A/N: Well, the poll has ended and finally, we have decided the pairing. This update will now have a scene deciding the pairing. Keep in mind, this is the first time I have ever resolved a love triangle like this, and I really think it was the best I could do. Please, review and leave constructive feedback about it. I tried my hardest to keep both characters in character when doing this, but the hard part was keeping Arya in character. Arya is not a character built for romantic pairings without having to sacrifice some of her cannon personality, and Sansa was relatively easier to do. This scene would have been extraordinarily different if the the poll had gone the opposite of what it had done. Now that we are done with plot related polls, we will no longer do much relevant polls besides maybe a few character popularity polls in the near future, or a poll in regards to which character you want to see more POVs from. I will once again discuss reviews at a later date, because I have already had to post the chapter at 12:30-something in the morning. Thank you for the patience, and hope you enjoy this attempt at closing some plot details.
Enjoy!
Stafford
"Don't mind her, I bet she's glad we're going to leave anyway. She attacked me earlier this morning for... no reason," Sansa glumly spoke, low and dreary. Stafford struggled to keep his stand a little as Sansa continued to hold on to him tightly. Arya seemed to have taken offense to this aggressively. Fists clenched, her grey eyes pierced Stafford's calm, and stirred fear in his heart.
"For no reason? You still somehow believe that I caused the entire incident at the Trident! I can't believe you held on to that. And what's worse, you brought both Joffrey and Stafford into it," Arya suddenly screamed to the heavens. This was escalating in ways, Arya clearly wasn't having it today, and Stafford could see the rage in her eyes. Stafford really saw a little of himself against Joffrey in that argument. Except there wasn't some other person joffrey was clinging onto. "You're a liar, and a manipulative bitch. I have more of a right to be angry with you. You find the most clever ways to get Stafford alone, and then try to use your charm against him, which he unfortunately caves into. Was that areshole Joffrey not enough for you?"
"Why don't you just go away and leave us alone!" Sansa screamed back, still clinging onto Stafford. Stafford was starting to feel uncomfortable, but he tried his hardest to feel like a statue, unmoving, unafraid. Maybe they won't even notice him in their rage. If I'm quiet enough, they might not think I'm here anymore. Yes, that is a good solution.
"Leave you two alone and let what happened after the tournament happen again? I know the game you are playing at. You are here for one reason, to try to convince Stafford, my betrothed, using your lies and wiles. That way you can stay in King's Landing, which thanks to you is more miserable, playing princess in the Red Keep." Arya seemed to have had enough. Stafford thought she had reached her limit, and it might be best if Sansa just kept her distance from her. Her rage is best left untreaded upon. Stafford hoped the two would calm down and think about what is going on for the moment. Stafford really didn't know who to side with or what in the seven hells they were all mad at each other for. Stafford didn't really know why the two sister would fight one another with such contempt and hatred. But considering me and Joffrey, I really shouldn't be talking. Although he was taller and stronger and tougher than his older brother, he was much less refined in mental capacity. Joffrey often read him like a book and played him like a lute. This really set him off, and it really made it seem like he was the instigator for some of the times, despite his brother's constant abuse. Most of the time, both their mother and father seem to tire of the two fighting so often. But this was different. It wasn't Joffrey, scornful at not only what he didn't have, but what Stafford had and what he never will. Arya wouldn't act like that if it was just that. Stafford didn't even dislike Joffrey and did his best to love him, but sometimes he thought that it was better to defend oneself than think about bonds and trying to repair them. Stafford didn't know what Joffrey hated about him, or what he had against him or Tommen or Myrcella. In fact, Stafford envied lots of things Joffrey had. He never thought of much to like about himself, and people like Joffrey never stopped making it worse. You were their toy. They loved breaking you.
This wasn't about Joffrey and Stafford, though. This was about Arya and Sansa. The pack breaks, but the wolves live on.
"Stafford, tell her to leave. She isn't wanted here, right?" Sansa asked him finally dragging him into this, and Stafford hoped she hadn't.
"You manipulative little… Stafford, she's wrong here. Don't listen to her." Arya pleaded to Stafford. Stafford didn't like seeing them fight like this, and him having to be dragged into this. Stafford seemed to remain silent.
"Can't you see you are bothering us? Stafford never wanted you."
"Just like Joffrey never wanted you either. He can get anyone like you anywhere in the kingdom I bet. Girls like you are always easy to find, While I was taking a stroll, I overheard they were on sale a few streets down." And now they were taking shots at each other. Oh shit. I just wanted to look at trees after a long day's training, and this drama is making the training feel worth it.
