The Last Stag • Game of Thrones

24.

Chapter Twenty-Four.
Unsevered

"She was always the smallest." Renfri murmured, staring into her mug of ale. "When she was a babe, mother fussed over her constantly. Too scared of losing another child."

"Another?" Jon looked to her, one hand on her thigh and the other on his own mug. 

Ren nodded, her brow furrowed.

"I had a twin. Orys. He died not too long after our first nameday. Fever took him." Renfri took a sip of the bitter ale. "I think it messed with our mother more than she let on. I remember more with Myrcella than I do Joff, how she never let any of the wetnurses or nannies take her. Constantly fussing over if she was hungry or sick, if she was tired or full."

"What was she like?"

"Beautiful." Ren smiled. "Gods, Jon. That girl was pure honey and light. Big green eyes and hair like golden coins. She was a dancer, too. After every feast our father would pay the band extra to stay after, just so she could dance with the entire floor to herself."

Jon bit back his thoughts. He knew that Renfri was still processing both his own death and now her sisters more permanent one. 

"I wish I could have met her." He murmured, lifting his hand from her thigh and brushing a stray raven curl behind her ear. "She sounds lovely."

"She was." Ren looked to him. In her eyes he saw how hard she was forcing herself to stay upright, how much she fought back her grief. "She would have liked you. She always asked me about the cute boys I saw around King's Landing, the new ones who joined the palace guard and the City Watch."

Her hand found his face, running her fingers along his patchy beard.

"I need to go, Jon." She whispered. 

Jon frowned, shifting his weight to face her on the bench. The comment had caught him off guard.

"Go? Where?" He asked, his frown deepening. "Why?"

"Joff is gone." Ren fiddled with her cup, but her gaze was set. "Myrcella is gone. Tommen is the only one left. I need to find him, convince him to relinquish his crown."

"To who?" Jon pulled away from her, unsure of how to feel. "You?"

"Gods, no." Ren shook her head. "Someone, though. Kevan Lannister, maybe, or even Margaery. I knew her once, she makes a decent Queen. But I can't let my little brother sit on the Iron Throne, risking death with every passing breath that fills his lungs."

"He's the King, Renfri." Jon stood up, staring at his girlfriend. "It comes with the title."

"So what? I should just let my little brother die, then? Winter isn't coming anymore Jon, it's here. I won't let him lose his life, I won't lose another person I love."

"You can't save him Ren, I mean what, you think Cersei Lannister will just hand him over to you? Let him ride off with his big sister into the great unknown?" Jon pinched the bridge of his nose. "And what happens if he doesn't want to leave? I get that you're a fighter, I do, but do ye' really think that you can fight off a city full of guards while you drag their King away kicking and screaming?"

He watched as her eyes hardened. If there was anything he knew for certain about the woman he loved, it was that she did not take kindly to being told she could not do something.

She crossed to him, grabbing his wrists, and he braced himself for the fight to come.

"Two nights ago, you told me that you loved me." Her voice came out soft and pleading, surprising Jon. "And then you died. One night ago, you were brought back. And of course I have a plan, Jon. I'll stay as long as I need to convince him, and then get him to board the ship with me. We'll sail for Braavos and I'll set him up with a house, some land, some protection. I'll return to you to win the war in the North."