He sat in the rookery at the very top of the Sea Dragon Tower, quill in hand, though the letter he was attempting to write was largely forgotten.
Loreon Storm had only been to Dragonstone twice before this. The first time had been shortly after he arrived in court, a brief trip made with his father and several others. The second time had been when he was thirteen, and was an official courtly visit, which of course the king had insisted on bringing him on, both to spite the queen and show off his bastard son who looked so much like him. Ren had been with them, then, brought along as the squire to the Kingsguard. The two of them had spent their mornings sparring with the Dragonstone knights in the yard, and their afternoons exploring the crags and ridges of the island with a few of the local boys.
They had even brought little Tommen along on one occasion, dressing him up in plainer clothes and claiming him as a pageboy. The prince had enjoyed himself greatly, making friends with some of the smallfolk boys his age and getting covered in dirt and dust like the rest of them, only to be scolded furiously by his mother upon their return, who demanded Loreon punished for leading her son into trouble. The king had just laughed, of course, saying he was glad Tommen was being toughened up. Loreon's dear aunt had given him hateful looks for the rest of the visit, though that was hardly any different from usual. Ren had somehow escaped blame on that occasion, as he normally did, by melting silently into the background without even trying as the queen had stormed into the yard to catch them coming back. He was irrelevant to Cersei, simply her brother's skinny northern squire, not worth bothering with. Lucky bastard, Loreon had remembered saying after, and his friend had smirked faintly.
Those days were only four years ago, but it felt like a lifetime since.
Loreon glanced out to sea through one of the large arched windows, seeing the tiny speck of a fishing boat rolling on the waves, far away. He wasn't usually one to enjoy peace and quiet - he was like his father in that sense, at least - but recently he found that he did like being up here alone in the tower, where the only noise was that of the ravens, and the sea crashing onto the rocks far below them. There was only so much diplomacy and plotting he could take before even he had to come away for a while.
His dislike for quiet was hardly the only thing that had changed. His father was dead, slain by a boar. In truth, his death was no great surprise; fat and drunk as the man was, his heart likely would have burst soon enough. Admittedly it didn't take a genius to work out that something would go wrong when the king had roared that he would kill this one single-handedly, given the amount of wine his father had drunk. Loreon remembered the squeal of the boar, the awful ripping of flesh, the blood, the smell, the king's entrails hanging out as he gave a great roar and slew the beast anyway.
He knew in that moment that his father was a dead man, no one survived a wound like that. It was miracle enough that he held onto life for the several days it took to return to King's Landing, along with another day after that.
Loreon had visited the king's deathbed, and said his last farewells, but had been gone from the castle before his father drew his last. Lord Stark would be a good Regent, but Joffrey would be king nonetheless. His half-brother despised him, his aunt even more so, and with King Robert not there to stop them, one of the pair would see him dead within a moon's turn.
So he had packed and prepared to leave the city with all the gold he could carry from his tourney winnings. He slept poorly in a seedy inn by the docks, a dagger under his pillow, then woke early that morning to buy passage to Dragonstone. Stannis had no particularly affection for his brother's bastard son, but Storm's End was too far for now, even though he would have received a warmer welcome with his Uncle Renly. The Westerlands would have been even better, but that meant getting dangerously close to the turbulent Riverlands, and besides, he didn't particularly like the idea of fleeing back to his mother and her husband.
The ship set sail as the bells of the Great Sept began to toll, marking the death of the king. The deck was dotted with sailors and a dozen other passengers, and they all knew what the bells meant, but none knew that it wasn't his king Loreon mourned, but his father. For all Robert Baratheon's faults, he had been that at least.
Ordinarily he would've tried to make conversation with his fellow passengers, or offered to help the sailors, but today he simply stood at the stern of the ship as they sailed out into Blackwater Bay, staring at the high up walls of the Red Keep on the hill. There looked to be more activity there than usual, he noticed, squinting up at the battlements. Hold on...
"They're fighting, up at the castle, look!" A nearby sailor called out, and many of the passengers hurried to the stern to look. He was right; though they were too far away to see clearly who was fighting who, the faint sounds of clashing steel could be heard even at this distance.
