A Stone in the Snow

"Don't patronize me, I'd take a better fighter than the likes of him. I'd take your best."

Jon looks down to see a woman, of all things, standing in front of a particularly meek-looking recruit. She seems out of place, besides her sex that is. Her hair is bright against the castle's whites, grays, and blacks: a reddish blonde tucked tightly into a braid, safe for the few ringlets along her hairline. He'd wager a southerner by the tan on her cheeks, no doubt from the region's beating sun. Her nose is a bright pink, unaccustomed to the biting cold of the far north. Her breath comes out in soft puffs, her heat turning to steam in the winter air. He's sure that she'd be adored for her beauty in the South, or anywhere for that matter. However, Jon's eyes don't linger on her shining hair or the soft curve of her face, or even of her figure, instead falling on the way she holds herself: shoulders pulled back and strong, hand on the sheathed sword at her hip. Her garb is expensive, details sewn into the edges of her down coat. She is no ordinary woman.

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Just a short story between an OC and the titular Jon Snow. Takes place in the first season, and there are some obvious liberties taken. Please enjoy!