The Last Stag • Game of Thrones

16.

Chapter Sixteen.
Princess Scratch

Renfri swung her sword, landing it hard against her opponents shield. Her opponent faltered but kept his ground, pushing back against her with the circular dome. 

He raised his sparring sword, bringing it down on her shield. Renfri met his blows each time, allowing him to push her to the outskirts of the yard, looking for her opening. As he hit her shield again, he let the weight of his weapon force his arm back, his shield faltering.

Renfri's sword met his neck. She held it there, the thick edge pushing against the swell of his throat.

"Keep your shield up." She chastised, her face serious. 

"It's too heavy." Olly argued, his breaths ragged.

"If it wasn't heavy it wouldn't stop a sword." Renfri pushed him back into the center of the yard by the tip of her thick sparring blade. "Now get it up."

Olly sighed, raising his shield half-heartedly. Renfri jabbed him once, sending him skidding backwards. She swung again, this time knocking him onto his back. He dropped his sword, his shield lying uselessly at his side, glaring at her. 

Renfri sighed, dropping the sparring sword and reaching down to help him to his feet. He dropped her hand quickly in frustration, looking away.

Ren tucked her hand under his chin, gently but sternly pulling his face towards hers. He met her eyes with an embarrassed gaze. 

"Come on." She breathed. "You're learning. This is part of it."

"I'm getting my arse kicked by a girl in front of everyone." Olly grumbled, picking up his shield. "It's embarrassing."

"A girl twice your size." Chimed in a new voice. Renfri looked up as Jon strode over to them, sheathing his sword from his own sparring practice. "A girl they call Princess Scratch, and only the best fighters get nicknames. Your mentality is exactly how men end up dead. You see a woman coming at you on the battlefield and your pride gets in the way, she'll slice you from navel to chin. Now keep your shield up, or she'll ring your head like a bell."

Olly raised his shield again and Renfri moved to match him, but they were quickly interrupted by footsteps.

"Jon Snow." Commanded a sultry female voice. "Renfri Baratheon. The King requires your presence atop the Wall."

Renfri and Jon turned, eyeing the Red Woman. Their eyes flickered to each other, unspoken feelings of reluctance passing between them. 

"Very well." Renfri sighed, dropping her sword and shield. 

Jon and Renfri started after Melisandre, flanking her on either side as they approached the lift to the top. They stepped into the wooden container in silence, the lift groaning and creaking as it began its slow ascent. 

"Tell me, Jon Snow," Melisandre mused as if Renfri was not there. "Are you a virgin?"

The question seemed to catch Jon off guard. He cleared his throat, shifting his weight in clear discomfort.

"Does it matter?" He grumbled, eyes cast downwards.

"More than you would think." Renfri could practically hear the smirk in Melisandre's voice. "With sex comes great power, many doors become opened. Lady Renfri has lain with many men, and had she not, she would be of weakened blood."

I could kill you, Renfri thought, glaring at the snow below them as they rose to the top of the wall. It would be so easy to kill you.

An awkward moment passed between the three.