Disclaimer: All characters and settings in the below piece of fiction belongs to George RR Martin, and I am in no way profiting off of this

Warning: None

Authors Note: Thanks for the reads, you guys! Appreciate it!

The pluck of the bowstring and the whiz of arrows sounded in the field, followed by a few shouts of a competitive nature. Playing with the silver ring on his thumb, Renly spun it around and around as he walked towards the practice field, two guards trailing after him. It has been a busy morning and he had spent most of it inside behind a desk, speaking with numerous different men who all seemed to think that because he was sixteen he knew nothing and should be 'guided' to fit the course of action that would benefit them the most. He was used to the hypocrisy, of course—he'd grown up with people trying to feed him ideas and move him into the perfect position in which to exploit his power like a pawn. He was used to it, but that did not mean he had to like it.

In fact he hated it. He hated sitting around in a stone building while men and women alike bickered and fought and schemed their way into his good graces. He hated it, but he let it happen. He would smile and nod, make the proper comments and strive for a laugh or two, because what else could he do? He was a puppet in many ways; a strung up young Baratheon who was favoured because at least he wasn't the other Baratheon. It was easier to get on Renly's good side and, subsequently the realms good side, than it was to kiss up to Stannis.

Sometimes Renly wished he could tell some of those men and women what he really thought about their petty differences and a desire for drama, but instead he made snide remarks hidden with sarcasm and an open smile.

"Bloody politics, bloody scheming, bloody fucking lordship, and bloody buggering piece of horse shit kingdom," he mumbled under his breath, eyebrows furrowed as he trudged down the path, kicking away small stones and a clump of horse manure. Turning the wide corner around a patch of blueberry bushes, Renly readied himself to once again play the role of the kind Lord, and straightened his back, brushed away the hair from his eyes, and relaxed his face as he came upon the young boys practicing their archery in the field.

Oh how he longed to be out in the field once more, not caring about his duties or his manners. If only he could pick up a makeshift cape and run about like he did when he was five… he imagined he could do that now if he really wanted to, but he'd probably be looked upon as if he were some fool or insane…

It might be worth it to see the faces of the people, though. Renly Baratheon, younger brother to King Robert, has finally lost it. Only took sixteen years.

But reminiscing and getting irritated about his rather cushy lifestyle was not the purpose of going out to the practice field, and Renly was reminded of that fact when he saw Loras standing near the end of the line, bow in hand and eyes narrowed as he drew the string back, arrow in its proper place while he focused on the target up ahead.

Watching him from a distance, Renly slowly made his way to a wooden bench set up behind the boys where the bowman would sit and critique. Brushing off some of the dirt, he sat down readjusted his cloak as his guards took up position behind him. He never used to have guards tail him at all times of the day, but things had been getting tense in King's Landing, which meant things were getting tense all over. Robert insisted that Renly keep guards close by at all times, and while Renly doubted it was really Robert's orders, the point still stood. What the King wanted, the King got, even if it was pressing into Renly's personal freedoms.

"What do you think of him?" Renly asked his guards, nodding his head in Loras' direction just as the arrow was let go. It hit the target perfectly.

"He seems like a good lad," one of them replied, and there was a bit of admiration in his tone near the end as the arrow found its mark.

"He'll make a fine knight under your lordship," the other said, and Renly couldn't help but roll his eyes.

"You know, when they said I would have a squire of my own, I thought I'd be training him myself. You know, showing him all of my skills and worldly knowledge—foolish idea, no? All he does is follow me around when he has to, brush my horses and practice with the other boys. He's just my personal… helper," Sighing, Renly flicked a small beetle that had scuttled up his leg off of his knee. "It is his name-day today."

There was silence from his guards, and Renly rolled his eyes before speaking again. "How many times do I have to tell you that when I am talking to you, you are fully capable of replying back? I don't need to give you permission to speak—everyone has an opinion." That was one thing Renly liked to make clear to the people who served him: They, just like any noble born person, had the right to speak their mind and act like a human rather than some creature made to serve and protect. Renly had always treated the people at Storm's End with courtesy and friendliness, because for the longest time the only friends he did have were his servants and guards. There were no children running around who were his age, and his brothers were older than he by fifteen and fourteen years. The only companionship he had were his servants and his own imagination.

