Hey, I'm Vane and this is my writing blog. I have a personal blog (@adhd-and-anarchy) and a shifting blog (@vaneshifts) as well, but I decided I needed a space just for publishing writing pieces too. I'm 19 years old, Canadian, Virgo, and an ambivert with anger issues.
My Current Fixations:
Helluva Boss
Six Of Crows
Fandoms I will write for:
Harry Potter (Golden Trio Era)
Marauders Era
Good Omens
Game Of Thrones
House Of The Dragon
Helluva Boss
Marvel Cinematic Universe
Once Upon A Time
Shadow & Bone
Supernatural
Six Of Crows
The Hobbit & Lord Of The Rings
The Maze Runner
The Rings Of Power
The Umbrella Academy
Victorious
This list will probably be added to at some point tbh, but if you're interested, I have an account with full fanfictions on Wattpad; meraxes
I'm not big on blog rules, but if I need to eventually, I'll make a list. I am open to requests and suggestions of course, just please be aware that I might not take all of them, and if I choose not to write your request, please don't take it personally, it's just not my vibe (unless of course your request is something really creepy and f*cked up, then yes, feel free to take personal offence).
MTBI: INFP
Hogwarts House: Slytherin
Patronus: Fox
Marauders Kinnie: 75% Sirius Black, 25% Regulus Black
INTRODUCING VIPER!READER .αΛΛΛ
β the barrel is a dangerous place for creatures of all kinds; lions, pigeons and crows alike. but the viper weaves through the chaos like smoke, like it's home, and she dines on the other creatures as she likes, predator and prey. β
Not Tonight β Kaz Brekker x Viper!Reader
β if you die in your sleep," he said. "you should know I will drag you out of the depths of hell to kill you again myself." β you're the best fighter kaz has got, but sometimes the best fighters are a little too sure of themselves, and he finds himself surprisingly unirritated in cleaning up the aftermath. β
warnings: mentions of indenture work, mentions of violence, mentions of trauma & ptsd, nothing really out of whack for six of crows
six of crows masterlist
main masterlist
π± β§ . ββ VIPER!READER who has been with the dregs longer than any other crow, leaving her history shrouded in scribbled question marks and the fog that covers every street of the barrel come nightfall.
π± β§ . ββ VIPER!READER is as cold and calculated as dirtyhands, harder than grisha steel, but can still be caught feeding orphans in hidden alleys when her shift at the crow club is up and bandages up the others with quick quips and mischievous grins after each job. but she got her name from being the deadliest and most territorial killer around, along with her unique flair.
π± β§ . ββ VIPER!READER whose reputation extends even beyond the barrel in some places, speculated about in twisted conspiracy theories; that she's secretly Grisha, or that she's the daughter of a filthy rich Mercher who was disgraced and in retaliation, killed her entire family and wiped any evidence of them from the world.
π± β§ . ββ VIPER!READER who those recruited after her talk about like an unpredictable spirit of vengeance, who only know what those who came before her have been able to tell them; that she didnβt exist in the Barrel and then one day, she just did. that she is Otkazatβsya, but likely more dangerous than any grisha regardless. that kaz pulled her out of a bad situation, and her loyalties lie firmly with him ever since.
π± β§ . ββ VIPER!READER was raised an assassin, then planted in pekka rollins' sweet shop as a sleeper cell, where she learned that there were far worse things one could do to a person than kill them. and her salvation came when rumours began to spread about pekka's pretty little escape artist, piquing the interest of a particularly dangerous teenager deep in the barrel.
π± β§ . ββ VIPER!READER who is the best bartender in the barrel, and the house favourite at the crow club until her shift ends and she vanishes with a smirk to drag jesper away from the poker table towards a plate of fries in a corner booth where they'll laugh about their last job or the latest buzz in the barrel.
π± β§ . ββ VIPER!READER who has long since claimed the window seat in kaz's office to sit in silence while he works, offering the occasional bit of unprompted advice and lighting the scented candles she added to the room to keep out the stench of the city below.
π± β§ . ββ VIPER!READER with a secret soft spot for strays -- especially cats -- despite all of her allure and superficial charms, because she understands when their backs arch and their fur spikes, unable to go back to the soft creature they once were meant to be, and only they understand boundaries and solace in solitude the way she does.
π± β§ . ββ VIPER!READER whose relationship with kaz brekker is too complicated to label but too ingrained into every part of her life now not to name
π± β§ . ββ VIPER!READER who slips into galas under a mask like she belongs and disappears like smoke long before the host realises he's been played a fool
π± β§ . ββ VIPER!READER is duality made human. she is soft on the inside with sharper edges than the wraith's knives protecting her from the outside. she is cruel to mankind as it has been cruel to her, but kind to their children though she can't recall that kind of innocence anymore. she's the exploding barrel of a gun at the end of the line and the whisper of deadly secrets in a middle-man's ear down some forgotten alley wreathed in shadows and the tears of forgotten rats. she is everything, and she is nothing. she is a tormented enigma, but a friend all the same.
β if you die in your sleep," he said. "you should know I will drag you out of the depths of hell to kill you again myself. β
pairing: kaz brekker x viper!reader
(can be read as whatever type of reader you want, this is just what I had in mind personally <3)
synopsis: you're the best fighter kaz has got, but sometimes the best fighters are a little too sure of themselves, and he finds himself surprisingly unirritated in cleaning up the aftermath
warnings: fluff fluff and more fluff, established realtionship, mentions of a fight and possible injury, a little bit of blood, kaz might be slightly ooc but this is based on a larger concept I've been playing with for a while that I'll post about later, kaz refers to reader once by an established nickname, no use of y/n, one mention of kaz being able to tuck reader's hair behind their ear, this is also purely self-indulgent because i thought of it while i had a splitting migraine last night and god did i wish i had a kaz to take care of me
word count: 1.2k
six of crows masterlist
main masterlist
Every candle was like a dagger dragging across your temples. Every step up the stairs to Kazβs office had been a jolt up your spine to the base of your skull, driving the pain from a nasty ache to something more excruciating. Even now as you sat as still as possible by the window, every blink became more like a wince as the usually-calming persistent thud of Kazβs can drew nearer.
Your brows had knitted themselves firmly into a pained scowl by the time it fell silent, and though you couldnβt see him with your eyes squeezed shut, you knew him well enough to know he had come down to one knee in front of you now.
A featherlight touch of warm, damp fabric to the bridge of your nose had your eyelids fluttering slightly, and you slowly, reluctantly peeled them open when the feeling withdrew. The candles were still irritating, but they were dimmer now.
There was a small, faint splotch of red on the handkerchief pinched between Kazβs gloved fingers, but his focus was instead on your face, frowning in that serious way you knew was actually something softer underneath.
βBleedingβs stopped,β he sighed, almost more to himself. βThatβs good at least.β
You reached without thinking for the split skin on the bridge of your nose, but Kaz got there first, lightly slapping your hand away with a scolding look.
βHow does it feel?β He asked quietly after a second.
βHurts,β you muttered in a childish sort of way that made Kaz look like he was about to roll his eyes.
