Disclaimer: I own a few OC's. George R.R. Martin owns everything else…
Chapter II
Nothing could have prepared Ashlyn for the awe–inspiring sight that stood before her. No legends, none of the countless tales that she had heard growing up as a little girl in the Westeros, had ever come close to doing the Wall true justice. And clearly, the men she walked alongside felt the same. Hers was not the only mouth agape as they approached the massive structure, and made their way inside.
Castle Black was eerily still. Some men drank and ate their midday meals wherever they could find a spot to sit, while a few others carried supplies to and fro, or merely meandered about as if they had nothing better to do. Besides the occasional glance or whisper, the new arrivals went mostly ignored. Most of the newcomers averted their gazes to avoid eye contact, but Ashlyn couldn't quite bring herself to look away. Suddenly, the decision to come to this place weighed heavy on her shoulders.
Well, I finally made it, she thought to herself. What have I gotten myself into?
Long ago, taking the black was considered a sign of selfless devotion to one's duty. To become a brother of the Night's Watch had been a high honor. But since that time, the threat of war from beyond the Wall had faded, and it had turned into nothing more than a haven… a sanctuary of sorts for the lost, the undesirable.
Many, now, were disgraced nobles with nowhere else to go, or dregs salvaged from the deepest and darkest dungeons of the Seven Kingdoms. All were spared and given a second chance to prove their worth. Thieves, even murderers, were offered a choice between death or service. This fact did nothing to alleviate Ashlyn's fears of what might happen should she be found out. She did not belong here. She knew that, but her presence could not be helped. With any luck, she wouldn't have to stay any longer than necessary.
"That's far enough, lads," one of the lead riders called out before dismounting his destrier. "Stay put and try to keep out of trouble. The Lord Commander will want to have a word before you get settled in…"
Like her fellow recruits, Ashlyn came to a halt while their escorts departed and left them to their own devices. Pulling her cloak tighter, she took in her new surroundings from beneath her hood. It wasn't long before she saw two figures – one human, one not – descending the stairs of the nearest tower. At first, she assumed it was the Lord Commander. However, she could soon make out the visage of a man near her age, possibly even a year or two her junior, and realized that he was far too young to hold a position of such power.
His face was framed with a long mane of black, curly hair. He had a lean build, and a strong jaw covered in stubble; as if he had recently decided to grow a beard, or had simply not taken the time to properly groom himself. Following on his heels, there was a magnificent direwolf, loyal and white as the snow itself. Ashlyn started, but refrained from turning when a voice spoke up behind her…
"You know who that is, don't you?"
Much to her relief, a second voice responded, "Should I?"
"See the wolf? That's Eddard Stark's bastard," the first answered. "They say he's the best sword here. Don't look like much, if you ask me."
"Quiet!" the second voice hissed under his breath. "'Fore somebody hears you, and they flog the both of us!"
The owners of both voices fell silent when another man appeared on the stairs. In his later years of life, he was tall and imposing, with closely cropped hair and a matching beard of flaxen. The Lord Commander. He stopped once he reached the platform overlooking the courtyard in which they stood, and peered down at them for a moment before speaking.
"Welcome to Castle Black," he addressed them, loud and clear. "I am Jeor Mormont, your Lord Commander. Today marks a new beginning for each and every one of you. I don't know what brought you here, or what crimes you may have committed. Perhaps you did not commit any crimes at all. To put it simply, I do not care. You are here… that's all that matters, now."
Ashlyn found her gaze drifting back to the younger man standing off to the Lord Commander's side; his direwolf lazily lying at his feet while he half listened to the speech, half studied the fresh faces below. She quickly lowered her head when he looked in her direction, and his stare lingered.
Swallowing a lump in her throat, she waited several seconds before lifting her chin and returning her focus to the platform. Thankfully, his attention had shifted elsewhere.
"This is the Night's Watch," the Lord Commander finished. "Tomorrow, your training begins…"
