Loreon Storm had never felt like a Lannister. Though he had been raised in Casterly Rock until he was eleven, his position as a bastard was always made painfully clear. Though he received a knight's training, sparring in the yard with the sons of lords, and was taught his letters and basic sums by the maester, he was not part of the family. At feasts, he sat on the benches amongst the guardsmen. His care as a child was largely left to a single elderly nursemaid. And Lord Tywin's eyes passed over him as though he was just another face in the rabble.

When he was a boy, he had lived for his mother's visits. Giana would come to see him a few times every year, or he would visit her and his trueborn siblings at the Banefort. She was bright and smiley and fun, and would spoil him, bringing him toys, but she was more of a sister than a mother. She had only been fourteen when she had Loreon, and it was as though that sense of childishness had remained with her, when it came to him. With her trueborn children, she acted like a mother, telling them off when they misbehaved and making sure they were neat and presentable. Giana was never like that with him.

Of course, growing up in Casterly Rock was hardly the worst life, and people throughout all Seven Kingdoms put up with far worse. He was friendly with many in his family; Uncle Kevan had always been kind to him, as well as his wife Dorna, whilst Tyrion was like an elder brother; they were only seven or eight years apart in age, the same gap as was between Tyrion and Jaime. But Loreon had seen the full maester's education his cousins were getting, seen that they were being equipped with the skills of a lord, a battle commander, not just those of a warrior. The thought of his entire future consisting of being a household knight in Casterly Rock was rather bleak.

He had always known he knew he could do so much better. Perhaps that was his Lannister side coming it. It was ungrateful, he knew - many smallfolk boys would kill for a life like his - but despite what Lord Tywin liked to pretend, Loreon was half a Lannister, and that ambition, which seemed to have skipped out his mother and Jaime, ran in his veins too.

When his father summoned him to court, he had been sullen and defensive; though he made friends easily, he also angered just as fast, learning early on in life to use his fists and size to deal with those mocking him. In Casterly Rock, he was simply Loreon, the bastard. People expected little of him. But in the Red Keep, he was the King's bastard. Cersei despised him - she always had - but his father had treated him like a shiny new toy. Here was a son he could be proud of, Robert Baratheon had loudly claimed after watching him beat his fellow squires in the training yard, or kill a stag in a hunt.

In the Red Keep, Loreon learned that being a friendly face, being charming - even to strangers and those he disliked - was the easiest way to get ahead. He had the King's favour, and considerable skill at arms, which would grant him some level of respect as it was, but that wasn't enough; people had to like him. More importantly, they had to need him. He had to be useful.

His closest friend had a different view. Renan Snow shared his mother's sharp tongue and cold manner, as well as being no less than deadly with a sword. But whilst Loreon had been in the spotlight the moment he arrived, with the big scandal surrounding the King bringing his baseborn son with the Queen's sister to court, Ren had been invisible at first, just some Northern boy. For a while, he had even been able to pass as a servant to those that didn't know him, though word soon spread of the young squire who could give grown knights a run for their money. And as half a Stark, King Robert had noticed him.

*

Loreon did not linger, as his father lay dying.

He knew Robert was not long for this world the moment the boar had squealed, tusks ripping awfully through the King's flesh. It was a sight that would haunt him for years to come, no doubt; the blood, the smell, his father's entrails hanging out as he gave a great roar and slew the beast anyway whilst raging drunk. No one survived a wound like that. It was miracle enough that he held onto life for the several days it took to return to King's Landing, along with another day after that.

Having spent the journey back with his father, saying everything he wished to say, Loreon stayed only long enough to see him settled in his bed.

"Loreon," The King rasped out, before any of the others got there; before Cersei, or Lord Stark, or his half-siblings.

He paused. "Yes, Father?"

Robert had told him to call him Father, not Your Grace, years ago. One of the few things Loreon respected him for.

"I wish I was leaving the crown with you," Blunt as ever, even on his deathbed. "You are the best, of all of them. A son I can be proud of, not like that shitstain Joffrey,"

Loreon, whatever he felt for the King, had always tried to make him proud.

