Brothers by Luvscharlie
Warnings: Wanking teenagers, adult language
A/N: Originally written for the November 2011 theme of Rivalries (Jon Snow v. Robb Stark) at Valyrian_forged on LiveJournal. I think the only spoilers would be up through S1, Ep. 2. Unbetad.
I love my brother. I do. Really. When I'm not too busy hating him, I think he's probably my favorite person in the world. It's just sometimes, he's kind of hard not to hate.
Robb's the true born heir and I'm the bastard son. That alone is enough to make me want to trip him when he walks primly and properly to the family table. I mean, nothing like a prim and proper heir sprawled upon the floor with everyone laughing and pointing to make me feel a little less inferior, right? Oh sure, it's a shit thing to do, but it brings Robb's ego down a notch and sometimes he needs that. His mother gives me evil looks when it happens, but sometimes I think I catch a hint of a grin around Father's eyes. I wonder if we remind him of himself and King Robert at our age. And I wonder if it was Father who felt inferior, or if the King wasn't quite so kingly once upon a time. It's hard to imagine Father was once our age.
I'm the better swordsman. Mr. I'm Gonna Inherit Winterfell looks nice and Lord-like when I hit him hard in the kidneys with our practicing swords and drop him to his knees. Then, sometimes, I like to go one step farther and disarm him, just to prove I can. Theon told him last time that rolling about and yelling, 'I'm going to fucking kill you when I get up, Jon,' wasn't making him look very highborn. It's the only time in my life that I've ever really liked Theon. But that day, he was golden for joining in the mocking of my too big for his breeches brother. Of course, sometimes I get a little too fancy with my spins and slashes, and find myself face first and having a dirt dinner. We're not going to talk about that though.
At archery, we both sort of suck. It's kind of hard to look even remotely skilled with a bow when you're standing next to Theon. Robb and I have considered cutting his bow string more than once, but it would earn us the duty of mucking out the stables if Father found out.
Of course, it was only after we started wanking side by side in the Godswood that the competition really began. Who could drop their breeches the fastest? No question there. I didn't have a mother to sew in extra buttons on my fly. Score one for the motherless boy. Who could get it up fastest? Heh, we were teenagers. Instantaneous made it rather hard to declare a winner there. Who could shoot off the fastest?Hello, still reigning champion! (It wasn't until we went to visit Roz that first time that I realized that might not exactly be something to boast about.)
The competitions only got more fierce as we got older. But on the day I left for the Wall, and hugged my brother goodbye, I was the one who lost the battle with tears.
