When the ships from Essos arrived with the provisions the crown had purchase, all the kingdoms rejoiced. They went to every port upon the east and west coast, even all the way North from White Harbour to Eastwatch and even to the Iron Islands. They brought wheat and corn, rice and barley and oats, everything the people would need to survive. There would be no sumptuous feasts and they would need to ration, but with this first wave of cargo, they were certain to make it through at least another year of winter. The livestock were counted and then distributed, sent to as many holdfasts as possible. They were driven from the ships in their hundreds, even their thousands as they clustered together. Sheep, cows, pigs, chickens, ducks, goats, even aurochs. Although entirely necessary, Tyrion bemoaned the mess the animals left in the streets and so children were paid to shovel the mess and dispose of it safely, washing the streets clean once more. Word came from the north soon after, King Robb personally thanking his brother the king for the supplies and promised to repay him when he was able. Bran had smiled and looked at Rhaena who seemed oddly fascinated by her own nails. "Should I write a reply to my brother that it was not I who ordered the surplus provisions?" He questioned but Rhaena only smiled at him prettily.

"Why, Your Grace, whatever do you mean?" Amused, Bran said no more but intended to tell Robb that he owed his thanks to Rhaena. He would have sent food to the north if they had asked for it, but Rhaena had anticipated their needs and paid with her own coin for it. Since it had nothing to do with him and had cost the treasury nothing, he saw no reason to pursue the issue. "The livestock will have to be kept separated from any native herds. We do not know how the species will mix, or what diseases they might carry. Grandmaester Samwell, do you know of any research concerning animal diseases?" Smoothly moving the conversation away, Rhaena listened as Sam promptly began to list of several diseases contractable only to animals, some of them sounding particularly nasty. "I see, if that is the case then ravens should be sent then to advice those receiving the animals. What do you think, Your Grace? Should we integrate the livestock or maintain a quarantine?"

"I think six months of quarantine shall suffice." Accepting his decision, Rhaena scrawled it onto her list of records. She had taken up the habit of keeping a record of the contents of each Small Council meeting, noting down those who attended, the topics discussed and how they were resolved. So long as it was nothing private or sensitive, it went into her book. Samwell had thoroughly approved of the idea and agreed that records should be more thoroughly kept to make it easier for future generations to learn what occurred during their meetings. Rhaena was happy to undertake the task, and as Mistress of Laws, helped Bran to pass his new decrees and amend those he changed already in record. "What of our invitation to bring a magician to court? Have there been any responses?"

"Too many to count, Your Grace." Varys sighed deeply with a shake of his head. "Some were hardly more than charlatans with cheap parlour tricks. They have been sent away directly, however some do appear to have a little talent in magic." Despite his report, Varys did not make secret his uncertainty in inviting magicians to come to Westeros in order to practice their arts. It was necessary, however, as Bran viewed that if magicians can lessen the burden of winter, then perhaps the people would not freeze to death in their own beds and homes. To test them, however, would be Rhaena's task. They were allowed into the council chambers one by one where Rhaena was able to receive a sense of what they were and what they could do. Her own magic stirred each time she was in the presence of someone with significant abilities, as if it called and reached out to its own likeness. In truth, most had only a few tricks and skills at their disposal as magic was not something to be played with recklessly, however one or two did boast a rather powerful fire wielding ability. Rhaena recognised them instantly to be similar to her, and with a nod to Bran after they had demonstrated their skills, were invited to stay.

Having looked back into the thralls of time, Bran had rediscovered the lost arts of Valyria, chiefly the spells necessary to create new Valyrian steel weapons and armour. Upon hearing this, the magicians who were worth their salt all cried out in their tongues upon hearing the king's words and all but fell to their knees. Magic was to make a return to Westeros and eventually, to Essos too. Their knowledge would be their trade, and many would travel for miles just for the chance to be taken in as a novice and learn the ways of magic. It would have to be handled delicately and developed slowly. Too quick and the people would cry out in fear and distrust, but if they were interwoven gradually, then perhaps they would be viewed the same way maesters and travelling septons were seen. At the very least, the magicians who could produce their own fire would be priceless once winter had settled completely upon the realm. It was threatening even now, snow falling in clumps as thick as thumbnails and building giant drifts over the city. Work had to be increased in order to be completed before the true snows of winter fell upon them, reinforcing the city so that it would endure the winter. At the very least the sewer system should be completed, and the city would no longer reek of death.

