Squire Squabble (pt. 1) Podrick Payne x reader
So, I wrote this fic in 2022 and it's been sitting in my Google Docs ever since. Enjoy it! There's a Part Two that I'll probably post tomorrow.
Summary: Pod and Brienne meet one of Brienne's old acquaintances while traveling, and Pod does not get along with the man's squire.
Word count: ~2.1k
Warnings: Swearing, maybe? I can't remember. But I know that's really it. Also, most of my fics are gender neutral, but this one is written with a feminine reader in mind. Sorry!
Pod and Brienne sit in a tavern at nightfall. Pod is eating quickly and hungrily, having not eaten anything since the day prior. His fault, really, messing up the fire and forgetting to skin the rabbit and--well, it’s best not to get into it all. Brienne, he notices, isn’t eating, despite having eaten the same amount as he has in the last twenty-four hours, which is none.
“Are you not going to eat, my lady?” He asks, mouth full of food.
Brienne doesn’t answer, instead continuing to glare in the direction of another table behind Podrick. He goes to turn his head, but is stopped by Brienne.
“Don’t you dare,” she grunts, freezing him in motion.
He slowly turns back to face her. “What are you looking at?”
“Not what,” Brienne clarifies, “who. In this case, Ser Carac McLane of Tarth.”
Pod waits for her to continue, confused. “Who?”
“We grew up together,” Brienne says, “and he tormented me every day of my life. Everything I did, he had to be better. Learned to fight before me--because he’s a man, of course--and he’s never let me live it down. He thinks that age somehow triumphs over experience and skill--two things I have, and he doesn’t. He’s arrogant, ignorant, and classless. And that’s not the half of it.”
“How long has it been since you’ve last seen each other?” Pod asks, taking another bite. “Perhaps he’s changed, or--”
“People like him aren’t ones who change, Podrick,” Brienne interrupts. Her face suddenly drops. “Shit. He’s walking over. Stop eating, and sit up straight. Don’t give him any reason to critique you. Podrick, I said stop eating!”
How am I supposed to swallow this if I can’t chew? Pod thinks, yet he doesn’t have another second to resolve his issue before they are approached by Ser Carac, along with a younger individual about the same age as Pod.
Brienne stiffens, moving to stand up, but Ser Carac waves her off. “No need for formalities, Brienne of Tarth. We’re past that by now, don’t you think?”
“I suppose so, Ser Carac of Tarth,” Brienne responds. “This is my squire, Podrick Payne.” She gestures to Pod, who nods his head, mouth still full of food. Ser Carac nods in his direction, yet his companion doesn’t, instead choosing to half-smirk at him, seeing right through his facade. He glares back at them, trying to be as menacing as possible. He realizes, however, that it’s entirely useless, as he looks like a chipmunk with his mouth full of food.
“You’ve a squire now?” Ser Carac asks incredulously. “I never thought I’d see the day you reached such a high rank. This is Y/N, my squire.”
“What brings you to this area?” Brienne asks. “I’d have thought you were retired, old as you are.”
“Might I remind you, I’m not much older than you,” Carac states.
“Your lack of hair could’ve fooled me,” Brienne replies. Podrick nearly spits out his food holding back a laugh. He’ll have to commend Brienne for that later.
Both Carac and Y/N look over at him, Y/N shooting daggers at him. Carac, however, seems to ignore it, instead turning back to Brienne.
“Well, as much as it was a pleasure seeing you, we must be off.”
“Don’t choke, Podrick,” Y/N says,harshly patting him on the back before turning to walk away. Pod starts coughing, the food getting stuck in his throat. He quickly gulps from his cup and turns back to glare at Y/N. They’re looking over their shoulder at him, half-smirking.
Pod decides at this moment that he dislikes them. Immensely.
“Told you,” Brienne says.
* * *
Pod and Brienne are long beyond the tavern now, about a day’s journey out. The sun is concluding its descent, and the two have decided to stop for the night, when they see the faint orange glow of a fire coming through the trees.
“Should we see about that up there?” Pod asks.
“Well, seeing as you can’t start a fire for shit, there’s no harm in joining those who already have one going, is there?” Brienne replies.
Apparently there was harm in joining those who already have a fire, since those happened to be Ser Carac and Y/N, who seem to have just begun to make camp.
“Lady Brienne, what a surprise!” Ser Carac says, although he seems more annoyed than surprised. “I didn’t know you were going this way. We could have traveled together. Although, I know how much you enjoy your beauty sleep, despite its lack of effect. I, on the other hand, wake up with the sun.”
Brienne rolls her eyes, ignoring his comment. “Would you mind if we joined you, Ser Carac? I would hate to intrude.”
“Too late for that,” Carac mutters. “But since you’re here, please, join us.”
Pod and Brienne dismount their horses, tying them up to a couple of nearby trees. Y/N stares at them as they do so, eyes following their movements. “Lady Brienne,” they say, nodding their head. “Podrick,” they add, suddenly stone cold and straight faced.
He doesn’t reply, instead taking a seat across from them by the fire.
After an hour or so, Carac speaks up. “I’m getting tired. Y/N, Podrick, make up our tents, won’t you?”
The two nod, getting up to do as he says.
They walk a short ways away from the fire, making sure they’re within eyesight but far enough away that they’re hidden if anyone sees the fire from afar and comes to attack them. Now that night’s fallen, it’s too cold to be without fire, regardless of the dangers. Pod and Y/N work silently, a wordless agreement that despite their dislike for each other, putting the tents up together is much faster than doing it alone. They put the first two up effortlessly, but when it comes to the third, things all come crashing down--literally.
