A/N: I wrote this chapter last year but posting it slipped my mind. My bad. And please be warned for the RATING M of this chapter.
Chapter Seven: All the running in soft places
It was the little girl Myrra who woke up Cersei.
She had been fondling her hair when Cersei stirred awake. She kept her eyes closed, though. No one has touched her so delicately for quite a while so she wasn't sure how to react. Somehow the small, bony fingers that touched her reminded her of her own daughter's.
Myrra—Myrcella…
It awfully hurt to think of her other child as the gap between their worlds widens each day.
Blinking at last, Cersei turned her head to meet the girl's gaze, unfazed by the familiarity between them. The peasant girl quickly withdrew her hand as if it was slapped. She muttered something gibberish under her breath and then headed to the door.
Cersei just lay there, watching the girl leave while feeling weirdly empty. Sleep was supposed to revive her, but it has been overcrowded by monsters lately that she'd rather wake up to the harrowing touch of daybreak than suffer through more ghouls.
She didn't get up immediately especially when she inhaled the strong scent of manure. She pulled the blankets above her then, realizing how far she had come to such a place and that it would be days before she'd be home once more. As she squeezed her eyes shut again, she thought that her true home was her childhood in Casterly Rock. With Jamie. With Tommen and Myrcella. Joffrey.
And then there was Bronn.
She didn't just betray herself when she kissed him last night and almost offered her body to him. Cersei had also allowed him through the holes where her family should be. But his rejection shocked her. She expected she would heed his cock like any man she had come across. She had seduced lower men before but Bronn proved to be not what she pegged him to be. As far as she's concerned, he might as well be a eunuch of phantom and indecipherable motives.
Cersei heard someone coming in. She peeked under the covers and saw Doyrra.
"You travel in the first light, husband says." The woman pulled away the blankets from her, but not unkindly. She kept smiling. "But first you break fast. We slaughter best lamb for you."
Cersei became aware of the state of her thin clothes as she sat up. She wrapped her arms around herself for cover but Doyrra didn't seem to care about her appearance. Cersei, on the other hand, felt like scrubbing herself over and over. She detested the conditions of the place she just slept in. Still, it would be unproductive to prolong her dismay over such trivialities.
She stood up (and realized that her ankle still aches if she leans her weight on that foot too much) and picked up her luggage at the corner. "And where is my husband?" she asked as she pulled out the square package that Lady Alerie has given her for the travel. Take heart in it, she told Cersei. She has yet to open it. She doesn't know if she even wants to.
"Jamie's in the grass with the chopped lamb and firewood," Doyrra answered. "A man who hunts and cooks, that one. You're lucky." And then she pats Cersei's bottom and left, chuckling.
Still clutching the package, Cersei walked towards the back of the cottage. She had left her clothes to dry there. She placed the package down and picked up the rags. They are dirty and faded but at least they're dry and she could put them on again. She understood that this will allow her to blend in with the common folk. If she has any hopes of eluding spies, she should look and smell (and even talk) like a peasant. It sickens her like nothing else but it's a necessary evil.
When she had finished putting on the rags, she took the package again and stared at it for a few seconds. Deciding that there must be a better time to inspect it, she shoved it back into the large pockets of her clothes and then headed outside to meet Bronn.
Her "husband" squatted below the roasting fire. The smell of burning meat struck her as awfully comforting. He didn't lift his eyes towards her as she approached.
She decided to speak up. "What did you hunt this morning?" Cersei had woken up sometime in the middle of the night and found him gone.
"Deer and snake," he replied, his eyes still on the lamb.
"Deer in this region?" She was positively perplexed. "Either the change in season made animals travel far away from their homes or you have a knack for finding them in the least likely places." Cersei slightly struggled to sit next to him. Her ankle was manageable but it still ached.
"Winter is coming," Bronn took his small blade and gracelessly gutted through the lamb's stomach. "And so do the animals." He put his other hand on the lamb's leg as he sliced through the meat. Cersei watched. The sight of food did not wet her appetite at all.
"Is there wine?" she inquired.
Bronn chuckled. "Does this look like an establishment with fine brewery?"
"Ale then," she interjected. "I'm certain even poverty has vices."
Bronn finally looked at her, a small smile playing on his lips. She noticed the bite mark in his lower lip and felt her cheeks color from the memory of what happened days ago. "No such luck, I'm afraid." He answered. "Water is plenty though."
"I need something heavier to swallow all that." She nodded her head at the roasted lamb.
"I can chop them in tiny portions like baby food for me dearest wife." He reached out a hand and two of his fingers grazed her cheek. She found herself smiling.
He raised his eyebrows. "Good mood, Your Grace?"
Cersei looked off but the smile was still in place. "I wonder if I would've been happier being born a peasant." She chuckled, adjusting her position as she pulled down her ragged garments to cover her knees. She pulled her hair back into a tight bun as she went on. "It would be an intriguing thought. I could have been many other things. Even a sellsword like you."
When she looked at him again, he was grinning at her. "Aye, but not quite suitable for such a beauty." He took a wooden block of some sort and placed the scraps of the lamb's meat there.
She looked at her ankle for a while, lost in contemplation that she didn't notice herself saying, "I am getting old. And fat." Irrelevant. Weak.
He said nothing. So she kept talking, not really expecting any interruption. "You and I might have met under different circumstances if I wasn't a noblewoman. I might have whored. You might have fucked me a few times and gave me a child. And the poor sod would have your shitty looks."
He laughed now and the melody made her tingle. She smiled at him again and he held her gaze for a moment before he suddenly became serious.
"Cersei," he began. "About last night. Uh, I want to bring it up to clean the air, no? We were both tired. Lots had happened on the road. Best we put that aside now."
