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The Maiden of the Vale had arrived from Gulltown, bringing her own ward, the Lady Rhaena Targaryen, with a dragon on her shoulder. (Fire & Blood)
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Rhaena had planned everything meticulously, as was her wont. She would surprise her twin sister in Baela’s own bedchamber in the Red Keep. Morning would not be perched on her shoulder, as the hatchling had been doing since they entered the city, for the unexpected sight of Rhaena’s dragon might bring Baela grief, reminding her of her own dead dragon. Rhaena would prepare her sister first, prepare her for the sight of Morning
She looks so pretty in pink, Rhaena would say.
Her color suits you well, Rhae, Baela would reply.
Their reunion did not take place exactly as Rhaena had planned and pictured it. Baela found her first, found her and called out, “Rhae!” at the top her lungs, as was her wont. She marched towards Rhaena purposefully, single-mindedly, barely noticing Lady Jeyne and Lady Jessamyn, who were flanking Rhaena on either side.
“She is magnificent,” Baela proclaimed, about Rhaena’s dragon, after Lady Jessamyn had tactfully maneuvered Lady Jeyne away, so the sisters could be left alone to speak. “A very fitting dragon for you, Rhae. So dainty in pink, and yet, her black horns and crest reveal the iron inside. What have you named her? Not Sundancer, I hope.”
Sundancer had been the name of Rhaena’s dead hatchling, the one who had come from the same clutch of eggs as Baela’s Moondancer. They had been a matching pair, Sundancer and Moondancer, though Sundancer only lived a few hours, while Moondancer lived long enough to be ridden into battle by her rider at least once.
On the last night they spent sharing a bed before Rhaena departed for the Eyrie with her dragon’s egg, Baela had advised her not to name her new dragon Sundancer, when that egg finally hatched. “It could be a bad omen, naming your new dragon after the one who died,” Baela had whispered. “We will fly side by side on our dragons, like Mother and Father used to fly together,” Rhaena had said, wistfully.
But Moondancer was no more. And their father … their father was also no more. They were truly orphaned now, motherless and fatherless. Aunt Rhaenyra was gone too, and Grandmother Rhaenys as well. Jace. Luke. Joff. Vis. All gone, never to return.
We were so many, and now we are so few, her grandfather had said. He seemed so old and frail, when Rhaena had never thought of the Sea Snake as old and frail before, despite his great age.
“Her name,” said Rhaena, holding back her tears, “is Morning.”
Baela grinned. “Because the sun rises in the morning?”
“I’ll tell you later,” Rhaena whispered. Her reasons were more involved and complicated than that, but she did not trust herself not to burst into tears, if she continued to speak.
“You look well, Rhae,” Baela said, approvingly, after inspecting her sister from head to toe. “I am glad. So very glad. It gave me courage to face any hardship, when I knew that you were safe, so high up there in the impregnable Eyrie. I did not have to worry about you.”
You look well. I did not have to worry about you. Rhaena could not say the same about Baela. Baela did not look well at all, and Rhaena had lived in fear that her twin sister would not survive the war, and they would never be reunited at the end of it.
“You should have gone with me to the Eyrie,” Rhaena blurted out, her face flushed. She was staring at the deep scars left by the chains that had manacled Baela’s wrists and ankles. “You would have been safe there, just like I was safe. I pleaded with you to come with me, but you said you had to stay with Jace, that it was your duty to fight by his side. We should have gone to the Eyrie together. If we had, you wouldn’t have had to watch Moondancer die. You would not have been a hostage. Your head would not have been placed on the block every time our Targaryen cousin felt like threatening our Velaryon cousin and our Velaryon grandfather.”
That was not at all what she had planned to say when they were reunited, but the words jumped out of Rhaena’s mouth before she could stop them. It was a thoroughly strange sensation. She had never been the blurter before. She was always careful with her words, weighing each of them carefully before speaking. But this time –
Baela did not seem perturbed in the least. “You are angry, Rhae. Good!” she declared.
Rhaena was horrified with herself. “Good? How is it good? I should not have said those things. I should not have said any of it.”
“Anger is good. I was worried you would be feeling sorry for me instead. I could not stand to be pitied, Rhae. You know that.”
Rhaena burst into tears. She knew how much her sister hated to be pitied, that was true enough. But it was still wrong of her, to blame Baela. She did not mean it, not like that. She, who had been safe when Baela was not, who never had to fear for her life under Lady Jeyne Arryn’s protection while Baela’s life was in grave danger every moment she spent as a hostage of Aegon the Second.
Baela urged, “Do not even think it, Rhae. It is not your fault that you were safe and I was not.”
“I did not say it is my fault.”
“But you are thinking it nonetheless. I know you, Rhae. Father would not wish us to waste our time with tears. Remember that.”
“There are rumors that … that Father –“
“Do not believe any of it. Our father is dead, well and truly. Were he not dead, he would have returned to us. He would not have abandoned us, Rhae, never!”
The mention of their dead father brought tears to Baela’s eyes.
“You are crying too, Baela.”
“These are tears of joy,” Baela insisted. “Joy that we are reunited, that we are together once more.” She embraced her twin sister fiercely. “I dreamed of doing this, Rhae, every day that we were apart.”
“I dreamed of it too,” said Rhaena, wishing she never had to let go, knowing that she eventually must.