𝙒𝘼𝙍𝙍𝙄𝙊𝙍𝙎 (Game of Thrones)

𝙭𝙞.

"And I said, 'If the Gods wanted us to have dignity, they wouldn't make us fart when we died.'" Vickon snorted with laughter at Edd's statement. He leaned against a post, watching his fellow ranger butcher a rabbit while he helped to chop potatoes.

"We fart when we die?" Grenn asked.

Edd nodded, looking up at Grenn. "My blessed mother- - I was holding her hand when she left this world. She farted so hard, the whole bed shook." He pressed his lips together, imitating the sound.

Vickon rolled his eyes, laughing despite himself. Grenn and Sam were silent. Vickon saw Sam's eyes drift after one of the wives, the girl who had spoken the night before. She carried rabbits in both hands, strung together at their feet.

"Seems a bit greedy for one man to have so many wives," Sam said. "Wouldn't two or three be enough for him?"

"We were having a serious discussion," Edd replied.

"That was a serious discussion?" Vickon said, raising an eyebrow.

Edd had no retort.

"Would you look at that?" Grenn said, staring after one of the girls. 

"Nothing like the sight of a woman walking away," Sam said.

"I prefer watching them come towards me," Grenn answered.

"I'm sure that's nice, too."

Grenn chuckled. "Yeah, well, there was a milkmaid named Violet on the next farm over from where I grew up. We were wrestling together from the time we were six years old. And then we got older and the wrestling, uh..." he broke into soft laughter, "changed."

"You were with her?" Sam asked. "How many times?"

"Well, as many times as I could," Grenn answered.

Sam looked back at the girls, letting out a sigh. "I wish I grew up on a farm."

Edd ignored the comment. "We need more potatoes," he said. He looked toward Sam. "Get another sack from the sledge."

Sam left to do as told, Edd calling after, "Get the turnips, too." Grenn glanced toward Vickon. "You ever been with a woman, Waters?" he asked.

A laugh escaped the silver-haired man. "Yes," he said. "One. Once. A whore from Mole's Town. Not a particularly pretty girl, but she at least had all of her teeth. Some of the men brought me to celebrate my first ranging. I was sixteen. I got terribly drunk and nearly threw up in the middle of the act."

That sent both Edd and Grenn into a fit of laughter. "Oh, poor lad," Edd said. "I remember that night. You came out of that room red in the face and blubbering about wanting to go back to Castle Black."

"I thought I might start crying," Vickon admitted with a chuckle. "How bad would that have been, sobbing after my first woman?"

"The men would have laughed you to death," Edd agreed.

"They nearly did."

Grenn's face had gone quite red from laughter. "Bet that'd turn you off women for a long time," he noted.

"Haven't been with one since," Vickon said. "I've been to Mole's Town, but I haven't stepped foot in that brothel in ten years."

"What was her name?" Grenn asked.

"Kathryn. She was hardly older than I was. I believe I may well have been her first."

Grenn let out a barking laugh at that, shaking his head. "Seven Hells, Vickon. You've probably ruined men for the poor thing!"

Vickon only smiled, returning to the potatoes in front of him.

When night fell, Vickon woke to the sound of the door being slammed open. He blinked back sleep as his eyes drifted to Jon, lying on the floor at Craster's feet. The wildling's eyes were ablaze as he stated, "Out, all of you."

Mormont stumbled to his feet as the men began to wake up, confusion evident on their faces. Craster locked eyes with the Lord Commander, clutching tightly onto Longclaw. "Bastard's been meddling where he shouldn't!" he declared, kicking Jon hard in the side. He took a step toward Mormont. "I want you and your men gone. And you will make this right."

Vickon moved to help Jon to his feet. The younger man ignored his outstretched hand, spitting blood at the floor as he stood up, looking at Lord Commander Mormont.

"Wait outside," Mormont stated.

"Lord Commander," Jon said.

"Now!"

Jon sighed, looking around at all the others before he did as he was told. Vickon sent a pleading look toward Mormont, who let out a breath. "Go with him, Vickon."

And so he did.

Jon looked like he wanted to hit something as Vickon moved to his side. "What did you do?" he asked, and Jon spun to face him with a fire in his eyes. 

"I did nothing wrong! It's Craster who- -"

"And just who are you to concern yourself with what Craster does?" Vickon demanded. "He's a wildling. He does what he does and we let him. We ignore it because he helps us. This is your first ranging, boy, but you'll find out quickly that there aren't many out here who are willing to share home and hearth with us. If you've ruined our chances- -"

"He's a murderer!"

Vickon shook his head, reaching to grab at Jon's arm. He pulled back, shaking his head fiercely. "Aye, and half of your new brothers are murderers, as well," Vickon said. "Murderers and rapers and poachers and thieves and all other sorts of despicable things. We're no better than him. Not even you, Jon Snow. All that you are is a little lordling who thinks that he's better than all the rest of us. Well, you aren't! You're just a little boy."

"I'm not a boy," Jon said.

"You are."

"I'm not!"

"Yes, you are!"

Before the argument could go any further, Lord Commander Mormont stepped outside. He looked between the two men, anger evident in his expression. "Lord Commander," said Vickon.

"Leave us," Mormont said.

Vickon took a deep breath. He cast one more look at Jon before he turned away, leaving the conversation.