Considering how long the council had already spent in discussion, it was decided to postpone the rest of the trial to reconvene on the morrow, meaning that Cersei would simply have to wait her turn. Rhaena offered Jaime the chance to meet with his sister one final time before her trial, but to her surprise, he had turned down the offer. Whilst imprisoned together, it had become clear that unless Cersei needed Jaime to either save or fuck her, he mattered very little to her. In fact she blamed him for their current situation, railing at him like a madwoman until he could stand her no longer. Those ties had been firmly cut, and Jaime vowed never to go back to the way things were. Instead, Rhaena suggested that perhaps he might prefer some time with his daughter, Myrcella. The thought no less than terrified him, uncertain of what to do or say to the girl who had always known him to be an uncle, but the temptation was too great for him to resist. She was all he had left, at least until the child Cersei carried was born. He wanted to know Myrcella, to at least hold her once before she was spirited away back to Dorne, where he might never set eyes upon her again. Thankfully, Myrcella agreed to speak with him.
Rhaena left them to converse in private, knowing that it was far past time father and daughter should know one another openly, and so gave them private rooms in order to be alone together, to talk and grieve as a family. She also had rooms prepared for Bran, finding suitable accommodation upon the ground floor of Maegor's Holdfast so that he would not be troubled by the stairs. Perhaps when time came to reconstruct the keep, it might be built to better suit his wheelchair. Still, even as she led him to where he would reside, she would not look at him. She strode ahead of him, speaking not a word until she flung open the door of the chambers she had selected and quickly set about throwing open a window in order to allow some fresh air inside for it was musty and ordering fresh linens to be put down on the bed as well as fuel brought to light the hearth with a fire. All the while she moved briskly from one side of the room to the other, brushing at dust and listing off further commands, Bran's eyes followed her. He even called to her, softly speaking her name, but Rhaena pretended not to hear and instead, left quickly. She would not cave. She was still too angry with him to consider being too long in his presence. With the fragility of her own mind at present, Rhaena did not trust that she would not snap and drive her sword into him in a fit of frenzied rage.
Alternatively, Rhaena sought out Tyrion in order to discuss all that had occurred that day, though the moment she entered his rooms she received his arms around her in a bone crushing embrace. Not expecting such a measure of affection, Rhaena momentarily lost her train of thought before she was prompted to return the embrace. "What is this for?" She asked quietly after Tyrion had released her, deep breaths and sniffs all that were holding his emotions in check as he took Rhaena by the hand to kiss her fingers one by one.
"You know what this is for, my dearest Rhae." He murmured, overcome with relief and gladness. "You forgave him. You showed him mercy. You gave him back his honour. I know Jaime will live by his word, he'll protect you for the rest of his life. And I shall live the rest of mine thanking you for everything you have done for us. Were it not for you, I might have died a long time ago, and my brother too." Mellowed by such heartfelt words, Rhaena drew Tyrion away from the door in order to sit and share a meal with him as they always did, wanting to rest for a while as the day had been trying and tomorrow promised to be more so.
"Did you ever think I would ever do anything that might cause you pain, little friend?" She teased gently as she picked up a covering she had left the last time she had been there and used it to wrap herself up, feeling a chill in the air despite the roaring fire which blazed in the hearth. "Honestly, I thought you knew me better."
"You could have simply imprisoned him for the rest of his life. There were a hundred other ways you could have passed judgement, yet you did not." Tyrion noted to her as he too sat down, pouring a cup of wine each before passing one to Rhaena. It was boiled and spiced. There was always boiled spiced wine prepared for Rhaena to help keep her warm and of better spirits. Her complexion was pallid and her disposition prone to becoming sombre, it was a struggle simply to encourage her to eat a decent amount at each meal. Yet Tyrion never once begrudged the worry she caused him. He would gladly feed Rhaena by hand if that was what she required. "Why did you forgive him as you did?"
