The Keys to the Kingdom

by The Plaid Slytherin

Having secured the capital, Renly and Stannis' partnership is put to the test of everyday rule. (The Dreamer and the Builder #2)

Second in The Dreamer and the Builder, following By Rights, which you should read first. Thanks to Dethryl for betaing. Without him, this wouldn't be here.

---

Petyr Baelish entered the throne room with his head held high, several paces ahead of his escort. If I didn't know better, Renly thought, I would never have known that Rolland found him hiding in one of those whorehouses of his, packing his trunk.

"Your Grace." Baelish took a knee and bowed his head low, as though he were one of Renly's most trusted retainers. "I am glad it is finally safe to be a Baratheon loyalist in this city again."

"I missed you at my coronation, Master of Coin," Renly said. He rested his elbow casually on the arm of the Iron Throne. He had gotten accustomed enough to the chair to feel natural in it, though he still had to remember not to lean back too far. He'd already lost one of his favorite cloaks to the barbs. "My small council has an unfortunate hole in it."

Baelish cast a glance to the side, where the members of Renly's council sat. His goodfather, Mace Tyrell, was at one end of the table, where Renly had once sat as Master of Laws. At the other end sat Grand Maester Pycelle, newly freed from the black cells. He appeared to have aged twenty years and now looked even more ancient than he already had to be. Renly thought his face looked almost unrecognizable without its long white beard. Next to him, the recently-recovered Ser Davos Seaworth, Master of Ships, looked hale and hearty by comparison.

Even Varys was there, having presented himself once the fighting had stopped and victory was Renly's. Renly had determined he knew too much to be allowed to leave, which was probably why Robert had kept him around as well. Stannis had not been happy, but it was a fight he had lost sixteen years ago.

For his part, Renly's Hand sat in the center of the council table, looking down on Baelish as though he were something unpleasant that had had the audacity to attach itself to the bottom of his boot.

"You might have fooled Robert with that," Stannis said. "But you will not fool me."

Baelish favored him with a slippery smile. "It seems I need only convince the king, my lord Hand."

Stannis did not smile. Renly had noticed that he did not enjoy being reminded of his position. "You presume too much, Lord Baelish. If you are such a staunch loyalist, where have you been since we pacified the city? Surely it did not take you two weeks to hear the news?"

"Simply making sure it was safe. I did not wish to encounter any lingering Lannisters. I was glad to see Ser Rolland's escort appear just as I needed them."

Renly almost laughed. He was very good. Perhaps it would be worth keeping him around simply for the entertainment. "Lord Baelish, consider the king unconvinced."

Baelish's gaze snapped back to Renly. Terror was not an emotion he had ever seen on Littlefinger's face. It suited him. "Please, Your Grace. Know that I served your late brother well. Do you remember the night he died? Do you remember your offer to Ned Stark?"

Renly sat up straighter. He did remember. That was before he'd learned of the incest, before he'd decided to claim the throne for himself. He had hoped Stark would join him in displacing Cersei so that Joffrey could rule under the influence of his uncle and the Lord Protector. How far we have come since then.

"What do you know of that?" he asked.

"He called for me after you left him. He was wondering what to do. I encouraged him to accept, Your Grace. He instead insisted on trusting the City Watch, which led to his betrayal and eventual death. Had he trusted you, he would still be alive."

Renly frowned. "If he had accepted my offer, Joffrey would be king. A bastard pretender."

"Yes, I believed the lies about Joffrey's parentage, fool that I am. Surely you cannot punish a man for being deceived by traitors?" Baelish's voice was rising. "I acted only out of loyalty to King Robert, Your Grace! I would be honored to serve you."

"I'm sure you would." Renly cast a glance at his council. Stannis' expression did nothing to betray his thoughts. If he gives me no hint, then my decision stands on its own, and he cannot complain later. "This is all based on your word alone. If you are truly the Baratheon loyalist you claim to be, it should be a simple matter to prove it."

"I will, Your Grace."

Renly nodded. "Then you may resume your seat on the council. Gods know we need a Master of Coin who can deal with these debts. Be sure you don't do anything to misplace my trust."

"Of course, Your Grace. Thank you, Your Grace." Baelish bobbed his head in gratitude.

"Rise," Renly said graciously. Making Baelish squirm was entertaining, but surely unbecoming for a king. "Take your seat. There are more matters to address."

Baelish stood and composed himself instantly. He strode to his chair, looking as though he was the proud hero who had opened the gates of the Red Keep for Renly. Stannis looked distinctly unamused to be sitting next to the man.

Renly turned back to the court. It was his first formal session, and the gallery was packed with observers, all eager to see the new king at work. Renly was determined to give them the show they had come for.

The Rainbow Guard was assembled before him. They all looked fine in their colored armor and rainbow cloaks. It seemed almost a shame to do this, but Stannis insisted it would legitimize Renly's rule.

"You have all served me admirably," he said, enjoying the way his voice echoed in the throne room. "The Rainbow Guard was good when I fought for my crown, but now I am the King on the Iron Throne. Like all those before me, I would have a Kingsguard, but I have found myself without one. Four fought for the Lannisters and were slain in battle. Sandor Clegane was appointed by the bastard pretender. Ser Jaime Lannister committed treason against my brother by conspiring to ensure his bastard would sit the throne and is presently prisoner of Robb Stark. He will die. Thus, I have many white cloaks to give."

He rose and descended from the throne, to where Ser Andrew Estermont stood with the cloaks. "The first is the Lord Commander. Ser Loras Tyrell." He removed Loras' rainbow cloak and replaced it with the white one, taking a moment to smooth it over his shoulders. Loras was trying to look solemn, but Renly could see the smile that was threatening to burst forth. An honor he truly deserves.

"I trust you will continue serving me well, Ser Loras."

Loras' eyes were shining. "Of course, Your Grace."

Somewhat reluctantly, Renly moved away and took another cloak. "Ser Robar the Red, of House Royce." Ser Robar bowed and accepted the honor. He had been a friend for a long time and Renly was proud to retain him for his Kingsguard.

He held up the third cloak. "Lord Bryce the Orange, of House Caron."

Lord Bryce bowed low. "I am sorry, Your Grace. I cannot accept."

Ah, yes, Renly thought. I was expecting this. It was like a game when he put on orange for me. But now he faces a life of holding no land and taking no wife. Summer is truly coming to a close.

"I am the Lord of Nightsong," Lord Bryce continued. "I am the last of my line, save my half-brother Ser Rolland Storm." He smiled ruefully. "I am truly honored to be considered, Your Grace, but my responsibilities are elsewhere."

"I understand," Renly said. "You must have a wife so that you may not be the last of your line. At least let me help arrange a marriage for you." He would miss Bryce, but he understood that sort of duty. His mind drifted to Margaery, left behind until the fighting was over. That was something else he would have to face eventually, but not now. "You have served me bravely, Bryce. I will never forget that."

Bryce bowed again. "Thank you, Your Grace."

The next place in the line was empty. Renly paused before it, face grave. "Here I wish I could give a white cloak, but there is no man to give it to. Ser Emmon the Yellow, of House Cuy, fell in battle just inside the Red Keep. Let us take a moment to remember his sacrifice in my name."

There was a moment of silence. Renly thought of Emmon, always so serious, in contrast to his sunflower armor. It still did not seem real that he was gone from the guard that had followed him from Highgarden.

The next cloak went around the shoulders of Ser Guyard the Green, of House Morrigen. He was overcome with emotion and unable to speak, tears streaming down his face. He has always dreamed of this day. I am glad I was able to fulfill his dearest wish.

And now for the controversial one. "Brienne the Blue, of House Tarth." Renly smiled and held out the cloak to her. As predicted, the gallery burst into whispers of shock and confusion that he had named a woman to the order. I suppose it is well enough when it is my own Rainbow Guard, but the venerable Kingsguard is something else. The only person who looked elated, he noticed, was Sansa Stark.

"Truly, Your Grace?" Brienne murmured. She looked almost as if she were afraid to let herself believe.

"Truly." Renly smiled at her. "You saved my life and have proved your worth more than once. You deserve this as much as any man."

"Then I accept, Your Grace." Brienne bowed and Renly fixed the cloak to her shoulders.

"And the last, but not the least in the rainbow. Ser Parmen the Purple, of House Crane. Now you all stand together as my Kingsguard, all in white." Renly pinned Ser Parmen's cloak in place.

Then Renly turned to the council table, where Ser Barristan Selmy stood near Stannis. "Ser Barristan," he said. He and Stannis had discussed this earlier; it had actually been his brother's idea.

The old knight seemed surprised for a moment, but his already straight posture acquired a rigidity normally found only in steel. "Yes, Your Grace."

"A great injustice was done to you by the bastard pretender. All know that the Kingsguard serves for life. You never should have been stripped of it, though I am glad you came to me at Storm's End. Would you accept the white cloak once again?"

Ser Barristan came forward and knelt. "It would honor me, Your Grace."

"Your Grace," Loras said suddenly. "The name and deeds of Ser Barristan the Bold are known beyond the shores of the Seven Kingdoms. I cannot, in honor, supplant such a worthy knight. I ask that you name him Lord Commander instead of me."

Renly frowned. "Are you certain, Ser Loras?"

Loras looked up at him, surety in his eyes that made Renly love him all the more. He knew how proud Loras had been to command the Rainbow Guard. "Yes, Your Grace. Had he never been dismissed by the bastard pretender, he would hold the position still."

Renly nodded. "Then it will be so. Ser Barristan, do you accept?"

"I do. Thank you, Your Grace."

