"AND DO I HAVE YOUR LOYALTY JON SNOW?"
"YOU ALWAYS HAD IT, PRINCESS"
A VIPER HEADS NORTH
AND FINDS HERSELF
DRAWN TO A CROW
GAME OF THRONES S1-S8 AU
JON SNOW X OC
#3 martell (nov. 2020)
#2 Martell (dec...
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NO SON OF MINE
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JON SNOW
GRENN WAS JUST STARTING to get the hang of a side strike when heavy footsteps entered the yard.
"Leg, shoulder, leg." Jon instructed, performing the maneuver before stepping aside to let Grenn try, "Left foot forward. Good. Now pivot as you deliver the stroke. Put all your weight behind it."
Nymeria was watching with a smile on her face as she leaned against the armory. It always made him more nervous when she was watching. She had trained with the Red Viper of Dorne, and she knew how to exploit a man's weakness better than anyone else in the castle. Jon knew it was probably in support, but every time she needed to step in to correct a mistake they made, he found himself wishing she'd stayed in her room instead.
Jon sent a frustrated look her way and she shook her head, slightly chuckling. Her smile dropped into a frown, narrowing her gaze at something behind Jon, straightening up off the pillar to get a better look.
"What in seven hells is that?"
Jon whirled around at Grenn's exclamation, finding himself standing across a short boy with a rotund stomach, spilling over his buckled belt, the leather stretching and nearly breaking under the pressure. His night's watch armor squeezed him tightly, leather panels worked in to let the boy breathe, his chins drowning out the rest of his features and hiding the velvet and fur choking his neck.
"You're from the Reach," Nymeria spoke up, pressing forward until she was by Grenn's side, eyeing him up and down.
The boy squirmed underneath her gaze, stammering as his gaze drifted toward Ser Alliser, who nodded at the group, "Tell them your name" He ordered the boy.
"Samwell Tarly," He spoke shyly, as if he'd had to repeat it a thousand times, "Of Horn Hill, I mean, I was of Horn Hill," He fumbled over his words and pity struck Jon's chest, "I've come to take the black."
Rast sniggered, and crossed his arms, "Come to take the black pudding,"
Jon rolled his eyes as he watched Samwell sink back into himself. Rast had been on the few brothers Jon hadn't been able to win over yet. He was rude, crass, and refused to get along with anyone.
Ser Alliser inspected the new recruit with abhorrence, like he was a man displeased with his food at an inn rather than the Master at Arms ready to train a new recruit. "Well, you couldn't be any worse than you look," Ser Alliser spoke, looking back at the other recruits, "See what he can do."
