Chapter 141

Renly I

Death may have been more merciful, he thought.

He'd feared being burned at the stake, having to feel every inch of his skin being eaten by flame. His final minutes an unspeakable agony, the only relief the black veil of death descending upon him. The cold, by far, was an even slower death.

Renly thought he knew cold. He'd lived in Storm's End for most of his life. The hurricane winds and unrelenting rain had frequently pounded the stone of his family's castle. While their rooms were warm, the halls were damp and the wet air coated their clothes every second in those halls. When he'd been a boy, Robert had crowed that the storms and the cold made them tough, unbreakable. Well, if the chill of the storms had made them tough, then the frigid cold of the north had made the Starks unbreakable.

He'd been sent to the Wall by ship. The journey had initially been moderately pleasant but one time Renly had been forced out on deck and shivered in the ever present mist.

"Do you feel that?" Yoren had said to him and those who'd similarly forfeited their freedom. "We've passed the Neck."

From then forward, with each passing day, the temperature had dropped and dropped until one day, instead of rain lashing the boat, it'd been snow. A surprisingly gentle snow. Renly had marveled at it. He'd been just old enough for his last winter, but he could scarcely remember it. Most of the snow had melted soon after it had fallen. Robert had bragged at one time that the snow in the Stormlands was nothing compared to what the Eyrie saw. It was a castle high enough up the mountain that it snowed year-round, even more consistently than what the North saw. His brother had never experienced a northern winter.

"It's enough to freeze the hair off your balls—if you're not too careful. I best watch my cock when I'm there!" Robert had drunkenly shouted once and dissolved into raucous laughter.

If Renly didn't know better, he'd say his brother had deliberately planned it so that he'd never be caught in the North in the dead of winter.

His cock freezing off was not what he had to worry about, he thought sourly once more. It still stung him that old Ned Stark had betrayed his brother. When he'd eventually heard the real fate of Ned Stark, it seemed well-deserved to Renly. You stabbed my brother in the back and got a knife in yours as well for your trouble.

It was not a thought that he could say out loud. Even despite most of the people being at the Wall for some manner of crime, the Starks were held in high esteem. Most especially by Lord Commander Jeor Mormont. He found the Old Bear passing strange. Who in their right mind would dedicate themselves to the Wall of free will?It's a misery of which there is no relief.

Once they'd reached Eastwatch-by-the-Sea, he stared up at the Wall. Even in this Seven forsaken place, he would admit that the Wall was a marvel for the ages. There was nothing else in Westeros that met this scope or grandeur. It was a pity Robert had frittered away the Crown's gold on whores and wine or he could have built something equally as marvelous to match in the south. However, that was unlike his brother. It was a pity, but after he'd been at the Wall for six months, he couldn't keep from cursing both of his brothers for their lack of foresight.

Robert was boorish and Stannis was gloomy. He recalled in the final years he'd spent in King's Landing that Stannis had poorly attempted to get Robert to take his duty as king seriously to no avail. In the few months that Renly held the throne vainly, he'd found distaste in the position. If it wasn't Maester Pycelle pestering him, it was Varys, or Baelish. He knew none of them could be particularly trusted, but he'd also assumed that if they weren't aligned with him, they would've fled as King Aemon gathered his army on their doorstep. Though he knew of their proclivities for deception, it still disappointed Renly that he hadn't seen it coming. He'd begun to suspect something was amiss when Baelish disappeared without so much as a raven.

He had been so certain that Aemon would simply burn all of them alive, even the likes of Baelish and Varys if they didn't immediately prostrate themselves at his feet. He'd been wrong. Horrendously wrong. By all accounts, he was the only one who paid for the crime of holding out against the new king. Not even Loras had suffered any consequences.

Renly's heart panged. He missed his lover dearly. His sweet words, his strong body moving atop him, the gentle caress of his breath on his neck. They'd planned to die together and be swept up in Death's embrace, never to be parted as they left hand-in-hand for the afterlife. Instead, Jaime fucking Lannister had come out of nowhere and snatched him from his bed to present him to the king. Renly figured a burning death was all but certain rather than a quick death by sword. When Aemon had banished him to the Wall, he knew he'd been duped. He wasn't one for killing—he was a bad hand at the sword anyway—but he would've given his own life to be able to take Baelish and Pycelle with him.

Once off the ship, Yoren had made them march from Eastwatch-by-the-Sea to Castle Black. Given that the Wall spanned the entire continent, Renly had first thought he'd make them walk atop the Wall, but he'd spared them that torture and walked them on the ground. Renly had quickly come down with a cold, feeling the scratchy tickle of a cough and unending drip of a runny nose for seemingly weeks on end. When they'd arrived, he'd been granted reprieve enough to finally rest.

