Butterflies fluttered in Benjen's stomach as he forced himself to swallow a bit of porridge and chew a rash of bacon. Usually he enjoyed eating Hobb's porridge – it reminded him of breakfast at Winterfell – but that day, it tasted like mush as opposed to its usual oaty flavour. Benjen drained his cup of ale in one gulp. It did not steady his nerves as he hoped.

"Nervous?" Ser Jaremy Rykker sat down opposite him with a bowl of porridge and a plate stacked with slices of bread and bacon. Another knight, Ser Alliser Thorne, sat beside him carrying two mugs of ale. Ser Jaremy pushed the plate of bread and bacon towards Ser Alliser and began spooning blobs of porridge into his mouth. How could a man have such an appetite at a time like this? Benjen had never felt more nervous. After months of vigorous training, hunting, farming and other activities such as tending the horses, milking the cows, gathering firewood and helping Hobb cook the meals, it was decided that Benjen was ready to swear his vows. While he trained, hunted and farmed, Benjen managed to avoid having another conversation with the Lord Commander and Viserys…Dayne. After he deduced who Viserys truly was, he informed Castle Black's maester, Aemon, that the boy was ill and it would be in the Night's Watch's best interest to segregate Viserys for the time being. Thankfully, the kind maester agreed. "Viserys will be safe with me," Maester Aemon promised.

I hope I will never have to see Viserys again, thought Benjen, as he said to Ser Jaremy. "Aye. Should I be?"

Ser Alliser snorted coldly. "The only reason you will be nervous is if you plan to be a craven and crawl away a minute before we swear our vows." His black eyes bore into him. "Are you a craven, Stark?"

Benjen could not help but look back at Thorne with mild dislike. Around thirty seven years of age, Ser Alliser Thorne was a slim and sinewy man, dry and hard, with black hair and eyes like chips of onyx. Humourless, bitter and rather mean-spirited, At times, Ser Alliser would treat his fellow recruits and the other men with a thin smile. Like Ser Jaremy, he joined the Night's Watch for supporting House Targaryen during Robert's war.

"I am no craven," said Benjen icily. "I always wanted to be a man of the Night's Watch. I came here willingly…unlike you." He expected Thorne to give him a very chilling glare; he did not expect Thorne to mirthlessly laugh. A hundred pairs of eyes swivelled towards them as Thorne's cackle bounced off the timber walls of the common hall.

"What makes you think I was forced to come here?" Thorne said mockingly, ignoring the stares. "I too came here willingly – to avoid an unjust execution, as did Rykker and many others."

"You had no choice," Benjen argued. "Lord Lannister said it was either to take the black or be executed."

"I was to be executed for siding with the Mad King. My House was sworn to the Crownlands. Do you think I had a choice to choose who to support? I chose to come here. If I was unwilling, I would have chosen death. At least that would be quick and swift." He stared challengingly at him as he finished drinking the rest of his warm ale.

I will not concede. "I find it hard to believe."

Thorne shrugged. "Don't believe it then." He eyed Benjen with loathing and muttered. "I never liked you Starks," before stalking away. Rykker snorted and returned to his meal.

"Should he not hate Lannisters more?" said Benjen curiously. "Lord Lannister gave you and him the choice between taking the black and death."

Rykker shrugged. "If you have not noticed, Thorne prefers to keep his secrets to himself. Who knows? Perhaps your brother wounded him in a battle. Maybe Thorne was in love with Lady Ashara too and was jealous Lord Stark was chosen to wed the lady of House Dayne."

Benjen choked on his porridge. Thorne? In love?

"I jest," said Rykker hastily. "A rather poor one, I may add. Oh look, our fellow recruits are heading out. Shall we go?" Benjen nodded. Together, they left the common hall, crossing the weed-strewn courtyard to the sept.

Winterfell had no sept; the only sept Benjen had seen was the ruined sept in Harrenhal during the Harrenhal tourney. As Benjen was of the old gods, he was far more interested in the Harrenhal godswood which was walled over twenty acre, with the weirwood heart tree carved with a twisted mouth and flaring eyes than a ruined old sept.

Entering Castle Black's sept, Benjen squinted as the great crystal caught rays

of the morning light as it streamed through the south-facing window and spread it in a rainbow on the altar. Benjen took his place beside Ser Jaremy and watched the silent septon – Septon Celladar – swing a censer, filling the air with fragrant incense, so sickly sweet that made Benjen feel slightly nauseous.