The steadiness in which the realm healed was heart warming to witness, and Rhaena was pleased to have played a small part in it. She enjoyed her days, working on what required her attention the most at that present time, sat upon the council meetings, discussed privately with Tyriona and Bran of what needed to be done or kept for the next meeting, and in the evenings, would share meals with whomever wished to join her or had in turn invited her to sup with them. More often than not, it was Tyrion and Jaime she ate and laughed with. Sometimes Bronn would join them, or Sam. Sometimes, Rhaena would eat with Bran, just the two of them together. Those evenings were peaceful, and as always, Rhaena would regale Bran with a story or a song like she had all those years ago, where Bran would exist with her in that moment, more a man than a Three-Eyed Raven. Thoughts of Cersei's words no longer haunted her, and Rhaena continued to live her life as she pleased.

When the time came for Myrcella's wedding, she left the city with Jaime and Tyrion, both men sailing upon one of her ships whilst she flew upon Rhaegal, glad for the excuse of an extended flight. When they arrived, they were greeted warmly as honoured guests, Trystane welcoming them himself with open arms. They delivered their wedding gifts and were swiftly brought inside to shelter from the sun, iced wine being pressed into their hands along with offerings of stuffed olives and peppers. Tyrion almost choked upon the burning taste of the pepper and swiftly swallowed half a flagon of wine to quench the sensation as Rhaena laughed heartily, eating the peppers without so much as a flush. The men were taken elsewhere whereas Rhaena was permitted to see Myrcella, who had squealed happily and flung her arms about Rhaena's neck when she had seen her. Rhaena noticed that the long strings of seashells and windchimes Myrcella had made whilst on Dragonstone now adorned her room in the Water Gardens, making her laugh as she then kissed the rosy cheeks of the blushing bride. Immediately taken by the hand, Rhaena was brought to view the gown which was a luxurious raiment of shining white with Myrish lace and pearls, with gold thread embroidering flowers and leaves into the hems and bodice. Myrcella would look absolutely beautiful, and Rhaena gave her word that she would help her to dress for the ceremony on the morrow. Her promise allowed Myrcella to smile breathlessly, who admitted to being exceedingly nervous as she sat with Rhaena to discuss what it would mean to be married. Of course, she knew what would be expected in the marriage chamber, and although when she had visited her mother Cersei had given her a detailed account of what was to happen, the way she had described it had made it sound quite uncomfortable and more of a duty than a pleasure. Rhaena shook her head. "Then let me put your mind at ease, sweeting. Listen close and listen well, and I shall teach you how to make a man tremble before your gloriousness." With a wicked grin, Rhaena set about teaching Myrcella all that she would need to know to ensure that she not only did her duty to her husband, but ensure that she would also receive the pleasure of it.

Before long Myrcella was blushing a furious shade of red but giggling all the same, interrupted only by the announcement that Lady Sansa Stark had arrived. When Sansa entered the room, a chorus of squeals, embraces and giggles erupted once more, and the three settled down in order to gossip and enjoy Myrcella's final night as an unmarried woman. They shared her bed that night as was sometimes custom so that it could be assured the maiden had not been carried off in the night or had been taken liberties with. They rose, whispering with excitement and joy, and prepared Myrcella for her day. The bath which was prepared for them was enough for all three of them to wash together, bathed with rose petals and soon smelling as sweet as flowers. Rhaena brushed at Myrcella's hair whilst Sansa aired the gown one final time, shaking it out and fussing with any apparent creases until all were bone dry. They rubbed oils into her wrists, her neck and behind her ear, then garbed Myrcella in her gossamer smallclothes before the gown could be put on. It looked absolutely magnificent upon her. It showed the slimness of her waist and the delicate frame of her body, her hair a river of gold spilling over her shoulders as she turned in the light. Sansa almost burst into tears at the sight of her. "Splendid. Utterly ravishing, Myrcella. Come now, let us fix your hair and see about some jewellery. By the time we are done with you, why, all of Dorne shall be in love with you, and that includes the female population." Giggling, Myrcella nodded her head and sat down at her vanity table.

