A/N: Well, last chapter really hit us right in the gut. Hoping this one adds a bit of hope to it.

Enjoy.

Chapter 66: Maternal Bonds

"No! Let me go!"

"Please, your Grace…" Alliser Thorne was in a bind… the Lord of Duskendale hadn't once been to his new keep as of yet, his loyalty to House Targaryen rooting him to King's Lansing as any honorable bannermen would. As of today, however, the task before him truly tried his patience. "You need to come with me."

"I won't leave them!" Arms thrashing, the slender Queen weighed barely a thing to the burly Alliser but fought like the direwolf she was. He couldn't restrain her arms since it was his duty to protect her, so letting her flail and pound at him with arms wrapped around her waist as the only way to go. "Let me stay!"

"Lya!" To Thorne's relief, King Rhaegar trotted across the sand beach towards his northern bride. The massive bulk of the Red Keep loomed high behind the King atop Aegon's High Hill, while large stacks of acrid smoke marred the early morning sky - Qyburn's men kept the wildfire bonfires in the Dragonpit burning through the night. "Lyanna, you have to go."

The Queen shook her head. "My sons need me! I can't desert them like a coward!" Again she thrashed at Thorne's hold.

Rhaegar placed his hands on her shoulders, stroking her upper arms through her thick woolen dress. Lyanna stopped writhing, allowing Thorne to back away and leave them some privacy. "You're not a coward, Lya."

Lyanna's voice was hollow… losing every tone of strength and fierceness she once had in spades. "What kind of mother am I if I can't tend to my babes?"

She looked at him with an expression so broken if brought him physical pain. "You can't tend to them, or you'll fall ill as well. I need you safe, on Dragonstone where you can care for Rhae."

Lyanna bit her lip, trembling. "I did this, my love. I am at fault."

He crushed her in a hug, kissing her deeply. Lyanna's moaned, losing herself in the kiss even as hot tears cascaded down her cheeks. "You are not at fault," he finally said. "You are perfect." Rhaegar's covered her heart with his hand.

"I'm scared, Rhaegar."

"I am too."

Nothing more could be said. Another passionate embrace followed, after which the now subdued Queen let Lord Alliser guide her to the skiff that's would take her and the other passengers to a boat of House Velaryon, bound for Dragonstone.

That soul-crushing moment behind him, Rhaegar had to steel himself for more. It wasn't just his beloved she-wolf that he was sending away. "Muna." A tight hug followed.

"Be careful my son," Rhaella whispered, holding him close."

"I will, I promise." He looked at the three Kingsgaurds, Benjen, Jaime, and Lyn Corbray - Arthur already on the skiff with his paramour, son, and pregnant sister. "Watch over them."

"With our lives, your Grace," Jaime responded as the seniormost whitecloak present.

Nodding, Rhaegar approached the wet nurse holding a sleeping Daenerys. "I love you, sister. You're the future of our house." Dany didn't wake, though she stirred softly at his kiss on her cheek. And now… "Watch over your mother, Viserys."

The eight nameday old boy held his head high, but it was a mask. "I am not afraid."

He sighed. "It's alright to be afraid. True courage doesn't mean the absence of fear." Viserys said nothing, but let his brother hug him.

If the rest hadn't broken Rhaegar, the last person he needed to see off threatened to rip out his soul. Trying his best to push back his grief and worry, Rhaegar knelt so he could look her in the eye. "Hi, little dragon."

With Lyanna inconsolable and Elia remaining, Rhaenys clutched at Rhaella's dress - unwilling to leave her grandmother's side. "Kepa…" She was so young, so innocent with her wide violet eyes and silky hair, but nevertheless knew more hardship than many ten times her age.

Sensing her silence, Rhaegar cupped her cheek. "Please, sweetling. Talk to me."

"You promised." Rhaenys sniffled back a sob. "You promised never to leave."

The words hit him worse than Robert's warhammer, but Rhaegar shrugged it off. "I'm sorry, sweetling." Opening his arms for her, Rhae hesitated but for a moment before launching her tiny frame into her father's embrace. "It's for your own good, so that you'll be safe." He heard her sobbing into his doublet and it made Rhaegar's heart break. "Please, little dragon. Don't cry."

She held him tighter. "No, kepa. Let me stay. I strong for you and Egg and Jon." She didn't know what was truly going on… it was beyond her comprehension, but Rhaenys could tell both her brothers were in danger. Could tell both her munas and her kepa were right on the edge and it destroyed her.