"Celladar looks sober," Benjen heard a recruit behind him mutter. "Last time I saw him, he stank of wine." He was silenced when the high officers arrived. First was the ancient Maester Aemon who shuffled in, leaning on the steward Clydas. Bald, wrinkled, shrunken and blind, Aemon's mind was as sharp as his hearing, and he carried much-valued counsel; Lord Commander Qorgyle resplendent in a black wool doublet followed, looking less weary than the last time Benjen had spotted him from the distance; old Ser Denys Mallister even ventured down from the Shadow Tower, his black cloak clasped by House Mallister's silver eagle; and behind him came the senior members of the three orders of the Night's Watch: the rangers, the stewards and the builders.

Lord Commander Qorgyle stood before the altar and cleared his throat. "You came to us as outlaws," he began, "poachers, rapers, debtors, killers, and thieves. You came to us children. You came to us alone, in chains, with neither friends nor honour. You came to us rich, and you came to us poor. Some of you bear the names of proud houses. Others have only bastards' names, or no names at all. It makes no matter. All that is past now. On the Wall, we are all one house.

"At evenfall, as the sun sets and we face the gathering night, you shall take your vows. From that moment, you will be a Sworn Brother of the Night's Watch. Your crimes will be washed away, your debts forgiven. So too you must wash away your former loyalties, put aside your grudges, forget old wrongs and loves alike. Here you begin anew.

"A man of the Night's Watch lives his life for the realm. Not for a king, nor a lord, nor the honour of this house or that house, neither for gold nor glory nor a woman's love, but for the realm, and all the people in it. A man of the Night's Watch takes no wife and fathers no sons. Our wife is duty. Our mistress is honour and you are the only sons we shall ever know.

"You've learned the words of the vow. Think carefully before you say them, for once you've taken the black, there's no turning back. The penalty for desertion is death." Qorgyle paused and looked around. A lump formed in Benjen's throat. I always wanted to man the Wall, he thought. I will not run away. "Are there any among you who wish to leave our company?" Qorgyle asked. "if so, go now, and no one will think less of you." They might.

No one moved.

"Well and good," said Qorgyle, almost sighing with relief. "You may take your vows here at evenfall, before Septon Celladar and the first of your order. Do any of you keep to the old gods?"

Benjen stood. "I do, my lord."

"As do I my lord," added a voice behind him. Benjen could not resist turning around. His blue eyes fell upon the other recruit and recognise his brooch to be a silver pinecone; the pinecone of Clan Liddle.

Lord Commander Qorgyle nodded. "Castle Black has no godswood," he told them bluntly. "However, you will find a grove of weirwoods half a league from the haunted forest Beyond the Wall." He looked back at all the recruits as Benjen and Liddle sat back down. The First Steward handed him a scroll of paper. "We have placed each of you in an order, as befits our need and your own strengths and skills," said Qorgyle, unrolling it. He glanced at it and began to read. "Bowen, to the stewards. Wallace, to the stewards. Chett, to the stewards. Kegs, to the builders, Duncan, to the rangers. Ser Alliser, to the rangers. Ser Jaremy, to the rangers. Benjen, to the rangers." He rolled up the paper. "Your firsts will instruct you in your duties. May all the gods preserve you, brothers."


Late in the afternoon, Benjen set out to the forest with the First Ranger, the other rangers and Duncan Liddle, who insisted for them to call him Big Liddle. As they journeyed from Castle Black to the grove of weirwoods, Big Liddle chatted with Benjen, telling him his reasons for joining the Night's Watch. Benjen had been too nervous to dwell on why the heir of Clan Liddle decided to relinquish his rights to his father's lordship and be a black brother.

By the time they reached the grove of white trees, the sun was sinking fast below the trees. Benjen drew his breath sharply as they arrived at a clearing. He saw the nine weirwood trees sit in a rough circle. He had never seen so many white trees growing together before. Lyanna would convince me to ride with her in the wolfswood, he remembered. There are never this many weirwood trees in the wolfswood. Two or three grouped together perhaps, but never nine. Benjen dismounted his horse and tied the reins to an ironwood tree before he walked into the circle of weirwoods. "The grove of weirwood trees is a sacred place," the First Ranger had told them before they had exited through the passage doors at Castle Black. "Upon arrival, we will tether our horses. We will not besmirch the sacredness of the weirwood grove with our horses."

