The Last Stag • Game of Thrones

47.

Chapter Forty-Seven.
The Culmination of Kings

The cobblestone clattered underneath the wheels of her chair, rattling her insides like a jar of marbles. The debris and ash had been cleaned off and swept away, the path cleared to the Dragonpit. 

The brief snowfall had melted into nothing, the chill in the air being replaced with a soft autumn breeze. The citadel had sent out ravens - this had been a much shorter winter than anticipated. Around them, the flowers had slowly begun to bloom again, the bees landing on the petals and absorbing the nectar inside.

Gendry pushed her chair along the path, humming softly to himself as they went. He was dressed in a bright yellow suit, likely the finest he had ever worn, emblazoned with the mark of House Baratheon. Renfri did not match him, not that day. No, the soft green dress hugged her frame, the low cut revealing the scratches and scars that marred her chest. Her black curls, having grown back to their old length, were tied in an ornate braid out of her face. She wanted the world to look at her this day. To see her for who she was. She would not hide.

As they reached the entrance, Ren looked up at Gendry, motioning for him to stop. She held out her good hand to him.

"Help me stand." She urged, scooting further down her chair. 

"Ren, no," Gendry frowned. "You don't have to-"

"Brother," Ren looked up, golden eyes pleading. "Please."

Hesitantly, Gendry released the handles of her chair, moving around to her side. He took her good hand, easing her to her feet.

Her boots gently touched the ground, her left leg immediately buckling as she balanced her weight. Gendry caught her, ignoring her groan of pain.

"My cane." She muttered through gritted teeth. "Get me my cane."

"Ren, I really think you should sit-" 

"Gendry."

Exasperated, Gendry sighed. Still holding her up, he reached down with his free hand and pulled the wooden cane from the sheath of the chair.

Ren snatched it, holding it with her left hand and steadying herself. Her cheeks turned red, flushing with the humiliation of it all. 

Gendry moved to her other side, taking her free arm, his strength holding her loose side up.

"Ren." He whispered softly. "Nobody here is going to judge you."

"Right." Ren raised her eyebrows, straightening her back. She ignored the pain in her body, setting her jaw. "Because I won't give them the chance."

They were the last to arrive, it seemed. On the far left, Sam Tarly sat opposite Edmure Tully, though she could not recall how she knew him, with an unfamiliar Lord between them. The Starks sat in the center, dressed in black, faces like iron. Davos and Brienne beside the Starks. Then two empty chairs, and a row of unfamiliar Lords and Ladies on the far right.

Gendry helped Renfri up the steps, nobody saying a word. Renfri looked up, briefly meeting Sansa's eyes, an unspoken greeting passing between them.

Her brother eased her into her chair, taking the one beside her. She straightened her back, shooting him a look of reassurance.

Footsteps alerted them. The Lords and Ladies of Westeros exchanged glances before turning ahead, watching as the Unsullied envoy, Grey Worm, descended the path towards them. At his side, tied up in chains, Tyrion Lannister neared them with his head bowed.