Her experience in the brothel was kept a heavily guarded secret, but it was not the last time Rhaena went to see Kaydyn. After waking up that morning and making love one last time, she had left in the early hours and returned before anyone had even realised that she had been missing. After that, she became more of her old self once again. For that she had Kaydyn to thank almost entirely. She braved the day despite the torrents of her emotions tearing away at inside her until nightfall where she would slip away into the darkness and meet with her new lover and have her way with him as she pleased. Sometimes she would let him do as he wanted, but always there was an unspoken understanding that both could tell the other if they did not like something or wished for something different. Their relationship was an honest one, founded entirely upon the physical desire of the body. It was quite a shock for Rhaena to discover that Kaydyn was not a former prostitute and did not actually work at the brothel she had met him in, but was in fact the owner. She had laughed once she had recovered her senses, then kissed him passionately and taken him to her bed once more. She lived for her nights with Kaydyn, for he healed her with each kiss and touch until she did not feel quite so broken as she had the day before.
Daenerys and Sansa were merely glad to see Rhaena recovering from the grief of losing Ser Barristan, seeing her return to her duties and helping her sister rule once more. With the heads of the most prominent and oldest families gathered, it was easier to keep an eye on them, though Rhaena did not understand why Daenerys had decided to marry Hizdahr in order to keep the peace. "He is boring, sister. So utterly dull. You will no doubt come to hate him before you could ever like him, even as a husband." Rhaena stated again as she paced the room whilst her sister prepared to view the first of events of the fighting season. Now that she had reopened the fighting pits, it was expected of her to take part.
"I do not need him to be interesting, I simply need him to play his part. If I marry him then it will benefit the peace of Meereen. We will bridge the gap between us, and order will return as the new ways of things become the new everyday norm." Daenerys explained despite the fact that Rhaena understood exactly why she was marrying Hizdahr, merely thought it a waste of time.
"What of Daario?"
"What of him?"
"Will he remain your lover?" This Daenerys had not entirely decided upon yet. She expected it would be a discussion for her to have with Hizdahr before the wedding. "You know, in Dorne they allow a person to take a paramour. It is a lover who can be publicly acknowledged. Even those who already have spouses may take a paramour, for marriage remains very much a political function rather than a romantic one. Paramours are the truer loves of the person, sometimes if they are unable to marry due to rank and station, a paramour may be the wife or husband of their lover in everything but name. Perhaps Daario can be your paramour." Rhaena suggested as she slowed her pacing to a calmer tempo, thinking things more logically now. "Or perhaps you can simply legalise polygamy. Should you wish it, you can take an entire harem of husbands to order to your bed as you wish. You are queen. You may choose to pass such a law." Now Daenerys laughed, turning in her seat to look at her sister with an arched brow.
"A harem?"
"What? Men have taken harems before, why not a woman? We can also take as many lovers as we might like." Daenerys found it curious that Rhaena was so fixated upon her marrying a man for politics but since there was little more to say on the subject, she chose to ignore any further mention of it. Though truth be told, the idea of a harem was sorely tempting.
"Perhaps I shall do just that. Perhaps I shall introduce matriarchal polygamy so that only a woman may take multiple husbands. Let us see how quickly the men rise in revolt then." Rolling her eyes, Rhaena noted that most men were fools and were far too easy to control. "On that count, sister, I entirely agree. Come. Let us get this farce over with. I do not wish to watch men bloody themselves any longer than I must." Going with her sister, both women met with Hizdahr in order to go to the lower pits where smaller skirmishes would begin for entertainment. Rhaena admitted that she was curious to know how these fights would compare to tourneys, imagining that they might be somewhat similar to the melee though a great deal bloodier. That notion did not excite her at all though Hizdahr insisted that it was necessary despite Daenerys voicing her displeasure. "Sitting through the great games will be bad enough."
"For generations, in the days leading up to the great games, it has been customary for our ruler to make the rounds to the lower pits to pay the fighters there the honour of her presence." The pair sat side by side upon a low chair whilst Rhaena stood to her sister's right a slight step back behind her. Although wearing a dress it was cut in such a fashion that when there was requirement to move dextrously, the multiple slits rose all the way to the belt around her waist but remained closed and unnoticeable whilst remaining still. Paired with the light silver cloak she wore over one shoulder, hiding the sword and the knife at her back, Rhaena was fully prepared to defend herself and protect her sister should anything happen, though she doubted anything would occur here. In any case they had Unsullied guards to protect them. The worst they might expect is a stumbling contestant falling out of the pit ring in their direction. Casting an already bored eye upon the men who presented themselves before Daenerys, Rhaena struggled to fight a yawn as the master came rushing to greet Daenerys and her future husband.
"Your Grace. Your Future Grace. You honour us all." He then ran around to each of the gladiators in order to straighten them up and turn them to face Daenerys, hissing instructions to them before having them speak the traditional greeting.
