Disclaimer: I think it's pretty obvious that I do not own GoT or ASOIAF.

A/N: I've had this story within my head for so long and then started writing and couldn't stop. I hope it wasn't all for naught and that you guys enjoy it!

"What do you know of the Autumn? When the leaves fall and trees are bare from their colors and their fruit; stripped from all that made them all they were."

"What do you know of the Winter? The Winter's terror bid farewell before you were born, just to warn us all in silence it'll come again."

"What do you know of the Spring? It came falsely, gave even falser hope. It brought no flowers, it only brought us blood."

"All you know is the Summer. The long, long Summer. Summer child, you knew of little peace. Peace that would not remain."

Slowly and reluctantly, her eyes that felt as heavy as lead soon began to open. The etching sound of wheels rolling through the hard and unsteady earth was entering her ears, becoming louder with how increasingly aware she was becoming. Her mind was still in a state of daze, her head lolling as she tried to stretch out the sore muscles of her neck and shoulders.

Her dream, the one where a woman she never met before spoke to her, kept speaking to her about the seasons. In that dream it was just a voice with her laying in the middle of a forest, surrounded by a thicket of tall, green trees with bright leaves among a variety of thin and thick branches that would sway from the melodic gale that would come and go. The dream would come, randomly, and then cling onto every thought like how honey leaves a sticky residue on your fingers. It wouldn't really go away as quickly as she wanted it to.

"Get up, all of ya!" A coarse voice shouted at them, bringing her out of her befuddled reverie. Eyes blinking slowly, she tried to erase the blear from sleep that was over her brown irises. Squeezing them shut for a few more seconds, she opened them to finally see that her vision was fully crystal clear. "Welcome to Castle Black."

It certainly didn't live up to its name. Seven hells, it wasn't even a castle. All her eyes were soaking in were a bunch of towers and sturdy timber keeps, not at all a strong castle painted black like she always assumed it to be. Just the sight of this place made her feel doomed, but she already felt that way before she sat before this place. When she was betrayed by the one person she trusted within her ranks and was bound in iron clasps, she felt inevitably doomed for the very first time.

The North itself brought her dread. It was such a cold and desolate wasteland that held no sort of brightness or light. How people could live here by choice was beyond her comprehension. Every five minutes the gale would come, frosty in feeling and just nipping at her exposed skin constantly. Her body would rattle in the nights, making her cling onto herself to keep her warmth and by first light she would feel entirely numb; like a frozen block of human-shaped ice. She hardly saw a glimpse of the sun, not once would the grey overcast part and show her the bright orb that would blind one if they stared at it for too long. Not even being a pious person, she mentally prayed to any gods, old and new, to bring out the sun so it could give her a inkling of its warmth. They hadn't listened, rightfully so, what had she done to be given such a favor?

This place made her feel entirely homesick and that wasn't a good thing. She wished she was by the ocean, able to jump off board a ship, and swim her way back to her birthplace. Back to the place where the heat was common, needed, and loved; the humid air of the Summer Isles. It was her fault why she was here in Westeros, really. Everything had been her fault; everything from coming here to resorting to crime to keep herself afloat. The job of a mercenary wasn't as all it was hyped to be, but it was hers and now it came to an abrupt end because she got herself sold out to a Gold Cloak. What a fool she was. A fool now trapped and believed to be a man forced to join the Night's Watch.

The sound of steel against steel sooner interrupted her thoughts of disdain about her current situation. When she keened her ears to it, she found her hatred for the place only heighten than lessen. Just from the sound of sword combat, she could tell the lot of these men were amateurs. Just from seeing their footwork when she was forced out of the wooden traveling prison and through the open gates was enough to turn her stomach.

Her eyes then caught sight of a large, iron cage that was going up the large and expansive wall that held a history that went beyond her ancestors. She felt awe when she saw it the first time at reasonable distance, but now she felt hatred seeing it up close and personal. She would be guarding it, the Wall, and staring at it for years ( and all her life ) if she let herself stay. All she wanted to do was find a way to escape without exposing herself as a woman. A gender attached to the name and work that she had built for the past three years would just ruin all that she shed bled, sweat, and tears for.

With a shove, she was made to walk right into the courtyard and she turned to look as the man she was told to be named Yoren. Her eyes took a gander at him, the look in them holding and building animosity every second that she did. He merely shrugged, unfazed or even entertained by her clear irritation with him. She didn't expect for him to feel otherwise anyway. Sucking her teeth, she took her first steps into this place as her wrists were still tightly bound. Yoren said she had to remain iron-clasped because he didn't trust her. It was a wise decision on his part because she would've done her damnedest to escape or either die trying.

