At Storm's End, Renly Baratheon walked slowly along the stone corridors while Loras Tyrell followed close behind him.
The sea wind howled outside the ancient fortress walls, carrying the scent of rain and saltwater. Renly's expression looked calm on the surface, but anxiety lingered beneath his confident smile.
"I understand the lords of the Stormlands very well," Renly said quietly. "That's why I need to act quickly. Time is not on my side."
He paused briefly before continuing.
"My brother Robert possessed a kind of invincible spirit that inspired loyalty in everyone around him. Those lords loved him for it. And now…" He sighed softly. "That boy carries the same aura."
Loras immediately understood that Renly was referring to Edric Storm.
"The Stormlords are waiting," Renly continued. "They're watching carefully to see who can truly bring victory. Meanwhile, the Northern Army continues winning battle after battle. The longer this war drags on, the more restless my bannermen become."
Loras looked at his king seriously.
"What would you have me do?"
Renly lowered his voice.
"To be honest, I do not completely trust the Stormlords. I trust you more than any of them."
Loras frowned slightly but remained silent.
"I fear some of them may eventually pressure me into reconciling with Stannis Baratheon," Renly admitted. "And afterward, they may even demand that the crown be returned to my nephew."
"The negotiations ahead will not be easy."
He stopped walking and turned toward Loras.
"If battle becomes unavoidable, I want the knights and soldiers you brought from Highgarden to serve as my main assault force. The men of The Reach will not hesitate when the time comes."
Renly's eyes drifted toward the distant sea.
"Once this war is over, I'll control Dragonstone's fleet. After that, taking King's Landing will only be a matter of time."
"Then Lord Mace Tyrell will finally understand who the true king is."
"With Highgarden fully supporting me, my power will surpass both the Lannisters and that blacksmith king."
Loras nodded firmly.
"I can do that."
Although House Tyrell had not officially declared for Renly, Loras had still brought a personal guard force of nearly seventy men from The Reach. Every single one of them was fiercely loyal to him.
Renly crossed his arms thoughtfully.
"Storm's End may have numerical superiority, but Stannis is an experienced commander. If war breaks out, we must strike fast and decisively."
Loras smiled confidently.
"I'll win this battle for you."
Renly looked out toward the crashing waves below the cliffs.
What he truly wanted was Stannis's fleet.
He could no longer tolerate Stannis's hesitation and delays. Only by defeating him and sailing directly toward King's Landing could Renly gain enough leverage to demand more soldiers and supplies from The Reach.
Only then would powerful families such as House Tyrell, House Rowan, and House Redwyne support him completely.
As the two men continued through the fortress, Renly's attention shifted toward the training yard below.
There, a young boy practiced swordsmanship under the supervision of his instructor.
Edric Storm.
Or perhaps, Renly thought quietly, the boy could someday be called Edric Baratheon.
Years ago, Robert Baratheon had slept with Delena Florent in Stannis's own marriage bed, and Edric had been born from that union.
The boy wore black studded armor and carried a blunted practice sword and shield.
He looked remarkably like a younger version of Robert himself.
Dark hair.
Deep blue eyes.
The same jawline and strong cheekbones.
Only his large ears hinted at his Florent blood.
Edric was taller and stronger than most boys his age, with broad shoulders and a naturally athletic frame. More importantly, he possessed genuine passion for combat training.
He never missed a single morning practice.
As soon as he noticed Renly approaching, the boy quickly bowed respectfully.
"Good day, Your Grace."
Beside him stood Cortnay Penrose, the acting lord of Storm's End.
Although Edric had inherited Robert's fiery spirit and pride, the maesters and knights responsible for raising him had taught him humility and discipline.
"I'm doing well, Edric," Renly replied warmly.
"Are you going to war, Your Grace?" the boy asked eagerly.
"Yes," Renly answered with a nod.
Edric's eyes lit up immediately.
"Then I pray the Warrior grants you a great victory, just like Father achieved!"
"My father won three battles in a single day!"
Renly smiled faintly.
At least the boy wasn't talking about another of Robert's drunken stories.
Edric admired his father deeply, despite the fact that Robert had barely paid attention to any of his bastards during his lifetime.
Robert had scattered children across the Seven Kingdoms like seeds in the wind, then ignored them once they were born.
"Do you remember which battle that was?" Renly asked.
"Of course!" Edric answered proudly before Renly could continue.
"That was when Father returned to the Stormlands to gather his bannermen."
"Lord Grandison, Lord Caron, and Lord Fell planned to join forces at Summerhall before marching together toward Storm's End. But Father learned of their plan first."
"So he gathered his knights and attacked each army separately before they could unite."
"He defeated all three forces one by one!"
The boy's excitement only grew stronger.
"He personally killed Lord Fell and captured his son, Silveraxe!"
Renly nodded approvingly.
"And after defeating them, Robert earned the loyalty of Lord Grandison, Lord Caron, and Silveraxe through sheer courage."
"In battle, few men could ever match your father."
Edric straightened proudly.
"No one could defeat him in war!"
Ser Cortnay chuckled softly.
"You shouldn't exaggerate too much, Edric. Even King Robert suffered defeats."
"Lord Tyrell and Lord Tarly defeated him at Ashford, and he lost many tourneys during his youth."
"But Father still won far more battles than he lost," Edric argued immediately. "And he killed Prince Rhaegar himself at the Trident!"
