FIC: Knights of the Watch (Sam) for guad
Recipient: guad
Title: Knights of the Watch
Rating: gen
Characters: Samwell Tarly, Roose/Walda Bolton
Word Count: 1745
Summary: Samwell Tarly, of the Jedi order of the Night's Watch, visits the star destroyer Dreadfort, petitioning the Lord of the North for supplies and aid. (loosely set in a Star Warsian Dance with Dragons) Warning: crack! wait, that's not really a warning
Samwell Tarly still wasn't accustomed to his introduction. He did not think of himself as special, though he wore the black of the Night's Watch, the sacred brotherhood of Jedi sworn to defend the realm, he still felt like Sam the Coward. Ser Piggy, who had to be forced into his tie-fighter to fly into battle.
Now, as one of the Black Brothers: the few in all the Empire who could wield the Force, Sam didn't just have to fly a tie-fighter in battle, he had to land one on the deck of the Dreadfort and walk through the honour guard without tripping on his cape.
Jon Snow made walking in the heavy black armour of the Night's Watch look easy. His cape swished and swayed over the deck, like a tale. Sam's dragged out behind him like a black tent, following his boots across the deck.
The deck of the Dreadfort was pink. The ancient Star Destroyer had been deck plates of rare Cultheran steel, which didn't require the constant polishing of ordinary steel to keep rust at bay, but was pink.
And it hid blood better. The swirls of red mixed in with the pink beneath his feet made him even more nervous, and his heart pounded in his chest like the wilding drums.
At the head of the long columns of men, Lord Bolton stood with his arms crossed. His young wife, Walda Frey, smiled at Sam with dimples in her plump face. She looked kind, even jolly. Lord Bolton was anything but.
"We welcome you to the Dreadfort, Knight of the Watch. What we have is yours." Lord Bolton bowed his head, courteous but reserved. Lady Walda curtsied, making it almost graceful.
"I accept your hospitality, great lord, on behalf of the Night's Watch and my Lord Commander."
"I trust the Lord Commander is well?"
Sam made small talk, encouraged by Walda's smiles. He successfully made it off the landing deck and over to the viewing platform where the Dreadfort looked on at the lifeless hulks of the Stark fleet. The King in the North was dead: murdered under guestright by Lady Walda's father, Lord Frey of the twin stars known as the Crossing for the impossible gravity wells they made. There was one way through the Crossing and Lord Frey charged a heavy price. Sam wasn't sure if he'd ever feel safe again on any deck but the black ships of the watch.
"Funny how they burn, isn't it?" Walda asked him, holding her cup close to her chest. "I read the atmosphere clings to the ships and that frozen oxygen melts and feeds the fires."
"I haven't seen this many dead ships before," Sam said. "You're right about the fires, sort of, I mean, the bigger ships have some gravity of their own and hold in some of the atmosphere, and sometimes the tanks of oxygen explode, which leads to the big flares like those on the Star Destroyer there--" He didn't have the heart to call it Grey Wind, as Robb had. Robb was Jon's brother and he was Jon's brother so that meant Robb was almost his brother.
Robb would have aided the watch. Sam was sure of that. If Robb was still Lord of the North, the vast wild arm of the Westerosian galaxy, he would have given the watch what they needed. Roose Bolton might, if Sam asked him right and he didn't decided that killing a Jedi was less trouble than tithing to their order for the rest of his reign in the North.
"Is Winterfell still burning?" Walda asked. Her kind eyes wide with the kind of sorrow a deer has watching a cow head to the slaughter. She wasn't mean. Sam could feel that with his limited command of the Force. Jon and Maester Aemon swore Sam was tougher than he thought but he didn't quite believe him. Even with his lightsaber at his side, he felt like Sam the Coward.
He wasn't allowed to call himself that. He was Sam the Slayer now. He'd driven his lightsaber through one of the Others, the Forceless beings of ice and hatred creeping in from the galactic fringe and turning those they killed into mindless beings like them, and he'd killed one. He'd killed one who had been called Paul.
"Winterfell still burns," Roose answered, his voice soft as always. "The fires will soon be out. Lord Ramsay rebuilds for his wedding to Arya Stark. He cannot bring his bride home to a burning relic."
