God, I did the thing. *screams and runs*
THE FINE VINTAGE on ao3 (Lyonel Baratheon x reader) / 1788 words, 18+ and every remaining brain cell used for the occasion.
After a long night of dancing, shenanigans, and general drunkenness, Lyonel Baratheon is finally winding down. It's only a few hours until the start of the Ashford Tourney but he requires one more vintage before turning in. Guess who is to supply it.
A simple one shot for your reading pleasure.
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"More wine, maybe," the smirk was handsome as was the luscious voice that uttered the words. Full of heat born into the stuffy tent with purpose.
Well, of course it was handsome, both smirk, face and voice alike. Went well with those pearly whites of his. Saw more and more of them as the debauchery of the night was allowed to grow. This was indeed a long night, and as far as he was concerned the night would go on like this forever. An endless array of wonders to be sure.
This was the perfection of it all masked under warm undertones and gentle candlelight. Antlers donned by all the ornate furniture in intricate detail. They hung on the chandelier, flickering to life with the many candles. They were carved into the seats and tables, any piece of fine crafted woodworked furnishing and there was a damned antler to go along with it.
Who came to a tourney with such an assortment of bells and whistles as these? A fucking house with a name that laid claim to heroes and legends alike. One that could span its lineage back through the annals of history with a fancy tale for each successor leading up to the one sitting here now in this very pavilion. With one leg strewn about the table while an antlered crown hung for dear life on an angle that hinted it would sooner fall to the floor than be fixed.
READ MORE ON AO3! WOOO
