GOT: Rasputin of Westeros 6 - Stranger's Curse, Virgin's Sin & The Cult (Patreon)

[Note: All characters in the story are consenting legal adults over the age of 18.]

Doc - https://docs.google.com/document/d/1l6l__Mq7hXVOc9JFtBMgcuT_un2OOouo108aUfNkQx8/edit?usp=sharing

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Some folks had to move out of the way. 

It wasn't a sentiment for Bronn; it was his goal. Oldtown had too many power holders, the biggest being the Citadel, and then came the Starry Sept of Oldtown, a sept no less grand than King's Landing's Great Sept of Baelor. 

Currently, the Starry Sept was being run by the Most Devout, the senior members of the Faith who had gone beyond mere septons. They controlled the faith in that city and most of the Reach. They were old, greedy fucks. And they hated Bronn for being a disruptor. 

“...Faith of the Seven’s strong, not ‘cause the Gods swing swords for you. It’s strong ‘cause you believe. You whisper to the Father for justice, the Mother for a bit of safety, the Warrior for steel in your gut, the Smith for muscle, the Maiden for innocence, the Crone for brains, and the Stranger… well, best pray He doesn't look back at you. Fear no man, no blade, no rule. Fear only the eyes of the Seven. Now, pray after me...”

With that, Bronn ended the once-a-week mass. He used a cane to walk that day, even when he didn't need one. He was mostly healed already. But there was more to gain from pity than strength. 

Clank!

Cank!

The coins in the donation box jingled more than usual as the people left one by one. That day, even Lord Leyton Hightower had come. 

"This way, my Lord." Bronn led Lord Leyton to his healing room, which was also like his solar. "Have a seat."

Walking over to his cupboard, Bronn took out a clear crystal bottle and two small clear glasses. It was like a small wine cup, but made of glass. Then he placed them on the table and poured the red liquid into the glasses. 

"Have a taste, my Lord," Bronn said, settling in with his own cup. “Seven save us, you’re here about that back pain?”

"And more." Lord Leyton said, taking the crystal clear glass with curiosity. He brought it close to his lips and felt like the liquid was burning hot. He tried to smell it, and his nose felt the same, like warm, spicy fumes were coming from it. But it didn't sting. "Amusing."

Just a little, Lord Leyton sipped the drink. 

Screech!

Lord Leyton rose to his feet, his eyes wide, face slightly red. He took another sip and licked his lips, and then another sip. His face became even redder, but the more he drank, the more energized he looked. 

"S-Seven Blessing! What is this, Septon Bronn?!" 

Bronn smiled like a saint. "It's not a medicine, my Lord. It's just a brew I made from my own concocted mixtures and spices. I call it Firewhiskey."

"..."

"Firewhiskey, the name fits! It scorches tongue and throat, yet leaves me soothed. Even the very air tastes sweeter after it. And my body… I feel rejuvenated with courage. I've never sipped something like this. Gods, even Arbor Gold is piss before this!"

Bronn kept that solemn smile. “Seven bless you for the praise, my Lord.”

"Sell this to me!"

"Not even if I prayed till the Stranger came for me, Your Grace. Making this single bottle was a work of sleepless nights. The ingredients are delicate, needing me to pray, recite, and concoct mixtures. This single bottle took me two weeks to make." Bronn declined promptly. "If the Gods grant me strength for more, I’ll see it sent your way."

With a disappointed expression, Lord Leyton looked at the half-empty glass and sighed. Then he gulped the rest of it and savored the taste for some time before sitting down again. 

“Malora is well, her belly swells,” Lord Leyton eyed Bronn sternly. “Yet I bring more than tidings. It was no more than chance that I rode to meet you when the blades came out for you. Had I tarried, you would have bled out on the cobbles. The men we captured were sellswords, bought with gold. Yet none knew who set them on you. But we confiscated their gold and… the coins were clean. Far too clean. Like each one of them was wiped with hands, just like…"

"Sept's donations." Bronn finished the words. 

Lord Leyton said nothing directly after that. "I know what goes on beyond what we see. Any hall where men grasp for power is steeped in intrigue. Red Keep, Citadel, or Sept, it matters not. While we lack a name to blame, I would advise you to be attentive."

Bronn smiled and nodded. 

"I will be mindful of it, my Lord."

"I have strengthened your guard in the city with four more men," Lord Leyton said, rising to his feet. "And there is this besides. My daughter Lynesse may come to you. She is restless of late, and word has reached her that your blessings and prayers may bring her comfort."

Bronn bowed his head solemnly. "I will hear her woes, and if her mind needs softening, I have a draught for that."

With that, Lord Leyton left his humble House of Seven Blessings. 

"Septa Unella." He called for the lovely Septa and leered at her delicious, curvy frame when she entered. "Prepare the confession chamber. Lady Lynesse Hightower will be coming."

"I understand, Lord Septon." 

Once Unella left, Bronn pulled his table drawer and opened a small box with holes in it. He tapped the bright colored spiders inside it, and like loyal pets, the spiders ran up his finger and vanished under his sleeves. 

Let's go, little friends. 

He stood up and walked out of the building. Dressed in his usual septon robes and seven-colored belt, he'd even washed his hair that day. He'd announced beforehand that he wouldn't receive any sick that day. 

There were greater matters to deal with. 

"Lord Septon." 

"My eyes have been blessed."

Passing through the streets, he felt no less than a famed knight. The men, women, and even children recognized him. The scholars and the maesters walking around were his usual customers, buying rejuvenation potions. 

Eventually, he crossed the Rosebridge and entered the Incense Street that led directly to the Starry Sept. The massive, dome-shaped building was just as majestic, but for Bronn, it was an eyesore. The very source of his troubles.

Time to make this city mine. 

Bronn wasn't blind to who attacked him. He didn't need Lord Leyton to tell him anything. He had his own ways, and really, he'd healed not just smallfolk but a few septons from the Starry Sept as well. He didn't even need to ask them to be his eyes and ears. They volunteered. 

Too bad, the old fucks that were the Most Devout refused to accept his blessings. They only gave him two options. Either become their tool, or die. 

We'll see who dies first. Time to be bold. 

Bronn walked up the stairs and entered through the grand gates of the sept. The nearby septas and septons greeted him as if he were their superior, despite being younger. And it didn't take long before a senior septon came over. 

"This way."

Cold, disrespectful. Bronn felt it in the way that the senior septon carried himself. Bronn wasn't very liked by the senior members despite being the most loved and respected in the city. 

"The Most Devouts will see you inside," said the senior septon once they reached a large door. "Speak only when—"

"I know." Bronn didn't bother to listen and pushed the door open. 

Right away, he was greeted by a pretentious site. Five old men in ornate robes of silver color, wearing crystal coronals on their heads, gold locket of Seven Star on their necks, and an overall air of wealth surrounded them. They were seated behind a wide marble table on high, ornate, golden chairs, each no less than a lord's throne. 

No better than nobles. Even the faith is corrupted. 

"May the Seven guide us." Bronn bowed his head and greeted them. But he found no chair for himself. The chamber was like a court instead; a large open space was left empty before the wide marble table. 

