A/N: This ship will sail. Y'all just wait. The longest chapter of the fanfic so far. Good luck and happy reading!
Reviews are very much appreciated.
Chapter Six: Dark on Fire
Bronn shook Cersei by the shoulder to rouse her from sleep. The sun hasn't fully emerged yet but they didn't have the luxury of time in this travel so it's best to keep moving as soon as the first light is upon them. He also knew he had to feed her with something other than bread and wine for today. He didn't want her starving because a woman of her birth can't possibly handle that for long. She could get sick and too weak and that will only slow them down. It will bring no joy to see her incapable for he had a strange admiration for the black steel underneath all her wiliness.
He woke her up before he can leave to hunt for a rabbit or any bird he could cook in a stew and serve her with. Cersei didn't bother sitting up but she was wide awake now and still bundled in his cloak while gazing up the sky like he didn't even exist to her. He didn't care. Her apathy is a pretension he can easily break into when the purpose serves him right. He'd rather focus on their sustenance in the meantime before they go forth riding.
The woody parts of this region reminded Bronn of the village he stayed in for almost a month. It was the very first time he stayed put in one place for so long. He didn't plan on it but it was just one of those unavoidable moments that he had to give in to if it meant keeping his life. Bronn didn't want to think more about it anymore. It was many years ago and he has learned since. All he had to now is to get farther in the present. That's what matters. And right now, he needed a fucking animal to kill.
A strange blow of the wind stopped Bronn in his tracks. He looked up the sky and knew that it could rain anytime soon. It's not always easy to tell although his years of traveling had taught him how to spot a change in weather conditions. He surmised that it could be another three hours before an actual outpour but it's really too early to tell for certain. With this in mind, Bronn hurried on. He circled around the parameter, inspecting for an open field where a stag or goat would graze. He saw a snake on the grass earlier but he decided that Cersei would not have an appetite for anything exotic so he didn't bother.
Bronn used his Kukri blade to slash through the wilderness of vines and grass that seemed to be stretching for miles. When he was almost nearing a pond, he heard a sound and stopped to listen. He peeked through and spotted a kid lapping its tongue on the water. He looked around to see if its mother was anywhere. Goats usually go in pairs.
There was no time to waste. He had always been light on his feet so he managed to approach the kid without catching its attention. It didn't take a lot of strength to subdue it. All it needed was a clean slit in the throat with his curved blade and the food is acquired.
He returned to the camp with the kid on his shoulders and the Kukri still dangling on his left hand. When he reached her, Cersei was hunched next to some branches she must have collected by herself while he was away. She was rubbing the sticks together to produce heat. He wondered how long she was doing that and couldn't help but smirk as he said. "Good to see you're not going to be completely useless."
She shot him a familiar glare. "I intend to take care of myself so you do not have to be anxious about the load. You're not going to be completely responsible for me either."
"Do you know how to start a fire, Your Grace?"
She hissed. "You're going to have to stop calling me that once we reach town."
"I have plenty of names to call you," he answered. "But I much prefer your birth name in my mouth…although, to be fair, that's not the only thing about you I want in my mouth."
"Don't you get tired sparring words with me? I imagine it's more exasperating than swordplay." Cersei wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. Even in peasant clothing and her hair a mess, she is still very beautiful that he couldn't stop poking more fun at her. Her slight plumpness is also something he found quite endearing now.
"I'm enjoying myself," he placed the dead animal on the ground and sat beside her. She visibly flinched away. He ignored it and grabbed the sticks from her hands. "Try using a rock next time, Highness, it's less trouble." He demonstrated as he spoke and with a few clicks of stones against each other, the wood beneath them ignited in no time.
Without any indication of gratitude, Cersei talked instead. "My father is skilled with skinning any kind of animal. In hunting trips with Jamie, he would…" she trailed off. Bronn glanced at her but she had already turned her head to the other side. "Can you cook that fast enough?" she was quick to change the subject and he knew why.
"If you help me," Bronn answered. "But I hesitate to let you use anything sharp—"
Cersei snapped her head at him and sneered. "I very much can handle a knife."
"I wasn't questioning your willingness to hold one. Just your experience and skill."
She frowned deeper and then she raised her head an inch higher as she narrowed her eyes at him. "You'll find that I'm a fast learner with anything I set my mind to."
He grinned at her. "You said your father skins animals very well. Have you watched him do it?" He didn't wait for an answer as he stood up and walked to the nearest trees in their area. Using his Kukri, he chopped into the wood and carried two trunks that were thick and long enough to support the kid's weight. "Take the rope inside my bag," he ordered her.
They spent a few minutes securely strapping the animal first before Bronn began explaining his next directions. "We have to skin everything and then wash the meat before we cook it because we don't want you eating something dirty. Your porcelain stomach may not be able to handle it after all." She didn't say anything but the look of disdain in her face was words enough for him. He went on. "If you follow my lead perfectly, the skinning will only take two minutes. And then we chop the parts you want and wash it with wine."
"You brought wine?" That seemed to please her.
"Only the finest for the loveliest," he brushed a stray strand of hair from her cheek and that displeased her. Is his touch that much of a threat to her? Or is the fact that he is a lowborn, opportunistic killer that makes her hurl? Bronn didn't know what to make of that but he takes so much glee disarming her with every careless touch here and there. Besides, if she truly hated him, then she wouldn't have let him do the things he did to her three days ago at Stokeworth castle—nor would she have done what she did to him last night. The event was still very fresh in his mind but he did not dare bring it up. Bronn intended to keep the peace between them. Harmless flirting cannot hurt him and he would never force himself against her unless he sees her taunting him with the possibility. And she had once and he knew she will come to him again. Women are always unaware of what hunger they have inside until you starved them long enough that they would be begging for him to quench it.
The animal lay upside down and the two of them worked on it for a while. Bronn had lent her a smaller blade and it surprised him that the weapon was a perfect fit inside her dainty hand especially with the way she was gliding it across the animal's fur. Her strokes were clumsy at first like she was attacking the carcass as oppose to undressing it which greatly amused him. He could see tremors in her grip so the blade would slip once or twice but as soon as he helped her steady her hand by placing his own on top of hers—something that felt awkward for the both of them, no doubt—she grew noticeably more confident.
