Game of Thrones Imagines Book Two

Se sȳndor morgho - Part 2 - Tyrion x Bronn x Reader

Again, this is a little gladiatorial. It is a fight scene, so there is mention of a bit of blood, but I hope that you will forgive me and enjoy.

"And to take on the great Se sȳndor morgho we present Jaggo the Dothraki, Sallar of Braavos, Ballag of the Mountain Clans of Westeros, and Xarar of the Summer Isles." The man on the podium announced with great bravado. Each man stepping into the pit as they were announced. The crowd cheering frantically. All of them waiting expectantly for the fight, for the blood that was to come.

"Well, I think ya can keep ya gold in ya purse. This Morgho don't stand a chance against that lot." Bronn sniffed, as he lent down on the wall.

"And what makes you say that Bronn?" Tyrion enquired. The little lord having a feeling that this fight wasn't going to be as one sided as the sellsword might think.

"Ya have eyes. Ya Se sȳndor morgho looks strong. Like he can handle himself. He wouldn't have lasted this long in tha pits if he couldn't. But the Dothraki and the Mountain man, make him in look small by comparison. The one from Summer Islands looks quick, like he has done this more than once. Like he can fight undda pressure. The only one that Morgho might stand a chance against, is tha one from Braavos. Looks like he's gonna piss himself if ya ask me." Bronn explained, as he studied each of the men.

"And is that your expert opinion?" Tyrion asked. A small smile pulling at his lips, as Bronn nodded.

"Aye. It is."

"Well then, you wouldn't mind having a little wager on the fight?" Tyrion continued. Bronn raising a questioning eyebrow, as he looked over at the little man by his side.

"What kinda wager?"

"Oh, nothing much. Just twenty gold dragons, and.............."

"And what?"

"And.........if Se sȳndor morgho wins, you won't complain and pout like a child when I go and buy him." Tyrion explained, with a small shrug.

"Fine! I don't mind takin ya gold off ya. And I'm sure that gold dragons would buy me more than one two whores around here." The sellsword scoffed. Bronn now not able to wait for the fight to begin.

"I wouldn't be too sure that you are going to win, Bronn. The Dothraki and Mountain man may be big, but I have always found that size is overrated. What really matters is the intelligence that Morgho might be hiding under that helmet. So, we will have to see." Tyrion countered, as he stood on his tiptoes to get a better view of the action to come.

                                                          >>--------------------------------<<

Se sȳndor morgho watched as each man entered the pit, sizing up their abilities and weaknesses. It wasn't the first time that the masked fighter had fought men like this. Wasn't the first time that they had had to kill men like this. And in truth, the faces of their opponents looked the same after all this time. All melded into just one more challenger that they had to vanquish. And just like death itself, the warrior cared not for who you were, what your name was, or where you hailed from. All they cared about, was today would be their rival's last day.

As the crowd cheered, the warrior watched. Morgho had survived this long not just because they were highly skilled, but because they used their brain. Whereas others relied on their size and strength, they had learned that a fight could be won even before a battle had begun. That if you studied your rivals, you could learn all you had to know before the first swords had clashed. And now was no different.

Morgho smiled as they watched the Dothraki and the Mountain man. They were large and looked slow. Too well built for their own good. Too confident in their abilities because of their sheer size. It was true that their bulk would make them harder to kill, but the warrior knew that they could use their size against them. Knowing that the more they made them work to kill them, the quicker they would wear themselves out, and it would slow them down.