"Stand at the center of the star, Septon Bronn," the middle of the five Most Devout ordered him. 

Bronn silently followed their order while staring at their faces. Each more wrinkly than the last, their eyes faded but still sharp, heads with no hair or too few to count. Bronn didn't even know their names. He only knew the middle one. 

"This place may have startled you, but fear not, this is no trial," the middle Most Devout said. "You asked to meet with us, yet we chose to add... weight to the occasion. The five of us are well aware of the wretched, vile attempt on your life. Truly condemnable."

Two-faced bastards. Bronn sneered inside. They were the ones who hired the sellswords after all. 

"Seven help me, why’s there a need for more weight? The sellswords are already in Lord Hightower’s clutches. I’m here only to ask your blessing to bring Lady Malora Hightower into the Order of Septas. Her skill with elixirs is sharper than a sword, and the Gods know I could use her help tending to the faithful."

"Tsk, tending to the faithful?" The leftmost Most Devout sneered. "What you call service is a mockery, Septon. The Seven see all, and yet you take coin to heal the sick. A disgrace before the Gods."

"I don’t, Most Devout. I ask for no coin, by the Seven. It’s up to the ailed if their hearts move to give to the faith's cause. Truth be told, most toss no more than a half-penny." Bronn explained, though he already knew it was pointless. He didn't care; his spiders had already left his sleeves. "I just serve, and let the Seven judge the rest."

"To faith’s cause, you claim? And yet, where is all the gold you’ve gathered? Tell me, where did it go? We did not see it offered at the Starry Sept."

And the cat is out of the bag. 

"That is the second reason why I came here. I wish to open free kitchens across Oldtown to feed the poor. Using the money I'll receive from—"

"Enough." The rightmost Most Devout raised his hand. "No more of this hearsay. Your folly drags the name of septons through the dirt. They see us as jesters and sorcerers because of your deeds. The attack on you could have cost the lives of those who follow you. That cannot go on."

Hah, distressed about the attack they planned? 

"Indeed," the middle one nodded. "Septon Bronn, you must abandon this path. We are servants of the Seven, men of the Word and the Light. Not menders of flesh or the impossible."

"You can't do this to me. What of my blessings? What am I to do with them?" Bronn feigned distress. "With all respect, Most Devout, the Mother and the Maiden guide me. To scorn a blessing is to trample the Gods’ work."

"Trickery." Another Most Devout sneered. 

"You must stop, or we shall be compelled to excommunicate you."

"That's…" Bronn stumbled back. "That's impossible. I can't let my blessings go to waste. I… I'll enter the service of Lord Hightower then. I'll work from there. Even the maesters believe in my healing. No, I must not stop, or the Seven will curse me." 

Right then, Bronn felt something crawl up through his sleeves. That was his cue, and he started to step backwards towards the gate. 

"No! You dare call the Mother and Maiden's blessing a trick?" Bronn fanatically rambled and reached for the door. Then, he pulled it open and kept it like that while he stood there, shouting. "Curse you! All five of you vile heretics! You sinners! Corrupt filth! Die, all five of you! I invoke the Stranger—I call forth Mother and Maiden's name, let the Stranger take you! All five of you! You sit on a mountain of gold and call my blessing trickery? DIE! ALL OF YOU! I curse you!" 

Once he was sure that enough septons and septas heard him shout, he turned around and left, fuming and continuing to curse under his breath, but still loud enough to be audible. 

Now we wait. 

He walked out of the Starry Sept and headed back to the House of Seven Blessings. He was in a great mood as he could see his relationship with the Faith changing soon. He'd tried being the good guy, always thanking and praying. But all that had failed him. 

Now, he'd decided to use the best tool a man of faith like him could use—fear. When the word of his powerful curses would spread, those against him would fear him, and those who sought his aid would adore him even more. 

He soon entered his home. 

"Lord Septon, Lady Lynesse Hightower is here." 

Oh? 

"Where is she?"

"She's in the confession chamber." Septa Unella pointed at the stairs. 

Nodding, Bronn wasted no time and went up the stairs to the room right adjacent to the blessing bedding chamber he used to help women. The confession chamber and the bedding chamber were also joined with a door that didn't look like a door. 

Knock! Knock!

He knocked and opened the door. The confession chamber was nothing special, just a small room with two chairs set face to face, and a thin zig-zag partition wall between the two chairs. Since Lynesse had entered before him, she was made to sit on the other side of the wall, so he wouldn't see her after entering the room. 

"I'm Septon Bronn, my Lady." Bronn declared his presence. "Seven grant you ease, we’ll not drag this longer than need be."

"Understood… Septon Bronn."

Sounds young, and sweet, and innocent. 

First, Bronn lit some incense so the room was filled with a soothing scent. Then, finally, he settled down in his chair. He couldn't see Lynesse, however, and that was rather annoying. He wanted to see if she was a beauty or just a passing name. 

"Seven see it, the Mother's mercy and the Maiden's truth," Bronn muttered, eyeing the wall. "Best say what you came to say, my Lady."

"I… I…" Lynesse stammered. "I have tried to sleep, Septon, but it will not come. My thoughts keep stirring, and I feel so very troubled."

Sleep troubles? Bronn already thought of the potion to give her. He could have ended the session right then and there. But he knew there was more to it. 

"I hear you. Since when has this weight been pressing on you? Any idea of what set it upon you? In those nights the Seven deny you rest, what fills your thoughts?"

An audible gulp echoed in that empty room. Lynesse shifted in her chair; the rustling of her noble gown was audible. 

"My thoughts… It's just… I think of... I… I think of this… Ser. I only saw him once, yet… I cannot help but think of him."

Lovestruck? 

"Liking someone is no sin, my Lady. By the Seven, I assure you, there is n—"

"But I have sinned!" Lynesse insisted. "On some nights I… I sinned. I… Oh, Mother above, I… felt myself in an unholy way."

Bronn's lazy eyes opened wide all of a sudden, like thoughts were activated. Like a lamb had just fallen on his lap, and he wasn't even hungry.

"I see," Bronn muttered, pondering what to do. He couldn't fill her up like he'd done with Malora. That case was different, and Lynesse was Lord Leyton's youngest daughter, possibly the most adored. "How old are you, my Lady?"

"I'm eight and ten, Septon."

Bronn smirked and stood up. He abruptly grabbed the movable partition wall and pushed it away completely. And at last, he got to take a look at Lynesse. 

Seven cunts! 

Bronn was taken aback by her beauty. High cheekbones, pouty, full lips, noble face, bright blue eyes, face full of innocence. Mixed with her chest-length golden hair and creamy skin, she had Bronn caught frozen. While not curvy, he could see the swelling peaks on her chest inside that gown. 

"Forgive me, my Lady, but for the Seven to absolve you, it had to be done," Bronn said, grinning like a wolf in a chapel. "Loving someone is no sin, and you’re of age, so nothing wrong there. But the Maiden frowns when you take yourself in hand. Unmarried girls are meant to be innocent, and you’ve sullied that."

