Updated: 9/19/21

Chapter 6

Jon VII

The first day as a squire, Jon had been awake well before dawn and was waiting for Jaime at the training yard. This early in the morning, he let Ghost out and laughed as he watched the young wolf prance about. The early morning seemed to invigorate the direwolf. Ghost tilted his head at crickets and calls of the early birds. He sniffed up the entire yard, no doubt smelling the sweat of all the men and women who had passed by the day before. Jon was so busy enjoying the young wolf's antics that he almost forgot his reason for being there until Ghost snapped his head up and yipped.

Jon glanced over to see Ser Jaime walking over in his Kingsguard armor as before, but unlike the last few days in which he affected a cocky and standoffish disposition, this early in the morning he smiled pleasantly at Jon as he walked up to him. "Good work convincing your uncle to let me take you on as a squire. I'd heard that Ser Barristan asked too," he whispered.

Jon nodded. "It was difficult. It wasn't just my uncle I needed to convince either. I think the only one who was afraid to object was Lady Catelyn. She wants me gone as soon as Lord Stark leaves. At least I'll be with my family this time."

"But you'll be in the Red Keep and Cersei wants your blood. You did well with her yesterday, but it won't always be that easy. I will try to stay between you and her as often as I can," Jaime replied.

"Any particular reason why she's tied up in knots over me?"

"Because I am not the man I used to be. I go about my duties and then I go to bed when I am dismissed. I shit, sleep, and eat, and that's all. My brother Tyrion will tell you I haven't laughed in a decade. Having a purpose again has reinvigorated me, but they don't know why."

"Yes, your brother was interrogating me yesterday. I don't think I was convincing."

"He's shrewd. There's little you could get past him. Just keep your head down and do as I tell you. I might run you ragged, but it's for your own protection."

"Right. Thank you."

Jaime nodded. Winterfell was starting to come to life around them as the sky became a beautiful rosy red. "Enough chit chat. I think it's about time for an early morning scuffle," Jaime said loudly, grabbing his favorite practice sword.

"Let me put Ghost away. I don't want him underfoot."

Winterfell arose to the clang of swords and Jaime shouting instructions that morning. Although Jon had been training hard for the last six months, his opponents had been of an inferior quality and he had been unable to improve much in that time. It had barely been a week now and already he could feel the burn in his legs and shoulder from trying to keep up with the lion's quick steps and even quicker sword.

Jaime switched to the left hand in the middle, but Jon was able to follow it for a time. He had, after all, fought a left-handed Jaime for years, but even in that other life he'd never been this good. He was proud to say Jaime had to switch back to his right to knock the sword from his hand and brought his sword down hard to slam Jon in the chest and back onto the ground.

"Very good," Jaime said. The sun was fully up over the horizon before they stopped and Jon's stomach was growling loud enough to be mistaken for a bear. "We'll break for the rest of the day." Jon nodded, put the sword away and began walking off, already envisioning all the food he would pile on his plate. "Bastard, did I dismiss you?" He staggered to a halt.

He grimaced and then smoothed his expression. "No, Ser Jaime."

Jaime walked over to him at an agonizingly slow pace. When he finally stopped, he stared down at him in the same way that Queen Cersei had been the day before and it made Jon grind his teeth together. "How much do you know about the duties of a squire?"

"I am required to ready your horse, make the campsite, brush down the horse, feed it, hobble it, make dinner, I think, and ... help you into and out of your armor."

"Very good. You're missing a few chores, but that is the gist of it. I expect you at my door every night and before training every morning." Suddenly the smirk fell away and he leaned in to whisper so that only Jon would hear, "Make sure when you come by at night that the queen is already abed."

"Now, for your indiscretion, you will strip down your room and clean every corner. A knight is always organized, fastidious, and not inclined to material wealth. I want you to throw out all but three things that you will be taking with you to King's Landing. And you will do it now."

Jon had to bite back a groan. That mocking smirk he had so delighted in punching off Jaime's face was back. He would have to find a way to do it in the training yard. "Yes, Ser."

Jaime held him for another moment and finally said, "You're dismissed." Then he turned away and trudged back to the hall where his breakfast awaited.

