A/N: This is a scenario that's been in my head for a while now, and I plan to make a series of it. Thanks, as always, to Dethryl for betaing. Without him, it wouldn't exist.
Watching his younger brother ride in the company of the Knight of Flowers and Catelyn Stark, accompanied by a motley assemblage of knights in colored armor that couldn't even line up in the right order to form a rainbow, Stannis Baratheon, First of his Name, almost smiled.
After being dismissed from the Kingsguard by Joffrey upon his wrongful ascension to the throne, breaking a tradition as old as the order itself - proof of his bastardry, as far as Stannis was concerned - Ser Barristan Selmy had sought out Stannis. It had been Ser Barristan who had slain the red woman when he had discovered she meant to use some black art in Stannis' name.
No less than the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard rode beside him. Meanwhile, Renly was playing at being king with Loras Tyrell.
I have the better claim. There is no question there. I will not back down. To do so would be to deny everything that is true under the laws. That Bastard Pretender will die. That, I know, but I should very much like to not have to kill my brother to get there.
He had held on to that thought through the grating courtesies. All he wanted was to speak to Renly alone, brother to brother.
And then, Renly had offered his stupid peach and made a mockery of the proceedings.
Stannis had refused his offer, of course. The throne was his, by all the laws. It would have been well if Renly had bent the knee to him, but he would not kneel to Renly.
"Your Grace, would you be a kinslayer?" Ser Barristan asked, as they rode back to Stannis' camp.
Stannis frowned. "He has brought it on himself. I will not slay him personally, if it comes to that, but it is agreed. Our armies must meet and settle this." It was the way it had to be if Renly would not see the right of it.
"Must they?" Selmy's eyes had a sadness to them. He seemed to have some plan in mind.
Stannis narrowed his eyes at the old knight. "You came to me as the rightful king. Are you saying now that I should not defend my claim?"
"Of course not, Your Grace. But, he is your younger brother."
"Yes, younger," Stannis said, tone clipped. "He should bow to me." Perhaps Joffrey was right to dismiss him. Maybe he is too old for sense...
"You are fortunate to have him, Your Grace." Selmy looked wistful. "When I gave up my claim to Harvest Hall, it became my cousin's. It was in good hands, of course, but the honor of the Kingsguard was too great to refuse."
"And what honor would that be for me? The privilege of eating Renly's peach?"
"An alliance, Your Grace, is worth more than that. Lady Catelyn was right to ask for temperance. Perhaps we should consider her family's words."
Stannis snorted. "Winter is coming?"
"Family, duty, honor, Your Grace."
Stannis rubbed his chin. "Ser Davos, what do you think?"
His Onion Knight looked startled to have been remembered. "They are good words, Your Grace," he said. "Too often forgotten, I think. I wonder if they're not in that order for a reason."
"Family. Robert left no trueborn children," Stannis said. "Renly and I are the last of our line. I have only a daughter."
"Then, the future of your house depends on this, Your Grace," Ser Barristan said. "Your brother's… preferences… are well-known, and he may not produce an heir. Mayhaps if you do not sit the Iron Throne, Queen Shireen will."
Stannis had no particular desire for the Iron Throne itself. He had sought it only because he was Robert's rightful heir. But the chair itself looked more uncomfortable than it was worth. Robert had always said as such. "Perhaps if it is the throne Renly wants, he should have it." If he wishes to play king, let him.
"He should give you your due, Your Grace," Ser Barristan said. "Storm's End, for one."
"Yes. That has been mine by rights since Robert ascended the throne." It was all he had ever truly wanted, the childhood home he'd been running since he'd come of age. It had been the greatest in a lifetime of slights when Robert had taken it and given it to Renly to do with as he wished, a mere lad of six. He had made excuses about why he needed Stannis on Dragonstone, but Stannis believed none of them. The man was dead, and the insult still festered.
"You must demand it then, Your Grace," Ser Barristan urged. "Offer him your men and your ships. Combined, we are sure to remove the Bastard Pretender from the throne. Is that not the most important thing?"
Stannis grunted. The old knight was right. He does still have his wits about him. "It is." They rode up to Stannis' tent and he dismounted, handing the reins to his squire. "Send a messenger to tell my brother I have terms."
Renly was laughing when he approached the designated meeting place. With him were Ser Loras and Brienne of Tarth. It appeared that the three had just shared some private jape.
"I see you have seen sense, brother," Renly said, not breaking his grin.
Stannis grit his teeth. "If you will mock me, you may go back to your games. I will suffer many things, but slights from my younger brother are not among them."
Renly sobered immediately and nodded. "So be it. What are your terms?" At least he could be serious when the situation called for it.
"Storm's End is mine," Stannis said firmly.
"Then, by all means, it is yours." Renly looked surprised. "Anything else?"
"You will name Shireen as your heir until you should produce one." He did not need to betray how unlikely he thought that was. Shireen was Renly's niece and he had no better option besides Stannis himself.
Renly nodded. "Well-conceived. Go on." He thinks he has won.
"I will be in command of all military matters."
"You are the better commander." Renly gave a gracious wave.
The next point would be difficult, Stannis knew, but he had to have it if he was to surrender his claim. "You will name me Hand of the King. Permanently."
Renly shook his head regretfully. "No, brother. I have already offered that position to my goodfather. I can't very well take that back."
"You can and you will, if you want my help."
Renly pursed his lips. "I need Lord Tyrell just as much, if not more than I need you."
"You have already wed his daughter. That is good enough for an alliance. You will fear no reprisal should you take your offer back. Offer him a seat on the small council and he will be satisfied."
"True," Renly mused. "I will need to fill some positions. Laws or ships, perhaps?"
"Laws," Stannis answered immediately. "You will appoint Ser Davos Seaworth as master of ships."
Renly raised an eyebrow. "You seem to be taking an awful lot of liberties with my council, Lord Hand."
Stannis looked at him sternly. "You can wear the crown, but I will rule. If you don't like it, our armies meet at dawn."
Renly sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "All right. Is there anything else?"
"One last thing."
"What is that, dear brother?"
This was the most important. And the most likely for Renly to refuse. "I will bend my knee to you exactly once: when the crown is placed on your head in the Great Sept. Never again."
For a moment, Stannis thought he may have gone too far. I will not, though. I cannot. If I am to live with myself when this is all over, I will not bend the knee.
Renly thought for a long time.
"Your Grace, you cannot agree to that," Ser Loras said urgently. "He is mad. He demands everything but your crown."
"He does," Renly agreed, "but even that crown should be his by rights. I just happen to have the better army and decided to do it the old-fashioned way." He grinned. "Quite the game, Stannis. I will agree to all those terms."
"Then it is settled." Stannis allowed himself a small smile.
Renly offered his hand and they shook. Beside him, Ser Barristan and Ser Davos took a knee. Stannis remained standing.
"Now that this is done, we should speak with Lady Stark," Renly said. "She has asked me to ally with her son. He claims to be King in the North and of the Trident."
"We shall see," Stannis said, as they walked to their horses. "I don't want my first act as your Hand to be agreeing to give away half your kingdom."
The rest of the ride was silent. Stannis did not want to give himself a chance to regret his decision. He was already acting faster than he usually preferred, but he knew that if he hesitated, he could lose.
