The Last Stag • Game of Thrones

8.

Chapter Eight. 
Rites of Passage

Renfri's wrists were starting to chafe. 

She shifted uncomfortably, the tight rope digging into her skin. In the distance, she could hear Goji groaning, crying out for her. It broke her heart into pieces, that cry.

They had arrived at the Stark camp in broad daylight, and Lady Stark had given the guards strict instructions to keep Ren and Goji apart until the false-King could speak with her. They had covered her cage with a tarp, casting Ren into darkness.

Her stomach gurgled. Her last meal had been gruel, force-fed to her by Lady Brienne. The traitor, Lady Brienne. 

Renfri closed her eyes, willing sleep to take her, but it would not. She felt like crying and screaming and shaking the bars of her cage until it tilted over and spilled her onto the shit-soaked ground. All Renfri wanted was the stars. She wanted to close her eyes and pretend again. That she was small, and that she sat in the midnight chill of Winterfell's courtyard. That her father was sleeping peacefully, safe, inside. That her mother was not a traitor or a liar yet. Her little brothers and sister were still hers. That there was a raven-haired boy with missing teeth sitting next to her, whispering 'I wonder if the moon knows that she shines for us?'

The Lady of Storm's End had not dreamt of the Winterfell stars in quite some time, though. She could not remember the last time she had dreamt at all. It was all nothingness now. She went to sleep and ceased to exist, until the morning sun coaxed her awake. 

The tarp was very quickly torn off of her cage. The mid-day light flooded her face, near blinding her, causing her to squeeze her eyes shut and cast her head away like a beaten dog. 

"Seven hells, mother." Came a male voice. 

Renfri's vision slowly came into focus. The Princess blinked, looking around the camp, filled with pitched white tents and bickering men nursing wine. One man limped by, groaning, holding a gash in his leg, likely from Goji.

She looked up at Robb, her jaw locking.

"Princess." Robb bowed his head. "I'm so sorry we must meet like this."

"Princess." Ren snorted. "You lock me in a cage, covered in dirt and my own piss, wearing a night shift, and yet you have the gall to stand there and call me princess?" 

Robb knelt down, taking in her gnarled hair and the dirt that smudged her skin. His eyes were surprisingly soft.

"You and your bear tried to kill my mother, Renfri."

"Your mother killed my uncle." Renfri snapped, lunging forward and grabbing the bars of the cage. Robb did not flinch, their faces now so close that Renfri had half a mind to lunge again and bite him right in the chin. "Is that what you sent her to us for? Did you conspire together? If so, you're the stupidest King to ever claim it. Renly would have handed you the North on a silver platter. You'll never touch King's Landing without him."

Robb looked down, rubbing his hands together. 

"I want to help you, Renfri. You know I do." Robb murmured. Ren groaned and sat back in her cage, staring at the ceiling. "You and I were bedfellows when we were still tots. I used to sneak into your room, tell ye' stories. You'd point out the stars and give them names. Our fathers would find us in the morning, curled up on top of the covers, and laugh until they were blue in the face, do ye' remember?"

Renfri just stared at him. In her head, she whispered prayers to the Gods, begging them to give her the ability to pop Robb's head open like a burst berry using just her vision.