💎 WEEKLY POWER GOALS 💎🔥 30→2ch | 60→5ch | 100→8ch | 200→15ch | 400→25ch⏰ Resets Monday!
-------
Yoren's recruits merged into Lynn's disciplined column like oil into water.
The contrast was brutal.
On one side, Lynn's hundred Stark soldiers: armored, silent, lethal.
On the other, Yoren's thirty "recruits": ragged, smelly, desperate.
They were the dregs of King's Landing. Some cowered like rats used to the dark. Others had the feral glare of cornered beasts.
Lynn rode beside Arya.
"Lynn," she whispered, leaning closer. "Father said he'd get you a lordship. If you're a Lord, does that mean you can marry me?"
Lynn paused.
Arya was young. She didn't understand alliances or bloodlines. She just knew who she liked. It was pure Stark honesty.
But Lynn knew someone had planted that idea in her head.
"Yes," Lynn said, not denying it. "If I become a Lord, your father would agree."
Arya beamed. "I knew it! Jon didn't lie. He told me to put in a good word for you with Father..."
Jon.
Of course. The bastard had figured out his little sister's crush and was trying to help Lynn rise. It was a clumsy, well-meaning political maneuver.
Lynn looked back.
Jon Snow was riding in silence, but his eyes kept drifting to the recruits.
He saw a man with no ears staring at Arya with naked lust.
He saw a scarred thug eyeing the supply wagons, licking dry lips.
These were his future brothers?
Jon frowned. He'd imagined the Night's Watch as a legion of heroes. Like Uncle Benjen. Like Lynn. A wall of steel against the darkness.
Not this... rabble.
"Enjoying the view?"
A voice broke his reverie.
Tyrion Lannister trotted up on his pony, wine cup in hand. His mismatched eyes danced with amusement.
"Admiring your future brothers-in-arms, Bastard Boy?"
Jon's jaw tightened. "They're men of the Night's Watch."
"Oh, indeed," Tyrion nodded sagely. "How noble."
He pointed a stubby finger at a rat-faced man.
"See that one? A thief, I'd wager. Probably stole a loaf of bread or a lady's necklace. The judge gave him a choice: lose the hand or go to the Wall. He seems fond of his fingers."
Jon paled slightly.
Tyrion pointed to the scarred thug.
"And him. A killer. Tavern brawl over a whore, maybe? Or a mugging gone wrong. The noose or the North. It's all the same to him."
Tyrion's voice was quiet but it cut deep, slicing through Jon's illusions.
"And that one," Tyrion nodded toward the earless man leering at Arya. "Rapist. The worst kind. If not for Yoren's chains, he'd be on her right now. Gelding or the Wall? He chose to keep his balls. Most men would."
Jon's breathing hitched. His knuckles turned white on the reins.
"Stop it."
"Hah!" Tyrion barked a laugh. "You think the Wall's a place for heroes, Bastard Boy?"
"No, no, no."
Tyrion shook his head exaggeratedly.
"The Wall's the realm's privy. All the shit gets flushed there. Thieves, poachers, rapers, killers... and bastards."
He stared at Jon.
"It's where the unwanted go to disappear."
Jon froze. He wanted to argue, but the words died in his throat.
He looked at the recruits again. The illusion shattered. He didn't see brothers anymore. He saw crimes. He saw filth.
Up ahead, Lynn heard every word. He didn't turn around. Benjen rode on, face impassive. He knew the truth, too.
Tyrion, seeing he'd made his point, lost interest in the recruits and opened a book.
Jon watched him for a while.
"I've noticed," Jon said finally. "You read. A lot. Why?"
Tyrion didn't look up.
"Jon, look at me. What do you see?"
Jon hesitated.
"A dwarf," Tyrion answered for him. "If I were born a peasant, I'd have been left in the woods to die. But I was born a Lannister of Casterly Rock."
"My sister's Queen. My brother's the Kingslayer. My father's the most powerful man in the realm."
"And me?"
"My brother has his sword," Tyrion said. "King Robert has his warhammer. And I have my mind."
He tapped his temple.
"A mind needs books like a sword needs a whetstone, if it's to keep its edge. That's why I read so much, Jon Snow."
Jon went silent.
He looked at the small man with new respect. Tyrion was a giant in his own way.
"I like talking to people," Tyrion continued, glancing up. "I learn from them. Now, Bastard Boy, it's your turn."
"What's your story?"
Jon rolled his eyes at the nickname.
"Ask me nicely, Imp. Maybe I'll tell you."
~~~~❃❃~~~~~~~~❃❃~~~~
The story isn't over...
🤔 Want to know what happens next to the characters?
🤫 Eager to explore the untold secrets of this world?
✍️ Ready to read more of my wildest stories?
✨ patreon.com/DarkGolds