Everyone had all kinds of theories, of course, and Loreon absently listened as he tried in vain to make out the colour of the men's uniforms.
"It's the queen what killed King Robert," A fat merchant was insisting. "The Lannisters are always up to no good," There was a hum of agreement from everyone at this; most people of King's Landing remembered the Sack all too well.
"I've got the best eyes in King's Landing, and that there's goldcloaks fighting the redcloaks," Another man swore.
"Rubbish," An older woman scoffed. "That's red and gold fighting white. I bet it's that Hand, Lord Stark. Those northerners are just a bunch o' wildlings waiting to take over - I heard they can all turn into wolves! He's probably done for poor Prince Joffrey by now,"
"Maybe it's that bastard of the king's, starting a mutiny to take his trueborn brother's crown,"
"Isn't his mother a Lannister too? Why would he?"
"No, it's the queen who's a Lannister, fool,"
"King Robert got a bastard on his wife's sister, before they were married,"
"Why did he marry Queen Cersei, then?"
"Have you had a look at the queen? What man would turn his nose up at taking her to wife?"
Loreon, grinning slightly despite himself, said nothing.
The journey from King's Landing had taken over three days, and Dragonstone had hardly given him a warm welcome.
It had started to rain by the time he made the climb up to the castle from the harbour, so Loreon was dripping wet by the time he reached the gates. A disagreement with the guards on the gates had ensued - in this state he hardly looked like the son of a king, even a bastard one - but he had managed to convince the men to at least take him seriously. They had escorted him inside, to old Maester Cressen, who had served at Storm's End for decades and only had to look him over to know that he was who he said he was.
Then they had taken him to Stannis. Or rather, Stannis and his red witch.
His uncle received Loreon in his solar, as stony-faced as ever, his stony demeanour contrasting with the woman behind him.
"Lord Stannis," Loreon bowed slightly. "Lady Melisandre. I've not had the pleasure of meeting you before," She was beautiful, with a heart shaped face, and very tall, slender and shapely, but there was something odd about her presence nonetheless. Her hair was red, her gown red, and she wore a huge red ruby choker around her neck. The woman smiled serenely, inclining her head at his greeting.
"Loreon Storm," Her voice was richly accented. His uncle, however, was unmoved.
"Well?" No greetings or pleasantries, but he had expected nothing less from the man. "Why are you here?"
"I'm sure you've already heard that my father is dead," Stannis nodded sharply, once. "Joffrey is king now. The boy despises me, as does his mother - if I stayed, I'd have been dead within the week," The fact the man did not dispute this said everything, really. "I might not have lasted the day, given the fighting I saw from the ship. Do you know anything of that?" Stannis stared at him for a moment, seeming to consider whether to tell him or not, though for all the expression visible on his face he could have been contemplating that evening's meal.
"Lord Stark was arrested, his men killed and his daughters taken prisoner,"
"Arrested? Why?" Loreon raised an eyebrow sharply. "The last time I saw my father, he was making the man regent,"
"Supposedly, Lord Stark commented treason," Stannis gave a derisive snort. "He tried to seize the throne from Joffrey, proclaiming him a false king before Robert's body was even cold,"
"You say that like you don't believe it," He phrased it carefully. His uncle misliked assumptions, and Loreon was constantly aware of the red woman stood at the man's shoulder.
"I believe every word," Stannis replied. "Every word of Stark's, that is. I have no love for the man, but he has a sense of duty, at least. He would hardly betray Robert's son, and did no such thing, despite moving against Joffrey," Loreon stared at him for a few moments. Had it been anyone else, he'd have believed them to be joking, but his uncle was hardly the type.
"You believe Joffrey is not Robert's son," It wasn't a question.
"I don't believe, I know," Stannis' jaw clenched. "I've known since long before Lord Arryn died. I suspected the truth, so I investigated. Robert would hardly have believed me, particularly on such a matter as this, so I approached his beloved foster father. That truth is likely what Jon Arryn died for," He spoke with such conviction, and anger, that suddenly the idea did not sound so ridiculous after all. But Loreon was hardly going to take such an accusation at face value.
"So who is Robert's rightful heir, then?" He asked pointedly. "Tommen?" Stannis scoffed.
