Before dawn broke, Ser Loras Tyrell found himself brooding again as he could not help but walk irritably in circles in his chambers in the Windwyrm Tower, his silk green cloak billowing around him. Brooding was not the Knight of Flowers's style but it had been of late, and for good reason.

Stopping in front of the small window, Loras touched the obsidian stag brooch that clasped his cloak together. It was a gift from Renly – the last gift. It was also the boldest as Renly had commissioned for himself, a golden rose pin. Nobles and smallfolk alike could say that it was a gift from Margaery, who was conveniently Renly's lady wife, but a number of lords and ladies knew the truth.

Whilst it was Margaery whom Renly often walked with, it was Loras who was in Renly's bed. Neither Renly or Loras attempted to hide their relationship. There was no need as the servants in Renly's entourage were either completely loyal to Renly, or to Loras himself. Like any infatuated lover, Renly had taken in a couple of Reachmen Loras had suggested into his household. Maester Jurne was sent off back to the Citadel and Loras's great uncle Maester Gormon Tyrell took his place as the official maester of Dragonstone. Maester Gormon wasn't exactly pleased at the prospect of settling in Dragonstone, but Grandmother insisted. "Dragonstone must be well-populated with Tyrells before his arrival," she had instructed. Now it was. Loras's great uncle as the official maester, some of his Tyrell cousins (Sers Theodore and Lyonel included) were stationed as household guards, more Tyrell cousins (Megga, Alla and Elinor) were a part of Margaery's ladies and a few more cousins (Denys Redwyne and Arthur Hightower) were Renly's squires.

I hope Grandmother is satisfied, thought Loras. He wasn't. He was pleased that Renly honoured him with the position of castellan, which angered the majority of the lords of the Narrow Sea, but he knew it was somehow part of Grandmother's plans. It was almost as if everything that happened, Grandmother knew about. It had always irked Loras. What he detested even more was how Grandmother was aware of his…affections for Renly and told him to take advantage of him. "Most of you men think with your cock, not your head," Grandmother had declared. "Even that lover of yours." Her small, beady eyes gleamed. "Take advantage of it."

Every time Loras had requested a Tyrell or a Reach relative to be placed in the Dragonstone household, he hated himself. It was what Grandmother wanted, and to some extent, Father, but not him. Will Renly still love me if he discovers what I'd been doing? No man likes being taken advantage of by his lover.

Tired of prowling around his chambers like an imprisoned animal, Loras went straight to Aegon's Garden, knowing he would find his sister there.

"Loras," greeted Margaery, smiling at him. "You have time at last to spend time with your little sister?"

Loras bristled. "I break my fast with your every morning Margaery!"

Margaery laughed merrily. "So you do!" She gestured for him to sit down next to her on the stone bench with carvings of dragons on its arm, legs and back. The Targaryens loved twisting stone into dragons and carving dragon motifs onto the many doors, walls, furniture and other parts of the castle. It was not just dragons; designs of basilisks, cockatrices, griffins, hellhounds, wyverns and demons were also seen throughout Dragonstone.

"I see you're still a Baratheon supporter." Margaery touched the obsidian stag brooch. "He won't be pleased when he arrives." Her eyes twinkled.

Loras shrugged with a small smile. "He isn't here yet. You're also in Baratheon colours, Sister." Margaery had chosen to wear a black gown adorned with swirls of golden thread and around her waist was a golden belt embellished with half a dozen or so emeralds.

"Baratheon and Tyrell colours," Margaery corrected him. "I was born a Tyrell of Highgarden and I'll die a Tyrell of Highgarden." She lowered her voice. "When I become his wife, I will gladly wear the rightful colours of black and red. It is my destiny to be the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms." Her brown eyes sparkled at the mere thought of it.

"What Grandmother had planned…it is all for you to be queen."

Margaery's smile widened. "The Baratheons refused me; the dragons will have me. Growing Strong. That is what we do." Loras loved her as a brother would love a sister (not as the Lannister twins loved each other though), but must Renly die in order for her to be queen? "If there was another option, I would've opted for it, Loras," said Margaery, as if reading Loras's uneasy thoughts. "You know that. I'm not heartless, Brother. My heart breaks when you're distressed." She reached out and squeezed Loras's hand. "Renly has to die," she said gently. Loras stared at the ground sulkily like a sullen child. "I can't wed him if Renly is still alive," Margaery went on softly. "You know that, dear brother. Even though I am a maiden still, no man will be willing to agree to an annulment due to non-consummation? Besides, a living Baratheon will be a threat to my future husband's reign."

"You could let exile him to Essos," Loras said recklessly. "I'd follow him."

