In the end Daenerys had simply flown away on Drogon, leaving everyone behind her. It was for the best, otherwise Tyrion would have feared for a second bloodbath, only this time between two dragons and two sisters. He took over the management of the supplies and prisoners, taking charge where Rhaena did not. She took over the leadership of the Dothraki, ordering them to gather up the horses and their spoils as well as their wounded, herding them together as she rode upon a beautiful cremello horse with hair so fine and translucent, it would appear golden one moment then silvery white the next. One of the Dothraki had given the horse to her as a gift from the spoils collected in the aftermath of the battle. She rode it bareback and without reins, earning thorough approval from the Dothraki who shrieked and whooped as she rode amongst them, Rhaegal flying overhead. Upon their return to Dragonstone, they still had yet to speak of what happened. Instead Rhaena, who had claimed both men who had been sentenced to die by her sister as her own prisoners of war, had them placed in the dungeons without her sister's knowledge or approval. Rhaena had learned that their names were Lord Randyll Tarly and his son, Dickon Tarly. The name sounded familiar, but Rhaena could not immediately place why. She locked them into a cell together, and ordered for them to be fed and treated well before leaving. "My lady." She stopped and looked back. Dickon had been the one to address her, stripped of his armour and washed clean of the ash which had previous encased him. He was a fine looking man. "I offer my thanks."
"For what? I might have saved your lives, but you are still prisoners. I cannot guarantee I can save you a second time." Turning herself in order to look upon the young man, Rhaena still puzzled upon where she recognised the name. "So I would keep your thanks where they might otherwise be wasted. Stay quiet and do not make a fuss. Perhaps once the war is over, you may return to your own holdfast and remain there. An unlikely dream, but it is all you shall have to accompany you down here." Then she turned away and left, striding through the keep of Dragonstone in order to find Varys and Tyrion in order to speak with them in concern for her sister. She was not mistaken. It was a madness that possessed her at that moment she decided to burn two men who were unarmed and were guilty of nothing other than refusing to bend the knee. Rhaena found them already in conversation, sitting upon the steps of the throne room when she entered, dressed in flowing grey raiment which made her appear like a swirling storm cloud as she moved, gems of crystal and pearl cut into the shapes of tears adorning her belt of soft leather. Their eyes lifted, heavy with worry and woe. Wordlessly a cup of wine was offered to her and Rhaena gulped it greedily. "She should not have done it." Finally she spoke, voicing what she had been holding back since the moment she had almost witnessed the execution.
"No, dear princess. She should not." Varys agreed gently, offering Rhaena his hand to lead her to the steps so that she might sit down. Tyrion drank heavily from his own cup before speaking, though his words were taut and uncertain.
"All rulers demand that people bend the knee. It's why they're rulers. She gave Tarly a choice. A man who had taken up arms against her. What else could she do?"
"Not burn him alive alongside his son." It was the truth and all of them knew it, yet honour and loyalty demanded at least someone should defend Daenerys's decision. Rhaena could not, reasoning quietly that she should have given them quick and clean deaths. Burning them was simply to make them feel pain and regret their decision, as well as put fear into the hearts of all those who watched.
"I am her Hand, not her head. I can't make her decisions for her."
"That's what I used to tell myself about her father, if you'll pardon me, princess," Varys said quietly, his voice grave and heavily laden with uncertainty. As Rhaena listened and watched him, she wondered if he was now regretting his decision to serve her sister if this was the route she was going to choose. Rhaena could understand wanting your enemies to suffer, perhaps better than anyone, however she could not imagine standing before two men she had never met before, who had never done her any harm themselves, and sentencing them to die simply because they chose to answer to their honour and the oaths they had sworn to the queen currently on the throne. Rhaena simply could not understand the sense in that. What would be next? Would her sister begin burning the citizens and people of King's Landing if they refused to love her? "I found the traitors but I wasn't the one burning them alive. I was only a purveyor of information." Heavy with guilt, Varys took hold of Tyrion's cup and began to drink from it, surprising Rhaena deeply. In all her years of knowing him, Rhaena had never seen him in such a manner of attitude. "It's what I told myself when I watched them beg for mercy, I'm not the one doing it. As the pitch of their screams rose higher, I'm not the one doing it. When their hair caught fire and the smell of the burning flesh filled the Thone Room, I'm not the one doing it."