Unable to bring herself to put up such beautiful hair, Rhaena and Sansa decided to let it fall loose and free down her back, instead gathering up sections which framed her face to weave a plaited crown around her head and finish it with gold and silver flowers, their centres studded with diamonds. They helped her into her shoes, too afraid to let her bend her body should the dress tear, then fixed a necklace upon her, a pendant bearing the sun of House Martell with a diamond droplet, and an amber centre. "It was a gift from Trystane. Do you think it suits?"

"I think it suits perfectly, Myrcella. You are a vision in white." Sansa told her truthfully as she added a little powder to her face so that her skin would not shine should she begin to sweat. "But even if you were to walk to Trystane clothed in rags he would love you. I am happy for you both, and wish you many years of fruitful marriage and just as many children." Sighing wistfully, Rhaena stepped back in order to regard Myrcella. After everything, Rhaena was glad that little Myrcella had retained her innocence even in the wake of everything that had happened around her. She was the best of all the Lannisters, for she was untainted and pure. It almost felt as if Rhaena was sending off her own child to be married, her heart thundering in her chest as she gazed lovingly at Myrcella before taking her hands and kissing her cheeks.

"Rhaena? What is the matter?"

"Nothing, sweeting. I am only so very happy at this moment," Rhaena explained, giving Myrcella's fingers a light squeeze. "Now remember everything I told you about the marriage bed. Do not be afraid, Trystane will be good and gentle to you, and if he is not, then you need only say the word and I shall feed him to Rhaegal." She laughed then, knowing that Rhaena only jested about Rhaegal but meant in earnest that she would protect her should something happen. Myrcella had no doubt of Trystane's goodness and so did not have any fear in that regard, but it was reassuring to know that should ever she find mistreatment, all she needed to do was call for Rhaena and she would come flying in like a gallant knight to rescue her upon the back of a dragon. What a story that would be. A timid knock came at the door and a servant announced that it was time. Kissing Myrcella one final time, Rhaena left with Sansa in order to take their places, dressed in their best gowns though Rhaena had loaned one to Sansa, for winter furs would do her no good here. They walked arm in arm, quickly talking of Winterfell and the north, of Robb and Rickon and Lady, until finally they were gathered amongst the guests and found their way to where Tyrion awaited them. He greeted Sansa with a bow and a kiss to her hand, a wink to Rhaena then stood quietly.

The water gardens were beautiful, cascades of flower petals constantly falling from above with sensuous spices dancing in the air. Rhaena inhaled them deeply. Trystane awaited his bride with a broad smile upon his face, watching as Myrcella walked up the aisle to him with her hand upon her father's arm. Jaime had almost wept when Myrcella had asked him to give her away, barely managing to nod his head in acceptance. He looked as if he might weep now, bearing his daughter forwards and when time came to hand her off to Trystane, he had hesitated, keeping Myrcella beside him before leaning forwards and whispering something into Trystane's ear. Judging by how the bridegroom had paled considerably, Rhaena suspected that there were several threats being spoken by the father of the bride before finally he consented to giving his daughter to her intended husband. Kissing her cheek tenderly, Jaime whispered one further thing into Myrcella's ear before stepping aside and allowing the ceremony to proceed.