A tall and broad shouldered man stood by a rail dressed all in black with a cloak stitched with feathers draped across his back and shoulders came forward. His stride made him imposing along with the aura of a leader that surrounded him. His eyes looked across the courtyard to the training men and then settling for them, the new recruits. He was balding, his hair almost if not as white as the snow around them. His heedful eyes studied every inch of their faces, almost like he was keeping a mental image in his mind's eye of every last one of them. They were, after all, about to be his "men"; Men of the Night's Watch.

The look of him kept the intimidation, but she told herself to fear no man for all men die. All men were sacks of meat of various heights and sizes and could die by any means that presented itself; fist or blade. She killed many people, for survival and for coin, so what would make this man different all because of how tough he looked? She had seen tougher. She had killed tougher. This man should be just another among the list of names she forgotten.

"Lord Commander," Yoren called him the man she had been staring at, who among his observation finally rested his eyes on hers. They were a bluish-grey, she could tell even though she had to squint to figure it out, but they had been locked on to her brown eyes as if she were the only one standing there. "These are the prisoners from King's Landing. What a bunch, aren't they?"

Due to the title, it clearly informed them that he was the leader of the Night's Watch. A leader of a bunch of sniveling thieves, killers, and rapers. This Lord Commander had nothing to be proud of, especially of that. And yet, he seemed so smug. She finally tore her sights away from him, finding interest at absolutely anything, particularly the snow that stuck itself in piles on the ground.

"Why is that one in irons?"

She kept herself fixed to looking at the ground before her annoying curiosity to over. Her eyes slid to take a look at Yoren since both he and the Lord Commander were looking squarely at her. The rest of the prisoners did the same, looking at her bound hands and then up at her face. Dark brown irises had molten in the heat of her anger, not enjoying the fact that she was put on the spot.

"That one," began Yoren, "nearly slit my throat to escape." Crossing his arms, he wore that stupid grin he wore when he managed to knock the dagger out of her hands. "Couldn't let that one try that again, now could I?"

"Wild like a yearling." Did he compare her to an unbroken horse? Baring her teeth like a animal bares its fangs, she took a step forward.

"I'm not some horse that you can break and train!" The entire courtyard had gone silent with her shout, and if she thought everyone to be looking at her before, they definitely were now.

"Show some respect, bastard!" One man in black had said, voice quaking with anger. "That's your Lord Commander and he deserves to be treated as such!"

"He ain't my lord anything! I serve no one, 'specially not some old, stupid man!" Within an instant, the front of her tunic was gripped by the collar and her feet were off the ground. She could feel her clothes tightening around her neck, making her grimace from the constriction. Her eyes thinned immediately, looking down at the man who held her up with the both of his hands.

Before her was a man that was old, but clearly younger than their Lord Commander. His eyes were the color of pitch black, like a night sky. It was almost like if you continued to stare at them you might find yourself stuck in a sea of black abyss. "All you recruits come in here acting as if you're better than this place," he spat. Despite his anger, it wasn't hot with fury. It was cold. "You're just another piece of scum that nobody'll miss and you have the gall to think you're better than Lord Commander Mormont?"

"Let him go, Thorne," said the Lord Commander, his voice holding no room for argument. It was a demand, it was sound, and it was met with an answer. This Thorne man gave her a hard glare before dropping her, letting her fall down on her backside, squarely onto the ground. Luckily enough, the snow provided some cushion or else her ass would've certainly hurt upon impact. "He's not the first and we won't be the last to be upset with why they are here."

His mercy did nothing for her, if that's what he hoped. Still holding her defiance and anger in her eyes, she looked up at the leader of the crows.

"What's your name, boy?"

Debating on whether or not to answer him, she could feel her skin heating with the unbroken stares. Raising her head to properly make eye-to-eye contact with Lord Commander Mormont, she tried to control her lips from making a menacing and overall childish sneer.

"Aza," was her reply. It was short and to the point. "My name is Aza."

Her answer was met with silence, just a stare as his eyes tried to read her. She wasn't sure what he was trying to discover, but she hadn't liked the visual probing.

"Welcome to the Night's Watch, Aza."

It sounded like he said it in efforts to piss her off more and from the slight smirk on his face, she felt she guessed right. She watched him leave, going into one of the buildings with a man trailing obediently behind him.

"Get up, boy," Thorne commanded. "Looks like your work begins today."