Ser Barristan looked whole once more in the white cloak he had worn for most of his life. He seemed more at peace, and even the lines in his face did not seem so deep.

Renly returned to the Iron Throne to address the court at large.

"As for the seventh place, it shall remain for Ser Arys Oakheart." This was a point of contention, but honor demanded that he hold the post open until they knew for sure. At any moment, Ser Arys could appear with Myrcella, ready to hand her over and bend the knee. Or a Dornish army could appear outside the city walls, ready to fight for the throne in her name. "He served my brother ably for many years, and serving a pretender does not mean he would not bend the knee to me as Ser Barristan did."

Renly paused. Only his closest councilors knew Ser Arys' whereabouts were unknown. He didn't want anyone else at court to figure it out, especially when things were as tenuous as they were. "He is recovering from wounds sustained in battle. When he is well, I will offer him the choice of service to me or joining the Night's Watch."

He swallowed hard. Holding court was making his throat dry. "I have one more appointment to make. Ser Rolland Storm."

The Bastard of Nightsong knelt before the throne.

"Ser Rolland, you slew many during the battle. I understand you even killed Ser Jacelyn Bywater. Thus, as your reward, I appoint you as the new commander of the City Watch."

"Thank you, Your Grace."

"Well done, brother," Lord Bryce Caron said with a grin, as Ser Rolland again took his place in the line of courtiers.

That brought the court session to an end. Renly rose and descended from the throne. Everyone save Stannis bowed, and they left the throne room together. Brienne and Ser Guyard were with them.

Renly slowed a bit so that Stannis could catch up. He was still limping a bit from the wounds he had sustained in the battle. "How would you rate my first court session, brother?"

Stannis' answer was a sharp undertone. "What were you thinking? I told you to restore Ser Barristan to his place as Lord Commander. I am glad Ser Loras was honorable enough to step aside for him."

Renly hid his wince with a smile. That wasn't how he had interpreted it. "I recall you telling me to restore him to the Kingsguard, which is what I did. I suppose Loras has saved my neck yet again."

Stannis grunted. "Well, that is sorted. Our priority now is fortifying the city in advance of Lord Tywin's attack which is surely coming."

"It will be done."

"And Myrcella," Stannis said. "We must locate her and Ser Arys. She could be in Casterly Rock by now."

"Varys will know," Renly said firmly. "That should be our priority. Making the eunuch's little birds sing for us."

---

"I am your last hope, Theon." Maester Luwin regarded Theon calmly, which only infuriated him more. He had not asked for the old man's counsel and he still suspected him of having a hand in the disappearances of Bran and Rickon. Now, here he was, with Theon close to being finished, to urge him to give in.

"I will not run," he said.

"I do not speak of running. Take the black."

Was he serious? Would it even be allowed? Surely Ser Rodrik means to storm the walls. Either way, I am through. Theon looked back at the maester, who had approached him in the courtyard as he'd tried to think of what to do. "Are you sure he will accept?"

"Honor compels him, my lord prince. It is poor honor to refuse surrender. Moreover, the Watch is always in need of men. Ser Rodrik knows this."

Surrender. The word tasted foul to an Ironborn. I should rather die. What is dead may never die. But he liked his life more than he believed the words. He could go far in the Watch, if he desired. He would be remade, no longer a turncloak. And I am not ironborn. Not truly. My father was right. I've become a greenlander. Damn you, Ned Stark,

"Make it so," he said. His voice rose so that his men might hear him. "Spread the word. We will raise the peace banner, as the maester advises."

The men nearby looked at him with undisguised loathing and muttered curses. These are the true Ironmen, he thought sadly. I suppose they wish they had gone with Asha. Better to follow a woman than a greenlander. I must put a good face on it, or try to.

"Do we really wish to die so far from the ocean?" he asked them. "I should have led you out of here when I had the chance. I have failed you. To atone, the shame of surrender will be on me and me alone. I will take the black. The rest of you may choose your own fate."

The men exchanged glances.

"What is dead is dead," Black Lorren said. "I personally like living. The Watch isn't much of a life, but it's a life."

"What happens if we surrender and don't take the black?" Ulf asked.

"What do you think? They'll send you on your merry way? Put to the sword, no doubt," Harrag said.

Ulf nodded, face looking paler than usual. "Then that decides it for me."

Theon stood in front of the Hunter's Gate as it opened and Ser Rodrik rode in with his men. Theon's small contingent felt impossibly feeble, their breath clouding in the cold air. I could never have fought them off, he thought as he watched the men ride into the courtyard. Not without reinforcements. Where the hell is Reek? So much for his two hundred men.

He had sent the former prisoner to gather his promised men, but it seemed there was no honor to be had there. Reek had not returned. I have done nothing right. Truly, I am not fit to rule a castle. What made me think I could? Now I'm out a bag of silver as well.

"I see you have seen sense, Greyjoy," Ser Rodrik said, dismounting.

"You taught me well, ser. I know when I cannot win a fight." Theon smiled, hoping to put the man at ease, though he did not think it would work.

The old knight did not share in Theon's smile. He regarded him like a stranger. "Put them in cells," he said to his men.

Someone grabbed Theon's shoulder. "Wait!" he called. "I would have words!"

Ser Rodrik scowled. "You are a child-killer and a turncloak. You need no words. You will sit in the dungeon and wait for Lord Robb's justice."

Child-killer? "I didn't kill them! They have run off and hidden somewhere." As soon as the words left his mouth, he knew they would not convince Ser Rodrik.

"And who did you kill?" The knight's eyebrows rose. "You put two heads on display. If they are not Bran and Rickon, they are still someone's children."

Theon cast his eyes down, fighting the shame that he had even dared to intimidate this man in such a way. "They were the miller's sons."

"Then you are a child-killer still." Ser Rodrik waved an arm in the direction of the keep. "Get him out of my sight. He makes me ill to look on."

Theon's boots slipped on the ice forming in the yard as he was dragged toward the keep. Damn those northmen.

They flung him into a cell with his men, with no consideration for his station. They watched him as he found his feet again. He could barely see them in the distant light of the single torch. He would need to give them some words to rally them. But who can rally from this?

"We live, brothers," he said finally. It seemed the best light to put the situation in. "While we live, there is hope. We have not died. What is dead may never die, and we will rise again."

The chorus was fragmented, but fervent. "What is dead may never die."

"So we're in a dungeon," he scoffed. "My mother gave me worse for stealing from the kitchen!"

There was a smattering of weak laughter.

"We have yet to take the black. We may yet escape. We may yet be ransomed." Reek could come back with his two hundred men and break us out. "I know the ocean is far, and the God's watery hall seems distant. We will return. All water eventually flows to the sea, and so shall it be with us. We are ironborn. This is one of the nicest dungeons in Westeros, so I've heard. They might as well give us soft cushions."

Now they laughed. Soon they were joking back and forth with each other about how no weak northern dungeon could break those born to iron. Theon smiled, for they were in good cheer and still with him. He wasn't much of a leader, but he would lead them if they would have him.

---

Stannis was in his solar, leaning over a map of the Riverlands, when he heard the door open. It was sure to be his cousin's son, returned from army drills.

"About time," he muttered. "Andrew, if you mean to be as slow as your sigil-" He froze. It was Renly who stood in the doorway, looking amused. He cut an imposing figure with his crown and fur cloak, but king though he may have been, he was still Stannis' younger brother, interrupting him at his work. "And what do you want?"

Renly flashed him an easy smile, a Robert smile, as he stepped into the room. "I will pretend what I heard was 'How can I be of service, Your Grace?'."

Stannis frowned and looked back down at his map. If I am to hear this again and again for the rest of my days, I should have refused him. "We have been through this." He still was not sure he did not regret it; perhaps he would never be sure.

"I know, I know." Renly waved a hand dismissively, Robert's smile gone. "I'm not suggesting you do it." Stannis watched as he pulled out a chair and sank into it. He looked almost weary, but Stannis could not imagine why. "Now tell me, what have you been occupied with?"

"I walked the walls this morning. The repairs are going well. The King's Gate is nearly completely secure."

"Good." Renly peered over at the map. "What's this?"

Stannis cursed himself for not thinking to remove it when his brother entered. He did not like to be interrupted while he was thinking, to have to explain his half-formed ideas. He had wanted his plan to be flawless when he placed it before Renly.

"Looks like a map of the Riverlands," he continued, not waiting for Stannis' reply. "Planning a trip, brother? Perhaps my progress after this little rebellion is settled?"

"I mean to meet Lord Tywin in the field before he comes to us."

Renly looked up at him. "Is that wise?"

Stannis planted his hands on the table, bracing himself against it. "Perhaps wiser than waiting for him to sit outside our walls."

"Surely he cannot take the city."

"Surely not, but I would trust my army better than I trust the walls in the state they are in. I will not be put under siege again."

Renly had a faraway look in his eyes. Stannis suddenly wondered what his memories of the siege of Storm's End were. They had never spoken about it. "No, I don't imagine you will." He sighed and took off his crown.

Stannis raised an eyebrow. "Headaches?"

"It is heavy." Renly ran a hand through his hair.

"The people were starving when we arrived," Stannis continued, ignoring the bait, if bait it was. "If we wish to keep the Roseroad open and food coming up from Highgarden, then I must advance."

"It just seems so soon," Renly said. "We only just won the city and now you abandon it."

"And we will lose it if we try to defend it here. The people will bow to whoever feeds them." Stannis looked down at his map again, hoping to distract himself.

"I know, I know." Renly rubbed his eyes. "Perhaps I should go out myself. Robert would."