"Allow me… and muna to worry about that," he said softly. Pulling back, he cupped Rhaenys' chin and guided her to meet his gaze. "You have another task for you, Princess Rhaenys. I need you to look after muna, grandmother, and your Aunt Dany for me." Her violet eyes shone with tears. "Promise me that?"

Lip quivering, Rhaenys nodded. "I promise, kepa."

He didn't know how long he held his daughter, burying his face in the black locks that so reminded him of his beloved Elia, but Rhaegar was roused as a hot snout nudged his side. Without him hearing, Aegarax had landed on the beach, amber eyes almost sad as they stared up at him. "Thank you, boy."

Rhaenys seemed to improve at seeing the small yet growing beast. "Eggax…" she stammered out, still to young to say his full name. The dragon began to coo as she detached from Rhaegar and hugged its scaly neck. Aegarax's warmth provided a comfort only one with the dragonblood could understand.

Looking at them, Rhaegar quickly made a decision. "Boy, go with your sister." Both Rhaenys and the dragon looked at him with confusion, while Rhaella was a little surprised. "She needs you more than I could. Watch over her." The dragon hooted affirmation, while Rhaenys hugged him again. Glancing at his mother, Rhaella smiled softly, nodding her head.

From a high balcony within the Red Keep, Elia turned her head away from the heartwarming scene. Hands flew up to cover her face, holding back the sobs that threatened to wreck her body.

Lord Reed

I have ordered Lord Manderly to close White Harbor to all shipping but grain, and Lord Flint to shut off all foot and animal traffic through Moat Cailin. You have my leave to dispatch all travelers that appear to carry the plague through the Neck with swift killing.

Lord Stark

The words upon the ravenscroll made Ned's mouth taste like ash, but he nevertheless handed it to his bannermen to take to the rookery. Falling back into his chair, the Lord of Winterfell picked up another letter… this one from King's Landing. It was far grimmer and painful than even his ordering the death of innocents.

Ned

Please, pray for us. Egg still hasn't woken, and Jon has been struck by this cursed plague. Elia and Lya's split has widened to the point of near break and I am lost at how to repair any of this.

Pray. Pray and stay safe.

Rhaegar.

"What does it say, Lord Stark?"

He looked up through teary eyes to see the elderly Maester Aemon Targaryen. Stooped and frail, his unseeing eyes were nonetheless twinkling with a sharp mind. "The plague is worse. It… it's threatening many in the Red Keep, including Aegon and Jo… Baelon."

Aemon let out a breath, slowly getting to his feet. "Come on. Perhaps a walk will calm our emotions."

Long before had Rhaegar's orders to the domain of the Night's Watch absolved Aemon of his duties as the Maester of the Night's Watch. Much as it seemed slightly dishonorable to Ned, he understood - after all that had happened, Rhaegar wanted his family united and close. Ned didn't blame him for it and agreed to open his home to Aemon. A stay of a few days turned into nearly a moon as the plague hit, extending his stay till this disease resolved itself.

Wanting to get to know the old man better - and distract himself from his worries - Ned looked over at him as they walked slowly from his solar to the family wing. "This is the first time you've left Castle Black since…?" Ned trailed off the question.

Aemon picked it up where he left off. "Since the second decade of my brother's reign, when I visited to seek prisoners to ship to Castle Black. Saw all my nephews and nieces too, before my vision failed."

Ned imagined such to be a happy moment, but soon remembered who one of those children was. "Was… was the young Prince Aerys as he ended up being?"

"Oh no, he was a perfectly sweet child. Always close to his mother and very charming." He sighed. "I cannot speak of when he turned into the man that he was, but I can suspect."

Raising an eyebrow, Ned's curiosity peaked. "I would like to know." What caused my sister to lose her child and my father and brother to be burned alive? While it still hurt in a dull throb, Ned had a morbid desire to know.

Looking at him, Aemon shambled along the hallway. "My dear niece mentioned something in one of her letters to me, how her brother fell into a deep melancholy upon the death of Joanna Lannister."

"Lord Tywin's late wife?"

"Aye, her. She used to be Rhaella's lady in waiting and thus was close to the entire royal family. Given Aerys' reaction… I believe he cared for her - loved her even."

That was shocking. "Madness caused by heartbreak?" It wasn't so far-fetched. What else could have described Robert's actions during the Rebellion? Or Connington's, though that seemed more obsessive longing than true heartbreak. "That could explain it, but not how far he fell."

