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He could still smell the burning flesh.
He could hear the agonized screams.
He could see the horrified looks.
Nothing would ever wipe those memories from his mind.
The memories of two men, two good, honourable men, being tortured to death all for trying to protect a member of their family.
The memories of the way his father had laughed and laughed, as though it had all been some childish game.
"Rhaegar?"
He looked up to find Elia standing before him, her hand outstretched but hovering just above his shoulder. Reaching up he took his wife's hand between his. "I should have stopped him," he whispered as the sight of Lord Rickard and Lord Brandon dying played over and over again in his mind. "I should have done...something...anything...by the Gods, Lya will never forgive me..."
Elia made a soft sound as she dropped down to her knees, wrapping an arm around Rhaegar's shaking form. Her husband was always so strong. To see him like this was heartbreaking.
"It was not your fault," she whispered, stroking his hair back and pressing a kiss to his temple. "What he did...Rhaegar, it was not your fault."
"But Lya..."
"Is currently in my chamber playing with our daughter and showing more strength and courage than I have seen in a woman since my Mother." She caught his chin and lifted his head so that their gazes met. "She does not lay blame at your feet, my Prince. She places it squarely on the shoulders of the man who gave the order."
"Elia..." He swallowed around the lump in his throat. "This...This is the spark that will...ignite a war...even more than...than Lya coming with me."
"Then stop it before it begins."
He stared at her in silence for a moment, her meaning sinking in, and he made a low sound. "What you're asking..."
"Can be done." Elia pressed closer to him. Just as aware as he was that anyone could be watching, listening, from the shadows. She whispered in his ear, looking for all the world to be the dutiful wife comforting her husband. "I have the means, darling, but you must have the strength to act."
"Elia..."
"If we do not act soon, he will learn Lya is with child and what, darling, do you think he will do then?"
Rhaegar went completely still and felt an icy chill trickle down his spine at the thought of his father harming Lyanna and the child she carried. His child. In that moment he knew Elia was right. There was only one choice. To avoid war, to avoid further harm befalling Lyanna, he would have to do the unthinkable. Pressing a kiss to Elia's hair he hugged her close.
"Tonight," he whispered, hiding his face in her hair to further hide what he was saying. "When he entertains his alchemist fool."
Elia nodded and together they rose, heading for her chamber both to check on Lyanna and to fetch what Rhaegar would need to completely his task.
oOoOoOo
Rhaegar walked, surprisingly calmly, down the corridor leading to his father's private study. He passed Ser Arthur and Ser Jaime as he approached the door, nodding briefly to Arthur, before knocking. He heard his father's voice, hoarse and snarled, shout out for him to enter. Drawing a deep breath he opened the door and stepped inside. His father was sitting at his desk, watching as the alchemist flitted about the room, saying something about chemicals or some such thing but Rhaegar blocked the odd little man out in favour of focusing on his father.
Aerys looked briefly at him, giving him a sneer, before focusing again on the alchemist.
"What do you want, boy? Can't you see I'm busy?"
Rhaegar forced down his emotions and reminded himself why he was doing this. What was at stake if he didn't do this.
"I thought we might discuss the backlash your execution of Lord Rickard and Lord Brandon will have."
Aerys snorted.
"Backlash? Backlash?" Aerys shook his head, glaring at him again, nails drumming on the arm of his chair. "I've sent a raven to the Eyrie, Jon Arryn is to deliver me the heads of Eddard Stark and Robert Baratheon and then, then the people will see, the price of treason against their King."
"Or it will spur the people into rising up in rebellion."
Rhaegar narrowly avoided the book his father lobbed at him.
"REBELLION?!" Aerys was standing, body shaking, though from rage or strain Rhaegar didn't know, spit flying as he shrieked. "There's not been a rebellion against our family since those thrice damned Blackfyre bastards! And there shan't be one! The people know who their King is and they will not risk my wrath by rebelling!"
Rhaegar drew a slow, deep breath, reminding himself again why he was there and gave a nod. "I understand, Father, and I do not doubt your rule, I...I merely worry what will happen."
Aerys snorted and rolled his eyes as he slumped back down into his chair. "Useless fucking boy," he spat, reaching for his wine goblet, and glaring at it when he realized it was empty. "Make yourself useful, boy, fetch me some wine!"
