castle black, the wall
— THE FIRST TIME JON SNOW LAID EYES ON THE WALL, HE WAS SIXTEEN YEARS OLD. He heard the horn when he rode in the gate and he followed his uncle across the frosty dirt ground into the Main Hall, along with the other new recruits. The man at the head of the table, the Lord Commander, was certainly an imposing sight. He was leaning to his left to speak with the Maester of Castle Black when they came in. He turned to look them over when they stopped before him, and Jon felt himself wanting to shift under that sharp stare. He didn't.
"Had some luck, did you Benjen?"
"I did, Commander." Benjen replied, glancing over the recruits.
He stood. "Welcome to Castle Black. I am Lord Commander Jeor Mormont. In this castle, you obey my rules. We are brothers here, and any slight against your brothers will come with consequence. Any disobedience will come with consequence. Do good for your brothers, and the men of the Night's Watch will continue to serve their vows and their purpose well, as they have for thousands of years." He looked to Benjen. "Show this lot to their cots."
"Aye, Ser." Turning, the Stark ranger made for the doors. "Come on, recruits." They headed back out into the cold courtyard – which, to be fair, wasn't really any colder than the Hall – and started up the steps to get to the walkways along the second story. Shouts rang out in the courtyard below, and then they heard the strangest thing.
"Move your foot! No, wrong foot." A clang and a thud. "Now you're dead." Was that a woman's voice? The new recruits all turned and suddenly found themselves rather frozen at the sight below. A young woman who couldn't have been any older than Jon stood amongst the men below, training. She wore dark, fitted trousers and black boots, a loose white undershirt beneath a black leather jerkin and black leather gloves. Long waves of hair the colour of chocolate fell down her back, and though she spun a sword in her right hand, she was far too pretty to be mistaken for any manner of man. It was like she could feel the eyes on her. She turned towards them with a mildly amused expression, and Jon realised her complexion was very different to anyone else this far North; a bronze sort of shade. Her brown eyes landed on the group of new arrivals before sliding over to Benjen. "See you brought back some strays with you." She grinned.
The Ranger chuckled. He'd always been rather fond of the girl, watching over her as Mormont did, though she hardly needed it. "That I did, my lady. The lads were just taking notes on your perfect form."
She laughed. "Go on then." She turned back to training, and Benjen got the recruits moving again.
"Come on boys. You've seen women before. Move on." He caught Jon's eyes lingering a second longer and chuckled. "First piece of advice for you," he said. "Behave yourself with Lady Mormont, or your consequence will likely come at her hand."
"Mormont?" Jon blinked at his uncle, then looked back to see the girl slinging a black cloak back around her shoulders and heading for the Hall. "Is that...?"
Benjen nodded. "The Huntress. Aye. She's not just a fairy tale the lads tell themselves to get through winter. She's real, and she'll chop off your balls for real too, so let's get going."
°
The first thing Nymeria noticed when she stepped into the hall was that there was a stranger here. He wasn't a recruit, or he'd be with Benjen, so who? Short man wearing red and gold with enough authority and riches to visit Castle Black on a whim. It didn't take a genius to solve that puzzle. The Lannister dwarf. She inclined her head. "Guests, Lord Commander?"
Mormont nodded. "Nymeria, this is Lord Tyrion Lannister. Lord Tyrion, this is Nymeria Mormont, my granddaughter."
She inclined her head. "My Lord."
"My Lady." he observed her with open curiosity, though it lacked the predatory gleam she'd grown so used to. "Not often you find a woman at the Wall."
She smirked. "I'll let you know when they muster enough men to throw me out."
"This evening, I will speak with the new recruits individually." The Lord Commander spoke up. "Tomorrow, I'd like you to introduce them to training."
"Will I be working with Ser Alliser?"
"Yes." he didn't miss the way she wrinkled her nose with displeasure. "Sooner or later, both of you are going to have to get over yourselves." he warned. "We are all on the same side."
"Yes, Lord Commander."
°
The morning was pale and cold, like always in the North. The dawn was a dim pink, and by the time the sharp light of the sun was peeking in through her window, Nymeria was already awake, pulling on her boots and cloak. It was rare that she got cold anymore – not after three years – but the early morning was the most common time for it, and the black cloak she'd earned two years ago, with a set of vows meant for a man, provided enough warmth to get her up and going. She trailed her fingers over the inked pages of the open book on her desk, ran them through her hair to tug free any remaining tangles and pulled on her gloves before sliding the deadbolt on her door aside.
"Grenn, show him what you farm boys are made of." Alliser sneered. Ser Alliser Thorne. Nymeria's least favourite Night's Watchman. She really had tried, at first, to get along with him, and there was an unsteady peace between them, but no one was more openly displeased about her presence here at the wall than Alliser Thorne.