"I know… that's what makes it so strange to me. Most madness is innate or brought on by trauma. He definitely endured such in Duskendale, but Aerys suffered from paranoia and bouts of uncontrollable temper long before." A deep grimace reached the maester's face. "I dread to think of the real cause… and also to think of what Rhaella must've endured. I still remember her as a babe, last time I was in King's Landing. Such an adorable thing."

"I'm sure she'd love to see you."

Aemon nodded. "All we have to do is survive… this plague." Whatever joy came from imagining such reunions ended. "I fear some of us won't."

Ned gulped. "Jon? Aegon?" There was silence. "From what you have heard, is there any hope?" Aemon didn't respond. But before Ned could push further, a pitched wailing hit his ears. "That sounds like it's coming from the nursery…" The cries, agonizing and painful, made Ned's heart break. "Sansa…"

True enough, the heir to Winterfell was despondent. Her face was beet red, screaming her little lungs out no matter what Catelyn or her nursemaids tried to do to calm her. As Ned burst through the door - Aemon shuffling slowly behind him - he immediately went to his wife. "Gods, what's going on?"

"I don't know…" Catelyn was close to sobbing herself in fear, though a hint of frustration filled her tone. "She was fussy all day, and suddenly she just started screaming. She doesn't need changing, I fed her an hour ago, there is no wind…"

"Perhaps it is the plague, my Lady," murmured a young Riverlander maid, herself trembling.

"Bah, it's no plague!" rasped Old Nan, sitting in a rocking chair. "That's the sound of loss and heartbreak, she's sharing their pain… gods know who she's scared to lose." Apparently Nan's perceptions only went to what, not who or why.

Scooping up Sansa, Ned rocked his daughter. "Easy, little pup. Poppa's here." Normally Sansa loved her father's hold, but it didn't this time - the wails continued.

Having just arrived, Aemon leaned his cane against the wall. "Perhaps I could help. I still remember when little Rhaella cried like this - something I did perked her right up."

Catelyn looked aghast. "You'll drop her!"

"Nonsense. My arms may be old but they're still strong."

"Ned…"

Wincing, Ned overruled his wife. "He survives Castle Black, Cat. I think he's strong enough to hold our babe." Gingerly, he handed Sansa to the wizened maester. Gently brushing a bony finger on her red cheek, Aemon's mouth opened and a song tumbled out. One in a voice so beautiful that everyone stopped to listen.

"Lyka sir, ñuha rūs...

"Sagon iēdrosa jorrāelagon, ȳdra daor limagon...

"Ēdrugon hae ao sagon ōregion ondoso se qelbar."

The squalls were initially louder than ever, Sansa screeching as if her lungs were thrice their size… but Aemon's gentle, nonthreatening voice soon won out. Face red, she began to still. Grey eyes looking up at the old man with a… surprising familiarity to the song in a language she had never once heard before.

Soon, she was quiet, listening with rapt attention.

"Ēdrugon se rȳbagon, ñuha mōrī vāedar...

"Sīr nyke'll sagon lēda ao, skori ao pendagon."

Yawning, her little arms stretching, Sansa's eyes fluttered shut. Ned smiled gently, while Catelyn looked completely shocked. "How did you…?" There was incredulity in her expression as Sansa snuggled to sleep in Aemon's arms.

Aemon chuckled, holding the Stark child out for her father to take her. "Just sang her a little tune that my grandmother Myriah always used to sing to me. It's not as beautiful as its original Rhoynish, but my Valyrian translation has its own elegant sweetness to it."

Ned kissed his daughter's head. Even in her sleep she looked troubled, but at least she rested rather than awake and distraught. "Forgive me, but I don't speak Valyrian. What was it about?"

"An ancient melody… legend says it's the song Princess Nymeria sang to her young son during the wars with the Valyrian Freehold. She let him drift along the Rhoyne rather than let the dragons and armies kill him in the sack of her capitol city.." He sighed. "An unfolding tragedy, but one with a glimmer of hope… quite fitting for these times, no?"

"Aye, quite," Ned murmured. He let Catelyn scoop up the little pup. "Put her to bed, Cat. All is fine now."

She cast him a harried look. "Not if this mood continues when she wakes." Sansa dozed deeply against her breast. "What could this honestly be? What troubles you so, little one?" Ned had no answer for her, while it seemed that Aemon had an inkling… but didn't illuminate either of them.

