Reviews make me write faster! - I use the quatermaester interactive game of thrones map when writing.
Renly Baratheon
Loras and I were waiting by the main gate into the Red Keep with two guards, all of us dressed as reasonably well-off smallfolk rather than highborn.
"I'm surprised you didn't bring him with you." I muttered to the Knight of Flowers.
"He was fighting with the guardsmen again," Loras returned mildly. "I didn't wait for him to change."
"Given that you're not furious I take it you told him to do it this time?" I shot Loras a guarded look, not letting my hope show.
"He offered to teach the ones that he defeated; they took him up on it. There's a core group of twelve now that he's giving lessons in swordplay to, with eight more dropping in and out. He keeps getting them to attack him in groups of four, like my brother Garlan does, ever since I told him that that's how Garlan trains as battle is rarely ever one on one."
Now I did smile; just like at the Wall Jon was now helping people rather than beating them down. A huge improvement.
Said boy suddenly appeared, out of breath. "My apologies Lord Renly, I was training with your guard."
"From what Ser Loras tells me you were actually training my guard." I grinned as we walked through the gates and down into the city. "I'm glad you decided to take that route, it's very honourable of you to give up your limited free time for it."
Jon was looking around wide eyed as we passed the hook and reached the base of Aegon's High Hill. We continued along the main thoroughfare, towards the Great Sept on Visenya's Hill, and then stopped in the great square in the centre of Kings Landing. In a touch of bitter irony, the Pyromancers Guild Hall was looming on the western side of the square. Where the southwestern portion of the Street of the Sisters left the square before reaching its destination of the Great Sept of Baelor at its southern end.
We stopped in the square and I looked over at Jon. "A bit bigger than Wintertown isn't it?
The young Northman nodded absently, still overwhelmed by the sheer numbers of people and the goods on offer.
"So, tell me Jon, how many people have you seen dressed in clothes of the same quality that you usually wear?" I asked casually, causing him to snap out of his daze and glower at me.
"There are many here better dressed than me." Jon retorted defensively.
I simply stared at him. "Look closer, beyond the fancy designs. Look at the quality of what they're wearing; the stitching, the leather and cloth used, the buckles and laces. Don't be taken in by the design and the dyes."
After spending several minutes looking intensely at the people surrounding us Jon finally admitted the truth. "Less than I expected."
The northern clothes he usually wore might well have been a lot plainer than those around us, almost boring in their functionality. But the quality of the leather they were made from was the best to be had, and the stitching was superb. A lot of care and manhours had gone into making them, a lot more than most of the more eye-catching designs found among the smallfolk here.
I nodded and then gestured that we should set off again along the northeastern portion Street of the Sisters, towards the ruined Dragonpit atop Rhaenerys's Hill at the street's northern end. The artisan shops and guildhalls continued as we walked as this was the route that the richest merchants took to the Great Sept from their expensive houses. They lived on the northeast side of Rhaenerys's Hill, so they got the benefit of the ocean breeze when the wind blew from the east, while the hill itself sheltered them from the worst of the stink when it blew from the west. The wealthy foot traffic falling constantly along this route as a result ensured a roaring trade for good quality products.
"I expect you think that places like this are where my guards grew up, those that didn't grow up on farms at least." I remarked, gesturing at the well-constructed apartments above the shops.
Jon scoffed. "I'm not that naive."
I smirked as we turned off the Street of the Sisters and onto the Street of Flour, running about two thirds of the way down the southern side of Rhaenery's Hill. It was filled with bakeries of various descriptions and qualities as the name suggested.
"Here then." I commented, pitching my guess.
The silent fascination Jon suddenly had with his feet said I had hit the jackpot.
"In actual fact Jon, these are still the better houses of the city, certainly in the top half. Shall we continue with the mummer's show? Or shall I skip the other areas and show you where most of the men recruited for guards come from in cites?"
Jon stared at me, resolute. "Go straight there."
I gave a genuine smile and turned off the Street of Flour, heading down the hill. When we passed through the row of bakeries and emerged on the other side, a warren of streets and alleys leading down the hill to the valley at the bottom appeared before us.
As we passed into the streets and alleys of fleabottom the cobbles immediately disappeared, giving way to mud.
Actually, that was a lie.
Mud would have been an improvement.