"Yes, it was because of fatigue and long hours of travel." Cersei agreed. "For the sake of the purpose of this journey, we can at least arrive to point of normalcy."
Bronn nodded. "Aye, normalcy. That means we stop fighting over stupid things."
"And the flirting?"
"You can go ahead with that as you like."
Cersei tried not to roll her eyes. "I have never flirted with you. You have flirted with me."
"Oh?" He grinned but didn't argue anymore. He turned his attention back to the meat.
They ate in a comfortable silence for the first time. Cersei savored the taste of food and gulped large quantities of water, hoping somehow it would turn to wine if she drank more enough. Bronn, on the other hand, kept filling her with more share of the lamb and she surprised herself when she managed to devour every piece. Chuckling at her state of hunger, he wiped the juice dripping to her chin, saying. "You are a woman of great appetites, Tysha."
She swallowed and drank more of the water. When she composed herself, she asked. "Is there any significance to the name you picked for me?"
He smiled coyly at her now but said nothing. She didn't want to start another argument so she allowed him to keep his secrets. Cersei wanted to keep herself in light spirits as much as she can. The days between her and her son are getting narrower every hour and sooner she'll have him again. That was all that matter now. It also helped that she doesn't have antagonistic feelings for Bronn anymore. But I still can't trust him. Nevertheless, Cersei coveted his fleeting gazes and the moments of affection in his every smile and jest. I can't trust him but I want to.
"Don't get too comfortable," he said, interrupting her thoughts. For a moment she thought he could read her mind but then he added. "We'll leave in a few minutes. How's the ankle?"
"Bearable," she glanced down and moved it a little to test the pain.
"You should let me see it," he remarked. Cersei noticed that he was neither requesting nor demanding it. There was obvious concern in the way he looked at her just now, and it made her feel slightly…appreciative? She wasn't sure how else to name that lightness in her chest.
She didn't want her thoughts to betray her so she did not meet his gaze for a while as she answered. "I'll be fine. It's not that swollen." To make her point, she moved her leg towards him so he could inspect it; but as soon as she did, she saw that her ankle was indeed swollen and it was almost as red as an apple. Why haven't I seen that?
Bronn looked annoyed. "We should get that compressed with hot water."
"We don't have the time," she answered. "I could just ride with you again."
His expression did not improve. "We may have to leave the other horse. It'll be faster that way. We're nearing Cockleswent. Just a whole day ride away as long as we don't stop."
"Can you even do that?" she was genuinely worried for the state of his health though she also realized how ridiculous it was, considering that he was one of the few men she came across who has an incredible amount of strength, endurance and agility.
Cersei stopped herself. Is she actually thinking highly of him?
Bronn has already stood up. He wasn't amused when he said. "I may have to carry you."
She could feel that her face was turning as red as her ankle. "I can still walk—"
"You know you can't. If you insist on doing that, the pain will only get worse."
She bit down her lower lip, knowing how petulant she may look. It does not suit a woman her age and status so she turned her head away and said. "I understand."
He approached her. As soon as he knelt down, Cersei faced him and wrapped both her arms around his shoulders. This made it impossible not to look at him in the eyes. She was almost afraid that the proximity would tempt either of them but luckily, Bronn was more concerned about lifting her up to pay attention to whatever he was feeling himself. Or perhaps it's all Cersei's imagination. If the sellsword-turned-lord is truly sincere when he said that they should strive for normalcy then Cersei must also do her part and stop thinking too much on how she feels.
But I want him. And I want him to want me too.
Cersei closed her eyes, ignoring the voice for as long as she could.
She held onto him as he walked towards a tree where the horses are tied to. When he had successfully helped her saddle up, he told her to wait there so he could gather their things. Cersei was left alone, sitting sideways on top of the horse, one hand clutching on the ropes while the other was fishing out the package inside her big pocket. When she found it, Cersei didn't waste time and hurriedly ripped it open. How could such a small thing be something that she could look forward to? Cersei lifted the lid from the box and—
"Tysha!" it was that girl Myrra. Cersei looked at her and waited.
"What is that?" the girl pointed at Cersei's hands.
"A gift from a friend," she answered the child.
"But what is it?"
Almost in tears, Cersei gulped down, almost choking out the sob. "A long-lost treasure from a simpler, happier time." A pause. "Run back home, little one."
"I'm not going to see you again, am I?" Myrra looked grim about it.
"I'm afraid not," Cersei replied as she put the lid back in the box.
"I'm going to miss you!" Myrra suddenly grabbed onto her other leg, looking up at her with an expression that almost made Cersei want to pull her up into an embrace.
"You're a princess!" Myrra went on as she kept tugging her leg. "Princesses are fair and beautiful and gentle! That's what I know. And you're all of those!"
A princess? Cersei managed a smile. "Yes, yes, I'm a princess. Now go back to your mother."
"Can I be a princess?" Myrra grinned and Cersei saw she was missing a couple of teeth.
"No, little one," Cersei immediately answered, knowing how much the truth would crush the girl. "Princesses live in castles and are wealthy beyond anything you can imagine."
"Do you live in a castle and have wealth?"
Cersei watched Myrra for a while. "Maybe."
"Then what am I going to be when I grow up, Tysha?"
A whore. "Whatever you want, little one."
Myrra broke into another grin and finally run off. Cersei watched her the whole time and was overcome by maternal feelings. She shut her eyes and tried to think of something else but there was no other thought more important than that of her children. She is an old woman now and motherhood is simply an inescapable consequence though her children are probably the only right thing she had ever done in this lifetime. Still, the loss of them gives her something to look forward to. It was the fire that kept her fighting. Cersei opened her eyes now. She lifted the lid from the small box, looked inside, and understood for the first time where her priorities lie.