Their eyes locked briefly but the usual animosity didn't appear in her expression like he expected. There was even a solemn resignation that was very uncharacteristic; that was not very Lannister at all. It perplexed Bronn but he decided to ignore it and focus on the job at hand. He didn't notice that they were almost half done with the kid's body now stripped of everything, and its insides dripping into their fingers. Bronn gutted the animal through its stomach and the swollen meat spilled gracelessly through the tough confines, and covered their hands with its juices. The red was a beautiful contrast against the perfection of her skin and she looked almost at ease with the way it smeared her flesh.
"First times, eh?" Bronn remarked. His own knife was drenched with excitement.
A faint smile touched her lips that convinced him that she was unaware who she was with and was intensely focused on their kill to care about what he thinks of her now. Bronn watched her face the whole time as she held the dagger with a tenderness that made him forget for a while what they were doing. He snapped out of it and gestured at the animal and said. "Let's carry this to the fire now so it'll cook."
The weight of the animal promises a full-course meal but Bronn knew which parts are more deliciously edible than the others and he chopped through them easily enough. He selected the hind legs although they were too skinny for his liking. Cersei, on the other hand, was busy trying to take its head off. She looked deadly serious about it too.
"Dagger is too small for that," he remarked, unable to contain a smile.
"Then give me that," she was referring to his Kukri. He only laughed.
She gave him another glare and kept on trying to behead the kid. Bronn suppressed a chuckle as he watched. She is obviously having a hard time and it occurred to Bronn that she might cut her fingers off if he didn't teach her the right way. "Here," he removed the dagger from her hand and gave her his curved blade. "That's not a plaything so if you want to use it, do it proper and true. Like this…"
He went behind her and held her hands as she sliced through the kid's neck. As the steel burrowed all the way to the bone, it let out a crisp sound, and Bronn could swear he heard Cersei whimper when the animal's head dropped to the muddy ground. A fountain of red showered down afterwards and they stood watching it for a while, his hands still clasped around hers as she was beginning to loosen her grip on his Kukri. "Happy, Your Grace?" he whispered as he held her close.
"I don't know," she replied. He believed her.
Using sharpened wood sticks, they poked holes through the chopped legs and toasted them over the fire. Bronn poured little wine of the hearth and it scalded the meat with the just right amount of temperature that he liked. He wanted his charred black. They ate in an unusual silence with Cersei doing her best not to meet his gaze. Bronn didn't engage her either. They have a long journey ahead and he didn't want to wear each other's patience. For now it's best to be in her good graces for he knew that she could be a handful of bullshit whenever she feels cornered and helpless.
He also tried not to watch her eat—to forget that mouth of hers and what else it can do. Each time he found himself transfixing on her lips now coated with juices, he looked off, fighting the queasy feeling at the pit of his stomach. He licked his own lips where she bit him and the coppery taste of the wound haunted him. Frustrated, he ended up ripping another piece of the animal. He burned it until it tasted like ash; until he achieved a semblance of fulfilling his appetite although the rest of his body craved for something else entirely.
The sun has appeared idly in the sky but its light was dim. Grey clouds have almost gathered around it as Bronn sniffed the air, knowing that it will be raining later on.
"We have to ride now before the outpour catches up to us," he told her.
Cersei has finished her share of meat although she didn't look satisfied. Instead of responding to his remark, she asked. "Can I have some of that wine now?"
He hesitated but then he gave it to her anyway with a warning. "Easy now. We don't want you falling off the horse because you're too drunk to ride it."
"You best mind your business," she snatched the bottle away and drank it, swallowing about three times before she pushed it back in his hand. The effect of wine was easily evident in the way her cheeks flushed but she looked content at last. But then it didn't last long because she finally started to notice the disconcerting conditions of the travel. "It's too hot. My garments are filthy and I need to bathe."
He laughed then—and couldn't stop, not even when she was glaring at him like she's stabbing him in the throat. When he finished, he coughed out the words. "You expect to get the same royal treatment as if you were still home?"
Cersei looked away in begrudging embarrassment. He went on. "We'll keep riding on horseback for the next two days with no hope for proper shelter so you can only dream of giving yourself a good wash; unless you want the rain to do that for you later." Bronn stood up and chuckled again, his eyes never leaving her as she sat there, her hands clenched.
"Isn't there any kind of river here somewhere?" She was insistent.
"I saw a pond." Bronn answered. "It's festered with snakes though."
She seemed to consider it for a moment but then she scoffed under her breath and scratched her head, her annoyance growing. "Perhaps I should wait for the rain here."
He raised an eyebrow at her. "The longer we remain at camp, the longer you won't see your boy. Isn't this the point of everything? That you'll motherly overcome your pompous, entitled lifestyle to see that sniveling brat again?"
She suddenly threw a rock at him but he managed to duck away. "You do not get to talk about my son in any manner, you impudent little lecher!" she screeched.
He watched her for a while, waiting for her to cool down but she was already in a foul mood to begin with so she took another rock—a bigger one—from the ground. He was fast enough to grab her by the wrists and pull her to him. They stared at each other and he could see the rage boiling in her eyes. "I only meant to tease you, Cersei."
"You do not get to say my name without proper address, scum!" She kicked him on the leg and although he felt it, he swung her around so he could keep her steady by holding her from behind. She squirmed and continued to curse at him with a varied range of insulting names but he didn't mind. She can have her moments of anger. It wouldn't really make a difference now, would it?
When she finished cursing at him, he finally got a word in. "My manners are the least of your concerns, my beautiful little lioness. It would be very easy for me to hand you over to the crooks in the village we're headed. I wonder how much it would cost to sell a Lannister wench of Casterly Rock—" and that was when Cersei kicked him again and this time it made him let her go. She wasted no time getting away from him.
