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GOT: Rasputin of Westeros 2 - Elia's Blessing & Dorne's Welcome
🕑 Added 2025-07-26 19:26:21 +0000 UTCDoc - https://docs.google.com/document/d/1LQCNaoJKBeetkRqPUOlQEQ1nvk4ny5y7tV2ii4ZJbN4/edit?usp=sharing
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I knew it!
Bronn acted dumbstruck for a moment, staring at Elia Martell, the Princess of the Seven Kingdoms, the would-be Queen if Rhaegar wasn't the numbskull he was. And truth be told, he wasn't unaffected by her charm. That slender frame, that regal presence, her lovely, sharp face, her big eyes, and that desperation.
But he didn't consider it as taking advantage. If he were lying, it would have been. But his words were true. He could give her a tailored babe, just as she desired. The hair, the face, the eyes, all of those could be tailored.
“Seven bloody hells, Princess?” He exclaimed and moved hastily to ensure the doors were all locked and nobody could hear them. "They're looking for you out there."
Elia Martell nodded firmly, letting go of all hesitation and shame. Her eyes were filled with anger and assertive desire. She had a plan, and she wanted to do it.
"If what you say is true, Bronn, then I’ll give you a son. He'll become the King in the future."
Bronn gulped, staring at the stunning Princess. He'd fucked the portmaster's wife. He'd fucked a few other smallfolk women as well. But a nobility of this level, he couldn't help but be excited. Of course, she was using him. But he saw it, if he played his cards right, he'd have a special connection with Dorne, and perhaps, the future King.
"By the Stranger’s balls…" He bowed just enough to call it pious. "You nobles always want something rare dressed up as something holy. But I’ll hear it. Usually, it’s ‘give me a son’ or ‘make the babe pretty', which only takes a single day to bless them. Some get picky—hair color, skin, or body, and that increases the time of the ritual. What is it that you desire, Your Grace?"
"A son with silver hair and violet eyes," Elia demanded firmly. "That much is not negotiable. If the gods are kind, let him be strong, not frail as I’ve been. Let him be clever, and hale in limb and spirit. That is all I wish."
Elia herself was in disbelief that she was believing in Bronn's words. It was absurd and insane that a man could simply hand over tailored seed to women. Yet, everything she'd heard and seen made her want to believe in him. He was no knight in shining armor, a face slightly above average, a mouth that was as crass as blessed.
"Hmm…" Bronn hummed and rubbed his chin, which had started to grow a stubble beard. "That’s a tall order, Your Grace. Might take seven days of holy rites... and by rites, I mean…"
"I understand it." She stopped him from saying it.
"I shall have to make some preparations." Bronn still continued to give her details. "Day one, we give thanks to the Maiden, mainly her gift of your blessed… warm parts. I’ll pray with my mouth, proper and slow. On day two, you show my blessed part some reverence. Day three, we do what the Gods made those bits for. Fourth day’s special, back door opens in the Maiden’s honor. Fifth, we give praise together with our mouths. And on the sixth and seventh? We do the whole blessed sermon again, just harder. May the Crone grant us strength."
Elia's eyes widened, her dusky skin a little flushed. Clearly, she wasn't expecting something so thorough and detailed.
"T-That… Is that truly the ritual?"
No, it's not.
"It is, Your Grace," Bronn replied sincerely. "Amidst the ritual, I shall be speaking prayers as well."
The truth was, Bronn only needed a single night. No, even that was a lot. He only needed one intercourse to give her what she wanted. But there was no joy in it, nor any mystery of a blessing. By making it elaborate, detailed, the illusion of grandeur was easier to create. Besides, when again would he get the chance to bed a Princess like a half-penny whore?
But of course, he was also going to be respectful about it.
"It is…" Bronn walked to the door and peeked out a glance at the sky. Then he closed it again, locked it for good. "Still shy of midnight, Your Grace. If we start now, we might shave a day. The longer we linger here, the more the Stranger squints your way."
Elia gulped, her eyes full of conflict. Yet, she nodded her head. She had lost everything already; what was her body in comparison? For her revenge and her hatred, she was ready to do anything.
"What must I do?"
"Remove your robes to the last piece, Your Grace. They still have some blood on them. I'll bring you a Septa's garb tomorrow. You'll wear it in our escape." Bronn said, and busied himself as well. He grabbed the censer he'd received from the High Septon, added some incense to it, and lit it up. "Lie down on your back on the bed. I'll start the ritual after a short prayer."
Elia felt slightly comforted by the fact that Bronn wasn't ogling her. He wasn't trying to force her down on the bed like a madman in heat. It truly felt like a ritual. She quickly got rid of her robes, letting them fall around her feet. She removed her smallclothes next and stood completely bare.
A few veins popped on her forehead and neck. Feeling the air on her skin, the moment felt far too real now. She unknowingly covered her breasts and loins and weakly moved to the bed. Even as she lay down, she kept her feminine parts covered.
She licked her pale red-brown lips, her mouth going dry. With her head propped on the pillow, her slender frame flat and straight on the single-person bed, she stared at Bronn's back as he prepared some items. The incense had already filled the candlelit room with soothing scents.
"O' Maiden, your servant is to perform the ritual of life. Bestow your grace upon me and the gentle soul that shall receive it." Bronn mumbled like he was giving a sermon, and finally turned around, holding the censer in one hand and a glass bottle with light red liquid in the other.
Fuck! She's… beautiful.
In an instant, he was hard. How could he not? When not just her beauty, but her status also tickled his arousal.
Elia was a sight to behold, an exotic beauty in flesh, all for him to devour the week ahead.
Oh? She's… nursing? Makes sense, the lad was too young.
As far as he'd heard about Elia before, the Septas in the city said that she was rather flat-chested. Now, as he saw her naked, that couldn't be far from the truth. While not swollen like a cow, she had beautiful, round tits he could greedily fondle and milk.
Those legs! Umm… It'll be an interesting week.
Like a Dornish rose stripped of thorns, exotic and divine. Her skin was a rich, sun-touched gold, unblemished, glowing in the candlelight. Her dark, waist-length hair was thick and wavy, sprawled around her noble face. Her eyes were wide, black, unsure, and yet, she didn’t break. She lay still, vulnerable, watching him, arms still clutched across her chest and thighs tight together.
Slender, her collarbones jutted like wings beneath her skin. Her belly was tight, untouched. Her arms were thin, not weak, just… fragile. Her hips barely flared from her waist, the elegant curve of a woman who had birthed children, but had never been devoured.
