When Rhaena came to face her sister again, all animosity between them was lost. They fell into one another's embrace, and it was in her arms Daenerys finally wept without anyone else to see. Rhaena held her sister and did not slacken her grip, sharing in their grief for they both had loved Viserion. Now he was gone, and all they could do was mourn and promise vengeance for him. At the very least they had not failed in their mission, though when Rhaena looked upon the wight she thought it an unfair trade of Viserion's life for a single undead creature. Rhaena did not dare allow herself to look upon it again. She did not trust that she would not kill it. Instead, she kept as far away from it as she could and attempted to distract herself by other means such as sitting on her sister's council once again, offering advice and suggestions in how to deal with Cersei, as they were now sailing for King's Landing in order to proceed with the negotiations for an armistice. Not knowing how she might react to return to the city she had fought so desperately to escape, Rhaena spent many of her nights sleepless. Did Cersei sleep peacefully? Did she dream sweetly after making love to her brother, wrapped in silk sheets and in each other's arms? Rhaena hoped not. She prayed that Cersei stared at the canopy of her bed each night fearing the day they came face to face once again. The last Cersei had seen her, Rhaena had been little more than a child. Now she was a woman grown and stronger than ever before. Cersei herself could no longer do her any harm, nor threaten her with her knights and soldiers. Now it was Rhaena who was superior, because what Cersei retained through money and fear, Rhaena fully intended to take from her with fire and blood. Before that, however, they still needed Cersei. Without her and her armies, their chances of surviving the Long Night grew ever smaller. It was risky, but considering the manner in which Daenerys and Rhaena had chosen to arrive, she did not imagine they had any reason to feel afraid.

They flew to the dragonpit on the backs of their dragons, though the sky felt a little emptier now that Viserion was not at their wing. Rhaena found herself looking for him sometimes before reminding herself that he was not coming back. There was no miracle that would close the hole in his throat as his fire and blood bled from him. Perhaps after the wars were over, they might be able to go back and pull his body from the lake somehow and sail him back to Dragonstone to lay him to rest, or perhaps somewhere more beautiful. The thought was Rhaena's only comfort, but even this she pushed aside as Rhaegal and Drogon roared as they glided over the dragonpit, circling so that those below could see their terrifying glory. Drogon landed first, baring his fangs and raising his voice as he lowered himself so that Daenerys could dismount before flying away once more. Rhaegal then landed behind Daenerys, fins rippling as he chittered with a blazing glare directly at Cersei. On his back, Rhaena drew in a deep breath before also dismounting. She had taken great care with her appearance that morning, wanting to appear before Cersei in the image of a princess and not the lowly beggar she had often appeared owing to her good graces. The scratchy tunics and roughspun dresses were gone, and in their place Rhaena wore a flowing raiment of pure white. When walking the fabric rose behind her and exposed her leather clad legs, diamonds glinting upon her belt of silver where Whitefyre lay with her dragon horn. Although dressed simply, the fabric spoke of its own quality with the onyx, jade and gold dragonhead broach clasped at her shoulder where it held the luxurious indigo cloak gifted to her by Varys, the silver coronet crowning her head. Her heart ached to think of the golden dragon she bore, but Rhaena did not allow any grief or pain to show. Her injuries had been treated and were healing well, none of them deep enough to be mortal, but they did cause discomfort and would have killed her eventually if they had been left to bleed. Her own fire had sealed the wounds, saving her life.

