Game of Thrones Imagines

Dark Knight - Part 3 - Bronn x Reader

My apologies for this instalment being a little shorter. But I hope that you still enjoy.

The Knight stood from the bed. Her masked gripped firmly in her hand. It felt like a hundred lifetimes since she had looked on her true face. A hundred lifetimes since she had been anything but the Dark Knight. But now as she stood in front of the mirror, her fingers ghosting over her own visage, she couldn't help but let a tear slowly trickle down her cheek.

To her eyes she appeared old. When she had first put on the mask, she had been little more than a child. Yet now, here she was, a full grown woman that had lived so much longer than her natural years.

Angrily she threw the symbol of her slavery onto the bed. If she had not made a deal with the Lord of the Seven Hells, she might have still managed to have a life of her own. To have fallen in love, to have had a family. Yes, she would be dead, but that was the way of life.

(Y/n) dropped to her knees, her hands clasped tightly together as she looked up to the sky.

"Forgive me for all that I have done. Forgive me for every soul that I have stolen. Every life that has been lost to my sword. Forgive me for all the men I have taken to my bed and killed with a kiss. For every mother and father, I have taken a son from. For every wife that I have left without a husband, for every child I have left fatherless. Forgive me." (Y/n) prayed, before slowly rising to her feet. The mask on the bed seeming to look at her. Seeming to mock her prayers.

The Knight closed her eyes. Her mind suddenly filling with memories of long ago. The images appearing so real that she believed that she could reach out and touch them.

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The battlefield was quiet, an eerie silence having fallen over the previously chaotic scene. The once pristine banners now black and torn, fluttered in the breeze. She had seen this scene so many times before. The calm after the storm. Around her were the bodies of the vanquished, many of which had fallen by her own sword. The rest by the hands of her brothers in arms. But death did not discriminate. Death cared not for sides or right and wrong. It just took.

Above her flew the birds. The black winged creatures coming to rest on the corpses, their sharp beaks pecking at the eyes of the fallen. She rushed forward, swinging her sword around her head, screaming at the creatures to leave, to take pity on those that had stood by her side. But they would not listen.

Falling to her knees, she waited. Soon he would appear. The old man. The master of the birds. Her master.

"You serve me well child." A voice said from behind her, as she turned to face the creature that she unfortunately knew all too well.

"Where would I be without you to kill for me?" The old man asked as he circled her. Smiling as the blood of her victims stained her pale skin.

"You would have found some other fool to do it for you. Someone else that was as desperate as I was. Someone as broken." She replied, as the old man lay his hand on her shoulder.

"That is true, my dear Knight. But I doubt that any other could do it quite as well as you." The man chuckled as he surveyed the scene.

"And what if I were to end our arrangement early? What if I were to take my sword, the sword that has taken so many lives, and use it against myself here and now?" The Knight asked, as she turned to glare at the evil being behind her.

"You actually think that I would allow my greatest asset to perish so soon? You think that I would make it that easy for you? We made a deal you and I. I kept my end of the bargain, and I think that it is only fair that you should fulfill yours. But child, if you feel you need to try. Please be my guest." The ancient being told her, as he placed his withered hand under her chin, gripping it firmly.

"Though I assure you that it will do you no good. You are mine on this mortal plane until every last symbol has vanished. Then your soul will be mine for all eternity."

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(Y/n) shook her head. The terrible vision disappearing as she pulled the mask from the bed.

"Your hold on me will end shortly. Soon I will be free to live or die as the god see fit. But you will no longer be my master. No longer the puppeteer that pulls my strings. When the last symbol vanishes, you will be no more. And I will have paid my debt." (Y/n) growled, as she touched the last silver symbol that lay in the middle of the mask's forehead.

"Joffrey's life for my life. One last wicked soul, and I will be at peace." (Y/n) said quietly, as she sat down on the bed and looked around the room.

She already hated it here. The room was too soft, stifling, full of unnecessary frippery and pointless things. She preferred the outside world, preferred spending her nights under the stars as she huddled around a fire for warmth. She preferred the battlefield, the smell of blood and death filling her senses as she wadded through bodies and severed limbs. She preferred the feel of the wind blowing through her hair, as she rode from one war to another. But she would have to deal with Kings Landing, the Red Keep, and Joffrey, until her work was done.

With a heavy sigh, (Y/n) placed the mask back over her features. The Dark Knight once again looking at her through the refection of the mirror. If she was going to have to endure this then maybe joining this Bronn for a drink wouldn't be such a bad idea. All the Dark Knight could hope was that whatever drink he had to offer, he had plenty of it.