It was the most perfect day, and after Rhaena had drunk her fill of wine and allowed herself a passionate tryst with not only two Dornish men but also their paramours, Rhaena arose the next morning feeling blissful and content. She slipped away in secret, returning to her own guestrooms and there spent the next few days enjoying the last streams of warmth the sunlight offered before it was time to return to King's Landing where duty awaited them. Tyrion could not stay away long as the King's Hand, having received permission to attend the wedding on account of the fact that it was his own niece who was marrying, but now the celebrations and festivities were over, they were no longer needed in Dorne. Sansa was to travel with them and remain in King's Landing to assist Rhaena in her affairs, much as she had done in Meereen, and even brought forwards suggestions of her own that had proven effective in governing Meereen which might prove useful in King's Landing. Rhaena was glad for her company and the two fell into the old rhythm, often sharing one another's beds to whisper and giggle late into the night before awakening the following morning wrapped in one another's arms. It was this peace that protected Rhaena from the threat of losing her mind, though it haunted her quietly, always present, always looming. Whenever she could she thrust it aside, but when the worry and fear grew too much, there were her friends to step in and sooth her.

Perhaps it was ironic that, at the moment of Rhaena's deepest sense of serenity, word came from Dragonstone that Cersei was showing signs of her body preparing to go into delivery, Maester Pylos writing that Ser Jaime had once more been requested to attend his sister. None showed any particular enthrallment to hear that Cersei was soon to give birth, not even her brothers. Jaime was ashen faced and Tyrion grave as they sat together, staring at the word brought by the raven. Sam stood a little awkwardly, uncertain of what to do considering the intensity of the atmosphere, the raven cawing upon his shoulder as he waited for someone to speak until he could bear the silence no longer. "What reply shall I give?"

"None." Rhaena decided, casting one more look upon the letter before rising. "I shall go directly. Rhaegal flies faster than a raven, we would arrive before any reply could. Thank you, Sam." Nodding his head, Sam took this as leave to go, retreating from the room with the raven still perched upon his shoulder. "If it be your wish, you are welcome to accompany. Both of you. Rhaegal will not mind two more." For a few moments it seemed as if both brothers would refuse the offer, stirring in their contemplations until finally, their resolves crumbled, and they agreed. Even if it was Cersei, she was still their sister, and the child she was to deliver was their blood, Jaime's own child. Though neither much liked the idea of flying, Rhaena assured them that they would be safe, and the flight was a swift one. Departing after giving word to Bran, all three of them journeyed to Dragonstone upon Rhaegal's back, soaring over the water and viewing the land below them whilst cavorting with clouds. It was wondrous enough to take their minds away from the fact that they were flying to Cersei. As they glided above the entire world, Tyrion and Jaime came to understand how invulnerable the Targaryens must have felt when they flew upon the backs of their dragons.

For Rhaena it was no different. She found strength within Rhaegal who was sensitive to her emotions and seemed to fly more gently because of it. When Dragonstone came into sight, Rhaena lowered herself against Rhaegal's neck and touched her hand forwards, signalling for him to land. He obeyed without hesitation, taking his riders down to the ground and settled outside of the keep where Maester Pylos hurried to the window of Cersei's chambers as the shout had been taken up to inform him that Rhaegal had been sighted. Sure enough, the Princess of Dragonstone had arrived. When the woman gave another cry, he drew away and instead focused upon her. Already there were signs of complications which the maester was attempting to combat. Lady Cersei's pulse was frantically out of rhythm and although he had leeched her, it had done little good. She was feverish and her skin was cold to the touch. None of these were good signs, and the maester was uncertain of how deliver the news to the princess when she arrived. It seemed as if she had arrived with two others, most likely Cersei's brothers, which made him all the more nervous.

Still, he had a duty to perform, and so he strove to carry it out to the best of his ability. The labour was not fully underway yet, so Pylos allowed the midwives to take over so that he could go to greet the princess and the lady's brothers. "Princess, Lord Hand, Ser Jaime, welcome back." Wasting no time, Rhaena swiftly asked after Cersei's condition, wanting to know if the child had been born yet. "No, princess, it is still early but considering the lady's age and the fact that she has birthed three children before, I expect it will not be long. A few hours at most." Nodding her head, Rhaena looked to Jaime and Tyrion, both of whom appeared to be rather nauseous. "I'm afraid I cannot permit anyone into the bedchamber, you will have to wait without."