"Don't play those games with me," He glowered. "You know full well what I meant. All three of Robert's children are bastards, and I am the rightful heir to the Iron Throne," How fortunate for you. But his uncle valued duty over all else. If he truly believed Joffrey was the rightful king, Loreon honestly doubted that he was the type to make a grab for the throne himself. But where did he get these ideas from? Stannis certainly believed it was the truth, but was he correct?
"Others won't see it that way," Loreon tried to be diplomatic. "I'm sure you can see how it would look. Your brother dead, and you suddenly start bringing up accusations against his children that, if true, would make you king," He saw Stannis' eyes narrow, and quickly continued. "I'm not saying that's what I think, but before you start making claims - which I imagine you intend to do?" His uncle gave a sharp nod. "You need proof,"
"You think I don't have proof?" Stannis snapped. "Proof is here in front of me, dressed in your clothes and sitting in your chair. Proof is in your dark hair and that of Edric Storm. Robert's bastard in the Vale is black of hair also, as is another working in a King's Landing armoury, as is an infant girl in one of Littlefinger's brothels. All the king's baseborn children have the Baratheon look, including his son with his wife's own sister. Yet all his trueborn heirs resemble their mother,"
Loreon thought on that, coming to an uncomfortable realisation. Gods, he's right. The consequences of that were unimaginable. Actually no, he could imagine them well enough, and wasn't sure if he entirely disliked what he saw.
"Do you have any idea who the father of Cersei's children is?" Stannis' jaw clenched even further.
"The Kingslayer," He ground out. It took a moment for that to sink in. Loreon blinked in surprise, and would have laughed had his uncle's face not been so deadly serious, so clearly disgusted.
"You're saying her twin brother fathered all her children? Surely not even Cersei - "
"I have a letter, written in Eddard Stark's hand and sent the day Robert died, claiming that the queen confessed the truths of her vile incest to him personally,"
After Stannis showed him the letter - clearly resenting having to prove anything to his bastard nephew, but doing so regardless for reasons he didn't share - Loreon had been convinced.
The next weeks had been spent trying to get the man agree to allow him to sit in on his war councils. As far as Stannis was concerned, Loreon's status was simply that of any young knight serving on Dragonstone, which did not warrant a seat at his table, which was irritating.
It's not like he hasn't got the room. So far the only houses backing Stannis were the lords sworn to Dragonstone, the lords of the Narrow Sea; Velaryon, Bar Emmon, Celtigar, Sunglass. Ser Davos Seaworth had been sent into the Stormlands to try and win the support of the lords there, but had so far been unsuccessful.
So with little else to do, and knowing his uncle was too stubborn to even hope to persuade, Loreon had played to his strengths.
He had approached the proud, fierce Lord Monford Velaryon first. Men like him were rather easy to befriend in truth. A little flattery, and when the inevitable suggestion of a spar in the training yard was brought up, prove himself skilled whilst letting the man win at least half the time. Velaryon clearly saw Loreon as inferior, yet not so inferior as to be not worth bothering with; he might be a bastard, but he was a king's son, and his mother was a Lannister. Once the two were on friendly terms, it was easy to get him talking about what went on in the war councils, easy to work out what Velaryon felt about each of the other lords and Stannis himself, easy to see any potential problems that may or may not arise.
Duram Bar Emmon was next, a fat and feeble boy of fifteen who was rather wary of Loreon at first, but once he offered to help the boy become a better fighter, and took him out drinking with several of the other young knights, Duram became loyal to a fault. Much of the same information could be wrung from him as from Velaryon, but the boy, though weak-willed, was shrewder than he seemed and saw what Loreon was doing. He didn't seem to care though, freely sharing anything he knew.
Guncer Sunglass was easy. The man was pious, and prayed three times a day; all Loreon had to do to win him over was join him in the sept a few times, voice his concern over Melisandre's growing influence and confess that he often prayed for his mother over the shame of having him out of wedlock. Old Ardrian Celtigar, with his slimy smile and cynicism, was harder to get in the good graces of. Loreon couldn't make it too obvious that he was trying, and that man was still a work in progress.