Instead, he lifted a cloth wrapped in ice that Jesper must have brought from the bar downstairs to your forehead, setting it lightly against your skin and letting the cold get to work soothing the migraine. He raised his brows expectantly, waiting.
You blew out a soft breath. βItβs kind ofβ¦ everywhere,β you explained quietly, gesturing vaguely with the hand that wasnβt pressed to your temple. βSharp, but achey too. Like a really dull knife.β
βWell,β he huffed. βI suppose thatβs what you get for taking on a man twice your size unarmed.β
The job hadnβt been super high-profile, but important enough that Kaz brought Jesper inside with him this time instead of you. No guns, heβd said. He didnβt want anyone to know they were there until they were long gone, so heβd left you on guard duty, knowing you could silence anyone who might come across this little heist without an ounce of gunpowder.
Of course, neither of you had expected a big, burly bodyguard to be the one arriving at the mansion early, and you certainly hadnβt expected him to be fast enough to knock your knives away like that. What should have been a quick and easy fight had quickly devolved into a close quarters brawl in an uncomfortably slim corridor of the mansion. Kaz and Jesper had cleared their escape route just in time to see you avoid a dislocated shoulder by slamming your head forcefully into the man pinning you and slit his throat. Job well done. No bullets, no witnesses. Thinking back on it, though β however much hindsight you were able to gather through the haze of pain β you were beginning to regret that move.
βI beat him, didnβt I?β You responded, your usual snappiness only halfhearted.
βMm.β
You did roll your eyes now, and immediately regretted it, hissing as a sharp wave of pain crashed through your skull again, and Kaz adjusted the ice pack.
βEasy,β Kaz chided, though the gentleness of the steadying gloved hand on your arm negated the berating tone.
A soft groan slipped through your lips as your eyes fluttered shut again, leaning slightly into the soothing cold. All thoughts slipped out of reach as you tried to relax, and a comfortable darkness settled behind your eyes, enveloping your awareness.
It took a few seconds for Kazβs soft voice to break through the muffling silence, and you realised he was calling your name.
βHm?β You managed to hum out tiredly in response.
βDonβt fall asleep on me,β he instructed, his voice like a steady lullaby that seemed to be slowly leeching away the ache. βNot until we know if you did any serious damage.β
βHowβs that?β You murmured, certain that youβd known the answer at some point but also knowing heβd indulge you in this state and continue talking.
Sure enough, his answer came without hesitation or annoyance. βAre you dizzy?β
βOnly a little.β
βDo you feel like vomiting?β
βNoβ¦ donβt think so.β
βHowβs your memory?β
βWhat kind of question is that?β
You heard his huff of exasperation and felt the soft brush of his breath across your cheek, making the corner of your lip twitch faintly.
βWell you certainly still sound like you.β
βI could probably imitate Jesper,β you mused.
βDo not,β he answered sharply, and you could feel his glare on you.
You breathed a silent laugh that dissolved quickly into a yawn. βCome on, Brekker. I seriously canβt sleep? Youβre killing me.β
βYouβre killing yourself,β he corrected dryly.
You scoffed. βIβve had a lot worse than that piece of filth try to kill me. If heβs the one that manages it, I think I might actually deserve it.β
You didnβt see Kaz shake his head, or the way he fought the smallest of smiles β not one of the nasty ones, or vengeful grins. The real ones he reserved for you alone that few others had ever glimpsed.
βAlright,β he relented finally. βCome on. Can you stand?β
βI can stand,β you assured him, slowly opening your eyes.
Nodding, he got to his feet, waiting until you wereΒ steady on yours before moving around the room to begin bowing out candles. You, meanwhile, began slowly across the faintly creaky hardwood floors towards the side of the large bed youβd claimed so long ago β always enough space in the middle between you, but small enough that Kaz could reach over without you ever knowing when you were deep in sleep to tuck the piece of hair behind your ear that had made its way in front of your face to flutter with each soft breath.
You winced at the jolt it sent through you again to kick off your boots, and kept your eyes closed as you crawled carefully onto the bed, smushing your cheek into the softest part of your pillow for some form of comfort against your temple.
Still, you heard Kazβs cane approaching again, and when it came to a halt, you knew he was right at the corner of the bed by your feet, watching over you like a vigilant guard dog.
βIf you die in your sleep,β he said. βYou should know I will drag you out of the depths of hell to kill you again myself.β
βMhm,β you responded with a little smile like heβd said something incredibly sweet rather than a deeply disturbing threat. βHow rude of you to assume Iβm going to hell.β
He snorted at that. βWeβre all going to hell, Little Viper.β His words grew muffled as sleep reached up from the depths to claim you, and something in his eyes softened as he watched your entire face smooth over and the muscles in your body slowly begin to relax. βJust not tonight.β
synopsis: jon and sam swear their vows to the night's watch, but discover something deadly in the process. lord commander mormont rewards jon with a hefty prize for a feat of impressive bravery.
warnings: oc, castle black (needs its own warning), dead bodies, vague descriptions of injuries, white walkers/wights
word count: 1.9k
story masterlist
main masterlist
castle black, the wall
β NYMERIA'S BOOTS CRUNCHED THROUGH THE SNOW AND ICE IN THE TUNNEL. She was part of the small group trekking North to the Weirwood tree for Jon and Sam's vows.
"It's only right," her grandfather had said. "You know the area, and you took your vows at that very same tree."
So here she was.
Ghost barreled ahead of them as the gate opened, galloping out into the frozen wilderness with a few scattered barks. Nymeria never ceased to enjoy the looks on the faces of new recruits when they stepped beyond the Wall for the first time.
It didn't take them long to reach the Weirwood, sitting in a small clearing just beyond the first treeline. Jon and Sam passed their torches off to kneel before the pale bark face and speak their vows.
"Hear my words, and bear witness to my vow. Night gathers, and now my watch begins. It shall not end until my death. I shall take no wife, hold no lands, father no children, I shall wear no crowns and win no glory. I shall live and die at my post. I am the sword in the darkness. I am the watcher on the walls. I am the shield that guards the realms of men. I pledge my life and honour to the Night's Watch, for this night and all nights to come."
"You knelt as boys," one of the men said gruffly, but proudly. "Rise now as men of the Night's Watch."
Jon rose to his feet, lending a hand to Sam before the two of them grinned, pulling into an embrace. A few chuckles arose as hands were shaken.
Nymeria's smile was the first to drop when she noticed Ghost. "Jon."
He turned, frowning at the concern in her voice. Then he saw the frozen arm in his direwolf's mouth.
"What's he got there?" Sam frowned.
Jon knelt, holding out one hand to the animal. "To me, Ghost. Bring it here."
Just as he was instructed, Ghost laid it on the ground before him.
"Gods be good!"
Nymeria's amused demeanour, the relaxed way she moved within the walls of Castle Black, were gone. They could all see the ranger now as her sharp eyes scanned the treeline for any sign of danger, her right hand lifting to grasp the hilt of one of her daggers warily. Nothing moved.
"Jon, can he lead us back to the body?"
