Queen in the North

Bronn

"Frog fuckers everywhere," Bronn complained as he and Jaime pressed forward on foot. About a day ago, they had lost one horse to the mud. Today, they lost the other in an attack by a crannogman. He had slain the fucker, but not before he had put a poison dart into the horse.

The typically humid and hot Neck had turned cold. The humidity and cold air left the men frozen and unable to build a fire. Their only way of staying warm enough to survive was by moving. So they walk and walk until their legs couldn't carry them anymore. 

Jaime remained silent, Bronn would not stop talking. He moaned about the cold, the dampness, the crannogmen, the exhaustion. Most of all, he loved to complain about Jaime. 

Jaime took Bronn's worries in stride. He has become accustomed to Bronn's personality. How he, for such a hard man, hated discomfort. 

As they sat on a rock, which was the only dry place in the damn swamp, Bronn looked over his old friend. Jaime looked like he had just fought ten rounds against the mountain himself. His face was cut up, courtesy of tree branches that they had to gallop through when they had to flee raiders in the Riverlands, his eyes were next to lifeless and his skin white as snow. 

"Cheer up, lad. We should be through the Neck soon. Then we will enter the true hellhole that is the North. That is where our balls and fingers will freeze off, and, as you have only five fingers, you won't be losing a whole lot." Bronn hummed. 

Jaime's eyes flickered for a second. "We should get going soon. This is too exposed for us to stay long." He whispered, ignoring Bronn's comment. 

"Aye." 

It took the men a few minutes to force themselves to their feet. Even with good quality boots, the journey left Bronn's feet bloody with blisters. He ignored the sting in each step as they pressed on.

Darkness descended around them and they stumbled blindly through the muck and the mud of the Neck. Then a light appeared. 

"It looks like only one man is there, perhaps we could treat with him. Worst case scenario, we kill him and enjoy his fire for a little while." Jaime whispered as he pulled a leather glove over his gold hand. 

"Aye. I could use a chance to get warm again." 

They approached the fire. "We mean you no harm," Jaime called to the man. No, it wasn't a man. It was a young woman, with a spear in her hand.

"Who are you?" She called.

"I'm Oliver Snow and this is my..... cousin Alrich," Bronn replied, holding his hands up.

"We are sorry to bother you, but we got lost on our way north to Deepwood Motte." Jaime elaborated, "Perhaps we could rest here until the sun rises?"

The girl studied them before nodding, still holding her spear. 

Bronn nearly let out a sigh of relief as he took a seat next to the fire. The feeling of flames heating his damp body felt better than any whore he had ever met. 

"Why are you heading North?" The girl asked, suspicious. 

"We are escaping the war in the south," Jaime responded cooly. It wasn't technically a lie. 

"If you're escaping war, then you're going the wrong way. The North is preparing for the great war." The girl warned. 

"Ned Stark's bastard was declared king, and ended the war in the North," Jaime said in a manner that resembled a question over a statement.

"He did. He also warned them about the threat beyond the wall."

"Beyond the wall?" Bronn questioned. Tyrion had once told him that grumpkins and snarks lived past the wall, and they were hardly threatening.

"White Walkers, the Night King, the army of the dead. It's all coming." The girl's face had gone pale. 

"But those are myths," Jaime whispered. 

"I wish they were. The King in the North has traveled south to treat with Daenerys Targaryen in hopes that she will aid in the war to come."

"How do you know that this is true?" Bronn asked, hoping that this was just some rumor spread amongst the common folk.

"My name is Meera Reed. I was beyond the wall with Brandon Stark, where we say them. Then when we arrived at Winterfell, Sansa Stark confirmed that the King is preparing for war." 

Jaime couldn't hide his surprise. Bronn could see the name 'Reed' meant something. However, the fact that the Stark's were taking this threat seriously proved the merit of the tale. Bronn's heart hammered him his chest as Jaime and Meera discussed something that he couldn't hear over the rushing of his own blood. 

Ever since he was young, Bronn was one thing, a survivor. He knew how to fight and was good at killing, but he would never take a fight that he didn't think that he could win. If he would be fighting the dead, then he and Ser Lannister would have to revisit their agreement regarding his compensation. 

Bronn was snapped out of his panic by Jaime, shaking his shoulder. "Meera says that there is a stable, three miles northeast and that the King's Road is a mile east of that. We should get moving."

"Aye. Thank you, Lady Reed. For your hospitality." Bronn mumbled, his mind scattered. He couldn't even feel his legs lifting him up and walking away.

When they were out of earshot of the crannog lady, Bronn turned to Jaime. 

"We are walking to our deaths if what she says is true."

"And if we turn back, Cersei will have us murdered. We must reach Winterfell. We must help the Stark's. If they lose, we all die anyway."

"I think that we need to renegotiate our deal. With what you're offering me right now, I could go back to Cersei and accept the lordship that she will give me for your head."

"She would kill you. If you follow me, I will give you a lordship in the Westerlands. Hells, I will rebuild Castamere for you."

That sparked Bronn's attention. Although Tywin Lannister had left Castamere a flooded ruin, its beauty and splendor were still known throughout the realm, paralleled by only Casterly Rock. He raised a brow, seeing how much Jaime would give him.

"I will also give you a gold mine, to replenish your stores," Jaime added, making Bronn grin ear to ear.

"You've got yourself a deal, m'lord."