"I would give you more time responding to you if you were worth it, but guess what Arya? You're just not worth it. You're not worth Stafford's time or anyone's time for that matter."
"Again, what possesses you to lie. Stafford, remember what you said to me days ago, in your room? He said he loved me, and if he said that I'm definitely worth his time,"
"As if, Stafford wouldn't love someone like you. You said it yourself, you don't believe love and if you don't believe in love how can you believe it when someone says they love you?"
"You don't have the right to talk to me like that. Just because your own betrothed hates you, doesn't mean you can ruin mine, and try to steal his heart to fill the void in your heart, or wherever. Like I said, I'm not interested in love the way you obsess over it. You don't love him. You just love the stories." Arya spat venomously. "Stafford doesn't care about you as much as he does about me. We've been friends for longer, and the only reason you think you are his is, because of the kindness he has shown to you."
"No, he cares for me more than he does for you. When Joffrey decided I wasn't good enough for him, Stafford came to me and showed that we can find people, who care in the most unexpected and most fortuitous circumstances. And he cares for me like I do for him," Sansa started tightening her grip on Stafford.
"Stafford, why don't you just tell us what you really feel about us? Why don't you give us your thoughts, since apparently my sister now wants to die over you" Arya asked him, blunt and cold, eyes tearing into him. The seven hells have frozen over. Stafford had to break his silence, or he might get even more.
"Let's calm down, and I think I know what is going on here," Stafford stated, "I got myself in a little mess, I've been hanging around you two, and my bad decisions have resulted in me sparking an interest of the two of you. For whatever twisted version of love you two thought of."
"Stafford, that's a stretch. If you really like my sister that much, I'm sure the betrothals can change, I doubt Joffrey would really care by now after all you've done with her. Be my guest, but you didn't need to lie about anything and go playing with my heart like that," Arya said flatly. Stafford looked at her, and could see she might have been on the verge of tears. Her clenched fists trembled, and her eyes darkened like an oncoming storm.
"Arya, I didn't lie to you. I care about you," Stafford blurted out passionately. Sansa suddenly broke off and looked at him indignantly.
"What?"
"And I care for you too, Sansa. It's just-"
"You can't love both of us like this. You better tell the truth, which one of us do you really care for."
"Spare Stafford your little tricks. Staff, which one of us do you really love?" Arya asked matter of factly, "When you said the words, 'I love you' to both of us, did that mean anything to you?"
The two looked at him expecting an answer. Stafford rubbed his hands to his face, knowing that this decision had to come eventually. He loved and cared for them both, but he knew that one day he would have to choose, which one he really cared for in the way he had always imagined love to be. He imagined it to be someone he fought for, someone he could talk to, and someone that he needed as much as they needed him. A true love transcends the laws that bind, and it would be someone that would be there and risk it all. And if he lost that someone, he would also fall into oblivion. A place worse than death, a place without his beloved. There was only ever one person, you can share that with, and no one else would ever replace that person. Arya, ever since they met had been his companion. The last he wanted to do was to hurt her, and he promised Jon in Winterfell to take care of her, no matter what happened in the life that they had lived. Arya was adventurous, mischevious, and she had a beauty in her that hardly anyone in the Seven Kingdoms would know. Sansa, however, came to him much later since they had both met. It took the unfortunate event at the Trident for them to even be able to speak, and it took the neglect of his brother to get her to care for him. Her beauty was undeniable, Stafford knew that, and everyone would see. But, Stafford realized that there was one more alluring trait to her. Her complete innocence, and her dependence on it. Arya was like that too, but Sansa, no matter words he had to describe it, had the quality taken above and beyond. Two choices, but only one was truly the right one. And it was the one that had been in his heart since he first met the two at Winterfell.
"I meant what I said when I love you to both of you. Sansa, I never expected that I would fall for you when I met you, but I did. I'm sorry Arya, but she is the one I love more," Stafford stated knowing that his words might have caused him to break the promise he had made to Jon in Winterfell. So much for not hurting her.
Arya looked like she had tensed up since he said those words. Her fists were clenched, and she looked more agitated than before. She walked up to Stafford, and Sansa went closer to him too.
