ASOIAF/GOT: The King in Black

Year 299 AC, Castle Black

—

Pain was no longer something Daniel noticed.

His body ached, his muscles screamed, but none of it mattered. He had stopped thinking about pain days ago. There was only movement. Only action.

It had been a week since the escape attempt. A week since Lena and Kain had died.

A week since he had learned just how weak he was.

He didn't dream much anymore. When he did, it was of the Wall—stretching into the sky, endless, watching.

But he was done watching.

And today, he had to be faster.

The training yard was frozen hard underfoot, making each step feel heavier. The air was sharp enough to sting his lungs, but no one complained. Complaints didn't matter here.

Ser Alliser's voice cut through the cold air. "Pair off. You know the drill."

Daniel gripped the practice sword, feeling the rough leather against his palm. It still felt awkward, unbalanced, like a tool that wasn't meant for him.

'Not yet.'

Clydas was already smirking. The same as always. He had beaten Daniel before, and he knew he would beat him again.

Daniel's fingers tightened around the hilt.

'Let's see.'

---

Clydas opened with the same move as before—a wide, powerful swing, meant to overpower.

Daniel didn't block it directly.

This time, he angled his blade just enough to deflect, absorbing the impact instead of taking the full force. It still rattled his bones, but he stayed upright.

Clydas frowned.

Daniel didn't give him time to recover.

He stepped forward—not attacking, but forcing Clydas to react.

Clydas took the bait. He swung again, just as Daniel knew he would.

Too big. Too aggressive.

Daniel twisted, let the blow slide past his ribs.

His foot slid on the frozen ground, nearly throwing him off balance. His movement wasn't perfect. But it was better than before.

Clydas recovered faster than Daniel expected. A sharp shoulder slam to the chest sent Daniel stumbling back.

The crowd of recruits snickered, and Daniel heard Ser Alliser sigh loudly.

But he didn't hit the ground this time.

Instead, he dug his boots into the dirt and caught himself.

Clydas saw it.

And for the first time, there was no smirk.

That alone was enough.

"Enough!" Ser Alliser barked.

Daniel exhaled slowly, stepping back.

He had lost. But not the same way as before.

---

Jon Snow was at the other end of the yard, practicing with Grenn and Pyp.

Daniel had been watching him for days now, though he doubted Jon even knew his name.

Jon was good. Better than anyone else here. His strikes were clean, measured. He never wasted movement.

'If I had someone like that training me…'

It wasn't a new thought.

He had learned what he could by watching, but he was still too slow, too clumsy. And no one here would teach him.

Except, maybe—

Daniel let the idea sit. He wasn't sure what Jon would say. Would he even bother?

The bastard of Winterfell had his own problems. He wasn't struggling here, but he wasn't exactly welcomed either. The recruits either hated him or wanted to prove themselves against him.

And Daniel?

Daniel was just a deserter who failed.

---

By the time they finished training, Daniel was exhausted.

He sat in the eating hall, hands wrapped around the small bowl of stew, letting the warmth seep into his fingers.

Jace sat beside him, his head low as he shoveled food into his mouth.

'Good. He's listening.'

Daniel had told him to eat faster, and now he was. It was small, but small things mattered here.

A shadow loomed over the table.

"You got lucky today," Clydas muttered.

Daniel barely looked up. "Did I?"

Clydas' jaw clenched. "Next time, you won't stay on your feet."

Daniel smirked. "Then we'll see, won't we?"

Clydas held his glare for a moment longer before moving away.

Daniel exhaled, glancing at Jace. "He's pissed."

Jace swallowed his food before muttering, "Good."

Daniel chuckled.

Yeah. It was.

---

The barracks were quieter than usual that night.

Daniel sat on his cot, stretching out the stiffness in his arms. The bruises were getting easier to ignore.

Across from him, Rask was lying back with his hands behind his head. "So. You thinking about it?"

Daniel glanced at him. "Thinking about what?"

Rask grinned. "Jon Snow."

Daniel raised an eyebrow. "What about him?"

"Oh, come on." Rask rolled onto his side, propping himself up on one elbow. "You've been watching him in the yard. Figured you'd ask him to teach you by now."

Daniel didn't answer immediately.

'Of course I've thought about it. But what would he say? Would he even care?'

Rask smirked. "I think you should. Not like you've got a better option."

Daniel exhaled slowly.

Maybe he would.

But not yet.

Instead of answering, he lay back on the cot, staring at the wooden ceiling.

Rask took the hint and dropped the conversation.