"My lords." Lady Stark stood when they entered her tent. "Have you had words?"
"We have, my lady," Renly replied. "There will be no war on the morrow."
Her eyes lit up. To Stannis, it seemed genuine. "That is most wonderful news. What have you decided?"
Renly beamed. "My brother has graciously decided to step aside so that we may focus on the Lannister threat. I will be king, but he will be my Hand. As it is a military situation, I will defer to his judgment. He tells me I should not let your son steal half my kingdom, a view I believe you know I share. Tell me why, with the combined forces of Storm's End, Dragonstone, and Highgarden, we should accept this theft just for the sake of allying against the Lannisters?"
Ned Stark's widow fixed her gaze on Stannis. At least she knew who to appeal to. "My lord, my son Robb has been fighting them for months now, and he has won every battle he has fought. He has inflicted severe casualties on the Lannister forces. He defeated and captured Jaime Lannister. He captured the Kingslayer, my lord! He slipped around the Golden Tooth and has been fighting in the Westerlands. Tywin Lannister must respond. If Robb continues his campaign while you take the city, it is unlikely Lord Tywin will be able to get to you in time."
"I do not fear Tywin Lannister," Stannis said, with conviction now that he had seen the size of Renly's army. "Even if he ceased chasing your son this instant, we would still take the city before he had our rear."
Renly smiled. "You do have a point, brother."
"And the Lannister woman in King's Landing still holds your daughter," Stannis remembered.
Lady Catelyn paled. "Sansa," she murmured.
"We will take the city by force, and your daughter will be there. She will be our hostage if we wish it. Assuming she survives the fighting, of course. She would not come to harm by Baratheon troops, but one can never know the collateral damage done."
Catelyn looked stricken. "You must release her to us!"
"And why, precisely, should we do that?" Renly demanded. "You threaten to steal half the kingdom. This is a negotiation, Lady Catelyn. You want two things from me, yet you offer nothing in return."
For a moment, Catelyn Stark paused. What is her daughter's life worth? Stannis wondered. Her son's crown?
"Your son has declared himself King in the North, as there were in the old days," he said. "But as Torrhen Stark knelt, so too must Robb Stark kneel. He will be as he has always been, Lord of Winterfell, Warden of the North. He rose up against the Lannister Bastard Pretender, and rightly so. But a Baratheon will sit the Iron Throne again, and he will kneel as his father knelt to our brother."
She nodded. "Robb will give up his claim. And no harm will come to Sansa."
"We cannot guarantee that."
"If you want the North, you must! Nobody can invade the North, and you know it."
Stannis grit his teeth. "It is impossible! I cannot control what the Lannisters do, or if a tower should fall on her!"
"Now, brother," Renly said warningly. "I can see Lady Catelyn's point."
Stannis leaned in close to him. "You would lose the North?" he hissed.
"No," Renly whispered back, "but I also won't plant images of her daughter being crushed to death in her mind. If it comes to that, we will come to a new decision."
Perhaps he is right. Stannis looked at Lady Catelyn. She did not look like a rebel, bent on defying the rightful king. She looked like a worried mother, who only wanted her daughter home.
"Very well," he said, trying to keep the reluctance out of his voice. "Lady Sansa for your son bending the knee."
Lady Catelyn dipped her head. "Thank you, my lord. Your Grace."
Renly smiled proudly. "Maybe I should have asked for your help a long time ago, brother."
"Indeed." Stannis hid his smile.
He left Lady Stark with Renly as the sun was setting and returned to his own camp to work on his battle plan.
"Are you certain about this, Y-my lord?" Davos asked him, once they were alone in Stannis' tent.
"Nothing is certain, Ser Davos." He took the plans of Storm's End off the table and rolled them up. "But it is true that Renly has the better army. To get to the Lannisters, I would need to take the castle and beat him in the field. Our host would be depleted and drained, and so would his, assuming they even would bend the knee to me."
"Will Lor-the king hold to the terms?"
Stannis took a map of King's Landing from the case. "He must. Honor compels him. Renly would not know honor if it bit him on the nose, but he does know he needs me to secure his crown." He sighed. "And my line will rule one day."
"Are you so sure he won't produce an heir?" Davos asked, helping him unroll the map. "I-well, I know some men do prefer men, but they do also bed women. I have heard."
"Not Renly. His wedding was truly a game." Stannis' mind was now on strategy. "I will put you in charge of the fleet. I will go with the land host." A plan to take the city was coming together in his mind. An assault from the south required crossing the Blackwater Rush, but with an army of this size, Stannis was confident they could take the city handily.
"With respect, my lord," Davos said when he had heard the plan, "I'm not sure sailing up the Blackwater Rush with most of our fleet is the best use of our resources. I fear we would lose too many."
Stannis frowned. "Have you a better idea?"
"Whether better I cannot say, my lord, but I would think our fleet would be well used in distracting the city's defenders. If there are no reinforcements, they will then be spread thin when the army arrives."
Stannis considered the plan. It was a good one; he should have known the former smuggler would think of something unconventional. "You may be right. Set sail on the morrow. We will march up the Kingsroad and meet Renly's foot from Bitterbridge. We will need them."
Renly stared at the ceiling of the tent, not listening to what Loras was talking about as he dressed. He had had a good night's rest with Loras in his arms, but it felt almost as if he had not slept at all. The torchlight cast weird shadows on the green silk and an odd feeling prickled the back of his neck as he remembered the events of the day before.
There won't be war between us. Not now at least. He should have felt relief that he would not have to kill his older brother. He did not think he loved Stannis, but blood and time counted for something. Could I have slain him? he wondered. Could he have slain me? How many times he gave me his share during the siege, and we have come to this. What went wrong?
"Renly?" A pair of golden brown eyes were looking down at him. "Are you awake?"
He jumped.
"It is dawn," Loras said in a low voice. "We march."
"Yes, of course." Renly pushed the bedcovers aside, hissing at the chill in the air. Loras helped him on with his robe. "We must not be late for Stannis or he will leave us behind."
Even in the flickering light, he could see the twist of Loras' mouth.
"A joke," he said. "Nothing more. Stannis will not leave us. Complain, yes, but not leave us."
"He has asked too much of you. He has disrespected my lord father."
Renly smirked. "And you would have your lord father as my Hand?"
Loras didn't answer. The appointment of Mace Tyrell had been a concession in the first place, following Renly's wedding to Margaery. They had originally intended to raise a host quickly and return to King's Landing with enough time to retain Ned Stark as Hand, but the Lannisters had forced a change in plan.
"It is settled, without blood and that is enough." Renly began to dress. He still wasn't sure how he had come out ahead in negotiating with Stannis - perhaps he had not. He felt rather like he had as a child on the rare occasions he had succeeded in getting Stannis to acknowledge that he was whatever he was pretending to be. "We will fight the Lannisters, our real enemies. Do not fret, Loras. You will yet be able to cover yourself in glory." He kissed him. "Will you send Brienne in? I believe she is to armor me."
"Yes, Your Grace." He could tell Loras was not satisfied, but he would be, in time.