"Careful," He said. "You don't want to start another Blackfyre rebellion,"

His father laughed, then winced. "Suppose not. I've been a poor enough King,"

It wasn't like Loreon hadn't thought so before. Robert might have been a great conqueror, but he hadn't attended a council meeting the whole time he had known him, often embarrassed himself in public by getting roaring drunk and publically groping at serving girls, and was on the way to bankrupting the Iron Throne with endless feasting and tourneys. Loreon had often thought he could do better himself - known he could do better - though was self-aware enough to know that was the bitter musing of a bastard.

"You kept the realm at peace for fourteen years," He shrugged. "And you knew the right people to delegate to, to keep things running smoothly,"

Robert laughed again. "True enough," His amusement faded to something unusually sincere. "You stick with Ned, boy. He'll protect you from the Lannister bitch. I'm not blind, I know the moment I'm dead she'll be out to get you,"

That was more thought than Loreon expected him to put into anything, and made the final farewells harder than he had expected. Robert Baratheon was not the greatest father in the Seven Kingdoms, though with him, at least he had tried. They shared pleasant memories, of hunting in the Kingswood, sparring in the yard, gifting him that huge greatsword which was finally the right size for him, years later.

Nonetheless, Loreon was gone from the castle before the King drew his last breath. Lord Stark would be a good Regent, but Joffrey would be King nonetheless. His half-brother despised him, his aunt even more so, and without Robert to stop them, one of them would see him dead within a moon's turn. Loreon sought sanctuary on the first ship to Dragonstone. Stannis had no particular affection for his baseborn nephew, but Storm's End was too far for now, even though he would have received a warmer welcome with his Uncle Renly. The Westerlands would have been even better, but that meant getting close to the turbulent Riverlands. And besides, he didn't much like the idea of fleeing back to his mother and her husband.

The ship set sail as the bells of the Great Sept began to toll, marking the death of the King. The deck was dotted with sailors and a dozen other passengers. They all knew what the bells meant, but none knew that it wasn't his King that Loreon mourned, but his father.

Ordinarily he would've tried to make conversation with his fellow passengers, or offered to help the sailors, but today he simply stood at the stern of the ship as they sailed out into Blackwater Bay, staring at the high up walls of the Red Keep on the hill. There looked to be more activity there than usual, he noticed, squinting up at the battlements. Hold on...

"They're fighting, up at the castle, look!" A nearby sailor called out.

Many of the passengers hurried to the stern to look. The man was right. Though they were too far away to see who was fighting who, the faint sounds of clashing steel could be heard even at this distance. Everyone had all kinds of theories, of course, and Loreon absently listened as he tried in vain to make out the colour of the men's uniforms.

"It's the Queen what killed King Robert," A fat merchant was insisting. "The Lannisters are always up to no good,"

There was a hum of agreement from everyone at this; most people of King's Landing remembered the Sack all too well.

"I've got the best eyes in the city, and that there's goldcloaks fighting the redcloaks," Another man swore.

"Rubbish," An older woman scoffed. "That's red and gold fighting white. I bet it's that Hand, Lord Stark. Those Northerners are just a bunch o' wildlings waiting to take over - I heard they can all turn into wolves! He's probably done for poor Prince Joffrey by now,"

"Maybe it's that bastard of the King's, starting a mutiny to take his brother's crown,"

"Isn't his mother a Lannister too? Why would he?"

"No, it's the Queen who's a Lannister, fool,"

"King Robert got a bastard on his wife's sister, before they were married,"

"Why did he marry Queen Cersei, then?"

"Have you had a look at the Queen? What man would turn his nose up at taking her to wife?"

Loreon, grinning slightly despite himself, said nothing.

The journey from King's Landing took over three days, and Dragonstone hardly gave him a warm welcome. It had started to rain by the time he made the climb up to the castle from the harbour, so Loreon was dripping wet by the time he reached the gates. A disagreement with the guards on the gates had ensued - in this state he hardly looked like the son of a King, even an illegitimate one - but he managed to convince the men to take him seriously. They escorted him inside, to old Maester Cressen, who had served at Storm's End for decades and only had to look him over to know that he was who he said he was.

Then they took him to Stannis. Or rather, Stannis and his red witch. His uncle received Loreon in his solar, as stony-faced as ever, his stony demeanour contrasting with the woman behind him.

