Oh! Do you take requests? Elia/Rhaegar: When Rhaegar comes to see his family one last time before heading to battle with Elia utterly heartbroken with his choice, knowing that he doomed his family to their fates. "The dragon flew away from the burning sun and glided to moon."
This works for me since I get to rag on Rhaegar’s selfishness. Also, raised as she was by the savvy Princess of Dorne, I see Elia as very pragmatic and having received more than a little of Doran’s political training. She was the spare heir for a while there, and she would have been either Lady Lannister (daughter in law to a former Hand of the King and big mover and shaker in Westeros) or Queen of The Seven Kingdoms (self-explanatory). There’s no way the Princess left her unaware and defenseless when it came to politics.
There was a time when Elia had thought her husband might make a decent king. He cut a tall and dashing figure, he was educated and cultured, and he seemed to have a fair share of political acumen. He was courteous and considerate through their wedding night and through the early days of their marriage, affectionate and caring toward their daughter even if those were feelings that didn’t develop between the two of them.
And then he crowned Lyanna Stark at Harrenhal.
The move was gross incompetence at its worst. Yes, she could understand wanting to reward the girl’s cleverness and bravery after he informed her of the identity of the Knight of the Laughing Tree, but to do so recklessly and publicly…that was the beginning of the end. Her silver prince was showing his tarnish.
Then he took the girl.
Rhaegar could have taken any mistress within reason that he saw fit, and she would have turned a blind eye as long as he was discreet. She would have accepted a bastard, as long as Aegon’s position stayed secure. House Targaryen was small, she could understand the need for additional heirs she wasn’t able to provide him. What she couldn’t condone was the way he had gone about it.
Even if he wanted to set her aside and marry the girl, Elia could have swallowed her pride and helped him sort out of a way of dissolving their marriage without completely humiliating her brother (or risking Oberyn’s wrath). He could have written to Lord Stark- the idea of a Lord Paramount’s daughter as Queen was a tempting one, she was sure, one that might be worth the insults and complications that came with breaking a betrothal. Lord Baratheon’s pride could have been soothed, a beautiful bride and a royal boon was sure to have suited.
She could have helped him. Instead, he turned his back on her, their children, and the people of the Seven Kingdoms.
Those lonely months held virtual hostage in the Red Keep, Elia sometimes wept. For herself, for the kingdom, for her children, for her brothers, but especially for Lyanna Stark. She wondered if the poor child actually fancied herself in love, or if Rhaegar had truly took her by force. Either way, a child she was indeed, and Elia wept for the ruin Rhaegar would bring the poor girl.
The day he returned to the capitol was the day she realized he’d given himself over to the same madness that plagued his father. He spoke unabashedly of the child little Lyanna was carrying, of his plans to wed the daughter she birthed to Aegon. He said nothing of his plans to go into battle under his father’s banner, to send the message that Aerys’ tyranny, murder, and violations of feudal rights was lawful. He said nothing, and Elia felt profoundly sick, stifling the urge to tear her children away when he bent to kiss each in turn.
Seven save her, Rhaegar had doomed them all.
(But then Jaime manages to save Elia and the kids, Rhaegar and Robert kill each other, and Elia regents for baby Aegon. The end.)
imagine if the baker street boys epilogue was narrated by mrs hudson
I know you two; and if you come back and live in MY house, I know what you could become. Because I know who you really are. A junkie who solves crimes to get high and the doctor who never came home from the war. Well, you listen to me: who you really are, it MATTERS, I've been trying to tell you all these years. There are two men sitting arguing in a scruffy flat, like they’ve always been there and they always will. The best and wisest men I have ever known. My Baker Street boys. Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson.
Well then? Get on with it, I'll officiate the wedding