Who: Loras and dream!Renly (narrative) What: A few memories When: Last night-this morning Where: Loras' bed Rating: PG-13 for boy snogging Status: Complete
In a suit of boiled leather and chain mail, Loras looked all of ten, maybe eleven with his thin body and curls. The shield he held was a little too big for him, and the helmet as well. It was his job, though, and he did it with pride and honour as befitted his house. He was to squire for Renly.
If he wanted to be a knight, this was his start, as loathe as he was to do it. He was thirsty to be one of the knights and wield a sword and lance. What he did not expect was to be all but attached to the hip to Renly from that day forward. The young man grinned at him and Loras was certain this was not the knight he was to squire for, but Renly Baratheon took the shield with gentle thanks.
They dined together, talked, laughed...Gods, Loras wanted to impress Renly, and he would. Soon, he would. The court at Storm's End saw them as inseparable. Loras saw Renly as his best friend. They lie together in the grass, looking up at the sky, talking about girls, "And what about boys?" Loras asked casually and Renly had laughed uncomfortably without answering the question. Loras could never understand his attraction to men, but it was there, and it was his own secret, for a little while. It was on a crisp, cool day that Loras kissed Renly, just to see what he'd do. Renly had pushed him away and blinked at him, but as soon as Loras opened his mouth to say something, Renly silenced it with his own. Loras remembered. He remembered how Renly tasted and smelled, undeniably rich, undeniably Renly.
As young as Loras was, becoming a knight came easily to him. He was a thin boy who could barely fit the armour he was given, but once the helmet was on his head, Ser Loras Tyrell emerged, and there was no turning back. Joust after joust, he knocked mountains from their horses, even one Jaime Lannister. When it as official, he was always the gracious Ser Loras Tyrell, a fair contender who was better with a lance than with a sword, but still skillful in both, despite his appearance. If someone said it was ego, Ser Loras was inclined to agree. He stood in the middle of the jousting circle with his helmet off his head, his opponent on the ground, his horse next to him, a bloodied sword in his hand, and bowed at his cheering crowd.
When Ser Loras left his crowd one afternoon, Renly was watching him. Renly smiled and Loras felt his heart pump a little faster. It hadn't happened before then, not even when they'd kissed. At least, not in that particular sense. That had been excitement. This was something else, something Loras might later recognize. For now, he walked away from it, turning his gaze toward the gates. He walked through them...
He woke up, but only sat up after a few seconds, touching his fingers against his lips. His heart was still beating wildly. How had he gotten from Storm's End to...his bed? Everyone, everyone had been talking in English. Not American English. Some old English and Loras had understood. He'd always understood. Reaching blindly to his nightstand with shaking hands, Loras clicked his lamp on and light flooded the room. He squinted and rubbed at his eyes as he swung his feet over the side of the bed. It had been a dream, it had to be. He touched his chest where his heart was slowing. Renly...