Bronn managed to tackle her down before she got to enter the woods. She was going to put up another fight again but he warned her, his temper now flaring. "Do not make me hit you. And I will hit you across that smug face of yours, my lady, that your eyes will bruise so badly you won't be able to ride a horse and I will have the pleasure of sharing my horse with you and touch you and fondle you in any manner I see fit. Do you want that?"
The threat was only half-meant but Bronn knew that if she forced his hand, he may have to follow through just to prove his point and keep her well-behaved. Fortunately, she understood the anger in his voice and she stopped moving underneath him with her breath caught in her throat. She looked almost pitiful and that irritated him, so he pulled her up and brushed off the leaves strewn in her untidy yellow hair. He carelessly wiped the mud on her cheeks and added. "If you hate me, do it in silence. Otherwise, our journey gets delayed and you may call the attention of spies. Once we pass by Cockleswent, you best keep to yourself then." Almost unthinkingly, he rubbed his thumb on her left cheek. "You can't deny the beauty of this face but we can try because it will save your life if you remain inconspicuous."
She was looking blankly at him. Another wave of silence passed through them again before she spoke up. "I'm doing this for my son…" her eyes are moistened but she didn't cry.
"No need to convince me," he smiled. "Now get your things. We leave now. There's an inn in Cockleswent where you can bathe and scrub off all this shit. We both want you pretty but not too much. Even a flock of sheep can tell when a queen is in their midst."
When Cersei was eight and Jamie is hunting with their father, she would walk around the castle to see if any of the Lannister guardsmen will try to talk to her. She didn't understand before why both young boys and old men give her lingering looks whenever she pass by but she loved the attention nonetheless. Most days she would even spend a lot of time combing her long blonde hair with a silver looking glass in front of her. Her mother told her she is the most beautiful, fairest princess in all of Westeros and for a time Cersei believed it. She expected everyone to recognize it. And for a time they did.
She was twelve when she had her first moon blood and she noticed that the tone of her body has changed along with it. She got taller and more shapely and her breasts perked up quite amazingly in tight bodices and colorful gowns that her mother tailored herself. Cersei loved being beautiful. With it came everything and she hoped that love is a part of that as well. She's envious of what her parents have together; that unspoken closeness and mutual admiration and respect that they shared so passionately even when her father and mother would just gaze briefly at each other. She wanted that more than anything.
In her teen years Cersei would charm every boy in Casterly Rock, regardless of their station in life. It pleased her to know that she can have them all. She particularly enjoyed the peasant boys who will give her flowers or crops from their fathers' yards, smiling genuinely at her, unable to tear their eyes off from her beautiful face. If she could, she would have them all. She also enjoyed her father's guardsmen indulging her whims when she commands them to give her things in her parents' absence. She found it the ultimate kind of flattery whenever one of them, tall and armored, would hand her gifts bought from their salary. One time she was so grateful to a guardsman—this fierce and muscled tower of a creature they call Gregor Clegane—that when they were at court during a ball, she sat beside him and, sensing his excitement, reached to touch his crotch. She knew plenty about men's anatomies because her maids would talk about them sometimes, and Cersei, though only thirteen and inexperienced, was deadly curious. She only rubbed Gregor Clegane's crotch that one time and several years after he is now a knighted warrior—her father's 'mad dog'—he would still lust after her. Cersei was now aware what a brutal man he truly is and made sure she will never be alone with him again. However, in her loneliest nights when Jamie was taken captive during the war, she would dream of the Mountain on top of her, pounding his gigantic cock inside her until she bled and died.
Cersei never denied her fleshly desires and if she wasn't of high birth and brought up to Lannister pride, she may have possibly been a slut. She found that there is so much power and freedom in spreading your legs and taking in men in their most vulnerable. It was a weakness and strength; how much she understood what she could do to men. This time, however, with this parasitic scum her imp of a brother took in, she was tested for the first time. Cersei Lannister had grown even fearful of what this sellsword-turned-lord can do to her especially now since they're alone together with a thousand miles of horseback ahead and under the most tempestuous of traveling conditions.
They have been riding today for three hours now and the sun was cruelly burning her eyesight and skin. She began to loathe the parasite even more. He seemed so sure it was going to rain. Now she longed to feel the water in her face more than anything. Cersei's throat is sand and she knew that drinking wine will only make it worse. She bit her tongue although she wanted to keep asking Bronn if they're getting nearer the stupid bridge he told her about. She never traveled this long and far before and without a carriage. It's only Tommen's face that kept her gripping on the ropes with all her energy although she could feel that her palms must have already been bleeding. Behind her, the parasite rode in silence that made her nervous. Cersei cannot understand the magnetic pull between them and she doesn't think she ever will. She didn't dare to look behind her but sometimes the insistent urge would overpower her so she would look anyway. He seems to be waiting for their eyes to lock and when they did, he gives the sleaziest smirk and it burns her. She quickly looks away and focuses on the blisters in her hands instead. She wondered how much she has to bleed for to survive this travel.
"Some wine, Cersei?" the parasite called out. She shook her head and said nothing.
"Probably for the best," he remarked. "If you finish the wine too soon, you may have to settle for the cheap kind in the inn. I don't suppose that will agree with you."
Cersei still didn't look at him as she replied. "I do not have a porcelain stomach, as you so eloquently described. Wine is wine. I can handle it."
He snorted a laugh. Don't engage, she told herself. He is mocking me on purpose.
Without missing a beat, he asked. "How old is your boy again?"
Cersei felt her chest twinge a little by the mention of her son. It also came as a surprise to her that he would care to know such things, considering the frailty of the situations they've been tossed into for quite some time now. I don't know his game yet, she warned herself. But I will soon and I will destroy him hence. Nevertheless, she decided to retract the claws in the meantime. She felt the expression in her face soften as she answered. "He'll be ten this year."
"Peculiar age," he remarked. "I have killed me fifth man righ' about that time too."
She shouldn't care but this detail seemed to pique her interest. "He should be learning swordplay by now."
"He's been in the Tyrells' nest for too long," as he spoke, Bronn caught up with her and they now rode side by side. "Just think about the things they taught him since."