However, the moment his sniffling had ended, he'd been torn from his bed and forced out onto the training grounds. He'd been given a proper cloak at the least. It didn't take long for his new nemesis to become Ser Alliser Thorne. He was a Targaryen supporter, banished to the Wall by Robert. When he set eyes upon Renly, a vein stood out prominently on his forehead and he became so enraged that he would bellow every command until spit flew from his mouth. For all demonstrations, he singled out Renly every time. Loras had taught him a thing or two about swordplay, though largely of a different sort. He was able to hold against some of the boys who'd never held a sword in their life. For those who had held a sword, Ser Alliser encouraged them to beat him black and blue. He'd anticipated this sort of treatment over the one he loved, not for standing against a Targaryen. After being sent to the infirmary half a dozen times in as many weeks, the Lord Commander eventually decided that Renly could better serve in the order of the builders. Though Renly didn't feel he had much aptitude for masonry, he was grateful for a chance to get away from the Targaryen zealot.

The head of the order of the builders, Othell Yarwyck, had looked him up and down and scoffed. But he simply ordered him to a task and refrained from voicing his opinion, for which Renly was glad. He buried himself in his new training and turned old Othell's opinion around about him. Though Renly was loath to be at the Wall, it helped him to have a task to focus on. Before long, Othell was sending them to the other castles on the Wall.

"The King insists that these castles are to be repaired and manned once more. It's our job to see that it gets done. First on the list is Sable Hall. Don't expect it to be cozy now; it's damn near fallen to pieces," he'd said gruffly.

Renly had frowned upon hearing that. While he had barely acknowledged the existence of the Wall from the south, it had still been a part of his studies. Storm's End's old Maester Nathen had insisted on teaching him despite his protests. Though he had failed to remember little outside of Bran the Builder and Castle Black, he distinctly recalled that the Wall was meant to be neutral, apart from the affairs of the king and nobility in the south. So why was Aemon meddling when it went against the very foundation of the Night Watch's inception? He hadn't dared raise his concerns; though he could be certain Othell wouldn't beat him bloody like Ser Alliser, he still easily discerned the answer he was apt to receive: That doesn't concern you, chum.

So he just kept his head down and worked: hauling stone, carving it, patching it, breaking it, and chopping wood. Without his shaving kit, his beard began to grow thick and bushy, which served to protect his face from the bitter wind. Hauling stone and chopping wood bulked up his muscles. Though he still remained trim, he found that his shoulders now strained against his shirt. Renly had found a sort of peace throwing himself into his work.

He cared very little for speaking with the other men. He didn't even want to think of the reception he'd receive if they learned of his … proclivities. He'd always been cautious about revealing his true self. He'd been shielded even a little by Robert's status as king, but that wouldn't have saved him if his desires had become more widely known. He expected to be hanged or left to freeze to death had it become common knowledge.

His fellow builders at least had a positive opinion of him since he was a good worker who never complained. Some of the more flighty members had a tendency to drop their hardest tasks on to him. He never turned them down, grateful for anything that could keep his mind off the regret for his life choices. During their off times, some of them would cajole him into joining their dice games, but he declined. After six months, they eventually wore him down and he began to play, though he still rarely dared to laugh.

It was this that eventually moved Othell to action.

"Son, I know your story. It's the same one that everyone has here," Othell said, placing a comforting hand around his shoulder.

Renly raised his eyebrow, but his voice remained flat. "I don't think many can claim they betrayed the king."

"What does it fuckin' matter? You're here, aren't ya? Same as the rest of us. That's the best thing about the Night's Watch: it makes us all equal. No one gives a shit if you're peasant or nobly born, you have a chance to rise among the ranks," Othell replied, clapping him on the shoulder and giving him a wink.

"Fat lot of good it does me," Renly replied.

Othell rolled his eyes. "Don't think I haven't seen this. Young sods wallowing their time away in their own mud hole. No one likes a self-pitying wastrel. Keep your chin up and your head about you and you'll see yourself rise."

"Don't think I don't see the hook of the fishing line you're dangling in front of me," Renly answered wryly.

Othell grinned widely, showing his blackened gums. "You may have been a pretty boy when you arrived, but you've got smarts. Look, we just got new recruits in from King's Landing."

Renly narrowed his eyes. Why so many recruits? Is the king condemning his political enemies to the Watch? "And what does this have to do with me?"

"We've made good progress on Sable Hall, but it's not enough. I'm sending Tollard back to Castle Black to train the new recruits and I want you to be his second hand."

