In order to truly know the depths of her own sister's madness, Rhaena forced herself to walk the streets of King's Landing. She went on foot, drifting forwards as the snow and ash continued to fall around her in the ruins of burned homes and the scattered remains of charred corpses, burned beyond recognition. Her throat contracted with an unpleasant thickness as Rhaena walked, staring at the devastation her sister had brought. When she saw the first child, Rhaena then allowed herself to weep. Everywhere she turned, upon every street and alleyway, there was grief and devastation. It was all Rhaena could do to keep herself from breaking apart at the seams. Her sister had done this, and because Rhaena had been unable to check her, she was partly responsible. Quelling her tears with steady breaths, Rhaena turned her head in order to look towards what remained of the Red Keep. Perhaps the Ashen Keep would be more apt a name for it now. For ash was in the air, and still these many hours later it continued to fall from above alongside the snow. Stepping forwards once more, Rhaena continued her march of sorrow.
Much of the old quarters were gone, the poverty stricken places reduced to little more than crumbled heaps, but that was not to say the richer parts of King's Landing had been left unaffected. No. Rich and poor alike had suffered, and now they could do nothing other than weep together and begin the mournful task of collecting their dead. What was one to do with a city full of corpses? Rhaena wondered how they expected to burn more so than they already had been. Would they simply bury them where they were found? If so then soon enough the city would be set upon a valley of the dead. She also wondered what the maesters would write in their history accounts, and what the singers would call their songs when they recounted the tale of the night Daenerys Stormborn had rained fire down upon a city that had already surrendered. Shaking her head, Rhaena pushed aside such thoughts. There was no need to ponder, she already knew. The Night of a Thousand Sorrows. The Night of Dragon's Wroth. The Night of Butchery. Rhaena already had several suggestions herself. The more she saw, the deeper her hurt and the fiercer her anger. These were meant to be their people. Had Robert not rebelled, then Rhaena and Daenerys would have been raised as their princesses. It would have been their duty, throne or no throne, to love and protect them from anyone who would do them harm. To clothe and feed them, to provide for them everything they needed to live well. Yes Daenerys had slaughtered them as if they were nothing more than animals. Worse than animals. At least animals for slaughter have a purpose. This was just…senseless.
Turning aside, Rhaena struggled to look at the ones who had been burned so quickly that they were still frozen in their final moments. One such family consisted of a father embracing his wife and three young children. One only an innocent babe. The children were most certainly the worst. It tugged at her every fibre, emotions broiling out control as Rhaena struggled to decide whether she wanted to weep or scream. Instead, she kept on moving, walking all the way through the city so that she could see everything for herself. When she passed prisoners being herded together by the Unsullied, she stayed their executions with a firm command, ordering them to be left unharmed and secured outside the city. At first the Unsullied were confused by the orders, for the Queen had instructed them to kill any Lannister soldier they found whether they surrendered or not. They were uncertain of the person before them, for in truth, not many Unsullied had seen their queen close enough to be able to distinguish her features. This was what Rhaena depended upon, and so with a commanding tone laced with a hint of her magic which warmed their bones and calmed their minds, ordered them once again to secure the prisoners rather than execute them, and relay the order to all their brothers. "By order of Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, First of Her Name." Speaking to them in the tongue they understood, the Unsullied hesitated no further and hastened to obey.
Knowing that she could not reveal herself, Rhaena kept away from those who might recognise her. If she was found, Rhaena did not doubt that Daenerys would stage her public execution next. She had blatantly attacked her and Drogon with Rhaegal, after all. She was a branded traitor. In truth, Rhaena should have fled when she had the chance back across the Narrow Sea to never be heard from again, but she could not bring herself to do it. She had to come back. She had to fix what had been broken, no matter how it had to be done. Before leaving Dragonstone, Rhaena had gone to visit Varys to bring him the news, and there she had wept against him as he had stroked her hair and tried to console her. He did not tell her what needed to be done, he did not have to. Rhaena knew already. The unsteady beat of her pulse rattled through her as she continued to make her way through the city. Even when ruined it was so large that it was easy to avoid being noticed. The people were far too wrapped up in their own grief and anguish to see a lone woman walking through the carnage, and the soldiers were gathering in order to receive the Dragon Queen's victory address. It was to this Rhaena went, moving amongst the building like a shadow until she had settled herself out of sight but where she was given a full view of the ruined main gates which had once led up to the Red Keep. Only a section of the wall remained, partially draped in a great flag bearing the arms of Rhaena's own house. Looking at the three headed dragon, her stomach quickened with sickness once more.