"Then we shall wait." Relieved, Pylos hurried himself away. Soon the entire castle was filled with Cersei's wailing howls, their sounds bounding from wall to wall and leaving everyone who heard them unsettled. It seemed as if she were being tortured to death, not bringing in a new life into the world. The hours seemed to last for days, and during each minute Jaime paced back and forth whilst looking utterly wretched. Eventually the tirades of screaming ended, and when the silence fell in a sudden hush, everyone held their breath. Each heart pulsed in anxious hesitation, listening until all at once, a different cry filled the expansive halls. The cry of a babe. Breathing seemingly for the first time in hours, Jaime's shoulders sagged as Tyrion mirrored his brother's relief. "Come. Let us see for ourselves." Taking both brothers by the hand, Rhaena led them up the stairs to the tower chamber where Cersei lay, her soiled sheets pulled from beneath her as the midwives washed and cleansed her. The brothers did not enter, waiting to be called in but Rhaena entered directly and immediately looked to Cersei. She was shockingly pale and her lips tinged a daunting shade of blue, labouring for breath as she lay there spread open, allowing the midwives to do what they willed. She did not even notice Rhaena was there. Turning her back to her, Rhaena instead looked to where Pylos held a tiny bundle in his arms, freshly washed and wrapped in a thick blanket and fur. "Pylos?"

"Princess, there you are. Come, come and see. It is a girl, a healthy little thing by all accounts. She is quite beautiful." And so she was. When Pylos drew back the blanket to show more of the child's face, Rhaena saw a little rosebud mouth and sweet, ample cheeks with a crown of pale wisps upon her head, promising hair of spun gold like her father and mother. "Will you hold her?" Nodding acceptingly, Rhaena allowed the child to be placed into her arms where she held the infant carefully, letting the small head rest in the crook of her arm, admiring her softly before then taking her outside. Still Cersei did not stir. Outside, both Jaime and Tyrion rose to their feet when the door opened, and the moment they saw the bundle of blankets in Rhaena's arms, their hearts melted. With a soft smile, Rhaena gave the child to Jaime first, whispering to him that he had another daughter. Now Jaime wept freely, shaking as he gazed at the angelic looking babe in his arms with a terror that he might drop her, or hold her too tightly. She was perfect. As perfect as could be, and yet Jaime could not help but fear that this child would prove to be another Joffrey. He prayed she would not. Two of his first three children had been gentle tempered, he hoped his luck would hold. Glancing to Tyrion, Jaime knelt down so that his brother could also see his newest niece, and the pair cooed over her like a pair of old fishwives, causing Rhaena to chuckle and withdraw, leaving them to their privacy.

Now she focused upon Cersei, washed and changed with new linens beneath her, but still looking no better. "Pylos? Tell me what is happening. Is this common after a birth?" She questioned him but Pylos looked so fretful and skittish that she determined that it was not. Within minutes Cersei was soaked in sweat once again, and dark scarlet stains seeped through the fresh sheets to signify that she was still bleeding, even after the afterbirth had been delivered.

"It is the tears from the birth, the child was delivered awkwardly with both head and shoulder simultaneously. The child caused the soft tissue to tear…forgive me, princess. I must hurry." Stepping aside so that she was out of the maester's way, she watched as he discarded the stained covering and set to work to try and keep Cersei from bleeding to death. He poured boiled wine over the area which caused Cersei to moan and whimper, thrashing weakly as Pylos then attempted to stem the weeping blood long enough so that he might try to stitch the tears together. No matter how swiftly he worked, however, it was clear he was fighting a losing battle. It came as a shock to Rhaena when she suddenly realised that Cersei was dying. After waiting so long for this child to be born so that she could finally deliver the punishment she deserved, Cersei was ultimately defeated in childbed. Rhaena could not decide if it was irony or cruelty the gods would do this. Gingerly she stepped forwards, moving around Pylos as he hurried to consult his books, hands covered in Cersei's blood. She continually moaned and whimpered, eyes fluttering until she seemed to sense that Rhaena was watching her, opening her eyes to turn her head, staring weakly.