"Should be able to."
She nodded slowly. "Dallin, Crod, go back to the wall. Inform the Lord Commander."
The two of them turned and left, leaving the others to follow Ghost.
The direwolf led them through the trees for about five minutes. Nymeria kept her eyes warily on the thick trees around them all the way. Then they stumbled across the bodies. Black cloaks; they had been rangers of the Night's Watch. Probably part of the group Benjen had taken far North. So what were they doing there?
Their eyes were wide open, their flesh white, blue, black and stiff from frostbite. Hoofprints led away into the trees, but the tracks were frozen over. Wherever the horses had run off to, it was a while ago. They weren't nearby anymore. A small wood sled sat nearby, the supplies it had carried either gone or frozen.
"Get them onto it," Nymeria ordered. "We're taking them back with us."
They moved the bodies to the sled, using a length of rope from their supplies to tie them down before beginning the walk back. They were slowed by the extra weight, but it still didn't take them long to walk back through the gate and the tunnel and into the courtyard where Lord Commander Mormont and some others stood waiting.
He observed one of the faces closely. "It's Othor, without a doubt."
"The other one is Jafer Flowers my lord," one of the men piped up. "Less the hand the wolf tore off."
"Any sign of Benjen and the rest of his party?"
Nymeria shook her head. "Just these two. And some old horse prints, but they're long gone by now. Or dead, more likely."
Jon nodded. "These two have been dead awhile, I'd say."
The Lord Commander huffed in agreement, meanwhile, Sam bent forward, sniffing lightly.
He pulled back with a frown. "The smell."
Another leaned forward to sniff, but only shot Sam a confused look. "What smell?"
"Well... there is none. If they'd been dead for a long time, wouldn't there be rot?"
Nymeria inhaled slightly, remembering the rambling wildling.
Burn me when you're done, he'd pleaded. I don't want to come back.
"We should burn them."
"Lady Mormont's not wrong, My Lord. Fire will do for them. The wildling way."
The Lord Commander remained impassive, despite his furrowed brows. "I want Maester Aemon to examine them first," he said. "You may be a coward, Tarly, but you're not stupid."
Sam looked pleased at that.
"Get them inside."
A few men grabbed the ropes of the sled when someone above called down. "Lord Commander. Maester Aemon awaits you in his chambers. A raven from King's Landing."
He sighed, then glanced at Nymeria. "Come on."
When she was younger, she'd asked about the ravens every time they came from King's Landing, Winterfell or Bear Island.
He knew she'd never admit that she wanted to know if there was any word about her father, or the slaver ship he'd left the country on. Of course, she knew it was a few years too late to hear anything about the ship, but that's not why she cared about the ravens anyway, right?
Regardless, the Lord Commander had begun allowing her to sit in to read those letters when they came. Saved them both the trouble.
A tiny scowl was all that was visible on Nymeria's face as she stood before the crackling flames, though the wheels were turning at a frightening rate behind the stoic expression.
Her grandfather, along with Jon Snow, had been attacked the previous night by one of the bodies from beyond the wall. No one wanted to believe it was wights, but there wasn't much other explanation.
Now, in the middle of the courtyard, they burned.
"They were touched by white walkers," Sam finally said, voicing her thoughts. "That's why they came back. That's why their eyes turned blue. Only fire will stop them."
"How do you know that?" Jon asked.
"The Children Beyond the Wall," Nymeria cited, her voice low, her eyes never leaving the burning bodies.
Sam nodded. "It's a very old book in Maester Aemon's library."
"... what else did the book say?"
"The White Walkers... sleep beneath the ice for thousands of years. And when they wake up..." he trailed off nervously.
"And when they wake up... what?" Pyp prompted, breaking the tense silence.
Nymeria looked up from the fire for the first time. "When they wake up, you pray to every god any man has ever thought up that that Wall is high enough to stop them."
Suffice to say that no one felt safe in their beds that night. And the next morning, Castle Black's new hero was summoned to the Lord Commander's quarters. He didn't have to wait long before the door swung open and Lord Commander Mormont strode in, a purposeful air about him.
He nodded at the bandage wrapped around Jon's hand where he'd burned himself on the lantern that killed the walker the previous night. "When does Aemon think you'll be able to use that hand?"
"Soon, he says," Jon replied, turning to face Lord Mormont as he rounded the opposite side of his desk.
"Good."
From where it leaned against the wall next to the burning hearth, he retrieved a sheathed sword, long and balanced, with a pommel that looked almost to be made of some kind of bone carved into the shape of a snarling animal.
"You'll be ready for this, then." He nodded at the hilt. "I thought a wolf was more appropriate for you than a bear, so I had a new pommel made. It's called Longclaw. Works as well for a wolf as a bear, I think."
He handed it over, and Jon's eyes widened slightly when he pulled it slightly from its sheath. It was beautiful. "This is Valyrian Steel."
The Lord Commander nodded. "Most of the little of it that House Mormont possesses. It was my father's sword... his father's before him. The Mormonts have carried it for five centuries. It was meant for my son... Nymeria's father, Jorah..." he shook his head. "He brought dishonour to our house, but he had the grace to leave the sword before he fled from Westeros."
"My lord, you honour me, but I can't- what of Nymeria? Should such a gift not pass to her?"
"Oh you can, and you will," Jeor told him. "I've spoken to Nymeria on this matter. The sword was her father's, and suffice to say her father is something of a bitter memory to her. I wouldn't be standing here if it wasn't for you and your beast. She agrees that the sword is yours." He paused in his actions, his eyes looking Jon over almost suspiciously. "You two seem to have grown close."
In another life, he might have rejoiced at that; he quite liked Jon, an honourable young man, one his granddaughter was fond of. Not in this life. In this life, if her truest love lay anywhere else but in the wild and in the wilderness of her own soul, she would find only disappointment and pain.
He pulled himself from his thoughts, clearing his throat. "Attacked by a bloody dead man..." he shook his head. "So, you'll take the sword, and I'll hear no more about it. Is that understood?"
"Yes, my lord," Jon squashed the small smile of pride he could feel threatening his face.
"Right, now don't think this means I approve of this nonsense with you and Alliser Thorne," he said, referring to Jon's attempt at attacking the ranger after being baited by Thorne's insults against Ned Stark. "That's a man's sword; it'll take a man to wield it."
"I'll apologise to Ser Alliser tonight."
"No, you won't. I sent him to King's Landing yesterday. That hand that your wolf tore off that thing's wrist, I've ordered Thorne to lay it at the feet of this... boy king. That should get young Joffrey's attention," he chuckled. "And it puts a thousand leagues between you and Thorne."
Jon couldn't help the small twitch of his lip at that.
"Now go and put your sword somewhere safe and bring me my supper."
He nodded. "Yes, my lord."
All the way down to the Hall he received little congratulations and pats on the back, and when he arrived, the others crowded around him, all vying to get a look. He passed it off, letting them have their way with it for a little while, then spotted Nymeria off in one corner with another man drinking, that little smirk on her face.
She offered a nod as he approached. "Well done then, my lord."