My greatest champion as king, Renly thought, as he watched Loras leave. Perhaps too much so. He would see Stannis bowing and scraping, but he does not know how my brother's mind works. If I even do.
He poured himself a cup of wine and was halfway through it when Brienne entered and bowed.
"Some wine, Brienne?"
"No, thank you, Your Grace. I am on duty."
"Yes, I suppose that's wise." Renly gestured to the bowl on the table. "Do at least have some fruit."
Brienne took some grapes. "Are you well, Your Grace?"
"Very," he said. The wine was making him begin to feel a little warmer. Seeing that she would take no more fruit, Renly drained his cup and grabbed an apple, polishing it on his doublet. "Tell me, is my brother here yet?"
"Not yet, Your Grace."
"Good." Renly took a bite of his apple. "Then I shall be armored and ahorse when his host joins with ours."
Brienne retrieved his greaves. It was the most tedious part of making war, Renly thought, though he did like how he looked when the job was finished.
"Are you ready to take King's Landing?" he asked.
"If Your Grace will have me." She was bent on her work, fingers pulling the straps tight.
"I certainly will. You have proven your worth. I am pleased to have you at my side."
"I would have thought Your Grace would choose Ser Barristan, since he is here."
"No," Renly said, putting his other leg up for her. "He is Stannis' man still, and I have my Rainbow Guard. I will not ask any of them to step aside, even for Barristan the Bold."
"Thank you, Your Grace."
He was not sure what to say to her as she armored him. It was far easier to make conversation with Loras, of course.
"Does something trouble you, Your Grace?"
Renly looked at her. She was holding his breastplate. There was complete trust in her eyes, and Renly suddenly thought that perhaps he should try asking her counsel. It probably couldn't hurt.
"Only wondering if I made the right decision in allying with Stannis."
Brienne worked in silence for a moment. Then, she said, "Your Grace, my brother died when I was four years old. He was only a lad of eight. Now, my father has no heir but me. I would do anything I could to bring him back. I do not think you are the sort of man who could kill his brother."
Renly was struck by the assessment. "And, how do you know that, may I ask?"
Brienne froze in tying the straps of his breastplate. "I asked Ser Cortnay, Your Grace. When I was at Storm's End. He told me some of the siege. And I thought, Your Grace, that perhaps you could not kill such a brother, nor refuse him parley."
"Yes, but I am the younger. He is absolutely right, you know. The throne is by rights his."
"And your host would beat his. You have shown him mercy, Your Grace."
Renly could not help but grin as he held out his arms for her. "I'm not sure Stannis sees it that way. He appears to have claimed the upper hand, if you'll pardon the pun."
Brienne fastened on his gauntlets. "But you are the king, Your Grace."
"The king, aye, but only in name."
"Lord Stannis could not refuse his younger brother."
Renly wasn't sure; Loras and Brienne seemed to have opposite but equally odd assessments of Stannis. Perhaps the truth was somewhere in between. "I feel ready," he said. "Do you? Let's go claim my big chair, since it seems to be all Stannis will let me have."
Loras was waiting outside when Lord Stannis' host was spotted approaching Renly's camp. He watched as the small group broke off, Ser Barristan, a squire, a standard-bearer, and Stannis himself.
"Where is he?" Stannis asked Loras, reining up.
"Being armored." Loras looked up at the big man, made even taller by being ahorse, but he was not taller than Renly.
Stannis nodded and looked around the camp. The breaking was happening slowly; Loras was irritated by it, too, but he would not say that now and agree with the man. "Are we taking all this with us?"
"Our supplies, my lord?"
"I don't mean our supplies. I mean this." Stannis dismounted and waved a gauntleted hand at Renly's monstrosity of a tent. "I mean his house."
"Of course we will take it. Where do you expect the king to sleep? My lord."
"In a tent." Stannis was looking at him in a penetrating way that made Loras distrust him. How can those same eyes be so different in this face?
"It is the king's," Loras said loyally.
Stannis stalked toward him. "You don't have to think it wonderful because it's Renly's. You may fool the others but you don't fool me. If you could cut it to ribbons you would and I would join you."
"It befits him as a king."
"And when I was a king, I slept in a considerably smaller tent." Stannis paused. "How do you justify it with your honor, ser knight? To have supported the younger brother?"
"I am supporting the king I believe in."
"And suppose I should say that I am supporting your brother Garlan as your father's heir? He could lead troops in battle, which your brother Willas cannot do. What would you say to me then?"
Loras felt a flare of anger. "You would be wrong. Willas is my father's rightful heir." As soon as the words left his mouth, he realized the trap. He scowled.
Stannis only smiled, if one could call it that. It was more a grimace than one of Renly's happy grins. "So then you would support an elder brother over a younger?"
"Renly has said the matter is closed."
"No doubt. I simply wanted to know what you thought was right."
Loras' shoulders slumped.
"Your reasons for supporting Renly are perfectly valid. He is your goodbrother and... whatever else. He will take his crown by conquest, but do not pretend it has anything to do with rights."
Loras looked up. Ser Barristan Selmy was pointedly ignoring their conversation and was speaking with Stannis' squire. He looked again at Stannis. "He chose well in naming you his Hand," Loras said, and though they both knew it had been no choice, Stannis inclined his head.
They were saved from having to say more to each other by Renly's emergence from the cursed tent. Loras' heart swelled to see him in armor as it always did. The green enamel shone even in the early light and the great antlers were more fearsome than Stannis' much smaller ones.
"Ah, Stannis!" Renly beamed. "I hope the morning finds you well."
Stannis fixed him with a withering look. "Is your camp ready to march?"
Renly looked at the men breaking camp. Servants were hurrying into the tent now that he had vacated it. Loras thought of the time it would take to pack everything . It had seemed fun last night, to lie on silk sheets and feed each other bits of fruit, but now it simply seemed foolish.
Can we win like this? he wondered. He looked down at his rainbow cloak. This is not for the field. That is for when we have taken the city and he occupies the king's bedroom in the Red Keep. Not before.
"It will be," Renly said.
Stannis scowled. "We will be here until noon."
Renly looked down at his brother, his great helm making the few inches difference between their heights seem like more. "Stannis, I have moved my host in this fashion from Highgarden."
"And if you moved faster, you would already have your throne. What is it you want, Renly? A party in the last days of summer, or to be the king? When we get to King's Landing, will you throw pillows at Joffrey?"
Renly stared at him for a long moment. Both brothers were unflinching. Loras could practically taste the tension.
"I am sure the baggage train will catch up if we ride out now," Renly said, striding over to his waiting horse. Brienne helped him up.
If this is how they are on the first day, Loras thought. How will we survive the whole march?
The march took eight days, and that was pushing the men as hard as he dared. He didn't want to wear them out before they could even kill Lannisters.
Stannis wrestled with his decision to concede to Renly every hour of every one of those eight days. Over and over he asked himself if he had made the right decision. Again and again he asked himself if he really could have defeated the combined strength of Highgarden and the Stormlands. In the privacy of his own heart, he knew he could not have. But to have given up his claim in favor of Renly, fop that he was, rankled him. He could not take it back, of course, but he wished he knew it had been the right decision.
