A/N: It's been years! I had a falling-out with the friend whom I dedicated this story to, so I don't know if I could ever finish this. But this is the draft for the eighth chapter that was even incomplete. I may find time to pick this up again but no guarantees. In the meantime, find a copy of this work at archiveofourown. Just search The Bride of Bronn.

Chapter Eight: Sweetest fruit in the garden

Cersei woke up to find the left side of her bed empty. The familiarity was oddly comfortable. Robert always rose earlier before she did and she had never shared Jamie's bed after their lovemaking because she always had to leave in the morning. It was a trivial thing but right at that moment she wished that for once she could wake up beside someone she loves.

And you think it would be someone like Bronn? She'd be deadly mistaken.

She lay there with her hands on her stomach and found herself playing with its slight bulge. Covered in thin blankets inside a dingy room with minimal light, it seemed enough to make her feel old. She thought about Margaery Tyrell and how absurdly treasured she was by her mother and grandmother. She thought about that unsettling exchange of looks between her and Bronn days ago. It shouldn't bother her now. As she closed her eyes to clear her mind, her thoughts now turned to Sansa Stark and the look of terror in her face when the axe had fallen on her father's head. Cersei thought of her own father, a great man, and when she opened her eyes, she found them wet.

As she tried to sit up, she didn't even realize that Bronn was back inside the room. He was chewing on a piece of bread as he approached the window to look outside.

"Where were you?" she had to ask.

"Just having a conversation with the landlord." He answered as he swept a glance at her and acted as if he didn't really see her. He seemed to be looking for something outside.

"You can talk to me…" she replied and felt quite stupid about the suggestion afterwards.

"Aye, we can talk." Bronn grinned at her and then sat on the bed, facing her. She had to tuck her legs underneath her. "So…talk."

Cersei wanted to hit him for no reason but she managed to breathe out and say, "Don't ever exclude me from whatever you're planning. You will find that my participation will quicken things."

"Hard to believe. You tend to prolong the agony, as far as I know." Bronn took another bite from the bread and then he placed it back on the tray.

He needs to be proven wrong about that. She doesn't want to talk anymore either. All she wanted to do is to press herself against him or sleep in his arms wrapped around her. She wants to kiss him, to feel every part of him, and to stop thinking about what she had gone through in the last two decades of her life. She just wants to give in to whatever impulse that compels her to seek him out, to embrace the consequences of doing something stupid for once, and to enjoy the weakness it provides. Because the more she wants him, the less miserable she becomes.

He gazed at her with those eyes like he's trying to figure her out piece by piece and it ravished her like nothing she felt with Jamie before. No other man tried to unravel her the way Bronn has been doing since they started this journey. She felt very important and it made her happy.

"Bronn," she pronounced his name like it was the only word she ever wants to say forever. She didn't utter anything else as she leaned closer to him and pressed her forehead against his chest. He hardly moved. She placed her arms around his waist then, settling close enough so she could be comfortable as she embraced him. He still didn't do anything. She understood why.

Once she was resting cozily around him, she looked up at him and smiled. The sudden warmth in her chest gave her enough courage this time. Meanwhile, Bronn gazed down at her and he looked annoyed and bemused at the same time. She closed her eyes and breathed out softly and when she felt his hand cradling the back of her head, she leaned in closer and chuckled to herself.

As she lay in content, eyes still closed, she felt him kiss her after awhile with that awful gentleness that conflicted her again. She kissed him back anyway, and in that brief moment it seemed possible that they were indeed lovers on the run, and no one can harm them or drive a wedge between them. Cersei wants to remember this moment once it's all over, because she knows it will soon end. Things that can never be always do.

"Have I tamed you at last?" he asked. She fluttered her eyes open and smiled at him.

"Perhaps, my lord of Stokeworth," She paused, still holding his gaze. And then she said. "What I said before…I don't want you to think about it like that. I'm not asking you to rescue me. That's not what I need." She adjusted her position and laid her head on his lap now. She thought that this would enable him to say something but he seemed to be waiting patiently for what she has to say next.

"It doesn't have to mean anything," Cersei added.

She could see that he knows that she's lying. He wanted to argue with her, she could also see that, but he opted to maintain his silence. Cersei watched his face for a while before she spoke up again. "It's going to happen and I'd rather it sooner than later. And so do you."

"Aye," he answered. "But it's not a promise or an invitation for anything else."