"We fight and die for your glory, O glorious queen." It seems that was all the ceremony necessary, for soon enough the fighting had begun. It was as gruesome as expected and even Rhaena who had seen her fair share of bloody deaths and gore struggled to observe the massacre of the fighting pit. It was senseless violence to her. Why could they not fight with blunted weapons and wrestle? No one needed to die for the sake of a measly purse and the supposed honour of victory. Her lips pursed in distaste and thought to herself darkly, Ser Barristan would not approve. For it was true. Victory taken through the lives of others held no honour at all.
"I think I've seen enough." Unable to stomach anymore blood, Daenerys rose to her feet with the intention of leaving but was stopped by Hizdahr who grasped at her wrist.
"Your Grace, it's a tradition for the queen to stay until the victor has emerged." Angered, Daenerys informed her future husband that she had already sacrificed enough for his traditions as Rhaena clamped her own hand down upon Hizdahr's shoulder and clenched down tightly until she felt the bone, causing him to whimper and release his hold on Daenerys.
"How dare you presume to halt the queen? You are not her husband yet. Until you are wed you will keep your hands to yourself…or I shall remove them for you." Rhaena warned him sharply, however before she could think of anything else to say that might prove her point, a new fighter had suddenly rushed from the caged area aside from the pits and challenged the final fighters to battle. Soon all spectators were cheering for this lone warrior and even Rhaena could not deny that she favoured him. He spilled no unnecessary blood, knocking out his opponents rather than killing them and did so with a blunt, clean efficiency which clearly demonstrated his skill. All were held in raptures as the final opponents were bested, a man with a ball and chain who was hammered into the ground with a shield before the last fighter was knocked down with his own helmet until finally, the lone victor remained. He stood and turned, approaching the viewing platform whereby the warrior removed his helmet and looked directly at Daenerys. Rhaena did not recognise him and had no way of knowing who he was. However she saw her sister's shoulders tense and heard the tightness in her voice as she eventually ordered the man to be removed from her sight.
"Khaleesi, please, I just need a moment of your time." The man begged so desperately Rhaena could not help but pity him, tilting her head in regard as she wondered at who he might be. He had called her sister Khaleesi. No one else called her that, as far as Rhaena was aware. "I brought you a gift." He struggled against the men who were attempting to take him away even as he declared that he had brought something for Daenerys, but Rhaena was no longer paying attention to the stranger. She was now looking at the little man who was striding across the fighting pit in order to come and stand before the queen as he spoke.
"It's true. He has." Nothing else mattered. Not decorum. Not the spectators. Not even her sister. Rhaena flew like the wind from the platform and in a single leap had cleared half the distance between her and the man who appeared before her as if conjured from her own dreams as Tyrion Lannister himself faltered in his bravado and stared at the image of Rhaena in all her glorious splendour running to him.
"Tyrion!" She shrieked his name as she dove to her knees and captured him in her arms, pressing him against her so tightly he soon found it impossible to breathe, but Tyrion would gladly go without air just to bask in this moment for as long as he could possibly make it last. Rhaena. His Rhaena was alive and looking exceedingly well. So, she had found her way to her sister after all. Tyrion had hoped this was true for now the likelihood that he would be executed was far less likely with Rhaena there to speak for him. In any case, he was thrilled to see her. He had missed her so terribly after she had gone, but now fate had brought them together once more. Nothing could spoil this moment for him. "How are you here? What happened to you Tyrion? You…you have such a thick beard!" Rhaena found herself laughing when she set Tyrion back down once more upon his feet, kneeling in the sand as her fingers touched at the full beard that now adorned Tyrion's face. Oh his face, a huge scar now lay across it, a huge twisted thing given to him in the battle of the Blackwater, according to Bronn as Rhaena recalled. Her fingers traced it delicately as she drank in the sight of her truest friend.
"My dearest Rhaena." Tyrion could barely keep his voice level as he clutched at Rhaena's hands and held them tightly between them, tears threatening to fall as his emotions began to hold sway over him. "You do not have the faintest idea how glad I am to see you." She smiled to him. Gods how he had missed that smile. To see it again was for everything else to fade away into a dim greyness, blurring out of focus so that only she and that smile were all Tyrion could look upon. Leaning forwards Rhaena kissed at his cheeks and pressed her brow against his, still ignoring everyone else around them for they did not matter. At present, there was only she and him. "I have so much to tell you."
"And I you. No matter what it took to come here, you may now rest easy. Nothing will harm you, not whilst I live and breathe. You are safe Tyrion. On that count, you have my word." Taking his hand in hers Rhaena rose to her feet in order to turn and face her sister, bringing Tyrion with her in order to present him to Daenerys and pointedly announce that Tyrion was now her personal guest and that he was to be treated with respect and any harm made to him would be repaid tenfold. Daenerys hardly knew where to look. She glanced between the dwarf whom her sister had boldly claimed as one of her own people and the traitorous knight she had already sent away once. She could not do this here. Not to be witnessed by so many outsiders. Drawing herself up, Daenerys ordered both Ser Jorah and Tyrion the Imp to be brought before her in the audience chamber, where she might have a little time to compose herself before facing what promised to be another impossible decision.