"You know that we cannot be seen together like this. You have to stop talking to me at court. You have to stop coming here."
A pause, then,
"Please."

Men should not beg, the knight thinks to himself.
And this isn't even a man before him. It's a King, one who isn't quite sure of himself, but who should not be pleading. The other four kings don't beg, he would wager on it, but best not say that out loud.
So knight holds his silence. A man must obey the king after all -even if there are five kings, even if his own king is cruel-

The young king can't look at him at all now, ashamed and angry as he is yet trying to be a that stern ruler, that fucking joke.
The king is not like his brothers. He was made for laughter, not ruling, not stern silences.
The knight understands that he's trying, but doesn't forgive just yet.
He holds his silence. They sit, raspy breathing. The king breaks first.
Of course he does.

"No, wait, don't be angry, wait-"

"Angry?",
the knight says quietly.
He has his sword - one of the only perks of being a kingsguard- but he doesn't need it.
They mock him and call him the Knight of Flowers, but in this moment he's a lot stronger than his king. He could strangle the stag like the weed he is.
And that's all he is. Throw out your weeds, dear king. That's just fine. Thistles and weeds, all he is.

"Loras-" his king says, and his insides turn to steel and ice and he slaps King Renly Baratheon, Protector of the Realm, a quick sharp slap and now the King has a rosy cheek too, now everybody is drowning in flowers.
He begins to shout, his thorns come out-

"Don't you dare! You tell me to go- go where, your Grace? Where do I go? I am your sworn sword and shield, your kingsguard day and night. I go where you go, all day, Renly, when you sit with her and laugh with her - she's my sister Renly, my sister! All night I have to listen to you and you can't even fuck her, and I have to listen to that. She comes to me crying Renly, she asks why doesn't he want me? What did I do wrong?
What do I say to that, your Grace?"

"Stop it-

He pushes himself to his feet. Everything is still, and he's acutely aware his voice is growing louder but he can't stop now-

"No. Your Grace, I'm only starting, I can't hold this in forever. You sit there, with my sister, she's my sister, Renly, and flaunt her and adore her for everyone to see and lead her on, and ignore me while I stand there, everyday, and fucking protect you both. All day. Every simper, every look, I'm there, I'm not angry-"

"Loras, calm down-"
The knight closes his eyes for a moment.
"Your Grace, do I have your leave?"
He turns and spits. He knows what the answer is.
Knight of flowers, but the shiny glob on the bedsheet isn't rose-tinted.
His King looks faintly repulsed. Protector of the Realm, and he shys away from a little spit.

He says, "No, you stay here and calm down. People will ask questions," in the stern voice again, this leader of men.

So the knight stays. Because when the Kings asks, he obeys. Always.