King Robert arrived at Bronn's humble mansion with just one Barristan Selmy shadowing him behind.
"There you are!" Robert bellowed, striding forward and clapping Bronn into a crushing embrace. "Seven hells, I ought to be furious with you for running from your king. But after hearing what you've been about, I find no wrath left in me."
Aye, shagging your golden bitch.
Bronn smiled and took the praise like the ever-gentle septon he was. "Seven guide me, I've done no more than a Septon ought. What brings you here, Your Grace?"
"Aye, you. Who else would I come to? I've a son, and I'll not see him inherit a kingdom rotting apart. Even Cersei's nagging worms its way into my skull, and the Martells grow rebellious. I've had my fill of whores and wine, but the taste won't leave me. Do you have some draught, some sorcery, to give me back my strength and kill this craving?"
This is unexpected. Bronn realized what his actions had done. He'd changed the world, it appeared, simply by fucking Elia and saving a little babe.
After pondering a little, Bronn nodded. "Your Grace, the Seven grant no potion to still your craving. But I do have tonics that can clear your mind and make you wiser in times of need, when your thoughts are troubled. And you've drunk my Rejuvenation brew, it'll hold your eyes wide and keep your body ready for the work."
"Ha, just what I needed, Lord Septon." Robert clapped his great hand. "Seven save me, you're the finest gift this crown has had since I sat on the bloody throne. I swore you rewards, and by the Gods I'll keep to it. Speak if you've a need, or I'll name you a lord and call it done."
Tempted, but not swayed. Bronn had no desire to be a noble and join the same filthy system he loathed. Join their petty politics and drag his face through the mud.
Sighing, Bronn moved to a side table in his solar, then opened the wall cabinet there to take out a shining crystal bottle. He set four little glasses then and poured the red liquid into them. He handed one to Jaime, one to Robert, and one to Ser Barristan.
"This here's Firewhiskey, my own brewing. Tastes queer, like spice set aflame in your throat, yet the Seven bless it with comfort after. So I say." Bronn raised his cup and drained it. "Go on, try some."
Robert wasted not a moment and downed the tiny glass. At first, he was amused that the glass was so small, but when he drank it, he knew why.
"Aaaah! Seven hells, it's… bloody good!" Robert roared like a dragon. "It burned my throat, but now… every breath feels like the North's cold air.
Bronn chuckled and extended the entire bottle to the King. "It takes nearly a garden's worth of herbs to make this. One day I'll make it by the cart, but for now, I drink what I keep."
"I came to give you your due, Septon, not bleed you dry," Robert said, though he still took the new drink.
"I'm aware, Your Grace. I don't require titles or gold. What I seek is a broad hall in King's Landing, fit to gather people, to preach the Seven's wisdom, and to soothe the sickly. Let the Crown ease its hand on taxes, and I'll see to it hungry bellies find bread with free food kitchens and the lame find aid, all in the Gods' good sight."
King Robert Baratheon wasn't a religious man. But he'd seen the magic happen. He'd felt the magic of the tonics. He never believed that there were men out there who really served the Faith or cared about the bullshit they preached.
Yet, that perception changed with Bronn.
"You don't need gold?"
"I don't, Your Grace. The pious do the giving, and I pass it on to heal and to feed," Bronn replied, reckoning he was already richer than half of the realm's lords. "What I lack is a hall to shout the prayers and food stock to feed."
"Easier than draining a cask. Good, I'll have Stannis take care of it. On your feet, Ser Jaime. Spare the septon your tongue-wagging."
With that, the King turned around to leave, a bottle of Firewhiskey in hand. He dragged Ser Jaime along, much to the knight's glaring gaze.
Bronn smiled and waved at the knight. He didn't know why the knight was so furious and protective of his sister, but Bronn couldn't care less. He had the Queen in his palm, and she was only going to fall deeper into the pit. One thrust at a time.
I should summon Malora and Unella here at this point.
With a sigh, he returned to his table to write. Since plans had changed and his stay in King's Landing was prolonged, he really needed his two loyal assistants.
####
Six days later,
"Ungh, ungh, ungh—oooooh… Septon… Mmmmh~"
Cersei cooed underneath him, lying prone as he fucked her into the bed, her soft, round ass working as cushions, letting him pummel into her cunt with every ounce of strength he had. The wet, filthy, sickly noises were loud.
Bronn rammed into her already battered, bruised, and swollen cunt, his hands planted beside her shoulders while his hips pistoned into her from behind. His face was twisted with delight as he looked down at the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms beneath him, pinned and helpless under his weight.
Her face lay turned to the side, cheek pressed into the sheets, moaning endlessly, her sweaty hair strewn in wild locks across her face. Her mascara was smudged from sweat and tears, her mouth hanging open, drooling onto the silk. She dressed herself up every morning just so he could ruin it.
"Oh, Seven, bless this…" Bronn groaned through clenched teeth, smirking. "This royal cunt… Mmmmh… warm… and tight… made to be filled with virile seed… and carry sons and daughters of the realm… ooooh… strong!"
He loved rambling his sacrilegious prayers, loved the way her green eyes widened every time. Cersei Lannister had fallen completely. No questions, no hesitation, she had faith in him now. She let him use her like a common whore from Flea Bottom and thanked him for it.
Once, he had been careful to collect every drop of her nectar. Now? He just fucked her raw, hard, and relentlessly. Rutting her for the sake of it.
"Ooooh, yes, yes… bless my womb, oh!" She moaned deliriously, her back arching under him.
"Aye, I shall," Bronn declared with a grin, spreading his big hand over the back of her head and shoving her face deeper into the bedding.
