A Lion Still Has Claws

Part 5

Rhaenyra's new rooms were obnoxiously elegant. The amount of detailing throughout her small quarters caused an awful coldness throughout. The room echoed the character of a prison cell. It was a confining space meant to hold her captive until Ser Jaime saw it fit to return to the West. Rhaenyra refused to die at Casterly Rock, she plotted her escape stealthily.

She ignored the Bolton's departure from the Capital, planning her theoretical escape. The Northern party was sent away with less gallantry received upon their arrival. Rhaenyra heard the horses trot through the castle's gates, it was a bitter satisfaction. Her room acted as a haven at that moment. She easily ignored the farewells and focused on her children. 

Domeric scurried about, preferring the space over the constricting carriage they had shared. He ran to each drawer, opening nearly all to pull at its contents. His mother did not mind, she enjoyed watching his self-distraction. Domeric then ran to the wardrobe, he shouted at the sight of the dresses' colors. Each was deemed a favorable shade, but he began to pull only the best from within. The dresses fell behind him in a rain of color. The fabric fell to the floor in a rainbow-like pool that caught the light of the sun beautifully. 

 Rhaenyra felt content watching from her place on the bed, she did not find a need to scold him for the mess. She leaned further against the headboard, leaning her youngest son against her bent knees. Robb smiled to her, extending his legs into her belly as he tried to stand. He bit into his hand, drool spilling onto his small fingers.

"Ew brother," Henry screeched beside them. He pulled the baby's hand away from his mouth in disgust. "No eat." Robb tilted his head in confusion, bringing his hand back to its former place. Rhaenyra laughed at his small defiance. Her humor grew as Henry too repeated his actions. 

A knock sounded at the door, all stalled in their actions. Domeric gently ran to the bed, dropping a dress as he did. He stood tall beside her trying and acting as protector to whoever stood outside the door. Henry nestled into their mother's opposite side, annoyed at the disturbance. Rhaenyra tensed in her seat, arms tightening ever so slightly around Robb.

"Your grace," Bella's voice echoed throughout the room. Rhaenyra's shoulders feel quickly at the sound of her maid. "Pardon, my lady. Ser Jaime is here to escort you through the gardens."

Rhaenyra shifted's previous anxieties returned. Ser Jaime would venture to her rooms daily, requesting to spend time with her. He would frequently ask for a walk in the garden. Rhaenyra would refuse, the thought of spending time together deemed hypocritical.

Jaime Lannister was her husband's prisoner, her prisoner. She had tortured him several times to get answers the Stark army needed. Rhaenyra was proudly relentless, threatening flaying more than once. She questioned his reasoning for demanding her as a wife. 

"Come in, Bella." She called, her maid did as told. The dark-haired maid held a small box, she bowed slightly waiting for lady's instructions. Rhaenyra said nothing but motioned her to the bed.

Bella quickly fell to the edge, whispering. "A gift from Ser Jaime," she placed the box against the bed's comforter and lifted its lid. Both Domeric and Henry rushed to see its contents, their mother hesitantly refused. "Fine stones, my lady." Bella poured the box's contents, jewels of varying colors spilled. Every stone was a fine display of Lannister's riches. 

Rhaenyra leaned forward, mindful of the babe in her grasp. She reached blindly into the pile, pulling a single ruby earring. The gem swayed from its hook hypnotically. "He thinks his riches is enough to gain my affections," Rhaenyra offendedly scoffed.

"Do I tell him you refuse once more?" Bella questioned almost redundantly.

Rhaenyra returned the earring to its obnoxious pile. She stood from the bed, bouncing Robb as she walked. "I will join him. Take the children to the library. Keep them out of the Lannisters' reach."

Her maid nodded, pulling Domeric and Henry away from the box of jewels. She reached for Robb but was met with refusal from his nervous mother. Rhaenyra hissed a no as Bella's arms reached for him. She had yet to part from him in his short life out of stubbornness and fear.

