Bed of Roses
Title: Bed of roses
Fandom: A Song of Ice and Fire
Pairing: Renly/Loras
Rating: R
Word count: 2,749
Plot: Song-fic based on “Bed of Roses” by Bon Jovi. Renly married Margaery, but she’s not the one he loves.
Disclaimers: If I owned these characters, this would be a chapter of A Games of Thrones, not a fanfiction.
Sitting here wasted and wounded
at this old piano
Trying hard to capture
the moment this morning I don't know
'Cause a bottle of vodka
is still lodged in my head
And some blonde gave me nightmares
I think she's still in my bed
As I dream about movies
they won't make of me when I'm dead
It was dark outside. The black moonless sky was dotted with millions of shining stars, but it was dark nonetheless. The fire in the room had died hours ago and the only light came from two candles placed on the table. One was almost worn-out, but the other was going to give light for another hour or so. There were blank and words-filled papers on the table, letters and a few old books, with yellowing pages and fading ink. A pen with a sharpened point looked ready to be used, but nobody was at the table.
Renly was sitting on the windowsill, one leg gathered against his chest, the other dangling down, his foot barely touching the floor. His eyes were closed, his curly hair ruffled by the warm summer breeze. He was only wearing a dressing gown of black silk, with golden embroidered roses. A wedding gift. Gold and black were the colours of his Noble House, the roses were the symbol of his bride’s.
Looking at the roses falling down his chest in a golden chain, however, it wasn’t his wife he thought of. She was probably asleep in her bed, fair and beautiful, more alone than ever. Renly sighed: he felt sorry for her. He loved her, in a way, like he would have loved a sister. He could not love her as a woman and a wife, though, and she knew it all too well. Still, she agreed to marry him and on their wedding night, she welcomed her own brother in bed with them. Now she slept alone in an elegant bedchamber, knowing that her husband would wait for someone else to welcome in his bed.
Loras. The captain of his Guard. His brother-in-law. His most trusted knight. The first one to support his wish of becoming King of Westeros, and the one who made it possible thanks to his father and the power of his family. Loras. His love.
There were so many enemies he needed to defeat before sitting on the Throne of Swords, but he would make it. The numbers were in his favour: he had the biggest army, plenty of money and he was destined to become King. His brothers were worth nothing. Robert was once his hero, but he soon lost control, became everything a king shouldn’t be. As for Stannis, his claim was simply hopeless. The Lannisters could be an obstacle, yes, but not one he couldn’t overcome.
He would make it. A year from now, he would be sitting on the Throne of Swords with his young Queen by his side and his Knight of Flowers in his heart.
Would they write songs about him, about how he won the war, how he proved to be worthy of being the King of Westeros? Would they say that he cared a bit too much for his brother-in-law? Would they sing about the smile on Margaery’s lips on their wedding day or about the tears in her eyes when she woke up alone in the morning? Would they question the paternity of his children, his love for his wife? Would they… would they ever tell the truth and sing about red and white roses in blossom, the wind in his hair, the King’s hands caressing the Knight’s soft lips and his bare chest and his thighs, the scent of flowers and sex on their skin, the music and the sighs, their fingers entwined and their bodies dancing a song of passion and love and everything in between? Would they? He strongly doubted it.
The world did know and yet it didn’t. They whispered in each other’s ears about a stare which lasted too long, about a smile which should have been for Margaery, about him caring more for clothes and jewels than politics and wars. They whispered, but nothing more.
In a way, he felt it wasn’t right. He didn’t want Margaery to be remembered as his queen and love. There wasn’t much he could do, however, and Loras didn’t seem to mind too much. He said that what mattered, was that they knew about their love.
Oh, Loras. So young and so in love. When he talked about his feelings, when he told him he loved him, when he undressed him and when he opened his legs for him, he was not a boy. Not at all. He was more mature than people thought. In Renly’s eyes, he was a man. His man. His love.
Soft skin and big dreamy eyes, but he was strong and proud. Delicate and dangerous as a rose, he penetrated Renly’s heart and made him feel really alive for the first time.
After empting the glass of wine he’d been nursing for quite a long time, Renly got up and paced slowly around the room. When the door opened some time later, he was back by the window, looking at the night outside. He heard the footsteps, but didn’t turn around until they were really close.
Loras’s face looked even younger and his green clothes greyish in the dim light. He had taken off his colourful cloak just after entering the room and abandoned it on a chair together with the sword. In that moment, he wasn’t the Knight of Flowers all the ladies of the Seven Kingdoms dreamed of, he was just Loras.