But in the meantime, he had integrated himself into the workings of Dragonstone itself. He often went drinking with, or sparred with, the castle guardsmen and the many knights the lords had brought with them, fitting into both groups easily and making many friends there. He was known in the kitchens for regularly donating his hunting kills, and always made sure to smile at the servants. The armourer in the town knew him by name, as did every innkeep on the island, and many of the dockside workers, all of which were valuable sources of information if he ever needed anything found out. And he spent time with his cousin, little Shireen, who was always glad for any company given that most shunned her for her greyscale scars. The girl was sweet, but very intelligent, despite that strange old fool Patchface she kept around.
Loreon's aim in all of this was to somehow convince his uncle that he would be useful for something of note. Stannis was famous for his blunt way of speaking, a way that did not tend to inspire likability or foster agreement, and often managed to get people's backs up. He didn't think his uncle would lower himself enough to ask for Loreon's help when the man was convinced that he was right, and it was everyone else's solemn duty to follow his orders without question, but it was a start at least.
It had worked, though.
"I see you inherited my brother's talent for making friends," Only Stannis could say that like it was a bad thing, like the words themselves were distasteful. "My council is rife with mentions of how generous Loreon Storm is, my daughter sings your praises and is there any man in the garrison who you haven't bought drinks for?" Loreon refrained from grinning, merely nodded.
"I doubt it, my lord,"
"I suppose you're pleased with yourself," His uncle ground out. "I've had enough of games in this castle. You can put those talents to good use. Seeing how Seaworth and every other man has failed me, we can see how the lords of the Stormlands take to their beloved Robert's bastard reminding them of their duty. If you can wrangle a reply out of Renly, do it,"
Remembering that conversation, Loreon smiled faintly as he looked out to sea again, then glanced back down at his letter, almost finished.
Snow,
I'm not dead, though that's likely only because I escaped my dear aunt's clutches. I'd apologise for leaving your sister behind, but the situation hardly allowed for anything but getting the hells out. I have arrived on Dragonstone, to find Stannis is proclaiming himself king, and Joffrey, Myrcella and Tommen to be bastards - born of incest of all things - with a letter from Ned Stark as proof.
You won't have heard any word from Dragonstone, though. I believe the current plan is threatening silence, but hope that will soon change. My uncle is planning his next moves carefully.
The claims are outlandish, I'll admit, especially given they're coming from Stannis, the rightful king if they're true. I didn't believe it at first, but the more I think, the more it makes sense. If anything, it's good news, as the true king doesn't want to see my head on a spike yet, though I'll definitely be asking Jaime a few questions next time I see him.
You probably worked all this out months ago, sly bastard that you are, but in case you haven't, tell your cousin. I hear you're marching to war, and what better way for the North to receive its vengeance than dethroning the little shit who imprisoned Lord Stark? Stannis is planning to send an official letter, announcing his claim and calling for the lords to do their duty, but I thought you'd appreciate the advance warning regardless. I'm sure young Robb will appreciate all the allies he can get, and this letter puts things rather more pleasantly than Stannis' demands will.
I'm due to set out for the Stormlands in a few days, so don't bother replying. Not sure what's happening there, Storm's End has gone oddly quiet. That's why I'm going, I suppose. No one there knows I'm with Stannis yet.
Try not to die. If there's a way to sort this mess out without Tommen, Myrcella and Jaime dying, I hope to be able to find it. I'm still half-Lannister after all, for all the Storm in me, and I won't have it said I turned my back on the family that claim to have raised me. Though Tywin, Joffrey and Cersei can go bugger themselves for all I care.
Your friend, Loreon Storm
Despite the fact he was writing it in the rookery, the letter would be sent by rider, as the Northern army could be anywhere by now. Loreon knew most of the castle garrison by name, and could ask any number of men to do the job. His tourney winnings would help greatly with that, he was sure. Look at me, paying my way like a true lion. He snorted slightly at the thought.
He had never felt like a Lannister. He had been raised in Casterly Rock until he was eleven, but his position as a bastard was certainly made clear. Though he received a knight's training, sparring in the yard with the sons of lords, and was taught his letters and basic sums by the maester, he was certainly not part of the family. At feasts, he was sat on the benches amongst the guardsmen, his care as a child was largely left to a single elderly nursemaid, and Lord Tywin's eyes passed over him as if he was just another face in the rabble.