But what of Bronn? That voice was gnawing at her again.
As if on cue, the sellsword-turned-lord was walking towards her, carrying their luggage with him. He was clothed in black robes and his cape moved fluidly behind him. Somehow Cersei knew that she would remember the sight of him approaching her like this the most; the confident gait, his piercing, knowing eyes, that devastating smile…then the sharp twinge in her chest worsened the effect. She wanted to say something, anything, to make it all go away. Over the past few weeks, whatever they shared had kept her breathing. Trapped inside Red Keep with nothing but the promise of death to appease her, Bronn gave her a semblance of hope. It was awful enough to have yet another man control Cersei like this but for that man to be a lowborn killer was evidence that the gods hate her. Cersei can't allow the odds to turn against her this time. She knew that it's only family that will save her. Tommen and Myrcella will be her redemption.
After he tied their luggage behind the horse, Cersei used them as leverage she could lean against. The sky was pleasant enough but she knew that by the afternoon the sun will begin to hurt her skin again. She wondered why Bronn hasn't climbed up the horse yet. He was still at the back, and it appears like he was looking for something.
He seemed to have found it because he was telling Cersei, "This may help the swelling."
She looked down and saw him putting some kind of ointment on her ankle. There was a slight burning sensation at first but as he kept rubbing her fingers around the area, it subsided in no time. Cersei didn't bother asking what it was. She just wanted to start traveling again.
As soon as Bronn climbed up, she put both her arms around his waist, moving closer to him so it won't be uncomfortable since she still sat sideways. He was warm as expected and it made it easy to press her face on his back as she let out a sigh of utter surrender.
Cersei felt him tense up for a second but she said nothing about it. She could hear him talking again. "When we reach Cockleswent, we'll stay for another night and this time the lodgings would be to your liking and the food would be just as good."
She said nothing but opted to tighten her embrace around him as a response.
"Afterwards we'll wait for a raven."
That startled her. "A raven?"
Bronn kicked beneath his foot and the horse began to move forward. He was silent for a while as Cersei looked behind them to see that Doyrra and Myrra were standing beside her own horse, waving goodbye at her. Finally, he spoke up again. "You don't think the Queen of Thorns would just let you stroll into Highgarden, do you? Someone will bring your boy to us at Cockleswent."
Cersei felt a bit cheated. "Why didn't you tell me about this information days ahead?"
For a while the sound of the house galloping filled the conversation. And then Bronn answered. "Because you don't trust me before."
Another surprise. "And you think I do now?"
It occurred to her that the silence that followed between them only mean that neither of them needed to hear the confirmation to that statement at all.
Cersei Lannister will be the death of him.
No kind of foresight would have informed Bronn about this development. It was an impossibility that can ruin him if he doesn't fix it soon. Or perhaps it was all too late? He saw it in her eyes last night. She wanted things from him he could never give away.
He tried to think about the last time a woman ever wanted something from him other than a good fuck. Luckily, no wench ever threw herself at him for a promise of marriage and a family. It also occurred to him that even as a young boy, he never desired a woman beyond what his cock wants. It's just not something he had to worry about. A love from a good woman will not help him survive. Besides, as far as he could tell, men become weak when feelings for some woman are involved. He had witnessed firsthand from compatriots how love can twist a person until it rots the core. He is not about to fall prey to that, especially not for a Lannister. Bronn had tried not to overthink it but the days of travel with Cersei are beginning to take their toll, and it hasn't gotten easy.
Still, he had always been focused and Bronn knew his relentless pursuit for self-interest is what kept him alive. That's what he should always remember and never forget.
They've been riding for an hour now when Cersei decided to strike a conversation with him which was already odd in itself. Perhaps last night gave her enough incentive to talk to him again. Or perhaps it's just the boredom. Either way, Bronn needs to make sure it doesn't get out of hand.
When she asked about how long he had been a sellsword, Bronn answered it as straightforward as he could, even if he wanted to ask her why she's suddenly curious about his affairs, for every time he would attempt to tease her or give an opinion about something, she would always find a way to turn it into an argument. The journey has taken much from him and half of that time was spent dealing with her. He would not make the mistake of antagonizing her again.
"Do you have any siblings?"
"That I know of?"
"What does that mean?"
"It means my father is well-traveled and who knows how many women he fucked and how many of those women were left with bastards."
A pause. "Do you have bastards?"
Bronn shrugged his shoulders. "I wouldn't know. I never stick long enough to find out."
"Have you ever been with a woman who wasn't a whore?"
He wasn't sure how to answer that for some reason. He had a fair share of both whores and wenches who were willing enough to spread their legs for him without payment. But the way she asked him that question implied something else. She was still behind him the whole time as they spoke so he can't see her face but her tone of voice definitely hinted something.
Weighing his next words, he replied. "Once, I think. I don't remember any of it anymore." He wanted to end the line of questioning with that particular statement and on that specific topic.
Cersei was able to pick it up in no time. He could tell with the way she shifted her arms around his waist. Their closeness did not bother either of them like it used to, but there was still that faint sensation that's always visceral but which they try to conceal. Bronn cleared his throat and kept silent though he could guess that Cersei was not done interrogating him just yet.
It didn't take her long. "I still don't understand some things," she began. "Aside from whatever gold at stake, you didn't have to get involved. You already have a knighthood. A lordship. A rich wife with a castle." She paused, tightening her grip around him again before she went on. "But you could risk losing it all in this journey. One wrong move—whether you aided me and my son to an escape, or you let us get killed on the road—" she lowered her voice now. "You'll be left with nothing. You'll go back to being a sellsword and to places where the Tyrells will not reach you. Worse, you could spend the rest of your life hiding from them."