And the second you leave your throne, someone else will swoop in and take it. "If you are going to be a king like Robert was, I should never have allied with you." He could suddenly see a future with Renly becoming Robert, and Stannis stuck in the very same position in which he'd spent the last fifteen years. The thought made him feel hot, panicked, trapped. He would not tolerate it, not again, not from the younger brother.

"You had to ally with me," Renly reminded him. "If our armies had met, yours would have lost."

"The better claim was mine!" Stannis snapped. "You and your lover played King and Kingsguard and decided it was enough to rule the Seven Kingdoms on, but I was Robert's true heir." He must never forget that. A better army, a better claim. Which was truly worth more?

"You're right," Renly said through gritted teeth. "You did have the better claim. Had Robert and Cersei had no children and you were the recognized heir, then people would accept you as their king. But you asked the people to accept your claim over another. You asked them to follow you over another. No one loves you enough to make you their king, brother."

"I have never needed their love."

Renly got to his feet and extended his hand, the one that held the crown. "Then take it," he said. Stannis did, wordlessly. "See who will accept you as king."

Stannis stared at the crown in his hands for a moment. He tried to imagine how it would look on his head, the heavy gold crown studded with onyx, the noble stag's head. Stannis on the Iron Throne, and Renly standing beside it, his loyal Hand. Then he shoved it back.

"No. We have cast our die. We cannot let them think we are children playing come-into-my-castle. But you will not go riding out when we have so much to do here. That was what Robert would have done. I will not let them call you Renly the Reckless."

Renly put his crown back on. "What should I be, then? Renly the Wrong?" His lips held the hint of a smile. He did not question Stannis for thinking to order him about.

"Renly the Reformer."

Renly grinned. "That's a bit ambitious, don't you think?"

Stannis narrowed his eyes. "We have much to do, that is sure." If I am to rule through you, you will be the greatest king the realm has ever seen.

---

Ashemark was the seat of House Marbrand, and now it was Robb's. It was only the latest in the series of castles that he had taken. I could call myself King in the West, too, if I wanted, he thought, as he studied his map.

The last stronghold in his path was the Crag, seat of House Westerling. Then he would march south to besiege Casterly Rock itself. The Rock had never fallen, but Robb was determined to be the first to take it. Once he'd secured the Rock, he would go to the gates of the westerlands, the Golden Tooth, and take it from behind, completing his conquest.

"Your Grace. There's been a raven." His squire, Olyvar Frey, appeared at his elbow.

Robb took the parchment the boy offered. "Thank you, Olyvar," he said.

The boy beamed, looking proud to have done a good job. Perhaps I will consider his sister, Robb thought charitably. It seemed that whichever Frey he was with took it upon himself to tout the virtues of his sisters or daughters or his nieces or his cousins... Robb had soon lost track of who was who. He would need to see for himself when he went to the Twins to choose his bride. I should have married one when last we were there. Then they would not press me so.

The letter carried the seal of House Tully. He opened it at once, eager for news from Riverrun, but it was not that. It was from his mother.

My dearest son,

I have met with Renly and Stannis Baratheon. They have formed an alliance against the Lannisters. They reject your declaration of independence and insist that you bend the knee to the Iron Throne before any discussion of military alliance. Though Renly wears the crown, I fear Stannis means to rule him with an iron fist as Hand. He will be first of his name in all but name. We will not have much luck negotiating with him. He will command obedience and execute you if you do not submit.

The Lannisters still hold Sansa in King's Landing. Renly and Stannis will take the city. Their force is strong. They will guarantee her safety if you bend the knee. I know what the crown means to you, but I ask you to remember your sister. You would not be the first Stark to kneel rather than die. It is for the good of your kingdom for you to ally with the Baratheons.

Robb lowered the parchment, staring off into the horizon. Bend the knee? Give up his crown? What had he been fighting for if it was to end like this? What justice would Father have, if Robb did not keep the Starks free?

No. I have confused the matters. He was fighting to avenge Father, not to win the Iron Throne for himself. He had allowed his lords to declare him king, but the question of Northern independence could be solved by distance and the Neck. If he wished, Moat Cailin could be rebuilt, stronger and better.

The king he would kneel to would be King Robert's brother, a king Father would surely have supported. He and King Renly shared an enemy in Lord Tywin. If he bent the knee, he would be able to demand justice for Father. If the Baratheons could guarantee Sansa's safety, he would do whatever they asked.

He did not relish explaining to his lords, though, not after they had made him their king.

He turned to his squire, still standing at his side, waiting for instruction. "Olyvar, call my war council."

"Of course, Your Grace."

Robb did not bother to correct him. It would be the last time anyone called him that. Might as well enjoy it while I can.

They all met in the great hall of Ashemark. He told no one the purpose of the meeting. Robb stood alone in front of the men, wishing for Theon's easy grin to put him at ease.

"Quiet!" the Greatjon bellowed. "The king would speak to us!"

Robb waited for the chatter to die down. Each man looked at him with devotion. I will not lose them, he thought. They are still my lords bannermen.

He took a deep breath, gathering his wits. Father would be able to do this. "Winter is coming. You all know the words of my house. Winter is coming, and we must be ready for it. Tonight I remember the words of my mother's house. Family, duty, and honor. Family comes first. It is for family that I tell you all that I have decided to set aside my crown."

There was a small explosion of protest.

"What is this?" the Greatjon roared. "Some jape?"

"You are not serious!" one of the Freys shouted.

"I am very serious. I have had a letter from my lady mother. She has parleyed with King Renly." There was another outbreak of chatter at Renly's name. Robb waited for it to subside. "Stannis has set aside his claim. There is an alliance between the brothers, and I have agreed to bend the knee in exchange for the return of my sister Sansa."

"Do they have her, then?" Dacey Mormont asked.

"Not at the time they parleyed," Robb said. "The Lannisters do. But Renly and Stannis may already hold the city as we speak. I am obligated to make the choice that ensures her safety."

"How can you know they will keep their word?"

"Lord Stannis is famous for his fairness. I do not know him, but I would trust him."

"Others take their fairness!" the Greatjon roared. "You are King in the North and bow to no one."

"Torrhen Stark did just that and kept his lands and life. I am honored to follow such a noble ancestor's example."

"Torrhen Stark knelt when dragons flew over Moat Cailin!"

Many of his men still had looks of dismay on their faces.

"I know this is hard to hear," Robb assured them. "You have all followed me well, and I am grateful. Know that I will still take a Frey bride and make her Lady of Winterfell, as was the promise. I do not intend to break it."

He surveyed the hall. No one voiced an objection.

"When I bow, so do you all." He took a goblet of wine from the table. "To King Renly."

Throughout the hall, more goblets went up. "To King Renly."

"And Robb Stark!" the Greatjon added.

Days later, Robb received another letter, this one from Sansa. He recognized the handwriting with a gasp of relief.

Dear Robb,

I am free.

How this simple statement fills my soul with happiness. I am free. I am no longer a prisoner of the hateful Lannisters and the bastard pretender. The things he used to do to me are unrepeatable. I prayed daily that you would come and cut off his head.

King Renly and his army took King's Landing without too much of a struggle. They mean to hold it strong against Lord Tywin. With the king's host combined with Lord Stannis' mind, they should prevail.

Lord Stannis tells me that they met with Mother and arranged a deal. He says you must come to King's Landing to bend the knee. You will have Father's sword back. King Renly means to keep you as his Warden of the North and so you must have it back. Until you come for it, I keep it with me.

They promise me that no harm will come to me if you do not kneel. They will meet you in the field, of course, but they will not raise a hand to me like Joffrey did. I accept this and urge you to consider this alliance.

You loving sister,
Sansa Stark

Robb read the letter twice. He had already agreed to kneel, but reading Sansa's letter would make him do it all over again. He knew it to be from her, and it did not seem to be written under some duress. Her relief came through on the page.

What horrors she must have seen at Joffrey's hands… at least those days are over for her. She will be home as soon as I can manage it.

All he had to do was bend the knee and she would be released. He would go to King's Landing, kneel, collect his sister and his father's sword, and go back to Winterfell with his Frey wife. As far as he was concerned, the South could tear itself apart over the Iron Throne.

Robb stewed over what to do for the next week, ignoring his plans to take the Crag. He did not know what to do now. Surely King Renly would be happy to hold a castle on the west coast. He was just determining to order his men to march when yet another letter arrived.

The wax seal showed a hand, which Robb recognized instantly as coming straight from Lord Stannis. He opened it.

Lord Stark,

You will stop your campaign in the westerlands immediately. Do not relinquish your holdings, but take no more. I will march soon with the combined strength of Storm's End and Highgarden and we will crush the Lannister forces between us. You will march east towards Harrenhal. With our forces and Lord Bolton's, we are sure to rout Lord Tywin.

Stannis Baratheon
Lord of Storm's End and Dragonstone and Hand of the King

Robb swore. Harrenhal was hundreds and hundreds of miles away. It would take weeks to make that trip, to traverse those mountains and cross the Riverlands. Does Stannis have any idea where I am?

"What news?" Smalljon Umber asked him.

"The Hand of the King summons us east. He seems to think we can fly like ravens."

Umber laughed. "It's not too late, you know. Fuck the Hand and take back your crown."

Robb shook his head. "Not while they hold Sansa." It is only a short time that I have been a lord again, and already I am tired of taking other men's orders. But it must be done.

"We can take the Crag with our eyes closed! Wouldn't that king back on the other coast like that?"