I wish Ser Davos were here. He has a way of looking right to the heart of matters. A wise man, my Onion Knight.
However, Ser Davos was needed with the fleet, that was sure, if their plan was to work.
Renly rode up beside him. "You look troubled, brother."
Stannis frowned. "No. I am only thinking of the battle ahead. Are you prepared?"
"With your mind bent to our victory, I have no doubts regarding the outcome."
The compliment almost made Stannis smile. "What do you want, Renly?"
Renly feigned shock. "Can not a man have faith in his brother? Can not a king have confidence in his Hand?"
"In our family, it is surprising." He tried not to be bitter, but Robert's death had robbed him of the chance to gain restitution from him.
Renly sighed. "That has always been the way, hasn't it?" He paused. "Was it that way before Mother and Father died?"
Stannis looked at Renly. Is he truly asking or is he getting at something else? He supposed he would treat it as genuine. "Robert and I never got along, no. Our interests differed. He was older, bigger, and stronger and used that to his advantage. You always preferred him."
"I was a child!" Renly exclaimed. "And he was an overgrown one, as I remember him. You weren't any fun, shut up in your solar with your books. You never played with me."
"I was managing the castle's affairs." There was no venom, only truth. "Robert enjoyed the glory of his lordship, but not the work. And so it fell to me."
"I know that now," Renly said. "That's why I'm sure you'll run the kingdom just as effectively as you ran Storm's End."
Stannis glanced over at his brother. He did have the look of a king, like Robert when he had just won his crown. His ridiculous green armor shone brightly in the sunshine. I could never be that, Stannis thought. I have never been the sort of man people flock to. But if I can keep Renly from becoming another Robert, perhaps we are not doomed.
They found the capital in utter chaos from Ser Davos' attacks. The smuggler certainly knows how to cause distraction, Stannis thought, as he and Renly stood with their commanders at the head of their host. They were outside of arrow range, before the King's Gate. Ser Davos had landed a small number of troops on the other side of Blackwater Bay to distract the City Watch at the northern gates.
"Now for the fire," Stannis said.
"The fire?" Renly frowned. "Are you sure, Stannis? I don't much like the idea of burning my new subjects."
"We will try not to," Stannis explained, "but fire is quite the distraction. With only the City Watch defending the walls, once they are occupied fighting fires, we should easily be able to break through the gates."
Renly nodded soberly. "All right. Then I'll allow it."
Stannis ordered an archer to shoot a flaming arrow into the air, the signal to Ser Davos' men. A few minutes later, one of the ships they had blockading the harbor lobbed a firebomb against the city walls.
Well-chosen, Stannis thought. We cannot risk burning the castle and Sansa Stark within.
"My gods!" Renly exclaimed, raising the spyglass to his eyes. "They've got wildfire on the walls!"
Stannis snatched the glass back. "What?"
Where the firebomb had struck was exploding in green flame.
"I daresay they planned to dump that on us, brother," Renly observed. "Better for it to burn Lannisters than me."
Stannis grit his teeth. "They are mad! They will destroy themselves."
Renly nodded grimly. "Cersei and the Imp mean to leave us with ashes to rule."
"They will do no such thing." Stannis turned back to his horse. "We will have those gates."
War was no tourney. As he had made the slow progress with his host from Highgarden, that was what he'd been imagining-riding to glory with Loras at his side. Now, as he stood in a hail of arrows and wildfire as the battering ram shattered the King's Gate, he was cured of that notion.
Stannis would think me a fool if he knew, he thought. At least he had the good sense to demand command of the army.
A ball of fire hit not twenty feet from him.
"Get away, you fool!" came a voice. "I did not step aside so that the Imp might roast you!"
Renly tried to calm his panicked horse. "I don't mean for him to. Should we go through the gate?"
"I will," Stannis said. "We will take the castle on the first wave. You will come through later after they have fallen back to defend the Red Keep. They will not notice the king slip past them."
Renly was about to protest; if their positions were reversed, he didn't think it would have played out differently; surely King Stannis would have taken the van. "Be careful, brother," he said, instead.
For a moment, Stannis stared at him, or rather, waited, as Renly could not see his eyes. "You as well," he finally said, before wheeling his horse about. "Tarly, your men with me!"
He saw the arrow hit Stannis in the shoulder but he did not appear to react before he was gone from Renly's sight.
Loras moved in closer. "I will be by your side as we march on the castle, Your Grace."
"No," Renly said. "Loras, you have a more important task. Take your men and go with Stannis. As soon as the gates are open, you must find Sansa Stark. We lose her and we lose the North. Brienne will guard me sufficiently."
Loras hesitated for a split second before saying, "Yes, Your Grace."
Loras rode off to take command of the second wave of troops. Renly watched as row after row of his army marched past him and through the smashed King's Gate. He was not the hardiest knight on life, true, but he also would not sit aside while his crown was won for him.
"Brienne!" he called. "Shall we go through now? I do not mean for my brother to kill all the Lannisters."
Brienne looked up at the walls that loomed above their heads. The gold cloaks had all but disappeared. "They are fleeing," she noted.
"Then it is safe to go through." Renly spurred his horse forward and Brienne followed.
The city glowed green with wildfire. Renly had to keep a tight grip on the reins to prevent his horse from spooking again. He and Brienne rode quickly as their squad of men followed. Once past the walls, they were unopposed. The streets were empty save for their own men, the city residents shut up tightly in their homes. Renly hoped his subjects would forgive him his entry. At least they won't starve under me.
They took the road past the Mud Gate, as it was the shortest to the Red Keep. The only City Watch members they saw fled at the sight of them.
Suddenly, in all the confusion, there was a furious shout. "I want to kill him! Let me face him!"
It was a familiar voice and it made Renly stop on instinct. Brienne stopped beside him, and the rest of the men pulled up. Coming out of the smoke, flanked by two of his Kingsguard, was Joffrey. He wore golden armor and had his visor raised. He was glaring at Renly with loathing.
"Here is my traitor uncle," he said. "Come down so I can kill you."
Renly was struck by a sudden feeling of absurdity and he had to fight to keep the laughter at bay. Joffrey looked like a child playing at swords. Renly was distinctly reminded of being battered about the knees when Joff was all of four.
"Your Grace, we must go on," said one of his white-cloaked guards. Renly didn't recognize the man; he must have been one of Cersei's new replacements. "We will be safe inside the castle walls."
"I fear you may return to see that my brother has breached them," Renly said.
Joff's face twisted in anger. "Why do both my uncles betray me? You will bow to me before I kill you, and then I will return to my castle and kill Stannis before he breaches the walls."
"We are not your uncles," Renly said. "You are not my brother's son. I have one niece, and she is my heir. The rest of you are no kin of mine."
Joffrey drew his sword. "I had Ned Stark's head cut off for speaking such vicious lies. I will have your head as well for repeating them. Get off your horse and die, you coward."
"Your Grace," Brienne said. "Ride on. Do not engage with this bastard child."
Joff turned to her. "You hide behind women, uncle? You are not fit to take my crown."
Renly dismounted. "I feel we have both been dealt an insult, Brienne. I think it is time I fought for that crown."
Brienne reluctantly followed. Their men watched, knowing not to interfere in such a confrontation.