"Your duties lie here. To House Tyrell. To House Targaryen. Sometimes it's to be love that needs to be sacrificed for the better good." Margaery then moved her hand from Loras's. Margaery the sister was gone; Margaery the queen-to-be was here now. "What are the plans?" she inquired regally.

"He will arrive sometime today," said Loras, finally allowing his thoughts to be distracted from Renly to the Targaryen restoration. "Probably the late afternoon, maybe the evening even. Dragonstone will surrender as will all of the lords of the Narrow Sea. The dragon banner will wave once more."

"Grandmother is clever, isn't she? Convincing Renly to hold a tourney here in a few days to celebrate his official arrival as its lord. All the lords of the Narrow Sea are probably on their way here as we speak." Margaery smiled. "By the time they arrive, they will be just in time to swear fealty to their new king."

"What if he dies in battle? Would it not be best to keep Renly alive? We can put him on the Iron Throne with you as his queen."

Margaery snorted, her smile vanishing. "Come now Loras. Even a child can see the foolishness in your suggestion. If we are openly supporting him as king, there is no point keeping a stag alive. He will not die in battle and if he does, his son or daughter will succeed him. That is what Grandmother wanted and we will not let her down. There will be a Tyrell-blooded child on the Iron Throne."

"What of the children?" Loras challenged. "Will we be like the Lannisters?"

"By the Seven no!" Disgust entered Margaery's voice. "Weren't you listening to Grandmother the other day? The last thing we want is for Westeros to view us as murderers and child killers. By the Seven, we are not Lannisters! No, the children will be married off to loyalists or sent to the Citadel and motherhouses. With one exception," she added. "Lyanna Baratheon will remain Willas's wife as their child will claim Storm's End for us Tyrells."

"And Lyarra Stark? I thought you were…friends with her."

"You don't need to worry about her." Margaery patted Loras's hand again. "All you need to worry about is the battles to come and protecting him. I'm certain he will be impressed with your fighting vigour and ask you to join his Kingsguard at the first opportunity he has. He will be mad not to have such a capable warrior in his Kingsguard. Who knows? Maybe you will be his Lord Commander as well." It was a dazzling smile Margaery gave him. "Is that not what you always wanted? A spot in the Kingsguard! Even when we played with our cousins during childhood, you always said you wanted to protect me and be my knight in shining armour."

Loras grinned sheepishly. "You always played the queen."

"Ser Loras!"

Loras's smile froze as Maester Gormon hobbled towards him, a small scroll of paper in hand. No…it was too soon…

Gormon nodded civilly at Margaery. "My lady." His brown eyes flickered from Margaery to Loras. "A raven from the Dowager Lady of Highgarden." He faltered, before handing the parchment to Margaery. The Lady of Dragonstone trumps the Castellan of Dragonstone, thought Loras as he impatiently waited to be told what the letter contained. He suspected it was the news he absolutely dreaded to hear, but there was always the chance it wasn't.

"What did Grandmother say?" Loras murmured, hoping it wasn't bad news. He felt his heart slowly break when he saw Margaery gaze at him sympathetically. It has happened. Loras closed his eyes to prevent tears. It has happened. Margaery is finally a widow and can legally marry the dragon king. The deed is done. My closest friend and lover is dead. He could never caress Renly's soft skin again; hearing his genial and loving voice was also impossible now. "How did he die?" Loras choked out, brushing a long curl of brown hair away from his eyes.

"Lenn the Red," answered Margaery.

"Poisoned!"

Margaery nodded in confirmation. "Grandmother did not specify what type of poison in case…in case this ended up in wrong hands."

"Did he suffer at least?" said Loras, frustrated.

"It was most likely sweetsleep," Margaery tried to soothe him. "Grandmother's aware of your relationship with Renly and probably ensured he died a swift and painless death. Loras, at least you were not there to see him die-" Loras stood up abruptly. He was in no mood to listen to Margaery's ambition-infused words. She said it was an act of mercy that Loras did not witness Renly's death, but it was an obvious lie. Grandmother needed a Tyrell to guarantee Dragonstone's delivery to Targaryen hands – Willas was evidently dismissed due to his infirmity and Renly wouldn't bestow the title and position of castellan onto Garlan as they weren't at all close. Loras knew he was the clear choice and he hated it.

"My condolences," Loras muttered. His annoyance grew as Margaery frowned in confusion. "Your husband is dead," Loras reiterated. "My condolences. Did you practise weeping, or is that unnecessary?" Without waiting for a response, he left, leaving Margaery alone in Aegon's Garden. It was the first time in over a dozen or so years in which Loras argued and abandoned his only sister. The world doesn't circle around Margaery, Loras pondered savagely. And Renly didn't have to die for her. The vision of the once possible sellsword life in Essos appeared. Both he and Renly were good swordsmen and could earn enough gold for a comfortable and a peaceful life away from ambition, politics and death.