"Apparently not." Robb tucked the parchment into his cloak. "The king says we march, so march we will." He tried to push the doubt from his mind. This was the last thing he had wanted to be, a knee-bender, and here he was, jumping to follow orders. Perhaps this is all it will take. I will march to Harrenhal and meet Lord Stannis, and then to King's Landing to bend the knee. And then I will see justice done for you, Father, I swear it.

He tried to forget his regret as he massed his host to turn around and retrace their steps in the other direction. They had been on the march for several days when they had a rider approaching fast.

"What now?" Smalljon Umber complained. "More orders? Does Lord Stannis send us back west now?"

"No, that's a Tully man," Dacey Mormont said, peering through the spyglass.

Robb's breath caught in his throat. Could Lord Tywin have struck back at Riverrun?

"My lord," the man gasped, as he reached them. He threw himself from the saddle. "There is word from Winterfell."

Winterfell! "Give me your message," Robb demanded.

The rider thrust the parchment into his hand and he opened it. It was from Ser Rodrik. He skimmed the letter, the words seeming to swim on the page. "Theon," he murmured. It could not be true.

"What of him?" Smalljon asked.

Robb did not want to speak the words aloud and thus make them true. He thrust the parchment at him and turned to the horizon.

Smalljon squinted at the letter, as though trying to make sense of it. After a considerable time, he drew his sword and advanced on a nearby tree. He began hacking at it, cursing.

Robb wanted to do the same, but a king could not show such little restraint. No, he reminded himself. I am no longer a king.

Grey Wind nudged at his hand and Robb scratched absently behind his ears. "Would you have known?" he murmured. "You are a good judge of character, boy. None of us could have seen it. We thought he was one of us. I called him brother. I was a fool."

He now had even more of a reason to go to King's Landing. I must have Ice, so that I may go home and take off the turncloak's head.

---

Roose Bolton was being leeched when Arya entered his bedchamber. His pale body was covered with them and Arya only looked at him as much was necessary. She hefted up her pail and began to fill the washbasin.

Lord Bolton and a bunch of Freys were talking about Lord Tywin, and whether he would come to Harrenhal or march on King's Landing to get rid of King Renly or King Stannis, whichever it was. Arya couldn't keep them straight.

"Lord Tywin will have to choose his enemies, my lord," Ser Aenys Frey was saying. "We make the easier target."

The voice from the bed was barely above a whisper. "And his attentions will be drawn to King's Landing, where Renly and Stannis hold his children. He will have little quarrel with us."

"Not if the Young Wolf has bent the knee. Then there is no point to our being here."

The pail slipped from Arya's fingers. Water sloshed over her shoes and the floor. They all turned to look at her.

"I'm sorry, my lord," she stumbled. She cast her eyes down.

"No matter," Lord Bolton said. "You will clean it up." He turned back to Ser Aenys. Arya set the pail down, dawdling so she could listen more. She knew she would have to change the wet rushes out but she did not want to leave the room while they were talking about Robb. "The point, good ser," Bolton said, "is that Robb Stark cares more for family than for kingship. Renly and Stannis will release his sister to him. And so we continue on, in their names instead of his."

His sister… Sansa! Arya tried to make sense of what they were saying. She had known about Renly and Stannis taking the city, but she'd assumed they'd be no different than the Lannisters. They would still hold Sansa. They would still fight Robb as a traitor.

What did it mean that Robb had bent the knee? She waited until the Freys were gone.

"You are slow today, Nan," Lord Bolton said.

"I'm sorry, my lord." Her heart was pounding; she wanted to ask him about Robb, but how could she? She was just Nan the serving girl.

His eyes were like ice, cold and colorless. "See that it does not happen again. You may remove the leeches now."

Arya moved over to him, only half listening to Qyburn, who had a letter from Lord Bolton's wife.

Robb bent the knee. Sansa is going home, but they don't know where I am. They must think I am dead.

She had felt like Arya Stark was dead. She had been Arry and Weasel and Nan now. But none of them were her. She was Arya Stark. Could she tell Lord Bolton that? She had not trusted him before, but he had not treated her poorly. She would rather have told a man like Robett Glover or Helman Tallhart, but they weren't around. There was only Lord Bolton. She waited, turning it over in her mind, while the lord dressed. He asked for his cloak. She went and got it; it was better not to stop working. He would only get upset at that first.

"My lord, I must tell you something," she said, as she fastened the cloak around his shoulders.

He stared at her, as if deciding whether to hear it. "Must you?"

She straightened up. I'm not afraid of him. I have the wolf blood. "My name isn't Nymeria."

"No?" There was no change in his expression. "What is it, then?"

"It's Arya Stark."

She wasn't sure what she'd been expecting. Lord Bolton stared at her for a long moment.

"If you are lying," he said, voice dangerously soft, "you will pay. I will not be made a fool of."

She lifted her chin. "I'm not lying."

"I should hope not, for your sake. You would not like the payment I would take."

Arya ignored him. Maybe that would scare some silly serving girl, but not me.

Pale fingers tilted her chin up, turning her face from side to side.

"Yes," he murmured. "I see it."

She fought the instinct to pull away from him before he released her.

"You were talking about Robb and Sansa."

"Yes." Lord Bolton looked thoughtful. "Your brother has given up his crown for your sister's safe return. I wonder what he would give for you."

"Please, my lord, I told you who I am so you would take me back to him. You're his bannerman."

"So I am. Very well, I will take you to him. In the meantime, you will be my guest. Tell no one else who you really are, especially the Freys. They truly are treacherous scum."

"Yes, my lord."

"You will continue to serve as my cupbearer. It would be suspicious otherwise."

"Of course, my lord."

Lord Bolton regarded her quizzically. "I'm certain that the story of how you got to be where you are is very interesting, but it is not one I have time for now. Go about your duties. Do not forget to burn the letter."

"Yes, my lord."

He strode out without a backwards glance. Arya stood alone in the room for a moment, before tossing the letter from Lady Bolton into the fire.

After she'd cleaned up the mess and done all her other chores, she went and found Gendry. He was in the smithy, fixing a sword. It made her miss Needle.

"I have something to tell you."

"All right." He did not look up from his work. "Then tell me."

"I told Lord Bolton who I was."

"What?" Gendry dropped his hammer with a clang. "What were you thinking?"

Arya frowned. She hadn't been thinking, not truly. She had moved into an opening, flowing like water, like Syrio had taught her. But there hadn't been a plan. "I heard him talking to some Freys. They said Robb is bending the knee to King… whichever. They're going to send Sansa home. I thought he could take me home."

"And what if something goes wrong, yeah?" He picked up his hammer again, pounding harder than ever. "You're stuck with him now."

"He's Robb's bannerman. He's a powerful northern lord. If anyone can help me, it's him, right?"

"And I suppose powerful northern lords are always honorable. Guess someone like me wouldn't know that, m'lady."

She scowled. "Did you want to walk the rest of the way to Winterfell? Or is this as far as you plan to go? You seem to be settled in quite nicely!"

He didn't look up. "Whatever m'lady wishes."

"You have to come with me. Hot Pie, too. I'm not leaving you here. Lord Tywin's going to come. Lord Bolton's leaving before that, but Lord Tywin's going to starve the castle out. You don't want to starve."

"No." Gendry paused. "What makes you think he'll take us, too?"

"I'll ask him to."

Gendry gave a snort of laughter. "We'll see."

Arya felt a flare of annoyance. "Why do you say things like that?"

Gendry set his hammer down and stretched, bracing his back. The fabric of his shirt was tight over his shoulders. "Because you don't understand how the world really works. Yeah, we've been through a lot, but you still expect it all to work out because you're highborn."

"I don't expect that." She hated when he talked to her like a stupid child. "Being highborn doesn't mean you're always safe."

He sighed. "I know. You ask him. See what he says. But don't go telling Hot Pie. Don't tell anyone else."

"I know. I wouldn't." That was what Lord Bolton had said. "Besides, he said I was supposed to stay Nan until we leave."

"Good." Gendry went back to work. "Then that means you have work to do."

---

She was talking to him again. That was worse than the silence.

"You should have listened to me."

Tyrion did not respond. He stared at the wall, imagining dashing Cersei's head against it.

"This is the sort of man your master is," she said to Pod. "He cannot even speak civilly to his sister. What a fit lord he is."

Tyrion looked back over his shoulder at her. "My sister knows not when to shut up."

"My brother has pretensions above his station." Cersei started to pace. The three of them were confined in a small tower room that she could cross in three steps, but still, she paced. Pod pressed himself tighter into his corner. Tyrion didn't think he'd said a word since the battle.

He didn't blame him. The wildfire had still been burning outside when the Tyrell men had brought Cersei to the cell where they'd already deposited Tyrion and Pod. She had looked half-mad in the green light, talking about how if they'd only had another minute Ser Ilyn would have taken her, too.

"What do you mean?" Tyrion had demanded, voice cracking. It had been hours since he'd had anything to drink. He was exhausted, physically and mentally, still processing the defeat. Bronn dead, Lancel dead. Tyrion himself, by some miracle, alive.

Cersei looked down at him as if only just noticing him. "You know why I took him into the ballroom with me. I was determined that if they took the city, we would not meet this fate. Or any other."

"No, what did you mean by another minute?" A terrible picture was coming together in his mind, but his thoughts were too muddled for him to be sure. She was supposed to be safe in there...

Cersei snorted. "Why? Would you rather he have had the chance to kill me? I suppose you would. He did not get the Stark girl, either."

"What about the rest of them? Cersei, tell me now."

"They are dead, of course." She laughed. "Rosby is now free of that cough of his."

"All of them?" The words left him with no air. "Even the serving maids?"

She seemed puzzled. "Of course."

