A Son of Ice and Fire
A/N: I know the story may still seem a bit slow, but I would like to spend enough time to flesh out the characters and the world they are in. Having just one or two chapters for each character per season of the TV show would mean that any relationships would seem forced. The last thing I want to do is to get to the end of the story, where these little details matter and regret not including them.
Thank you so much for the support, and I will continue to update this story as regularly as possible. Please understand this takes a lot of time to make and I am not just building this world off of a set of pre-made plot points. I want you to care for the characters, and I can't achieve this if I rush through season 1 in 10 chapters. Any reviews on ideas or thoughts regarding the story would be greatly appreciated.
Chapter 11: New beginnings
Fishlegs
By the time I saw the huge arched gate in front of me, I was practically leaning off of the edge of my horse in shear exhaustion. I steadied myself, and regained control of the reigns but soon I was slacking again. Father had taught me how to hunt, how to build a fire, how to survive, but out here all alone I was barely hanging on. On the road with no-one behind to protect you, no-one to look out for you, I'd barely slept a wink since I left the castle. First the row boat, then the merchant ship, then the long road up the Northern pass. I was finally out of Drago's grasps, he couldn't harm me here.
"I'm sorry father. I promised I would avenge you. Promised I would take back our home and restore our house. Look at me now, running like a coward. Please forgive me."
As I looked up, the world was spinning. Metal railings curved into life, swaying up and down as I rocked my head, attempting to steady myself. I could hear the distant voices and I tried to keep my eyes open. I was leaning so far off of the side of the horse it was like the ground was calling me, and then I fell. I felt the hit, but the ground was soft, I had nothing more to give and I was at peace with that.
"Open the gate. Open the gate." Distant voices started yelling, and the wide doors opened to a flurry of bodies running through the opening.
In short flickers, I could see them running towards me. Skipping ever closer. I was fighting to keep my eyes open, but as the men crowded around me, I lost the fight. I'm sorry father.
I lay there for a moment, staring up at the unfamiliar wooden beams snaking along the ceiling. I tensed up, subconsciously searching my waist for the sword.
"Careful, careful, that was one hell of a fall." The voice seemed to be coming from the edge of the room, but as my daze wore off I could that feel the presence of four or five men huddled around the bed.
I closed my eyes and prepared for the worst. I'd be running empty for the last two to three days and most of it was a blur. This was my uncle, some sick game he had planned no doubt. I'd evaded most of his men as I escaped, and even the ones ordered to follow and neutralize me had failed. Until now. I would not go out like a coward. I braced myself and sat up, expecting to see a group of armed men, swords pointed at me laughing. But it wasn't. Three men were standing a distance back, but there was one sat to one side of me and an older man, a maester -evident by the chains – who was sat at the other.
"Is this castle Black?" I wearily asked.
"Yes, my friend, you made quite the entrance," the young man sat by my side said. He smiled and started chuckling. 'We couldn't exactly let you sleep in the dirt, could we?"
"Meatlug, where is Meatlug?" I demanded, it was all I had left to remember my old life, and the only thing of importance I had to my name. The men shot confused glances and stares at each other and then to me, "My sword. Where is my sword?"
"Calm down big fella, we're the good guys here. We couldn't leave you to face the wrath of Sir Alliser," one of the standing man replied.
"He'd have kept that sword for himself I think, though I don't think he would have liked the pommel," one of the other men butted in.
"Grenn. Pip. Not helping." The man sat by me hushed the others, then reached to the floor and placed the sword in my lap. It was only then he noticed the pommel. It was forged into a golden heart, with two swords crossing over in the middle. The sigil of House Ingerman. I felt a sudden sadness as I gripped the hilt and pulled the sword a few inches out of the sheath. I ran my fingers down the beautiful blade, and a tear dipped down onto the metal. "Where did you get this sword? That's Valerian steel!" he asked in surprise as I revealed the blade.
"This was my father's, and his father's before that. Father gave this to me before I left, I only hope one day I'll be worthy to wield it." I winced as I sheathed the sword fully.
"Oh great, another Lord," the man to the back left grumbled. The man was well built, with messy brown hair and a reddish beard. Grenn his name was, I think. "First lord snow," he sneered looking at the man sat beside me, "then lord Tarly," the large man at the back right nodded in acknowledgement, "Now we have another."
"Lord snow?" I looked at the curly-haired man sat next to me perplexed.
"I'm Ned Stark's son, bastard son. The name's Jon" He mumbled.
"Fine man, your father, from what I've heard. King Robert always thought highly of him." I offered a light smile.
"Like you know what the king thinks," the shorter man next to Grenn stuttered, must be Pip.
"He was our liege lord in the Stormlands before he was King y'know. He and my father used to be good friends. Father told me stories of marching into battle behind the Baratheon and Stark banners and how it was one of his favourite memories." This was a year before I was born, so he still had a wife to come back to once the war was won. I ruined everything.
The large man seemed to sense that there was something unsettling me talking about these memories and he stepped forward. "The name's Samwell Tarly, you can call me Sam, mother calls me Sam." He tentatively reached a hand out towards me and I shook it.
"Fishlegs Ingerman, you can just call me Fish, my friends called me Fish," I replied with a smile. The man didn't look like a soldier, just someone like me, who had been put into an awful position. A friend or two would be a gift from the gods about now. There was nothing I needed more. "Would you mind giving me a tour, I think I'm all right to get up and on the move again."
