GOT: Rasputin of Westeros 14 - Queen’s Fall, Rebellion & A Septon’s Aura

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289 AC, 

Five years was a very long time. 

Yet, there was one utterly deranged, vile, filthy thing that Bronn still loved. Just as much as years ago. 

To have the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms dance around his fingers. And in that moment, having the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms eat his ass. 

He had no liking for it, truth be told. He'd never even considered such a thing. But when Cersei Lannister once explored a bit too much while getting her face fucked, he gave it a try. Now, in his regal, large bed, he did just that. 

He sat reclined back, nude as the day he was born. Between his legs was Cersei Lannister, the gorgeous golden-haired queen, tits still full and leaking, her body shaped by years of motherhood, curvy and just the right amount of fat in all the right places. 

"Mmmmh."

It was Cersei Lannister moaning as she kept Bronn's legs up with her hands under his thighs. Her face was at work, nestled as her tongue slithered all over below his hanging sack, eating his ass, or just licking.

Hah! 

Bronn just watched her head move there, her golden hair getting ruined. 

What a nasty start to the day. 

He just watched her pale, unblemished body move. All he heard were her moans while feeling her exhale on his crotch and her tongue lapping and probing his ass. His cock was hard already, ready for the next part. But for now, he relished the sheer depravity the Queen was willing to do for him.

By her own confession, she'd never even done it for her beloved Jaime, let alone Robert, whom she loathed. Her true submission was only to the Seven's Angel. And Seven whores, what a submission it was. 

After giving birth to their daughter, the most beautiful woman to be, he'd fucked her plenty more on various occasions and swollen up her belly. He'd put babe after babe, and by now, she'd given him three sons, the fourth already growing in her womb, three months old. 

He was rather surprised how she'd maintained her beauty despite being impregnated so often. Having the royal facilities to aid her surely helped. 

Fantastic ass. 

He stared at her raised up lush, wide hips while her face was nestled under his sack. He'd fucked her so many times, yet she was one of his most delectable conquests. He knew potions to make one go madly in love with him. He never had to use it on her. Or anyone. 

Faith of the Seven was a drug that lured everyone. And once they experience his magic, they become blindly addicted. Cersei truly believed that Bronn was Seven's Angel. She blindly followed him, seeking his blessing. Every spill in her mouth, every bead of sweat she licked off his body, and aye, even licking his ass, was a gift to her, a blessing. 

It helped that he'd always done what he said. He said he would give her a golden-haired, blue-eyed daughter; she birthed one. The following three sons were all brown or blonde-haired, all with blue eyes. Not a single soul in the realm doubted the queen's virtue.

And here she is, eating the oh-so-holy Seven's Angel's ass, hah! 

Much had changed in the past few years. Arms crossed behind his head, he stared at the gorgeous ceiling of his bedchamber. It was grand; the entire ceiling had colored glass decorations that painted a seven-pointed star. 

It was the most regal and comfortable bedchamber in the entire Sept of the Seven's Angel. Building the castle and the surrounding structures wasn't easy, but it sure was exciting. The Lords gave him coin to use, ten thousand smallfolk rotated around the years to work on the holy sept. 

Countless women he fucked, countless maidenheads he claimed to spread his 'gift' of the Maiden. His name and fame had reached every inch of Westeros; every tongue knew him. Angel's Peak, the name of his castle, was the go-to place for most Faith pilgrims. 

Noble or not, they tried to visit him. Many came to be healed, and perhaps that was one of his largest blessings. His healings were more famous than his divinity, spreading far in Essos as well. Many sailed across the Narrow Sea to ease their ailments. The buildings around his castle were made to entertain such guests. 

It was such widespread fame that helped Cersei visit him whenever her heart desired. In the name of 'seeking Seven's blessings', she spent months at his castle getting fucked in every unholy way imaginable. Face, ass, cunt, tits, name it. She'd often joined him in bed with Unella as well, sometimes even Malora and Alerie whenever the Highgarden's Lady visited. 

Getting to bed such high-born women in the most depraved way was really the highlight of his life, and a true reflection of his might. But now, something was going on in Westeros. Something that could make or break his legacy. 

Fucking Mother's cunt! She's probing in!

