ASOIAF/GOT: The King in Black

Daniel crouched at the edge of the tree line, his gaze fixed on the village below. The distant torchlight flickered in the dark, casting long shadows over the uneven rooftops. Smoke curled lazily from a handful of chimneys, the faint scent of burning wood drifting toward them on the night breeze.

It wasn't a large village—maybe a dozen buildings, some clustered around what looked like a central square, others spread out near the surrounding fields. A single dirt road cut through the middle, barely wide enough for a cart. No walls, no palisade, just a few wooden fences marking the boundaries of farmland.

That was good. No defenses meant no garrison.

If this place had soldiers or even a Bolton presence, they would've seen something—tents, banners, armed patrols. But the only movement came from a handful of villagers lingering near a small fire, their voices low, the flicker of their lanterns swaying in the night.

Daniel exhaled slowly.

This place was small enough that the Night's Watch might not have sent word this far.

Might not.

He wasn't about to assume.

Behind him, Rask knelt in the underbrush, watching with quiet interest. Jace shifted beside him, his fingers clenching and unclenching, barely containing his nerves. The other two—Kain and Lena—stood further back, keeping to the shadows.

Rask leaned in. "Don't see no guards. No banners, either."

Daniel nodded. "That doesn't mean we're safe."

Kain scoffed under his breath. "Small villages like this don't ask questions. They trade, they farm, and they don't get involved in the business of lords. If we're careful, we can pass through without drawing attention."

Daniel wasn't convinced.

If there was one thing Westeros had taught him already, it was that nowhere was truly safe. Villagers might not care where a man came from, but all it took was one loose tongue, one rumor traveling up the wrong chain of command.

They couldn't afford to be reckless.

"We go in pairs," Daniel said. "One group at a time. If something feels wrong, you leave. Don't wait."

Rask smirked. "And if someone recognizes us?"

Daniel's expression didn't change. "Then we deal with it."

That was all he needed to say.

The tension in the air was heavy, unspoken but understood. They were fugitives now. They weren't just running from the Wall—they were running for their lives.

And in a world like this, people who ran didn't always get far.

---

Rask and Kain went first.

They moved with the ease of men who had done this before—the quiet shuffle of boots over dirt, bodies angled just enough to avoid drawing attention. They weren't hiding, but they weren't making themselves a spectacle either.

Daniel watched from the trees as they made their way down the sloping hill, following the path toward the village's edge. They didn't stop near the larger buildings, didn't linger too long in the open.

Good.

They had a plan.

A few minutes passed.

Then a few more.

Finally, Daniel saw the faint flicker of movement near one of the houses—a barely perceptible nod from Kain before he disappeared behind the wooden structure.

Safe. For now.

He turned to Jace and Lena. "We go next."

Jace swallowed but nodded. Lena adjusted the hood of her tattered cloak, pulling it lower over her face.

Daniel rose to his feet, feeling the pull in his legs from the day's march. His muscles were stiff, his body still aching from their escape, but he ignored it. There was no room for weakness now.

He led them down the slope, keeping his steps even. Not too fast. Not too slow.

Act like you belong.

As they reached the first stretch of road leading into the village, Daniel caught sight of a man near a firepit, stirring a pot of something that smelled vaguely of stew. A woman stood nearby, kneading dough over a wooden table, her fingers dusted with flour. Neither of them paid the newcomers any mind.

Good.

The three of them kept walking.

Daniel's eyes flicked to the nearest building—a modest wooden structure, its shutters half-closed, the faint glow of candlelight spilling through the gaps. Further down, a larger building sat near the center of the village. An inn or a trading post, judging by the size.

They needed food, clothes, and information.

But more than that, they needed to keep their heads down.

Daniel turned to Jace and Lena, keeping his voice low. "Split up. Don't make it obvious. Get what you can, but don't draw attention."

Jace hesitated. "And if someone asks who we are?"

Daniel's answer was simple. "Travelers. Nothing more."

