A Lion Still Has Claws

Part 4

King's Landing, the Capital, a city founded on fire and blood was now a cesspool of disgust. The scent of rot and shit could be smelled from miles away while the sound of city life banged within its walls. Criminals roamed the streets, lucky to escape the clutches of the City Watch. Peasants suffered in the city's deepest corners riddled with disease and vermin. At the city's edge rested the Red Keep. The realm's king hid within beside his golden family. He sat upon the throne built on the same morales as the city. A throne made of fire and blood. 

Rhaenyra thought of the words as the carriage rolled to the Red Keep's gate. Her face twisted as the city's scent leaked through the walls, she gagged at the smell. She ignored her stomach's churns as the carriage came to a halt. Her children shouted in delight for their finished journey. Rhaenyra did not share their sentiment. 

She closed her eyes as commotion ensued. The Bolton party greeted the Lannister hosts. Rhaenyra brought Robb to her chest as her voices began to echo. Her grip tightened around her babe, he eased her nerves. An unfamiliar guard opened the door, ready to escort her and her children. Rhaenyra gestured for her son's to exit, along with Bella. She said a silent prayer to her gods before exiting her comfortable confines. 

Henry tentatively reached for her hand, Domeric stood at her side equally cautious. She felt a bit of pride rise as she stood with her three children. It diminished as caught sight of the sigils that surrounded her. The flayed man she found comfort in no longer held its familiar power. It mocked her. As did the royal banners. The laughing lion of House Lannister taunted her and the crowned stag that was resentfully sewn beside.

The flaunting banners followed the half-man, Tyrion Lannister. Around him stood proud Lannister soldiers and a boy who appeared to be his squire.  

Rhaenyra had many curiosities regarding Lord Tyrion. She questioned his strength and ability to survive his family. She was grateful he greeted her. 

Lord Tyrion spoke, "My lady!" His voice carried loudly. "On behalf of my house and of his grace King Joffrey Baratheon, I welcome you to the capital."

Rhaenyra nodded thanks and proceeded to make haste to the castle. She easily ignored the shouts of men as she rushed to the keep, tired of the pomp. Henry and Domeric laughed beside her as the two speedily walked to keep her speed.

"My lady!" She halted, Henry screeched in excitement at the sudden stop.

Still facing the keep she spoke, "Where is Lord Bolton?" 

Tyrion rushed before her and her sons, "Ah yes." His gaze adverted to the floor, "Your father is waiting for you in the throne room." Rhaenyra rushed passed him to continue. She attempted to ignore his shouts, in embarrassment she turned back to him. Tyrion joined her side, "I am to escort you."

Rhaenyra did not admit she did not know where to head. The two walked in a preferred silence, strong tension eerily present. She let Henry and Domeric run ahead to explore their surroundings. Her eyes followed each of their movements. She mindlessly followed Tyrion as she watched them pick at the grass and flowers. 

The two brothers differed greatly. Domeric's features mirrored his father's, he was an echo of the strong Tully genes. Rhaenyra saw very little of herself in him, he inherited her expressions and temperaments rather than looks. Henry no longer favored the Tullys, his appearance shifting to that of the Starks. His dark hair now fell over his shoulders, waving in a similar pattern to hers for it lost its tight curl.

"Quite a back you have." Tyrion's laugh disrupted her. He too watched her sons, admiration upon his face. "That child cried at my presence the last time I was up North," Rhaenyra smirked the memory, she remembered the awkward meeting clearly. "Time does pass quickly."