4/22/2021 - Edited for a smoother read.
Chapter 4
Jon V
When Jon entered the hall for breakfast, the king, queen, her children, and the Lannister brothers were already there. Jon couldn't help but notice that Jaime was sitting on the other side of Tyrion, as far away from his sister as he could manage. Was he mistaken or was the queen throwing scathing looks at her twin? He didn't dwell on it for long and simply joined his family.
Catelyn had stiffened upon seeing him join the rest of the family and she glanced over at her royal guests. When she saw they paid him no attention, she relaxed, but still directed a glare at him, suggesting he should have waited until the royals didn't see him. He ignored her and doled out his own breakfast.
Robb nudged him and said in a barely controlled whisper, "We're going to fight in front of Ser Barristan Selmy today! Can you believe it?"
"I'd be interested in fighting Ser Barristan. How long do you think I'd last?" Jon asked with a grin.
"I'll be impressed if he doesn't disarm you with the first swipe of his sword."
"Hah! Both of you will piss yourselves before going up against the Kingsguard," Theon said. The queen threw Theon a dirty look. Lady Catelyn glared and Lord Stark gave him a stern warning. Theon scowled mutinously at them, but went back to his food.
They trooped out of the hall toward the training yard where Ser Rodrick was already waiting for them with practice swords lined up. He was deep in conversation with Ser Barristan Selmy. Jon had to stifle a laugh after glancing at Robb because he looked about as starstruck as Sansa had been the night before when fawning over Joffrey.
"Really? Just practice swords?" Theon said, grabbing one to let it hang loosely in his hand. "I'm hardly a child."
"Yes, training swords," Rodrick replied. "I don't need the king or Lord Stark breathing down my neck because someone got nicked. You understand?" There was a mumbling of assent from the boys as they grabbed up their favorite swords once more. "Ser Barristan and Ser Jaime have kindly offered to do some lessons today. Pay attention! Not many lads get the opportunity to train with two Kingsguard."
Jon frowned and glanced around, not seeing Jaime, until he looked behind and up. Jaime was perched above them and leaning casually over the railing where his uncle usually stood. He smirked down at them like a lion sizing up its prey. Robb also noticed Jaime and when he turned away he appeared unsettled.
"Good morning," Ser Barristan said to them. "I am Ser Barristan Selmy, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. First, does anyone here have an interest in joining the Kingsguard?"
Bran's hand immediately shot up and he was practically bouncing on his toes. Everyone chuckled at his antics. Jon hesitantly raised a hand and tried to keep his eyes on Ser Barristan instead of seeking out Jaime, knowing their plan.
"You, Snow?" Theon sneered. He huffed.
"I'm the best swordsman among the four of us," Jon shot back.
"Kingsguard is a noble calling, and of course we accept any man of sufficient talent or skill, whether nobly born or not. We'd like to see how you fight first before we offer any additional lessons. Robb Stark, Jon Snow, you're up first."
With the two Kingsguard present, a crowd of people were drawn to watch. Among the spectators was Joffrey, with an undeservedly smug look on his face, and as per usual, the Hound was dogging his heels. Jon squared off and raised his sword in a fighting stance, but he found his eyes unnaturally heavy from exhaustion and had difficulty keeping them focused on Robb. He almost missed catching Robb's lunge. They battled for a few minutes. Robb was on his front foot pushing the advantage and Jon had to back away and side step to keep from getting pinned. He saw numerous openings, but when he tried to go for any of them, his reflexes were just a moment too slow. His limbs felt stiff and uncoordinated. After another minute passed, Jon finally felt the blood flowing and his speed picked up. He landed a kill point on Robb's neck.
"Good. Robb, you left yourself open to attack. You don't need to be so aggressive to impress. Just fight like your master-at-arms has taught you. If Jon had been a little bit quicker, he would've disarmed you some time ago." Robb's cheeks gained a little color in embarrassment, but he simply nodded at Ser Barristan's advice. "Jon, you looked half asleep. Make sure you're ready to fight at a moment's notice. Other than that, you had excellent form and you held yourself well. I did see one or two moves that were a little sloppy, but your form tightened up as you woke up."
"What's the matter, Snow? Have a little too much to drink last night?" Theon crowed.
"I look better than you. What's the matter, Greyjoy? Ros get a little too rough for you? Oh, I apologize, that's just your face," Jon retorted. Robb burst out in uncontrollable laughter, while Greyjoy's face flushed red.
"Jon," his Uncle Ned barked at him from next to Jaime, who seemed to be trying to suppress a smile.
It really was not a good idea to goad Theon, especially in front of the Kingsguard, but Jon's temper was too short at the moment for him to care. Although, he was grateful to have someone else to share the burden of preparing for and defeating the Long Night, the troubles Jaime related to him had disturbed him greatly and so he barely got more than a handful of hours of sleep. He had gotten on with less in his other life, but that other man might as well have been a different person. He had trained for that. He felt like a puppy compared to the wolf he had been and it was frustrating. Judging by the look Theon was giving him, he was going to make him work for his victory today.
When he met Robb again in a fight, Robb did a little better not trying to be so aggressive, but Jon's blood was up and his limbs were no longer stiff from exhaustion and disuse. He knocked Robb's sword out of his hand after just a minute.
"Jon's awake now, I think," Robb said, picking up his wooden sword from the dirt.
"You did better," Jon said.
"Don't patronize me," Robb replied, but he had a grin on his face.
"You have some real skill, Jon. A most impressive showing. Robb, you did do much better this time around. Where you lack is in your reflexes. Keep training and you'll eventually catch up. Your master-at-arms has done a most impressive job." At this Ser Rodrick puffed up his chest in a comical way.
