A Lion Still Has Claws

Part 1

*Warning stillbirth

Four days had passed and the sent of blood continued to conquer each sense. With each passing day came the recurring repetition of the massacre. Rhaenyra Stark still felt her husband's body in her arms, perhaps she would for the rest of her days.

Roose Bolton sieged Riverrun hours after the wedding, claiming the castle for the Lannisters and in turn for House Frey. The Boltons needed the castle, its security necessary to protect their Lord's heirs. Lord Bolton refused to leave until his daughter pushed her babe from her body. He rushed around the castle while she rested in her room, chasing after his ignorant grandsons. Roose denied his daughter the right to see her children, only offering her a slight reassurance the two were with him and their maid. In his own time, he would tell them of their father's death.

Rhaenyra had been forced into a mock cell, a servant room so low in the castle it reeked of mold and dirt. The waves of the rushing Trident crashed against her window, but even they did not silence her mind. The days passed like seconds, her consciousness having a numb hold until it snapped back to blood-stained wedding. Her heart broke each time, the refusal to accept her family's death growing stronger. She woke screaming only stopping when the guard outside the door would scream an abrupt shut it.

Rhaenyra woke as a familiar pain erupted in her back. She pushed against her hay mattress with a hand resting against her still belly. Her violet eyes closed as the pain increased, stretching itself to her lower half. She huffed a breathe as the pain began to simmer away. She stood from the bed walking to the sealed door hoping to gather the guard's attention. More pain erupted eliciting a deep scream. The guard outside the door made no noise, no acknowledgment to her suffering within her cell.

Rhaenyra fell beside the door nestling herself against the filthy stone floor. She continued to scream for hours in pain, yet the guard did not check on her condition. The thought of dying graced her mind producing a sick sense of hope. Her mind drifted to her husband, who would no doubt greet her in their shared afterlife. Rhaenyra then thought of her two sons, the children who blissfully played just floors above. She begged the gods she would not die.

The pains of childbirth became consistent as the sun rose. A knock sounded through the room as the sun began to brighten the waves of the Trident. A concerned voice joined it, "Your grace?" Her heart raced at the use of her title, she eagerly watched the door. Maester Wolkan entered at the sound of her cry. In a calm motion, he lifted her from the floor and placed her at the edge of the bed. He quickly examined her and edged her on to push.

Rhaenyra heaved, gripping onto the Maester's shoulder. He offered comforting words as she began to birth her child. Both knew the horrid end, both wishing not to acknowledge it. Rhaenyra closed her eyes as she gave a final push, the hope she had for a healthy child fading as the room fell silent.

"A girl, your grace." Said Maester Wolkan, a slight brightness in his voice. "Would you like to see her?" Rhaenyra fell back against her bed, refusing to see her stilled child. She wished to hide, the dread becoming equally unbearable as childbirth.

Her mind flickered to her husband, to her children. Rhaenyra swallowed her sadness, whispering, "Of course." Her babe was beautiful, blonde-headed and fair. Rhaenyra's eyes watered at the sight of her. She brought a hand to her mouth, nodding to Maester Wolkan. He smiled sadly, hiding the child against his robes.

A new pain spread across Rhaenyra's back, another birthing pain. She clenched her jaw, watching Maester Wolkan's face wonder in surprise. He offered encouraging word's to push and once again the feeling of hopelessness filled the room. Rhaenyra sat up, pushing with a huff of a breathe. She screamed only to be silenced by a loud cry.

The tears in her eyes fell at the sight of him. He was small, red-faced and wailing. Rhaenyra watched as Maester Wolkan cut him from her and wrapped him in a discarded towel that laid on the dresser. She pulled him to her, smiling as his small fist hit the air. His face twisted with every cry, but he needed to let the realm know he was there.

"Robb," she kissed his head. Her son calmed himself at her touch, allowing her to examine his features. "Your name is Robb."

Maester Wolkan smiled to her, "A fine name to honor our late king."

Rhaenyra gave a shattered breathe, "Maester, you are not to reveal your loyalties. I am forever in your debt for your help today, but do me that kindness." He curtly nodded, turning to leave her with her child. "Wait," she motioned for him back. With a shaky hand, she pushed his cloak down to see her daughter for a final time. "Lyanna," her finger caressed against her babe's cool cheek. "I ask another favor of you," she continued to gaze at her daughter, remembering every detail of her still face. "Bury her in the godswood. I beg you, please."

Maester Wolkan offered a curt nod before exiting the room, "It will be done, your grace."

Rhaenyra was left with her son. She fed him, watching his calm features as he suckled. Her finger traced his cheek as she smiled to him. His features contrasted his brothers' greatly. Dark tuffs of hair littered his head, his eyes a dark shade of grey and purple. Rhaenyra giggled, remembering one of her last conversations with Jon Snow. "I finally have credit in my work," she whispered.