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Oldtown, The Reach,
What a beautiful city.
Those were Bronn's first words when he rode into the ancient, massive walled city.
White stone towers kissed the sky, the Hightower blazing like a beacon in the far distance at the end of Honeywine. The streets were all cobbled. The city didn't smell of shit, but rather fruity, flowery, like a perfumed dowager. Labyrinths of wynds, crisscrossing alleys, narrow crookback streets, and markets. Foliage, including melons, moonbloom, nightshade, peaches, and pomegranates, dotted the city.
Seven blessings, Bronn felt like he could lose years there.
Now, it has been three months since he arrived in Oldtown. After his first visit to the Starry Sept, he never returned there again. The old cunts there dismissed him, mocked him, treating his fame as a miraculous healer with disdain, like it was all fake.
He let them ramble and, after giving his prayers to the Seven, roamed the city. He had three hundred gold dragons, not a single coin lost, and that was enough to let himself loose a little. But he didn't spend on wine or lodging.
No, he looked for the names that Thoros of Myr had given him. The fucker refused to come with him, but the names were real. The oldest city of Westeros had a part of it reserved for foreign temples of the Summer Islanders and the red priests of the Lord of Light.
A red priest, a hedge knight, a maester—they were the three men. The red priest knew how to get Bronn supplies for his potions, even the dangerous ones. The hedge knight was sort of a loudmouth who knew everyone, and was best at spreading word, and the maester was best at gathering information for a price.
At first, the three ignored him. But once he revealed his healing blessing and let them taste a sip of the rejuvenation potion, they almost moaned. The red priest and the maester were old and really needed it. The hedge knight wanted it so he could fuck whores harder. Just like that, a perfect synergy was formed.
After that, he opened his small House of Seven Blessings, a sort of sick bay to heal the injured, ailed, wounded—all diseases. At the same time, it was a place for prayer, as Bronn held a sermon every three days.
Since his rejuvenation potion was highly valued by the maesters, he received a beautiful building in Learn Street, near the Citadel, at a discounted price. He set up his operations there and started spreading his name.
Though it wasn't all easy.
At first, the old fucks of the Starry Sept, the main Sept of Oldtown, once the residence of the High Septon and center of the faith, ordered him to stop. The Most Devout living there demanded that Bronn end his private practice and open his House of Seven Blessings in the Starry Sept itself.
But he refused. The maesters stood with him, although they despised magic themselves; Bronn's potions and healing were undeniable. He was an exception they readily accepted. Besides, they loved abusing the rejuvenation potion so they could study more. And in Oldtown, the Citadel had a greater voice than the Starry Sept.
That way, Bronn continued his work, continued to spread his name, and by now, at least a quarter of the city knew his name—Bronn the Blessed.
"Septa Unella, send the next poor soul in."
"Understood, Lord Septon."
Ummm… Seven, what a woman!
Bronn stared at Septa Unella walking out of his work chamber, her ripe hips swaying in that septa gown, tight around her hips. She was a tall woman, just an inch or two shorter than him. She was thirty, more than a decade older than him, and what a ripe woman she was. He'd made her discard her hood, and now she flaunted her blonde hair that she always tied up in a bun. Her face was beautiful, strong eyes full of worship, and that was where the issue lay.
He really wanted to bed Unella. The idea of having a few devout septa around him, whom he could bed at any time, sounded perfect. They'd sleep with him and work for him for free. It resembled a cult, and that was exactly what he wanted.
Slowly… I'll break her too.
He'd already started inviting her into the bedchamber while blessing women over the last month. Using excuses like needing oil, potions, or something else. He was glad he picked her as his aide from the Motherhouse.
Knock! Knock!
Right then, the door opened, and Septa Unella led the sick in. Though instead of the sick, Bronn's eyes were on the two swells on Unella's chest. They were lovely.
One day… For sure.
"L-Lord Septon…"
Love it when they call me that.
"Sit yourself down, my friend." Bronn rose from behind his table, pointing at a chair tucked in the corner, boxed in by curtains on three sides. "Seven bless us, what troubles you?"
The scrawny man, at best forty, nervously raised his tunic from the front and revealed a large lump-like growth. It had grown underneath his belly button.
"Did you strain yourself with too much weight?" Bronn asked, an observation he'd made after seeing many men and women with similar issues, some recurring.
"I have, Lord Septon. I patched my roof recently."
"Hmm… I can heal you. But the Mother says no more heavy lifting. Now, to that table." Bronn pointed to the other side of the room where a bed was blessed, once again curtained from three sides, with an option to cover the front as well.
After that, Bronn made him drink a vial first. It wasn't some potion, just sugar water. It made the patient believe that Bronn was blessed not only in holy healing but also by medicine. Then, he placed his hand over the sick's stomach and performed his usual act.
"O gentle hands that mend the torn,
Grant strength anew where flesh is worn,
Ease the strain and still the pain,
Let wholeness in Your grace remain."
Septa Unella never left the room. She never did. Her bright blue eyes were glued to the bulge on the sick's belly. She'd seen that same ritual happen countless times, and each time she became more devout to the Seven. It truly was a blessing.
Though she hadn't realised it. Slowly, that devotion was shifting. From the Seven to the man who made the miracles. Living in that House of Seven Healings, she'd come across many high-ranking faith members who tried to press Bronn into serving them. She compared them with Bronn, and Bronn was the brightest star of the faith in her eyes.
"Rise, my friend. You are healed." Bronn removed his hand and stepped away from the table.
The man sat up and looked down at his belly. The growth was gone, and he physically felt better. He gulped and moistened his lips. "S-Seven… are mighty! Gods be praised!"
Bronn returned to his chair behind the table by then. "Mother and Maiden bless my hands, they say I heal. So up you get, friend, before the Seven strike us both for dawdling."
"Ah… Lord Septon, what's the charge for mending, if I might ask?" the man asked anxiously.
Bronn smiled fondly and pointed at a large box right beside his table. Its top was covered, with only a fist-sized hole in it. "I serve the light of the Seven, friend. I seek no rewards through my service. Whatever your heart wills, you can donate to this box. I'll spend it on herbs and potions so I can keep patching and blessing folk up."
Bullshit! It was all bullshit.
It was a calculated move by him to ensure he received the maximum amount of rewards while keeping his image intact. After his miraculous healing, his patients were always in their best mood. In that mood, they did everything they could to please him. In most cases, they donated as much as they could, even more than what they could afford.
Clank!
And just like that, the man poured a few silver coins into the box. Then, he thanked Bronn and walked out.
Making me rich, all of them.
"Send the next one, Septa Unella."
"It's Lady Helen, Lord Septon. It's her last day." Septa Unella said, unbothered by what it all implied.
"Oh…" Bronn nodded and got up. "Send her to the upper chambers then."
The upper chamber was a bedchamber. Bronn used it to… bless women who wished to bear a child but couldn't for some reason.
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