"Jon and Theon."
Theon appeared ready to chew glass as he stepped into the ring. "I'll get you, Snow."
"You've said that enough, I'm sure this time it must be true," Jon replied.
Theon was standing as stiffly as a stone wall when he went immediately into a lunge and very nearly got Jon in the chest. Jon got his sword up just in time and batted away Theon's. Theon held out longer than Robb since he was a few years older with a bit more experience under his belt, but his anger made him reckless and eventually he became careless and Jon punched him in the gut with his sword. Theon staggered back, holding his stomach. He lunged for Jon again, but this time without a sword and Jon fell back, but Ser Rodrick caught Theon and forced him back.
"That's enough, Greyjoy! You've had enough for today." Ser Rodrick shoved him back and glared at him. "What do you think it'll take for you to learn to control that temper? Ten laps around Winterfell? Collecting wood all day? Mucking out the stalls? Tell me."
Theon only fell back, still glaring murderously at Jon.
"Now that the bastard has had his fun, I'd like to see how he'd last against me." Jaime strolled over to the fake swords and sorted through them. From the frown on his face, he was finding them all highly dissatisfying, until he finally pulled one out with a grimace. "This will do."
Ser Barristan was watching Jaime as though he thought he had an ulterior motive, but he nodded and stepped aside.
Jon could hear the roar of his blood in his ears. It wasn't all that long ago Jon was skilled enough to knock Jaime's sword from his hand, but this Jaime had his swordhand back. With any luck, I won't humiliate myself, Jon thought as he squared up against the knight.
They stood still for a moment frozen in time. Everything else seemed to fall away as Jaime towered over him with a predatory smile, looking every inch the lion he used to be before the war. Jaime tapped the ground with the endpoint like he used to when he was mute to signal he was ready, but Jon refused to make the first attack. Jaime started off with a slow sweep, as though he were trying to bait Jon into going on the offensive, but he refused, hanging back and watching what the knight did. It didn't take long for the battle to become faster. Jon didn't have time to think about his moves; he just reacted, while Jaime seemed to only get happier with each strike.
At one point they broke apart and circled each other. "Not bad, bastard. You're too timid. Don't be afraid to strike at me."
"I know better than to underestimate you."
"You're just preparing yourself for a slow death. You do know what lions love best, right?"
"Gold?"
"To play with their food." Jaime's sword flashed and Jon barely managed to catch it. The next blow came quick as lightning and Jon could feel himself being pushed back into the crowd of men at the edge and he barely managed to jump sideways before he fell out of the ring. It was all he could do to keep his sword between himself and Jaime until finally Jon fumbled, his sword's hilt slipped in his fingers, and Jaime jabbed him hard in the shoulder. He sprawled on the ground and Jon could hear Theon shout and laugh.
Jaime crouched over him with his usual smug smile, his eyes dancing, and not a hair out of place, compared to Jon who was breathing hard and his hair was plastered to his head with sweat. "Not bad, bastard. You certainly have potential," he said, holding out a hand courteously to help him up. Jon gave him an exasperated look. It grated him to be called bastard once more.
As Jaime yanked him to his feet, he was brought back to the present. An uncharacteristic quiet had fallen on the crowd and Jon looked around to see everyone in Winterfell and Robb were staring at him with their jaws open. Ser Barristan Selmy seemed stunned, the crown prince Joffrey looked disgusted, and the Hound in awe.
"Keep training and you might be able to disarm Ser Barristan someday," Jaime replied flippantly and stuck the practice sword back into its slot and walked off.
Ser Barristan seemed to break out of his spell and he asked, "Where did you learn to fight like that?"
"I've been training hard in the yard for a while now," Jon said with a shrug.
"I've had shorter fights with Ser Jaime."
"He was playing with me the entire time."
"Not the entire time. That was most impressive. You're certainly not as quick and your moves were sloppy, but you still held him at bay and made smart moves to distance yourself from him when you knew he was backing you into a corner. You've got great instincts," Ser Barristan replied. A strange look fell over him. "I haven't seen him so delighted in years."
Jon shrugged and rubbed his shoulders. With his spill in the dirt, Jaime had reawakened the ache in his limbs from his lack of sleep, and exhaustion swept over him.
"Alright, who wants to train next?"
An obnoxious laugh cut through the air. "Nice try, bastard, but my uncle is the greatest swordsman in the land. Doesn't matter how hard you train, you'll never beat him," Prince Joffrey said with a smirk.
"I'm sure the prince must have some of his uncle's natural talent. Come show us, my prince. We would be delighted to see what kind of moves you have," Jon replied innocently.
The boy's face paled and he said, "I don't play with wooden swords. Live steel only." With that he turned away and stalked off and the Hound followed him.
"Let's move on, shall we? Robb, come spar with me," Ser Barristan said, waving him over.
Robb beamed and he playfully punched Jon in the shoulder as he passed him. The next few hours were of Barristan Selmy sparring with each of them and giving pointers on foot placement and fighting styles. Of all the trainers Jon had had the opportunity to learn from, Ser Barristan was the most patient and even he learned a few things that he hadn't known from his previous life that would help him conserve energy on the battlefield and maximize the damage he could do.
Jaime had all but disappeared after his sparring session with Jon. Apparently fighting him had been the only reason he had bothered to "volunteer" his time since he left without teaching a damn thing. He supposed that was par for the course for Jaime of old.
They broke after a few hours to prepare for another feast. Jon obligingly called for a bath, but he was less enthused for this feast. He rather doubted he would have another opportunity to speak with Jaime in such an open fashion as the night before.
