Oaths,
Bound in Black
Prologue
In the Beginning
I ask you not pass this story off, the first chapter will be, let's say, not that exciting, but it is necessary for the story-line.
"You cannot keep the child, you know the oath." Commander Morrison uttered in a hushed tone, peering at the boy wrapped in bloodied linen.
"Look at him, would you kill him, what would you have me do, his mother died before he'd even opened his eyes!" Gareth replied, anger tainting his already somber voice.
"This is your fault, don't pin this on me, you were the one who decided to go whoring." Morrison said, matching his tone.
"How was I to know? I thought they had herbs, I thought she could not fall pregnant."
"You must put the babe to death, there is nothing we can do, truly, I am sorry." The Commander whispered.
"No, you can't do this! Put me in his place! House him; until he comes of age, and let him have his life."
Morrison walked around the room, in the candlelight, his face looked worn, not only by time, but by the artic wind that kissed his face at all hours, and the biting cold that froze his bones. His fist clenched, turning his knuckles into an even lighter shade of white, he slouched on a nearby stool. After a long silence he raised, with an outstretched arm, a crooked finger in Gareth's face.
"You're damn lucky we're friends Gareth!" he sighed, and let his hand drop to his side, walking behind his desk. "I've decided. I trust you know it brings me no pleasure in doing this, you will be executed; Tomorrow, at sundown as an example to your brothers, as for your son." Morrison paused and sat down beside Gareth, "He will live out the oath you took." Morrison said sternly.
"Sylus, please, I beseech you, I'm no coward, I will take my sons place, but gods be damned, you can't take away his life." Gareth exclaimed,
"Quiet fool, do not forget who your superior is, that is my decision you're lucky I give you your son's life. The dice have been set, now get out."
Chapter 1.
Days come and gone.
Fourteen years later, it was a bitter cold morning, even on the summer solstice; the windows had long since glassed over with a blue gray ice. On the far side of the meager study, stood Brinn, an ancient tome resting in the crook of his arm, its pages dusty and torn with age and use.
"Black, it's time, come with me boy," Argus said beckoning.
Black is the name given to the bastards of the wall, flowers for the bastards of Highgarden, stone for that of the Eyrie and snow for those of the north.
As Brinn and his companion walked the narrow corridors of Castle Black, a dull cold set deep into his bones, it felt as if his marrow had frozen, the cobbles groaned against the wind, and torches flickered, barely lighting the moldy hallways.
"Do you know your words Brinnande?" Argus asked, pretending to have the slightest interest.
"Aye, High Steward, Night gathers, and now my watch begins. It shall not end until my death. I shall take no wife, hold no lands, father no children. I shall wear no crowns and win no glory. I shall live and die at my post. I am the sword in the darkness. I am the watcher on the walls. I am the fire that burns against the cold, the light that brings the dawn, the horn that wakes the sleepers, the shield that guards the realms of men. I pledge my life and honor to the Night's Watch, for this night and all nights to come" Brinn finished, feeling dread tug at his heart.
"Remember that oath black, your fuck up of a Father forgot it, see where it got him?"
Brinn's knuckles tightened, and he bit his lip so hard the coppery taste of blood filled his mouth, he did not let Argus win, he said nothing.
The oak door opened to the freezing blue of the wall, and a wind that blistered the skin, a podium had been set. Commander Sylus Morrison stood at its head and gave a curt nod to the steward.
"With his coming of age, Brinnande Black, shall bear the weight of his father's burdens on his shoulders. His father shied from his duty, his post left unfilled, his nights empty, Brinn joins with us today, to join our family, so welcome him, brothers!" Morrison ushered Brinn towards the stand, the High Steward close behind,
"Take your oath, and rejoice with your newborn family, to replace that which you did not have." Argus said with a spiteful grin.
Brinn cleared his throat and recited the vow, but finished with.
"My Father disgrace will be paid with my life, and as his blood flows through me, so does his oath of duty!"
Chapter 2
Arming the Black
Training started in the wee hours of morning, no birds sung the arrival of day, the only sound was that of the wind constantly rattling the windows in their sockets, and the groaning of the walls.
Brinn, stood, admiring the attire set out on his footlocker. A black cloak, with a neck of rugged fur, it fell around his calves, a black tunic outfitted with a boiled leather vest, plain black trousers made of a thick almost leathery material, and calf high boots, made of supple cow hides, made for running.
"Brinn, I have something for you," Morrison's voice sounded outside the door as he was buckling his belt,
"You can enter Commander," Brinn replied straightening his tunic.
"Well, well, you look like the splitting image of your father, tell me boy, have you ever looked in a mirror?" The commander said ruffling Brinn's hair.
"Mirror?" Brinn asked, confused
"My god boy, have you no idea what a mirror is?" Morrison stood, and opened a cupboard Brinn had no idea existed. Brinn walked hesitantly to the glossy mirror, in it he saw a boy, his skin white and chiseled, his cheekbones were high and rough bronze stubble lined his jaw, unruly golden curls fell from his head. Brinn raised a hand a touched his cheek.
"That's… That's me?" he asked curiosity creeping in his voice
"Yes son, that's you." The commander laughed pulling up a chair,
"Now boy, my gift," he said, pulling a crimson scabbard out of a roll of moss green cloth, it's pommel gleaming in the candlelight,
"Here take it; it's heavier than the wooden ones you've been using, careful now," He said, as Brinn unsheathed the blade, it made an unmistakable whisper of steel. He shuffled the blade from his left to his right hand, testing the weight. Turning he swung in a deadly arc.
Sylus's voice turned somber, as he said. "It was your fathers, before…" his voice cut out, and he walked out of the room. Brinn was too mesmerized by the steel to notice him leave. He turned to say thank you, only just noticing the Commanders absence, he shrugged and walk to the training pitch, fixing the sword to the loop in his belt.