@thesecondmartell
The thought that he eldest, her precious, beautiful firstborn had died at the hand of a usurper was a thought that had to be pushed to the back of her mind. It was near impossible, as she saw his face, eyes devoid of life, in his mind’s eye. She had not truly seen it, but as a mother, she could imagine it.
Every now and again, she had to stop, take a couple of deep breaths, squeeze her eyes shut and wait for the spinning to subside, unsure whether it was caused by her distress over the death of her eldest, or her pregnancy. It was ironic. One life given for another almost.
Instead of mourning though, she was striding from one chamber to the next, instructing her handmaidens and servants what things to pack, and what to leave behind. It was said that now that the Usurper Robert Baratheon had murdered her child, his dog Ned Stark was marching his men to King’s Landing, and Aerys had ordered her packed and leaving before this army could arrive.
With Elia’s son being heir now, Rhaella had begged and pleaded with her husband to allow her to take their good-daughter along with her to Dragonstone, and in the end he had given in. So besides overseeing the packing of her own things, she was also instructing some of the servants to help Elia pack her and her children’s things.
Peering into Elia’s chambers, she saw her good daughter sitting beside the window, Aegon at her feet, Rhaenys in her lap. “How are you doing, my Lady?” Rhaella asked, smiling. “Is everything going well?”