Jon heaved a sigh and turned to head to his room. Thankfully, it was so small that it would not take him long. All the possessions he did have were remnants of his childhood: a wood sword, carved wooden knights, and a pretty rock he was certain he had picked up somewhere as a child. He pocketed the rock. Everything else was clothes and he went through them with a critical eye, discarding anything that clearly didn't fit anymore, which left him with little more than three outfits. Despite the small size of his room, it still took a few hours and the help were just clearing away dishes when Jon finally joined his family for breakfast. When Robb and Theon found him in the breakfast hall, they teased him mercilessly.

That night he went to Ser Jaime's room when the rest of the household was asleep. He knocked on the door and heard nothing. Taking a chance, he turned the knob gently and opened the door. There was nothing to suggest that anyone was even living in the room other than the pitcher of wine left on the nightstand and a roaring fire. Otherwise the bed was neatly made, with not a single wrinkle out of place.

Jon sighed and thought about returning to his room, but then thought this might be a test to see if he was a dutiful squire, so he closed the door and sat down outside it. The hours ticked by and still Jon did not see Ser Jaime. At one point, he drifted off, with his hand holding his face.

He dreamed he was at Castle Black. The corridors held a frigid cold to them that could only be associated with White Walkers. His breath billowed out in front of him as he crept along the stony corridors, his sword held at the ready, unsure of where he was going or what he was walking into. But he was certain of what he would find. He opened the door to the Lord Commander's quarters and he winced at the screeching of the door hinges, which he could hear echoing behind him down the hall in a most unnatural way.

The room was dark and foreboding and empty. He wanted to call out to the Lord Commander, but he was afraid his voice would echo like the door hinges had and so he stayed silent. He stepped over to the Lord Commander's chambers, but just as he reached for the handle, a noise behind him drew his attention. Something thumped slowly over to him with deep, heavy steps, and when he turned he saw Samwell Tarly's large shape, but his face was partially rotted, the skin around his mouth had flaked to see the deep roots of his teeth and his eyes glowed icy blue.

Jon opened his mouth, when the Lord Commander's door opened and he turned to find the Old Bear undead as well. A rotted hand fell on his shoulder.

Jon snapped awake and slapped the hand away and quickly tried to scramble away only to be stopped by the stone wall.

"Whoa! I'm glad I didn't kick you awake now." Jaime was staring down at him with undisguised alarm.

Jon was still breathing heavily from the dream and he glanced around to see he had fallen asleep lying against Ser Jaime's door. Servants had also stopped in their tracks and were staring at him. He felt himself go red in the face and he got to his feet, brushing his clothes off.

"I, ahem, I apologize for having fallen asleep."

"Just as well. It's dawn. Get inside," Jaime said.

Jon happily ducked inside and Jaime latched the door behind them. "I must say, I'm impressed. A lesser squire would have abandoned his orders and gone to his bed."

"I thought you were testing me."

Jaime barked a laugh and shook his head. "Ser Boros Blount has come down with fever. No doubt, the chilly Winterfell summers are getting to him. Ser Barristan had me take his shift guarding the king last night." In a much lower voice he said, "Don't bother coming by tonight either. I'll be watching the queen."

He straightened up and cleared his throat. "Now, the best place to start with the armor is my vambraces. I'll get the cloak." So Jaime talked him through the elaborate set-up of the Kingsguard armor. So much of it was purely ceremonial and wouldn't do much to protect him in a real fight. Jon was appalled.

"You've been doing this every day for over ten years without a squire?" he asked, shaking his head incredulously.

"I squired for Ser Arthur Dayne, if you'll recall. So I already knew how to put on the armor because of my helping him; it was complicated and difficult the first time, but after a while you get used to it. It simply becomes a part of the routine."

Jaime was uncommonly chatty and Jon was under the impression that he was enjoying the company and was starting to include it in the charade they had created. After all, what would a knight do with a squire he hated? He hoped that was the case.

When the breastplate came undone, Jaime slipped out of it and appeared smaller, far too skinny, and of course tired. He had been up the whole day and night, causing his face to be too pale under the dark bruises drawn under his eyes. He sat down on his bed and peered up at Jon with a weak smirk. "No training today. However, you can polish my armor. I'll need it by lunchtime. Go to sleep, bastard."

