The negotiation was set on the outskirts of Bronze Gate, where the land remained green and lush. There was no trace of winter's chill in the air. It was still autumn, but who could say how long the gods would grant Westeros to prepare for the coming cold?
Spring and autumn always passed in a hurry, fleeting moments wedged between the long reigns of summer and winter—much like the opening and closing of a play, one setting the stage and the other bringing it to an end.
Cole stood with a spear in hand, a banner fluttering from its shaft. The flag was a soft yellow, adorned with a bright red emblem reminiscent of the sun hanging in the sky. At its center stood the crowned stag of House Baratheon, encircled by red hearts, each outlined in gold to form a ring of fire. The golden embroidery was darker than the flag's surface, giving it a solemn dignity.
Clad in heavy armor, Cole cut an imposing figure. Two long swords hung at his waist, though they were plain in design, lacking any elaborate embellishments.
He followed Stannis, who bore a red-gold crown upon his head. The king's attire was simple—a worn leather vest, scuffed brown breeches, and sturdy but well-used boots. His sword, at least, had a ruby set in the hilt, making it finer than Cole's weapons.
The sun stood high in the sky, yet the air was pleasant. Shadows dappled the grassy field, and birds scattered at the sound of approaching hooves. A gust of wind rustled through the trees, making the banners snap and dance.
Cole, encased in steel, looked as formidable as a silver-clad knight of legend. His visor obscured his vision, leaving him to rely on narrow slits to see ahead—but at least he still had a pair of eyes in the sky.
It seemed someone had arrived before them. It wasn't Renly's forces. Instead, a direwolf banner flapped in the wind.
They studied the figures beneath the Stark sigil, just as those figures studied them in return.
A woman with striking red hair stood beside a battle-worn knight. Stannis recognized them instantly and greeted her with his usual coldness.
"Lady Stark."
"Lord Stannis," Catelyn replied.
Stannis had brought only two companions—a knight and a woman with hair as red as flame. A large contingent of cavalry lingered in the distance.
"I did not expect to see you here," Stannis continued. "Your husband would be pleased to know of your presence."
Catelyn looked surprised. "My lord, did you say Eddard is here?"
"He is at Storm's End, my lady. But tell me, why are you here? Do you speak for House Stark, or…?"
Catelyn quickly mastered her emotions. The thought of her husband so near filled her with both relief and longing, but now was not the time for reunions. She was here on behalf of her son.
"I come as an envoy of House Stark. My son fights alone in the North to defend the realm, while you turn a blind eye to the Lannister army. Cersei and her bastard son sit the Iron Throne, and the kingdom bleeds while you stand idle."
She fixed Stannis with a hard stare. "Dragonstone is close, my lord. Why are you here instead?"
"I need an army, Lady Stark," Stannis replied. "I seek only what is rightfully mine. The law states that Renly and the lords of the south owe me their loyalty. I have come to claim what is mine by right."
"Your rightful claim?" A light, mocking voice cut in before Catelyn could respond. "Is that what you call stealing Storm's End, brother?"
The speaker was a striking young man, handsome and confident. He wore a green velvet doublet trimmed with squirrel fur, a cloak of satin, and a crown of golden roses. An emerald pendant gleamed at his chest, and a jewel-encrusted sword rested at his hip. He sat atop a magnificent horse, exuding effortless charm.
His long black hair was neatly combed, his blue eyes bright with amusement.
Renly's standard-bearer rode beside him, clad in full armor. On a twelve-foot lance, she bore a golden banner, where a crowned black stag leapt against the field of gold.
"Lord Renly," Stannis acknowledged stiffly.
"It's King Renly, brother." Renly smirked. "And look at that thing on your head! You've barely got any hair left. Why bother with a crown?" His gaze flicked to the banner Cole carried. "And this? Is this your new sigil?"
Then his eyes landed on Cole's armor, and for a brief moment, his amusement faltered. "That armor looks awfully familiar." He turned back to Stannis, his tone light but edged with something sharper. "Brother, if you're so short on coin, just tell me. No need to go handing my old practice armor to others."
"This is a trophy, Your Grace," Cole replied evenly.
Renly wagged a finger. "It doesn't count unless you win it fairly. A proper joust, for instance." His tone was teasing, but his gaze lingered on the armor a moment longer before shifting back to Stannis. "But tell me, which banner do you fight under now?"
"My own," Stannis answered.
"The king's standard bears the flaming heart of the Lord of Light," the red-robed woman beside him added.
"Easy enough to spot in battle," Renly mused, eyeing the banner curiously.
Before the exchange could go further, Catelyn spoke, her voice cutting through the rising tension.
"It is best if we do not fight at all. The three of us should stand together and turn our swords toward the true enemy."
Stannis studied her face carefully. "Your husband said the same. But the Iron Throne is mine by right. To deny it is to declare yourself my enemy."