Jace nodded and peeled off toward a smaller building near the edge of the village. Lena went the opposite direction, slipping into the shadows near what looked like a barn.

Daniel continued toward the main road, keeping his pace steady.

A few villagers moved past him, bundled in thick wool cloaks, their faces weathered from the cold. They gave him a passing glance but didn't stop.

He exhaled slowly.

No suspicion. Not yet.

---

The trading post was small—more of a general store than a real market. A single wooden counter stood in the center, cluttered with small sacks of grain, dried meats, and simple tools. Shelves lined the walls, holding clay pots, spools of thread, and iron nails.

A man stood behind the counter, wiping down a wooden mug. He was older, with a thick beard and narrowed eyes, his sleeves rolled up over thick forearms.

Daniel approached carefully, pulling the hood of his cloak lower.

The man glanced up, his expression neutral. "Need something?"

Daniel nodded toward the sacks of food. "Dried meat. Bread, if you have it."

The man grunted. "You got coin?"

Daniel hesitated.

Shit.

He hadn't thought that far.

His mind raced for an answer, but before he could speak, the door creaked open behind him.

Rask stepped inside.

Daniel didn't move, didn't react. But the tension in his shoulders eased just slightly.

Rask approached the counter with the same ease he carried everywhere, hands loose at his sides, his stance relaxed but purposeful.

"Cold night," he muttered, reaching into the folds of his cloak.

The shopkeeper shrugged. "Ain't it always?"

Rask pulled out a small pouch and dropped it onto the counter. It clinked.

Daniel almost raised an eyebrow.

The shopkeeper grunted and scooped it up, weighing it in his palm before nodding. He turned, grabbing a sack from behind the counter and shoving it forward. "Dried venison. Not fresh, but it'll last."

Rask grabbed the sack. "That'll do."

The shopkeeper didn't ask any more questions.

Daniel followed Rask back outside, keeping his voice low. "Where the hell did you get coin?"

Rask smirked, tossing the pouch in his palm. "One of the guards back at the camp wasn't paying attention. Thought it'd come in handy."

Daniel let out a slow breath.

He really should've expected that.

Rask handed him the sack. "This'll get us through the next few days. But we need more than food."

Daniel nodded.

—

He pulled his hood lower as he stepped away from the trading post, the weight of the food sack shifting in his grip. The village streets were still quiet, save for the occasional shuffle of boots against dirt or the distant murmur of voices inside homes.

No one had questioned them yet. But that wouldn't last.

A group of strangers passing through might not raise alarms in a city or a large town, but here? In a place this small, where everyone likely knew each other by name? It wouldn't take long before someone started wondering.

He glanced at Rask. "We can't stay long."

Rask smirked, tossing the small coin pouch in his palm before tucking it away. "Didn't plan to. But we need more than food."

Daniel knew that.

Food would keep them alive, but it wouldn't keep them safe.

They needed weapons, warmer clothes, and something to make sure they weren't recognized if the Night's Watch came looking.

Daniel scanned the village. A few buildings stood out—one, a barn near the southern edge, where Lena had disappeared earlier. Another, a larger house with smoke curling from its chimney, likely the home of the village elder or someone important.

Then there was the blacksmith's hut.

A squat, sturdy structure near the eastern side, its roof lined with heavy wooden beams. A dull orange glow flickered from within, barely visible through the cracks in the shutters.

Daniel nudged Rask's arm. "Blacksmith."

Rask followed his gaze, nodding slightly. "If we're lucky, he's got spare blades. And if he doesn't?" He smirked. "I know how to make a man generous."

Daniel didn't reply. He wasn't against stealing what they needed, but he wasn't about to draw unnecessary attention either.

They'd already been lucky once.

Pushing their luck again could turn this from a quiet supply run into a bloodbath.

"We go in careful," Daniel murmured. "No trouble unless we have to."

Rask shrugged. "Suit yourself."

---

The forge was small but well-maintained.