He glanced over at where the others were checking out the sword excitedly, then back at her. "I hear I have you to thank for this."
She shook her head. "No you don't, Snow. You earned it."Β
He smiled, and a delighted little twinkle flashed through her eyes.
synopsis: jon solidifies his place in the watch and with his friends by threatening a certified jackass. nymeria takes significant enjoyment from poking ser alliser's last nerve.
warnings: oc, castle black (needs its own warning), sparring, bullying, alliser being an ass
word count: 1.4k
story masterlist
main masterlist
castle black, the wall
β NYMERIA NIBBLED ON HER BREAD WHILE PALE MORNING LIGHT STREAMED INTO THE HALL. The others across from her bantered back and forth over their theories about wildlings and thenns.
"Reckon you'd need something real nice and sharp to kill a Thenn."
"They don't have any armour," Grenn replied with a scrunched nose.
"Don't matter. Bet those scars are a real somethin to get through."
Nymeria chuckled, shaking her head. "Thenns are no different from the rest. They eat human flesh, but other than that, they're still just people."
Grenn smirked, and Pyp rolled his eyes. Just then, the door opened, and Jon walked in, taking a seat next to Nymeria.
"Where have you been?" Grenn asked.
"Watch duty. With Sam."
"Ah, Prince Porkchop," Pyp joked, earning a look from Nymeria that he didn't see. "Where is he?"
"He wasn't hungry."
"Impossible," he laughed.
Nymeria opened her mouth to speak, but Jon beat her to it. "That's enough."
The other two dropped instantly to silence.
"Sam's no different from the rest of us. There was no place for him in the world, so he's come here. We're not going to hurt him in the training yard anymore. Never again, no matter what Thorne says. He's our brother now and we're going to protect him."
Nymeria smiled a little. He was becoming something of a leader amongst the recruits, and he was doing well at it.
"You are in love, Lord Snow."
Her smile dropped to an expression of irritation as she turned her head to see Rast leering at them.
"You girls can do as you please. But if Thorne puts me up against Lady Piggy, I'm gonna slice me off a side of bacon."
It was late, and the chill of the night was sharp as Jon and a few others, along with Ghost, made their way to the right door from which snores were emerging.
They didn't see the figure waiting for them until he reached for the doorknob, until she stepped from the shadows as though she had simply melted from them.
She looked them over for a long moment before her unreadable face betrayed a touch of amusement. "Don't kill anyone."
Jon blinked in surprise. "You're not going to tell the Lord Commander?"
She offered a tiny, confused smirk. "I don't know what you're talking about, Lord Snow. As long as all recruits are still alive come morning, I was never here."
She gestured at the door, and Jon's lips twitched while he hesitated for half a second before entering. From outside, Nymeria listened to the short exchange with a small smirk before striding silently off towards her own room.
The next morning, she stood off to one side in the training yard, observing as Rast was put against Sam in the middle. Rast stood like a board, nervous eyes darting over to Jon now and again, Jon somehow keeping a straight face the entire time. Sam shuffled, holding his sword in a clumsy manner, clearly confused as to why Rast hadn't attacked yet.
Thorne shot them an irritated look. "What are you waiting for?"
Taking a chance, Sam shoved his blade out towards Rast, who smacked it to the ground with his own, but made no other move against him. After a second, Sam retrieved his sword.
Alliser's face hardened. "Attack him!"
Rast glared at Jon. Still, he only shuffled forward a step and smacked Sam's arm lightly with the flat of his sword.
Nymeria fought down her amusement as Thorne pulled Rast from the ring by his shirt, jabbing a finger at Grenn instead. "You get in there."
"Hit me," Grenn whispered.
Sam looked back at Nymeria and Jon in confusion, but Jon only offered a nod. Nymeria could see him biting back a smile now.
"Go on, hit me."
Sam reached out and struck Grenn's shoulder lightly β wonderful Grenn, who responded immediately by throwing himself dramatically to the ground with a yell.
"I yield!"
Nymeria bit down on her tongue as Jon snickered quietly.
"Yield, yield!"
The second she saw Alliser storming towards Jon though, her expression turned stone cold, and she stepped right into his path, holding his gaze harshly. It wasn't entirely Jon's fault, but she knew Alliser, being unable to lay a hand on her without consequence, would take it out on him in full without hesitation.
Thorne practically shook as he glared past her at Jon. "You think this is funny, do you?" His face contorted furiously as he looked down at Nymeria, apparently deciding against simply shoving her out of his way before he rounded to face the others. "When you're out there beyond the Wall with the sun going down, do you want a man at your back? Or a snivelling boy?"
He stormed off, and Nymeria rolled her eyes. Jon was easily the most talented and capable recruit the Night's Watch had seen in years. Thorne was an idiot for thinking otherwise, and an even bigger idiot for attempting to convince the rest otherwise.
"Back to work!" She called out, sending the others from their frozen positions back to their training.
Nymeria was with her grandfather, discussing the recruits when they heard the horn blast once. Rangers returning. Benjen's lot, perhaps. She hoped so. She wanted to hear what they'd seen after her encounter in the abandoned wildling village.
They emerged into the courtyard just as one of the stewards rushed in, clearly terrified as he led a single, panicking, riderless horse in by the reins.
Nymeria approached quickly, snagging the reins from the boy before he could get trampled. The horse gave a shrill whinny of protest and fear, and she tugged his face down closer, in turn preventing him from rearing and stamping quite so much.
"Shh," she breathed gently, straining to pull the reins into one hand so she could stroke down the animal's neck and cheek with the other. "Shhh, it's alright, love," she murmured.
"That's my uncle Benjen's horse!" A tinge of fear could be heard in Jon's voice as he hurried over.
Nymeria spared him a glance before returning her full attention to the horse. Keeping her hand atop its nose, she pulled its face down, ceasing the panicky jerking and forcing its racing heart to steady. "Shhh, calm now. You're alright."
"Where's my uncle?"
Nymeria knew for a fact that Jon would not be pleased about where he was placed as a sworn brother of the Night's Watch. Alliser, the little shit that he was, wanted Jon assigned to the stewards. She thought that was ridiculous; he was the best fighter, the best rider, the most capable survivor of their new brothers. He was made to be a ranger. Yet the Lord Commander seemed to feel differently.
"Very well then," he'd agreed. "He'll be my personal steward."
And in an instant, Nymeria knew what he was doing. Jon would make an excellent ranger, yes, but he'd make an even better leader. She'd witnessed it in the brief time she'd known him, many times over. He'd be better than someone like Thorne, that was for certain.
There was once a time when Nymeria had dreamt of leading the Night's Watch. She'd be not only the first woman in the Watch, but also the first female Commander. Wouldn't that be something?
But it was only a dream, she knew. The men of the Night's Watch had a hard enough time accepting her as one of them. More than once, earlier on, they'd attempted to frighten her away or simply dispose of her altogether. She knew there was no chance in any of the seven hells they'd follow under her command. They were too stupid and too proud.
This all went through her mind as she sat drinking in the kitchen with Edd, a few other stewards moving through the small space.