Instead of forcing her to move her hands, Bronn walked to the side of the bed and started dangling the censer over the length of her body, keeping his expression serious as if he was unaffected by her nudity. Only his cock could tell the truth.
"O' Maiden fair with golden grace,
Guide my seed in time and place.
Let silver strands and violet flame
Mark the child that bears her name."
Flick! Flick!
He flicked the glass bottle he was holding, and let a few drops of the light-red liquid in it drizzle on her dusky body. It was just some scented oil he'd made.
But it seemed to do the job as Elia started to relax, taking the ritual seriously. On her own, she removed her arm from her breasts and let them stand bare.
Oh! I'll have fun savoring them.
For Bronn, it was not just about control, but also pleasure. Having noble women dance around his fingers was satisfying. And making them do his bidding in bed was even more joyous. He despised their blue-blooded kind, and this degradation was… payback.
He eyed her chest with hunger, watching those perfect peaks rise and fall with every breath. Her breasts weren’t large, but round, high, and perfect for his hands. A noblewoman’s tits, smooth and dusky, pale brown nipples standing firm against the cool air, tight with nerves.
The slight softness of motherhood was still there. He noticed the delicate, shallow veins around her curves. He’d heard whispers that she nursed her children herself. The thought stirred his cock to full attention.
"A boy she wants, so let him grow,
Strong of limb and mind to show.
Bless my touch, so soft, divine,
With your light, through flesh, align."
Flick! Flick!
Bronn drizzled more drops of the oil, covering her tits, then her belly. Finally, she removed her hand that covered her most sacred treasure, the cunt that no ordinary man could ever see. Now present to him to savor and devour.
Fuck! I'm hard. What a woman.
Her pussy was neat, tight, just the right kind for her slender frame. Her mons bore a thin patch of trimmed hair, the kind done with careful, practiced hands. Not wild, but not barren either. Her petals were soft, pinkish-brown, drawn tight like a bud that hadn’t bloomed.
He could tell immediately. She wasn’t sexually active. She hadn't been touched in a long while. The lips were tight, the cleft faint. She wasn’t a virgin, but neither had she been filled, ravaged, or worshiped properly.
Flick! Flick!
He poured more oil on her pussy precisely, then further down on her thighs, knees, and feet.
"Make him strong in flesh and thought,
With all the gifts her heart has sought.
In your light, our bodies twine.
Bless her womb with seed of mine."
Finally, he put the censer aside and then got down on his knees by the bed. Without asking, he moved both hands as if it were a common thing. He placed one hand on her breast and the other on her cunt.
Elia gasped, her breath sharp. She flinched in bed, but she stayed put. Her gulps were audible.
This is so amusing. Bronn was enjoying his time. He didn't fondle her, though, and just kept his hands there. Feeling the warmth of her handful tits, and the warmth of her pussy yet to be touched.
“Your Grace.” Bronn pulled his hands back and rose. He started unfastening his septon robes. “Seven help us, your body’s too weak to carry another babe.”
Elia frowned. She'd heard that before plenty of times. "Then…"
"I'll need to heal you first." Bronn declared, and it was true. He had to strengthen her body or else she'd die in childbirth. "With my hands and some holy medicine, you'll be well by the time you need to deliver the babe."
Elia said nothing, just gulped. Her eyes were entirely focused on the thing dangling between Bronn's legs. In her life, she had only seen one cock, and what Bronn had was perhaps twice that size, if not more. Veiny, bulging, thick, and threatening to even look at. And the rest of his body as well… he didn't resemble a septon at all. He was carved like a young warrior with his skin lightly tanned.
And yet, she found herself welcoming it all. The way he told her about her delicate body state, her trust in Bronn grew. Not many were aware of her health, after all. Only the Grand Maester knew. She was warned that birthing another child could end her.
"I understand, Bronn."
"Please turn around, Your Grace. I'll rub medicine on your body and heal the delicate parts."
"Elia," Elia muttered as she turned. "I’m no Princess now, Bronn. Simply call me Elia."
"Then I'll call you Princess," Bronn replied, maintaining professionalism. "You'll soon be in Dorne, after all."
Elia gave a legitimate, grateful, yet pained smile and lay fully prone on the bed, her face sideways on the pillow.
"I’ll begin." Bronn declared and climbed onto the bed, making it creak. He straddled her over her thighs, keeping his drooping, hot shaft flat on the valley between her tight hips. He almost moaned when he felt her warm skin. How soft she was all over. His cock throbbed on her asscrack with anticipation.
Elia was no different. She clenched the bedsheets and closed her eyes. Letting a man, not her husband, touch her was hard to accept.
"I will rub the medicine on you and check for any weak parts, Princess," he explained. He fucking loved calling her Princess. It felt so taboo and exciting because of that. "Relax your limbs, yeah? Gods above, we’re short on time.”
He dripped some oil onto his hands, rubbed them together, and then set to work.
At first, he acted professional, his thumbs working slowly, circular motions into the knots of her shoulders, massaging the tension out of her frame. Her skin was divine to the touch, golden, warm, and so smooth he felt like he was rubbing oil on silk. His fingers traveled down her back, slick with oil, stopping here and there.
Occasionally, his thumbs slid sideways, grazing the outer curve of her breast. Just enough to make her take deeper breaths, but not enough to be scandalous.
“Mmm…” The sound escaped her before she could catch it. She bit into the pillow to muffle the next one.
Bronn smirked behind her. His cock twitched, resting just above the curve of her ass.
He let his hands drift lower, rubbing the small of her back, gripping her narrow waist, then finally reaching the slope of her backside. He gave both asscheeks a firm squeeze. They were small, but round, plump enough to jiggle under his grip, fleshy enough for his hips to bounce off of comfortably. Her ass was perfection, tanned peach, tight, smooth, and gleaming with oil.
His thumbs parted them slowly.
Fuck…
As he spread her cheeks, the wrinkled star of her backhole peeked up at him, delicate and brown, twitching slightly with each of her shallow breaths. He lingered on the sight, his cock pressed stiff and throbbing along her crack.
Elia hadn’t moved once. Not a single protest. As if she wanted to be laid bare.
Bronn shifted lower, still straddling her, now positioning himself between her calves. He bent down and pulled her soft thighs apart gently, just enough to give himself a view of her hidden treasure.