Their eyes made contact and for a few silent moments it was enough. Then Loras took his lover’s hand in his own and kissed his fingers. Renly closed the window curtains, a teasing smile on his lips.
Loras was growing up quite fast but was still smaller, so Renly had to bend down to kiss his lips. He felt the young man’s hands on the back of his head and on his face and slid his arms around his waist to bring him closer. The kiss deepened, Loras refusing as always to let him in control. He would surrender to his lips and his caresses eventually, but not before reminding him that he was no adoring maiden.
As they kissed, their hands now fighting with strings and knots, Renly pushed Loras towards the bed. Before laying him down, he whispered on his lips that he loved him. Loved him so much.
Soon enough their clothes were on the floor, their hands now free to caress soft, warm skin. Their bodies both bore scars, which longed for loving lips and ghost kisses. They kept their fingers intertwined on Loras’s chest as they made love, Renly’s mouth attacking the back of his neck as he buried himself deep inside his lover.
***
With an ironclad fist I wake up and
French kiss the morning
While some marching band keeps
its own beat in my head
While we're talking
About all of the things that I long to believe
About love and the truth and
what you mean to me
And the truth is baby you're all that I need
When they woke up the following morning, Renly’s arm was still around Loras’s waist, possessively saying mine. At King’s Landing they used to say goodbye after making love, and they slept apart, in their own rooms. Here it was different. The Court knew but pretended not to see anything. If someone saw Loras leaving the King’s bedroom early in the morning, they would turn their head to the other side. What mattered was that Renly was sleeping with Margaery as well, in the attempt of giving an heir to his newborn kingdom. As long as the façade was kept, nothing else mattered. He wasn’t the first King or husband to have a lover and at least there wasn’t the chance of bastard children being born.
Renly’s hand lazily rubbed the younger man’s back, looking at him in the faint light of the dawn. Loras was still half-asleep and had his eyes closed. Renly woke him up with a kiss, then got up, put on the black and gold dressing gown and opened the curtains to let the air and the light and the world into the room.
The servants who entered the room some time later, found their King busy talking of that day’s tourney with the Knight of Flower. Loras was just tying his cloak, looking down at Renly, who was sitting on the bed, still in his dressing gown.
As the servants helped Renly getting shaved and dressed, Loras remained in the room. They talked about the Rainbow Guard and war strategies. Stannis would be the first to go. Then they could either go to King’s Landing, or deal with the Wolf King first. Neither of them stood a chance anyway.
“Am I going to be a good King?” asked Renly after the servants left. He was quite self-confident, but sometimes he needed reassurance too, just like everybody else. “Will they accept me as their King?”
He looked at his own image in the mirror and at Loras approaching him from behind to place strong hands on his shoulders.
“Everybody loves you,” the knight said.
At least they used to love him when he wasn’t king, thought Renly bitterly. It’s easier to love a man than a king. “Do they, really? Or am I just the least worse amongst the ones who have been calling themselves king these days?”
“Does it really matter? You will make a great king, you know that. You are not like your brothers. You won’t give in to unrestrained passions like Robert, nor will you be dead inside, with a heart of stone like Stannis. You are what the Realm needs and I believe in you,” answered Loras, and you could tell that he really believed in what he said. He wasn’t a kid not a silly young lady with a head full of fairytales. He knew that Renly wasn’t as great as the knights and kings of the songs. But in the songs all the maidens are beautiful and all the knights are noble. Reality is a different matter. That much he did know. And he believed with all his heart that Renly would make a good King. The best King Westeros had had in a long time.
Renly turned to face him and smiled. “Say it again,” he whispered.
“I believe in you,” repeated Loras, smiling back. “And I love you, my King.”
“Renly, I’m just Renly to you,” said the older man, resting his hands on his lover’s hips. He was so slim he used to fear he would break, but he was also strong and he defeated enemies much taller and brawnier than he was. Delicate yet not defenceless, just like a rose. People tended to forget that roses had thorns too.
“I love you, my Loras.”
***
When you close your eyes
Know I'll be thinking about you
While my mistress she calls me
To stand in her spotlight again
Watching Margaery falling asleep, Renly wondered if Loras was still awake, if he was thinking of him. He surely had thought of his young knight as he was doing his duty, imagined it was his hair he was caressing, his skin he was touching. He had been gentle with her, but there was no passion.
