Full Summary: Lily Evans died not by a cradle but in a riverbed of rubies. Eighteen years later, when Rhaegar, Elia and Lyanna learn there was still something of the women they loved left living, they fight tooth and nail to mend a broken family. Rhaegar/Lyanna/Elia/Lily & Aegon/Fem!Harry/Jon. Feel good fic told in drabbles. Rhaegar!Won. Fem!Harry. Targaryen!Harry. UPDATE DAILY.

Chapter One:

A Mad Man With A Madder Plan

Rhaegar Targaryen

I

Rhaegar gazed long and hard at his reflection in the silver backed mirror. His face had drawn slimmer these last few years. Sharper, some would say. Age could whittle that way Elia would sooth. War does that to a man Lyanna would tell him. Grief consumes that harshly, Rhaegar thought.

He was not the only man with a thin face these days.

Half his court was made of sugar-snap men with honey-harsh words and thin-keen faces. That was the price of winning a war, standing triumphant over a rebellion, securing a throne… You had to forever more stand and stare at the faces of men who had lost just as much as you had, who had given every drop of blood and sweat you had, who had, only years prior, wished to see you and your own dead.

And through it all you had to smile.

Rhaegar tried that very same smile in the mirror, pulled his cheeks tight, flashed his white teeth a fierce streak among his white face beneath his splash of silver-white hair. It didn't look like a smile to him. Not anymore.

It looked like a grimace hidden in a ghost.

Fingering the collar of his fine velvet doublet, Rhaegar brushed away imaginary lint. There was no dirt to find. Only in his mind. The river silt of the Trident smeared on his face, the sound of men dying, the cool wash of water and steel and the clang of-

There was no time for snarling smiles or reminiscing over past hurts, even if they still wept clotted blood. Today would be a challenging day.

The Magus were coming.

Two had come ashore not five moons ago, bringing with them talks of war the likes of which Westeros could not envisage. Immortality, and soul splitting, a mad man with a madder plan. They asked for little, only a swath of land for survivors to rebuild upon, in return their services, that magic they wielded, free to be called upon within reason.

Before the meetings had finished, Queen Elia had offered a sand scattered corner of Dorne, Queen Lyanna a snow sloped hill by Winterfell, Rhaegar a pitch beside Dragonstone.

Today would be a challenging day, for the same reason Queen Elia and Queen Lyanna had been so eagerly amenable to helping these strange men and women. The same reason Rhaegar's face had thinned these years, Elia and Lyanna's too, the reason Rhaegar had won the war.

They had known a Magus long before the two representatives had come sailing up their coast.

A Magus with fire-hot hair, and summer grass eye, and an impossible smile for an impossible woman.

Perhaps she had taken Rhaegar's smile with her when Robert Baratheon-

River silt on his tongue, cold water clogging his boots, the rise of a great hammer, a small hand on his chest, a shove, a splash, a blink, a cry, too late, the swinging down and the warm spray of blood across his eyes, vermillion skies, a roar and-

Rhaegar's smile splintered in the mirror, and he turned away from the sight, swallowing harshly.

They knew a Magus once.

They had loved a Magus once.

They had lost a Magus once.

So, they offered her kin, wind chaffed from the lashing of sea, a home to rebuild.

Today would be a challenging day.

For all of them.

A knock at his chamber door.

"My Grace, A Lady of House Granger and a Lord of House Weasley are awaiting your arrival in the throne room."

Granger and Weasley? They were new.

Not the Longbottom and Lovegood that had been originally sent in the stead of their leader they only called 'Harry'.

Perhaps settlement would be negotiated this evening. Trying to discuss taxes and terms with the Lady Lovegood had proven a… Unique experience. Unique but not the least bit fruitful. Rhaegar was still unsure what exactly the purpose of a Nargle was, and why they would be flying around his head when he slumbered.

Rhaegar opened his chamber door.

"The Queens?"

Arthur Dayne smiled over from his post.

"Already present, entertaining our visitors anticipating your coming."

King Rhaegar nodded.

"Fetch my Sons and daughter. It will do them good to see diplomacy in motion."

Arthur did not move a step. Rhaegar's tired gaze fled from his, down to the cobblestones, down to the dirt crushed in stone cracks.

The sound of a war-hammer striking rib cage, the crack of bone, the rattle of breath as-

"I am... Fine, old friend. Tired, yes, but no less fine. Please, do as I bid. Today will be challenging enough."

There was a roll to Arthur's jaw, the bite back of chewed bitter words. Eventually, Arthur fought them down, nodded, and turned, steps echoing down the narrow hall.

I am fine, Rhaegar said.

I am fine, Rhaegar lied.

He had not been fine in many, many years.

Today would be a challenging day.

A.N: This fic is going to be told in singular drabbles about one thousand words long. The idea of this fic was suggested by a lovely reader who messaged me. I hope this lives up to what you wanted, and I hope you all had fun reading this! See you all soon, and until then, stay beautiful! ~AlwaysEatTheRude21