"You."

"Who else did you expect?" Speaking softly as not to disturb or distract Pylos, Rhaena leaned closer to Cersei. "You delivered a daughter, did you know? A sweet little thing, so innocent. She looks nothing like you, clearly." Unable to help herself, Rhaena could not hold back the malicious lash of her tongue as Cersei sneered.

"She will be your undoing, I swear it. In years to come when you think you have finally reached utter peace and perfection in your life, my daughter shall avenge her mother. Everything that you have done, she will do to you tenfold. She will come for me. I am her mother." Arching an eyebrow, Rhaena wondered if Cersei was being stubborn or quite simply ignorant.

"You will not live long enough to be rescued, unfortunately, though perhaps it is fortunate, for you at least. I had such plans for you to suffer many long days until you would beg me for mercy and death." Reaching out her hand, Rhaena brushed at Cersei's ragged and damp hair, moving it aside as she continued to smile her sinister smile. A spike of cruelty rose up within her. Knowing that Cersei was going to die, Rhaena wanted to make her suffer as much as she possibly could before she went beyond Rhaena's reach. This was the true irony, for as Rhaena spoke her next words, the last words Cersei would ever hear, it was Cersei whom Rhaena had learned from to find a person's deepest fears and spin them into a tale of woe. "And I promise you, your child shall not live long after you are gone. I imagine some ill fate shall befall her…perhaps I shall throw her from this very tower…or shall I give her to the sea and let her drift away?" Gasping sharply, Cersei twitched and grasped hold of Rhaena, but her fingers were weak and easily pried away. It made Rhaena think of Robert's final moments, and her smile grew crueller. "You know, Robert was in a similar state when he lay dying. Bleeding, overcome with fever…when he called me to him, he was so weak he could not even lift his own head. That is why I smothered him. I killed Robert, not you Cersei. You merely opened the path to allow me to finish him." Her panic transformed into rage, seething between her teeth as Cersei fought desperately to attack Rhaena, flailing her hands to try and rake her nails down her face but Rhaena caught them effortlessly and pinned them down. "Do not worry, sweet Cersei, I shall send your child after you once you die, and I shall be certain to comfort Jaime in his grief. I expect he will not care to lose one child…since I am carrying another of his seed within me." From panic to rage to pain, the emotions shifted through Cersei one after the other. Baring her teeth in one final grin, Rhaena leaned down and kissed Cersei's sweat ridden brow. "Sweet dreams…mother." Drawing away her hand, Rhaena watched as Cersei writhed and struggled, fighting so desperately, but in the end, it amounted to nothing.

As her heart gave way within her, lacking enough blood to fill her with life and warmth, Cersei gradually exhaled her last breath and went lax even as Maester Pylos returned, carrying several instruments in his arms. When he saw Cersei go still, however, he knew that it was too late. "I apologise, princess. I should have done more, acted more swiftly, perhaps I missed something…I know you ordered me to keep her alive, please forgive me for failing you."

"You are not to blame, Pylos. You cannot command a person to live, nor prevent death once it has come to claim one of its own. The Stranger has taken her, though you did all in your power to prevent it, I am sure." Speaking kindly and softly to Pylos, Rhaena touched his shoulder as she moved past him, moving towards the door where she hesitated to open it, biting down on her lip before finally summoning her courage and pushed it open. Jaime and Tyrion looked up, both of them full of smiles.

"Ah Rhaena, we have decided upon a name for her. Joanna, after our mother. What do you think?" When Rhaena did not reciprocate their joy, the brothers immediately sensed that something was wrong. "Rhaena? What is it? What has happened?" Swallowing back the lump in her throat, Rhaena bowed her head.

"I am so sorry…your sister…" She heard Jaime's intake of breath as Tyrion only stared at her. "Your sister…she has passed."