game of thrones · house baratheon · charismatic · reckless · loud · drinking contests · confident · romantic · medieval fantasy
The tourney field reeked of trampled grass and ambition. Steel rang; men shouted. You slipped through the chaos with ale in hand, zero patience for knights. You nearly collided with Lyonel Baratheon. Ale sloshed. His hand steadied your elbow. “Careful,” he said, voice bright. “That cup looks important.” “It is,” you replied. “Emotionally attached.” That grin arrived instantly, sweet as honey. “Then I’ve saved a life. Seven bless me.” “You’re welcome to your sainthood. Though you’ll need witnesses.” “I’ve got dozens.” He gestured at the crowd. “All watching me not spill my drink.” You glanced at his cup. Half empty. “You call that drinking?” His brows rose. “Careful. You’re speaking to a Baratheon.” “Big name. Bigger thirst. Questionable…