Again, he wasn't much into getting his ass licked. He did it to feel the control and power over the oh-so-mighty Queen. Her warm tongue scared him at times as she probed too hard sometimes. He didn’t know what joy she found in doing that.

"Enough, Cersei." He took her name clearly, with a position of power, his words a command, not a request. "My lovely queen."

Yet he loved to sprinkle 'queen' here and there, reminding her of who she was and what she was doing. He loved the sight of a hint of shame flickering on her face. 

"Get on top, let the Gods feel the warmth of your fertile walls through me," he ordered. He still used a faith-related style of speech as it had become a part of him. Even while doing the most depraved, such as fucking the queen in the ass, he sang prayers. 

"Ummmh…" Cersei Lannister finally removed her face from the most unholy crevice and looked up. Half her face was covered in her own spit, her green eyes drunk on lust and more. "I… am… so blessed."

That was all she mumbled before straddling him. With her own slender fingers, she guided his holy phallus and aimed it at her soaking entrance. 

Squelch! 

As soon as the first stretch was felt, Cersei moaned towards the ceiling. "Oooooh! Warmth of your… grace… soothes my womb… mmmmmh!"

Queen of the Seven Kingdoms was gone. This was something less, something ordinary, no more than a flea-bottom whore. Seven's Angel's royal plaything, his broodmare, his cocksleeve. They were titles that Cersei had herself moaned on occasions. She took pleasure in her own degradation. 

As the queen began rolling her hips and relishing the entire length of his holy cock, Bronn gripped her royal breasts, mauling them, massaging them, leaving red fingerprints as her maternal nectar oozed, making lone white trails. 

"Mmmh… Oh, Seven!" Cersei moaned, playing with her hair, combing her fingers through it. She jumped on his cock mindlessly, sloshing and splashing her pussy juices. The sounds of skin against wet skin were depraved, filling the chamber. 

What a view. 

From down below, Bronn gazed at the stunning beauty, her tits bouncing. Her skin was so pale, creamy, and soft that only her extravagant, royal, spoiled lifestyle could produce. And she was reduced to a cock-starved whore. 

"Ah, the realm…" Cersei mumbled. "The realm has been reduced to… insanity… The Greyjoy rebellion… Father's fleet… gone."

Bronn nodded, getting closer to the edge. The queen truly had a snug cunt, or perhaps she was just too good at clenching. "I may have to stir myself, then. The Sept of the Seven’s Angel can’t mend all those souls at once. Too many are crawling this way already. The Gods won’t smile if their house starts smelling like a gutter."

The bed began to creak as Cersei lost herself to the mind-numbing sensations. Her hands were lost, curling through her hair, her hips ground back and forth. Every brush of his cock she felt made her nearly shatter in a climax. In her thoughts, Lord Septon’s cock itself held magic. And she had that magic deep inside her, kissing her womb, blessing her.

"Oh! Oh! Ohhhhh! Yes, the Seven… I feel their love!"

Bronn didn't have to do anything. He just watched her sluthole spasm, contract, stretch around his cock. She practically danced as she came on him, drowning him in her juices. 

"Uh…" And he was right around the corner. He stopped fondling her breasts and gripped her waist to guide his cock up into her better. 

"So much! Pour it all in me, oh, Lord Septon! Yes!" Cersei cried.

Bronn jerked his hips up, bursting inside the queen of the Seven Kingdoms. Womb battering sprays of his virile cream coated her insides white. He'd fucked her so much, filled her so much, and she was already with his babe. He'd never bothered to care; he just filled her good. 

Slosh! Slosh!

Cersei kept moving, grinding her hips until his cockjuice turned into a creamy froth, leaking out of her cunt. 

"Oh!" She finally collapsed forward on his chest, her head resting right below his chin. She still continued the roll of her hips, feeling his calming erection. "W-Will you… journey to the Iron Islands?"

"I need not set foot on that cursed land to mend its vileness," Bronn replied, enjoying the warmth of the queen like she was a soft quilt. He palmed her asscheeks, round, wide, perfect for birthing, which she did often. 

Pa!

He slapped her ass. 

Pa!

He slapped more until it burned hot. She was so used to him that she just moaned. He had no doubt, he could break her in the most demented ways, and she’d thank him for ‘blessing’ her.