"Even the serving maids?" He was on his feet now. He did not want to be right; she had to give a different answer. He would keep asking until she gave a different answer, remembered that Lollys' maid still lived.

"I already told you yes. Why do you-"

He was not aware of flinging himself at her. "You killed her!"

"What are you talking about?" She shoved him off.

It had been a futile fight, one that had ended with him in a heap on the floor, her eyes still shining with wildfire. Pod had taken refuge in his corner

He could not tell her. She would not understand; she would only mock him, mock Shae's memory.

Shae…

The tears formed unbidden again as Cersei's voice pulled him from the memory and that image, that terrible image he saw every time he closed his eyes, of Ser Ilyn's sword coming down. It had been two weeks and still he could not get it out of his mind.

"A fine knight," she was saying. "To think my son the king died in his place."

"I would have taken Tommen's place," Tyrion said. "But not Joff's."

That silenced her, finally. His lack of mourning Joff had offended her, as had his genuine mourning when the news about Tommen reached them.

There was the sound of footsteps outside the cell. At last, something new. Hopefully they are here to execute her. Aye, that would make me take a knee for Renly.

The door opened. It was Ser Garlan Tyrell.

"The Imp," he said.

Tyrion looked up. "What have I won?"

Ser Garlan did not looked amused. "You're coming with us." He had more men-at-arms than were perhaps necessary to contain someone of Tyrion's size and martial prowess.

He decided to go quietly. They did not seem like the types to take him to his own execution. The last thing he saw before the door closed behind them was Pod's terrified expression at being left alone with Cersei. Tyrion allowed himself a moment of pity for the lad as they marched him down too many stairs to the base of the tower. He had not had to walk far in too many days and his legs were sore by the time they reached the bottom.

They took him to the throne room. There were no spectators, only Renly on the Iron Throne and Stannis beside it. Three Kingsguard knights stood in front of them. So that is where Barristan the Bold went. One mystery solved.

"Tyrion Lannister, Your Grace," Ser Garlan said, bowing.

"Ah," Tyrion said. "I've been wanting to see this curious arrangement in action. Are you sharing well?"

"Such japes will not be tolerated," Stannis snapped. "You will answer the king's questions."

"And that's him?" Tyrion asked, pointing to Renly. "Just to be sure? I don't want to get confused. You are the elder, Stannis."

"I know," Stannis said, so icily Tyrion felt the chill.

"Just checking."

Up on the Iron Throne, Renly looked unamused. Tyrion noticed he wore Robert's gold-and-onyx stag's head crown, which Joff had never favored. It made the resemblance between the brothers stand out all the more.

"Ask away," Tyrion said.

"Why did you put Grand Maester Pycelle in the black cells?" Renly's voice was authoritative and cold, not the way Tyrion remembered it from before Robert's death. It was a shame. He'd rather liked Renly.

"He betrayed me," Tyrion said. "What would you do with a traitor?"

"As far as I'm concerned, a traitor to you is a friend to us."

Tyrion considered that. If you think that then you know nothing of my lord father. But he would say no more, until he had determined the benefit. I thought I would kneel to Renly if they killed Cersei, but what would they do with me?

When Tyrion had no answer, Renly changed the subject. "Where is Myrcella?"

"And if you thought I wanted to cut off Shireen's head, would you tell me where she was?"

"No, but I am not your prisoner."

"Only by the whim of the gods."

"This is pointless," Stannis cut in. "Enough of this gay banter. Where is she, Lannister?"

"Why do you want to know?"

"We have no intention of harming her, but what are your lord father's intentions? Is he going to crown her?"

"She is the rightful heir if her brothers are dead."

"Then you can see why we do not wish him to have her."

"And you can see why I do not wish you to have her. Tommen was a gentle boy, and you had his head cut off!"

"We did not," Renly said. "Your quarrel is with Lord Rosby's ward, not us. We put him in the black cells for his deed. You can have the cell next to his, if you would like to continue the argument."

Well, it would be away from Cersei. But I must think of poor Pod. "I don't know where she is, truly." It was not a lie. He knew where she was going. She was probably still in Braavos, or at sea, or in Dorne, if they had taken her, but he didn't know precisely where she was at that exact moment.

"A lie," Stannis declared flatly. "You arranged for her to leave the capital. Where did you send her?"

"I still fail to see why I should tell you."

"Because your life is in our hands."

"Isn't it anyway?"

The two brothers exchanged glances.

"What do you think would be your due?" Renly said at last.

Tyrion considered this. He could not think of anything right then, not anything he would commit to. These men were still responsible for his nephews' deaths, for Shae's. And I can only hope they aren't lying about not knowing where Myrcella is.

"The alternative to cooperation is the Wall," Stannis informed him grimly. "Think on your price."

Tyrion swallowed. "I will, my lord."

"Take him back to the cell," Stannis ordered the guards. As they marched Tyrion back to his tower, he wondered if revenge on Cersei was worth bending the knee.

---

The journey from Dragonstone had been far less exciting than Shireen had hoped. At first it had been fun to explore the ship, to feel like she was truly important to be sent to Father in King's Landing. But then, much of their journey had been plagued by storms, and Shireen had been ill. Finally, though, the storms had cleared and land had come into view. She had spent as much time as she could since then up on deck, so that she would not miss the first glimpse of the Red Keep.

The tall red spires of the castle rose higher than the city walls. She thought again of Father's letter, tucked in her cloak. It said that he had given up his claim for Uncle Renly, but Shireen would be his heir.

She was still getting used to being a princess. It didn't feel any different from before. She had hoped it might, had walked around thinking I am Princess Shireen, in the hopes that it would make her grander and more graceful, but, of course, it hadn't. She was still Shireen, and Father was still Father, and even he was no longer a king.

"I am sure your lady mother would prefer you went below, princess," Ser Godry said from behind her.

Shireen sighed. Mother had been even more unreasonable ever since Ser Barristan had killed the red woman. She had stayed behind with her new red priest, but no doubt she had given Ser Godry explicit instructions. Shireen didn't know whether she followed the Lord of Light or not. She'd never seen what Mother had claimed to see in the fires, just stars in her eyes when she looked away. She knew Father saw no use for any gods, but she didn't think she could be sure of that either.

It's about me, though, she knew. Because I'm not enough. Mother thinks the Lord of Light will give her a son because I'm not enough.

"I will stay up here," she told Ser Godry. It was a minor rebellion, one Mother would never know about, but it made her feel more like a princess to decide her own fate. "Then I will see the city as soon as I can."

Each stroke of the oars meant a step further from Dragonstone, a step further than she'd ever been before. She would not let anything else detract from that.

As the ship drew closer to the docks, she could see a party had come to meet her. Banners with the crowned stag of Baratheon flapped in the breeze off Blackwater Bay. There were a lot of men-at-arms and mounted guards. Then, she saw Father and Uncle Renly. Father didn't look happy to see her, but he never looked happy to see anyone. At least he didn't look angry.

Uncle Renly was smiling. That was how she remembered him, even though it had been years since she'd seen him. He had come to Dragonstone a few times when she was much younger, and she remembered him taking her for walks, telling stories to make her laugh.

Behind them, she saw the white armor of the Kingsguard, four of them. She recognized Ser Barristan at once. The others were strangers to her - a dark-haired man with a mustache, a young man with curly hair, and... a woman! Shireen leaned over the railing, staring, until Ser Godry bade her step back.

She straightened up and tried to look princessy, even though she suspected her hair looked rather windblown, and Patchface was standing beside her talking about being under the sea. She held her head up and smiled.

Finally, the ship was docked and Shireen came down the gangplank with Ser Godry.

"Well, I see you've brought the fool, but not your mother," Father said, stooping to hug her stiffly.

"She said she'd come later." Shireen hugged him back. His chain of office pressed into her good cheek. "I missed you, Father."

He paused. "And I you."

"So grim, Stannis," Uncle Renly said. "Shireen, I don't suppose you remember me."

"Of course I do!" She pulled back from Father and Uncle Renly hugged her, lifting her off her feet.

"Oh, what a weak king I have become," he said. "I used to be able to toss you up just like that."

Shireen laughed. "I was smaller then."

He grinned. "I suppose you were."

The royal party then moved back to a waiting carriage. Ser Barristan offered Shireen a hand up. Father and Uncle Renly climbed up, too, while the knights all mounted their horses.

Shireen was still transfixed by the city. She'd known it would be nothing like the fishing village on Dragonstone, but she hadn't imagined anything on this scale. There were so many people, and many of them came out to watch their progress through the streets.

"They will be your subjects one day," Father told her.

"Perhaps the children," Uncle Renly added with a smile. "I intend to last a good while yet, Stannis."

As they went through the city, her attention was drawn to the growing shape of the Red Keep atop Aegon's Hill.

"Where will my room be?" she asked.

Father and Renly looked at each other.

"In the Tower of the Hand," Father said. "Where my quarters are located."

"Does it have a nice view?" Her room on Dragonstone had had a view of the sea, and she had spent many hours watching ships come and go.

Father did not speak, but Uncle Renly said, "You may have your pick. There are a number of suitable rooms, aren't there, Stannis?"

"There are."

The carriage pulled through the gates of the Red Keep and into the courtyard. There were even more people waiting there. When the carriage door was opened, they all took a knee. Uncle Renly stepped down. Shireen followed, her eyes still on the tall towers of the castle, which reached even higher than those on Dragonstone.

Father stepped down after her and began walking, not waiting on ceremony. She hurried after him as best she could, and he slowed down to let her keep up.

"You must choose your room," he said. There was an odd look on his face as they entered the Tower of the Hand. Perhaps he wished Mother had come.