The stench of pigsties, stables, and tanners sheds mixed with the horrifically strong stench of human shit and piss. Both filled the overflowing channels on either side of the road that were apparently supposed to be gutters. The buildings overhead rained both down onto the street from their privy holes and chamber pots as they almost touched each other overhead. Blotting out most of what little light this part of the city got as they turned walking down gloomy street into a dicey prospect.
Jon looked around, taking it in with as much shock as he had the main square. I stopped by one of the middling pot shops and got two bowls'o'brown, shoving one into his hands.
"Dinner." I remarked disgustedly, building up the nerve to start on mine.
The descriptions of it did not do justice to just how disgusting it looked and smelled. I had eaten many stews in many countries, this didn't deserve the name. 'Bowl of barely edible sludge with enough grease on top to replicate the earth's mantle/crust interaction' was a better description.
Arya hadn't found it too bad apparently.
Arya had also been reduced to eating raw street pigeon before she discovered it, so her view on its edibility was suspect.
I gagged on the first mouthful.
The snickering behind me could only have come from one person.
"Shut up Loras!" I hissed out, before managing to choke down a few more spoonfulls.
Jon finished his before staring defiantly at me. But I could see his throat muscles working as he tried desperately to keep it down.
"What was that?" He asked with forced casualness as his stomach tried to rebel and bring it back up.
"A bowl'o'brown." I muttered discarding the rest of mine. "It comes from large kettles that have been on the simmer for weeks, for years if you believe the legends, with new ingredients constantly added to the pot as owners come by them. If we were unlucky with the serving ladle, those ingredients could have gone into the kettle before you left Winterfell. It's mostly onion, turnip and carrot, sometimes apple if you're lucky, thickened with barley. Fish is one of the better options that you can find in there. It's best not to think about the meat."
"What's the meat?" Jon asked.
"Seriously; you don't want to know."
"What. Is. It?" Jon repeated, resolute.
"Pigeons, rats, cats, dogs, and people who've gone missing."
Jon lost it at the last one, violently spewing his bow'o'brown back up into the gutter, which set me off as well.
When we had both recovered a little, though Jon was still very pale, he looked up at me beseechingly.
"Tell me you just made up the last one to teach me a lesson." He begged.
I, who knew that several people Bron had removed over the years had indeed ended up in the bowl'o'brown's, did no such thing.
"I'm afraid not. I have it on good authority, though thankfully it wasn't in this shop."
That was apparently little comfort for Jon who went fully white and started retching again, even though there was nothing left for him to bring up.
"I've never had anything as bad as that in my life. Not even when…." He glanced furtively around. "Not even when Lady Catelyn was most furious with me."
"No." I responded directly. "You haven't."
That finally seemed to register as Jon looked at me with calculation rather than any sort of resentment or defiance. I used that attention to ram my point home.
"The worst meal you ever had was the best they could ever hope for, you couldn't even keep down what they had to live on every day, if they got food every day. They were never as certain of that as you were. Your clothes are better than anything they've ever owned, and while you might not have had servants, you still had your own chambers in a castle, larger than the rooms many of them had to share with family above pigsties, stables and an open sewer."
Jon still stared silently at me, finally listening, really listening, and taking my words in.
"This is the life that awaits most bastards, and while the lives that await those that their lordly fathers do right by are somewhat better, they're certainly nothing like yours. You were raised in your fathers keep alongside your trueborn siblings. Do you not realise how rare that is? Believe me, most of my guard would have gladly suffered all the scorn you got for being a bastard, and a hundred times more besides, if it meant they got to grow up as you did in Winterfell. They hate you because you got that and they didn't, and even worse, rather than realising how lucky you were, you complain about not being treated the same as Robb, about still suffering scorn for your birth. They look at you and see a castle born bastard who thinks he's a lordling, instead of a man giving thanks on bended knee that his father took care of him in a manner far greater than was required."
Jon was blushing but he still held my gaze. "I understand now, my lord."
"Do you?" I went in for the kill. "Did you know that the privy pipes from the Red Keep drain right passed the end of Gin Alley here? Did you know that you are literally shitting on these people as you complain about how unfairly life has treated you?"
Jon's jaw clenched, clearly he hadn't known that.
"I truly understand my lord. Despite how hard it felt to me, my life has been better than many in the Seven Kingdoms. It's not something that I'd ever thought I'd say; but if that's what it is, that's what it is."
