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"I loved him." Renly confesses to Margaery. Quietly.

"I know." She tells him. Loras told her a lot of things. And even if her brother hadn't told her, she would have figured it out.

It was fairly obvious.

"I caused his death." He says, and Margaery can feel the guilt coming off her husband, thicker than any blanket.

"It's not your fault." Margaery puts her hand on his shoulder.

Comfort is something he needs, but she's unsure if he wants it from her. She looks like Loras. And that might be too much, but right now, she's the only one for a great distance who loves Loras as much as he does.

"I wanted the tournament. I convinced him. He didn't think about it until I planted the idea." He tells Margaery, his voice thicker than the stew she served in her charity work back in Highgarden.

"He consented to it. And you put the man who killed him to death." Margaery consoles.

"I killed him myself, Margaery. I didn't put him to death."

"Good." Her voice is brittle and he wonders if she'll break. She's a lot stronger than she looks, but if she falls apart, maybe they can fall apart together. And maybe they'll pick up the pieces together.

He wouldn't mind breaking down right now. He knows he'll never love her. Not romantically. He can love her as a friend. She's too kind for him not to. And he thinks, that perhaps she doesn't want him romantically either. She hasn't indicated that in anyway he's noticed, and her actions the other night seemed stiff.

"He loved you." She says steadily.

"I know." Renly tells her, he wants her to know- Loras said it whispered after kisses, when they were alone, Loras always told him. And that he always returned the words. But words won't bring Loras back.

But if they did, he would never stop writing.

Never.

Not until he got him back.

"I can't make this better." She tells him.

"I know." He says, reassuringly.

"I know that my presence must make your mourning harder." She almost gets up to leave, but Renly's hand joins her on his shoulder.

"But it is good to have you here, Margaery. You loved him. As a sister. I loved him too. You understand."

He needs her to understand that he can't be alone right now. He couldn't bear that. Somehow, she does, and tells him she'll stay.

As they lay next to each other that night, he can almost pretend that the form next to him is that of Loras. But Loras would be touching him, a hand in his hair or an arm around his waist or anything. Margaery does not and he is grateful.

When he wakes up the next morning, he does not open his eyes immediately.

He smells roses, the smell is faint. And he almost opens his eyes, full of hope. But he remembers. And the knowledge that he will never kiss Loras again, never see him again weighs him down, keeping him on the bed as if someone had put a ship on top of his body. And he feels just as crushed.

He can tell when Margaery gets up. She doesn't say anything, but a few minutes later, he joins her at breakfast. And when he sits next to her, he remembers that she is mourning too. They are both wearing black, he notices.

He wants to tell her that she is brave and strong, like her brother. But that might break them even farther and so, he doesn't tell her. Maybe another day.

She has always been strong, but he was too busy noticing Loras to think about it. Breakfast is almost silent, other than manners.

Renly thinks that is a miracle- a work of the gods that he even got out of bed.

But then, staying in bed might have been worse. At least, up and around, he has to think about other things than watching Loras die.

It's still behind his eyelids every time he blinks, and he wants to be angry.

He wants his anger to boil, and bubble, to be hotter than a fire.

But all he feels is cold, despite his many layers, and lonely, even around people.

Margaery is a balm, for the time being, on the gaping hole which reveals some of his insides that are missing. It's not effective, really, but it helps on some level. Whatever is in charge of love- seems to be missing.

Perhaps Loras took it with him when he left.

He wouldn't doubt it.

Days pass and strategies change, his remaining brother, who has threatened to kill him, is dead now as well.

He should feel relief, or anger, but he still feels almost the same as that day.

It gets better. Little things. Margaery doesn't smell like roses anymore, and he suspects she changed her perfume for his sake. He doesn't mind, but he won't bring it up in case he is wrong and he is losing his mind.

They prepare to go to war with the Lannisters. He met Cersei once, and he didn't think she was in love with his brother. Or even liked him really. His death seemed too convenient for the the long haired woman. He hears the rumors, and thinks they are probably true. Those children, are, most likely, not his brother's.

Margaery requests that they are careful in taking King's Landing. There is no need to fight the innocents, and hurting the neutral people who live there, will not be in their favor.

Renly nods, and she sits in on his war council, she is almost always at his side now- and he mentions it.

The rest of the men think it is a good idea, and he wonders if they would still think it was a good idea if they knew it came from the woman next to him.

He knows that Margaery does not have equal power as he does, and it irritates him.

She is his equal. She helps him, more than he thinks she knows.

They take King's Landing with ease, and Margaery is queen.

The queen. And the royal court, for the most part, stays. They kill Lannisters, it's somewhat satisfying, as Renly is almost sure they killed his brother- and they have wrecked so many lives- including Sansa Stark, with whom Margaery spends a few afternoons.

One of the first things they do is send Sansa Stark back to Winterfell. Neither House Tyrell nor House Baratheon have quarrel or anything against House Stark. Margaery has told him that she wants Sansa happy.

Renly wonders about this, but doesn't ask. If Margaery wants to tell him, she will.

They control the Crownlands, whose subjects, were surprisingly accepting of the change, considering how kind they are. The Lannisters were terrible and only Tyrion is left. And even he is carefully watched. Spies are killed, loyalists to a ruthless House that never loved them back, are dealt with.

Renly admits to Margaery that he wouldn't want to be king without her by his side. But he doesn't want it anymore. Truth be told, she isn't sure if she wants it either.

But Daenerys Stormborn comes, not a fortnight later- with ships and soldiers. She's expecting a fight, but when Renly and Margaery greet her as she steps foot in Westeros for the first time, that they are glad to give up their positions. With a few, minor conditions.

The House territories don't change. She agrees to this readily.

And Margaery asks of her to consider the possibility of making a law where people could get married freely. When she is asked to specify, she looks at Renly, who is obviously thinking of Loras.

"If I, say, wanted to marry another woman, I wouldn't want it to be illegal." The current Queen of the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros says carefully.

The Targaryen nods.

And Margaery lets out a noise of joy.

The pale haired woman looks at her, head tilted, her pale purple eyes focused on her intently.

Renly throws caution to the wind for a moment, and says,

"Divorce would also be an idea we would like you to consider."

The future queen looks at the two.

"Do not mistake me, I love her, but- I loved another. More. And I will never get him back. It would mean a great deal to us."

"Are you-" Dany breaks off her sentence looking at Margaery.

"I like women more." Margaery supplies.

"Consider it done." The pale girl told them.

Renly's hand finds Margaery's and he squeezes hers.

She squeezes it back, excited.

"Thank you." They tell her, and there is the matter of moving, and dragons, but Margaery goes to Winterfell within a few fortnights.

Sansa admits her growing feelings- and even in the Northern cold- it gives Margaery a feeling of warmth-that came from happiness- that made the snow and ice of the North seem barely noticeable.

Finis