Darry, feast.
In Westeros, feasts are the glue that holds noble relationships and alliances together.
It had been about half a month since they left Winterfell. The nobles were desperate for a banquet—something to renew bonds and deepen connections.
Darry's hall was far too small to hold so many, so the feast was held outdoors in the courtyard.
Thankfully, the weather was decent today.
Bonfires were lit early.
Skinned cattle and sheep rotated slowly on spits. Fat dripped, sizzling and fragrant, filling the air with the smell of roasting meat.
Servants worked briskly—carving the finished meat, plating it, brushing it with spices and fine salt, pairing it with good greens and cream…
and finally carrying it to the tables of the lords.
The food and manpower came from the king's own household guard—Ser Raymun of Darry didn't have the coin to feed this many mouths.
Robert also requisitioned cooks, serving girls, singers, and performers from nearby manors.
"I am Ser Barristan Selmy of the Kingsguard. It's a pleasure to meet you, Ser Domeric. I've heard you severed Jaime Lannister's hand—was it true?"
"Barristan the Bold" found Domeric in the crowd.
"It's true," Domeric admitted. Too many had seen it—there was no point hiding it.
After Domeric confirmed it, something unreadable flickered in Barristan's eyes.
"So it's true. Heroes really do rise young. At your age, I couldn't have done that."
"I wouldn't dare compare myself to you," Domeric replied smoothly. "I'm nothing but a firefly's glimmer beside your fame. Even in the far North, singers still praise Barristan the Bold and his deeds…"
"More like Barristan the Old," Renly said with a grin. "He's already full of himself—your flattery will send him floating up into the clouds."
He leaned in lightly, effortless charm on display.
"Ser Domeric. Good evening. Renly Baratheon."
"Lord Renly. It's an honor." Domeric returned the greeting with formal courtesy. This was one of the realm's true powerholders.
"I heard you're betrothed to Lady Sansa Stark. I envy you. Truth be told, I've always admired Lady Sansa myself… and now the flower of the North has fallen into your hands…"
Renly Baratheon was exceptionally good at this—socially gifted, magnetic, and disarmingly friendly. With a few sentences he lifted both Domeric and Sansa up like trophies.
Compared to Queen Cersei's sharp-edged cruelty, Renly felt like her opposite.
That sort of "approachable superior" aura wasn't common.
The only person who could match it, Domeric thought, was probably Margaery Tyrell.
In the original story, those two even married.
But Domeric didn't believe Renly's "I've always admired Sansa" for a heartbeat. Renly likely hadn't even seen her face. It was polite noise.
Because Renly Baratheon wasn't just "shining copper"—he was also openly inclined toward men. The person he truly favored was undoubtedly Ser Loras Tyrell, the Knight of Flowers.
In the story, he even played a scandalous "two dragons and a phoenix" game with Loras and Margaery.
Setting aside that "minor flaw" in preference—
Renly was still, undeniably, a chosen one. So strong that the narrative needed a red priestess's "black magic" bug to erase him.
One day in 285 AC, Renly Baratheon—still not seven—woke up to learn his brother Robert sat the Iron Throne… and Renly himself had become Lord of Storm's End.
A protagonist's script dropped from the sky.
As the youngest son, Renly's path was strange.
He never even had time to receive a proper "second son" education before being abruptly made Lord Paramount of the Stormlands.
It made him bolder, more outward, more confident—less self-restrained.
And because he was born late, he didn't spend his boyhood constantly compared to a blazing older brother the way Stannis did—turning into that kind of man who lives in the cold shadow, watching sunlight fall on someone else.
If the old teachings in the East were "lord as lord, minister as minister," then Westerosi noble tradition was more like "brother as brother, younger brother as younger brother."
Many second sons were raised in that mold: Eddard, Kevan, the Blackfish—disciplined, duty-bound, steeped in hierarchy.
Renly was different. More relaxed—yet packed with ambition, charisma, political instinct, and taste for power.
Robert was fifteen years older than Renly. The age gap made their relationship feel less like "brothers" and more like "father and son." Robert indulged him—pampered him—in a way he never did Stannis.