Jon's sister, half-sister really, was being married off to Ramsay Bolton, the heir to the North. He had Winterfell, the great Castle Star Jon had called home. Sam wasn't supposed to care about Jon loosing his home; he did because he liked Jon's stories. Even though Jon hadn't been accepted by the Lady of Winterfell, he'd had a father, brothers and sisters and they loved him. REally loved him, not just wept over him when he disappointed his father, like he always did.
His father didn't care he was a Jedi now, nor that he had the Force as his ally and a lightsaber at his side. Lord Tarly was in the Red Keep, orbiting King's Landing, realm of the boy King Tommen.
Sam pitied the king. He'd seen the holos come through, how the little king seemed almost swallowed whole by the Iron Throne, how his crown sat heavy on his brow and how his mother was always behind him. No good came from mothers that stood to close.
Tommen was plump too, and unlike Walda, whose plumpness had been an asset, Tommen was supposed to be a king. Being plump wouldn't help him there.
Of course, nothing would matter if the Others crossed the wall and entered the kingdom. The Wall was a great forcefield, hundreds of years old and the last thing that stood between the darkness outside the galaxy and the million tiny lights within. Some of the lords understood that when Sam visited. They paid their tribute, offered their sons for the Night's Watch, that they too could have the Force flow through them and know what it was to keep the kingdoms safe.
"I had the Lord Commander accepted the wildlings."
"He's accepted their help because little else has been offered him."
Lord Bolton smiled, his pink lips taunt and shiny as the deck plates. "Alas, I only have one son, and he already has a duty."
"You may still have another," Walda said, smiling so that her cheeks each resembled an apple, full and bright.
"Indeed." Lord Bolton contemplated that, his thoughts churning behind his still face. The Force whispered to Sam that Bolton was a man who trusted no one, and if Sam knew that, he could trust him. Knowledge was the one power Sam understood. The Force knew that about him, at least, sometimes it seemed to.
"Well, if this child is a son, we shall send him to the Knights of the Watch and let him defend the realm."
Walda kept her smile, but her eyes were sad.
"Perhaps even if she is a daughter she will serve. I hear the Watch will be taking women now."
"The spear wives are our allies."
"Allies who use the Force."
"Yes," Sam said, letting the Force bring him Lord Bolton's thoughts a glimpse at a time. He was a powerful mind and one closed tight. Jon had been wise to send Sam because the Force loved to whisper to him. Sometimes, Sam even heard more than Jon. Still not as much as Maester Aemon, who had been able to project his thoughts through to the ravens far across the realm. Sam could only hear the ravens on the ships nearby, not as far as the Riverlands yet, and certainly not Oldtown, where the Maesters learned the secrets of using the Force to heal flesh and knit bone.
Bolton kept his secrets, so there was no reason not to trust him. "The wilding women use the Force as well as the men. The Lord Commander and I suspect that our women can also be taught to use it and we will start searching your planets and ships, with your permission, of course, for those boys and girls both who are sensitive to the Force."
"Girls in tie-fighters, patrolling the Wall…" Bolton's smile was soft and his chuckle could have been him simply clearing his throat. "These are desperate times."
"Yes, Lord Bolton." Sam nodded, folding his hands in front of him as he'd been taught. His heavy black sleeves hung down from his arms, hiding his lightsaber, should he need it.
"Desperate times often call for change. Very well, you shall have what stores I can spare and share of the salvaged fleet for the Watch. I don't think the ghosts of the Starks will begrudge you the metal of their ships."
"I hope not, my Lord."
"You may search my ranks for more Jedi if you must. Start with the girls, I seem to have an abundance of them." Lord Bolton rested his hand on his wife's shoulder, something almost affectionate. Walda seemed to find it so and smiled at him before she turned to Sam.
Sam nodded, making the formal bow of a knight before he left the Boltons to watch the graveyard of ships turn and twist in space. There would be a few boys, probably twice as many girls because girls had been overlooked the last time the Watch had searched. Some of the men weren't happy, but a girl could learn to use the Force to make herself strong, the way the boys did. Sam had no trouble with girls serving with him.
He had his own troubles with girls, but those weren't important. He had work to do. He headed down the corridor, his boots lighter on the pink deck now. He opened his thoughts, letting the minds around him fill him with whispers. The Force would bring him his new brothers and sisters. It always did.
