After the Queen left, taking with her Joffrey's wedding gift, the girl stared into the darkness for a long time. Silence humming in her ears, the walls of the room thick enough to mute outside sound. The faint scratching of a rat or other small creature, from under the door. Then, silence again.
The girl felt empty, but light as well. As if she were so full of nothingness that she could disintegrate completely. Evaporate into the stale frozen air, vanish into infinite dusty particles.
Then when the Queen suspects what I've done to her son and returns to get me, I'll be already gone.
Of course, the girl knew that wouldn't be what happened. When they came back for her, she would be killed. This was a given, but it wasn't something she wanted to think about in any detail, so she put it out of her mind for now. She was under no illusions that her crime would go unnoticed. But she figured she had some hours left, to sit quietly, and breathe, and feel her heart beating, and be alone with her thoughts. To savour her unlikely victory, even if no-one but herself really understood what it was.
She thought about the woman who had come in to see her. The cold-eyed, beautiful Queen, with all of Jaime's arrogance and ruthlessness, but none of his warmth. When the girl had realised who was standing there, and what an amazing opportunity it was, a bolt of clarity had struck like lightning. It was fate, destiny, luck, all at once.
She'd had no inkling that the Queen would wake her up, no idea why a Queen would want to talk to her at all. But, it was perfect. The gods had handed her this one moment and all she'd had to do was seize it. So she had. By gifting the Queen the arrow she'd bought from Maeg in Maidenpool. The arrow of misfortune, Maeg had called it. Bought with the slain villager's coin, after she'd first found out Jaime was the Kingslayer. Back before Locke, and the injuries, and Brienne, and Kingslanding. Back when she had all her toes, and two eyes that worked, and Sooty was alive. A lifetime ago.
Have I always meant to use that arrow to avenge Mycah? Truth was, the girl didn't even remember buying the case, or what had been her actual intention for it at the time. Everything that had happened that day was a blur of confusion and later, incapacitating pain. She only knew she'd had to keep the bag close to her, so it couldn't fall into innocent hands.
But now the Queen had the case. And soon, Joffrey's hands would be the ones to open it, take out the arrow, admire its gleaming perfection. The girl had never met Joffrey, never would, but she pictured a golden-haired boy with cruel eyes, smiling as he notched the beautiful weapon into his crossbow. And then... what did Maeg say? Whoever touches the arrow... will suffer a terrible misfortune. A day, a week, two weeks... But they will die.
And the Queen would be the one to have brought her son's own death to him. Will you know that's why he died? The girl thought of the older woman again, of her crisp, regal voice, the look of disdain etched onto her features.
You won't know why I wanted your son dead, but that doesn't matter. You probably don't even remember the incident at the Crossroads with Joffrey, and my brother. The butcher's boy. You probably never knew his name. You wouldn't have known that the butcher killed himself as well, because of it. And you definitely wouldn't have known about me.
Arya Stark had said 'Know your enemy.' Arya was right. But how could the Queen ever know her enemy? How could Joffrey? When the enemy was someone they had no idea even existed. A common delivery girl. A no-one.
It was dark again without the Queen's lantern, but the girl didn't mind. She looped her arms around her drawn-up legs, and rested her chin on her knees. Thirst still tormented her, shivers still shook her body and her teeth continued to chatter, but these were mere bodily reactions. Her mind was calm. A sense of peace descended. 'I did it, Mycah', she whispered. 'I did it.'
If her brother, in any of his apparitions, remained with her, there was no sign. The girl wished she had a candle left, but the stub had melted away to a puddle of tallow on the bench. There'd been no sign of Mycah when the Queen was there, but perhaps now they were alone again? The girl yearned to cut through the blackness and be able to see, for a minute. To see his face, for one minute more.
You don't scare me any more, brother, she told him. Just in case he were still there, in some shape or form, that she didn't understand but realised she didn't have to. I thought... if I ever believed in ghosts, which I didn't, but... I thought you would be a vengeful ghost. I thought your appearance would be horrifying. Because I had imagined what happened to you, so many times. The way you were killed became everything to me, I couldn't get past it. But Arya was right about that, too. How someone dies isn't who they are. You were still you, existing somewhere in another reality, another world, how you would be if you were still alive in this one. Adventurous, happy, brave. I just forgot who you were, is all.
The girl smiled. A tingling sensation ran through her, a feeling very much like joy.
You were not vengeful, Mycah. Her brother had been an uncomplicated person. A person who forgave the wrongs done against him, who didn't hold a grudge. Who moved on, who let things go.
But I am not that person.
Dawn light finally creeping in across the floor. Dust floating in a haze, motes spinning and whirling like eddies of water. Pools of cool, refreshing water. The girl lay with her cheek against the floor, dreaming of water. Drops, trickles, streams of water, pouring down her throat.
I could drink a whole flask in one gulp. I would even drink that awful Dreamwine again. Anything to quench this thirst. She tried to remember when she'd last had any water, and guessed it was two nights ago, when she'd been in the room with the bath. I would drink that whole bath, my own dirt and all.
She hadn't eaten since then either, despite having been brought those bowls of stew. She wasn't hungry. The thought of food made her nauseous; water alone obsessed her.
She remembered following the river with Jaime, for a week, how the constant burble of it had been background noise to them. She thought if she were ever by some miracle to get back to the Riverlands, she would take a running leap straight into that river, and never mind if she drowned.
Suddenly the door juddered in its frame, loud in the silence. The lock clicked. Instinctively, the girl scrambled to sit up. She scuffled around behind her and grabbed a sliver of wood lying nearby, that had possibly broken off an old crate. The width of her pinky finger, it was rotted and she knew it would snap before it even broke skin. She clutched it anyway.
The door creaked open and a man stepped quickly inside, his movements easy and graceful. His coal-black hair emphasised the lean hardness of his face, as he closed the door and stood there, in no great hurry. He folded his hands in front of himself, rocked back slightly on his heels. His tall boots were of beaten leather, and made no sound when he moved. A wide belt hung with a dirk that reached to his knee.
The girl stared at him. She knew he was a cut-throat. She knew he had killed many people for gold, maybe hundreds, and that doing so never bothered him at all. This man was beyond normal morality.
'What are you doing here?' she asked, dropping the splinter of wood. Although, she knew.
'I could ask you the same thing,' he replied, with a grin.
'I asked you first,' she said. 'Bronn.'
He regarded her, still with that grin playing on his thin lips. 'It's Ser Bronn of the Blackwater now. I've moved up in the world since y' last seen me.'
She smiled, bowed. 'Please excuse me. What are you doing here, Ser Bronn?'
He scratched his neck and chortled softly. 'Well. I'm here to kill you, Delivery Girl,' he said. 'So, this is awkward.'
A.N: Dedicated of course to my reviewer Guestbron, who I believe asked for Bronn in the first review and has not let up about it since :) Next chapter Bronn gets his very own POV. Apologies also, for a longish wait for this chapter, I was unexpectedly busy this week.