Her sister revealed herself by walking through the gateway which no longer existed, flanked by Unsullied guards with the phalanxes of her soldiers spread before her and her Dothraki screamers casting out their voices and undulating fiercely as their horses champed and heaved, churning like a mass of rapids in contrast to the motionless ranks of the Unsullied. When Daenerys began to speak, she did so in Dothraki, addressing her wild cavalry who quietened to listen to her words. Rhaena knew enough of the language to grasp its meaning, but not fully enough to translate word for word. Still, whatever Daenerys had told them seemed to please them, for they took up their savage cries once again. Perched high above them, Rhaena could not help but wonder what Ser Barristan and Ser Jorah would have to say if they could see what her sister had done. She knew Ser Barristan would be horrified and would have refused to have any part of it. Ser Jorah too. Perhaps they might have been able to keep Daenerys from spiralling as she had. If they were here, then it meant they wouldn't have died, and Daenerys would not have allowed herself to succumb to madness in her grief. Next she addressed the Unsullied, her voice continuing to carry as Rhaena listened intently. First, she turned to Grey Worm, praising him for his loyal service and bravery before naming him her Master of War, giving him the command of all her forces. To sound their approval, the Unsullied thumped the butts of their spears against the ground.
"Unsullied. All of you were torn from your mother's arms and raised as slaves. Now you are liberators. You have freed the people of King's Landing from the grip of a tyrant!" Casting out her voice once again, still in Valyrian, Rhaena deftly began to move through the ruins of the surrounding buildings in order to get closer to where her sister gave her address, wanting to see more clearly. Attending her, Rhaena counted Jon and Tyrion as standing with her, though she could not read their expressions from her position. "But the war is not over. We will not lay down our spears until we have liberated all the people of the world!" At these words, Rhaena's blood ran utterly cold. No. Her sister could not be serious. She had won the Iron Throne, she had taken back the Seven Kingdoms that had been stolen from their father, what more could she possibly want? What good would conquering the world do her? She was a queen. A queen was meant to rule, not conquer even after she had won her crown. More madness, it had to be. Rhaena had hoped that the episode would pass once the battle had ended, but it was becoming clearer now that this was not an episode of insanity at all. Her sister had lost herself completely to it. "From Winterfell to Dorne, from Lannisport to Qarth, from the Summer Isles to the Jade Sea! Women, men and children have suffered too long beneath the wheel." Pausing in order to listen to the thumping of her soldiers' spears, pounding like a fevered heartbeat, Daenerys reached out to them. "Will you break the wheel with me?" As the rhythm continued, the Unsullied answered their queen's call. It caused Rhaena's heart to sink with pity.
These men had known only violence and blood their entire lives from the moment they had been cut as boys. How were they to know that there were other choices beyond war and bloodshed? They had never built their own homes or loved their own women, grown their own crops and raised their own livestock. Their wives were their spears and their homes their shields. Until they knew the sweetness of a life lived in peace, they would continue to march to war until they dropped. Sensing movement, Rhaena flicked her eyes across to where she saw Tyrion cautiously begin to approach the queen. Rhaena held her breath. From where she was perched she could not hear the exchange between them, but she could certainly read her sister's body language. More so, there was no mistaking the essence of their words when Rhaena watched Tyrion pull the pin of his office from his chest and fling it aside down the steps, casting it away. He and Daenerys stared at one another, neither one moving until finally, Daenerys gave the order for Tyrion to be seized. Exhaling deeply, Rhaena watched as he was escorted away, where not too long after, Daenerys followed, leaving Jon to stand and stare after her.
