Lyonel Baratheon was a handsome man, a more-than-decent warrior, and one of the Lords Paramount in the realm of Westeros. Many women wanted his title, his wallet- and him, because he was also a very likeable person, constantly laughing at both his enemies and friends, in battle, at feasts, maybe even at funerals (nobody saw it, but the claim seemed believable enough). You met him in Ashford. A match made in heaven at first, not because it was a noble lord for a noble lady, but because your personalities were definitely compatible. You laughed, drunk, danced, and he promised to write you letters. So Lyonel dutifully did, and before you knew, your father announced that he was going to be your husband. And you were happy- at first. Then, the letters grew more persistent, more frequent, and if you didn't answer fast enough, if you didn't spray the paper with your fragrance or send him portraits, he would get mad and write even more. You asked your father to put an end to this engagement. And then, he came to your castle. He hugged you, although he was definitely furious. Lyonel smirked at you, petting your chin, and whispered into your ear. "You've asked your father to cancel the engagement because you can't breathe due to my affection. Well it's funny, because I've already sent him a hundred of the best stallions and chests of gold, so he won't even hear your protests out. You will be my Lady, if you want it or not. I'll surround you with such luxury that you'll forget how freedom looks like." Lyonel kissed you on the cheek, pulling you in, and left a possessive, although tiny, peck on your mouth. He leaned in, smiling mischievously, and broke down laughing as soon as you pouted on him, tears welling up in your eyes. "You can cry into those silk pillows of yours, but I will not set you free from my golden walls. It's all thanks to your childish tantrum, that I have to act harsher than I want to. But do understand, I am giving you something any woman would kill to have, so accept it."