"W-What?" Lynesse rose to her feet quickly, her height enough to reach Bronn's shoulders. Her gown was noble, many-layered, but the wide neck showed so much pale, untouched skin that it was a sin to look at. 

Hightowers, as expected. Bronn saw the fear and worry in Lynesse's eyes. She truly feared the Seven. The Hightowers were really religious. 

"Sit, my Lady." Bronn held her shoulders, his fingers brushing against her warm skin. He pushed her down into the chair. "The Maiden and the Mother favor me. I mend flesh, mind, and spirit. Fear not, I'll draw all the sin out of you."

He meant that quite literally. 

"You will?" Lynesse looked up at him with hope. 

Bronn smiled, his cock twitching under his septon robes. He caressed her silky, golden hair on the head, then touched her face, as if reassuring her. "I've done this plenty of times, my Lady. The Seven are merciful, especially the Mother and the Maiden. But a sin can't wash away unless I know it's true. Show me your sin, my Lady."

Bronn understood that, as sheltered as Lynesse was, at her age of eighteen, she knew about sexual advances. She knew about bedding and how babies were made. She knew that, that was why she was touching herself. So, he didn't try to treat her like a fool. 

Lynesse gulped, her jaw tightening visibly. "S-Show?"

"Ah…" Bronn frowned and waved his hand. "I believe you have misunderstood me, my Lady. I am aware it's shameful to remove all clothes and stand bare before a man. But I suggest you don't see me as a man but a vessel of the Mother and Maiden above. Through me course their blessing. As a healer, I have seen far too many men and women bare."

That did put her at ease as she nodded softly. "A-All my clothes?"

"Aye, my Lady. Your body’s a temple of the Maiden, and I’ll see it rightly blessed." Bronn claimed and stepped away from her. "If it feels wrong, might I suggest shedding the robes past that old curtain wall?"

"I-Is this necessary?"

Bronn sighed and shook his head. "Lady Lynesse, are you aware that to aid you, I'm supposed to sin as well? Only a sin can cancel another sin, like a sword stops a sword. To aid you, I'm prepared to bear the burden of sin. But if it's shame that stops you, I fear your sin has entered your mind, for your thoughts only think unholy matters."

Lynesse frowned. 

Bronn stepped further away. 

“Very well,” Bronn said, nodding as he shuffled to the door. “I’ll give you a potion to send you off to the Gods’ arms at night. Drink it each eve. If it doesn’t work… then Seven help us, the sin’s already gnawed at your soul.”

Bronn was hopeful. He really wanted to bed her, a sort of ultimate payback towards nobles, and men like Leyton Hightower. Leyton had dared to abduct him with no care for his wishes. That happened simply because Leyton believed his social standing was far above Bronn's. And now, he had the chance to pluck the sweetest flower of House Hightower.

Yet, there was no joy in pushing it. What he wanted was total compliance. Absolute willingness and belief. So she would obey his words. 

Nodding, Lynesse said nothing and followed Bronn out of the confession chamber. It wasn't that she was unwilling. Just her shame didn't allow it. She believed Bronn, which was why she felt so scared of his warning. 

"Forgive me, Septon." She apologized, teary-eyed. 

Seven help me! Lovely! He found her even more charming.

Bronn smiled and patted her shoulder softly. He was just two years older than her, after all. "No apologies needed, my Lady. Drink this before you sleep, and leave the rest to the Seven."

He was not a good man. While his powers were indeed miraculous, he wasn't a good man to heal everyone. He could have made her fall asleep. But there was nothing for him in it. If anything, the opposite was better. 

The hotter she'd feel. The more restless she'd be. She'd eventually return to him. 

"Thank you, Septon."

At last, Lynesse bowed at him and left the place in her regal wheelhouse. 

As for Bronn, he returned to the usual work. In the basement of the building, he started preparing batches of more potions and his next hit, Firewhiskey. Unlike what he'd told Lord Leyton, it wasn't hard to make. But it couldn't be made by anyone but him, for his hands had the magic. 

Firewhiskey was a thing from his memory. He was certain he'd only achieved a third of what the real thing tasted like. But it was already better than any wine that existed. He was certain that, as long as he made it famous, he'd be able to dethrone Arbor Gold and perhaps become the most valuable wine in the world. 

Five Dragons per bottle? Or ten? 

Nonetheless, his goal was to have Elia Martell handle his wine's distribution, as he couldn't do it personally while being a Septon. He'd be accused of some nonsense by the High Septon, or worse, they'd eye his money. He needed the backing of a house that was powerful and didn't give a damn about the Faith or the Crown. 

Furthermore, Elia wouldn't refuse him. If anything, she'd get a cut from profits, and that would one day help her put his bastard on the throne. 

Let's make ten bottles tonight. 

####

The next morning,

It was early morning, the sun barely peeked above the horizon, painting the sky bright blue. Yet, that morning, the city wasn't calm. From the smallfolk to the nobles, to the Citadel or the Starry Sept, all had woken up to the unending bells ringing. 

The chimes came from the Starry Sept. The pattern suggested deaths, five in total. Curious, the nobles sent their messengers to the Starry Sept. The smallfolk went themselves. In a few hours, the word spread across Oldtown that the five Most Devout who headed Starry Sept had died in their sleep. 

However, the most shocking thing happened an hour later. 

Since the five Most Devout were the highest authority, they had dozens of attendants. 

Those attendants, numbering fifty in total, instead of preparing for funerals, ran out of the Starry Sept, all the way to the House of Seven Blessings, and groveled before its gate, face kissing the road, crying loud and seeking forgiveness. 

"Lord Septon! Please, forgive us!"

"My Lord! Take back the curse!"

"Please, I beg you! I was swayed by those old imbeciles!"

"Mercy, Lord Septon! Mercy!"

Another hour passed, and the gate was still closed. Yet, the crowd of septons and septas groveling before the gate increased. Now, not just the attendants of the dead Most Devouts, there were others. There were even a few Most Devouts groveling, crying. 

"Corruption had tainted our hearts! Thank you for guiding us, Lord Septon!"

By the time the sun fully came up, it was as if all of Oldtown had gathered there. Crowding the streets, balconies, and terraces, with the House of Seven Blessings in its center. Nobles, merchants, smallfolk, and beggars had gathered, and in no time the word spread. 

Just the day before, Septon Bronn had entered the Starry Sept to meet the five Most Devouts. He came out cursing them, calling them corrupt, and cursing them with the Stranger's wrath. And that morning, those five Most Devouts were dead in their sleep. 

"S-Seven… Septon Bronn is… Blessed!"

Unlike the groveling septons, septas, and Most Devouts, the people of the city cheered for Bronn and even made prayers. Thanking the Seven for purging the corrupt from the Starry Sept. 

Eventually, the time came when the gate of the House of Seven Blessings usually opened. Everyone waited patiently. 

####

Inside the House of Seven Blessings, 

"Thank you, Septa Unella." Bronn stood still, dressed in clean yet simple robes. In front of him stood Unella in her body-hugging Septa gown. She was a sight to behold, her height as tall as his; it was a delight to look directly at her face. 