"Mother did say she would be coming," she told him.

"So you said." They climbed the stairs. "You may have your pick of this floor. My chamber is on the one above."

"Thank you, Father."

Shireen inspected each room before choosing one that looked over the courtyard so that she might see the comings and goings of the castle.

The room had to be prepared for her, so she left the Hand's tower and began to explore. Ser Godry followed her. She didn't think she'd be able to get rid of him. Mother had talked to him a long time before they left, and he was one of the ones who'd adopted Mother's god. Those were the only men Mother trusted now.

Still, even Ser Godry couldn't take away her enjoyment of the castle. It was less grim than Dragonstone and not as scary.

And everyone called her princess. People had done that on Dragonstone, of course, but it was different now. She wasn't just a princess because Father had declared himself king. She was Uncle Renly's heir and would one day sit the Iron Throne.

She tried to picture that as she dined with Father and Uncle Renly in the royal apartments. She barely felt like a princess. She couldn't imagine being a queen.

"How do you like the capital, Shireen?" Uncle Renly asked.

"Oh, I think it's wonderful!" she said excitedly. "I would like to go out into the city some time, if I may."

"You will need protection." Father wiped his mouth with his napkin. "More than the knight your mother sent."

"She will need a sworn shield," Uncle Renly mused. "Brienne?"

"Yes, Your Grace." Brienne had been standing to the side, with Ser Robar, but now she stepped up to their table.

"I am putting you in charge of Princess Shireen's protection."

"Your Grace?" The woman tried to keep her composure, but she was clearly surprised. She looked at Shireen.

She doesn't want me, thought Shireen, glancing down at her plate. She won't want to guard the greyscale princess.

"Do not take this as a rejection," Uncle Renly said firmly. "You have served me well, and I would trust no one else with the future of House Baratheon. Right now, that is Shireen alone."

Shireen raised her head. That was right. Uncle Renly had no children, and Uncle Robert's children were all bastards. Brienne was looking at her, and she could see now that it was with curiosity, not revulsion.

"It would be an honor, Your Grace." She bowed to Shireen. "Princess."

She didn't know what to call Brienne. She wasn't a ser. "Thank you," she said.

Maybe now, with her sworn shield, she would feel more like a princess.

---

"So you see, Your Grace, it has been nearly two years since any payment has been made. The Bank is understandably concerned about such a large amount of gold."

Renly smiled vacantly as he listened to Tycho Nestoris. The Braavosi at least treated him like a king, although surely the show of respect was only to put him at ease, make him more likely to pay. He would call any claimant Your Grace if he had the gold.

"I am not pleased with the Crown's debt," he said. "I can only say that I am not personally responsible for the decisions that caused such debt. I am eager to resume a regular payment schedule. You will see that I am more frugal than my brother."

They passed into a courtyard, then, and Renly gestured up at a looming dragon statue on the battlement above. "Placed there by Maegor the Cruel," he said. He was getting more used to walking around like he owned the place. It made him feel more like the king, to be able to point out interesting features and describe the deeds of his predecessors.

We could probably put a dent in the debt if I gave paid tours, Renly thought. But I dare not suggest that, even in jest. Stannis would not understand. Robert would laugh, though. He always made being king look fun.

Tycho did not seem interested in statues. "Respectfully, Your Grace, eagerness is not gold."

"Yes, and there's plenty of that in Castamere. You may have heard the song about that castle. It was recently captured for me by my Warden of the North. We will begin intensive mining operations once this little rebellion is snuffed out." Renly smiled, hoping he sounded convincing. "And, of course, by rebelling, Tywin Lannister has forgone the debt we owed to him."

The Braavosi nodded. "The Iron Bank understands that rebellion is an unforeseen situation. Securing your crown comes first, of course, Your Grace. We merely wish to know how the House of Baratheon will pay its debts. Not giving any monies to the Lannisters naturally means that you will have more funds available to direct toward the debt we hold."

Of course, Renly thought, trying to stay affable. Someone securing a crown is your priority. If I were Joffrey, you would say the same thing. "Indeed we do. But winter is coming to Westeros and you surely don't want to sail the Narrow Sea with its winter storms with a ship full of all the gold the Crown owes you. My Master of Ships has made many such trips and he assures me this is most inadvisable."

"Just so, Your Grace." Tycho stroked his beard thoughtfully. "But some now shows the Bank that you are serious about repayment. Are you a serious man, Your Grace?"

"Very much so."

"Your Grace, if it is possible, I would like at least one million today."

The words hung in the air with all the grace of rocks. Renly cursed inwardly, but tried not to let it show on his face. "I doubt there is that much gold in all of King's Landing right now. I can send you away with fifty thousand dragons now."

Stannis isn't going to like this, but thank the gods he isn't here. If he were, he would refuse and gods know what would happen next. The Bank always gets its due.

Tycho considered the offer. "That is acceptable. When would the next payment be made?"

"It would depend on the seas, of course. I will not send a ship if my payment is only going to end up on the bottom of the sea."

"Naturally, Your Grace, but there is such a thing as too much caution. I understand your Master of Ships was once a smuggler. Surely he is used to taking some risks."

Renly laughed. "He certainly is, but not with the Crown's money."

The envoy allowed a small smile. "A rough timeline, please, Your Grace."

"There can be no timetable for war. My brother intends to finish Lord Tywin off as soon as the army is ready to march. Then we will have all the gold the westerlands has to offer."

"I will be looking forward to a swift victory for Lord Stannis."

"In the meantime," Renly said quickly, "please feel free to avail yourself of our hospitality."

Tycho did not seem interested in hospitality. There were no more Your Graces. "Please have the initial payment delivered to me by morning. I will return to Braavos and inform the board of our agreement. I will return immediately and look forward to good news on my arrival."

"Certainly." Renly parted from the man with a smile, his heart sinking when he imagined telling Stannis. No matter what he has to say, I must remember that I am still the king. He has determined to make me as unlike Robert as can be, and Robert never paid his debts.

He turned to Ser Barristan Selmy, who had been following him silently through his walk with the Braavosi. "My brother won't like this, but it had to be done. The last thing we need is for the Lannisters outside our walls with Braavosi backing because they can cover this debt."

They turned toward the Tower of the Hand for his meeting with Stannis.

"Too true, Your Grace. And your brother would do well to remember that you are the king." Ser Barristan looked at their surroundings in distaste, as they walked through the courtyard. There were still repairs going on to fix the damage done to the Red Keep when Renly and Stannis' forces had taken the castle. "You should receive him in the council chamber. Or on the throne."

"The king should walk amongst his people," Renly said. He raised a hand in greeting as two stonemasons bowed. "And you did not grow up with Stannis. I did. He requires a few… concessions-unspoken, of course-to make up for the fact that he did, in fact, have the better claim. You will remember that. You went to him first."

Ser Barristan nodded. "When the bastard pretender dismissed me, I wanted to serve the rightful king. That was your brother. But I have served you faithfully, Your Grace, ever since he relinquished his claim in favor of yours."

Renly laughed. "You make it sound as if he did it willingly. You were there when he did not kneel."

"Perhaps not willingly, Your Grace, but he saw the right of things. If I may say so, I believe you understand better what it takes to be king. When I found Lord Stannis on Dragonstone, he had a red witch and a smuggler. You had the Reach."

"True," Renly said, "but I would rather have Stannis on my side than alienate him by making him do anything he doesn't want to." He remembered the other day when he'd given the crown to Stannis. He had been too rash, perhaps, but he hadn't truly believed Stannis would take it. That, more than any amount of bowing and scraping, had convinced Renly that Stannis accepted his place, albeit grudgingly.

If only there was something else I could do to smooth his concerns.

Stannis looked up from his desk when Renly entered the solar. Renly braced for some comment on his lateness, but Stannis simply said, "How was your meeting with the Braavosi?"

Renly took a seat across from the desk. "He wanted near-full repayment. I sent him away with fifty thousand."

"Fifty thousand?" Stannis raised his eyebrows, but his tone was not angry. "That was nearly all we had."

"I know. But he wanted a million." Renly sighed. "I should make Tywin Lannister my Master of Coin. I could just shut him up in a room with a chamber pot. Please try to capture him, rather than kill him."

Stannis glared at him. "Is this all a game to you?"

"No, Stannis, it's not. I just feel that a little humor would go a long way to getting us through these trying times."

Stannis didn't agree, clearly, but he didn't dwell on it. "And what sort of promises did you make that we won't be able to keep?"

"None, actually. I was extremely noncommittal. He understands that we must win the war before we have the gold."

Stannis nodded. Coming from him, it was high approval. "But you couldn't resist sending him away with much of our gold."

"I had to give him something. You know the Iron Bank. We don't want to make enemies of them. And I wanted to show them that the problems of the past wouldn't be continuing." He smirked. "I am not Robert, remember?"

"True." Renly had known Stannis' expressions long enough to know that this was almost a smile. "I suppose we can defer repaying the Faith. I worry more about the Iron Bank than I do the High Septon."

The door opened. It was Ser Andrew Estermont. "Your Grace. My lord Hand. The next train of food from the Reach is approaching the city."

"And you need tell us why?" Stannis asked.

"They are flying royal banners, my lord."

Stannis swore under his breath.

She wouldn't… Renly thought. No. She would.

Renly stood. "It seems we must go and meet the queen, Stannis. Ser Andrew, would you be so kind as to find Ser Loras and the princess so that they may join us?"

"Can you not control your wife?" Stannis muttered as they went down the stairs.

"I could have asked you the same question. If you will recall, Shireen's arrival was equally surprising."

Stannis grunted.