The new recruits from the previous day stood in a semi-circle before the young man she now knew to be Jon Snow, all of them in training armour with blunt blades in their hands. Nymeria and Thorne stood not far from him, though on opposite sides to leave room for the mass of distaste wedged between them. Both wore their black cloaks, not engaging in any of the training for now. One of the boys, Grenn, moved in to cross blades with Snow, only to be bested in seconds, the flat of the blade smacking him in the face last. He stumbled back, clutching his bloody nose with a groan. Nymeria raised a brow. He's good with a sword, at least, if not particularly cheerful. Not that cheer was something commonly found here.
"If that were a real sword, you'd be dead!" Alliser informed him. "Lord Snow here grew up in a castle, spitting down on the likes of you. Who here thinks Ned Stark's bastard bleeds like the rest of us?"
Nymeria rolled her eyes, nodding at another of the boys in the group. "Pyp. You go." He didn't look like much, but sometimes the smaller ones were also faster. With a yell, he took a wide swing at his opponent, only for the tip of Jon's sword to slam into the armour on his chest, hard. He fell backwards with a painful grunt, curling in on himself when he hit the ground. Not making himself anything but enemies. She noted as her eyes flickered back to Jon.
"Next!" Thorne called. A boy whose name Nymeria didn't know stepped forward. The spar lasted a little longer than Pyp's, though no longer than Grenn's before Jon grabbed him by the shoulder and threw him a few feet. "Next!" Another – she thought his name was Rast – stepped into the circle and the second Jon crossed blades with him, another entered. He leaned back, allowing their blades to cross and block each other's, slammed his elbow into Rast's gut, kicked the other boy back onto his ass and sent Rast reeling again with a punch to the face. He stepped back with a huff. "Well, Lord Snow, it appears you're the least useless person here. Go clean yourselves up! There's only so much I can stomach in a day."
Nymeria sighed, moving to the other side of the courtyard where yesterday's targets stood with arrows still halfway through their heads. She tugged them free with little effort and slid them into a quiver that had been cast aside.
°
"Broke my nose, bastard."
Jon paused in the motion of hanging his training sword back on the rack. He'd heard the insult many times before. Only now, it was coming from someone he'd bested. He turned to face the man in the doorway – Grenn, he thought – and found him glaring, face still bloodied. "It's an improvement." he smirked.
Instantly, the one behind him grabbed him by the arms, holding them behind his back while Grenn held a knife to his throat. "If we threw you over the Wall, I wonder how long it'd take you to hit?"
"I wonder if they'd find you before the wolves did." Another, Pyp, added.
Just then, the door opened, and they turned their heads to find none other than Tyrion Lannister standing there watching them. "What you lookin at, half-man?" Rast glared.
A look of mild amusement crossed the dwarf's face. "I'm looking at you. Yes... you've got an interesting face. Hm. Very distinctive faces, all of you."
The recruits looked a little unnerved at that. "What do you care about our faces?"
"It's just... I think they would look marvellous decorating spikes in King's Landing. Perhaps I'll write to my sister, the queen, about it."
Then the door opened again, and another unexpected figure stepped through. She had a quiver hanging from one forearm as she tugged off her left glove, then her eyes lifted, landing on the group of boys with a raised brow. All it took was a single look for them to step away from Jon, moving so quickly they nearly tripped over their own feet. They'd been here two days. Two days was long enough to learn that you didn't fuck with Nymeria Mormont. "Gentlemen."
Grenn glanced back at Jon. "We'll talk later, Lord Snow." he muttered while Rast left without a word, giving Nymeria a wide berth.
Jon leaned back against the weapons rack behind him with a resigned huff as Nymeria set the quiver of arrows back where they belonged. "Everybody knew what this place was and no one told me." he looked at Tyrion. "Nobody but you. My father knew... and he left me to rot at the Wall all the same."
"Grenn's father left him too." Tyrion offered. "Outside a farmhouse, when he was three. Pyp was caught stealing a wheel of cheese. His little sister hadn't eaten in three days. He was given a choice; his right hand or the Wall. I've been asking the Lord Commander about them. Fascinating stories."
"They hate me because I'm better than they are." Jon said angrily.
"It's a lucky thing none of them were trained by a master-at-arms like your Ser Rodrik." he replied sharply.
"Most of them come to us having never held a real sword before." Nymeria said softly, glancing at the other boys with what Jon quickly realised was sympathy. After all, weren't they all outcasts here? He wondered why she'd come to the Wall. The Lord Commander's granddaughter, certainly, but House Mormont was a rather esteemed house in the North, if not the largest. Why would she abandon her home at Bear Island for this life?
"Oh," Tyrion offered a scroll. "Your brother, Bran." Jon snatched it quickly at the mention of his brother. "He's woken up."
A/N:
Welcome girls, bros and nonbinary Hoes™! Hope you're enjoying so far, because honestly, I fucking love Nymeria. And her dynamic with Jon will be very interesting I think.
I notice there are also a lot of silent readers in Trueblood. I encourage you not to be a silent reader, because voting will expose your favourite authors' content to more people to enjoy, and when you guys comment, it's honestly one of my favourite things ever. I love reading your comments, and I promise, even if I don't reply (I try to, most of the time) I do see every one of them. Love, love, love! <3