Rick Dayne died just a few hours after Jon returned to the castle. Edric was distraught, crying for days on end whilst the maester arranged for the burial. Funerals weren't a big thing in Westeros, at least not like it had been on earth. The funeral was a short affair, just the close family and trusted friends. The three bastards we're allowed to participate but their knights weren't. The maester and Edric's aunt Allyria took over his duties whilst he was grieving. The time protecting the young now-Lord was spent consoling him instead of protecting.
"I knew it would happen soon, I spent so many nights telling me I was ready for it to happen but- but-"
"One can never be ready for loss… it is like a branding iron on the heart, isn't it?", Jon offered, ruffling his hair, "you can always cry in front of me, it is not a weakness, it is human nature to grieve"
"You get it… Greg just stands there silently brooding and Bob cracks jokes… neither of them get what it's like…", Edric sobbed as he leaned closer to him, embracing him as snot ran down his face and into Jon's shirt. Thousands of years of experience couldn't prepare him for this sight. The young Lord was in deep grief. Loki had encountered grief, the person he was before had encountered grief but Jon? The amalgamation of Jon Snow, a random nobody from earth and Loki, this new configuration had yet to deal with true grief. It was… uncomfortable. So- so human, so raw and unfiltered…
Out of instinct, he began humming a tune, one that had resonated deeply with him back on earth, "leaves from the vine. Falling so slow, like fragile tiny shells, drifting in the foam. Little soldier boy, come marching home. Brave soldier boy, come marching home~"
As he kept singing, the grip on his silk garments loosened. He looked down and saw Edric peacefully asleep, held in his arms, "-brave soldier boy, come marching home~"
A week later, Ser Arnold had gathered the other two bastards and instructed them, "hill, stone, attack snow with all you got, well, try not to kill each other but other than that, everything is fair game"
Greg and Bob looked at each other. Bob was grinning madly, whilst Greg was as impassive as ever, simply nodding.
Jon took his spear and swung it in circles, before rushing at Bob. Bob barely had time to raise his sword to block. Jon could end it but instead, he jumped back, avoiding an arrow aimed for his calf. Greg was already knocking back another arrow. Clearly, he was the bigger threat, so, Jon waited for the arrow to shoot, catching it in mid air like Hawkeye's before snapping it in half inbetween his fingers. He jumped at the skinny boy, aiming for his bow arm, which he hit. The bastard let his bow fall in a moment of pain but he recovered by snatching his dagger from his side. Bob tried attacking from behind but Jon just swung around and drove the shaft against his face, "ouch!"
As he doubled over, Jon punched him in the chest with a bit too much force. There was an audible *snap* and Bob was out of the fight. Greg followed suit, yielding once he had thrown his dagger and missed the mark right in front of him.
Ser Arnold clapped slow, with a look of pride on his face, "you have finally reached a point where I can't teach you any more. Come and kneel before me. In the name of the warrior, I charge you to be brave. In the name of the father, I charge you to be just. In the name of the mother, I charge you to defend the young and innocent. In the name of the maid, I charge you to protect all women. Jon Snow, do you swear before the eyes of gods and men to defend those who cannot defend themselves, to protect all women and children, to obey your captains, your liege lord and your king, to fight bravely when needed and do such other tasks, as are laid upon you, however hard or humble or dangerous they may be?"
"I swear it"
"Then rise, Ser Jon"
"Hey, why does he get to be knighted and I don't?", Bob protested but all of the ones present knew why. Jon was simply on another level. He could beat fully trained knights many years his senior without breaking a sweat. If any of the three deserved knighthood, it was Jon.
He was nearing his potential, muscle memory was forged enough to make him one of, if not the best fighters in Westeros. At least in a one on one confrontation, there were few that could challenge him.