"Daenerys is not her father." Tyrion offered weakly, but it was not enough.
"She was today." The words Rhaena spoke hung in the air, the weight of them nearly crushing the breath from their lungs. "But I do not think it is too late to turn her back. It was just a moment…that is all. She is not our father, not truly."
"And she never will be…with the right counsel. You need to find a way to make her listen. Both of you. One is her blood and the other her Hand. If you both cannot convince her to see reason…then I fear this realm is doomed." Varys's words were final and adamant. Rhaena knew that he was right but after what she had seen her sister do, she was not entirely certain that she would ever listen to her council again. By saving Randyll and Dickon Tarly, she had moved against her sister, the Queen. Rhaena was surprised she had not yet commanded her to be taken and thrown into a cell to be dealt with later. One thing was certain. Rhaena now had to begin playing the game once more, something she did not expect she would ever have to do ever again at her sister's side. Now it was once more a game of survival, and she refused to be outplayed by her own sister no matter the love and fondness between them. She would protect Daenerys, even from herself if she must. It was her duty, as sister and subject.
Lifting her head from her own reverie, talk had now turned to the scroll held in Varys's hand, written to Jon Snow and sent from Winterfell. The council was summoned as the news was grave, meaning that the already tense atmosphere did not abate itself with these new words brought upon the raven's wing. Despite the fact that Daenerys and Rhaena were in the same room, neither of them acknowledged one another. Daenerys could not bring herself to look at Rhaena whilst Rhaena simply thought it best to stay out of her sister's line of sight for the time being, though when Jon shared the news that Arya had returned to Winterfell and Bran was confirmed to be alive, she had rushed forwards and completely forgotten about her sister, grasping hold of Jon's eyes as he looked completely overwhelmed. "Is it true? Bran is alive? You are certain? May I read?" Letting the letter slip through his fingers and into Rhaena's grasp, Jon blinked rather dumbly. He thought Bran was dead. They all did. They only knew of Arya because Sansa and Rhaena had brought news of her with them upon their return. As Rhaena read, Daenerys sent a simmering scowl towards her but softened when looking upon Jon, summoning a genuine feeling of gladness for him.
"I'm happy for you," she paused. "You don't look happy."
"Bran saw the Night King and his army marching towards Eastwatch. If they make it past the Wall…"
"The Wall has kept them out for thousands of years. Presumably…" But whatever it was Varys intended to say, Jon spoke over him and announced that he needed to return back home. Everyone looked to him in shock, everyone but Rhaena, who had a mind to go with him. Daenerys stared at him most of all.
"You said you don't have enough men."
"We'll fight with the men we have. Unless you'll join us."
"And give the country to Cersei? As soon as I march away, she marches in." Stepping forwards with an idea, Tyrion suggested that Cersei might be convinced of the truth if evidence was laid before her. At first Jon was apprehensive, because of course, why would a woman like Cersei ever travel North simply she was invited to see a dead army?
"So bring the dead to her." At Tyrion's simple suggestion, Rhaena began to see the possibility. If Cersei could be convinced that the army of the dead were the larger threat to her kingdoms and her position as queen, then she might be persuaded to set aside the war against Daenerys in favour of joining swords against those that would kill all of them without hesitation or care for which side they fought for. Rhaena almost laughed to herself. The Maesters would write the history of such an event to be the most unique and unexpected transpiration of a war within a war to ever be heard of.
"I thought that was what we are trying to avoid."
"We don't have to bring the whole army. Only one soldier." Now everyone began to consider the possibility, deliberating on whether or not such a plan was feasible, to which Jon noted that the first time he ever saw a wight it had been brought into Castle Black from where it had been found beyond the Wall, before they had known it was a wight. Tyrion nodded his head thoughtfully. "Bring one of these things down to King's Landing and show her the truth." Although promising, Varys raised a rather poignant consideration.
