you were my crown (now i'm in exile) || ASOIAF

second, third, and hundredth chances pt 2

Author's Note: Heyy guys, as I was writing this chapter I realized that it was just a continuation of the previous chapter. So I decided to upload this chapter as chapter four for now but once I have chapter five written (elia's pov) I'll add this chapter to chapter three to make everything more cohesive.

Enjoy and sorry for any mistakes.

---

He jolted awake, his silver hair sticking to his forehead, drenched in a sheen of cold sweat. His breathing was labored, each inhale and exhale coming in ragged bursts as he struggled to regain composure. As he surveyed his surroundings, a sense of recognition washed over him.

These were his chambers; the wall adorned with portraits was a familiar sight, and the realization dawned on him. I'm in the Red Keep.

Confusion etched his face as he instinctively clutched his chest, where the memory of Robert's war hammer lingered. Yet, there was no pain to be found.

How had he come to be here?

You shall walk the realm of the living, see again the lives that you doomed, and bear the guilt of your deeds, the words rushed back to him, as he remembered everything, the God's and their cruel judgment.

No, I don't want this, he yearned to cry out, but his throat constricted, rendering him speechless.

He looked around again. The room's windows revealed a world bathed in daylight, and as Rhaegar's eyes were met with the sight of the sun, its golden rays stirred memories of another kind of warmth. It was the warmth of Elia Martell, his wife, the woman he cherished more than life itself. Her grace, her kindness, her unwavering support, all flooded back into his thoughts.

A sadness welled up inside him, and his heart ached with a heavy weight. Now knowing that he had played a part in her demise, the guilt gnawed at his conscience, like a relentless beast clawing at his very soul.

The thought of Elia's gentle smile, the sound of her laughter, the touch of her hand, they all combined into a wave of emotion that threatened to drown him. Panic seized him as he remembered her face, her voice, her love, and how he had allowed it all to slip through his fingers.

Tears welled in his eyes, and he clutched his chest in agony, struggling to breathe as the weight of his choices, his actions, bore down on him. It was a torment he couldn't escape, and he was left with the agonizing knowledge that he had not only lost the love of his life but had been complicit in her suffering and ultimate tragedy.

Rhaegar's distress was interrupted by a sudden knock at the door. He jumped, startled by the unexpected sound. With trembling hands, he tried to regain his composure as he wiped away the tears that had welled in his eyes.

"Enter," he called out, his voice quivering.

The door creaked open, and there stood Ser Lewyn Martell, a sight that left Rhaegar utterly speechless. He had vividly remembered the older man dying at the Trident.

"Lewyn," Rhaegar stammered, "I— I thought you— you died at the Trident,"

The knight's brow furrowed in confusion. "My Prince, I stand before you in the flesh," he said with a concerned expression. "I knocked because I was worried. Last night, you retired early because of a terrible headache. It's well past midday now, and you've yet to leave your chambers. Should I fetch the maester?"

He remained silent, remembering the words spoken to him again. You shall walk the realm of the living, see again the lives that you doomed, and bear the guilt of your deeds. Your atonement will be a lifetime of remorse, and your redemption, if it is to be found, will be through the actions you take in this world, those words echoed in his thoughts. Suddenly, a revelation pierced through him.

He had initially believed that the Gods had given him the chance to witness the destruction he had wrought, to confront the consequences of the war he had recklessly ignited. But now, a different understanding emerged. They desired him to live once more, to experience life anew and determine if he was a man fated to repeat his past mistakes. They were to discern whether he possessed the restraint to avoid shattering the lives of those he held dear, no longer fueled by an arrogant belief in his superiority.

"Prince Rhaegar," Ser Lewyn called out once more, breaking his thoughts.

"No," Rhaegar responded firmly.

"My Prince?" The knight replied, his confusion evident.

Rhaegar pushed himself up from his bed, standing resolutely. "There's no need to disturb Maester Pycelle. I'm perfectly fine," he assured the concerned knight.

He could sense the Kingsguard's readiness to argue, but Rhaegar insisted, "I am truly well,"

With a nod from the knight, Ser Lewyn began to withdraw silently.

"Where is Elia?" Rhaegar raised his voice to ensure he had Ser Lewyn's full attention.

Lewyn Martell turned around, his face reflecting shock and bewilderment. "Pardon," he responded.

"Elia, my wife, where is she?" Rhaegar repeated urgently as he hastily donned a tunic.

"Well," the older man began, his words stumbling as Rhaegar waited patiently, slipping into new trousers. "She's in Dorne,"

Rhaegar halted, one leg in the trousers, the other hanging out as he absorbed what Lewyn had said.

"Why is she in Dorne?" Rhaegar couldn't recall Elia ever journeying to Dorne alone during their marriage.

The knight appeared taken aback. "Why is she in Dorne— well, that's her home," he replied.

Growing increasingly frustrated, Rhaegar said, "Yes, I know, but she lives here—" biting off the rest of his statement.

"Is Viserys with my mother?" Rhaegar inquired abruptly.

The knight, still wearing a puzzled expression, responded, "Of course,"

With this information Rhaegar now grasped the reason for Elia's absence. We haven't been betrothed yet, he realized. When Aerys had proclaimed the betrothal between Elia and himself, he had simultaneously taken Viserys under his wing, rarely allowing the young prince out of his sight, even keeping him from Rhaella. If Viserys was with their mother, then it meant Elia was not in the Red Keep.

"I need a moment," Rhaegar told Lewyn, the knight stiffly nodded and left.

Rhaegar let out a sigh, his thoughts swirling. What should I do now?

He pondered his options. Elia was not with him, and the desire to see her again tugged at his heart. But then, what would come next? He couldn't just show up in Sunspear and carry her off to Kings Landing.

The need to have Elia by his side, to have their family complete with Rhaenys and Aegon, weighed heavily on Rhaegar's heart. He longed for the warmth of their love, the laughter of Rhaenys, and to hold Aegon once more.

But as he considered the prospect, doubt overcame him. He remembered how he had taken away her future once, how his actions had shattered her dreams and subjected her to hardship and pain. He couldn't bear the thought of inserting himself back into her life, disrupting the peaceful existence she could have without him.

Rhaegar felt a tear leave his lavender eyes, and made a difficult decision. This time, he would let Elia live the life she had always desired and deserved. He would let her be happy, even if it meant they would never be together again. The love he held for her, and the love for their children, would remain within his heart as a bittersweet memory, a tribute to the life they might have had, but never could because he believed himself to be a God.