Had it not been for Ser Davos Seaworth of all people, then Rhaena Targaryen might have died. Her wounds were deep and extensive, even Maester Wolkan was fearful that he could save her despite the threat of the Dragon Queen commanding him to do so. She had suffered great blood loss, as well as an extensive list of injuries on top of those she had already borne, and with her weakened lungs as her magic waned, the maester was at a loss as to what could be done for her other than pray. As others began to weep and mourn at the chance of losing Rhaena, Ser Davos had thought of something no one else would ever have even contrived. He took the necklace that had once been worn by the Red Priestess, Melisandre, and put it around Rhaena's throat. Almost immediately, the jewel which had grown dull and empty glowed as if lit by fire and Rhaena took her first deep and certain breath, colour returning to her pale, bloodless cheeks and her pulse had strengthened to a firm, steady rhythm. If there was indeed a Lord of Light, then it was clear he favoured Rhaena Targaryen.

Whatever magic the stone possessed fuelled itself into Rhaena, allowing her to recover her strength and several days after the ending of the battle, managed to awaken and open her eyes long enough to turn her head and smile at the forlorn faces watching over her before falling asleep once again. The prospective grief of losing the little dragon was alleviated, and she was left to rest and recover at her own pace. Unfortunately owing to her injuries, Rhaena missed the celebrations, but she did receive plenty of visitors and when she was awake, heard the news from those who came to sit with her. Tyrion of course shared nothing but the latest gossip which Varys was able to confirm, making Rhaena laugh at his wit and gape in shock upon discovering certain trysts had been had since the celebration. In Tyrion's own words, a great number of bastards were no doubt made that night. Others came to simply talk or keep her company and Rhaena enjoyed the time each in turn, however one morning when she awoke to find Jon Snow sitting beside her with his head hung in her hands, Rhaena had pushed herself upright in her bed and drawn his attention with her movements. "Easy, easy, don't push yourself. Here, hold onto me." Immediately moving towards her, Jon let Rhaena use him for support so that she could lift herself upright as he placed the cushions and pillows against her back to support her, fussing with her until she laughed.

"You are as bad as a nursemaid, Jon. I feel well, do not fuss so much." She told him softly, swatting at his hands as they fiddled with her coverings before resting herself back. Taking a moment to gather her wits, Rhaena then allowed herself to study his expression and found it wrought with uncertainty and conflict. "You look as if you have something you wish to confess."

"In a manner of speaking." He admitted slowly, prompting Rhaena's interest as she turned her head towards him fully, wondering what had happened that would make him look more pensive and sombre than usual. "I've learned something. From Bran and Sam. Something about myself that I didn't know before, and I swear I didn't know…" As his voice rose in distress, Rhaena moved her hand and opened her palm towards him, silently offering Jon her comfort. He took up her hand in a heartbeat, clutching it closely and even pressed a kiss to her fingers before then bringing it to rest against his brow. "I swear, I didn't know."

"What is it, Jon? Surely whatever it is, it cannot be so bad." Hushing him gently, Rhaena brushed at the locks of his hair as Jon continued to press his brow to her hand, taking several deep breaths before all at once, the truth came pouring from him. He told her of how Sam had come to him in order to reveal that his father was not Eddard Stark after all, but Rhaegar Targaryen. He and Lyanna Stark, his mother, had married after the prince's marriage with Elia Martell had been annulled by some old septon who had written about it in his private journal which was discovered by Sam. Bran used his abilities to look back into the past and confirmed that Rhaegar and Lyanna had been married, and the result of their union was Jon, whose real name was Aegon Targaryen, the rightful heir to the Iron Throne. Rhaena could only stare at him as Jon continued to explain to her how he had revealed the truth to Daenerys before the battle, but now she was demanding that he keep his true identity a secret from everyone, otherwise he would be pushed towards the throne to claim his inheritance. Daenerys did not even want Jon to tell his other siblings, though he had chosen to do so regardless of her wishes, swearing them to secrecy all the same. When Jon was finished speaking, Rhaena continued to stare at him.

"Rhae? Please say something. I couldn't stand it if you turned me away now." Blinking herself awake, Rhaena lifted herself up in order to prop her weight upon her arm, drawing her hand back from Jon's grasp but only to take hold of his face and brush her thumb to his cheek.

"It is nothing like that, Jon, I am simply…astonished. Dumfounded. I cannot believe…then everything we knew of Robert's Rebellion…it was based on a lie? Do you think he knew? If he knew that my brother had not kidnapped Lyanna, then…no. No, I imagine that even if he had known, he would have gone to war for her anyway. He loved her and was selfish enough that he would have wanted her despite her own desires." Shaking her head to dispel such thoughts, Rhaena focused instead upon Jon. "Then Jon, this means that you are not a bastard at all. You are a Targaryen. You are my nephew, and I am your aunt. My brother's son. His last surviving heir." Even as she smiled breathlessly with delight, the sharp crash of truth and reality quickly settled upon her. "But my sister…she has always wanted to rule from the Iron Throne. I expect she did not take well to learning that you had a better claim than her." To this, Jon did not deny that Daenerys was now acting coldly towards him. "Do you have any desire for the throne?"