The barracks creaked softly in the wind, but Daniel barely heard it.

He closed his eyes, feeling the weight of the day settle into his bones.

Tomorrow, he would be faster.

Tomorrow, he would get closer.

And when the time was right, he would take the next step.

---

Daniel didn't approach Jon Snow the next day.

Or the day after that.

The thought lingered in the back of his mind, but he wasn't ready yet. There was no use asking for training if Jon didn't even know his name. If Daniel wanted something from him, he had to make himself worth noticing first.

So he kept watching.

And waiting.

---

Another morning. Another bruise.

The frost had hardened the dirt of the training yard, making every fall rougher, every misstep more punishing. Daniel adjusted his grip on his practice sword, rolling his shoulder to work out the stiffness.

Across from him, Clydas was stretching, his usual cocky smirk in place.

They had fought twice already. He had beaten Daniel both times.

But Daniel had lasted longer each time.

Today would be the third.

Ser Alliser's voice rang out. "Again."

Clydas came in fast.

Daniel was ready.

The first blow struck his blade, and Daniel absorbed it as best he could—not stopping the force, but redirecting it. He pivoted, shifting his stance before Clydas could press forward.

Clydas swung again—high, aggressive.

Daniel ducked.

His counterstrike was sloppy, unbalanced, but it forced Clydas to take a step back.

A flicker of irritation crossed the boy's face.

'Good. That's new.'

The fight didn't last much longer.

Daniel blocked another hit, but his defense was still too slow. A strike to his side knocked the air from his lungs, and then Clydas kicked his legs out from under him.

Daniel hit the ground.

Laughter rippled through the recruits.

But this time, it wasn't everyone.

This time, it wasn't as loud.

Because this time, Daniel had made Clydas take a step back.

Ser Alliser sighed, rubbing his temple like he was dealing with a child's stupidity. "Get up, deserter."

Daniel pushed himself to his feet. His ribs ached. His arms were shaking. But he was still standing.

And as he stepped away, he caught Jon Snow watching.

Just for a second.

Then Jon turned back to his own training, speaking quietly to Grenn.

But it was enough.

Daniel had been noticed.

---

That evening, Daniel stood outside the forge, watching Donal Noye work.

The one-armed blacksmith wasn't just a smith—he was a presence at Castle Black. Even the officers respected him.

Daniel had been watching for a while now.

Watching who went in, who left. Watching how Donal spoke to people, how some men stood straighter around him.

'He holds more power here than Ser Alliser does. Different kind, but just as important.'

Daniel wasn't the only one observing.

Jon Snow was there too.

He wasn't watching Donal—he was waiting, arms crossed, standing near the entrance like he had business there.

Daniel debated walking away.

Instead, he stepped closer.

Jon noticed him immediately. His expression didn't change, but his eyes flicked toward Daniel's bruises, then back to his face.

"You fought better today," Jon said simply.

Daniel studied him. "You were watching?"

Jon shrugged. "Hard not to notice when someone gets beaten into the dirt every morning."

Daniel let out a short, dry chuckle. "Fair."

Jon didn't smile, but his tone wasn't unkind. "You're learning."

'That's as close to a compliment as I'm going to get.'

Daniel nodded toward the forge. "You waiting for something?"

"New sword."

Jon hesitated, then glanced at him. "You?"

Daniel exhaled, watching the glow of the forge. "Thinking about asking Donal if I can help here."

Jon raised an eyebrow. "You're a smith?"

"Not really. But I know enough to be useful."

That wasn't a lie. Daniel didn't have real smithing experience, but he knew the basics. He had spent enough time buried in books and videos about medieval weapons to understand how they were made.

He wasn't a fighter yet.

But learning from Donal?

That was another path forward.

Jon studied him for a moment longer, then nodded slightly before turning back toward the forge.

Nothing more was said.

But the conversation wasn't nothing.

Jon had spoken to him. Acknowledged him.

And that meant Daniel had another piece to work with.

---

Night fell.

Daniel sat on his cot, rolling his wrist to ease the ache. Rask was beside him, sharpening a stolen dagger against a whetstone.

"So," Rask murmured. "You and Lord Snow having a moment today?"

Daniel scoffed. "Barely."

Rask smirked. "Barely is more than nothing."

Daniel didn't argue.

Instead, he stared at the ceiling, letting his mind work.

He was being noticed now.

Not just by Clydas. Not just by the other recruits.

By Jon. By Donal.

He wasn't trying to run anymore.

He was trying to climb.

And slowly, step by step, it was working.

---