The Last Stag • Game of Thrones

42.

Chapter Forty-Two.
Love and Lust and Lannisters

"What's our final count?"

"Seven-thousand, two-hundred and fourteen, my lady."

Renfri breathed sharply, looking away.

"And my lords?"

"Lord Estermont fell. As did Lord Musgood, Lord Swann, and Lord Peasebury...and Lord Milligan."

"House Milligan is officially extinct, then." Renfri closed her eyes. "Seven-thousand, two-hundred and nineteen Stormlander deaths."

"Yes, my lady. We await your instruction."

Lady Renfri looked up. That morning they had burned their dead, the blinding sun of first light acting as their mourning bells. She had been in that damned tent ever since, still in her blood-soaked armor, her braid undone and messy, meeting with Lord after Lord. The bite on her jaw had begun to scab over, but it was evident it would scar. Another reminder. 

Renfri was getting so sick of reminders.

"My instructions." She nodded, meeting the young soldiers eyes. "Have Lord Selmy lead the Stormlanders home at first light."

"Forgive me, my lady," The soldier frowned, confusion glinting in his brown eyes. "You will not be joining us?"

"No." Renfri pursed her lips. "I must ride South. I still have something left there to finish."

"You're joining the Dragon Queen's army, then."

"I am."

"Lady Renfri, you are the Lady of Storm's End. You have just over seven-thousand men left. We will follow you anywhere if you ask us to."

Renfri cracked a smile, looking away.

"What is your name, soldier?"

"Laith, my lady." The soldier stood up straight. "Laith Carling."

"Laith." Ren met his eyes. "Call me Ren. Please. Near everybody does. Do you like being a soldier, Laith?"

"I do." Laith's eyes flickered to the side. "It is an honor to serve in the name of House Baratheon, my lady."

"You're lying."

Laith spluttered, blinking in surprise.

"It's okay." Ren gave him a small smile. "You're not in any trouble, Laith Carling. Again, call me Ren. Just be truthful with me."

The soldier hesitated, swallowing a lump in his throat.

"I suppose I..." He took a breath. "It has been an honor, my lady. Truly, I mean that. But being a soldier was my brothers duty, not mine. When he died fighting for Stannis Baratheon in Blackwater Bay, the responsibility fell on my shoulders. I left my training at the Citadel to be here, serving you."

Ren twiddled her fingers on her desk, frowning.

"I'm sorry, Laith. I'm grateful for all you have sacrificed. And you're right. The Stormlanders would follow me south if I asked. That's why I'm not asking."

"I'm sorry, my lady-" Laith cleared his throat. "Erm, Ren. I don't understand."

Ren sighed, scooting her chair back and standing up, her knees groaning in protest. She moved around the desk, eyes cast towards the floor.

"I promised the Stormlanders that it would be their decision whether or not we bent the knee to Daenerys Targaryen, and I intend to keep that promise when she takes the Iron Throne." Ren stopped a few feet from him, leaning against her desk. "But I will not lose more good Stormlander blood. Not in a war that is not ours. Not when there is no longer a direct threat to our Kingdom. We just burned over seven-thousand Stormlander bodies. I will not burn any more."