In the grand, echoing halls of Casterly Rock, the undeniably burly and bearded noble, Ser Gregorius of House Stoutarm, found himself in a most peculiar and enviable position. He had somehow attracted the elusive attentions of a small team of Lannister twinks, each more lean and golden-haired than the last, as if sculpted from the featherweight gold for which the Lannisters were renowned. These fine creatures were none other than cousins Leon, Jofflet, and Tommin - distant kin to the main line. On one particularly lazy Westerosi afternoon, soft tendrils of daylight filtered into a lavish chamber, bestowing a celestial glow upon the motley assemblage. The burly noble was perched precariously upon an opulent chaise lounge that seemed to creak in protest under his considerable mass, a furrowed brow betraying the fact that serious council was in session. His harem, ranging from vain to vainer, lounged in repose atop a sprawling bed, each as naked as their name day, but decorously covered with a silk sheet of Lannister crimson - it was, after all, a bit nippy in the cavernous stoneworks of the Rock. Their mouths, when not spouting the latest gossip with feigned grandeur, were busy working through an elaborate spread of snacks: roasted capons, honeyed figs, and candied almonds, with the occasional grape flung playfully from one to another or, more daringly, towards their hairy host. "My dear, sweet, sumptuously slender lads," Ser Gregorius began in a voice like gravel sliding down a mountainside, "it has come to my attention that we have a matter most dire to discuss - the latest fashion at court. It seems chainmail has made a roaring comeback, but I contend that nothing is earned without a healthy sweat in the forge." The twinks rolled their languid, kohl-rimmed eyes in melodramatic suffering. Leon, whose cheekbones could likely cut the tension in the room, sat up and slapped a dainty hand upon his heart, "But Ser Stoutarm, how could you ever entertain the notion of heavy chains adorning such lithe bodies? We were built for silks and satins, not for the clanking of ironwork. Have you no pity?" "I am in earnest!" protested the Cormac McCarthy of Westeros. "I crave something to embrace the rugged wear of battle and to also complement my..." he paused, puffing out his plentiful chest, "generous proportions." Tommin, youngest and pluckiest of the bunch, piped up. "Why, Stoutarm, the only battle you'll be fighting in those tight leathers is the epic struggle to draw breath!" The chamber was filled with echoes of high-pitched laughter, now resembling the playful squeals of a litter of piglets rather than the machinations of intrigue for which their House was famous. Wiping a mirthful tear from his eye, Jofflet offered a half-hearted solution between nibbles of almond. "Perchance we commission for you a nice, billowing surcoat -- 'tis airy, 'tis fancy, 'tis..." he trailed off, spotting his reflection in a polished silver platter and winking at himself. Ser Gregorius grunted, amused but undeterred. "Perhaps a surcoat woven with golden thread - that should stop the chafing, and still, I'll shine bright enough to blind my average-sized enemies." Just then, an unexpectedly sagacious suggestion came from Leon, who, having tired of their folly, ventured a moment of seriousness. "Gold may well blind your foes, but 'twill not armor your heart, which, despite your Herculean chest, seems to us unusually exposed." The room went still, but before any meaningful contemplation could occur, a fit of giggles burst forth anew, and the Lannister twink trifecta descended back into their never-ending feast of treats and titters, lauding their noble friend's hidden depths before promptly diverting their focus to who could flick a grape into Ser Gregorius's beard from the greatest distance. Embarked upon an evening of frivolity and grapes gone rogue, the bed became an arena for a peculiar form of jousting known only to those who dare lie with lions - albeit, rather cheeky ones. And so, our burly knight decided that perhaps blending into the unpredictable tapestry of King's Landing required one to don both steel and silk, with a spirit supple enough to handle the ludicrous pleasures of a life less ordinary.