Chapter 2

After nearly two weeks of spending a few hours with Bronn nearly every day, Sansa was still no closer as to knowing who he really was. For a man who claimed to be of little learning, he sure could manipulate conversations easily enough. Every time she'd managed to ask him a question about his past, in any shape or form, he managed to turn the conversation back onto her, and she would inevitably end up talking about her family to him; mainly about her father.

Had she mentioned her father's name to anyone else besides Tyrion and Bronn, she would have been labeled traitor immediately just for saying his name. She couldn't truly blame Bronn for acting the way that he did in avoiding her questions about his family and his past. In his profession, you couldn't have any personal connections. They were what got you killed.

However, one day as they meandered through one of the larger gardens, she managed to inadvertently contrive an answer from him.

"My father always told me that I should never take for granted what I'd been given in my life; that I was much more fortunate than others. I never quite understood him, but I realize now just exactly what he meant," she said, looking down at her hands, which were in front of her as she knotted her fingers into the lacings, nervously digging at them. Even though she knew that she could talk to Bronn about anything, she still became frightfully nervous when she mentioned her father.

The sellsword said nothing at first, but then, unexpectedly, spoke up, saying, "I know what that's like. Nothing's ever what you expect when you get older…especially when it comes to fathers."

In that moment, she realized that he'd unwittingly opened up to her, but instead of saying anything, she remained silent for a moment longer, and then carefully tried to press the subject further, trying not to press too hard, in fear of him going silent once more.

"I never realized how much I wasn't like him until after…after he was killed. I always thought that I was brave and fearless and ready to be, well, a queen, but apparently I wasn't…"

Her voice trailed off, hoping against hope that Bronn would respond, and she was silently thrilled when he did. Getting him to talk had been like trying to move a stubborn direwolf. His temper was just as bad sometimes, too, so she hung onto every word, confident that he was finally starting to open up.

He let out a sigh and replied to her comment, saying, "Sometimes it's hard to accept, like with you. Though," he added, with an almost soft smile, "I think you're more like your father than you realize, Sansa. In my case, it was easy to accept. I learned early on that I would not be anything like my father. And I was okay with that. In fact, you could almost say that I was thrilled to not be a thing like him. I didn't want to be a…"

He suddenly stopped, as though realizing what he was saying and who he was saying it to, and Sansa inwardly despaired.

So close. And yet, so far.

Immediately, he turned the conversation back onto her.

"Well, it doesn't matter. What matters is that you learn from not only what he told you, but also by how he lived, by what he did. A man's actions in times of mortal danger will always tell you the truth of who they are. Now, if your father is anything to go by, milady, then he was a great man. He stood by what he knew and didn't let them scare him into hiding. Not a lot of men would do such a thing, to be honest. In fact, most men who say they're fearless and good I have come to find are cowards when shown their fate at the end of my sword," he casually added.

Instead of revulsion, she looked over at him curiously as they walked beyond the main garden, out onto the portico that viewed the expansive water beyond. From their talks, she had carefully discovered that he was not as unlearned as he made others believe. When not surrounded by enemies and spies, he reminded her of…of Jaime Lannister, actually. His stance even changed when it was just the two of them. Instead of having his legs spread just a little too wide to be considered appropriate or slouching insouciantly, he stood surprisingly tall and held himself like, well, royalty. He even spoke more clearly, with less of a drawl in his tone.

Sansa thought about it a moment longer, but then brushed it off as she sat down on the edge of the wall, looking over the water, deeming it unimportant. What she would give to be out on that water, sailing away from the city that was her prison.

Bronn sat down next to her, glancing around the area where they sat, ensuring that they were, in fact, alone.

After a moment, he broke the silence, saying, "You're awfully quiet today, milady. Something bothering you?"

Sansa shook her head and smiled when she heard him call her 'milady' a second time. He still wasn't fully comfortable with calling her Sansa and did so sparingly, but she found that she liked the way that he said the word 'milady'. From everyone else at court, it sounded like an insult, but from him it sounded sincere.

"No, nothing really," she said, sighing. "I've just been worried about Lord Tyrion. He's been gone more often, recently. Do you happen to know why?"

She gave him an inquiring look, unsure if he would answer her. For a mercenary for hire, he was surprisingly loyal and protective of the dwarf's secrets, which she appreciated, but at the same time, she didn't like the feeling of not knowing something important that could possibly be dangerous for her. She was always at risk, after all, having been a Stark.

He gave her a look and then looked out over the water.

"I'm not quite sure, myself," he said, squinting as the light reflected off the water. "There's been rumours, of course, but nothing solid, and I don't like to dwell on rumors. Rumors are what get even the smartest of men killed. Men like me," he added, smirking. He looked back at her, giving her a rare smile. "Nothing that will affect you, milady, I'm sure."

She simply nodded and looked back down at her hands.