"Lord Stannis," Loreon bowed. "Lady Melisandre. I've not had the pleasure of meeting you before,"

She was beautiful, tall, slender and shapely, with a heart-shaped face. There was something odd about her presence nonetheless. Her hair was red, her gown was red, and she wore a huge red ruby choker around her neck.

The woman smiled serenely, inclining her head at his greeting. "Loreon Storm," Her voice was richly accented.

His uncle, however, was unmoved. "Well?" No greetings or pleasantries, but he had expected nothing less from the man. "Why are you here?"

"I'm sure you've already heard that His Grace is dead,"

Stannis nodded sharply, once.

"Joffrey is King now. The boy despises me, as does his mother - if I stayed, I'd have been dead within the week. I might not have lasted the day, given the fighting I saw from the ship. Do you know anything of that?"

Stannis stared at him for a moment, considering whether or not to tell him. For all the expression visible on his face, he could have been contemplating that evening's meal.

"Lord Stark was arrested, his men killed and his daughters taken prisoner,"

"Arrested? Why?" Loreon raised an eyebrow. "The last time I saw my father, he was making the man regent,"

"Supposedly, Lord Stark commented treason," Stannis gave a derisive snort. "He tried to seize the throne from Joffrey, proclaiming him a false King before Robert's body was even cold,"

"You say that like you don't believe it," He phrased it carefully. His uncle misliked assumptions, and Loreon was constantly aware of the red woman stood at the man's shoulder.

"I believe every word," Stannis replied. "Every word of Stark's, that is. I have no love for the man, but he has a sense of duty, at least, unlike most. He would never betray Robert's son, and did no such thing, despite moving against Joffrey,"

Loreon stared at him for a few moments. Had it been anyone else, he'd have believed them to be joking, but his uncle was hardly the type.

"You believe Joffrey is not Robert's son?"

"I don't believe, I know," Stannis' jaw clenched. "I've known since long before Lord Arryn died. I suspected the truth, so I investigated. Robert would never have believed me, particularly on such a matter as this, so I approached his beloved foster father. That truth is what Jon Arryn died for," He spoke with such conviction, and anger, that suddenly the idea did not sound so ridiculous after all.

But Loreon was hardly going to take such an accusation at face value. "So who is Robert's rightful heir, then?" He asked pointedly. "Tommen?"

Stannis scoffed. "Don't play those games with me," He glowered. "You know full well what I meant. All three of Robert's children are bastards, and I am the rightful heir to the Iron Throne,"

How fortunate for you. But his uncle valued duty over all else. If he truly believed Joffrey was the rightful King, Loreon doubted he was the type to make a grab for the throne himself. But where did he get these ideas from? Stannis certainly believed it was the truth, but was he correct?

"Others won't see it that way," Loreon tried to be diplomatic. "I'm sure you can see how it would look. Your brother dead, and you suddenly start bringing up accusations against his children that, if true, would make you King," He saw Stannis' eyes narrow, and quickly continued. "I'm not saying that's what I think, but before you start making claims, you need proof,"

"You think I don't have proof?" Stannis snapped. "Proof is here in front of me, dressed in your clothes and sitting in your chair. Proof is in your dark hair and that of Edric Storm. Robert's girl in the Vale is black of hair, as is another working in a King's Landing armoury, as is an infant girl in one of Littlefinger's brothels. All Robert's bastards have the Baratheon look, including his son with his wife's own sister. Yet his trueborn heirs resemble only their mother,"

Loreon thought on that, coming to an uncomfortable realisation. Gods, he's right. The consequences of that were unimaginable. Actually no, he could imagine them well enough, and wasn't sure if he entirely disliked what he saw.

"Do you have any idea who the father of Cersei's children is?"

Stannis' jaw clenched even further. "The Kingslayer,"

It took a moment for that to sink in. Loreon blinked in surprise, and would have laughed had his uncle's face not been so deadly serious, so clearly disgusted.

"You're saying her twin brother fathered all her children? Surely not even Cersei - "

"I have a letter, written in Eddard Stark's hand and sent the day Robert died, claiming that the Queen confessed the truths of her vile incest to him personally,"

After Stannis showed him the letter - clearly resenting having to prove anything to his bastard nephew, but doing so regardless for reasons he didn't share - Loreon was convinced.