Sighing, he tapped the maester on the shoulder, leading him out of the nursery. Closing the door softly, he let his head fall on the cold wood - feeling his headache returning. "Maester Aemon." Ned met the Targaryen's milky violet eyes, as unseeing as if made of wood or glass. "You didn't answer my question from earlier."

The old maester deflated. "I was hoping to avoid it."

"Just tell me."

A gnarled, trembling hand grasped Ned's shoulder. "Go to your heart tree, for unless the gods deliver their providence…" He didn't continue.

He didn't need to, for the omitted end was clear.

Dragonstone was once her refuge. The sight of the happiest of memories - for Queen Lyanna Targaryen, it now seemed somewhere between a prison and a crypt. Where one went to rot until they died.

Gods, sometimes the haggard northerner wished she would die. All was falling apart - her sons on their deathbed, her daughter distraught and near catatonic with grief, and the state of her love life…

"I hope that this plague takes from you what it has from me." The last words Elia ever spoke to her, filled with hate and bitterness. Once, Lyanna hated her for them, but now all she could feel was shame and self-loathing. My foolish words brought her there. The voice and the dreams bombarding her had ceased, and truthfully Lyanna forgot about them. They were no longer pressing, and the feelings they induced fleeting.

Leaving guilt. Unbearable guilt.

"Lya… you can't let this destroy you." Ashara's arms rested above her growing belly, the pregnant beauty concerned for her friend. "There is nothing you can do but know providence is on your side."

Yeah right…

"You shouldn't keep secrets." Dacey was more circumspect and blunt as they all sat in the lady's solar. Lya, Dacey, Ash, and Rhaella, all seeking comfort from each other. "Secrets will eat you alive. Honesty may bring pain but it forges bonds unbreakable by man or god."

Biting her lip, Lyanna shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Both her friends were drawing her into places she would rather not go - into darkness that threatened to destroy her. Flailing for a lifeline, she turned to Rhaella. "Goodmother, tell me what you think?" The older woman, she was almost like another mother to her. Lyanna valued her opinion.

Rhaella closed her eyes before looking straight at Lya. "My father and mother married for love, and while she wasn't a pick he would have made had he been the intended heir it worked out. No better Queen than my muna." It had been decades since Betha Blackwood died, but it still was raw in her heart. "My father never regretted it… not as I regretted choosing duty over love."

This shocked the three women. "You were in love with another?"

She nodded. "Aye, a young knight three years my senior. I was quite young, but I have no doubt that he was truly taken by me and I him." Rhaella remembered Ser Bonifer - how handsome he was, with a kind heart to match. Never once did he dishonor her, only showering her with affection. "He crowned me Queen of Love and Beauty and asked me to run away with him. Gods, I wanted to, but I couldn't… I couldn't betray my family… and I've regretted it ever since."

Pairs of eyes glanced at each other. "Did Aerys ever love you?" Dacey asked hesitantly, though all wanted to know.

The answer came as Rhaella shook her head. "His madness was obvious, but even before he was as heartbroken as I was. He loved another… Joanna Lannister."

"The rumors were true," replied Ashara.

"Aye, they were. I don't think he ever recovered from her death, nor my first love from my rejection. I believe he swore an oath to the Seven and became a Warrior's Son in all but name." Lyanna reached over and pressed her hand on Rhaella's knee, which her goodmother appreciated. "But I am content now, for I have my children and my new love…" She covered her lips with her fingers, as if saying too much.

Lyanna raised her eyebrow, for once distracted from her worries. "New love?"

"Who is it, your Grace?" Ashara asked, leaning forward. Dacey leaned back, as if already knowing.

Rhaella sighed. "Ser Jaime." He likely waited in her chambers at the moment, and she longed to go to him.

Three sets of jaws dropped. "Gods, I knew it," Lyanna breathed, a little grin forming on her face. "I knew from the tourney that he cared for you, and now you two are lovers… right?"

"Yes… since before even King's Landing fell."

"Seven hells, that was risky." Dacey knew King Aerys would have flayed and roasted Jaime alive had he known. A flower had sent him into a rage that killed his unborn granddaughter.

"I didn't care… nor do I know." Rhaella was defiant, sitting straight. "I've had enough pain in my life - Jaime makes me happy and I love him - I refuse to be ashamed at it." Each of the ladies nodded in understanding and agreement. There was no reason they should judge, nor did they wish to. Rhaella leaned towards Lyanna. "Love, it is worth it. Duties come and go, some important and some worthless and contrived, but love is permanent. That is my advice to you. Embrace it."

