ASOIAF/GOT: The King in Black

Luck always runs out in Westeros.

And his just did.

Daniel knew it the moment he saw the first black cloak moving between the trees.

His breath caught in his throat, his body freezing for just a fraction of a second before instinct kicked in. His hand shot out, grabbing Jace by the shoulder, his grip tightening like a vice.

"Run."

But it was already too late.

A horn blast split the air, deep and commanding, rolling through the trees like a death knell.

The Night's Watch had found them.

Daniel barely had time to process before an arrow buried itself into the tree beside him, the force of it shaking the trunk. A warning shot. The next would aim for flesh.

Then came the voices—gruff, hardened men barking orders, boots crunching against frozen leaves. The rangers had tracked them, and now they were closing in.

Rask was already moving, his sword drawn, his lips pulled into a savage grin. "No way in hell I'm going back."

Jace hesitated, his breath ragged. "What do we do?"

Daniel didn't have an answer. Every plan he had relied on time, on distance. He had counted on the Watch being slow, on their escape buying them at least another few days.

He had been wrong.

"Move!" he hissed, shoving Jace forward. "Get to the trees, split up—"

The words barely left his mouth before a shape lunged from the shadows.

A ranger—fast, silent, blade flashing in the dim morning light.

Rask turned just in time to meet him, their swords clashing with a sharp, ringing sound. The force of it sent Rask stumbling back, but he recovered quickly, snarling as he pressed forward.

Lena was next. A second ranger charged her, and she dodged low, her dagger flashing as she buried it deep into the man's side. He grunted, staggering, but didn't fall.

Daniel reached for his own blade, but before he could draw it, something hard slammed into the back of his head.

A wave of pain crashed over him, white-hot and blinding. His vision blurred, knees buckling as the world tilted beneath him.

He hit the ground hard, his breath forced from his lungs.

Above him, a dark figure loomed. A heavy boot pressed into his chest, pinning him down. He tried to struggle, but a hand fisted into his tunic, hauling him upright.

Through the haze, he caught a glimpse of the man holding him.

Older, weathered, his face lined with years of hardship. His armor was worn but well-kept, the black of the Night's Watch unmistakable.

Daniel's stomach twisted.

Qhorin Halfhand.

A legend among the rangers. A man whose name carried weight even outside the Wall.

And judging by the way he looked at Daniel, there was no mercy in him.

"You lot really thought you could just walk away?" Qhorin's voice was low, almost amused. "Fools."

Behind him, the fighting was already ending.

Rask was on his knees, a sword pressed against his throat, his breath coming in harsh gasps. Jace had been knocked to the ground, his hands bound behind his back, his face streaked with blood.

And then—

Daniel's heart clenched as he saw Lena still fighting.

She had lost her dagger, her weapon somewhere in the dirt. But instead of surrendering, she lunged—hands grabbing at the nearest ranger, fingers curling around his sword arm.

For a moment, it almost looked like she might pull it off.

Then steel flashed.

The ranger twisted, his blade cutting across her stomach in a clean, brutal motion.

Lena gasped, her body jerking as blood bloomed against her tunic. She staggered, one hand clutching at the wound, her breath ragged.

Kain was still standing.

Daniel saw him hesitate—a flicker of uncertainty, of fear, before something in him snapped.

With a raw, desperate shout, he lunged.

It wasn't a smart move.

He had no chance.

But it didn't matter.

He crashed into the ranger who had cut Lena down, knocking him back. His blade swung wild, a frantic arc meant to kill or die trying.

For a brief, shining second, Daniel almost thought—

He almost thought Kain might make it.

Then a second ranger stepped in.

Steel met flesh.

Kain let out a strangled noise, his body shuddering as the sword ran him through.

He dropped his weapon, blood bubbling at his lips.

For a moment, he stood there, his breath hitching.

Then he collapsed beside Lena.

Daniel felt something break inside him.

Not anger. Not shock.

Just cold, empty horror.

Kain was gone.

Lena was gone.

He had planned. He had thought ahead. He knew this world.

And none of it had mattered.

Qhorin let go of him, shoving him back into the dirt. "You're lucky," the ranger murmured. "If it were up to me, deserters would hang where they stood."

Daniel barely heard him.

His ears were ringing, his pulse hammering against his skull.

This wasn't supposed to happen.

He had miscalculated.

He had thought knowledge of the future would be enough.

But knowing the future meant nothing without power.

And right now, he had none.

His vision blurred—not just from the pain, but from the raw, burning frustration twisting in his gut.

Qhorin stepped back, motioning to the other rangers. "Bind them."

Daniel barely felt it as rough hands yanked his arms back, rope biting into his wrists.

Lena's body was already growing still, her breath fading.

Kain's eyes were half-lidded, his body slack, the blood spreading beneath him.

Jace was trembling, his face pale with shock.

Rask had gone quiet, his usual smirk gone, his eyes dark.

One mistake.

One miscalculation.

And it had cost them everything.

---

The march back to the Wall was long.

Daniel felt every step, but only distantly, like he was watching himself from far away. The cold bit into his skin, but it didn't matter. The ropes burned against his wrists, but he barely noticed. His legs ached, his body stiff, his breath misting in the frigid air. But all of it felt… hollow.

Like it was happening to someone else.

Like he wasn't really there.

Lena and Kain were gone.

Their bodies left behind in the dirt, cooling beneath a northern sky that didn't care.

