Until the Seven Hells Freeze Over

Chapter 10- The King's Order

The dining hall was noticeably quieter than the night before.

With many of the men still hungover, there wasn't much banter or horsing around. Instead, the men kept mostly to themselves, eating their porridge and downing cups of water to sober up before a long day's work.

Jon walked right past the dais at the front of the room, heading to his usual table, then stopped in his tracks. As he'd entered the room, he'd forgotten that he was the Lord Commander, and his place was at the front of the room, beside Maester Aemon.

Sam caught his eye, smiled, and nodded, silently encouraging him to take his new place. Jon smiled back sadly, then led you to the raised table at the front of the hall.

"Is that you, Lord Commander?" said Maester Aemon, his voice as gentle as you remembered it. The old man was blind, so his head never turned toward you, but his intuition was strong. He could always sense the presence of others, including you.

"How are you feeling, my dear?" Aemon asked as you took a seat beside Jon. "Has the fever returned?"

You shook your head. "It seems to be gone for good, thank the Gods."

Maester Aemon smiled. "Good, good."

You and Jon talked softly as you both ate. He told you about his tasks for today, how he was leading an advanced sparring session for some of the more seasoned fighters in the courtyard after breakfast, and then leading the efforts to rebuild after the battle. You listened intently, amazed at how calm Jon was, given the responsibility that had just fallen onto his shoulders.

"I'd like to see you teach the others," you said with a wry grin. "I've never seen you fight. Not properly, anyway. I saw you spar with your brothers at Winterfell, but we were all just kids then."

"Ah, I haven't improved much since then," said Jon with a wave of his hand.

You narrowed your eyes at him, your grin growing. "Oh, I doubt that very much."

Jon shook his head, taking a drink of water to hide his smirk. "You can watch if you'd like. I'm the Lord Commander now, so I can bring as many spectators as I want."

"I suppose you can. I won't heckle you, I promise."

Jon chuckled. "You'll still distract me."

"Why? I'll be so quiet that you'll forget I'm watching."

He turned to looked at you, his gaze sliding down your body before meeting your eyes. When he spoke, his voice was distinctly lower. "Believe me. I won't forget that you're watching."

You felt your face go red, and you lowered your gaze to your bowl. From Jon's other side, Maester Aemon mumbled, "Easy does it, boy."

...

True to Jon's word, he led you to the courtyard after breakfast. The Brothers seemed to have some life in them after sobering up. You watched with fascination as they all went about their tasks—with men doing everything from wheeling hay to the stables, to practicing archery with impressive precision.

In the center of the courtyard was a group of large and rather scary looking men, all of whom looked to Jon when he entered their view. You squeezed Jon's arm, then hung back along the stone wall while he joined them.

"Morning, men," he said, his voice deep and commanding as he grabbed a training sword. "I may be your Lord Commander now, but I'm still going to be leading these training sessions until we find someone else to take over. Now...in our last lesson we started working on feinting, or the art of baiting your opponent by misdirecting them. It's all about thinking on your feet, and capitalizing on your opponent's weaknesses. Let me demonstrate..."