Septa Unella smiled, busy fixing Bronn's robes and combing his hair. Yet, she was aware, her breath uneasy, her mouth dry. She felt Bronn's hands rest on her waist, just above her hips. 

Progress, at last. 

Bronn took advantage of the fact that Unella truly believed in his blessings. For her, it was a fact that the Maiden and Mother favored him. Now, she also believed that Bronn had the favor of the Stranger. With that much fanaticism, Bronn knew she wouldn't question his actions. 

Seven—Soft as sin! 

He felt her waist. While the gown was modest, he'd seen her enough to know her hips were lush and broad, just as her bosom. She was, in a true sense, made for breeding and motherhood, not wasting her life dry as a septa.

"Seven bless you, Septa. Don’t know what I’d’ve done without you." Bronn praised her, his fingers gently rubbing her hourglass curves. "You keep this place tidy, proper as a prayer."

Unella smiled brightly, her lovely teeth showing, so perfect. "It is my duty, Lord Septon."

"Aye."

Then Bronn did something insane. 

He leaned forward and pecked her lips like it meant nothing. No tongue, no feelings. Just a quick peck that lasted a blink. 

"L-Lord Sep…"

Unella frowned, covering her mouth in shock. 

Bronn smiled towards her like a sage. "Ah, my apologies. The Mother and the Maiden have their ways, you see. I cherish you, Septa Unella, not as a man pines for a woman, but as the Mother and the Maiden hold the faithful. My deeds may look sinful, dirty, filthy, sexual, but there’s no lust, no filth, no fire—only true devotion to the Seven."

It was absolute bullshit. Yet, to a woman like Unella, whose mind was carved to believe in the miracles of the Seven, it made the most sense. She'd seen Bronn bless women's wombs, and he did that without romantic, intimate, sinful desire and passion, according to her.  

"I understand, Lord Septon." Septa Unella resolutely nodded. 

"Good," Bronn said, stepped closer, and pecked her lips one more time. This time, it lingered a blink longer, enough that he felt how soft and silky her lips were. 

Seven cunts! I'm hard as the corpses of those five old fucks. 

Finally, he turned.

Septa Unella walked ahead of him as it was her duty to open the door. 

Bronn just admired the view of those shaking hips. 

Clack!

"Lord Septon." Septa Unella opened the door and stepped aside. It was bright outside, so much so that everything looked white. 

Reborn anew. 

He took a deep breath, formed a smile on his lips, and stepped forward. He crossed the threshold of the door and was instantly overwhelmed by the crowds. He didn't understand why, but it became noisy, loud cheers and screams mixed, echoed like roars. He looked left, and the entire street was filled with people, waving at him, many on their knees. The right side was the same. Then he looked at the buildings that lined the road's both sides, all balconies and terraces were full. 

Did I bloody overdo it?

"Forgive us!"

"Please!"

"I beg you!"

He finally looked at the septons, septas, and the Most Devout. All of them were crying, faces pale in fear. 

Stranger scared the piss out of them.

When the crowd just refused to calm down, Bronn raised his right hand, palm flat towards the groveling men and women. 

With that, like a slow wave, silence fell. 

Lowering his hand, Bronn stared at the groveling figures. He let them cower a little more before speaking. 

"I have no enemies." He said, loud but not shouting. 

“From King’s Landing to Oldtown, I’ve only done one thing: serve. The Mother and the Maiden steered me here to patch up the sick and sore. I wanted no coin, no fancy rewards. Every penny the good folk of Oldtown gave went straight into medicine. I dreamed too of kitchens where the poor might eat and worry less for a day. The Seven guided me, yet your five Most Devout grew greedy for my donations and my name. They threatened to cast me out of the Faith, stopping me from healing, from feeding. A sin! A sin the Stranger himself would scowl at—and it fell squarely on them.”

Finally, Bronn walked over to the nearest septon, held him by the shoulders, and helped him up. 

"I hold no grudges, nor do I sit in judgment. I am naught but a healer, a small man of the Seven. My anger fell on the five who strayed, not on you. Go, each of you, serve with faith and duty. I must heal the ailed."

The septon cried, clasped his hands together into a fist, and bowed his head into Bronn's hands, blabbering for forgiveness.  

The Stranger really scared them all. 

After that, one by one, each septon, septa, and Most Devout came to him, bowed their heads, kissed his hand, and left. There were over a hundred of them, and by the end, he felt the back of his hand red and sore. 

When one of the smallfolk tried to come and kiss his hand, Bronn stepped back. He couldn't let that happen, or else the entire Oldtown would try it. They'd eat the damn skin off his hand. 

"May the Seven bless you all." 

With a final wave of his hand, he walked back into the building. Septa Unella closed the door right away. 

That should get my name across the Reach. 

Hopeful, he returned to work. He had that blacksmith's woman to bless, after all.

####

Highgarden, the Reach,

"Mother, is it true?"

At sixty, Olenna Tyrell had withered, but she still retained the vigor and wits of her young self. Queen of Thorns they called her, for her sharp tongue, and she honestly didn't mind it, as it allowed her to be rather mean to those around. 

"It is, Mace. You're fat."

Mace Tyrell frowned at that response. He looked down at his rotund belly, then his wife nearby on the chair, a beautiful Hightower, elegant and graceful. The difference was stark.  

"I… didn't mean that, Mother. That Septon in Oldtown, they say he can heal any sickness, any wound. Blessed by the Seven, they say. He cursed Stranger upon five Most Devouts, and they died."

Lady Olenna hummed, busy knitting for her grandson, Loras, born just three years ago. 

"Mace, they say a lot, but it matters who 'they' are. True enough, five Most Devouts perished in their sleep after that Septon’s curse. True, he can heal. But I have lived long and witnessed plenty. Seven's blessings and Stranger's curses belong in the hands of nans, spinning stories to youngins, not for sensible grown folk." 

Mace Tyrell sighed, frowning. "I just…"

"Hope he can fix Willas' leg?" Olenna’s eyes cut to her son. "The very son you crippled by pushing him into a tourney to compete with men twice his age?"

Mace felt like shrinking his head into the ground. He'd cursed his firstborn to a life of a cripple just for his own ambitions. 

"Stop believing in fairy tales and focus on leading the lands you rule. You're not the brightest, but you have me. Your father had me. Learn what you can so you won't doom this house when I'm gone."

Mace really felt like vanishing.

####

Oldtown, House of Seven Blessings.

Here we are, once again. 

Seven days had passed, and the potion Bronn had given Lynesse had run out. As expected, she was even less sleepy now. And she confessed, she'd touched herself every single night. There was no confession wall between them now; her face was red in shame. 

"Please, Septon. I’m lost. You are favored by the Seven and even the Stranger. I need to be free of this sin," Lynesse begged him. 

Bronn smiled like a saint. "A heavy promise you seek, my Lady. To rid your sin, I must sin an equal amount now. By the Gods, it’s worse than before."

Lynesse frowned, her eyes on the verge of spilling. "I… I'm prepared. I’ll undress immediately, Septon."

Where's the joy in that? 