Her cunt was flushed now. Dark pink and slick, no longer dry. The oil had done its work… or perhaps it was just him. Her folds were slightly glistening, the petals soft, no longer clenched tight.
She was ready, or nearly enough.
"Turn around, Princess." He moved off of her for a moment.
As soon as Elia was once again flat on her back, he straddled her belly this time. So thin, he easily nestled his knees beside her, and his cock daringly slapped down between her round, milk-filled breasts.
He throbbed, it ached. But he maintained the illusion of holiness. He rubbed the oil on her shoulders while directly staring into her dark eyes. He rubbed her neck, so thin it felt like a twig. He grabbed her arms and oiled them as well.
"Mh…"
Finally, when he grabbed her beautiful breasts, she let out a subtle moan.
Small, but rounded. He molded them gently, spreading his fingers wide, shaping them like warm clay. Her nipples were already hard, pale brown tips flushed with blood and need. And there, just as he suspected, his squeezing coaxed out a slow bead of nurturing nectar.
Bronn groaned under his breath. He rubbed his palms over her perfect swells in circles, spreading her milk across her skin like an offering. He pinched both nipples between his thumbs and fingers, rolling them softly at first, then firmer, teasing more of that sweet, mothering essence out of her.
She gasped and arched subtly, her lips parting in shock or shame… or perhaps pleasure. She didn’t stop him.
Satisfied for now, Bronn finally slid lower.
His hands massaged her belly, soft and tight, the oil glistening in the candlelight as he worked his thumbs in lazy spirals. Her belly quivered under his touch. Her breath caught in her throat.
And then… he moved between her legs.
Carefully, he spread her thighs wider, lifting each one just slightly, so he could tuck his own legs beneath hers in a wide V. Her legs settled, now spread around his waist, her cunt fully opened to him, unhidden, glorious in the glow of holy sin.
Seven! Beautiful all around. Even the cunt is lovely.
Her slit was tight, perfect. The lower lips petite and glistening, flushed from the heat rushing down to her core. Her juices shimmering across her petals, a glossy, slick sheen just waiting for him. Not overflowing… not yet. But she was certainly aroused.
Bronn felt like complimenting her, but held back. It would have been inappropriate.
He reached forward and touched her pussy with one slow pass of his thumb and pressed gently along the moist seam. Her hips gave a quick jolt, a flutter of reaction. Then he found her clit, small and swollen, and circled it in slow, steady strokes.
Elia shuddered. Her thighs tensed. She couldn’t suppress the shiver running through her limbs. And still, she stayed still.
So he slid in a finger.
Her cunt clenched in reaction the moment he entered. Tight, warm, wet walls greeted him, hugging his fingers as if starved for contact. It made his cock jerk wildly, the sight of his thick digit sinking slowly into royal pussy driving him mad.
Gods, I’m fingering a Princess.
A second finger joined, and Bronn started to pump them slowly, twisting them side to side, curling toward her splayed upper wall. Scraping her soaked walls with his rough digits.
Elia’s hips twitched, her belly trembled. She started to move. The subtle thrusts of her pelvis, no longer restrained. Her body was subconsciously seeking it now, that heat, that pleasure. When was the last time anyone touched her like this?
Her breathing quickened. Her back arched. And yet she kept her lips clenched tight, denying herself the moans that clawed at her throat.
"And with this… the blessing shall flow."
Without warning, he pulled his fingers out of her cunt. He slid his hands to her hips and lifted her.
Her body was light in his hands. Slender and delicate. The kind of noble-bred form that rarely did labor, but held within it the heat of the Dornish sun. Her skin was golden and soft, her scent laced with citrus and spice, and the warmth between her legs pulsed with royal blood and aching desire.
He brought her lower half up, lifting her hips and resting her weight across his biceps. Her thighs hung over his shoulders, her back arched off the bed. And her pussy, her sacred, royal pussy… was now right in front of his mouth.
He circled his arms forward and fondled her breasts from below, his fingers squeezing her leaking bosom with greedy hunger.
Then his mouth found her cunt, and he guzzled her down.
His lips clamped down, spreading her folds with his tongue width, lapping at her petals like a man searching for salvation. He dragged the flat of his tongue up her slit, then circled her clit over and over again. Each motion agonizingly slow.
His nose brushed her mons, his jaw flexing with each lick. His tongue dove deep, slurping her sweet slick, tracing the edges of her tightness.
He was gasping into her as he ate, his cock twitching wildly against his belly. His thumbs pressed on her nipples again, rubbing them in tight circles, coaxing out more milk as her body arched even higher into his mouth.
It was a crime against the gods. A sin against the crown. And he loved every second of it.
“Ughhh…” Elia couldn’t take it. Her resolve shattered.
She gasped, eyes wide with disbelief. Her mouth opened, but only ragged breaths came out. Short, panting moans that grew louder with each stroke of his tongue. She hummed helplessly. Her legs twitched and jerked. Her hips tried to buck, but his grip held her still.
Gods, it was too much. She had wanted a child. She’d braced herself for duty. But this… this was nothing like duty. It was divine. Overwhelming, sinful, and wicked. Devilish lust wrapped up in a holy white cloak.
She tried to silence herself, biting her lip, but her body said otherwise. Her moans slipped out, breathy and sticky. Her eyes turned glassy, her mouth trembling, her fingers clawing at the sheets.
And Bronn, Septon Bronn, kept licking her like a man tasting wine for the first time in his life.
Her thighs began to shake uncontrollably. Her pussy clenched hard.
“Mmmmh… F-Forgive me… Bronn, but…” Elia whispered, trembling. Her tone swayed between shame and pleasure.
"Hmmm…" he hummed, mouth pressed tight to her cunt. The vibration of his deep groan rolled through her, and then he dove in harder.
His tongue flattened against her slit, scooping her up in long, sucking pulls. He was practically inhaling her entire pussy like she was a feast, tongue drilling into her love canal like a desperate man.
“Ohhhhhh!”
Elia arched off the bed, her back curling in the air like a bow drawn to the limit. The climax ripped through her, raw and violent. Her thighs snapped shut around his head, trembling uncontrollably. Her pussy clenched and pulsed in rhythm with her release, drenching his lips, chin, and stubble with waves of sweet, royal nectar.
But Bronn didn’t stop. His mouth latched on tighter, tongue thrashing as she rode her orgasm like a storm. Her cries, muffled by the biting, kept rising and falling, and still he licked, drank, and gulped. His face was a dripping mess by the time her spasms finally subsided. It was new to her. So new.