Renly laughed quietly.
"You've raised him well, Ser Cortnay."
The old knight nodded proudly.
"The boy was born with a warrior's spirit."
Ser Cortnay's bald head and weathered face gave him a stern appearance, while his thick red beard resembled a shovel.
"Go on now, Edric," Renly said kindly. "You still have lessons with the maester later."
The boy bowed politely before hurrying away.
After Edric disappeared, Ser Cortnay's expression became more serious.
"Will there truly be war, Your Grace?"
"Yes," Renly answered calmly. "Stannis's army is already approaching."
Silence settled between them briefly.
Then Renly added, "And beyond the war itself… there is also Edric's future marriage."
Cortnay blinked in surprise.
"Marriage?"
"We're preparing for battle. Why discuss marriage now?"
"Besides, Lord Stannis has always rejected our terms."
Renly folded his hands behind his back.
"This arrangement is necessary."
"I must either defeat my brother… or force him to acknowledge me."
"To gain the loyalty of Stannis's followers, I intend to betroth Edric to Shireen Baratheon."
Ser Cortnay's eyes widened instantly.
"But… Princess Shireen suffers from greyscale."
"She's a sweet child, yes, but that doesn't mean she must become Edric's wife."
Marriage among relatives was hardly unusual in Westeros. Cousins frequently married, and many noble houses maintained close bloodlines for generations.
Still, Shireen's illness frightened many people.
Renly's voice became firmer.
"This is politics, Ser Cortnay."
"I'm doing this for Edric's future."
"When I march to war, he will become my heir."
"And you will serve as his guardian and lord of Storm's End."
There was no room for argument in Renly's tone.
Ser Cortnay finally lowered his head.
"As you command, Your Grace."
"Prepare everything," Renly ordered. "My reign truly begins now."
After Cortnay departed, Loras looked toward Renly thoughtfully.
"I think Ser Cortnay was watching us rather closely."
"And honestly… using Shireen in this arrangement feels cruel."
Renly dismissed the concern with a wave of his hand.
"You're overthinking things."
"Cortnay has always been loyal to me."
"He helped raise Edric personally, so naturally they share a close relationship."
Loras still looked uncertain.
"I hope you're right."
Renly sighed.
"Pairing Shireen with Edric is simply an exchange."
"A king must make sacrifices."
"If Stannis supports me the same way he once supported Robert, then I'll gladly reward him."
"I'll confirm all his lands, titles, and honors."
"I'll even secure a future for his daughter."
Despite everything, Renly still hoped Stannis would surrender peacefully.
If Stannis acknowledged his claim publicly, Renly's own legitimacy would strengthen enormously.
Not only would he gain a fleet, but he would also gain his brother's endorsement.
And in a war for the Iron Throne, appearances mattered almost as much as armies.
"I only hope Lord Stannis chooses wisdom," Loras muttered.
Renly suddenly stretched his shoulders.
"I'm going to bathe."
"The battlefield smells terrible. Mud, sweat, blood… I can barely tolerate it."
He laughed softly.
"I truly don't understand how Robert enjoyed war so much."
"Then again, my brother was never very selective about anything."
Loras followed after him silently.
For the moment, he pushed aside all thoughts about politics, betrayal, and war.
At the same time, Catelyn Stark rested inside Renly's enormous pavilion tent.
The first thing she noticed were the armored sentries standing motionless outside the entrance.
Their forest-green armor gleamed beneath torchlight, decorated with elaborate golden patterns. Their helmets carried massive golden antlers.
Even the guards looked extravagant.
Renly certainly spared no expense on appearances.
Inside, the pavilion resembled the hall of a wealthy noble rather than a military command tent.
Feather mattresses.
Luxurious fur blankets.
Dozens of charcoal braziers warming the air.
Silver goblets arranged neatly around fine wine.
Tables covered with peaches, pears, and plums.
Cedar chests filled with clothing, books, maps, and musical instruments.
There was even a beautifully crafted harp beside a longbow and a quiver of arrows.
Two elegant falcons perched nearby.
Catelyn could only shake her head slowly.
"This hardly resembles a war camp," she thought bitterly.
Renly seemed less like a king preparing for battle and more like a pampered noble attending a festival.
Though Catelyn herself had been born into nobility, her life had never been this excessive.
After marrying Eddard Stark and moving north to Winterfell, she had grown accustomed to simpler living.
Northerners valued practicality over luxury.
Lord Eddard himself had always lived modestly.
Compared to Winterfell, Renly's tent felt almost absurd.
Catelyn couldn't help comparing Renly to Robert.
Renly had inherited Robert's charm, confidence, and love of appearance.
But he lacked Robert's warrior spirit.
Robert led from the front.
Robert fought beside common soldiers.
Robert drank cheap ale and sang vulgar songs without shame.
Even during hardship, Robert would never indulge himself while his men starved or froze.
Renly, however, seemed completely different.
If true war came, Catelyn doubted he could survive the storm that awaited him.
As she sat quietly in the lavish tent, another thought crossed her mind.
"If Renly and Stannis truly negotiate… what exactly will they exchange?"
Stormlands loyalty.
Political legitimacy.
Marriage alliances.
Even children.
Under the shadow of power, family bonds often became nothing more than tools for negotiation and betrayal.
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