Embrace it.

Benjen bowed as Lyanna left the solar, falling into place behind him. "Sister… you need sleep."

"What use is sleep when my sons are dying?" she shot back.

Her brother frowned. "When they live, shouldn't they have a mother that didn't let herself collapse?"

There was a terse silence. "I already destroyed everything. There is no point." While the advice of her goodmother and dearest friends filled her mind, it was all futile. "I am not worthy of happiness."

"What are you talking about…" Benjen nodded in understanding. "Elia."

"Aye, Elia."

"She loves you, regardless of what spats you have."

"This was more than a spat, brother." Lyanna reached her chambers. "I fear I did the unforgivable for reasons… I can't even remember." Pressing a finger against his mouth to cut him off, Lya kissed Ben on the cheek. "Just go spend time with Ash. I'll be fine." She patted Wolfsbane strapped to her waist. Benjen, after several moments of concern, merely nodded and walked off - obeying his Queen.

But she wasn't alone even in her chambers. "Rhae?"

Rhaenys rested upon her bed, eyes closed and clutching Rhaegar's dragon. Aegarax's tail and neck were wrapped round her in comfort - it made a heartening sight. She opened her eyes and looked at her mother. "Muna…"

Rushing to her daughter's side, Lya cupped the girl's cheek. "Why aren't you sleeping?"

"Couldn't… too scared." She bit her lip. "Can I sleep with you?"

Lya smiled. "You don't even have to ask."

Settling into the bed, Lyanna held her daughter close - gently stroking her back while Aegarax ambled to the edge of the mattress. Rhaenys sighed and shifted, as if all tension left her. Just like her mother. Elia would shudder and relax in the same manner… only with Rhaenys it was completely innocent while with Elia it almost always led to kissing and hands frantically tugging at clothes…

Her thoughts made her core ache with want… and her desire only brought on a wave of shame and guilt given how things ended. Why did I say those things? It seemed so idiotic in hindsight.

"Muna?" Rhaenys broke her thoughts.

Lyanna was grateful for her. "Yes, sweetling."

"Tell me a story, I can't sleep."

Smiling weakly, Lya kissed the crown of her head. "Anything you want, particularly?" She would do anything for this sweet girl with Rhaegar's eyes and Elia's face.

Said violet eyes looked up at her. "Something of the North, Muna. Please?"

Forehead crinkling in pensive thought, after a moment Lyanna though of a perfect one. "This was one of my favorites as a young girl on my mother's lap, and it has a dragon in it."

The surprise and joy on her face was palpable. "Really?"

"Of course." Chuckling at how Rhaenys beamed at the idea of a dragon in the land of her muna, Lyanna held her tighter and began. "It was of the age of Targaryens, but the royal family was split."

"Dragons not together?" She seemed sorrowful at the prospect.

"No, Rhae, they weren't on the same side." The Dance of Dragons… the near destruction of House Targaryen. "The son of the Dragon Queen was determined to win the crown for his mother, but all houses had chosen sides already." Jaecarys Velaryon, bastard son of Rhaenyra Targaryen and a lover unknown. A person whose nature was lost to history, but the North would always remember. "All but one house."

Her eyes twinkled. "House Stark," Rhaenys said.

Lya nodded. "Aye. The direwolf kept to itself, never leaving its den, but the young Prince was determined. He mounted his dragon and flew north to meet the Stark lord." She smiled, as she always did at this part since a little girl. "But he fell in love."

"With who, muna?"

"The Lord of Winterfell's bastard sister, the beautiful Sarra Snow… it is said that she was more a daughter of the North than any of her true born nieces."

"Sounds like you," Rhaenys replies, yawning at the end.

Sighing wistfully, Lyanna continued - shoving back the guilt that welled up. I don't deserve to represent the north… "He came for an alliance, and forged one. The Pact of Ice and Fire, consummated as he married Sarra underneath the Winterfell heart tree."

There was more to the story… for as was always the case, Jaecarys wasn't the dashing, honorable Prince the stories made him out to be. There were dark shades to him, but the North remembered the story this way. A parable that primed her marriage to Rhaegar.