The small party walked across the forest floor littered with old fallen leaves, the First Ranger stopping in front of the third weirwood tree. Benjen and Big Liddle knelt, and as the last light faded in the west to give way to the vast dark canvas of the night, they said their words together.

"Hear my words, and bear witness to my vow," Benjen and Duncan Liddle recited, breaking the silence in the soundless wood. "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 honour to the Night's Watch, for this night and all the nights to come."

"You knelt as boys," the First Ranger said a minute later. "Rise now as men of the Night's Watch."

Benjen rose and found himself surrounded by smiling rangers, all patting him on the shoulder and murmuring words of congratulations. "You have a bright future in front of you," grunted Mormont, nodding at him. "Who knows? Maybe in ten years or so, it will be you as the First Ranger." He chuckled and went off to congratulate Big Liddle. Finally, thought Benjen. I am a man of the Night's Watch. Now my watch begins.


Excitement shivered through Benjen's spine as the walls of Winterfell came into view. He urged his horse to trot faster. He wanted nothing more than to see Ned and Ashara. You are not here as a brother, good-brother or uncle, Benjen reminded himself as Yoren rode up to him. You are here as a man of the Night's Watch and Lord Commander Qorgyle's chosen delegate. You are here to request more men for the Wall.

"Why did old Qorgyle send you here?" said Yoren bluntly. "Most brothers from noble houses don't return home."

Benjen shrugged. "I don't know any more about this than you do. Last week, I was summoned to the Commander's Keep and Qorgyle told me I was to travel to Winterfell with you and request more men. I think it is a type of practice for my first ranging or something. Unorthodox, but still. Do not fear, I won't run off and be a deserter. If I do, you will have to escort me back to Castle Black in chains where Qorgyle will have me executed."

Yoren snorted. "Aye, or Lord Stark will execute you himself."

Benjen shuddered. "I hope my brother will never execute me. Didn't you just return with a few more recruits?"

"Aye. I was then sent to join you. What is Qorgyle playing at? You haven't been manning the Wall for over a year, yet he trusts you enough to send you to your childhood home." Yoren spat. "It all sounds shifty to me."

"It was the Lord Commander's orders. No matter how strange it seems to be, we will obey his command."

"Aye. Did you tell Lord Stark o' our impending arrival?"

"No. I thought I would just show up…"

Yoren chuckled. "Not the brightest idea, eh? Then again, Lord Stark was your brother and writing to him may be difficult for you at the moment. I hope Lord Commander Qorgyle wrote to him at least. Do you think there will still be rooms in that inn in winter town?"

"There will be more rooms available than it would in winter." Lord Stark was your brother. Yoren's words echoed in Benjen's head. We bear the same house name yet we are no longer brothers.

Yoren grunted. "Good. What about a nice pot of hot stew?"

"Perhaps. If we are lucky, maybe even a bit of meat."

Yoren nodded with appreciation. "Aye. A nice hot meal for two passing black brothers, eh? A bit o' meat, a mug o' bear, a slice o' bread. Mmm."

"Here." Benjen threw him an apple. "If you are hungry, eat this. Qorgyle said that while I stay in Winterfell to persuade Lord Stark for more men, you are to go to Torrhen's Square. Hopefully by the time you return, we will both be ready to leave for the Wall with a batch of recruits. Is there a reason why Qorgyle is so determined – or more to the point, obsessed – with the need for more men? You must have went this path so many times already!"

"Meh. Lord Commander's orders. Since I injured my shoulder, I could not fight as well as I used to. Being a wandering crow is better than doing nothing at the Wall. Qorgyle wants men; I find him men."

"So many men?"

"The more men the better! The Night's Watch is no longer a prestigious order young boys dream to join. It's always the Kingsguard, bah. Once it used to be full o' noble men. Now, we rely on criminals. Getting a few willing volunteers is good enough for me and the Lord Commander."

"How many men are you aiming to gather?"

Yoren thought for a moment. "Three? I never expect more than that."

Benjen nodded. "There will always be more southron criminals to take back to the Wall. My bro-Lord Stark and the other Northern lords are of the old way and they prefer to execute their prisoners rather than imprison them."

"Aye. I'll be lucky to get my hands on two here."

The tall Winterfell walls loomed over them as they rode towards the gates. "I will go and find Lord Stark," Benjen told Yoren. "If you are still here by nightfall, I will join you for a spot of supper."

"Aye. I doubt there are many open taverns and inns in winter town. I suppose it will be rather easy for you to find me."