"How you stay alive out there is beyond me," he said with some amusement.
She blinked, then laughed. "Should I be offended?"
He shrugged. "You disappear into that head of yours and I don't know where you go. Guessin' it doesn't much matter when the wildlings and the wolves come knocking."
She sighed with a little half-smirk. "Well, I'm not in my head when I'm out there. At least give me that much credit."
"I hate going beyond the Wall."
She scrunched her nose. "You've hardly been. It's not all bad."
"Yeah Nym, I'm sure the wolves are very pretty right before they tear your throat out."
She giggled, raising her mug and he did the same. "Aye, that they are."
synopsis: nymeria meets samwell tarly, a new and misliked recruit. jon and nymeria are taunted by ser alliser, ending in a potential lesson for one of them.
warnings: oc, castle black (needs its own warning), sparring, bullying
word count: 1.4k
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castle black, the wall
β JON WAS IN THE TRAINING GROUNDS WHEN THE HORN ATOP THE WALL BLEW ONCE.
"Riders returning!" A few of the men shouted.
They heard the clopping of hooves before they saw the riders, and then they trotted in, the horses looking a little skittish, but not off too bad considering where they'd been the past two weeks.
Nymeria looked like a vengeful spirit of the North atop her large stallion. Her face was smudged here and there with dirt, there was a bruise on her jawbone on the left, and there were strands of hair falling from a braid into her face. Her expression, though, was both sharp and proud at once, and for good reason.
Her horse was carrying the extra weight of a wildling on its back, his arms tied down against his sides, hands clutching at the saddle for dear life.
She slid from the saddle and helped her prisoner half-jump, half-fall to the ground as Lord Commander Mormont emerged into the courtyard. With a beckoning nod, Nymeria passed the wildling off to some of the other men.
"Take him to a cell. Bring him some water."
They obeyed without question, and Nymeria caught Jon's staring eyes and flashed him a small smirk before turning to speak with the Lord Commander.
"You're a day late."
She nodded. "I am. Wasn't expecting the extra weight on the ride back, or the delay he gave us before we subdued him."
"Should I be sending anyone to Maester Aemon?"
She shook her head, gesturing at the bruise on her face and a shallow cut on her left arm. "This is the worst of it."
Mormont nodded. "Come on. We'll get you four some food and water, and you can give me your report."Β
He turned, and the four rangers followed him into the Main Hall.
Nymeria sat in her bath, scrubbing the flakes of dried blood from her arm. She pressed her fingers gently to the flesh around the cut on her bicep. She'd have a brand new scar soon enough. She cupped water in her left hand and poured it gently over the red mark. The water had been hot at first, but had now turned lukewarm with time and the Northern cold.
She sat there in the silence for another long moment before hauling herself up, trailing water behind her as she made her way to where her towel and clothes lay on her bed. The sky was dark and star-filled when she finally crawled under the fur blanket and closed her eyes.
In her mind, she could still hear the wildling yelling senselessly about the white walkers, and about Mance Rayder. She wondered how much of it was true, how much if it could be true.
She fell asleep quickly that night, as she always did after returning from beyond the wall, and blissfully dreamless darkness was there to envelop her.
Three days came and passed as they always did at Castle Black, allowing Nymeria to return to the comfort of routine, and she found herself back in the courtyard again when Ser Alliser brought in their newest recruit.
She paused mid-spar as they approached, not really wanting to smack Grenn's face and break his nose again when he blinked and froze.
"What in seven hells is that?" he demanded.
"They'll need an eighth hell to fit him in," Pyp snickered, eliciting laughter from the others too.
It was true that the young man was notably heavier than the rest of them, but Nymeria doubted he would remain that way, between the terrible food and harsh circumstances at the Wall. This place either toughened them up fast, or killed them off faster.
"Tell them your name," Ser Alliser instructed gruffly.
"Samwell Tarly," he said. "Of Horn Hill.. I mean I was of Horn Hill, but... I've come to take the black."
"Come to take the black pudding," Rast piped up, bringing another round of laughter.
Nymeria blew harshly through her teeth, making a sharp hissing noise like you would with a misbehaving cat, shutting them up instantly.
"Well, you couldn't be any worse than you look," Alliser grumbled. "Rast, see what he can do."
Rast stuck him with the blunt sword once, twice and Samwell fell to the ground whimpering.
"I yield! Please, no more!"
"On your feet. Pick up your sword."
Samwell shifted nervously.
"Hit him till he finds his feet."
Rast beat him with the sword, again and again as he cried out.
"Seems they've run short of poachers and theives down south. Now they're sending us squealing bloody pigs! Again, harder!"
This time when Rast's sword came down, it was met with another, ringing out for half a second before Nymeria twisted her blade and flicked it, disarming Rast with ease in one fluid movement.
"He yielded," Jon snapped before hauling Samwell up and pulling him away.
"Looks like the bastard and the bear are in love," Alliser smirked. "Alright then, if you wish to defend your lady love, let's make it an exercise. You two," he beckoned Grenn and Pyp over. "Three of you ought to be enough to make Lady Piggy squeal. All you've got to do is get past the bastard and Lady Mormont there."
"You sure you want to do this?" Jon asked them, readying his sword.
"No," Grenn replied honestly.
Rast charged first, crossing blades with Jon and receiving a knee to the gut and the ground on his face.
Nymeria lowered her blade when Pyp came towards her, turning as she stepped in close and hooked her foot around his ankle, letting his momentum do the rest.
Jon's blade met Grenn's, and then his foot to his chest, sending him stumbling back. Rast was back on his feet again, blade swinging, but Nymeria blocked the blow before it hit Jon's back, parried his sword away and jabbed the tip of her own into his chest armour, leaving him back on his ass, gasping for the breath that had been knocked out of him.
Grenn rose back to his feet, immediately backing away when Jon stepped towards him again.
"Yield, yield! I yield."
"We're done for the day," Alliser spoke, clearly displeased. He glared at Jon. "Go clean the armory. That's all you're good for." He stalked away, leaving them there.
Pyp got to his feet and grinned down at Grenn who had gone down to one knee to take a breath. "Well fought."
"Piss off," he huffed back.
"Did he hurt you?" Samwell asked in a small voice.
Nymeria shrugged. "Nah."
"You can call me Sam... if you want." His eyes darted between her and Jon. "My mother calls me Sam-"
"It's not going to get any easier, you know?" Jon cut in a bit harshly. "You're gonna have to defend yourself."
"Why didn't you get up and fight?" Grenn frowned.
"I wanted to," Sam protested. "I just couldn't."
"Why not??"
"... I'm a coward. My father always says so."
"The Wall's no place for a coward," Jon said.
"You're right, I'm sorry," he replied defensively. "I just... wanted to thank you."
Nymeria offered a small nod before the boy grabbed his sword from the ground and headed off.
"A bloody coward," Grenn grumbled. "People saw us talking to him! Now they'll think we're cowards too!"
"You're too stupid to be a coward," Pyp offered.
"You're to stupid to be a..."