Bronn found himself smiling somehow. He could always find humor even in the most gruesome of things. Or perhaps it had something more to do with her sudden concern for his welfare.
"So why?" she asked.
"Why what?"
"Risk it? All of it?"
"It's no risk," he replied. "All those silly, fancy titles can bugger off. I'm not completely attached to any wealth. Besides, I've always been more content traveling anyway."
She doesn't seem convinced. "But you went through all that trouble acquiring the Imp's trust."
"It's no trouble at all," Bronn said. "If you knew him as well as I do, you'll know Tyrion has always been so trusting when he considers one a friend…especially if it's family."
And that had been his downfall, Bronn thought then shook it off quickly.
"Then why come to King's Landing if all you want to do is travel?"
She's got a point. He hasn't stayed in one place for long like he had done this time.
"I don't have reasons," Bronn answered honestly. "Maybe I enjoyed the comfort too much. That's probably it. Haven't challenged myself for months. A bit bored now too."
Cersei snorted. "You think you're so impressive, don't you?"
He chuckled. "Here I thought I have unquestionable modesty."
It didn't surprise him when she gave a little laugh herself. The lioness is changing, learning, adapting. She hasn't used her claws on him in a while but Bronn won't let his guard down, just in case. He heard her speaking again. "You never really told me how you met the Imp."
"You never used to give a damn."
Cersei placed her chin on the crook of his shoulder and still had her arms around his waist. Everything about this situation—the conversation, her gestures, the mood—it all felt so…intimate.
He wasn't sure he liked it—or hated it either.
Bronn decided to answer just to pass time more meaningfully. "It was at a tavern a few miles away from Winterfell. Lady Catelyn had captured him and I saw an opportunity in that so I came along. On Eyrie, I championed him, killed some knight, then your brother was released, we met some barbarians on the way to your father's camp…then we survived a battle against Robb Stark's men. Then to King's Landing where he was temporarily Hand to the King, then the Blackwater battle, knighthood…" he stopped and grinned wider. "Then a stunning vision of generosity offered me a lordship and said stunning vision developed a certain kind of affection for me. And here we are."
He heard her sigh. And then she said. "You've come a long way, I suppose."
"Enough to earn your respect, Your Grace?"
She sighed for the second time. "We're past the titles, are we not?"
"Aye," he replied immediately. "But I can call you pet names."
"You wouldn't dare."
"How does 'vicious goddess of the clumsiest' sound?"
"You're not very creative, are you?"
"I'll think of something better once we have wine."
Cersei chuckled a little. "Ah, yes. Anything is better when there's wine."
"Including a good fuck," the words were out of Bronn's mouth, forgetting for a second who he was talking to. An understandable pause ensued. Bronn almost held his breath in.
"You would know best…I assume," was all she said.
Bronn was tempted to say something clever or crass but stopped himself. He kicked the horse underneath his feet again and they rode faster. They were approaching Cider Hall now before she spoke again with another set of questions. She seemed too preoccupied to notice where they are going. Bronn wondered about that but he doesn't mind keeping her distracted.
"Where was the last place you stayed before you found the Imp in that tavern?"
"It's funny that you ask," It truly was. "I had just left Lannisport."
"You were in Lannisport?" Her shock amused him. "For business?"
"What else? Though I had a little bit of pleasure." Lannisport has the finest whorehouses.
"Have you been to Casterly Rock?"
Bronn noticed that her hands loosened around him and were resting dangerously close to his crotch. He ignored the provocations stirring in his loins and replied. "I got near enough."
"How near?"
"So many rocks. I didn't bother."
"Yes, the way to the castle is steep," Cersei remarked. "But it's truly enchanting." She sighed softly and when she did, he felt her breath on his ear and it made him rather ticklish in the wrong places. Bronn listened to her as she went on. "When we play, Jamie hides and I seek him out. I like looking for him more than being found. There's a certain satisfaction on figuring out where he hides."
"Do you play with Tyrion?" he knew better than to bring up her other brother like this but he almost didn't care. He was talking to a different Cersei and he wanted to take advantage of that.
"No." She lowered her hands on his crotch now. "I've always hated him."
Bronn didn't say anything as he felt her fondling him. He crossed Cider Hall minutes ago and a few more minutes from now and they'll be in one of the taverns in Cockleswent. He looked up slightly, blinking through the sunlight. He can see the Ashford castle from here which meant that they're closer to their destination. He had to ensure that the nobility in that castle won't be informed about new visitors today. That means once he gets Cersei inside a tavern, he had to do some scouting around the streets for spies and kill them. That's something he's been looking forward to. After Bitterbridge, he hasn't murdered anyone. His sword needs to be cleansed by blood sooner rather than later. Killing clears his head after all. He needed that focus now. He needed it more than—
Oh gods, why doesn't she just take my cock out and move her hands faster?
"Cersei," he said. "We'll be in town a few blocks away. People will see us so…" his words got caught in his throat when she suddenly nibbled his ear. Damn you…
"You said you're taking me to a place where there's a bed this time…" she whispered. "That would certainly be most convenient for the things you're about to do to me."
Bronn wanted to protest but his cock was not complaining. He could feel it poking through his breeches. When this happens, he usually goes straight to the closest whore in the alley and then slams her to the wall. This time the woman closest to him is one who he should not touch again.
"And don't tell me to stop or make excuses." Cersei added, her voice harsh. "You're a man and I need you start acting like one and give me some of that wine and good fuck you speak about."
He found himself smirking despite himself. "Aye," he answered quietly, knowing he'll regret it.