Jon rolled his eyes, which caused Jaime to chuckle. He used the breastplate like a serving platter and piled the rest of the pieces of armor on top of it and walked out the door.

The king stayed for a month and the rest of that month played out the same for Jon. Jaime would either beat him to a pulp or run him ragged with chores, often none of which actually had to do anything with being a squire but were supposed to instill discipline.

On the last day, Jon was at breakfast on time for once and was able to share it with his brother.

Tomorrow we'll be heading out, Jon thought with not a little bit of excitement. His brother, on the other hand, had a far less cheery attitude.

"Winterfell is going to feel empty," Robb complained. "Father's gone, you're gone, Arya, Sansa, and Bran are gone. It's just going to be me and the baby and Mother," Robb replied with a defeated sigh.

"You're the Lord of Winterfell now. I hope it's everything you imagined it would be," Jon said in a teasing tone.

"Very funny. You get to go off and have an adventure with the greatest swordsman in the realm and I'm stuck here."

"You mean I get to be Ser Jaime's errand boy. That's what you've been calling me," Jon pointed out.

"You know I didn't really mean that. I mean ... those are part of the duties of a squire, but you get to learn from a master. The next time we face each other, you're going to put me in the dirt even harder than you have been."

"Just keep training, brother. I hope the next time we see each other, it'll be a fair fight."

Robb narrowed his eyes at him as he stirred up his oatmeal. "That's a promise."

All the lads jumped when a scabbard was thrown on the table in front of Jon. They looked back to find Jaime standing behind him. "My squire will carry a real sword by his side from now on."

Jon blinked owlishly up at him and then picked up the sword. The scabbard was brand new, made of dark supple leather and silver inlays. The hilt was simple leather with a silver crossguard, and the pommel had a small carving of the Stark sigil on it, but the stone used was white, signifying Ghost. He cracked open the scabbard and found the steel to be brand new.

Jon stared agape at it. Even Robb and Theon were in awe. He turned back to thank Jaime, but he was already gone and he could not see him in the dining area. He abandoned his plate, strapped the sword to his side, and went in search of his knight. He did not see Cersei glaring from her position at the head table.

He found Ser Jaime preparing his horse.

"Aren't I supposed to be doing that for you?"

"You're not going to see your brother for some time. I thought you might like to spend a last meal with him," Jaime replied in a mocking tone.

"How very sentimental of you."

"Old habits die hard," he replied with a shrug.

Jon laid a hand on the sword. "Thank you. It's truly remarkable."

"It's long past time since you've had a sword at your waist. I was bearing one at three and ten. For all your claim to having the toughest fighters, you lot certainly take your time playing with real steel. Have you really looked at it, yet?"

"No."

Jaime gave him a pointed look and he drew the sword. His breath caught as it flashed in the sunlight, looking impossibly new, but he was stunned by the design. This was familiar to him. Had he not been bearing a sword just like this for near ten years?

"Longclaw," Jon whispered.

It was a little heavier than the real Longclaw, since it was of regular steel and not Valyrian steel. Something clicked into place and Jon felt for the first time a hole in him had been filled. He didn't realize quite how much he missed the Valyrian steel sword.

"I thought that design was more fitting to your style," Jaime said.

Jon sheathed the sword, and his face bore its characteristic Stark seriousness. "Thank you again. So ... where are you going?"

"I'm to watch the king on his hunt."

"Do you want me along?"

"No, I want you here. Test out your new sword or something," he said.

The rest of the hunting party was just filtering out. Jon caught Robb's eye and his cousin briskly walked over. "Ser Jaime, Jon." He looked at Jon, "Are you coming hunting with us?"

"No, I am to remain here."

"That's a shame. Ser Jaime, I'm sure Jon has already thanked you, but I wanted to thank you too. It is a magnificent sword."

Jaime shrugged. "It's about damn time you boys carried live steel."

"Maybe this will convince Ser Rodrick to allow me to carry a sword now."

"Robb, you best find your horse! We need to be ready when the king arrives," Ned shouted.

"Have fun at Winterfell. Let's celebrate with some venison tonight before you leave," Robb said, nudging his cousin.

Jon stared longingly after them as they left, but then he abruptly turned to look for Bran. It was his job to make sure nothing untoward happened this time.