"He rode off on his dragon back to war, Sarra left behind until it was safe and the war won. Every day she waited in the broken tower for her love's return, but it wasn't to be." A tear fell from her cheek. "For he was lost in a great battle, leaving a widow to mourn him for the rest of her days… never to love another but her handsome dragon Prince."

Never to see him again…

Checking down at Rhaenys, the little one had already fallen asleep somewhere in the middle of the tale. Her small chest rose and fell with rhythmic breaths, while at the foot of the large bed rested Aegarax… curled up in sleep as well. Two of her dragons, the family that the gods gave her.

The gods gave her Elia, and she had let some sort of malevolence destroy it.

Head falling on the pillow, Lyanna clutched Rhaenys with a desperate longing - she was the only bit of Rhaegar and Elia she still had with her, and in her she could greedily hold on to her loves. One of whom she betrayed in the worst of ways.

"I'm sorry, Elia…" The image of Sarra Snow mourning for her love, forever lost, came to mind only with her in the famous bastard's place - forever mourning the love she hadn't lost, but cast aside in a pique of insanity. "If you can hear me, please forgive me. I love you," Lyanna murmured as a tearful sleep passed over her.

She barely heard the acolytes speak. In all honesty, Elia didn't hear much of anything these days. A haze covered the Queen, a steel shock that rendered her near catatonic most times where her duties didn't force her up - and even those actions were rote. The Queen's spirit was gutted and everyone knew it and gave her a wide berth.

It was quite clear to the servants and guards that she wished to be alone.

"... do you understand, your Grace?"

Elia blinked. "Forgive me, but can you repeat yourself?"

Acolytes looking at each other, it was Qyburn that responded for the lot of them. "My Queen… Prince Aegon's treatment is seeing results."

For the first time in weeks, her heart beat more than the bare minimum. "Is he awake?"

"Unfortunately no." Her face fell. "But his response to prodding is growing and his fever is starting to lessen. I remain optimistic about his condition."

Wasn't the best of news, but she would take it. "And…" Elia gulped, hesitant for a different, much more personal reason. "And Jon? What of… my son?" Qyburn's wince sent her mind flashing… to her own words only days before.

"I hope that this plague takes from you what it has from me."

'Take him… rid the world of him…'

Instead of the rage she felt at the time, all Elia felt now was hollow. Tongue tasting the ash of her malevolent urgings. And now… "Tell me, now," she demanded.

Clearing his throat, Qyburn averted his gaze. "I'm afraid Prince Baelon has not long left of the world."

"What?!" She staggered, knees wobbling. No… it couldn't be.

This is what you begged the gods for…

I never wanted this…

You did…

Gods… forgive me…

"How? He's still conscious…"

"My Queen," one of the senior acolytes spoke up. "Prince Aegon's deep sleep is a protective mechanism we believe. It shows a powerful will to live. In Prince Baelon… he was already predisposed to weakness from his early birth." He pursed his lips. "Unfortunately, the vapors have only a day or two before his breathing stops or his fever boils away his organs."

"I'm sorry, your Grace," Qyburn added.

Her head was spinning, all of her composure struggling to keep from fainting. Elia turned without even saying another word to the gathered maesters. Lyanna was gone. Rhaenys was gone. Rhaegar was locked away in his solar with her brother trying to keep the realm from falling apart. Only she existed to give either Prince any form of love or comfort, and as such she dashed for the royal wing of Maegor's holdfast.

She needed to see Lya's son.

Her son.

His chamber was isolated… not the main nursery that also held the Princess Daenerys and Prince Aegon before the latter was also isolated and the former departed for Dragonstone. Her uncle Lewyn stood guard outside it, giving her a sympathetic smile of understanding. How can he understand? No one can. Additionally were a group of servants beginning to don the protective leather garments that kept the vapors at bay.

Even through the shut door, the agonizing squalls of the innocent babe pierced through her very heart. Feeling the tears blurring her vision, Elia's voice was a mix of pain and anger. "Why aren't you tending to the Prince?!" she demanded of the servants.

The three of them, two female maids and one male attendant, quaked under fire from the Dornish Queen. "Your Grace…" the senior maid stammered. "We must follow Grand Maester Qyburn's instructions to tend to Prince Baelon…"

"Where are those that suffered this plague before?" Egg was attended by them, immune from the disease that afflicted the two princes. It stood to reason Jon did as well.

"I know nothing of this…"

With a wave of her hand, Elia silenced them. "Begone! I'll handle it myself." Spared of dread over the contagious vapors, she stormed through the door without a second glance at the terrified servants.