The smith Donal Noye once said Renly was "shining copper—pretty to look at, not worth much."
Domeric thought that was unfair.
In the War of the Five Kings, Renly, by sheer force of personality, won the backing of most of the Stormlands and all of the Reach.
Out of the Seven Kingdoms, Renly effectively held two.
He commanded a hundred thousand men—the strongest host in the realm—supported by countless loyal bannermen.
He also married into House Tyrell. Money, men, supply, legitimacy—he had it all. Even if his personal military talent wasn't exceptional, he had minds like Randyll Tarly to steer the war.
Renly Baratheon was the king with the best odds.
So was he really "worthless copper"?
Clearly not.
In the eyes of Reach lords, the young Lord of Storm's End was Prince Rhaegar reborn—except with a worse claim than Stannis. In every other way, he looked like the ideal king.
Brienne the Beauty once said, "He would have been a good king."
That alone showed how well Renly won hearts. To Brienne, he felt like a ruler who would govern with mercy.
Judge a man by the company that bets on him:
Loras Tyrell. Margaery Tyrell. Brienne. Olenna Tyrell…
All of them put their chips on Renly. That spoke louder than any rumor.
In the story, after Renly died, Brienne hunted revenge for him. Loras never truly forgot him.
…
But Renly's greatest mistake was challenging his older brother Stannis for the throne.
Fighting Stannis for the crown was a rotten move.
After Robert's death, Joffrey and the other three "children" weren't recognized as Baratheons. Robert's many bastards had no claim—and Cersei nearly wiped them out anyway.
Robert's line was effectively cut off.
Stannis had only Princess Shireen—sickly from birth, scarred, unlikely to live long. His wife couldn't bear more children, and a rigid man like Stannis would never divorce or murder-and-remarry for heirs.
So Stannis's branch was likely doomed too.
Renly was in his twenties. He didn't need to rush.
If he did nothing, Stannis would probably end up passing the Iron Throne to him anyway.
And besides—there was a true enemy: House Lannister.
Brothers may quarrel within the walls, but they should unite against outsiders.
Renly didn't grasp that.
He could have publicly supported Stannis, waited until the lions were broken and the realm stabilized, and then moved.
A "soft coup," pressure from great lords, a forced abdication—Olenna's poison if needed—
it wouldn't have been hard.
Instead he played the worst possible card, cornering Stannis into using his ultimate move…
Music rose, and Domeric's thoughts were pulled back to the feast.
He took Sansa's hand and led her into the dance, moving with the rhythm as they began the first dance of the night.
Sansa wore a sleeveless, collarless gown that bared her flawless shoulders. A jeweled, pearl-set hairpin crowned her head. Golden bells hung at both wrists. Her soft auburn hair fell neatly down her back, and she wore a gentle smile.
It was her first time at a southern-style feast—and the first time she'd dressed so lightly.
…
The dance ended.
"Would you mind letting Lady Sansa share a dance with me?" Renly asked with a bright smile. He'd clearly been waiting.
"Of course not." Domeric smiled, giving Sansa an encouraging look.
He wasn't a particularly "generous" man—but there was no point being jealous of a man like Renly. Besides, Renly was clearly trying to build goodwill with Lord Eddard.
And Renly's position was, frankly, difficult. In King's Landing, facing the Lannisters' dominance, he couldn't stand alone. He needed a powerful ally.
Lord Eddard Stark was exactly that ally.
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GAME OF THRONES: SECRETS BENEATH THE DREADFORT
🏰🩸 GAME OF THRONES: SECRETS BENEATH THE DREADFORT 🩸🏰
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📢 DARK SECRETS RISE IN THE NORTH! 📢
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Beneath the Dreadfort, old horrors stir.
Power, bloodlines, betrayal, northern cruelty, and buried secrets wait beneath one of the most feared castles in Westeros.
❄️ The North remembers.🏰 The Dreadfort hides.🩸 And some secrets should have stayed buried.
Uncover what lies beneath before anyone else does.
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