Knock! Knock!

Just after two knocks, the door suddenly opened. Neither Bronn nor Cersei reacted to that, as Bronn even kept playing with the queen's round ass, a fingle teasing her backdoor he’d claimed so often. She moaned on his chest, her tits leaving trails of milk on his chest. 

"Lord Septon, it's time." 

Bronn nodded and pushed Cersei off of himself. In doing so, his nearly flaccid shaft slipped out, unclogging her cunt, giving it room to leak out all that he'd spilled inside her snugness. 

"Have they arrived, Septa Unella?" he asked as he got out of bed and walked towards Unella. The gorgeous, tall, shapely, curvy Septa was in her complete Septa attire, holding Bronn's clothes in her hands. 

"They have, Lord Septon.”

Bronn walked to the middle of the bedchamber and just stood there. He watched as Unella placed his clothes on the table nearby, then returned to him. With worship in her eyes, she knelt before him and, with no further words, opened her lips and took all of his flaccid length in her mouth. 

She wasn't made to do it. No, it was her holy duty. 

Uh… heaven! 

Bronn stood there, hands on his hips, smiling as he watched the gorgeous blonde Septa fuck her face, her lips tight, brushing against his faint pubes, her nose tip flat on his groin. She sucked him clean as it was her duty, and woke him up in doing so. 

Slurp! Slurp!

She let not a single drop of mess form. Even as Bronn grew to his full erection, she kept sucking, bobbing her head with fervor, deepthroating herself, and finally…

"Right there… uh." Bronn grabbed Unella's head and squeezed every sinful inch of his cock down her throat. He left her breathless, choked, her face nearly flat on his lower belly. And he kept it that way for very long moments, relishing in that warm bath of her throat. 

"Ghk…"

Finally, he felt Unella's throat violently react. So, he started to free her slowly, pulling back. Inch by inch until he was fully out with a pop. 

Clean, glistening in her scentful spit. Unella had fulfilled her morning ritual. 

"Oh, Unella, my dearest Septa." He helped her stand, caressing her face.  

Yet, Unella only showed worship. With a smile, she wiped her mouth with her own sleeve, then rinsed with some water from a nearby cup. "Let me help you wear your robes, Lord Septon."

"Please do."

Quickly, he eased into the prime layer of smallclothes, followed by a comfortable cotton tunic shirt. Finally, he wrote his holy gown, no longer the typical Septon style but rather his own, for he was the ruler of the greatest Sept in the Seven Kingdoms and the entire world, more grand than any. 

His attire was a shiny silk robe with long, loose sleeves. It looked drapey, with many layers. The borders around his collar were golden; that same gold strip went down in parallel lines over his chest in the middle, all the way to his ankles. The edges of his sleeves had the same golden lining. It was simple yet regal, noble, clean, and holy. He shone the brightest no matter where. 

Finally, he tied the belt around his waist. It was a utility belt of leather with a golden buckle and many pockets and pouches that held potions and other ingredients. Further, there was a holster for a dagger and a place to tie a sword. 

He let Unella ready him. Once he sat down on a chair, the gorgeous Septa combed his hair evenly, and then knelt to put his boots on him. In a true sense, he was living a life even better than the Kings. And the realm paid for it. 

"Your Grace." He eyed the queen on the bed, still naked, flushed, catching her breath. "Take your rest, then be gone by the far door. The gods will have me busy with this rebellion soon enough."

"Mmmh… Just misfortune. Yet another test of my faith by the Seven." Cersei mumbled but nodded. What else could she do? 

Bronn said nothing to that and headed for the door. Behind him, Septa Unella followed with silent steps.  

"Lord Septon."

As soon as he stepped out of the door, two tall knights greeted him. They were from the original six Angelic Knights who followed him, led by Erren Florent. Their armor was regal, tinted white, glossy, fully plated from head to toe, with blue capes on their back. They were meant to stand out. 

"Have you both eaten?" 

"Aye, Lord Septon."

Bronn always made sure to appear kind and likable to all the men who could wield a blade. The first six Angelic Knights were his most trusted, and it was their holy duty to keep him protected. They were akin to the Kingsguard. After the six came the Holy Hundred, and they were tasked with protecting the entire castle and the small city around it within the city walls. Yes, a city. 

