The Last Stag • Game of Thrones

48.

Chapter Forty-Eight.
And So Our Journey Begins Again

"Will you write?"

"No."

"Renfri."

"Sorry, Uncle." Renfri laughed, shaking her head. "Of course I'm going to write."

Tyrion looked up at her, taking her bad hand in his. They stood at the exit to the back docks, the bells of ships ringing through the air as the respective parties returned home.

"You take care of Queen Sansa." Tyrion ran his fingers over her battered hand. It was still bruised, but it had returned to a more normal color, although she still could just barely bend her fingers. "She's going to need a strong advisor. I could think of nobody better to serve as her Hand of the Queen."

"Hand of the Queen." Renfri cracked a smile. "And I've only got the one half-decent hand."

"Funny how that works."

"Hilarious."

She met his eyes then. Those bright green hues, so familiar to her. Those had been Joff's eyes. Myrcella's. Tommen's, Cersei's, Jaime's.

"You always did have the loveliest eyes," Tyrion said then as if he had been thinking the exact same thing. "All your scars, and you are still so beautiful."

"And someday I'll be old and fat." Renfri raised her eyebrows. "Beauty doesn't last, uncle. Nothing does, really."

"Nothing but family." Tyrion raised her grotesque hand to his lips, laying a kiss across the knuckle. "And you're all I've got left. So no more scars, okay? No more risking death."

"I'll try my best." She smiled. "You take care of Lord Commander Brienne. And Maester Sam, and King Bran. Even Ser Pod."

Tyrion shot her a look of warning. She dropped her hands, hobbling towards the docks ahead of them. Resting her hands on the railing, she leaned forward, breathing in the salty air, bringing her one long braid over her shoulder.

"And Gendry?" Tyrion asked, coming to her side. He eyed her nervously, the Baratheon girl still rather fragile.

"Home." She smiled. "He rode for Storm's End this morning, along with pages upon pages of instructions and the Baratheon bracelet."

"Will you miss the Stormlands?" 

Ren shrugged.

"I'll visit. But my calling is elsewhere now. I was never meant to lead them permanently." She shook her head. "So many people promised me Storm's End over the years that it almost felt wrong to keep it. He'll do good. He deserves that much."

"Ah," Tyrion sighed. "You and your bleeding heart."

They stood in silence, watching the ships pull off. Below them, standing on the dock, she watched the Stark siblings stroll, Jon coming to join them.

"I take it you'll be leaving with Queen Sansa at the end of the month, then?" Tyrion looked up. Ren looked at him, a playful smile on her face.

"No, actually." She tilted her head. The gulls overhead cawed, some coming to land on the bannister. "I'm catching a ride North sooner rather than later."

She looked back at Jon, her fingers tightening on the rail.

"Renny." Tyrion warned. "He's a wildling now. Don't start a war because you can't keep your legs closed."

The most peculiar thing, Ren threw her head back in laughter, her body aching as her chest rose and fell quickly. Tyrion chuckled, shaking his head.

"No," Ren shook her head, fighting off laughter. "Not that, uncle. I need to visit Castle Black before returning to Winterfell to make preparations for Sansa's coronation. The Freefolk have something of mine."