Rhaena was already gone by the time Arya reached him, having materialised from nothing, walking like a shadow. Glimpsing her before she vanished, Rhaena allowed herself a moment of small gladness. Not that feeling itself was small, but that it was so overcome and outweighed by the numerous other emotions that had taken root within her. it was good Arya was alright. Sandor had nothing short of ordered Rhaena to find the little wolf and make sure she had escaped from the city safely after they had parted ways. Satisfied that Arya was at least alive, even if not completely unhurt, Rhaena chose to pursue her sister. One last chance. One last effort to try and reason with her sister and make her see her errors. She owed her sister that, if nothing else. Knowing where she would go, Rhaena effortlessly kept herself out of sight of any Unsullied guards, moving quietly like a ghost through the ruins of the keep. The number of ghosts that might have lingered there, Rhaena did not think they would mind one more. So, as silently as she could, she made her way to the throne room. Her route went unimpeded until she reached the last hallway, guarded by a resting Drogon where she came to a halt. His massive form was already becoming dusted in snow from where he lay so still, yet the moment he sensed Rhaena, he opened his eyes and shifted his head to look at her with his impressive gaze.
A deep rumble reverberated from the back of his throat, parting his maw to expose his curved fangs as tall as men. Rhaena did not feel threatened, however. Calmly she stepped forwards, raising her hand towards Drogon who watched her approach until he felt the small being's hand press against his face. Crooning, he leaned into her touch. Their battle was behind them, and Drogon was not entirely without understanding. He knew his brother and their little kin were only trying to protect the insects below them, though in that part Drogon could not see why. All the same, he could feel Rhaena's love for him as clearly as he could feel his own internal flame, and so closed his eyes peacefully as he rested his head once more. As she passed, Rhaena pressed a kiss against his snout before quietly slipping inside. Following the passageway, Rhaena clenched her fists as she stepped out into the throne room which was now without a ceiling and the back wall where the Iron Throne stood was mostly gone. Admittedly, however, the sky did make for an impressive view. It was not the throne or the sky which Rhaena looked at, however, but the sister who stood before it. Stepping further into the open, her footfalls carried no matter how quiet she tried to make them, and the sound of their echo drew at Daenerys's attention away from the throne she had fought so hard to claim. When she turned, the smile faded from her face.
She watched as her sister approached her slowly, still covered with ash, sweat and dust from their battle. Any sense of joy from her victory swiftly vanished as Daenerys thought back to when her own sister had turned on her and used her own child to attack her. After all that Rhaena had done to oppose her, Daenerys could only admit her own foolishness in continually forgiving her sister for her rebelliousness. She should have seen it from the moment they first met. How much had been a lie? The sisterly love? The tender advice? The secret laughs and stories they had shared? How much of it had merely been an act whilst harbouring the intention of stealing the throne for herself? Opening her mouth to call for her guards, Rhaena lifted her hands. "Please, I only wish for us to talk." Daenerys clenched her jaw tightly as she glowered down at Rhaena, unable to believe her audacity.
"There is nothing I wish to hear from the mouth of a traitor." Feeling her heart quiver, Rhaena clutched at her chest and breathed deeply in order to try and settle her emotions as she continued to focus upon Daenerys, standing proudly above her with all the might and glory of a conqueror.
"Traitor? It is you who has turned traitor, Dany. You betrayed the people you swore to protect. Their burned and broken bodies lie in mounds upon the streets where you betrayed your oath and slaughtered them!" Flinging out her hand to emphasise her words, Rhaena watched Daenerys closely, hoping that she might see a flicker of regret, a hint of remorse, but to her own grief, there was none there at all. It were as if Daenerys had become truly incapable of feeling, made from little more than stone. Retreating back, Rhaena stared at her as if she were a stranger. "What happened to you, Dany?"
