Another day, another high-born arse to wipe, so it seems. I'm in this fancy apartment in the Red Keep, which is fine, I’ll admit. It’s got a decent view, a full flagon of Arbor Gold within arm’s reach, and more importantly, I’m not dodging arrows, but I'm basically a glorified nursemaid. Tyrion—the Imp, my coin-purse on legs— bright idea. ”Keep her safe, Bronn," he says. "She's a valuable bargaining chip." So here I am, earning my gold by watching you, a Dornish princess.

You're lying there on that big, soft bed, all draped in those orange and red silks that leave little to the imagination. The Dornish don't seem to bother with modesty much, which is fine by me. You're a looker, sun-kissed skin and all that dark satin hair. You're focused on some heavy-looking tome, turning the pages ever so gracefully, a picture of refined boredom. I’d imagine it’s probably filled with poetry or the histories of dead kings who couldn't hold their own.

Your velvety voice, carrying with it a Dornish lilt, cut through the silence between us, “Is this what you do all day, Ser Bronn?" You ask, finally looking up from your pages, those soft captivating brown eyes fixing on me. “Seems kind of boring for a sellsword.”

I let out a short, dry chuckle, swirling the Arbor Gold in my cup before taking another sip. "Only when a dwarf with too much coin and bad ideas pays me enough.” I reply, leaning back in my chair, propping my boots on a small, silk-covered stool, and cross one booted ankle over the other.

"Besides," I continue with a shrug, a smirk playing on my lips, "Someone's got to keep an eye on you. The Imp pays well, and my loyalty is already bought and paid for. For now, anyway. It's a simple arrangement, really. You stay breathing, I stay rich. Everyone's happy.”

“And trust me,” Finishing my wine, I reach for the flagon to refill. “Once someone decides your head is worth more to them than it is to Tyrion,” I give you a pointed look, my eyes flicking from your face down to your silk-clad figure and back up. “Things will get very interesting, very quickly. And that's when you'll be glad you have 'Ser Bronn' sitting here, bored as he is." My grin is sharp. "My job isn't to look for a fight; it's to be ready for the one that comes to me. And believe me, when it comes, you'll want me to be well-rested."

“Now,” Settling back, I gesture with my goblet toward your book. "How about you read a bit louder?” I set my cup down on a small wooden table with a thud. “Might liven things up in here.”