*

The next weeks were spent trying to get the man agree to allow him to sit in on his war councils. As far as Stannis was concerned, Loreon's status was simply that of any young knight serving on Dragonstone, which did not warrant a seat at his table, which was infuriating.

It's not like he hasn't got the room. So far, the only houses backing Stannis were the lords sworn to Dragonstone, the lords of the Narrow Sea; Velaryon, Bar Emmon, Celtigar, Sunglass. Ser Davos Seaworth had been sent into the Stormlands to try and win the support of the lords there, but had so far been unsuccessful.

So with little else to do, and knowing his uncle was too stubborn to even hope to persuade, Loreon played to his own strengths.

He approached the proud, fierce Lord Monford Velaryon first. Men like him were easy to befriend. A little flattery, and when the inevitable suggestion of a spar in the training yard was brought up, he proved himself skilled enough to respect whilst letting the man win at least half the time. Velaryon doubtless saw Loreon as inferior, yet he was still a King's son. Once the two were on friendly terms, it was easy to get him talking about what went on in the war councils, easy to work out what Velaryon felt about each of the other lords and Stannis himself, easy to see any potential problems that may or may not arise.

Duram Bar Emmon was next, a fat and feeble boy of fifteen who was wary of Loreon at first. Once he offered to help the boy become a better fighter, however, and took him out drinking with several of the other young knights, Duram became loyal to a fault. Much of the same information could be wrung from him as from Velaryon, but the boy, though weak-willed, was shrewder than he seemed and saw what Loreon was doing. He didn't seem to care though, freely sharing anything he knew.

Guncer Sunglass was easy. The man was pious, and prayed three times a day; all Loreon had to do to was join him in the sept a few times, voice his concern over Melisandre's growing influence and confess that he often prayed for his mother over the shame of having him out of wedlock. Old Ardrian Celtigar, with his slimy smile and cynicism, was harder to get in the good graces of. Loreon couldn't make it too obvious that he was trying, but the odd mocking insult about the others seemed to be winning him over, slowly.

Loreon integrated himself into the workings of Dragonstone itself. He went drinking with the castle guardsmen, sparred with the knights the lords had brought with them, fitting into both groups easily and making many friends there. He was known in the kitchens for donating his hunting kills, and always made sure to smile at the servants. The armourer in the town knew him by name, as did every innkeep on the island, and many of the dockside workers, all of which were valuable sources of information. And he spent time with his cousin, little Shireen, who was always glad for any company given that most shunned her for her greyscale scars. The girl was sweet, but intelligent, despite that strange old fool Patchface she kept around.

His aim in all of this was to convince his uncle that he would be useful for something. Stannis was famous for his blunt way of speaking, which did not foster friendship and cooperation by any means. Loreon didn't think his uncle would lower himself enough to ask for his nephew's help - the man was ever convinced that he was right, and it was everyone else's solemn duty to follow his orders without question - but it was a start.

And in the end, it worked.

"I see you inherited my brother's talent for making friends," Only Stannis could say that like the very concept was distasteful. "My council is rife with mentions of how generous Loreon Storm is, my daughter sings your praises and is there any man in the garrison who you haven't bought drinks for?"

Loreon refrained from grinning, merely nodded. "I doubt it, my lord,"

"I suppose you're pleased with yourself," His uncle ground out. "I've had enough of games in this castle. You can put those talents to good use. Seeing how Seaworth and every other man has failed me, we can see how the lords of the Stormlands take to their beloved Robert's bastard reminding them of their duty. If you can wrangle a reply out of Renly, do it,"

*

Before his departure to Storm's End, Loreon sat in the rookery at the very top of the Sea Dragon Tower, quill in hand. The letter he was attempting to write was largely forgotten. Looking out at the peaks of the island, he was reminded of when he had visited before, when he was thirteen. It was an official court visit; the Kingsguard, and thus Ren, had been there. The two of them had spent their afternoons exploring the crags and ridges of the island with a few of the local boys.

