𝙒𝘼𝙍𝙍𝙄𝙊𝙍𝙎 (Game of Thrones)

𝙫.

Jon was late for supper that night. Vickon was settled with Grenn and Pyp when he approached the table, shrugging off his cloak and sitting down beside Vickon. "Where have you been?" Grenn asked.

"Watch duty," replied Jon. "With Sam."

"Ah, Prince Porkchop," Pyp said. "Where is he?"

"He wasn't hungry," Jon answered.

Grenn snorted at that. "Impossible!" Pyp said with a laugh, earning chuckles from Grenn.

"That's enough," Jon said. He reached to accept a bowl of stew from a passing brother. "Sam's no different from the rest of us. There was no place for him in the world, so he's come here. We're not going to hurt him in the training yard anymore. Never again, no matter what Thorne says. He's our brother now, and we're going to protect him."

"You are in love, Lord Snow," Rast said from the table behind Jon. He turned round to face him, a smirk on his face as his tablemates broke into laughter. "You girls can do as you please. But if Thorne puts me up against Lady Piggy, I'm gonna slice me off a side of bacon." Laughter once more, though Jon looked at him with a glare.

Jon said nothing, however. Only turned back to face Grenn and Pyp. Vickon was not one to hold his tongue, however. He kept his head bowed, stirring the stew in his bowl as he said, "How about you keep your fucking mouth shut, Rast?"

"What did you say?" Rast asked, leaning to push in between Jon and Vickon. "I couldn't quite hear you."

Vickon raised his head, looking Rast in the eyes. "I said, 'How about you keep your fucking mouth shut?'" At Rast's stunned expression, he continued. "Did you hear me that time? Because I'm not going to repeat myself."

"You think- -" Rast began, starting to get to his feet.

Vickon caught him suddenly by the wrist, cutting him off mid-thought. "Vickon, don't," Pyp dared to say.

Vickon ignored him, rising slowly to his feet, keeping tight hold of Rast's arm. "Keep talking, raper, and I'll break this arm of yours. Unless you'd like to lose a few teeth, instead. If the ladies didn't like you enough to go willingly before, they'll certainly not like you toothless."

Rast swung. Vickon dodged. Before he could throw a punch of his own, Jon had him by the arm, pulling him toward the table, holding fast even as Vickon struggled to free himself of his grip. Pyp and Grenn were speaking, voices far away sounding. "Vickon," Jon was saying. "Vickon, stop. Vick!"

Vickon's eyes were set on Rast even as Jon pulled him back into his seat. "I'll kill him," he said. "I swear to all the Gods, I will kill him."

Jon rolled his eyes. "Of course you will," he said. "Now sit back down."

Vickon did as told, not looking away from Rast until he absolutely had to. Grenn and Pyp looked stunned as Vickon calmly returned to the bowl of stew in front of him. Jon kept his voice low and his head down as he said, "We'll get him tonight. Then he'll know better than to act like an ass."

Vickon damn near could have smiled.

And so, in the night, they crept through the sleeping quarters, Jon Snow's direwolf slinking alongside them, red eyes searching for his target. They found Rast on his cot, snoring, sleeping without a care in the world. It was Vickon who pressed a cloth to his mouth, choking the scream that threatened to escape him. The direwolf, Ghost was his name, jumped up onto the cot, standing tall over Rast, whose eyes widened with terror at the sight. The wolf made not a sound as it stared down at him, teeth bared. Jon stepped to the side of the cot, looking at Rast. "No one touches Sam," he said.

When Vickon was sure that Rast would do nothing, he drew the cloth away. 

Ghost followed when Pyp, Grenn, Jon, and Vickon left Rast to piss himself in the dark.

The morning light bore down on them as they stood in the training yard the next day. Vickon watched on as Ser Alliser readied the recruits. Sam against Rast, as they all knew it would be. 

Sam stood stiff, sword tight in hand. Rast's eyes drifted to Jon, then to Vickon. "What are you waiting for?" Ser Alliser asked.

Sam swung. Rast raised his own blade, and there was a soft clatter as the swords struck together. Rast twisted his arm, knocking Sam's sword to the ground. Sam swallowed hard as he made to pick it back up, but Rast made no move. 

"Attack him!" roared Ser Alliser.

Rast sighed, stepping forward. He swung once, tapping at Sam's arm, looking at Jon for any sort of affirmation.

Ser Alliser seemed to realize what was happening. He seized Rast by the collar, shoving him back as he rounded on Grenn. "You get in there," he instructed.

Grenn stepped forward. He took his stance, Sam mimicking. When neither made another move, Grenn lowered his voice. "Hit me," he whispered.

Jon gave Sam a nod as Grenn urged, "Go on, hit me!"

Sam swung, hitting him in the shoulder. Grenn let out a cry, falling back and hitting the ground. "I yield!" he said as the men broke into laughter. "Yield, yield. I yield."

Vickon made to help Grenn back to his feet as Ser Alliser shoved Sam out of the way, locking eyes with Jon, who was smirking. The smirk vanished in an instant, however, when Ser Alliser took hold of his collar, staring down at him. "You think this is funny, do you?" he demanded. When Jon said nothing, he pushed him away, rounding on the others with a glare. "When you're out there beyond the Wall with the sun going down, do you want a man at your back? Or a sniveling boy?"

And without saying anything more, he left.