Even in her delirium, Missandei had smiled whilst flying through the skies on Rhaegal's back, wrapped in Rhaena's cloak and held tightly in her arms. She had never flown before, the idea had always terrified her, but now it seemed a foolish thing to fear. When riding upon a dragon, what was there to be afraid of? The were the masters of fire and air, so Missandei felt utterly safe as she was borne away to receive treatment. Thankfully the maester who had remained at Dragonstone ever since Stannis had left it was quick to assess the situation and quicker still to begin his practice. Rhaena lingered after setting Missandei down upon the bed in order to offer her services however she may, bringing the maester water or tools as he called for them. He was younger than most maesters Rhaena had ever met before, Maester Pylos, as he was called. In fact, he seemed to be only a few years older than herself. Still it was encouraging to see such a skilful and diligent man treating Missandei, cutting open her clothing to expose her torso where he began to inspect and treat the injury. When Rhaena could do no more, she left Maester Pylos to complete his task in peace without distraction, sighing deeply as she walked away and returned to Rhaegal in order to sit with him, leaning against his chest as he curled himself around her and chittered comfortingly, sensing her worry and unease. Together, they waited.
Daenerys returned first with Drogon, but there was still no news from Pylos and Rhaena convinced her sister not to interrupt him, reasoning that it was likely Missandei was undergoing surgery this very moment and a single slip of his hand might tip the balance of her life. It was a struggle to wait and do nothing, but Daenerys for once, listened to Rhaena. They waited together in the throne room, Daenerys upon her seat and Rhaena standing by one of the windows in quiet contemplation. "You did not tell me you intended to interfere with the negotiations." Daenerys finally spoke, staring at the floor as if she could see the stone melting away before her and seeing something else entirely made from her own thoughts and imaginations. Rhaena glanced to her.
"There was no point. You know as well as I that Cersei would not surrender. It is not in her character. She would rather we burn the city down than give up. She is too proud. Too selfish." She explained simply, seeing no reason to excuse her actions. "I had hoped that we might at least make a clean transaction, Myrcella for Missandei. With the exchange, Myrcella would be in the city, and Cersei would reconsider a war with us at least for her daughter's sake. It seems I underestimated her again. Although my plan did not go as I intended, we at least retrieved Missandei."
"But now she lies upon a maester's bed bleeding like a pig for slaughter." The cold creep of Daenerys's tone rippled through the throne room, bounding off the walls and sending a shiver through Rhaena's spine. "You should have asked my permission first. You do not have the right to decide what is to happen with my prisoners."
"Myrcella was never our prisoner. She was our guest." Turning herself around, Rhaena strode forwards in order to stand in front of her sister as her chest constricted with anger and her gaze narrowed in fury. "Do not fight me, Daenerys. I am not your enemy, I am your sister. There is nothing I want more than to see our House restored and you upon the throne which you deserve, but continue to treat me as an enemy then that is what you shall find. Everyone who is here is here for you. We follow you because we believe in you, because we know that you will change the world and make it better for everyone in it." Clenching her jaw tightly, Rhaena had to forcibly loosen it in order to speak further, too incensed to speak diplomatically to the sister who was clearly losing her mind. "We do not need to burn the city. We only need to capture it. Think again on your intentions, sweet sister, otherwise no one shall love you as they should, and the annuals shall remember you only as a new tyrant fell upon the kingdom in a storm of fire and blood." Having nothing else to say, Rhaena turned on her heel and left the throne room, ignoring her sister as she screamed that she had not dismissed her, ordering her to come back.
Wanting some clear air, Rhaena stalked outside and did not stop until she was with Drogon and Rhaegal on their perch at the edge of the cliffs. At least here she was unlikely to be approached, and if someone tried to disturb her, then she could simply fly away. Sensing her upset, both Drogon and Rhaegal crooned at her softly, settling themselves down so that their heads resting close to her until gradually, Rhaena felt her anger receding. Strange as it might seem, the dragons calmed her. Leaning back against Rhaegal, Rhaena stroked at Drogon's face as he went to sleep, wondering when her sister's madness had begun. Perhaps it had been a slow accumulation of hurts and woes which had torn at her heart and mind. She had lost many loved ones over the years, and perhaps Ser Jorah had hurt her most of all. Her beloved Bear Knight. Now that Missandei was also on the verge of death, perhaps it was too much for Daenerys. She saw threats everywhere she turned, and even distrusted Jon now that it was known he was the true heir to the Iron Throne. Daenerys wanted everything done her way, to be utterly and completely obeyed, and when someone stepped out of turn, she saw them as an enemy. Unfortunately, she had developed the habit of burning her enemies alive. With a wince, Rhaena imagined their father had been much the same. What worried her more was if she herself would gradually descend into madness. She blamed her ancestors. How foolishly stupid had they been to marry brother to sister? Did they not think that mixing the blood would have dire consequences? Who cared for purity when sanity was in the balance? Now Rhaena and her sister were the result of such repeated incest and the burden theirs to carry. Shaking her head, Rhaena attempted to push such thoughts aside. At least for now, in this very moment as she rested with her dragons atop a cascading cliff with the sound of the ocean around her and the azure spread of water stretching towards the horizon, Rhaena could convince herself that all was well in the world, and nothing existed outside of that quintessential moment.