Game of Thrones: Fanfic: Fighting the good fight

[m_findlow]

Title: Fighting the good fight
Fandom: Game of Thrones
Characters: Ser Alliser Thorne, Jon Snow
Author: m_findlow
Rating: PG
Length: 1,731 words
Content notes: none
Author notes: Written for m_findlow's prompt "Game of Thrones, Ser Alliser Thorne, disliking their new Lord Commander" at fic_promptly. Set at the beginning of Feast for Crows. I don't own them, they belong to George Martin.
Summary: Ser Alliser receives a summons

'Ser Alliser Thorne to see you, my Lord.'

Dolorus Edd's voice quivered slightly at the announcement. He'd make a quick exit just as soon as Ser Alliser was permitted inside. He didn't want to hang around for the exchange between the former Master at Arms and their new Lord Commander, nor did he envy the task of the black brother who'd had to deliver the request to Ser Alliser. His expression was thunderous and aggrieved to have been summoned.

'Send him in,' Jon said, still reading over the parchment in front of him. Strange he thought, since rising to Lord Commander, this wouldn't be the most distasteful thing he'd had to do. In fact, it was far from it. The weight of the position had forced him to make a lot of hard decisions in a very short space of time, not the least of which so far had been separating Gilly from her son, taking Dalla's child in its stead, and sending Sam away with her. He prayed Sam never discovered the truth.

He needed allies more than he needed friends right now, which was the very reason Ser Alliser was here. So long as even one black brother denied his appointment, more would follow in their dissent. Janos Slynt would continue to be a thorn in his side for as long as he had the support of men like Ser Alliser. Whilst he didn't relish command, he preferred it over having the disgraced Goldcloak leading them. Who knows what promises he would have made to Stannis, and what slippery words the Red woman Melissandre might have dripped in his ear.

'Enjoying yourself, Lord Snow? Or do all wolves tear out the throats of their pack to lead?'

Jon let Ser Alliser have his little moment of insults. He had not expected deference or respect. To deny him would have only widened the rift between them. The news of Robb's murder had struck him hard, though he'd not had time to grieve. He'd barely had a moment to think on poor Bran and Rickon, Sansa who had disappeared, with or without Tyrion Lannister, and Arya who was missing and presumed dead also. His family, scattered to the wind, only Sansa perhaps who still lived. Winterfell was gone. His duty now was to the Wall.

'Janos Slynt should be sitting there, not some puffed up bastard princeling wanting to play at kings and queens,' Alliser spat.

Jon refused to meet his gaze for the moment. He was tired, but there was still so much to do. 'The brothers chose of their own free will.'

'Free will? Ha,' Ser Alliser scoffed. 'That craven whelp Tarly manufactured this mummers farce of a vote. You think some raven flying out of a kettle is going to convince me that you were meant to rule? Proof of just how many fools Yoren brought to the Wall.'

Snow! Snow, snow, snow! The bird repeated, sensing itself being spoken about.

'Ser Piggy can teach every raven in Castle black to say that and I'll still not change my mind. The Old Bear was mad if he was preening you to lead. We might as well knock the Wall down ourselves and let the Wildlings through.'

It wasn't the Wildlings Jon was worried about.

'I don't need you to change your mind, and we did hold the Wall.'

'Stannis held the Wall,' he corrected. 'It was the King who sent your little Wildling friends back into the mountains.'

Jon knew he was right. Wildlings would have spilled over the Gift like a cup of wine knocked over on a table. The Night's Watch had been all but spent. They'd run out of fletchings, stones, pitch, food, and most of all men. A few more days and Mance would have had the Black Gate cleared, cutting down what few men they had left. Stannis' camp had given them many of the supplies they needed in the days since, but it couldn't give them the one thing they really needed.

'The Wildlings may have retreated for now, but Tormund Giantsbane will have them regroup. The Wildlings will come for the Wall again and this time they will know our numbers and our tactics, but it's not the Wildlings we have to fear.'

'Stannis will cut them down,' he replied, sounding certain of the fact.

'Stannis will not remain here, nor will he leave a guard to supplement our forces. He means to take Bolton and hold the North before striking East.'

Ser Alliser barked out a laugh, forgetting his dislike of the young wolf for a moment.

'He won't make it past the Twins, unless he's planning an alliance.'