He was still thinking of Loras now, wishing he could slip out of the room and go to him. Maybe he would find him already sleeping, his chest rising and falling as he breathed, lips slightly parted. To lay down next to him and sleep would be enough.
He had had other men before Loras, but no-one had ever been like him. No, never like him. He waited for them in his lonely nights, he had sex with them, he came crying their name. But there were no shared glances, no soft kisses nor lazy hours spent looking at the sky, no holding hands, no promises or waking up together in the morning, no secret smiles or whispers, no bed of roses or eating peaches naked in bed.
He still remembered their first kiss, the first time he undressed Loras and made love to him. He remembered thinking that he smelled and tasted of summer, hope and passion. They were in Storm’s End at the time and Loras was serving as squire to Renly.
The most vivid and important memory, though, was closer in time: just a few months ago. There was a tourney in King’s Landing to celebrate Eddard Stark as the new Hand. They both joined the joust and Loras won quite a lot of opponents before forfeiting the final round to Sandor Clegane, who had saved his life when the fight against The Mountain got out of control. With each victory, he handed a rose to one of the ladies.
That night, during the feast, he whispered in Renly’s ear to come to his tent later. He looked almost innocent as he smiled at him, before getting up to dance with some of the girls who called him a hero. Renly had found himself jealous of those ladies in colourful dresses. Loras’s heart belonged to him, but they got to dance with him in front of everyone, they got to be in his arms, they got to wear in their hair a rose he had given them. He just wished Loras would stay seated next to him, talking about the following day’s games and the wines and joking about how drunk Robert was.
***
I wanna lay you down on a bed of roses
For tonight I sleep on a bed of nails
I want to be just as close as the Holy Ghost is
And lay you down on a bed of roses
It was late when Renly finally left the banquet to join his lover in his tent. Loras’s squire was outside the door. Renly passed him by, nodding his head at him slightly. Inside, a dozen candles lighted the flower-scented atmosphere. The bed wasn’t as big and rich as the one at the castle. What caught Renly’s attention, though, were hundreds of white and red roses scattered on the blankets. He smiled, reading the message all too well: those girls got one rose, he got them all. He had him.
He couldn’t see Loras, but he could feel his presence: he was in the tent. He looked around, till he could see Loras stepping out of a dark corner, wearing only a belt of interwoven roses around his hips. He had one more rose in his hands.
“Undress for me?” Loras asked softly.
He seated down on the bed and looked at him as he took all his clothes off. As Renly, now naked, got closer, he caressed his chest with the rose… up to touch his lips, then down again. He got up to kiss him, the rose now abandoned on the bed together with all the others. He felt the Lord’s arms around him and his tongue parting his lips.
Stretching out on the bed, he dragged Renly on top of him. He had all the thorns taken off, so there was no risk of scratching their skin. Their hands were sinking in red and white petals.
Renly took a handful of them and let them fall on Loras’s face and chest. He kissed his skin and bit his neck.
“You are so beautiful,” he whispered, “the most beautiful rose this kingdoms will ever see.”
Loras smiled like someone who knows but is pleased nonetheless.
Renly usually took him from behind, burying his face in his hair as he came. Not that night, though. That night, they made love looking at each other, their lips meeting from time to time in passionate kisses.
Renly missed that night with his whole heart. He would have given his yet to be conquered kingdom to go back in time and live it again. Now… now he was married to a woman he couldn’t love, he was told by his Court to sleep with her and conceive an heir.
Tonight I won't be alone
But you know that don't
Mean I'm not lonely
I've got nothing to prove
For it's you that I'd die to defend
He looked at her, stroke her hair with tenderness. She looked beautiful and sad. She looked very much like her brother. Renly sighed and looked at the ceiling, his head resting on the pillows. He felt as lonely as he’d feel in an empty bed.
His only comfort was that Loras knew that he was the one Renly loved. He wasn’t jealous of his sister, not even for a moment did he doubt his King’s feelings for him.
They were married, though not in the traditional way. The seven Gods hadn’t been present at the ceremony, not had been their families or the High Septum. It had been just the two of them, in a garden, far from everybody else. A marriage sealed with blood and lovely kisses. The engraved knife cut their skin and as their blood mixed, they promised each other to always be together.
They’d never leave the other behind, never let anything come between them - not even a marriage, not even a Kingdom. They’d always love and protect each other.
Theirs was a bond which went far deeper than any other and it didn’t even matter that to the world Renly’s love was Margaery. They’d always have their nights together, their secret smiles and the memory of their bed of roses.
