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Loras stood alone in the empty stable, nothing left around him but the moan of the night wind.
He stared in the direction Brienne had gone. His whole body felt hollow, like something had reached in and pulled out every bone.
Renly was dead.
The person he loved most had died right there in his arms.
And he couldn't even avenge him. He could only watch the one witness walk away.
He didn't know how long he stood there. Eventually, he dragged his leaden legs, one step at a time, toward the great tent that had lost its master.
He lifted the flap.
Steel sang in the dark.
A dozen gleaming longswords swung toward him in unison.
The captain of the guard stood at the front, his face twisted with rage, eyes fixed on Loras like he was already a dead man.
"Lord Loras. You've returned."
Loras said nothing. He looked at them with calm, red-swollen eyes.
"And the traitor?" the captain pressed.
"Gone." Loras told it plain.
"Gone?"
The captain lunged forward. The sword tip hovered a breath from Loras's throat.
"You let her go?"
"Yes."
"You dare release the woman who murdered Renly!"
"You're in league with her!"
"Loras Tyrell! You're a traitor too!"
The shouting erupted from all sides.
Loras smiled.
It was a smile full of grief and self-contempt.
He looked at these men , these fools, blinded completely by their rage.
Explain? Explain a monster that crawled out of the shadows?
They wouldn't believe it.
They only believed what they'd seen. They only wanted someone to blame.
"Then do it."
Loras closed his eyes.
Renly was dead. What was the point of staying alive?
Going to be with him , that didn't sound so bad.
"Seize him!"
At the captain's order, several guards rushed in and drove Loras to the ground.
"You cannot kill him!"
A knight in a rose-sigiled cloak burst through the tent entrance and threw himself in front of Loras.
"He is the son of Lord Mace Tyrell! The heir to Highgarden!"
"Kill him, and you make an enemy of the entire Reach!"
The captain hesitated.
He looked at Loras pinned motionless on the ground, then at the Tyrell knight planting himself between them. Conflict worked across his face.
He knew what killing Loras would cost him.
But Renly's death couldn't go unanswered.
"Lock him up!"
He stepped back from the edge.
"When the matter is fully investigated β public execution."
"I want everyone to see what happens to those who betray Renly!"
---
The news spread like ravens on the wind, sweeping through Storm's End and flying outward in every direction.
Dragonstone.
Davos pulled a note from a raven's leg and stumbled into Stannis's study at a half-run.
"My lord! My lord!"
"News from Storm's End!"
Stannis stood before his great map table with his back to the door, one hand resting on the model of Storm's End.
"Renly is dead?"
Davos stopped short.
Stannis turned slowly. He glanced at Davos, then looked down at his own hand.
He thought of the ritual. Of the shadow that had crawled out of Selyse's body.
Disgust rose in his chest , then was smothered by something cold and satisfied.
Davos's expression was hard to read.
"My lord... he was... he was your own brother."
"Brother?" Stannis let out a short, cold laugh. "A traitor who tried to steal my throne β he gets to call me that?"
"He got what he deserved."
Davos stared at that hard face and felt the blood cooling in his veins.
Was this still the man he knew? The man who was stubborn as iron but had always held to justice? How had he become this?
"What is the state of Renly's army?"
Stannis had already moved on, eyes returning to the map.
"Leaderless. They've fallen apart."
Davos swallowed. The words came out stiff.
"Good."
Something lit up behind Stannis's eyes.
"Give the order. Assemble every soldier we have. We march for Storm's End immediately."
"Tell those masterless dogs their true king is coming."
"Bend the knee β or die."
His voice left no room for doubt.
Davos understood. A larger storm was on its way.
"And the red woman?"
Stannis asked without warning.
Davos felt a cold jolt.
"Melisandre... she sailed out at first light."
"Where?"
"King's Landing."
"Good. Very good." Stannis's eyes went distant. "I'll show that woman , I don't need dragons to wear that crown."
"Renly died by her hand. I won't have the world know I dealt in shadow-work to do it." He paused. "Find her. Silence her. Permanently."
He already regretted letting her leave.
Davos looked at this man , the one who no longer recognized kin , and felt a grief settle deep in his chest. He opened his mouth. Closed it.
