The Last Stag • Game of Thrones

14.

Chapter Fourteen.
Shared, Spilled, Stolen.

"Smalljon Umber?"

"And live at Last Hearth?" Renfri laughed in a mocking way, shaking her head. "Sorry excuse for a hold. Last place I'd ever want to live. Besides, I hear that the young Lord Umber has a face like a babes' and tits like a woman."

"The Umbers have always been fat." Stannis sighed. "You're too picky. What about Harald Karstark?"

"No." Ren shot her uncle a fatal glare. "The Karstarks are filth and scum."

"What makes you say that?"

She looked back to the snowy landscape ahead of them. She could explain to Stannis. Explain how she had tore out Lord Karstark's throat with her teeth, how she had cut his throat with such force that his head had nearly teetered straight off of his body. How it takes savagery, to kill a man with his own knife.

"You know, the last three Kings who held me all argued with me about the same thing. And here I am, unmarried."

"Because they died." Stannis groaned. "You're the Lady of Storm's End now, Renfri. You need to marry."

"I do not need to." Renfri reminded. "You need me to. You may have twelve-hundred men riding behind you, but I spread my legs and breed in the good Baratheon name, and your claim becomes all the stronger. I'm just blood to you, whether it be shared, spilled, or stolen."

On Stannis' other side, Davos rolled his eyes, sick of the Baratheon bickering. He turned to the young Lady of Storm's End. The far North was bright, the white of the fresh snowfall contrasting harshly with Renfri's black curls. Shireen had braided them back into an elaborately woven rope that hugged her scalp, the end of the braid thumping against the small of her back. Snowflakes caught in her tangle of dark lashes, melting against the heat of her pale skin. Between them her bear trotted along happily, seeming to enjoy the harsh climate.

"You'll be twenty by the start of winter. Do you want to be an old maid? As your uncle, it's my responsibility to arrange for your best interests." Stannis continued the argument. "To facilitate an agreement-"

"My mother has not died." Renfri clicked her tongue. "Nor have my Lannister uncles, or my grandfather. Technically, it's my brother Tommen's responsibility now."

"Ah, yes." Stannis began to grow annoyed. "The family that you've forsaken. You betrayed your mother, and haven't seen her in what, going on three years now? Jaime Lannister is widely known for fucking his sister, so there's no honor there. As for Tywin Lannister, he's presiding over your Uncle Tyrion's trial for murdering your brother. Meanwhile, Tommen is a boy of barely twelve, and he only sits on the throne because Joffrey is dead."

Davos saw the hurt bloom in Renfri's eyes. Her mouth snapped shut, jaw locking. 

"Shut up about it." Renfri murmured. Stannis whipped around to Renfri, face scrunched in anger.

"What did you just-"

"Your grace." Renfri snapped. "Look."

Davos followed where Renfri was pointing. Straight ahead, opposite the wall, stretched the haunted wood. Vague shapes weaved throughout the trees, not yet noticing the army heading in their direction.

Wordlessly, Renfri rode ahead, Goji speeding up to match her pace, his lips already pulled back in a snarl. 

The Baratheon bannermen pulled past them, mouths stretched wide in battle cries, hands wielding their swords. Renfri pulled her own from its sheath, crying out with the Baratheon soldiers.