Of course, it was hardly the worst life, and people throughout all seven kingdoms put up with far worse. But Loreon had seen the full maester's education his cousins were getting, seen that they were being equipped with the skills of a lord, a battle commander, not just those of a warrior. The thought of his entire future consisting of being a household knight in Casterly Rock was rather bleak.
He had always known he knew he could do so much better. Perhaps that was his Lannister side talking. It was ungrateful, he knew - many smallfolk boys would kill for a chance like his - but despite what Lord Tywin liked to pretend, Loreon was half a Lannister, and that ambition, which seemed to have skipped out his mother and Jaime, ran in his veins too.
When his father had summoned him to court, he had been a rather sullen boy in truth; though he made friends easily, he also angered just as fast, learning early on in life to use his fists and size to deal with those mocking him. In Casterly Rock, he was simply Loreon, a bastard son, and everyone just accepted that for what it was. People expected little of him.
But in King's Landing, he was the king's bastard. The queen despised him (though he knew that already from times she had visited the Westerlands), but his father had treated him like a shiny new toy. Here was a son he could be proud of, Robert Baratheon had loudly claimed after watching him beat his fellow squires in the training yard, or kill a stag in a hunt, or finally snap back at Queen Cersei after one of her veiled insults against his mother.
In the Red Keep, Loreon learned that being a friendly face, being likeable and charming even to strangers and those he disliked, was the easiest way to get ahead, despite his closest friend having a rather different view. Renan Snow was cold towards strangers, with his mother's sharp tongue and a reserved manner that intimidated many. The fact that he had the best swordsmen in the castle - aside from the Hound, Barristan Selmy and Jaime Lannister - since he was fourteen only added to that. But where Loreon had been in the spotlight the moment he arrived, with the big scandal surrounding the king bringing his baseborn son to court, Ren had been invisible, just some northern boy, who was skilled at not being noticed. For a while he had even been able to pass as a servant to those that didn't know him, though word soon spread of the young squire who could give grown knights a run for their money. As half a Stark too, King Robert had noticed him more often than normal.
Ren was most likely sat at his cousin's right hand now, fighting his war alongside him. Perhaps that was due in part to his mother - Rosennis Stark held sway over her family like Giana Lannister never had - but Loreon knew his friend liked Robb, and was liked in return. Part of him wished for a family like the Starks, stern and solemn but loyal to their own, even the bastards. He had met Jon Snow in Winterfell, who aside from Lady Catelyn's dislike, had been raised largely the same as his trueborn brothers. And though Ren had been treated arguably worse than Loreon in the Dreadfort, his mother had never looked at him any differently to her other children.
Loreon's own mother was rather different. She had only been fourteen when she gave birth to him, and it was almost like that sense of childishness had remained in her mind when it came to him. When he saw her with her trueborn children, she acted like a mother, telling them off when they misbehaved and making sure they were neat and presentable. To him, she had always acted more like a sister. Perhaps that was because she hadn't been there to see him grow, he wasn't sure. On her visits to Casterly Rock she would spoil him and hug him and bring him toys, but was always uncomfortable when it came to doing anything remotely motherly. Even in recent years when she had come to see him in King's Landing - with Loreon now older than she was when she had him, and more than a foot taller - no one could say that they looked like mother and son.
He got up from his seat by the windowsill, rolling up the parchment, the ink having dried. He could no longer see the fishing boat on the water anymore, though there were dark clouds building up on the horizon.
Loreon Storm sighed, turning away from the window and preparing to switch on his friendly smile as he descended the spiral staircase.
It took ten days to reach Storm's End from Dragonstone, and one more to travel from where they had reached land further down the coast, given there was no safe anchorage near the castle. Loreon had always liked Storm's End. It was an imposing castle, hardly beautiful like Highgarden or Starfall, but its strength was so evident just from looking at it, and the wind ever-blowing off of Shipbreaker Bay always seemed to carry the promise of a storm. He had been in the castle for such a storm once before, and the howl of the wind, the roar of the sea, the flashes of lightening and booming thunderclaps so loud it sounded like the sky itself was splitting open, echoing through the walls of the very castle itself, had made his blood race.
