Renly woke up in a cold sweat. He had caught a sickness not even a week after he was named lord of Storm's end. The maester had never seen this kind of affliction before. That was because it wasn't an ailment at all, it was just his soul merging with another, a man from earth, who had received mystical powers by the gods of reincarnation. Now, the merging was finished and he could feel the power thrumming under his skin. The earth-man's soul was dominant over Renly's so, he was in charge and now, he had a lot of things to do but first he had to test out these powers. They were modeled after his most recent dnd character, though not entirely the same. He had no spell slots, only a vaguely defined mana system, nothing that could be reliably measured and he had access to all of the spells on his spell list. The character he had created was an 8th level druid and a 5th level sorcerer, so he had all the power of nature at his side now as well as the explosive power of his sorcerer's bloodline. Which meant that his children would also inherit his sorcerer's bloodline. Yes, Renly might've been gay but old Renly wasn't in control any more, was he?
Renly opened his palm and cast produce flame as the fire crackled across his palm, he let it dance. He heard the maester coming near, so he snuffed out the flame.
"Why does it smell like smoke in here? There shouldn't be any fire burning… it is quite hot", maester Jurne sniffed the air, before his gaze fell on 11 year old Renly, "Ah, young lord, you are awake! Here, let me check you"
He placed his palm on Renly's forehead, then to his artery, "The fever is lessening and your pulse is returning to normal levels… good, good, let us get you some tea, an herbal tea can help stabilize someone who is recovering from illness, I'll have some of the servants bring us some boiling water, you stay here"
A few days later, he was allowed to leave the bed again. During this time, he debated whether he should tell the maester about his new powers. To probe him, he asked, one evening, "Maester… what do you know of magic?"
"Well, I have forged my link for the higher mysteries, so I know more than most maester's, though not as much as some what do you want to know, milord?" Jurne asked, fidgeting with his chain, his fingers tracing over the singular valyrian steel link.
"Well, is magic truly gone?"
"Yes, it is. Magic died with the last dragon. You see, when we maester's take our vows as acolytes, we are locked in a room with three glass candles. Only in the presence of magic can the glass candles ignite. No acolyte in over a hundred years has been able to ignite any of the candles. It is a lesson all maester's must face. Even with all the knowledge in the world, you can't do everything, some things are just beyond mortal's grasp", Jurne explained, pacing across the room, reviewing paperwork. There was seemingly no end to the paperwork.
"What if it isn't gone though?"
"Are you thinking of that drunkard Thoros of Myr, whom your brother so enjoys? The red priests are nothing but charlatans, wildfire can ignite a sword, though it doesn't survive this for long and there are several substances that can change a flame, make it glow brighter or a different color but it is all tricks and-"
"I wasn't talking about that… what if there was still magic in the world? Would it be a good thing?"
"Well, most maesters would say the world is better off without magic, that reason is the only true magic that should live…", he trailed off.
"But what do you thing, Jurne? What would you say if magic was still around?", this was the final test, if his answer was satisfactory, he would tell him about his magic. And sure enough, his answer was exactly what he had hoped for, "I would rejoice if there was still magic. It has been why I became a maester, to learn of magic, of course, I later learned it wasn't possible but I had already said my vows"
Renly smiled at the maester and- before his very eyes, he transformed into a cat, he shrunk down, smaller and smaller, until he was as a kitten, with midnight black fur and big, adorable eyes. Maester Jurne stared at him, mouth wide open.
"Am I- asleep? Dreaming?", he slapped himself, trying wake, "No, I still feel pain. Such realistic pain shouldn't be possible in a dream… is this… real?"
Renly, the kitten nodded.
"Can you turn back? It is weird, talking to a cat", he looked intensely as Renly turned back into his human self, "When- since when can you do that?"
"Since I awoke from the illness", he admitted, "And that is not all I can do", flames flickered to life on his palm, he concentrated and the flames turned bright green, then blue before he snuffed them out.
"Fascinating… I will have to report to the citadel and- no… they can't know, not until you are old enough to protect yourself… What if the septons find out? They hate sorcery… Milord! We have to keep this hidden, do you understand? No one can know, not even your friends. Once you are an adult, you may reveal this, when you are a great warrior, who can actually defend himself but until that day comes, we have to keep this low-key" Jurne explained, shaking him, "Do. you. understand?"
"Yes, Maester, I understand", Renly nodded.