When he pulled away, his cheeks were soaked, his chin glistening, his lips swollen from overuse. He looked down and admired her. She had a face that screamed sweet, innocent, and kind. And doing all that to such a face was unholy, and yet insanely arousing.
Elia was a mess. Her toned belly rose and fell with rapid breaths. Her arms lay limp at her sides. Her hair clung to her sweaty temples, her thighs twitching with aftershocks.
What a beautiful sight. Bronn admired his work for a while. But he felt unsatisfied. He was hard, ready to spill, and he really didn't want to jerk off.
Fuck it! Not like she'll back down now.
"Since it's likely past midnight now, might as well start the second day rites, Princess," Bronn declared and got off the bed. "I… I suppose you're tired. Lie down on your back and rest your head off the bed’s edge, Princess."
Eyes half open, Elia moved as he commanded, lost in sensations and fatigue. She lay down in the middle of the bed, over its breadth, her head dangling off the edge. Her shimmering dark hair spilled long and touched the floor.
Seven, look away because I'm about to… fuck her face.
Bronn stepped forward, his cock twitching and dripping with need. The heat from her climax clung to the air around them, mixed with the scent of sex and incense. His shaft flexed proudly as he approached her upside-down face. He tapped the leaking head of his cock on her soft lips.
The weight of it made her flinch, but she opened up without a word, welcoming his sacred offering.
Bronn, never missing a beat, started to mutter another prayer, low and full of sin-drenched mockery.
Elia didn’t fully understand the words, but she believed in him anyway.
"I'll start slow, Princess."
He gripped her jaw with one hand and guided his cock between her parted lips. Her mouth was tight, so tight. Even wetter than before, her spit already pooling as he slid the swollen purple head inside. He swallowed a groan as her lips stretched around him.
Fucking hell… the woman’s tight everywhere. Her body… her cunt… her throat.
He gave her time, allowed her to adjust, then started rocking back and forth. Short thrusts, just enough to coat his throbbing hardness in her saliva. His other hand dropped to her breasts, palms tasting her milk-filled tits again. He palmed the softness while his hips itched to drive in deeper.
“Nnngpfff~!” Elia gagged.
He shoved halfway in, his balls smacking against her forehead with a heavy plap! Her nose mashed into his sack, and he felt sheer pleasure, drunk on the sheer filth of the moment.
Here he was, fucking Elia Martell’s face. The once-proud royal Princess. The woman of a dragon. And now she was nothing but a sacred hole for his blessing.
"Uuuughk!" She gagged again, throat spasming around his girth, but Bronn grabbed her head and held it in place.
He thrust again, harder, longer. Until finally, he was balls deep.
His cock fully disappeared down her throat, and he could see the thick outline bulging through her slender neck. It moved each time he pulled back and drove forward again, like watching a beast crawl under her skin.
Plap! Plap! Plap!
The room was filled with obscene wet slaps, his cock pounding her face, her drool and his precum coating her dark golden skin in streaks of filth. Her eyes fluttered open, watery and glazed, lashes stuck together from spit. Her face was painted with shame and worship all at once.
His balls smacked into her face with every thrust. The rhythm picked up. The spit spread. Her cheeks puffed out, her mouth drooling around his shaft.
Bronn leaned in, pressing his hips forward with brutal control, pinching both of her tits between his calloused fingers.
Gluk! Gluk! Gluk!
The sounds from her throat were utterly depraved. Wet, choked gulps echoed in the room like a sinful choir singing songs of carnal pleasure.
"Aaaargh… Accept… the… essence!"
He rammed balls deep and spilled into her throat. His balls smacked heavily on her brow and finally exploded.
His seed surged out in thick, molten waves, hot and heavy, blasting down her esophagus. But he didn’t linger long. Just a second, any more and she might choke to death. He quickly pulled back a few inches, careful to let her breathe while he still emptied into her scorching mouth.
His shaft pulsed with every spurt. His balls dragged across her face slowly, smearing themselves across her cheeks and chin in one long, gooey stroke.
"Princess, don't let it drip," he warned her.
Elia, face upside-down and dazed, obeyed. Her throat started to contract, suckling at his sensitive cockhead.
Gulp-Gulp!
She swallowed it, all of it. The sacred filth. The gift of the gods. It coated her tongue, slicked down her throat, and sat warm in her belly. And yet, she kept going. Bronn’s cockhead remained in her mouth the entire time, throbbing gently on her tongue.
She didn’t even blink. Her eyes were watery, her lashes sticky, but her mouth kept working and swallowing every last drop.
Bronn grunted again, stroking the base of his shaft lazily, coaxing out the final remnants of his divine offering. Another glob oozed free from the tip.
Elia, by instinct now, swallowed that too. By then, she wasn’t even thinking. Her mind was a haze. Her body moved on command, her soul blank and moldable. She was just doing what she was told.
Plop!
Bronn’s cock finally slipped out of her mouth with a lewd pop, coated in spit. He let it drag slowly across her face, wiping himself on her skin like a brush on canvas. Strings of white clung from her nose to her cheek, lips to chin.
And fuck, on her dusky Dornish skin, that sticky mess looked divine. A holy mark.
His seed looked potent.
A satisfied smirk subtly curled across his face.
"We will…" He stepped away from her, returning to the septon persona. “We’ll carry on at first light, Princess. You get the bed. I’ll make do with the floor.”
Elia Martell said nothing and just moved into a better position. God knew what was on her mind. Second thoughts? Questions? Doubts? Sadness? The woman curled up in bed and fell asleep from fatigue.
####
Gluk! Gluk! Gluk!
Who'd have thought Bronn would have a Princess on her knees, getting face fucked balls deep in her throat. He was sitting on a chair of all things, and she was down there, kneeling, dressed in a septa's garb.
Bronn honestly liked bedding septas. Many of them were virgins. But they were also hard to bed. He'd been lucky with only one until now. Well, now he had the Princess dressed like a septa.
"Ghhhhk… Ummm…!"
Bronn wasn't even touching her. He wasn't holding her head. Elia was sucking him off on her own. On the second day of the ritual, he emptied his balls in her mouth three times and painted her face once.
He stayed in his humble abode in the name of preparing for his journey. Well, he was, just not in the way others expected.
And like that, the second day passed. It was finally the third day, when he was supposed to fuck her for good and sow his seed.