"Your word never meant anything. Not even a beggar on the streets would want to wipe their arse with your 'word and bond'. But hey, at least you know what you want." She declared, almost shakily in her voice. Her face was visibly upset. Then without warning she landed a blow with all the strength she could muster right in Stafford's face. It hurt more than any blow he had taken from a sword and it cut his heart deeper than any rumor or provocative insult. He fell back, dazed and pained beyond what he could understand. "I hope she was worth all you did, Stafford. Your head is so deep below the water you tread. I hope you fucking drown. Goodbye, you sick bastard. The Others take you, and the Old Gods and the New forsake you. And Sansa..." She turned her murderous glare to her own sister. "Your fate is fixed. The Gods can't save you now."And without another word, she walked away. This left Sansa and Stafford alone again.
"Are you hurt?" Sansa asked him looking into his eyes, "I'm sorry I had to bother you like this…"
"It's alright, Sansa. I feel horrible what happened though. Are we the victims here or the hypocrites? No matter how much I deny it, you are just a craving that I can't forget-" before he could finish, Sansa pulled him in closer. This time, they faced each and looked each other closely eyes locked.
"I feel bad for what I said to Arya and I'm sure she didn't mean what she said about me earlier too, but...I'm glad you chose me over her," she managed to say. Stafford smiled, still feeling guilty about what he had just done to Arya's feelings. Stafford hoped she could repair her relationship with her, as it was well beyond strained now. Before Stafford could say anything back to Sansa, she pulled him closer as she leaned in. Stafford met her and they passionately kissed, alone and uninterrupted for one of the only times Stafford could remember. Stafford could feel her breath, and her touch and he knew that in his heart or maybe even just his primal instincts telling him he had made the right decision. He didn't know how long they were there until he broke off suddenly.
"I can't help, but feel wrong. You're still betrothed to my brother, Joffrey and-"
"You'll think of something, and whatever happens, you've already done more than enough to have have my heart, Stafford Baratheon. If you hadn't existed, I don't know what would have happened to me," Stafford looked at her, and for a moment, he felt like he was someone else. He felt like he was his father as he spent his last moments with his former betrothed in the rebellion. The future Lord of Storm's End had once again fallen for the Eldest daughter of a Stark.
And so they stayed in the wood for a while in each other's arms. Stafford left knowing that what he had done he could not take back, and his actions changed the outlook of his life.
Renly
Once again, the hunting party had left the castle after the sun had risen. Renly enjoyed hunting, but today was a far more special day. His only blood nephew was celebrating his sixteenth nameday during this hunt. They were hunting game like they usually did for his brother's second son's commemoration of birth. They hunted deep within the woods just outside of the Landing. It was thick with plenty of game: wild boar, some mountain lion, and maybe even a bear. He rode with the usual suspects, His brother of course, who didn't miss a single hunt, his nephew Stafford, who he usually rode beside along with his father, Joffrey was there as well. Ser Barristan, and many more. Lancel was also there, giving wine to Robert, which he always accepted.
"Robert, you drink too damn much. You'll need all your wits about you if you want to maximize the capability of your hunt," Renly stated.
"If I wanted your damn opinion, Renly, I would ask for it. More of that wine, Lancel!" His brother roared. Stafford looked a little silent today, but he could see that even he was a little nervous about the amount his father was drinking. Renly sighed a little and pulled his horse up next to Stafford.
"You've been awfully silent today, lad. Come now, it's your sixteenth nameday," Renly looked up and down the young stag. Stafford looked at him and it looked like Renly had caused him to get out of a distant state of thought. "What are you thinking about, Stafford?"
"Probably thinking about my betrothed, knowing his twisted mind. He has his eyes, hands, and Seven knows what else all over my woman," Joffrey said scornfully, his low voice barely concealing his contempt.
"By the seven, can't you two stop arguing? Let's just celebrate your brother's name day in peace!" Robert declared with a little slur in his voice. The two surprisingly stopped assaulting each other with words, and Stafford went lagged behind, to the back of the riders. At some point, the group proceeded on foot. After killing some more game, the rested for a bit. Stafford sat with Renly and they began to talk. Stafford unsurprisingly began the talk with Renly.
"Can tell you something, Renly? Preferably without Joffrey or father hearing," Stafford asked. Renly wondered what he was going to ask. Renly knew it had something to do with incident at the Hand's tournament.