The time came when he was released from the sickbed and returned to ordinary life. The master at arms didn't go easy on him and he received a lot of bruises, nothing that a quick cure wounds wouldn't fix, oh how he loved magic. Day after day, he trained in swordsmanship, followed by lunch, studies with maester Jurne and finally, in the evening, dealing with his subject's woes. Stolen sheep here, raped daughters there and just more mundane disputes. For those who committed crimes, he gave them a choice, punishment or the wall. Most of the thieves opted to lose a hand but the heinous ones, the people who raped or murdered, there were a lot of them who would rather go to the wall than die. It was all he could do for now to help the wall. But there were still those who chose death over the wall and he had to deal with those. The maester wanted the executioner to handle that but Renly thought of Ned Stark's philosophy concerning that, a who condemns someone to death should swing the sword himself. If they can't do it, then maybe the man doesn't deserve death. A philosophy he agreed with. Sadly, he couldn't swing a sword hard enough to decapitate someone, for he was only one and ten, so he had to slit open their throat. Decapitation would've been more clean but what can you do. He didn't want to hide behind an executioner. The first kill had shaken him up but as he kept killing over the following months, he grew dull to it.
At night, he practiced his magic, sometimes flying out of the castle to the surrounding lands in bird form. It was liberating, flying like that, high over everyone, feeling the wind under his wings. He avoided flying in the storms, which was basically all the time. The kingdom was called the stormlands for a reason after all but when he got to fly, it was magical. He also explored his magic with the help of maester Jurne, who was very excited to get to learn more about the higher arts. First hand accounts.
Over the months leading up to his birthday, Renly looked at what crops they had and noticed that they had a lot of potatoes in the stormlands. That gave him an idea and he began distilling vodka. The first few batches were failures but after two months, he finally got it just right. It was good, according to the taste testers. He couldn't drink it himself, he was still to young. Over the next few months, he distilled more and more vodka.
He didn't have a tourney for his birthday, when he turned ten and two, only a small feast. He knew that any day now, Joffrey would be born and he didn't want to pick a date that conflicted with the prince's birth and just as he suspected, a month after his birthday, Joffrey was born and the king ordered for a large tourney at king's landing. He invited lords and ladies from all over the seven kingdoms. Renly planned to introduce Vodka to the lords and ladies. He was sure his brother would appreciate a new drink, that old drunkard.
Renly gathered the most important of his vassals and began riding to kings landing. The maester warned him to keep his magic secret once again, because he was going into the viper's nest. He promised to do so. The kings road led directly to kings landing, so they arrived there quite fast. He couldn't practice his magic, nor could he learn with the maester, Jurne stayed behind to help his castellan keep order in storm's end. So, all he could do was practice his swordsmanship and marksmanship with his guards.
Renly could smell the city before he could see it. It was horrible but he couldn't just turn back, he had already sent a letter telling his brother that he would come. They were led through the city, into the red keep, where Robert was already drinking his brains away and it was only mid-day. Renly quietly shook his head, that oaf wasn't fit to rule, not at all. He always liked Daenerys in the show… maybe he could marry her once Robert dies? What he knew for sure was that he needed to get rid of Joffrey, better now than later. Now, he was just a baby, it would be all too easy… but that would have to wait, "Ah, Renly, good to see you? How has the lordship been treating you? If it is anything like ruling the damned seven kingdoms, I don't envy you, complaints, complaints, complaints"
"I have been faring well, your grace but yes, it is a lot of complaints but it is my duty as lord of storm's end to hear my subjects", Renly bowed.
"Cut the 'your grace' bullshit out, I'm your brother, by the seven! Call me Rob-rob, like you did when you were younger, it was very cute!", Robert laughed heartily, sipping at his wine.
Renly's face grew hot red in embarrassment. Even though he was a transmigrator, the memories were still his' and so, he felt each bit of the shame that came with those memories.
"Well, brother, I have come bearing gifts", he motioned for his guardsman to hand him a flask, it was filled with vodka, "here, it is a new drink I have developed, Vodka, it tastes pretty good, or so I have been told"
"Since when were you a brewer? Well, whatever, give that to me", Robert snatched up the flask and took a sip, "alright, I like it, a lot stronger than I thought", he emptied the small flask, "you have struck gold, brother. You can't drink it like wine, too strong for that but it has a nice taste and a good buzz too! Tell me you have more"
"I do have more, four barrels and I have even brought with me 'shot-goblets' they are small, enough to fit one serving of vodka", he pulled out the silver shot-goblets and handed one to Robert.
"You have thought of everything, haven't you? It was a good decision to make you lord of storm's end", He turned to his wife, whom was breastfeeding her son, "Have a shot with me, woman"
"I'm feeding our little joffrey, maybe later-"
"Not later, now! A little buzz could help you loosen up a bit, you are always such a bitch", Robert barked. Yes, that relationship was destined to fail. Renly could understand why she wouldn't want kids by his brother, though her way of getting that was… less than good. He felt a bit uncomfortable, thinking of the queen's and king slayer's incest.
As Renly was lost in thought, Robert had already pressured his wife into taking a shot. She was coughing heavily, probably not used to such potent alcohol. There were other types of alcohol with this percentage of potency but those were the likes of rum, the drink of the sea people, not something a refined lady like herself would drink. Her coughing disturbed young Joffrey, who started crying. The sound was ear piercing.