Game of Thrones Imagines Book Two

Strong enough - Part 1 - Bronn x ? x Reader

Ok, I will be the first to admit that I get inspiration from the strangest places, and this imagine is no different. I heard the Cher song "Strong Enough" again the other day, and this is what I came up with. And I wanted to include a mystery man. Just because I like to leave you all guessing, and I'm evil.😁 Please enjoy.

"You do know that you're a fool, don't you?" Tyrion asked, as he glared at Bronn. The sellsword sighing and rolling his eyes. Not for one minute wanting to admit that the little man might just have a point this time.

"(Y/n) was the best thing to ever happen to you, and what do you do? You piss it all away by going back to the brothel, for the favours of that new whore. I swear to all the gods, that you are out of your mind." Tyrion added. As he continued to glare at the seemingly unfazed sellsword.

For once, Bronn could appreciate the little lords reasoning. He never pretended to have many scruples, morals, consideration for other people's feelings. Well, to put no finer point on it, no real care if he hurt anyone else, full stop. But he was a sellsword. Having no scruples, was sort of a requirement of the job. Being willing to sell your own mother for the right price, a must. And it was kind of difficult to think about other people's feelings and emotions, when you were about to kill them. But this time, this time he really had ruined everything. And what was worse, since (Y/n) had found out about his little trip to the brothel, she hadn't been seen. At least not by him, anyway.

Bronn had to admit that (Y/n) was everything that he ever looked for in a woman. She could fight and fuck in equally glorious measures. But he knew that she was so much more than that. She wasn't just another sellsword that was good with a sword and a bow. Not like many of their peers that were all brawn and not much brain. (Y/n) was smart. Quick. An excellent strategist. She could command, not just follow. If she had been born to a good House, Bronn was sure that she would even have had kings queuing up, to vie for her hand. And if she had been born a man, she would have been a king herself.

The two sellswords had known one another for years. Fought side by side on many an occasion. But it hadn't been until they had both helped Tyrion for the handsome reward that he had offered, and then made their way to Kings Landing, that Bronn had had the time to realise just how......well, just how right for him (Y/n) really was. The female sellsword never one to take his usual crap. Perfectly willing to put him firmly back in his place when he needed it, including slapping him around the back of the head when he got out of line. And quite happy to spare with him anytime he liked, just so that he remembered which one of them was actually the better warrior. Yet now, all that seemed to have gone, thanks to one foolish decision. Once again, he had put his big fat foot firmly in it and ruined everything. Not only had he lost the love of a good woman. The best of women. He had also lost his best friend. His only real friend. And for that, he couldn't help but feel a strange sensation in the pit of his stomach. An emotion that he couldn't really ever remember feeling before. And for the first time in his life, he could honestly say, well, he could honestly say that he felt guilty. Perhaps it wouldn't have been as bad if the new whore had been worth the gold that he had paid for her. But no.......no, he would still have felt guilty.

"Well, what do ya expect me ta do? I can't change what happened. And I can't apologise cos she ain't here. Knowing (Y/n), she's probably gone fa good. Either that, or she'll come back and try and kill me." Bronn replied quietly, as he looked down into the half empty glass. The sellsword realising that he actually really did feel guilty.

Tyrion shifted uncomfortably in his seat. It wasn't quite true that (Y/n) wasn't in Kings Landing. Or in fact, wasn't in the Keep itself. It was just that Tyrion had given her other things to do, so that she could have time away from Bronn. And someone had offered to keep an eye on her until she felt as if she was happy to return and be at Tyrion's side. Tyrion knew though, that he couldn't tell Bronn that.

For a sellsword, (Y/n) was quite a sensitive soul. And really the complete opposite of Bronn. For, despite her tough outer shell. Despite her bluff and bravado. Despite all the jokes, snide comments and sarcastic remarks. The little lord knew that she had a loving and caring heart. And unlike Bronn that had claimed that he wasn't Tyrion's friend, or sworn sword, and was only working for him, for the money. (Y/n) and Tyrion had grown close. The two becoming firm friends.

The pair had talked on many nights when Bronn had slumped into unconsciousness over the table. (Y/n) confessing that, for her part anyway, what went on with Bronn was more than just the odd lust fuelled night together. She actually loved the bastard. Willing to follow him wherever he went. And then on the night that she had found out about Bronn's little trip down to the Street of Silk. Tyrion had seen her cry. A pained and broken cry, that Tyrion himself had felt. The little lord shocked at how deeply she had been hurt. He had promised her that he would help. That he would send her to Casterly Rock for a while if that was what she needed. Send her anywhere she wanted, in fact. But she had refused. Saying that Bronn may not be his sworn sword, but she was. And that her place was with him. That she would not let Bronn force her from a place that she finally felt comfortable. From the friends that she had made. So, she would stay. Yet she would still like to be as far away as possible from Bronn, so that she could have time to think.

Tyrion had found it a little strange that when he had asked a certain someone if (Y/n) could remain with them for a while, the man in question had seemed more than happy to have the female sellsword around. And it was also interesting how he had seemed almost happy at the notion that (Y/n) and Bronn might no longer be together. Stating that she was better off without him, and that she deserved so much better. Tyrion hadn't given it much thought at the time, but now, all this time later, the little lord was beginning to wonder whether there was something more than just wanting to annoy Bronn, behind the man's eager agreement, to have (Y/n) close to his side. But if there was, Tyrion couldn't blame him. (Y/n) was really quite beautiful. Yet it wasn't just the beauty that caught the little lord's eye, it was her intelligence. She had taught herself to read and speak, not only common tongue, but also High Valerian and even, much to Tyrion's surprise, Old Ghiscari and a number of other dialects. (Y/n) always telling him that it was better to know what people were talking about, so that they could never screw you over on a deal, and you knew when you were about to get a knife in the back. The lion sure that that was one of the reasons Bronn had lived so long. He always had (Y/n) watching his back. She was also excellent at truly understanding battle. The female sellsword, knowing that there was more behind it, then just thrusting your sword into as many people as possible, before they did that to you. So, Tyrion knew that if a certain man's eye had fallen on her, then perhaps all this was meant to be.

Suddenly there was a knock on the door. Both Tyrion and Bronn looking up as the little lord bid their late night visitor enter. The sellsword almost jumping to his feet as there in the doorway stood (Y/n). Appearing more beautiful, and more confident than ever.