Bronn didn't pick the first tavern they came across. He wanted to make sure that their location is as inconspicuous as possible so he opted for the one closer to abandoned farms. It's also quite inconvenient to ride a horse all the way through the marshes and mud. The soil is too sunken yet the grass can still grow high. If he hadn't been to Cockleswent before, he wouldn't have known about the tavern they're headed to. That's how well-hidden it was. He remembered that a crooked sort of man with eight daughters owned it and he becomes quite a gracious host when the price offered is beyond generous. When they reached it, the sun was already high in the sky. Cersei had stopped stroking him some time earlier and was trying not to make it too obvious how much she hates the road they're taking. Bronn could tell by the way she's sighing every few minutes that she's not that well-acquainted with the dirt and grime of such long travel. On normal circumstances, he would abhor this kind of nuisance so ingrained to the noble-born but it was simply endearing on her. She told him that she wasn't made of porcelain or glass and yet he knows she still expected him to handle her with care. It would prove to be a challenge, considering the only women aside whores whom Bronn kept us company were either village girls used to working on fields or fellow sellswords who are manlier (and bigger) than he is. He had never come across any kind of woman of grace and delicacy. What's more is Cersei is also a proud lioness and this makes her vicious and vulnerable at the same time. Thinking about such incompatible duality somehow gave him chills and his cock hasn't been this hard since he was ready at thirteen.
"Is this charming little abode accessible from a scout of Highgarden?" Cersei inquired. "If we are to meet one of them in this place, won't he get lost?"
"There are farms near the hills close to Highgarden. It would only take two hours to reach them. All we need to do now is to send a message."
"A raven," Cersei said. "Is that safe?"
"Not all message carriers have to be birds."
"But you said—"
"A raven can mean anything."
She snorted. "Don't be cryptic. You don't have enough wits for that."
"You wound me," he chuckled. "I may not be as clever as the Imp but I wouldn't have gotten this far if I don't think things through."
"Apologies," she immediately replied. Her hands were gently moving against his stomach. He enjoyed that. "I'm quite tired and my ankle still troubles me. I certainly want that bed now."
"Your ankle," he began. "I could hold your legs up during." He snickered.
"I'm surprisingly flexible for my age, Lord Bronn." Cersei whispered. "I suggest you prepare yourself for a long night." She kissed him at the back of his ear and it almost destroyed him.
A husky man whose age wasn't distinguishable greeted them the moment they were close. Still on horse, Bronn watched the place they'll be sleeping in for the next two days with its crumbling concrete and barricaded windows, the sight of dead cats hanging from the roof (as decoration, he surmised?) and what looked like a vegetable patch where all the crops are drowning in rain water. Still, Bronn had to see what was inside first so he climbed down the horse and told Cersei to wait there which was fine with her because she was obviously in no hurry to follow him.
"You pay me copper and you get a mat on the floor," the man was all-business as they walked together, "Pay me silver and you get a room with bed but no blanket."
"And if I pay gold?"
"Room with bed, two pillows, two blankets, five candles and a window that opens," the man answered. "But quantity can change depending on how many coins."
Bronn smirked. "How about food?"
"Rats with radishes is a specialty my daughters have learned from their mother."
That was acceptable for him but not for his royal companion. He may have to hunt around the area. Maybe he could chop a snake into little pieces so that Cersei won't recognize it. "Got any ale?"
The man nodded. He spoke in a languid tone. "Have six caskets, all full. I have books. We use them when there's no firewood. Three of my daughters are whores. If your wife is open to it…"
"I'll ask her," Bronn remarked. "Where do we put the horse?"
"No stable." The man concurred. "But the farms—" he pointed to a direction, "are wide enough for nine to ten horses. But there are bandits roaming every night. I suggest you buy two rooms and put the horse in the other." He coughed and then spat out phlegm. "So you pay me gold?"
"Aye, gold. For two rooms." Bronn unlaced his pouch and handed the man ten dragons. His disposition changed by the sight. Bronn added."My wife needs a tub and someone to scrub her."
"My youngest can do that." The man offered and then he made a whistling sound and a girl about twelve years of age appeared in the staircase. Bronn was surprised to see that she had yellow hair too but shorter. Quite lovely for someone fathered by an ugly son of a whore like the tavern owner was. The man never gave his name but he introduced his daughter as Evon. Bronn went outside with the girl and saw that Cersei was already handing out their luggage to the man's older daughters. One of them was incredibly pale and bony while the one was plump and was smiling a lot. Evon told him that their names are Gema and Ara. He didn't care to know which was which. Paying little attention to the girls, he helped Cersei get off the horse and carried her inside.
"Is the horse coming with us?" Cersei could hardly believe it and neither could Bronn.
"I bought two rooms," he simply said.
"How…peculiar," was all Cersei could say although she doesn't look amused as he was.
The 'common room' was badly maintained with broken glass still on the floor while everything stinks like urine, but the room they were put in was decent enough. The bed spreads smell clean and washed and the window is cracked wide enough to allow breeze in. The floorboards don't creak as much and the walls were scrubbed though Bronn can still see smudges of seed and blood in the corners, most probably from the previous occupants. Bronn generally liked their room. He put down Cersei on the bed and watched her as she tries to make sense of the place for herself.
"Is this the best room they have?"
"Yes." Bronn was sure of it. "To them, this is what you get when you pay gold. It's all that man and his daughters can do to accommodate their customers."
"Better room than our horse's, I hope."
He laughed at that. "They also have ale. I'm sure you want a sip by now."