"Single combat, you say?" Renly said to Joffrey. "Victor takes the crown?" He knew that even if by some fluke of fate he should fall, Stannis would never honor such a promise and would dispose of Joffrey without much effort.
"Aye, uncle, single combat." Joffrey brandished his sword.
It was another elaborate piece of work, probably from the finest smith in the Street of Steel. "And what silly name do you call that sword, Joff? Lion's Tit? I'll throw that in the river too."
Joffrey's eyes blazed. "This is Hearteater, and I'm going to put it through your chest."
Renly unsheathed his own. "Have at you, then."
He was no legendary swordsman, but even Renly could see that Joffrey did not know how to handle a blade. He thought he knew more than he did, and that gave Renly opportunities to lure him into exposing himself. Renly toyed with Joffrey, letting him tire himself out with furious attacks. Then, when his swordpoint began to droop, Renly went on the offense.
He had not come into this wanting to kill Joff, but he would if it was required to secure his crown. He thrust forward, knocking Joff's sword from his hands. His eyes were wide in panic as he looked at his ruby sword on the ground, as though not quite believing he could have dropped it.
As her king duelled with the bastard pretender, Brienne kept an eye on the two Kingsguard. So far they had not drawn their weapons, and so neither did she. If they made a move, she could quickly engage them.
Suddenly one of the Kingsguard drew his sword and moved to attack Renly from behind. "Your Grace!" she shouted, lunging forward, ripping her own blade from the scabbard. She met the dishonorable knight's sword with a ring of steel. The other Kingsguard moved in to aid his brother.
Brienne did not know their names, but it didn't matter. They would interfere in declared single combat, going after a man with his back turned. They were no true knights. Her blade struck at the neck of the first knight and when he had fallen, she brought it up to meet the other. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Joffrey watching in horror as first one and then another of his sworn protectors fell before her.
He stared for a moment after the second knight had fallen, at Brienne, and Renly's sword pointed at him. Then, he turned and ran.
"Should we follow, Your Grace?" Brienne asked.
Renly sheathed his sword. "Yes. You men run him down. He won't get far. Brienne, you and I must go to the castle."
Brienne and Renly mounted up again and rode towards the Red Keep. They were unopposed the rest of the way and found the gates wide open. There were a few isolated fights still going on, but Brienne noticed far more red cloaks among the dead than their own men.
When he noticed Renly, Lord Tarly rode up.
"Your Grace," he said, bowing. "The castle is nearly secure. My men are sweeping the halls, clearing them of Lannister guards."
"Where is Ser Loras? Have you found Sansa Stark?"
"Not yet, Your Grace."
"Nobody rests until she is found! She is the key to the North."
"Of course, Your Grace." Tarly cast a distasteful look at Brienne before turning his horse away.
Renly dismounted. The sounds of battle seemed more distant, though the wildfire still burned. "Come on, Brienne," he said. "My throne awaits."
They are going to lose, Sansa thought with fierce glee. They are going to lose.
All throughout the afternoon and into the evening, rumors had been flying throughout the Red Keep. Stannis had defeated Renly and was marching on the city. Renly had defeated Stannis and was marching on the city.
"It is both," Osney Kettleblack told the queen finally, several hours after they had taken shelter from the battle outside.
"Both?" the queen exploded. "How can it be both?"
But it was. The information trickled in gradually. There had been an alliance, it seemed, between the two brothers and they were attacking the city together with a host of Reachmen and Stormlanders.
Sansa felt a thrill of hope. Lord Renly is coming! And Ser Loras!
"They hate each other," Cersei protested, as though she could undo what had already happened. "They would never ally."
"It appears they have, Your Grace. They must hate you more than they hate each other," Sansa said, trying to seem detached. I must keep my armor on. The battle is not yet finished.
"Do you think that will make your life easier, you silly girl?" the queen sneered. "They will not treat you any better. All men are alike and all women alike in their eyes. Better a quick death than what their men will do to you. Stannis or Renly, it matters not. Either way, I do not intend to be here to greet them."
Sansa's heart sank. She had come as close as she could to forgetting about Ser Ilyn.
Cersei did not wait for a response. "They won't care that you're not one of us. I'm sure they want your brother's head as much as they want Joffrey's."
"Of course, Your Grace. My brother is a traitor to the Iron Throne." Sansa paused. "And once one of them sits on the throne, he will turn his attention to Robb."
Cersei's hand paused, her cup halfway to her mouth. "What did you say?"
Sansa froze. The sound of the musicians seemed to fade away. Wrong, wrong, that was wrong. "It… It's just that right now they seem more interested in King's Landing than in the North. I am sure the city defenders will prevail. There is certainly enough wildfire to suggest it."
Cersei looked at her shrewdly. "Yes. We will burn them if they try to take the gates."
"Your brother the Hand will cook Lord Renly in his green armor," Sansa said, horrified that this was the first thing to come into her head. What am I becoming here?
Cersei simply corrected her. "The Acting Hand. My lord father is Hand."
"Of course, Your Grace."
Sansa tried to ignore the sounds outside, the antics of Moon Boy, and the forced laughter of the guests. They all know we will die here, she thought. She could not stop casting glances at Ser Ilyn, tall, silent, waiting. She closed her eyes. Ice will take off my head too, Father. Better a Northern sword than a Lannister one. I will see you soon. Old gods, though I am far from a heart tree, hear this prayer.
The ballroom doors opened and Osney Kettleblack hurried in. Sansa's stomach twisted. Do I hope for good news so that I may live?
She watched as he crouched and whispered in the queen's ear.
No, she thought firmly, tears stinging the corners of her eyes. I hope they are through the gates. I will die, but so will she, and Joffrey, and the rest of them. And whoever doesn't die tonight, Robb will kill later.
All the blood drained from Cersei's face. She dropped her goblet with a clatter. Arbor gold spilled across the stone floor. "They are through the King's Gate. They are fanning out throughout the city. A strong force is headed for the Red Keep."
Sansa smiled. The battle is lost!
The guests could no longer hide their fear. Some of the women began to wail. Lord Gyles coughed.
The queen looked about with wild eyes. "How close?" she whispered. "Who defends us here?"
"The guards, Y'Grace," Kettleblack said. "The City Watch is overrun. Your brother is believed lost."
"And Joffrey?" The queen's voice shook.
"I don't know, Y'Grace. He was walking the walls, rallying the men."
The queen's wildfire eyes were back. "Very well," she said.
Sansa watched Kettleblack leave, her heart in her throat. Joffrey, dead? Please, oh gods. Stranger, please call Joffrey to you!
The queen's gaze had drifted to Ser Ilyn.
"Perhaps we should pray," Sansa blurted out. Anything! Anything to delay Ser Ilyn.
Cersei looked at her appraisingly. "You are right. Will you lead us?"
Sansa took a deep breath and tried to raise her voice over the cries that now filled the ballroom. "Mother, grant us mercy." A swift death. "Warrior, grant our men strength." Lord Stannis, Lord Renly, I hope you slew Joffrey. Her voice was trembling, like a guttering candle flame. She was sure that no one but the queen could hear her. Ser Dontos and Moon Boy were still capering about, the musicians still playing. "Maiden, protect us women from savagery." We have Ser Ilyn for that. "Smith, keep the castle strong." And Lord Stannis' battering ram. "Father…"
The doors banged open again with such force that Sansa thought they might fly off their hinges. "Y'Grace!" It was Osfryd Kettleblack this time. Thank the gods, Sansa thought. It must be bad news.
