Bronn Quotes

Bronn himself, who’d only smiled that insolent dark smile of his and afterward said, “They’ll kill for that knighthood, but don’t ever think they’ll die for it.” Tyrion had no such delusion.

She has the blood of a wolf,” said Joffrey. “And you have the wits of a goose,” said Tyrion. “You can’t talk to me that way. The king can do as he likes.” “Aerys Targaryen did as he liked. Has you mother ever told you what happened to him?” Ser Boros Blount harrumphed. “No man threatens His Grace in the presence of the Kingsguard.” Tyrion Lannister raised an eyebrow. “I am not threating the king, ser, I am educating my nephew. Bronn, Timett, the next time Ser Boros opens his mouth, kill him.” The dwarf smiled. “Now that was a threat, ser. See the difference?

Make no mistake, dwarf. I fought for you, but I do not love you'' ''It was your blade I needed'' Tyrion said, ''not your love.

He found Podrick Payne asleep in a chair outside the door of the solar, and shook him by the shoulder. "Summon Bronn, and then tun down to the stables and have two horses saddled." (Tyrion). The squire's eyes were cloudy with sleep. "Horses". (squire) "Those big brown animals that love apples, I'm sure you've seen them. Four legs and a tail. But Bronn first." (Tyrion)

Tell me, Bronn. If I told you to kill a babe... an infant girl, say, still at her mother's breast... would you do it? Without question? Without question? No. The sellsword rubbed thumb and forefinger together. I'd ask how much.

Ser Rodrik shouted “Winterfell!” and rode to meet him, with Bronn and Chiggen beside him, screaming some wordless battle cry. Ser Willis Wode followed, swinging a spiked morningstar around his head. “Harrenhal! Harrenhal!” he sang. Tyrion felt a sudden urge to leap up, brandish his axe, and boom out, “Casterly Rock!” but the insanity passed quickly and he crouched down lower.

Perhaps you should eat the goose and marry the maid. Or better still, send Shagga.'' ''Shagga's more like eat the maid and marry the goose'' observed Bronn.

Bronn said. He was near a shadow himself; bone thin and bone hard, with black eyes and black hair and a stubble of beard.

Chiggen grinned, showing yellow teeth, and swallowed the raw meat in two bites. “Tastes well bred.” “Better if you fry it up with onions,” Bronn put in.

Ser Rodrik shouted “Winterfell!” and rode to meet him, with Bronn and Chiggen beside him, screaming some wordless battle cry. Ser Willis Wode followed, swinging a spiked morningstar around his head. “Harrenhal! Harrenhal!” he sang. Tyrion felt a sudden urge to leap up, brandish his axe, and boom out, “Casterly Rock!” but the insanity passed quickly and he crouched down lower. He

If he didn’t frighten me, I’d be a bloody fool.” Bronn gave a shrug. “Might be I could take him. Dance around him until he was so tired of hacking at me that he couldn’t lift his sword. Get him off his feet somehow. When they’re flat on their backs it don’t matter how tall they are. Even so, it’s chancy. One misstep and I’m dead. Why should I risk it? I like you well enough, ugly little whoreson that you are … but if I fight your battle, I lose either way. Either the Mountain spills my guts, or I kill him and lose Stokeworth. I sell my sword, I don’t give it away. I’m not your bloody brother.

Tyrion, I know we do not always agree on policy, but it seems to me that I was wrong about you. You are not so big a fool as I imagined. In truth, I realize now that you have been a great help. For that I thank you. You must forgive me if I have spoken to you harshly in the past.” “Must I?” He gave her a shrug, a smile. “Sweet sister, you have said nothing that requires forgiveness.” “Today, you mean?” They both laughed . . . and Cersei leaned over and planted a quick, soft kiss on his brow. Too astonished for words, Tyrion could only watch her stride off down the hall, Ser Preston at her side. “Have I lost my wits, or did my sister just kiss me?” he asked Bronn when she was gone. “Was it so sweet?” “It was . . . unanticipated.” Cersei had been behaving queerly of late. Tyrion found it very unsettling. “I am trying to recall the last time she kissed me. I could not have been more than six or seven. Jaime had dared her to do it." “The woman’s finally taken note of your charms.” “No,” Tyrion said. “No, the woman is hatching something. Best find out what, Bronn. You know I hate surprises.

No man threatens His Grace in the presence of the Kingsguard." Tyrion Lannister raised an eyebrow. "I am not threatening the king, ser, I am educating my nephew. Bronn, Timett, the next time Ser Boros opens his mouth kill him." The dwarf smiled. "Now that was a threat. See the difference?

Bronn grinned one last time, and walked out of the door, the castle, and his life.

Tell me, Bronn. If I told you to kill a babe … an infant girl, say, still at her mother’s breast … would you do it? Without question?” “Without question? No.” The sellsword rubbed thumb and forefinger together. “I’d ask how much.

Bronn, Timett, la próxima vez que Ser Boros abra la boca lo matáis. —El enano sonrió—. Eso sí que era una amenaza. ¿Captáis la diferencia?

If the day ever comes when you’re tempted to sell me out, remember this, Bronn—I’ll match their price, whatever it is. I like living.

And now to roll the dice, he thought with another quick glance back at Bronn.

Bronn yanked out his dirk and pulled the meat from the fire. He began to carve thick chunks of charred meat off the bone as Tyrion hollowed out two heels of stale bread to serve as trenchers. “If we do reach the river, what will you do then?” the sellsword asked as he cut. “Oh, a whore and a featherbed and a flagon of wine, for a start.” Tyrion held out his trencher, and Bronn filled it with meat.

The clans have grown bolder since Lord Jon died,” Ser Donnel said. He was a stocky youth of twenty years, earnest and homely, with a wide nose and a shock of thick brown hair. “If it were up to me, I would take a hundred men into the mountains, root them out of their fastnesses, and teach them some sharp lessons, but your sister has forbidden it. She would not even permit her knights to fight in the Hand’s tourney. She wants all our swords kept close to home, to defend the Vale … against what, no one is certain. Shadows, some say.” He looked at her anxiously, as if he had suddenly remembered who she was. “I hope I have not spoken out of turn, my lady. I meant no offense.” “Frank talk does not offend me, Ser Donnel.” Catelyn knew what her sister feared. Not shadows, Lannisters, she thought to herself, glancing back to where the dwarf rode beside Bronn.

Without Bronn she would never have reached the Vale, she knew; the sellsword was as fierce a fighter as she had ever seen, and his sword had helped cut them through to safety. Yet for all that, Catelyn misliked the man. Courage he had, and strength, but there was no kindness in him, and little loyalty. And she had seen him riding beside Lannister far too often, talking in low voices and laughing at some private joke.

The Eyrie. They say it’s impregnable.”—Tyrion Lannister “Give me ten good men and some climbing spikes—I’ll impregnate the bitch.”—Bronn

Tyrion was a little drunk, and very tired. “Tell me, Bronn. If I told you to kill a babe … an infant girl, say, still at her mother’s breast … would you do it? Without question?