𝙒𝘼𝙍𝙍𝙄𝙊𝙍𝙎 (Game of Thrones)

𝙞𝙞.

It was Grenn who deemed they have a visit with the Stark bastard. He had seized Vickon by the shoulder and led him to the armory as if hoping that his presence would rattle Jon's nerves. Pyp, Grenn, Vickon, and Rast gathered by the door, blocking his exit. 

Grenn was the first to speak, voice tearing through the tense silence. "You broke my nose, bastard!"

Vickon saw Jon take a deep breath as he turned around, looking Grenn over. "It's an improvement," he said finally.

In the blink of an eye, Grenn had him by the arms, pinning him to the wall, glaring daggers at him. "If we threw you over the Wall, wonder how long it'd take you to hit," he noted.

"I wonder if they'd find you before the wolves did," Pyp added.

Before they could test this theory, the door opened behind them. Vickon hesitated a moment before he turned to look.

Lord Tyrion. The dwarf scanned the room, ignoring Grenn's angry expression, looking bored even as the farm boy demanded, "What are you looking at, half-man?"

"I'm looking at you," replied the little lord Lannister. "Yes. You've got an interesting face. Very distinctive faces, all of you." Vickon did not miss the lingering look in his direction.

"What do you care about our faces?" asked Rast.

Lord Tyrion shrugged. "It's just that I think they would look marvelous decorating spikes in King's Landing. Perhaps I'll write my sister, the Queen, about it," he replied.

Grenn released Jon at that. He took a step back, looking between Jon and Tyrion. "We'll talk about this later, Lord Snow," he finally stated.

Jon's eyes fell to Lord Tyrion. "Everybody knew what this place was and no one told me," he said. "No one but you. My father knew and he left me here to rot at the Wall all the same."

"Grenn's father left him, too," Lord Tyrion answered. "Outside a farmhouse when he was three. Vickon's father died at the Battle of the Trident, and the city watch sent him here. He was nine years old. Pyp was caught trying to steal a wheel of cheese. His little sister hadn't eaten in three days. He was given a choice: his right hand, or the Wall. I've been asking the Lord Commander about them. Fascinating stories."

Vickon rolled his eyes. Lord Tyrion would have found his story to be all the more fascinating if he knew the true one.

Jon scanned the small group, thinking carefully before he said, "They hate me because I'm better than the other recruits."

Vickon let out a snort, earning a pointed look from Lord Tyrion who answered Jon with annoyance. "It's a lucky thing none of them were trained by a master-at-arms like your ser Rodrik. I don't imagine any of them have ever held a real sword before they came here."

When Jon had no reply to that, Lord Tyrion let out a sigh. He drew a letter forth from his pocket, holding it out to Jon. "Your brother, Bran," he said. "He's woken up."

He left the armory without another word, leaving Jon in stunned silence.

It was Vickon who broke the silence, clasping Jon on the shoulder. "That's good news, then?" he said.

Jon's gray eyes did not meet Vickon's purple ones as he pulled his arm free of Vickon's grasp, making for the door. 

He left, letting the door slam shut behind him. Silence once more, and again, it was Vickon who broke it, looking toward Grenn and Pyp. "I don't suppose I've made a very good impression on the boy," he said with a bitter laugh. "Now, why don't you two follow me? We can warm ourselves in the hall. If we're lucky, Hobb will let us sample tonight's stew."

"But Ser Alliser- -" began Pyp, though Vickon interjected with a smile.

"Ser Alliser can hold his tongue. He's no power over me. Come along, lads," he said.

Grenn and Pyp looked between each other, considering this proposal. Grenn dared to ask the question, "Why are you being so friendly?"

Vickon laughed at that, purple eyes glinting. "Is it frightening to you lads? I'm about the friendliest person you'll meet here, I promise you that. And besides, we're brothers, now. So if you want to enjoy any of your time at this place, I'd follow me."

And so they did.

With two new brothers at his back, Vickon wondered how life would have changed if his true brother had heard his words. Nine years old and smarter than all of them, begging his older brother to stay, because they'd enough men to win the war and it was far safer in the Red Keep. "Stay, Rhaegar," he had said with all the strength that a little boy could muster. "Stay here with me and mother. We'll hide in the holdfast. We'll be safe here."

And Rhaegar had wrapped his arms around his little brother and promised that they'd see each other again. That once the rebel Robert Baratheon was dead, they could return to playing games in the gardens. They could return to normal.

Seventeen years later, and life for Vhagar Targaryen was anything but normal.