Fandom: A Song of Ice and Fire
Pairing: Renly/Loras
Rating: R
Word count: 2,749
Plot: Song-fic based on “Bed of Roses” by Bon Jovi. Renly married Margaery, but she’s not the one he loves.
Disclaimers: If I owned these characters, this would be a chapter of A Games of Thrones, not a fanfiction.
Sitting here wasted and wounded
at this old piano
Trying hard to capture
the moment this morning I don't know
'Cause a bottle of vodka
is still lodged in my head
And some blonde gave me nightmares
I think she's still in my bed
As I dream about movies
they won't make of me when I'm dead
It was dark outside. The black moonless sky was dotted with millions of shining stars, but it was dark nonetheless. The fire in the room had died hours ago and the only light came from two candles placed on the table. One was almost worn-out, but the other was going to give light for another hour or so. There were blank and words-filled papers on the table, letters and a few old books, with yellowing pages and fading ink. A pen with a sharpened point looked ready to be used, but nobody was at the table.
Renly was sitting on the windowsill, one leg gathered against his chest, the other dangling down, his foot barely touching the floor. His eyes were closed, his curly hair ruffled by the warm summer breeze. He was only wearing a dressing gown of black silk, with golden embroidered roses. A wedding gift. Gold and black were the colours of his Noble House, the roses were the symbol of his bride’s.
Looking at the roses falling down his chest in a golden chain, however, it wasn’t his wife he thought of. She was probably asleep in her bed, fair and beautiful, more alone than ever. Renly sighed: he felt sorry for her. He loved her, in a way, like he would have loved a sister. He could not love her as a woman and a wife, though, and she knew it all too well. Still, she agreed to marry him and on their wedding night, she welcomed her own brother in bed with them. Now she slept alone in an elegant bedchamber, knowing that her husband would wait for someone else to welcome in his bed.
Loras. The captain of his Guard. His brother-in-law. His most trusted knight. The first one to support his wish of becoming King of Westeros, and the one who made it possible thanks to his father and the power of his family. Loras. His love.
There were so many enemies he needed to defeat before sitting on the Throne of Swords, but he would make it. The numbers were in his favour: he had the biggest army, plenty of money and he was destined to become King. His brothers were worth nothing. Robert was once his hero, but he soon lost control, became everything a king shouldn’t be. As for Stannis, his claim was simply hopeless. The Lannisters could be an obstacle, yes, but not one he couldn’t overcome.
He would make it. A year from now, he would be sitting on the Throne of Swords with his young Queen by his side and his Knight of Flowers in his heart.
Would they write songs about him, about how he won the war, how he proved to be worthy of being the King of Westeros? Would they say that he cared a bit too much for his brother-in-law? Would they sing about the smile on Margaery’s lips on their wedding day or about the tears in her eyes when she woke up alone in the morning? Would they question the paternity of his children, his love for his wife? Would they… would they ever tell the truth and sing about red and white roses in blossom, the wind in his hair, the King’s hands caressing the Knight’s soft lips and his bare chest and his thighs, the scent of flowers and sex on their skin, the music and the sighs, their fingers entwined and their bodies dancing a song of passion and love and everything in between? Would they? He strongly doubted it.
The world did know and yet it didn’t. They whispered in each other’s ears about a stare which lasted too long, about a smile which should have been for Margaery, about him caring more for clothes and jewels than politics and wars. They whispered, but nothing more.
In a way, he felt it wasn’t right. He didn’t want Margaery to be remembered as his queen and love. There wasn’t much he could do, however, and Loras didn’t seem to mind too much. He said that what mattered, was that they knew about their love.
Oh, Loras. So young and so in love. When he talked about his feelings, when he told him he loved him, when he undressed him and when he opened his legs for him, he was not a boy. Not at all. He was more mature than people thought. In Renly’s eyes, he was a man. His man. His love.
Soft skin and big dreamy eyes, but he was strong and proud. Delicate and dangerous as a rose, he penetrated Renly’s heart and made him feel really alive for the first time.
After empting the glass of wine he’d been nursing for quite a long time, Renly got up and paced slowly around the room. When the door opened some time later, he was back by the window, looking at the night outside. He heard the footsteps, but didn’t turn around until they were really close.
Loras’s face looked even younger and his green clothes greyish in the dim light. He had taken off his colourful cloak just after entering the room and abandoned it on a chair together with the sword. In that moment, he wasn’t the Knight of Flowers all the ladies of the Seven Kingdoms dreamed of, he was just Loras.