Behind her Rhaegal blew hot her against her as if to comfort her, growling softly as he lowered his head to her and leaned into her touch. Daenerys had already ascended the steps and taken her seat, leaving only Rhaena. Taking her first step forwards, her eyes found Cersei's the moment they were in sight of one another. Rhaegal remained behind her, walking forwards with her one step at a time with a snarl or growl every now and then. A seat had been prepared for her, but Rhaena did not take to it immediately. Instead, she continued to walk forwards. It was inevitable that they would meet again, and Rhaena wanted to look Cersei in the eye and see her face. Her guards moved to block her, going for their swords but a single snarl from Rhaegal made them freeze, watching carefully as Rhaena came to a halt directly before Cersei. She was dressed in black, tightly enclosed in sable all the way to her throat. Gone were the luxurious dresses of green, crimson or gold that exposed her fine figure. Gone were her golden tresses that she had once taken such pride in. Her hair was cut short though it now bore a slim crown wrought of gold. Rhaena almost laughed. This was the woman she had spent years fearing? She seemed small, and as she stared at Rhaegal behind her, Rhaena saw little else other than fear dressed behind obstinate indifference. Cersei was just like any other woman, and as of this moment, she was entirely at Rhaena's mercy. If she asked it of him, Rhaegal would burn them all. It was a temptation almost too much to resist, but considering there was more at stake than Rhaena's desire for revenge, she held it back. Shifting her eyes towards Ser Jaime, she managed a mild smile before looking back at the Lannister queen. "A pleasure to see you again Cersei. I trust you have been well?" Cersei did not deign to answer, too tongue tied by the fact that a dragon was staring directly at her as if it was contemplating swallowing her whole. "You have aged terribly, I must say. Queenship does not seem to agree with you as it once did…but then again, you were younger then." A twisted smirk took hold of Rhaena as she crowed over Cersei. "Rhaegal." Lowering his head and moving closer, Rhaegal exhaled a long, hot breath over their hosts. Fear shot through them all. "Make certain to behave. No need to burn down the city just yet." Snorting as if in amusement, Rhaegal turned himself away and launched himself upwards, flapping his wings to take to the skies after Drogon who had waited for him. Cersei still said nothing, merely stared and watched as Rhaena turned away with a swish of her elegant cape before going to her sister who struggled to hide her smirk. When they were sat side by side, Cersei could see them lean towards the other, their arms resting upon the rests of their chairs so that their hands brushed against the other. Nausea crept through her belly.

Rhaena did not speak again, satisfied that she had seen Cersei and felt not even a memory of the fear she had once possessed for her. Instead, she listened as Tyrion stood and presented himself to all in attendance, intending to explain the reason why the meeting had been requested, though he was interrupted by a stranger Rhaena did not recognise, though when he addressed Theon, it became clear enough that he was the uncle which had been mentioned to Rhaena by her sister when she had first told her that the Greyjoy siblings had pledged their service to her. When Rhaena had first crossed paths with Theon, she had punched him with so much force that she had broken his nose. It did not matter to her, as she later learned, that Theon had been tortured by Ramsay Snow and castrated, nor that he had been hunted by him and his hounds after escaping from his captor, all that mattered was that Theon had betrayed the Starks, taken Winterfell and killed two innocent boys when he could not kill Bran and Rickon in their place. Rhaena would have hit him again, but Jon had flown in and continued the assault until Ser Davos and Ser Jorah hauled him away. It was only when Daenerys ordered Theon to be left alone did either of them give up the assault entirely, though Rhaena swore that Theon would be dragged back to the North to answer for his crimes once the war was over. To his credit, he did not choose to run, but meekly accepted his fate but asked only that they help him to rescue his sister from his uncle. This must be the man himself. A crude and arrogant man, Rhaena disliked him instantly as he demanded that Theon submit to him immediately or suffer his sister's demise. Despite the interruption, Tyrion only looked in bewilderment to his brother Jaime, who could offer no explanation. "I think we ought to begin with larger concerns."

"Then why are you talking?" Euron Greyjoy demanded, looking disdainfully at Tyrion in a manner which made Rhaena want to pluck out his eyes with her own fingers. "You're the smallest concern here." Rising from his seat he began to move towards Tyrion in all his swagger and confidence, but Tyrion had dealt with men such as this his entire life and had long since lost the ability to be intimidated by larger men. Everyone other than children were larger than him. It did him no good to fear them because of it. Instead he turned to look at Theon Greyjoy and asked if he remembered when they had discussed dwarf jokes so nonchalantly that Euron stopped and frowned in confusion, not understanding where this discussion was proceeding.

"His wasn't even good." Tyrion agreed heartily.

"He explained it at the end. Never explain. It always ruins it." Ignoring Tyrion's instruction, Euron leaned over him and spoke with a grating tone which was enough to irk Rhaena by itself. The fact that his words enflamed her temper was beside the point.

"We don't even let your kind live in the Iron Islands, you know? We kill you at birth. An act of mercy for the parents." Thankfully Ser Jaime suggested that Euron sit down, a mercy for everyone else. At first Euron did not comply, but when it was Cersei who instructed him to take his seat, Euron gradually obeyed. At least Cersei had not lost her touch for controlling men, Rhaena could not help but wonder just how many of them she was taking to her bed to maintain control over them. Her brother? Certainly. Euron Greyjoy? It would not be unexpected, he was commander of the Iron Fleet after all, how else would she keep a man like that under her thumb? The Mountain? The great hulking figure who was completely covered from the crown of his head to the tips of his toes. One could not even see his face as it was covered in a black cloth and heavy halfhelm. There was something strange about him, Rhaena sensed. A poisonous sense of unease which caused her to itch internally form discomfort. If Cersei was fucking the Mountain to keep his loyalty, then Rhaena would applaud her courage whilst simultaneously condemning her desperation.

