Falling Like || Jon Snow

01| 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔴𝔞𝔩𝔩

castle black, the wall

— THE FIRST TIME JON SNOW LAID EYES ON THE WALL, HE WAS SIXTEEN YEARS OLD. He heard the horn when he rode in the gate and he followed his uncle across the frosty dirt ground into the Main Hall, along with the other new recruits. The man at the head of the table, the Lord Commander, was certainly an imposing sight. He was leaning to his left to speak with the Maester of Castle Black when they came in. He turned to look them over when they stopped before him, and Jon felt himself wanting to shift under that sharp stare. He didn't.

"Had some luck, did you Benjen?"

"I did, Commander." Benjen replied, glancing over the recruits.

He stood. "Welcome to Castle Black. I am Lord Commander Jeor Mormont. In this castle, you obey my rules. We are brothers here, and any slight against your brothers will come with consequence. Any disobedience will come with consequence. Do good for your brothers, and the men of the Night's Watch will continue to serve their vows and their purpose well, as they have for thousands of years." He looked to Benjen. "Show this lot to their cots."

"Aye, Ser." Turning, the Stark ranger made for the doors. "Come on, recruits." They headed back out into the cold courtyard – which, to be fair, wasn't really any colder than the Hall – and started up the steps to get to the walkways along the second story. Shouts rang out in the courtyard below, and then they heard the strangest thing.

"Move your foot! No, wrong foot." A clang and a thud. "Now you're dead." Was that a woman's voice? The new recruits all turned and suddenly found themselves rather frozen at the sight below. A young woman who couldn't have been any older than Jon stood amongst the men below, training. She wore dark, fitted trousers and black boots, a loose white undershirt beneath a black leather jerkin and black leather gloves. Long waves of hair the colour of chocolate fell down her back, and though she spun a sword in her right hand, she was far too pretty to be mistaken for any manner of man. It was like she could feel the eyes on her. She turned towards them with a mildly amused expression, and Jon realised her complexion was very different to anyone else this far North; a bronze sort of shade. Her brown eyes landed on the group of new arrivals before sliding over to Benjen. "See you brought back some strays with you." She grinned.

The Ranger chuckled. He'd always been rather fond of the girl, watching over her as Mormont did, though she hardly needed it. "That I did, my lady. The lads were just taking notes on your perfect form."

She laughed. "Go on then." She turned back to training, and Benjen got the recruits moving again.

"Come on boys. You've seen women before. Move on." He caught Jon's eyes lingering a second longer and chuckled. "First piece of advice for you," he said. "Behave yourself with Lady Mormont, or your consequence will likely come at her hand."

"Mormont?" Jon blinked at his uncle, then looked back to see the girl slinging a black cloak back around her shoulders and heading for the Hall. "Is that...?"

Benjen nodded. "The Huntress. Aye. She's not just a fairy tale the lads tell themselves to get through winter. She's real, and she'll chop off your balls for real too, so let's get going."

°

The first thing Nymeria noticed when she stepped into the hall was that there was a stranger here. He wasn't a recruit, or he'd be with Benjen, so who? Short man wearing red and gold with enough authority and riches to visit Castle Black on a whim. It didn't take a genius to solve that puzzle. The Lannister dwarf. She inclined her head. "Guests, Lord Commander?"

Mormont nodded. "Nymeria, this is Lord Tyrion Lannister. Lord Tyrion, this is Nymeria Mormont, my granddaughter."

She inclined her head. "My Lord."