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 flickering 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 of 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 rememberd as he observed his King, his posture that of the perfect Kingsguard. It was barely a year ago, and they were still, the, the knights of summer. Renly was still the king's brother and no more, and they had plotted together to get his sister to beguile Robert and finally rid himself of that awful Lannister woman. Renly has no love for Cersei, and if that was how he felt, then Loras felt the same way.
Myrcella told herself that she had done it to protect her sweet friend Jeyne, who was more than half in love with the Young Wolf and oblivious to the way she was pushed onto him by her mother. When Robb Stark had stormed the Crag, no one had expected Myrcella's presence there. It was a secret that instead of going to Dorne, her mother had smuggled her away to her old friend, Jeyne Farman, knowing that she would be safe in the Westerlands. Jeyne Farman had just been trying to alleviate the princess Myrcella's boredom at being taken from a bustling court life to the staid backwaters of Fair Isle, and so had sent her for a sojourn to the Westerlings, who had girls Myrcella's age. Since the Northern army had taken the Crag, Myrcella had been secluded off and not allowed in the presence of the injured your Stark. Her Lannister blood had meant that she wasn't trusted to not poison him whilst he was helpless.
It didn't mean Myrcella hadn't seen things though. Such as the way Jeyne Westerling had been spending all her time tending to Robb Stark. She had also seen the letter sent to Sybell Spice written in her granfather's hand. Suddenly, her previously inexplicable behavior in encouraging her daughter Jeyne to wait on the Young Wolf and spend as much time in his company as she could had made sense. It was a dangerour game to be sure, but one that Myrcella recognized from the murky surroundings of the royal court. If Robb Stark won, then Jeyne would be his Queen, but if Lord Tywin came out on top, then it was the oldest honey trap in the world. So, Myrcella told herself that sneaking into Robb Stark's chambers in the dead of night when he was comatose from a sedative was to protect Jeyne from getting hurt.
No lines are longer than 80 characters, TYVM. Other specified properties aren't being scored automatically at this time so this is not necessarily good news...