Game of Thrones: Imagines and one shots. Book four

Protest too much - Part 2 - Bronn x Reader

For Suzan930

Bronn lay in bed, alone; a rare occurrence indeed, but no rarer than the fact that he was sober.......ish; which meant that he was alone with his thoughts, never a good thing. His eyes trained on the ceiling that was illuminated by the light of the one small candle on the table next to him.

Good looking.........he had never said that (Y/n) was good looking. He had said she was like Tyrion....yes. Taller.......yes. Female......certainly; but he would never have said that she was good looking. The female sellsword was many things, but not good looking. Yes, he may, on the odd occasion have appreciated her bosom; but how could he not. They were a pair of tits that he would gladly suffocate between if given half a chance. Then.....then there was her arse, a juicer peach he had yet to find in the whole of the Seven Kingdoms; he often finding himself licking his lips when he thought about sinking his teeth into the ripe, soft flesh. And then there were her legs; good, strong thighs that had been sculpted by years of walking from place to place and fighting for whoever could afford her particular set of skills. Thighs that he was sure could crush a man's head if he was lucky enough to find himself between them.

Suddenly he sat up......what was he thinking.....? He couldn't think things like that about (Y/n). From the moment that they had first met, when she was little more than a slip of a girl, she had annoyed him. Doing everything in her power to outwit him, outsmart him; to have a snappy comeback for every snide, sarcastic comment that he had ever thrown her way. And worse.......she really was good. Female sellswords were rare, the roads of Westeros not even safe for a woman that could defend herself; but somehow, she had not only survived, but she had also thrived. And from seeing her fight, he had to reluctantly admit that she was better than most male sellswords. A sigh leaving his lips, as he pushed back the sheets and swung his legs around. His bare feet feeling the sting of the cold stones as they hit the floor; Bronn combing his fingers through his hair, before letting out another heavy sigh. He wasn't going to be able to sleep; perhaps he should have stayed with Tyrion. He should have ignored the dwarf trying to tell him that he had said that (Y/n) was good looking and just got drunk. Perhaps even have convinced the little lord to have some girls sent up to the keep. He sure that he wouldn't be able to think if he had had some pretty little thing sucking on his cock. But as it was......Bronn rising from his bed and reaching for his shirt, pulling it over his head before making for the door. Maybe he would go to the kitchens and get some food........food? What was he thinking.......the thoughts of (Y/n) had messed with his mind. No, a bottle of wine.....or two, and he would be back to his normal self. His only thoughts then about the female sellsword.......how he could make her look like a fool. Bronn winding his way from his room, through the dark corridors of the keep.

Suddenly he stopped, his brows furrowing as he heard something; it rare that the castle was ever truly quiet, there always seeming to be some strange noise or another; but he had grown used to them since he had been in the capital. No, this was something different. Bronn following the sounds; finding himself looking over a small courtyard area, the space lit well by a number of burning torches; and there, with sword in hand, was (Y/n), attacking the straw practice dummy with all her might. A smile coming to his lips, as with one sweeping movement, she removed the head from the torso.

He had never seen her practice before; it not a wonder if she chose to do it at such a ridiculous hour. He usually too preoccupied or inebriated to hear the sounds that she was making. But as he leant against the balustrade of the balcony, he actually started to take in everything about her; not just letting his mind wander as his eyes moved from breasts to buttocks and thighs. He took her all in. Bronn noticing things that he had never seen before; subtle things that he had not taken the time or had the desire to notice previously. He seeing that her style would complement his own, perfectly. That if they were to fight side by side, back-to-back, they would be quite the formidable pair. His cock twitching in his breeches, when she finally stopped and placed down her sword. The moonlight causing the thin sheen of sweat that covered her skin, to shine, before she wiped it away. And in that moment, she had looked as if she were not of that world. The woman, not merely good looking; but a true rare beauty. Yet she was a beauty whom his charms did not work on; that hated him for everything he was, and everything he did. A woman that never had, and probably never would agree with anything he said. They not even able to work together, to keep an eye on the lion. (Y/n) the sensible one that Tyrion would look to in the day; the one that he would have 'intelligent' conversations with. The one that the lord actually seemed to be proud to have by his side. Whereas he......he was there for the pay, the hope of a castle of his own, as much wine as he could drink and as many whores as Lannister gold could buy him. He perhaps protesting too much about not liking (Y/n); but given how different.....or maybe how similar they were, he would continue to protest. Bronn about to turn around and head off to get that wine, when he heard a voice.......

"Come to see what a real sellsword does..........?"