Game of Thrones Imagines Book Two

Se sȳndor morgho - Part 7 - Tyrion x Bronn x Reader

Tyrion couldn't help but puff his chest out proudly, as he, Bronn and (Y/n) had made their way through the heaving streets of Meereen. The crowd parting ways, as they saw the fearsome looking fighter make their way through the bustling marketplace. For even those that had never seen the warrior in the fighting pits, had most definitely heard of the killer's reputation. Of the mask that the shadow wore. Of the fear that it could instil in the hearts of even the strongest and bravest men. Of the ominous stench of death that would follow with them. The little lord doing his best not to laugh, as he heard (Y/n) growl at any of the frightened but fascinated onlookers, that happened to get too close. The looks on the faces of the stallholders and their customers, telling Tyrion that he had more than more the right choice in buying her. The little lord sure, that when the three of them returned to Westeros, it would not take (Y/n) long to build up a similarly feared reputation. A reputation that was sure to keep him safe.

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Morgho was sure that the sun beyond the pits was somehow brighter. The sky bluer than the gloomy grey one that had always seemed to hang over her. That the heat was not so stifling. In the arena, it could feel as though you were in an oven. Her leather and metal armour certainly not making it any better. The warrior recalling all the times that she had been taken back to her cell after a fight and had peeled off her clothes. Sweat running in small rivers down her back, and face. The salty liquid trickling down between her breasts and from her thighs. How she had often felt lightheaded and sick. Her little mouse telling her that she must drink. That she must rest. The small man pushing her back onto her makeshift bed and applying a damp cloth to her forehead before dealing with any injuries that she had sustained. Continuing to tell her about the life that he had had before he had been sold to the slavers. About great seas, and the ships that sailed them. About monsters that lurked in the depths. About huge mountain ranges and wild snow covered lands. Of massive castles and knights that wore gleaming armour. And of battles for thrones made of swords. Morgho listening intently, like a child sat at their mother's knee. Her mind often filled with fanciful thoughts of seeing all that her little mouse had described. Yet until the moment that she had followed Tyrion out of the pits, she had never actually believed that it would happen. Never actually believed that the slavers would sell her. The sights that now greeted her, new and unexpected. Intriguing, yet at the same time ever so slightly frightening. The fighter not yet sure of what to think of the world beyond the only home that she had ever known. Hoping that she would be able to adapt to these bright new surroundings.

She couldn't help but smile to herself as she watched Tyrion puff out his chest a little, as she, Tyrion and his sellsword made their way through the bustling crowd. She couldn't help but think that he was a lot like her little mouse had been. The even though the lord was a good head taller than her mouse had been, he still seemed to be as sweet. As gentle, kind and clever. And given that, Morgho couldn't help but want to learn more about him. More about his world and life. Wondering is it was quite as colourful as her little mouses had been.

Suddenly, out of the corner of her eye, she saw movement in the crowd. Men moving forward as if to get a better look, at what Morgho was sure was a strange sight. The warrior gripping at the sword by her side. Growling menacingly at the men, who quickly moved back. Disappearing into the vast sea of faces.

"Looks like ya have quite a reputation round here." A voice suddenly said. Morgho turning to see that the sellsword had move to her side.

"I have been in the pits for a number of years. My skills are known of by many a rich family and any that come to see the fights. I have survived in that hell, longer than any other. It is only to be expected that most in the city would know of me." Morgho replied curtly. Still not sure that she had forgiven Tyrion's man for his earlier description of her as a whore. The warrior knowing that no matter how hard her life had been having to fight to survive, it was better than having to give her body to every creature that had the coin to pay for it. To allow herself to be used and abused by men like those that had controlled her all her life.

"From what I saw, I still think I could beat ya." Bronn sniffed arrogantly. The two warriors suddenly stopping in the middle of the street. Morgho stepping up to the grinning man.

"I am more than ready to test that notion, if you are? I have never been scarred of anyone. And I am not about to start. Especially not with you. As far as I am concerned, I can quite see why Tyrion would buy me to watch over him. For the only reputation I am sure that you have, is the one in your mind." Morgho hissed, her blade of her sword glinting in the light, as she slowly drew it from its sheath.

"No! Stop!" Tyrion called out, as he finally realised that neither Bronn nor (Y/n) was with him. The little man quickly making his way over to the pair. His hand resting on that of his new warriors. The little lord glaring at Bronn.

"Not here. Not now. Not ever. You are both being paid to protect me, not try and kill one another. And I don't hate to tell you this Bronn, but I have a feeling that if you two were allowed to fight, Morgho would beat you. Now come on, I want to get back to our rooms. We set off back to Westeros tomorrow, and I am sure that you would like to spend one last night in the local brothels, rather than dead in a gutter." The little lord told the stunned sellsword. Tyrion taking (Y/n)'s arm and pulling her away from Bronn. The youngest Lannister unable to stop himself from chuckling, as the sellsword let out a disgruntled huff, before quickly following behind them.