"What is it?" the queen snapped. "Tell me now."
Osfryd was struggling to catch his breath. "Y'Grace-grappling hooks. Randyll Tarly over the walls-they've opened the gates."
The queen was silent. Sansa had forgotten how to breathe. The rest of the ballroom was still in chaos. No one else seemed to have heard.
"Very well," Cersei said finally. Then, she stood, for once tonight looking regal. At last, everyone in the room fell silent. "Ser Ilyn, I have need of you."
Sansa could feel her heart pounding as though it might leap from her chest. Here it comes. I only hope Joffrey is already dead.
"We all know what must be done," the queen announced, as though she were simply holding court. "Is there one who would go first?"
At first nobody stirred. At last, Lord Gyles coughed into his handkerchief. "Me, Your Grace," he wheezed. "Perhaps then this infernal cough will cease."
Cersei nodded. "Go swiftly, my lord."
"Thank you, Your Grace."
Robsy knelt and bowed his head. Ser Ilyn struck true. There was a ripple of horror throughout the ballroom as blood spread across the floor.
"Next?" Cersei said, taking another sip of wine.
One by one, Ser Ilyn granted mercy to them all. Sansa watched, made herself watch. Her brothers had all watched their father do justice. She could be just as strong as they. It will be me soon enough. I am a Stark of Winterfell and I will not look away.
"Now," the queen said finally. The floor was entirely red now. "It is your turn. Starting to regret telling me your father's plan to leave the city, all those moons ago?"
Sansa stood, pushing her chair back and stepped around the table. "He was to take the black. His death is no one's fault but Joffrey's." She spat his name as though it were the foulest curse. "And now he's dead, too, and he can't hurt anyone anymore."
The queen's eyes narrowed. "Is this what you choose for your last words?"
"Yes," she said firmly. She knew not where the words came from, but she had them. "He was a monster, a bastard born of incest." Ser Ilyn seized her shoulder, pushing her down. "He was no true king." She was on the floor now, the stone digging into her knees, blood soaking into her dress. "I am a Princess of Winterfell and the only king I know is my brother, the King in the North!"
"So be it," Cersei said quietly, "Princess." She nodded to Ser Ilyn.
Ser Ilyn raised Ice high. I am ready, Sansa thought. I will not bow my head.
The doors flew open and men in green surcoats entered the ballroom. Ser Ilyn hesitated. It took Sansa a moment to recognize who led them. It was the Knight of Flowers, Ser Loras Tyrell.
"Ser Ilyn!" The queen shouted. "Do it now!"
Before Ice could fall, Ser Loras' sword was swinging through the air and into Ser Ilyn's neck. Ice clattered to the floor. Sansa felt blood on her face. It was hot, but she did not wipe it away. She wore it gladly.
Cersei shrieked, as the Tyrell men seized her. "Unhand me! I am your queen! My father will have each and every one of your heads when this is all through!"
Sansa stayed on her knees, too shocked to move. Now she was thanking the gods for her deliverance.
"My lady." Ser Loras offered her his hand up. "Are you all right?"
"I am now, Ser Loras. Thank you." She stood shakily. Am I alive? Truly, or will they kill me later? That is what the queen said. No, Ser Loras would never allow it. He gave me a rose, once.
Ice still lay on the floor where it had fallen from Ser Ilyn's hands. Sansa bent to pick it up but could barely even move it.
"My lady, let me take you from this place."
"Not without my father's sword." Sansa looked him directly in the eyes. "Unless I am a prisoner still."
"No, my lady. Lord Stannis and King Renly gave explicit orders that your life was to be saved at all costs."
Sansa smiled, her first genuine smile in many moons.
Ser Loras led her from the queen's ballroom. He carried Ice, which was difficult even for him to lift. Maegor's Holdfast was filled with men, all wearing sigils Sansa recognized as coming from the Reach or the Stormlands. Not a lion among them!
Ser Loras stopped in front of two men who stood in the entrance hall, one armored in green, another in blue. He bowed. "Lady Sansa Stark, Your Grace."
Sansa looked up. The man in green pushed up his faceplate. "Yes, I see it clearly. You have the look of your mother. I saw her recently, you know."
This is Lord - no, King Renly.
She curtsied. "Your Grace, thank you for sparing my life."
"I promised your lady mother I would," he said. "And we have much to discuss. But I think that can wait. I will not have you put in any more danger. Brienne?" He turned to the knight in blue.
"Yes, Your Grace," said the knight, who Sansa now saw was no knight, but a woman - the strangest woman Sansa had ever seen. She could have been a Mormont from Bear Island.
"I turn Lady Sansa over to you. Escort her to her bedchamber safely and see that she comes to no harm."
"Of course, Your Grace."
Ser Loras handed Ice to Brienne. Sansa noticed that she had no trouble with the greatsword.
Sansa went with the woman in armor, still not certain what would become of her. He has spoken to Mother! But Robb is still a traitor to the crown, even if it is Renly's now.
As they moved through the castle, they saw more and more soldiers, some leading captured Lannister men. All parted for Sansa and Brienne. It seemed like a dream.
Finally, the reached Sansa's room. It was dark inside, though from the window came the strange green glow of wildfire still burning. Then, there was movement in the dark and she knew at once that they were not alone.
"Who goes there?" Brienne shouted, dropping Ice and drawing her own sword. "Surrender yourself in the name of King Renly!"
"King Renly now, is it?" the Hound said. Sansa took a step back. He was waiting for me. Did he mean to kill me? "Well, bugger him, then." The Hound moved for the door, but Brienne blocked him.
"You will not insult the rightful king!" she demanded.
Without another word, the Hound lunged at her. Brienne parried easily and made to run him through.
"Stop!" Sansa shouted. "You mustn't kill him."
"He is a Lannister dog," Brienne said, her eyes not leaving Sandor Clegane. "He has insulted the king."
"But-but-" Sansa searched for the words. He was good to me, he saved me. Can I tell her that? "He was Joffrey's sworn shield, a member of the Kingsguard. He may know Cersei's secrets."
Brienne was too busy fighting to reply, but Sansa noticed that her strokes were no longer intended to kill. She was trying to disarm the Hound, to capture him. It did not take long. He was drunk; Sansa could smell it. Even then, he was deadly, but he was ultimately outmatched. The battle went on for another minute before Brienne knocked the sword from Clegane's hand.
"Now," she said, not even breathing hard, "surrender in the name of King Renly."
"Piss on Renly," he declared.
Brienne knocked him in the head with the pommel of her sword, and he slumped to the ground like a collapsing tent.
Brienne called for men to take the Hound away and checked every corner of the room for further foes.
"Are you well, my lady?" she asked Sansa when the men-at-arms had carried off the Hound.
"Yes, Lady Brienne," she said.
Brienne frowned. "I am no lady."