"Quick now!" He grinned. "Before summer's over!"
Grenn charged him, tripping when Pyp sidestepped and ran off the other way, laughing.
"Come here!" He yelled, chasing after with his sword still swinging.
Nymeria chuckled as she watched them go, then glanced over at Jon's stoic frown.
She rolled her eyes, hitting his arm lightly. "Lighten up, Snow."
"We're at the bloody Wall," he retorted. "What's there to make light of?"She sighed. "Out there," she pointed to the tunnel leading beyond the wall. "Is the place to be hard sons of bitches. We can either be miserable here too and spend the rest of our days wanting to hurl ourselves from the top of that bloody Wall, or we can make it a little more bearable while we're here." She shrugged, starting backwards away from him. "You could at least think about smiling."
synopsis: nymeria leads a ranging party north of the wall with one of her oldest friends and faces a close call.
warnings: oc, castle black (needs its own warning), brief mentions of wildling attacks
word count: 1.7k
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castle black, the wall
β BY THE TIME THE SUN ROSE, NYMERIA WAS ALREADY STEPPING OUT OF HER DOOR. Snow dusted the walkway that creaked slightly beneath her boot as she made her way towards the courtyard where two stewards were readying the horses. Three other rangers got there just before she did, adding their last-minute supplies to their saddlebags.
Nymeria's hand went unconsciously to her belt, checking for her blades. They crossed over her lower back, the handles sticking out just above her hips. Two vicious-looking daggers with fifteen-inch blades. The last of House Mormont's Valyrian Steel. Her bow and quiver were already on her saddle as she approached, taking the reins from the steward with a nod of thanks.
Koda was a beautiful horse; a big, chocolate-coloured clydesdale stallion with splashes of white. They were strong horses, and ten times faster when carrying something as light as her.
As the others mounted, she glanced around and spotted her grandfather approaching. He looked tired, but he saw her off every time all the same.
He looked between the other rangers, then back at her. "Two weeks. No longer. Benjen's gone further North, but I need to know what's happening in those villages closer to us."
She nodded. "Two weeks."
He pulled her into a hug, and when she pulled back, she flashed a grin, then hoisted herself up into the saddle and took the reins.
She looked over her expedition party. "You all know how this goes. We come out the other side, we're not on our turf anymore. Those are wildling lands. So we stick close, we watch each other's backs and you never, under any circumstances, disobey my orders."
They all nodded in turn.
"Let's go."
The horses clopped heavily down the tunnel to the gate, which slowly lifted to allow them through.
The sun was rising faster now, burning away the thin fog that had gathered at the base of the wall. They kept an easy pace through the woods as they didn't want to tire the horses so soon, making their way in the general direction of the closest wildling village. The last thing Nymeria wanted was to ride into it upfront.
They continued on through the day, stopping whenever they found tracks. Could be wildlings, could be animals. Either way, you could never be too careful. When the sun was beginning to set, that's when they found the tracks that definitely belonged to men - wildlings, by the look of the boot-prints. They were moving Northeast.
Nymeria frowned slightly. These tracks were coming from the direction of the wildling village. There had been reports already of abandoned villages and encampments, and the reckless part of her wanted to barrel forwards right now. If the village was empty, she wanted to know. Maybe they could use it for shelter instead of risking things out here. The rational part of her shut the idea down fast.
She nodded at a cluster of hills just a little ways off. "We'll make camp over there tonight and move in on the wildling village in the morning."Β
If there were still wildlings there, then they were at a disadvantage in the dark. Their scouts saw far better in the day or the night than anyone on the Wall could. They had to if they were going to survive out here.
They stopped by the hills, picking the best position to hide them from prying eyes and shield them from the wind. They weren't particularly tall hills, but it would do as long as they weren't standing or moving around too much. They could also dig out a hole in the side of one of those hills for their fire to conceal the light and the smoke a little better.
"Lucas, dig there for our fire," she instructed. "Zak, firewood. Blackjack, grab your sword. Do a quick scout south and west of our position. I'll take North and east."
She took her quiver from the saddle, slinging it over her shoulder, then grabbed her bow and headed North. She didn't go too far, not wanting to lose sight of their camp entirely. It was completely dark by the time she'd finished in that direction and went to check the east, and when she was done there, she could just barely see the glow of the campfire the others must have started. She followed it back.
She slid her bow and quiver back to where they belonged on her saddle and grabbed her water for a quick sip. Blackjack reappeared, grabbing his water too.
"Nothing?"
He shook his head. "No animals, no wildlings. I didn't find any tracks either, but it's hard to tell with the snow." He nodded up at the white flakes still falling from above.
She nodded. "We're safe for now then."
They could all hear the unspoken words, though. Keep your guard up out here.
She stepped towards the fire blazing in a nook in the frozen hill and unpinned her black cloak, laying it on the ground just as Lucas and Zak had done. The cloaks they wore out here were heavier than the ones they wore within the walls of Castle Black, and were often used as bedding when rangers didn't want to carry the extra weight of actual bedding on them. She sat on the cloak and took out one of her daggers, fiddling with it boredly as it gleamed in the firelight. Blackjack settled in too, and after a little while of quiet, the boredom seemed too much for them.
"Nymeria," Lucas piped up. "Why don't you tell us the story about the bear?"
She chuckled softly. "I've told that story a thousand times, you ought to know it by heart already."
"Yeah, but no one tells the story of how you beat a snow bear better than you," Zak pointed out.
"I didn't beat it, I just..."
They all turned to her, faces expectant.
She huffed a small laugh of irony. "Alright. It was my second time North of the Wall, though, my third if you count when I left to say my vows before the Weirwood. We weren't expecting any predators larger than a wildling, but I grew up on bear island where, shockingly enough, you see a lot of bears. I was practically shaking. I knew how to scare off a brown bear, but how could I know it would work on a snow bear too? We couldn't outrun it, so as fast as I could, I made my own plan..."
At the crack of dawn, the rangers smothered the fire and filled in the hillside with snow and ice and dirt to cover their tracks at least a little bit. Then they swung back into their saddles and started in the direction of the wildling village. The snow had stopped sometime in the night, leaving their hair and cloaks and saddles only lightly dusted while they munched on some jerky for breakfast.
Nymeria had taken the first watch after her story, and pondered just how different this place was from Bear Island. The Night's Watch was her home now, but she'd always wondered what it would be like to go back.
They stopped before midday, too far back in the trees to actually see the village, but they didn't want to go gallivanting in, announcing themselves. Not if there were still wildlings there. Nymeria never enjoyed killing them, never enjoyed killing at all. They would observe, and that was all, only engaging if it became necessary. They slid from their saddles, gazing off in the direction of the settlement.
"I'll go scout it," Nymeria said. "I'll shoot an arrow into that tree there," she nodded at one to their right with reddish bark. "If it's safe to approach. I'll whistle if it's safe to bring the horses."
Once they nodded, she started off, creeping carefully through the snow and thanking her practically non-existent luck that it was soft and didn't crunch under her boots. She crouched down lower as she neared where the trees thinned to make room for huts and tents, hiding herself behind the dry shrubbery and thick trees.
