad. I’m never foolish enough to believe I have her loyalty, but she loves her children. She wants the best for them.”

“She doesn’t want the best for them, she wants her daughter to be queen. I don’t blame her, I want Margaery to be queen. No point denying it. Everyone already knows. Most everyone wants their daughter or granddaughter to be queen.”

“Margaery would be a good, fair queen,” Elia replied.

“If a rarely bedded one.”

Olenna’s eyes glittered knowingly.

“Well, you have two unmarried grandchildren. I’m sure they’ll both find their place in the Red Keep,” Elia replied, her own eyes shining with knowledge.

Olenna nodded with what might be approval at her statement.

“The Starks in the North, they like to say they are a wolf pack. Benjen Stark still petitions every year to have his brother, his paramour, and children released to the North. Most others would give up by now. Roses? Well, they rarely ever bloom or grow alone. My grandchildren have always been close, Marge and Loras in particular. They’ve made arrangements amongst themselves before to suit Loras’… predilections. They’ll do so again I expect.”

“You do realize that I won’t be much help to you in this endeavor, my lady? I will be in Dorne. Aegon’s betrothal will be Rhaegar’s discretion. He won’t hear from me about it.”

She did not feel unsafe with that admission. She was sure no one truly believed her relationship with Rhaegar was happy and loving after Lyanna and Cersei.

“You’ve done enough to help me already, My Queen. There are no Targaryens or Martells to marry. I hear Sansa and Minisa Stark are Tullys through and through, no Stark coloring to be found, so it is less likely Rhaegar will feel inclined to marry his son to the Stark girls so he can try and recapture his time with Lady Lyanna. Emme and Alicent Tarly can swoon all they want, but House Tarly is too small to wed the heir of the Iron Throne to. Talla Tarly has her eyes on a smaller prize. Cersei would sooner fling herself into Blackwater Bay than allow marriage with Tyrion Lannister’s daughter. Who else is there? The Greyjoys? The Freys? I won’t have to go to Rhaegar, he will come to me if he has any sense at all.”

Elia nodded in agreement.

“If he has sense. I’ll leave it in your capable hands, my lady,” Elia replied, standing up.

Ashara would keep her updated on any developments. Olenna bid her fair-well, and Elia made her way through the gardens back to the keep.

She saw Cersei as she made her way to her chambers. The blonde woman smirked at Elia as she passed. She probably thought Elia’s departure was to do with her. A foolish part of her wished to tell her of Visenya so she could see the look on her face when she realized the truth about Elia and Jaime, but she was not that crazy. If Rhaegar didn’t tell her, there was no reason why Elia should.

As she walked towards her bedroom, she passed Jae’s room door. She paused as she caught sight of him through the cracked door. He was folding clothes and packing them into a case. Elia’s eyebrow scrunched.

“Jon?” She asked, walking into the room.

He turned to look at her, his face stuck in that angry pout it had been since Rhaegar announced that Elia and Enya would be leaving. She looked pointedly at the case.

“I’m going with you,” he said, his voice leaving little room for argument.

Elia watched him turn back and carefully pack his sword. She paused, unsure of how to proceed.

“Did you tell your father about this decision?”

He gave her a look that clearly indicated he hadn’t, and he didn’t care to.

“Are you sure? Aegon will be here. So will your uncle, Talla, and Arya.”

Jae paused in his packing but continued as he was.

“It’s not that I don’t want you to come, little wolf, but I want you to be sure.”

He stopped then and turned fully to look at her. There was a look on his face of annoyed exasperation.

“We wouldn’t be leaving if you didn’t tell the king about Enya.”

Elia paused and saw the truth on her son’s face. He knew.

“How long have you known?”

Jae rolled his eyes in response.

“I’ve known about you and Ser Jaime since I was a child, Mother. Why do you think I would ask him to guard your door when you had bad dreams? I saw it in Enya when she was born because I knew to look for it: the Lannister cheekbones and jawline. King Rhaegar never noticed, because since when does he notice anything? I wasn’t about to tell him. We could’ve gone on just like that, and everything would be fine. Why would you tell him?”

