The Last Stag • Game of Thrones

26.

Chapter Twenty-Six.
Golden Shrouds

The Great Sept of Baelor always reeked of sage. 

Frankly, Ren hated the smell. Too bitter and sour for her liking. Not at all what you wanted to smell when you visited your families crypt. Her stomach turned with the stench, nausea that had been plaguing her since the moment she stepped into the sept. 

The eyes of the Seven stared down at her, making Renfri feel impossibly small. Ren had never been pious, but she felt as if they could see right through her soul, judging her for the things she had done. 

She traced her fingers over the golden lettering in front of her, her lips moving silently as she mouthed the words that she had read a hundred times over now.

King Robert Baratheon, First of his Name.
Ruler of the Seven Kingdoms. Husband to Cersei; Father to Renfri, Joffrey, Myrcella, and Tommen.
King Joffrey Baratheon, First of his Name.
Ruler of the Seven Kingdoms. Husband to Margaery.
Princess Myrcella Baratheon, First of her Name.

The three stone slabs were stacked on top of each other. She tried not to think about how their bodies lay just beyond the panels.

You need to hold it together.

"You would have liked the woman she grew into." Jaime murmured behind her, his eyes locked on the slab containing Myrcella's body. "She reminded me so much of you."

Ren half-laughed, closing her eyes.

"I doubt that."

"I'm being serious. She argued with me about the low-cut of her dress and drank wine with the Dornish prince. So similar to the way you were."

Were. That word stuck on his tongue. 

"That's surprising." Renfri mused, her fingers tracing over the lettering. "She and I were always so different."

"Not so surprising." Jaime came to stand at her side. "You were sisters, after all."

Renfri blinked.

"Half-sisters." She murmured, surprising herself. 

She felt Jaime's eyes snap to her.

She wanted him to know that she knew. That she had no intention of pretending that the rumors were not true, that she did not see the obvious truth before her. 

A long, tense moment passed as she waited for him to react. To say something, anything.

"Have you decided, then?" Jaime asked. "To go?"

Ren pondered this. His offer had truly prompted thought, as she had been forcing the idea of returning North to the back of her mind for weeks now. 

Returning to Jon.

But Ren had made her choice.

Her hand left the lettering, clamping down over her stomach as she took a deep breath to combat the nausea growing in her gut. The fine silk dress felt foreign and unusual on her skin, although she had worn it countless times in her youth. It clung to her chest, her breasts straining against the material, far too snug to be comfortable.

"No." She squeezed her eyes shut. "I'm staying."

The wave of nausea passed. She breathed, opening her eyes.

"Tommen is my brother. I refuse to live to see his name in this sept."

Jaime's eyes flickered to her.