Unfriendly Brothers

As Lynn stepped outside, Ser Alliser Thorne's voice echoed across the training yard.

"You southern weaklings!"

"You can't even hold a sword steady, and you want to join the Night's Watch?"

His gaze fell on Lynn as he emerged through the door.

He dared not provoke him, but his frustration still seethed inside.

At last, his hateful gaze settled on Jon Snow.

The contempt in his eyes was almost palpable.

"Look at our noble Lord Snow."

"The bastard of the Lord of Winterfell."

Thorne drew out the words, undisguised malice on his face.

"He had his own knight to teach him swordsmanship in a warm castle."

"Unlike you fatherless whelps, with no one to teach you manners."

Jon gripped his sword tightly.

His lips pressed together, he said nothing.

He knew any protest would only invite even crueler humiliation.

"Since Lord Snow is so accomplished..."

Thorne's mouth curled into a cruel grin.

"Let him teach you what real fighting looks like."

He waved at the other recruits.

"All of you, attack."

"Let our Lord Snow give you a proper lesson."

The recruits exchanged glances.

Most were thieves from the slums or farmers abandoned by their lords.

What did they know about fighting?

But under Thorne's pressure, a burly boy named Grenn was the first to raise his sword.

Pyp did the same.

"Come on."

The others surrounded him as well.

Jon's heart sank.

He looked around and saw nothing but hostile faces.

The words Ser Rodrik had taught him at Winterfell echoed in his ears.

"When facing several enemies, don't get bogged down. Look for openings and take them down one at a time."

Jon drew a deep breath, Thorne's insults stoking the anger in his heart.

He lowered his center of gravity and assumed a textbook defensive stance.

The first recruit charged, swinging his sword wildly down at Jon's head.

Jon did not meet the blow head-on.

He slid sideways and dodged it easily.

At the same time, he thrust his sword forward, striking the boy precisely on the wrist.

Clang.

The iron sword fell to the ground.

The recruit clutched his wrist, his face contorted in pain.

Then the second, the third...

Jon moved nimbly among his attackers.

Using the techniques Ser Rodrik had taught him, he disarmed them one by one, then drove them to the ground with hard blows from his fists and elbows.

Cries of pain rose throughout the training yard.

Several recruits clutched bleeding noses or stomachs where Jon had kicked them.

In no time at all.

Every recruit who had surrounded him lay on the ground, battered and bruised.

Jon stood in the center of the yard, his chest rising and falling slightly.

Looking at the recruits groaning on the ground, he felt no joy in his victory, only pent-up anger.

Alliser Thorne's expression was frighteningly dark.

He had meant to use this opportunity to thoroughly humiliate Jon.

Instead, he had let the bastard steal the show.

"Very good."

Thorne forced the words through clenched teeth.

As he looked at Jon, his gaze turned mocking.

"But you haven't made any friends today, Lord Snow."

With that, Thorne turned and stalked away.

Jon sneered.

Make friends?

These people were all criminals. How could he possibly be friends with people like them?

Training ended.

Jon walked alone down the dark corridor leading to the armory.

The day's events had left him feeling more isolated than ever.

He had thought birth would no longer matter at the Wall.

Everyone was a brother of the Night's Watch.

Reality, however, had delivered a resounding slap to his face.

Footsteps sounded behind him.

Jon stopped and turned around.

It was Grenn, Pyp, and two other recruits he had knocked down that day.

They blocked the other end of the corridor.

"You little bastard. You broke my nose."

Grenn flexed his wrists, making them crack.

Jon instinctively reached for his waist.

There was nothing there.

All weapons had to be handed in after training.

Jon looked back at Grenn's bleeding nose and said contemptuously,

"Consider it an improvement to your face."

He was confident he could defeat him even barehanded.

But to his surprise, Grenn roared, and the other recruits seized Jon, pinning him firmly in place.

The sudden turn caught Jon completely off guard.

Clearly, they had come prepared.

Grenn pulled a dagger from inside his clothes.

"I reckon your throat needs a little cleaning."

The cold blade gleamed faintly.

"How long do you think it'd take you to hit the ground if I threw you off the Wall?"

"Aren't you supposed to be such a good fighter?"

"Why aren't you saying anything now?"

Grenn grabbed Jon by the collar and pressed the dagger against his throat.

Jon stared hard into Grenn's eyes.

He did not beg for mercy.

A Stark would bow to no one.

Just then.

The door creaked open.

Grenn's body went rigid.

He and the other two recruits looked toward the sound.

A figure slowly emerged from behind the door.

It was Lynn.

He had been waiting outside the door all along.

As though he had known from the start that this would happen.

"This is between us recruits."

Grenn shouted, his bluster masking his fear.

"It's got nothing to do with you, you... nothing to do with you!"

Lynn ignored him.

His gaze passed over Grenn and settled on Jon.

"Scared?"

Jon did not answer.

But his rapid breathing had already betrayed his anxiety.

Lynn smiled.

He took a step forward.

"I don't like people pointing weapons at my friends."

"Put the dagger down."

"Otherwise, I won't mind leaving a few corpses here."

The recruits instinctively took a step back.

They had seen with their own eyes how Lynn had defeated Ser Thorne.

That fear made their legs weak.

Grenn dared not keep up his defiance and wisely withdrew the dagger.

Jon slumped against the wall, his voice laced with self-mockery.

"Everyone knew what this place was, but no one told me."

"Except you and Tyrion."

"My father must have known, yet he still agreed to let me join the Night's Watch."

Tyrion heard the commotion and was about to investigate, only to find Lynn leaning beside the door.

He moved closer to see what had happened.

He soon pieced together the essentials from the fragments of conversation.

He had been there earlier when Alliser Thorne singled out Jon Snow.

He had also seen Jon give the recruits a thorough beating.

Putting the two together.

This was clearly a premeditated act of retaliation.

Though he was quite fond of Jon, whose troubles mirrored his own.

There seemed to be no need for him to step in just now.

Lynn was already handling it.

He folded his arms and stood to one side, watching.

He wanted to see how Lynn would resolve the matter.