Jae sounded angry. He rarely ever was and never at Elia. It surprised her almost as much as learning he knew the truth.

“I told your father because it was the right thing to do to stop the betrothal between Aegon and Enya.”

“He could’ve killed you, you understand that, right? He could’ve had you executed as a traitor and an adulteress. He still could.”

“Rhaegar wouldn’t do that.”

Jae didn’t look convinced.

“I know he is difficult, but I needed to make sure he didn’t make a mistake with your brother and sisters. And he deserved the truth.”

“You don’t owe him anything. He’s been no husband to you and no father to any of us except for Enya, which is probably why the truth bothers him so much.”

“Jon—”

“What would I have done if he did something to you?” He asked, his voice suddenly losing his anger and leaving the vulnerability behind.

“You’re all I have. If he took you away…” he trailed off, shaking his head with a lost look.

A part of Elia scolded herself, told her it was not good for Jae to be so dependent upon her, but wasn’t every child that way with their mother? Aegon had to grow up quickly because he was the heir. Rhaenys was a married woman with a child on the way, but Jae was still ten and six with no betrothal. He hadn’t ever seen a battlefield or known death firsthand or even made a progress without her. Yet he understood the world in a way Aegon and Rhaenys probably never would. It was an interesting dichotomy, if a confusing one, to be so young and yet so old at the same time.

More than questioning her parenting, Elia felt the same compulsion she felt when she first saw Rhaegar look at baby Jaehaerys with disgust, whenever he was shunned by his father and Cersei, or when anyone derided him and put him down. She felt the urge to protect him and to love him. She quickly crossed the room and pulled him into her arms as tears started falling from his eyes. She rubbed a hand down his back soothingly.

“No matter Rhaegar’s faults, he would never put his hands on me or physically harm me. I know him that well. I would not have told him if I thought he would hurt Enya or me. He says he wants to start over with all of you. He wants to be the father he wasn’t before. He wants a chance.”

She felt Jae shake his head against her shoulder.

“It’s too late. I will not stay in this place without you. I’ve already renounced my claim to the throne. I decided long ago wherever you go, I will go too.”

Rhaegar and Elia had come to the conclusion that there was little chance of salvaging a relationship between. She was not sure that was true of Jae and Rhaegar, but she would not force Jae to do anything. Truthfully, she’d feel better with at least half her children with her if she couldn’t bring the other half.

“Okay, my little wolf. I wouldn’t want you anywhere but by my side anyway,” she replied comfortingly.

He held her tighter, and she took what comfort she could from her son’s embrace.

~*~*~

Rhaegar did not look surprised when the day came for Elia to leave, and Jae walked down the stairs dressed for travel with servants carrying his trunk.

The walk down to the bay was a quiet, solemn one. Even Cersei and Viserys were quiet. Elia hugged Aegon tightly when they reached the ship, Red Breeze, a nameday gift from Doran. The crew was Salty Dornishman rather than natives of the Crownlands. Elia had decided she would take Togaria, Melessa, and Petra with her and leave Lysa, Alerie, and Darlyssa behind along with Ashara. The last thing she wanted was to bring spies to Sunspear. She was not happy to leave them with Aegon, but she trusted Olenna to watch him for her own interests.

“I’m going to miss you,” her eldest son whispered to her.

Elia would bring him too, but she could not afford for him to be as attached to her as Jae was. He was to be the king. He needed to learn to stand on his own and seek her guidance only when necessary. With she, Jae and Rhae away, this would be a good test for him and an opportunity to grow. At least that’s what she told herself to assuage her guilt.

“I’m only a raven away. Write to me frequently, my love.”

Aegon nodded against her shoulder before moving to say goodbye to Jae and Enya. She and Cersei nodded coolly to one another. Viserys sneered in response to her farewell. Daeron looked up at her with sad but determined eyes.

“I will watch out for Egg,” he promised her.

“I trust that you will,” she replied warmly, ruffling his hair and drawing a smile from him.

Aerion stared up at her uncertainly with a hint of the look Viserys had. It saddened her.

