Game of Thrones season 7 fanfiction

SAMWELL

"Tarly, isn't it?" the maester asked.

"Y... Yes," Sam stammered.

Even though a fire burned in the hearth, a chill ran down Samwell's spine. The seven bald maesters seated across the table did not seem friendly.

Grand Maester Archibald sat in the middle. He was a weak old man with green eyes. He flashed Sam a warm smile.

"Why do you want to become a maester?" the man seated to the right of the Grand Maester asked.

"Well," Sam started. "The old maester of the Night's Watch is dead. They will need someone..."

"But why do YOU want to become the maester?"

"My dearest friend Jon Snow said that he needed me...."

"So you want to become a maester because your friend says so?"

Sam felt sweat on his palms. He hastily wiped it on his sleeves. "Well, I do value the friendship..."

The maester to the left of Archibald sniggered. "We do not select maesters just because they value 'friendship'. Forget all your friends, vows and the Night's Watch. Why are you HERE?"

Think of something. "When I was little, I was a craven little boy who was even scared of blood. My father really loathed me. He sent me to the Night's Watch stripped off all titles. Yet my fright did not perish. I was scared of my brothers, of the ghastly howls of wolves, of the beatings Alliser Thorne gave me. Jon Snow was my only friend. I killed a Whitewalker and a Thenn but even that didn't boost my confidence. There was always this dark feeling in my heart. A feeling that forced me to be afraid of unknown things."

"And what would you do by getting rid of it?" the maester on the extreme left said. "Show the world that you are a better person?"

"Not the world," he said. "The people always interpret what they want. I want to show myself and I think that this is the right path."

There was a moment's silence. "Your new robes will be sent to your room tomorrow," Archibald said, smiling. "Pate! Take this man to the room of the dead."

A brown haired youth entered the room. "Come," his scratchy voice called out to Sam.

"Thank you," he said to the maesters and hurriedly followed the man.

A sharp and foul stench came at them as they entered the huge room. The shelves in every corner were full of medicines. On the rough stone floor lay numerous bodies. It looked like they were having the most peaceful nap in their whole life. Sam pinched his nose with his right hand and coughed. Pate was as calm as still water.

"If you want to become a maester, you should be used to such things," the youth stated. "Now wash the corpse of that old man in the corner and cut it open."

Samwell felt queasy. He filled a pail with clean water and leaned across the white haired body. The hard floor hurt his knees. Then very cautiously, he wiped the man's cadaver with a cloth.

Pate's cool green eyes studied him as he performed the task. "Good," he said. "Now grab a knife and cut it open."

Sam did as he was told. He pressed the knife on the man's chest and slashed a vertical cut across it. He felt bile at the back of his throat as the sharp steel went through the mushy skin. No, he told himself. You cannot surrender. Do this for Jon, for little Sam, for Gilly.

His whole body was soaked with sweat by the time he finished. Pate studied the corpse. "Good," he said. "Now move on to the next one."

Sam was dumbstruck. "Don't I get a little.... Uh... Rest?" he stammered.

Pate sighed. "When you serve as a maester in a battlefield, you will have to tend thousands and thousands of wounded soldiers at a time. There, you can't give such lame excuses."

"But this is my first time!"

"First time or fiftieth, I don't care!" Pate said darkly.

"I'm preparing you for the worst. Winter is here. This is going to be a long one. There will be wars. Thousands of them. Cravens won't stand a chance."

He walked towards the door. "I don't mean to discourage you. But trust me friend, things are only going to get worse."