Having just done this not three days before, it was a simple matter to gather the appropriate retinue.

"At least this should be the last," Renly told Stannis.

"I should hope. I must write to Ser Cortnay and tell him that if he sends Edric Storm, I will have him keelhauled."

The royal party was waiting inside the city gates when they opened for Margaery and her retinue.

Renly opened his arms to her. "My darling wife."

She kissed him. "Hello, husband. I just couldn't wait to see the fruits of your victory." Margaery was smirking.

"Loras, your sister is full of surprises."

"Oh, I know." Loras greeted his sister. "Hopefully, everyone is now where they intend to stay for the time being."

Margaery grinned. "I would never dream of causing trouble for the Kingsguard."

Shireen curtsied. "Your Grace."

Margaery smiled and hugged her. "Oh, let's not bother with that. I've been looking forward to meeting you. We must become good friends. It will be like having the little sister I never had."

They climbed into the carriage once again. Renly hoped this would be the last time a member of his family decided to travel in the middle of a war, but the people seemed to enjoy the queen's arrival. They crowded the way, hoping to get a glimpse of her.

It makes them feel safe, he realized. It makes things seem stable.

At least Margary could not pretend they should have known she was coming. She very cheerfully supervised the preparation of the queen's apartments. She would be a good queen, he knew. There is much I cannot give her, but I can give her that.

Finally, the room was clear of servants and they were alone.

"Ah," Margaery said, sitting down on her bed. "Is this where Cersei Lannister fucked her brother?"

Renly started. He had known she was forward in the brief time they'd spent together, but he had never heard her speak like this. "No, I made sure to have them change out the mattress. I didn't want anything they could have contaminated to remain. I mean to cleanse the Lannister stain from King's Landing."

Margaery laughed. "Very thorough. At least we do not have to worry about that anymore."

He laughed with her. "Did you bring many servants or ladies-in-waiting? If we must hire some, I fear we may be short on money."

"A few," she said. "I did not want to slow the food train. But I do not need many ladies, and if it is servants you need, surely my lord father can provide more."

Renly remembered the debt already owed to Highgarden. "I am sure we will manage." He looked about the room awkwardly. His words seemed to have left him, now that he was, at long last, alone with his wife. Loras' sister. "I did not summon you to King's Landing, you know."

"Of course I know." Her eyes were alight with merriment. It was a look he loved on Loras but had seen too rarely of late. He was not sure how he liked it on Margaery. "But if I had asked to come, you would not have allowed it. Is that true?"

"I was thinking of your safety. We are at war. Tywin Lannister's army may be marching on King's Landing, but they could be anywhere in between. They could have been waiting on the Roseroad. You could have been taken prisoner."

"And yet I was not." She paused. "You sound just like my brother."

Renly did not know what to say to that. What does one do when one's wife compares one to her brother?

"There were plenty of guards with the supply train. We brought many knights as well. There was minimal chance of danger."

"I see."

"Besides," she added, "it is good for the people to know the queen is in the city. After all, if King's Landing is perfectly safe, why would the queen be at Highgarden?"

"Very true." He did not want to admit it, but she had him. "But it may not be safe here. Lord Tywin is expected within days."

"And so you would have me leave?" Her smile was mischievous.

"Of course not." He had considered having both Margaery and Shireen sent back to Dragonstone, but it would not be wise. The queen and princess could not leave the city if it was supposed to be safe. "We will have to make do here."

"And how do you intend to go about making do with me?"

Renly flushed. He had not thought this far ahead. "You are my wife," he said, mouth growing dry. He felt ridiculous, a clumsy virgin all over again now that he found himself with a woman. "We have not yet consummated our marriage."

"Yes, I'm looking forward to hearing what new excuses you've come up with."

Renly sighed. "Are you tired, perhaps? You have had a long journey."

Margaery burst out laughing. "That was very clever!" The way she said it made Renly feel like he was a very good dog. "But no. I am not particularly tired." She watched him expectantly.

Renly had lost his words. "Because… you see, Margaery. I... "

She smiled encouragingly.

He closed his eyes. He would have to be honest with her, so that they might work through it together. It was only right. "I do not… favor... women. I am telling you this so you may know. I will try to be a good husband to you and I-" He trailed off, feeling his ears burn as she watched him, amusement dancing in her eyes. Why doesn't she scream?

"Is that supposed to be some big secret?"

His eyes snapped to her. "What?"

"Is there some man in particular you do favor?"

Renly could not answer. I will dishonor myself, but I will not dishonor Loras. I will not reveal his secret. "No."

She gave him a long steady look. "Has anyone told you that you are an awful liar, Your Grace?"

It amazed him that there was any blood in the remainder of his body. His face was burning. Where did she get this power?

"I know that you are fucking my brother."

He could not look at her. He was not ashamed of who he was or what he did with Loras, but he was embarrassed that she knew and would confront him. "I am sorry. It was never my intention to dishonor you. I told you I would be a good husband and I mean it." If I must leave him aside, I will. He closed his eyes. I should never have sought to crown myself.

"A good husband would fuck me and put a baby in my belly. Can you do this, Your Grace?"

"If you wish it, my queen, I will." His voice was shaking. He could not remember the last time that had happened. It had probably been that awful bedding, at Highgarden, where he had failed utterly to rise to the occasion. He had blamed too much wine and had retreated alone to his own chamber, wondering what he had to do to make himself do his duty.

She did not bat an eyelash. "I don't wish to make you do anything you don't want to."

"I am your husband. I will not leave you without… without a child."

"Shall I have my brother come in to get you started? I fear that may be necessary."

Renly felt himself go even redder, if that was possible. "Please let this be my shame alone."

"I don't care who you love or what you do, husband. But if you would secure the Seven Kingdoms, you need an heir."

"I have Shireen."

"You need a son."

"I know." Stannis said she would be my heir until I managed to produce one… Can I do that?

She smiled disarmingly. "It's all right, Renly. We'll figure it out. Somehow. Together."

He stared at her. "Do you wish me to leave?"

She shrugged. "Would you go to Loras, or has this been too stressful for you?"

"If I do not spend the night with you, I will retire to my own bedchamber."

"All right. But don't leave my poor brother out in the cold, if you think you must for my honor. I love him very much and don't wish to see him hurt."

Right now, Renly wanted nothing more than to go away and hide. "I do not wish to hurt him. Or you."

"You aren't hurting me, Renly. I married you for your crown, not your cock."

His cock felt like it wanted to pull up inside him. I am trained at arms and have fought in tourneys, yet she completely unmans me. "Are you certain, Margaery?"

She smiled easily. "It's all right, Renly. Truly. Would you like me to swear it by the Seven? You can bed my brother, and I won't say a word."

It was too generous. It had to be a trap. "What do you want in return?"

Her smile widened. "Well, if you're bedding my brother, I think it's only fair that I bed yours."

Despite the seriousness, Renly burst out laughing. Imagining tight-laced Stannis consenting to anything of the sort was quite the image. "I think you will have your work cut out for you there."

"We will see, Renly." She tossed her hair. "We will see."

---

Stannis was almost looking forward to going back in the field. At least when he was in command of an army, his authority would be recognized, especially with Renly remaining back in King's Landing.

He thought again, as he often had the past few days, about Renly handing him the crown. I could not have taken it. We would never be able to announce to the public that we were switching places, that Renly had tired of being king.

Was that why Renly had done it? Had he purposefully trapped Stannis into being forced to refuse? The idea of it infuriated him, but he could do nothing but stew over it. At least he would not have to deal with Renly while he was dealing with Lord Tywin.

"Are you troubled by something, my lord?" Ser Davos had taken the seat beside him at the council table.

"No," Stannis answered. Perhaps if they had been alone, he might have unburdened himself, but court was about to start and there were far too many people about, including Mace Tyrell, who was watching them suspiciously. "How are you faring?"

"Much better. And your wounds have healed, my lord?"

"Yes, they have." There was still the occasional twinge in his shoulder, but it had been weeks since he had needed to hobble about holding on to Devan. "How is the fleet?"

"I fear that most of the captured ships will have to be scuttled. The Lannisters set near all of them ablaze in the hopes of setting ours alight. We stayed far enough in the bay that we were able to maneuver out of their way. We have taken down the Imp's chain, although." Davos paused. "It was a good idea. But I cannot imagine what would have happened if we had sailed up the Rush. It would have been very ugly."

"I can," Stannis said. "We would all have drowned or burned."

Renly entered the room, then, and, as with every court session, everyone but Stannis bowed. Renly looked right at him, and Stannis stared right back. His brother seemed not himself today; he did not look like he'd gotten much sleep. Perhaps he has at last found a taste for women, now that his wife is here. Well, if anyone could turn his head, I suppose it would be her.

The tedium of court was one of the few reasons Stannis was glad he had let Renly take the crown. He would not have been able to deal with the petitioners, the beggars, the complainers, day in and day out. Renly treated them all with kindness. Stannis had made it clear that he would not allow Renly to do as Robert had done and leave petitions to his Hand. Jon Arryn had done the work uncomplainingly, but Stannis would have none of it.

"We will start with a new proclamation," Renly said. "Stannis Baratheon."

Stannis had not been expecting to hear his own name. He stopped himself from grinding out an irritated 'What?' and stood. Is this another trap? Does he mean for me to kneel in front of the throne?

"Your Grace?"

"Come up here, my lord Hand. I cannot speak to you if you are clear to Harrenhal."

Stiffly, Stannis came out from behind the council table and stood before the throne. He did not kneel. He had sworn never to kneel again.