Life is not a song.

Loras kicked a rock impulsively. Grandmother enjoyed reminding him that life was not a song. He didn't need a reminder. What will happen to Renly's body? The Baratheon king would be laid to rest in a tomb in the Great Sept of Baelor as all of his predecessors had been but what of Renly? He was the first and last Baratheon Lord of Dragonstone – would it be fitting for him to be buried at Dragonstone? A hot tear escaped from Loras's left eye. Dragonstone was a stranger to Renly; he'd not be at peace buried there. If only I can return to Highgarden with Renly's body. He loved Highgarden – he would be happier buried there. It would be bizarre for a Baratheon to be buried at Highgarden, but it would be what Renly wanted.

Calming himself down, Loras walked into the Stone Drum and climbed up the set of stairs to the Chamber of the Painted Table. That chamber was supposed to be Renly's solar. It was an impressive room and even Renly would appreciate the beauty of it. It was a shame that Renly would never glimpse the room. To Loras's knowledge, even the stag king was a stranger in this room.

Another king will claim this chamber soon.

It wouldn't be long now. Why couldn't Grandmother be pleased with having the stags on the Throne? Loras thought rebelliously. If Margaery wasn't able to wed a Baratheon prince, surely one of Willas's descendants would have a chance to be a queen? Baratheons would not marry their heirs to Starks every time. Oh no, both Father and Grandmother wanted Margaery to be queen. At least Father had plans for Margaery to be a Baratheon queen. Loras darkened. He still recalled the time Grandmother called him a fool for agreeing with Father.

"Ser Loras?"

Loras stifled a sigh. His cousin Ser Lyonel had found him. Lyonel wasn't bad or a rogue, but he had no brains. He was loyal, but he did naught unless he was told a specific order. Loras studied his cousin. Lyonel was tall and had the brown eyes of his father Ser Leo and the golden brown hair of his mother Lady Alys Beesbury. It also seemed Lyonel was attempting to grow a beard.

"What is it?" said Loras, stepping out of the Chamber of the Painted Table and closing the door behind him. It came as no surprise when he caught a glimpse of the dragons dancing across the door frame.

"There's been a sighting of ships," Lyonel reported. "The other guards sent me to inform you."

The rightful king is almost here. "Let them come."

Lyonel stared at him, astonished for probably the first time in his life. "Did you say let them, Ser Loras? Is Lord Baratheon expecting guests?"

"I suppose so," said Loras absently. Lyonel frowned. "Lord Baratheon is at the Eyrie is he not, Ser Loras? My brothers are there."

"They are most likely…early guests for the Dragonstone tourney. You are quite aware that Lord Baratheon plans to hold a tourney here?"

"O-of course! Guests, Ser Loras? You are certain?"

"Quite." A lump formed in Loras's throat. "Maybe some guests are coming here from the Vale. A couple of lords might have decided to attend the Vale wedding – the king himself is at the Vale wedding."

Lyonel nodded. "As you say, Ser Loras." He hesitated for a moment. "What is it that you wish me to convey to the other guards?"

"Tell them not to worry about the ships. There will be people coming here in a few hours I believe. Allow them to pass. They are here for the tourney or they are in need for rest on their journey home from the Vale. Maybe they bring pieces of Vale news with them."

"Yes, Ser Loras. I'll tell the other guards that at once." His initial rage replaced by depression, Loras wandered around the castle with no clear goal in mind. Was it time to watch for ships again? No. The household guards are doing that and if a Pentoshi ship was spotted, Lyonel would probably come running.

Maybe seeking out Gormon was a better idea. Loras dismissed it. Gormon was probably talking to Margaery and Loras was not interested in talking to his sister just yet. He knew he would speak to her eventually. Like any sibling argument no matter how childish, it would always come to an end.

Bored of brooding and thinking about his dead lover, Loras escaped the castle to the training yard. No one else was about – exactly as Loras hoped. Loras strode to the practice dummies, his sword in hand. Testing one of the practice dummies, Loras prodded the dummy's head. He sneezed. Dust slowly fluttered to the stone ground and onto the tip of Loras's sword. When was the last time those practice dummies were used? From experience, practice dummies were never cleaned or washed – they were patched up from time to time though. Loras studied three of the practice dummies closest to him. The canvas on the practice dummies had all been patched at least once, but not recently. Renly had never sparred with Loras or anyone at Dragonstone; Stannis didn't seem the sparring type; and before the Baratheons claimed Dragonstone, the last Targaryen queen resided here.

