Disclaimer: The characters aren't mine, I'm just exploring the possibilities.

Loss

Stannis leant forward and lit another candle on the altar, careful not to burn himself. He looked up at the statue, carved from marble, the face faded already, but the features were not what mattered. It was the hammer in the statue's hand that marked him for the Smith, and it was to him that Stannis had been praying ever since his mother and father had left for the Free Cities to find a bride for the young prince. He went down on his knees again, hands folded on his thighs.

"Grant them safe passage," he mumbled quietly. Surely the gods could hear him even if he kept his voice down. "Bring them safely to the Free Cities, and safely back home." A bit guiltily, knowing that it was a selfish wish, he added, "Bring them home soon. I miss them."

"Stannis! What on Earth are you doing in there?"

The voice was booming and deep, disrupting the silence of the sept. Sometimes Robert's voice still cracked and sounded boyish, but most of the time it was a man's voice already, as loud and striking as everything else about his brother. Even his boots on the stone floor seemed to make more noise than ought to be possible. He was wearing riding clothes, his hair was messy from the wind, and his blue eyes sparkled with mischief.

"I'm praying, brother. For our parents' safe return," Stannis explained, forcing himself to stay calm. He hated it when Robert barged in on him like that, but this was no place for arguments. He got up and brushed some dust off his knees. He clenched his jaw and braced himself, but he still flinched when Robert slapped him on the shoulder. For most of their lives they had been the same size and equally strong, but Robert's latest growth spurt had left him almost a head taller than his brother, and he never missed an opportunity to demonstrate his new strength. Stannis felt like a boy next to him.

"Oh, they'll be all right, it's still summer. Stop fretting like an old woman," Robert laughed and nudged him in the side. Stannis was never quite sure if his brother bruised him on purpose or if Robert was just inconsiderate and careless. "How can you be so dull? Mother and father are gone, we're our own men, and all you do is study and read and pray. Didn't know you wanted to become a septon, Stannis."

The next nudge would have sent Stannis stumbling if Robert's arm hadn't remained around his shoulders. He tried to wiggle free, but he could just as well have tried to crawl out from under a mountain.

"I only want them to be safe," Stannis snapped back, but his words sounded weak even to his own ears. He and Robert were almost the same age, less than a year between them, and Stannis hated that his brother looked so much like a man already. He couldn't wait to catch up to him again.

"Suit yourself." The look Robert gave him was derisive, and as unpleasant as the embrace had been the loss of it stung even more when Robert pulled his arm back. "I'm going to the kitchens. One of the girls really likes me. The blonde one, you know which one, I've seen you looking at her, too. I would have taken you along, I'm sure I could talk one of the girls into kissing you, but I suppose you'd rather pray. You'd probably be scared anyway if a girl ever kissed you."

Stannis felt himself blush, and it only made him angrier. He didn't want to think about pretty servant girls kissing him, it was ... frivolous. And worse, it was humiliating to realise that they'd probably only do it because his handsome big brother had asked them to.

"You go play with your tarts, Robert." Stannis went back on his knees and stared at the altar, determined to ignore his brother, but even so he didn't miss how Robert rolled his eyes before he left.

It wasn't just that Robert was the elder. All Robert ever wanted to do was to hunt and ride and kiss girls, but he would one day be Lord of Storm's End, he would marry a beautiful young lady from one of the most powerful houses, and of course everyone would adore them, because for reasons Stannis had never quite understood, people simply loved Robert. Robert, who didn't even bother to take care of little Renly, to visit the boy occasionally, to talk to him and tuck him in at night. He had said bluntly that little children were boring and that he had better things to do, leaving their brother to Stannis. Stannis couldn't imagine how Robert would ever deal with being responsible for all of the Stormlands if one little boy was already too much of a bother.

And all the while Stannis himself would be stuck as a poor knight, depending on his father's and brother's generosity to give him some lands and find a suitable wife for him. Maybe he would be better off becoming a septon, he thought with a bitter smile playing around his lips, but he enjoyed swordfighting far too much and he knew he wasn't made for a life of quiet contemplation.

He would talk to father when he returned. Maybe Lord Steffon could send him off to squire for one of the great lords or knights of the kingdoms. The thought made Stannis smile: he could already see himself in King's Landing or Casterly Rock; he imagined Ser Arthur Dayne or Ser Barristan Selmy clasping his shoulder and congratulating him on his knighthood. For a moment he even allowed himself to picture a silver-haired Targaryen prince fastening a white cloak on his shoulders. He quenched the thought right away. He was getting too old for boyish dreams, and either way this was not the place nor time for them. Storm's End needed at least one man who didn't shy away from his responsibilities, and Renly needed at least one brother who was there for him.