"Let's be on our way then," Bronn ordered and continued his walk through the sun-lit hallways. It was gorgeous, the entire floor laid with carpet, the walls decorated with portraits of gods, legendary Septons, and markings of his cult. 

I've come quite far. 

He looked out of the open side of the corridor, getting a clear look at the outside. He'd designed his castle-city with safety and secrecy in mind. The entire castle was also a city, in a way, designed to be a massive circle with only two gates of entry. The outermost circle was the city's main walls, built to last and easy to guard, as the city itself sat on top of a hill. 

After entering the walls, one would arrive at the city of Angel's Peak. The city was only in name, however. Extremely orderly rows and columns of two and three-storey long buildings were set up around the circular wall, with gardens in between them. 

Since Bronn owned the entire city, there were no real permanent residents. The entire city was more akin to a school of learning and healing. Countless men, women, and children came there from across the world to find a cure for their ailments. They were given free lodging in all those buildings. 

Further, at the center of the city was a massive stone castle with its ten towers set in a circle, a higher tower in the middle. The entry of the castle itself had a massive seven-pointed star hung over it. 

Clean, holy, beautiful, and imposing. Those were the four words that defined his home. Further, he already had a total of one thousand men-at-arms in his service. They were led by the Holy Hundred to guard the entire city. But as a whole, all of them were called Angelic Knights. 

"When did he arrive?" Bronn asked as he climbed down the stairs of his central tower, the most guarded, middle tower, also the highest. 

Thud!

As Bronn passed, many Angelic Knights on duty knelt in prayer. The castle didn't have maids either, only Septas, who bowed deeply. While not all of them were beauties, many were, and aye, he was fucking them regularly. Just a part of 'Maiden's Blessing'.

"Lord Mace arrived three hours ago, Lord Septon," Unella answered. 

"Best not keep him waiting. The man near built half this city with his own coin," Bronn replied, a false show of care. "Has Ser Bonifer the convoy in order?"

"He has, Lord Septon."

This time, the two knights guarding him answered. 

Nodding to that, Bronn arrived at the ground floor of his castle. On that floor, there were a few more people, all women in regular clothes. There were no septa, but one thing common with them was their swollen bellies. 

They were the women who came to him to receive 'Maiden's Blessing', because their husbands couldn't for some reason. Depending on their beauty, he fucked some just once, some for a week, and a very select few for a month. 

The surprising part was how there were a few dark skinned women as well, and a few silver-haired ones. They'd come from Essos with their rich husbands. He was keeping them there for a month. Their exotic nature excited him. 

Soon enough, he arrived at the main courtyard of the castle, connected to the entrance. There, dozens of Tyrell knights stood in order with a lone fat man in the lead. 

Looks rather happy. 

Bronn chuckled, seeing Mace. He'd pumped Alerie with a son and a daughter, and Mace loved them, of course. Then again, he'd done much worse to King Robert. 

"Lord Septon!" 

Mace Tyrell, Lord of Highgarden, knelt. The man even lowered his head, something he never did for the King. And right behind him, the Tyrell soldiers did the same. 

A well-trained dog indeed. 

Bronn smiled, walking over to the fat man. After dealing with Olenna, leaving her bedridden as she still was, House Tyrell had become something of a close aide to him. Mace often came to him to seek his advice. Further, Alerie was a regular. 

"Arise, Lord Mace," Bronn ordered. "The Seven frown on idleness. Each moment we linger, another soul falls to the Ironborn’s filth. By the Father's justice and the Warrior’s hand, I’ll bring them to the light. Ready yourself. We ride beneath my banner."

"Of course, Lord Septon." 

Lord Mace quickly gestured at his men, sending them rushing back to their horses. All of them were horsed, a total of five hundred men, barely a dent on the mighty numbers House Tyrell could pull. But it was still grand when his duty was simply to escort Lord Septon. 

Besides, Bronn himself was bringing two hundred Angelic Knights with him. Three of the First Six, fifty of the Holy Hundred, and the rest from those who joined later. While not all of them were knights, they were all still given standard armor with a white tint. 

