The Last Stag • Game of Thrones

11.

Chapter Eleven.
Five Become Three, Three Becomes One

Renfri could not put into words quite how happy she was to be out of that damned night shift. 

At least four months, if she had to guess. That's how long she had been rotting in it. If she had to go back in time and warn herself about anything, it would be to dress in trousers and a comfortable shirt and not a thin, cotton drape of fabric that left her exposed to the world. 

But after the ordeal at Riverrun, that nightdress was so soaked through with blood and piss and puss that it was a biohazard entirely on its own. Queen Talisa, whom Renfri had come to realize was quite lovely, had been kind enough to led Renfri a pair of brown leather riding trousers much like the pair she had used to own, worn boots with thick soles, and a fitted beige long sleeve shirt that lent Renfri the room to breathe. 

"Now, remember," Catelyn advised, apologetically taking Renfri's hands. "You're not to come-"

"Not to come out until Robb himself fetches me. Not one of his men, not one of the Frey men. It has to be Robb." Renfri rolled her eyes. "I know, I know. Now bind my wrists before I'm seen consorting with the enemy."

Catelyn smiled up at the girl, who gave her a playful smile in return.

In the three weeks since the events at Riverrun, Renfri had come to begrudgingly accept Catelyn's explanation of what happened to Renly, even if she did not entirely believe it. But after killing a man - three men, actually - Renfri knew she had to accept her circumstances as they were. And they were not great. 

But it was easier to get along with Catelyn than it was to hate her. She reminded of Renfri of her own mother, in many ways. A mother she had not seen in about a year now. A mother whom Ren had come to accept as a person who did some very, very wrong things. 

And Renfri would return to her mother.

"Ah!" Ren hissed. "Too tight."

"Sorry," Catelyn mused. "Rope-tying was never quite my wheelhouse."

"And war strategy is?" Ren cocked her eyebrow. Cat dropped her hands, reaching up and lightly touching the side of Ren's mouth. Ren winced, pulling away from the touch.

"Still tender?" Catelyn asked. Ren prodded the spot with her tongue, feeling the gummy sinew of where her three teeth had once stood. "And the scar?"

Ren shrugged, reaching up to feel the thin scare that now snaked down the side of her face. She summoned a smile. 

"Stupid man. Didn't ruin my good side."

"They're both your good sides." Catelyn sighed, tightening her cloak around herself. "You still look like a princess, Renfri."

It was not the reassurance that Catelyn thought it was. Being the princess had brought Renfri nothing but strife. Being the princess put a target on her back. 

Her smile twitched, but if Catelyn noticed, she did not say anything. Renfri looked towards the looming castle behind them, her brows sitting low over her eyes.

"If I don't see you after the feast, Lady Catelyn, give my best wishes to the dashing groom," Ren teased. Catelyn laughed and for a moment, it was like they were just two old friends meeting at a late-summer wedding, with no wars or danger crawling about. Ren's smile faded and she nodded at Catelyn, stepping back. "Perhaps in a few years, we'll meet again as friends."

"I would like that very much, Princess." Catelyn bowed. She straightened, giving Renfri one last kind look, and Renfri felt that same connection that she had the day she had seen Catelyn at Renly's tournament. Those unspoken words. The understanding.