"We are a group of people who do not like one another, as this recent demonstration has shown. We have suffered at each other's hands. We have lost people we love at each other's hands. If all we wanted was more of the same, there would be no need for this gathering. We are entirely capable of waging war against each other without meeting face-to-face." Tyrion continued once Euron had returned to his seat.

"So instead, we should settle our differences and live together in harmony for the rest of our days?" Cersei suggested dryly, though Tyrion reasoned that this was unlikely to ever happen considering their past. "Then why are we here?" To answer this question, Jon rose from his seat which was set between Ser Davos and Brienne of Tarth who had been sent by Robb and Sansa to represent them. Cersei had demanded them to come to King's Landing to participate in the negotiations, however Robb would never again allow one of his siblings to become hostages to the Lannisters, and neither could he risk himself as King in the North walking directly into the lion's den. Even with all his northmen around him, it would still mean certain death. Cersei was not beyond killing an opponent and threat even whilst under a flag of truce. They had communicated through ravens what had happened beyond the Wall, and in his response, Robb had agreed to let Jon continue representing him and their interests.

"This isn't about living in harmony. It's just about living. The same thing is coming for all of us. A general you can't negotiate with. An army that doesn't leave corpses behind on the battlefield. Lord Tyrion tells me a million people live in this city. They're about to become a million more soldiers in the Army of the Dead." Unmoved by Jon's words, Cersei merely looked at him coldly.

"I imagine for most of them it would be an improvement."

"This is serious. I wouldn't be here if it weren't."

"I don't think it's serious at all," pursing her lips the way Rhaena had always hated, Cersei for a moment looked a great deal like Joffrey used to whenever he was about to throw a tantrum of some kind. Gods, she hated that look. At least Cersei did not scream and demand for people's heads the way Joffrey had. "I think it's another bad joke. If my brother Jaime has informed me correctly, you're asking me for a truce." Turning in order to look at Daenerys, Rhaena watched as her sister remained aloof and unaffected as she responded.

"Yes. That's all."

"That's all? Pull back my armies and stand down while you go on your monster hunt. Or while you solidify and expand your position. Hard for me to know which it is with my armies pulled back until you return and march on my capital with four times the men."

"Your capital will be safe until the northern threat is dealt with. You have my word." In all fairness to her, Daenerys did not rise to Cersei's provocations which made Rhaena feel a sense of pride as she watched her sister stare down Cersei who betrayed herself with her words and tone, revealing just how threatened she was by Daenerys. It felt good to watch Cersei squirm.

"The word of a would-be usurper."

"There is no conversation that will erase the last fifty years. We have something to show you." Cutting across any further argument, Tyrion turned and looked as Sandor Clegane returned from beneath the dragonpit, carrying a large wooden crate upon his back. Knowing what was hidden within it, Rhaena straightened herself in her seat as she watched Sandor set down the crate and began to remove the bolts, moving carefully before then taking away the lid. For a moment nothing stirred, the creature within which had always screeched and fought until now. Fearing that it had somehow died, Rhaena began to rise from her seat. Cursing internally, Sandor lashed out at the crate and flung it over, forcing the wight inside to tumble free where it immediately snarled and scrambled upwards, flinging itself directly ahead where Cersei lay in its path. Rhaena watched with a smile as Cersei recoiled in horror, the wight near enough had its fingers around her throat before Sandor pulled upon the chain and yanked it backwards. In Rhaena's opinion, he could have stood to wait a moment longer before ripping the wight away from Cersei. At least she now looked terrified. Watching as the wight turned and charged Sandor instead, Rhaena was prepared to leap to Sandor's defence though she needn't have worried. He cleaved the wight in half with a single sweep of his sword. Even after the wight's torso was separated from its legs, it continued to thrash and crawl, one arm twitching upon the ground after Sandor sliced it away from it.

The one who sat beside Cersei wearing the golden pin of the Hand's office, a maester, rose from his seat with a look of disturbed fascination. He walked directly to where the hand continued to twitch in order to pick it up and stare. When Jon went over to take it, Cersei's Hand released it to him. Walking away with it, Jon held it up for all to see as Ser Davos approached with a torch, giving it to Jon so that he could light it. "We can destroy them by burning them." Holding the torch to the severed arm it caught swiftly and the moment the fire began to eat at the undead flesh, the wight began to shriek and writhe. "And we can destroy them with dragonglass. If we don't win this fight, then that is the fate of every person in the world." Lifting the dagger made from obsidian, Jon stabbed the blade into the wight where the heart should have been, a shrill sound ringing through the air before the wight finally fell silent as it died a final time. A fearful quiet fell upon those gathered, Cersei staring at the body with a feeling of dread. "There is only one war that matters the Great War. And it is here." Cersei looked at Jaime, unable to speak.

