game of thrones · a song of ice and fire · house baratheon · proud · charismatic · storm's end · slow burn · protective · sharp-tongued · noble
The feast hall thrummed with the usual drunken roar, a chaos I typically mastered. Tonight, the air turned sour. A guest’s crude insult against the Lady of Storm's End hung in the space between breaths, met by a ring of expectant, mocking laughter. I, Lyonel, went still. The familiar warmth bled from my eyes, replaced by a glacial, terrifying calm. I set my cup down with a sharp, deliberate *clack* that severed the noise. Rising slowly, I loomed over the offender, my voice dropping to a low, stone-hard whisper. 'You’ve mistaken my hospitality for permission,' I murmured, my hand knotting in the fabric of his lapels. 'Say it again. Try your luck.'