Fandomweekly Challenge 167 - Shunned
Apr. 1st, 2024 04:19 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
m_findlowTitle: Shunned
Fandom: Game of Thrones / A Song of Ice and Fire
Characters: Jon, Sam
Author: m_findlow
Rating: PG.
Length: 1,000 words
Content notes: None
Author notes: Written for Challenge 167 - Things in common at![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
fandomweekly
Summary: Atop the Wall Jon and Sam have more in common than they know.
Jon watched as Sam huddled by the firepit, cold beyond cold from their perch upon the Wall. He avoided looking towards the fire as it impaired his ability to see into the night, watching the forest just beyond the Wall for any signs of wildlings come to test their luck against the men of the Watch. He also held out hope that any movement might be his uncle returning, not dead as everyone now feared he must be. If anyone could make it back alive, it was Benjen Stark.
It was Jon's third night in a row on watch duty, but only Sam's first. The first of many, and he looked like he would barely make it through this one. No one wanted to share a watch, or anything else, with Samwell Tarly. It had fallen to Jon to make sure the lad survived his first few months at Castle Black, unpopular a notion as that had been. Sam was the exact opposite of the rest of them; fat and slow, cowardly and with no sense of self preservation. He was far more at home by a fire, reading a book and contemplating marriage to some homely woman who would bear him a brace of sons to further his line. A warrior he was most definitely not.
Grenn even had the audacity to clip Jon over the ear and tell him in no uncertain terms that they would have nothing to do with Sam, Jon included, if they wanted to maintain their self respect with their Black Brothers.
'He's a useless twat from some fancy high-born house,' Pip said as they hunched over their horns of watered down ale.
'I came from some fancy high-born house,' Jon reminded him, even if he would never hold his family's name.
'Yeah, but you're different.'
'Try telling Ser Alliser that,' he replied.
Castle Black's Master of Arms had taken a particular dislike to Jon, and he couldn't say whether it was because he was the bastard son of Lord Eddark Stark, the half nephew of their First Ranger Benjen Stark, or simply because Jon was possibly the one lad who might put Ser Alliser on his arse in a proper sword fight. High-born or low-born, Alliser Thorne hated most of them in equal measure, but Jon was near the top of the list, soon to be toppled only by a rotund boy whose father found him shameful enough to send North on pain of death.
'He'll be lucky if he can even manage to feed Maester Aemon's ravens.'
Grenn snorted into his ale. 'Pip, they'll probably end up feeding him to the ravens! There's enough of him to keep them fed for months.'
Jon sympathised with Sam's plight, but there was also a hardness in not wanting to be too empathetic. The Wall was no place for a soft lad who couldn't, or simply wouldn't, wield a sword. If not to save his brothers, then to save his own skin. Days at Castle Black were not necessarily cruel, but they were hard. There wasn't an option on learning to adapt to it. Men who joined the Night's Watch left only one way: through death, either of old age, inglorious defence of the Wall against those who lived north of it, or execution for dereliction.
It was hard to feel sorry for Sam having no choice but to come here. So many of Jon's soon to be brothers in arms were not here by choice. They'd been plucked from death and imprisonment by men like Yoren, who scoured the Seven Kingdoms for men and boys that their liege lords were happy to part with - criminals and beggars alike. They were unwanted in the towns they'd been born and called home, but there was always a place for them on the Wall. No man was ever turned away, be he knight, noble or murderer.
The Watch had scarcely enough men as it was. Seventeen castles had once made up the defensive outposts from west to east, but now only two remained with men manning their lookouts. In a time when strange things beyond the Wall were becoming more regular, and mutterings of things fouler than Wildlings became more than just stories to scare boys on their first ranging, the Night's Watch needed every last man and boy to stand tall and fight. Even boys like Samwell Tarly.
He'd managed to evade the men his father had sent after him, chasing him all the way to the Wall to ensure he never returned home, but that wasn't the same thing. Even the greenest lad could, with a bit of luck on his side, escape in a pursuit. Being forced to fight your way free was something else, and Jon didn't believe for a second that Sam's father would have had his men follow Sam all those leagues. Once he was north of the Red Fork they'd have turned and made their way home. Sam however would have pushed that pony on like he had the Others themselves on his heels all the way to Winterfell and beyond. Small wonder he made it at all.
Yet Jon knew what it was to be shunned by family. Catelyn Stark had never loved him and never so much as called him by name until the day he made his leave from Winterfell. He was a stain on her reputation - bastard son of her devoted husband. She too had driven him from his home to be here. At least he'd had his father's love and respect. Sam didn't even have that.
'Stay by that fire,' Jon called out to him, even though it meant he was doing watch duty on his own. He wouldn't have Sam freezing to death on his first watch, adding to his shame.