"What is it," Renly replied trying to figure out what Stafford wanted to tell him. He knew what the theme of his question was before it even left Stafford's mouth, but whatever ran threw Stafford's mind had always been a mystery to him. He was just like Robert, one moment he was this man everyone knew, who didn't think about anything only what he wanted to accomplish, then he turned into a drunk that people thought wanted to wash away his problems, then he turned into a passive aggressive being. The point was he was unpredictable, and Renly knew it was part of him. This was one of his greatest strengths in his personalities, but also one of his greatest flaws. His enemies wouldn't know what he thought of or even wanted to attempt, instead they get an enigma. Yet even he can't truly know himself and it could cause great tragedies if he isn't able to control or truly predict his own tendencies.
"I've never told anyone this and after what happened last night and at the tournament…" Stafford began. Renly somehow knew where this was going and maybe taste in women was inherited, "I don't think there is a nice way of saying this, but I think I have fostered a… deeper kind of relationship with Joffrey's betrothed." Renly wasn't surprised at this at all by his statement. He gave out a sigh trying to think of what would happen, "I know it's wrong and all, but I can't control my thoughts and actions around her. I mean just yesterday, even though I tried in every bone in my body to love and care about my betrothed, she just kept on popping into my mind. I've hurt too many people pursuing this, broke every oath I swore, and have committed a great deal of unforgivable things. You're the only one I can ask for advice about this. If I go to father, he'd kill me, and my mother, she wouldn't take me seriously. Ser Barristan would probably tell father, and Stannis would just lecture me about my duty, so if you have any advice for me Renly, please say it now."
The conviction in Stafford's voice told of a tale of someone lost and cornered. Someone entirely beyond the depths of his mind. Someone stuck in a tight place, where no man wished to ever see, furthermore venture. Someone beyond their abilities to cope his ability to cope. And as he exhaled his pain, it looked like it left him painfully numb. Renly wasn't a miracle worker, nor was he an expert at everything under the rising sun. He wanted to help his nephew, the only nephew he could stomach and the only nephew he had really seemed to get along with. He was like the brother he never had, but always wanted. Not the cold Stannis, or the Robert that he knew now, but someone that didn't feel the need to exert an authority of him, and someone he could influence.
"Stafford, I'm not expert in love, and I am by no means an expert of what is right and what is wrong. But, know this: If you truly love the girl, Sansa, you already know and understand what you should do by now. Whatever happens, no matter how society may think your love is wrong, and no matter how much people seem to judge you for loving, you know that you made the right decision. Because once you start to doubt the love, then maybe you never truly loved at all," He stated. He felt that came out from the experiences he had within himself. Renly was a man, who had a much different taste than both his brothers. He felt love differently, and he loved in a way others may find wrong. He only had to look at Loras Tyrell to find out that he truly felt this way. We don't get to choose who we love. But no matter how much Littlefinger or anyone else, who somehow knew about it ridiculed him for it, he knew he had made the right choice. He never had a doubt in his mind.
"I never doubted that I loved her, it's just, is it right?"
"Who decides what is right, Staff? Nobody but yourself. Not me, not your father, not Stannis, and seven hells, not even the High Septon. Only you," Renly managed to say, "Do you think it is wrong to love her?"
"I hardly know what love is, but no, I don't,"
"Then do what you think is right for your love. Gods, that poor girl would've been miserable at the hands of your brother, and gods know who else," Renly mustered. Stafford looked at him brought himself up by his axe, picking up some pelt he had.
"Alright, everyone! Let's continue the HUNT!" Robert said with a much more apparent slur in his voice.
"Your grace, haven't you drunk too much? Shouldn't we just head back before you get hurt?" Renly heard Ser Barristan say. The old man was right, if Robert hunted like this he could get seriously hurt or worse. Stafford and Renly both knew Robert wouldn't listen. He would just keep on going with the hunt.
"Damn it! We keep going, no stopping will happen till we kill as many game as I damn well please!" He took another swig of the wine from his wineskin. Stafford shook his head, and helped Renly up from where he was seated. The hunt continues.
The hunt went on fairly normally, until his brother had stumbled upon a giant wild boar, that he wanted to slay by his own hand. He refused help from Ser Barristan and others in order to take it down.
"By the seven, I will bring that boar down by my own might! Then we will bring it back and feast!" Robert stated. Stafford and Ser Barristan tried to talk him out of it, but Renly saw that Robert was going to go toe-to-toe with the giant boar anyway.
