✧･ﾟ:*When the sword is drawn from the stone, hope blooms within the rebellion.
But fates and destinies are fickle things and with the legend of the sword being fulfilled, another prophecy becomes set into motion.
Renly has been a part of the rebel...
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In Renly's eyes love and loss had always gone hand in hand. There couldn't be one without the other. It was why she had stayed on her own for so long after her parent's deaths. The thought of losing anybody else the way she had her parents had filled her with crippling terror. She told herself that she was better off alone. Just another street rat in the Londinium gutter.
She learned quite early that stealing was the only way she would survive on her own, she also learned that she was incredibly good at it. While she was sufficiently decent at pickpocketing that was not where she excelled. No, she watched, she learned, she planned, she stole, and if she did it well enough nobody would realize they had been robbed until hours after she had fled the scene. She made it a point to learn the ins and outs of the city she lived in.
Years passed, Renly grew older, stronger, and smarter. Using the food storages of the city lords to skimp off the top and keep herself fed on a regular basis, learning the blackleg routes and routines in order to avoid any additional trouble, and using the rooftops of the compactly built city to make her way around undetected. Fights were however unavoidable when living on the streets, that was how Renly learned how to take a punch, and why she taught herself to throw one back. Watching George's lessons from the roofs of the bathhouse became a regular part of her routine. That was what she did, adapting to every obstacle she encountered and teaching herself how to get past it.
She forced herself to ignore the whispers of the rebellion. She had more pressing matters to deal with, such as how not to starve or freeze to death. She had to focus on surviving, no matter how much she admired the people willing to risk their lives to fight back. She was a thief, not a rebel.
Until the day she met Bedevere and Goosefat on that rooftop.
Renly traveled through the memories of her life, watching them flashing before her. Thousands of good, bad, and terrifying moments, the years with her parents, the years of loneliness and starvation that followed their deaths, the years when she was finally allowed to live, the year after the prophecy, the year she had spent fighting beside Arthur and their people. Her entire life could be summed up so easily, and yet, as she thought back on her life, she felt a sense of peace. It did not matter to her how different life could have gone if her parents had lived if she hadn't stayed away in those early years on the streets. How different would their stories have unfolded if she had stayed behind when Arthur had saved her life and if she had allowed George to talk her into truly attending his classes and not be a silent observer from above? Had those moments, all of those events, near misses, and chance encounters been the work of the prophecy? Had it even back then been trying to pull them together? All of those questions that had plagued her only a week ago seemed to become so incredibly insignificant. She had done so much, she had met and loved so many, she had lived.
