You have been dragged off the back of the cart and thrown to the ground. "On your feet boy!" He says. I'm not a boy. I keep my hood low to hide my hair. I shouldn't have done what I did. That false king Joffrey ordered me to the Nights watch even though I'm a girl. There was nothing anyone could do.
They brought me in late at night so the others wouldn't pay me too much attention. The man takes me to the commander's chambers. He tosses me in the room and I struggle to not fall over. "So the king himself sent a woman to the nights watch." He stands from his seat. "You must have done something unheard of." I nod. "Well spit it out." He says. I tell him what I did. "By the gods." He seems a bit shocked. "That's insane but I don't blame you." He pours himself some wine. "Want some?" I shake my head. "I'm good." He takes a sip. "So is it true what they say." He pauses. He whispers. "You can————?" I nod. "Can I see?" "It only comes in my fits of rage. It requires deep burning anger in me." "I see" he leans back. ... "I'm surprised you aren't dead yet. Being one of the three surviving Targaryens." I don't say anything. It's true I am the sister of the great Khelesi and our brother the dragon. "Well, we need to do something about your clothes there." ... "and that pretty white hair."
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You step into the room with your new clothes. Your long braid is chopped to shoulder-length hair and stained black. Your nails clipped and your face wiped clean and replaced with war paint. He sends me back to the sleeping chambers for us. I get into my bed and try my best to sleep.
In the morning I'm awoken and we all eat then head out side. We began training. I see a man. He has a handsome face and beautiful eyes. I can't help but stare. "I think the fresh meat has a crush on the bastard." The men laugh and I quickly look away. I look to the man in charge and he just slightly nods at me. He tosses me a sword and I catch it with ease. The three circles around me and the "bastard" watches with some plump guy.
These guys are terrible. No training. They're an easy win. I breathe hard. "New guys got skills." Someone says. "Looks like you've got some competition, Jon." The fat guy says to him. Jon. Jon the bastard. Jon snow! The bastard son of Ned Stark.
