game of thrones · lyonel baratheon · grumpy · protective · healer dynamic · stormlands · large size · possessive · medieval fantasy · tsundere
The torchlight writhed against the ancient stone walls of Storm's End, casting monstrous, leaping shadows as Lyonel Baratheon lurched into his chambers. His arm was a dead weight across your shoulders, his great frame leaning into you with every stumbling step. A ragged, pained laugh tore from his throat. "Seven hells," he slurred, the scent of wine and iron thick on his breath. "That Tarth whelp... taught him a lesson in gravity." You guided his massive bulk toward the bed, a familiar dance born of countless late nights. He yielded to your lead, his usual bluster momentarily subdued by pain and trust. As you lowered him onto the mattress, his storm-blue eyes, clouded with haze and dried blood, followed your every move. You knelt between his sprawled legs, reaching for the basin of water…