"Later," she said as she looked at him with a hint of a smile. "Come here…"
He couldn't hide his grin as he approached. When he was sitting close to her by the bed, he didn't really know what to do first. He had thought about it many times before since the masquerade, and he had already touched her and tasted her several times and yet everything still feels strangely new with her. Reluctantly, he placed his hand on top of her knee.
Cersei was leaning on him now, her eyes almost half-closed. Bronn hesitated. Following his own instinct, he raised his hand up her thigh and then he slowly kissed her on the neck. Her soft flesh was nothing that he ever tasted before. Breathing in her scent, his fingers sought an entrance and Cersei spread her thighs apart just a little so he could move forward. She rested her chin on his shoulder, murmuring something he couldn't understand. She opened up easily under the pressure of his fingers and the delicious sound of her little, strained moans encouraged him to dig deeper. It occurred to him that he was touching her delicately, taking his time exploring her unlike the last time. His goal before was to shame her but now he wasn't sure what he wanted from this. He enjoyed the way she's surrendering to him and how he managed to bend her will; but even the most susceptible woman is dangerous. They have waters in them that could overflow if he's not cautious. He could feel Cersei's need and desire underneath her. She was overpowering him in every way, making him question his better judgment, driving him slightly insane as she's pulling him close to her now. Her embrace felt like he was being enveloped into a dark corner, a territory he never dared to stray before. He had been with enough women to understand their wiles but never with someone as majestic and cruel like Cersei Lannister and there's always terror in taming a lioness. He had to stay in control. He can't be like the men who wasted their lives away all for the sake of an enchantress.
Regaining back his common sense and restraint, Bronn slipped his fingers out of her and watched her face for awhile, saw the wave of desire leaving the moment he starved her again. She looked angry about it at first, but then her eyes began to say something else and filled him with dread.
He remembered that two days ago he kissed her like he never kissed a woman before and Cersei told him that it was because it's a lifelong dream of his to love her—someone like her—and Bronn knew she was wrong—but he kissed her anyway as if was true. Holding her like he was going to crush her any moment, it didn't matter what was real and what was not.
It took him everything he had to pull away from the kiss. Cersei still latched herself on him though, her whole weight pressed against his body. He had never stayed this close to a woman for anything else other than fucking. Somehow she occupied a space in him that was never there before until now. Clearing his throat, Bronn eventually pushed her away, grabbing hold of her shoulders to maintain the distance between them. They still sat on the bed, looking at each other without uttering a single word. Bronn knew they were both too old for this or at least to be this powerless. He'd been to places, and she'd been hardened just as much as he was. Whatever is happening to them right at this moment should not wound them—not even leave a scar. But it felt like she was going to rip through him in the same way she skinned her first animal days ago. Was this her plan all along? Has she been holding a blade to his chest from the very start, waiting for the opportune moment to strike?
No, Bronn thought. Don't overthink. Just fuck her. If she tries to manipulate you just because you bedded her, refuse whatever she asks. She can't harm you any more than you can harm her.
As he mulled this over, Cersei had placed her hands around his waist this time, trying to unlace his breeches. He stopped her midway, commanding her with his eyes.
You want her cunt. Have at it. But don't let her take over.
Cersei leaned closer to kiss him again but he didn't respond this time.
Don't hold her hand. The lioness still has claws. He managed to pull away.
The silence was finally shattered when the girl Evon came to their room, looked them over and announced. "Bath is ready for your wife. The water is lukewarm though. Hope it will do."
Bronn looked at the girl and then back at Cersei. "Now you can have that proper wash you wanted." Fearing he might touch her again, he stood up and nodded towards the door. "Go."
Evon took her to a smaller room and told her to use a piece of wood to block the door.
Cersei immediately shed off her clothes that mingled with her sweat. It felt like ripping her own skin when she did. Her thoughts raced in her head as questions poured in and made it almost difficult to see where she was going. Almost clumsily, she dipped inside the medium-sized tub. The water was beginning to cool down but she didn't care. However, it surprised her to see that it was made of porcelain and it bothered her. How could a peasant acquire such extravagance? She dismissed it easily though. He probably stole it. Cersei is too unfamiliar with the ways of the poor to begin with so it shouldn't be of any concern now.
What she worried about was the way Bronn had been acting lately. They agreed on normalcy but everything between them still feels anything but. Perhaps it's too late to go back to normal after all. It would be childish to keep denying what had already transpired between them. She remembered what her mother told her after her first moon blood visited her. Kisses given in haste can never be taken back, Joanna Lannister warned her. But for a savage, lowborn killer, he kisses like…like those stupid songs she used to hate listening to as a child, ones that praise noble knights and beautiful princes. Why is she even thinking that? He's no knight or prince…certainly not noble or beautiful—but he kisses like she's the only woman in the world…stop, you fool, he's not going to be your savior.
Cersei's hands were shaking. She wasn't sure if it's because of the cold, stale air around her or because of the fear that's beginning to stir within her. Either way, she took the cloth and began to scrub every inch of her body. She didn't stop scrubbing even when her fingertips began to feel numb. Perhaps she thought this bath would be cleansing more than just her body.
Right in the middle of rubbing the cloth against her mound and feeling disgusted that it had been betraying her every time she's in his presence, Cersei could feel tears coming and it was terrible that it had all come to this. A Lannister inside a small room, dipped inside a smaller tub, nude, dirty and all alone. No, Cersei shook her head, shutting her eyes in total acceptance. You're not a Lannister anymore. Hearing herself think that, it somehow set her free even if for the most terrible reasons. Cersei wiped her cheeks with both hands and, for the first time, laughed at herself.
She understands now. He doesn't want me because he knows he can't have me. Cersei lay her head against the back of the tub. But I won't be me anymore. She smiled, feeling absolutely insane yet happy for the first time in years. I want him to want me and he will.