She bid farewell to her eldest children, heard them greet the Kingslayer as they passed him. Rhaenyra was left alone with her baby. She laid him on the bed, sitting beside him to watch his silly movements closely. Her heart swelled as she focused on him. His eyes danced around the room, brightening as he noticed new details. He kicked his legs to stretch, she caught his foot earning a screech of laughter from him.

Rhaenyra had fallen in love again. It was the same love she had felt for her eldest boys. She was grateful to feel such emotion. But with this love came desperation, the need to protect her children till she rots in the ground. 

Her babe was nearly a victim of the Red Wedding, dead before he was given the chance to live. His twin suffered such a fate. It pained her to think of the small girl buried in the Riverlands. But he was alive, squealing as she tickled his sides. With his birth came her vow to protect her sons with fire and blood.

Another knock disturbed her, she had forgotten about Ser Jaime. She ignored the servants' stares as she walked beside him through the halls, she tried to ignore her escort but he was president. Rhaenyra attempted to focus her attention toward Robb, but the child traitorously fell asleep in his sling.

The royal gardens were filled with equal amounts of spies and flowers. Ser Jaime would stall before various plants and herbs, attempting to impress with false knowledge. Rhaenyra bit her tongue, trying no to laugh and correct him. Her cheeks blushed in embarrassment as he repeated himself. He did not recognize any plant, his ignorance in botany pained her.

Rhaenyra adverted her attention from Ser Jaime to the rest of the garden. She took notice to the various Tyrells scattered about. Each seemed to cling to the greenery, echoing their house sigil of the rose. Their eyes twitched in her direction each time Ser Jaime spoke. She smiled, finding their spying more interesting that plant talk.

She focused on each Tyrell's face hoping to find the familiar handsome features of Ser Loras. Rhaenyra had not thought of Loras Tyrell in years. The death of Renly Baratheon was the only time she held recent concern for him. Her heart broke for him, she longed to speak to him but it was a time of war. Rhaenyra regretted not speaking to him since their youth, having a Southern ally is beneficial to any plan. 

Rhaenyra pursed her lips, remembering her brief engagement to Ser Loras. She was promised to him to assure a Southern alliance for her father. Her oldest brother was betrothed to some Mormont daughter, further strengthening House Bolton's place in the North. His death destroyed the varying alliances and had left her Roose Bolton's heir. He broke the ties to House Tyrell, sending word to the Starks in a month's time. She was forever his pawn. Rhaenyra secured Roose Bolton's power in the North twice.

Her son let out a soft cry. Rhaenyra was grateful he woke from his short nap. She rocked him gently, turning to see Ser Jaime walk toward a bench. She reluctantly followed to take a seat beside him.

Jaime Lannister was arrogantly handsome even with the tarnishes of war. He looked half-dead, deep circles under his eyes and hollowed cheeks. His blonde hair was shaved close to his scalp, it awkwardly grew back. The vanity in his green eyes was no longer visible, replaced by a clear shame. Each odd feature was temporary, his golden status would return soon. The only permanent mark was sliced into his cheek, a dagger mark gifted to him by Rhaenyra. She was proud to add imperfection to him. 

Rhaenyra spoke, "Is Loras Tyrell here?" She had interrupted Ser Jaime's rambling on plants. He gave her a confused look.

Jaime nodded, "Yes. As is his sister Margery, she is to be married-"

She interrupted him again, "To the King, I am aware. His father and grandmother are also here." Rhaenyra freed Robb from the constraints of the sling. He sat comfortably in her lap, examining his new surroundings with awe. His mother smiled at his curiosity, she pushed his feathery hair from his forehead. "What of his brothers?"

"No the lot of them remain at High Garden being good acting Lords."

As their conversation faded into a comfortable silence, Rhaenyra remembered her promise and her purpose in the game. She stood from her seat on the bench, adjusting Robb to her side. She ignored Ser Jaime's confused expression and stood before him. Her hand fell to his cheek in a delicate manner, creasing its scar. Ser Jaime revealed in her touch, bringing his hand to hold her own. She retreated, leaning down to whisper.

"Thank you for such a lovely time."