Title: Knights of the Watch
Rating: gen
Characters: Samwell Tarly, Roose/Walda Bolton
Word Count: 1745
Summary: Samwell Tarly, of the Jedi order of the Night's Watch, visits the star destroyer Dreadfort, petitioning the Lord of the North for supplies and aid. (loosely set in a Star Warsian Dance with Dragons) Warning: crack! wait, that's not really a warning
Samwell Tarly still wasn't accustomed to his introduction. He did not think of himself as special, though he wore the black of the Night's Watch, the sacred brotherhood of Jedi sworn to defend the realm, he still felt like Sam the Coward. Ser Piggy, who had to be forced into his tie-fighter to fly into battle.
Now, as one of the Black Brothers: the few in all the Empire who could wield the Force, Sam didn't just have to fly a tie-fighter in battle, he had to land one on the deck of the Dreadfort and walk through the honour guard without tripping on his cape.
Jon Snow made walking in the heavy black armour of the Night's Watch look easy. His cape swished and swayed over the deck, like a tale. Sam's dragged out behind him like a black tent, following his boots across the deck.
The deck of the Dreadfort was pink. The ancient Star Destroyer had been deck plates of rare Cultheran steel, which didn't require the constant polishing of ordinary steel to keep rust at bay, but was pink.
And it hid blood better. The swirls of red mixed in with the pink beneath his feet made him even more nervous, and his heart pounded in his chest like the wilding drums.
At the head of the long columns of men, Lord Bolton stood with his arms crossed. His young wife, Walda Frey, smiled at Sam with dimples in her plump face. She looked kind, even jolly. Lord Bolton was anything but.
"We welcome you to the Dreadfort, Knight of the Watch. What we have is yours." Lord Bolton bowed his head, courteous but reserved. Lady Walda curtsied, making it almost graceful.
"I accept your hospitality, great lord, on behalf of the Night's Watch and my Lord Commander."
"I trust the Lord Commander is well?"
Sam made small talk, encouraged by Walda's smiles. He successfully made it off the landing deck and over to the viewing platform where the Dreadfort looked on at the lifeless hulks of the Stark fleet. The King in the North was dead: murdered under guestright by Lady Walda's father, Lord Frey of the twin stars known as the Crossing for the impossible gravity wells they made. There was one way through the Crossing and Lord Frey charged a heavy price. Sam wasn't sure if he'd ever feel safe again on any deck but the black ships of the watch.
"Funny how they burn, isn't it?" Walda asked him, holding her cup close to her chest. "I read the atmosphere clings to the ships and that frozen oxygen melts and feeds the fires."
"I haven't seen this many dead ships before," Sam said. "You're right about the fires, sort of, I mean, the bigger ships have some gravity of their own and hold in some of the atmosphere, and sometimes the tanks of oxygen explode, which leads to the big flares like those on the Star Destroyer there--" He didn't have the heart to call it Grey Wind, as Robb had. Robb was Jon's brother and he was Jon's brother so that meant Robb was almost his brother.
Robb would have aided the watch. Sam was sure of that. If Robb was still Lord of the North, the vast wild arm of the Westerosian galaxy, he would have given the watch what they needed. Roose Bolton might, if Sam asked him right and he didn't decided that killing a Jedi was less trouble than tithing to their order for the rest of his reign in the North.
"Is Winterfell still burning?" Walda asked. Her kind eyes wide with the kind of sorrow a deer has watching a cow head to the slaughter. She wasn't mean. Sam could feel that with his limited command of the Force. Jon and Maester Aemon swore Sam was tougher than he thought but he didn't quite believe him. Even with his lightsaber at his side, he felt like Sam the Coward.
He wasn't allowed to call himself that. He was Sam the Slayer now. He'd driven his lightsaber through one of the Others, the Forceless beings of ice and hatred creeping in from the galactic fringe and turning those they killed into mindless beings like them, and he'd killed one. He'd killed one who had been called Paul.
"Winterfell still burns," Roose answered, his voice soft as always. "The fires will soon be out. Lord Ramsay rebuilds for his wedding to Arya Stark. He cannot bring his bride home to a burning relic."