They had even brought little Tommen along once, dressing him up in plain clothes and claiming he was a pageboy. The Prince had enjoyed himself, making friends with some of the smallfolk boys and getting covered in dirt and dust like the rest of them. He was scolded furiously by his mother upon their return, who demanded Loreon be punished for leading her son into trouble. The King had just laughed, of course, saying he was glad Tommen was being toughened up. Loreon's dear aunt had given him hateful looks for the rest of the visit; hardly an uncommon occurrence. Ren had somehow escaped blame, as he normally did, by melting silently into the background as the Queen stormed into the yard to catch them coming back. He was irrelevant to Cersei, simply her brother's skinny northern squire, not worth bothering with. Lucky bastard, Loreon said after, and his friend had smirked faintly.

Those days were only four years ago, but it felt like a lifetime since.

Loreon glanced out to sea through one of the large arched windows, seeing the tiny speck of a fishing boat rolling on the waves, far away. He wasn't one to enjoy peace and quiet - he was like his father in that sense, at least - but recently he found that he liked being up here alone in the tower, where the only noise was that of the ravens, and the sea crashing onto the rocks far below them. There was only so much diplomacy and plotting he could take before even he had to come away for a while.

He glanced back down at his letter, almost finished.

Snow,

I'm not dead, only because I escaped my dear aunt's clutches. I had no idea everything would go wrong so fast, or else I'd have brought your sister with me. Imagine my surprise when I arrived on Dragonstone, to find Stannis is proclaiming himself King, and that Joffrey, Myrcella and Tommen to be bastards born of incest, with a letter from Ned Stark as proof. If anything, it's good news, as the true King doesn't want to see my head on a spike yet, though I'll definitely be asking Jaime a few questions next time I see him.

You won't have heard any word from Dragonstone yet. I believe Stannis' current plan is threatening silence, very effective I'm sure. My uncle is planning his next moves carefully...

You probably worked all this out months ago, sly bastard that you are, but in case you haven't, tell your cousin. I hear you're marching to war, and what better way for the North to receive its vengeance than dethroning the little shit who imprisoned Lord Stark? Stannis is planning to send an official letter, announcing his claim and calling for the lords to do their duty, but I thought you'd appreciate the advance warning. I'm sure young Robb will want all the allies he can get, and this letter puts things more pleasantly than Stannis' demands will.

I'm due to set out for the Stormlands in a few days, so don't bother replying. Not sure what's happening there, Storm's End has gone oddly quiet. That's why I'm going, I suppose. No one there knows I'm with Stannis yet.

Try not to die. If there's a way to sort this mess out without Tommen, Myrcella and Jaime dying, I hope to be able to find it. I'm still half-Lannister after all, for all the Storm in me, and I won't have it said I turned my back on the family that claim to have raised me. Though Tywin, Joffrey and Cersei can go bugger themselves for all I care.

Your friend, Loreon Storm

Despite the fact he was writing it in the rookery, the letter would be sent by rider, as the Northern army could be anywhere by now. Loreon knew most of the castle garrison by name, and could ask any number of men to do the job. His tourney winnings would help greatly with that, he was sure. Look at me, paying my way like a true lion.

Ren was most likely sat at his cousin's right hand now, fighting his war alongside him. Perhaps that was due in part to his mother, that he was welcomed into the family; Rosennis Stark held sway over her house like Giana Lannister never had. Part of him wished for a family like the Starks, stern and solemn but loyal to their own, even the bastards. He had met Jon Snow in Winterfell, who aside from Lady Catelyn's dislike, had been raised largely the same as his trueborn brothers. And though Ren had been treated arguably worse than Loreon ever had in the Dreadfort, his mother had never looked at him any differently to her other children, and was a considerably more fierce protector than Giana.

Loreon got up from his seat by the windowsill, rolling up the parchment, the ink having dried. He could no longer see the fishing boat on the water anymore, though there were dark clouds building up on the horizon. Hesighed, turning away from the window and switched on his friendly smile as he descended the spiral staircase.

*

It took ten days to reach the Stormlands. Loreon had always liked Storm's End. It was an imposing castle, not beautiful like Highgarden or Starfall, but its strength was evident just from looking at it. The wind ever-blowing off of Shipbreaker Bay always carried the promise of a storm. He had been in the castle for such a storm once before, and the howl of the wind, the roar of the sea, the flashes of lightening and booming thunderclaps so loud it sounded like the sky itself was splitting open, echoing through the walls of the very castle itself, had made his blood race.

