The Last Stag • Game of Thrones

3.

Chapter Three.
The Bonds of Blood

"Keep up, Goji!" 

Ren trotted alongside the rapidly growing cub at a half-run, half-walk pace. Goji was now the size of a small dog, and while he had shown no signs of being violent, he was starting to stink. 

It was much harder than expected to bathe a bear cub.

The little bear gleefully trotted after Ren as they jogged through the wood, trailing behind her father's hunting party. Ahead, she watched as her father turned to her, swinging his flagon of wine.

"If you can't keep up anymore, little stag, I'm going to start leaving you with your mother." Robert took another swig before shoving the flagon back into Lancel's chest, who started in surprise. 

"You could never." Renfri mused, moving up in the party. It felt good to be out of skirts for once, in her leather hunting trousers and a padded, long-sleeve shirt. "These are the only outings we get together."

"Ah, things coulda' been different, if you'd been born a boy. We'd hunt in the day, and I'd show you the best taverns and brothels that Kings Landing has to offer in the night." Robert stomped through the wood, casting a glance in Renfri's direction. "'Stead I get a girl, and I'm better for it. Less drunk than I'd be with a boy."

"You've got Joffrey." Ren pointed out, ignoring the sting that her fathers complaint had left. "And Tommen."

"No, Cersei's got Joffrey and Tommen." Robert laughed. "Too much a' their mothers blood. Those boys got soft underbellies. You, you're hard. Like I was at your age. Hard as a stags' antler."

Ren went quiet, contemplating the comparison. Her brow furrowed.

"You think things might have been different? If Orys had lived?"

Her father stumbled, seemingly surprised at Ren's mention of Orys. His mind seemed to uncloud, and for a moment, Ren wondered if her father had been shocked sober.

"Orys woulda' been my heir. My true heir, dark-haired and strong, the way Baratheons' are meant ta' be. You two were thick as thieves while he was with us. Inseparable. Couldn't take one away from the other." Robert was at Ren's side, but he seemed far away, lost in thought. "The night you two came into this world, you came first, and your mother tells me you came out holding his foot. Like you were saying, 'This way, Orys! This way to life!'. I used to walk around the castle, one of you in each arm. You never cried after the day you were born, not once. Not until the night we lost him."

Ren stayed quiet, prompting her father to continue. For a moment, it was as if Goji, Renly, Lancel, and Ser Barristan all faded away, and it was just Renfri and Robert trudging through the wood. 

"If your twin had lived, I think you two would still be attached at the hip. You were too alike. Even physically, the only difference was what hung between his legs. And that he lost his battle against his fever, and you won yours. But if you're asking if I would have traded his life for yours, the answer is no, Renny. You're so much more than I ever expected you to be. You're all the best parts of me and more." He stopped, turning to look at her. "And you're going to do much more than any Princess ever has. My only stag. Now come on, we have a boar to kill."

He reached out, ruffling her loose black curls, before resuming to stomp through the wood, snatching his wine back from Lancel. Renly nudged her as he passed, his eyes bemused. 

"You're broody today." Renly noted, matching Ren's pace. Renfri shrugged, her eyes drifting to check on Goji. "Why the sullen topics?"

"Busy mind," Ren replied, shrugging. "Ever since we returned from Winterfell, I've had this odd feeling in my chest, like-"