( ACT I; a dreary existence. ) ⟵ ◊ ⟶ chapter 3: the lion princess.
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THE arrival of the king and his men was easily the most anticipated event in moons, possibly years. As per tradition, those who inhabited Winterfell and were tasked with running it were present in the courtyard to receive the royals, along with the nobles as well. Servants, stewards, smiths, bakers, maids, butchers; the courtyard was overly crowded with people who were waiting excitedly to receive the royals. The Starks stood in a line that faced toward the open gate that was crowned with garlands of winter flowers and pine, just below the carved direwolf in the ancient stone.
Just as her father had said, Raina was reserved a spot in the receiving party with the Starks, much to Catelyn's displeasure. Raina had arrived to take her spot, garbed in the nicest gown she owned, a beautiful blue satin gifted to her by her father on her nameday the previous year. It was the nicest thing she owned. Despite trying her best to appear presentable for the king, her excitement was quickly overshadowed by Catelyn utter rage, which was expressed with angry murmuring from down the line and flares of Tully blue directed toward the bastard. She'd spent a good amount of time trying to point out valid reasons why Raina shouldn't be presented with them, but it didn't seem her father much cared at the time.
The line itself was set up with her father at the very right, with Catelyn at his side. From his left, the line went down in age, going from Robb until it reached the end of the Stark line with Bran. Raina had been placed next to him, being the bastard of the group and not apart of the true line. Behind the line, where the house guard and those alike waited, she looked back to spot Jon and Theon next to each other. She felt guilty for leaving Jon behind.
The sound of pounding hooves in damp soil became audible from the near distance before two leading horse in gold and crimson, obviously the soldiers of House Lannister, came trotting in through the gates with with the golden lion displayed on their banners. Behind them came the royal black stag of Baratheon on a golden field. With each passing duo of riders, Raina watched in awe at the fresh site. Southerners were strange, she thought, with their fancy armor thin looking horses. At least fifty riders had to have entered the large courtyard before new faces began to appear. After the last of the Lannister men, a young, golden haired boy came trotting in on a horse that looked all too large for him.
If Raina had to guess, she would bet that it was the Crown Prince, Joffrey if she was correct. He had a tight expression, thin lips, and green eyes of hungry greed it seemed, that drank in the surroundings. A northern style side cloak of black furs covered his right shoulder, leaving the other looking as scrawny as they truly were. Just behind him rode a man clad in black mail and armor, towering atop his horse with hound's head helmet covering his face. The helmet itself might have seemed ugly to some, but Raina admired the work nonetheless.
After them came a man larger than Raina had ever seen. She'd seen her share of fat men, for northerners were never known for withholding their appetites, but this man was towering with a girth that seemed it might be equal to his height. His hair was a mess of black and peppered grey, a sign of age if it were anything. If it weren't for the flowing black and golden robes the man was garbed in, Raina might have not realized that this was Robert Baratheon. One might not think such a simple looking man would be the king, but atop a midnight black warhorse, he was distinguishable.
