Chapter 70 - The Coronation (V)

"A mother's love is precious, thank your mother for having it, many don't." Tyrion Lannister, looking at a painting of his mother at the age of twelve.

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Looking at the field of winter flowers before him, Aenar felt at peace. Surrounded by blue flowers, he allowed himself a moment of tranquillity. However, a presence behind him interrupted his serenity. There was something or someone behind him. The air carried the scent of winter flowers, a slightly sweet, faint and delicate smell.

Turning around, Aenar came across a young woman. She looked no older than sixteen. Her long black hair framed a delicate face, and her gray eyes, deep and naturally free, reminded him of a wolf.

Aenar held his breath at the sight of her. Yes, he had to find her before he became king. Otherwise, he would never find peace. What he was about to do would tear through the continent of Westeros like a butcher's knife.

Lyanna looked at the tall young man in front of her and couldn't contain her surprise. He looked incredibly like her husband, so much so that for a moment she thought that perhaps Rhaegar had a twin brother.

However, something sparked in her memory, and her face revealed a stunned expression. Despite her trembling legs, Lyanna stepped forward and held his face with both hands.

"Aenar?" She asked, her voice trembling with the incredulity of the moment.

"How did you find out?" Aenar asked, curious. Apart from his appearance, there were no clues linking him to her. After all, Lyanna had only held him for a few seconds before death overtook her.

"Your eyes... your beautiful eyes," Lyanna replied, as she hugged him tightly, as if she never wanted to let go.

"I'm sorry, I'm really sorry for not being by your side. I'm sorry I didn't hold you when you were sad. I'm sorry for not comforting you when you needed it most. There are so many 'I'm sorrys' that I can never forgive myself."

Every word Lyanna uttered carried an immense weight of sadness and regret.

"Don't worry, I never blamed you for anything." Aenar wrapped Lyanna's trembling figure in a hug and replied in a gentle, serene voice. "I just thank you for bringing me into the world."

For him, as a son, it mattered little that Lyanna and Rhaegar's actions had led to the ruin of House Targaryen in Westeros. No dynasty was eternal, but his would be.

With a delicate gesture, Aenar lifted Lyanna's face, making her look at him, and spoke in the softest tone he could manage: "Because of that, you are the best mother in the world."

The sixteen-year-old stared at him, stunned. She had never imagined hearing something like this from her son, especially after leaving him behind, without a mother or father, to protect himself.

"Really? You don't think I'm a horrible mother?" Lyanna asked, struggling to believe what she had just heard.

Aenar smiled, finding her reaction charming. She didn't look like a married woman, but rather a girl still unprepared for motherhood.

"How could I blame you? I saw you bring me into the world, even knowing the difficulties of childbirth. I saw you kiss my forehead and wish me safe, even in your last breath. There's nothing you do that could make me hate you." Aenar's words brimmed with pride, making it clear how much he admired Lyanna.

Tears streamed uncontrollably down her face. Lyanna tried to wipe them away, but they seemed inexhaustible.

Patiently, Aenar hugged her again, helping her to calm down. As he gently wiped away some of the tears on his mother's face, he spoke in a gentle tone: "I will be crowned king in a few minutes and, after the coronation, my wedding will take place."

Aenar's words made Lyanna's eyes widen. She had barely met her son and now he was going to be "taken" by a woman she didn't even know.

Sensing the dissatisfaction on his mother's face, Aenar almost laughed, but remained serious as he continued: "I will be crowned in Volantis. Then I'll invade Westeros in full force. I will tear that continent in half, bringing death, fear and hope to those people."

Lyanna's gaze quickly changed to concern. It wasn't the war itself that frightened her, but the possibility of losing her son to it. Rhaegar had said goodbye in a similar way, and he had never returned. Ever since, she had hated goodbyes.

"Why don't you stay in Volantis and rule the city?" Lyanna tried to persuade him, but the determination in Aenar's eyes silenced her. The words she wanted to say were stuck on her lips.

She recognized that look. It was the same look Rhaegar had when he had decided something irrevocable.

"Why do you have to act like your stupid father? I should have listened to Ellia and beaten Rhaegar unconscious in a saddle." Lyanna muttered to herself, her expression laden with regret. If she had done that, her husband would still be alive, and the chances of her son still being a prince would be much greater.

Aenar's lips twitched unnaturally when he heard his mother's whisper. He knew that Lyanna was not an easy woman, but he hadn't imagined that she would be so bold.

And, from her words, it seemed that Queen Ellia shared a similar mindset. He wondered how his father had managed to deal with two seemingly gentle women with impressive ferocity.

As he reflected, Aenar felt someone trying to rouse him and knew that the coronation was about to begin. Aenar smiled confidently and replied: "I'm going, mother."

"Will we meet again?" Lyanna asked with a reluctant expression, clearly dreading the separation. She wanted to be with him forever, protecting him as a mother, making sure he wasn't deceived by some woman with bad intentions.

"Yes, I'll send your conscience to visit two incredible women." Aenar replied with a soft laugh. The thought of his mother next to Queen Visenya I and Queen Rhaenys I brought him a pleasant feeling. He knew that the three women would get along very well.

Before Lyanna could say anything, Aenar leaned over and kissed her forehead tenderly. She felt her consciousness slowly fade, but her last sight was of her son's gentle face.

When he opened her eyes, Aenar was back in the room. He was still sitting in the chair where he had fallen asleep. In front of him, Visenya was looking at him with concern.

"Are you tired, Aenar? Do you want to postpone the coronation for a few hours?" Visenya asked, her voice laden with tenderness, the concern clearly evident in her gaze.

"No, it was just a dream I needed to have before I was crowned." Aenar replied as he stood up. His clothes, carefully prepared, were the definition of luxury.

He wore an entirely red suit. Two Valyrian steel rings adorned his ring fingers. His hair, which usually fell over his shoulders, was combed back, highlighting his face.

A dark doublet with the red coat of arms of House Targaryen embroidered on the chest hugged his body tightly, and he wore black leather gloves. Lady Lya, his sword, was firmly sheathed at his waist.

He exuded an elegant aura, regal yet capable of making anyone unable to look away from him. At that moment, he was the sun and all the others were planets orbiting around him.

Even Visenya, used to Aenar's presence and beauty, couldn't help but be mesmerized. If there was anyone worthy of the title of king, it was him. Aenar was the embodiment of what everyone imagined as an ideal ruler.

"Am I presentable, my queen?" Aenar asked in an amused tone, noticing the intense, passionate look she was giving him. It fed his ego. After all, what man wouldn't want to be looked at like that by his wife?

"You look perfect. You'll charm all the women here." Visenya replied, but Aenar caught a note of jealousy in her voice.

He laughed, a low, magnetic laugh, his voice tinged with kindness. "Believe me, you look more stunning than ever."

He wasn't lying. Visenya was wearing a red and gold dress that hugged her slender body perfectly, highlighting her delicate curves. Her hair was tied up in an impeccable bun, while a necklace adorned with rubies glittered on her graceful neck.

"I'll make sure I don't gouge out the eyes of the men who look at you with lust." Aenar joked, a touch of humor in his voice, drawing a laugh from Visenya.

"No blood on your coronation day." Visenya replied, as she carefully adjusted a detail of her clothing, making sure everything was perfect.

"I won't promise that won't happen." Aenar laughed, wondering if there was a madman who would get in the way of his coronation. There was nothing in the Prescience that had shown that, but he had never trusted the Prescience entirely. As he watched millions of timelines, he understood that fate was unpredictable and he could only navigate the calmest waters with the help of his skill.

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