The Last Stag • Game of Thrones

19.

Chapter Nineteen.
With Me

Renfri leaned over the back rail of the ship, so low that her feet teetered on the wood, watching the icy waves splash against the hull. They were within sight of Hardhome now, the wooden structures of the fishing village dotting the icy bay ahead.

"Enjoying yourself?"

She looked up, steadying herself on the rail.

"You should try it." Her eyes twinkled. "Promise I won't push you in."

A smile flickered across Jon's face, causing him to look away. 

"This isn't a vacation, Ren." His smile dropped. "If this goes wrong-"

"I know." Renfri's own demeanor began to slip away, her mood growing solemn. "This isn't the first time I've walked into a situation that could go wrong."

She pushed past him, jogging down the steps of the stern and onto the deck. 

"I just need you to be careful-"

"I need you to be careful too." She shot him a look. "Don't get all soft on me now that we're fighting together, Jon Snow."

Jon pursed his lips, coming to a stop near the main mast of the ship. He heard footsteps approaching, turning to see Tormund. 

"Ye' told her yet?" He asked, shoving a freshly sharpened dagger into his sheath. "Or do I need to?"

Renfri turned, eyes narrowed, glancing between Jon and Tormund.

"Told me what?"

Jon scratched his beard.

"I need you to stay on the ship-"

"No."

"Just while we talk to the chieftains."

"I thought we were past this?" Renfri plopped onto the deck, pulling her Lannister dagger from its sheath. She got to work sharpening the blade, brow furrowed. "Do you really think of me as some fair damsel who's going to wait forlornly where it's safe, gazing out the window while the men go off to war? What, do you want me to grant you my favor next?"

"Wait." Tormund frowned. "That's been an option this whole time? Crow, why didn't you tell me?"

Renfri and Jon shared a puzzled look. Finally, Ren's eyebrows shot up.

"Oh, seven hells, Tormund, that's not what a favor is." Jon pulled a face. "She'd give you her handkerchief, not suck your cock."

Tormund's shoulders slumped with visible disappointment.

"I'm not doing either," Ren clarified. "Because I'm not staying on this boat."

"Ren, it's not woman thing. You know I don't think of you like that-"

Her face turned sour. Tormund laughed, slapping Jon on the shoulder.

"You've got a way with words, Snow. The breadloaf is so mad-" He wheezed, his face turning red with laughter. 

"Can I please just talk?!" Jon snapped. Tormund quieted down and Jon turned back to Ren, frustrated. "It's not because I don't think you can fight. I know you can. But you're not a brother of the Night's Watch and you're not a Wildling. Your presence might raise questions that we don't have the time to answer. Once we're finished convincing the chieftains, then come ashore and help us load the boats."

"And what happens if things go wrong?" Ren raised an eyebrow. "Watch them skin you like a deer from afar? Pout and turn back south while you get your head chopped off? Or if your White Walkers arrive, do I just watch safely from the boat?"