But he didn't take her that night. No, he chose to do her during the day when the streets outside would be far noisier, reducing the chance of her moans escaping. Besides, he needed some time to gather some of his blessing essence.
####
"I will soon be on my way, old man," Bronn said and left the town's Sept. It was the middle of the day, and he was done with his duties.
Click!
He turned the keys and entered his small home. Right away, he was greeted with the beautiful sight of Elia Martell in a septa's garbs. White robes, but without the hood, so that way he got to see her beautiful, dark hair.
"I’ve purchased the ingredients," he told her, and went over to his workbench. “I’ll cook up some strong medicine for you, Princess. By the Seven, it’ll harden your core like the Wall in winter.”
"What about our journey to Dorne?" Elia asked him, having gotten a little used to his presence, and ignoring the musky scent in the room.
"I'm working on it. Preparing a stagecoach isn't cheap. But it's not impossible. I've used my connections. We'll get a reply in two days." Bronn revealed and suddenly started to remove his clothes. "We should continue with the ritual now, Princess. Today's the most important one."
Elia's jaw tightened, but her hands moved to remove her septa's gown. She knew what they were going to do. And after this, there was no going back. A physical exchange sacred for lovers, for a husband and wife, she was going to do it with this man.
And she had every intention to. For revenge.
Elia went to bed and lay down on her back willingly. In moments, Bronn crawled between her dusky, long legs and spread them wide. He had the censer in his hand, and he hovered it above her fertile entrance.
"...Take my seed, let strength arise,
A bold young lad with his rightful eyes."
And then, Bronn placed the censer aside and looked down at her entrance. It wasn't dry, so he didn't bother using the oil. He pushed her legs up and wide, and shifted closer on knees until his cockhead was flat against her warm opening.
He looked up at Elia's face, charming, anxious, her brows creased.
"Keep the Maiden in your thoughts."
With that, he pushed his cock inside.
Slowly, his thick cock parted her lower lips, feeding the swollen mushroom-head into her velvet sheath. The warmth welcomed him, tight and hesitant. He could feel every heartbeat inside her. Her walls clenched around his girth like she’d never been truly fucked before. Not properly, not like this.
“Mmm…” Elia let out a moan, low and trembling, the air stuck in her throat.
Bronn pushed deeper, hands gripping the sides of her dusky thighs. Her legs trembled. Her pussy sucked him in, inch by inch, squeezing his cock in a wet, desperate seal.
“Ummmm!” Elia shook her head suddenly, her hand twitching against his chest.
It wasn’t a command to stop, just her body reacting. Trying to comprehend being stretched so wide, and so deep. But she didn’t resist. She powered through it, biting her lip, determined to take it all. To make this moment count.
He paused, letting her adjust. Her breathing was shallow, quick, and her fingers clenching the sheets. Then, he pulled out halfway and slammed back in with more strength.
“Aaaaah!” she cried out, her back arching, body shaking under him. Her cunt gripped his shaft, quivering around his girth, still trying to understand the length buried inside her.
He gritted his teeth, savoring the feeling of being cock-deep inside the Princess of the Seven Kingdoms. Her cunt was warm, tight, exquisite, like a silk glove soaked in heat.
“I’ll start moving. Hold the Maiden’s name in your thoughts,” he warned.
Bronn leaned over her, his hands gripping the backs of her thighs, keeping them spread wide and high. Her ass lifted slightly, angling her perfectly for his deep plunges. He leaned his face even further down and devoured her breast, sucking greedily, tongue lapping at the nipple that leaked her faint sweetness.
Sweat was already forming on both their bodies. Glistening over her collarbone, trickling between her breasts, dampening the bed beneath them. She smelled of incense and lustful heat. Her moans grew louder with each suckle on her mounds of fragrant flesh.
Then, he started to move, truly move. Thrusting his hips with force, each jolt plunging her deeper into the mattress.
Her back bent, her legs wrapped high around his waist, her arms circled his neck.
Plap! Plap! Plap!
He fucked her down into the sheets, long and deep strokes that used the entire length of his phallus to fill her. Each time he pulled back, it was to drive in harder. Each slap of his hips struck her soaked, puffy cunt into oblivion.
"MMmm… Oh, oh!" Elia whimpered under him, her legs trembling around Bronn’s waist, her hands clawing down his back. The sensation, the girth, the heat; it was all overwhelming.
"Shhh… Let me help with the moans." Bronn said.
His lips came crashing down on hers.
Elia’s eyes widened in shock. That… was intimate. Too intimate. Far more so than his cock driving deep into her core. Her breath stifled, her hips halted, and for a single moment, time slowed.
Bronn didn’t ease off. His mouth moved against hers like they were lovers. Like he meant it.
Her arms wrapped tighter around his neck, clinging to him as if her soul was falling apart. Her lips softened, parted, and his tongue slipped into her mouth.
She gasped, whimpered into the kiss. Then she moaned, a trembling vibration as her entire body snapped.
“Mmmph—!” She climaxed.
It hit her hard. Her cunt clenched around his engorged flesh, milking him, sucking him with all her womanly might. Her toes curled, her hips trembled, and her back arched high into his body as the orgasm tore through her. Her soaked walls pulsed around his cock, demanding, pleading, desperate.
Bronn didn’t break the kiss. He devoured her cry of bliss, muffling it in his mouth, nipping her lips as she shook beneath him. His hands grabbed her thighs, his arms caging her, pinning her to the mattress as he fucked through her peak.
“Mmmm!” Elia gasped into his mouth. She felt it, his cock pressed hard and deep, grinding against the soft gate of her womb. She could feel the throb, the heartbeat pulsing in his length. He was there.
Then, he gave it to her.
“Nnnngh!”
Bronn exhaled through his nose, his brows clenched tight, focusing everything, his mind, his magic, his soul, on this very moment. On the son she wished for.
He kissed her harder, and as his balls tightened, his cock throbbed, and the first burst of seed surged forward. He bred her.
Hot, thick cream jetted from his cock, filling the deepest place in her womb, spraying warmth through her trembling core. He poured into her, wave after wave, his cock pumping her full of his body’s creation.
Elia whimpered, still shaking. She felt it all. His heavy body pressed down on her. His weight, his skin, his heat. His cock deep in her core, spilling the essence of gods into her. She could feel it rise, warm, seeping into her womb, filling her. Each pulse of his cock made her feel more alive. More woman, more hopeful.
Her eyes burned, tears pooled. Not from pain. Not from shame.
But from something else. Longing. Desperation. Need.