He turned his gaze to Renly, his expression hard.
Renly shrugged. "The entire realm denies you, brother. The old men denied you before they died, the unborn deny you from the womb, Dorne denies you, Highgarden denies you, and even the Stormlands deny you. No one wants you as king—what a shame."
A muscle twitched in Stannis's jaw, his anger barely restrained. "I swore that as long as you wore the crown of a usurper, I would never stand beside you. I should have kept my oath long ago."
Catelyn let out an exasperated sigh. "This is madness, my lords. The Lannister army controls Harrenhal and Riverrun. They are raising new forces in Lannisport and Casterly Rock. And here you are, squabbling like children while the kingdom bleeds."
Renly chuckled, undeterred. "I will win every war, my lady. You need not trouble yourself." With sixty thousand men at his command, he was confident. Stannis would fall first, and then he would march on Tywin.
Stannis remained unmoved. "If you have any proposals, make them now. Otherwise, I'll take my leave."
Renly grinned, enunciating each word with deliberate care. "I do have a suggestion. Dismount. Kneel. Swear fealty."
Stannis's expression darkened further. "You'll never get it."
"You served Robert. Why can't I?"
"Robert was my elder brother. You are my younger brother."
"Yes, I'm younger than you—braver, more charismatic. Look at yourself, brother. Look at what you've become."
"Thief, usurper!" Stannis spat.
Renly stood his ground. "You're the thief, Stannis. Storm's End is my castle, my birthright. And look at what you've done."
"It is mine by right. And as a rebel, I have every right to reclaim your lands."
"Really? Then tell me, who is the real rebel? Do you see those banners? The Seven Kingdoms stand behind me, just as they stood behind Robert. The Targaryens called him the Usurper, but he didn't care, and neither do I. I'll take Storm's End back myself—just like that suit of armor your knight is wearing. I'll have him stripped of it soon enough."
"Enough of this," Catelyn cut in sharply. "If you were my sons, I'd knock your heads together and lock you in a room until you learned to respect each other."
Stannis frowned. "Your assumptions go too far, Lady Stark. I am the rightful king, and all who oppose me are rebels. If House Stark chooses to stand with him, then I will personally see to your downfall."
Catelyn's fury flared, but she swallowed her anger, mindful that her husband was still in their hands.
"You always think you're in the right, Stannis," Renly said. "But I have the numbers."
Reaching under his cloak, he moved slowly.
Stannis's gaze flicked to Cole, and the Silver Knight nodded, his hand moving toward his sword.
"Relax, brother. Do you want a peach?" Renly asked, producing a ripe fruit. "It's from Highgarden. I guarantee you've never tasted anything so sweet."
He took a bite, juice dripping from his lips, while the gathered lords and knights watched in stunned silence.
"I'm not here to eat fruit," Stannis snapped, his fury barely contained. This was his younger brother, standing before him with his mockery and arrogance, as if none of this was serious.
"A man should never refuse a peach," Renly mused. "Who knows if he'll ever have another chance? Life is short, Stannis. What do the Starks say? Ah, yes—'Winter is coming.'
"To be honest, brother, I don't like you. You always wear that sour expression. Only you could bear to sleep with such an ugly woman. Fortunately, my queen is beautiful.
"And do you know what the people of the Seven Kingdoms whisper about you? That your daughter is not yours at all—that she is the bastard child of your fool of a jester."
Stannis's hand shot to his sword. As he drew it, flames erupted along the blade's length. "I will not suffer insults to my face. Do you hear me?"
Renly sighed, turning to the woman beside him. "What should I do with my brother, Brienne? He's waving that flaming sword at me, though I must admit—it's quite impressive."
The armored woman answered firmly, "No one will harm you, Your Grace."
"I am neither cruel nor ungrateful," Renly continued, turning back to Stannis. "I have no wish to stain the Lightbringer with my brother's blood. Lower your banner, bend the knee, and I will let you keep your title as Lord of Storm's End. There will be a seat for you on my council."
His voice hardened. "But if you persist in this folly, then so be it. Ten years ago, I helped defend Storm's End for Robert. I will defend it again. I will defeat your army myself."
Renly chuckled, shaking his head. "Are you afraid, brother? Face me in battle—just as Robert faced Rhaegar. Or do you lack the courage?"
"I will not be as foolish as you, Renly. Bring your rebels to Storm's End, and we shall see who prevails." Stannis sheathed his sword.
"May your new god grant you luck, brother," Renly said with a smirk.
Without another word, Stannis turned and mounted his horse, Cole following close behind.
Catelyn took a step forward, and Renly quirked an eyebrow. "Lady Stark, are you going the wrong way?"
She shook her head. "I must see my husband, Lord Renly."
"Really? Good luck, then. But give Lord Stark some advice—he must choose wisely.
"And tell me, do you still think the North can come to your aid again?"
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