And so his brother lined up against the boar as it noticed Robert. Robert had a lugged boar spear, ready and primed to thrust into the beast's skull. He smiled as he taunted the boar to make it charge. The boar dug it's legs deep into the ground and began to get into its aggressive stance. Robert seemed like he was wobbily, and had absolutely no focus at all while he tried to draw the beast to him to charge. Robert, what are you doing? Better stay focused or things could go bad. That beast looks almost as hungry for blood as Joffrey is. Then as expected, the beast began its charge toward the king. Everyone in the hunting party had arranged a crude, four-man shield wall to make sure it didn't get out of the King's reach. Joffrey tried flanking the beast while Renly, Stafford, Barristan, and Lancel gathered around. Robert still looked about as serious as Stafford during a history lesson with Grand Maester Pycelle. Keep your head in the damn fight, brother. Keep it or lose it. Robert shoved past the wall of his men, and rushed to meet the beast right when it lowered its tusk.
The king thrust the spear trying to hit his mark. He lunged a bit too far forward, and that was one of the biggest mistakes he could ever make. He saw Stafford, Barristan, and even Joffrey grow wide-eyed at this point. It was at this point Robert knew: He had fucked up.
The beast had all the momentum with him as the spear went right through the exposed part of the King's armor, because of the angle Robert had missed his thrust with. The king's roar would make even the most experienced soldier or man of the watch shudder. Stafford ran to try to get the boar off his father, and Joffrey had his crossbow aimed at it. But right as he was being gored down to the ground, Robert managed to stab the boar right at the sweetspot down its skull. He continued twisting his spear like a survivalist trying to start a fire till the boar began twitching, stilled, and went silent. Stafford arrived, but the boar was dead. Joffrey even shot it with a few bolts, over and over, his mouth agape and tears in his eyes. The axe Stafford had was also buried in its midsection. Robert managed to push off the boar, but once it was pushed off, Renly could see it had literally ripped Robert from his his collarbone to his groin. The King's guts were draped around the boar's tusks like a roast spit.
"F-father!?" Stafford yelled as he knelt beside Renly's wounded brother, his shaky voice cracking. And in a truly rare instance, the young stag wept. It was rare to see someone like Stafford cry, and it took either a worthy opponent or a traumatizing event to reduce Stafford to tears. What in the seven hells was Robert thinking? What wasn't he thinking?
"I got him good, didn't I Staff? Right down the midline. So did he." Robert managed to croak, his rattled breaths struggling to smile and laugh to comfort his son.
"M'Lord… your body," Ser Barristan managed to say.
"Get some help, hurry, we may be able help him more in the keep," Stafford spun wildly at the hunting party, tears in his eyes and his father's blood covering his doublet, "What in the seven hells are you all doing there standing and staring? Get some damn help for your king!"
"Always…" Robert coughed, "worrying about your old man aren't we?" Everyone started to help Robert up, and Renly was worried of what might happen if Robert didn't survive this. Stafford, you better be prepared if the worse comes to pass, because it would take a smite from the Gods themselves for me to let Joffrey become king.
Stafford (Again)
Despair. That is the only word that could describe what Stafford Baratheon felt as this very moment. Earlier in the day, they had been hunting just outside King's Landing. With great haste, they managed to bring his father back to the Red Keep. The king had spoken to someone to send word for Lord Stark, but he had addressed everyone as a group before he did so. Grand Maester Pycelle told them that there was nothing they could do. The wounds were too atrocious, and Robert suffered terribly. Stafford could not believe what was going on, to think that he could lose his father. The man he hunted with, the man that although not always present in his life, but was his inspiration. Some thoughts plagued Stafford's mind. What was to happen to the kingdom without him? The Seven Kingdoms were already ablaze, and his father's death was like trying to stop a fire by smothering it in dry kindling. Now they were in a room, with Ser Barristan guarding the entrance.
"Can you leave Stafford and I for a moment. I must talk with my son. Joff, stay outside, I will also speak to you privately next," The king instructed with the croak. Stafford stayed where he sat, and the others left the room. Joffrey was the last to leave. His green eyes were red and raw from all his tears, and with one last look, he walked out the room, his face buried in his hands. It was his father, King Robert Baratheon, first of his name, and his second son Stafford Baratheon left in the room.
"I'm proud of the man you have become, Stafford. I know today's your sixteenth nameday, and I know this is not what you wanted. Every time I look at you, I see myself from back before the damned Targaryen took everything I had from me," The king stated.
"Father-I...have to tell you something as well. It might not be something you would be proud of but…"
"Do you love her?" His father asked him unexpectedly. Stafford turned his head to the side a little.