Cersei tried not to entertain the thoughts. She also loathed the casual way the parasite pointed it out. Grinding her teeth, she replied. "If there is one thing anyone can count on about the Tyrells, it's that they have unquantifiable ambitions."
"Wealthy people are whores," he said with a chuckle.
She didn't want to say anything but the journey has been long and depressing and he is the only she can have a conversation with. So she asked. "What do you mean by that?"
"You gamble your lives for the stupidest things."
"Such a strong opinion, Lord Bronn. I didn't know sellswords have convictions."
The parasite glanced her way and smirked. "I'm a practical man. But you won't ever understand that. You're blind like the rest of your folk. You concern yourselves with soaring quick and dangerously high from your posts and you fall down just as fast."
She mocked. "Who knew you have half a brain to analyze my kind?"
He laughed now as he always does, making her feel even more of a fool when she should be the one disarming him. "I enjoy watching you lot from where I stand. Over the years, it's become so easy to mingle and gain your trust."
"You speak of the imp, of course," she pointed out.
"Oh?" He was fully focused on her now. "Want to talk about your baby brother now?"
It's Cersei's turn to smirk. "One thing I truly liked about you is the ease you had when you sold him out. I suppose it's understandable, given what a foul, opportunistic scum you have always been. I also believe Tyrion should've never taken you into his service."
From that mouthful, all the parasite took was, "So you like me, Your Grace?"
"Hardly something to get excited about, scum," she shot back. "I wasn't flattering you. I was simply pointing out how disgustingly helpful you are as my pawn."
He grinned now as he pulled his horse close to hers. "If you are disgusted by me as you proudly claim, you never would have sucked my cock last night."
Cersei tried not to scream and punch him even if it was possible. He is trying to get the upper hand. He will not succeed. As calmly as she could master, she answered. "My behavior has been foreign to me these past weeks. Under normal circumstances, I never would have allowed you near the space I'm breathing in."
"And what normal circumstances are those, Cersei?" he shot back. "If you were still Queen? If you didn't allow your husband's death or let alone your son's?"
She felt her face melting as she tried to keep it all together.
"Or if you didn't make that sweet offer of lordship? Danced with me in the masquerade? Let my fingers in your cunt until you bled? Or invited yourself into this travel?"
"Stop," was all she could say.
He snorted another laugh. "We are a thousand lifetimes away from 'normal'."
She looked across him and feared that her eyes would give away her apprehension. "I command you to stop toying with me, scum."
"You command if you pay generously," he answered. "You can't. And it's Lord Bronn of Stokeworth, knight of the Blackwater Bay Battle, sweetling. Don't forget the titles."
"Scum is scum," she spat out.
For the first time, he looked at her with a fleeting kindness that was out-of-place. "Aye, you won't change your opinion. But you need to learn to trust me a little if you hope to survive this. I will get your son back safely but that will depend on how willing you are to quit being a petty, vindictive wench and do as I tell you."
"Never," she looked away, tightening her hands around her reins.
Again, he suddenly remarked. "You used to be very beautiful."
She jerked her head at him. "What does that mean?"
He smiled. "You are not as fresh or inviting as Margaery Tyrell. This can't be a surprise. It should be obvious to you by now."
With that, she kicked at her horse and rode away, the wind slapping her in the face but she didn't care. He caught up with her in no time and pulled her by the arm. She tried to yank his hand away but it stayed firmly in place.
"LET ME GO!" she demanded, her heartbeat pounding in her ears.
When he wouldn't, she continued to shout. "HOW DARE YOU INSULT ME? I AM QUEEN, NO MATTER WHAT YOU SAY! You dare compare me to that slut! You know nothing about me! YOU ARE SCUM! I should have had your head in a spike the moment you named your bastard with my traitor brother's name. LET ME GO!" She was finally able to push him off by letting go of the ropes. But when she did, she also lost balance and fell backwards. Her right ankle got caught in the stirrup. She didn't even have time to scream as her head hit the ground; but it was her ankle that suffered the painful weight of her fall. It hung there, still bound in place.
Before even knowing what was happening, the parasite was already beside her somehow and he untied the stirrup before she could hurt herself even more. He carried her into his arms for a while and it was in this horrible, shameful position that she began to weep. The tears just leaked and wouldn't stop. She squeezed her eyes shut. No matter how stubbornly she tried, she couldn't silence herself and she whimpered like a wounded kitten of some sort. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and buried her face in there.
Everything hurts. Her hands are blistered, her ankle is throbbing and her fucking scalp is itching. Cersei wished she was still at Casterly Rock with her mother and Jamie. She wished she could just go back, that her looks will never fade and there will be no more wars to face. And Tommen and Myrcella are safe with her—and Joffrey alive. She kept howling as she wept while the rest of the world bled with her anguish and regret.
And then she realized where she was again and who she was with. The road ahead of them still stretched for eternity and their horses can only travel so far. This is no time to be crying. Cersei pulled away, the unwanted embrace of this terrible monster already suffocating her. With the tears blinding half of her sight, she couldn't read his face. She breathed heavily and her chest caves in with every intake. He thinks I'm ugly, she thought.
The parasite didn't say anything but kept holding her instead. They remained like that for a few more seconds and then he put her down the ground again. Cersei bit her lip as she felt instant pain on her right ankle. Luckily, he still held her by the elbows and she wondered if he noticed that her ankle is sore. She looked at his face and once again couldn't tell what he was thinking. She has never seen this look on him before. It was a strange mix of pity and amusement and it gave his eyes a very eerie look. She trembled in his stare.
Cersei wanted to push him again but she wasn't sure she could even walk at this point. Before she could even make a final decision, his fingers found their way into the tangled strands of her hair. The gesture shouldn't feel so good but it did. Jamie used to do this all the time and the memory only made her weaker. She gave in and leaned closer to him, not caring if he is a hateful scum. Right at this moment he was the only one here to console her and his touch felt good—gentle and as real as it could get.
She no longer whimpered but she kept her eyes open the whole time. His other hand was on her cheek and he wiped the stain of tears. She tried not to comprehend what he was doing right now. "I'm sorry," he was saying and even his words were a whisper.
