Battle of Helm's Deep and spiritual hunt, part 3
Rhaenys did not need to see more visions of the horrible life Rhaella had suffered through, to know how her grandmother had been the victim from the actions of her own family members from the very moment she was born. For all around Rhaenys, she could feel the most common emotions from Rhaella; Resentment against her son and husband, unhappiness over her marriage with no way out despite her few remaining friends and allies trying to help her in many small creative ways behind the back of Aerys, disgust over every child in her womb being sired by her own brother, loneliness as the Kingsguard did nothing to help her…
And an ever present desire to die. Death to escape the living hell Rhaella was trapped into, in the form of being forced to follow a Valyrian custom she hated. Death to escape the horrible memories of Summerhall, and the death of Maegor, whatever she saw Rhaegar. Death to be free from being bedded by her own flesh and blood brother, to be made to carry his children. Death to avoid the reawakening trauma of her first pregnancy and childbirth, whatever her moon blood stopped arriving as a foretelling of a new, unwanted child growing inside her again.
Elia Martell, the fully grown Dornish daughter-in-law who had arrived like a gleam of hope in the darkness, by not being a close relative or too young to become a mother. Sweet Rhaenys, the granddaughter who had nothing of the Targaryen looks which Rhaella had grown to hate over the years. Little Aegon, who matched great-grandfather Maekar in looks so much that he would have been a perfect match if he had been scowling already as a baby.
The news of Rhaegar vanishing with the Stark daughter, humiliating Elia twice and abandoning his own family. Viserys, in childish confusion over everything that was happening, repeating her own words that his sister-in-law was not to blame for the actions of his older brother, that Elia did nothing wrong to deserve what Rhaegar did to her, as she pleaded with him to say the same as she did:
"Elia did nothing wrong. It is Rhaegar who betrayed the marriage vows and abandoned his own family, his legal wife and young children. Elia did nothing wrong. Your brother is the one to blame for all of this. What sort of father and husband brings his own family into danger, by not being there and protecting them?! Elia is not the one to blame for our family losing the Iron Throne! She risked her life twice in the birthing bed to give him Rhaenys and Aegon, nearly dying to have them! Elia did nothing wrong! By running away with that Stark girl, Rhaegar openly showed that he cared nothing for his legal wife and his own children! Rhaegar abandoned them! He abandoned Elia, Rhaenys and Aegon for an ill-behaved, much younger girl who acted as if her betrothed having a natural daughter in the Vale is the worst thing ever to happen and a legal excuse to run away with a married father of two young children herself! Elia did nothing wrong to deserve this heartless treatment from Rhaegar!"
The cup of moon tea she had managed to scrape together, meant to kill the unwanted last child of Aerys in her belly. The overwhelming smell of blood as she began to bleed out alongside the ever so hated pains of labour starting, and then the fateful words which had broken Rhaella once for all:
"It is a princess! A living princess! House Targaryen is blessed with a new daughter!"
The cries of the female child over the storm outside the castle, sounding as if she was mocking Rhaella for holding on for so long to the promise of Maegor that she would not see a daughter wed to Rhaegar or another brother…
"Elia...! Rhaenys! Aegon! Please...help...Maegor…"
And then finally the long-awaited darkness of death.
Rhaenys did not care that she was openly crying, but she was crying on behalf of Rhaella, who had died in despair and desperation for any confirmation that her daughter-in-law and young grandchildren were safe, after vanishing from the Red Keep during the Sack of King's Landing.
"It is time to end this madness of House Targaryen. To end the name itself, and everything you built up over the past centuries. To end the illusions of glory. the self-justitations for actions that hurt others….Morgan, remove the eyes of Jaehaerys and Shaera as punishment for their blindness about their daughter and her true self. Their ears that refused to hear her pleading to not be married to her own brother. The tongues, which they used to tell lies about why the marriage "needed" to happen. As they refuse to see, hear and talk the truth while being alive, then they have no use of those senses."
"As you command, Mother."
Even as a ghost, Morgan Martell had no problems with using raw strength and a simple dagger to do her request. Some things were better to do without magic, no matter how tempering it may feel. Rhaenys smirked to the sounds of anguish screaming as her past-life son made this seem like an art form that would have made Khamûl proud of his grandson, for sure. With their looks now matching Aerys once the maiming was done, no one could say that Jaehaerys and Shaera looked like they were not normal humans anymore. Too bad that she could not let them view themselves into a mirror or something such anymore, without their eyes.
"I think I know the perfect way to make a fine blood seal so this portal is closed."
With no regrets, Rhaenys stabbed Aerys straight in the groin with her spear, deliberately straight on what he used to indirectly kill Rhaella several months after his own death.
