Chapter Two: Jon I
The ride down the Kingsroad was a fascinating journey. Parts of the Seven Kingdoms he had never imagined seeing slowly passed by, and Jon took the sights in, relishing in the fresh experiences that, for once, he was the first of his family to see. Or, at least out of his siblings.
"You're going to be learning from one of the greatest swords of the south," Lord Stark said. "I know you'll do us proud."
Bidding his half-siblings farewell had been painful, as if he were cutting off a part of himself. Would Arya remember him the next time they met? Would Bran? The very notion of being forgotten made something twist inside his chest, and Jon vowed to keep sending letters to Winterfell.
Lady Stark would have preferred to have been absent from the farewells, even if it meant seeing him out of her sight for the foreseeable future, but that would have meant excuses for her absence for a Royal departure, something that took priority over any resentment she had towards him. What was surprising was that she seemed…disappointed by his leaving Winterfell.
Despite this, Jon remained in high spirits. No more dreams of staring phantoms of the crypts. No more ghostly whispers telling him he didn't belong.
He had taken care to document some of his thoughts. He didn't fancy himself a wordsmith, but that wasn't the point, and it wasn't as if he held enough sway to procure great amounts of materials to write and draw upon. So, simple observations were preferable, and it made it easier to go through later. He did make sure to preserve some parchment for drawing on, as Sansa was keen on depictions of knights, the Red Keep, and fashions of the court.
That Sansa had gone through the effort of asking, Jon had made another promise to himself not to disappoint her.
Not that the entire journey was all excitement and wonders. It seemed every single day there was a broken wheel or need to stop. King Robert was by and far the greatest disappointment. Lord Stark had told all of his children about a laughing giant, a peerless warrior, and a stout friend, but seeing him at varying distances along the journey, it was looking more as though his best days were now a fading past. Feasting at every stop along the Kingsroad
The Master of Ships, Lord Stannis seemed agitated by the displays, and Jon could sympathize, at least in part. The journey was, in fact, taking far longer than it had any right to, and the manifold duties of the King and the Small Council had to be weighing on some minds, even if King Robert seemed ill-inclined to return to them in anything resembling haste.
"Getting distracted, boy?" asked Hammond.
Jon started and realized his hand had stopped moving, and he went back to polishing the piece of armor he had been tasked to clean, a spare breastplate for the Baratheon guards accompanying the Royal family.
The gruff, older man smiled. "Don't worry. You'll get the hang of it in time. It's surprisingly relaxing once you memorize the motions."
Nodding, Jon focused on the work at hand, under Hammond's watchful eyes, thinking on how they were introduced by Ser Barristan.
"Hammond, this is Jon Snow. My newest squire. Jon, this is my oldest squire, Hammond."
Jon looked up at the aging knight with hurt confusion, but Barristan rested a hand on the boy's shoulder.
"While I am responsible for overseeing your education, my duties do keep me occupied for significant portions of the day. So as not to leave you at loose ends whenever His Grace has need of me, I will leave you in most capable hands. Hammond has been in my service for many years, and he can illuminate you on some of the finer details on maintaining equipment better than even I could regale upon you."
"If you have more questions, Jon," he said, "feel free to ask."
A Stormlander like Ser Barristan, Hammond had no family name, the youngest son of a carpenter that had been drawn into service at a fairly young age. A long time, as he looked to be of an age with Jon's father at the very least.
Jon scrunched his eyebrows for a little while, then asked, "How long have you served Ser Barristan?"
Hammond chuckled a bit. "Oh, nigh unto twenty-one years."
The reign of Mad King Aerys. The Defiance of Duskendale. Robert's Rebellion and that of the Greyjoys. Hammond had stood by the Bold knight's side and lived through it all.
"And you haven't been knighted?"
"Not every squire gains spurs. Some don't even seek them in the first place."
"Why is that?"
