"Eddard won't let you into Robert's room anymore?" Renly paced restlessly for a while, then suddenly turned and asked in a low voice, "You've been by Robert's bedside every day. What's wrong with my brother's health?"
"I don't know… I don't know…" Margaery shook her head in a daze, looking on the verge of tears. "His Grace seemed to be recovering well, but for some reason, he's growing weaker and weaker. In the last two days, he's even started saying he's 'beyond hope' and 'about to die'... No matter who tries to persuade him, it's no use."
She had tended to him carefully for over half a month, only to watch helplessly as Robert withered, step by step, from life toward death. The sensation of falling from heaven to hell had left her drained. The clever gleam that once danced in her eyes was gone. A voice, like a curse, echoed endlessly in her ears: You will never, ever, ever marry the man you want to marry.
She shook her head violently to dispel the illusion, but still couldn't make sense of it all. "It was just a stab to the back. He's such a strong man. If he didn't die then and there, how could he not survive with so many maesters attending to him afterward?"
Seeing Margaery so disoriented, Renly realized he wouldn't get anything useful from her, so he gave up pressing further and resumed pacing. In truth, he didn't need her to say anything. He was so anxious he simply needed someone to talk to...
Having lost his parents young, Renly had been raised by his two older brothers, Robert and Stannis. He knew them well—knew their tempers, their minds. Even though he hadn't heard a single word of what Robert had said to the Hand earlier, he could guess it with startling accuracy.
If he did nothing now, he would spend the rest of his life under the rule of his second brother—a man so rigid he bordered on pedantic, and so joyless he bordered on cruel. The Baratheon family would split in two, with King's Landing and Storm's End on separate paths. For a thousand years, his descendants would never have the chance to sit the Iron Throne.
He could not accept that.
…
…
"Robert just finished arranging his funeral and sealed his will." The night outside the window was as dark as ink. Renly stared out at the still-lit Tower of the Hand, then turned to look at the listless Margaery Tyrell. He knew he couldn't rely on others to make the bold choice for him. Gritting his teeth, he stamped his foot. "Guess what the Hand is doing now? I'd bet my life he's writing a letter to Stannis, asking him to bring the fleet back to claim the throne. And my second brother has a wife. Do you… still want to be queen?"
"Do I still want to be queen?" Margaery looked up as though jolted from a dream, her face drawn with exhaustion and confusion. "With Stannis's personality, how could he depose a queen and remarry?"
"Of course he wouldn't. Even if his wife died, he'd never consider you! When he was trapped in Storm's End by your family, starving to the point of cannibalism, and afterward Robert refused to punish the Riverlords… he's still bitter about that to this day. If he takes the Iron Throne, no matter who you marry, in this generation or the next, the Tyrells will never have a chance to rise again."
"You mean… we can't let him sit the Iron Throne?" Margaery heard the implication in Renly's words and came to her senses. She sat upright, her dazed eyes suddenly focused on Renly. "But the city garrison is under Eddard's command!"
"The garrison only numbers 2,000. What if we seize Eddard?" Renly had made up his mind. His voice trembled slightly, but his tone was full of scorn. "The armies of the North, the Riverlands, the Vale, and the Crownlands are all fighting in the West. My army passed King's Landing just two days ago and is less than a hundred miles from here. It's the closest to the capital. If I call them back now, the Reach can quickly gather more support... Even if the garrison doubles to 4,000 or 5,000, it won't make a difference!"
"This..." Margaery opened her mouth, a chill creeping down her spine. Seizing the throne by force? Though she had tried everything to return her family to power, she had never considered such a violent and dangerous path as open rebellion. This wasn't among the strategies her grandmother had taught her.
"I'll write to my bannermen." Renly was breathing heavily as he glanced toward the door and the window. Then he stepped closer, lowering his voice. "You, write to your family. Tell Loras to bring men to King's Landing immediately."
"Even if you take King's Landing, how will you fend off the counterattack from the royal army and the Northern Alliance?"
"You think I've spent all these years in King's Landing just drinking and carousing? All the lords of the Crownlands are my friends. They'll obey Eddard Stark's order to defend the city, but they'll 'run into trouble' along the way. Their march will be 'delayed' again and again—until I take King's Landing. And once I'm sitting the Iron Throne, they'll swear loyalty to me without hesitation. As for the northern forces under Eddard Stark... I can't explain the details, but I promise you, they won't be able to return in time!"
Margaery believed that the king's army might support Renly, but how could he be certain that Eddard Stark's men wouldn't return in time? She stared at Renly. His face, once youthful and handsome, now twisted slightly as he made the most critical decision of his life. Her expression shifted rapidly. After a moment of thought, she guessed the truth. "Did you... strike a deal with the Lannisters?"
"Absolutely not. I've made no promises to the Lannisters. That old man Tywin is only imagining things!" Renly gripped Margaery's arm so tightly she nearly cried out. "Don't hesitate. Your brother has already agreed to support me. You'll be queen, and the Tyrells will gain everything they've ever wanted. I swear it by the gods, old and new!"
The word queen shattered Margaery's last shred of hesitation. Ever since stepping foot in the Riverlands, she had met with failure after failure. She finally believed she'd succeeded, only for Robert to collapse without warning. After all these setbacks, even her will—tempered by the Queen of Thorns—was starting to break. In this moment of despair, the Lord of Storm's End appeared like a drowning man's lifeline.
Margaery trembled, hesitating for a few seconds before grabbing the straw Renly offered. She had had enough. She no longer wished to wait for the gods' favor. If the gods in heaven wouldn't give her the chance to be queen, she would seize it for herself.
But even in her desperation, she remained clear-headed. She spotted the flaw at once. "But the messenger ravens in King's Landing are controlled by the maesters employed by Lord Eddard. How will we send messages?"
"We'll go to Rosby, the nearest town, and use their ravens." Renly's eyes lit up with excitement as Margaery finally gave in. "We leave at dawn tomorrow. I guarantee Rosby will let me send ravens—and they'll even send riders to escort me west to join my army. They might even help from inside the city when I return with my men, making it easier to take King's Landing!"
"And me?"
"You'll leave King's Landing and return to the Reach. The troops fighting in the Westerlands are too far away to be recalled, but with the Reach's population and resources, gathering another 300,000 or 500,000 soldiers won't be difficult." Renly released her arm. "Go back to your chambers now and rest. We depart at first light. The sooner we act, the better. If we can take the city before Stannis returns, or even capture Lord Eddard alive, we might be able to force him to change the will and name me the rightful heir!"
(To be continued.)
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