"Who?"
"Sansa Stark, Ned's eldest, and Joffrey's betrothed. I know that is what you are about to tell me. You love her. But after all you've done, do you really mean those words?"
"I'm ashamed to admit it, but yes, so much, that it burns me inside. I broke my vow to Arya, her family, and to all the Gods, because of how much I do," The things we do for love.
"Then there is nothing to be ashamed of. Stafford, when you first decided to display your affections for her, I will not lie, I thought I saw that bastard Rhaegar in you. I hated it, I wondered what I did to deserve it, but I understand better now. You loved her like I did Lyanna, and hopefully your story will end better than mine," His father told him, "But remember this Stafford: You have your own fate in your hands. You are not Robert Baratheon, and She is not Lyanna Stark. You story does not have to end like mine. Take care of her, Stafford, even though I cannot change all that you've done. It will be up to Ned once I am gone to convince Joffrey not marry her. Love always finds a way though, even if it hurts sometimes."
"Father-Don't say that, there's still hope. You still live,"
"There is no more hope, son. I hope you remember me as I was, not as I am. Now go, there is no use pitying the dead. They're the lucky ones." The king managed to say weakly, giving a feeble laugh that rattled his chest. Stafford tried to protest, but he knew there was no use. Still in the same half plate armor he was in during the hunt, Stafford wiping the tears from his eyes. He opened the door and Joffrey went into his father's final room. As he turned at his brother, Joffrey looked back. Tears filled both their eyes, and their chests shook as they tried to choke down their sobs. The two pressed on, Stafford turning away without another word.
Stafford didn't know how much wine, ale or whatever else he could find, he had drunk. There were now tankards and bottles of empty spirits littering his room. He still held a full tankard of wine in his hands, and his hands were now trembling with the amount he had already drunk. His mother had tried coming in earlier, but she was not even able to talk to Stafford. No one was, not even Renly. But Renly left as soon as he saw the tankards, and he simply told him they would speak tomorrow or even sooner when he was ready. So much for his sixteenth nameday. What in the seven hells was going to make him feel better?
He heard a knock on the door. Who in the seven hells is bothering me at this hour. The Stranger? Came a little too late, old friend.
"Alright, who goes the-r-e," He managed to say with a few hiccups here and there. His voice had degenerated into a hoarse slur, "Doors open, and if even if you're that thrice-damned Lyn Corbay, you are free to come on inside. I don't have much left, so make it quick." The door opened, and Stafford looked up.
It wasn't Renly, his mother, Ser Barristan, or even somehow Stannis. Sansa was there, he half expected her to be in Winterfell by now, safe from all that was happening.
"By the gods, what happened here? Stafford? What are you doing to yourself?"
"Well my father just died, so I might as well drink a little to cheer myself up," Stafford managed to say. Sansa went to him and snatched the half full tankard of wine from his lips, and Stafford didn't have the capacity or the want to take it back, "Sansa, that's not very nice."
"Get a hold of yourself, Stafford. I'm not losing you too,"
"Well isn't that sweet of you. Tell me, have you lost your father yet?" Stafford said more viciously than he had intended, attempting to stand before his legs collapsed beneath him, wobbling back and forth on one knee he managed to raise himself with.
"You are not your father, Stafford. I won't let you become him," She got on to her knees to meet his face, dragging him up. She managed to get close to him and turn his face with her hands, "Please, Stafford, just stop this." Stafford, didn't look like himself, and it seemed his whole demeanor changed suddenly. Stafford and Sansa leaned in almost in unison, and they both shared a moment of harmony, with what little wits Stafford had left. Stafford felt his sorrows almost fade for a moment. It was just her that replaced the thoughts of his mind. He didn't even care if Joffrey came in to witness this. He didn't have a care in the world.
"By the gods, how many times do I have to walk in on this business? Nevermind that, quick, Stafford take this. This time it isn't a sleeping potion. This should fix you right up," Stafford broke off right after he heard Renly. Renly suddenly interrupted the moment, and forced a vial of liquid down his throat. He was too wobbly to resist. This time for some reason, Stafford felt invigorated, and all the drunkenness managed to escape him.
"Renly, how the hell did you manage to make a potion without a side effect?"
"Maester Pycelle helped me with this one. Now, I really need to speak with you. Lord Stark has told me some intriguing information that you have to know, and I have little plan that must be carried out.