Ser Loras Tyrell, the Knight of Flowers (
rosehasthorns) wrote in
shititsalion2013-05-27 02:54 pm
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loveandloyalty
[The battle actually hadn't lasted that long. Maybe 40 minutes at most. They had fought Stannis' army just outside their camp and at the end of it all, they had won. A good deal of Stannis' men lay dead on the field and the rest had retreated. Stannis himself hadn't been present but the defeat should be enough to discourage him for a while. Just a while. Loras had no doubt that he'd be back. Stannis had always been stubborn at the worst of times. Still, it had been a good battle and a good victory. Renly should be happy.
During the fight Loras had ended up face to face with a knight twice his age and twice his size. A big, strong man. He was proud to say that he had beheaded the man. Not before taking a nice deep slash to the bicep and a hard mace hit to the ribs but he had still killed the man. That was what was important. To him at least, his squire seemed to disagree. As they rode back to camp the boy was buzzing around him like a particularly obnoxious little bee, asking a million times if he was alright. To which Loras always answered "yes stop asking".
Back in his tent the boy helped him out of his armor, flying into a panic at the sight of the blood seeping through the arm of his cotton undershirt. Before he could stop him the boy scurried from the tent, returning with one of the camp medics. Soon everyone in camp would know he was injured now, thanks to his well intentioned squire. Margaery would be flying in soon and then probably Renly. It was silly. He felt just fine, though the more he settled the more he felt the pain in his side and the stinging of the gash on his arm.]
Really, I'm- [He began but hissed in pain instead as the healer peeled the shirt away from the wound on his arm. Okay, maybe letting someone look at his wasn't the worst idea. When the shirt came off, there was a large and colorful bruise already covering a good deal of his left side. Yes, that probably wasn't good]
During the fight Loras had ended up face to face with a knight twice his age and twice his size. A big, strong man. He was proud to say that he had beheaded the man. Not before taking a nice deep slash to the bicep and a hard mace hit to the ribs but he had still killed the man. That was what was important. To him at least, his squire seemed to disagree. As they rode back to camp the boy was buzzing around him like a particularly obnoxious little bee, asking a million times if he was alright. To which Loras always answered "yes stop asking".
Back in his tent the boy helped him out of his armor, flying into a panic at the sight of the blood seeping through the arm of his cotton undershirt. Before he could stop him the boy scurried from the tent, returning with one of the camp medics. Soon everyone in camp would know he was injured now, thanks to his well intentioned squire. Margaery would be flying in soon and then probably Renly. It was silly. He felt just fine, though the more he settled the more he felt the pain in his side and the stinging of the gash on his arm.]
Really, I'm- [He began but hissed in pain instead as the healer peeled the shirt away from the wound on his arm. Okay, maybe letting someone look at his wasn't the worst idea. When the shirt came off, there was a large and colorful bruise already covering a good deal of his left side. Yes, that probably wasn't good]
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Yes, well, that is what being Lord Commander involves sometimes. I survived. It could have ended differently. [He isn't sure what else to say. He's also not sure he even wants to talk about it anymore] In happier news, we won. Stannis took what was left of his army and retreated.
Not bad. I do not need it. [He can manage the pain. Yes, he kind of feels like he got run over by a wagon and the dozen or so horses pulling it but milk of the poppy seems extreme. And weak. He isn't willing to admit he might need it]
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[Any traces of a smile fade after a moment, green eyes taking on some other fleeting feeling. A tinge of sadness, maybe.] He will fight until the bitter end, though. My brother has never been good at giving up the things he believes are his. His stubbornness is maybe the only reason I'm alive now, and yet it will be the death of him.
[But then his expression turns gentle again, fondly exasperated as he presses a kiss to Loras's brow.] At least have a cup of wine with me, then. A toast to your victory.
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Then I suppose I owe a certain amount of gratitude to your brother's lobster-like ways. [Still, he can't imagine fighting Garlan or Willas. Even if Renly and Stannis aren't exactly close, it has to hurt] What we are doing is for the benefit of everyone, not just ourselves. You will be just the kind of King the realm needs. Try not to forget that.
I suppose that is the least I could do. [Wine might be nice. He's feeling wound up and not in a way he likes. It's more of a nervous energy, something Loras is not familiar with]
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His smile takes on a slightly sadder tinge.] I know. Stannis is no king, that I am certain of, as certain as I am of your love for me. Still, I hope I can make my brother see reason. To fight me is folly when we could be crushing the Lannisters, who murdered our brother and put Cersei's bastard son on the throne.
[He sighs almost tiredly, and pours them each a cup of wine, hoping it will at least dull Loras's pain a little, and maybe soothe his own nerves.] I truly hope this war is short.
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If we manage to ally with the Starks as well, the Lannisters cannot hope to win.
We can hope. [He doesn't see that happening either, though]
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Do you think the Starks will be more responsive? Robb Stark will demand the North, no doubt. Is it worth it, I wonder, to divide the kingdom thusly to win it? [He exhales softly and takes a sip of wine.]