"No, I don't want it. I'd rather serve her. I love her." Jon announced rather straightforwardly, causing Rhaena to sigh heavily and fall back against her pillows.

"I do not know if you should, Jon. We are family, and our blood is too closely related. It is common knowledge that the Targaryens wed brother to sister many a time, and now it has ended with many of us falling into madness. You cannot mix your blood with hers, Jon. If she were to get with child…"

"She says that she is unable to." But to this, Rhaena merely shook her head.

"I know what she says and what she has been told, but one can never know for certain." Her head began to spin with this revelation, as well as the fears which began to settle within at the prospect of what this might mean for future peace. "I am sorry…I should not be discouraging your love since you cannot help how you feel. It is…it is just so strange. When we met, we had no clue that we were blood kin, yet here we are. Years later, having fought side by side and flown dragons together." Allowing herself a smile, Rhaena reached out for Jon once more who accepted her hand and held it tenderly between his own. "No matter what happens, know that you are always my kin. You are of House Stark and House Targaryen, the dragon and the direwolf. Whatever choices you make, I shall support you. We are family, and although I have loved you dearly for many a moon, I love you all the more now." Since Rhaena was perhaps the first and only person to truly be glad to learn of his identity, Jon savoured the feeling of being accepted by one of his own kin. He returned Rhaena's love, promising to always cherish and protect her, making her laugh and smile before she began to grow weary once again. Jon remained with her until she was deep asleep, no closer to a decision in what to do, but perhaps a little lighter for sharing his burden with Rhaena. She had always had a calming effect upon him. Perhaps it was his own blood knowing what his mind did not, that they were one of the same.

Looking to Rhaena as she slept, Jon found himself smiling softly. Brushing back her hair from her face, he drew the furs and coverlets closer to her neck which was still bandaged heavily from where the Night King had wounded her. Maester Wolken feared she would carry the scars for the rest of her life, but Jon imagined that Rhaena would not mind such scars. They told a story, after all, and she had always loved to tell stories. He left her to rest without disturbance, to go and contemplate on his own what was to be done as the last of the preparations were made for the armies to depart now that the dead had been counted. The list was far too long. As Rhaena discovered once she was strong enough to move about herself, she took the time to see those who had lost loved ones and offer her condolences. Even Daenerys accepted her sister's consolation when Rhaena went to her, hearing of Ser Jorah and how he had died valiantly defending her. Rhaena could imagine on other way Ser Jorah would have wished to die, and so she had held Daenerys in her arms as she sobbed privately, away from the prying eyes of outsiders.

It was perhaps the last time the two sisters were ever gentle and loving towards one another, sharing in their grief for all they had lost, though Daenerys had lost far more than Rhaena. Their sisterhood lasted only an evening, for on the morrow, Daenerys suddenly became cold and unfeeling as stone, thinking instead only of taking back the Iron Throne and intended to march her troops south immediately despite advice to allow her men time to rest and heal. She would not wait, however. Even when Rhaena attempted to reason with Daenerys, she was met with furious glares and accusations of treason, Daenerys suggesting that Rhaena was attempting to waylay her in her rightful task of claiming what belonged to her by rights. For a brief moment, Rhaena saw a touch of madness in her sister, and it frightened her. It frightened her enough to silence her, and so Rhaena spoke no more of waiting, and instead simply agreed to whatever her sister commanded of her. Once the council was adjourned, she hastened her escape.

It was only then Robb was able to speak with Rhaena in private, voicing his concerns for Jon going north with what remained of the men who chose to still follow him, which were few and far between. Mostly they were the remnants of Stannis's army that had miraculously still survived, as well as wildlings who had not chosen to return to the North beyond the Wall with Tormund. As he held Rhaena in his arms and whispered to her, Rhaena hushed him gently, fearing that they might be overhead. She did not speak until they were secured behind a locked door. "I know you fear for Jon, but he has chosen to follow Daenerys, there is nothing you or I can say that will change his mind." She reasoned finally, facing Robb as he began to pace back and forth in front of her. Outside, the collective howls of the direwolves echoed from their hunt. "He gave Daenerys his word. You know better than anyone the value of a person's oath, Jon is honour bound to see it through."

"She is dangerous, Rhae, surely you see that? I know that her own people love her, and I know that she is your sister, but in truth, no one here has any desire to see her on the throne." Robb informed her flatly as he continued to pace as was his habit whenever a difficult problem presented itself to him. Sitting herself down for a moment, Rhaena studied Robb carefully. He had grown again, but not in height or stature, but rather in presence. His expression had matured with experience and as he walked with his hands clasped behind his back with a furrowed brow, Rhaena was reminded a little of his father in his mannerisms. She smiled to him softly. Robb Stark had long since left boyhood behind him. He was a man now, a lord, a king. Although he did not wear the crown upon his head, he did not need one for Rhaena to know that he was indeed King in the North. "My people love you far more than her. They would rather see you sit the throne. I would rather see it." Hushing him gently, Rhaena assured Robb that she had no intention of ever sitting upon the Iron Throne as a queen, not now, not ever. "But you would make a wonderful queen, Rhaena. I know it. No one is half as wise or half as kind as you are."