Unlike Dragonstone, Loreon and the four men accompanying him were welcomed in with open arms upon approaching the gates. Having passed through the huge curtain wall, the castellan, Ser Cortnay Penrose, came down to greet them, glad to see him and clapping him on the back.
Penrose had been castellan of Storm's End whilst Renly was in the capital as Master of Laws, and had all but raised Edric Storm, Loreon's ten year old half-brother, the only other acknowledged bastard of Robert Baratheon. Loreon had been visiting Storm's End with his father or Renly ever since he had come to King's Landing, and knew the man well.
"Is my uncle not here?" He asked as they were shown into the castle. "I thought he left King's Landing the day my father died, that's more than enough time?" Penrose smiled slightly as they entered the colossal drum tower.
"He was never here, Storm," He said, showing them up the stairs. "Lord Renly went straight to Highgarden from the capital, he reached it some weeks ago. He did send word of his arrival. I can show you his letters, if you like," Something in his tone suggested that this would be a very good idea.
Once they were sequestered in the lord's solar, Penrose brought out a bundle of parchment, handing one in particular over. All it took was for Loreon to read the words 'I am soon to be crowned king' before his heart sank like a stone. It was all he could do not to curse. Gods, this is all we fucking need, a rival in the form of our own house.
He had suspected something was wrong when Renly had not replied to any message sent from Dragonstone. But this? Stannis had told him to win the loyalty of the Stormlands. By that he meant trail around to each castle and landed knight and demand that they support their rightful king, doubtlessly being told no each time like they had told Ser Davos before him. Stannis was not lord of Storm's End, and he was not particularly loved in these lands. But Renly was, to both. No wonder they told Davos no... They're probably already marching. There was no point asking for the loyalty of men who wouldn't even be there.
Stannis' strategy was clearly not working. So Loreon would do it his own way. Already he was wondering how long it would take to get to Highgarden.
"Could you lend us horses, Ser?" He looked up sharply at Penrose, who nodded, not looking particularly surprised.
"Bet you want to join him as soon as possible, eh Storm?" He chuckled. "I hear he's forming his own Kingsguard, there'd surely be a space for you if you wanted it,"
"I wouldn't be so bold as to ask," Loreon smiled absently, his mind miles away.
They stayed one night at Storm's End, spending the rest of that day gathering provisions and organising logistics. One of the men would return to Dragonstone to update Stannis on the situation, whilst the rest would accompany Loreon to Highgarden.
That evening he dined with Edric Storm. His younger brother was always glad to see him, and near idolised him, given Robert gave him scant enough attention. Loreon managed to get through the boy's heartfelt outpouring of grief about their father's death without revealing that all the gifts the king supposedly sent him were chosen by Varys, and kindly refused when Edric eagerly asked to go with him to the Reach.
"Tell you what," He said at his brother's clear disappointment. "You can be my squire in a couple of years, how about that?" If either of us live that long. But Edric's face lit up once more, and the rest of the meal passed smoothly.
They left early the next morning, on borrowed horses. Instead of taking the Kingsroad up until it joined the Roseroad, they decided to travel as the crow flies as far as possible, picking up farmer's tracks and smaller roads for a more direct route.
It was soon into their journey, however, that they came across another traveller on the road. Loreon had taken the large figure riding in armour for a knight at first, but after calling out a greeting, realised that it was a woman. At over six feet tall, hugely muscled and with a very ugly face, he did not know her personally, but the lady his uncle Renly had spoken of was unmistakable by reputation alone.
"Are you Lady Brienne, my lady?" He asked with a friendly smile, ignoring the mocking chuckles of his men behind him. The woman - who had initially looked rather shocked at seeing him - eyed him with suspicion, though she couldn't have been more than a year or two older than he was.
"I am, ser," She replied. "How do you know me? Forgive me, you - you look like someone I've met before,"
"I look like a Baratheon," He laughed. "I'm Loreon Storm. My uncle Renly spoke of you," It would have come across cruel to say what he normally would have to a lady, that they had spoken of her beauty. Brienne flushed slightly.