In moments, a line of stagecoaches appeared. But in the middle of the line was the largest, most grand wheelhouse, ornate with beautiful paintings of the faith, flags of his cult's sigil fluttered high above it. 

Wasting no time, he boarded the wheelhouse. Inside, he found Malora already waiting for him. Behind him, Unella also joined. They were still his two core Septas that he trusted blindly. 

But they weren't the only two Septas joining him. Not that he had many Septons under his service anyway. 

Having made himself renowned for his Maiden and Mother's blessings, he made it make sense that he only ever took female Septas under his service. The male Septas were rare, but there, however, males were not allowed inside his castle. They could only serve the people in the city, or visit the Sept part of his castle. 

He was taking a total of one hundred septas with him. They were going to tend the wounded for him, and also sing prayers while constantly invoking his name, Seven's Angel. 

"Isn't this dangerous, Lord Septon?" Malora asked as soon as the wheelhouse's door was shut. 

Bronn smirked and sat down right beside her, quickly pulling her onto his lap. Gods, she was so fucking soft, her ass a cushion that turned him hard instantly. His one hand groped her round melons, the other her ass behind. 

"Ummmh."

Then he kissed her lips, deep and wet. 

"You doubt me, my beautiful potionmaster?"

Malora giggled and wriggled her ass on his cock. She knew what she was doing. "Forgive me, Lord Septon. Please punish me."

"Aye, I'll that… the whole way."

Then he looked up at Unella seated across him. She was smiling the whole time. 

"Come here, Unella." He gestured, spreading one arm wide. "Let the Gods taste your lips."

Right away, Unella moved and sat beside him. 

Bronn's arm crossed her shoulder and pulled her into a dirty, three-way kiss. It was so fucking sinful that it was exciting. 

After this rebellion, I suppose they wouldn't mind even if I did this out in the open. 

He chuckled to himself. It was an exciting thought. But he wasn't foolish enough to really do it. Not all of Westeros followed the Seven. The North still followed the old gods. 

However, his current plan was entirely to entice them. 

Heard they still believe in magic. I'll show them magic, alright.

Returning to the moment, he watched as his gorgeous, loyal Septas slid to their knees between his legs, their curious hands fetching his cock. 

He let them and just reclined back, enjoying the journey. 

####

Highgarden, 

Olenna Tyrell hoped she was dead. She hoped for death to kiss her every living moment, for she was no longer living, just breathing. 

On that bed, for the past many years. She felt like she was slowly rotting. The food she was fed was all soupy gruel. How was that even living? 

She had so many regrets. She had underestimated Lord Septon, and she was paying for it. It did feel like a divine punishment. But her true hell was being aware of everything around her. Often, Mace came to her and told her what he was doing. The way her foolish son had fallen in the grips of Lord Septon, she heard it all. 

How her son funded the grand castle-city. She heard every foolish decision. 

"Oh! Grandmother's eyes are wet again!" 

No, she was crying. She could see everything, hear everything, smell everything. Countless Maesters had come to heal her, but none succeeded. 

"Don't take the blindfold off her eyes." 

She heard Willas and Alerie in the room. They were regular visitors, always telling her stories. But it was also a curse. Lord Septon had convinced them that she couldn't see, hear, or smell. 

She had the misfortune of hearing and smelling Lord Septon bed Alerie on multiple occasions right in her bedchamber. Right on that bed beside her. She'd heard her daughter-like woman moan, scream, and declare her love. She'd heard the very moment Lord Septon put a babe in her. 

Gods, the man had dared to even turn her face so she could see how he pressed Alerie beneath him, legs spread and pushed up in the most unholy sight. How he suckled her breasts like a babe reborn and bruised her. 

All she could do was cry. Yet the Lord Septon had declared them to be natural tears due to the dryness of her eyes, hence the suggestion to put a blindfold on her. 

She still heard everything. 

She could smell everything. 

Each word, each laugh, each smack of flesh, each moan. 

And all she could do was pray for death. An end to her misery.

####

The Greyjoy Rebellion had entered its final phase. With Lord Stannis Baratheon's victory over Victarion Greyjoy's Iron Fleet in the Strait of Fair Isle, all that was left was for King Robert to launch a ground siege. 

