"It's been nearly a week!" Rhaegar exclaimed as he wrung his hands nervously, fretful energy bubbling in his veins like wildfire, "She's not woken up once, Kinvara. I can barely get her to eat or drink. She was already so thin when she came here, she's blatantly not been eating properly for a while. I know something isn't right and yet you expect me to just sit here and wait for Drogon. We need to do more and you know it! I won't just sit here and let her waste away…"

Kinvara sighed. No, he wouldn't. He wouldn't just wait. Like she'd told him to. That wasn't Rhaegar's way. He had spent the whole of the past week by Daenerys's side. Feeding her, giving her water, holding her hand, reading stories to her, hugging her to his side whenever she had a nightmare. Yet, she still hadn't opened her eyes once since she'd been brought back to life in that terrible way.

Kinvara knew this could happen sometimes. That whilst the body could heal quickly, it could take the mind several weeks or even months to full heal. She didn't know how long that would take, she couldn't give her friend the reassurance that he deserved and it was tearing him apart.

"I'm sorry," Rhaegar said, "I'm not mad at you. I'm just… she has suffered. Daenerys had suffered and… I want to make it right."

"You have," Kinvara tried to assure him, "You sent Drogon to find this Jon Snow she talk about in her sleep. I trust he will find him. Have faith."

Rhaegar sighed, "I wish I could. R'hllor hasn't failed me yet but… I think she was tortured or imprisoned. Look at her, look at how small she is. I'm her brother, I can't just sit by and not avenge her death."

"Rhaegar!" Kinvara snapped, "You are not a vengeful man. You are not your father. I know you want to do right by her but you won't do that by going after whoever killed her the minute you can get that information out of her. I know you want justice for her but… not like that."

"I want her to survive," Rhaegar said, before slamming his hands down, "For goodness' sake! Have we not heard anything about Viserys? Has he really not learnt anything from the mother that bore us about the importance of family? Fire and blood- it was not about carnage. It was about Old Valyria, our home. The fire of the Doom and our dragons, and blood- that which binds us, that which makes us stronger. We were the only family to survive the Doom, we have a dragon, we are strong. And I will not let him abandon his sister like a coward…"

Kinvara rolled her eyes but didn't let her friend see. She hated it when he went off on one like this about symbolism and family history. Yes, Rhaegar had been bookish since birth and his mind preferred allegories and metaphors to straightforward phrases, and that was ok, some men were made like that. They were great poets and singers, much like Rhaegar had been before his fall at the Trident. But it unnerved her when he spoke like that, it made him sound too much like his father for her liking. She knew now that no madness lived in his bones, and that when he spoke like that it was nothing more than overzealous idealism, but it still riled her. It didn't do him any favours- still too many men saw him as a Targaryen first, and melancholy Rhaegar second.

Yet, she could forgive him being this way right now. Filled with worry and anger as much as he was. She had no siblings but she felt she could still understand on some level- Rhaegar was her brother in the priesthood and the closest she'd ever had to a brother besides. If he'd been there, lying still and unresponsive for little over a week she'd be besides herself too. And she knew on some level, that she'd likely be wishing for R'hllor to scorn the man who'd hurt him too.

"We will find him," Kinvara reassured him, "I'm sure he will have a good explanation. Or Daenerys will."

"It's been years since we've heard anything about him," Rhaegar said, "Ever since they were travelling to Vaes Dothrak. Then nothing. I fear he is gone. He was never all that strong. He wasn't sickly like the others but he did always clutch to mother's side. Always was overemotional. I could never imagine him fighting in battle or standing by father's side as he attended council meetings. I always feared for him. For both of them."

Rhaegar ran his hand over Daenerys's silver hair but she did not respond.

In sleep, she looked so peaceful. So delicate. She had been changed into a light blue nightdress and her hair was loose except a single braid which wound its way around crown of her head. She was completely relaxed, and free from her royal dress and many braids she looked like the young woman that she actually was, only a few years out of childhood. She looked carefree, despite the storm that was no doubt still racing in her mind.

Rhaegar took one of Daenerys's tiny hands in both of his larger ones.

"Dany, please," he began to beg, "Please wake up. Please."

Kinvara struggled to hold back tears. The begging was the worst.

"I will have them pray again tonight," Kinvara told him, "And I will fast and meditate on the fires again. But I doubt I will see much more than Drogon's flight."

Rhaegar nodded, tears glistening in his eyes, "Thank you, my friend."

Later that night, Kinvara knelt before the fires, her eyes closed, the light casting reddish dancing shadows on her closed eyelids as she spoke her prayer.

Daenerys. Please let her wake up, and soon, before she broke her brother's heart.

She was half-way through the third repetition of her prayer, when she heard the clunking noise on the roof and then a familiar scratching.

Smiling, she stood up quickly and made her way to the doors of the temple, flinging them wide open.

A dark haired man approached. He wore clothes better suited for the frozen north. He sported a long, dark beard and his face was pale and haggard.

The dragon beside him, scales as dark as the night that surrounded him, gave the priestess a triumphant grin.

"Jon Snow," Kinvara began, "We have been expecting you."