Whatever skills he'd learned, he would make sure Sam was given the same chance. If they could not make the Wall their home, then there was truly no place for either of them.
Fandom: Game of Thrones / A Song of Ice and Fire
Characters: Jon, Sam
Author: m_findlow
Rating: PG.
Length: 1,000 words
Content notes: None
Author notes: Written for Challenge 167 - Things in common at
fandomweekly Summary: Atop the Wall Jon and Sam have more in common than they know.
Jon watched as Sam huddled by the firepit, cold beyond cold from their perch upon the Wall. He avoided looking towards the fire as it impaired his ability to see into the night, watching the forest just beyond the Wall for any signs of wildlings come to test their luck against the men of the Watch. He also held out hope that any movement might be his uncle returning, not dead as everyone now feared he must be. If anyone could make it back alive, it was Benjen Stark.
It was Jon's third night in a row on watch duty, but only Sam's first. The first of many, and he looked like he would barely make it through this one. No one wanted to share a watch, or anything else, with Samwell Tarly. It had fallen to Jon to make sure the lad survived his first few months at Castle Black, unpopular a notion as that had been. Sam was the exact opposite of the rest of them; fat and slow, cowardly and with no sense of self preservation. He was far more at home by a fire, reading a book and contemplating marriage to some homely woman who would bear him a brace of sons to further his line. A warrior he was most definitely not.
Grenn even had the audacity to clip Jon over the ear and tell him in no uncertain terms that they would have nothing to do with Sam, Jon included, if they wanted to maintain their self respect with their Black Brothers.
'He's a useless twat from some fancy high-born house,' Pip said as they hunched over their horns of watered down ale.
'I came from some fancy high-born house,' Jon reminded him, even if he would never hold his family's name.
'Yeah, but you're different.'
'Try telling Ser Alliser that,' he replied.
Castle Black's Master of Arms had taken a particular dislike to Jon, and he couldn't say whether it was because he was the bastard son of Lord Eddark Stark, the half nephew of their First Ranger Benjen Stark, or simply because Jon was possibly the one lad who might put Ser Alliser on his arse in a proper sword fight. High-born or low-born, Alliser Thorne hated most of them in equal measure, but Jon was near the top of the list, soon to be toppled only by a rotund boy whose father found him shameful enough to send North on pain of death.
'He'll be lucky if he can even manage to feed Maester Aemon's ravens.'
Grenn snorted into his ale. 'Pip, they'll probably end up feeding him to the ravens! There's enough of him to keep them fed for months.'
Jon sympathised with Sam's plight, but there was also a hardness in not wanting to be too empathetic. The Wall was no place for a soft lad who couldn't, or simply wouldn't, wield a sword. If not to save his brothers, then to save his own skin. Days at Castle Black were not necessarily cruel, but they were hard. There wasn't an option on learning to adapt to it. Men who joined the Night's Watch left only one way: through death, either of old age, inglorious defence of the Wall against those who lived north of it, or execution for dereliction.
It was hard to feel sorry for Sam having no choice but to come here. So many of Jon's soon to be brothers in arms were not here by choice. They'd been plucked from death and imprisonment by men like Yoren, who scoured the Seven Kingdoms for men and boys that their liege lords were happy to part with - criminals and beggars alike. They were unwanted in the towns they'd been born and called home, but there was always a place for them on the Wall. No man was ever turned away, be he knight, noble or murderer.
The Watch had scarcely enough men as it was. Seventeen castles had once made up the defensive outposts from west to east, but now only two remained with men manning their lookouts. In a time when strange things beyond the Wall were becoming more regular, and mutterings of things fouler than Wildlings became more than just stories to scare boys on their first ranging, the Night's Watch needed every last man and boy to stand tall and fight. Even boys like Samwell Tarly.
He'd managed to evade the men his father had sent after him, chasing him all the way to the Wall to ensure he never returned home, but that wasn't the same thing. Even the greenest lad could, with a bit of luck on his side, escape in a pursuit. Being forced to fight your way free was something else, and Jon didn't believe for a second that Sam's father would have had his men follow Sam all those leagues. Once he was north of the Red Fork they'd have turned and made their way home. Sam however would have pushed that pony on like he had the Others themselves on his heels all the way to Winterfell and beyond. Small wonder he made it at all.
Yet Jon knew what it was to be shunned by family. Catelyn Stark had never loved him and never so much as called him by name until the day he made his leave from Winterfell. He was a stain on her reputation - bastard son of her devoted husband. She too had driven him from his home to be here. At least he'd had his father's love and respect. Sam didn't even have that.
'Stay by that fire,' Jon called out to him, even though it meant he was doing watch duty on his own. He wouldn't have Sam freezing to death on his first watch, adding to his shame.
Whatever skills he'd learned, he would make sure Sam was given the same chance. If they could not make the Wall their home, then there was truly no place for either of them.