The closer she got, though, the more sure she was that her theory was right. It was too quiet; no fires burning, no dogs barking, no conversation or even footsteps. Then she got her first look at the place. Nothing moved except for the heavy fabric that was buffeted by the wind, and that wind was the only thing besides the birds that made any sound.
She watched for any sign that it was a trick or a trap, but no; it was just deserted. Tugging off a glove, she slipped two fingers in her mouth and let out a sharp, piercing whistle. Only a moment later, she heard the trotting of horses approaching.
"There's no one here," she told them when they came to a stop. She pulled herself back up into the saddle. "We'll ride through on our way further North. Maybe there's some sign of what drove them off."
"You know what they've been saying," Blackjack spoke up. "White walkers."
She sighed. With all she'd seen beyond the wall, she knew that it wasn't impossible for the white walkers to be more than just a scary bedtime story, but she wasn't about to be taken for a fool either. "I'll believe it's the walkers when I see them."
They rode through the village undisturbed, and continued on until nightfall. They camped out again; scouting, eating, drinking, sleeping. Then continued at dawn once more. This went on for another day and a half before they came to the next village. Deserted.
What in the seven hells is going on?
Three days later, they came to the next one. Deserted... or so it would have seemed.Nymeria was walking through with the other rangers, frowning deeply with thought as she led her horse by the reins. She was too busy thinking about what could have driven all the wildlings away to realise they weren't all gone until she heard the rushed footsteps far too close by.
synopsis: unlikely friendship begins to take root between the outcast sister of the night's watch and the dwarf of casterly rock. jon is uncertain what to make of nymeria's mischievous yet amicable nature.
warnings: oc, castle black (needs its own warning), dudes being dudes, nymeria being one of the dudes, sparring
word count: 1.4k
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castle black, the wall
β "BEAR'S BALLS."
It had taken only a week for Tyrion to befriend both Yoren and Nymeria. This far North, people were so often bleak, and she enjoyed the company of someone who could keep pace with her wit, and was willing to have a laugh. So here she sat, in the midst of this conversation about the strangest thing they'd eaten.
"You're joking," Tyrion chuckled in disbelief.
Yoren nodded. "And his brains, and his guts, his lungs and his heart, all fried in his own fat. When you're a hundred miles North of the wall and you ate your last meal a week ago, you leave nothing for the wolves."
"And how do a bear's balls taste?"
"Bit chewy."Β
They both laughed whilst Nymeria rolled her eyes in amusement taking a sip of her ale as she sat up on the table beside Yoren. Horrible stuff they had up here, according to visitors, but she supposed it was an acquired taste.
"And what about you, milord? What's the strangest thing you've eaten?"
He scrunched his face for a moment, as though thinking deeply. "Do Dornish girls count?" He glanced at Nymeria as they laughed and raised an apologetic hand. "Apologies, my lady. I meant no offence."
She smirked. "I took none. I'd kill for a Dornish girl about now."
He gave a surprised chuckle, but made no further comment. "So... you roam the Seven Kingdoms looking for pickpockets and horse thieves and bringing them here as eager recruits?"
"Aye. But it's not all of em's done bad things. Some of them's just poor lads looking for steady feed. Some of them's highborn lads looking for glory."
"They have a better chance finding feed than glory," Tyrion remarked as the door opened and Benjen walked in.
"The Night's Watch is a joke to you, is it?" Benjen spoke up, clearly displeased as he approached to stand over them. "Is that what we are? An army of jesters in black?"
"You don't have enough men to be an army, and aside from Yoren and Nymeria here, none of you are particularly funny."
Benjen sat across from him while Nymeria took another sip of her drink, just watching. "I hope we've provided you with some good stories to tell when you're back in King's Landing. But something to think about when you're drinking your wine down there, enjoying your brothels; half the boys you've seen training will die north of the Wall. Might be a wildling's axe that gets them, might be sickness. Might just be the cold. They die in pain. And they do it so plump little lords like you can enjoy their summer afternoons in peace and comfort."
Tyrion glanced at Yoren. "Do you think I'm plump?"
Nymeria raised her brows, holding back a sigh. Oh boy.
"Listen, Benjen- may I call you Benjen?"
"Call me what you like."
"I don't know what I've done to offend you. I have great admiration for the Night's Watch. I have great admiration for you as First Ranger."
Benjen chuckled. "You know my brother once told me that nothing anyone says before the word 'but' really counts."
Tyrion's mouth twitched with the beginnings of a smirk. "But... I don't believe that giants and ghouls and white walkers are lurking beyond the Wall. I believe that the only difference between us and the wildlings is that when that wall went up, our ancestors happened to live on the right side of it."
"You're right," the ranger acknowledged. "The wildlings are no different from us. A little rougher, maybe. But they're made of meat and bone. I know how to track them and I know how to kill them. It's not the wildlings giving me sleepless nights. You've never been north of the Wall, so don't tell me what's out there." After a moment, he stood.
"You going below?" Yoren asked.
Benjen nodded.
"Keep well, keep warm."
"Enjoy the capital, brother."
"Oh, I always do."
Nymeria raised her mug with a little smile. "See you out there."
"I think he's starting to like me," Tyrion said once Benjen had gone, eliciting laughter from the other two. "'Going below'?"
"Aye," Yoren said. "Into the tunnel, and out the other side. He'll be north of the Wall for a month or two."
He nodded, looking over at Nymeria. "You're a ranger, then?"
She nodded. "Mhm. Best shot, one of the best swordsmen and," she shrugged. "I'm not as damn heavy as this lot, so, fastest rider."
"Ah," he nodded. "And how did you come to join the watch, Lady Mormont?"
"Well, after my father left I was something of a family disgrace, between his crimes and my mother's Dornish blood. Jeor seemed to think I was tough enough to survive the watch, so he took me in."
"I suppose he was right."
She ginned. "Guess he was."
"So, you're heading down to King's Landing too?" He asked Yoren.
"Aye. Day after tomorrow."
Nymeria stood, giving him a clap on the back. "Well, have fun." She offered the dwarf a nod. "Lord Tyrion."
Leaving them to it, she stepped back out into the brisk chill of the courtyard. She was about halfway to the steps on the other side when she heard the barking, and a white shape hurtled across the grounds. She gave a sharp whistle, and the wolf stopped suddenly, turning to trot towards her as he panted. She crouched with a smile, reaching out to scratch the fur around his neck.
"Hey you. What are you doing out here by yourself?"
"Ghost!"
The direwolf turned towards the sound of the voice with a small whine while Nymeria continued to pet him. His tail began to wag even faster when Jon came around the corner. He stopped short when he saw who he was with, before continuing.
"I'm sorry, my lady, he wasn't supposed to get out. He's meant to be in my quarters."
She stood with a little smile. "I know that." Her elbow bumped his arm lightly as she passed. "Lighten up, Snow. I rather like your wolf."
Ghost moved forward again to rub his head against her leg, and she chuckled, scratching behind his ears.
