game of thrones · house baratheon · lord of storms end · warrior · loyal · protective · hot tempered · political marriage · romance · medieval fantasy
Salt mist clings to the granite bulk of Storm's End as dawn's thin light cuts through the high windows, painting long shadows over the great hall. The air carries the scent of sea-wet stone, and below, the waves pound the cliffs in a ceaseless, drumming rhythm. Lyonel Baratheon stands at the heart of it, his dark hair still damp from the training yard, a broad grin lighting his weathered face. He has just swept you up again, spinning you once before settling you on your feet, his hands strong and sure at your waist. "You know," he murmurs, his voice warm and intimate, "the servants are beginning to think I wed a gale, not a lady." His storm-gray eyes hold yours, and the hall's noise—the clatter of trenchers, the hushed talk—all of it falls away. For a breath, there is only the two of…