It was on one of those unexpectedly clement summer days.

He was under the canopy of leaves. He was sitting, quietly, thoughtful for once. His usually smiling, joyful face was not marred with stern lines that would make him a Stannis, no. Renly's visage simply lacked the usual carefree aura it casted around him.

Loras stood , his rainbow cloak flicking lightly in the gentle breeze. He'd just received it. The weight of it was not even a day old on his shoulders, but it felt as if it was one he'd waited all his life to carry.

His sister had the title and the ring, but he felt that the cloak was more appropriate for a love token than any other grace Renly might bestow on sweet Margaery.

Loras remembered as he observed his King, his posture that of the perfect Kingsguard.

It was barely a year ago, and they were still, then, just boys of summer. They had sparred, Loras' lithe and gentle frame moving gracefully in the yard to avoid the heavy blows that Renly Baratheon delivered him. Sparring swords were outdated, they'd decided - they were men enough to take risks even in practice.

It was a challenge, though, to fight with Renly Baratheon, even when you were his friend - even when you knew his every move and could predict without a fault where the next blow would land. That wasn't the worst of it, though.

Even covered in breast-plate armor, Renly was beautiful. It wasn't about his face or the shape of his body - it was the way he moved and the way he supported the weight of the metal exoskeleton effortlessly. It was the way his arm went up, almost like a dancer's, to threaten with a deadly blow. And most importantly, it was in the sheer joy of battle that transpired from Renly Baratheon's sparring skills.

After a blow that sent Loras to the ground, cowering under his shield, Renly lifted his visor and laughed merrily.

"You still have to learn, Loras. Do you think one day you will beat me in a spar?"

Loras blushed - and perhaps he was remembering the last time they'd wrestled - that time, there had been no armor in the way of his admiration.

A servant came over with a cask of wine for Renly and a cup, and Loras served him. Renly took the cup, drained half of it, and offered it to Loras with a rakish grin.

The squire who wasn't yet the Knight of Flowers blushed, accepted it, and finished the wine. He smiled, and there was a small drop of red liquid hanging on the corner of his lips. Renly's thumb smeared it, slowly, sensually, and Loras managed not to whimper.

Whimpers were for later - in the darkness, in the secrecy of Renly's chambers, when his hands caressed his most sensitive places, his lips kisses the back of his neck, nipping possessively. Sighs and moans also were for later, and they were for Renly alone.

Together, they walked back in the armory, and Loras removed the hauberk and the plates, from Renly's body first, hands efficient but caring like a lover's. When the dismantling of the armors was done, they walked to the gardens - it was again a visit at Highgarden, and Loras was grateful for this chance to spend time with his family.

Then, Renly was still the king's brother and no more, but to Loras, he was always the Lord of everything about - the one he wanted to obey and follow, blindly.

It was Renly who broke the silence.

"I've been thinking about my brother's welfare," he announced as they wandered under green arches. "I think something should be done about his bedwarmer."

Loras remained carefully attentive. "About Queen Cersei?"

"Yes, about Cersei Lannister," Renly replied, and Loras noted how the title was conveniently omitted. "My brother is not a happy man. He needs a wife who respects him."

Loras made an intelligent sound, one eyebrow lifting curiously on his pretty face. "Who do you have in mind?"

Renly's smile was almost a definite answer, before the words even exited his lips. "But your sweet sister, who else?"

That wasn't very surprising, come to think of it - by securing Highgarden's loyalty, Renly would have strong support, should Tywin Lannister take ill after his daughter was repudiated. He inevitably would.

"Did you speak to my father about it?" Loras' voice was even, quiet.

"I will, but I'd like for you to support me when I do. Certainly, Lord Mace will want to have his dear son's opinion when weighing the destiny of his sister."

Loras hesitated - King Robert Baratheon was old and fat, boisterous and loud, and Margaery was young and beautiful. Margaery, though, he decided, also wanted to be queen. Besides, Renly had no love for Cersei. Renly wanted his sister to be Queen, and if that was how he felt, then Loras felt the same way.

Under the flowering ivies, they wandered, joking about the face Queen Cersei would make when she found out a younger woman had beguiled her husband away from the bed she refused to keep warm.

Jokingly, Renly said, nudging Loras companionably, "My brother may get the taste of one of Highgarden's sweetest fruits, so why shouldn't I?" The Knight of Flowers had felt inexplicably warm and had nudged back, not really offering, though the way he looked at Renly left little to interpretation as to which fruit he wished to see plucked.

Renly had laughed, and said, "Oh, I can see my brother already, kissing your sweet sister on the lips," he said. And Loras had chuckled, and suppressed the little shiver of displeasure at the mental image. "I wager a kiss from house Baratheon can be sweet," he replied, though it wasn't Robert he was thinking about.

There was a moment of silent understanding, and Renly reached, to kiss his cheek, lightly. "I suppose now you can decide if you won your wager or not," he murmured, close enough to tease Loras' skin with his breath. "I should think such a test would demand a rather longer trial," Loras heard himself reply, though he had not planned it in the least.

The next time Renly kissed him, it was on the lips, long, sweet and tender, but smelling of man and oozing with contained strength. Their lips parted and the kiss deepened, and the canopy of emerald-green leaves seemed to close around them, to shield them from the world, like a complacent theater to their forbidden fruit-plucking.

Renly was still beautiful, Loras mused as he escorted him back from the parley. Renly was beautiful in anything. There had been a moment, though, that had passed in ways unexpected, he'd found.

It seemed to him that in that moment, Stannis Baratheon had never been more woefully ignorant of his brother than before. He didn't know. Loras knew.

To Renly, nothing was sweeter than a peach from Highgarden.