A Lion Still Has Claws

Part 6

Rhaenyra's quarters continued their familiar echo of a cell. She was denied leave, deemed a dishonorable guest of the crown. Meals were brought to her, as were baths and all other necessities. The only time she was allowed to leave was the awkward walks with Ser Jaime. Rhaenyra began to envy her sons, for they were not given such restrictions. Bella would steal them daily for the children were not threats to the Lannisters.

It was the day of the King's wedding to poor Margery Tyrell. The castle was in a fit of chaos and preparation, even at such an early hour. Rhaenyra knew to seize her opportunity to escape her confines. She craved reassurance, she needed to know of Sansa's well being. She had to see her.

Rhaenyra was grateful for the emptied state of the hallway. She adjusted Robb in her arms and motioned for her eldest sons to follow. She did not know which room was Sansa's, only guessing it was the door etched with lion detailing.

Her nerves shook as she stood before the door. Worry encased her, fear Tyrion lied about Sansa's well being. She prayed she did not find the girl wasting away, dying. Rhaenyra questioned her state further wondering of the manipulation Sansa suffered. She questioned her loyalties to the North, had she thought her own brother a villain and Joffrey the savior?

Carefully, Rhaenyra lifted her hand to know. Irrational thoughts continued to flow.

The door was opened by a dark-haired woman. Rhaenyra's arms tightened around her son in fear she was at the wrong door. The woman spoke, clearly irritated. "Qilōni issi ao?" Her face twisted into a dark scowl, eyes scanning Rhaenyra and her children. "Skore dāez oktion issi ao hen? Gōntan Vāris jikagon ao?"

"I must apologize, I have the wrong room." She turned to leave, only stopping as a familiar voice halted her actions.

"Rhea?"

Rhaenyra turned back abruptly to see Sansa push past the woman. Her eyes swelled with tears at the sight of her. Sansa wrapped her arms around her tightly, Robb whined against his mother at the pressure of the embrace. Rhaenyra returned the embrace, a single-arm hugging Sansa.

She had fought for years to be reunited with Sansa. The Northerner's purpose in the war was for her and Arya's safe return. Arya's disappearance did not diminish the fight, there was still a purpose to battle in the South. Rhaenyra could not help but feel ease as she tightly held on to Sansa, finally having the reassurance she and her husband longed for.

"Have you come to take me home?" Sansa pulled away, ignoring the baby's whining and the curious looks of the eldest children. Her eyes were hopeful as she continued to question. "Are you going to take me home?" Sansa's face reddened as realization struck, her face twisted as she began to cry. "Please Rhea, we must go home."

Rhaenyra's heart broke in empathy. She ushered Sansa back into the room. As the door closed she turned to her children, "Go sit at the table." The two nodded and were led by the dark-haired woman. 

Sansa sobbed on the bed, her wails seeming to become louder as the moments passed. Rhaenyra sat beside her in attempts to console the poor girl. Her hand caressed her hair, fingers pulling the knots in the red locks. Sansa shook as she heavily cried. Years of rage and sadness flowed with each tear.

She gave a shattered breathe, finally turning to Rhaenhyra. "They told me you were coming. " She rubbed at her cheek, reddened from embarrassment and her sobs. "The King did." Rhaenyra did not halt her actions, she continued to comb her fingers through Sansa's hair. "He spoke of you like you were a prize."

Rhaenyra pursed her lips, "Sansa."

"I am elated to see you. It hurt knowing you were so close but I could not visit you." Sansa's face twisted once more as another sob heaved.

Rhaenyra wrapped her free arm over her shoulders. "And I you."  

Tension grew as Sansa cried. It pecked at Rhaenrya's mind begging to be addressed. She needed to acknowledge the distressing topic of the massacre despite the fresh pain it conjured. She knew Sansa was aware of the deaths and traitorous acts, but she wondered the extent of her knowledge. Sansa's cries simmered to short sniffs. She pulled away from Rhaenyra, eyes shifting to the baby her good sister held.

She silently reached for the baby, her hand pressed into his round cheek. Robb shrieked at the surprise touch. He smiled as his eyes caught sight of his young aunt's kind face.

Her touch recoiled as her dark-haired maid approached. She offered a damp cloth to her lady to clean her reddened face. Rhaenyra reached for it and began to clean the girl's face herself.

Sansa snickered, "Gods."

"What?"

"I can clean my own face."

"I am a mother, it is a habit." Rhaenyra continued to wipe at Sansa's cheeks, smiling. She dropped the cloth to her lap as the redness faded. Rhaenyra then noticed the maid who continued to stare, seeming to take in every detail of their reunion. "What's your name?"

"Shae," the woman spoke bluntly.

Rhaenyra scowled, "And where are you from, Shae?" Her accent was heavy clearly of Essos.

"The Westerlands."

"Why did you speak Valyrian to me?" Rhaenyra hummed in annoyance at the maid's shortness.

Shae arched an eyebrow, eyes briefly shifting to Sansa who watched intently. "No vague reason," she huffed a short laugh. "Violet eyes are not common among the Westerosi." She turned abruptly, returning to Rhaenyra's sons.  

Sansa giggled, "Perhaps she thought you were a spy for the Dragon Queen." Rhaenyra joined in her laughter finding the humor to be joyous.

However, it was a brief joy, for the previous tensions returned. Rhaenyra felt as it crept over the room begging to be addressed. She attempted to focus her attention on Robb, he instead stared at his aunt with much intense. To ease her anxiousness, she fiddled with his small hands. Her thumb ran over the back of his hand, his fingers encased her own in a tight grip as she slightly tickled him.

"How did it happen?" Sansa questioned.

Rhaenyra halted in her distraction, pursing her lips. Dread encased her as she turned to Sansa. "I haven't spoken of it."

Sansa's face darkened as she repeated, "How did it happen?" Her voice was harsh, her tone desperate. 

Rhaenyra told her, spoke of each repetitive detail. She told her of the betrayal, the blood, the screams. Sansa deserved to know of the disaster brought onto House Stark. Her story did not hinder, only stopping as she reached the birth of her newest son. She refused to speak of the child she lost. 

"Thank you," Sansa murmured. Her blue eyes drifted to the children who sat at her dining table. "Can you introduce me?"

Rhaenyra nodded, calling for her sons to say hello to their aunt. The family remained in Sansa's rooms until breakfast, enjoying one another. Each found comfort in their reunited bond.