The noble ladies were all flogged together in Maegor's holdfast, some of them crying, others praying and chanting. Rebekah had joined Shae in a corner, together with Sansa Stark. The sounds of the battle could be heard in the distance, and Rebekah caught herself grinding her nails nervously.
"My lady" Shae said softly and took Rebekah's hand. "Ser Bronn is one of the best fighters I've ever seen. He's smart and brave. There's no reason he shall not return."
Rebekah widened her eyes. To be truthful, she was thinking about him in this moment, but not only. Her brother and Tyrion were on her mind as well.

Shae laughed. „I can always tell when a girl thinks of her love."
"He's not my love, Shae. There's no love in noble marriages."

"And Bronn is not noble" Shae said mischiefously.

Rebekah rolled her eyes at the handmaiden. "You perfectly understood what I meant. I have no choice but to marry him. But I admit he is a friend to me and Tyrion."

Rebekah tried to explain her confusing feelings.

"Maybe he's a friend now, but I don't doubt you will find love in your heart for him. You should try at least, it will make it easier."

Shae tried to soothe Rebekah's nerves, but achieved the opposite.

"They are fighting out there. What if..."
"Shh. They will come back" Shae softly pressed her hand, "They have to."

Sansa had been focused in her prayers, but raised her head curiously when she overheard the conversation.

"Who will come back to you, my lady?" she asked, her voice soft and kind.

Rebekah watched the younger girl. Sansa was no doubt a beauty, with light and shining hair. Blue, honest eyes revealed a deep sadness, a sadness Sansa covered with a humble smile and sweet words.

The girl had been tormented by the Lannisters, humiliated in almost every way possible.

It made Rebekah feel bad about being loyal to House Lannister. And Sansa probably saw her as ennemy as well, although she didn't show it.

"My brother. My betrothed. My friends. Every soldier out there, fighting for our safety" Rebekah listed.

"Your betrothed? You mean the sell sword, my lady? Aren't you the Lady Rebekah?"

"Yes, Lady Sansa." Rebekah nodded and Sansa's eyes widened. Rebekah realized it as a weird mix of admiration and fear.

"You defeated the Mountain" Sansa breathed astonished, making Rebekah smile. "That's quite exaggerated. I only refused to marry him."

"And she will marry a commoner instead."
Queen Cersei joined them, her steps somehow shaky. She carried a cup of wine, showing off an arrogant smile towards the three women.

"Exactly, your Grace" Rebekah curtsied, followed by Shae and Sansa.

"Poor thing. One brute replaced with another. Not even the poorest, ugliest and oldest Lady in Westeros would agree to marry him deliberately."

Rebekah swallowed, not surprised at the insult towards Bronn. She had not expected everyone to like the pact.

"He's not that bad, your Grace."

Cersei smiled even wider, sitting in front of them and winking towards a servant. „Wine. For the three of them."

"It's only right you tell yourself that. Maybe you'll believe it one day. But when he touches you with rough, dirty hands and cheats on you with street whores, you will struggle to see the handsome knight you want to see."

"I think it's romantic." Sansa said, blushing at Cersei's annoyed glance.

"Of course you do, little dove. The low-born sellsword, winning the hand of a noble Lady with only his bow skills and bravery. They'll make a good song."

Rebekah tried to signale Sansa she was thankful for her kind words. Apparently, Cersei was taking pleasure in humiliating everyone this evening.

"Sansa, come with me" the Queen winked towards Sansa, letting her follow to her seat, away from Rebekah and Shae.
In that moment, Lancel Lannister pushed the door open, breathless and pale.

„Your Grace, the city has fallen."

OoOoO

Thanks to a well-placed shot, the Blackwater was on fire. Stannis's ships and men were burning in the green light, while Bronn fought his way back to the shores.

The men were panicking on both sides because of the wildfire, screaming in fear or standing motionless with wide eyes in the flames. But the worst had been the Hound, not moving until a men almost killed him. With a swift move, Bronn shot the soldier. He did not like Sandor Clegane, surely not, but in this time they were fighting on the same side. Of course Clegane didn't thank him. Bronn had other things to care about anyways.

Stannis wasn't defeated yet, although Tyrion's plan had brought them a advantage.

The mecenary was covered in mud and blood, but he felt more alive than ever. Nothing stopped him as he slayed the Baratheon soldiers.

"Ser Bronn!" A voice yelled, and Bronn sliced a men's throat before turning to see the man.

Rebekah's stepfather was definetely a real pain in the ass, Bronn thought. Unlike Dewan, he was not in the archery and thus condammed to fight at the city gates.

"Come this way!" Mycah ordered and hurried away from the shore. They were on the outside wing of the attack and had to rejoin Tyrion.

"Ser Bronn. I know this is not the time, but I have to ask you – leave my stepdaughter alone. I'll find yourself another wife, prettier, richer, whatever you want. But don't marry her."
Bronn rolled his eyes, busy with blocking another soldier's attack.

"This is really not the time," he hissed, raising his sword again, "Do you want her dead or for yourself? I'm confused."

"I just want the Waldorf name to be honored" the last words were hard to understand because Mycah ached from the effort.

"You killed the older boy"

"I did not kill him!" Mycah roared, annoyance making him rentlessness in his next attack.

Bronn watched him for a second, the bald man with the broken nose. It wasn't the first time he claimed to be innocent.

"Bloody hell, you're here to fight, not to brabble!" he yelled, finally turning away from Mycah.

Suddenly, a markstroking yell sounded from behind his back. He swirled around, only to face five men wearing Baratheon colors running from the shore with wild battle cries.

They wielded their swords at two goldcloaks, killing them before Bronn's eyes. Mycah stumbled back, trying to raise his shield in defense. He managed to block the man's sword before a soldier in dark armour and red cloak killed him swiftly by piercing his stomach.
Before Bronn could react, other red dressed soldiers attacked him. In a blink of a second, Bronn was truly confused. Red cloaks were the Lannisters.

„I'm a Lannister, mate!" Bronn yelled, but the soldier didn't stop. With well-placed kick to the man's knee, Bronn made the man fall down so that he could finish him.

When he swirled around, Lord Mycah was kneeling in the mud, his hands pressed over his throat while blood slowly began to flow through his fingers and on his armour.

„You?" he rasped with a terrible sound, before he collapsed on the floor.