She nodded, praying he will not reject her this time as she whispered. "Please."

He snorted a laugh, and then he cupped her chin with one hand as he cradled the back of her head with the other. He leaned once more for another kiss. This time she deepened it as hard as she could, and gripped his shoulder as she pushed him back so he could lie on the bed completely.

They're beyond denial now. All her suspicions and his motives won't matter for tonight.

Bronn kept his hands on her hips as she got on top of him. They never broke the kiss the whole time. She savored the taste and sensations of his body, and wished that she could truly own other parts of him as well. He slid his fingers in the strands of her hair as she rubbed a hand against his crotch and enjoyed the way he groaned with the contact. It was all very torturous now.

He quickly adjusted their positions and she ended up beneath him in no time. It should terrify her that he's overpowering her in every single way but when he looks into her eyes like this, there was truly no reason to fear him at all, or hate the fact that she feels young when he's touching her. Bronn didn't look smug anymore as he eagerly pulled her nightgown up her waist. His fingers found her ready before he even started to discover more of her depths. By now he knew just how much pressure to apply. He can now understand what every sound that came out of her meant as he continued to get to know her body better. Cersei helped him out of his own clothes next.

Once their garments were out of the way, they carried on with their exploration in an almost synchronized repose as if they've been doing this dance many times before. As Bronn descended to engulf her void, he also ripped through that soft membrane that divided them for so long. Cersei bled for someone again and it didn't hurt like it was supposed to. She should be very afraid now that he has invaded her spaces at last yet she felt strangely brave. The pulsating heat within her mingled with his rhythm and she hasn't felt this complete since Jamie. She shoved the thoughts of her twin away as she welcomed Bronn through the fractures she could no longer fix.

I love you, she screamed in her head as she looked back at him. I want you to love me.

Right there and then as she reeled him deeper and deeper, Cersei could somehow see that she was also destroying him. His eyes had a new kind of life to them. Her fingers touched his cheek as she looked on. Bronn tried to bury his face on the side of her head but she held him in place, daring him to show her what he's been denying himself. For a moment he looked like he was going to fight back and hurt her but they were heading dangerously close to the edge now and there is simply nowhere to hide. She was able to catch a glimpse of what he truly felt for the very first time and probably for the last. Its ghost clings to her long after he ruptured inside her. He clutched his fingers around her hair while she let out a small cry, gripping his hips with her nails scraping the skin.

Even with the flame between them extinguished, they remained entangled. Their feelings still lingered on the surface, and every bit of any sensation was shared in its aftermath.

Just a few walking miles from the inn, Bronn was leaning against an oak tree, waiting for the rider from Highgarden to meet him today as indicated in their last letter. The foliage around him burst out so sharp that he was entirely shrouded by them as he stood there. The sun has only begun to appear in the horizon and it has not reached him yet. This was how a day usually begins for a man of his trade. Bronn kept an eye in the muddy road. He had his hand on his the hilt of his sword, grasping and letting it go in a nervous way that bothered him. He's distracted.

Cersei Lannister has infested his thoughts at this moment, particularly on the events last night. But she was hardly the one to blame for everything. The worst part of it all was his fault. He should have just stayed in Evon's room and fucked her until the morrow. He should have anticipated what was going to happen the moment he walked back in their room; that she would once again lure him into doing something foolish which would then cause irreparable damage to what was already unstable to begin with. Bronn is not the kind of man who would pretend that as situation is not volatile especially when it could endanger his position, and he certainly would not lie to himself like a weakling when faced with a difficult decision.

He kicked some stones underneath his boots as he let out a loud, exasperated sigh. He unclenched his hand from the hilt of his sword and walked a few inches away from the tree so he could get a better view of the dirt road. As he waited for the rider, his thoughts turned inward again and that was starting to get him in a very foul mood. He needed to stay focused, considering the circumstances. He has a job to do and he's paid well for this. Bronn can't lose sight of his goal, and the only purpose why he was in this journey in the first place. If there was anything worth being loyal to and giving all the time and efforts and even his damn life for—it's the promise of gold and rank. These were the only important things he has ever known.

Bronn can hear the hooves before he can even see the horse. He fixed his eyes ahead and in a few minutes saw the rider emerging from the expanse of high grass. Bronn walked right in the middle of the dirt road and stopped there. The rider slowed down a bit, but he still passed by Bronn and made a circle behind the sellsword before he turned his horse around and halted.

