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Below
him
sat
Lady
Oakheart
,
tiny
and
delicate
,
and
to
her
left
Lord
Randyll
Tarly
of
Horn
Hill
,
his
greatsword
Heartsbane
propped
up
against
the
back
of
his
seat
.
Others
she
knew
only
by
their
sigils
,
and
some
not
at
all
.
In
their
midst
,
watching
and
laughing
with
his
young
queen
by
his
side
,
sat
a
ghost
in
a
golden
crown
.
Small
wonder
the
lords
gather
around
him
with
such
fervor
,
she
thought
,
he
is
Robert
come
again
.
Renly
was
handsome
as
Robert
had
been
handsome
;
long
of
limb
and
broad
of
shoulder
,
with
the
same
coal
-
black
hair
,
fine
and
straight
,
the
same
deep
blue
eyes
,
the
same
easy
smile
.
The
slender
circlet
around
his
brows
seemed
to
suit
him
well
.
It
was
soft
gold
,
a
ring
of
roses
exquisitely
wrought
;
at
the
front
lifted
a
stag
’
s
head
of
dark
green
jade
,
adorned
with
golden
eyes
and
golden
antlers
.
The
crowned
stag
decorated
the
king
’
s
green
velvet
tunic
as
well
,
worked
in
gold
thread
upon
his
chest
;
the
Baratheon
sigil
in
the
colors
of
Highgarden
.
The
girl
who
shared
the
high
seat
with
him
was
also
of
Highgarden
:
his
young
queen
,
Margaery
,
daughter
to
Lord
Mace
Tyrell
.
Their
marriage
was
the
mortar
that
held
the
great
southron
alliance
together
,
Catelyn
knew
.
Renly
was
one
-
and
-
twenty
,
the
girl
no
older
than
Robb
,
very
pretty
,
with
a
doe
’
s
soft
eyes
and
a
mane
of
curling
brown
hair
that
fell
about
her
shoulders
in
lazy
ringlets
.
Her
smile
was
shy
and
sweet
.
Out
in
the
field
,
another
man
lost
his
seat
to
the
knight
in
the
rainbow
-
striped
cloak
,
and
the
king
shouted
approval
with
the
rest
.
"
Loras
!
"
she
heard
him
call
.
"
Loras
!
Highgarden
!
"
The
queen
clapped
her
hands
together
in
excitement
.
Catelyn
turned
to
see
the
end
of
it
.
Only
four
men
were
left
in
the
fight
now
,
and
there
was
small
doubt
whom
king
and
commons
favored
.
She
had
never
met
Ser
Loras
Tyrell
,
but
even
in
the
distant
north
one
heard
tales
of
the
prowess
of
the
young
Knight
of
Flowers
.
Ser
Loras
rode
a
tall
white
stallion
in
silver
mail
,
and
fought
with
a
long
-
handled
axe
.
A
crest
of
golden
roses
ran
down
the
center
of
his
helm
.
Two
of
the
other
survivors
had
made
common
cause
.
They
spurred
their
mounts
toward
the
knight
in
the
cobalt
armor
.
As
they
closed
to
either
side
,
the
blue
knight
reined
hard
,
smashing
one
man
full
in
the
face
with
his
splintered
shield
while
his
black
destrier
lashed
out
with
a
steel
-
shod
hoof
at
the
other
.
In
a
blink
,
one
combatant
was
unhorsed
,
the
other
reeling
.
The
blue
knight
let
his
broken
shield
drop
to
the
ground
to
free
his
left
arm
,
and
then
the
Knight
of
Flowers
was
on
him
.
The
weight
of
his
steel
seemed
to
hardly
diminish
the
grace
and
quickness
with
which
Ser
Loras
moved
,
his
rainbow
cloak
swirling
about
him
.
The
white
horse
and
the
black
one
wheeled
like
lovers
at
a
harvest
dance
,
the
riders
throwing
steel
in
place
of
kisses
.
Longaxe
flashed
and
morningstar
whirled
.
Both
weapons
were
blunted
,
yet
still
they
raised
an
awful
clangor
.
Shieldless
,
the
blue
knight
was
getting
much
the
worse
of
it
.
Ser
Loras
rained
down
blows
on
his
head
and
shoulders
,
to
shouts
of
"
Highgarden
!
"
from
the
throng
.
The
other
gave
answer
with
his
morningstar
,
but
whenever
the
ball
came
crashing
in
,
Ser
Loras
interposed
his
battered
green
shield
,
emblazoned
with
three
golden
roses
.
When
the
longaxe
caught
the
blue
knight
’
s
hand
on
the
backswing
and
sent
the
morningstar
flying
from
his
grasp
,
the
crowd
screamed
like
a
rutting
beast
.
The
Knight
of
Flowers
raised
his
axe
for
the
final
blow
.
The
blue
knight
charged
into
it
.
The
stallions
slammed
together
,
the
blunted
axehead
smashed
against
the
scarred
blue
breastplate
.
.
.
but
somehow
the
blue
knight
had
the
haft
locked
between
steel
-
gauntleted
fingers
.
He
wrenched
it
from
Ser
Loras
’
s
hand
,
and
suddenly
the
two
were
grappling
mount
-
to
-
mount
,
and
an
instant
later
they
were
falling
.
As
their
horses
pulled
apart
,
they
crashed
to
the
ground
with
bone
-
jarring
force
.
Loras
Tyrell
,
on
the
bottom
,
took
the
brunt
of
the
impact
.
The
blue
knight
pulled
a
long
dirk
free
and
flicked
open
Tyrell
’
s
visor
.
The
roar
of
the
crowd
was
too
loud
for
Catelyn
to
hear
what
Ser
Loras
said
,
but
she
saw
the
word
form
on
his
split
,
bloody
lips
.
Yield
.