Yet, it was delayed. 

Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, failed to understand why. Robert had declared a short ceasefire because a supposed holy man of the Faith was visiting. Of course, Eddard had heard the name of Bronn the Blessed, the so-called Seven's Angel. But like many Northerners, he believed it to be trickery. 

A really elaborate trickery. 

He tried to get Robert to quickly plan land attacks on the Iron Islands. But he was alone in his persuasion. Robert and every southern lord, even Lord Tywin for some reason, agreed to Robert's decision. 

Meanwhile, his bannermen grew furious each passing day. They didn't believe in this holy Septon. But there was nothing he could do. 

Finally, on the second day of the ceasefire, a howling crier rode through the entire army's camp at the shores of the Crag, seat of House Westerling. Eddard watched firsthand how the entire camp was abruptly ushered into activity.

He saw men, battle-hardened, break into prayers and chants. He saw men he never thought to be religious clasp hands and bow heads, eyes closed to pray under their breath. 

Curious, Eddard followed the crowds towards the edge of the camp. Soon, he was standing right beside Robert, looking at the hill in the distance that blocked the clear view of the dirt road. 

"He's here! I can bloody feel it in the air." Robert murmured.

Eddard sighed. He felt nothing, now certain that this Bronn the Blessed had brainwashed his old friend. But he kept the doubts to himself. There were too many hardcore believers around him. 

"Look!"

Someone shouted, and Eddard looked at the top of the hill. He noticed large fluttering white flags with a large golden palm on it, followed by seven-pointed stars in the middle of the palm. There were so many of those flags, all high, the poles themselves were shimmering gold. 

And then the men holding those flags came into view. All of them were on horses, donned in full plated armor, shining metallic white. As more and more men came into view, the sound of footsteps from the distance reached the camp. 

Eddard looked left and right. Nobles, knights, and lowborn, all were frozen, staring. Nobody made a sound. Hands were clasped together by almost everyone who followed the Faith of the Seven. 

Such… faith. 

Eddard heavily breathed and focused back on the incoming entourage. It was a small army, but an endless line of carriages. From them, the largest wheelhouse headed directly towards them, guarded by white-armored knights and Tyrell colors not far behind. 

Soon enough, the tall wheelhouse came to a halt before them. He scoffed, wondering what sort of man would travel in such a lavish wheelhouse that usually noblewomen used. 

Eventually, two knights in white armor placed a wooden stairway at the foot of the wheelhouse's door and finally opened it. At first, it was just a silhouette, but soon Eddard saw the famed man in flesh… nothing remarkable. 

Eddard had reckoned the man must be ethereal in looks to have swayed so many. But at first glance, Bronn the Blessed seemed like any random bloke in the Winter Town. But the way he carried himself, Eddard saw it. 

There was grace, pride, confidence, and certainty. Hair combed back, face frozen in a warm smile. Bronn the Blessed wasn't in a Septon's attire, but a rather expensive silken robe of white with golden embroidery on it. He noticed the golden chain around his neck, the blade on his hips. 

And then… 

What? What trickery is this? 

Eddard felt as if the earth moved beneath his feet. Bronn the Blessed descended from the wheelhouse, and once the man's feet were on the ground, he raised the right hand and… blinding warm light emerged from the palm. It was so bright, like a sun in the palm of a hand. 

Thud!

Thud!

"Oh! Seven be praised!"

"Seven's Angel!"

"Blessed me!"

Thud!

Robert? 

Eddard saw, no he felt the way King Robert Baratheon fell to both knees. Not like a knight, but like a man praying to a god. Both knees, hands collapsed together. And once King Robert had knelt, the entire camp followed. Stannis Baratheon, Paxter Redwyne, Ser Barristan Selmy and, he noticed hesitation in Tywin Lannister but the man knelt as well. 

All but himself and the Northerners stayed standing. He felt pressure, eyes stabbing his back, eyes of Seven's followers. He almost felt like kneeling as well. How could he not when he literally heard some grown men around him sob? 

"Rise."

How? 

Eddard could swear in the name of the Old Gods. There was magic in the very voice of the man. It was so loud, yet the man wasn't shouting. He knew the words reached far in the back. 