"About as much as my sister Arya," Sansa said with an almost giddy smile. She hoped they would all be safe now. They would find Arya and they would all go home.
See, Cersei? There are still some heroes like the songs.
The agonized howls of a wounded man begging for milk of the poppy pulled Stannis back to consciousness. He was aware of cold stone underneath his head, the pained moaning of the man beside him. Everything else was fire and he fought to keep the blackness from taking him again.
No, he reminded himself. Not fire. I escaped that fate. Arrows. One to my shoulder as we rammed the gates, and one to each thigh as we moved on the Red Keep.
Stannis had been at the head of the column that had entered the castle after the gates had been opened, but he had slipped from his saddle soon after that. Dimly, he remembered being dragged somewhere-the Maidenvault, he decided-and it had soon become a makeshift hospital.
It has not been long, Stannis thought. If the Hand of the King still has arrows in him, they have not found a maester yet.
"My Lord Hand," said a voice. Stannis tried to move and couldn't. The owner of the voice crouched beside him. "My brother has found Sansa Stark. She was with Cersei Lannister."
It took a moment for Stannis' muddled brain to remember who any of those people were. "Was she their prisoner?"
"Loras stopped Ilyn Payne from taking off the Stark girl's head," said the brother's voice. Ser Garlan, then.
"Good." Stannis let his head fall back against the floor with a painful thunk, too tired to keep it raised. "Where is she now?" he murmured when he had the breath.
"Her bedchamber. The Maid of Tarth has taken her there and guards the door."
"And my brother?"
"In the throne room."
Of course, Stannis thought. He could see Renly, even through the haze of his mind, on the Iron Throne, his antlered helm in his lap. "What of the Lannisters?"
"We hold Cersei, and my father's men have captured the Imp. Joffrey is dead. Ser Rolland Storm was offered his head by a member of the Watch."
Stannis closed his eyes. "Are you sure it was his?"
"The king has seen it and said so."
"Very well." Stannis could no longer hold his eyes open. He wasn't sure if he slept then. The next thing he knew, the maester was cutting the arrow out of his shoulder. His eyes flew open.
"One could take you for a pincushion, brother." Renly knelt at his side, across from the maester. He was still in his armor.
"Say nothing. You won your throne without so much as a scratch," Stannis said through gritted teeth. Pain shot through his shoulder and he fought the urge to cry out.
"Only thanks to Lady Brienne. She saved my life several times during the battle."
"You must reward her then." Stannis gasped as another wave of pain hit him. Where have they gotten this fool of a maester? Coming from the Citadel, or going to it?
Renly took his hand, then, giving Stannis no option but to squeeze it as the second arrow came out of him. "Would that I had some scars to show for my time in battle."
Stannis felt himself sway between awareness and blackness. "I'm glad to have helped protect your unblemished skin."
"Here, brother." Stannis felt a wineskin at his lips. "It's not your usual, but-"
Stannis began to drink. The maester turned his attentions to the last arrow.
When Stannis returned to consciousness, Renly was still there.
"I came with bad tidings," he said gravely. "You should have them now before you pass out again."
"What are they?"
"Davos Seaworth is dead. His ship went up in wildfire. Not a soul escaped."
A numbness washed over him from the pit of his stomach. He should have told me this first, Stannis thought. I hardly feel the pain now.
When she awoke, she was still in the dream.
That was what she told herself so that she would not be disappointed upon waking.
But as the hours passed, and Brienne the Blue never left her side, and she never saw a guardsman with the red cloak of Lannister, she began to believe.
And she had Ice. It was in her room, and every time she looked at it, she knew she was going home.
Lord Renly is the king now. I would have thought it would be Lord Stannis, but I would bow to Moon Boy if he could make the Lannisters go away.
The first thing she did was go to the sept and pray. Never again would she be at someone else's mercy. She had not heard whether Stannis and Renly meant to fight Robb next, but at least they did not hurt her. She even prayed to the Stranger again, thanking him for taking Joffrey and those false knights of the Kingsguard who had hurt her. She had learned that Brienne had slain Ser Meryn and Ser Osmund.
Sansa was grateful for Brienne's presence. The woman was as big as a man and just as deadly at arms. She had become Sansa's shadow, her guard and protector. She felt safe around her, an odd feeling after all those moons lived in fear. Being with Brienne reminded Sansa of Arya, and in talking with her, she felt that she might be able to understand her sister better, if only the gods would let her see her again.
On the third day, she was summoned to Lord Stannis' solar. It felt strange to go back to the Tower of the Hand, where she had once lived with Father and Arya. She thought of them as she climbed the winding stairs.
Lord Stannis was leaning on his squire when Sansa and Brienne entered the room. The solar was in disarray, but Sansa could still remember the way her father had had it.
"Lady Sansa," he said by way of greeting.
She curtsied. "My Lord Hand."
The squire helped Lord Stannis over to a chair and he collapsed more than sat, wincing in pain as his legs gave way. "Forgive the mess. This is the Imp's doing."
"Yes, my lord."
Lord Stannis looked up at Brienne. "Thank you. You may wait outside."
Brienne bowed and left the room. Sansa took the seat the squire offered her, across from Stannis' desk
Stannis picked through the mess of parchment in front of him. "We have much to discuss," he said. "Are you thirsty? Hungry? Devan, some wine for Lady Sansa."
"Thank you, my lord."
Devan came back with two goblets. She noticed that Stannis' had water, not wine.
"I suppose you must be wondering what we intend to do with you," he said.
At least he had said 'with you' and to 'to you'. "I am curious, my lord. I have been a prisoner of the Lannisters for a long time now."
"You are no longer a prisoner. I hope that has been clear. You are free to go where you wish within the Red Keep, even into the city if you should wish it." He shifted a leg, wincing slightly. "Brienne will accompany you at all times for your protection."
"I have been glad for her, my lord. Am I to remain your guest?"
"For now." He sipped his water. "When the war is over, we will send you home."
Home. She was starting to have trouble remembering it. It seemed like a lifetime since she'd left Winterfell. "Thank you, my lord." But what of Robb? "The king mentioned you had met with my lady mother."
"That we have." Stannis set his cup down and picked up a letter. "Your mother has agreed that your safe return would ensure your brother bends the knee to my brother. You will be his representative when Renly is crowned."
"Of course, my lord." I don't care if Robb is a king or a lord. I just want to see my family again. "I am grateful to you and the king for your mercy."
Stannis' jaw was set. "I suppose the Lannisters made you sing a song of your brother's treachery."
Sansa looked down at her wine. "He was a traitor, my lord."
"To the Bastard Pretender. Not to my brother. Your father died trying to ensure the proper succession. That was very noble."
Sansa looked up. "Thank you, my lord."
"Relax, my lady. No one here will hit you if you forget a title of courtesy. I have heard the stories. I am deeply sorry we could not rescue you sooner."
"I am still alive. Joffrey and his false knights are not."
"I would ask you to write a letter to your brother to let him know of your freedom. Invite him to King's Landing to bend the knee and to retrieve you and your father's sword."
"Of course, my lord." She set her cup down. "Have you ink and parchment?"
