Even as a boy, Renly had loved bright colors and rich fabrics, and he had loved his games as well. "Look at me!" he would shout as he ran laughing through the halls of Storm's End.
"Look at me, I'm a dragon," or "Look at me, I'm a wizard," or "Look at me, look at me, I'm the rain god." The bold little boy with wild black hair and laughing eyes was a man grown now, one-and-twenty, and still he played his games. Look at me, I'm a king, Cressen thought sadly. Oh, Renly, Renly, dear sweet child, do you know what you are doing? And would you care if you did? Is there anyone who cares for him but me?

A Clash of Kings

Renly is seven and sweet and stupid. He wants to be a knight of the Kingsguard.

Stannis is nineteen and sour and not very nice. He takes his little brother by the hand, very gently, very kindly and says, "You are a traitor to the realm. You will never be a knight of the Kingsguard. There are very nice spikes reserved for all of us on the walls of the Red Keep and the Kingsguard will be more than happy to lop off our heads and mount them, once the siege is lifted."

Maester Cressen squeals, aghast, but Renly stares back with bold blue eyes. Robert's eyes on miniature Robert's face. Stannis wonders why the gods chose to inflict him with two Roberts - as though one were not enough. "The Mad King won't," he insists. "Robert will lift the siege and rescue us."

Stannis sniffs. "Robert is fucking half the whores in the realm. He thinks a war a melee, to be won by a warhammer and a maiden's favour."

"Well then," Renly wants to know, "If you're so sure Robert won't save us then why'd you rally the banners against the old madman? Why haven't you yielded the castle yet?"

"I did not," Stannis says indignantly. "I am no traitor to the realm. I am only...only looking out for my blood," he finishes lamely. "You're seven," he finally snaps. "What do you know about war?" What do you know about the ties of blood?

Renly spends the rest of the day humming "Robert will save us, Robert will save us" to the tune of 'The Rains of Castamere'. Charming.

In the end, he gets his way. Bella stitches him a pretty white cloak and Stannis cheerfully predicts that by the end of the month, it will be red with blood.

"Yields?" Lord Rowan laughed. "When Mace Tyrell laid siege to Storm's End, Stannis ate rats rather than open his gates."
"Well I remember." Renly lifted his chin to allow Brienne to fasten his gorget in place. "Near the end, Ser Gawen Wylde and three of his knights tried to steal out a postern gate to surrender. Stannis caught them and ordered them flung from the walls with catapults. I can still see Gawen's face as they strapped him down. He had been our master-at-arms."
Lord Rowan appeared puzzled. "No men were hurled from the walls. I would surely remember that."
"Maester Cressen told Stannis that we might be forced to eat our dead, and there was no gain in flinging away good meat." Renly pushed back his hair. Brienne bound it with a velvet tie and pulled a padded cap down over his ears, to cushion the weight of his helm. "Thanks to the Onion Knight we were never reduced to dining on corpses, but it was a close thing. Too close for Ser Gawen, who died in his cell."

A Clash of Kings

"Our spikes look lonely," Renly observes. "I think it's time Stannis put up a new head. Or maybe we could strap him down and fling him from the walls, what say?"

Stannis ignores him and through gritted teeth, commands that Ser Gawen Wylde be escorted to the sky cells.

"Mercy is not your colour, brother," Renly says. He rubs his stomach. "What's for dinner? Lucky?" He's still smarting over the murder of the last of his puppies - Lucky, the runt of the litter.

"Dead men," Stannis says darkly. "Human flesh." He grins darkly, hunger making his temper run even shorter than before, when Renly's eyes widen. "Though I'd much prefer a tasty pink morsel of boy's flesh than an old man's tough hide. What say, little brother? Should we-"

Renly squeals and takes flight, his white cloak flapping around his skinny ankles. Stannis laughs and gives chase and for a few minutes, he can forget the ache in his belly and the ships that lie beyond the walls. He can just pretend to be a little boy once again, the little boy who'd play monsters-and-maidens with Robert while little Renly toddled behind them, crying to play too.