"Perhaps, but I still do not want the throne. I grew up in the shadow of that monstrosity. I would rather melt it down and be rid of it for good." Dizzy from watching Robb pace back and forth, Rhaena finally rose to her feet and approached him, catching hold of his hands in order to bring him to a halt and turn him towards her. "This is the last push now. One more battle, and everything will be over. Cersei will be dethroned and my sister will have all that she has ever desired. Perhaps she will settle once the throne is hers and she is not consumed by fear and uncertainty. I shall be there, and Jon could not be in safer hands. Daenerys loves him, and he has a way with her, I think. She listens to him, even when she will not listen to me." Any sway she might have once had with her sister had long since vanished, Rhaena knew. In order to keep her sister in check, it was imperative that someone kept her from making grievous errors or mistakes, and Jon would be good for her. "Do you trust me, Robb?" Giving her a pained expression, Robb took hold of Rhaena's face in his hands, gazing at her with utter adoration.

"You know that I do."

"Then trust me to take care of Jon, as well as the Seven Kingdoms. You have my word, I shall see that they are given what they are due, and as far as the North is concerned, it shall never find an enemy in us." Exhaling deeply, Robb allowed himself to let go a certain number of his troubles and woes, knowing that Rhaena was far more capable and more than able to follow through with her word. Stroking at her face, Robb considered how she had looked when he had found her in Bran's arms in the godswood following the battle. Paler than death and barely breathing, he had felt the crushing pain of grief strike him before he had even reached her to ascertain life. Only one trouble now lingered in his mind, and it was the one issue which caused him a sense of grief akin to losing a loved one, for in a sense, it was what Robb would soon endure. It was nothing more than a sense, a notion in the back of his mind which had slowly been crawling its way forwards ever since the moment Rhaena had begun to recover her strength, but now it strangled at his throat and made it difficult for him to breathe.

"Once you leave, you will not be returning north again…will you?" Her violet gaze did not flinch away from his.

"I do not know, Robb. Perhaps…perhaps it is best that I do not come back." Robb flinched. He was not ashamed to admit it. He flinched when Rhaena did not. He felt her hand press against his cheek, smoothing at the course hairs of his beard which had grown thick and full in latest years. "Beyond tomorrow, I do not know what is going to happen, and even if my sister does succeed the throne…I simply do not know." Nodding his head in understanding, Robb inhaled deeply before drawing Rhaena closer to him, burying her into his embrace so that she might feel his strength and security around her. Although he wanted nothing more than for her to stay with him, Robb knew that Rhaena was not the type to be tamed. She was a dragon, after all. Dragons could never be tamed. Still, it pained him to let her go, and so he held onto her for as long as he was able, at least to stretch out the last of their intimate moments together.

"No matter what, you shall always have a home here, Rhae." As Robb whispered in her ear, Rhaena gave a tearful shudder, clenching her teeth to stifle a sob as she clutched onto him tightly. "Always. Return whenever you wish, stay as long as you desire, and leave whenever the mood strikes. We will shelter you for all of winter and provide for you throughout the summer, should you choose to remain with us. You are dearly beloved, Rhaena Targaryen. House Stark is forever in your debt." Shaking her head, Rhaena protested softly, insisting that she was owed nothing by them, that in her eyes, they had long since passed the border of debts and oaths. Love was enough, and it bound them together forever. Robb embraced her again, knowing that this would be his last chance to reveal his emotions before they had to be buried away, for he could not weep when he bade farewell to Rhaena when she left with her sister and their army. Despite everything, he had to maintain a strong façade for his people as their king. Though he did not doubt that Daenerys would return to demand he relinquish his title, Robb decided that he would only do so if Rhaena asked it of him. If she asked, and believed it was the best course of action for peace, then Robb would even agree to bend the knee to whomever sat on the Iron Throne. Until then, however, he had to be a pillar of strength for his people, and they needed their king.

And so it was Robb watched Rhaena leave on the back of her golden course, Tempest, who had also miraculously survived the battle. Rhaegal was too injured to carry her at present and she wanted him to rest more before they reached White Harbour, so she road alongside everyone else. Robb watched her depart with a hollow feeling in his heart, and seemingly Sansa felt his pain for she slipped her arms through his and leaned against him as if to offer him comfort whilst making it appear that she was the one in need of consoling. He was grateful to her for it. The Stark siblings stood in farewell as the Dragon Queen and her followers left Winterfell, where the north secretly hoped they would never return. All save for Rhaena. Robb still prayed that she would come back, though in his heart, he knew that they were not meant to be. So instead, when the last soldier had passed through the gate, Robb turned and led his siblings back inside to resume his duties, and there forever, buried his love for the dragon princess who had stolen his heart.