"Lord Snow, I wonder if the master at Winterfell ever taught you that once a sword is drawn, it is difficult to retract it without spilling blood." Alliser Thorne's words dripped with sarcasm, sharp enough to make Jon hesitate, his courage faltering under the weight of Thorne's piercing gaze.
Leon watched in tense silence, his heart pounding. Jon, normally so steady and resolute, now seemed paralyzed, the sword trembling slightly in his hand. The crowd around them noticed the hesitation and immediately began to murmur, jeering and pressing closer, eager for a display of violence. The air grew thick with anticipation, as if the spectators themselves craved a river of blood.
For a moment, the sight angered Jon instead of intimidating him. Some primal part of him, the part trained to stand tall in the face of danger, stirred. His fingers tightened on the hilt of his sword as he drew in a slow, steadying breath.
"I, Jon Snow of Winterfell, challenge you to a duel. In the name of the Old Gods, if one of us must die, let the Old Gods witness this moment," Jon declared, voice firm, deliberate, cutting through the whispers and snickers around him.
Immediately, the crowd fell silent. The sneers froze on their faces for a brief moment, only to erupt again into louder, more incredulous laughter. Yet this time, the noise failed to penetrate Jon's resolve. His eyes locked onto Alliser Thorne, unwavering, the tension in his body palpable.
Thorne's face remained a mask of sarcasm. He stepped closer, each movement deliberate and measured. "Because I call you Lord Jon? You are so small-minded that you think invoking your so-called Old Gods matters? Or are you desperate to see your damned, perhaps already degraded, mother?"
Jon's anger flared instantly. The insult burned hotter than the northern wind. Without a moment's hesitation, his hand lashed out, swinging his sword toward Thorne's face, intending to crush that smirking mouth in one brutal motion.
But Alliser Thorne was faster. With the slightest tilt of his head, he avoided Jon's strike effortlessly. The precision and fluidity of the movement reminded Leon why Thorne was feared even among seasoned warriors.
Then, almost casually, Thorne reached out with one massive hand, gripping Jon by the neck and lifting him off the ground as easily as one might lift a chicken. Jon's strength drained away in an instant; his sword slipped from his fingers and clattered against the frozen wooden floor. The scene spun around him in a dizzying kaleidoscope of cold faces, taunts, and the endless gray of the Wall.
Leon's jaw dropped. This wasn't just sarcasm or intimidation—Thorne had no qualms about physically overpowering Jon. How dare he? Leon thought. Jon was noble, even as a bastard; the son of the Guardian of the North. And yet here he was, lifted effortlessly by a man who seemed to disregard titles and bloodlines alike.
Jon's eyes rolled slightly as he hung in Thorne's grip, powerless, his face flushed from a mix of exertion and rage. He could do nothing but watch, helpless, as Thorne's words cut deeper than any blade.
Is this how the hero of the North dies? Leon's thoughts raced. There's no such scene in the TV series… none of this was supposed to happen! Panic and a fierce protective instinct surged through him. He instinctively moved to draw his sword, ready to intervene, to strike at Thorne and save Jon with a decisive blow.
But at the exact moment Leon's hand hovered over his hilt, Thorne released Jon with a flick as precise as it was calculated. Jon dropped heavily to the frozen ground, gasping, clutching his neck, his face pale and shocked.
"You ridiculous little bastard," Thorne spat, his voice carrying across the gathered crowd. "Since you have sworn your oaths, no one would dare object if I ended you here and now. Yet I choose to let you live—not because I respect you, but because your death is meaningless to me. Crushing you is no different than crushing an ant. I spare you so that you may continue to live, humble yourself, and perform menial tasks like a maggot. You are not worthy of the Night's Watch."
Leon's fists clenched. The words burned like fire, yet he understood the calculated cruelty behind them. Thorne's release of Jon wasn't mercy—it was a lesson, a demonstration of power, and a warning all in one.
Before Thorne turned away, he glanced at Leon and Eddie, his eyes lingering on Leon just long enough to imprint a silent warning. Leon felt the sting of recognition in that glance. Thorne had seen the murderous intent he had briefly entertained. It was clear to Leon now that Thorne had deliberately allowed Jon to survive, assessing both the threat and the resolve of those nearby.
When Thorne's figure vanished down the walkway, the gathered Night's Watch brothers and civilians slowly dispersed. Their expressions were etched with contempt, muttering insults under their breath as they passed Jon, who still lay on the cold ground. The indifference, the cold judgment of the human heart, felt harsher than any northern frost.
Jon's breathing gradually steadied, though his pride had clearly been wounded. Leon stepped closer, feeling the weight of the moment, and noticed Eddie had vanished.
"You're the only one who stayed?" Jon finally said, surprise evident in his tone. Leon hadn't expected the normally reserved and proud bastard to notice him in that state.
Leon swallowed hard, preparing some comforting words. Yet the absurdity of the situation, combined with the severity of Thorne's lesson, made it difficult to speak. Finally, he managed a quiet, "It is never too late for a gentleman to take revenge."
For some reason, those words struck Jon deeply. Perhaps it was the first time in fifteen years someone had offered such measured, almost philosophical encouragement amidst humiliation and danger. The weight of his negative emotions—shame, anger, regret—seemed to dissipate, if only slightly.
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**A/N: Shoutout to my OG fan @Shiroi Kage for yeeting the very first Power Stone 💎 my way — so here's a fresh chap just for you! 🙌🔥
We're still under 15,000 words, so no rankings for now… but from next week, we'll officially start our PowerStone Milestone Goals! 🎯
In the meantime… Library Collection Goals:
📚 100 collections → +1 bonus chapter
📚 250 collections → +1 bonus chapter
📚 500 collections → +1 bonus chapter
📚 1,000 collections → +1 bonus chapter
And uh… y'all can still chuck some Stones at me if you're feeling spicy 😏💎
Let's make this novel go brrrr 💥📚