"When he won his crown, Robert placed you on Dragonstone, as you were his heir. He left Storm's End in my hands, which I have restored to you, as it is your right, when I ascended the throne myself," Renly said. "Your daughter is my heir and is styled princess; you are the Hand of the King. "

Anger flared within him. What is his purpose? To remind me of every slight I have had to take?

"Stannis, I would correct an oversight on our dear brother's part. I name you Prince of Dragonstone."

Stannis stared at him. It seemed that he had misheard.

"It is only right to recognize you," Renly continued, "for such faithful service. To me and to Robert."

Stannis did not know what to say. Apparently, he had not misheard. "Thank you, Your Grace," he managed.

Renly addressed the court. "All hail Stannis, Prince of Dragonstone."

All the courtiers bowed. Stannis could only watch, speechless. He could not decide if Renly was serious or not.

"Thank you," he said again, a bit louder. Then, he returned to his seat just as stiffly as he'd left it, still struck by the absurd notion that this wasn't happening.

"Congratulations, my lord prince," Davos said. He did not look at all surprised by this development.

Stannis felt the corners of his lips twitch. "Thank you," he said.

That afternoon, Stannis again walked the walls and determined the repairs were enough that he felt it would be safe to leave the city with most of the army. At all points, the City Watch captains bowed to him and called him prince.

It was rather satisfying.

It was not until the evening that he was able to speak with Renly. Shireen was dining with the queen and her ladies, so Stannis went to the royal apartments to dine with Renly.

"I am glad you decided to join me, brother," Renly said with a smile. "Do you like lobster? If not, I'll have the kitchen send something else up."

"No, lobster will suffice." Stannis took a seat.

"When do you plan to march? I should see the army off."

"In two days. The men are preparing supplies now. Your goodfather's newest shipment should see us through our campaigning, provided we do not have to feed the Northmen."

"I wish you the best of luck. I will be glad to see the back of Lord Tywin. Kill him if you must, but I would dearly like for him to come and kiss my ring."

"That will all depend upon whether he forces me to kill him."

Renly nodded. "Do your best."

Stannis cocked an eyebrow. "I always do."

"I know. You always have. That is why I felt it was high time someone recognized that."

Stannis paused, goblet halfway to his lips. Perhaps Renly truly was serious. "Robert never did."

"I know." Renly's smile was sly. "But we did agree that I would not be a king like Robert."

"Indeed." Stannis sipped his water. "Already you have taken a keener interest in kingship than he did. You haven't been hunting once."

"And here I was about to ask you when that would be allowed." Stannis scowled at him, but Renly grinned. "A joke, Stannis. Only a joke. One day I will teach you how to make them."

---

By the time Stannis left, Renly was exhausted. He had only been joking about going hunting, but he could now understand Robert's frequent need to ride out into the Kingswood and kill something.

It still felt strange to live in the room Robert had died in, but that was what came with being king. It wasn't just Robert, but scores of Targaryens before him. It had taken a lot of work to get the king's bedchamber exactly the way he wanted it, but he was satisfied now. He got to take a hot bath every night and go to sleep in a comfortable bed. Renly threw open the shutters to let in some of the crisp autumn air, then sank into his steaming bathtub and closed his eyes. Perfect.

There was a knock on the door. Renly opened his eyes. "Enter."

It was Loras. Renly's stomach flipped over, as he remembered his unsettling conversation with Margaery the night before. He had come up to bed alone after it and had not seen Loras all day.

Loras bowed. "Your Grace."

Renly sighed. "Not here, Loras. You know that."

"You are the king. I would give you your titles." He took off his sword belt and laid it carefully within reach.

"Not from you. I was determined that things would not change between us just because I had a new hat."

"Well, someone ought to treat you like a king. Your brother surely does not."

Renly sighed again. I suppose he thinks Stannis did not show proper gratitude in court today. "We agreed to those terms. You heard them. Stannis was most explicit. Without him, we never would have taken the city so easily, if at all. We may have beaten Stannis' host, but our heads would probably be on spikes right out there." He lifted a dripping hand to point to the window. "I hope they would have put us together."

Loras crossed his arms over his chest. "That would not have happened."

"I'm just glad we don't have to find out."

Loras made a noise of reluctant agreement and began to lift his mail shirt.

"Do you need help, ser?"

"And have a naked king do a squire's job?"

"But what other use would you have for a naked king? I can't imagine."

"Perhaps the naked king should finish his bath before he catches cold." Loras went to close the window. "I never before heard of a Kingsguard who had to protect his king from that."

I have never heard of a Kingsguard who fucked the king, either, Renly thought, as he washed his hair. I must tell him about Margaery. It would be dishonest to take him to bed without telling everything. As much as I dread to admit it.

Loras pulled up a chair. "Was he tolerable at dinner? I am sorry I could not go with you."

"You cannot be with me all the time. It would be unseemly." Renly rinsed his hair and set to washing the rest of himself. Loras reached for the cloth, took it from him, and began to wash Renly's back.

"He should accept you as king," Loras continued. "It is only right."

"He does, in his own way." Renly leaned forward. The warm water felt good, not to mention Loras' proximity. "Must we talk of my brother, in the little time I get alone with you?"

"Well, we could talk of my sister. How is your new wife?"

Renly sank as far into the tub as his size would allow. "Did you know she knew about us?" At least he brought the matter up.

Loras froze, washcloth in his hand. Renly had never seen that expression on his face. For a moment, he was afraid Loras would be stuck like that.

"No, she doesn't," he said gruffly, as if saying it would make it so. "She is a maid and has no notion of what men can do. Was a maid."

"Still a maid."

"Are you telling me you didn't-?" Loras looked torn between hope and irritation.

"No. She said she didn't mind us." His mouth curved into an absurd smile. "She said she wanted Stannis in return."

Loras laughed, a nervous, wheezy sound. "So, the king and the queen are just going to fuck each other's brothers?"

"Well, I imagine Stannis will have something to say about it. You could have told me your sister was mad."

"I didn't think her that mad."

Renly sighed heavily. "I am sure this is better than some other reaction. She could have screamed for a septon."

"So," Loras hazarded. "Nothing changes?"

"Not if I have anything to say about it. I did not go through that for you to turn me away."

"All right," Loras said. He looked hesitant, as though Margaery might pop out and stop them at any moment.

"It is safe," Renly assured him. "We are in no danger from anyone else."

Loras slumped as though he were a puppet whose strings had been cut. "I had no notion, truly. If did, Renly, I would have told you."

"No matter. We will make do. We have always found a way, haven't we?"

"I suppose." Loras stood woodenly and unfolded the towel. "I still cannot imagine it."

"Be glad you weren't there." Renly stood and let Loras wrap the towel around him. "I will understand if you are uncomfortable."

"No." Loras kissed him. "Just… bewildered."

"Often my natural state." Renly dried himself off. It was chilly out of the bath with no clothes on. He was glad Loras had shut the window. Winter is coming, he thought. History will remember me as coming to the throne in winter.

But those were heavy thoughts. Right now, he was cold, and Loras was warm, and the king's bed was waiting.

---

It was dawn, and Shireen stifled a yawn as she stood between Uncle Renly and Aunt Margaery, watching Father prepare to leave with the army. He was walking up the line of men, in his armor, inspecting the troops.

She found herself wishing he didn't have to go. It was all because of that stupid war, because not everyone accepted Uncle Renly as king. After all those years Father had spent in King's Landing, she had hoped she would actually get to see him now that she was here, too.

Aunt Margaery squeezed her shoulders. "We will keep you company, Shireen," she said. "I know what it is like to be left alone when the men march off to war." She was looking at Uncle Renly when she said that. Of course, Shireen thought, Uncle Renly had only just married her when they marched.

His inspection complete, Father returned to them. He looked fearsome in his armor.

"The men are ready," he said to Uncle Renly. "Will you give the order?"

"Yes, I suppose it is time to march." Uncle Renly stuck out his hand. "Good luck, Stannis. Try to bring back Lord Tywin's head. I would also accept a train of gold."

Father shook Uncle Renly's hand. "I will endeavor to manage both." He then turned to Shireen. "Be good," he said, stooping to kiss her cheek. "Are you sure you do not wish to return to Dragonstone?"

"No, Father, I would stay here."

"Very well." He straightened up.

"Be careful," she said. She knew he would, and it felt silly to say it, but it also felt necessary. She needed him to know she wanted him safe.

"I do not intend to fall to Tywin Lannister. When our forces combine with Robb Stark's host, we will crush him." He paused. "But I will be careful."

"That is good to know, my lord prince," Aunt Margaery said with a smile. "We will look forward to your triumphant return."

"Of course, Your Grace." Father looked back at Uncle Renly and nodded curtly. "I am off, then."

"Go well, Stannis."

Father looked back at them once more, then fell into step with Lord Tarly as they walked to their horses.

Uncle Renly clapped his hand on Shireen's shoulder. "He will win," he said. "If there's anything I know about my brother, it's that when he sets off to do something, he usually does it." He paused. "I remember when he sailed for Dragonstone. They'd just lifted the siege of Storm's End, and already he was off again."

Shireen had heard about that, how Father had won Dragonstone from the Targaryens. "He smashed the royal fleet."

"Exactly," Uncle Renly said. "Just as he promised me he would. Just as he promised me we'd outlast the besiegers. Your father always keeps his promises."

Shireen nodded, as she watched Father ride to the head of the column. She watched until he was out of sight, the long army snaking behind him. He was doing what he had to, she knew, so that Uncle Renly might secure his crown, so that all of them might be safe.

So, she vowed to do the same. She would stay here with Uncle Renly and Aunt Margaery and wait for his return.