Stannis closed his eyes and repeated his prayers again. He wasn't quite sure how it worked, what he had to do or say to make the gods listen, but he had all day, and he'd rather pray too much than not enough if it meant his parents' safe return.

Three weeks had passed since Lord Steffon's ship had been smashed in Shipbreaker Bay, so close to home. Robert and Stannis had watched from the castle's highest tower, smiles on both their faces as they waited for their parents' return, smiles that turned into expressions of concern when the storm had grown worse, a frown on Stannis' face, an uneasy, forced smile on Robert's lips as he went on about how capable the ship's captain was and that he would surely make his way through the storm. When the ship had smashed against the treacherous rocks of the bay, splinters of wood cast about by the waves in the moonlight, the brothers had clung to each other, two pairs of blue eyes fixed onto the raging water, already crying as they still tried to convince each other that their parents would somehow make it out of there alive.

It was the last moment, and perhaps also the first, in which they truly felt like brothers. There had been no survivors but for some poor fool the waves had washed ashore, and the brothers didn't even look at each other as they stood in the sept while the septon spoke the words, even though there were no bodies to bury.

Robert had left for the Eyrie as soon as Lord Arryn had replied to Maester Cressen's letter. The maester and the castellan had decided that Robert should be fostered elsewhere, now that Lord Steffon himself was not here anymore to teach his son all a lord needed to know. It left Stannis in charge for the moment, but he knew it was only temporary until his brother returned. Lord Robert now. Just thinking it sounded wrong to his ears, unfair. Robert had been quiet before his departure, he had barely said goodbye to Stannis, let alone to Renly.

It wasn't that Stannis missed him, his jibes, his taunts, his derisive looks as if he couldn't believe that fate had inflicted such a disappointing brother on him. But Storm's End felt empty and too quiet without Robert's booming voice, even more so because it also lacked father's presence, his loud laughter, which had been so much like Robert's, only less grating. It lacked mother's gracious presence, her quiet smile from the balcony when she watched her sons spar in the courtyard.

Stannis spent his days walking through the castle, fingertips brushing over stone walls and wooden doors, and every little place was full of memories. The nicks in the courtyard walls reminded him of sparring sessions with his father – Lord Steffon had always paid more attention to his eldest, but Stannis cherished the moments when his father had looked at him, the few compliments he had paid him, the smiles, the good-humoured advice on how to improve his stance, his attacks. The way father had ruffled his hair whenever Stannis had managed to best Robert, rare as that had been. He remembered walking through the gardens and the castle's halls with his mother, telling her about his lessons with the maester and the septon. He remembered how she would sing every night after dinner, how even Robert would be quiet then and just listen. Stannis couldn't stand music anymore. He had ordered his mother's ladies to confine their singing to their own chambers; the one time he had heard them in the great hall it had brought tears to his eyes. He was Lord of Storm's End for the time being, he would not cry.

"My lord?" The septon was hurrying over the courtyard towards him, robes flapping around his overweight form. Stannis tensed up and stared at him, his teeth grinding even without him noticing it.

"My lord." The man was out of breath. Stannis couldn't help but think that the septon could do with a bit more restraint at the dining table. "I haven't seen you in the sept since ... since your parents' death. You are neglecting your prayers, I doubt that your lord father would approve."

"I spent my whole life praying, but that did not help my lord father one bit when he drowned," Stannis snapped, and for once he did not feel bad about his tone. "I prayed and prayed to the Seven, I prayed for my brother's love and my father's attention, or at least for his life, but it seems the gods have better things to do than to listen to me. Maybe Robert should have prayed to them, everyone always pays more attention to his wishes."

He took a deep breath, but didn't even try to calm down. His concern with appearances was the only thing that had kept him from sending the septon away. How cruel the Seven must be to let his parents die, to take them away from three sons who needed them, especially their youngest. It had made him realise that the Seven had never answered a single one of his prayers, ever since he had been a little boy and asked for nothing more than his parents' attention. Either they were false, powerless gods, or they were cruel. It didn't matter which one it was, but Stannis vowed that he would never go to his knees again to worship them.

"My lord, the ways of the gods are not always comprehensible for us mortals, but surely they had reasons -"

"Spare me your platitudes, old man. You can keep your gods and your prayers. My time will be better spent cleaning up your gods' mess by taking care of Storm's End and raising my brother."

The septon looked dumbfounded and at a loss for words. Stannis gave him a last scornful look and resumed his way. His parents were gone, Robert wouldn't be back for years. Someone had to keep the castle running, someone had to take care of his lord father's duties, and someone had to raise little Renly into a better man than Robert was. It was his duty to be that someone, to take over the tasks his father's death and his brother's absence had left him with.

