She had wed Ser Daven right in the Lannister camp outside of Riverrun, and Bronn had been awful ever since. She couldn’t blame him … no, that wasn’t entirely true. He’d had a part to play in all of this too. She’d begged him to take her away from here but he’d refused.
She’d returned his coldness with an icy demeanour of her own, but it was harder and harder to keep that uncaring mask in place. He hated that she was married to another, but she hated it too.
“Of course I am jealous. The very thought of you with another … I know I have no right, but that doesn’t change how I feel.”
“You haven’t taken to enjoying married life? Surely your husband doesn’t want to see you talking to me, or, have you told him of our night together and he is allowing you to come to bed with me?” He asked, Bronn a part of him, wishing he could not have chosen what he had and she was with him, spending their lives together. But he’d been foolish and hurt and so their lives had become as such. She, a married woman and he, still the same.
“And you would lose all safety and security from any houses if you came with me. I hate that you are with him Meryll. But least this way I get paid, paid more than I’ve had in a while and you are..safe…”
He wouldn’t admit it but he feared what would happen if she and he ran. They’d be looking over their shoulder every minute and he didn’t want that for her. He cared about her too much, more than he’d admit. He wanted her, but he cared so much for her that he would give up his own happiness so she could be safe.
“Would you really want to be on the run? Would you honestly be content with me? Not just as a friend and a lover… Meryll…I can’t give you what that Lannister can.”
“And you keep pouring,” the blonde countered, resting back. His grin faded, the corners of his lips turning down slightly as Bronn twisted his words. Their conversations never disappointed, but gods be damned if the sellsword ever managed more than three sentences without purposely annoying him.
Though, truthfully, Jaime rather enjoyed their banter.
After several seconds of not coming up with a witty return, Jaime decidedly agreed, “I liked my brother more once too.”
“Of course. Should I pour water instead? Where’s the fun in that?” Bronn jokingly asked, a shit-eating grin on his face as he leaned his arms over the chair back, cup in hand as he looked at Jamie. “Once? I know he killed your dad but honestly he was a cunt to all of his kids.” Bronn reminded Jamie before he took a sip of his wine. “I’m surprised it took him this long to do it honestly. But other than that he’s a good man.”
“I said I’d had enough two glasses ago,” Jaime reminded him, shaking his head as he brought the refilled goblet back to his lips despite himself. There was little else to do but drink and talk now, though. It felt too early to sleep, “Whatever I might say, I hold you responsible. Not me, you.”
“Yet you keep drinking.” Bronn raised an eyebrow as Jaime meant to hold him responsible for what words came out of Jaime’s mouth and the sell sword shook his head. “Anything you say? Me? Do you want me responsible for whatever you might say? Doesn’t seem smart” He mused as he took another sip and sighed “This is why I liked your brother more.”
For perhaps the first time in her life, Meryll began to see the merits in wearing a dress rather than breeches. Certainly they were not very practical for a quick clandestine meeting in the corridor.
Whatever he was doing with his mouth was amazing, until he mentioned getting caught. Less talking, Bronn, and more kissing. The idea of being caught would have been exciting except that they were in Lord Tywin’s tower, and the idea of being discovered by Lord Tywin himself was a sobering thought.
“Seven hells, Bronn,” she swore, pushing his hand away from the ties on her breeches. “If Lord Tywin catches us, he’ll have your head and I’ll get sent back to the Twins.”
His room was only a few feet away, and why they couldn’t have made it there in the first place escaped her now that she was sobering up a little. Once safely inside with the door firmly shut, Meryll let her cloak drop to the floor and kicked off her boots. It was easy enough to shimmy out of her breeches now that Bronn wasn’t trying to help. For heavens sake, the man had been putting on and taking off his own breeches for his entire life and he still couldn’t figure out how to get someone else’s off.
She stood there before him in nothing but her linen tunic, long enough to cover her bottom, thank the gods. Her hair had long since fallen out of its makeshift updo and the neck of her tunic was already falling over her shoulders, thanks to Bronn’s untying of the drawstring. Without a lantern or candle lit, the room was dim, lit only by the faint bit of moonlight coming through a single window, and Meryll couldn’t make out the expression on Bronn’s face. This wasn’t exactly how she had envisioned this moment, but with any luck, Bronn was drunk enough that it didn’t matter.
She had no intentions of becoming like her sister, Amerei, but she failed to see anything wrong with having just one night of fun before being married off to some poor excuse for a Lannister. And Bronn was the perfect choice – witty, attractive and experienced, and not likely to get too attached.
“Well, what are you waiting for?”
Bronn was relieved as she stopped his movements and he lead her back to his room and he began to undress himself as he watched Meryll take off her breeches and he gave a grin as all that she was in was her tunic as he took his shirt off to revel a muscular bod heavily scarred with cuts and old scars. He heard something fall as he tossed his boots aside and shrugged it off sure it wasn’t important enough to worry about right now when he had a nearly naked woman in his room. “Nothin’“ he replied back to her as he crossed the room to where she was at, closing the distance between them and covered her mouth with his to resume their kiss as his hands traveled under her tunic and to her back although one gave her ass a smack, grinning as he kissed her.
