It had been one of those nights.
In the darkness of the bedchamber, Loras Tyrell awoke with a pant and a cry, only to see he was sleeping upon golden silks. Tonight, it had been Renly sitting upon the Iron Throne. A throne room full of esteemed guests crowded in to welcome their true king at last to his rightful chair. Loras could see Renly laughing at a quip from one of his soothsayers. A true dream, at first. But the swords of the harsh throne would begin to scrape against his body, running blood down the dias and spilling into the first row of admirers. No one around saw a thing amiss, but Loras tried to yell until his voice was rough. No one listened to him. No one ran to his sweet king's aid- his blood continued to stain the throne, and eventually Renly's body fell forward with the sound which had awaken him.
The nightmare left the knight panting in his bed, a crown of sweat encircling his brow. The room was still, only the curtains moved by the open window.
He eventually laid down again. But this time, he gripped the duvet with clammy hands and prayed to the gods that he would dream of his sweet king no more.