"I'm impressed to hear you say that. Most men would deny a hard truth rather than face it." I congratulated, gripping his shoulder in solidarity as I shamelessly stole Tyrion's line.
"I'm not most men." Jon replied, a little of his previous defiance and pride sneaking back into his tone. But this time it was in a far better cause.
"I'm glad to hear it," I replied honestly, "and for what it is worth to you, I know that physical comfort is not the only measure of the harshness of life. But we cannot compare scorn and other challenges that we face only in our minds, for they affect each of us differently. I heard it explained best as; 'the same water that softens the turnip, hardens the egg'."
"Thank you, my lord." Jon let a small smile slip at the knowledge that I wasn't totally dismissing how hard his life had been mentally, even if he had been one of best cared for in Westeros physically. "I still will not forget the rest of what you've shown me."
"Good; you'll be a better man for it." I decreed with certainty. "To truly succeed in the game of life, you must know yourself as much as you know your enemies. The problem is very few of us have the strength to face what awaits us in the mirror if we judge ourselves truthfully."
Jon remained silent for the remainder of the walk back to the Red Keep.
I was standing on my balcony again, sipping a cup of wine as I looked out over the flickering lights of King's Landing and the reflection of the moon on the waves of Blackwater Bay.
It had become my favourite place to think, and right now I was pondering the large setback my plans had received.
Ned Stark had not come to me for advice.
It had been almost two weeks since we had spoken in his solar atop the Tower of the Hand. It was time to face facts. If he hadn't sought me out by now, he wasn't going to.
I knew it had gone to well. I'd been so busy congratulating myself about knowing everything that I had forgotten that these were not characters, they were real people. Even if I knew the original script, they did not. They didn't know what information to trust, what people to trust, and even if they did, they were still capable of making bad decisions, just like everyone else in life.
Littlefinger obviously played the game of thrones very well indeed. Whatever progress I had made with Ned, he had been able to undo it.
I had noticed that, despite his slip when first meeting Ned, no doubt brought on by the reminders of losing to Brandon, Littlefinger was showing himself to be his book version, not his show version. Which was far worse for me.
Book Littlefinger was well liked and trusted. His charm, smile, and helpful nature drew many people to him, and his honeyed words did the rest as he happily helped all of them with their schemes. None of the people he caught in his net ever believed he was a threat to them, because he was so helpful and had no official power or bannermen of his own. At best they acknowledged that he would help their enemies as much as he would help them.
At worst, they thought he was their friend, right up until their final moments.
If only the great lords of Westeros realised the power of influence and information could be just as potent without gold, holdfasts, and bannermen as with them. Varys recognised that, which is why he was the only one who truly saw how dangerous Littlefinger was. Of the rest, only Tywin Lannister even suspected.
Ned Stark it seemed, was just the latest to fall victim to Littlefinger's siren song. Bitterly I hoped my actions had at least made Littlefinger have to work for his prize.
I turned questioningly as the door opened, before relaxing as Loras snuck inside, joining me on the balcony.
"You're frowning." The prettiest Tyrell noted with concern, using his thumb to smooth the frown off my forehead.
"My plans have suffered a very large setback." I replied honestly. Turning away from him and looking out over Kings Landing again.
"Plans, plans, plans. You're as bad as Willas and Margaery." Loras teased as his hands found my shoulders, thumbs working the tension where my neck met my shoulder blades. "I wouldn't worry. You'll frown, and curse, and pace, but you'll come up with a new plan. You always do."
"I wish I had your faith." Muttered. Staring hard at the moon reflecting on Blackwater Bay.
Loras kissed my neck before withdrawing. "Are you saying that you have no ideas how to recover from this setback?"
Now I started frowning again. "I've got several ideas, but it all depends on exactly what's gone wrong, and I can't know for certain what has. Not like I've known things so far. All my paths forward are much riskier now, and I don't know which one to choose."
"You're tired, angry that someone got the better of you, and frustrated that things haven't gone as you planned." Loras' voice deepened behind me. "You'll know the best path forward in the morning when you've thought on it after some sleep."
"I won't sleep. Not till I figure out what's gone wrong. If he can outplay me like this then both of us are in serious danger."
"Neither of us are in danger tonight," Loras spoke soothingly, "and as for not sleeping; what you need is a distraction."