He pushed her back towards the bed and while it wasn’t as fancy as she was probably used to, it did the job of bedding woman and being slept on and that’s all Bronn cared about. His hands worked their way around her body ever so slowly, catering to her breasts and thighs more so as he trailed his fingers downward before he held one leg in his hand and trailed a line of kisses down it gently nipping at the skin as he got towards the thigh and he slowly made his way towards her entrance, giving it a drawn out lick before he slithered his way back towards her chest and face.
He planted more kisses once again on her lips and neck. “You taste so sweet, maiden.” He growled, teasing Meryll some more with the song, giving a half assed attempt at a bear growl before his head found her wetness, tasting it once again and spent extra care on the part he knew would get her to whine until he himself began to want her so much that he pulled away and he looked at her, his eyes finding hers as he spoke “You ready?” He asked her, and as soon as he got his reply, he thrusted inside her and moved his hips as he would have with any other woman. Until he realized there was something off about Meryll and that’s when his pace slowed down and his thrusts became softer “Seven Hells Meryll.” He groaned as he came to a halt “Least tell me first. Are you okay?” He asked, concerned that he may have hurt her in some kind of way.
They finished their ales in record time, almost as if that was a competition as well. (And if it was, she won.) Meryll shrieked a little bit when he carried her a few steps, and after he placed her back on the ground she couldn’t help but sing a verse of The Bear and the Maiden Fair under her breath.
The bear, the bear! Lifted her high into the air! The bear! The bear!
I called for a knight, but you’re a bear! A bear, a bear! All black and brown and covered with hair
“I am no princess Bronn, and you’ll get no castle from me,” she said with a sly smile, following him out the door. The night was cool and she leaned into his warmth as they made their way back to the Red Keep. Nearing the gates, Meryll tucked her long hair under a cap and pulled her cloak around her shoulders. The guards at the gates recognized Bronn on sight and let them both in without any questions, just as Meryll was hoping. From there, it was just a short distance to the Hand’s Tower, where Bronn kept his room under the stairwell. Meryll led the way, knowing exactly where his room was (she may have even walked by it several times a day hoping to run into him).
They didn’t quite make it all the way to Bronn’s chambers. As they walked down the deserted corridor of the Hand’s Tower, Meryll couldn’t resist pulling Bronn into a dark alcove and covering his mouth with hers.
She pressed him back against the stone wall, and kissed him hungrily, her lips insistent on his, and her palms sliding over the hard wall of his chest.
A chuckle came past the sellswords lips as Meryll began drunkingly singing and he joined in finishing the song as they neared the keep and for a moment he wondered if the guards would catch on that it was Meryll that was accompanying him to the Hands Tower but they both were waved through, most likely thinking Bronn was bringing back some hussy to his bed.
He tried to make it to his chambers, let alone his door when Meryll pulled him in towards a small alcove and was pushed back against a wall and to his surprise he found her lips and hands on him hungrier than he would have expected them to be and he pressed his lips against hers harder and with more intensity than he had at the inn. A hand slipped to her back and pulled her against him wanting to feel her closeness and her warmth and both hands rested on her hips. Bronn was craving more from her, more than some dark kiss in some alcove and his lips moved down to her neck, planting kisses all around it and nipping at a few spots, below her ear and near some vital parts of her neck.
“You’re right, you are no Princess. You’re a bad girl, Meryll. Look at you, coming apart at a Sellswords touch.” He spoke, his voice rumbling as he nipped near her breasts, one hand moved to caresses them as his other hand began short work of what he had forgotten wasn’t a dress and he gave short lived frown as he began undoing her top and cloak and was attempting to do the same with her breeches which was a bit harder, having to have never taken breeches off anyone but himself. “Do you want us to get caught? Is the idea of getting caught here like this exciting?”
She had never done anything like this before. She was well and truly drunk, and perched on the lap of a handsome but no doubt dangerous sellsword who would likely willingly slit her throat if someone offered him enough gold. And that just made him all the more desirable.
His hands felt good, his very nearness felt good and she liked that he sounded just as desperate and out of control as she felt. Not that she would give him the satisfaction of showing it though…
“The night is still young, Ser Bronn, and I want to enjoy the ale I just paid for,” she said, kissing him on his scruff-covered cheek. She reached over and picked up the two mugs, handing him his. “But drink up fast. I’ll need your help in getting back into the Red Keep, and then I’ll need to … thank you for your assistance.”
He grasped his mug in one hand as the other rested on her back and was content to just have her stay in his lap. This was all he needed right now, Meryll in his lap and a mug of ale in his hand. “Don’t test me sweetheart” Bronn chuckled, raising an eyebrow at the young woman as he downed his ale in no time. He’d had plenty of practice during his youth in drinking competitions and while he had been beaten a handful of times he’d won more than enough to make up for the losses.
“Of course. What kind of knight would I be if I didn’t help a maiden in need?” He told her as he readjusted his legs as they were getting used to the weight on them and gave a surprised sigh of relief as his back popped in just the right spot that he didn’t know needed popping. “Shall we?” He asked as he put his mug down with a loud thud and stood, carrying Meryll for a minute as he stood, kissing her cheek before setting her down. “I ain’t carrying you the whole way, Princess” He ruffled her hair before he started towards the door, jesting with her and he realized how much he liked Meryll’s company. There was something familiar and inviting about her and he’d be lying if he didn’t want more of it.
Goldnwulf 