"I'm riding to join his host at Highgarden," She said, turning away and seeming to except him to laugh at her. Loreon did not. Woman though she might be, she was clearly stronger than many men, and he had heard that she could actually use that sword she carried.
"As are we," He said. "You could ride with us, my lady? We have provisions, and travel is always safer in a group," She considered him for a moment. She's suspicious of every kindness. Though that wasn't particularly surprising, given that most men to court her likely only did it as she was heiress of Tarth, and made fun of her looks behind her back.
"No, I don't want to impose - "
"We could do with someone else to keep watch," He cut her off. "Dywen here grumbles all day about having to wake up in the middle of the night. You wouldn't be imposing, you'd be useful,"
In the end, Brienne did end up riding with them, though she clearly heard the muttered comments from two of the men in particularly, and the muffled laughter. You'd think that growing up as an ugly woman, she would have grown a thick skin by now, but Loreon saw how the words hurt her.
"I heard of the thrashing you gave Ser Humfrey Wagstaff," He grinned at her as they made camp for the night.
"How did you hear of that?" She flushed again.
"It's true, then?" One of the men looked up from the campfire, amused. The proud old knight was not a very popular man amongst the guardsmen of castles he visited. "I thought he was your betrothed?" The other two smirked at each other.
"He was," Brienne sounded like she wanted to sink into the ground. "He... he said that when we were married, he expected me to wear only women's clothes, and he would chastise me if I didn't obey him. So I said I would accept punishment only from a man who could beat me in a fight," They all laughed at that, except the lady, who shifted uncomfortably.
"What happened then?" Loreon prompted.
"I broke his collarbone and two ribs with a mace," Brienne said, and even she had to smile slightly at that as they burst out laughing again. "And the betrothal was called off,"
"I bet it was," He grinned. "So you can use that sword, then. How about a spar?"
"We have no tourney swords, ser," The woman said. "I wouldn't want to - " She broke off, hearing the snort from one of the men. I wouldn't want to hurt you, had been what she was going to say. Loreon didn't hear that often, given he was six and a half feet tall and built rather like the young Robert Baratheon.
"You laugh, Edwyn," He raised an eyebrow. "But have you seen the size of her? She could snap those skinny arms of yours clean off," Brienne clearly wasn't sure whether to take that as a compliment or insult, and turned away to tend the fire.
It took them over two weeks to reach Highgarden, and that was pushing a fast pace. The castle truly was beautiful, but Loreon was focused more on the enormous host gathering beneath the outer walls. Banners from all over the Reach and Stormlands could be seen fluttering in the breeze, and the city of tents was vast. More importantly, even from this distance, they looked to be packing.
"Just in time," He smiled, though he was already wondering what in hells he could do. Loreon thought of Stannis, and his own strength; four meagre Narrow Sea lords, arguing on the grim, dark Dragonstone. Renly had vast strength in numbers, the near unlimited provisions of the Reach and charisma that Stannis would never have.
For a moment, he considered shedding his allegiance to Stannis. It would certainly be the easy path to take. Renly knew him, liked him, would surely offer him a high up position and, most importantly, looked to be on the winning side. With the Tyrells allegiance, he could control the trade going into King's Landing, food specifically. Renly could effectively put the city under siege from a hundred leagues away.
But then Loreon realised that he didn't particularly want easy.
On the face of it, Renly was the obvious choice. But things that seemed too good to be true usually were. He knew his uncle, knew that whilst Renly might like the idea of being king, the moment war or struggle came, he would lose his nerve. All these lords and knights had flocked to him, but should he falter in any way, they would flock to someone else, the next highest bidder. Renly was loved, and men like Lord Tywin were feared, but each on its own was not enough, a set up for eventual failure.
Loreon hardened his head against getting drawn in to the whole charade. Stannis was the king, there could be no doubt about that.
"Come on," He turned to look at his companions, seeing his own doubts reflected in the eyes of the three men. "Best make ourselves known. I must see my uncle,"
This chapter was such a headache to write that I actually finished the next one before coming back to it, so sorry for the delay. I'm still not entirely happy - Loreon is quite hard to write simply because I haven't had the hours writing from his POV like Ross or Ren, and we're thrown into the deep end with his story - but I'd love to hear what you all think. Constructive criticism welcome.