“Listen to your twin, Aerion. He’s got a good compass about him. He’ll be a great mind one day,” she counseled.

Aerion cut his eyes to Daeron, who blushed at Elia’s praise but didn’t answer her.

Elia swept Ashara into a hug.

“You come back to me, Elia Martell,” she whispered into her ear.

Elia quirked a smile, remembering that she had said the same thing to Ashara when she sent her away.

“You wait for me, Ashara Dayne,” she said in return, recalling her friend’s words even now nearly eighteen years later.

“Take care of her for me,” she told Ned as she passed him.

He nodded in response.

“Always.”

She nodded in return. She never doubted that. She pressed kisses to Allyria, Arya, Alysane, and Alanna’s foreheads as she passed them. Lysa, who was starting to show her pregnancy from her recent marriage to Petyr Baelish, smiled beatifically at her.

“I await your return eagerly, my queen,” she said.

Darlyssa Marbrand had the same fake smile for her. Elia didn’t bother trying to make niceties and instead nodded curtly to them and Alerie.

Then she was standing before Rhaegar. Jaime and Arthur stood behind him. She only met their eyes very briefly before laying them on her husband once more. He was not quite meeting her gaze.

“I wish you safe travel. May your journey be swift and uneventful,” he said in a formal tone.

Elia didn’t expect anything less.

“Thank you for the well wishes, Your Grace.”

Rhaegar nodded curtly before taking a small chest from Varys who stood beside him.

“I ask that you give this to Daenerys, tell her it is a wedding gift from me.”

Elia already knew what it was and so nodded in response as Enya and Jae came to stand beside her. He took another chest from Ser Aurane and handed it to Jae. The teen stared down at it. Elia thought he wouldn’t take it, but after a while, he did. He opened it and then gasped.

“A dragon egg?”

That got everyone’s attention. Elia observed that it was the white egg.

“Yes. It belongs to you.”

Jae seemed gobsmacked. Aegon, Daeron, and Aerion didn’t seem surprised, which meant they probably already received their eggs. Viserys eyed the chest in Elia’s hands with envy and loathing, knowing what it probably was and that he would not get one. Enya tutted beside Elia.

“Do I get a dragon egg, Papa?” The little girl asked.

Rhaegar flinched a little at her voice, causing Elia to wince.

“No,” Rhaegar replied simply.

“Not just yet. Maybe one day, darling,” Elia reassured her.

Enya stared between her parents before her eyes zeroed in on her father once more.

“Are you mad at me, Papa? Is that why we’re leaving?” She asked, her voice breaking a little.

Elia felt her heart constrict, and she met Jaime’s eyes only briefly. Rhaegar softened and crouched in front of the girl.

“No, my dear. I’m not mad at you. Never you.”

Enya threw herself at Rhaeger, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. Rhaegar stiffened before returning the embrace.

“Dorne will be a good experience for you. You will like it very much.”

“I want you to come with me, Papa,” Enya mumbled.

“I cannot,” Rhaegar replied with regret in his voice.

He pulled Enya away from him to stare at her.

“I want you to behave well for your mother and listen to her. Keep up with your studies and your training. Enjoy your time with your cousins. We will see each other again,” he promised.

Elia didn’t know if that was a promise he would keep, but Enya accepted his words and returned to Elia’s side.

They boarded the ship. Before long, they were off. Elia stood on the deck beside Jae, who was Rhaegar’s son but wasn’t, while he held Enya up to watch the waves, who wasn’t Rhaegar’s daughter but was.

Fifteen years ago, when she last found herself on a ship, her life had recently fallen apart. It had again now, though less violently. She didn’t know what the future held anymore. Mayhaps leaving was a mistake, but as she watched Jae and Enya smile brightly at the water churning under the ship, she decided that she had made the right decision for her children. They were happy, or soon would be, and they were not alone. She couldn’t bring herself to find much fault in that.

Chapter Text

302 AC

Elia had never experienced a true winter in her life. King’s Landing was a hot city, and even when cooler winds blew, it was nothing too bad. Besides which, she had grown up in Dorne. However, winter was here now. Even Dorne had frozen over and found itself snowed on.