She nodded although she wasn't really forgiving him.
The parasite leaned closer to her. Fearing what will happen next, she closed her eyes. His breath was on her lips and she couldn't deny the anticipation that's boiling in her gut. He thinks I'm ugly, she thought. Why would he want to kiss me now?
The pressure between their lips was so light and yet it bruised all the same. He had claimed her mouth with a rough urgency before but this was the first time he didn't force his way in. I hate him but I'm kissing him back. Cersei held him tightly against her now.
He cupped her cheeks with both hands and deepened the kiss. Cersei welcomed his tongue and whatever madness between them was replaced by a hollow sense of relief. The kiss conveyed something larger than revenge that she couldn't understand.
It doesn't make sense. Jamie was the only man who could know her and love her and make her feel a million things all at once as she lets his swirling affections engulf her. She is still sane enough to know that this parasite—Bronn—doesn't love her and yet his kiss feels utterly incomparable. She wanted to hate it because she hates him. She's not sure anymore.
He pulled away first but his hands were still on her face.
"Can you still ride?" he asked as he let her go.
"I don't know," she looked down at her feet. "My ankle…"
"We have two more hours before we reach the bridge. Can you hold up by then?"
"I think so," she sounded reluctant and he heard it. But there was no time to waste so he nodded and he helped her climb back on her horse. She ignored the new pain on her foot as she grabbed the ropes. Her blisters have finally numbed at this point.
Bronn was on his horse as well and he put his hand on her reins as he guided the two of them into the right direction. "You can let go. I'll take care of them for you."
"And what do I do?" she asked.
"You can hold onto the horse's neck and lean a little to it so you don't injure your ankle further." He waited her for her to get into the position before they started moving again.
As they started riding off, he reached out from his bag and handed her some bread and wine. She had suspected that he carried other kind of nourishment with him. Silently, she bit at the bread and took a sip of the wine. She relished its familiar taste on her mouth.
"Thank you," she muttered without even realizing it.
He smirked at her once more but it didn't annoy her like it used to.
The sun has almost disappeared when they reached the bridge. Cersei stirred awake by the time she heard voices. She looked up and saw that Bronn was talking to two ruffians, both of whom kept darting glances at her. She didn't care to remember their faces and she wished Bronn would just hurry up with the conversation or simply kill them.
Her throat felt dry again and all she wanted to do is to get out of her clothes that stink of the days' travel. When she met Bronn's gaze, she tried to look as impatient as possible and the message was not lost to him.
"My wife needs a healer," he was saying. "She injured herself when she fell from her horse. Take this silver as compensation." He tossed them three silver coins each as he spoke. The two men conversed quietly between themselves for a while.
"Why is this taking so long?" Cersei muttered as she tried to lean close to him. "And who are they supposed to be? They don't look like proper guardsmen."
"They're thieves." Bronn answered.
"Did they try to rob us?"
"They can try," he said simply.
Cersei frowned. "You should just kill them then."
"And waste energy? I'd rather just pay them and let us be."
When the two men finished their quibble, one of them pointed at Cersei. His nose had boils in them and even though he was shorter than his friend, he had a mean, hungry look about him that made her uneasy. That and he was also swinging an axe as he spoke. "Three silver shit isn't enough. We ought to butcher your horse and rape your woman."
"You should have done it before I was even awake," Cersei snapped back.
The other man was getting ready to approach her and pull her off the horse but Bronn was quick with his blade and it sliced through the man's ear. He howled and stepped back behind his friend as he held onto what was left of his ear.
The one with the foul nose attacked next, slashing through Bronn's cape but the sellsword-turned-lord had just pulled him by the hair and drove the blade into the man's open mouth before he could even scream. The vile creature began choking in his own blood.
She didn't need to be told what needs to happen next. As Bronn murdered the thieves, she kicked her horse underneath her and went for the bridge which was only a few yards away. It was very old and dingy that at first she feared it would give in but she managed to cross halfway through it unharmed. She stopped then so she could wait for her companion. It didn't take either of them a long time for that.
Bronn nonchalantly wiped the blood off the blade of his sword with a small cloth from his pocket. He rode towards Cersei, the familiar grin plastered all over his gaunt face. She watched him approach her and for some reason the usual heaviness on her shoulders and chest each time she looks at him has ceased to exist this time. She should be worried but she found her lips curving into a smile instead. She turned away before he could see it.
"I should have heeded your earlier suggestion," he remarked as he spat towards the direction of the dead thieves. "Now we must hurry." He unfastened his cloak and handed it to her. "Here, put this on. We're bound to get wet before we even reach Longtable. Then a few more miles before the nearest inn. Should take us about two hours to get to that."
She wanted to complain but couldn't say anything pessimistic this time around. All she could do was to wrap his cloak around her. The faintest whiff of his comforting scent almost made her want to sleep in it. Her ankle doesn't hurt as much and her palms are starting to heal but she wasn't sure if she could ride further in her condition.
An idea occurred to her. A few rides ago she would have dismissed it but time is not on their side now. "My lord," Cersei began and the words made her cheeks flush a bit. "I think it would be best if I ride with you and we tie my horse alongside us."
At first he narrowed his gaze at her, his eyes brutally scrutinizing as ever. But then he got off his horse and helped her down with hers as well. When he lifts her up by her waist, she began to wonder if the pressure of those fingers can leave imprints on her flesh—but then she inwardly cursed herself for inviting such a crude thought. Bronn was able to get her up his horse completely as soon as he pushed her bottom and even gave it a slight spank at that. She gritted her teeth and glared at him for being so indelicate. He just laughed. The sound of that vibrated through her stomach and she couldn't understand why it pleased her so. Cersei couldn't look at him but not for the same disgust which used to plague her nights.
"I'll be at your back," he suggested, that dark overtone once again mixed in his speech. "Unless you want to hold onto me instead of the other way 'round, highness."
She blinked at him. "I don't care. I just want to sleep in a bed again."
