The feast kept rolling.
Leo had just shaken off his dark thoughts when Robert's roar ripped across the hall. The king was bellowing at his own brother—Stannis Baratheon, Lord of Dragonstone.
The outburst slammed the noisy room into dead silence.
"Nothing to see here! Carry on!"
Robert waved everybody off, drained another cup, then burst out laughing. The guests slowly picked their conversations back up and the cheerful noise returned.
Robert glared at Stannis with those big bull eyes of his and started hissing something low and angry.
From where Leo sat, with all the chatter and music, he couldn't catch the exact words. But it was obvious the brothers weren't bonding. Robert's beard bristled as he chewed Stannis out. Stannis stood there stone-faced, answering in short, flat sentences that only seemed to make Robert angrier.
This was the first time Leo had seen Stannis since arriving in King's Landing.
He looked almost exactly like the show version—broad shoulders, thick arms and legs. Barely past thirty and already thinning on top. Sunken cheeks, skin rough and weathered from years at sea. No smile anywhere on his face. Next to all the grinning lords and ladies, he looked completely out of place.
Word was he'd been out training the royal fleet. As Master of Ships he'd only just returned to the city today.
And the moment he got back, he'd already clashed with his older brother, the king.
Whatever they were fighting about ended with Stannis giving Robert a stiff little bow before turning and walking out. Robert just grabbed his cup and took another long pull.
A few minutes later Robert's other brother strolled over—handsome Renly, clean-shaven, moving with that effortless, elegant charm. He stopped beside Leo and Barristan, wine cup in hand, smiling pleasantly.
"Ser Neo, I hear you're going to be Prince Tommen's sworn shield. Congratulations!"
"Thank you," Leo replied with a polite smile and a small bow.
People had summed up the three Baratheon brothers pretty well: Robert was true steel, Stannis was plain iron—black, hard, and unbreakable, but brittle. And Renly? Polished bronze. Shiny and impressive at first glance, but not worth much when it really mattered.
That description was dead on.
In the coming War of the Five Kings, every other claimant would have some kind of justification. Renly had the weakest claim of all—and he still went for it.
The reason was simple.
When Robert lay dying from the boar wound, only Eddard Stark had figured out that none of Robert's three children were actually his. Joffrey had no rightful claim to the Iron Throne.
By law and custom, Stannis was the rightful heir.
Yet Renly, while his brother was still breathing his last, tried to talk Ned into using force to put him on the throne.
He was trying to leapfrog both Robert's "sons" and his own older brother in one armed coup. His only excuse? "I'm the one best suited to be king."
Robert wasn't even dead yet. The truth about the kids hadn't fully come out. Renly was already scheming for the crown.
His naked ambition was on full display.
Even Ned had been stunned speechless when Renly said it.
Robert had never treated his youngest brother badly. After taking the throne he gave Renly the family seat—Storm's End—and the entire Stormlands. He gave nothing like that to Stannis, who had bled and nearly starved holding the castle for him during the rebellion.
Stannis got Dragonstone. Renly—who had done almost nothing—got the bigger, richer prize.
Stannis swallowed the insult and kept serving faithfully while Robert hunted, drank, and whored. Renly partied and stayed the king's favorite.
Robert had given his little brother the best of everything and never shortchanged him.
And Renly's response? While Robert lay dying, he plotted an armed coup and wanted to use Robert's nominal sons as bargaining chips to seize the throne.
Even Ned had been shocked at how cold-blooded the suggestion was.
Renly insisted he was simply the most suitable man to wear the crown.
Later, when their armies faced off, Stannis offered to name Renly his heir if Renly would acknowledge him as king. Stannis had no sons—only Shireen, crippled by greyscale and unlikely to live to adulthood. His wife couldn't bear more children, and Stannis was too rigid to ever set her aside.
If Renly had accepted, he would've become king eventually.
But Renly refused.
He chose to march against his own brother and fight for the throne with steel.
By the laws and customs of Westeros, that was straight-up treason.
This was a man who threw aside honor, family, and tradition for nothing but raw power. A pure political animal.
One more detail: Renly was gay. Never touched women, only men.
That alone made Leo want to keep his distance.
So when Renly walked over clearly hoping to chat and build some rapport, Leo traded a few polite words, then made an excuse and left.
Renly looked slightly surprised—and a little annoyed—by the brush-off.
Leo didn't care.
Tomorrow was the most important day of his life so far.