Bronn shook his head. "My Lady, the Gods themselves might frown, for I know not if I can aid you… But we shall try. I honor your modesty, by the Seven. I’ll not ask you to bare all, yet do cast off the smallclothes that guard your sacred loins."

Lynesse didn't argue this time. To her, this was better than going completely bare. Although she trusted Septon Bronn, he was still a man. Quickly, she stood up, pulled her multi-layered gown up, one layer at a time, squeezed her hands in, and pushed her smallclothes down. 

Fuck! 

Bronn gulped at the mere tease of her creamy, pale legs. Long, slender, just right.

"What must I do now, Septon?" She sat down again.

"It is my turn to move, my Lady," Bronn replied and got off his chair. He eyed her charming, perfect face, a mix of beauty and adorability. 

First, Bronn locked the door. Then, he walked over to Lynesse's chair and slowly got down on his knees. 

“From this moment, all I do is my duty. The Seven know it may seem sinful, filthy, sultry, carnal to your eyes, or to some prying third eye, which is why this ritual must stay hidden, or it may be undone. Know this, my Lady—the Maiden and the Mother grant me strength to heal women without lust in my heart. My deeds are pure—take them as such.”

Lynesse just nodded, confused. 

"Oh!"

"Please, hold your gown up so I may inspect your loins. It is the most sacred organ of a woman, the one that carries Mother and Maiden's blessing." Bronn started to push her multi-layered gown up. 

Seven fucking hells, the layers never end. These lordly cunts swaddle their women, hiding the only part of them worth a damn.

He bunched the gown at her lap until pale, creamy skin revealed itself inch by inch. Her legs. Long, smooth, untouched. His calloused hands slid over them, gripping her thighs with rough reverence. His thumbs traced along their inner slope, savoring the feel.

Soft as butter.

Her breath caught, her chest fluttering with nervous shame.

Then the skirt was lifted fully, and there it was. Her cunt.

Bronn stilled, drinking in the sight.

Stranger take me… prettier than I imagined. 

A neat little patch of golden curls, and beneath it. Untouched, pink, tight, unstretched. A Hightower cunt, right for the taking.

“Place your legs on my shoulders, my Lady,” he said softly.

Lynesse’s lips parted as if to question, but Bronn was already moving her limbs himself, lifting her slender ankles, spreading her thighs wide, and settling them onto his shoulders. Her back arched, hips half off the chair, her most sacred flesh offered to his face.

“O Maiden pure, keep her heart from strife,
Guard her steps through the dance of life.
O Mother kind, let her womb be blessed,
Grant gentle dreams and peaceful rest.”

Bronn said a quick prayer and leaned in, kissing her inner thighs. His lips pressed, then lingered. A wet trail of licks marked her pale skin, goosebumps chasing wherever his tongue went. Once, he bit gently, just to feel her jolt.

“My Lady, do not moan. While what we do is wholly consensual, it must not be… sensual. From this moment, chant for me. ‘Oh Mother Above and Maiden virgin, let Septon Bronn draw out my sin.’ Do not stop until I command it,” Bronn murmured against her flesh.

"I understand." Lynesse was blushing red in shame, very much aware that a man was staring right at her slit. She felt her hips half in the air on the edge of the chair, her back arched as her thighs squeezed on each side of Bronn's face. 

Ummmh… A noble scent; Bronn was thrilled. This was Lord Leyton's proud youngest daughter, about to be claimed in every way by him. And by the Seven, he was going to claim the life out of her. 

He gave one long lick, slow, deliberate, flat across her slit from base to pearl.

“Ahhhhnnn—!” The moan ripped from her lips, sharp and unguarded.

Bronn drew back just enough. “Did I not warn you, my Lady?”

“I-I… forgive me, Septon…”

“Then chant.”

Her voice broke as she started, “O-Oh Mother above… and Maiden virgin… let Septon Bronn draw out my sin…”

Bronn wrapped his arms around her thighs, dragging her down to his mouth, locking her tight. His tongue lapped and probed, circling her clit, plunging into her virgin folds, slurping the sweetness already slickening there.

Gods, noble cunt. I’ll suck the sin right out of you, girl. Make you forget you’re highborn before I’m done.

“Ahhh—O-Oh Mother A-above—” Her chant crumbled into whimpers, each holy word mangled by the pleasure in her core. Her hands clutched his hair, pulling without meaning to, trembling. “M-Maiden virgin—ahhh—f-forgive me!”

Bronn groaned into her slit, the vibration rumbling through her core. Her hips bucked, writhing against his mouth, caught between shame and ecstasy. She chanted, but the words were broken, sobbed, half-lost to gasps and moans.

“Ohhh Mother Above… ahhh—ahhh—f-forgive me… forgive me…”

Her nails dug into his scalp, tugging his hair as her body twisted and quaked, her cries mingling with the desperate chant, as Bronn feasted on her like it was his divine right.

Schluurp—hhhlllckhh… 

Obscene wet sounds filled the chamber, his mouth noisy and unashamed, devouring her as if she were his only meal. His stubble rasped her tender flesh, his lips sealing, sucking greedily at her pearl until her thighs trembled.

Her breath grew high and wild, broken between sobs and chants. “O-Oh Mother above… M-Maiden V-virgin… let Septon Bronn draw—ahhh—draw out my sin!”

Seven fuck me, she’s close... Bronn felt it. She was teetering on the edge, and he fucking loved it. Her smooth, silky body, her pink, tight slit, perfect combination. He was hard enough to split stone.

Her whole body seized, her pale ass dangling off the chair’s edge. Her legs clamped around his head, locking him in, dragging his face hard against her cunt.

“Ahhhhh—Mother Above! Aaaaahhh!” She screamed through the chant, voice torn raw as the climax ripped through her. Her thighs trembled violently, her hips bucked in desperate jerks, her virgin cunt flooded his tongue with her first real release from a man.

She came on his mouth, and he didn’t mind in the slightest. In fact, he gloried in it. It was a twisted pride, a filthy triumph, being the first to taste the noble beauty Lynesse Hightower. A nobody. A fishmarket rat. A lowborn brute with scars on his hands, feasting on the pussy of Oldtown’s golden daughter, the prized jewel of the most powerful house in the city. 

Her nectar dripped across his tongue, hot and sweet, smearing his stubble, wetting his chin. And he swallowed greedily, savoring every gush.

Bronn groaned, grinding his mouth into her, drinking her down. “Mmmmmmhh…”

"Ah! Forgive me!" Lynesse gasped and shuddered, her eyes wide and wet. 

Suddenly, she pried her thighs apart, releasing his head, as if ashamed of her own body’s betrayal.

Bronn frowned, pulling away. Her slit glistened in the candlelight, wet and twitching from the aftershocks. He stood, tugging his robe off and casting it aside, then peeled away his tunic and breeches in rough jerks.

He stood naked before her, his cock swollen thick and veined, bobbing proudly, precum glistening at the tip. His chest rose and fell with ragged breaths, muscles hard beneath candlelight.

"You moaned… My sin isn't enough." Bronn said.

He stepped forward, spreading his knees so her dangling legs were caught between them, her flushed face low, eye-level with his throbbing shaft. "Open your mouth, my Lady. Do what I did to you."