Jon's sister, half-sister really, was being married off to Ramsay Bolton, the heir to the North. He had Winterfell, the great Castle Star Jon had called home. Sam wasn't supposed to care about Jon loosing his home; he did because he liked Jon's stories. Even though Jon hadn't been accepted by the Lady of Winterfell, he'd had a father, brothers and sisters and they loved him. REally loved him, not just wept over him when he disappointed his father, like he always did.
His father didn't care he was a Jedi now, nor that he had the Force as his ally and a lightsaber at his side. Lord Tarly was in the Red Keep, orbiting King's Landing, realm of the boy King Tommen.
Sam pitied the king. He'd seen the holos come through, how the little king seemed almost swallowed whole by the Iron Throne, how his crown sat heavy on his brow and how his mother was always behind him. No good came from mothers that stood to close.
Tommen was plump too, and unlike Walda, whose plumpness had been an asset, Tommen was supposed to be a king. Being plump wouldn't help him there.
Of course, nothing would matter if the Others crossed the wall and entered the kingdom. The Wall was a great forcefield, hundreds of years old and the last thing that stood between the darkness outside the galaxy and the million tiny lights within. Some of the lords understood that when Sam visited. They paid their tribute, offered their sons for the Night's Watch, that they too could have the Force flow through them and know what it was to keep the kingdoms safe.
"I had the Lord Commander accepted the wildlings."
"He's accepted their help because little else has been offered him."
Lord Bolton smiled, his pink lips taunt and shiny as the deck plates. "Alas, I only have one son, and he already has a duty."
"You may still have another," Walda said, smiling so that her cheeks each resembled an apple, full and bright.
"Indeed." Lord Bolton contemplated that, his thoughts churning behind his still face. The Force whispered to Sam that Bolton was a man who trusted no one, and if Sam knew that, he could trust him. Knowledge was the one power Sam understood. The Force knew that about him, at least, sometimes it seemed to.
"Well, if this child is a son, we shall send him to the Knights of the Watch and let him defend the realm."
Walda kept her smile, but her eyes were sad.
"Perhaps even if she is a daughter she will serve. I hear the Watch will be taking women now."
"The spear wives are our allies."
"Allies who use the Force."
"Yes," Sam said, letting the Force bring him Lord Bolton's thoughts a glimpse at a time. He was a powerful mind and one closed tight. Jon had been wise to send Sam because the Force loved to whisper to him. Sometimes, Sam even heard more than Jon. Still not as much as Maester Aemon, who had been able to project his thoughts through to the ravens far across the realm. Sam could only hear the ravens on the ships nearby, not as far as the Riverlands yet, and certainly not Oldtown, where the Maesters learned the secrets of using the Force to heal flesh and knit bone.
Bolton kept his secrets, so there was no reason not to trust him. "The wilding women use the Force as well as the men. The Lord Commander and I suspect that our women can also be taught to use it and we will start searching your planets and ships, with your permission, of course, for those boys and girls both who are sensitive to the Force."
"Girls in tie-fighters, patrolling the Wall…" Bolton's smile was soft and his chuckle could have been him simply clearing his throat. "These are desperate times."
"Yes, Lord Bolton." Sam nodded, folding his hands in front of him as he'd been taught. His heavy black sleeves hung down from his arms, hiding his lightsaber, should he need it.
"Desperate times often call for change. Very well, you shall have what stores I can spare and share of the salvaged fleet for the Watch. I don't think the ghosts of the Starks will begrudge you the metal of their ships."
"I hope not, my Lord."
"You may search my ranks for more Jedi if you must. Start with the girls, I seem to have an abundance of them." Lord Bolton rested his hand on his wife's shoulder, something almost affectionate. Walda seemed to find it so and smiled at him before she turned to Sam.
Sam nodded, making the formal bow of a knight before he left the Boltons to watch the graveyard of ships turn and twist in space. There would be a few boys, probably twice as many girls because girls had been overlooked the last time the Watch had searched. Some of the men weren't happy, but a girl could learn to use the Force to make herself strong, the way the boys did. Sam had no trouble with girls serving with him.
He had his own troubles with girls, but those weren't important. He had work to do. He headed down the corridor, his boots lighter on the pink deck now. He opened his thoughts, letting the minds around him fill him with whispers. The Force would bring him his new brothers and sisters. It always did.