Brienne

Here we are, she thought, the Red Keep to be crowned King. Brienne stood at the foot of the Iron Throne and imagined Renly sitting upon it. She, Ser Loras, and the rest of the Rainbow Guard would stand at the foot of that chair and guard it as King Renly, the First of His Name would dole out justice and order for years to come. Perhaps War would come again: from across the Narrow Sea, from Dorne, from the Wildlings in the North, or some internal struggle. Either way, the thought of fighting to defend her King made Brienne bristle with joy.

For Evenfall Hall! For Renly! For the Realm!

Ser Bryce the Orange broke her trance, "Lady Brienne, the King summons his Rainbow Guard." He had orange hair, orange armor, and an orange shield. Ser Bryce was a fair warrior, and her brother.

"Where is the King?" Brienne asked, she wore her full helm to hide her more feminine features from others. The more they see me as a man, the more they see me as an equal.

"He awaits in his Tower," Ser Bryce didn't bother waiting for Brienne to follow, he kept walking. Brienne, with her shield quartered with suns and moons, followed closely behind. They journeyed past the Throne, and to one of the Red Keep's towers where they walked through beams of sunrise light and morning darkness. When they reached the chamber where Ser Loras, Ser Emmon the Yellow, Ser Guyard the Green, Ser Parmen the Purple, and Ser Robar the Red were standing before King Renly along with the men he proposed to seat on his Small Council.

Lord Mace Tyrell sat at the King's right hand. Queen Margaery sat at the King's left. Lord Randyll, with his bald, scarred head and his discolored armor sat at the opposite end of the polished table. Brienne knew he was to be Master of Laws. Lord Paxter Redwyne was seated and fiddled with a pen and parchment, the future Master of Ships. Brienne noticed there were few seats left for Stormlords. Her own father, though aged, would make an excellent Master of Ships. All members of House Tarth knew their way around a boat. If only Evenfall Hall had a fleet to match the Arbor's. Perhaps she should bring up that possibility with King Renly when he was elected.

"Today is the day the Lords will cast their first vote," the King said right after the door closed, "I cannot understate the importance of this casting. We need the Lords of Westeros to know I am the strongest candidate. That way, if I don't win on the first vote, I will win the second."

"Your Grace," Lord Redwyne began, "perhaps playing politics too early isn't such a poor solution? We can approach Robb Stark now and perhaps win his support. With all the power of the North and the Riverlands combined with the power you already possess, it will be impossible to lose. Stannis will be routed entirely."

"A bloodless Field of Fire…" Queen Margaery tried to translate poetically, "A Field of Flowers."

"Send out messages to the Reach, remind them who was there leading their sons at South-of-Gods-Eye. Remind them who their rightful southron King is. And tell them I will not soon forget my friends and allies." Renly smiled at everyone in the room. Brienne felt cheeks blush and was glad she wore her helmet. Renly… that smile, "I've spent the past year in this city ruling as its civil King. Stannis and Robb Stark may be warriors, but if a lord asks how I plan on ending the war, tell them I'll put my loyal Lords Stannis and Robb to use by sending them to Seagard. The Realm will not be at war forever. Robert was their warrior. Joffrey was their monster. Robb and Stannis will be their heroes…"

"But Renly will be their King." Margaery smiled

The Lords were then dismissed and went about their business. Ser Loras told the Rainbow Guard to follow the Lords to the Throne Room and prepare for the Kingsmoot. Brienne attended the Tyrells back to the room where a host of tables was placed, that weren't there when Brienne was standing at the foot of the Iron Throne hours earlier. Was this where the election would take place? Lady Catelyn Stark stood at the foot of the Throne and said, "Lord Tyrell, you and the Reachlords shall be sitting at the front end of this table here."

Lady Stark led the Reachlords and Brienne to a table just left of center. There would be more arriving, but this was where they would sit so far.

As the day went on, Stormlords sat opposite the Reachlords. A mixture of Northlords and Riverlords entered and sat at a far table. About an hour after wine and food was being served around lunchtime, an enormous party of Dornishmen arrived to take their seat toward the front door. Brienne noticed that there were absolutely no Valelords, Westerlords, or Ironborn. As Brienne examined the room further, she noticed the sigils of Velaryon and Celtigar. The Lords of the Crownlands weren't grouped together, but were scattered across the Throne room.

That's when the Kings entered the room.

Stannis Baratheon strode in first, looking dark and stormy as if he was off to the gallows. Renly followed, looking the opposite of his brother, cheerful, golden, happy. If Stannis ruled the Seven Kingdoms, sure, then it would be an efficient Realm. But when Renly ruled instead, it would be peaceful, bountiful, and beautiful. Robb Stark, who entered last, Brienne didn't know much about. He looked something midway between Stannis and Renly, but he was young. Too young to sit the Iron Throne.

Three chairs were set up before the Iron Throne. Lord Stark sat on the right chair. Lord Stannis on the left. King Renly sat in the center. As it should be. To the right of the Throne was a table with Lady Stark, the Imp, and a Maester sitting with parchment and pen. What a strange way to make a King.

Brienne had no idea how the Kingsmoot would progress, but she was given authority to speak for her father and cast his vote (for Renly, of course). She had dreams of someone calling out the names of the Lords. When they called out the towns and keeps of the Reach, the Lords would declare their support for Stark or Baratheon. And then they would call, "Evenfall Hall? And Brienne would stand and shout, "For Renly!"

But she dreamt. Surely there were too many Lords to call them out one by one. A man in a leather doublet had a tripled sigil on his doublet. Brienne's eyes did not work as well as a hawk's, but she could see the colors of Winterfell, Storm's End, and Dragonstone. It seemed that the Small Council had formed its own sigil to remember the event: the Allied shield of Stark and the Baratheon brothers.

The man stepped beside the Throne, besides the King's chairs, and turned to bow before the monarchs aspirant. Each King nodded: Robb dutifully, Stannis grudgingly, and Renly with a bright smile breaching his face.

The man began to speak: "All hail the First Kingsmoot of the Iron Throne. Whoever sits it shall be King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm.

"Westeros had five Kings. Now there are three rightful ones. The forces of Winterfell, Storm's End, and Dragonstone have allied to defeat the foe Joffrey Baratheon and now lay claim to the Iron Throne. So there will be no further bloodshed, the Kings have decided to ask the Lords of Westeros who among them shall sit the Iron Throne."

He pulled out a sheet of parchment and continued, "I have here the First Kingsmoot Rules and Constraints…"