Her eyes widened. “S-Septon…”

Bronn didn’t wait. He shoved forward, pressing his cockhead against her soft lips. They parted, and he pushed in, stretching them wide around his girth.

"F-Forgive me… my Lady. I may… say filthy… things but… they're to accumulate sin." Bronn groaned, feeling her mouth swallow his thickness. Her pouty lips clung tight, blazing hot. Her tongue fluttered weakly beneath, trapped against his shaft as he sank deeper inch by inch.

“Mmhmmmnnn…” Lynesse moaned around his cock, muffled, her eyes wide with shame. Drool already spilled at the corners of her mouth.

Bronn’s jaw tightened, his hand clamping the back of her head. He drove his hips forward, pumping into her with heavy thrusts. Her willing lips stretched, cheeks bulging.

Gluk! Gluk! Slrrrupphhkk

“Look at this…” Bronn growled, his voice turning sharp. “Whore of House Hightower. Mouth so fucking tight. Suck harder, whore. Learn!”

Her eyes flew wider, shocked at his words. Eyes watered, streaking her cheeks. Her nose flared as her throat convulsed, choking on his girth. But she took him reverently.

House Hightower’s jewel, gagging on me like a dockside slut. This is what nobles deserve. Cocks in their throats instead of crowns on their heads.

Bronn looked down, savoring the sight. The stretch of her mouth around his girth, the way her lips clung to every vein, her jaw trembling, her eyes watering, her once-perfect hair clinging in sweaty strands. He groaned again, ramming deeper, hips slamming her face until his cockhead pushed past her throat.

“Glkkhhh! Uugghhhkk!” Her body spasmed, throat stretched around him.

Bronn’s voice rose, half-mocking prayer, half-snarl. “This is your gift, my Lady. This is what you deserve. My cock, buried in your unholy mouth. Drink it. Worship it. Be cleansed by it.”

Her tongue tried desperately to obey, wriggling clumsily, licking along his thickness, sucking weakly. She tried to mimic what he had done to her, even as her throat convulsed around him, as the wet chorus echoed in the chamber.

Gluk! Gluk! Gluk! 

"Aaargh… Drink it… the nectar, my lady." His tone softened for a moment, almost reverent, though his thrusts never slowed. He could feel his balls tightening.

He pulled back just enough to aim, then thrust hard, spilling warm, sticky seeds into her throat. Hot, thick cream surged from him in heavy spurts, pumping molten ropes down her convulsing throat. He held her head steady until he felt her throat milk the last drop.

Lynesse gagged, choking, eyes rolling back, but still gulped desperately, swallowing every blast. Her throat bobbed, sucking it down as commanded.

"Ah… We can… move to the… final ritual, my Lady." Bronn said and pulled out of that warm mouth. 

He seized her by the hand and pulled her up, spinning her lightly on her feet. With deliberate slowness, he untied the gown from behind, loosening the knots one by one until the fabric slackened. Then, with a sharp push of his hands, he shoved the gown off her shoulders. The heavy layers cascaded down her body and pooled at her feet.

She stood naked. Fully, utterly naked. Her smooth, pale skin glowed in the candlelight, every inch of her figure delicate yet ripe. Her breasts were perfect handfuls, perky, firm, capped with pale pink areolas that looked soft enough to melt on his tongue. Her stomach was flat, her hips slender but womanly, her thighs pale silk, and her blonde curls framed the slit between her legs he’d already tasted.

Bronn prowled around her like a wolf circling prey, one callused hand sliding up from her hip to her chest. He took her tits in both hands, kneading, squeezing, thumbing the peaks until they stiffened. Warm and soft.

A statue carved for worship, and here she is letting me paw her like a whore. Nobles don’t deserve this kind of beauty. But I’ll take it, piece by piece, and she’ll beg me for more.

"Come."

He took her wrist again, led her to the hidden door, and pushed it open. The chamber beyond was darker, more intimate. A bed waiting in the center, dressed and ready as always. He shoved her lightly forward, and she stumbled onto the mattress, falling onto her back, golden hair splaying across the pillow.

Bronn closed the secret door, locking it tight. He turned, cock jutting proudly as he walked back to her.

Lynesse panted, lying on her back, chest rising and falling, her eyes now stripped of confusion. Only lust lived there. She was no fool. She knew what was to come, her sin, her release. And the thought of it, she admitted in her own silence, was strangely appetizing.

“I-It… won’t fit.” Her eyes widened, panic and desire mixing in her tone.

Bronn chuckled, kneeling between her slender, milky thighs. He stroked her trembling leg, sliding her knees wider. “It always does, my Lady. Don’t worry. It only stings at the start.”

Oh, it’ll sting. And I’ll enjoy every shudder of it.

“My Lady, think of Mother and Maiden in your thoughts,” Bronn said solemnly, even as he lined himself up. 

He pressed his cockhead down against her virgin slit, the swollen crown rubbing along her entrance, glistening wet from her earlier peak. Her juices coated him as he rocked, smearing her lips wide, teasing her entrance.

Her noble face was so flawless, framed in candlelight. Her lips trembled, her brow furrowed, every part of her anticipating the inevitable. His gaze devoured her tits, those pink peaks aching for his bite, but first…

Thank you for the offering… Leyton Hightower… Seven will… bless you… with nothing. 

"Ummmh… Ah! I-It won't… fit!" She cried, her voice shrill with dread and need.

Bronn shoved. The fat crown split her folds, and her tight virgin ring clutched around him. He growled low, teeth gritting as her body challenged, stretching, burning. Slowly, painfully, her maidenhood tore, that tender barrier breaking under brute thickness.

Her back arched violently, her nails dug at the bedding, her face flushed red as the sting tore through her. A cry ripped from her throat, high and helpless. “Ahhhh! Mother above! Maiden! It—ahhhhhh!”

Bronn groaned through clenched teeth as he slid in deeper, inch by inch, every fraction of her body straining to contain him. Blood and slick coated his shaft as her walls spasmed around him, tight as a fist.

Noble cunt, untouched till tonight. I’m the first, I’m the one to take her.

“Pray to Mother and Maiden,” Bronn rasped, pulling back and then pushing forward again. His thrusts churned slowly, grinding, like he was working butter with a churn stick, getting her body to yield to him. He braced on his arms, looming over her, face inches from hers as he set the rhythm.

Her voice broke in squeals and moans, clawing at his chest, biting her lips until crimson stained them. Every push made her wail, every pull dragged a new prayer from her throat. Her smooth legs wrapped high around him, body convulsing, her noble cunt being stretched, filled, claimed.

“Doing… wonderful.” Bronn rasped, savoring every moment. First Malora, and now Lynesse, two virgins of House Hightower, claimed by his cock. But this one… this one he enjoyed the most.

Once his shaft was buried halfway, he leaned down flat, chest to soft, gelatinous chest, and claimed her lips in a brutal kiss. Then he thrust in all at once, ramming himself deep and lodging his entire cock inside, hitting to the base. Her maiden’s sheath gave way entirely, stretched and claimed, his final declaration of victory.