Rhaegar gritted his teeth as he crossed the room to fetch the wine pitcher. Approaching his father's desk he had the wine goblet thrust at him. He forced a smile as he carefully filled the goblet before passing it back to his father, smiling a bit as he did. Aerys gave him an unimpressed, and slightly vile, glare and he set the wine pitcher down before taking a small step back, watching as his father drained his goblet in a single go before barking at the alchemist to begin explaining some formula on the papers before him.
Rhaegar watched, silently waiting, ignoring the way the alchemist glanced at him curiously, instead he pretended to appear interested in what the two men were discussing. When Aerys began choking, lightly at first, Rhaegar immediately pour his father another goblet of wine. Aerys' gave him a dull look but said nothing as he sipped as his wine this time, clearly trying to wet his throat and rid himself of his cough.
When it didn't seem to work, when the coughing grew worse and Aerys' color, already pale, began to turn even paler, Rhaegar stepped forward, hand resting on his father's shoulder.
"Father? Should I send for Maester Pycelle?"
Aerys tried to speak but the coughing had robbed him of his voice and it quickly became apparent that the elder Targaryen was finding it increasingly difficult to breath.
"Father?"
Aerys went to stand, weakly trying to push Rhaegar away, choking and coughing, saliva and blood slipping over his lips and down his chin. The alchemist began babbling, asking what was happening, what he should do, but Rhaegar paid the man no mind as he caught his father when Aerys started to fall. Without hesitating he shouted for Arthur, knowing the knight would not ignore his call. When the door banged open, when he heard Arthur ask what was wrong, he looked up at his friend, panicked, even as Aerys clutched at his arm, the light slowly fading from his father's eyes.
"Father...he...Gods fetch Maester Pycelle!" Rhaegar shouted the words and, over Arthur's shoulder, saw Jaime take off. By the time he returned with the Maester it would be too late. Arthur rushed to kneel by Rhaegar's side, reaching out to check the King, to try and offer aid, only to stop when he realized what had happened. He exchanged a knowing look with Rhaegar, as the life left Aerys' eyes, before nodding. Looking up at the alchemist, Arthur's face was completely unreadable, the knight standing, drawing a dagger from his belt.
Before the alchemist could say anything or try to move away, Arthur had slit his throat. Turning back to Rhaegar the knight drew a deep breath. "He poisoned the King," Arthur said, calmly, certainly, and Rhaegar knew that the man would forever be loyal. "I am sorry for your loss, Rhaegar."
Rhaegar held his father closer, managing to cry just as Jaime returned with Maester Pycelle and Ser Gerold. Everything after that happened quickly and quietly. By the time Rhaegar was returning to Elia's chamber most of the keep knew of Aerys being poisoned by the alchemist. By morning the entire city would know and in days all of Westeros would know. His mother had vowed that in the morning he would be crowned King for the kingdom needed a strong leader.
Entering Elia's chamber he was greeted by the sight of Elia, sitting on the bed next to Lyaanna, who appeared to be asleep. Elia looked at him, worry marring her face, and she likely would have rose to meet him if she were not holding Lyanna's hand.
"Is it done," she asked softly as he walked over and climbed onto the bed.
"It is." He looked down at Lyanna, saw the tear tracks on her face, and reached down to run his fingers through her dark curls. "I am to be crowned King in the morning. I will present you and Lyanna as my Queens."
"What will the Council..."
"The Council stood by and did nothing as Lord Rickard and Lord Brandon were murdered." Rhaegar shook his head. "I do not care what they say. We married Lyanna. We decided she was the third head of the dragon and she came willingly. Nothing will come between the three of us, Elia."
She nodded, looking down at Lyanna with such love and affection that it made him truly smile for the first time that night. He continued to stroke Lyanna's hair as he considered what he would be called if the world ever learned what he had done. Kinslayer. Kingslayer. They were not titles he'd ever thought to carry but for those he loved, for the kingdom that had suffered under his father's insane rule, he would carry them. In the morning he would become King. In the morning he would begin trying to heal the damage his father had done. And the first thing, he knew, that he would do would be to send a raven to the Eyrie, to Ned Stark and explain everything. He would pray the man was as understanding as Lyanna had always said he was.
It would take time, a great deal of time, to undo all the damage his father had done. But he knew, with Elia and Lyanna at his side, he could do it. He could restore the realm to what it had been in his great-grandfather's time. He could make things better.