"For some, it's a matter of money," said Hammond, taking a moment to scratch his nose with his little finger. "They can't afford the necessities of being a knight, and the lifestyle expected of even a hedge knight. Some are content to serve their Master. A few find the life of a knight too much while serving as a squire and return to their lands to serve as man-at-arms. Each man has their reasons."
"A reliable set of hands is nothing to turn your nose up at, either," said Ser Barristan, walking up to their place in the camp.
Hammond rose and began removing the Kingsguard's armor with well practiced motions, starting with the helm and working each piece off in sequence as Barristan continued the lesson.
"More than a few knights have made this mistake, much to their peril. A strap too loose or too tight could prove disastrous, on the battlefield and on the tourney grounds."
Jon nodded, transfixed as Ser Barristan explained each step as Hammond's hands worked through fasteners and straps. In what felt like no time at all, Barristan was relaxed and settled down with a mug of ale.
"That's far easier than it typically is after a battle. Or if you fall in a joust. How are your letters, Jon? Or sums, for that matter."
"I can read and write, Ser Barristan. My sums are...fair."
"I see. I will see to a proper review of what Maester Luwin has already imparted. You'll find a sharp mind will take you further than mere strength of arms alone might."
Jon leaned forward, hanging on the knight's words as he continued.
"Even if Northerns might not hold knighthood in the same esteem, a squire still often carries political tones. It is a sign of trust and esteem. You are trusting someone to help care for your arms, armor, mounts. Trusting them around your holdings, or perhaps around your kin."
Jon thought for a moment about Ser Rodrik. The old knight had been said to have served House Stark for his entire life, before he and long after he had been knighted.
"Take, for instance, your situation. For the time you're my squire, I make sure you're clothed, fed, educated to the standards and expectations of your family, as well as training in arms and instilling discipline. Even if you choose not to be knighted, I still have a responsibility that, wherever you go after leaving my care, you will still be a credit to House Stark. Do you understand?"
"If you return me to my father with learning anything then that would reflect poorly on you as it would on me?"
Barristan nodded. "So as much as I have expectations for you to learn as a squire, you should also hold me to task in ensuring you have things to learn, even when my other duties demand my attention."
[TSS]
They had arrived at Castle Darry when they were met by an honor guard to escort them the rest of the way to the capital. Jon missed their arrival, having been engrossed in his tasks under Hammond's watchful eye, most of which involved running back and forth across camp and tending the horses, the one chore that Jon found both enjoyable and was fairly good at, even to Ser Barristan's satisfaction.
Having just finished, he was caught somewhat off guard when Hammond suddenly rose and knelt. Jon quickly followed suit, but instead of the King or Queen, he was greeted by the sight of Princess Myrcella approaching their corner of the camp with Ser Arys Oakheart.
She was a curious girl, frequently taking walks about the camp whenever she wasn't preoccupied by her own lessons, possessing a certain boldness that her older brother lacked. Five namedays, she looked much as Jon figured Queen Cersei would have looked like as a child. And now she was staring at Jon Snow intently, green eyes glittering with excitement.
"How can we be of assistance, Princess?" asked Hammond
"I was hoping to make a request of Jon Snow."
Hammond looked to the boy. "He has no outstanding tasks, Princess."
"I am at your disposal, Princess," Jon answered.
The Princess smiled brightly, "We didn't get to really see North while we were there. Father likes talking about it, and Lord Stark is his friend, I was hoping to hear more tales of your home."
"Did no one speak of them while you were there?"
"Mother didn't care much for staying in Winterfell, but she didn't let us wander far without supervision, and not enough to see all of it. She called it a rundown ruin, but I thought it was nice."
Jon nodded, holding his tongue. He wasn't going to argue against the Queen's sensibilities, least of all to a daughter who spoke readily enough to him about what she had said. And there were parts of Winterfell that had seen better days, but it still stung to hear such things of his family's ancestral home.
The Princess still stared at him with bright, emerald eyes. "You must know some legends. Of the Wall and beyond!"