"I'm not going to tell you what to say. Take your time and send it when you are ready. Your lady mother agreed to the terms, but crowns do funny things to a man's thinking. If he should refuse, you will still come to no harm. You will remain our guest."
"Thank you, my lord."
Back in her room, it took her several tries to write a letter she was happy with. She mentioned their mother's agreement with the king, and how well they treated her compared to Joffrey. And she was sure to remind him of Ice. You will have Father's sword back, she wrote. King Renly means to keep you as his Warden of the North and so you must have it back.
She waited anxiously for his reply, but she knew he would accept the terms. They had all been too long away from home.
When Robb's letter came, she at last felt the nightmare was finally over. I am going home!
She could think of no sweeter song.
"They gave you his head?" Stannis exclaimed in disbelief.
"Lord Gyles' ward offered it to me as you would a goblet of wine to a guest," Lord Tarly told him. "It seems that when news reached him that we had won the battle, he thought he could claim Rosby with Tommen's head."
Renly swore. He was dressed for his coronation, fur cloak streaming down his back. "I didn't want to begin my reign by butchering children."
"You never ordered such a thing, Your Grace," Tarly said.
"It was done in my name," Renly snapped.
"No one will believe it, not once this ward has been dealt with," Stannis cut in
Renly studied him. "That has a distinct ring of permanence to it."
"Your orders, Your Grace?" Tarly asked.
Renly thought only for a moment. "I will not grant lands or title to a child killer. Throw him in the black cells."
Tarly bowed and exited. Stannis watched Renly seethe before he spoke.
"We are now rid of two bastard pretenders. There is still the matter of Myrcella."
Renly rubbed between his brows. "They're children, Stannis. We thought they were our kin."
"And they are not." Stannis cared not for what they had been deceived into believing. He cared only for the truth. Perhaps it was the pain. Ever since the battle, he had felt numb.
"I know." Renly sighed. "But incestuous bastards though they may be, they are only children."
"So were Aegon and Rhaenys Targaryen."
"I will not be another Tywin Lannister. We will figure out what to do about Myrcella later." Renly closed his eyes. "Now, let us go, brother. I think they mean to crown me."
Stannis nodded. He had been dreading the moment when it would come time to kneel to Renly, but it was now far down on the list of things that weighed on him. He still needed Devan's help to get around and every time he looked at the boy, he was reminded of how his father had died in Stannis' service.
He won us the city with his fire and he burned for it, Stannis thought as they moved down the aisle of the sept. He took his spot in the front row, with others closest to Renly. He sat beside Mace Tyrell, who would soon take his seat as master of laws..
"Your father should sit here," Stannis said to Devan, as he helped him into his seat.
"Yes, my lord." The boy's tone was properly deferential, but hollow.
I must do something for him, Stannis thought, though he knew not what. He is fortunate to still have his brothers.
But no number of sons could replace the father. He closed his eyes. The long ride from the Red Keep to the Great Sept of Baelor had inflamed the pain in his legs.
He only paid the barest of attention to the ceremony. There were no gods, he was sure of that now. If there are, they are punishing me, for what, I do not know.
Renly went through all the motions as he was supposed to, looking properly kingly. The High Septon placed the crown on his head, and announced him by name.
"All kneel for King Renly, of the House Baratheon, the First of His Name, King of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm."
Stannis did so shakily, but he bent the knee under his own power. I must only do this once. Never again, he thought, as he looked up at Renly.
His guard surrounded him, Ser Loras gazing adoringly at his king. Stannis ground his teeth. Beside him, Devan Seaworth wiped his eyes.
The ride back to the castle took even longer. Even though Renly had begun his reign by lobbing fire into the city, the streets were crowded with smallfolk cheering his name.
They said there were food riots, Stannis remembered. Now the Reach is open to them again. They must welcome him for that alone.
He followed, eyes on Renly's back, trying to will away the throbbing in three of his limbs. The rest of his life was taking shape in front of him. I will rot alone in that tower, doing his bidding.
It seemed like hours had passed when they finally arrived back in the Red Keep. Devan helped Stannis dismount.
"Where would you go now, my lord?" he asked.
Stannis looked into the smuggler's brown eyes, then looked away. "To my chambers. I would rest."
They made their way across the courtyard to the Tower of the Hand. I should have died, Stannis decided. No one would have mourned me. Shireen, perhaps, but no one else.
"My Lord Hand!" a voice rang out. "I have some news if you would be so good as to stop."
Stannis stopped and turned. Salladhor Saan was striding toward him, peacock feather in his cap bouncing.
"What is it?" he asked. He had little time for the pirate and he wanted his bed, to be left alone.
"I think your young squire would hear it, too." Salladhor's weatherbeaten face split into a grin. "Your father is alive, my lad."
"My father? Truly?" Devan exclaimed. Stannis felt his heart in his throat. It cannot be so. It has been too long, so many days. He must be dead.
"Truly." Salladhor beamed, as though personally responsible. "My men found him washed ashore this morning. While you were seeing fine things in the sept, I was bringing your father to the maesters. He was in a poor state, but, ah, still, he lives. We should have known that the sea would not have him, our Onion Knight."
Devan was grinning. "Can we-I mean-" He composed himself. "You would still go upstairs, my lord?"
"No," Stannis said, "we must go to your father."
The Maidenvault was still full of the recuperating wounded, though there were fewer in number than the night Stannis had spent on the floor. The accommodations were nicer, as well. Davos Seaworth was in a bed in the far corner of the hall.
"Father!" Devan broke into a run as they approached the bed, forcing Stannis to sit at the foot of it if he did not wish to sprawl all over the floor.
Davos smiled weakly. "My lord, are you well?"
Stannis humphed. "Well enough to be out of bed, which is more than can be said for you."
"I am well." Davos pushed himself up on his hands, but fell back. "If you have need of me, I can get up."
"No," Stannis said. He rested his hand awkwardly on Davos' blanket covered legs. "I have no need of you now. You may rest."
Davos looked at his son. "I heard you saw the coronation. Imagine that, my son seeing the king crowned."
"I wished you were there," Devan said.
"And now I am here." Davos smiled fondly. "And now, you must go, if Lord Stannis wishes it. You cannot keep him from his work."
"No," Stannis said. "That won't be necessary. You should see your son."
They visited for a few more minutes. Stannis tried not to intrude. It made him think of how he had always wished for a son, how he his own father had been taken from him too early. He rubbed his aching thigh.
"My lord, are you ready to go now?" Devan looked apologetic.
"No, I would have a word with your father." Stannis tried to slide closer to the head of the bed. He winced and Davos reached out a hand to him. It was the left, the one with the shortened fingers, but Stannis took it and shifted himself.
"I had heard you were injured, my lord."
"Some," Stannis said. It seemed to pale in comparison to Davos, who had been without food and water for all these days. "It will heal."
"Wounds of the flesh do." The smuggler studied his damaged hand. "Most do."
"I am glad you were found," Stannis heard himself say. "I will have great need of you in the days to come."
"I am yours to command, my lord." Davos gave him a weak smile. "Always."
Stannis allowed himself a small smile in return. Perhaps they could do this, rule this kingdom. He had done what he'd promised, had bowed to Renly. Now the real work was to begin.
And he would not have to do it alone.