"What happened?" Turning so that she faced Rhaena fully, Daenerys began to descend the steps from the Iron Throne. "What happened was that my child died. My beloved knights who swore to me their love and loyalty died. Ser Barristan…Ser…Ser Jorah…my fleets were crippled, my people slaughtered because a false queen broke her oath, Missandei grows closer to death with each passing moment, and Cersei would not make peace." Bristling with a dragon's anger, Daenerys pulled back her lips to snarl as her face contorted and twisted, making her seem less and less human by the second. "I have seen what this world has to offer. You yourself told me that this city was a cesspit of corruption and suffering. You should be grateful I have burned it to the ground. At least now we can build it anew, into something far better than it had been before." Standing upon the final steps, Daenerys was of an equal height to Rhaena, staring directly into her eyes with a frantic wildness which made Rhaena feel nauseous to see in the sister she loved and had cherished from the moment they had first met. She had seemed so sweet and innocent then. What Rhaena would not give to turn her back into that person once more. "I did what was necessary, what no one else could do."
"We could have levelled the city without a million innocent people still inside it." Even with a whisper, Rhaena's voice carried, as if the throne room itself absorbed her words in order to sink their meaning into the very stone and remaining foundations. "We could have done it cleanly. Dany…the bells were ringing. They had surrendered." Daenerys's lip continued to curl in an impassive snarl.
"They followed Cersei. They chose to follow her rather than welcome their rightful ruler. They made their choice, and now everyone will know the consequence of denying me my right." Hardly able to believe her own ears, Rhaena continued to stare at her sister. No, not her sister. This stranger before her was nothing like the sister she knew and loved. This was someone else entirely wearing her sister's skin, and they were nothing short of a monster. "I will rid the world of the tyrants who hold power and free the people from their chains. It is my destiny. Only I have the power to do it. I am the Mother of Dragons, the Breaker of Chains. All will follow me…or they will burn." Breaking into a terrifying smile as she turned away and begun to ascend the steps once more with the intention of finally seating herself upon her throne, Daenerys imagined herself flying across the world upon Drogon's back setting cities aflame with his breath. It was necessary, entirely necessary, in order to rebuild a better world than the one that had been created. To herself, Daenerys giggled. It was that sound which finally pushed Rhaena over the edge, reality slamming against her as she recalled stories Ser Barristan told her of her father and how when he had burned his enemies alive, he had laughed. She stared at Daenerys in horrified dread.
"You have deposed one tyrant and only replaced them with another. You are no better than Cersei." Freezing with one foot upon one of the final steps that would lead her to her goal, the force of Rhaena's words struck Daenerys like a stinging strike to her face, a flare of heated outrage rising throughout her body at the insult of being compared to someone such as Cersei. Snapping her head back towards Rhaena, Daenerys intended to scream in denial, to defend herself against such an unfair comparison, however just as Daenerys drew in her breath it was suddenly pushed out of her once again. Something cold had entered her body, causing her to blink in confusion, staring at her sister who had silently climbed the steps behind her and was somehow right behind her. When she had turned, Rhaena had taken the knife fixed to the small of her back and driven it directly upwards beneath Daenerys's ribs and into her heart. There were tears in her sister's eyes. The truth dawned upon Daenerys slowly, not feeling the pain at first for she was too shocked, but once it began to settle upon her, she had not the breath to cry out or scream. Instead all she could do was stagger as her chest became bathed in warmth, struggling to stand upright as she felt herself gradually growing weaker and weaker. Colder as well.