"You used this "flesh sword" to murder grandmother by knocking her up for the final time with a unwanted child of your seed, Aerys Targaryen. Now this unwanted blood in my own veins will be what I close the portal with."
Forcefully removing the spear from her despised grandfather, father of the man who had sired herself in this new life but never been a true father, and holding the bloody tip up towards the portal, Rhaenys unlocked her full magical power.
"Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken!"
The symbol of House Martell appeared in front of the portal, in the form of the same glowing orange light as the day when she needed to flee to this other world to save the unborn Morgan. But this time, the full force of the magic was actually strengthened, by her blood connection to the past Martell generations over thousands of years. Her own descendants, hailing from Morgan though his children and their offspring. Aerys and his parents were tossed into the middle of the seal by Morgan, into separate glass pyramids serving as their new prisons, as Rhaenys needed to focus on where to aim the magic, and indeed their maimed souls now became a padlock so that the portal could not be opened again.
"Here is a final gift for you three selfish royal brats: You shall forever witness Rhaella in her new life and those lifetimes of her to come after that life, seeing her true self and never be able to torment her again!"
With the power of the previous generations of House Martell, Rhaenys saw how not only was the portal closed above the vulcano, but the very island of Dragonstone and its castle was torn apart as if a powerful earthquake had focused on the island and said nature force coming back to the same starting point.
"An excellent good-bye gift to the parents and brother that ruined the life of your current self's grandmother, Mother. They should enter true madness with time, over not being able to escape the seal and not be able to do anything to make Rhaella a "true" Targaryen princess again."
With one final look on Dragonstone as the island was sinking into the sea, like a symbol for that House Targaryen basically was extinct. She and Aegon refused to have anything with their paternal family anymore, and with how Westeros had to focus on the threat from Sauron, any idea of attempting a Targaryen restoration to the Iron Throne had fallen very low on the to-do list for any possible remaining supporters of the previous royal dynasty.
"Right, not all of the burial urns with the ashes of Targaryens deserve to be sunk into the sea. Apart from grandmother Rhaella, we shall bring Aegon V, for his attempt to save Rhaella from her unwanted life. His youngest son Daeron, who actually gave a true reason to break his betrothal with Olenna, by being drawn to his own gender and not wanting her to be trapped in a childless marriage which would never be consummated. The urn with the ashes of his father Maekar is buried beside his wife Dyanna Dayne at Starfall, and his youngest daughter Rhaelle is buried with the Baratheons at Storm's End, so it will be only those three urns to bring to Dorne."
It took her no effort to separate the urns she wanted to save, and held those into the air around her spiritual self for some moment.
"I think it will be perfect that you will bury those urns in the family grave of Rhaegel Targaryen, his wife Alys Arryn, their three children and their only grandson Maegor at Sunspear, as they all secretly converted to the cult of Mother Rhoyne during their lives and Maegor himself served as a priest for the River Mother. Well, it is a suitable place for those few members of House Targaryen that broke away from their usual views and tried to show themselves as different."
Together, they returned to Dorne and the grave chamber below the Sandship.
~X~X~X~X~X~X
At Helm's Deep, the nightly battle had indeed not gone as hoped for the Orcs and Uruk-Hai. Against the Dornish-Rohirric alliance, and the back-up of wildfire, the number of enemies from Isengard had now sunk to a very low number.
"More oil! More oil and fire arrows over here!"
Thanks to that the wildfire was still burning, the enemies could not come closer to the Hornburg and the wall, except for a few narrow spots between all the sickly green fires, and that was where the defenders now focused on.
"Listen! The war horns of Dorne!"
Indeed, as the sun was rising to greet the new dawn, there were the sounds of horns being blown in the distance.
"Yes," Théoden spoke in a hopeful voice at the sound, "Yes. The Horn of Helm Hammerhand shall sound in the valley...to answer our allies!"
"Yes, my Lord!"
One of the men serving Ekenbrand hurried to carry out the order, and the leaders of the defenders looked at each other.
"We can not lose this battle. For the sake of the younger generation we are fighting to protect from this evil...and those to come!"
As the Orcs were preparing to charge, the sound of the Dornish warhorn arose behind them, like a wind in the distance, and it grew to a clamour of many voices crying strange news in the dawn. The Orcs in the front nearest the wildfires, hearing the forewarning of death, wavered and looked back. And then, sudden and terrible, from the tower above, the sound of the great horn of Helm rang out in response.
"Forth Eorlingas!"
All that heard the sound of the horn trembled. Many of the Orcs cast themselves on their faces and covered their ears with their claws. Back from the Deep the echoes came, blast upon blast, as if on every cliff and hill a mighty herald stood. But on the walls men looked up, listening with wonder; for the echoes did not die. Ever the horn-blasts wound on among the hills; nearer now and louder they answered one to another, blowing fierce and free.