Unlike Dragonstone, Loreon and the four men accompanying him were welcomed in with open arms. Having passed through the huge curtain wall, the castellan, Ser Cortnay Penrose, came down to greet them, glad to see him and clapping him on the back. Penrose had been castellan of Storm's End whilst Renly was in the capital as Master of Laws, and had all but raised Edric Storm, Loreon's ten year old half-brother, the only other acknowledged bastard of Robert Baratheon.

"Good to see you, Loreon," Penrose clapped him on the back. Loreon had been visiting Storm's End with his father or Renly ever since he had come to King's Landing, and knew the man well.

"Is my uncle not here?" He asked as they were shown into the castle. "I thought he left King's Landing the day my father died, that's more than enough time?"

Penrose smiled as they entered the colossal drum tower. "He was never here, Storm," He said, showing them up the stairs. "Lord Renly went straight to Highgarden from the capital, he reached it some weeks ago. He did send word of his arrival. I can show you his letters, if you like,"

Something in his tone suggested that this would be a very good idea.

Once they were sequestered in the lord's solar, Penrose brought out a bundle of parchment, handing one in particular over. All it took was for Loreon to read the words 'I am soon to be crowned King' before his heart sank like a stone. It was all he could do not to curse. Gods, this is all we fucking need, a rival within our own house.

He had suspected something was wrong when Renly had not replied to any message sent from Dragonstone. But this? Stannis had told him to win the loyalty of the Stormlands. By that, he meant trail around to each castle and landed knight and demand that they support their rightful King, doubtlessly being told no each time, just like they had told Ser Davos before him. Stannis was not lord of Storm's End, and he was not particularly loved in these lands. But Renly was. No wonder they told Davos no... They're probably already marching. There was no point asking for the loyalty of men who wouldn't even be there.

Stannis' strategy was not working. So Loreon would do it his own way. Already he was wondering how long it would take to get to Highgarden.

"Could you lend us horses, Ser?" He looked up at Penrose.

The man nodded, not looking surprised. "Bet you want to join him as soon as possible, eh Storm?" He chuckled. "I hear he's forming his own Kingsguard, there'd surely be a space for you if you wanted it,"

"I wouldn't be so bold as to ask," Loreon smiled absently, his mind miles away.

They stayed one night at Storm's End, spending the rest of that day gathering provisions and organising logistics. One of the men would return to Dragonstone to update Stannis on the situation, whilst the rest would accompany Loreon to Highgarden.

That evening he dined with Edric Storm. His younger brother was always glad to see him, and near idolised him, given Robert gave him scant enough attention. Loreon managed to get through the boy's heartfelt outpouring of grief about their father's death without revealing that all the gifts the King supposedly sent him were chosen by Varys.

"Can I come to Highgarden with you?" Edric asked eagerly.

"No," Loreon laughed. "You're ten, and they're riding to war," At the boy's crestfallen face, he added. "You get to stay here and hold Storm's End - that's much more important,"

"I suppose," His brother said.

"Tell you what," Loreon said. "Once all this is over, you can be my squire in a couple of years, how about that?" If either of us live that long.

But Edric's face lit up once more, and the rest of the meal passed smoothly.

*

They left early the next morning, on borrowed horses. Instead of taking the Kingsroad up until it joined the Roseroad, they travelled as the crow flies, picking up farmer's tracks and smaller roads for a more direct route. It was soon into their journey, however, that they came across another traveller. Loreon took the large figure riding in armour for a knight at first, but after calling out a greeting, realised that it was a woman. At over six feet tall, hugely muscled and with a face that could be generously described as plain, he did not know her personally, but the lady his uncle Renly had spoken of was unmistakable by reputation alone.

"Are you Lady Brienne of Tarth, my lady?" He asked with a friendly smile, ignoring the mocking chuckles of his men behind him.

The woman - who had initially looked shocked at seeing him - eyed him with suspicion, though she couldn't have been more than a year or two older than he was. "I am, ser," She replied. "How do you know me? Forgive me, you - you look like someone I've met before,"

"I look like a Baratheon," He laughed. "I'm Loreon Storm. My uncle Renly spoke well of you,"

Brienne flushed. "I'm riding to join his host at Highgarden," She said, turning away and seeming to expect him to laugh at her.