"Truthfully, I believe that your brother is a good man who was simply corrupted by a ruthless father. All his faults he learned from Tywin, and his arrogance went unchecked for many years before he was forcibly humbled." Sipping at the wine, Rhaena enjoyed the pleasant sensation of warmth trickling through her body little by little from it as the spices tingled upon her tongue. "When he has come so far, it seemed too great a waste to simply leave him to rot." Additionally, this meant that Jaime would be far removed from Cersei and her rotting influence too. This, Rhaena could not deny, was a rather delicious boon added to the already sweetening pot. She had only intended to release Jaime to allow him to live a freeman whilst Cersei remained a prisoner for the rest of her days. By swearing himself into her service, Rhaena now had another means to further wound Cersei, for now she had what Cersei wanted by could never again have. Jaime. Given time, Rhaena was certain that Jaime would come to feel a degree of affection for her, perhaps they might even consider one another friends. Time and proximity would serve to foster such a relation, and to be able to hold that over Cersei's head was far too great a pleasure for Rhaena to miss. She planned on making Cersei suffer for just as long and intensely as she had suffered under her. Though she did not voice these thoughts, Tyrion was able to guess that Rhaena would not show such leniency towards his sister. It was the only conflict he could not resolve within himself, his feelings concerning Cersei.
They had spent years despising one another, plotting against the other and hurting one another time and time again, and yet she was still his sister. Although Tyrion did not doubt that were their positions reversed Cersei would show him no mercy, he could not help but hesitate. He longed to ask Rhaena what she intended towards his sister, but the question remained locked upon his tongue. She saw it in his eyes, however, sipping at her wine and over the brim of her cup, studied him effortlessly. "I will not harm her whilst she carries that babe in her belly. Have no fear of that."
"Oh, I do not doubt it, my dear. I simply…I simply do not know what to think."
"Then do not think. It will be a while yet before any decision has to be made. In fact, I am quite confident I can persuade the council to agree to postponing Cersei's formal trial until after the child is born. That way we can lock her away and forget about her until she is ready to deliver. In the meantime, you must begin considering how best to rebuild the city and the kingdoms. Many have suffered and winter is here. Unless something is done quickly, we would be lucky to have even a tenth of our smallfolk survive to see the next spring." Knowing that this was true, Tyrion began to discuss a few of his ideas with Rhaena, whereby they fell into their old habits and routine of debating and considering means and ways to keep the people from starving and rebuilding what had been broken. The formal decisions would be made by the Small Council, whomever that might consist of, but until then it did no harm to think aloud and converse with perhaps the most intelligent lady in all the Seven Kingdoms. Tyrion felt a great deal of pride to think that he had taught Rhaena her first letters and nurtured her love of books and learning. They had done her well, and the many years of hardships had not only made her compassionate towards others' plights, but resourceful and insightful also.
Truly, she would have made a peerless queen, but with the constant threat of her own sanity breaking upon her, neither were willing to risk deepening the likelihood of Rhaena following in her sister's and father's footsteps. From what she understood of Dany's stories, Viserys had also shown signs of madness, even when she was very small, which meant that the curse of her bloodline lingered in her also. If Rhaegar had lived, would he too have ended as their father had, brilliant and wonderful as he had been? In some ways it comforted Rhaena to know that her one and only good brother was beyond reproach and could not be besmirched by the failures of his own mind. She would ensure that the histories were amended to know that Rhaegar had never stolen and raped Lyanna Stark, but had married her lawfully out of love. If nothing else survived of her house, she would have Rhaegar celebrated and remembered for the beloved prince and knight he was. In a few years' time, there might even be new songs sung of him and Lyanna, his lady love and wife. It was a comforting thought, one that Rhaena took with her as she made her way back to her own chambers in order to rest.
Before she had even reached her door, however, a servant came to inform her that the king had requested her presence. She might have refused, claimed tiredness and promised to visit upon the morrow, but considering it was Bran's first day being named king, she did not wish to defy him in front of his new subjects. Even with the few servants who had returned after the chaos of that day the city had been plunged into a sea of fire, rumours would quickly travel. So, with a terse nod of her head, Rhaena obliged to follow. She needn't stay long. Only for a few minutes. Long enough so that the servants would not chatter. So, when the servant announced her, Rhaena went inside and kept her eyes elsewhere, anywhere other than where Bran sat in a high backed chair by the fire which was bright and warm, crackling richly almost as if the flames were laughing. The door closed firmly shut behind her, but still Rhaena did not move nor look at him. She could not. Even standing this close to him was causing her pulse to quicken with indignant rage. It was all she could do simply to keep it contained. "Rhaena." Finally Bran broke the silence, calling her name softly, as if the name itself was magical by nature and held power. "Come here." Where she younger and more petulant, Rhaena might have refused.
