And so the rose revealed her thorns. Renly’s unhappy frown deepened as the queen’s once soft voice grew more determined and uncompromising. Honestly, he didn’t need anyone to preach to him the truths he himself had believed for most of his life. Of course it shouldn’t have mattered whom he loved. And of course it shouldn’t have been seen as wrong - but, ah, the world never did conform to ideals and should-haves, did it? That the king had also learned to be true long ago. Perhaps he loved Loras, but not many were keen on the idea of their king or lord loving another man, and most would kill him (and the knight) for it.
Exhaustion pricked at the back of Renly’s eyes, reminding him that he was on the bed again and that rest would be a welcome respite, but he paid it no heed. He didn’t even blink. Instead, he shifted, lifting his cold feet from the ground and moving himself farther back on the bed until he could sit against the handsomely carved headboard, spine supported by inches of mahogany and goose down wrapped in bright silk. He patted the space next to himself, wordlessly beckoning his queen closer. The candle flickered an arm’s reach away and warmed one side of his face, while throwing the other into overly dramatic shadow.
“Friendship is a wonderful thing, to be sure - what I fear, however, is that your understanding is not so deep as you think. I’m not entirely convinced you understand at all,” said Renly in a measured tone, though, inwardly, he was working just as hard as Margaery to swallow his irritation. It was times like these his courtly upbringing reared its head. He was too well-practiced in the art of facade and pretense for it to be anything else. Whether that was a good thing or not still remained to be seen.