Fandom: Game of Thrones

Characters: Jon Snow, Commander Mormont

Author: m_findlow

Rating: M

Length: 1,659 words

Content notes: none

Author notes: Written for Challenge 256 - Restraint and Challenge 193 - Fast or slow (Bingo square)

Summary: Jon is frustrated being stuck at Castle Black.

 

Jon Snow quietly set down the tray of food and ale beside Commander Mormont's desk. The Lord Commander didn't even look up from his letters, prising open the wax seals on each, unfurling them and reading them with practiced patience. Jon, going about his duties, may as well have been invisible for all it mattered.

He picked up a pile of books, meant to be returned to the library, and a second pile, meant for Maester Aemon. Despite the fire he had burning in the Lord Commander's rooms, the air was chill, and his fingers numb without his deerskin gloves. Why so many books all of a sudden, he wondered. Mormont had requested several hard to find tomes, and read them late into the night, keeping Jon up late to tend the fires and bring him ale. The chill and the lack of sleep were taking its toll on his temper. What use were books when battles were being fought down south? When his brother was seeking vengeance on the Lannisters for executing their father? He felt stuck here, his friends thinking they were doing the right thing in bringing him back to Castle Black. Even a ranging north of the Wall would have been preferable to staying here, lighting candles and serving meals. He dropped the pile of books heavily on the side table.

'Do my books offend you, Snow?' came the gruff question. Mormont did not even look at him.

'No, Lord Commander.'

'Then is there a reason why you're throwing them around like feed in a pig pen?'

'No, Lord Commander.'

Mormont gave a vexed sigh. 'Sit down, Snow.'

Jon did as he was commanded, perching himself in the plain and rather uncomfortable chair that sat opposite his Lord Commander's desk. Mormont leaned forward and clasped his gnarled fingers together, resting his forearms on the desk. 'Do you know why the punishment for abandoning the Watch is death, Snow?'

'Because to abandon the Watch would be dishonorable, Lord Commander,' he replied, going through the motions.

Mormont scoffed. 'Honour,' he muttered. 'You truly are your father's son. We do it because most men would rather serve king or lord than they would the realm. A few months here is enough to test even the hardest man. Many don't have the luxury of choice. It's death or the Wall. The Wall or death. Half the men here would leave in a heartbeat but for knowing execution awaits them. We take them all. Murderers, rapers, thieves, high born, low born. The Watch erases their past and gives them the opportunity to forge a new path.'

Jon fell silent and stared into his lap. He hadn't worried about death two nights ago. His horse was fast and he knew he could be leagues from Castle Black before anyone would ever know he'd gone. Who in the north would seek to deal the Night's Watch justice to the brother of the newly appointed King of the North? Most of the northern lords would probably be glad to have him join his brother Robb in the battle to come, even if he was a bastard and not a true Stark.

'Do you think you're the first summer lad to want to go home?'

'No, Lord Commander.'

'Do you think you're the first brother who wants to return home to defend the honour of the house he once belonged to?'

'No, Lord Commander.'

Mormont heaved a sigh. 'What vows did you swear before the godswood, Snow?'

Jon thought hard about this. He knew the words well enough. 'I shall wear no crowns and win no glory. I shall live and die at my post.'

'Exactly. When a man says those words, he forsakes his old family for his new one. He may keep whatever titles and glory came before him, but his sins are cleansed and his duty is now to the realm. We interfere not in the affairs of the seven kingdoms, but we protect all of them.'

'It was wrong of me to run,' Jon said, thinking what Mormont wanted from him was an admission of guilt.

'It was also wrong to draw a blade at a fellow brother, but I don't see you apologising for that.'

Even if the man is an insufferable arse, Jon thought, wishing he could have at least knicked Ser Alliser with the blade. Master of Arms or not, he was as dislikable a man as any Jon had ever met.

'You would be wise to show restraint, Jon Snow,' Mormont advised. 'One quality it seems your father did not gift to you. You have a true heart but one that will suffer no wrong done to it.'

