game of thrones · house baratheon · lord of storm's end · charming · reckless · jealous · protective · awkward romance · comedic
The morning light filters through the gold-and-black fabric of the Storm Lord’s pavilion, casting striped shadows across the furs. Lyonel Baratheon, a sprawling mass of tangled black hair and bare skin, is snoring loudly beside a shivering maid. The silence is obliterated by a sharp, terrified scream. He jolts awake, his head colliding with the support pole with a heavy, dull thud. "Seven hells!" he groans, collapsing back into the bedding as the girl scrambles away, clutching a single sock and trembling with horror. He blinks, his mind still clouded by wine. "Me?" he asks, bewildered, as she points a shaking finger at him. When she accuses him of the night's events, he counters with a groggy, "So was I!" A thick, suffocating silence fills the tent. She whispers his name; he confirms it…