Shrugging aside the inquisitive thoughts, Loras twisted his sword around and attacked the first practice dummy to his right. He hacked, whacked and drove his sword through the dummy's head. He breathed heavily and stabbed the dummy a second time, and then a third, a fourth, a fifth…

Scraps of old straw and fragments of canvas rained everywhere on the ground, slivers of old straw landing on Loras's boots. Ignoring the remnants of straw and canvas, Loras turned his attention to the next practice dummy. Picture it as your enemy, Loras told himself. It was originally Garlan's idea. Think of this dummy as a Baratheon soldier – your foe.

It didn't work.

All Loras could see was the wooden figure clothed in canvas and stuffed tight with old straw planted in front of him.

Loras launched into another vigorous training exercise. What's the matter with me? Loras thought, furiously stabbing the second practice dummy. Visualising an army of men in Baratheon (or other enemy) colours was simple; a hopeless child could even do it. To his horror, the practice dummy morphed into Renly. No…no, it shouldn't be Renly. Loras's sword hand faltered. "Why?" Loras murmured. "I've done nothing…I wanted you to live, not die." If he had his way, he would've defied his grandmother and Margaery and insisted for Renly to live. What did the Queen of Thorns and Margaery know about love? Nothing. All they'd loved and nurtured were power and ambition.

It was well known that women serve men; in House Tyrell, it was the men that fought for the women's whims. Grandmother wanted Margaery queen and all the Tyrell men would be obliged to fight for that to happen.

Loras closed his eyes. "Family first," he said aloud. "Everything we do is for the good of House Tyrell." He opened his eyes and stared at the gleaming blade of his sword. "House Tyrell will rise," he said, echoing Grandmother's words. "It will be the greatest of Great Houses." With him a member of the Kingsguard, his brother Willas the Lord Protector of Storm's End, their brother Garlan a member of Small Council and Margaery queen, what could go wrong?


"Oh! He is almost here!" Loras remained still as Margaery grabbed his arm. "It is too soon!" Margaery exclaimed excitedly. "I thought he would be here when it's closer to evening! The winds must be on his side!"

Loras forced himself to nod in agreement. There was no point brooding about Renly now with the Targaryen king so close to Dragonstone.

"Ser Loras?" came Lyonel's tentative voice. "Are you certain we're to allow the um, riders in? There is quite a lot of them for guests."

"We're to give them entrance!" snapped Loras.

"What say Lady Baratheon?" challenged another household guard who wasn't one of Loras's relatives or loyal to House Tyrell. "She's Lord Baratheon's wife and should decide whether we are to give those men entrance or not." Loras couldn't help but shoot him an annoyed glare. He was the Castellan of Dragonstone – why ask Margaery at all?

Margaery smiled at the household guard who acknowledged her. "My husband will not wish for us to be unhospitable, especially with a tourney so close. He will be most displeased to hear we refused to allow weary travellers entry. You'll not wish to face my lord husband's wrath, now do you?" Renly was never angry. In a rare moment that he was, he would mutter and complain forcefully. Renly would never raise his voice or shout furiously like his brother Robert Baratheon. Slowly, a lump formed in Loras's throat as Renly returned in his mind.

"Very well," the household guard said with a nod. He looked at Loras. "We give them entrance?" he asked.

"Yes," said Loras irritably. "How many times must I say we are to give the men entrance? A dozen? Twice a dozen? Thrice a dozen?"

Margaery shot him a warning look. Calm down, her brown eyes ordered. There is no point snapping at the household guards. Loras almost huffed. The household guards would be angry when they discover the Tyrell plans anyway.

It wasn't long before the black doors swung open and the Targaryen king right in front of Loras. The household guards gasped and shouted as they saw the true king's black tunic embroidered with the three-headed red dragon. The king took another step forward. Loras instantly knelt. "Your Grace," he heard himself say. "I am honoured to welcome you to Dragonstone."

"You may rise." The young Targaryen king's voice was confident. Loras obeyed and stared at him. King Aegon had the Valyrian features: violet eyes and a mop of silver hair. Sitting on his brow was a golden crown encrusted with rubies. Loras took a deep breath.

The time for mourning and brooding was over. The Targaryen king across the water was home. The second reign of the dragon was about to begin.


Thank you for the list of Northern names! I greatly appreciated it :) I did feel slightly bad for killing off both Robert and Renly Baratheon together, but it was needed to advance the story. Besides, what is an ASOIAF story without deaths? :)