But we can leave this for later. For now we should celebrate your victory.
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Lady Stark was sent here by her son to speak with you. I do not think he would have done that if he were unwilling to work with you. [He nods, picking up his own cup and taking a sip]
And let us hope there are many more to celebrate.
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[A brief hum of agreement.] True. We can promise them his sisters, and his father's bones when we take King's Landing, as a token of friendship. Maybe Lady Stark will talk him down, make him satisfied with that.
[He smiles, leaning in to press a kiss to his lips.] Hope? I am certain there will be thousands more reasons to celebrate, with you at my side.
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Maybe. And of course he would still have all the lands that the Starks have traditionally had control of. Ah, Cersei's headsman took Lord Stark's blade as well, didn't he? Perhaps we could promise them to try and recover that as well. Just to sweeten the deal.
[Loras smiles as well, lightly returning the kiss. It's hard to be too upset with Renly so near] I never intend to leave your side.
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Of course we'll return that. Hopefully it will be enough. I don't wish to war with the family of my brother's dearest friend, and we want the same things: Lannister heads on spikes.
[If his smile wavers a little, only Loras is here to notice.] Good, because I can't do this without you.
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It just makes sense for our two sides to work together. I'm sure this Robb Stark will see that. Lord Eddard was always a rational man. Perhaps his son inherited some of that.
[When Renly's smile falters, Loras' softens and he reaches up to cup the older man's face with his uninjured hand] When you heard I was injured, you were worried that I might be dying, is that it? You will never, ever have to face anything without me. The gods may not listen when they are prayed to but even they are not that cruel. And I would never willingly leave your side. I love you far too much for that.
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Renly folds a hand over Loras's on his cheek, closing his eyes for a moment. Maybe he was scared when he first heard about his injuries; people always say they're just green boys playing at war, and maybe he's a little scared sometimes that they're right. But everyone is afraid of something.] I know you wouldn't. No one could tell me how serious it was at first, is all. But you have to admit, you aren't exactly careful sometimes.
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I was wondering when it would come around to this. Is this where you tell me that I'm far too rash sometimes? Some would argue that this entire war is just that. What else would you have me do, love? Sit around barking commands while everyone else fights? That would not make me much of a commander.
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You're being overdramatic. I'm not going to die from a little sword wound. I'll say it again: knights get hurt.
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Knights get hurt, and knights also die, but I can't lose you. I can't. And do not tell me you promise not to die, because I'm certain that knight you beheaded today made the same promise to his beloved.
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This is war. Neither of us is exactly experienced in this area. Today was a fluke. Bad luck. All I can promise you is that I will do absolutely everything in my power not to leave you. It isn't something I want to do.
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I still want a promise that you'll be more careful in the future, or next time I will give the van to Randyll Tarly. I already know you don't want to leave me, but it doesn't make you less reckless sometimes.
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Randyll Tarly? Are you drunk? The man can barely manage a sword and a horse at the same time! [He is actually a little insulted by this threat. And also pouting. Predictably] Fine, Your Grace. Next time I promise to show an appropriate amount of caution.
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This is all very stressful right now. People are still sniggering behind my back about Margaery and now you're hurt and-
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[He huffs and goes over to throw himself down on the bed in the tent. Which turns out to be a terrible idea because it jostles his entire body and OW. FUCK OW. He squeezes his eyes shut and tries to will the pain away, only half listening to Renly. There is also probably some very restrained but still unknightly cursing. When the pain lets up a bit he opens his eyes and looks over at the other man]
Margaery is a bridge we'll cross at a later date. You can't be expected to focus on bedding with a war going on. [Ignoring that he and Renly have been having sex straight through this entire disaster] And I told you it isn't that bad. You're working yourself up far more than necessary.
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Don't jostle your ribs like that, I'm sorry. I shouldn't be putting my stress on you, not right now.
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Stop that and come here. This arguing is getting us nowhere and I've had enough of it.
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I know. I'll be glad when this war is over.
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[He watches Renly get into bed with him, reaching out to take his hand when he's settled] I don't mean to make things more difficult for you. That is the last thing I want. But you have to admit, you weren't exactly being mature either just then. [He lifts Renly's hand and presses a gentle kiss to his knuckles]
I know you're under a lot of stress. And I know you think I don't understand that but I do. Do you think commanding an army is easy? It's not. Most of your bannermen think I'm a child playing at war. Which compared to them I suppose I am, considering how old and fat a great deal of them are. [Scoff] So perhaps just a bit I want to prove that being one of the finest warriors in Westeros isn't just empty words. But, for your sake, I'll be more cautious next time. I promise you that.
I was not lying when I said I thought you would be an excellent king. I still think that. And I am willing to do absolutely anything to make sure you get there. I'd die for you, without hesitation. And I know that is not what you want to hear from me so don't even say it. It's the truth. But I'm hoping it does not come to that. I rather like the idea of spending the rest of my life by your side, making sure no one ever hurts you or Margaery.
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