Pod pulls a piece of fabric from the pile at the same time as Y/N, who then attempts to take it away from him. He pulls it back towards himself and Y/N does the same, resulting in a competition tug-of-war. After a moment, they hear the sound of the fabric tearing, and sure enough, the cover is ripped in half.
“You ripped the tent,” Y/N shouts, angry and nervous at the same time. “And now I’m going to have to answer for it.”
“That’s because it’s your fault,” Pod retorts. “You pulled too hard on the cloth, not me.”
Y/N scoffs. “Are you joking? You’re the one who pulled too hard. And I don’t appreciate--”
Pod speaks up, interrupting. “Now, that is not true, and I don’t appreciate--”
Before long, the two are in a brawl, shouting over one another and shooting daggers with their eyes.
“What’s going on here?” Brienne says as she and Ser Carac approach the pair.
“Your squire ripped the tent,” Y/N and Pod say to Brienne and Carac at the same time. They glare at each other at the realization.
“We’ve lost a tent?” Brianne asks rhetorically. “Well, I’m not sleeping on the ground. Are you, Ser Carac?”
He shakes his head. “I am not.”
“Well, then. That settles it.”
“I’m not sleeping on the bare ground,” Y/N says, turning to Pod and crossing their arms. “Be a good squire, will you?”
“Absolutely not,” Pod laughs. “You’re the one who ripped the tent, you should be sleeping on the ground.”
“You can’t be serious, I--”
“Both of you, sleep in the tent,” Ser Carac interrupts. “Or you can both sleep on the ground.”
At the sight of their faces, Brienne smirks. “And we don’t want to hear another word from either of you about it. That’s an order, Podrick.”
“You too, Y/N,” Ser Carac adds. With that, the two disappear into their tents.
“Since when did those two get along?” Y/N mumbles, staring after them, while Pod starts gathering the leftover materials for the last tent. He gets a fair bit through before catching Y/N’s attention.
“What are you doing?” They whisper to him, careful not to get the attention of either Brienne or Carac.
“What does it look like? I’m making up the tent.”
Y/N shrugs. “Have fun. I’m sleeping out here.”
“No, you’re not. You heard them, Y/N. Either we both sleep out here or we both sleep in there. I don’t know about you, but I’d rather a roof over my head, however thin.”
“I don’t care what orders we have, Podrick. I’m not sharing a tent with you, and I’d rather lose my hand like Jaime Lannister than sleep next to you out here.”
“Lucky for you, that can be arranged,” Pod grumbles. “Now, I’m serious Y/N. Come on. I’m not getting in trouble because you’ve decided to be a spoiled princess about this.”
“A princess? Me? Please. If anyone here’s acting that way, it’s you. Why does it matter where I sleep?”
“Are you even listening to me?”
“No.”
Pod rolls his eyes before continuing. “We’ve been given orders, Y/N.” He grabs their arm and tries to pull them toward the tent. “Come on.”
Y/N pulls back. “No.”
“Y/N, please, I won’t do this all night--”
He pulls harder, but Y/N loses their footing and falls onto him, toppling into the tent.
For a minute Y/N is frozen on top of him, shocked at the quick change in position from standing up to laying down. They feel the warmth of his breath on their face, and his eyes flicker quickly to their mouth before meeting their eyes again.
“All right, Princess,” he says, slowly rolling Y/N off of him. “Off you go.”
“What did I tell you about that nickname?” They reply, exasperated.
“When are you going to realize that it doesn’t matter to me what you tell me?” He cocks an eyebrow. “You might think you’re royalty, but you aren’t. You’re a squire, just like me.”
“Believe me, I’m nothing like you.”
“Thank the gods. Now, go to sleep, will you? I’m tired.”
* * *
Pod is still awake a while later, though he’s not sure how much time has passed. Y/N shakes and stirs, clearly attempting to not make a sound. They are unsuccessful.
“You’re keeping me up,” Pod says monotonously. “Go to bed.”
“I’m cold,” they say, and Pod hears them turning to the other direction. The two are facing outward, away from each other, about a foot apart. There isn’t much space for anything more than that, since the tent is so small. The temperature has dropped drastically in the night, and although Pod has a coat, he can still feel a chill in the air.
“Aren’t you from the North?” Pod asks.
“So? I’ve not a coat, Podrick. A wolf would be cold in this weather.”
“Well, I’m not giving you my furs,” he grunts. “Then I’ll be cold.”
“I wasn’t asking.”
“Good.”
“Good.”
Y/N continues to toss and turn, not caring whether or not they keep Pod awake. Why must they make him suffer just because they are?
After a moment Pod lets out an irritated sigh, and shuffles over. At the feeling of his body behind theirs, Y/N stiffens.
“What are you doing?” They ask him.
“Getting you warm. I need sleep, Y/N, and I won’t very well get that with you moving around every ten seconds. Now, come on, move closer.”
They wait a moment, he assumes in order to process his words. He’s not gotten along with Y/N since their meeting the day before, and he knows they’d rather not give in to anything he says or asks, but at this point he also knows they’re too tired and cold to care. They scoot backwards a half an inch, seemingly satisfied with the positioning as Pod wraps an arm around them. He tries to keep his face away from theirs, but eventually gives up and rests it in the crook of their neck.
“This means nothing,” Y/N asserts, stating matter-of-factly.
Pod doesn’t buy it, though. He feels their heart beating and their breath evening, giving away the comfort and ease they feel in the position you two are in. “Whatever you say, Princess.”
“I hate that nickname. And I really hate you.”
“Whatever you say, Princess.”
