The Last Stag • Game of Thrones

46.

Chapter Forty-Six.
Survivor

To her utmost surprise, Ren was not quite dead yet. 

Her eyes peeled open for a split second, just a moment, as she felt hands gathering her. A familiar voice,

"You're not dying here, Ren."

The world plunged into darkness again.

The second time, her eyes opened to a flickering light. A man leering over her, hands on her body.

"I need bandages, water, someone get me a hot iron. We need to cauterize this wound and get those ribs back inside..."

And then it was gone.

Her eyes did not even open the third time. There was no strength, no energy left there. But she could feel a bare hands gripping hers. Familiar hands. 

"I'm sorry, Ren." A familiar gruff Northern accent. "I have to do this..."

The last time, Ren's eyes finally stayed open.

Above her eyes, a plain wooden ceiling stared back at her. She heard the crackling of a hearth, and someone had bothered to tuck cotton sheets up to her chin.

She gasped, eyes flickering around wildly as she struggled to sit up. Across the room, a chair scraped, two sets of footsteps hurrying to her.

"Ren." The first blurry figure breathed, reaching out and gently pushing her back down. "You can't move or you'll rip your stitches."

"I-ergh." Ren groaned in pain, blinking rapidly. "Where am I?"

As she blinked the blurriness from her eyes, the faces standing over her came into focus. On her left, Gendry, his hair grown out, eyes filled with concern. On her right, Arya, staring blankly.

"You're in the encampment outside King's Landing." Arya reached up, tucking Ren's hair away from her sweaty neck. 

"Hell is an encampment outside King's Landing." Ren coughed. "Fitting."

"I found you on the steps of the Keep." Arya raised her eyebrows. "Stupid decision, trying to die in front of me."

"Ah." Ren gulped. "Should have known better."

She collapsed into a coughing fit, her body screaming in protest. Gendry scrambled to grab the pitcher of water, tilting her head up to sip.

Once she had her fill, Ren leaned back down, forcing her eyes to stay open.

"Am I dying?" She finally asked, swallowing thickly.

"You were." Gendry sniffed. "Hell of a sight, seeing you in that state. Your ribs were poking straight out of your chest. But the Maesters got them back into place. Smart woman, protecting your head."

"Six broken ribs, a collapsed lung, a ruptured spleen, a broken leg," Arya kept Renfri's gaze as she listed. "Three cracked teeth, a broken nose, and a sword hand like a bag full of water."

Arya lifted Renfri's hand for her to see. It was massive and purple, flopping unnaturally to the side off the end of her wrist.

Tears stung at her eyes.

"Am I a cripple now?" She whispered, chin trembling. "Will I walk?"

"You will." Arya raised her eyebrows. "The Maesters just wanted to save you and leave you to heal, bed-bound for life. Scared that setting the bones would cause too much trauma. I talked them out of that notion. Knew you'd be furious if they took that pretty nose from you. They set your bones, but healing will take time. You'll be able to walk and run and ride. But you'll never have full motion in this hand again. With your shoulder being the way it is, you'll never be able to wield a sword."

Renfri breathed in a ragged breath, closing her eyes as the Stark girl spoke.

She leaned her head back onto the pillow, looking back up at the ceiling, a tear slithering from her eye.

"S'pose it doesn't matter." Ren finally whispered. Her eyes flickered to Gendry. "I need to speak to our new Queen."

Sadness flickered into Gendry's eyes. He took Renfri's good hand, lightly rubbing his thumb over her knuckles.

"Ren." Gendry breathed in sharply. "There's no need for that."

"No, there is." Ren lowered her eyes. "I'm not going to dangle what you're owed in front of you and not follow through. We need to get you legitimized."

"No," Gendry leaned closer to her. "I mean..."

"He means Daenerys Targaryen is dead." Arya tilted her head at Ren. "Jon killed her at Tyrion's suggestion."

Maybe Ren really was dead. 

"That's..." Ren frowned. "Impossible."

"Until it wasn't." Arya mused. "And now it's happened."

Daenerys Targaryen is dead. Jon killed her.

All of those people in the streets of her home. Corpses. Bodies burned alive, crushed to death, slaughtered. All by Daenerys Targaryen's hand. 

And Jon had been the one to kill her.

Her lip quivered. She knew that he loved the Dragon Queen, in his own way. He would not have come this far, done the things he had done in her name, if that was not true. Ren had accepted that the moment she had seen him in Winterfell again. He loved Daenerys, and he loved Ren, and she had made that choice for him. 

But the Jon she had known was a man of honor. A man who valued life above all else. And he had looked at the bloodshed in King's Landing, and decided with Tyrion that Daenerys Targaryen had to die for it. How that decision must have torn him apart.

Ren's heart ached for him. He was somewhere right now, in pain. She knew he would hate himself until the day he died for what he had done.

"Jon came by to see you before he did it." Arya informed, rocking back on her heels. "He's being held prisoner by the Unsullied now."

"What will they do to them?" Ren finally murmured. More tears pricked at her eyes. "Will they die for this?"

Arya reached up, gently cupping Ren's face.

"They might." She choked. "There's to be a council meeting in four weeks time to decide. Jon's fate and Tyrion's. We're both expected to be present."

Ren looked over to Gendry, her lip quivering. He reached up, wiping the tears from her cheeks.

"Will you come with me?" She asked. "So we can get you your title?"

"Ren, that's really not important-"

"No." She swallowed thickly. "It's more so now. I can't lead, not without good hands and a strong body. Our people need a true Baratheon fighter at their heed. They need you."

Hesitantly, Gendry's hands left her face. He pursed his lips, eyeing her.

"If it is what you want." He whispered. "Then I will serve the Stormlanders in the name of the Stag."

She smiled at him, reaching out and taking his hand. She gave it a good squeeze.

"Good."

Arya stepped back, locking her reaching her hand into her pocket and pulling out a folded piece of parchment. With an affirming glance from Ren, she snapped the seal, unfolding the parchment and placing it in Ren's good hand. 

"A raven came for you. From Sansa." Arya motioned with her head for Gendry to come to her side. "We'll give you some privacy. Someone will be by soon with food. You've been out for a week, living off water poured down your throat. I'm sure you're starving."

To her own surprise, Ren wasn't. 

She watched them go, waiting until they were well out of the tent before raising the parchment to her eyes.

Her lips moved as she read the words, brow furrowing. Her chest began to lighten, heart pounding in her throat.

Maybe Ren still had a purpose.

As all survivors do.