Stannis will see Walder Frey's head on a pike, Jon thought to himself. He'd said as much at their second meeting, when he'd had to abandon plans to install Jon as his Warden of the North. Jon had no love for the Frey's. Thrice had they betrayed their allegiances, and the last had cost him his brother and the Lady Catelyn. He would shed no tears for a Stannis victory at the Twins. Left without their father, the multitudinous Frey's would squabble and plot for leadership, but tumble like dominoes in the face of a unified front.

'Dorne still reels for the loss of the Viper. Unless Prince Doran can quell them, I fear they would gladly join Stannis' bid for the Iron Throne. A pincer move from North and South together would ruin them.'

Jon sighed, shuffling the many reports from ravens. The politics of the landscape changed almost too quickly for him to keep up. Small wonder his father had balked at the proposition of becoming King Robert's Hand.

'So long as Westeros cannot settle on one true king, no aid will come to us. When the Others come for us, we alone will stand against them,' Jon added. 'That is why I need you.'

Ser Alliser couldn't wipe the smug grin off his face.

'What use is a loyal man of the Night's Watch to a traitorous bastard Wildling?'

'I've suffered your insolence so far, Ser Alliser, but perhaps you could at least do me the courtesy of referring to me as Lord Traitor, should it please you. I could always use more men in scouting parties beyond the Wall, but your skills would be better used here.'

Ser Alliser seethed at the inference. How dare he speak to him in such a fashion. Janos Slynt should have cut his throat when they'd had the chance.

'You will resume your role as Master at Arms. I want every man and boy in this camp training morning and night, and you will be in charge of all of them. I have just one condition.'

'And what would that be, Lord Snow?' he said, forcing the title out through gritted teeth.

'Every man under your tutelage shall be treated as an equal, just as we are all brothers, with none better than the one that stands beside him. I will not stand for taunting or cruel japes, victimization or ill treatment. I will not have men to afraid to raise a sword against you or their fellows. If they fear you, what good shall that do them when they are faced with the Others? I will have every main trained with patience, respect and diligence, until the only fear they still hold is fear of failure.'

Much as he was loathe to admit it, Ser Alliser was skilled in battle, and it was that skill that they desperately needed. He hoped also that this new appointment would consume Ser Alliser's days, leaving him naught for plotting and dissent. Janos Slynt was another matter. For now, sending him to the Shadow Tower was all he could do to remove that particular problem.

Alliser bristled. 'I won't suffer to waste my time with cravens and cowards because you think I should wrap them in swaddling. Boys like Tarly should be stripped of their vows for the shame they bring to the Watch. What man should say the vows if his Lord Commander cannot even follow them?'

The accusation still stung, not because of its falsity but because of the price he'd paid for it. He had indeed broken his vows, but he'd broken them in order to keep them. His unanimous election to Lord Commander had been all that had saved him from their justice. Better the men broke their vows in the whorehouses of Molestown than to fall in love. When he slept, he dreamed, and when he dreamt, it was of a woman with hair kissed by fire.

As if incensed by Ygritte's death, he stood up, holding the edge of the table against his troubled leg, afraid to show any weakness to a man whose loyalty he needed.

'You'll do as I command, or I shall oversee your training sessions personally, and take a proper blade to you for every man who hesitates to raise his sword. Fail in this task and I'll give you to Three Finger Hobb, though I suspect the men will cease eating if they think you've had a hand in the cooking.'

Alliser cocked his head slightly and squinted. 'Should I be grateful to you, my Lord?'

'I've reinstated you to your old post, so yes. More than you deserve, and many brothers will not thank me for it, but the Others are coming and I will have the Watch ready for them. If we fail it won't matter how many kings Westeros has, all will fall.'

Ser Alliser sneered. He couldn't stand that the boy was right in that if nothing else. Fear and loathing were two different things. Jon Snow did not fear him, but their mutual dislike for one another was not like to wane, no matter what.

'Thank you, my Lord,' he said, bowing imperceptibly, though it galled him.

'That will be all, Ser Alliser.' Inwardly Jon breathed a sigh of relief. 'I look forward to seeing the fruits of your labour.'

Ser Alliser exited the tower, stomping down each snow covered step as if it too mocked him. If Lord Snow wanted boys turned into men, he'd do it, but they'd be so sore they wouldn't be able to sit for supper. Each and every time he belt one with a wooden sword, it would be Jon Snow's face he would imagine.