As Rhaena wept, she held Daenerys in her arms and cradled her as they sank to the floor, sitting upon the throne's steps as Daenerys stared with fearful, wide eyes. Hushing her gently, Rhaena peppered kisses against her sister's face, smoothing back her hair as the blood continued to flow. She begged for forgiveness, telling her that she was sorry and that she loved her over and over again in every language she knew, her beautiful features twisted in painful anguish as Daenerys continued to simply stare at her in disbelief. Her own sister. Gasping for a breath, Daenerys felt the pain rise within her, though now the physical and the emotional sensation of hurt were so intertwined it was impossible for her to tell where one ended and the other began. She felt keenly the betrayal, however, and as she continued to stare upon her sister's face, Daenerys felt her own tears rise and fall. Her own sister. Her sister…these were the last thoughts which dwelled in the maddened mind of Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, First of Her Name, until all faded away and became nothing but a hollow husk which her sister gripped onto and released an agonised howl which echoed and reverberated throughout the hall.
Drawn by the sound, Jon came running forwards, having intended to speak to Daenerys himself, however when he sprinted into view of the throne at the startling sound of someone's crying, that was where he found them. Rhaena had lifted Daenerys up in order to hold her in her embrace whilst sat upon the Iron Throne, but Daenerys lay limp and unmoving in her grasp. Ice gripped at his heart as he halted, staring at the scene before him as he then saw the knife protruding from Daenerys's chest. The source of the echoes were renewed, one fevered sob after another, and as Jon forced himself closer, there was no way to refute that Rhaena truly had killed her own sister. His chest throbbed and contracted, a powerful ache spreading through him as Jon began to weep with her as he fell to his knees at the base of the throne's steps, unable to bring himself to go any further. Together, they grieved. Despite everything she had done, their love for Daenerys had been no lie. They loved her even as she had tilted towards insanity, loved her even after she had slaughtered a city in vengeance, and loved her still when she had decided to set the world aflame. Love did not die simply because the person whom it belonged to changed, not when it was as deep and true beyond blood or loyalty. If anything, it was because of their love that it fell upon their shoulders to do what was necessary to save not only the realm, but the one who would have destroyed it all, and to do so themselves. Rhaena drew Daenerys closer, feeling the warmth of her body gradually fading away as death claimed her more securely, draining away all remnants and memory of life.
It was the sound of their cries which drew Drogon and Rhaegal, hearing them echo and bringing them to investigate the sound. When Jon heard the dragons' approach, he staggered to his feet and moved aside as Drogon snarled at him, shouldering his way into the throne room through the wreckage of the wall whilst Rhaegal circled overhead, landing upon the remains of the splintered and broken ceiling to snake his head down and see what had caused such woeful cries. Both brothers saw their mother in their kin's arms, smelled the salt of her tears and felt the grief in her heart as she continued to raise her voice even as it cracked and broke, raw from her sobbing. Blinking, Rhaena turned in order to look at Drogon and Rhaegal, the former flaring his nostrils as he inhaled deeply before crooning in a low moaning sound as Rhaegal chittered, both seemingly calling to their mother who would never again awaken. Finally understanding the reason for their kin's grief, both dragons drew back their heads as their moans turned to snarls, deep and resonant, before all at once they released their voices in cascading roars and screeching which echoed across the entire city. Listening to the sound of their grief, Rhaena closed her eyes and allowed it to wash over her.
She felt their sorrow in her own heart, fresh tears rolling down her cheeks where the ash and dust became pasted to her skin. When their cries ended, Rhaena looked to both dragons as they watched her. No one else could read the emotion in their eyes as she could. She understood them, even without needing words, and they understood her. So when a decision came to her mind, Rhaena felt a calm peace was over her as she looked at Drogon directly, the one whom Daenerys had loved the most and who had loved her best in turn, he understood her desire as she spoke to him in a decisive whisper. "Dracarys." Drawing back his head, Drogon seemed to consider Rhaena's request as Jon caught on too slowly what it meant, looking from Rhaena to Drogon and back again. It was only when Drogon drew in a deep breath and flexed his jaw did Jon finally see Rhaena's intention. He cried out in a desperate plea, making to lunge forwards but it was too late. Drogon unleashed a wealth of flames directly upon Rhaena and Daenerys, engulfing them in one full breath. As heat seared against his skin, Jon could on watch on in horror.