He had nothing to say.
He sighed and walked out of the hall.
---
King's Landing.
The Tower of the Hand.
Lin En had just gotten the news.
Varys , that bald, soft-footed eunuch , had delivered word of Renly's death almost the instant the raven landed.
"Renly is dead?"
Lin En looked over the report. He wasn't particularly surprised.
Everything had gone exactly as expected.
Old Stannis, blunt and impatient as always, had gone straight for the shortcut , a shadow assassin through his own brother's chest.
Tsk. Brutal.
But useful.
A strong Renly was a minor headache. A Stannis swollen with Renly's absorbed army was still a minor headache. But a Stannis in the middle of absorbing those forces, his new ranks still unsettled and restless?
That was an opportunity.
Lin En wanted Westeros to tear itself apart. That was the only way he'd have a real excuse to step into the fight.
"My lord, the lords of the Stormlands are in disarray." Varys's voice drifted in beside him. "Some are moving to pledge to Stannis. Others are still waiting."
"Waiting?" Lin En smiled. "For what, exactly?"
"For you, my lord."
A knowing smile touched Varys's face. "You are the most powerful man in Westeros. They know it."
Lin En neither confirmed that nor denied it.
He knew exactly what those fence-sitters were calculating. The southern lords were nothing like the northern ones. The northerners were blunt , you knew where you stood with them. The southerners were all angles and openings, every one of them looking for a seam to exploit. Even if you brought them to heel, you'd never fully trust them not to slip the leash.
Take the Tyrells. Their eventual support was all but guaranteed , but Lord Mace had been backing Renly long after any sensible man would have switched sides, and even the Queen of Thorns couldn't fully rein in her thick-headed son.
And if the Tyrells were that stubborn, the rest of the south would be worse.
Lin En was starting to question whether accepting these "pledges of loyalty" was even worth the trouble.
He'd never come down hard on these people. In the minds of men who only respected strength, they hadn't yet grasped how dangerous he actually was.
Time to fix that. He'd been playing this too softly. What they needed was a demonstration , something that would force them to read the room.
"One more thing," Varys said.
"Renly's sworn shield, Brienne of Tarth, has been accused of the murder. She escaped, with Loras Tyrell's help."
"The guards at Storm's End have now arrested Loras. They're charging him as an accomplice and plan to execute him publicly."
"Oh?" Lin En's eyebrow went up.
Now there was an interesting wrinkle.
Not Brienne , Loras.
If Loras died, House Tyrell would go to war with every man at Storm's End. Mace Tyrell wouldn't stand for it, and even the Queen of Thorns would have to answer that call.
Dogs tearing into dogs. He could already picture it.
He loved this kind of chaos.
"Leave them alone," Lin En said, waving a hand. "Let them sort it out themselves."
"As you say, my lord." Varys bowed and withdrew.
At that moment, a gold-cloaked guard stepped through the door.
"My lord. A woman is requesting an audience. She says she's a priestess of the Lord of Light."
The smile on Lin En's face deepened.
There she is.
Faster than I expected.
The hook he'd dropped in that last "divine revelation" , it seemed the fish had swallowed it whole.
"Send her in."
"Yes, my lord."
A moment later, the door opened.
She moved slowly, like someone who had never once been rushed by anything or anyone. The robe she wore was deep crimson, and her figure was striking. Her hair was the color of living flame. Her skin was white as new snow.
Those red eyes , they didn't just look at you. They searched you.
Melisandre.
The moment she crossed the threshold, her gaze went straight to Lin En and didn't move.
Scrutiny. Curiosity. And something beneath both of those, something that edged close to worship.
She walked to the center of the room and stopped. No bow. No greeting.
She simply looked at him with those unblinking red eyes.
"You're Melisandre?" Lin En spoke first.
"Yes."
Her voice had a strange cadence to it, low and rhythmic, almost like a chant.
"And you are Lin En?"
"I am."
She crossed the distance between them slowly, then leaned down and brought her lips close to his ear.
Spice and smoke. Warm. Intoxicating. Strange.
"The flames have spoken to me."
A pause, weighted as a held breath.
"You are the Prince That Was Promised."
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