Bronn chuckled as he unlatched the reins from her horse and bound them around his own. He climbed up and circled his arms around her waist in a possessive seize. He gripped the ropes and kicked below. Both horses obeyed the command. They rode faster now and Cersei felt the wind whip her face for a while until she realized that it has began to drizzle as well. It was almost like a strange perfume of salt and earth once the outpour caught up with them and Cersei closed her eyes the whole time, inhaling everything as she was soaked in an inexplicable bliss as the storm raged around her. Her next movements were marked with indolence; she would sometimes put a hand above his and massage him in a rhythm like she was hearing a song in her head. Sometimes she would lean all her weight against him and stick her tongue out to taste the rain. Cersei didn't feel so old anymore or robbed and forsaken by a youth that had promised her never-endings.
It must be the fatigue. She is so tired and there are still a thousand miles between her and her beautiful boy. When she thought about Tommen's face, it wouldn't stay long. Cersei put her arms around herself then, shivering in cold. Even her own embrace felt foreign to her.
She must have fallen asleep again because when she opened her eyes, she saw lights ahead and then people heading towards them. She could be mistaken but Cersei didn't care. Bronn will keep her safe—she doesn't doubt this truth anymore—so she was content to close her eyes once more and drift back to her dreams.
A few moments or lifetimes later she was awake again. The rain has almost dried out around her but she could not say the same about her clothes. They are riding in a slower speed as well. She looked down at her hands and realized she had been holding onto Bronn's hands though she couldn't be sure how long.
"Where are we?" her voice croaked as she asked.
"Almost at Cider Hall," he answered and it was a welcoming sound to hear. "It's nightfall now. I could still ride for another three hours but I'm afraid we have to sleep in the woods again." She tried to listen to any indication of exhaustion in his speech but couldn't. Still, she was growing anxious.
"Don't be a hero," she replied. "You need rest. Your strength is very important for this travel. If only I can wield a sword as well as you, I would've been the one protecting us."
He laughed and this time she could hear that he is tired. "I still have three hours left in me, highness. Don't trouble yourself."
Cersei's hands clutched around his own. "We can stop now."
"You want a bath and a bed or not?" he snapped at her. That surprised her.
"Please," she managed to say. "I need you strong."
For a while, he just kept riding in silence. Cersei kept her mouth shut and waited. Some four miles passed and he finally slowed down. She glanced to the side and realized that they were in a village by now. There were only a few homes scattered across the bleak plain but it was better than a forest. It was too quiet though. "Does anybody even live here?"
"Maybe," he said. "Shepherds and their families," he gestured at the flock to their left. Cersei saw how thin and almost sickly those lambs were.
"We can stop here. Shelter is shelter," she remarked. "I don't care about a bed. Anything with a roof will do just as well. All I need is for you to rest, Bronn."
He said nothing.
She found herself rambling on. "We spend the night here and by the first sunrise we ride again to Cockleswent just as planned. Please, let's not be too reckless, my lord."
"You are genuinely concerned for my health, aren't you, lioness?" she could almost feel him sneer at her as he leaned down and whispered into her ear. "I am touched."
"The only thing you are ever good for is your sword and navigational skills." She wanted to sound as disgusted as she always was with him but the travel has taken much from her and she didn't want to antagonize him, not when it's obvious he has also reached his limit. To soothe him, she strokes his hands again. She heard his breathing slow down and for the first time she realized just how close he is. It didn't make her want to slap him. Horrible as it sounds, Cersei even wants to pull him even closer. He is so warm...
Before she could think about that further, Bronn halted. Once he was on the ground, he helped Cersei down. They each took their horses to a nearby tree and left them there.
They walked beside each other, baggage on hand, as they approach the first home.
"Your ankle?" he inquired. She looked down and shrugged.
"Let's just find people to accommodate us."
"I got my sword. You have gold. People will accommodate."
Cersei cannot hide a smile anymore. He looked almost puzzled to see her this way—but only for a brief moment. He was smiling at her now and it gave his gaunt appearance a different kind of glow she has never noticed before. She looked away slowly, knowing that she's been shedding some of her tough skin in every passing hour she spends in his company. It should be wrong but she can't help but feel otherwise. Perhaps she's not in the right state of mind. Once she's fed again, she might stop feeling so foolish.
The door opened for them before they could knock and they were greeted by a little girl. Cersei smiled widely, realizing she actually missed seeing other people besides the two of them. The little girl watched them for a while before she shouted for her mother.
A wiry brown-haired woman appeared beside the girl. She looked over them twice and then she grinned and Cersei noticed a few teeth missing. "Travelers always find themselves in this side of the road. We don't mind them as long as they give something back."
Before Cersei could speak, Bronn interjected. "I could hunt deer for you."
"Ah, you can, can't you?" She gripped Bronn by the arm. "You have more meat in ya than you look." She pushed the girl aside. "Come on in then."
The first thing Cersei noticed was the large cauldron in the middle of the small room. She glanced around and saw that there were a huge pile of blankets which she realized must be where they sleep, huddled together in a circle.
"Just me and my baby here," the woman spoke. "Myrra, get the pretty lady some soup." The girl in question scurried to a corner where she pulled out a bowl. She wiped it with a cloth from her tattered garments and then walked to the cauldron.
"I'm Doyrra." The woman curtsied, giggling. "And I s'ppose you're on your way to somewhere very far from here."
"The wife and I are headed to Cockleswent," Bronn replied. "But the rain was unforgiving earlier and we find ourselves in need of proper rest and food."
"We have both," Doyrra said as she watched her daughter hand Cersei the bowl of soup. "And if you hunt for us, we ought you do it soon before the sun rises. I got neighbors who would be pleased for fresh meat to share amongst us."
"How many are you?" Cersei asked.
"About nine families," the woman replied. "I didn't catch your names…"
"I'm Jamie and this is my wife Tysha."
Cersei tried not to wince by his selection of names.
Doyrra squinted at him. "You don't look like a Jamie."
Bronn chuckled. "Oh? Too ugly of a man for such a sweet-sounding name?"
The peasant woman laughed. "If you are so ugly then how can you afford such a beautiful wife like this one?" she pointed rudely at Cersei.