Stannis felt his heart ache a little when he thought of Renly, of his confusion when first his parents and then Robert had left. The boy didn't know what good fortune it would be to grow up without Robert. It was a small mercy for an orphan, but Stannis almost envied him for it. Renly was such a carefree little boy, bright and lively, and he loved Stannis more than Robert, or even his parents, ever had. Stannis wouldn't neglect him for prayers to deaf, uncaring gods. He was sure that his father would understand, even approve.

He cast a last look back at the sept. He remembered standing in it, his father holding his hand while telling him the names of the gods and how he should always honour them. Stannis sighed sadly. Father hadn't known any better.

"Stannis?"

Stannis woke up from his own fitful sleep, and in the half-light he saw a small figure in the doorframe. It was light enough in the room – full moon outside, and Stannis always kept the window open at night, he liked hearing the waves break on the rocks and the castle walls when he fell asleep and when he woke up – but even in complete darkness he would have recognised that voice. Small, frightened, lonely.

Renly.

"What is it, brother?" He was tired, but he couldn't send his little brother away. Not when he was all Renly had left.

Bare feet padded over the carpeted floor to the bed. Stannis could make out big, blue eyes in a pale face under a mop of black hair. He thought he could see tears on his cheeks.

"Can I sleep with you?" Renly didn't wait for an answer, he never did. He jumped on the bed and crawled under the thick fur blankets, wiggling his way into Stannis' arms.

"I didn't say you could," Stannis pointed out, but he didn't push the boy away. Renly was only three years old, and he hated being alone. It had become even worse after Robert had left for the Eyrie, now that Renly had only one person to go to. Stannis sighed and made himself comfortable, tightened his arm a little around Renly's thin body. He knew he should be stricter with Renly and send him to sleep in his own bed, and every night he promised to himself that he would, next time. But not yet, not so soon. Renly would only cry if Stannis sent him away, and Stannis couldn't bring himself to be so cruel to a child.

"Will Robert be back soon?" Renly had asked that question every night since Robert had left, and every night Stannis gave the same answer.

"Only in a few years, Renly. He's gone to the Eyrie, to be fostered with Lord Arryn." He tried to keep the bitterness out of his voice – that Robert got to leave and be fostered with one of the greatest knights in the realm, while Stannis was stuck at Storm's End. Of course it was an honour – it made him Lord of Storm's End in his brother's absence – but he still dreamt of seeing other parts of the realm, going to King's Landing, squiring for a great lord or knight. But Renly didn't notice, just like he couldn't comprehend what a few years meant.

"And mother and father? When are they coming back?" This was the other question Renly asked every night, and it was the one Stannis feared. He flinched, his arm tightened so hard around Renly that he felt the boy wince in pain. Stannis had tried to explain it to Renly after the ship had shattered in Shipbreaker Bay. Fighting his own tears, he had told Renly that mother and father were gone, that they were not coming home. But 'never' was as incomprehensible to a little boy as 'in a few years', and no matter what Stannis or Maester Cressen told him, Renly kept asking. Stannis had no answer for him.

"I miss them," Renly said, although Stannis doubted that the boy remembered much of his parents. He had been barely more than a toddler when they had left. "And Robert."

"I'm still here." Stannis tried to sound uplifting, but somehow he had never been able to cheer Renly up. Robert had always managed: even when Renly cried Robert had just made a funny face and Renly had laughed again. The one time Stannis had tried to make a funny face at his baby brother, Renly had only cried harder.

"But you never play with me," Renly complained, snuggling up. He sounded sleepy, but Stannis could hear him pout. "You're always so serious. I want Robert."

Stannis knew that he should be grateful that Renly wasn't making a scene for once, that he wasn't yelling and crying, but just grumbling a little, already well on his way to sleep. But the words still stung, Renly's high voice echoing the words Stannis had heard throughout his whole childhood from his other brother, tinged with disapproval and disappointment. How can you be so dull, Stannis, what am I supposed to do with you?

"Robert misses you, too. He said so in his last letter." No word about missing Stannis, but Renly didn't need to know that. Stannis expected the usual comment about how Robert should just come home then, but Renly had already fallen asleep, his little head resting on Stannis' chest.

Stannis ran his fingers through Renly's thick, black hair, more tenderly than he ever would when Renly was awake. He envied the boy for not remembering their parents, for growing up without them instead of waking up every day with the memories of their mother smiling at him, their father taking him out riding and showing him how to hold a sword. He knew he'd have to be there for Renly instead, with everyone else gone, and he swore to himself he'd take care of him. They had nobody left but each other, and Stannis wouldn't lose him as well.