"Me?" Renly scoffed.

"I never thought you were among the humble sort," Othell snorted.

"I'm just doing what I've been told."

"Fascinatin'. Because in the midst of that, you've damn well made yourself one of the best masons that we have. You've an eye for detail, you always know the best technique for patchin', and an eye for solid builds. You have what it takes."

Renly sighed. "When I joined, I wasn't looking for accolades."

"It doesn't matter if you were. You got 'em, I'm noticin' em, and therefore I'm sendin' ya back."

"Then why bother asking me if there was no such choice?" Renly said, disgruntled.

"Because I thought I might see if there's anythin' that makes ya happy. Guess I was wrong. It hardly matters. You can continue to mope and whine about your lot in life, but you're still goin' to do it servin' the Night's Watch," Othell replied cheerily, clapping his back one last time, and walking off.

It was with some disgruntlement that Renly found himself riding with Tollard and a couple of soldiers through the forest next to the Wall on the way back to Castle Black. He liked Tollard. The man was quiet and lacked the boisterousness of some of the other boys, likely because he was significantly older though Renly couldn't pin his age. He did have a penchant for perfectionism and often snapped at the boys attempting to carve wood in a haphazard fashion. It made him unpopular among the rebel crowd, but Renly didn't mind. As far as he knew, Tollard had a positive opinion of him, which was a sight better than he could've hoped for. But now he had to see Ser Alliser again and once more be the target of the man's ire.

When the order of the builders had initially ridden out to Sable Hall, they'd gone via the southern route because there weren't any roads cut through the north side of the wall and they needed to haul material. Once outside, Renly had longingly looked south. He had an opportunity to split in a bid for freedom. If they catch me, I'm dead, he thought. He had difficulty deciding if it was worth the risk. In the end, he'd simply turned away from the enticing freedom. He was honestly surprised that no one had made a break for it.

At one point, Renly had asked one of his companions and the man stared at him as if he were touched in the head. "I might be freezin' my balls off, but I get three good meals an' a warm bed, which is a damn sight more than I had when I was sent here."

That had made Renly frown pensively. He'd never met someone who didn't have such things readily available to them. Admittedly, he'd hardly ever ventured out into King's Landing for more than an ale in the finest taverns. He'd deliberately shunned Fleabottom for its reputation of orphans and cutpurses. Though he knew they existed, he never thought about them in any way. That the Night's Watch could actually be considered better was a revelation to him.

Renly didn't care much for the forest beyond the Wall. Unlike the forest in the south, this one was thick and overgrown, even with the now constant carpet of snow that blanketed the land. It was also quieter. The air was still as if the forest were somehow a living thing holding its breath. He frequently heard twigs snapping and couldn't resist glancing over to the treeline in alarm.

"The Old Gods help us," Tollard whispered, his hand going to the handle of the sword he'd been granted. "Why couldn't Othell let us take the southern route?"

"Too easy for you to just wander off," Bergan, one of their guards, replied. "Pay it no mind. Prolly just a rabbit or a squirrel."

"What if it's the Others?" Tollard said, swallowing.

Renly chuckled. "I thought you of all people wouldn't believe in bedtime monsters."

Tollard had looked at him askance, causing Renly to chuckle again. But his laughter died quickly as he looked around and saw none of the other guards had found it funny.

"Have you been livin' under a rock?" Tollard asked.

"What do you mean?"

"The Others are real, Ren," Bergan replied.

"You're japing," Renly scoffed.

"Were that I was," Bergan muttered. "You weren't here when Hedley died."

"What about him?"

"He was securing rocks for the catapult when the rope snapped and crushed him. It was in the dead of night when they pulled him out. Othell declared he'd be burned on the morn. The ole Bear insisted we tie him up. When we woke, the ropes were snapped and his body was gone. He'd turned in the night, becomin' an Other with glowing blue eyes. He killed two others on guard and one of our dogs before someone used a dragonglass dagger on him and put 'im down for good. After that, the ole Bear commanded that we burn our dead immediately, no matter the time of day."

Renly stared. He wanted to laugh once more, but the sound died in his throat. "Truly?" he asked.

"Aye. The ole Bear stopped sendin' the Rangers out for fear of the Others catchin' 'em."

Renly had fallen silent after that, his mind reeling. He had, of course, heard about the Others, but Maester Nathen had assured him that it was more legend than truth.

"The Others haven't been seen in ten thousand years and aren't apt to be at this point," the old maester had said.

He'd had trouble sleeping that night. Despite the chill that rolled off the Wall, they deliberately set up their tents in the no man's land between the Wall and the forest. Renly feared that the guards would grow lax in the early hours of the morning and drift off to sleep, so he'd volunteered for an early morning shift.

