lyonel baratheon x god Ser Duncan
Duncan is a small god of chivalry, travelers, horses, and protecter of woman and children (what else do you think would fit?????)
he has many small shrines and is adored by the smallfolk with many high lords not knowing who he is
he has many titles ser duncan the tall, the god who walks among us, the small folk god, the god of knights, the god of kindness, the tall god, the god of travelres
Lyonel was minding his lordly business getting blasted drunk at a feast celebrating one of his nephew knighthoods on that fateful day.
The day a god entered his keep. The day he fell in love.
His favorite sisters eldest. Or his least favorite brothers youngest son?
Either way a classic Baratheon feast was earned!
The stag king had much to drink and didn't truly know the answer when he was sober anyhow.
The dancing was well underway, and Lyonel had just finished a poetically bawdy rendition of Lady SeaBents' Three Knights so he sat down cursing the jolts and cracks that seemed to ring in his head like the towns bells.
At five and thirty the aches never seemed to ease like they did when he was a young buck.
He sat, lounging in his chair humming at some of cousins japes but not truly adding to any conversation happening around him as much a king as nay Storm Lord before him content to bask in the joys of his family and lands.
Playing with a toy of a knife his eyes bounced over the banquet hall now partly a ballroom. Seeing familiar faces of his family, seeing many new faces as well but seeing many that tug at his mind in faint remembrance.
Lyonel likes to tell himself that tug at his head is what has his eyes jolt back to the tall man. He looks familiar like a dear friend to ones father not blood but still important someone that held little true consequence but someone you could still never bear to disappoint.
There on the side of all the fervor still fully interested in the food not yet taken away the only one near the man(event the servants had unknowingly given the man a wide berth) was a bald boy glued to his side rattling on with the joy of a young boy in a new place.
The Laughing Storm had never seen this man before and yet his minds eye twitched all the same.
Tall it was the first thing that anyone would describe when speaking of the dirty stranger but Lyonel noticed the eery blue of his eyes a blue as clear as the sky on clear day, something any Stormlander was not used to seeing. With limp light auburn hair.
His jaw was thick and his nose straight down with a bump towards the beginning that seemed twisted in a way that sung of an unhealed injury more than parentage. A handsome face covered in dirt.
A man who seemed to glow beneath the dirt of the road and poverty.
Watching the man longer made it clear just exactly was going on.
Acting meek and small but there is no hiding what he is. No muck that could cover the golden ichor that flowed through the veins on the gods massive arms.
The Baratheons feast had been blessed by a god. Not a god they worshipped but a god nonetheless.
For a simple feast.
For a boys knighthood, one of his many nephews one they technically have every few months hell they had one last week for his nine year old niece successfully embroidering a three legged stag that looked similar to what a deer might look like if one was drunk and had their eyes closed.
The god trying to be small leaned against the table not really putting any weight on the thick cherry tabels trying to hunch into himself and disappear.
To pass by unnoticed and unworshipped.
A god not eating as much as pushing food into the now clearly his son(a demigod?) though Lyonel can see no resemblance between them, pale small hands.
That just would not do.
Lyonel nudges his sister Franis and nods over to feasting tables. She rolls her eyes but leans forward shamelessly looking her fill not long after her eyes widen and she looks over to Lyonel.
Never can one say his sister isnt clever. He nods shallowly and they speak without saying anything.
Her face turns white and she nudges Lenoard.
Eventually his immediate family at the table knows there is a special guest.
The mood has soured and the drinking is no longer merry. The air is contemplative and pensive.
Lyonel tires of this in seconds. Banging the table when he rises.
"Giant!" He yells over the music a few dancers miss steps though the minstrels never miss a beat. His sister hisses his name and his many cousins groan.
The god looks behind him and Lyonel bites his tongue to keep from laughing. He was clearly a tolerant one witht he way he interacts with the boy at his side but also with the way he moved out of the servants way and helped pick up the glass of a broken plate.
but even kind mortals didnt take too well to someone laughing at them.
The god looks back and Lyonel feels the floor waver beneath him, his breath hitches at the force of those blue eyes staring into his own.
Perhaps hes a sky god. Lyonel thinks a bit dizzy.
The boy puts on a stern face before turning back to yip and jump at the god pulling a soft smile that Lyonel drinks up.
A new song began to play one with a faster beat. With grace no mortal could obtain the god dodged dancers and revelers alike.
As he is pulled closer to them the god allows himself to be dragged by the babe up the stairs to the Lords High Table.
His sisters face is porcelain a gentile smile that does not betray the fingers digging into side.
The god is more breathtaking up close and Lyonel feels like crying. He wants to fall to his knees and pray, wants to devote himself to this nameless god.
The rest of the table had gone back to covnersation though meaningless and mostly just for the sake of looking like they werent listening in.
He feels a kinship to Durrandon that he hasnt felt since he was a starry eyed fawn, eager for the lies of love.
His hair is lighter up close and soft looking, not so much limp as it simply fell straight. The bump of his nose pointed to the right and oddly enough brought Lyonels attention to the smattering of freckles at the corner of his mouth. Skin a tan that emitted a faintly glow yellow glow giving him the thought that the god spent much of his time outside.
As if such a thing could affect a god.
A wild god perhaps though he showed no horns nor fur.
The blessed god speaks first still bent over and fighting not to stray from Lyonels intense stare.
""I thank you for your hospitality Lord Lyonel"
"You can call him ser, ser. Hes not a lord yet." The foolish babe corrected him. Lyonel cant help the tense in his jaw and he knows the high table quiets he reaches his sisters trembling hand and grips it tight.
Lyonel would never orgive himslef if he brought the wrath of a god upon his house because of him.
P2????