Loras Tyrell - The Confident And His Grace

Renly's captains and lords bannermen began to disperse slowly from the royal pavilion after the orders had been given. Lady Stark looked to Renly, her eyes displaying a worry over his decision as if she were his mother. She is persistent. A persistent thorn at that. It must be a trait all Starks, born or raised in that cold wasteland, share, thought Loras as he walked towards his Grace, watching the last of those who had placed their trust in Renly's leadership to leave. Brienne, another of these persistent thorns who was almost permanently attached since being given the honour of joining the Rainbow Guard, was hesistant to move, standing guard for her king as if her life depended on it. It feels like I have a rival for the affection of my crowned stag.

"Brienne," Renly turned his head to her as he spoke, "you do not have to stay. I am perfectly safe in the hands of the Knight of Flowers." Renly outstretched his hand to give her permission to leave.

"Your Grace," the tone of Brienne's voice was one of dejection, "you should have as much protection as you can before a battle. Let me at least keep watch over you and my fellow Guard while you pray."

I feel sorry for her. She would do anything for him. A shame the affection can never be reciprocated.

Renly stood from his chair and smiled at her, taking her hand to reassure her. "Brienne, you are as bold and as brave as any man in the Seven Kingdoms. As a member of the Rainbow Guard, you now have the title to match your unwavering loyalty and qualities in combat. But as a member of the Rainbow Guard, you must obey me as well as protect me. I am not a child. I am your king." He began to use his finger to stroke her hand. Even though she wore gloves, the action itself made her blush ever so slightly. Sadly, even blushing will not help soften the King's feelings for her.

Brienne seemed to stare at her hand for an eternity as he continued to caress her palms until she began to let go of Renly's grip in an awkward fashion and bowed slightly before almost rushing out of the pavilion. Renly turned to face Loras after she left, a smile never leaving his face. Loras, maintaining a posture and grace which accentuated his position in the Guard and as a knight throughout the meeting, almost relaxed when he saw this and began to giggle. Soon, both were giggling as they moved closer and pecked each other on the lips. My King.

"I can hardly contain my excitement at what lies in wait for us." Renly sounded as if he were a child, "We are so close. Finally, I can show my brother that I am no mere pretender. I have raised an army which will make even the Lannister host tremble." An enthusiasm seemed to come off him, an enthusiasm of what lay ahead. Loras knew how much he wanted this. He knew how much he wanted to prove that, despite the order of succession, he was the King that Westeros needed. Robert, his oldest brother, had been ill-equipped while Stannis, his other brother, and the supposed bastard of a nephew who had seated himself upon Renly's "true" throne, were merely fools, unable to bring together the warring nations like he himself believed was possible but only under his kingly guidance. Loras had fallen for the man underneath the crown but the possibility of being the secret love of a king excited him greatly, his own rise to such a high standing in this future ruling dynasty made possible by Renly and his marriage to Loras' sister, Margaery.

Loras looked up and down at Renly before making his way over to him, wrapping his arms round him from behind so he could whisper in his ear. "You never had to prove yourself to anyone. You are the King they deserve. After the mess Robert left, of children born from incest and the blood which has been spilt over the contentious nature of the crown which you have fashioned on your head, the Seven Kingdoms would be glad to have a king like you. A king who is easy on the eye is also a welcome change." Loras began to kiss at Renly's neck softly while caressing his body with the hands he had wrapped around the front of his king, Renly himself stretching out his neck to help ease the process, moving his own hand to try and caress what he could feel of Loras' body, despite it being covered in mail. Both felt at ease in each other's presence, oblivious to all around them, of the sounds of soldiers laughing at stories from their travels, of fires spitting as they cooked food or of the footsteps of a squire make his way into the pavilion. If the squire hadn't have tripped, falling to the ground, as he nearly entered, their cover would surely have been broken.

The two men broke from their hold of one another and tried to not draw attention to the fact they had heard the squire fall nor of what they had been up to. The squire could be heard to curse as he made his way to their line of sight as he pushed back the curtains, making his way to Renly before bowing in front of him.

"My Grace," the squire said, almost breathlessly as he tried to compose himself after the dash he must have made to get here, "the smith has fixed up your armour and would like to know if you will be trying it on before the battle. He wishes to make sure that it is perfectly fit for his Grace's wear."

Renly turned to Loras, who had managed to position himself in the stature of a knight once again, before turning to the squire, his kingly smile allowing the boy to relax. "Loras will accompany you to the smith's to pick up the armour. I will not have time to allow a perfect fit but I'm sure his work is of the highest of standards, as I have expected of him throughout our marches."

"As you wish, my Grace." The squire bowed again before walking slowly out of the pavilion to wait for Loras. The knight turned to Renly who smiled at him, shyly yet lovingly. Forbidden love must stay hidden, especially in the heat of war. Sometimes I wish that the hiding would stop though. Loras walked past his king, brushing his hand with his own before being grabbed by Renly who pulled him in for a kiss goodbye. Almost pushed out of the curtained entrance to the royal pavilion, Loras followed the squire to the smith, all the while, tasting the remains of his Grace on his lips. Not even Margaery gets that from Renly. I am indeed a lucky man.