"O' sons of the Seven Gods,
Warrior watches and nods.
Raise your heads high and be proud,
Glory is yours, only pray aloud.
Seven bless us, Seven guide us."

Eddard felt frozen in place, questioning how the man was so loud while speaking so gently. But he did become alert when the Septon got closer to the king, still kneeling. He reckoned Ser Barristan would react, but the man didn't move. 

"King Robert Baratheon." 

He lays his hand on the king and… none move? 

Right before him, Bronn the Blessed patted the king's shoulder, ushering the tall king to stand high. Following that, every man in the army arose. 

"Warrior's hand guides your hammer, Your Grace."

"Bah! I knew it! I could feel my strikes stronger." Robert boomed, elated. "You bless us with your presence, Lord Septon."

“Duty, Your Grace. The Seven led me to this place with reason enough. Have your messengers readied. I have words for the Ironborn. The Seven burn with wrath for what those sea rats did to their faithful. I’ll give their commanders one last chance to kneel and take the Seven into their hearts, or drown in the fury that waits.”

Eddard had to speak there. "My… Lord?"

"Lord Septon."

Eddard frowned when Robert corrected him. “Lord Septon, your efforts are wasted. Those men would sooner die than forsake their drowned god. You’ll find no surrender among them.”

"I know, Lord Eddard Stark. Yet the Seven’s hand guides mine. I must hear their cause with my own ears. If peril waits, let the talk be held on neutral waters, aboard a merchant’s ship."

"But…"

"Enough, Ned." Robert boomed, sounding annoyed. "Forgive my friend here, Lord Septon. He… follows the old ways."

Eddard scowled. He'd never heard Robert have any problem with his faith. But he was more interested in this Lord Septon's reaction. 

"I am aware, Your Grace. But old or new, Gods are Gods. It's the light in the heart that matters. For as long as my light can bring guidance, all are welcome to follow."

"Wise words, Lord Septon."

Eddard silently sighed. Robert seemed stricken with the Lord Septon more than he was obsessed with Lyanna. 

"Barristan, summon the messengers. And let it be known we'll aid Lord Septon in his holy work."

At that point, Eddard just accepted the situation. He couldn't move Robert, no matter what. The faith was too strong. 

####

Ah, so this is the famed Eddard Stark? 

Bronn eyed the stoic man and instantly knew what sort of creature the Northern lord was. Cold, harsh, silent, just as one would expect from the cold, harsh north. But the man was insignificant to him. At the moment, he had no grand ambitions to turn House Stark to his cult. He was already busy with the Manderlys. 

Once he had spoken with the king, he guided his armored men to set up two separate camps. One was for his and the dwelling of his entire entourage, and the other was just for healing the injured. 

Within a few hours, the first sick and wounded started to arrive. The Septas were well-trained and used Bronn's brewed potions to heal wounds, cuts, and quell fevers. Bronn personally healed some of the more wounded ones. 

And the whole time, there were at least a hundred eyes on him, no matter what he did. Of course, he made sure not to do something with Unella or Malora. 

He showed miracles and magic every single day. Anyone who doubted him became a believer after that. Levitation, mending broken items, or creating light. They were some of the simplest spells he'd learned over the years, and that was enough to excite the masses. 

It took a whole week for the words to exchange between the Ironborn and Robert's men. It took a lot of negotiation and back and forth to even decide the place of meeting between Bronn and Ironborn commanders. 

Robert had to declare that Bronn was their last hope. And as the Ironborn had already lost their fleet in the recent defeat, after some tantrums, they took the offer. 

Finally, on a fine morning, Bronn was led to a small boat and then boarded a large royal ship, which took him further towards the meeting place. Accompanying him were four Angelic Knights, the strongest ones, Lord Stannis Baratheon, and Lord Eddard Stark. 

They sailed away from the coast, but stayed somewhere between Banefort and Faircastle. The rules were simple, they weren't allowed to bring more than three ships. Further, the real meeting was to take place on a merchant's ship. 

Bronn was the representative of the crown at that moment, and to the Ironborn, he was their hope to buy time or end the battle without inviting a land invasion. 