Aside from the scattered tables of medical equipment and a large vat of Dornish red, the nursery was empty - no creature comforts or sign of life… just a hollowed out cell of a chamber where Prince Jon Targaryen rested. Or more accurately suffered alone in his crib. The shrieks of agony drew Elia to the crib and she gasped at the sight. Qyburn and the acolytes had not been mincing words. The fever drenched Jon in sweat, face flushed almost cherry red. His hands were covered in a purplish rash, while his breathing resembled that of a dying man's.

He was dying.

Staring down at him with a myriad of emotions - all that could be characterized as a form of grief or pain - Jon's red-rimmed, wet eyes settled on her. The lavender orbs squinting through the tears to bear witness on one of those he knew to be his mother… and the squalls tapered out. Comforted by her presence, Jon reached up for Elia, begging to be held.

You don't deserve to hold this angel.

But Elia knew there was no one else who could. Gently, she reached down and picked him up, settling Jon in the crook of her arms. He snuggled into her hold. It seemed that this was the first form of comfort that the little Prince had known since his journey to an everlasting sleep began - and likely, his last.

Elia rocked him with such a tenderness as if he'd die if she gave but the smallest discomfort. "I love you, Jon, my sweet pup." Her voice quivered as she kissed his feverish cheek. "Forgive me." It was as if a dam burst. "Gods above, forgive me…"

"Baelon Targaryen has not perished yet." Elia turned with a shock. There stood Lady Melisandre. Barely seen since this plague started, she had emerged unseen to arrive in the Prince's chambers. "But he is on his deathbed."

Uncaring of the sudden appearance any longer, Elia's tears resumed as she hugged Jon - pressing her cheek against his. "I wished for his death… so consumed with mad ire at Lya, I wished him to perish so that she would suffer."

Melisandre sighed, not entirely sympathetic given the dark forces arraigned against the King and Queens. "In my life, I have seen the greatest acts of depravity, selfishness, and malevolence. I have also seen those driven mad by the darkest of evil determined to destroy all that is good and kind."

"You mean…" Even with all that had happened, this strained the depths of her mind to comprehend. "Please, tell me what is wrong."

"I saw it in the flames." The visions, clouded for weeks on end as the large bonfire in the chamber she hadn't emerged from till now, Melisandre watched as they roared to life. Ordained by fate, the Lord of Light showed her the darkness arrayed against the Targaryens. Only a glimpse of the evil, but she knew the danger. "Your house by marriage has a long, illustrious history with the divine - as does the house of your wife's blood. Shrouds and specters are threatened by their power, and what befell young Aegon and young Baelon is a manifestation of such fear." Melisandre sighed. "And you and Queen Lyanna were mere pawns in their plots."

Such revelations staggered Elia, but it made sense. The voice… not a manifestation of her conscience but a honeyed whisper leading her to nearly destroy those she loved. To turn her against her own child. Feeling Jon shiver in her arms, she looked down. Taking in his flushed, sweaty head - the labored breathing that sounded like sand scraping against metal. I don't deserve to live…

But as much as she hated herself, as much as shame coursed through her soul… there was only one path forward for Queen Elia Targaryen. "How can he be saved?"

Melisandre was ready for her to ask this. "This isn't like Prince Aegon. All he needs to battle is his illness, as he was merely a means to an end to destroy your love for Lyanna." Elia visibly stifled a sob, staying strong for Jon's sake. "The young Prince before us was the true target, and the means to save him would not only fail to stave off his death… but kill you if your love for him isn't true and real."

The vision from long before flashed before Elia. 'Ignore the pain. Banish the hate - allow only love and understanding...'

Ice and death… banished once her feelings of love for the north achieved free reign.

"Are you confident in your feelings to risk it all?"

The North… Lya… Jon… Gods, how she loved the both of them.

And suddenly the bright sun that emerged made sense. A beloved sun that was nestled in her very arms right here.

The woman that replied held the strength of Princess Nymeria within. "What must I do?"

A/N: Didn't think Melisandre would go away any time soon, did ya?

Aemon makes his first appearance in the story. All Targs need to be together now - the song he sang is the Valyrian translation of the lullaby from Prince of Egypt.

For the story about Sarra Snow, I realize that Jaecarys Velaryon probably wasn't as dashing or noble as depicted, but it's a cleaned up legend/love story for the North. Liberties were taken.

Till next time.