She may not be a Lannister anymore but she still gets what she wants.
The moment Cersei left the room, Bronn collapsed to the bed, his hand instinctively reaching for his crotch. He closed his eyes, breathing in and out. His annoyance now growing, Bronn quickly unlaced his breeches and pulled his cock out. He rubbed it in a lazy rhythm at first but it started to feel too good so he kept at it. He was literally focusing intensely on the task at hand. He hasn't done this in a long time, not since he was old enough to afford some whore to do it for him. But what this Lannister woman is putting him into…Bronn stopped thinking about it altogether and increased the speed of his hand. Only a minute has passed when he stopped. His cock was still hard as ever and he hasn't spilled his seed yet. Bronn was staring down at it when Evon entered. She gave a stifled gasp as Bronn looked at her. Unfazed, he said. "You should knock next time."
"I-I'm sorry…"
Bronn smirked at her. "Wouldn't be the first." He didn't feel like tucking his manhood back in though and Evon was still looking at him (at it) for another second before she turned away and stormed out of the room. Alone again, Bronn started to laugh. He finally placed his cock back inside his breeches but didn't lace it close. He lay back to the bed and stared at the ceiling. It's only been four days since he bedded Margaery Tyrell. The memory made him smile. He thought about the queen reagent's brown curls against her pale skin. Those mystifying brown eyes with green streaks. Her dainty fingers. The way she mewled like a cat beneath him. Bronn found himself relaxing, his breath even. His cock remained stiff, however, especially since he's beginning to think about more details of their rendezvous. He knew he had to fuck his wife once he gets back but he's not looking forward to that; but he's not sure Margaery Tyrell would accommodate him again either. She promised she will wait for him but he knew how much guards and ladies-in-waiting surround her. No matter what Margaery says, he doesn't even believe that Olenna and Lady Alerie would just permit her to commit such indecency again, if they ever did find out about it. Sleeping with the queen is treason, he remembered. That should dampen his appetite for her flesh but his cock disagreed. Bronn closed his eyes and decided that maybe sleep will solve it. Cersei seems to be taking a while anyway.
Someone coughed.
He opened his eyes and turned to the direction of the sound.
It was Evon. She tried to hold the tray with plates and a pitcher steady, but it was obvious she was still frazzled about earlier. Bronn grinned at her.
She ignored him and placed the tray on the bed close to him. Bronn just watched her. She's a sweet-looking morsel, this one. Very, very young though. A girl is ripened once the moon blood visited her. He found himself asking out of whim. "Have you bled yet, child?"
"Yes." Evon muttered sheepishly. This couldn't have been the first time a man tried to engage a conversation concerning her maidenhead. Her father did mention that his other daughters were whores. Gema looks like a stick with small teats and Ara was soft enough (he actually preferred a little bit of meat in women) but she also looks like she could talk his ear out.
But Evon…
The possibility enticed him. He remembered that when he was fifteen, he slept with a thirteen-year old maid. She bled quite well and cried all the way through. On the second time, she finally started to enjoy it. Bronn slowly sat up, maintaining eye contact with Evon. He smiled at her.
"Do you want more blankets?" she asked, fiddling with her fingers.
That brought his attention back to Cersei. "Yes. My wife likes to keep warm. Also, a basin of water with salt and towels."
The girl nodded. "Anything else?"
"I'd like to speak to your father. Send him to my room."
Evon left in obvious hurry. Bronn chuckled to himself and took off his robes but left his pants. He stretched his arms up, feeling his muscles tense up and then relax. He took off his boots and flexed his toes. Bronn should also get cleaned up himself after Cersei. He wondered what was taking her so long. He knew that she'll be coming all wet and beautiful as ever with soaked yellow hair pressed against her creamy skin. The image was almost made him hard again so he shook it off.
The owner of the tavern appeared on the doorway, smiling. "Something else you need?"
Bronn motioned him to come close. He offered him three dragons which the man happily accepted. "And what is this for?" he asked.
"For one of your daughters."
The man toyed with his coins. "Which one?"
"The youngest."
The man glanced back at him. There was a moment of hesitation that came to view but only for a second. He was smiling at Bronn again. "Evon is…maybe one of my older ones instead?"
"Your youngest is the prettiest one to look at." Bronn measured his words.
The man just raised his eyebrows. For a father, he doesn't seem a bit offended. Bronn knew plenty of fathers, no matter how impoverished their lives may be, would still blink and at least feign moral outrage when it concerns selling their daughter's virtue. But not this one. It was understandable. Once Evon is older, she may resort to whoring like her sisters.
Bronn asked. "How young is Evon?"
"She turned thirteen two days ago." The man answered. "Gema is twenty-three, Ara is eighteen." He paused. "My Evon has never been with a man. If you truly want her, then another three dragons may persuade me better." The man gave him a crooked grin. Bronn thought about it. He badly needed a release and bedding a girl so young would have to cost more than the usual. He pulled three more gold coins from his purse and gave it to the man.
Evon came back, carrying the basin of water. She stopped when she saw her father accepting the coins. The expression in her face changed from confusion to understanding. Bronn thought she would've dropped the basin but she was able to approach him and place it down her. Bronn caught a glimpse of her budding breasts and knew that this is the one he wanted to warm his bed tonight.
And she had yellow hair…
"Evon," the man placed his hand on her daughter's shoulder. "Clean yourself when you're done with the sweeping." He nodded towards Bronn. "Our patron asks for your company."
The girl's eyes do not lie. She was terrified. Bronn could see her swallowing a big lump in her throat. He almost felt sorry for her. Almost.
