The yard was still buzzing from Jon's three-on-one victory when Alliser Thorne strode out the next morning with a different expression — not anger, not suspicion… but cruelty.
A new recruit arrived.
A soft, overweight boy with shaking hands and fear in his eyes.
Samwell Tarly.
He looked as out of place in the yard as a rabbit among wolves.
Thorne smirked like a butcher picking his next carcass.
"Lords! Behold your newest brother," Thorne announced mockingly.
"Samwell Tarly. He cannot run, cannot fight, cannot lift a sword. Perfect material for the Night's Watch."
The yard laughed cruelly.
Jon didn't.
Ghost sat beside him, suddenly alert.
Thorne continued:
"Today's lesson: what happens to the weak on the Wall."
Then he pointed directly at Sam.
"Hit him."
Sam blinked, confused.
"What—?"
"Hit him!" Thorne barked. "All of you!"
The boys hesitated… then moved forward.
Rast grinned.
Jaremy cracked his knuckles.
Others looked uncertain.
Sam raised his hands weakly, terrified.
"I—I don't want to fight—"
"You don't get to choose." Thorne sneered.
The boys closed in.
Jon stepped forward before thinking.
"No."
The yard froze.
Thorne slowly turned toward Jon, eyes narrowing.
"What did you say, Snow?"
"I said no. He doesn't know how to fight."
"That's the point. The world will beat him whether he wishes it or not."
Jon straightened.
"And I won't."
A murmur rippled through the recruits.
Thorne's voice dropped to a deadly whisper:
"Are you protecting him?"
Jon didn't look away.
"…Yes."
Thorne growled, "Then you fight all of them."
Rast, Jaremy, Grenn, and six more stepped forward, clearly eager for revenge.
Ghost growled deeply, fur bristling.
Tyrion watched from the stairs, fascinated and horrified.
"Seven hells," he whispered. "He's going to do it…"
The boys charged.
THE FIGHT
It was chaos.
Eight recruits rushed Jon at once.
Jon moved like Leo trained him — fluid, precise, fearless.
He blocked the first strike, grabbed the attacker's wrist, twisted, and dropped him in the snow.
Two came from his left — Jon ducked, swept one's legs, elbowed the other in the jaw.
Ghost lunged too, snapping and snarling — not attacking, but forcing boys back.
"Get that bloody wolf away!" someone cried.
Sam watched from the ground, horrified.
Jon parried three blows at once.
He fought with the calm of a man twice his age.
Some boys hesitated — after yesterday, they knew how dangerous he was.
But Jaremy yelled, "He's just one bastard!"
They attacked again.
Jon's breathing grew heavy.
He blocked, dodged, countered — but numbers overwhelmed him.
A strike hit his shoulder.
Another clipped his ribs.
Rast raised his sword for a brutal blow—
Ghost leapt between them, snarling fiercely.
Rast stumbled back in fear.
Jon used the moment and slammed his practice blade into Rast's stomach, knocking the wind out of him.
One by one, the boys fell or backed away.
Jon stood in the center, bruised but unbroken.
Alliser Thorne stared in pure disbelief — and barely concealed hatred.
Sam pushed himself to his feet, tears in his eyes.
"You… you protected me."
Jon extended a hand.
"That's what brothers do."
Sam took it.
Ghost brushed against Sam's legs gently, as if welcoming him.
Tyrion clapped again, slow and deliberate.
"Well," the dwarf murmured, "Leo Pendragon… I don't know who you are, but you've built something very interesting."
Thorne snapped at the recruits:
"Enough! Back to training! Snow — you and your pet wolf will answer for this."
Jon met his eyes.
Not defiant.
Not afraid.
Just steady.
Thorne looked away first.
The Wall had found its first spark of true leadership.
And Leo, miles away in Essos, felt it through the dream bond.
Jon Snow was beginning to change the Night's Watch.
Brothers by Choice" (Jon & Sam)
Night fell hard over Castle Black — a cold, hungry darkness that swallowed the world beyond the Wall.
Jon sat beside a small fire in the common hall, Ghost curled at his feet. His ribs ached from the fight, his knuckles throbbed, but his mind was steady. Protecting Sam felt right.
Samwell Tarly sat across from him, hands trembling around a wooden cup of hot broth.
He hadn't spoken a word since the fight.
Jon waited patiently.
Finally, Sam exhaled.
"I… I should thank you," he whispered.
"You don't have to."
"I do," Sam said. "But I also… I owe you the truth. You should know why I'm here."
Jon nodded gently. "Tell me."
SAMWELL'S CONFESSION
Sam swallowed hard.
"My father is Lord Randyll Tarly," he began.
"A great warrior. A proud man. A man who thinks fear is a disease… and weakness is a sin."
He looked down at his shaking hands.
"I am the heir to House Tarly. Or… I was."
Jon felt Ghost stiffen beside him. Even the wolf sensed the pain in Sam's voice.
"One day… my father took me hunting."
Sam's voice became thin.
"We rode far from the castle. To a lake. There was no one around. He told me I would never inherit his name. Never bear his sword. Never lead our house."
Jon frowned.
"Why?"
Sam's eyes filled.
"Because I am not the son he wanted."
Jon clenched his jaw.
"What did he do?"
Sam's whisper cracked:
"He gave me a choice.
Join the Night's Watch… or have a 'hunting accident.'"
Jon's breath caught.
Ghost growled — low, protective.
Sam continued through tears:
"I begged. I cried. I told him I would try harder. Be stronger. But he said… if I didn't go, he would kill me himself."
A long silence hung between them.
Jon finally spoke:
"You're not weak."
"I am," Sam said softly. "I'm afraid of everything. I'm afraid now."
Jon shook his head. "Being afraid doesn't make you weak. Running doesn't make you weak. You survived. That makes you stronger than you think."
Sam blinked at him, surprised.
Jon reached out and put a hand on Sam's shoulder.
"You've got a brother now. More than one."
Ghost bumped Sam's thigh with his head, as if confirming it.
Sam smiled tearfully and scratched Ghost behind the ear.
"Thank you, Jon."
Jon nodded.
"From now on, nobody touches you. Not Thorne, not Rast, not anyone."
Sam laughed nervously.
"You can't fight everyone every day."
Jon smirked.
"No. But I can fight enough of them."
Ghost lifted his head proudly.
THE START OF AN UNBREAKABLE BOND
As they ate quietly by the fire, Sam glanced at Jon again.
"Can I ask you something… strange?"
Jon raised an eyebrow. "Go on."
"There are… stories," Sam whispered.
"About you."
Jon tensed.
Sam continued:
"They say a shadow trained you. A man with a metal arm. A ghost who gave you a sword no blacksmith can explain."
Jon stiffened.
"No one knows who he is. No one has seen him except you…"
Sam lowered his voice.
"…Is he real?"
Jon hesitated.
Leo's warning echoed in his mind.
His secret must stay protected.
But Sam… Sam would never tell a soul.
Jon nodded once.
"He's real. And he wants me to protect people who can't protect themselves."
Sam blinked.
"In that case…"
He smiled weakly.
"…I'm glad he chose you."
Jon smiled back — truly smiled — for the first time in a long time.
Far away in Essos…
Leo felt the emotional surge through the dream link.
Jon had finally formed his first true brotherhood.
A bond that would shape the future.