She had slipped her guards at the Red Keep again and this time made it all the way outside the city walls. And who does she run into? Fucking Bronn. She wasn’t sure how far his loyalty to the Lannisters extended, but if he were to mention to Lord Tywin that she was not in her bed this evening, the old lion would probably hand her over to the King’s Justice.
Bronn nearly fell out of his chair, he was so drunk. Perhaps he wouldn’t even remember seeing her. But it would be better if they both had a reason to keep this tavern visit a secret from Lord Tywin.
Meryll took the seat next to Bronn. “Not who you were expecting, hmm? Now tell me, do I get to be the bear, or the maiden?”
Bronn gave a hearty chuckle at her questions and he cracked a smile, his nose wrinkled a bit as he looked at her. “Well generally you’d be the maiden but ah, I wouldn’t mind you being the bear if it was you” Bronn spoke, realizing the drink had made him a bit more truthful than he would have normally liked. “You weren’t who I was expecting but rather have familiar company than not. What are you doing out here, can’t imagine you came here lookin’ for me”
Bronn replied back trying not to pry to much to the Frey girl. She was supposed to be at the keep and yet here she was outside the keep, not that he cared what she did and what Tywin would think. He was paid by his sons not him. “You’re safe with me love, unless they pay me enough to squeal I’m not gonna”
“I can see that,” Brienne said irritably. “I am glad of it.” She was, but what she needed was new information. She tried to sit up, to take some of her weight off of Bronn, but she ended up slumping against him again, breathing heavily. Everything was distant, and it was hard to concentrate. “But Arya lives too?” That was what he said, wasn’t it? But Daenerys had died. That surprised her, but she had never had a strong opinion of the woman one way or the other. Brienne would mourn the dead, but as long as those closest to her were alive she could bear it.
“I see…” She took a deep breath, straightened up, and extended her hand “Here, help me up, if you would be so good. I… I will find Jaime.” It would be a slow journey to be sure, but if he was alive he could meet her halfway. “And Pod. What of Pod? He’s my squire, I need to find him.”
“I think so yes. That she-wolf would be hard to kill if she isn’t.” Bronn said as he tried to grit the pain as she slumped against him, his sides still aching from the fight. “You’re leaning on me alrigh” Bronn stated as he took the womans hand in his and helped her up, one arm already wrapping itself around her to help support her so she could walk.
”That prick better still be alive, you know he and his brother still owe me a castle” Bronn tried to joke, his chuckle turning to pained coughs, his head lowered and eyes winced as he tried to regain his composure. “Podrick? Haven’t seen em. Could be dead…could be alive.” Bronn shrugged as they walked, making their way towards where the camp should have been, if it was still there at this point.
Meryll had been advised not to go to the Inn at the Crossroads – it wasn’t safe for a woman alone, they had said. But she had been walking for days since leaving the Twins in the aftermath of the wedding, and she could think of nothing better than a cold ale.
She handled the banter and crass comments well enough, but when a hand reached out to grab her ass, a line had been crossed. Her fingers closed around the neck of the closest bottle and she smiled at the satisfying crack it made when it smashed into Grabby’s head.
Another man was pressing in close and she turned to give him the same treatment, but when she met his surprised eyes she realized he had only meant to help.
Meryll set the bottle down on the table, and stepped out of the way so Grabby’s friends could drag his prone form out of the Inn. She gave her so-called rescuer an assessing look. He was lean and rugged with dark, unkempt hair and stubble around his jaw, and dressed in black leathers. Meryll recalled the last knight to visit the Twins. Ser Barristan had been dressed in white scaled armour with shiny silver fastenings. Everything about the man had been knightly, from his snowy white beard to his mournful blue eyes.
“You don’t look like any knight I’ve ever seen,” she couldn’t help noticing.
His eyes twinkled as the woman set her weapon of choice down and he chuckled. This woman could take care of herself and he admired that about the small brunette. His eyes took her in and he noticed a hint of muscle around her arms and he smirked. “Not formally no. More of a sellsword if i’m honest. Ser Bronn, of the blackwater.” Bronn introduced himself to the woman as he ordered a round of drinks for them both.
“You don’t look like any lady i’ve ever seen” He quipped as he got the mug of ale from the barmaid and kept his blue eyes on the dark haired beauty before they left to look at the man who was still on the floor and the few that had been near the fight were huddled away in a corner, whispering amongst themselves. “You got a name or should I just call you Nymeria?
Even at near death she was demanding. Bronn supported her body with his own as a Maester came running towards Brienne doing his best to treat her wounds with where they were and what they had at hand. “I’m alive” He said at first, trying to ease the tension he was feeling by how the Lady-Knight was staring at him, so intensely. Who had lived and who had died…Bronn couldn’t count the number of bodies that lay dead. Truly dead and never to rise again.
“Arya suffered the wors’ wounds protecting Sansa, whose fine as one could hope. The dragon bitch is no more, almost survived but the ice gave way–she was dragged under by another dead man.” Bronn paused as he thought back on who he had seen alive. “I don’t know about our Lannsister men or Snow. Tyrion and Jaime…I have a feeling those bastards are alive. Jus’ haven’t seen ‘em yet.”
“My mother might be able to give you that castle you apparently so desperately desire, but tell me this, what will a castle be worth to a corpse?”
Bronn gritted his teeth at the Princess. He had heard about the so called ‘Others’ the army of the dead. The sellsword still couldn’t believe that was a real thing. Dragons seemed plausible but the dead rising? “Not much” He acknowledged that the brat was right and he wished she wasn’t. He wished he could just ignore her and go to his castle and wait out the coming storm but he also knew Jaime had fled and it seemed Cersei wouldn’t see what everyone else was seeing.
“We go together. I’m not havin’ the future Queen…Rightful Queen…” Bronn shook his head. Relena should have been Queen before her mother. But Daenerys had claim to the throne just as much as Relena did. “Look, I jus’ don’t want you to die on my watch, alright? We best hurry if we want to leave before it gets too dark” He cared about the dark haired beauty more than he’d admit and besides if he let Jaime and Tyrion’s niece die, there’d be hell to pay.
Olenna stared at the sellsword, eyes bright. The pet of Tyrion, she’d heard, and now the pet of Jaime Lannister, but he was an interesting character as far as she could tell. “I think you might be the only person at this feast who isn’t a total bore,” she observed, glancing over at him across the table.
“An you must be the smartest person in the room.” He remarked, giving a grin as the old lady addressed him. Olenna Tyrell. The true lord of House Tyrell. If her granddaughter was anything like her, well, the royal family had better look out. Bronn leaned over the table, pouring the woman another glass. “Lady Tyrell. My services do extend to other things than just swingin’ a sword. I know how to liven up these stuffy feasts.” He had been known to sing a shanty or two but to some of the noble’s displeasure.
“Can’t you just send some maid out to buy these things?” Bronn asked the young Lannister girl as he watched over her like her father asked of him while he was away, grumbling as she looked at everything the merchants were selling.
Goldnwulf 