A Game of Families
I don’t know how many of you watch Game of Thrones, but please keep in mind that my knowledge of it comes from the books, not the show, so little bits and pieces might be different! I’ve also tried really really hard to avoid spoilers, so this is set…. Sometime in the books. But I don’t think it’s set after where the TV show is up to.
I don’t think it’s set at any point in time actually. I know when the original version of this was set, but the amount of spoilers I accidentally wrote in means that this is version 2.0 (: So let’s make this an alternate universe and it’s set there. Yep. Solves that problem.
Also – it has actually been eons since I read it, so their speech patterns are probably (definitely.) a bit off. Oh well. Love it or hate it as you like.
Enjoy! Or … don’t, whatever you like, I don’t think I’m quite happy with it, and this isn’t proof read (It’s late, sue me.), but if I wait until I’m happy with something, you guys will never see anything, because I haven’t written anything I’m 100% happy with yet, and I’m babbling, so – don’t be too harsh please!
Jon Snow stretched upwards as he wandered slowly through the forest just south of the wall. Shaking himself tiredly he rubbed his face with his gloved hands, brushing irritably at the tendrils of dark brown hair brushing against his neck.
“Ghost?” He called softly, peering into the dark trees around him. The direwolf always came back, but the young squire always felt safer with the wolf’s strong presence beside him, particularly after recent events.
“You ought to know that ghosts don’t exist by now. Good thing too, I don’t think burning them would really work, you know, being incorporeal and all.” Teased a quiet voice, feet crunching over leaves as Jon laughed quietly to himself – of course they followed him out.
“Sam, only you would use the word Incorporeal in a sentence.”
“Just because you don’t know what it means monkey-face” The first voice snapped at the second, lacking any malice, but sounding strained enough that Jon turned to face his friends.
“Well look at it this way, if any ghosts come near us, all we have to do is point them at Grenn and they’ll go running. I don’t know why we didn’t do that with the White Walkers, really.” The second voice, belonging to a smaller black-cloaked ranger laughed, his small head and bigger ears poking out of his dark hood.
“Children, please” Jon laughed as the bigger Nightswatch-man turned to Pyp with a small sound of complaint, the smaller boy waggling his large ears at him in response. “Don’t make me send you all to bed without supper.”
“Which it is time for, Jon.” Samwell Tarly was nothing if not hungry. All the time, it was a running joke that Sam would have earned his nickname “Sam the Slayer” faster had one of the others come between him and dinner.
“Alright, alright, I was hoping Ghost would be nearby.” Sighing again somewhat wistfully as he gazed south, Jon shoved Pyp’s shoulder from where the mummers boy was pulling faces and turned back towards the wall looming behind him.
“Yes, we’d noticed. It’s like your good mood vanishes with that wolf” Sam observed quietly, eyeing him as the round boy rubbed his hands together.
“He’s one of my last links to my family Sam, apart from anything else.” Sam nodded in understanding as the taller boy turned to trudge back to the castle black, blinking in astonishment as Pyp and Grenn, having been muttering quietly behind them, flew into the young squire, bringing them all to the snowy ground in a messy heap.
“Oh for – the Others take you both, get off of me.” Jon tried to pull himself upwards, but all he accomplished was to move Pyp – now perched birdlike on his chest – backwards by a hair.
“Grab his arms for us, Sam,” Pypar cried dramatically, “We’ve decided that a lesson in who your new family is, is in order for our good Lord Snow here.”
“And family knows how to cheer each other up.” Grenn rumbled, smiling, even as he kept Jon pinned beneath his large bulk.
“What are you going to do? You won’t hurt him-”
“They’re going to let me up, or I’ll have them rostered to clean the wall tomorrow, instead of walking it” Jon said sharply, grunting as Pyp prodded at his forehead playfully.
“Of course not – we’re just going to help him smile, and who knows – maybe his pup will come running whilst we’re here? Be a man Sam,” pausing, Pyp chuckled at his rhyme, before continuing, “Help a fellow out? Or you know – we’ll come for you next.”
“Sorry, Jon, but you do need to cheer up a bit.” Shrugging, Sam leant his considerable bulk on his friend’s hands, pinning them in place above his head. “If you hurt him at all-”
“We’ll be mauled by Ghost before you can do much more to us, don’t worry so much, he just needs to - aha” Pressing his small fingers victoriously into the newly opened gap in Jon’s black cloak, a startled yelp came from the dark eyed squire as Pyp continued to talk over him “laugh, a little more. Ticklish, Lord Snow?”
“By the – Pyp!” Jon yelped, squirming underneath the young ranger as his fingers dug into a sensitive spot on his ribs.
“By the Pyp – I like that as a curse better than any others I’ve heard. I wonder how quickly it’d catch on if we all took to using it?” Grenn chuckled in appreciation, peering around his smaller friend to see what he was doing.
Wiggling his ears down at the oblivious boy below him, Pyp pulled his thicker cloak apart, shoving it to the ground as his fingers sought purchase in the thinner clothes covering his sides and belly. “Tickle, tickle, tickle, Lord Snow, I never realised how ticklish you were, I mean, you must be thankful right now it’s bloody cold, otherwise you’d be feeling this way more than you are now-”
Jon didn’t know what was worse, the small fingers wriggling their way into the gaps between his ribs, or the smaller rangers describing of what he was doing above him. Yelping with laughter, the Lord Commander’s squire was easily reduced to giggling, his cheeks stained pink with embarrassment. “I sweheeheheeheheear, Pyheheeheep yohohohou prihihihihihick-” mentally cursing them, Jon strained against Sam’s weight holding his arms solidly above his head, tugging on them more insistently the higher Pyp’s fingers climbed.