"I didn't believe it until I saw them. I saw them all." Speaking up, Daenerys continued to watch Cersei as she recovered from her shock. Just like his sister, Ser Jaime could hardly believe his eyes, but they could not unsee what was clearly before him. The undead were real, and they were marching towards them even as they spoke.

"How many?"

"A hundred thousand, at least." Dread flooded through him once more. A hundred thousand more creatures just like that thing? It was more terrifying than when he had seen two dragons sweep across the field and burn his army to ashes. Pushing himself from his chair, Euron Greyjoy approached the wight cautiously, slowly reaching down in order to touch it after waiting to make sure that it was definitely dead.

"Can they swim?" Answering his question, Jon informed him that they could not, basing his answer from what he had seen beyond the Wall, where the wights had fallen into the frozen lake and had sunk beneath. "Good. I'm taking the Iron Fleet back to the Iron Islands." Starting slightly, Cersei stared at him incredulously and demanded what he meant. "I've been around the world. I've seen everything, things you couldn't imagine, and this this is the only thing I've ever seen that terrifies me." Staring at Cersei, Euron then turned in order to face Daenerys, moving towards her so that they were face to face. "I'm going back to my island. You should go back to yours. When winter's over, we'll be the only ones left alive." Without caring that he sounded like a craven, nothing more than a coward fleeing to save his own life, he walked away and did not look back.

"He's right to be afraid," Cersei announced dryly, "and a coward to run. If those things come for us, there will be no kingdoms to rule. Everything we suffered will have been for nothing. Everything we lost will have been for nothing." Her eyes focused upon both Daenerys and Rhaena, Cersei considering both silver haired women before her. One was little more than a foreigner and the other had once been less than a rat in her own castle. Now they wore jewels and finery, with gleaming hair tempered into curling braids and trailing down their backs. One styling herself a queen and the other a princess. Already Cersei was considering ways to turn one against the other. If the sisters would fight one another, then perhaps she would only need to deal with the one which remained. Keeping such thoughts from her expression, Cersei chose to make use of the situation as best she could. "The crown accepts your truce. Until the dead are defeated, they are the true enemy." A collective sense of relief was shared, some sighing audibly in relief. Not Rhaena, however. She narrowed her gaze and eyed Cersei suspiciously. "In return, the King in the North will extend this truce. He will remain in the North where he belongs. He will not take up arms against the Lannisters, he will not choose sides."

"Just the King in the North?" Daenerys queried deftly. "Not me?" Looking to the rival for her throne, Cersei chuckled coldly.

"I would never ask it of you. You would never agree to it," she deduced accurately as she studied the Dragon Queen. "And if you did, I would trust you even less than I do now. I ask it only of Ned Stark's son, this supposed King in the North. I know Ned Stark's sons will be true to their word." Her eyes narrowed. "I will require the word of Robb Stark that he will refrain from siding with House Targaryen, and for you, Jon Snow, to take the same oath and swear to never again set foot beyond the north." Fixating her sight upon Jon Snow, Cersei fixated her attention upon him. The Bastard of Winterfell. Until now Cersei had never paid any attention to the boy before since he had never been anything of note, unworthy of her attention, yet now he was a risen man and the brother of the King of the North. If Cersei wanted to ensure that the dragon bitch was cut off from allies in the North then this was as good an opportunity as any to ensure that she had one less ally to call upon when the inevitable came.

"I cannot speak for my brother. He is King in the North, only he can decide whether or not to bend the knee or agree to any truce," Jon began to speak as he considered the demand laid before him by the Lannister queen. "Whether or not my brother will agree to the truce…that I couldn't say. All I can say for certain is that we are close to House Targaryen and my brother feels he owes a great debt to Rhaena for all she has done for our family and our people. I do not think he will choose to abandon them easily. As for myself, I am true to my word. Or I try to be. That is why I cannot give you what you ask. I cannot serve two queens. And I have already pledged myself to Queen Daenerys of House Targaryen" Pursing her lips unhappily, Cersei prepared to leave, rising from her chair with a lift of her chin.