"Not used to riding?" Bronn inquired harmlessly as he approached the horse, his hands at his back, never once considering pulling out his sword unless he was certain about the kind of man he'll be dealing with. He placed the rider's age about the same as his and he was a nobleman, judging by the garments. His hair was a mess of light brown curls which Bronn recognized to be an obvious trait of a Tyrell. He stepped back to allow the rider to get off his horse. When he did, Bronn took note that he slightly struggled. He gazed at his leg and surmised that he must have been injured years ago from a battle, and now he hasn't been able to use his legs as well as he used to. He looked at the rider's face. It was stoic and not particularly amiable. He wasted no time with pleasantries and said. "I urge you to speak privately with me, Ser Bronn."

"I talk like drunken tavern girl when I know who I'm speaking to."

"I'm Willas—"

"Aye, brother to the Knight of Flowers," Bronn took a hold of his horse by pulling it by the rope and guiding it to a more secluded corner. Willas Tyrell followed, limping slightly as he walked.

"I'm the eldest son," he spoke. "My association with my brother is of secondary importance."

"And the primary would be?"

"I was tasked to look after Tommen Baratheon in the journey back to King's Landing."

"You'll come with?" Bronn knew he will be accompanied by someone from Highgarden but he did not expect that it would be a Tyrell. "The conditions of travel are not safe, my lord."

"It rarely is, Ser." Willas was too serious to Bronn's liking but the sellsword has always considered himself to be the easiest of men to get along with so he just grinned at the Tyrell lord. The man carried himself with a bearing of a soldier but Bronn cannot say for sure how accurate that would be unless he sees him hold his end with a sword. But judging by that limp, he may have a disadvantage. Bronn tried to foresee how that would play out during an attack by bandits. But it's far too early to make an assessment. Perhaps I should test him later…

"I was also made aware of the…exceptional circumstances you're dealing with." Willas Tyrell went on as the two of them stood next to the oak tree where Bronn tied the horse to. "I meant that you are traveling with Cersei Lannister, Tommen's mother." He looked off when he mentioned her.

Bronn found that puzzling but said nothing. "Aye. She's a handful but I've managed."

Willas Tyrell met his eyes. "She is a woman of a certain distinction and should be dealt with fairly, not managed like a pet as you seem to imply, Ser."

"I meant no ill intention," Bronn was trying not to laugh at his face. He paused and then decided to ask right away. "When can we leave to see the boy?"

"That won't do," Willas Tyrell countered. "I will bring the boy to you."

Bronn thought about that. He rubbed the horse by its neck as he spoke. "Today, I hope."

"Yes," Willas Tyrell looked like he was tired of standing because of his injury but he tried to conceal it as he said. "But you and the queen regent will meet us halfway. You will wait for us in the third farm at the end of the last road. I believe you know what I speak of?"

"Aye," Bronn took a peach from his pockets and fed it to the horse.

Willas Tyrell winced and said. "Clerovel only eats apples and oranges, Ser."

"But he likes peaches now." Bronn answered quickly, running his other hand on the horse's mane. Willas Tyrell doesn't seem to welcome that but he didn't speak of his displeasure further. As they stood there for a few seconds of silence, it suddenly occurred to Bronn why Willas Tyrell acted strangely when he mentioned Cersei. He remembered now. Right before they left, the Tyrell women came over to say their goodbyes. He remembered that Cersei proclaimed that as soon as she gets her son back, she will marry Willas Tyrell as offered by Lady Olenna. And now the lord himself may have known about it too. They must have sent him a raven for that very information days ago. And this must be why he personally rode here despite his injury. He wanted to glimpse his future bride. With those thoughts in mind, Bronn snickered. He wasn't sure how else to react to it. Willas Tyrell was still looking at him though, and he didn't look like he appreciated that.

"Is there something amusing, Ser Bronn?" He asked. "Perhaps you would care to share it?"

"Nothing of primary importance," he answered. "Don't concern yourself with that."

"You are not a man of honor for me to trust your word," Willas Tyrell began. "But I suppose if we will travel together then we must maintain courtesies. I find that perfectly acceptable, in spite of the uniqueness of the circumstances," he cleared his throat, a slight blush creeping in his cheeks. Bronn knew that he must be referring to Cersei again and he turned his head slightly to the side so he wouldn't laugh. Willas Tyrell went on, "Also, now that we will have a child with us, it's best that we take more obscure roads, but doing so will also put us in the mercy of tribe folk and thieves."