"Anything you bring back will be useless unless Cersei grants us an audience and is somehow convinced not to murder us the moment we set foot in the capital." Once again Tyrion had thought it through, though Rhaena did not like the idea of him going into King's Landing to try and speak with his brother Jaime, and have him convince Cersei in their stead. It would be a terrible risk, and Rhaena did not wish to see Tyrion harmed or even killed. It was King's Landing. It was a distinct possibility. The task of smuggling Tyrion into the city of course fell upon the only experienced smuggler in the room. Ser Davos. He agreed to do it, though warned Tyrion that he would be little use in a fight were he to be recognised. Daenerys liked it as little as her sister but did not say so aloud, knowing that this plan was their best and currently their only option to persuade Cersei to agree to an armistice.
"Well, it will all be for nothing if we don't have one of these dead men."
"Fair point. How do you propose to find one?" Much to everyone's surprise, it was the man who had yet to speak who offered his services. Ser Jorah Mormont had returned not long ago, cured of the greyscale which had begun to eat away at his body, and pledged himself into Daenerys's services once more. This time she had not turned him away. Rhaena should have known that Ser Jorah would not have stayed away long after the gods had smiled upon him and sent him a deliverer in the form of Samwell Tarly, the friend of Jon Snow who had originally discovered the use of dragonglass against the White Walkers and the undead. It was only after she heard the name spoken did she remember where she had heard it, and thought of the two prisoners in the cells underneath the keep. They were Samwell's brother and father. Rhaena had felt increasingly glad that she had saved him, and Jon had expressed his gratitude in Samwell's place. He admitted that his friend had little love lost between his father who had banished him to the Wall in order to name Dickon his heir, but at the same time, Samwell would never have wished any harm upon them. There was much to consider and a great many coincidences happening lately, but Rhaena pressed them to the back of her mind as she looked to Ser Jorah Mormont as he decided that he should go north in order to capture a wight, so long as his Queen gave her permission.
"You asked me to find a cure so I could serve you. Allow me to serve you." He implored her though Daenerys was reluctant, even adamant not to send him away once again. In a bid to reassure her, Jon promised that the free folk of the north would help them, that they knew the true North better than anyone else, though Ser Davos argued they would not follow a southerner like Ser Jorah.
"They won't have to." It took a moment for Rhaena to realise Jon's meaning, but once it grasped hold it would not release her like a frozen, iron grip which clutched around her heart. She stared at him.
"Absolutely not. You cannot go, Jon." Ser Davos also protested, though it was Rhaena Jon looked to as he argued.
"I'm the only one here who's fought them. I'm the only one here who knows them." Seeing the terror in her eyes, Jon reached out in order to squeeze her arm, wanting to tell her that he would be alright though it was likely a lie. Envy cut through Daenerys sharply, who bitterly reminded him that she had not given him her permission to leave Dragonstone. She did not know for certain why, but seeing Jon touch Rhaena so easily caused her throat to clench and her stomach to twist with bile. Only after her scathing notice did Jon finally look at her, though his hand lingered upon Rhaena. "With respect, Your Grace, I don't need your permission. I came here knowing that you could have your men behead me or your dragons burn me alive. I put my trust in you, a stranger, because I knew it was the best chance for my people, for all our people. Now I'm asking you to trust in a stranger because it's our best chance." Surprised by the sudden eloquence of Jon's words though perhaps their delivery were still blunt and unrefined, Daenerys considered them for a moment before recognising that Jon was right. She could not keep him here, not unless she wished to become a hypocrite. Having spent time with and conversed with this Jon Snow, she doubted she could force him to stay unless she put him in chains. He would swim back to the mainland if he had to. She was no hypocrite. She was the breaker of chains. So, albeit reluctantly, Daenerys nodded her head in silent acquiescence.