[Game of Thrones] The Day I Joined the Night's Watch

Here I am dressed all in black. By what cruel twist of fate have I allowed myself to end up here, wearing the black attire?

Our Lord Commander brings me back to reality with his words.

• You, the bastard, can you fight?

• No.

• No who?

• No, Lord Commander.

• Well, you'd better listen twice as much as the others if you want to defend yourself against the White Walkers.

No one believed the Starks and their saying. No one, least of all me. And yet...

Winter is coming.

And the White Walkers are with it.

I, who come from the Southern Realms, miss the sun. It has been days since I last saw it. The cold invades me, creeping everywhere and mocking the layers that I pile on. It is always there, infiltrating me to the bone.

And this snow... White everywhere. White all the time. I come to see white at night, with my eyes closed. The snow now haunts my nightmares.

Of all my companions, I am the worst at fighting. I hear their taunts when my arrow stands stiffly in the ground before the target. And to think they will soon become my brothers... Well, if I pass the test.

Times are tough, they said.

Bad habits must change and useless people must be eliminated.

I find myself wondering which fate would be more enviable: to succeed and join the Night's Watch, or to fail and be eliminated...

I haven't slept. Today is the day I have been waiting for and dreading for weeks. Today, my fate is at stake.

Am I afraid? Undoubtedly. But I no longer feel fear. Nor doubts. I feel nothing anymore. I move like a machine, driven by a survival instinct I thought I lacked. I no longer speak and only emit weak grunts when addressed.

It's my turn.

Ready. I take the arrow. The one that will determine whether I live my life in black or if... Better not to think about it.

My fingers do not tremble. Is it really my hand that places the notch of the arrow and pulls the bow? I wait for the signal.

Fire!

My arrow flies through the air. Time freezes. So does she.

Today, for the first time, it hits the target. Yet... Yet that will not be enough. Yet I remain the worst of the last recruits.

No matter this personal feat, this incredible improvement, this final desperate shot. My fate is tied to this arrow fixed in the innermost circle of the target.

My brothers are celebrating. The Lord Commander smiles slightly. He readies his sword.

On the ground!

My legs buckle, when I should take them in my grasp.

They place my head prominently for the executioner.

And thus ends my watch before I could even begin.

My last image will be of the snow. More white.

Winter is coming...

And thus François finishes his archery lesson in Winterfell Castle.

To live this medieval experience yourself (without ending up decapitated!), you will find the necessary information at Clearsky Adventure... and in our next article on Northern Ireland in the Game of Thrones style.

A special mention to thank the talented stylist who created our costumes: Marie Van Gils Fashion Designer

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