"Nothing that you and I can't handle ourselves," Bronn grinned.

"The way to Storm's End is treacherous, Ser." Willas Tyrell held his gaze this time.

Bronn did not blink as he stared back. "I always welcome a good exercise."

Willas Tyrell will never approve of him, that much is certain, yet the good lord is brought up to the graces of nobility and can conceal his displeasure of the sellsword well. He gave a small smile now and extended his hand towards Bronn. "Once the sun is at its peak, we will meet again in the location as specified. Give my regards to the queen regent."

Bronn shook the man's hand before Willas Tyrell pulled away first. He reached towards the rope and untied his horse from the tree. Bronn would've helped him but he knows that the lord is too proud to ask for any assistance. It took him a while to climb up but neither man said anything about it.

Cersei must be breaking her fast at this time.

He had just gotten back from that interesting meeting with Willas Tyrell and he's quite famished himself. As he crossed the bleak hallway leading to their room, he saw Evon and the girl winced as he approached, as if his very presence burned her. He grinned, not knowing what else to do so he'll be less threatening to her. She couldn't even look at him. As he stood just inches from her, he decided to pose a question. "Got any meat I could chew on?"

Evon kept pulling at the short rag she wore, trying to hide her discomfort by heightening how obvious it was. Bronn found her to be quite an amusing thing. And if she let that yellow hair grow longer, she'll be more pleasant to look at. Unable to keep his hands to himself, Bronn lifted her chin so she could meet his gaze while she stammered. "My s-sisters are in the kitchen, m-milord. Father killed a stag and now they're preparing it." She darted her eyes towards a corner and gulped down.

Her youth makes her so easily frightened and that prompted Bronn to tease her some more. He took his hand off her chin and gripped her by the back of her head now. He bent down and caught her mouth just in time as she gasped. Her arms wrapped around his neck as he pulled her up so he could kiss her harder. She squirmed but didn't struggle. Their tongues flicked over each other for a while before he finally released her. Evon looked up at him, red as a ripe apple.

Bronn chuckled and began to walk away from her as he called out. "Bring the food when it's ready. You have to feed and wash my horse too. We're leaving in the afternoon."

He pushed the door open and paused when he saw Cersei beside the window. She had her legs up the wide ledge and her light green gown glowed gently as it bathed in the sunlight. Her hair looked more exquisite than before with its ringlets framing her cheekbones as the rest of it curled all around her. Nothing about her looks forty years old. Bronn wanted to pinch himself. He has been obsessing about her hair all the damn time now. Gods. Once he realized what he was doing, that was when he also took notice that she was reading. "Where'd you got that book?" he asked.

"Our patron was kind enough not to burn this as firewood last night. He must have detected my impatience and boredom and would like to extend his hospitality by offering a gracious remedy." She never once lifted her eyes from what she was reading while she answered him.

Bronn never learned how to read. It was of no use for a man of his trade. But it still piqued his curiosity so he approached her side now, staring at the book she was holding. He wouldn't ask about it though. Cersei glanced at him, inquiring with that irritated look he has grown accustomed to by now.

"We're going," he began. "I met with a rider from Highgarden. He's bringing your boy."

She remained placid with her fingers still touching the edge of a page in her book. She didn't get to flip it though. Cersei placed down the book on her lap and looked off from him. Bronn just knew what's going to happen next, and he had his hand on her shoulder without even thinking about it. The gesture was compassionate and he's not even a compassionate man. But before he could change his mind and remove it, her hand was on top of his now, and their fingers interlaced knowingly. The way her shoulder shook indicated that she was weeping and he wasn't sure if he even wants to share this moment with her. But he didn't dare leave. He isn't that cruel.

Cersei looked up at him at last, and an unmistakable smile filled her face with warmth that Bronn hasn't seen in a woman before. It made him squeeze her hand. It made him want to hold her—the same way he did when she sprained her ankle, and she looked at him with an earnest expectation for something he doesn't have, but he still wants to give her anyway…

The thought was so filthy that it made him let her hand go.

She didn't seem to notice as a new expression darkened her features. Cersei lowered her gaze as if she was ashamed. Bronn couldn't take his eyes off her now. "Do you think…" she began, struggling with the words, "…he even remembers?" Cersei closed her eyes and a tear rolled down her cheek. "Will he come home with me?" She fluttered her eyes open and wiped the rest of the tears.

