The Unyielding Stag (Game of Thrones AU/Invincible)
Chapter 9: Renly Baratheon

A/N: Renly Baratheon has thoughts.

-x-X-x-

As the last of their number finally arrives to the Small Council Chambers, Renly can't quite help but needle him a little bit.

"Grandmaester Pycelle. How kind of you to finally join us."

His dry tone and sharp smile cause the bumbling old fool of a Grandmaester to stiffen and stammer out some excuses, but Renly just waves a hand at him dismissively before looking around the rest of the table.

He sits at the head of it of course, as is his right as the current Third in line for the Throne. Of course, if the Hand of the King were here, then Renly wouldn't dare take such liberties… but he's not here. Nor is there a King around either. Indeed, the Small Council has definitely seen better days and its current state is indicative of the rest of King's Landing at the moment.

For the moment at least, their number has been reduced to a mere four, with the Hand of the King away in the Vale, the Master of Ships off on Dragonstone, and the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard dead along with his King.

Shame, that. If Renly could have chosen one man to survive the wildfire between Barristan Selmy and Robert Baratheon, Renly would have picked Ser Selmy every time despite Robert being his brother. Alas, he didn't get that choice, seeing as both men were now dead… and those at this table were left behind to pick up the pieces.

Once Pycelle has finally taken his seat, Renly looks at the other two men who were already in attendance. Petyr Baelish and Varys the Spider. Tch. At least Baelish was technically a Lord, though nobody could even tell Renly what the other man was the Lord of, save that it was some holding out on the Fingers.

Varys though… what a disturbing individual the foreign eunuch was. Why Robert had kept Varys around when he'd ascended the throne, Renly would never understand. He should have been replaced like all of the others.

But Renly doesn't let such thoughts display on his face, instead affecting a warm smile as he looks at the Master of Coin and Master of Whispers respectively.

"As you well know, the Lord Hand asked us to continue meeting in his absence to make sure that things in King's Landing continued running smoothly. Most importantly of all, he wished for us to work together to make sure that the numerous caches of wildfire left behind by the Mad King were dug up and removed to the last before anyone else could suffer such a grisly fate as my brother and nephews."

Here, Renly lets his smile become toothy, his eyes sweeping across them all but focusing on Varys. He might not go out of his way to express his inner dislike for the other man, but he was certainly willing to point out that this particular mess was at least partially Varys' fault.

After all, what good was a Master of Whispers who didn't even know about such a massive threat to both the King and the city all these years? Varys claimed he truly hadn't been aware, but Renly didn't believe it for a second, not really. The other man was just too… slippery by half.

Letting his gaze on Varys linger for just a second, Renly claps his hands together, startling Pycelle quite badly as the aged Grandmaester jolts in his seat.

"Well? How go the efforts? Is the coin still flowing? Are the laborers content with their work? Are we using the most efficient methods of removal for such a… volatile substance?"

Each of these questions, Renly directs to a different man at the table. Even if he intends to replace most of them once he becomes King, he's not about to let them get away with slacking off before then.

As the first question was directed at him, Baelish also answers first, inclining his head agreeably.

"Payment has yet to be an issue. The Royal Treasury had just received a new loan from the Iron Bank. The influx of coin was intended for King Robert's Nameday Tourney next month, but seeing as that will not be taking place, we've been able to divert funds towards the wildfire cleanup effort instead."

Renly narrows his eyes at that.

"I hope you have not diverted ALL funds towards the cleanup. We will still have need of revelry after all of this. Especially with the coronation of my nephew coming up."

Or rather, his own coronation, but Renly can't exactly say that out loud. Not yet anyways.

Raising a single brow, Baelish smiles apologetically.

"Before his departure, Lord Arryn made it clear that the coronation was to be a minor affair. I've already set aside the coin for it, along with the festivities surrounding our new King's ascension to the Iron Throne. As per his instructions, I've kept things… smaller than usual."

That… irritated Renly quite a bit. Where did Jon Arryn get off, exactly? Sure he was the Hand of the King and technically he had all the authority in the world to make such decisions… but it wouldn't be that way for much longer.