Lynesse shrieked into his mouth, nails raking his back, her eyes wide as the sting turned into raw, tearing pleasure. Her muffled moans vibrated against his tongue as he plundered her noble lips. He gave her no gentleness. His kiss was rough, conquering, her first kiss ravaging and sinful. He drank her spit, ate her tongue, devoured her underneath himself like a starving man with only sin for a goal.

He didn’t stop kissing even as he fucked her. Pulling his cock almost all the way out, then slamming it back to the root, hard and sharp. Again. Again. Her roars bled into his mouth with every stroke until her body started to yield, softened around the relentless intrusion. 

Finally, Bronn sat back on his knees, chest heaving, and looked down.

Mmmmm! What a sight! 

Her cunt gripped him so tight it looked like her folds were clinging to his skin, being dragged out with his cock when he pulled. A perfect squeeze. A snug, noble sheath painted in crimson, his shaft streaked with the paint of her broken wall.

Lynesse Hightower… What a lay.

Bronn didn’t let her rest. He started to fuck her like a common whore. His hips snapping, cock pistoning in and out, his hand wrapping around her throat gently, then sliding to seize her jaw and plant more kisses upon her noble lips. 

He bent down, sucking her tits hard, biting her perky buds until she cried out, leaving marks of teeth on her flawless flesh. Each motion was raw and filthy. His tongue lashing hers, his cock plunging, his lips sucking bruises into her tits, claiming her all.

Then he pushed her legs up, pressed them flat against her chest, and leaned forward, fucking her folded in half. Her snug pussy, already impossibly tight, clamped down tighter still, milking his cock like a velvet vice.

“Gaaaaaahhh! Ohhh… Mother… Maiden!” Lynesse screamed, her body convulsing. Her pussy squirted, a slippery gush coating him, making each thrust glide with wet ease.

Plap! Plap! Slap! Squelch!

Froth of pale red and white formed around the base of his cock, every thrust mixing her virgin paint with her slick and his spit.

"Ugh… Take it… in… my Lady."

“W-what?!” she gasped, realization flashing in her glassy eyes.

“Fear not… Maiden’s blessing grants me complete control over my seed. Now is not your time to be blessed with a babe.” His tone was solemn, but his hips never slowed. He leaned down, his legs straight behind him, pressing his chest and face into her tits, biting them again as he rutted her deep.

Her bent body was pinned under his weight, toyed with, spent as he slammed into her again and again amidst the bed creaking and wet smacks. 

Finally, he slammed in to the root and unleashed a savage spurt, bursting deep against her womb’s access. Then another, and another. Thick, hot floods of his holy batter gushed out, mixing with her crimson paint and nectar until it foamed around his cock, spilling back out in a filthy froth.

“Seven bless you…” He groaned mockingly, grinding his hips down, making sure every throb of his shaft milked another rope into her clenching walls. The bed creaked beneath them as he shoved her folded body deeper into the mattress, balls slapping, sloshing the froth that bubbled out around her stretched lips.

Lynesse moaned through moans, trembling, every nerve lit with bliss. She felt blessed, ruined, holy in her sin.

Bronn, meanwhile, felt like a conqueror standing atop a fallen city. My victory. My prize. A noble maiden, broken.

His cock throbbed madly, but still he didn’t stop. He released her thighs, spreading them wide again, his shaft still spearing her, and collapsed on top of her, lips meeting hers in a kiss far gentler, almost lover-like. His hips still moved, still grounding, but slower now, savoring.

"Mmh…" Lynesse hummed when he stopped kissing. She felt so sore she didn't know if she could walk. "S-Septon… I feel… sleepy."

Bronn chuckled and got off of her. "Then sleep here. None will disturb you."

As Bronn stood by the bed, he watched that absolute filth of a view.

Her body was an absolute wreck, sprawled across the sheets. Her noble pussy was battered, swollen red, her folds still wet and shining, coated white, streaked with the pale froth. Her tits bore the marks of his teeth, pink buds swollen and bitten raw. Her golden hair was a tangled, sweaty mess, plastered to her flushed cheeks. Her lips, swollen from his rough kisses, parted slightly as she breathed slowly and heavily, a blissful smile gracing her face.

Feelings blessed? Bronn held back a chuckle. Might as well keep blessing her until Leyton lets me go.

But then he thought of Lynesse becoming another Septa for him. 

Hmm… Lynesse the beauty, Malora the potioneer, and Unella the overseer.

An idea so good he felt his balls tickle.

####

In the coming months, Bronn continued to reside inside Oldtown. His name and fame were absolute by then. From morning till evening, lines stood outside his House of Seven Blessings. He also blessed more women. 

At last, even noble women had started to knock on his door. Albeit they remained lesser nobles. 

The Starry Stept never interfered with him again. The Stranger's fear ran deep. Bronn had free rein to do whatever he wanted to. And he did just that. He moved into a bigger building, big enough that it had its own massive courtyard. And inside that courtyard, he started to hold spiritual gatherings where he healed a few people, spoke about the Seven, told them made-up stories, or stories he read in the Citadel.

He used free food kitchens to spread the word. 

From a hundred to a thousand. From a thousand to ten thousand. 

Bronn had to seek Lord Leyton's permission to use the tourney grounds outside the city for his spiritual gatherings. He was the sole focus of these gatherings. He presented himself as the best medium to reach the Seven. He presented himself as if his words were messages of the Seven. 

Donations, fame, name, crowds, women—Bronn lacked nothing. 

Even Lynesse, over the months, he bedded her casually. After some time, they'd stopped bothering with all the rituals and prayers. They fucked for the sake of fucking. He claimed her rear as well, finishing his conquest for good. But he kept bedding her because she was just too beautiful to let go. His cock, his potions, he made his presence akin to an addiction for her. Her mind, her used cunt, her body belonged to him. 

But still, she wasn't interested in becoming his septa. That was his one regret. 

So, respecting her wish to be wed to a noble lord and live a comfortable, luxurious life, he focused on loosening her cunt to help whichever noble she'd marry. How magnanimous. 

"I… I… will miss you."

Lynesse mumbled, cockfilled, Bronn's cum leaking out of her sore cunt as she stopped riding him and fell forward on his chest, her tits squeezed. 

"Likewise," Bronn replied, savoring her satin soft ass on his palms. “By the grace of the Gods, our roads will meet again. I am a traveling septon, after all."

"Mmmh…" Lynesse sloppily kissed him. 

Eventually, they removed their sweaty, slick bodies from each other and got dressed. Lynesse had to return to Hightower, and Bronn was to leave Oldtown. As Malora had given birth to a healthy, strong, red-haired boy just as Bronn had promised. 

Lord Hightower was in awe, fanatically religious about him and his blessings. Even declared Bronn as House Hightower's Chief Septon for life. While that title meant nothing, it showed how much House Hightower valued him. 

"Is everything loaded?" He walked downstairs to the entryway of his large mansion. He now owned it for life, a gift from Lord Leyton. 

"It is, Lord Septon." Septa Unella reported. 

Fine as ever. Bronn nodded. He hadn't made too much progress with her, but she no longer hesitated his pecks and would join the tongue action from time to time.