They had fought. They had fought because he told them they could win. Because he made them believe that if they ran far enough, fought hard enough, they could be free.

And he had been wrong.

Their deaths sat in his chest like a stone, pressing down on him, heavy and suffocating.

He should have seen it coming. He should have been smarter.

He should have done something.

But what? What could he have done differently?

They had no way to outrun rangers. No way to fight them all.

And yet, knowing that didn't make it any easier.

Knowing that didn't stop the image of Kain's body collapsing into the dirt, didn't stop the sound of Lena's ragged breath as the life bled out of her.

Daniel's jaw clenched, his fingers curling into fists against the ropes binding him. The worst part wasn't the grief.

It was the helplessness.

He had spent his whole life knowing how this world worked. The betrayals, the power struggles, the deaths that came too soon. He had seen it all from the outside. Had read it, watched it, analyzed it.

But being inside it was different.

Because no amount of knowledge changed the fact that he was still powerless.

The others barely spoke.

Jace trudged forward in silence, his eyes hollow, his mouth pressed into a thin line. He looked like a man trying not to break, like a single word would shatter him.

Rask, on the other hand, moved too easily. Not relaxed, not unaffected, but controlled. His expression was blank, his breathing even, his steps measured. But Daniel had seen that look before.

It was the look of a man biding his time.

The rangers led them without speaking, their faces set like stone, their movements brisk but not rushed. Qhorin Halfhand walked ahead of them, his presence heavy even in silence.

Every so often, Daniel caught him glancing back.

Watching.

Studying.

Like he was waiting for something.

---

They reached the Wall at dusk.

Castle Black loomed ahead, its dark stone walls barely distinguishable against the shadow of the Wall itself. The massive gate was already open, the light from torches flickering inside.

Daniel barely saw it.

His gaze was elsewhere—on the men watching from the courtyard, on the way their eyes narrowed as the rangers dragged them in.

Word would spread fast.

Deserters. Captured.

Some would sneer. Some would pity them. Others would wonder if they'd see the noose by morning.

Daniel's breath was slow, even. It didn't matter.

Not yet.

They were shoved forward, boots scuffing against the dirt as they were led past the training yard. A group of recruits—young, barely more than boys—watched with open curiosity, their wooden swords dangling at their sides.

A few whispered among themselves.

Daniel caught the words "rangers got them" and "tried to run."

One of them, a broad-shouldered boy with a hard face, sneered. "Cowards."

Rask's lip curled, but he said nothing.

Daniel barely even registered it.

They had already lost.

---

They were thrown into a holding cell.

It was small, damp, the stone walls cold against Daniel's back as he slid down onto the floor. The air smelled of stale piss and damp straw. Somewhere nearby, water dripped.

Jace collapsed against the opposite wall, pulling his knees up to his chest, his hands trembling slightly.

Rask sat down beside Daniel, stretching his legs out, rolling his shoulders like they weren't tied together. His expression didn't change, but his voice was low when he finally spoke.

"That was shit luck."

Daniel didn't answer.

Rask sighed, tilting his head back against the wall. "Kain went out like a fucking idiot."

Daniel's jaw tightened.

"Lena too," Rask continued, his tone casual, like he was discussing bad weather. "Dumb move, running at a man like that. Got her gutted for nothing."

Something inside Daniel snapped.

His hand shot out before he even realized what he was doing, grabbing Rask by the collar, dragging him forward. The movement was so fast that even Rask tensed, eyes widening slightly.

"Shut. Up." Daniel's voice was low, even, but his fingers dug into the fabric of Rask's cloak, tightening like he wanted to strangle him.

Rask didn't pull away. He didn't struggle.

Instead, he smirked.

"Good," he murmured. "That's better."

Daniel froze.

Rask leaned in slightly, his smirk widening just a fraction. "Was starting to think you'd given up already."

Daniel let go.

The tension between them lingered for a long moment before Rask leaned back again, rolling his shoulders like nothing had happened.

"You can cry about it later," he said. "Right now? We need to figure out how we're getting out of this."

Daniel didn't reply.

He turned his gaze toward the damp stone floor, his fists clenched at his sides.

Rask was wrong.

This wasn't something he could just push aside.

Lena and Kain were dead.

And for the first time since arriving in this world, Daniel didn't know if he had the strength to keep going.

---

The cell door creaked open.

A tall figure stepped inside, silhouetted against the torchlight.

Daniel blinked, his mind sluggish, his body slow to react.

It took him a second to recognize the man standing there.

Jeor Mormont.

The Old Bear's eyes swept over them, hard and unreadable.

He studied Daniel for a long, silent moment before speaking.

"That was a damned fool thing you did, boy."

Daniel didn't answer.

Mormont exhaled, his voice dropping lower.

"But you're not dead. And that means you have a choice."

Daniel looked up.

Mormont's expression was unreadable. "You can hang, or you can prove you're worth something."

A choice.

Daniel stared at him, his mind slow to process what he was hearing.

He had expected execution.

Not this.

Mormont's gaze didn't waver. "What's it going to be?"

Daniel's throat was dry. His mind was still drowning in grief, in exhaustion, in failure.

He wasn't ready to fight again.

Not yet.

But he wasn't ready to die, either.

So he forced himself to speak, his voice hoarse but steady.

"…What do you want me to do?"

Mormont's expression darkened.

"Get back to work."