Their eyes made contact and for a few silent moments it was enough. Then Loras took his lover’s hand in his own and kissed his fingers. Renly closed the window curtains, a teasing smile on his lips.
Loras was growing up quite fast but was still smaller, so Renly had to bend down to kiss his lips. He felt the young man’s hands on the back of his head and on his face and slid his arms around his waist to bring him closer. The kiss deepened, Loras refusing as always to let him in control. He would surrender to his lips and his caresses eventually, but not before reminding him that he was no adoring maiden.
As they kissed, their hands now fighting with strings and knots, Renly pushed Loras towards the bed. Before laying him down, he whispered on his lips that he loved him. Loved him so much.
Soon enough their clothes were on the floor, their hands now free to caress soft, warm skin. Their bodies both bore scars, which longed for loving lips and ghost kisses. They kept their fingers intertwined on Loras’s chest as they made love, Renly’s mouth attacking the back of his neck as he buried himself deep inside his lover.
***
With an ironclad fist I wake up and
French kiss the morning
While some marching band keeps
its own beat in my head
While we're talking
About all of the things that I long to believe
About love and the truth and
what you mean to me
And the truth is baby you're all that I need
When they woke up the following morning, Renly’s arm was still around Loras’s waist, possessively saying mine. At King’s Landing they used to say goodbye after making love, and they slept apart, in their own rooms. Here it was different. The Court knew but pretended not to see anything. If someone saw Loras leaving the King’s bedroom early in the morning, they would turn their head to the other side. What mattered was that Renly was sleeping with Margaery as well, in the attempt of giving an heir to his newborn kingdom. As long as the façade was kept, nothing else mattered. He wasn’t the first King or husband to have a lover and at least there wasn’t the chance of bastard children being born.
Renly’s hand lazily rubbed the younger man’s back, looking at him in the faint light of the dawn. Loras was still half-asleep and had his eyes closed. Renly woke him up with a kiss, then got up, put on the black and gold dressing gown and opened the curtains to let the air and the light and the world into the room.
The servants who entered the room some time later, found their King busy talking of that day’s tourney with the Knight of Flower. Loras was just tying his cloak, looking down at Renly, who was sitting on the bed, still in his dressing gown.
As the servants helped Renly getting shaved and dressed, Loras remained in the room. They talked about the Rainbow Guard and war strategies. Stannis would be the first to go. Then they could either go to King’s Landing, or deal with the Wolf King first. Neither of them stood a chance anyway.
“Am I going to be a good King?” asked Renly after the servants left. He was quite self-confident, but sometimes he needed reassurance too, just like everybody else. “Will they accept me as their King?”
He looked at his own image in the mirror and at Loras approaching him from behind to place strong hands on his shoulders.
“Everybody loves you,” the knight said.
At least they used to love him when he wasn’t king, thought Renly bitterly. It’s easier to love a man than a king. “Do they, really? Or am I just the least worse amongst the ones who have been calling themselves king these days?”
“Does it really matter? You will make a great king, you know that. You are not like your brothers. You won’t give in to unrestrained passions like Robert, nor will you be dead inside, with a heart of stone like Stannis. You are what the Realm needs and I believe in you,” answered Loras, and you could tell that he really believed in what he said. He wasn’t a kid not a silly young lady with a head full of fairytales. He knew that Renly wasn’t as great as the knights and kings of the songs. But in the songs all the maidens are beautiful and all the knights are noble. Reality is a different matter. That much he did know. And he believed with all his heart that Renly would make a good King. The best King Westeros had had in a long time.
Renly turned to face him and smiled. “Say it again,” he whispered.
“I believe in you,” repeated Loras, smiling back. “And I love you, my King.”
“Renly, I’m just Renly to you,” said the older man, resting his hands on his lover’s hips. He was so slim he used to fear he would break, but he was also strong and he defeated enemies much taller and brawnier than he was. Delicate yet not defenceless, just like a rose. People tended to forget that roses had thorns too.
“I love you, my Loras.”
***
When you close your eyes
Know I'll be thinking about you
While my mistress she calls me
To stand in her spotlight again
Watching Margaery falling asleep, Renly wondered if Loras was still awake, if he was thinking of him. He surely had thought of his young knight as he was doing his duty, imagined it was his hair he was caressing, his skin he was touching. He had been gentle with her, but there was no passion.