"Mmm…"
Elia herself was kissing him back. She didn't know when she started it, but she knew she welcomed it.
Bronn slowly finished filling her up and giving her the seed she desired. In the days ahead, he'd be doing her just for pleasure. And he had every intention of doing it.
However, while he gave her the babe she wanted, he also left out something important.
Something that was needed to continue the bloodline.
Something that the future King, or Prince, would be desperate to do.
And in those moments, Elia would remember him. Seek him.
All in time.
####
Against the wall, on the chair, her jumping on his lap, or in any way imaginable. Bronn fucked Elia six times, just during that day. He didn't let her wear her gown for once. He emptied his balls inside her each time. She was sore, swollen, and red between her legs already.
But Bronn had a plan behind it. He fucked her all the way until midnight. Then, he suggested they continue with the next day's rituals—the backdoor.
Elia, fucked out of her mind by then, even tired, still did as Bronn said. He made her get down on all fours on the bed. He didn't even bother with saying a prayer this time, just stared and started to probe her.
"Oooooh~" Elia screamed into the pillow.
Bronn smirked and spat again and again, keeping it lubricated. He also used a potion that made his cock very slimy, easy to slide. It was a recipe from his memories.
"Relax and breathe." He advised her and, with pride, spread her ass open. He slowly slipped his cockhead inside her tight ass, and fuck, it was tight!
Her hole clenched. Her back arched.
He pressed the flushed tip of his cock in.
“Unghh!” She moaned, biting her lip.
Tight, too tight. Gods. Bronn almost lost it right then. Her walls strangled his cock, inch by inch.
Elia’s back wouldn’t stay still either. She kept squirming, moaning, her spine curling, hips rocking forward. Every movement stroked his sensitive length.
He pushed her spine down with one hand, pinning her to the mattress. Her ass lifted higher. The angle was perfect, almost too perfect. Then, he started moving.
Slowly, so fucking slow. It was almost torture, drowning in pleasure with no chance to breathe. Her ass gripped him tight enough to bruise bone, forcing him to only use half his cock. He wasn’t insane. Any more and she might split in two.
“Uuuuhhhh~!” Elia gritted her teeth into the pillow. Her toes curled. Her legs trembled uncontrollably.
And then she came. Just from the insane stimulation he gave her ass.
Her entire body shuddered, her thighs shook violently, and her breath caught in her chest.
Bronn’s balls ached. The pressure was maddening. "Ugh… Take… the essence!"
With a final push, he buried himself deep and spilled everything. Every fucking drop. His cock twitched as he emptied his load inside her ass, his baby batter overflowing the stretched ring, running out in hot, messy streaks.
Her hole gaped open as he pulled out, leaking his thick white cum down the curve of her ass and onto the bed. It was such a magical sight, it was criminally taboo, having the princess like that, ass leaking his mischief.
Too tired, he then collapsed beside her. The first time he’d ever done that.
"Too much, was it?" Bronn said, hinting at softness with his voice. "The Maiden’s not shy. She calls for the body, head to heel, and Seven help you if you’re half-hearted."
Elia shifted and cuddled beside him, putting an arm over his naked chest.
Oh? Interesting.
Such a response was unexpected by Bronn. He welcomed it and slid an arm under her head, and held the woman close like she was his lover.
Slow and steady.
Carving an irreplaceable place in Elia's heart wasn't easy. But Bronn was committed to it. A noblewoman of her caliber, driven by revenge, was bound to achieve greatness. And that greatness would be his stepping stone.
One house at a time… Hah! They don't even see me as a threat. Too proud of their fucking castles.
That night, Bronn slept in that bed with Elia. She hugged him the entire time. It became hot, sweaty, and fuck, it was arousing.
In the morning, Bronn took her ass one more time, followed by a fingering session to make her release her heat. It wasn't a part of the ritual, she knew it, and yet she didn't stop him. One move at a time, he pushed the boundaries.
On the fifth day, they did a sixty-nine, eating each other out at the same time. In the end, even though it wasn't a part of the ritual, he ended up fucking her cunt in the good old mating press style, folding her slender legs into her chest so beautifully while showering kisses on her lips.
The line between the ritual and just mindless depraved fucking started to blur.
Before long, kissing became common. Sucking her tits became common. Sleeping in the same bed became common.
On the sixth day, as per the ritual, they did it all. Eating her pussy, her sucking him, then fucking her cunt, and finally her ass. It took a lot of stamina, and they did it in a prolonged style, over the whole day.
It was hot and insane.
Elia Martell, lost in emotions, started to open up to Bronn. She told him about her life in the Red Keep. About the old King. About her husband, who treated her right initially, grew distant eventually.
On the seventh day, Bronn decided to make it more passionate.
"Mmm…"
They kissed each other, wrapped like tangled snakes, naked in bed. Eyes closed, he fingered her pussy at the same time, and she stroked his cock. Soon, he was pumping into her, yet the kiss never stopped. Then he was fucking her ass, and she was taking him while sitting on top, leaning down to kiss him.
On that last day, their lips were stuck together like glue.
It was dreamy.
It was passionate.
And as that day came to an end, and he spilled inside her warm, snug cunt one last time after cleaning, he dropped a final kiss on her lips.
In response, he heard the words he wanted to hear.
"You should become a Septon in Sunspear. I… Our son… Don't you want to see him?"
This always happens. Bronn had seen it with the portmaster's wife as well. Initially, he fucked her like a whore, and it was strictly physical. But by the end, the portmaster's wife grew too attached to him, romantically, emotionally, and physically.
It was bound to happen after all that Bronn did. And now, it was Elia. Her distant persona had melted away to reveal the warm, gentle soul she was. She was clever and sweet.
Bronn smiled and pecked her lips, holding her close against his chest. “That? Aye, I’ll do it gladly. But Princess, the Seven didn’t give me the Mother’s healing and the Maiden’s spark just so I could sit and relax. If I waste their gifts, I’m no better than those fat, lying bastards calling themselves holy in King’s Landing.”
"Hmm…"
Elia caressed his chest with a hand, shocked by herself. A week ago, this man was a stranger to her; now she felt like she shared her soul with him. He'd made her feel things she had never felt in her life. And it wasn't just physical, but mental.
"When our son," Elia muttered, holding back the coldness. "When our son takes the throne, I'll have him make you the High Septon."
I'll become that regardless, Elia.
"I can't wait," he replied and hugged her tighter. "Let’s sleep now. We leave for Dorne early."