The land had changed as the night passed. Where before the green dale had lain only the evening before, its grassy slopes lapping the ever-mounting hills, there now a forest loomed. Great trees, bare and silent, stood, rank on rank, with tangled boughs and hoary heads; their twisted roots were buried in the long green grass. Darkness was under them. Between the Dike and the eaves of that nameless wood only two open furlongs lay. There now cowered the proud hosts of Saruman, in terror of the king and in terror of the trees. They streamed down from Helm's Gate until all above the Dike was empty of them, but below it they were packed like swarming flies. Vainly they crawled and clambered about the walls of the coombe, seeking to escape. Upon the east too sheer and stony was the valley's side; upon the left, from the west, their final doom approached.
There suddenly upon a ridge appeared a rider, clad in white, shining in the rising sun. Over the low hills the horns were sounding. Behind him, hastening down the long slopes, were a thousand men, both Rohirrim and Dornish, on foot; their swords were in their hands. Amid them strode Harmen Uller, tall and strong despite his age, alongside Ekenbrand. As he came to the valley's brink, the aged Lord of Hellholt set to his lips a great war horn and blew a ringing blast.
"To the spears!"
"Behold the White Rider!" cried Aragorn at the sight, "Gandalf has come again!"
"Mithrandir, Mithrandir!" Legolas called over the battle around him and Gimli as he teamed up back to back with Boromir, "This is wizardry indeed! Come! I would look at this forest, ere the spell changes!"
The hosts of Isengard roared as the new army tore into them like an axe cutting firewood in two, swaying this way and that, turning from fear to fear. Again the horn sounded from the tower. Down through the breach of the Dike charged the former Rohirric king's company. Down from the hills leaped Erkenbrand, lord of Westfold. Down leaped Shadowfax, like a deer that runs sure footed in the mountains. The White Rider was upon them, and the terror of his coming filled the enemy with madness. The wild men fell on their faces before him. The Orcs reeled and screamed and cast aside both sword and spear. Like a black smoke driven by a mounting wind they fled. Wailing they passed under the waiting shadow of the trees; and from that shadow none ever came again.
So it was that in the light of a fair morning Théoden and Gandalf the White Rider met again upon the green grass beside the Deeping-stream. There was also Aragorn son of Arathorn, Boromir of Gondor and Legolas the Elf, and Erkenbrand of Westfold, and the lords of the Golden House. About them were gathered the Rohirrim, and their Dornish allies: wonder overcame their joy in victory, and their eyes were turned towards the wood.
Suddenly there was a great shout, and down from the Dike came those who had been driven back into the Deep. There came Gamling the Old, and Éomer son of Éomund, and beside them walked Gimli the dwarf. He had no helm, and about his head was a linen band stained with blood; but his voice was loud and strong.
"Forty-two, Master Legolas!" he cried in pride at the sight of the Elf, "Alas! My axe is notched: the forty-second had an iron collar on his neck. How is it with you?"
"You have passed my score by one," answered Legolas, trying to not be too alarmed over the injury Gimli had gotten, "But I do not grudge you the game, so glad am I to see you on your legs!"
"Welcome, Éomer, dearest sister-son!" said Théoden in clear relief at not having lost another close family member to death, "Now that I see you safe, I am glad indeed. For this is exactly that kind of news I wish to bring back to Edoras."
"Hail, fedra," Éomer responded with a light bow on his head, "The dark night has passed and day has come again. But the day has brought strange tidings."
He turned and gazed in wonder, first at the strange wood that seemed to have sprung out of nowhere overnight and then at Gandalf with a glare that was all Morwen.
"Once more you come in the hour of need, unlooked-for," he said.
"Unlooked-for?" said Gandalf, "I said that I would return and meet you here."
"But you did not name the hour, nor foretell the manner of your coming. Even with our Dornish allies, strange help you bring to this valley. You are mighty in wizardry, Gandalf the White!"
"That may be. But if so, I have not shown it yet. I have but given good counsel in peril, and made use of the speed of Shadowfax. Your own valour has done more, and the stout legs of the Westfold-men marching through the night."
Then they all gazed at Gandalf with still greater wonder. Some glanced darkly at the wood, and passed their hands over their brows, as if they thought their eyes saw otherwise than his.
"None in the Martell family have yet mastered the ability to make a full forest spring out from seeds in the ground overnight," Oberyn informed with all the seriousness he could master as a not-ruling Prince of Dorne. To this, Gandalf laughed long and merrily despite the glares on him.
"The trees?" the White Wizard said, "Nay, I see the wood as plainly as do you. But that is no deed of mine, nor that of House Martell. It is a thing beyond the counsel of the wise. Better than my design, and better even than my hope the event has proved."
