With much delay, I have finally finished the first chapter of my new GoT fic! :D I've been thinking about doing a GoT fanfic for awhile, as it's pretty much become all I can think about, and I think it's safe to say that I'm hopelessly in love with Jon Snow *sigh*

Anyway, I'd like to thank my lovely beta-readers: thecrazydragon, Amara Kingley and amplexus! You guys rock!

Lyra

She held the knife in one hand, its blade glimmering in the dim light of her quarters. With a deep breath, she grabbed all of her hair and brought the tresses over one shoulder. In one swift movement, her waist length hair fell to the floor, landing in a small pile of limp, chestnut colored strands. It came off easily enough; the knife's sharp edge gave a nice, clean cut.

She lit another candle and grabbed her small mirror. Her hair was now slightly past her chin, its ends curling slightly upwards. She brushed her bangs over her forehead, to cover more of her face. Then she shoved the dagger back into its small scabbard on her belt, deciding that she looked convincing enough.

She tossed her trunk out of the window and jumped after it. Her horse, Strider, was already waiting for her, his reins tied to a nearby tree. The favour that she owed Jonah, her friend and the local stable boy, was too great to repay with a simple word of thanks, but she would somehow give him her gratitude him. If she ever saw him again, that is.

She strapped the trunk onto Strider's saddle, and braced two hands on the stallion's back. She lifted herself up, swinging her legs onto either side of him. She leaned forward and untied the reins, softly stroking the auburn fur on the horse's neck. At her hip, her dagger and her longsword rested in their leather scabbards; it had become a habit of hers to double and triple check. With one last glance at the castle, she spurred her strong horse's sides, and finally set off into the night.

The journey was longer than expected. What she thought would be a month's ride turned into a month and a half. Lyra couldn't use the Kingsroad; some suspicious band of travelers or wary smallfolk could have recognized her despite her disguise. And even if she did manage to evade their recognition, they could have beaten her, stolen her goods and raped her, if they came to know that she was actually a woman grown beneath her worn cloaks.

Her journey was long and tiring, but it was worth every second. Each step her mount took brought her further away from her father, mother and betrothed. With each step, she was brought further away from those monsters. Of course, she had oft thought of turning back, for the sake of her siblings. They had suffered for the family, without any protest. It was only fair that she did her part for her family. In the end, the irrational part of her always won, and it made her ride even faster for the Wall. She spent near all her time toiling for her freedom, all for the sake of setting her life to rights once more. There was no way in the Seven Hells that she would turn back.

The Wall rose seven hundred feet before her, but it seemed close to several thousand. She couldn't help but gape in awe at the sheer size of the structure. Lyra had never seen anything like it; the immense structure looked as if it was carved purely out of ice. Its off-white color shone in the bright sunlight, illuminating everything around it. Strider trotted slowly towards Castle Black, as if he, too, was mesmerized by the view.

Lyra took a deep breath and gently urged her horse faster toward the castle. His hooves thundered across freshly fallen snow. It was a sound that Lyra warmly welcomed. She relished in the feel of the cold wind slapping against her face. She had never been up North before, and now she was here for life. But she was happy. She would be safe. After several months of dreaming of escape, the wait was finally over. She was here. She made it.

Jon

It was the same thing for him, every day, the same routine. Wake up, wash up, get dressed, go downstairs to break his fast, train and spar for the whole day, sup, and eventually go to bed. Or try to, at least. Ever since the raven came with word from Winterfell, Jon couldn't stop thinking about his younger brother, Bran. It kept him up at night for the past week.

Brandon was awake, and he still seemed to have his health, but would he ever walk again? Would he and his brother ever be able to ride out beyond the Wall, like they always talked about? Jon knew about Bran's dreams of becoming a warrior; he could only imagine the devastation his brother would feel if he would never be able to mount a horse and serve the Realm.

Jon grunted as he felt a pain in his right side. Pyp had just struck him in his stomach with his training sword, and Jon had been too deep in his thoughts to notice. Snow swung his sword lamely at Pypar, but the small boy hopped out of the way just in time.

"Snow!" Ser Alliser Thorne, Castle Black's master-at-arms, growled, his trademark frown gracing his aged face. "Focus! You're almost as useless as the rest of them today!"

Jon opened his mouth to reply, but he turned his attention to the noise of a trotting horse coming through the gates. The rest of the recruits turned to watch a tiny boy sitting upon a steed, slowly approaching the large group. Jon met the boy's wide, green eyes for a moment, but the stranger quickly averted his eyes.

"Who are you?" Thorne barked, walking right up to the boy once he entered the courtyard. Jon noticed the knight fingering his longsword.

"Elias Hill, ser," He answered him quietly, with the slightest hesitation, meeting his eyes from under his long, dark bangs. "From Casterly Rock. I wish to join the Night's Watch, ser," Jon saw Elias' hands shaking while holding the reins of his horse.

"How old are you, boy?" Alliser asked roughly, narrowing his eyes.

"Fourteen, ser,"

"What brings you to the Night's Watch?"

Hill visibly swallowed. "My master got upset with my song," He spoke quickly, as if he couldn't wait to escape from under the stare of Ser Alliser Thorne. "He said it was insulting. So he gave me the choice- my tongue, or the Wall," After a few moments of silence, Elias swung a leg over his horse and jumped to the ground. "I hope I'll be allowed to stay here, ser," Jon thought he was tiny on the horse, but on the ground, Thorne towered over him by at least a head and a half. He still held his horse's reins, although the mount was very calm and unmoving.

"A singer, eh?" The knight glared at Elias, straightening his back so he was even taller. "Your last name is Hill, correct?"

"Aye,"

"A singer, and a bastard," Alliser laughed dryly and took the boy's trunk from off the saddle. He dropped it on the ground next to Elias. "How about you sing for us, bastard?" A few of the boys near Jon laughed uneasily.

Elias cleared his throat and looked around the courtyard, his eyes meeting Jon's once more. "I would love to, ser," He tore his gaze away from Jon and met Alliser's eyes. "But I am quite tired from my journey. I'm terribly sorry, ser. Perhaps another time," He gnawed on his bottom lip nervously.

"Very well," Thorne twisted his lips into a frown. He turned around to face the other recruits. "Snow!" He yelled. "Show your fellow bastard to his quarters."