Any day now, they would receive word of the tragic deaths of both Lord Arryn and Robert's bastard. And then it would be Renly who would be King. Not Stannis… the Realm would never accept Stannis. No, they would pass him over for Renly… he'd make sure of it.

Unfortunately, until that news arrived, Renly had to keep playing these foolish games. Smiling thinly, he simply gives Baelish a nod before turning his eyes towards Varys. The Spider smiles at him blandly, giving none of his own inner thoughts away, just like always.

"There have been small pockets of panic here and there, but nothing too serious. Fortunately for our purposes, the vast majority of people here in King's Landing have nowhere else to go. While some have fled the city for fear of it blowing up under their feet, most seem to have joined hands in a rare act of… community-focused effort and are working together under the watchful eyes of the Goldcloaks to continue the cleanup efforts."

The Goldcloaks. An organization largely in the pockets of the Lannisters at this point. But no matter. Renly would reform them as well once he was King. At least Varys had no bad news for him. In truth, King's Landing was overpopulated anyways, so if a small portion of its population wanted to escape, he couldn't really bring himself to mind. Maybe it would help with the stench a little bit.

Finally, Renly moves his eyes to Pycelle. The Grandmaester perks up.

"Ah! I've been, ah, looking through my records, seeking out methods of… handling wildfire safely. Alas, I haven't been able to find much. I would once again suggest that we pilfer the Alchemists' Guild for their secrets and force their members to tell us everything they know about their precious 'substance'."

… What a fool. Pycelle was the epitome of a man without a lick of sense in his head who would spout whatever nonsense he could to try and sound smart. Even if fellow Small Council members both take issue with his suggestions.

"That seems inadvisable, given that the Alchemists' Guild have already agreed to work with us and so far have managed to keep another incident like the one that took the lives of the King and his sons."

"Indeed, their acolytes have been of great help on the ground as well from what my little birds tell me."

Pycelle puffs up at Baelish and Varys' words, but before he can start an argument, Renly cuts in.

"Then it would seem that things are proceeding just fine even without the help of the Grandmaester."

That leaves the old Grandmaester sputtering, but Renly just continues on unabated.

"While we certainly would have hoped that Citadel would be of more assistance in this trying time, I suppose we can only be happy with what we have… and wait for a more stable time to consider… other options going forward."

Pycelle looks aghast at that but doesn't try to raise a protest. Perhaps because he believes that he will be just fine in the long run, since Renly's position as head of the Small Council will not last much longer. Little does the old man know… Renly intends to be sitting at this table with a crown upon his head by this time next month.

For now though, plastering a smile on his face that doesn't reach his eyes, the Lord of Storm's End rises to his feet and claps his hands together again.

"Well then, from the sound of things we're all doing our part until the Hand returns with our new King. Hopefully we hear something about that in the coming days but for now… dismissed."

None of them say a word as they all file out of the room. Frankly, Renly is confident that all three of the other men are just as happy to get away from him as he is from them. The difference is, he's going to be the next King of the Seven Kingdoms. And they're all about to be… irrelevant.

Making his way back to his quarters, Renly steps inside and lets out a sigh, his shoulders slumping as he takes a load off, so to speak. It was hard not saying what he truly thought, difficult to keep his feelings to himself. But fortunately it would only be a little while longer. And as it so happened, he'd had a lot of practice hiding his true nature. All his life, in fact.

"Renly."

The first honest smile of the day spreads across Renly's face as he turns to meet his lover. Loras Tyrell steps up to him and they embrace, their foreheads touching as they enjoy a moment of solace in each other's arms.

Eventually though, Renly has to pull away, eager to loosen his formal clothing so he can breathe a little easier.

"I just came from the Small Council, Loras. They are as… barely competent as ever."

The Knight of Flowers laughs at that, his eyes twinkling in amusement even as he watches Renly remove his shirt and roll his shoulders.

"That's high praise coming from you… especially for that sorry group of men."

Grinning wickedly, Renly winks at his lover.

"I suppose when it comes to all of this dreadful wildfire, they're united in wanting the shit out from under our feet if nothing else. It's certainly not something I want still there when I finally start my reign."