She did not. Rather, she slowly moved forwards whilst angling her body away from him, moving towards the hearth in order to stand in front of it and enjoy the warmth for herself. The fire continued its laughter. Long stretches of silence ensued, broken only by the sound of the fire and the occasional call of an owl in the night outside, but otherwise, neither Bran nor Rhaena uttered a word. He was watching her again, Rhaena could feel his gaze upon her back. What she could not tell, however, was whether he was seeing her with Bran's own eyes or with his third eye. She would not know unless she looked, but her obstinacy overruled any temptation to see. Eventually it was Bran who wore down first, uttering the minutest sound of a sigh before doing so. "I know why you are angry with me."
"Do you, Your Grace? Then perhaps you also know that it is best that I be left alone." Biting back scathingly, Rhaena could not help but wince. In her mind she saw Bran the boy, smiling with a dimple in one cheek as he chased her through Winterfell. She missed that boy more than anything.
"You were making a grave mistake."
"I do not see how it is any of your business to interfere in my mistakes. I deserved to die for what I did. More so now, because I am lying to everyone else about the truth. Yet in the moment when I wanted to give up my life in atonement, you stole it from me. If I choose to die now, it will not hold the same meaning, it would simply be a craven's way to avoid guilt and shame. Now I must live with this, and it was you who forced it upon me!" With a burst of her rage, Rhaena slammed her palm against the stone of the wall surrounding the hearth, breathing heavily to try and bring back control to her emotions as Bran listened to her in still contemplation. "You had no right…Bran…no right to save me when I did not want saving. You took over my own body. How could you? Why did you? Tell me that much, at least." With her palm stinging where she had struck the stone, Rhaena brought her brow to rest against the back of her hand, her breaths still deep and ragged as she pressed her eyes closed as she waited for Bran to give her an answer. She did not know what he might say and her mind was too exhausted to try and guess, so all she could do was wait with as much patience as she could manage until Bran had decided upon his answer, though like with all things, he took a great deal of time before finally revealing it.
"It was…selfishness." His voice was quieter than Rhaena had ever heard it, having to strain her ears in order to hear him speak. "My own selfishness. I simply did not wish to see you die." As her heart gave an icy clench, Rhaena found herself looking towards Bran before she could stop herself. He was looking at her. Directly at her, with his eyes fully focused without the faraway expression he often wore. He was entirely fixated upon this moment and this present, and all he saw was her. "Because I cannot imagine a world where you do not exist in it, Rhaena. Not now, not ever. Because I saw what you intended, and I stopped you because I was selfish and put my wants above your own. It took everything I had to warg into you at such great a distance, but more so because of the power of your mind. It should not have been possible, but I made it possible…because Bran the boy loved you from the moment he first saw you. Because…in some part of me where Bran still exists…he still loves you, and always shall." All words became smoke in the wind for Rhaena in that moment, forgetting how to speak, how to think, even how to breathe. Other than Tyrion, no man had ever confessed so openly to love her romantically. Not even Robb, though he told her so in every other way without the use of words, had only hinted at it. Yet Bran, unearthly and detached as he was from the living world, openly claimed to love her. It was diminished underneath the shroud of the Three-Eyed Raven, but still there.
Before she knew it, Rhaena was crying silently, gaping at Bran until she found herself slowly sinking to her knees before him, placing her hands upon his legs in order to grip onto him tightly. "Oh Bran…why did you go north of the Wall?" She whispered to him as she searched his face, sweet yet angular as it was. The years had hardened him, sharpened him until no remnant of his boyhood had remained, yet as Rhaena searched, she felt certain that there was a hint of light within his eyes, a nostalgic glimmer she had known before. "It is as if you never truly returned to us. You died there. Is there no hope that you might come back one day?" To this, Bran only continued to look at her silently. It was the only answer he gave and the only one she needed. With a mournful shudder, Rhaena lifted herself forwards and closed her eyes as she placed a kiss upon Bran's lips. Whether this kiss was a sign of farewell or a renewal of friendship, Rhaena was uncertain. All she knew was that she wanted Bran to feel something, even if it was only the warmth of her skin and the taste of spices from her tongue. He remained unmoving…until she felt the brush of his fingers over her hand, grazing lightly at her skin before settling over hers, and the soft flutter of his lashes against her cheek as his eyes sank closed. It was a simple, impassioned kiss, one that healed rather than hurt, and as Rhaena felt Bran's hand close around hers, she found her anger and resentment draining away to be long forgotten and replaced with warm nostalgia and contentment, all by the power of a single kiss.