"Let's do that."
####
King's Landing, Red Keep.
"Gods, what’s this nonsense I hear about some faith healer waving hands and curing boils?" Robert questioned as he sat in the Small Council room, looking imposing and mighty, a gleam in his eyes, overflowing with pride of the recent victory.
"Ah, Your Grace, mere mummers’ tales," wheezed Pycelle, stroking his beard. "The smallfolk do so cling to stories, especially in troubled times. A young Septon, they say, spirited some to safety during the sacking, but the rest? Idle fancy, nothing more."
Robert drained his goblet and let out a satisfied grunt. "This young Septon… where is he hiding? High Septon mentioned him, said he won that seven-coloured belt right at the start. Hmph. Let’s see if he’s worth half the fuss."
"That, Your Grace, is unnecessary…" Pycelle murmured.
"He has departed King's Landing, Your Grace," Lord Varys chimed in. "Left a few days ago."
“Ah, yes. He's chosen to become a traveling septon and bring the word of the Seven to all corners of the realm." Pycelle added quickly.
Robert frowned and eyed Pycelle with suspicion. "For a man of learning, you’re oddly keen on a backwater mere septon, Pycelle."
"Haha, that, oh…"
Bam!
"Your Grace!" A Kingsguard barged in right then. "Lord Stark… Lord Stark has returned!"
Creak!
Robert pushed away the chair and stood up. He forgot everything and rushed out. "My Lyanna!"
####
Shipbreaker Bay,
Instead of going by road, Bronn chose to use a ship. It was safer that way if the goal was to reach Sunspear. He made Elia wear the full hood of a septa as well, then put on some makeup on her face to make her appear lighter.
Then, early in the morning, they reached the port and left. It was a Dornish trading ship. His friendly relations with the guards and the port workers came in handy as he didn't get checked, nor did Elia. He used the excuse of having too much luggage to go by ship instead of by road.
But the biggest expense on that trip was renting the room on that ship. It was tiny, cramped, and he couldn't even spread his arms wide. It had some space to stand, a single chair at the end, and then a bunk bed on the side. It wasn't the biggest room, but the best he could afford.
Elia promised him that her family would reimburse him. But honestly, he was already reimbursing himself on the journey by spilling in the beautiful Dornish princess pretty much every few hours. There was nothing much to do on the ship anyway.
And Elia didn't seem to mind either. She had shared almost the entire story of her life by now. That made him understand why she was like this with him. While Elia did love her husband, and their marriage was happy, it slowly lost all its charm, and Rhaegar grew distant. So distant that they didn't even share a bed anymore, nor a room.
Then, she heard about the abduction of Lyanna, and she knew it was true. She didn't know if it was an abduction or not. She knew for sure that Rhaegar had chosen another woman over her.
"Ummm…"
It was the ninth day on the ship.
"Mmmm…"
Bronn sat on the lone chair in the tiny room, his trousers crumpled around his ankles. On his lap sat Elia, her septa gown hiked up around her waist, baring her lovely lower half. His hands clawed her ass while she rode him gently, holding his cock inside her warm cave while they panted into each other's mouths with endless kisses.
What a journey.
He never imagined his first trip as a septon would be like this. And he really wasn't complaining. But he sure loved teasing this woman. Just feeling her tight cunt snugly choke his cock was enough to make his knees weak.
"You are… with my babe… You know that?"
"Um-hum…" Elia moaned, voice low. "That doesn't mean we must stop."
Pa!
He softly slapped both hands on her tight ass. He pulled her harder into him, plunging his shaft balls deep and held her there while spilling for the nth time that day. He didn't mind doing this with her at all.
"Hmmmm…" Elia, as if addicted to feeling his warm thickness inside, just stayed there, letting his spill coat her walls and throb inside her. She wrapped her arms around his head and pressed her face against his neck, dotting kisses.
Bronn liked that attention. A noble woman of the highest caliber reduced to a nobody septon's cocksleeve. He kneaded her shapely, firm ass while he waited for his cock to turn limp and slide out of her.
"You are… truly a blessed man," Elia mumbled near his ear. "I can feel it… my body. It's better than ever. I don't feel tired anymore."
Bronn moved his head slightly and made her sit straight so he could look at her gorgeous face. There was nothing more exotic in Westeros than a Dornish princess. Or perhaps a Targaryen princess, but that dream was now crushed.
"You needed that strength to go through childbirth."
"And you gave it to me. I will never forget this, Bronn. Dorne's doors will forever be open to you. I'll swear on our child's name."
Our? She really likes saying that, doesn't she?
Smiling, he pushed her off his lap.
"Best get up to the deck before they start sniffing about. Remember the blessings and prayers I told you. And if someone gets grabby, tell me. I'm proficient in all types of swords."
Elia chuckled, an impossible reaction to earn from her, considering her traumatizing experience in King's Landing. But perhaps by sharing it with Bronn, she was already starting to overcome it.
After cleaning up, the two went up for some fresh air. Since it was a trading ship, there weren't that many people on board. It was mostly the ship crew and a rare few travelers.
"Aaaaaaaaah!
Thud!
Suddenly, a sailor fell from above, from one of the two masts. It was a hard fall that made Elia flinch and grab Bronn's arm. The men surrounded the fallen sailor, who was groaning in pain.
"Move!"
The ship captain came over in a rush and checked.
Bronn joined at that point. The leg was broken, twisted in an unnatural way from the knee. The rest of the body seemed fine.
Time for a show.
The easiest way to enter a noble's court was to gain fame. And healers were amongst the most sought-after experts in Westeros. And Bronn had a double advantage of being a septon.
"Septa Emma." Bronn raised his voice. "I can help this man. Will you bring my medicine bag from the cabin?"
Elia warmly nodded and rushed away. When she returned, she had a small animal skin bag in her arms. She handed it to Bronn quickly.
"Move aside." Bronn tried to walk through the men.
"Who are you, boy? A healer?" the captain questioned.
Elia chimed in right then. "He is Bronn the Blessed. You sailed all the way from King’s Landing, and no one whispered his name?”
She's clever. Bronn liked the way Elia helped him.
Bronn the Blessed was a legend that had already spread amongst the smallfolks of King's Landing. Sadly, nobles were hard to lure in with mere legends, as they were naturally more suspicious of everything hard to understand.
"You're Bronn the Blessed?" The captain exclaimed. "I thought he was seven feet tall, made of pure muscle and might, and a godly halo traveled behind his head wherever he went."