They'd all been issued dragonglass daggers before leaving Castle Black. Renly had initially found them quaint; they clearly weren't meant for killing humans. He'd thought them decorative which, now looking back, made no sense given that the Night's Watch didn't encourage such things as owning belongings. He hadn't paid much attention to the words of the person who'd shoved it into his hand; his was just another voice in the clamor of noises of Castle Black. But now he clung to it like a lifeline on a ship.

The woods stayed silent that night, but it did little to buoy their spirits. In fact, Renly's nerves were more frayed than ever from a lack of real sleep. He started at nearly every noise. If his companions thought him a coward, they didn't say anything. For once, Renly felt like he was in good company.

On day three, Bergan hustled his horse first thing in the morning. "I recognize this spot. We're close to the gate. I don't fancy spendin' another night out here, don't you agree?"

So they booted their horses and galloped for the opening. For the first time since Renly had arrived, he felt free. Before King Aemon had declared himself, he and Loras often took their horses out to the kingswood and raced each other, seeing who could navigate better. They were Willas' horses of course. His stallion was of bay coloring, with a reddish coat. He'd been the best trained animal who responded to the lightest touch. His Night's Watch horse was a rather dull brown with equally dull eyes. Though Renly had no issues with his horse, it lacked any real spirit and could barely keep up with the others as they raced for the gate.

Once the gate had lifted, they walked their horses to dry them off. It was only when the gate closed behind them that Renly sighed in relief. Out of the tunnel, Renly frowned. The number of men at Castle Black had grown considerably since he was there two years earlier. He'd spent so long working with just the builders that the large number of people immediately chafed him. He doubted he'd grow used to this new normal.

"Move your feet. One, two, three step. Follow, follow, yes, like that."

Renly's head snapped, but he shook his head. No, he thought. No, he's gone. We're forever to be apart, he scolded himself.

But the voice sounded again, tickling his mind pleasantly. He found his feet turned, carrying him toward it like a moth drawn to flame. It seemed like the men parted before him, and then he saw Loras. He had more than two dozen men drawn into lines and he was drilling them. Renly rubbed at his eyes, certain it was merely an illusion, but when he looked again, Loras remained. His golden curls had since grown into a magnificent mane and they shined in the light of day like a beacon to Renly.

He shook himself of his trance and went back to where he'd left his horse. Tollard had looked at him curiously, but made no comment. No one could know what Loras meant to him.

"There are quite a few men here," Renly murmured.

"Aye, I was just speakin' with Matrim and we got two hundred volunteers. Volunteers! Men eager to join rather than forced. That should be a nice change of pace," Bergan said.

"Volunteers …." Renly glanced back. The whole kingdom knew he'd been sent to the Wall. Had Loras truly decided to follow him here? Lovelorn fool, he mused fondly, struggling to choke back his feelings as Loras' mere presence once more stoked the fires of his passion.

Despite his happiness, he feared to approach him. It'd been over two years since they'd been separated. Had Loras truly come for him or did it have more to do with the embarrassment he'd no doubt brought upon the Tyrell family after he was discovered, naked, in the room Renly had taken for himself? If Willas' reaction to Loras had been anything to go by, the Tyrells harbored no ill will for their family member. But he knew that the Tyrells were at odds with the lords they governed. Perhaps there had been just enough pressure to encourage Loras' oath to the Night's Watch. After all, it seemed blasphemous to Renly that they'd squander such a talent on such a dismal place.

To rid his thoughts from Loras, he pulled off his saddlebags and tended to his horse. Given that he and Tollard had only just arrived, they were granted leeway to simply return to their rooms and settle themselves back in before the work of training the new recruits began the next day. At dinner time, Renly deliberately slunk around. Loras had never seen him in anything other than a meticulously sculpted beard and close haircut. He hoped his wild and tangled appearance would go unnoticed. In an unusual move, he stayed close to Tollard, who gave him a questioning glance, but otherwise paid him no attention. However, Tollard was eventually coaxed into a game of dice and so Renly quietly took his leave and fled the mess hall. He hadn't even bothered looking for Loras.

He'd just stopped to get his wits about him when he heard clipped footsteps and a rough hand grabbed him and turned him around. He gasped and flinched, expecting to see the likes of Ser Alliser Thorne and was surprised to be staring straight into Loras' angry green eyes.

"Did you really think you'd get away from me that easily?" he growled. Then he turned and marched him down a hall, opened a door, and shoved him through. The room was mostly cold stone and crates of food, but there was bedding laid down of straw.