Elia had never had a problem admitting when she was wrong, but she still found it fantastical when Rhaenys and Robb sent ravens from Winterfell claiming tales of the Others and armies of the dead. Ultimately, she believed her daughter. She gave Rhaegar his due for being right about his war, this time at least, with his Red Priestess by his side.

Lady Melisandre, for all her foresight, hadn’t exactly stopped the Red Keep from falling to chaos though. The news of Viserys’ death had come as a shock to Elia. He had died trying to kill Daeron so he could hatch the dragon eggs and take them for himself. He succeeded in hatching Aegon’s black dragon Darkwing, Daeron’s red dragon Tyraxes, and Aerion’s green dragon Widow’s Wail but had died in the process. That had been followed up soon by the news of Aerion’s death, which Elia only knew because Widow’s Wail found itself in Dorne terrorizing the deserts just as it had done the capital according to reports. Aerion let his dragon roam wild and had cruelly named it Widow’s Wail after his favorite sound. Elia was disappointed the boy had fallen so deep into Targaryen madness in so short a time, but his death was at his own hand. He had apparently abused his dragon. One day it snapped back at him and killed him. The dragon had only been brought to heel in Dorne after Daenerys and Jaehaerys went out with their dragons, Quicksilver and Ghost respectively, to put Aerion’s dragon down. Enya had snuck out after them without Elia’s knowledge or permission, and she had warged into the dragon. Since then, Enya had ridden the dragon she renamed Rhaegal after her father.

After that was when news of what came with winter reached them. Rhaenys called for aid in the North, saying her orange dragon, Sandfyre, would not be enough against the Others. So, Elia and most of the south made their way north to defend the Wall and the realm.

Since then, it had been a mess of folktale and myth come to life, so much so Elia was sure she had died and this was some strange afterlife. Or perhaps this was one long, insane dream, but no, her children were fighting for the fate of the world. Winterfell was large but not obscenely so. Elia had still managed to lose herself in it and not see Rhaegar at all.

She eventually found him in a room sitting by the window overlooking the courtyard. She did not know what she thought it was she would feel when she finally laid eyes on him once more. She did not expect relief. She heard that he fought on the front lines of the war and had been wounded before in battle.

“Your Grace,” she greeted.

He looked back at her and nodded her over to him.

“I hadn’t seen you since I arrived. I thought you would seek me out much sooner to say I told you so.”

Rhaegar chuckled humorlessly.

“What would be the point of that?”

“You were right. The fight for the dawn, this is it.”

“I was wrong about everything else to do with this prophecy. I thought all I would need is Aegon, Rhaenys and Visenya. I hadn’t taken Daenerys into account, and I thought Jon, Daeron, and Aerion were…” he trailed off.

The way he said Aerion’s name was full of regret.

“I was sorry to hear about him.”

“First, he would capture rats and rodents. Servants would find the remains. Then he started on cats. Daeron began collecting strays, feeding them. He’d bring their mutilated carcasses to Cersei in tears, but she covered Aerion’s behavior up. She knew I would send him away. When he started on his dragon, I didn’t even realize because I was so swept up with the war and Aegon’s betrothal to Margaery. I should’ve realized when he named him Widow’s Wail. I should’ve paid closer attention to him, been a better father. I should’ve recognized the signs of my father and Viserys in him as soon as they appeared, but I was blind to it. He paid the price for that. Mayhaps it is better this way. Enya is more at ease with the dragon than Aerion ever was.”

Elia glanced out the window. Enya was in the courtyard rubbing a hand over Rhaegal’s scarred side alongside Daeron and Tyraxes, probably debating who was the better rider. Aegon was a little ways away talking to Loras. The Long Night had made people not as worried about propriety, so she did not tell him to be careful in his interactions. It wasn’t like he kissed his goodbrother in public. Jaehaerys was sitting with Talla near the heart tree in the godswood. Rhaenys chased after her son, Edrick, who ran amidst the snow with Aegon and Margaery’s daughter, Rhaenyra, and Robb’s direwolf. There was also Robb’s half-sisters, Sansa and Minisa, with their direwolves and Arya with hers. Robb and his half-brothers found two she-wolves in the wolfswood, both having whelped recently. Now Lord Benjen, Ned, and their children had massive wolves following behind them.