"Then if not yours or theirs, whose is the wizardry?" Théoden wondered, "'Not Saruman's, that is plain. Is there some mightier sage, of whom we have yet to learn?"
"It is not wizardry, but a power far older," Gandalf responded: "a power that walked the earth, ere elf sang or hammer rang.
Ere iron was found or tree was hewn,
When young was mountain under moon;
Ere ring was made, or wrought was woe,
It walked the forests long ago."
None of them really felt for trying riddles right now, so it was rather welcomed to hear Griff call as he came running from the Hornburg after using a smaller portal to arrive there:
"Éomer! Éomer! Come over to the Old Palace through the portal! There is someone waiting to meet you!"
For a moment, no one caught the meaning, before it dawned on the Third Mashal what the younger boy ment.
"Hold on, you can not possibly mean...tonight?! In the middle of this battle?! Oh, she is going to never let me forget this, risking my life in battle while she gives birth!"
Dashing back to the Hornburg with his uncle also realizing what had happened, Éomer seemed to have forgotten any tiredness from a sleepless night.
~X~X~X~X~X~X
In the Old Palace, Lothíriel had just gotten her body washed clean after the birth, as well having other after-birth checkings to ensure that the placenta had come loose as it should and other things that would prevent unpredictable problems.
"Look, Rhaenys looks like she is completely enchanted despite this child not being her own or a new close relative," Mellario said at noticing how Rhaenys was holding the baby in her arms, and that she would not tear her eyes away from the little face.
"You are loved," the oldest daughter of Elia whispered in a voice thick of emotions, "You are loved. You are longed-for. You will never be hurt again."
She was repeating almost the exact same words Rhaella had spoken to her infant self and to Aegon, when she met her two grandchildren. The words the last Targaryen queen consort had said to show herself as different from her brother-husband and his displeasure over how they took after Elia.
You are loved.
"Lothíriel! Are you alright?!" a voice called over the sound of heavy, running footsteps towards the birth chamber. Once he showed up at the door, Éomer was indeed a sight, covered in blood and other signs of coming straight from a battlefield without giving himself a moment to change out of his armor.
"You look like you are the one entering the world from the womb," Lothíriel could not help but comment with a tired smile, for her husband was no stranger to help the mares giving birth to their valuable foals and if he only removed the armour, he did indeed look like he had been out in the stables to help in a such situation.
"Being greeted by a blood-covered father is only fitting for a battle-born child," Rhaenys added in, raising from where she had been sitting with crossed legs on some pillows and walking over to hand Éomer his firstborn child. The baby was not yet swapped, only covered with the soft cotton blanket, and this detail allowed the new father to feel the baby all the better in his arms. Yet, he did not seem that upset when Lothíriel told him that they had been blessed with a daughter tonight.
"Elfhilda," Éomer managed to say in wonder as he looked at the baby girl in his arms, "after the mother of my cousin, who never got to wear the crown of a queen at the side of her husband. Elfhilda, the Battle-born and bringer of hope."
The name of her new self seemed to be what the soul of Rhaella inside the baby needed to hear, as well Éomer thanking Lothíriel for a such beautiful daughter that was indeed a bringer of hope for the future. Not doing anything to stop it from happening, Rhaenys felt how the last trace of her grandmother's self vanished with a faint smile of gratitude, leaving the baby a blank state to start over in this new life. At least, Rhaella Targaryen was at peace, free from her former life and able to break free from the horrors she had lived with.
"You are loved," she repeated almost soundlessly to the reincarnation of her grandmother, knowing that Elfhilda deserved all the love and care from this set of parents that was so different from Jaehaerys II and Shaera Targaryen. Rhaella had deserved better, much better than the horrible life she had suffered, and this new life for her was long overdue, she had only needed to be born to the right couple.
~X~X~X~X~X~X
Author note: the flashback of Rhaella repeating "Elia did nothing wrong" to a young Viserys at Dragonstone is meant as how I headcanon this Rhaella's most likely reaction to book!Daenerys asking "Did the Dornish woman treat him so ill?" to Barristan. Short answer: Rhaella would NOT be happy over a such question or hearing Elia be referred to as the "Dornish woman", especially if Daenerys indirectly sounds like Aerys and his racist comments
In my story "Suns and dragons" on AO3 that focus on the generations between Daeron II and Aegon V up to the Tragedy of Summerhall, I have the headcanon that Rhaegel Targaryen, third son of Daeron and Myriah, and his wife Alys Arryn converted to the faith of Mother Rhoyne because all three of their children was born in Dorne and their other, failed attempts of having children felt as if the Seven did not listen to their prayers. Maekar Targaryen also secretly preferred Mother Rhoyne, as his wife Dyanna Dayne was a member of this faith too.