"I ask myself the same thing every night," Bronn laughed. Doyrra laughed with him.
Cersei ignored them and concentrated on her soup. When Bronn looked at her, she tried not to entertain his gaze. She still isn't sure why he doesn't get under her nerves like he used to and she has a vague feeling she won't be happy with the answer as soon as she began to ask the question. For now, she will put it off as long as she can until they reach Highgarden where she will finally meet the boy her son has become.
Bronn entertained the wench Doyrra for a few more minutes about mindless prattle before she left with the little girl, probably to inform the other townsfolk that they have guests in their dwelling. He could usually tell when danger is imminent and it wasn't in this case for now. This place is nothing but a bland, convenient spot in the long road. He had been to countless places like this and the people who live in such conditions are often too lethargic or cowardly to care beyond what is enough in their lives. They are no different than the sheep they take care of in their pens. They have their uses, though.
Still, it's best to stay on guard. He is nothing if not a follower of precautions.
Alone with the former queen, he opened his sack and took out the remaining loaves of bread. He tossed one at her. "Better eat that with your soup. It'll mold if you don't."
Bronn put his sword (and other weapons) inside his other bag and hurriedly undressed, ignoring whatever protestations that may come out of her. Luckily, she kept her mouth shut. Curious, he thought but he had no time to decipher her this time. He needed to get dry fast. He did have the courtesy to move to a dark corner when he took off his breeches. Bronn was thankful that his mother-in-law had thought about providing him with other garments. He put on something new and loose this time. He had always been used to the cold especially during the few years he stayed beyond the Northern wall with the wildings. He liked their company; their weaponry and tactics mostly, but Bronn knew from the very start that he could never belong. He never belonged to anywhere.
That was the beauty of being a travelling mercenary. He would not give it up for anything—and there had been fleeting moments when people and events dared him to.
He sat on the ground now, very much content to munch on his share of sustenance. And then he leaned across the cauldron to smell the soup and realized that it wasn't really to his liking. Still, he took a bowl from the old cabinet on his right and poured himself one. He wasted no time and sipped it, realizing for the first time how much he craved this kind of heat even if it wasn't a particularly delicious soup. He bit on a piece of bread again and forgot that she was there until he heard her cough and shifted to her left side.
He didn't look at her. "You can take off your clothes and dry yourself."
Bronn knew she had several clothes with her. They better not be anything fancy, he thought. He didn't really care; he just wants to see her in something other than the shitty garments she had for two days now. Cersei slowly stood up and walked across to their luggage. She reached out for something he noticed was blue and gray of color and then he focused back to his food.
She was gone for awhile, only to return freshly clothed and smelling quite nice. He glimpsed at her and wondered if she brought supplies for a proper bath as well. He wouldn't doubt that she must have. She looked so much like her older self now; rich, pampered and as dismissive as ever. She sat there among the blankets which she pulled close to her chin with her knees up. It's almost hard to believe she could even age. Her skin was the creamiest milk he had ever seen in a woman, but the most painful part of her beauty is that luminescent yellow hair; the way it curls around the rest of her. It reminded him about the images he saw in a septa's quarters he once raided long ago. Royal birth sure is a pleasant life, he surmised, almost bitterly but he was too captivated by Cersei Lannister to truly detest her upbringing. For a moment he didn't know what to say for conversations between them only seem to create more rifts. So he didn't bother. He just focused on his soup.
But she was transfixed on him. He's not sure what she's going to whine about this time. He is quite tired from the travel and he didn't know if he could carry on with the tolerance. He didn't want to think about anything now that the warmth of the soup has started to dull his senses. He might be sleeping soon before she does.
"Lord Bronn," she began. He could hear the certainty, that pompous quality in her speech, and he knew that she has finally gained back her icy disposition. He could only grunt in response. He still wouldn't look at her.
She went on. "I would like to thank you for making it this far with me. I have been difficult all the way through but I would like to reassure you that I would be more sensible and on my best behavior once we embark closer to Highgarden."
"Gratitude only matters with proper pay, highness." He grabbed the wine and shook it. There is only little left. He poured it on his bowl and then handed it to Cersei. She reached her own bowl instead and he managed to pour the wine in there. "Besides, we only have few more days to keep up the act. So remember that 'round here, I'm Jamie and you're Tysha. Best we learn our roles if we want to stay low."
"You are a peculiar man," she said without preamble.
He was too tired to laugh at that so he said. "You're just not used to my sort."
"Yes," she nodded, taking a sip of wine. "I was raised by a stone-hearted but admirable father and married off to an incompetent drunkard monarch—"
"And fucking your twin your whole life," he finished her sentence. He didn't know what madness overtook him. It must be the sleeplessness.
She didn't take offense at all. In fact, he even heard her chuckle as she replied. "My brother and I are no longer in speaking terms so fucking him again is out of the question."
"But you still have needs," he sneered, unable to stop himself. One thing he understood from many of their careless and carnal misgivings is that she will never know what she wants. It is starting to frustrate him.
Cersei was silent after his statement so he managed to meet her gaze. It was a different woman who looked back. He didn't know who it was but she was...softer. And the saddest he had ever seen her. It made him pay attention this time.
"Is it also my wealth you covet next to my body? Or does it not make any difference about the cunt you want to posses? Is it because a woman is a woman, regardless of anything she used to be, hopes to be, is doomed to be?" She looked directly at him, her voice and hands steady. "Is that why you torment me one moment and then handle me with care the next? Do you believe every woman is a toy and once it has served its purpose to pleasure and entertain, it could be just tossed aside to live out the last of its days in dementia?"
Bronn emptied his bowl of wine. He placed it down, his gaze weighing hers carefully. He slouched to a more comfortable position as he kept watching her.
"All the women I know for the best and the worst are whores," he answered. "I only used to get a glimpse of your kind from an impossible distance. When I was a boy, I thought you were all porcelain dolls because of your colorful, expensive dresses."
He finished the last slice of bread. "I don't even think whores are toys. They work hard for the sum of money I pay them and that is something I do as well when I sell my sword. So no, I don't toss them aside. You can't toss people aside unless they want you to."