Winterfell had all of a sudden become a haven for the long-extinct, and here they stood amongst it.

“The Crannogmen say she is a warg. It is why she has always had such a peculiar relationship with animals. If you saw what Rhaegal was before she got to him, you’d be even more shocked at the transformation.”

“She is a good girl,” Rhaegar said with fondness in his voice.

“She is. They are all good children.”

“You did a good job with them,” Rhaegar replied.

Elia smiled in thanks.

“When this is all over…” Rhaegar trailed off for a moment before rousing again.

“When this is all over, I’d like it if you and Enya came back to the capital. I would like to have all of my family together.”

Elia glanced out at the courtyard, watching her children and grandchildren together and smiling despite the dire straits.

“Yes, I would like that. If we survive.”

“You will,” Rhaegar said, his voice leaving no room for doubt.

“How do you know?”

“I just do. You’re you. You’ve survived more than I could probably imagine. You can and will survive this.”

“You will too,” Elia replied.

Rhaegar gave her another humorless laugh.

“I don’t think I’m meant to, dear wife,” he said it knowingly.

“Did your red witch tell you that?”

Rhaegar didn’t answer that question. Elia looked back out the window at the fantastic sight in front of her.

“Well, if we die, we die, but first we’ll live.”

Chapter Text

Overall Timeline

• 283 AC:

- Rhaegar survives the Trident but is wounded.

- Jaime kills Aerys and the pyromancers. Elia is attacked by the Mountain and Lannister men, but Jaime saves her and the children.

- Robert and Jon Arryn take King’s Landing and hold it, leaving Elia and the children alive as hostages.

- Rhaegar goes to Dorne to meet Lyanna at the Tower of Joy and stops the fight between the Northmen and Kingsguard at her request, saving Ned, Howland Reed and Arthur Dayne. However, Lyanna dies due to complications after childbirth.

• 284 AC

- Rhaegar rallies the Ironborn to besiege King’s Landing and take it from Robert and Jon Arryn.

- Jon Arryn dies in the siege.

- Robert and Stannis are executed by Rhaegar for high treason.

- Elia and Rhaegar meet at Dragonstone whereupon Elia confronts him, denounces him and takes Jaehaerys/Jon as her son.

- Tywin Lannister is allowed to live and goes back to Casterly Rock but Jaime stays on the kingsguard, a quiet hostage to ensure Tywin stays in line.

- Hoster Tully requests Catelyn and Ned’s marriage be annulled after Ned is kept in King’s Landing as a hostage. Rhaegar annuls it but takes Robb to ensure the behavior of the Riverlands and the North.

- Rhaella dies in childbirth.

- Elia summons Ashara Dayne back to King’s Landing. She comes with Allyria, Ned’s bastard daughter.

• 285 AC

- Catelyn remarries to Benjen Stark, Lord of Winterfell.

• 286 AC

- Viserys and Daenerys come to King’s Landing.

- Jon grows up calling Elia “mother” and calling Rhaegar “Your Grace”. He is not close to his father and Rhaegar mostly overlooks him. He and Rhaenys fight sometimes but just as normal brother and sister. He and Aegon are close. He likes his Uncle Ned and Aunt Ashara and is close to his cousins, especially Robb and Arya. He does not like the name Jaehaerys because Lyanna wanted to name him Jon after King Jon Stark.

• Subsequent Years

- Cersei is brought to the capital as another Lannister hostage to be Elia’s lady-in-waiting but charms Rhaegar and becomes Queen Consort. [287 AC]

- Elia begins an affair with Jaime. [289 AC]

- Cersei becomes pregnant. [289 AC]

- Elia becomes pregnant. [290 AC]

- Cersei has twin boys. [290 AC]

- Elia has a girl. Jaime is the father, but everyone thinks it’s Rhaegar’s. [290 AC]