A man in plain garb

The man leans against the wall sulking somewhat. His clothes are plain grey wool, and his brown hair is oiled back sloppily. You approach and ask his name.

He glances at you and answers reluctantly. “Bronn, Ser. Just Bronn. And who you then.”

You tell him you are the king of Parre, the island nation west of Westeros.

“Never ‘eard of it.” He drinks his wine. “Must be nice being a king, prolly get all the girls you fancy. Here I am in my best garb, with my hair done up fancy like a lord, and no girl wants to talk to me.”

You have the feeling you are talking to a servant, or certainly someone from the lower classes. You make your pleasantries and look for an opportunity to leave.

“When I tell Jaime, or Ser Tywin, how the womens were rude to me at the Kings own ball.”

You’re surprised to hear Bronn talk about Jaime and Tywin with such familiarity. You ask if he knows the Lannister’s well.

“Oh Aye.” He says. “I work for ‘em. Can be ‘elpful sometimes, having the ear of the most powerful people in the seven kingdoms.”

You decide to stay and talk to this man, this could be the opportunity you’ve been waiting for.

“Now you’re interested in talking to me aren’t ya?” He grins, clearly very drunk. “That’s all people care about in this shit castle, who knows who. If you were a woman, and yous were wanting to suck my cock to pass a message onto Lord Tywin, I wouldn’t mind.”

You say that if it’s a fuck he’s looking for, he should go to Littlefingers brothel.

“I’ve fucked all those whores ten times over,” he slurs. “Wanted something bit different, thought maybe one of these highborn lasses could give it to me, but they’re all stuck up bitches.”

You ask why he doesn’t try a man instead.

Bronns eyes widen, and then he breaks the silence with nervous laughter. You smile, pat him on the back and walk back into the ball.

The rest of the evening is predictably disappointing, you are not able to talk to anyone of importance, and before you know it everyone is heading back to their beds.

Back in your chambers you take a hot bath and then climb naked into bed. Before closing your eyes you hear a very loud knock on the door. You wrap yourself in a robe and answer the door.

Bronn holds himself up on the doorframe, clearly even more drunk than the last time you saw him. You ask him what he wants.

“Been asking bout you,” he says, panting. “I ‘eard all about what they do on Parre. With the… two men… being together like that.”

You raise an eyebrow. You ask again what he wants.

“Weren’t no joke was it? I laughed but weren’t no joke. You want me to… with a man. That’s what you lot do on Parre.”

The look in Bronns eye is making you nervous, you had heard there were strange attitudes towards sex in Westeros, and you have a feeling you have somehow offended the man. You try closing the door, wishing to avoid a fight.

Bronn’s hand blocks the door.

“Let me in. Let me in or I’ll tell… tell Lord Tywin…”

You sigh and open the door, letting the drunk man step inside. You wish to avoid anything that could antagonise the Lannisters.

You ask, for a third time, what the man wants.

“How does it work?” He asks, looking you up and down. “I can’t figure it out.”

You laugh despite yourself. You never thought you’d have to explain gay sex to someone in your life. You struggle to think of what to say.