"Then there is nothing left to discuss. The dead will come north first. Enjoy dealing with them. We will deal with whatever is left of you." Rising from her chair, Cersei tossed a glance towards Rhaena, the two women eyeing one another steadily before she lifted her chin and striding away with her retinue following behind her like the loyal ducks they were. For a moment everyone watched them leave without moving until Brienne rose up and followed in order to speak to Ser Jaime in private, one would hope to convince him to make his sister see sense. Rhaena remained seated, gritted her teeth whilst steadying her breath. She glanced towards Theon Greyjoy, one of her sister's dwindling allies, and was once more tempted to simply take off his head and toss it into the ocean. She restrained herself, however, and instead focused on how Jon was being reprimanded for his words which had any chance of a truce with Cersei by refusing to remain neutral in the conflict that would follow.

"I'm grateful for your loyalty, but my dragon died so that we could be here. If it's all for nothing, then he died for nothing." Daenerys was telling him after Ser Davos had rather bluntly informed Jon that he was a fool for speaking without thinking. Jon knew it had been unwise, looking guilt stricken and uncertain of his own self even as Tyrion also berated him, and so Rhaena rose up and approached him in order to settle a hand upon his shoulder to reassure him that he was not alone.

"I'm pleased you bent the knee to our queen, I would have advised it, had you asked. But have you ever considered learning how to lie every now and then? Just a bit?"

"I'm not going to swear an oath I can't uphold. Talk about my father if you want, tell me that's the attitude that got him killed. But when enough people make false promises, words stop meaning anything. Then there are no more answers, only better and better lies, and lies won't help us in this fight." Sighing deeply, Rhaena wondered how much room they had for such fanciful and idealistic notions at a time when the dead were rising and were marching upon them with the aim to kill everything that lived and breathed. In an ideal world, yes, truth and honour would rule in place of lies and treachery, but they did not live in an ideal world. Corruption had taken root many years ago, perhaps as far back as the early days of Rhaena's ancestors' rule, and now it had festered like a disease and was spread throughout the Seven Kingdoms. They did not have the time for idealism as of this moment.

"That is indeed a problem. The more immediate problem is that we're fucked." A heavy uncertainty hung over the group as Ser Davos questioned what might be done to help their situation, and as Rhaena feared, only Tyrion had an idea. "Only one. Everyone stays here, and I go and talk to my sister."

"I didn't come all this way to have my Hand murdered." Reluctant to let Tyrion go, Daenerys feared just as greatly as Rhaena that if Tyrion were to present himself before Cersei, she would not hesitate to break their truce and kill him as she had desired ever since the day he was born. Tyrion was too important and too valuable to lose, but he reasoned that there was little other choice in the matter.

"I don't want Cersei to murder me either. I could have stayed in my cell and saved a great deal of trouble." Jon offered to go in his stead, reasoning that he had made the mess and he should fix it, but again Tyrion declined. "She'll definitely murder you. I go see my sister alone. Or we all go home and we're right back where we started." With a final glance towards Rhaena, Tyrion breathed deeply as she gave him a slow yet encouraging nod, her hand resting upon the hilt of her sword. Should he die today, Tyrion took comfort in the fact that in the very least he would be mourned, and perhaps avenged. Though this in itself was a conflict, for as greatly as he despised his own sister and wished for her downfall, Tyrion could not quite bring himself to desire her death. Despite everything. Everything they had done to one another, everything that they had suffered at each other's hand, the blood ties ran deep, and they were both Lannisters. Heavy with the weight of his own uncertainty, Tyrion went after his sister in order to persuade her to send her armies North in order to deal with the Night King and the army which marched towards them. He had no guarantee of success, but he was now the best chance they had to convince Cersei.

All the while Rhaena waited for his return, anxiously pacing back and forth as her cloak swept and fluttered. She did not settle until Tyrion returned with Cersei and her entourage at her back, announcing that she would align herself to their cause with no conditions or expectations. It threw Rhaena into a thrall of suspicion, but she held her tongue. For the moment she would not argue or provoke Cersei to change her mind, merely stood and watched her as Cersei studied Daenerys and then herself, two younger and more beautiful women who held the greatest threat to the power she had finally taken for herself. Perhaps it was merely Rhaena's paranoia which forced her to distrust Cersei, she reasoned that there was no lack of animosity between them. There might be a chance that for once, Cersei might take action outside of her own self interest, but still Rhaena cast a shadow of a doubt upon the false queen's announcement. She would never trust Cersei, and would only agree to swallow her own words the moment she saw the crimson host marching towards Winterfell, not to take it, but to defend it, alongside the entirety of the North to face the common enemy. Rhaena prayed her doubts were without foundation, but knowing Cersei as she did…she could not bring herself to trust the treacherous whore.