After another long silence, she said, "My sister and I used to play a game." Sansa looked back over the water and caught sight of a ship. "We would look at the ships and wonder where they were going and what they were taking to other ports. I haven't played it in a long time…"

He didn't say anything, at first, and just stared over at the same ship that caught her eye. It had bright red sails that stood out sharply against the blue sky, like a blood-stained blade, but it moved slowly, heading out towards the horizon. They sat there for a long time, both of them staring at the ship, neither of them saying a word. Sansa was certain that she wanted to say something, but from his serious expression, she decided it would be best if she kept silent.

The rest of the afternoon passed without anything important being said, and when Sansa retired to her chambers that evening to dine with her husband, she was surprised to find her mind still on the sellsword, and not on anything else. It was the man's own fault, really, for being so damn enigmatic and close-lipped.

She was already sitting at the table when Tyrion walked in, and she tried to hide her surprise at seeing him there. He had been busy every night that week, so far, and so it was a strange sight to see him sitting opposite her at the table.

"My Lord Tyrion. So good to see you this evening," she said courteously, bowing her head slightly. She saw that he was uncomfortable with her formality, but she didn't feel sorry for it. She could not afford to let his few moments of kindness guile her into thinking that he was harmless. He was most likely the most dangerous out of all the Lannisters. She knew what kind of influence he could wield over people, and she was determined to not let herself be lead astray by a few kind words.

He didn't bother to correct her, and simply said, "Sansa. It's good to see you. I am sorry that I have been absent the past few nights. I've now been tasked with the kingdom's finances, and it is not easy balancing a budget the size of my sister's ego…"

A small smile snuck out of the corner of her mouth at hearing his jab at his sister. At least they had that in common. They both hated Cersei.

They began to eat in comfortable silence, until, during a lull between courses, Sansa decided to take a chance and ask her husband about his sellsword.

"Tyrion," she started, hoping to take him off guard by calling him by his proper name, and it seemed to work, as he looked up at her and put down his wine. Well, if she'd taken him off guard enough for him to put down his wine, then she had a good chance.

"Yes, Sansa?"

She smiled and kept up appearances as she asked, "I was wondering what you could tell me about Ser Bronn. He's been keeping an eye on me, of course, at your command, and I was curious as to where he comes from. He's so quiet and doesn't say much, so I thought it might help if I knew something about him."

At her words, her husband's eyebrow lifted.

"He's been following you?" She nodded. "At my command?" She nodded again, but he slowly shook his head. "Sansa, I never asked him to do that. In fact, I was under the impression that he's been visiting, well…other places over the past few weeks. At least, that was what he implied to me. Are you saying he's…stalking you?"

She shook her head.

"Oh, no, Tyrion, nothing like that! He has simply been guarding me when Shae is unable to be with me. I think, I think he's certain that someone might try to harm me if I were out on my own," she finished softly, and her husband simply nodded, starting to seem okay with the idea. Quickly, she pushed her opportunity and asked one more time, "Like I said, I wish to know more about him so that I may be able to talk to him."

Tyrion was quiet for a long moment, during which he picked up his goblet and took a long swallow. As he put it back down, he said, "I never asked him and he never said. It seems you are on your own, my dear wife." She visibly tensed at hearing him say those words and he winced at seeing her reaction. "As it is, as long as he is not bothering you in any way, then I will let him continue as he seems to have found a way to do something right for once without my magnanimous help."

With those words, he left the table, leaving Sansa feeling even more confused than before.

The sellsword had chosen to look after her? What did that mean?

As she got ready for bed later that night, her mind went back to that question over and over again, driving her to complete distraction. Who knew that a man who sold out to the highest bidder for some bloodshed could be such a complicated person? Such as how he acted whenever he was around her and her alone.

He may have been a sellsword, but there was a sense of honor that still seemed to linger around him whenever it was just the two of them. It was strange, she thought to herself as she removed her day dress, stripping down to her shift. She knew that Bronn was a partaker of women and wine as much as her husband had been, or still was, at least on one count, and so it was odd, to her at least, to have him treat her with so much respect and kindness when they were alone. Again, the way that he held himself and spoke, it all just reminded her so much of Jaime Lannister and she couldn't figure out why. It was more than how he treated her or how he spoke. It was something more…intangible. Almost as if he had been…oh, she didn't know.

Sansa let out a frustrated sigh and slid beneath the covers, trying to put the thoughts from her mind. She was married, after all. Shouldn't she be thinking of a way to escape her marriage, and not a way to try and make her husband's paid thug spill his innermost secrets?

Why was she so determined to know the man?, she wondered to herself. It did seem sort of odd that she'd suddenly wanted to talk to him.

But at the same time, she knew that she needed as many allies as possible if she wanted to ever possibly find a way to escape from the Lannister's clutches. Bronn was the perfect ally to have, in that case, and at that thought she remembered exactly why she'd sought him out. In the end, she could most likely convince him to help her escape, using her husband's money as leverage.

With that reassuring thought, she drifted to sleep, but just before she succumbed, she heard Bronn's words from earlier that day echo in her ear…

"You're more like your father than you think, Sansa…"

...And she wondered what he meant.

Part 2/?