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“Hello, Jon!”
“Hullo, Sam.”
If Jon had to think about it, there hadn’t been a day in more than three years that didn’t start out with Samwell Tarly’s round face greeting him with a pleasant ‘hello.’ It’s great having friends like Sam, really – reliable, positive, willing to help you out with your homework – but honestly. It kills Jon how upbeat Sam is every single day of his life.
“How is your morning going? I’ve picked up your B-schedule for you.” Sam says, handing a sheet of paper over to Jon. “We have Chemistry and Gym together, and then you have Braavosi and I’ve got History of Essos.”
Jon looks dubiously at the block schedule in his hand. Their college runs on two different blocks, A and B, and alternates each day. Yesterday’s schedule was bad enough what with English, Maths, and Geography, but this block is even worse. It is not shaping up to be a good year.
“Just fine,” Jon says. “And yours?”
“Oh, brilliant. I got up early and made a lovely breakfast, and I’m almost finished with the biography of Queen Alysanne. Did you know that Castle Queensgate, up at the Wall, is named for her?” The pair begins to walk toward their Chemistry class, and Jon lets Sam rattle on a bit about the more interesting parts of Alysanne Targaryen’s life. He doesn’t have history class this semester, but Jon figures he’ll get enough of it just by being around Sam.
He’s going on about how the queen was the most powerful of the royal court in her own right, “running the political scene for Jaehaerys I, as it were,” when they walk in to the classroom. The professor, Luwin or something, has his hands wrapped patiently around a small bowl filled with folded papers.
“Good to see that everyone has arrived,” he says crisply. He’s an older man, but he’s got a good-natured smile on his face. Must enjoy being around this lot. Jon can’t imagine why. “Alright, to the girls, file on up. We have almost got an even number between the sexes, and so each girl will draw a boy’s name from this bowl. Whosever name you draw will be your lab partner for the next quarter. There will be one pair of boys.”
The class lets up a uniform groan – it would’ve been a lot nicer to get to choose their own partners – and the girls line up at the head of the room. Sam and Jon shuffle to the back to wait. The second they make it to the last table, however, a high voice calls out Sam’s name.
“Sam Tarly? Samwell Tarly?” The two boys turn their heads toward the voice. It’s a girl, too skinny, with long, dark blond hair and a wide smile. Sam gapes for a second until Jon pushes him forward.
“He’s right here,” Jon says. The girl’s smile widens a bit and she sticks out her hand.
“Hi Sam, can I call you Sam? I’m Gilly.” Sam shakes the girl’s hand, and collects himself rapidly.
“Yeah, Sam’s great. Call me Sam. Nice to meet you, Gilly.” Sam squeaks out, his voice normalizing as he keeps talking. The two beeline for the table closest to the front, and Jon has to remind himself not to roll his eyes.
He sits around for the next couple minutes, as nearly every name but his own is drawn. He keeps his attention half at the line of girls, and half on Sam and Gilly. They are hitting it off fairly well, and Jon is pretty sure this means that there is already a new addition to their Thursday night study groups. When he looks up again, there is one girl left, and three slips of paper in the bowl. The only other boys still sitting around are Loras Tyrell and Torrhen Karstark. Loras is a pretty-boy, and Jon is sure that at least half the girls in the class are disappointed they didn’t draw his name. The tool. Torrhen, on the other hand, is a good sort, if rough around the edges. He’s one of Robb’s old friends.
The girl left in line isn’t anyone Jon recognizes, but that’s nothing new. It is a public school, after all. She’s thin and shorter than average, but not to the point where you would mock her for being small. Jon clearly sees the wiry muscles that work their way up her arms, but he’s not half as distracted by that as by the fiery red mop of curls that sits atop her head. Gods, talk about hair.
She gives the bowl a glance, and fishes her hands around it for a good ten seconds, giving herself the opportunity to look at her three options. She doesn’t choose until Luwin, eyebrows raised, gives a pointed grunt. Daintily, she pulls one slip of paper up, and reads it.
“Jon.” She says, looking at him. How she knows which one is him is a bit beyond his knowledge, but he goes to sit next to her anyway. Loras and Torrhen have the last table to themselves.
“Uh, hey,” he says, taking his seat as Luwin turns to the chalkboard and dives into his prepared lecture on classroom rules. “Name’s Jon, nice to meet you.”
“Ygritte,” Ygritte lets out in return. “Nice to meet you too.”
She’s got a lilt to her speech, as though she was from the far north. It’s a bit difficult to get farther north than where they are now, in Winterfell, but maybe she is from Bear Island or some township in the Gift. Jon wants to ask her, but he can’t seem to phrase the question in any way that might not sound offensive. He’s got nothing against northerners, he’s pretty much a northerner himself, but what if she takes it the wrong way? Oh, gods, what if I say the wrong thing and mess up the whole quarter and she won’t even talk to me?
And now she’s caught me staring. Great. Jon closes his eyes and tries to collect himself.
“Alright there, you? Tell me you’re not the fainter. I do not want to be stuck with the kid who faints during class.” Ygritte says, her face betraying her sarcasm with a smile and a chink in her eye. “I mean, you’re looking a little pale.”
Jon feels himself blanch a bit more at this, knowing that a girl was calling him names and paying attention to whether or not he felt sick. Oh gods oh gods oh gods….
“I’m fine, I’m good, yeah.” He finally says. Ygritte just raises her eyebrows and looks at him.
“Okay then, whatever.” She smirks a bit, and turns her attention to the front.
They spend the rest of the class in a kind-of-awkward silence.
-
After an excruciating twenty minutes of rules and regulations, another thirty-five minutes of video on safety procedure, and a short experiment with Epsom salts, the bell finally, blessedly, rings. Jon reaches down for his book bag and begins to pack up, when Sam and Gilly walk back to his and Ygritte’s new table.
“Hello there,” Sam chimes. He waves happily at Ygritte. “I’m Sam, Jon’s friend. This is Gilly, my lab partner.”
Jon freezes for a fast second. Sam, no, what are you doing?
“Nice to meet you, Sam, Gilly.” Jon can hear the smile in Ygritte’s voice. “I’m Ygritte.”
“That’s a beautiful name, and a beautiful accent too!” Sam says. Jon is going to throttle him. “Where are you from?”
“Small town, just north of the Wall. Pa moved here for work, and so I came along for school.” Ygritte says. Why was that so easy for Sam to ask, and not Jon?
“Oh, wow! I’m from north of the Wall too,” Gilly volunteers. “Haven’t lived there since I was small, but there you have it.”
Jon finishes packing up (there are only so many ways he can rearrange his pens), and consequently runs out of excuses to keep his head under the table. He sits up, just in time for Sam to start talking again.
“How perfect,” he says. “Anyway, I’m sure Jon’s told you already, but we usually have a big study group on Thursday evenings. Just some friends together, one of our mums usually cooks dinner, and we do some homework. We’d love it if you would join us!”
Ygritte gives Jon a surprised look. “No,” she says. “He hadn’t mentioned it, but I’d love to join in!”
“Perfect.” Sam smiles warmly. “Well, Jon and I had best be off, we’ve got Gym next and can’t be late. It was wonderful meeting you two!”
“Yeah,” Jon adds in at the last second. The words fairly tumble out of his mouth as he says, “Great meeting you, see you Thursday.”
He ducks out the door ahead of Sam.