His father sends the maesters in and they return shortly, shaking their heads.
Garlan looks at him then, laying a hand on his elder brother's arm as their father walks away, his head bowed in sorrow and the light gone from his eyes. They can hear their mother's sobs even from here as she grieves already for her youngest son.
Leaning heavily on Garlan's arm, Willas stands and takes a deep breath, ignoring the pain in his leg as he walks to the door.
He tries not to think about all the evenings he has spent in this room. They belong to a distant past now, back when Margaery and Loras were young enough to beg him to read stories to them every evening.
He smiles faintly, lost in memories as he recalls how his youngest siblings used to take turns sitting in his lap and choosing stories. Margaery would ask for tales of fair maidens and princesses and so Willas would tell her of Daena the Defiant or perhaps Alysanne, the Targaryen Queen so kind and beautiful that they said the smallfolk wept for days when she died. Loras meanwhile had wanted to hear about knights, and so Willas had obliged, recounting the great deeds of the Dragonknight, the Sword of the Morning or perhaps Ser Barristan the Bold and how he earned his title.
He sighs when he reaches the door, and tries to keep the tears from falling as he remembers Loras as he used to be. Breathing deeply, he pushes open the door.
It's been a year since Willas has stepped foot in this room, a whole year in fact since he last saw Loras. He'd been so vivacious and full of life then. He'd thought himself invincible.
The room is as Loras left it, a dark green cloak discarded on the floor and clothes that aren't his draped carelessly over a chair.
He hears the intake of breath beside him as Garlan looks over towards the bed and Willas too steels himself to look upon his brother.
When he does he hardly recognizes Loras and he has to force himself not to look away. The maesters have not exaggerated his injuries. He is only grateful that they say Loras is too far gone to fully comprehend the ruin the boiling oil has made of him.
The maesters at Dragonstone have evidently done their best. His entire torso is covered in dressings, soaked and hardened now with blood, peeling off with the flesh still attached.
They sit together at his bedside and he feels Garlan grip his arm, tightly, desperately, as he tries to process the sight of their younger brother, ruined almost beyond recognition.
Willas calls his name softly and Loras' eyelids flutter.
After what seems an age, Loras opens his eyes, staring at them but not seeing them.
"Willas?" he whispers, his whole body heaving with the effort.
Willas leans in. "I'm here Loras." He breathes. "Garlan is too." He wants to hold him, pull his youngest brother to him and soothe him but Loras is too wounded for that, his skin weeping and raw under the peeling bandages.
Garlan reaches up to touch his cheek and Loras cringes away, his face screwed up in pain.
"Don't." he whispers. He holds out his hand instead, shakily, unsteadily.
Willas takes it, running his fingers gently over his palm, the only part of his brother that seems relatively unscathed.
Loras breathing is ragged now and they can see him mustering the effort to speak again.
"Margaery?" He manages eventually.
"She's in King's Landing Loras." Garlan tells him gently.
"Good" he sighs softly. "I don't want her to see."
Willas exchanges a sad look with Garlan. They can only imagine Margaery's screams of grief if she were to see her youngest brother like this. Perhaps it is for the best that Loras will have passed from this world long before their sister can make it to his side.
...
He's delusional by nightfall, crying out desperately for something, someone, that Willas is powerless to give him. He's sobbing against him, no longer seeming to notice how raw his ruined skin is as he pulls Willas to him, begging him for Renly.
All Willas can do is cradle him in his arms, stroking the hair he has left as Loras slips further and further into hysterics.
Garlan's composure breaks then and he rises, no longer able to stand their youngest brothers pleading cries. Willas can see the tears fall as he paces, grief-stricken, around the room.
He pauses by the window, bending down to pick up one of the garments draped across the chair.
He hands it wordlessly to Willas, before retaking his place beside him, his face pained.
Willas runs his hands over the green velvet, before placing it as gently as possible in Loras' hands.
His sobs grow louder now and Willas looks at Garlan in alarm. Gently they try to prise it from his fingers. Loras shakes his head and clutches it to him with all his remaining strength, burying his ruined face in the fabric.
It's not Renly. But it's the best they can do.
...
Its almost dawn before Loras calms, becoming still in Willas' arms.
Their mother and father have been and gone but Willas and Garlan remain, unwilling to leave him alone with his pain, determined to be there at his side until the very end.
He opens his eyes for the final time not long after his mother leaves, and stares up at them with the golden brown eyes they all share.
He moves his lips, trying to speak, but his voice fails him.
They lean in and Loras tries again, his face contorting with the effort. He seems to know too that these will likely be the last words he speaks.
"Take me back to Storm's End" He eventually manages to whisper, clutching at Garlan's hands. "Promise me you'll take me back to him when it's all over."
Willas glances sadly at Garlan. They haven't the heart to tell him that their father will never allow it, that already their mother is preparing to bury him in Highgarden.
They nod silently, stroking his hair softly.
The lie is worth it when Loras lets out a soft sigh, growing limp in Willas' arms as the fear leaves his eyes.
He dies in the evening, still in his brothers' arms and with Renly's name on his lips.