Because of this, Renly insisted that those who worked in the Keep be given the same amount of respect and relative freedom as anyone else. To Renly, they were no different than he was, save for perhaps a well to do name and certain hereditary luck.

"Terribly sorry, m' Lord, it's just…"

"It's just?"

"Well, we aren't… used to this… to speaking so frankly to a lord of your standing."

Smiling, Renly shrugged and looked over his shoulder up at his new guard fresh from King's Landing. "I can see why you never spoke frankly up in King's Landing—they'd no doubt chop your head off and stick it up on a wall if you were to comment on how our dear Queen Cersei always looks as if she has a gourd stuffed up that cunt of hers."

That made the guards laugh. Although it was laced with a heavy dose of nerves and paranoia.

Turning back around, Renly returned to watched Loras practice, his attention completely on the task at hand. He was a dutiful boy, but one with a rebellious streak that came out now and again. He was also ambitious and willing to work hard for his rather lofty but not unattainable goals. With the right guidance and a little freedom, Loras was beginning to come into his own at Storm's End.

It had only been eleven months since he had arrived, but Renly could already see a dramatic difference in both his personality, as well as his appearance. He had learned to relax and laugh and joke more, and the arrogance he had come to the Keep with had all but disappeared—or, at least, it had left when Renly was around. He still heard tales from a few people of how Loras had all but insulted them with some sort of remark or look, but Renly found his moments of absolute haughtiness endearing in its own way. It helped that it was rarely directed at him, and it was also helpfully that many of the retorts Loras wielded in his witty repartee had come from Renly's own. But instead of blind arrogance and a superiority complex, Loras had begun to respect and even get along with many members of the Keep, so much so that many of the ladies and maids had begun to dote over him.

Another arrow had hit its target.

Naddy told him that Loras had given flowers to a few of the girls, and that it sent them all in a tizzy of excitement. When Renly asked why he had given them flowers, Loras simply shrugged and said it was something that was expected of him. Oddly enough he seemed less than enthused by all of the female attention he was receiving, but Renly knew that in due time he'd be interested in their flirtatious stares and pursed lips soon enough. Most boys turned their attention to women eventually… most, but not all…

A third hit a little to the right.

Then there was Loras' physical appearance that had started to transform. All of the hard work in the practice yard was beginning to have an effect, with muscles appearing where baby-fat had once sat and strength manifesting itself in the way he walked and how he stood. He had also grown somewhat, the pains working its way through his bones and muscles at night. A few times Renly had caught him wandering the keep after dark, and when pressed as to why he was 'skulking' around, Loras told him it hurt less when he was moving about.

After that, Renly would often join Loras for those midnight strolls, remembering what it was like to have your body ache with no reprieve.

The fourth hit its mark once again.

All in all, despite the fact that Renly had very little to do with Loras' actual training, he believed that Loras would become the summer knight he had always wished for. After earning his place at the tournaments, Loras would carry both the Tyrell name as well as the Baratheon one—a good situation for the both of them.

"What do you think?"

Turning his attention away from Loras, Renly looked up to see the bowman standing beside him, arms crossed over his broad chest as he too watched Loras. "Well he can certainly shoot a bow; that much is obvious."

This made the bowman laugh and rub his jaw. "Ay, he can do that. The weapons master tells me he's also good with a sword and the morning star."

"He's also improving with a lance," Renly added, a little pleased Loras was impressing so many men.

"Looks like you've picked a real good one to train! He'll make up for what you lack in skill." The cackle the man made after that caused Renly to playfully smack the man's side. Perhaps he was giving his people too much freedom.

Then again, it was good to be humbled now and again. It was true, though—Renly had never been very good at jousting. He fared well enough, but when it came down to it he lacked the enthusiasm for it. He preferred to sit in the stands and watch the events take place. He liked to admire the armour and soak in the atmosphere that surrounded him, while getting in a few good bets here and there as well as some entertaining banter. But he jousted when it was expected of him, just like everything else.

"Is he almost done for the day? It is his name-day and I was hoping I'd have time to give him his gift before I get pulled back into the daily drudgery of lordship life."