At first, Renly stared at the straw, but when no further movement was made, he slowly turned. Loras stood in front of the door with his arms crossed, still scowling in the flickering light of the torch.

"Don't think I didn't see you lurking just outside of the training grounds," Loras said. "That you thought you could escape me?"

"What are you doing here, Loras?" Renly asked, his voice a tremble, though he was unsure if it was lust or fear.

"Perhaps you've forgotten, but I am a third son of Tyrells. Hardly fit for more than a position as knight. They'd never have me given my … history," Loras said angrily. "Then King Aemon delivered to the Red Keep an undead. A wight, like the legends of old. A corpse come to life. He insisted that the realm was in grave danger of the Long Night and there was the proof of his words. The only way of … redeeming myself lies in finding glory on the battlefield. No better place than at the front in the Night's Watch. So I volunteered."

"You stupid, foolish man," Renly said, unable to resist reaching out and pulling Loras to him so that their lips crashed together.

Renly sighed as his fervor was met equally. He'd grown so cold and forlorn that he'd felt like little more than a wight himself. He'd forgotten what it was like to feel alive. For the first time since he'd entered the godsforsaken North, he felt a fire warm in his belly.

However, after a few moments, Loras pulled away and punched him.

Renly had to bite his tongue to keep from groaning and he turned back with a painful smile.

"That's for trying to ignore me," Loras whispered hoarsely.

"I feared what they might do if they knew."

"It was just as dangerous in the Red Keep."

Renly chuckled coldly. "It's far more dangerous. No one here would have any second thoughts about hanging us."

"Better than burning us," Loras said.

"Did King Aemon burn people after I left?" Renly asked, his mouth agape.

"No," Loras replied. "I'm referring to the zealots. Though, if I'm being honest, I think the king would've stopped them. He's opposed to such punishments."

"Really?"

"Yes, he doesn't want the dragons to be feared," Loras said. When Renly's eyes widened, he nodded balefully. "Yes, he has dragons. Or I should say, he has one. His Queen Daenerys has two more. I would've thought you'd heard by now."

"I keep to myself here," Renly replied with a shrug.

"I feared you would've found a new lover to keep you warm." With this sentence, Loras approached him and wrapped his arms around his waist, bringing him close.

"And risk death? Although, I'll admit, it's tempting. The cold is miserable," Renly sighed into Loras' embrace and once more kissed him deeply.

"It's certainly been difficult, but I think I'm growing used to it."

Renly scoffed. "You don't grow used to it, you become numbed by it. I scarcely feel I'm in my body most days."

"Has it really been so terrible?" Loras asked, beginning to remove his furs.

"Not torture, at least not anymore. I've apparently proven myself as a mason." Renly chuckled at the very thought.

"I feared you'd be in nothing but misery and you'd wither under the stress and torment. You're stronger than you were before," Loras replied appraisingly. "I'm glad you've found something worth your attention."

"I'm afraid I failed at being a fighter, no thanks to Ser Alliser Thorne," Renly mumbled into Loras' neck as he blindly attempted to work the buttons off his jerkin.

"It seems I have my work cut out for me. I knew Ser Alliser was a prick, but to torment you? He will pay," Loras hissed, though whether it was out of malice or pleasure, Renly couldn't be sure.

"I'm weary of conversation. We have more important things to be doing," Renly said and pushed his lover back onto the hay.

The scratchy hay and the cold damp stone was easily his least favorite place to make love, but after years of celibacy he was willing to make do. Much like in the Red Keep, he and Loras were forced to skulk around. They dared not linger. Though the room was situated away from the dorms, the rotating guards would be suspicious if they caught the both of them wandering the halls after curfew. Loras was still new to Castle Black, so Renly sent him out first to find his way back to his rooms. Renly lingered and contemplated his good fortune of having his one love returned to him.

They were careful to ignore each other during the day, which was made easy by their duties. Loras was busy training new soldiers and he busied himself with the training of new stonecutters and bricklayers. Renly couldn't say he was happy, but he reached a level of contentment that he thought previously unattainable. They didn't dare to spend every night together, but made arrangements well in advance, changing plans at a moment's notice if there was any danger afoot.

After two months of training the new members of the order of the builders, they were parted once more. Renly was promoted to a captain and he and Tollard were sent with their own men east to Nightfort to reclaim it from the elements. Renly found himself once more falling into melancholy. He'd briefly entertained persuading the Old Bear to assign Loras as part of the guard, but he knew it wouldn't be granted. Loras was far too crucial for training soldiers. On the eve of Renly's departure, Loras promised they would see each other soon.