Game of Thrones: Imagines and one shots. Book four

Want - Part 7 - Bronn x Reader

(Y/n) breathed a sigh of relief, as Tyrion and the maestre had left her rooms. She hated being pawed and messed with; hated being fussed over. It was little more than a scratch that Sandor had given her, yet Tyrion had acted as though her arm was going to fall off. And then, just to make things worse, the nervous looking young maestre that the little lion had found, had informed her, as he had placed some foul smelling green stuff on the cut before wrapping it, that it would be best that she didn't try to fight again until after the wound had healed. Tyrion just chuckling as she complained that she had had worse cuts from old parchment. Yet the comment had fallen on deaf ears; so, here she sat, like a good little girl. looking out of the window and 'resting'. Being stuck in her rooms, doing nothing for her anger at a certain sellsword.

In her less 'I am going to kill him if I ever see him again' moments, since their interaction in the city; (Y/n) had found herself wondering why a man like Bronn, who couldn't give a shit about anyone but himself, would seem so interested in what she did beyond the walls of the Keep. Why he would care if she spoke to any man, never mind Sterlan. Why he had claimed that it was his business when she talked to the big, handsome blacksmith. (Y/n) laughing at herself when the thought that the sellsword might actually care about her, feel something for her, had entered her head. She sure that it was the most ridiculous notion she had ever had. Bronn not the kind of man to be interested in spending his life with just one woman; he the kind of man that was interested in wine, gold, fucking as many women as possible and that damn castle of his own, he would always go on about.

And then there were those other moments, when she felt slightly less inclined to stomp on his cock and shove his balls in his own mouth, that she had wondered why his words about her had annoyed her, hurt her so much. What should she care if the sellsword had compared her to the cheapest of whores in the capital. That he claimed that she charged only a couple of coins for a quick fuck up against a wall in the worst parts of Flea Bottom. She was a lady from a small, but respected and wealthy House. A virtuous and noble woman, whose maidenhood was still firmly intact, thank you very much. The only thing that she had ever ridden, was a pale grey mare that she called Maiden, who was very popular with Sandor's huge black stallion, Stranger; so much so, that Maiden was no longer a maiden and now heavily pregnant with the large warhorse's foal. (Y/n) determining, as she rose from her chair, that after some of that rest she had been told to take, she would just start to act like Bronn didn't exist. She having spent too much of her valuable time already, on that rotten sellsword.....

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After Tyrion had slammed the door in their faces, Sandor had turned to glare at Bronn for a moment; muttering something under his breath about him not being worth it, before storming off, leaving the sellsword on his own. Bronn shrugging, then aimlessly winding his way into the darkness of the Keep, himself. He not really having anywhere to go, though wine would be nice; and not for one minute had he ever intended to find himself where he was at this moment.......outside of the door to the rooms of the lady that wanted absolutely nothing to do with him. His eyes just looking at the ancient wood.

He could knock......he wanted to knock. He could find out why the little lion had had to take (Y/n) to see a maestre. Why she would be claiming to have had worse cuts from the edges of paper. But if he knocked, he couldn't imagine that his reception would be what you might call, warm. In fact, anything less than freezing, would probably be over estimating things. She more likely to run him through, than just say hello. He finding himself pushing his ear up against the door, not sure what he was hoping to hear. He again finding himself having another strange feeling that he wasn't used to.....concern. He never normally concerned for anyone, but himself. The day certainly turning into something unusual; first guilt and now concern. But he had to suppose these were the things that happened when you realised that you actually had feelings for someone. He having to wonder what would come next; though he was sure that he would draw the line at falling to his knees and professing his undying love........Bronn standing there for a few moments more; perhaps hoping that at any moment (Y/n) would open the door and just walk into his arms, yet he knew better. The lady, a proud woman. A heavy sigh leaving his lips as he took a step back. Fuck it! If she was going to stew in her room, and Tyrion was going to lock him out of his; he would go into the city. There plenty of people there that would want to spend time with him; that didn't care what he said or did. And for the right amount of gold, would be not only willing to spend a pleasant few hours with him; but would also let him call her (Y/n)............