Game of Thrones: The Storm

S2E5 - The Ghost of Harrenhal

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{} 11 years ago, King's Landing {}

"Uncle Renly," you shouted out in joy, running up to him with arms held open. 

"Laramie," Renly smiled as he picked you up. For a seven-year-old you were already quite tall, so picking you up was more of a challenge than it used to be. 

"Come to say goodbye before they take me to Bear Island?" You asked, fiddling with the stag antler pin that he had on his chest. 

"Of course," he smiled as you wrapped your arms around his neck. "You'll do just fine. Winter is almost over, so it shouldn't be as cold as it usually is," he assured you. 

"Father says that I'm to train there to fight and then I'll be able to come back home," you explained as he set you back down. He gave you a nod of approval before one of the Baratheon soldiers walked up to you, signaling that the small caravan was ready to leave. 

"Next time I see you, I expect to get this back," Renly took off his antler pin and placed it into your hands. You smiled up at him before jumping into his arms one last time. 

"I'll miss you," you whispered before pulling away to run off and get on your horse. Renly watched as you ran off, his smile slowly disappearing as the caravan moved out of the city gates. He knew you would not be back for a long time, but he didn't have the heart to tell you that fact. The kindest thing he could do for a little girl who was about to be shipped all around the realm was to let her live in ignorance. 

{} Present day, King's Landing {}

You were the first-person Varys told about Renly's passing, how he was stabbed in the back by his own Kings Guard. Though some accounts seemed to suggest that Catelyn Stark killed him. 

Not even a day after his passing, all of the bannermen that pledged fealty to Renly, flocked to Stannis to beg forgiveness. Now Stannis had the ships and the men to take King's Landing, and there would be no stopping him unless a miracle were to happen. 

There was still no word on Littlefinger, the sly man who was supposed to be in Renly's war camp during the untimely end of your uncle. 

You were sitting in the gardens, fiddling with Renly's antler pin that he gave you all those years ago, staring off into space. 

There was no word to describe the way you felt about his death. Several came to mind, but none of them felt completely right. 

You weren't overly sad, maybe the little girl you used to be would have been, but you were both different people now. Although he was very kind to you when you returned, it was clear he had changed in an unrecognizable way. 

Disappointment could have been a word for it. Disappointed that he left you alone, and disappointed that he left Ned Stark and his daughters, knowing the nature of the other Lords in this game, especially Littlefinger. Even more so disappointed that he tried to usurp the throne from Stannis, even if Joffrey really was Robert's son. 

Anger was a good word. Angry that he died being stabbed in the back, angry that his bannermen abandoned him, and angry that yet another person from your family was butchered like an animal. The Martell's and the Baratheon's were starting to shape up to be another Targaryen tragedy as more time goes on. 

"Laramie," a soft, almost fluttery voice broke the silence that surrounded you. 

When you looked up, Myrcella was standing a few feet away with her septa and two high lord's daughters behind her. 

"Myrcella," you greeted her before turning to the company behind her. "Septa, my ladies," you greeted them as well as they all nodded in acknowledgement.