Game of Thrones Imagines

Dark Knight - Part 1 - Bronn x Reader

Bronn prided himself on being scared of no man. Sure, he had a healthy respect for some, but fear was no in his vocabulary. No one could ever say that he was not confident in his own abilities. And given the fact that he had proved himself time and time again, not only on the field of battle but also in one on one combat, he believed that he had every right to class himself as one of the most feared warriors in the Seven Kingdoms.

But there was one thing that the sellsword feared. The sight of it on the battlefield always instilling in him a sense of dread, and this thing was simply known by all as the Dark Knight.

He had styled himself on the warrior, and like him, the Dark Knight was skilled with sword, knife, and bow. And Bronn had even seen the impressive warrior wield a staff as if the weapon was an extension of their own body. The dark figure's movements appearing as if they were performing a dance while the war raged around them.

Also like him, the Knight wore no armour, sporting instead the darkest, blackest leather, and carried no shield, relying on their agility and speed to dodge any attack that their opponent may use against them.

The only differences that Bronn could see between himself and the Dark Knight was that the black spectre wore a black and silver mask with symbols picked out in the precious metal, symbols that Bronn had been told were some kind of ancient spell that protected the Knight, and a large black hood that made it impossible for anyone to see the features of the warrior that was about to kill them.

Bronn could vividly remember the first time that he had seen the Dark Knight. He had been in camp with other sellswords, each one of them huddled around a fire, some getting drunk, others quietly contemplating what was to come as soon as the sun rose over the hill. All hoping that the battle they faced in the morning would not be their last.

Bronn had watched with curiosity as a silence fell over the camp, the battle hardened warriors suddenly standing respectfully and parting ways as the dark figure had passed amongst them. It had been his first battle, the young Bronn not knowing why everyone around him would be acting in such a fashion; but that was until he was dragged to his feet by the old man next to him.

"Get ya arse up boy. Show some fuckin respect. Most of us owe the Dark Knight our lives in one way or another. Now bow ya damn head." The older warrior had hissed disdainfully, as he pushed Bronn's head down.

Bronn couldn't help but cautiously look up as the Knight had passed, catching a glimpse of a pair of bright eyes as the warrior had walked by, making their way to the tent of the king.

Once the warrior had disappeared, the men had all returned to what they had been doing, that was all except for Bronn who had let his curiosity get the better of him, and was bombarding those around him with questions about what he had just seen.

He had learnt that the Dark Knight had existed for as long as anyone could remember, many men claiming that the Knight had saved their grandfathers and their grandfathers, grandfathers, while fighting by their sides. Others stating that battles had not gone ahead once an opposing force had found out that the Knight was to fight against them. But it was when Bronn had seen the Knight on the field the next day, that the young sellsword quickly learned that if anyone was to be feared, it was this warrior.

The figure had stormed in ahead of the others. The Knights roar even heard over the sounds of thousands of men and horses as they charged headlong into the fray. Despite the chaos, Bronn had found himself watching the Knight. Death seemed to come naturally to the warrior, the body count mounting as the creature moved effortlessly through the carnage of corpses and blood. He couldn't help but marvel at how effortless it all seemed, how easily the heads rolled, how the gods had made a perfect killing machine. And so caught up was he that Bronn had not noticed as an arrow had come speeding towards him, the projectile being stopped just before it had hit him by the hand of the Dark Knight that had somehow appeared before him in an instant.