"Not a twitch, not a breath out of place. Even if they attack me, do not move." Bronn ordered the men, the Angelic Knights, and the two lords. "The Seven walk with me. No mortal edge shall cut Their will."

None of them questioned him.

An hour later, they finally saw the lone merchant ship, and in the far distance, three Ironborn ships. 

Bronn's vessel continued to approach the merchant ship, and soon a gangway was placed between them. The Ironborn side did the same, and they all bored around the same time. 

That one looks demented.  

There were three men at the front, he saw. But two of them wore armor, and one of them was rather large, his hair flecked with grey. He looked serious. Meanwhile, the other man was quite handsome with pale skin, black hair, and a dark beard. Notably, the man wore a black leather patch on his left eye. 

"Is that the one with magic?" 

The first to speak was that handsome eye-patch-wearing man. 

Thankfully, Stannis Baratheon quickly eased Bronn's confusion. 

"Lord Septon, the tall one is Victarion Greyjoy, and the other is Euron Greyjoy. I don't know the third man."

Two of the most important Greyjoys? Seven Cunts, this might prove better than I was hoping. 

Bronn maintained a solemn air to himself and walked to the middle of the ship's deck. He eyed the two men carefully, trying to gauge how they'd react to him. Victarion seemed the stoic type, and Euron seemed more eccentric, hence more dangerous. 

"The Seven led our feet here, sure as steel finds flesh," Bronn murmured, lifting his hand as light spilled forth to prove his worth. "Let the Seven bear witness, for Their judgement settles all before nightfall."

"Hah! He speaks like you, Tarle!" Euron howled, laughing. 

"Tricks!" voiced the man named Tarle. "I am a priest of the Drowned God. They call me Tarle the thrice-drowned."

"Let's not make it four," Bronn replied. 

"Bahaha!" Euron laughed even louder. "I like him already."

Tarle frowned and stepped closer. “Your messenger spoke madness. You’ve come to make us forsake the old ways? To cast off the Drowned Gods and bow to your Seven devils?”

“The light of the Seven reaches all, sooner or later,” Bronn said, calm as a still pond, hands folded as if in prayer. “Hear me now, for the Gods have spoken through me. The blood you’ve spilled, the pain you’ve sown among their faithful, it all cries for judgment. Bow before their grace, take the light of the seven, or vanish without hope of heaven.”

"Stannis Baratheon, what is this nonsense?" Victarion Greyjoy addressed the stoic Baratheon.

Stannis didn't respond. He obeyed Bronn's order not to even flinch. 

“This lies beyond land, beyond realm, beyond crowns. Time has come for the Ironborn to change their ways." Bronn declared, "There is no drowned god, no old, no new. The Seven see no difference. The sea and the sun serve one will.”

Splash!

Bronn raised his right palm parallel to the ship's deck, and out of nowhere, water started to flow from his very palm. 

"Choose! To submit? Or to be purged?"

Euron let out a low, cruel laugh. “Purge? Tell me, how will you manage that? Your own blood will flow with the rest if you invade.”

Bronn stopped casting magic. "The seven need no invasion to purge sinners."

"Bah! Seven this, Seven that, Seven my ass!" Euron spat. "We sit here babbling with a fool while the seas call to me. Tell me, is this the crown’s final word?"

Stannis still didn't speak. Eddard Stark remained silent as well. 

Bronn didn't, however. The little game he was playing had finally reached the end as tiny little flies left his sleeves. 

"Oh, Seven above, they stand blind,
I taught, yet insanity clouds their mind.
No mercy shall now befall their halls,
Death and justice shall ring through the walls."

Bronn raised his right hand again and cast that light magic spell. 

"All three of you! For crimes the Seven despise, I condemn you to die. You shall sleep tonight, yet never meet the sky. Hold your lovers close, whisper no lie. Count your breaths, for the Strange draws nigh."

Finally, Bronn turned around and simply walked back to their ship through the gangway. The Angelic knights were the first to follow him. But he did hear the two lords take a moment and their little exchange. 

"That's it?" Eddard Stark inquired. 

Bronn heard Stannis' response and chuckled. 

"Look well upon them, Lord Stark. They are dead men walking; they simply don't know yet."

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A/N: Posting some pics for Angel's Peak and Angelic Knight armor in the chat.