The Last Stag • Game of Thrones

epilogue.

The Way The Story Goes

"Renfri!"

The little girl ran through the forest, raven curls bouncing against her back. Her boots splashed in the mud, splattering dirty water all around her as she jumped from puddle to puddle.

She whooped with joy as she bounced further along the path, soaking the skirts of her dress in mud. She imagined that she was running through the fabled fields of Highgarden, on a grand quest from the Lord, off to seek the lost bandit treasure.

But as the sounds of footsteps grew in her ears, she huffed, realizing her grand fantasy was about to be broken.

"Renfri!" Her father cried out, grabbing her by the crook of the elbow. "Darling, what did I tell you when I agreed to let you off the carriage?"

"Not to run out of sight." She muttered, pouting. "But it's so boring back there!"

"How lovely to hear that my only daughter thinks her family is boring." Her father rolled his eyes. "Come, dear. Back to the carriage for you."

"Father, please!" Renfri fought against his grasp as he attempted to pull her back. "We've been on the road for a month. I just want to play."

Her father straightened, turning to her and sighing. He knelt to her level, the rumbling of the horses hooves approaching them.

"Renny, when we left Winterfell, I told you that we were going to King's Landing. The city your Nan always tells you about. Do you remember how excited you were?"

The little girl brightened, her golden eyes snapping wide.

"Good. Now, you know I love your imagination, and you will get your time to play. But the Southern King has called the entire family here for a very important meeting. He's very old now, and the council needs to decide on a new King. We have to present a strong face to the other Lords and Ladies. Do you understand?"

"Is uncle Gendry going to be there?" Renfri perked up. "Can I play with my cousins?"

"He will be, and you can." The tall man gently took her hand in his, guiding her back to meet the carriage that rumbled towards them. "I've even asked your Nan's cousin Jaime to give you a tour of the city so you can see where all your Nan's stories took place. But in exchange for all the fun you're going to have, I need you to be on your best behavior when we're in front of the King and the other nobles. Can you promise me?"

"I promise." Ren looked up at her father. "But if we have to be well-behaved in front of the nobles, why did papa Tormund tell me to try and spill ale on as many of them as possible?"

"Because papa Tormund spoils you rotten, and your Nan and Pop let him." Her father sighed as they reached the carriage. "Now, let's get you back inside, my little stag-"

The door to the carriage popped open. A familiar head of black curls peered out, golden eyes squinting in the light.

"Did you find her, Rob?"

"Yes, Lyanna. She's right here."

Her father picked her up, setting her on her feet in front of the wild-haired woman.

"Careful with her." Rob Baratheon sighed, his hand on the carriage door. "She's a slippery one."

"Forgive me, your grace, but aren't all Baratheon women?"

Rob shot Lyanna a look, rolling his eyes before closing the carriage door. Renfri looked up at Lyanna, frowning.

"Why did you call him that?" She asked, moving to sit next to Lyanna.

"Orys?" Lyanna looked over Ren's head to the youngest of the Baratheon boys. "Care to answer?"

Orys, as if he could sense that they were talking to him, looked over, frowning in confusion. He playfully elbowed Ren, grinning at his niece.

"Stop teasing him, aunt Lyanna." Ren pouted. "It's just mean when he can't laugh along at the joke. It isn't his fault he can't hear."

"Apologies, dear." Lyanna reached out, taking one of Ren's loose curls between her fingers. "And in order to answer your question, I need to swear you to secrecy. Can you keep a secret?"

"Yes." Renfri's eyes snapped up, intrigued. "Of course I can."

Lyanna smiled in a teasing way.

"Good." She bit her lip. "There's a rumor that the council is going to elect your father to be the new King of Westeros. Rob Baratheon, King of the Six Kingdoms."

Renfri stared at her aunt, lips parting in surprise.

"But-" She stuttered. "I don't want him to be King."

"Why ever not, sweetness?"

"Because." Ren frowned. "I don't want to have to move away from Winterfell. I'm going to miss my friends. Aunt Summer, Uncle Jeor, Prince Ned. Jonnie and Renna. Nan and Pop and Boysen and Cran."

"Let's break this down." Lyanna sighed, throwing her arm over Ren's shoulders beside her. "Your aunt Summer has married Jon Tarly, so she'll be moving to Horn Hill anyways once their honeymoon is over. Jeor is taking the black. Prince Ned will be off to finishing school soon to learn about nobility. Tormund and Karsi only bring their grandchildren to Winterfell for half the year anyways. As for your grandparents, they've been up at Last Hearth with the bears since the Winter came, and they're getting too old for frequent travel. You see? Change is the natural way of life."

Renfri looked away from her aunt, kicking her feet.

"But what if I'm not ready for things to change?" Ren murmured. "What if I just want to live in Winterfell forever, with things exactly as they are?"

She leaned into her Uncle Orys's arm, sighing.

"Well, my little stag, that would be lovely." Lyanna reached out, wrapping her hand over Ren's. "But if it wasn't for change, well, none of us would be here."

Ren looked over to her aunt as Orys wrapped his arm around her, giving her shoulder a squeeze.

"What do you mean?" Ren frowned. Lyanna blinked in surprise.

"You mean you don't know?" An excited smile grew across Lyanna's face. "You haven't been told how the story goes?"

"What story?"

"The story of Nan and Pop, dearest. The grand adventures that took them all up and down the continent." Her aunt tilted her head, nodding. "Not the bedtime tales that my mother tells you. The real story. I suppose you are old enough to hear it now. Old enough to understand how you are the culmination of so many great Houses. Lannister, Baratheon, Stark, Targaryen, Tully..."

Lyanna took a breath. Her eyes glazed over, as if she was somewhere very far away.

"Way, way back, long before you or I were born, before Queen Sansa's reign, there were Seven Kingdoms. Not six. And one King, Robert Baratheon, ruled over them all, having usurped the mad Targaryen King before him. King Robert had a beautiful daughter, the last Renfri Baratheon, the Princess of Westeros, and she lived in a tower by the sea-"

"Nan was a Princess?!"

"Yes, dear. She was a Princess, and she was a Lady, and a mercenary and a commander and a commoner. But you need to let me tell the story in order. Now, where was I?"

"The tower! By the sea!"

"Right, right. Now, one night, the Hand of the King, Jon Arryn, dies unexpectedly. Blagghh! Argghh! Dead. So King Robert decides that he's going to travel to Winterfell and bring his entire family with him. He was old friends with Lord Eddard Stark, Queen Sansa's father, and was to ask him to be his new Hand. To understand this fully, you need to understand that Lord Stark had a wife named Catelyn Tully, and six children; Rickon, Brandon, Arya, Sansa, and Robb. The sixth was his bastard, a lad by the name of Jon Snow, or so everyone thought..."