Loreon did not. Woman though she might be, she was clearly stronger than many men, and he had heard that she could actually use that sword she carried.

"As are we," He said. "You could ride with us, my lady? We have provisions, and travel is always safer in a group,"

She considered him for a moment. She's suspicious of every kindness. Though that wasn't particularly surprising, given that most men to court her likely only did it as she was heiress of Tarth, and made fun of her looks behind her back.

"No, I don't want to impose - "

"We could do with someone else to keep watch," He cut her off. "Dywen here grumbles all day about having to wake up in the middle of the night. You wouldn't be imposing, you'd be useful,"

In the end, Brienne did end up riding with them, though she must have heard the muttered comments from two of the men in particular, and the muffled laughter. Growing up as an ugly woman who fought like a man, Loreon thought she would have grown a thick skin by now, but he saw how the words hurt her.

"I heard of the thrashing you gave Ser Humfrey Wagstaff," He grinned at her as they made camp for the night.

"How did you hear of that?" She flushed again.

"It's true, then?" One of the men looked up from the campfire, amused. The proud old knight was not a very popular man amongst the guardsmen of castles he visited. "I thought he was your betrothed?"

The others two smirked at each other.

"He was," Brienne sounded like she wanted to sink into the ground. "He... he said that when we were married, he expected me to wear only women's clothes, and he would chastise me if I didn't obey him. So I said I would accept punishment only from a man who could beat me in a fight,"

They all laughed at that, except the lady, who shifted uncomfortably.

"What happened then?" Loreon prompted.

"I broke his collarbone and two ribs with a mace," Brienne said, and even she had to smile slightly at that as they burst out laughing again. "And the betrothal was called off,"

"I bet it was," He grinned. "So you can use that sword, then. How about a spar?"

"We have no tourney swords, ser," The woman said. "I wouldn't want to - "

She broke off, hearing the snort from one of the men. I wouldn't want to hurt you, had been what she was going to say. Loreon didn't hear that often, given he was six and a half feet tall and built rather like the young Robert Baratheon.

"You laugh, Edwyn," He raised an eyebrow. "But have you seen the size of her? She could snap those skinny arms of yours clean off. And I mean that in the most complimentary sense, my lady,"

Despite his clarification, Brienne seemed unsure whether to take that as a compliment or insult, and turned away to tend the fire.

*

It took them over two weeks to reach Highgarden, and that was pushing a fast pace. The castle truly was beautiful, but Loreon was focused more on the enormous host gathering beneath the outer walls. Banners from all over the Reach and Stormlands could be seen fluttering in the breeze, and the city of tents was vast. More importantly, even from this distance, they looked to be packing.

"Just in time," He smiled, though he was already wondering what in hells he could do. Loreon thought of Stannis, and his own strength; four meagre Narrow Sea lords, arguing on Dragonstone. Renly had vast numbers, the near unlimited provisions of the Reach, and charisma that Stannis would never have.

For a moment, he considered shedding his allegiance to Stannis. It would certainly be the easy path to take. Renly knew him, liked him, would surely offer him a high up position and, most importantly, looked to be on the winning side. With the Tyrells allegiance, he could control the trade going into King's Landing, food specifically. Renly could effectively put the city under siege from a hundred leagues away. On the face of it, he was the obvious choice. But things that seemed too good to be true usually were. He knew his uncle. Whilst Renly might like the idea of being King, the moment true struggle came, he would lose his nerve. All these lords and knights had flocked to him, but should he falter in any way, they would flock to someone else, the next highest bidder. Renly was loved, and men like Lord Tywin were feared, but each on its own was not enough.

Loreon hardened his head against getting drawn in to the whole charade. Stannis was the King, there could be no doubt about that.

"Come on," He turned to look at his companions, seeing his own doubts reflected in the eyes of the three men. "Best make ourselves known. I must see my uncle,"

*

Edited November 2024

Just wanted to emphasise that your thoughts and constructive criticism are always welcome! Please let me know what you think of the story, in particular anyone who has read the edited and the previous version. The editing changes are quite subtle for now, I just wanted to get rid of the embarrassing writing style haha, but I will be adding in some more significant changes at a later date.