Jon kept his expression as close to neutral as he could. His father had always been a man fast to anger, but slow to act upon it. Jon found himself unable to quell that same fire when it burned inside him. He wanted to do something with it, fashion it into something useful. Ser Rodrik have cautioned him never to swing a blade in anger, for a man could get himself killed no faster than to let his emotions direct his sword. However, his father's death had left a gaping hole in him that he couldn't fill with steward's chores. Robb was marching south to give the Lannisters what for to avenge their father and he was trapped here pouring ale.

Mormont seemed to sense his inner discontent. 'Let me tell you something, Snow. When my son shamed our House, I wanted to go back and restore it to its proper place. But I knew my duty was to the Watch, and so I let Bear Island rightfully pass to my sister. It is her duty now to restore the honour of House Mormont, just as it is your brother's duty to stand firm in the name of House Stark.'

Jon kept his eyes fixed on the horn of ale and untouched wedge of hard cheese in front of him. His father had spoken of the terrible business of Jorah Mormont, a man who himself had won honour and a knighthood, trading slaves with Essos. When Jon asked him why it was illegal to have slaves in Westeros when Essos was a land of many tens of thousands of slaves, his father had said that it was a shameful thing to own a man. All men should have duty and honour to their lord and their king, and a lord who could not command such things from his people was no man at all. Loyalty cannot be bought. A man earns what he earns, when he earns it. His uncle Benjen had told him that.

'I urged my son to take the black so that your father Lord Stark wouldn't take his head,' Mormont continued. 'He lacked both the honour to admit his crimes and to repay his debt at the Wall, as he did the honour to die nobly and to accept his punishment. He ran away from his duty. There can be no greater shame.'

Jon didn't consider what he'd done as running away. He felt more like he was running towards his duty. It was a hard thing to acknowledge that his brothers on the Wall were owed his allegiance rather than his brothers by blood. Had he bided his time, perhaps he might have better planned how he might slip away from Castle Black undetected, but the slower approach would have lead Robb further and further afield. He hadn't even sent forth a raven to tell Robb he was coming. Perhaps that was wise in hindsight, leaving no trail of proof that he intended to abandon the Night's Watch. His brother was Lord in the north now, and all that stood between Jon and the executioner's block. Robb would not exercise that duty nor, he was sure, would his father, had he been set the dilemma.

'I can see that mind of yours ticking over, Snow,' Mormont advised. 'Fealty is a fickle thing. There will always be a House that sits upon the Iron Throne. Whether our past lives and our past honours respect that House is irrelevant. Baratheon and Lannister fought on opposite sides during the reign of the Mad King, now they are united by marriage and blood. Starks and Greyjoys fought side by side before the rebellion. Your father took their youngest for his ward, didn't he?'

Jon nodded. There was always something he didn't like about Theon, try as he might. The boy was older, too cocky, and his cock was half his problems, if his stories were to be believed. Theon never disliked him openly, but he always had a jibe for Jon and his status as a bastard. It felt like some small part of the rebellion always lay in wait inside Theon, despite being treated as much a son as any true blood or bastard. Or perhaps it was just jealousy, that even as his father's ward, he would eventually return home to his true father and inherit the Iron Islands. He could forsake any allegiance to House Stark simply by returning home. Only Jon was left to find what little honour he could in joining the Night's Watch. Returning home to Winterfell would not make him any more a true Stark. It only dawned on him now that even if he ran away and joined Robb's army, there was naught else he could gain. To fight in battle perhaps, but no titles, no lands and no adoration from the king whom his brother now opposed. Wasn't that what he'd pledged when he'd joined the Watch?

'Do you understand now, boy?' Mormont asked. 'The Starks and the Mormonts have forever been staunch allies, but their war is not our war any longer. We prepare for the war that is yet to come. You would do well to remember that. Your father's words were correct. Winter is coming.'