“Is this another tickly spot, My Lord? The fun we could have been having with this, why didn’t you tell me you were ticklish? I wouldn’t have been too awful to you-” cheerfully continuing to chatter down at him, Pyp carefully climbed his fingers up the squirming boys ribs, his precise strokes speaking of an unknown experience pulling people apart this way. “I can’t imagine how badly this must tickle, where are you most ticklish, I wonder? Is it – here?” drawing out the last few words, Pyp grinned somewhat sadistically as Jon’s giggling got more desperate the closer he drew to his underarms – shoving his wriggling fingers deep into the ticklish area as he threw the last word at him. “I mean, I’m not ticklish at all – not like this, anyway – so I wouldn’t know, does this tickle, Ser Lord Commander?”
“Fuhuhuuhuhuck Pyheeheheeheeepahahahahar, YEHEEHEHEHEHEES IT FUHUHUCKING TIHIHIIIHIHIHIHIHICKLES” Jon bellowed, tears leaking out of black eyes as he struggled to pull his scattered pieces of concentration together enough to glare at the smaller boy, shaking his head in denial. It had been years since he’d been tickled at all, let alone like this, so long, he’d almost forgotten he was ticklish at all. “Enahaaahahahahahahaaa – ahahaha, stahahaahahahaap, pleheeheheeheeas-”
“Temper, temper, I don’t think you’ve really thought through insulting your interrogator, and all it entails. Do you want to try that again? Maybe ‘Yes, Pyp, it does, thank you for pointing out to me my dreadful weakness in being ticklish here?’ Try that, maybe then, I’ll ‘stahahahap’.” Scrabbling his blunt nails against the scrap of black fabric over his taught underarms, Pyp laughed at Jon’s attempt to glare at him.
“Gahaahahahaha – Lehehehehet the ohohohothehers tahahake me behfohohore I Thahahahahahank yohohohou” Jon laughed, squirming uselessly against the wet snow, noting in the corner of his mind that ought to get into the warmth before he soaked through and made himself sick.
“Suit yourself, obviously you’re laughing, so you’re enjoying yourself, so if you wanted me to keep going, you don’t need to be so nasty, Lord Snow.” Tutting playfully, Pyp scampered his fingers down to paw at the Squire’s stomach, both hands clawing dastardly as he arched off the ground in protest.
“Aha- ah, nohoho Pyp nottherenot-NAHAHA, nohohohohohoho, shuHUHUHUT AHAHahahahahahaaap, Greheheheeheen, gehehet ohohoff, or sohohoho hehehelp meheehehee-”
“I don’t think you realise how pathetic your threats sound from here Lord Snow” Pyp observed, Sam and Grenn still watching silently, a funny smile on Sam’s face as he tilted his head at the scene. Wriggling one finger into the young would-be-lord’s belly button through his shirt curiously, Pyp laughed delightedly as he squealed loudly in protest, cheeks staining a deep red in response. “There, we go. Coochie coochie – I don’t think I’ve had whores react like this before, and they were playing it up!”
“Shuhuhut U-AAAAAAAAHEEHEHEEEEHEHEHEHEHEE, Enohohohohohooough, Nohohohohohoho pleeheheheeheheheeheease” hiccupping somewhat pathetically up at his fellow comrades, Jon stilled as he felt two small hands burrow into his bunched up cloak to grip his hips. Opting to keep his eyes closed for the moment, Jon held his breath, grateful that Pyp had apparently taken pity on him enough to quit scratching around in his navel, but already stifling chortles of laughter in anticipation of his fingers moving just slightly- “AH. NOHONONONONONO IHIHIHI’LL MUHUHUHUHURDEHEHEHER YOHOHOU AHAHAHAHAHAHAALLLL, STAHAHAHAHHAHAHAAHAHAPIT-”
Pyp finally relented, clapping his hands delightedly as the taller boy all but bellowed with forced laughter, tears staining his red cheeks. Ignoring the babbled threats, all three boys scrambled off the young squire, moving back far out of grabbing range.
“Ghost!” Sam called, surprised to see the white direwolf lying quietly in the thicket nearby.
“S-Some help you were, mutt.” Jon groaned, curling onto his side as he struggled to even his breathing out. “Just wait. Just wait, until we cross swords next.” He muttered, hiccupping a giggle out as he rubbed at his stomach.
“Have you always been ticklish then, Lord Snow?” Pyp teased, leaning against a tree, looking for all the world as if he could fall asleep there, but tensed to bolt if he needed to.
“Please don’t call me that.” Jon grumbled. “And I am not telling you anything. Some friends you are.”
“Please – we’re not friends, we’re family.” Pyp scoffed, “Family isn’t always nice, but we’re always here, and we always know how to knock some sense into you, and when to – shit” sprinting for the wall, Pyp laughed as Jon stumbled uncharacteristically over a tree root in his perusal of him.
He was done moping – for now – and that was the goal. Dignity be damned.
After all, that’s what families are for.