Maester Cressen remembered the day Davos had been knighted, after the siege of Storm's End. Lord Stannis and a small garrison had held the castle for close to a year, against the great host of the Lords Tyrell and Redwyne. Even the sea was closed against them, watched day and night by Redwyne galleys flying the burgundy banners of the Arbor. Within Storm's End, the horses had long since been eaten, the dogs and cats were gone, and the garrison was down to roots and rats. Then came a night when the moon was new and black clouds hid the stars. Cloaked in that darkness, Davos the smuggler had dared the Redwyne cordon and the rocks of ShipbreakerBay alike. His little ship had a black hull, black sails, black oars, and a hold crammed with onions and salt fish. Little enough, yet it had kept the garrison alive long enough for Eddard Stark to reach Storm's End and break the siege.

A Clash of Kings

"You're a legend," Renly tells a bemused smuggler as Davos is escorted to the throne room. "I've heard so many stories about you, I can't believe it's really you. It's just like being in a story, it's so very exciting-"

"Exciting is not very comfortable," Maester Cressen mutters. "And a man would rather read a tall tale than find himself living in one."

But Renly is seven and sweet and stupid and he prances all the way to the throne room, where he's sure not-very-nice Stannis will heap honours on everyone's favourite smuggler. A knighthood certainly, oh and lands, of course...

"Your brother fights bravely," Davos tells Renly, who has had no news of the outside world for almost a year. "His strength is fabled."

"I knew it!" Renly cries, swelling with pride. "I knew Robert would be wonderful, even though Stannis said no, but Stannis is a dried up old stick, you shouldn't mind him. He's just jealous, you see, he's not as handsome as Robert, or as clever and strong and brave... no, Robert's more like me, see? That's why Stannis is jealous of me too, though he pretends he's not..."

That might have hit too close to the mark.

Stannis knights Davos with his own sword and then, with a butcher's cleaver, lops off the ends of his fingers. "You monster!" Renly screams, eyes filling with tears as Davos the Dashing is led away. "How could you do that?"

"That's justice."

"That's cruel!"

"That's justice."

"Why should I avenge Eddard Stark? The man was nothing to me. Oh, Robert loved him, to be sure. Loved him as a brother, how often did I hear that? I was his brother, not Ned Stark, but you would never have known it by the way he treated me. I held Storm's End for him, watching good men starve while Mace Tyrell and Paxter Redwyne feasted within sight of my walls. Did Robert thank me? No. He thanked Stark, for lifting the siege when we were down to rats and radishes. I built a fleet at Robert's command, took Dragonstone in his name. Did he
take my hand and say, Well done, brother, whatever should I do without you?"

A Clash of Kings

Renly is as bloodthirsty as only a boy of seven can be.

When the waters run red and the ships burn within sight of the castle walls, he rings the great bells of the sept and dances on the parapets.

"I told you!" he screams triumphantly, and then adds that a battle is just as exciting as fireworks. Now he doesn't want to be a knight of the Kingsguard in a pretty white cloak anymore, he wants to be a sellsword who strikes down giants, with a sword running red with blood... such a dear boy. "I told you Robert would save us!"

Stannis gnaws on a half-rotten onion. "Robert's fucking half the whores in the realm," he says monotonously. "It won't be Robert, you have my word for that, brother. It'll be Ned Stark or Jon Arryn but Robert, no. Robert's craven for all they say..." Robert has no sense of ethics, no sense of justice and values. He's just pretty.

"Is not!" Renly cries and cheers when another ship explodes and the men are faced with fire and ice-cold water. "That'll teach you to mess with my brother!" He's as skinny as a rat, half-starved and maniac with excitement, and Stannis feels a shred of pity for him.

In the end, the not-so-nice people like Stannis win while the dear, sweet Renlys prance and dance and look pretty. It's Ned Stark who lifts the siege after all for the starving Baratheons, while Robert gets married to the most beautiful woman in the world.