A heavy anvil sat in the center, blackened from years of use. Tools lined the walls—hammers, tongs, and iron rods stacked in neat bundles. The air was thick with the scent of soot and metal, familiar and oddly grounding.

A man worked near the hearth, hammering a glowing piece of iron against the anvil. He was broad-shouldered, his thick arms covered in sweat despite the cold air outside. His hair was gray at the temples, his beard trimmed but streaked with ash.

He didn't look up as they entered.

"If you need repairs, you'll have to wait. I don't work for free." His voice was gruff but not unfriendly.

Daniel stepped forward, keeping his hands loose at his sides. "We're not here for repairs."

The smith paused mid-strike, glancing up. His eyes flicked between them, sharp and assessing. "Then what do you want?"

Daniel held his gaze. "Weapons."

The hammer came down again—one last ringing blow before the man straightened, wiping sweat from his brow with the back of his hand.

He studied them in silence.

Then he nodded toward the wall, where a few finished blades were set aside.

"Nothing fancy," he said. "Couple of iron shortswords, a few daggers. If you're looking for quality, you'll need coin."

Daniel pulled out Rask's stolen pouch and set it on the worktable. The smith raised an eyebrow but didn't argue. He grabbed one of the shortswords, testing its weight before passing it to Daniel.

It wasn't Valyrian steel, wasn't even castle-forged, but it was sturdy. Functional. That was all that mattered.

Rask took one for himself, testing the edge with a satisfied nod. "Good enough."

Daniel glanced at the remaining weapons. "We'll take a dagger, too."

The smith shrugged, grabbing one from the pile and handing it over. "Fair trade."

Daniel didn't miss the way the man's gaze lingered on them as they left.

Not suspicion, not yet.

But curiosity.

And that was almost as dangerous.

---

Outside, the village had settled further into quiet. Most of the lanterns had been snuffed out, the only real light coming from the inn at the far end of the road.

Daniel turned to Rask. "We need to regroup. See if the others got anything useful."

Rask nodded. "Where?"

Daniel glanced back at the barn Lena had entered earlier. It was far enough from the main road that they wouldn't be overheard, and if she'd already secured a hiding spot, it made sense to use it.

They moved quickly, keeping to the edges of the buildings, avoiding the soft pools of lantern light.

By the time they reached the barn, the doors were already slightly ajar.

Daniel pushed them open.

Inside, Lena sat on a pile of hay, already dressed in a new cloak, thicker than the rags she had before. She had found a bundle of clothes, likely stolen from storage, and a small sack of supplies beside her.

Jace was there too, chewing on a piece of bread, his expression lighter than it had been all night.

Kain stood near the back, arms crossed, watching them as they entered.

"Got what we need?" Kain asked.

Daniel tossed the sack of food onto the ground, followed by the blades.

"Enough to last us," he said. "For now."

Lena eyed the weapons before nodding. "Good."

Jace swallowed his mouthful of bread. "So what now? We just leave?"

Daniel exhaled. He wanted to. They had what they came for—food, weapons, supplies.

But there was still one more thing they needed.

"Information," he said.

Kain frowned. "About what?"

Daniel looked at him.

"The road ahead."

Escaping the Wall had been the first step. But if they wanted to survive, they needed to know what lay beyond this village.

And for that, they needed someone who knew the land.

Jace hesitated. "You mean the villagers?"

Daniel nodded. "There's a tavern. Someone in there knows the roads, the lords, the dangers. We just have to find them."

Lena's expression darkened. "That's risky."

"I know."

They didn't have a choice.

Running blind through the North was as good as suicide.

He needed to know which roads were safe, which villages were loyal to which banners, and—most importantly—how far the Watch's influence stretched.

Because if word had already spread about their escape, then this village wasn't a place to hide.

It was a ticking bomb.

Daniel met Rask's gaze.

"We go in careful. Just talk. Nothing else."

Rask smirked. "No promises."

Daniel ignored him and turned toward the barn doors.

Time to find out how much danger they were really in.