Dreamtalk

Rowena didn't know how long she had cried, or even why she had cried. She had always thought she was past caring about her birth parents. Perhaps a part of her knew that her mother had to have had a scandalous life, and that's why she didn't pursue it. But she supposed the biggest shock was that everyone had told her they knew nothing about her birth parents, and she had never questioned that. Now, in just one day, she had learned that her mother was well-known to Tyrion Lannister, and that Averet knew at least one thing about her. She supposed she should've guessed that any woman the Imp knew well would have to be a whore. It was no secret to anyone that he spent large piles of money on women and wine.

She was laying with her head on Metylda's lap, and Metylda was stroking her hair and talking to her in soothing tones. Rowena thought Metylda must be a very good mother, but she didn't hear most of what the woman was saying. Someone had given her something to drink at some point that made her very calm and sleepy, and now, she didn't feel anything, even when she tried. No anger, no sadness, just empty. She caught parts of the one-sided conversation. Metylda felt sure Bronn would like to put his sword through Averet's chest. And she wondered how differently things might have turned out if their mother had not died. "You would have married Jon" Metylda mused, "and we would all still be a happy family, all together."

"Where is he?" Rowena asked sluggishly, when she realized she didn't hear Bronn's voice.

"He's just outside speaking with Dreu and Garit," Metylda said softly, pointing to the doorway, "See?"

Rowena looked towards the open door, and saw the men outside, protected from the rain by the overhanging roof. The other two men had their backs to her, but Bronn was facing the door so that he could still see her from where he stood. This made her smile weakly, and when he saw her looking at him, he excused himself and came over to where she and Metylda sat on the floor.

"Are we leaving soon?" she asked, suddenly confused about the time of day.

"We'll leave in the morning, raining or not." He assured her. "But we should get some sleep now." She could only nod her head in reply, and sat up slowly as Metylda moved to leave.

"I've brought you some sheepskin to put down over the hay and to keep you warm," Metylda told Rowena, looking concerned.

"I'm fine," Rowena said sleepily, trying to manage a smile. "Really."

"Alright," Metylda said, bending to kiss her cheek. "Sleep well and we will see you off in the morning."

They watched her leave and close the door behind her. Then Bronn asked Rowena how she was feeling. "Like I'm dreaming," she said, "but not a nightmare anymore. What did I drink?"

"Dreamwine," he replied, "They keep some hidden away from that…" he broke off and shook his head. "Water?"

"Yes, please," she responded as best she could, though the dreamwine made it hard for her to form the words. "Then sleep?"

"Yes," he said, touching her cheek for a moment, "then sleep." He went to get the jug of water, and brought the jug of wine back for himself.

There was no room over the barn here like there was at home. But Metylda had laid down sheepskin over some hay in a relatively clean spot. Rowena didn't remember them, or the sheep, smelling so awful, but she supposed it was because she was used to horses now.

Rowena drank her water slowly. Bronn had to help her hold the jug, and her eyelids were heavy. She wondered if she could stand up. But before she could try, Bronn had lifted her up and placed her on the sheep skins. "Here, lie down," he said. Pulling his cloak over both of them, he curled up behind her and put his arm tightly around her waist. She placed her hand over his and curled her fingers around his hand, too tired to be timid, or maybe it was the dreamwine. As she drifted off to sleep, she felt bathed in a feeling of warmth and safety that she wasn't sure she'd ever felt before.

When she woke some time later, Rowena found that she had turned over in her sleep. She was facing Bronn, her head resting on his arm and tucked under his chin. Her face was close to his chest, and she breathed in the scent of him. His arm was around her waist, and one of his legs draped over both of hers. She tipped her head up, and without thinking, reached up and touched her lips very softly to his neck, thinking he was asleep. He startled her when he pulled back so that he could look into her face, and then took her chin in his hand and gazed into her eyes. She boldly put her hand up to touch his cheek.

"Did you know?" she asked him. There was no accusation in her question. She was still calm and relaxed from the dreamwine.

"I guessed as much", he replied, "Tyrion never told me, and I never asked. But any woman that man knows well…" He shrugged, leaving the sentence unfinished.

"Yes," she agreed, "I should have realized that when you told me." Then she had a thought that had not yet occurred to her. "He's not…?"

"No." he said firmly, anticipating her question. "That I did ask him, and he said he was quite sure at the time that he was not the father.

"Did he tell you anything else?" she asked hesitantly, wondering if she really wanted to know.

"No, he didn't offer any more information and I didn't ask." He replied. "Told him I didn't want to know. Your uncle said you had never really asked about your mother, so I didn't think it was my place to."

"Will you ask him?" she asked softly.

He gave her a worried look. "Are you sure? It might be best if you spoke to him directly."

Rowena shook her head. "I'd rather hear it from you than from him."

Bronn only nodded in response, and kissed her forehead. She laid her head back down on his arm, and he combed his fingers thru her hair and caressed her cheek.

"What were you talking to Dreu and Garit about?"

"Oh, I think they were trying to distract me with stories about your childhood," he said with a laugh. "They were concerned I might go back to the house after their father.".

"And what did they tell you?" she felt herself almost smiling. She could not remember feeling this relaxed in ages.

"Well, I understand you have at least been kissed by a boy?" he teased.

"Yes," she replied, too sleepy to be defensive, as she would normally have been over such a question.

"Have you ever been kissed by a man?" was his next question.

"No." she replied, the fluttery feeling in her stomach was back.

"Would you like to be?" his tone was thoughtful and curious, not the wicked smiling Bronn she was used to sparring with.

"Are you saying you want to kiss me, Bronn?" she said, suppressing a sudden urge to giggle.

"Don't be coy." He scolded gently. "You know very well I'd like to more than kiss you. All the time on that horse together, you must've noticed".

She didn't know what to say to that. He sensed her embarrassment and laughed.

"It was your idea to bring one horse." She reminded him.

"Ay, it was," he said, and laughed again.

"Why don't you kiss me now then?" she tilted her faced up towards his again, feeling bold.

He took her chin in his hand and gave her a serious look. "Because I've made promises to your uncle, and I mean to keep them. You and I will come to some sort of agreement, I promise you that. But if I don't keep my word now, he'll try his best to make sure I never see you again."

She sighed, dropping her gaze to his chest, where her hands idly played with the fabric of his tunic. She realized she was disappointed.

"Do you understand?" he asked, grabbing her chin in his hand again to make her look him in the eye.

"Yes, I think so." She reached up and kissed his neck again, before he could protest, pressing her lips against his skin a little longer this time. Then she tucked her head against his chest and closed her eyes. Soon she was fast asleep again.