The man looked over to the elderly maester sat by my side. I looked across to see him offer a gentle nod and I immediately began turning and getting on my feet. I jumped up, picking my sword off the bed, and strapping it to my belt. I looked around, seeing Sam smiling with a goofy grin. The others had seen it too and started to laugh. He looked around, completely oblivious, "What?" His voice was two or three pitches higher at the end of the word, and the others couldn't stop themselves laughing. I know it will never be the same, but here I could have a chance to start anew, begin again. It's the best I could hope for right now.
Sam opened the door and led out. I walked round Jon and past the others to followed him out the door. The courtyard was large and wide, and filled with noise, just like the one back home. We headed down the set of stairs and out into the training yard. Sam was trying his best to remain focused on the tour, but I saw him wince slightly and recoil at the sight of the man headed straight for us. He looked up to the overlook, where we had exited the room, to what I assume are his friends, but they hadn't moved out yet to follow us. I saw him retreat as the man approached closer, constantly checking the perch for help to come.
"Two fatties for the price of one. Loverboy Jon Snow isn't here to fight your battles for you now." The scruffily dressed, seemingly bitter little man sniggered lobbing a sparring sword to the floor by Sam's feet, "Pick it up." The blade skidded on the dirt, coming to a halt less than an inch from his toe. Sam stood there in defiance. I could feel the tension, could even see the sweat building on Sam's forehead, as he just froze in fear. The man gave a scathing look and started bounding up towards us,
"You're just a COWARD, aren't you," he emphasized that word and it made my skin crawl. I'd had enough of this.
"Says the one pointing a sword at an unarmed man, it's clear who the coward is," I scowled, I'd known my fair share of men like this back home. This would only end one way. The man snarled and pointed his sparring sword in my direction,
"COWARD, did you just call me a coward piggy, you're going to regret that."
"Sam, get back," I asked him calmly, offering him a smile and a nod. He reluctantly obliged but as he did, I moved in front of him and picked up the sword. It had dulled edges and the weight was completely off, but I started practicing movements of the blade with my eyes pinned on the man opposite. He snarled again and ran at me, lunging frantically. I smiled. This was going to be fun.
The man lunged at me wildly, slashing across at my body. I twisted side on, parrying his attack as the momentum carried him a good ten yards past me. He turned, rage in his eyes and frothing at the mouth. Another wild slash and another parry sent the man tumbling.
"Fight me you coward," he grunted.
He slashed again, this time I held the lock. His vertical blade pinned at head height by my horizontal sword. He forced my blade down with all his might, I didn't budge. I saw the writhing anger as he attempted to spit at me and kick me to break the lock. I saw him straining and I broke the lock, watching him fly past once again as I dodged. This time I left my sword hanging and struck him right between the shoulder blades with the edge of the sword. It was blunt, and no serious damage would be done, but I heard the crack of the metal as it struck the bone and the man let out a telling groan. The man hunched over for a good ten seconds, then turned and charged. Before he even swung his blade, I moved in and struck him right in the lower ribs. He dropped to his knees, his sword plunged into the dirt point first, a crutch to stop him falling. Defenseless, he just stayed there, waiting for the final blow to lay him sprawling onto the dirt. I was tempted, the man did deserve it, but that's not me. That would never be me. I dropped my sword, offering my hand out to help the man up who was clearly in a lot of pain.
"Fuck you," the man snarled, picking himself up and swiping at me to keep my distance. "You will not get away with this piggy. You will not." The man stumbled away, smashing a door open on his way out of the courtyard, and away from the shocked glares of half of the men.
I walked over to Sam, looking up to see the three men from the room laughing on the overlook, even the maester was having a little chuckle.
"You all right?" I asked.
"Thank you," he replied, seemingly in shock, "Rast has had it in for me since the first day I came here."
"Nasty piece of work," I grimaced, "hope that keeps him away for a while."
"Not likely, but with you, and Jon here, I shouldn't be in any immediate danger." Sam chuckled, offering a wry smile. He headed back up towards the stairs and his protection, inviting me to follow.
"Gods Fish," Pip exclaimed, "That's the second beating that bastard's taken in a week."
"I didn't want to hurt him, but he needed to be put in his place. If he's going to act like a mad dog, he should be treated like one." I explained.
"Why didn't you put him down, you had every chance," Jon asked, still looking a bit astonished at how easily I had dealt with Rast.
"You should never inflict any more pain than what is necessary," I answered, it's what father always taught me, and he would still be a part of me here. "The man was suffering, I didn't need to cause him any more harm."
Jon smiled and shook my hand, "Thank you," he said softly. It was clear he cared for Sam, and I was glad to know at least someone appreciated me. These men were to be my brothers. To the end. Maybe life here wouldn't be as bad as I thought. Uncle's men can't get to me and at least here I am safe.
"IN. HERE. NOW." The gristly voice echoed through the courtyard, bringing even the sound of clashing swords to a halt as silence loomed over the castle. I turned my neck to see him, almost growling, eyes staring into my very soul. I felt a soft hand on my back as I turned my body to face Sir Alliser. Jon just patted me on the shoulder and smiled. Not a joyous smile like he gave Sam earlier, more of a 'better you than me' smile. I felt like a child about to be scolded. I looked at them for support and all I heard behind me as made my way forward.
"Good luck …"