The Rose Measures Kings

Loras forced himself to master the rest of his desire. Renly needed courage more than comfort now.

"My king," he said, "we still have a chance to wash away this shame. The Stormlords acknowledged you. Stannis stole one victory with a midnight trick. If you call, the lords will still answer. And I will remain with you."

"Loras."

Their eyes held too long. Someone wiser chose that moment to be cruel.

"Dear brother," Margaery said from nearby, "Father's host is almost here. He is leading it himself."

Renly straightened as if waking from a warm dream. Loras understood before he did.

"Your Grace," Loras said gently, "a moment's comfort can wait. We should give your brother a lesson he cannot forget."

At the mention of Stannis, Renly's wounded pride flared. He would not admit himself lesser than the brother he had mocked for years.

Soon he was armored again, polished and smiling, a graceful king restored for the eyes of men who needed him restored.

Margaery watched her husband in name and saw something she had not wanted to see.

Raised under Olenna Tyrell's careful eye, she had been taught to measure more than beauty, banners, and compliments. Renly looked like a gentle, generous king. Beneath that charm, he was hesitant, vain, and far too easily moved by private desire.

That desire happened to center on her brother.

Margaery did not resent Loras for it. She cared too much for House Tyrell to waste herself on jealousy. She had accepted the arrangement because her family required it, and because Renly's affection made him easy to guide.

But guiding a pleasant prince was different from saving a failing king. Cersei placed herself before her house. Margaery placed her house before herself.

If the throne had been waiting peacefully for Renly, his flaws might have passed as kindness. In war, they could kill him.

Robb Stark and Tywin Lannister were tearing at one another. Renly should have used that chance to strike the Lannisters while they were divided. Instead, he had watched like a lord at a tourney, waiting for advantage to ripen by itself.

Stannis had not allied with Robb either. Robb cared less about which Baratheon wore the crown than about avenging his father. Each side had its own grievance, and those grievances had split the war into separate fires.

Margaery did not truly favor any of them.

Without Loras, House Tyrell might never have chosen Renly. Even Olenna, sharp as thorns, had accepted the match because the path was already open and Mace wanted royal height for their house.

Now Mace Tyrell arrived in the Stormlands with the Reach behind him, and the situation had changed again.

Several lesser houses that once leaned toward Renly were drifting toward Stannis. Scouts harassed roads. Small parties vanished. Men whispered of the night Storm's End opened.

The worst trouble came from the Blood Wolf Company.

They raided the lands of lords sworn to Renly, striking fast, taking ransom, and vanishing before heavier forces could catch them. The effect on morale was worse than the losses themselves.

In the temporary camp, Renly's loyalists sat around the council table with heavy faces. They hated the sudden mercenaries. They also did not know how to catch them.

To chase the Blood Wolf Company meant exposing themselves to Stannis. To ignore them meant watching lesser lords lose courage every time smoke rose behind the lines.

No one wanted to say the obvious answer. If fighting them did not work, and driving them off did not work, then hiring men like them might.

But asking a king to answer sellswords with sellswords felt shameful. Asking Renly to bend, even indirectly, toward a mercenary problem was worse. Silence filled the pavilion.

Margaery looked from one lord to another and saw eyes slide away. So it would fall to her.

"Your Grace."

Renly turned. "My queen?"

"The best way to answer these mercenaries may be to hire mercenaries of our own. Not to win the war for us, only to buy the time we need to face Stannis properly."

The suggestion woke the table. Use coin to answer coin. Pay fighters to calm frightened bannermen. Let the lords believe the nuisance had been contained while the true army prepared.

In their minds, sellswords were only men with a price. Even frightening ones could be purchased, outbid, or countered. The council moved at once into details.

Renly praised Margaery for the idea. The lords recovered their confidence. Voices grew strong again as they threw plans across the table. Margaery's worry deepened.

They had heard the word mercenary and decided they understood the problem.

When she tried to speak to Renly again, he had already gone in search of Loras, eager to share the good news with the person whose approval mattered most to him.

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