Cersei said nothing. Her face was blank.
"Whores. Noblewomen. You all pretend to be one thing and you accuse and blame people for treating you just the same when you all started that game first." Bronn managed a small smile. "In my line of work, I don't get to think about marriage like your folk do. Having a bastard somewhere is enough semblance of family for men like me and most times we don't even care to name the lad before we walk out the door. You can dream about marrying a rich husband who will love you and provide for you. That is something I could not even imagine doing for anyone—even when I'm drunk. Nor is it something I ever imagined a woman will ever do for me unless for a huge price, be it gold or something else that could kill me."
He suddenly wished there was more wine. He could tell she wished the same. He could always blame the wine for doing this to him. They said nothing after that exchange so Bronn busied himself with making sure his weapons are well-hidden under the blankets.
He said. "You and I should stay close. We're man and wife after all and it'd be less suspicious for me to hide these—"he showed her the blades "if they're here in our sleep."
When he looked at Cersei, she was still looking at him in a way he could not explain. He knew he said too much earlier. He doesn't usually speak his mind so freely especially with questionable company but there is something so intriguing about this woman that he forgets just a bit that he shouldn't get too close. All he could is wait for her response now.
That response turned out to be better expressed in her next actions. She pulled herself towards him, their eyes now locked for the longest time since that incident in the Stokeworth castle. When she reached him, she spoke. "You kissed me in the road earlier as if it had been a lifelong dream of yours to love me. And now we're both waking up and you and I still think it could be possible…don't we?" Her hands were on his shoulders now, and the light weight somehow managed to crush him. "You can kiss me like that tonight and the next," she leaned closer. "I'm not a porcelain thing to break, Bronn. I am flesh and tears, a woman neither whore or noble."
Cersei sealed the distance between them with her lips hovering close to his with a promise. "And I could be yours…" Words were insufficient at this point as she claimed the last shred of his vigilance with a kiss.
It didn't last as long as she may have hoped it would because he immediately jerked his head back, his eyes wide from the swift revelation of her feelings. He felt the knotting in his gut growing stronger, stirring emotions that he had not understood before until now. It was one thing to test how much power he had over her but this was altogether incomprehensible. He did not expect this at all. Why does she have to be so achingly beautiful, a delicacy of nature, a deepening chasm of the most inexplicable?
Bronn's head began to hurt faintly but he could not show any weakness in this moment especially since she's still looking at him with a hope that is beginning to eat him inside. And then she reached out again, this time pulling him close to her that he found his own hands tangled in the locks of her scented hair.
He inhaled her all the way through, imprisoned by the impossibility that she could truly be his. He remembered the fire she set within him on that masquerade ball a lifetime ago—that brief moment his world was ablaze—and in that moment such as this, he forgot who he was and who she is. Nothing mattered but that awakening.
Still, his mind protested and he tried listening to it. When he did, it became easier to let her go and pull back. He grasped on reason and imposed his will power over her again.
"We can't, Cersei," just by voicing such words already drained him.
"But you want me," she insisted, her fingers slicing through his hair, beckoning him.
"It's been a long journey," he pulled himself free. "We must rest."
She didn't seem pleased with that. "I thought you wanted this."
He was shaking his head all of a sudden. He had nothing to say at this moment so he took their empty bowls and set them aside to a corner. He could feel Cersei watching him but he did not dare meet her gaze. He focused on keeping his weapons out of sight by burying them underneath the blankets near them. While doing so, he spoke not a single word.
"Be that way," she remarked and pulled some of the blankets to her as well. Bronn watched her lay her head close to the firewood that was still burning nearby. In this angle, the light made her yellow hair glow and it aches him to realize that he still felt like touching her.
"Good night, Cersei." He lay next to her then while she had her back against him.
She was quiet for a while that Bronn guess she must have been pretending to be asleep. He didn't care. He needed the rest right now so he tried his best to lull himself to sleep. With his eyes now shut, he could feel Cersei moving beside him and then he felt her hand on top of his chest. Naturally, his arm circled around her back as he pulled her close to him, enjoying the warmth of her pressed against him like this. They are posing as man and wife after all. He didn't sleep though until he was sure that their hostess has returned.
The wench Doyrra had come back with her daughter and Bronn opened his eyes to look at what they were doing. The little girl had walked to the firewood to kill the light while Doyrra has simply offered him more fur to cover themselves with. Beside him, Cersei must finally be sleeping. He could feel the evenness of her breath as she had her head on his shoulder. The small space around them was deathly silent except for the occasional noise from the lambs outside. Doyrra and her child were on the other side of the room by the door and he watched them for a while until he was sure they have fallen to slumber.
Now alone with his own thoughts, Bronn played over the events that led him to this predicament and the adjustments he needs to make if he hopes to keep himself and Cersei alive. Reaching Highgarden from this location hasn't gotten easier. There are still two days of travel to embark once more. He could not be sure by then how this lioness will behave. She may have given him her word but he could never trust a woman with that, especially someone like Cersei Lannister. Bronn realized he had to be prepared. Perhaps the next time she crosses that threshold again with him, he might indulge her whims if it would keep her claws away from his throat. He more than aspires to survive the journey.
They had deceived him.
They exiled his sister to a most perilous trip with a man never to be trusted. Jamie Lannister has never felt so powerless or foolish to have allowed these poisonous women to get the upper hand. It was almost embarrassing. He should have been smarter like Tyrion. If he had been, he would've seen it coming. A parasite is a parasite and now this filthy man Bronn has latched himself to a thorny rose. Jamie feared that he had also infested on his sister and now they are a thousand miles away and Jamie could not protect Cersei, let alone have any knowledge if she still lives.
Jamie thought about it. It is possible the Tyrells will keep her alive until they get the boy back. Tommen is their only claim to the throne. Soon when Cersei returns, he will take her side once more and help her get rid of the pests that infiltrated their lives.
For now he had to serve dutifully to avoid suspicions. This is why he sat across Margaery Tyrell now as they supped alone, charming her in the best way he could while his mind is completely preoccupied with his sister' safety.