It was still insane to even think about it, truth be told. One day, everything is as it was, completely normal. The next moment, Renly hears the explosion and sees the green flames off in the distance. He's pretty sure everyone in the Red Keep could see it from anywhere in the castle.

Only a little later had Renly learned what that explosion signified. Not just a blast of wildfire, which he'd vaguely recognized from that signature burning green… but a blast of wildfire that had killed Robert Baratheon and both of his sons.

In an instant, the world had been turned on its head and Renly had been faced with the horrifying thought of his other brother Stannis becoming King on the Iron Throne. But that thought had very quickly been replaced by another, far more heartening thought… what if he became King instead?

Stannis wasn't in the city, after all. He was back on Dragonstone, where the Master of Ships spent most of his time sulking because Robert had made Renly the Lord Paramount of the Stormlands instead of him. Even if Stannis had been in the city, Renly was far better liked by every Baratheon Knight he'd ever met and certainly every Baratheon Knight he had with him in King's Landing.

With Robert, Joffrey, and Tommen all dead, as tragic as it was… Renly had quickly realized that he could be King of the Seven Kingdoms. He just needed to convince everyone that it should be him instead of Stannis, and given his brother's disposition, that should have been easy!

But then, just as Renly was starting to make plans, they'd been dashed across the rocks by the announcement that Robert had survived the blast. Survived it… only to die a little while later. However, he hadn't died before legitimizing his bastard and naming him heir.

Renly couldn't help but wonder what his eldest brother was thinking in those final moments. Probably that he didn't want Stannis to be King after he was gone anymore than anyone else did. But had he spared Renly a single thought? Had he considered telling Jon Arryn to pass over Stannis and crown Renly King for even a single moment instead of his bastard?

… In the end, it didn't matter. Robert had done what he'd done and Renly was left to pick up the pieces, like always. For a brief moment he'd almost despaired… but then he'd found his resolve. Why should he let some bastard whelp of his brother's become King? Why shouldn't it still be him?

Dressed down to just his breeches, Renly pours himself a glass of wine and sits down, taking a long drink before glancing over at Loras.

"… Have you received word back from your father yet?"

Loras shakes his head, frowning slightly.

"Not yet. Though… I did as you asked and sent the letter by rider using my most trusted man. It'll probably take a little longer than it would have by raven."

That was fair. The contents of that letter and Renly's offer to House Tyrell were… well, they were treasonous until they weren't, basically. So long as neither the Hand nor Robert's bastard made it back to King's Landing alive, then Renly's offer to Loras' father was only… slightly presumptuous.

And it would be less so once he convinced the High Septon to back his bid for the Iron Throne. Stannis would either bend the knee seething… or be put down.

"… Are you certain that the force you sent out will be enough, Renly?"

Blinking, Renly looks over at Loras, feeling a little insulted.

"Of course they'll be enough. Lord Arryn made no secret of how large his escort would be. I sent twice the number of knights to intercept him on his way back to King's Landing. Each and every one of them is a loyal Stormlander and they know what's at stake here. None want Robert's bastard on the Iron Throne more than they want me here."

Funny how that worked. When it came to ranking the love that the Stormlands had for the three Baratheon Brothers, the rest of the Seven Kingdoms might have foolishly put Robert ahead of Renly (after putting Stannis firmly in last place where he belonged, of course).

The problem with that was, Robert had never really had the chance to rule the Stormlands. He'd been fostered in the Vale from an early age and grown into a man there. Then, the Rebellion had kicked off and before you know it, Robert is successfully leading their armies to victory against the Mad King. Following that, he was swiftly crowned King of the Seven Kingdoms.

Despite being the technical Lord Paramount of the Stormlands, Robert had never ruled in the Stormlands specifically. Not like Renly did. Renly had grown up in the Stormlands. He knew the Lords of the Stormlands better than either of his brothers. He'd broken bread with those men more times than he could count and done everything in his power to lift them up to ever greater heights.

The Stormlands knew what the rest of the Seven Kingdoms were about to find out. Renly Baratheon was the best damn ruler they could possibly hope for… and no one, not Jon Arryn and certainly not Robert's bastard, was going to get in his way.

-x-X-x-

A/N: Poor Renly, his eyes are too big for his stomach…

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