"I can pull him off for a bit if it would please, m' Lord." Stepping away, the bowman approached Loras with a certain amount of caution (the boy was holding a bow and arrow), and they conversed a moment before Loras rested his bow against a wooden pedestal and jogged over, a large smile spread across his features.

"My Lord, I did not know you were here," he said as Renly stood up and dusted off his clothes. "If I had known I would have—"

"Shown off more?"

That made Loras laugh, and Renly couldn't help but smile a little brighter. "Perhaps I would have shot an arrow just for you."

"I believe this is one of the few days in which you get to do something for yourself rather than for your Lord," Renly said as he led Loras away from the practice range. "Walk with me a moment."

"As you wish, my lord" Loras replied. They moved down a shady path between great elm trees and weeping willows, the songs of birds twisting through the branches while the sun that had managed to break through the clouds light up spots between the leaves. It was a cool but refreshing day, the smell of green and sea mixed in the air, with a hint of wild flower and wet underbrush from a recent morning shower. Breathing in the scents, Renly smiled to himself and hummed a quick tune before speaking.

"It is your name-day, is it not?"

"Yes, I suppose it is… How did you know?"

"I know everything… Well, at least, I get told a lot of things and I remember them if they're important enough, which this is," Renly explained with a wink as they approached a fork in the road. Stopping, he turned around and asked his guards to wait, before pulling Loras down one path and away from prying eyes. "I bought you a gift," he said, stopping in the middle of the trail.

"A gift? You did not have to do that for me, my Lord."

"Call me Renly when it is just the two of us," he said as he untied a pouch from around his belt. Passing the green velvet bag to him, Renly dropped it in his smaller palm. "It's nothing much, really. I was going to buy you something more… extravagant, but then I thought of this and I believe it will suit you."

"It's not a necklace, is it?" Loras asked as he opened it, the prospect of a necklace sounding less than impressive given the tone of his voice.

"No, it is not a necklace."

Reaching in, Loras felt around before he pulled out a variety of different coloured rose petals. "You got me rose petals?"

The way in which he said it made Renly toss his head back and laugh, the accompanying face to go along with it too much for Renly to handle. The arrogance was still there, it seemed. "No, not just rose petals! I bought you roses, Loras. Real roses—rose plants, if you will."

"You bought me a rose plant?"

"Not just one, but multiple—five, actually, and all of them different colours. I spoke to the maester here who dabbles a little in gardening and herbs, and he told me a few varieties of roses that fare well in this area. You always mention how much you miss the roses back home, so I thought I would bring them to you instead. They should be sitting on the balcony of your room right now, ready for you to admire when you're done your training."

Loras was silent after that, and Renly thought perhaps he had done something wrong. Maybe he had overstepped his boundaries. The roses would probably remind Loras even more of home, and that sickness he had been feeling would increase tenfold. For someone who prided himself on being able to read people, he was really rather terrible when it came to Loras—buying him roses when he missed home, like that could possibly help at all?

"If you don't like them I can—"he began, but stopped as soon as a pair of arms wrapped themselves around his waist and a body pressed in close.

"Thank you," Loras mumbled against Renly's chest, his face pressed into the folds of the forest green cloak he was wearing. A little shocked, Renly froze for a moment, trying to comprehend that Loras, arrogant and prideful, was hugging him right now. Hugging him and thanking him in a tone so honest he could hardly believe it…

"You're welcome," he finally said as he hugged him back. It didn't last long before Loras was pulling away, a blush on his cheeks as he stuffed the rose petals back in the pouch, most likely an excuse to busy himself. "I hope they smell nice. You should have a red, pink, yellow, orange, and white roses soon enough to give to all of the maids."

Snorting, Loras rolled his eyes and tied the pouch on his own belt, obviously intent on keeping it. "I give a few girls a rose and suddenly it's what I do?"

"Well, it could be. Once you become a famous knight you could give a rose to the girl you favour! Loras Tyrell, the Knight of Flowers!"

Laughing, Loras shoved him playfully and walked back down the path towards the guards who were milling about at the fork. "That's a ridiculous name… But thank you again, my Lo—Renly. When the first rose blooms I will give it to you."

"Hopefully it's a white rose—it would go best with my hair."

"You're hopeless."

"And you're the Knight of Flowers."