The Queen was slick with sweat, her tits squashed flat beneath her, likely leaking milk onto the bed, leaving a sinful stain.
"Let the Mother weep at how pious her daughter has become," he rasped, mockery hidden beneath the blessing.
Plap! Splrt! Plap!
He rammed his hips harder, the brutal rhythm making the bedframe creak. Each thrust was rough, his hips slamming into the royal backside with meaty, wet smacks that echoed in the chamber. Her cunt was an absolute mess, cream coating his shaft, his balls slapping wetly against her.
He was grateful to himself that he'd set up rules from the first day. Threatened all guards and maids to never disturb the 'healing' he did inside the bedchamber. Or else, the Gods may get angry.
"Oooh… I'm coming, oh, I'm coming on your cock… Seven… bless me!" She mumbled, her mouth wide, panting at the canopy above as if she desperately needed air. Her eyes clamped shut as she writhed in pleasure.
Bronn chuckled, a wicked sound, as he watched her quake under him. Even in her climax, the Queen named the Seven. Her faith had been reforged into pure lust, exactly as he intended.
He drove into her even harder, lying flat on her back, his skin sealing against her sweat-slick body. His frame pressed her into the mattress until she could barely breathe. He slid one arm underneath her neck, the other grabbed her cheeks, squeezing until her lips puckered in an involuntary pout.
Then he kissed her. Hard. His entire body lay atop hers like a warm, crushing blanket, pinning Queen Cersei beneath the weight of a lowborn septon.
His deep, womb-battering plunges never stopped, each stroke pounding her tender love hole until the wet sounds were obscene, sloshing and messy.
Shlk! Shlk! Splrch!
His tongue rolled into the Queen's mouth, shamelessly biting her swollen, plump lips, sucking her tongue like a plaything.
Bronn hummed against her mouth, the low, rumbling sound vibrating through both of them as he kissed her with unholy hunger. His lips were rough, his tongue invasive, his teeth scraping at hers, utterly devouring her.
Gods, what had life become? Here he was, a bastard of nothing, a lowborn turned septon, and he was ramming his cock into the most beautiful woman in the realm. Not just any woman, but Queen Cersei herself, at the very height of her beauty, and he had her pinned, sweating, moaning, fucked stupid beneath him.
If he wanted, he could breed her. He could leave her dripping with his bastard seed and crown himself the man who knocked up the Queen. Cersei would be happy, he knew she'd thank him, beg him even. The only question was whether she'd let Robert climb on top of her afterward just to keep up appearances, just to pretend the lion's womb had been blessed by the stag.
"Mmm, Mother… Maiden…" Bronn mumbled into her lips, still rutting into her like a beast. "I'm about to… Bless this Queen, her womb, let my seed cleanse her and strengthen her cunt… mmm… may it forever be warm, tight, as her beauty and her body… uh!"
Cersei grinned, flushed and sweaty. To her, his prayer wasn't just words, but truth itself, prophecy coming to life between her legs.
Bronn grinned back at her submission, triumphant. Then, for the last time, he drew back to the very tip of his iron-hard cock, and slammed into her as hard as his hips could drive.
The bedframe shrieked, wood groaning as her ass clapped into his pelvis. His cock sank all the way in, buried to the hilt, the swollen head kissing her womb as her walls clamped down like her life depended on it.
And then he burst.
Bronn's head tilted back, his teeth bared, a growl tearing from his throat as he emptied himself.
Hot, white seeds gushed into her, flooding the Queen's battered cunt in heavy spurts, pump after pump. His balls tightened again and again as his shaft throbbed violently inside her, each spurt shooting deep until she could feel the heat filling her belly.
Cersei squirmed beneath him, milking him with every ripple of her clenching walls, her pussy spasming greedily. The mess was obscene, sticky, and heavy. He felt it sloshing around his cock, churning with every shallow thrust he gave to grind it deeper into her.
Schlup! Schlup!
All the while, he kept kissing her. Not sweetly, not gently, but greedily, messy, aggressive kisses, tongues clashing, and teeth biting.
Cersei was just as depraved about it, sucking his tongue into her mouth, biting his lips until she tasted blood.
When his cock finally stopped twitching, Bronn didn't pull out right away. He stayed buried, hips pressed tight to her ass, savoring the slick, wet heat while the white trickled out of her, running in fat, sticky trails between her thighs, coating the bed beneath her with the smell of sex.
The scent was so thick that even a virgin walking into the room would know the chamber had been used for womb-battering sin.
"Ummmh… I'll… return at night." Bronn said, as always. "May the Seven bless you."
"I'm already blessed, Lord Septon," Cersei muttered sweetly, accepting every filthy thing he did to her as a gift. "Mmh… I heard you will be holding a preaching tomorrow. I wish to attend."
Bronn smiled and got off of her, himself amused by how much he'd done to her. His entire front was slick with their mixed sweat, and looking down, the white creamy marks were so noticeable. One hope was that she'd sit up and suck him clean. But he reckoned it wasn't the time yet.
So, he cleaned himself with her discarded gown, as always, and put on his own clothes. He took in the Queen's spent body on the bed, still as he had left her. The slim waist, plump ass, and her pale, unblemished skin; It was exhilarating.
Having a Queen like this and still seeking whores? The larger the man, the lesser the brain, I suppose.
"I'll prepare a private seating for you at the preaching, Your Grace," Bronn said as he walked away, chuckling at how he was treating her like a whore while calling her Grace, making a joke out of her status, her nobility, her pride.
But that was the plan from the beginning.
___________________
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