"Mmm. I'll see you tonight." Benjen spurred his tired horse through the gate as Yoren headed to the almost empty winter town. As he rode through the gate and courtyard, he was surprised to see Winterfell so desolate. He jumped down from his horse and led it to the stables. No sign of Hullen.

"Lord Benjen?"

Benjen turned around and sighed as he saw Maester Luwin standing in front of the stables, a folded letter in hand. "You have returned?" The maester's brow creased with concern. "Is something amiss, my lord?"

"It's just Benjen now, maester." Benjen fed his horse a carrot and stepped out from the stables. "I have said my vows," he explained. "I am a sworn brother of the Night's Watch now. Where is Lord Stark? Lord Commander Qorgyle had sent me here to request more men for the Wall. If you do not mind me asking, why are there so less men?"

After recovering from a moment of shock, Maester Luwin replied. "Lord and Lady Stark have already left for King's Landing my lo-Benjen. About three or four weeks ago, I believe. The queen had given birth to a daughter, Princess Lyanna Baratheon, and Lord Stark's presence was required. As his wife, Lady Stark went with him. Lord Stark had left Vayon Poole and myself in charge of affairs here at Winterfell. May I be of any assistance to you, Benjen?"

"How is Robb?" Benjen could not resist inquiring. Once I could call him my nephew. Now he is the heir of Lord Stark.

The maester smiled. "The young lordling is quite well. He can crawl, babble the language of babes, play with the toys other lords gave him. Lord Robb is one healthy lordling. Will you stay the night?"

"No. I will join Yoren in winter town for supper."

"As you wish. There will always be a room ready for you here – Lord Stark's orders. Would you care for some nourishment? As you eat, we can discuss the number of men you need."

Benjen went with Maester Luwin to the Great Hall. Despite dining with his sworn brothers, high officers and recruits in the common hall at Castle Black for almost a year, he would never forget Winterfell's large Great Hall. Unlike Castle Black's timbered common hall, Winterfell's Great Hall was enclosed with grey stone and exteriorly covered banners, its wide oak-and-iron doors opening to the castle yard, the rear exit leading to a dimly-lit gallery. Inside, it could hold eight long rows of trestle tables and seat around five hundred people. Benjen smiled as he remembered the rare opportunities to sup with his entire family on the raised platform as a child. At times Father would be too busy, Benjen recalled. Brandon would prefer to dine more with his friends than family; Lyanna would be riding – always riding; and Ned…Ned hardly descended from the Eyrie.

The smell of venison pie made Benjen's mouth water. As he ate, he listened to Maester Luwin's advice. "There are one or two orphaned boys in the kitchens," he said. "Their parents died of a fever as did their farm's livestock. With Lord and Lady Stark's permission, I took them in for a few weeks and they have helped the servants and cooks. Tell them the honour of joining the Night's Watch. Tell them it is a better life for them than kitchen helpers."

Is it? "I will." Benjen finished the last of his venison pie and stood up. "When will you send another letter to Lord Stark?"

"Shortly."

"If I am not asking too much, can you please tell Lord Stark I am sorry I did not have the pleasure of meeting him, but I thank him for his hospitality, and I hope to see him again one day."

Maester Luwin nodded. "I will add that to the letter. I trust you need no aid to the kitchens, Benjen?"


Benjen met Yoren at the gates of winter town with the two orphaned boys on horses and bags of fresh supplies. "You would make a fine wandering crow," said Yoren, nodding at the two recruits as he rode up to them with four more young men of his own. "If you get tired of ranging, be a wandering crow."

Within days, they had gathered another volunteer on the way back to Castle Black and as they approached the abandoned village of Queenscrown, Benjen caught sight of a furred figure disappearing in the forests. "Oh! Who is that?"

Yoren glanced. "A wildling," he said dismissively. "They are getting wilder and bolder each day. Soon the day will come when we must take arms against them. Mark my words, Stark. That day will come…soon."


Okay, so there is internet (I'm in China by the way) where I'm currently residing, but it's not the best and there was a bit of trouble searching up ASOIAF stuff. I haven't checked through this chapter as much as I liked, but I hope you enjoyed reading it anyway :) I'm 98% certain this would be the last Benjen/Wall chapter in Part 1 (before the huge time jump). I've set myself a challenge to update all the remaining chapters of Part 1 before New Year's so be sure to look out for a number of updates in the upcoming days :)