Bronn grabbed a chair and sat down, facing her. She watched him, her gaze soft.

"I don't know," he answered. "Boys grow up anyway even if you don't raise them. They realize that needing someone to take care of them becomes pointless after a while so they learn to look out for themselves. Now your boy…Tommen—he's surrounded by servants and I'm sure his needs are met but not all needs are about food and shelter all the time." He's not sure how to finish this speech. Besides, sitting this close to her and feeling the weight of her stare makes him feel exposed somehow. So he just added. "If he doesn't need you anymore, it means he's getting tougher and you should count yourself grateful that he won't be a weakling when you're dead and gone."

He expected she would argue, scream and even slap him for being so harsh but she chuckled and smiled at him in a genuine way that…scared him a little.

"You always confirm the worst of my fears, especially when I needed to hear it, and because there's no one else who will," she remarked, as her hand searched for his. He let her take it.

Cersei is looking at him now like she wasn't born a Lannister and he's not a duplicitous killer and a crook—as if all his deceptions are forgiven, and she thinks he's more than worthy of her affections. There was lightness to her that's making him respond like a fool. Does she want him to kiss her? It's either that or they continue to stare at each other like this, as if what happened last night between them was more than a fuck…which it isn't. It was just a fuck! Bronn wanted to take out his sword and hack something to pieces just to get rid of this unknowable sensation taking over.

He breathed out and pulled his hand away from her grasp. As soon as he did, he got out of the chair. He meant to storm off somewhere but Cersei was still looking up at him, beautiful as ever, and waiting for that kiss. He could read her so well by now, like that book she was holding earlier.

The heat wasn't in his loins when he leaned down hard on her to claim her mouth. It was coming from somewhere else, twisting his insides and rotting his very core. He was doomed.

She was going to scream it out this time.

Bronn moved above her like he was never going to pull away from her again, and she desired and prayed for something more than passion to hold them together although she knew that the safest thing in the world was for this to end. She used to believe she can own everything and everyone; that she can seduce and conquer anyone by her cunt and weave them under the spell of her family coin. This time she doesn't want to believe she was ever that selfish, not when she has never been more certain in her life that the man she's sharing her bed with at this moment, whose body entwined with hers in their loneliness enshrouded by lust, was the only prize that ever mattered.

As soon as she climbed on top of him, his hands reached for her chest. He clutched her breasts like he was squeezing her heart. Cersei watched him writhe underneath her as she swayed her hips forward to take control of the dance, leading a tempo he was more than able to keep up with. He rose slightly so he could trace his lips on her chest, and with each kiss he created scars across her flesh. Cersei tangled her fingers through his hair while she hastened her movements, and the frenzied rhythm their bodies moved to was almost sure to melt their bones. She became aware of every sound and sensation on her skin, like the sunlight on her face and his shortened breaths. Cersei lowered her hands to his back and dug her nails hard. He gripped her by the hair this time as he burrowed his teeth on the tender spot of her neck and let out a growl that vibrated through her.

She pushed him to lie back on the bed. A few more thrusts and Cersei gripped the sheets around them and looked up at the ceiling, whimpering as the familiar shock of waves flooded her senses. She felt Bronn tighten everywhere beneath her as he groaned and cursed, both his hands on her neck, almost choking her. Cersei immediately collapsed against him, trying to relax the tension in her muscles as her breathing slowed down. She wrapped her arms around his torso and inhaled the mixture of their union that their thighs were still drenched with. His left hand brushed the back of her head in a languid motion, the fingers grazing her scalp pleasantly. She could hear him hum something and if she knew the song, she would have joined him as well.

Cersei has never been this happy. She had learned to make love to a man other than Jamie, and it didn't feel wrong as she was led to believe before. That may not be worth celebrating but seeing her youngest in a few hours certainly is. She should count her blessing, as scarce as they are.

"We should start packing," he said after a while. "There's food too if you're hungry."

"I could use a bath," she suggested. "You should ask for one of the girls to collect water. They have a porcelain tub, you know. How ever could they afford it?"

"Stole, more like it," he answered as he slowly moved underneath her. She let him.

Once he was out of the bed, he grabbed one of the towels from the table and wiped himself with it. She still laid there, one hand at the back of her head, as she watched him.

"What's that look on your face, Your Highness?" he asked although he was grinning himself.

