Notes

Translated and adapted to English by throwhardest, to whom I am very grateful.

JAIME I

Jaime had ample time to regret everything on the way to the Wall.

First, for not paying his maester the proper mind - Father had done his best to beat him into it, and even that didn't work - and for listening to Cersei in the first place.

Then again, the Kingsguard wasn't the best place to be. Jaime found out that at best, he could be honorably dishonourable - honoured to serve his king, and dishonoured to fail his vows to the Mother every night the King took his wife.

Oh, and what a king he was!

All who'd judged him for killing the dragon-to-be were but base hypocrites - his goodbrother, Eddard Stark foremost among them. If only he'd smelled what became of his father...

They'd gathered quite a number of Northmen as they made their way through the North, with Last Hearth making it a hundred in addition to the Lannister three hundred.

"Ser Dontos Hollard," Jaime murmured. "Have they replaced me with that fool?"

"There weren't many knights available, nephew. Besides, Ser Dontos was Ser Barristan's squire, so it's natural that he proposed him for the position."

"Well, now I'll be a black brother, I have to stop worrying about what happens in King's Landing."

"Is that really what you want?" his uncle asked.

"It is," he lied.

"The Night's Watch is a frozen prison."

"And I killed the king I swore to protect."

His uncle did not respond. There was no better head for war in the Westerlands than Uncle Tygett's, but Jaime had never really warmed to the man. Gerion was the uncle he and Tyrion really looked forward to, while Tygett was the uncle that hovered in the background, ominously.

"Lyonel wants to follow in your footsteps in the Night's Watch," his uncle commented.

"Lyonel is thirteen years old."

"Genna was... distraught." Had more sense than me, then.

Lord Commander Quorgyle had been in talks to establish a port at the mouth of the Milkwater, that her nauseating husband would administer.

Jaime cared little for Ser Emmon Frey - her aunt, though did not deserve freeze on the roof of the world. Does father truly hate her so?

He didn't want to think about it. The port was being offered because Jaime in the first place, making him the root of her grief - well, it was out of his hands now.

"I've taken the black cloak, and on my shoulders will it bloody stay," he said to himself. "Until the day of my death."

…

The Wall was a sight, even more impressive than Tyrion said it would be. In hindsight, Jaime would have wanted Tyrion to maybe say a few words about how bloody far it was from Winterfell - nothing to be done about it right now.

What would become of his poor sister? Could tempestuous Cersei endure Eddard Stark and his bastard? When Jon Snow grew up, who would prevent him from harming Cersei and her children?

Jaime didn't want to think about it either. If his Lord Father had a lick of sense, the bastard would be sent away at the first chance he would get. Unfortunately, he knew for certain Stark, at least, had more honour than sense.

Perhaps I should take the matter into mine own hands...

Jaime would live. Here, at least, he was safer than in King's Landing and its vipers - Cersei, however, was still at risk.

"Well, nephew, here we are" said his uncle when they arrived in the courtyard of Castle Black - a woebegone thing that was indefensible from the south. His mouth twisted with distaste. "Such as it is."

Indeed.

In the courtyard, there were ten men - seemingly ranking officers of the Night's Watch. They stood at attention as Jaime approached.

"Welcome to Castle Black, Ser Jaime," announced the man who seemed to be the Lord Commander. His skin was dark and his hair greasy. "You - and your men - are most welcome."

A Dornishman? How did he get here?

"A gift from the Warden of the West to the Night's Watch," intervened his uncle Tygett.

"Ah! Ser Tygett, it's been a while. Are you planning on taking the black as well?" the man asked wryly.

Tygett shifted in his saddle. "Nay, Lord Qorgyle - I am to Winterfell, and my niece."

Qorgyle, Jaime thought, trying to remember the sigil and where House Qorgyle was landed in Dorne. Perhaps a Masterly House?

"As you will it," affirmed the Lord Commander. "Still, thank you for seeing the new recruits to our halls - we've prepared a feast in honour of your arrival."

The food was sparse - Jaime was certain Tywin would have scoffed at such a meagre spread. Still, it was hearty fare; auroch meat and greasy sausages, meant to bolster men in the wintry air - and coupled with strong beer.

Still, there was much room for improvement - Jaime could lean on his family and return the Night's Watch to its former strength, with him as Lord Commander as befitted his station. Yet a dream, but I'll be damned to the Seven Hells if I do not make it reality!