"..."
The… Rumors have gone too far, I guess.
"Aye, I’m Septon Bronn, 'the Blessed' is a name that the people gave me. Let me tend to the poor sod. A man without a leg's as good as buried." Bronn acted all noble and holy and sat down beside the groaning man. "I need four strong arms. Hold him. Tight. Wriggle, and he’s done. Wedge something in his teeth. Seven save his tongue. This is gonna sting."
The fellow sailors moved fast and did as Bronn ordered.
Moments later, Bronn took out a small crystal vial from his bag. It looked expensive and precious. And sure enough, when he removed its head, the scent was noticeable. It was distinct, yet strange.
Bronn didn't bother too much and made the sailors remove the injured sailor's trousers. Then, Bronn rubbed that unknown liquid on the broken leg. Under his breath, he started to mutter a spell he'd learned from the memories. It was barely understandable to him, but he felt he could do it alright.
"Bra… Em…" his speech was inaudible.
"WHAT!"
"SEVEN!"
Reactions were immediate. The magic was too otherworldly. Too visible. The broken leg started to move on its own, slowly turning back to its original shape instead of that hideous twist. The sailor roared, crying in pain as the leg slowly healed.
"O Mother mild with mercy deep,
Who guards us all when we must weep,
With hands so soft, yet strong as stone,
Bind bone to bone, make flesh your own."
Thud!
A few sailors around Bronn fell to their knees and broke out in loud prayers, eyes filled with tears as if Bronn were the Mother incarnate himself. Instead of praying to the Seven, they prayed to the miracle itself.
"Let pain dissolve in quiet grace,
And light return to this lost face.
Wrap his pain in mercy’s thread,
And soothe the cries the hurt have bled."
Finally, the sailor stopped crying in pain. The broken leg rested normally, as it should.
"Release him," Bronn ordered.
The sailor sat up and looked at his leg. Instinctively, he turned it left and right, and lifted it like he was doing it for the first time. He then raised it and rotated it.
"I… I feel no pain!" The sailor shouted, and jumped to hug Bronn. "Thank you, thank you, Septon! You are blessed! The most blessed, aye, you are! Gods, you saved me!"
Bronn patted him back and stood up. It was an intoxicating feeling to be worshiped like that. Seeing the sailors around him pray or cry at the miracle.
I wonder how the Martells will react. And the Tyrells?
"Seven's grace! You should've told me who you are." The captain hugged Bronn as well.
And just like that, Bronn and Elia received a room upgrade. From a tiny cabin, they reached a real room, still small, but now it had two single-person beds with space in the middle. Though they only ever used one single bed, making it creak along with their moans and squelches.
Over the next five days, Bronn and Elia were treated like royalty on that ship. They received the best food and the best treatment.
Eating, walking on the deck, and rutting the Princess. That was his daily schedule. He loved doing the last one, and he did it until he couldn't anymore.
"Umm…"
The last night on that ship, he fucked her for hours upon hours. On the table, folded underneath him, lifted in the air, or on all fours. He did her in every way imaginable. Then, they lay down in the bed, naked, and kissed each other for hours while making small talk.
She once again asked him to stay in Sunspear.
He once again told her he needed to keep moving.
But promises were made. That she would never forget what he did for her.
He promised that he wouldn't forget her. It was hard to forget her anyway; fucking and breeding royalty was a lifetime achievement. Not to mention, she was rather delicious in bed.
Martells down, I guess. Tyrells are next, and then… Lannisters will be hard.
Bronn had his own plans in the end. Not just the crown, he wanted them all to stand beneath his feet.
Snogging, cuddling, and eventually, the two fell asleep in each other's arms.
####
Sunspear,
"This cannot stand, Doran! It must not. They… She was our sister, Doran! Our sister! T-They killed her… so brutally." Oberyn Martell grieved, eyes red with anger and pain. "We must stand against this injustice. Now the Lannisters walk free. Pardoned by that Baratheon. Is that justice? Is that what we are meant to accept?!"
"Peace, Oberyn. My heart burns no less than yours, but we are not free to act on fury alone. The crown holds many swords. If Dorne draws steel now, we do so against all the rest."
"So we should just accept it and sit silent?!"
Knock! Knock!
A guard peeked inside Prince Doran's solar. “My Prince… there’s something you’ll want to see. We found a woman inside the castle walls. No one knows how she got in. Says she’s Princess Elia Martell.”
"..."
"What?!"
The two brothers shouted together.
"Where?!"
They shouted together again.
####
By the Father's sack, that's sorted. My work here is done.
Bronn felt relieved that he got Elia into the castle without being seen or found out outside the castle. He didn't want to be labeled as the Septon who helped Elia escape. Robert would come after his head personally.
Now, he was waiting to receive a small reward for the expenses he incurred. He really needed it to continue on his journey to the Reach. His savings were down significantly while caring for a princess.
For now, he just stood alone in a massive hallway. Prince Doran and Prince Oberyn had arrived and recognized their sister instantly. They had dragged her away to a private chamber, leaving him standing alone.
Seven bloody hells, how long are they gonna take? Fuck, I don't have the coin to spend the night here.
Clank!
"You!"
He was woken up from his thoughts by two metallic clanks and a rough voice. He gazed and found two tall men in armor, one on each side.
"Thank the Stranger, took you long enough. Can I leave now?"
"No." One of the guards said. "Prince’s orders. You stay in the dungeon till he says otherwise.”
"What? Why?" Bronn's hand instinctively went for his sword.
But the two guards aimed their spears at his face.
"Don't make this hard on yourself, Septon."
Bronn's jaw tightened. The anger he had suppressed. The loathing he contained towards the nobles. It was returning. Whatever change Elia had brought in him faded away. He had saved Elia, and she had likely told her brothers the whole story. Yet, they chose to hold him in the dungeon.
After all he did. Still, he was a nobody, a lowlife maggot to their regal, jaded halls. Meant to be stepped on. Meant to be insulted. Meant to be reminded of his place, his feebleness.
"Fine." He surrendered and let them move him.
Ah… the lowlife tried to reach for the sun and got burned… I get it.
A lesson was learned in Dorne.
__________________
Question - Robert and Cersei had a son initially. But that son died from fever very early. Now, with the word of a famous faith healer in Westeros, will Robert Baratheon seek Bronn to cure his son?
Choice 1: Yes, Robert will seek Bronn.
Choice 2: No.
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