Chapter Text
Her sweet boy. Her only son. How proud he made her, how he was an amazing king and man.
She couldn't ask for better, nor would she ever want that. For all the fears of him spiralling into madness, or raping and kidnapping young maidens, he proved them all wrong.
And what a Targaryen... no, more Martell or even Baratheon he was. Better than a Jaehaerys or Daeron, he would be the most beloved monarch to rule. She would make sure of that - no matter what.
Robert Baratheon, the other regents and kind lords, Ashara and herself... they had made the very best boy - no, man now - and ruler. She was forever grateful for Robert saving her and her children, for him insisting on a regency for her son rather than seizing the throne, for being her son's father in truth.
In a way, she was glad he slew Rhaegar.
Perhaps, if she was any other princess or lady, she would have wed Robert. But he wished to marry Ashara - he never quite said why, even with the rumours of her being 'dishonoured' by Brandon or Ned Stark he did not back down. He even gave up his lands to his brother Stannis - the two brothers were close and respected eachother, no matter how Stannis grinded his teeth and how Robert huffed and puffed in his company. (Even after the ruinous events with Rhaegar and Lyanna, Robert was still close to Eddard. The slip of a girl, Lyanna, had been banished on the pain of permanent imprisonment if she ever stepped foot beyond the Neck. She had thrown it all away for a callous prince, believing that *she* was pregnant with the true heir to the throne. Instead, the girl who saw Elia as infertile and weak, gave birth to a stillborn son and was left barren. A fitting end, Oberyn had quipped. Cruel... but wasn't Lyanna cruel too - not caring for anyone but herself, Rhaegar and the 'saviour' in her womb?)
Her daughters - Rhaenys, and Aelinor Lannister (her daughter with Jaime, their only child and his confirmed heiress) were also her pride and joy, but alas, this day was for her son and his soon to be wife, Floris.
Floris was tall, standing at five feet and ten inches compared to her soon to be husband's six feet and one inches, with the heterochromia seen only in two Targaryens (Alyssa and Shiera), being a dreamer to boot. She was beautiful, in the same way Ashara was, albeit hers was a more soft and shy one. She was charitable, cared for the smallfolk in a genuine manner (unlike Margaery Tyrell, whom Mace had tried pushing as Aegon's wife - the girl was smart and pretty to be sure, but something in her made Elia think of the wolf whelp).
She was glad to have her best friend and soulmate's child become her own child in a way. Nobody was better suited for Aegon than his dear Floris.
Here she was, attending to Aegon before the ceremony. She stood on her tiptoes, adjusting the circlet on his head and felt tears welling up in her eyes.
"You look so handsome, my boy. A true king, all that a monarch should be." She couldn't help the tears escaping her eyes.
"Oh, mother! Why are you crying? This is a happy day, or atleast I hoped." Her boy was so sweet, always picking up on other's emotions and attempting to comfort them as best as he could - or atleast soothing them with questions and words.
"These are tears of joy, my dearest boy. Your grandfather - Maegor, that is - would... be so proud of you, as would my own mother Loreza." How she wished her parents were here to see her, her daughters and her son. Their union had finally brought peace and stability to the realm, as would the marriage of a future heir to a Blackfyre prince or princess.
"I hope so mother, I truly do. I hope my lady grandmother is also proud of me. Sometimes... I'm scared she blames me." Aegon was always so formal and respectful of the dowager queen Rhaella, to the point where it seemed severe.
"Blame you? Never. No negative thoughts today, nor tomorrow, nor again. Do you want Floris to interrogate you when she notices your melancholy?" Floris could read his emotions and actions as if he were an open book, and he could never bottle those thoughts up. She was glad he opened up to the women and some men in his life.
After the wedding, and other ceremonies were over... she wanted to create a meeting between Aegon and Rhaella. For Rhaella to tell him about everything, about how she would never blame him - for any of it. She had said much of the same to Elia, when the death of Rhaegar first came out.
Elia had been weeping, whether out of exhaustion or joy - she did not know. Maybe both. Her head had been resting on Rhaella's lap, Rhaella stroking her hair in an attempt to soothe her. (Loreza had done much of the same for Rhaella, and Rhaella was the closest thing of a mother to her now...).
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, my queen. If he had just... married the Stark girl, or if I tried harder... then your son would still be here..." she knew now, that no matter how she or the rest of Rhaegar's family tried - it would never be enough. Rhaella was left to believe she was a terrible mother, Elia was left to believe she was a terrible wife, Viserys was left to believe he was a terrible brother and her children... they still believed it was their fault.
"It isn't your fault, Elia. No matter what you did, no matter what I did - he would've done this anyways. There was a madness within him, and I shall forever regret that. I cannot, however, regret the fact that it gave me a good young lady to call my daughter, and two beautiful grandchildren." Rhaella took turns between crying/needing comfort and showing barely any emotions - when she said this, her eyes and expression were vacant.
(It was true. Even if Rhaegar married Cersei, she was too young for repeated pregnancies. He would've taken the closest woman to her and make her his mistress, if not, then the mother of his bastards. If he was foolish enough to kidnap daughters of the greatest lords, she wondered what Tywin would have done if his golden daughter married the prince instead.)
All Rhaegar got was a stillborn son and caused the disgrace of his family. Not to mention the lives cost because of him, especially her own father.
Perhaps he didn't directly kill her father, Lord Rickard and Brandon Stark - but they were deceased, thanks to him. Maegor had always been diplomatic, and championed the cause of the two Stark men - none of them knowing that the wolf 'maiden' went willingly.
Perhaps Lyanna didn't kill her father, or her own and her brother - but she was held just as responsible. Elia was never one for holding grudges, but knowing the woman had gambled for false promises and words - only to lose everything... it made her glad. If it had been Elia and her children, dead or discarded, would Lyanna have cared, or taken pity on them?
She didn't think so.
Aegon nodded at her words, immediately returning to his jovial and cheerful state. "You're right as always, mother. Just like Floris and Aunt Ashara."
Even when the mood was somber before, he never ceased to make her laugh. "Us women usually are right, most of the time. Do you wish for myself, and your sisters to accompany you to the sept?"
He, like a gentleman, held his arm out for her - she linked it in. "You don't even have to ask, mother. I'm sure Aunt Ash and Robert are with my bride now, so I'd rather not be lonely and bored on the way there."
Oh, how lucky she was to have been blessed with a son like him!