"What could possibly distract me from the very real possibility that I've signed our death warrants?" I hissed out spinning around angrily to confront him.
My cup clattered to the floor as I dropped it in shock.
Loras Tyrell was bollock naked.
"Well I've never commanded anything less than your full attention." Loras' trademark cocky smirk was fully in place as he sauntered towards me, long, smooth limbs moving with cat like grace.
"In fact, my lord, I'm seem to recall that I command so much of your attention that you've been known to forget your own name."
Loras' smirk only grew as I remained stunned by the vision he presented, helpless to stop his hands working at the fastenings of my doublet.
"Touch me."
"I…"
"Touch. Me."
It wasn't a request.
Loras' eyes and voice darkened as he issued the command.
I slipped my arms under his and trailed my hands down his sides, his warm, smooth, skin sliding beneath my palms.
"Better." Loras smirked as he pushed my doublet off me, before grabbing the bottom of my shirt and pulling it over my head.
"Much better." Loras praised when I returned my hands to him, trailing them lower and exploring the twin globes of his ass.
His deft fingers made quick work of the laces of my breeches and they soon joined my doublet on the floor.
My smallclothes had a very prominent tent in them.
Becoming Renly hadn't resulted in any decrease in size, and right now I was hard as granite at just the sight of the stunning beauty who was undressing me.
"Mmph."
Loras grinned as he grabbed my rock-hard manhood at the very moment I tried to speak, resulting in just unintelligible noise.
"I'm glad to see some things haven't changed, it's always so satisfying to render you speechless." Loras mocked as he pulled my smallclothes down, allowing my manhood to spring free. He frowned slightly as he tangled his fingers in my chest hair. "Though I will have to deal with this again at some point."
Before I could even try to articulate a response, he pulled us together and the heat of him pressed against me, just as hard as I was, stole away any ability to think that I had left.
I barely noticed we were walking as Loras was kissing me softly, still keeping us pressed firmly together, which was caused the delicious friction to overwhelm my senses. It only really registered we'd moved when the backs of my knees hit the edge of the bed, and Loras broke our kiss and gave me a gentle push so I fell back onto it.
I scrambled, trying to sit up, but that was in vain as Loras crawled up onto the bed after me, before advancing above my body on his hands and knees, like a panther stalking its prey.
He certainly looked hungry enough to pass as a jungle cat, his mass of curls falling forward and framing his face as he finally pulled level with me, pinning my wrists by my sides with his knees and towering over me like some type of ancient god.
"Gods…you're beautiful."
It wasn't the most articulate I'd ever been. But the slight blush that formed on Loras' face before trailing down to his chest told me it had been even more effective because of that.
It did nothing to alleviate the hunger on the Knight of Flowers' face.
Loras grabbed something as I was mesmerised by his form. The muscles of his thighs stood out as he was kneeling, his flat stomach tensing as he straightened again. His chest was defined and moving quickly, giving away how excited he was, and his rosy pink nipples stood out against his otherwise pale and hairless skin. The candlelight cast flickering patterns on the flawless canvass of is body.
I finally allowed myself to focus on his gorgeous manhood, all the hair around it had been shaved away, like on the rest of his body, leaving me with an unobstructed view. Loras was long and thick, and his member jutted out proudly, pulsing in time with his heartbeat.
"Ughhh!" My head fell back as Loras used my distraction to reach behind himself, taking me by surprise when his oil slicked hand closed around my own throbbing member.
"Control yourself my lord, you've made me suffer unfilled desires for far too long for this to be over quickly. It will take considerable time to satisfy me" The grin on Loras' face was evil as he reached behind himself again, pulling slowly, before sending the cone shaped object he withdrew clattering to the floor. Evidently, he had prepared himself earlier. The beautiful knight lined my manhood up and began to sink down.
"I've missed this so much!"Loras hissed out
"I just… wanted you… to be sure…" I gasped out as Loras finally seated himself, taking me fully inside him.
"And that," Loras choked out between groans, "is the only reason that I've forgiven you for depriving me of this for so long. Gods it feels good to be this full again."
Loras released my wrists and pulled me up by my hair, leaning down to kiss me. Hard.
"Now my lord, if you're quite finished making me suffer from your absence, fuck me!"
I could never disobey Loras when he was so commanding.