He was still thinking of Loras now, wishing he could slip out of the room and go to him. Maybe he would find him already sleeping, his chest rising and falling as he breathed, lips slightly parted. To lay down next to him and sleep would be enough.
He had had other men before Loras, but no-one had ever been like him. No, never like him. He waited for them in his lonely nights, he had sex with them, he came crying their name. But there were no shared glances, no soft kisses nor lazy hours spent looking at the sky, no holding hands, no promises or waking up together in the morning, no secret smiles or whispers, no bed of roses or eating peaches naked in bed.
He still remembered their first kiss, the first time he undressed Loras and made love to him. He remembered thinking that he smelled and tasted of summer, hope and passion. They were in Storm’s End at the time and Loras was serving as squire to Renly.
The most vivid and important memory, though, was closer in time: just a few months ago. There was a tourney in King’s Landing to celebrate Eddard Stark as the new Hand. They both joined the joust and Loras won quite a lot of opponents before forfeiting the final round to Sandor Clegane, who had saved his life when the fight against The Mountain got out of control. With each victory, he handed a rose to one of the ladies.
That night, during the feast, he whispered in Renly’s ear to come to his tent later. He looked almost innocent as he smiled at him, before getting up to dance with some of the girls who called him a hero. Renly had found himself jealous of those ladies in colourful dresses. Loras’s heart belonged to him, but they got to dance with him in front of everyone, they got to be in his arms, they got to wear in their hair a rose he had given them. He just wished Loras would stay seated next to him, talking about the following day’s games and the wines and joking about how drunk Robert was.
***
I wanna lay you down on a bed of roses
For tonight I sleep on a bed of nails
I want to be just as close as the Holy Ghost is
And lay you down on a bed of roses
It was late when Renly finally left the banquet to join his lover in his tent. Loras’s squire was outside the door. Renly passed him by, nodding his head at him slightly. Inside, a dozen candles lighted the flower-scented atmosphere. The bed wasn’t as big and rich as the one at the castle. What caught Renly’s attention, though, were hundreds of white and red roses scattered on the blankets. He smiled, reading the message all too well: those girls got one rose, he got them all. He had him.
He couldn’t see Loras, but he could feel his presence: he was in the tent. He looked around, till he could see Loras stepping out of a dark corner, wearing only a belt of interwoven roses around his hips. He had one more rose in his hands.
“Undress for me?” Loras asked softly.
He seated down on the bed and looked at him as he took all his clothes off. As Renly, now naked, got closer, he caressed his chest with the rose… up to touch his lips, then down again. He got up to kiss him, the rose now abandoned on the bed together with all the others. He felt the Lord’s arms around him and his tongue parting his lips.
Stretching out on the bed, he dragged Renly on top of him. He had all the thorns taken off, so there was no risk of scratching their skin. Their hands were sinking in red and white petals.
Renly took a handful of them and let them fall on Loras’s face and chest. He kissed his skin and bit his neck.
“You are so beautiful,” he whispered, “the most beautiful rose this kingdoms will ever see.”
Loras smiled like someone who knows but is pleased nonetheless.
Renly usually took him from behind, burying his face in his hair as he came. Not that night, though. That night, they made love looking at each other, their lips meeting from time to time in passionate kisses.
Renly missed that night with his whole heart. He would have given his yet to be conquered kingdom to go back in time and live it again. Now… now he was married to a woman he couldn’t love, he was told by his Court to sleep with her and conceive an heir.
Tonight I won't be alone
But you know that don't
Mean I'm not lonely
I've got nothing to prove
For it's you that I'd die to defend
He looked at her, stroke her hair with tenderness. She looked beautiful and sad. She looked very much like her brother. Renly sighed and looked at the ceiling, his head resting on the pillows. He felt as lonely as he’d feel in an empty bed.
His only comfort was that Loras knew that he was the one Renly loved. He wasn’t jealous of his sister, not even for a moment did he doubt his King’s feelings for him.
They were married, though not in the traditional way. The seven Gods hadn’t been present at the ceremony, not had been their families or the High Septum. It had been just the two of them, in a garden, far from everybody else. A marriage sealed with blood and lovely kisses. The engraved knife cut their skin and as their blood mixed, they promised each other to always be together.
They’d never leave the other behind, never let anything come between them - not even a marriage, not even a Kingdom. They’d always love and protect each other.
Theirs was a bond which went far deeper than any other and it didn’t even matter that to the world Renly’s love was Margaery. They’d always have their nights together, their secret smiles and the memory of their bed of roses.