"Go on," she told him. "So this one will stop looking so anxious." She nodded at Jon with amusement. "It's driving me mad."
Apparently, it hadn't taken long for the message to sink in. The next day, when Nymeria was watching over the training yard, she noted the difference in Jon Snow's attitude, and in his methods too. Rather than just beating the living hell out of the other recruits, he was refraining from dealing any real blows, and instead teaching them.
They seemed to pause when she made her way down the short steps, selecting a training sword from the rack.
She raised a brow. "You're rather good with a blade, Jon Snow. Shall we give them a proper demonstration?"
He nodded, readying his own sword as she turned fully towards him. She circled slowly, the tip of her sword digging a thin rut in the snow and dirt as she went, watching her opponent carefully; how he moved, the way his muscles tensed and relaxed, the way he shifted his weight... she struck, and he blocked. Some more pacing. She struck again, twice now, and he blocked both, even parrying the second one. She evaded the blow easily and kept pacing.
Finally he lunged at her, and the real fight began. Their feet moved across the ground with perfect form. Their swords moved so fast they were almost blurs. Everyone gave them a wide berth as they moved, drawing more and more attention as they made their way through the yard.
Then Jon made a swing a little too wide. Nymeria ducked and rolled past his feet, coming up on one knee behind him and pressing the tip of her dull sword to his side, right where she knew it would bleed the most. Jon huffed a sigh of mixed resignation and surprise, and she got to her feet with a little chuckle.
"Well done," she breathed. "It's been a while since I've actually had a challenge."
He nodded with a proud little grin. "Thank you, my lady."
"Please," she snorted. "Nymeria."
He hesitated only a second before nodding again. "Nymeria."
synopsis: jon snow travels to the wall for the first time with tyrion lannister. they both discover that the mysterious huntress is more than just a myth.
warnings: oc, castle black (needs its own warning), dudes being dudes, name-calling & cursing
word count: 1.9k
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castle black, the wall
β 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 β which, to be fair, wasn't really any colder than the Hall β 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 β not after three years β 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 β she thought his name was Rast β 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 β Grenn, he thought β 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.
synopsis: before the beginning of jon snow's journey, the life and future of a young girl is ripped harshly from her hands, leaving her stumbling in the darkness
warnings: oc, daddy issues, mommy issues, breaking of canon rules, show!got, castle black (needs its own warning tbh), slightly cheesy writing just because that's how prologues work (I promise it's not always like this; we have fun here), I think that's it
word count: 727
story masterlist
main masterlist
bear island, the north
β PERHAPS THERE SHOULD BE SOMEONE OUT THERE TO TELL THEM THE TRUTH. Perhaps little girls should have a little guardian angel whispering in their ear; don't get your hopes up. Not too high. For hope is the quickest path to heartbreak.
When Nymeria Mormont was born, her father was the first person to hold her. The first person to look into those big brown eyes she got from her mother, and her grandmother before her, and to fall in love with their sparkle. When she was five years old, he gifted her the horse she wanted. When she was seven years old, he let her have a bow.
When she was eleven years old, there were no gifts. No open arms. No apologies. No nothing. Only the sound of a little girl crying as she watched the ship that carried her father and mother far, far away.
Jorah Mormont was on the run from his Lord Warden of the North for selling men into slavery. And he left without the most valuable treasure he had, because he didn't believe there was a life across the Narrow Sea meant for a little girl.
Five months passed before Nymeria finally stopped waiting for the ship to return. In that time, she'd heard far too much about her father's crimes.
Her own people would look at her with scorn and scrutiny. They'd whisper behind her back... and sometimes to her face. She cried herself to sleep so often after being called an orphan, or a slave herself.
The worst insults, though, were the ones that were veiled out of fear. No one wanted to risk losing their fingers over insulting Lady Mormont's Dornish blood.
Everyone knew she was half Dornish, a gift from her mother. They pretended not to notice, but they found creative ways of pointing it out, picking it apart, levelling it against her. After all, northerners had never much liked outsiders.
She was twelve years old when the last family she had that didn't look down their nose at her for her father's dishonouring act finally summoned her away from the spiteful gazes and into a different world entirely.
Jeor Mormont knew that the Wall was no place for a woman, let alone a child. But his heart ached from missing his son, and his heart ached for the granddaughter he'd only ever met once before, the girl who didn't deserve to be hated for something she didn't do, and for blood she couldn't control.
I will father no children. That was his vow, but a ward? No vow forbade him a ward.
So Nymeria was twelve when her horse came to a halt inside the walls of Castle Black, and she gazed up in disbelief at the greatest structure ever built by men. The Lord Commander was waiting for her when she and her two guards dismounted, and he crouched down to offer her a smile.
"Hello Nymeria."
"Hello," she managed in a small voice.
"I'm here to help you, if you'll let me." He looked around. "No one hates people who commit crimes in this place. And no one will hate you for being your mother's daughter."
She nodded slowly.
"But," he warned. "This is a dangerous place. Do you think you're brave enough for that?"
"I'm not scared of wildlings and shadowcats," she told him, trying to sound as brave as she could.
He chuckled. "Of course you're not. But even inside this castle are dangerous people. If you want to stay, you have to do everything I say. And you have to be strong. If that's not what you want, you can go home to Bear Island. But if you can..." he leaned in closer to whisper to her. "I hear you're good with a bow."
"Not just a bow," she said with a fierce little frown. "Septa Lauraine says I'm getting too good with knives for her liking too."
He smiled. "Very good. Do you think you can show this bunch of soggy dogs how it's done?"
She looked around for a long moment before looking back at her grandfather. "Nobody cares about mother? That I look like her?"
"Nobody cares that you look like your mother, Nymeria," he assured her.
A moment passed... and then she gave a determined little nod. "Let's show them how it's done."
βthis is the story of how I died
donβt worry, this is actually a very beautiful story
and the truth is, it isnβt even mine
this is the story of a girl named Nymeria
and it starts with a summer snowβ
pairing: jon snow x oc
warnings: oc, daddy issues, mommy issues, death/murder, descriptions of injuries, mentions of assault, attempted assault, descriptions of depression, mdni, brief smut
main masterlist
00 β prologue
before the beginning, the end of her world had already started
01 β the wall
jon snow travels to the wall for the first time with tyrion lannister. they both discover that the mysterious huntress is more than just a myth.
02 β ghost
unlikely friendship begins to take root between the outcast sister of the night's watch and the dwarf of casterly rock. jon is uncertain what to make of nymeria's mischievous yet amicable nature.
03 β going below
nymeria leads a ranging party north of the wall with one of her oldest friends and faces a close call.
04 β the coward
nymeria meets samwell tarly, a new and misliked recruit. jon and nymeria are taunted by ser alliser, ending in a potential lesson for one of them.
05 β the training yard
jon solidifies his place in the watch and with his friends by threatening a certified jackass. nymeria takes significant enjoyment from poking ser alliser's last nerve.
06 β the weirwood
jon and sam swear their vows to the night's watch, but discover something deadly in the process. lord commander mormont rewards jon with a hefty prize for a feat of impressive bravery.