"Aye, Princess. I do."
"May I hear some of them?"
Her excitement is infectious, and it was a polite request from the Princess, so Jon obliged until they were interrupted by the Queen's brother.
"Ah, there you are, Myrcella. Your Septa said she took her eyes off of you for a second and you up and vanished on her."
"I'm sorry, Uncle Jaime."
"None of that, sweetling, I can't fault you for finding endless sermons even slightly boring. It's just that your mother is liable to send a search party, even with Ser Arys close at hand."
The Princess curtsied, and then walked back into the camp, her sentinel falling into step behind her, leaving Jon and Hammond to entertain the remaining Kingsgaurd.
"I heard we're to have a new addition to the yards." The golden knight gave a curt nod, barely an acknowledgment, and smirked. "Jaime Lannister. Though you may call me Kingslayer. Everyone does, after all."
He smiled at Jon, but was guarded. Gauging. A lion on the hunt, searching for weaknesses in potential prey.
"A pleasure to meet you, Ser Jaime." Jon bobbed his head slightly. He is certain Barristan will take him to task for any missteps in etiquette he made in relation to the infamous Lannister knight. Social graces might not be his greatest strength, but he could be polite.
As if passing a hidden test, Ser Jaime smiled a bit wider, then asked, "What were you and the Princess talking about?"
"She wanted to ask me about the North. So I answered her questions."
"I see." An amused lilt to his smile and tone. "A dreary place, but I'm not going to stamp out her curiosity. The Grand Maester is liable to do that sooner than later. How's your skill with a blade?"
"I was one of the best of Ser Rodrik's pupils when we left Winterfell." It was hard to feel proud of being the best of young boys playing in the yard. No fosterlings to match wits and wills, and few guardsmen to measure your progress against. Jaime Lannister seemed to catch his unspoken thoughts.
"Hmph. We'll see if that's more than idle boasting. If you have any intention of matching your uncle's talents, I hope to see you in the yard. I might be able to show you a few things."
Without another word, the infamous knight turned and followed after the princess.
Once he was certain they were out of earshot, Hammond spoke in low tones so as not to be overheard.
"I won't say don't take lessons from him, but do be mindful of what you're picking up from him."
"Of course," Jon answered absently, briefly looking the way the Princess and the Kingsguard had gone.
Jon had known for a long time that his lord father had disliked Jaime Lannister. He had found him resting on the Iron Throne, Mad Aerys dead at his feet, and for that, Eddard Stark named him "Kingslayer". But if simply killing one king was enough to warrant such distrust, why keep him at the next king's side?
The young squire couldn't find the answers. But he had suffered being called "Snow" often enough not to antagonize a Kingsguard, even one as infamous and reviled as Jaime Lannister. Jon could hold from blatantly insulting him, even if the man proved every suspicion and accusation to be true.
A/N: I'm not sure what to feel about this chapter. It was going to be longer, but I figured it'd be better to keep the story moving, so I split the chapter in half so I could spend more time on the arrival at King's Landing.
In other news, I really wanted to get the first direct interaction between Jon and Myrcella as soon as possible, and Jaime kind of tagged along for the ride. About that point is when I realized I had no idea how to portray the intelligence or emotional awareness of a five-year-old girl, or a ten-year-old boy for that matter, even kids as bright and observant as Jon and Myrcella. You can be the judge of that.
Onto other matters, if Ser Barristan has a squire, it stands to reason that he's had squires (plural) before Jon's inclusion, as knights of his caliber often did, hence the introduction of some OCs. Besides,Sam, Grenn, Pyp, and the others aren't even at the Wall yet, and they certainly aren't in the Red Keep, so some company to ground and temper Jon's character was in order.
Questions? Comments? Concerns? Is my understanding of squires incomplete or erroneous? Let me know with a PM or review. Constructive criticism is always appreciated.
Merry Christmas and general seasonal greetings!
Winterman, out.