Cersei rolled her eyes at him and pulled a strand of her hair so she could wrap her fingers around it. "It's a look you will not see again if you make the mistake of pointing it out every time you see it." She pulled the sheets close to her and let out a content sigh, closing her eyes.

She heard him chuckle. When she opened her eyes again, he had already pulled up his trousers. She saw him put on his favorite blade on the waistband as well. Cersei found that she enjoyed watching him dress. Every time he puts on a garment, he also conceals another weapon. She counted at least six knives that are hidden on his body by now. He left his sword on the corner of the room though. He nodded at her, giving her a little wink. "See you in a bit, love."

She wanted to throw a pillow at him so he could not see her blush. She turned away instead and hid her smile away from his view as he walked out of the door.

As a practical man, Bronn believed he couldmake anything work in his favor. He likes to make most of opportunities. But he has no exact plans for the present circumstances he found himself in with Cersei Lannister this time. He likes her; that he can admit now without wanting to stab himself. It wasn't just because he likes to make fun of her for being privileged and ignorant of the ways of the impoverished. He likes to fuck her again and again for more nights to come, true enough, but he also desires to stay by her side in the morning with his arms wrapped around her as he buries his nose into the perfection of her golden hair. The worst part of it all is that he doesn't think there's anything wrong with these feelings anymore.

All he knows is that Cersei Lannister, even with all her faults, is unmistakably the most remarkable woman he has ever met. And he likes her. It's the most horrible feeling in the world.

But he enjoys it—her company, her wits, even her tempest moods—all of it.

Fuck the gods.

He'd been waiting for an hour outside the inn. Willas Tyrell agreed to meet him in another two hours but he decided to stay outdoors anyway. He didn't want to be around Cersei, fearing he might be unable to separate himself with her from the bed though it was a possibility that he entertained at first. He didn't want to bump into Evon either because he can only deal with one temptation for today. So he thought sitting near the green foliage to enjoy the sunlight is the best option as far as everybody is concerned. It also gave him a chance to sharpen his blades. In doing so, he remembered that time when he and Cersei skinned a goat. He remembered the way the blood enhanced the pallor of her skin. He remembered the night before all that, when she enveloped him in her mouth—

Bronn let out an exasperated sigh, stabbing the ground with one of his smaller blades. He told himself that it was the heat from the sun that's making him sweat right now. It wasn't the memory of the softness in her gaze when she sprained her ankle and how it made him feel like he was the one thing that kept her from falling apart then; or her kiss on the night that followed when she told him that he could aspire to love someone like her. Bronn tried not to think about the way they held hands earlier when they talked about her son and how, for a moment, he wished he had all the answers for her; and that he if he tried, he could prove himself to be more than the kind of man who kills for gold if it means he could allow himself to believe there is a better way belong to her.

"This is a shitty way to spend the day," he muttered, chasing away the stupid thoughts before they persisted in keeping him company. Thoughts like that are counterproductive. Feelings are just as well. But it must come from getting old, he supposed, this desire for less transient things. Bronn knew even as a boy that things end but he also learned that there are a few things that feel like they could last longer than others. He thought (and felt) that it could be that way with Cersei—less transient. But transient things don't mean practical things, and Bronn is nothing if not one to prefer the latter.

He took off his cloak, deciding that all these contemplations will just ruin his concentration on the mission at hand. He made it into a blanket he could lie on, hoping that sleep might freshen him up for another long quest. All thoughts about Cersei Lannister should be set aside because they will only exhaust him. On his back now and staring up the canopy of leaves that served as his shade from the sun, Bronn thought about Margaery Tyrell's offer from days ago before he left King's Landing. It was more than generous but it has risks he's not that confident he can overcome. The Stokeworth estate is not rightfully his but he supposed he can do something about that once he returns. He should focus on putting his child on Lollys first.

Be a father, Bronn smirked at the thought. He had never fancied himself as one before. He can't deny that there's a certain allure to it, though. He might teach his own little boys to hold a sword someday then put them in charge of the army he's slowly building for himself. Aside from that, even when he was a little boy himself, he liked to look out after his own younger brother and two sisters. Thinking about them made him wistful of the old days. There' a scarcity of pleasant memories in his childhood but he felt lucky enough to remember some of them once in a while.

He closed his eyes and imagined his kin playing along the wheat fields of the village he grew up in on a sunny day like this one, where the wheat stretched for miles and miles from where he lay.