"I have to make my wife sleep first," he added before the father and daughter left. "I'll just go out when she's rested and then you can direct me to your daughter's room."
"Aye," the man answered, flashing him a quick grin and then he gave Evon a little push to the door and then they were gone. Bronn took the peach from the tray and began skinning it with his own knife. A few minutes passed before Cersei returned, all drenched and wrapped in a tattered towel. Bronn didn't dare look at her, not even when she turned to a corner to put on fresh clothing. He glanced her way once she was dressed. Cersei sat on the other edge of the bed, drying her hair with the towel. When she saw him staring, she gave him a tired smile. He looked off.
"Get some rest. You haven't laid in a soft mattress for days."
"I very much intend to…" she was coming closer, "..unless—"
"Save your strength for your son." He curtly replied.
When she kept silent, he risked a look. Cersei's hair was still wet but the sunlight from the curtains somehow made every stand shine. She wore a green sleeveless nightgown that reached her knees. Bronn had to wonder if she even has blemishes or scars anywhere. Her face had slight tanning because of the travel but her green eyes have never look greener from where he's sitting. He guessed that she may be forty by now, scarcely five years older than his age. He allowed his eyes to explore the rest of her body. Her plumpness was acceptable. He enjoyed women of a larger girth sometimes because he can't grab hold onto skinny ones when he fucks them. There is little to bite and squeeze.
Bronn shifted as he watched her some more. Though her lips are cracked from not drinking enough water since they started the journey, the ghost of its texture and taste still lingered in his. Bronn wanted nothing more but to reach out to her; a very visceral reaction that he fought off. He looked away at last and focused on his peach.
Cersei didn't say anything or made an effort to touch the tray of food either. She grabbed a pillow from his side instead and pushed herself to it. She now lay across him on the bed. Her sighs filled the room for a while. Bronn glanced again to see her eyes shut and her chest heaving. The outline of her nipples poked through the thin garment. Her yellow hair was scattered on the bed sheets. She looked exactly like one of the paintings on sirens he smuggled once to sell for a barrel of Dornish wine. He bit hard into the peach as he looked on.
He waited for five minutes, still eating the peach, until he was certain she had fallen asleep. And then he brushed off a strand of hair from her forehead with his two fingers, not really touching her skin when he did. She lay absolutely still by now.
He waited for another five minutes. This time he was drinking the wine. When he finished his second cup, it was already dim outside. Cersei snored softly. He placed a blanket on her and when he did, his hand touched her stomach. It stayed there, his fingers trailing across it as he contemplated about the four childbirths she suffered through. Pregnant women can use their round bellies as armors though. He knew this because he remembered that every time his mother gets pregnant, father would stop hitting her long enough until she delivers the baby. He watched her give birth twice and all the blood and guts coming out of her scared him at first but his mother kept pushing through the pain and he understood then that women are built with a different kind of steel.
Bronn chuckled to himself when he thought about his childhood again. He's never really this nostalgic. A minute passed. He slowly left the bed and walked towards the door.
When he glanced at Cersei again from where he's standing, it reminded him of the true distance that separates them. He glided that threshold a few times but he knew as much as she did that she's never going to welcome him into her chamber without having to destroy first the concrete walls that are keeping the rest of the world away.
Evon cried as he expected but she didn't want her father or sisters hearing it so she obediently bit into the piece of cloth that Bronn placed in her mouth. He thought about taking her from behind but she was a young girl, and he truly didn't want the experience to be painful or traumatizing for either of them. He even kissed her on the mouth for a few moments and was gentle in handling her while he guided himself inside her. Now he lay on top of her with his strokes still in a languid pace until she's wide and wet enough to accommodate him more space.
He gave her two minutes to stop crying and whimpering. As soon as she did, he removed the cloth and kissed her again. This time she responded, their tongues flicking on top of each other until she bit him by accident on the lower lip. It reminded him of the time Cersei bit him and it made Bronn both angry and aroused. He pushed his fingers through her short yellow hair and quickened his thrusts. Evon whimpered again as her eyes watered. She held his gaze this time and stopped herself from crying out. Bronn changed his pacing and angle, slowing down for a while before going faster again. He repeated this for a while. A few seconds passed until Evon breathed out loudly with her mouth slightly open. This time she was moaning in pleasure. He could always tell.
He gripped her by the waist now and pounded into her over and over. Evon expanded under the pressure and weight of his manhood as she put her arms around him, as well as her legs, and grinded her hips back. She closed her eyes not in terror anymore but in enjoyment. He himself liked how strained her moans sounded as he moved in a more erratic rhythm.
With a satisfied groan, Bronn exploded just below her navel, coating the thin hairs on her mound with his seed. Evon struggled to get her breath back. He pulled away from her and gave her the cloth so she could clean up. She never said a word.
He taught her how to pleasure with her mouth next. She learned well although he she choked a few times. It took Bronn ten minutes to get hard again. The second time he took her, he shifted her in every position he saw fit; pulling her legs up and bending them forwards, shoving her face into the pillow and thrusting in his quickest pace; giving her a ride on his lap until he flipped her back against the bed with him on top so he could finish the job. He turned Evon into a real woman that night. When he came the second time, he spilled himself inside her and watched her face livid in ecstasy as she accepts his seed. He kissed her for the last time and then pulled away.
There were droplets of blood scattered across the sheet beneath them. Bronn always liked to taste broken maidenheads so he thrust his fingers in Evon, took them out, and placed them in his mouth. She definitely tasted like six dragons and thirteen years old.
Satiated and quite drained, Bronn smiled and gave her a pat on the head. "You were splendid. Some other night, eh?" She blushed. He didn't wait for a response and left.