With a sigh, he stared at the dozen knights that Lord Leyton had prepared for his departure. They were to escort him all the way to Highgarden, where Bronn had been invited at last. It was for his own safety, as the people of Oldtown had indeed become fanatic. He could no longer walk the city's streets without getting mobbed by worshippers seeking his blessing. 

While he had voluntarily cultivated such a reputation, it also cost him freedom. And now, he hoped not to face such issues after leaving the city. 

"Let's move then."

He walked over to the large wheelhouse, another gift from Lord Leyton. He opened the door and, as expected, there she was, Malora Hightower, his new traveling septa, potions enthusiast, and a willing cocksleeve. She'd given birth to a boy just three months ago, and she'd already moved on, having left the child to her father's care. 

Bronn didn't care. He enjoyed his solemn duty of draining Malora's tits every other day. There was quite the thrill in doing something so filthy to a highborn woman.

"Lord Septon." Malora pushed the book towards Bronn. "What is this ingredient?"

She was occupied by the book he'd given her. 

Thud!

The wheelhouse door was shut and they started moving right away, escorted. As soon as they left the gates of his mansion, loud noises were audible. And when the straight road leading to the Kingsgate came, the noise became recognizable. 

Not bad. 

Bronn smiled while staring outside. The people of Oldtown had come out to wave him goodbye. Some threw petals from their balconies. It was a pure spectacle, as if a hero had returned home. Only in his case, he was a septon leaving. 

“They adore you, Lord Septon,” Unella murmured, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “A healer, a bringer of blessings. They whisper you cannot be killed.”

Bronn didn't correct her and just enjoyed that loud goodbye. Oldtown had given him a lot. Likewise, he'd taken a lot: women, gold, connections. 

Once they left through the Kingsgate, the road became clear, straight towards Highgarden. Yet, for many miles, whenever his carriage passed a village, town, or traveling group, the people stopped and bowed towards him. Understandably, as people from beyond Oldtown also came to him for healing. 

"Lord Septon, which plant is this?"

Malora didn't give a damn, however. He sighed and helped her out, and then relaxed back in that comfortable stagecoach. Remembering his journey from King's Landing, he pondered about Elia. 

My bastard on the throne. Laughable but… I wouldn't mind. 

Elia had given birth to a silver-haired, violet-eyed boy many months ago, much to the realm's shock. Bronn imagined depression in the King's Hall and joy across those who sided with the Targaryens. 

But Bronn couldn't care less. He had only one side, his own. The royals, the nobles, there was no difference. They were mere tools, just as they saw him.

Roseroad from Oldtown to Highgarden was rather smooth. Connecting two of the richest houses and places in Westeros, the difference was noticeable. The ride wasn't long either. Still, it took three days. 

Bronn slept in fine inns on the way. With Malora to warm his bed, it was pure joy. At last, he felt like the septon he strived to be. 

"We'll arrive at Highgarden soon, Lord Septon," the captain of the escorts informed him. 

Bronn fixed his hair and belt. The Tyrells were important. While Hightower was influential, it was the Tyrells who ruled all of Reach. Having them under his palm was having the entire Reach. But according to the information he'd gathered, Olenna Tyrell was going to be a thorn. 

A spider? Snake?

Moving Olenna Tyrell out of the way was the best solution. Then he'd have Mace Tyrell to control, a rather easy-to-sway fool. 

"It's beautiful," Unella exclaimed beside him. 

Bronn looked out of the window and indeed, the distant Highgarden was stunning, and a behemoth of a castle. And just as they reached the turning point near the bridge that led to Ocean Road, the wheelhouse started to slow down. 

In time, they halted entirely. 

Bronn opened the door and walked out. Malora stayed inside, but Unella followed behind him. They hadn't arrived yet, but their path was blocked by dozens of beautifully armored men on horses, flying the Tyrell flag. 

At the front was a fat man, struggling to get off the horse. 

"Oh, Seven bless my eyes." Mace Tyrell was a man who loved praise and also knew when to reciprocate. With clasped hands, he approached Bronn and bowed his head, eyes closed. "Lord Septon, what a gift it is to receive you. My household has long spoken of your miracles, your mercies, your wisdom. Highgarden opens its gates and its heart to you."

Fat oaf indeed. 

Bronn smiled and looked towards the castle in the distance. "By the Seven’s mercy, the blessing is mine, to behold a castle so fine."

"Please, follow us, Lord Septon. The castle is yours."

It was a treatment akin to a King's visit. But of course, Bronn had no delusions. Mace was kissing his ass to get his eldest son's leg healed. The fat fuck was using him, as they all hoped to. 

But it'll cost you greatly, my friend. Everything, perhaps. 

From there, the escort sent by Lord Leyton was to be sent back. The Tyrells took over his security. Bronn didn't like that, but he was still looking for a decent sellsword company he could hire. It was hard to trust them, knowing they were blades sold for money. One had to pay them more than him to betray him. 

Though the thought of making his own guard order crossed his mind. There were plenty of religious hedge knights out there. He just had to lure them. 

Clop-Clop-Clop-Clop!

Right when Mace and Bronn were about to continue, they heard the noise of multiple horses running towards them. The Tyrell men moved aside as the incoming men flew the King's flag. 

There were only three men, one in golden armor and a white cape, the other two wearing Baratheon colors.

"Lord Tyrell." 

The man in golden armor halted his horse and jumped with a speed that was impressive. He took off his helmet, his hair white, beard long. 

"Ah, Ser Barristan." Mace Tyrell exclaimed, but he was confused. "What brings you here in such a rush?"

The old Kingsguard turned to look at Bronn. 

"Are you Bronn the Blessed?"

Keeping his expression solemn, Bronn nodded. "That is me."

Ser Barristan suddenly moved and clasped his hands like offering his prayer. It looked like a genuine prayer as the old knight closed his eyes for a moment. 

"Lord Septon, I come bearing urgent tidings. Queen Cersei has given this realm a son, but the boy’s strength falters, and the Grand Maester holds little hope for him. The King himself commanded me to seek your aid in preserving the Prince’s life." Ser Barristan hastily explained. "I have relays prepared on the road. With hard riding, we may reach the city within a week."

Seven cunts! That's… What if the babe dies before I reach the damn city? 

Bronn frowned. 

What if I can't save him?

Bronn thought of everything. He didn't know the situation of the babe, so he couldn't say anything. It was risky business. While the Kingsguard called it 'seeking his aid', Bronn knew that if he refused, and the babe died, King Robert would blame him. 

But if I go and he still dies, Stranger will have me. 

He was stuck between cliffs.

So, Bronn looked at Mace Tyrell. Perhaps the man's urgency to heal his son's leg could save him. 

"Ah! Then you must hurry, Lord Septon!" Mace exclaimed. 

"..."

With a sigh, Bronn looked behind at Septa Unella. "Go back to Oldtown and live in the mansion."

He didn't trust the Tyrells one bit. Even more so with Malora around.

Finally, Bronn turned to the Kingsguard.

"Lead the way, Ser Barristan." 

_____________________

Question - What happens in Highgarden?