POV Arthur
Accepting that I had actually transmigrated into the world of *Game of Thrones* was easier than I expected. Maybe it's because the whole situation is too absurd *not* to be true. First, I died saving my nephew and woke up with an enhanced physique and Deadpool's abilities. Second, this cold and hostile place is far from my natural habitat, yet here I am, surviving and adapting quickly.
Once I realized where I was, I started putting the pieces together. This is *Game of Thrones*. Everything made sense: the Wall, the Night's Watch, the mention of Lord Stark and Winterfell. But there's an important detail: I know very little about this world. My sister tried to get me to watch the series a few times, but I only remember fragments, random scenes I saw with her. I know this is a problem, because now I'm living inside this universe and need to learn a lot more.
The most curious aspect? The people I've met here. Among the rangers, one name stood out immediately: Jeor Mormont. He's not the Lord Commander yet, just a respected ranger, but I know who he'll become in the future. This is the man who, in the series, was the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch when Jon Snow joined. This means the timeline isn't the same as the series, but something before the events my sister mentioned. I need to stay alert and learn quickly because the little I know might not apply here.
POV Narrator
The sound of clashing blades filled the training grounds of Castle Black. Arthur spun his swords skillfully, moving with agility as he toyed with his opponents. He was sparring against Jeor Mormont and Qhorin Halfhand, two of the best rangers of the order, and the fight was being watched by several other men, who cheered and applauded enthusiastically.
Before this, Arthur had fought several other recruits and rangers, defeating them with impressive ease. His skill and strength quickly earned him respect and fame among the men of Castle Black, leading him to form a friendship with Mormont and Qhorin. The two veterans, intrigued by his unusual talent, decided to challenge him to a sparring match together.
"Are you sure you want to fight me at the same time?" Arthur asked with a playful smile, twirling one of his swords like it was a toy.
Jeor Mormont laughed, stomping his foot on the snow. "You beat half of my men on your own, Arthur. I'd say it's fair we fight together."
"And besides," added Qhorin, with a dry smile, "it's good for our pride. We can't let you look so invincible."
"Invincible?" Arthur feigned an exaggerated look of surprise. "Me? No way. I'm just here to have fun."
The group of rangers around them burst into laughter as the fight began. Arthur dodged the strikes with impressive lightness, his sharp reflexes allowing him to move like a shadow. Mormont attacked first, his sword coming down with force, but Arthur sidestepped and spun away effortlessly.
"You're getting old, Jeor," Arthur taunted. "Have you seen your reflexes? I think Ragnar, my wolf, is quicker than you."
Jeor laughed, a deep and satisfied sound. "We'll see if you're still laughing after this!" He lunged again, synchronizing his attack with Qhorin, who tried to strike Arthur from the side.
Arthur blocked both blows with his swords, a precise move that impressed the spectators. He laughed, enjoying the moment, and made an elegant spin, leaping away. "Careful, gentlemen! You might end up hurting yourselves like that."
The rangers around them shouted, encouraging their comrades. "Come on, Jeor! Go, Qhorin! Don't let him get away like that!"
Arthur continued the fight with a playful expression, dodging and countering with precision. He wasn't using his full strength, but he displayed absolute control over his movements, as if he were dancing. His opponents, though skilled, began to show signs of fatigue, while he kept moving with the same ease.
Finally, in a quick maneuver, Arthur disarmed both of them simultaneously, crossing his swords against theirs and pushing them aside. Qhorin stumbled back, surprised, and Jeor just laughed, raising his hands in a gesture of surrender.
"All right, you win," Jeor said, extending a hand to Arthur. "I admit it, you're one of the best swordsmen I've ever seen."
Arthur shook his hand with a friendly smile. "I try, Jeor. And you two are formidable opponents. I'd say it was a good fight."
Qhorin got up, brushing the snow off his clothes, and extended his hand to Arthur as well. "I hope we get to fight again soon," he said, laughing. "But next time, I might not go easy on you."
"I'd love that," Arthur replied, winking at the ranger, while the crowd around them applauded and cheered.
Later, Arthur was summoned to the office of Alistair Morn. The Lord Commander was seated behind a simple desk, his eyes fixed on Arthur as he entered the room. "Come in, Arthur," Alistair said with a smile. "I saw your fight with Jeor and Qhorin. You are truly impressive."
Arthur shrugged, feigning modesty. "I enjoy a good workout. And, well… I like winning."
Alistair laughed. "You're honest, I like that. I'll be direct, then. You could make a great difference here in the Night's Watch if you wanted to join us."
Arthur raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. "I appreciate the offer, Lord Commander, but I have to be honest: giving up certain… freedoms isn't exactly my style."
Alistair laughed heartily, shaking his head. "I expected that response. The Watch has many rules, and not everyone is willing to follow them."
"I'm a free spirit," Arthur joked.
Alistair nodded, still smiling. "Very well, then. The supplies from Winterfell will arrive soon. I'll make arrangements for you to return with them. I'll write a letter to Lord Stark, telling him about your skills and bravery. I'm sure he'll be interested in meeting you."
Arthur blinked, surprised. "A recommendation from you? I don't even know how to thank you."
"There's no need to thank me," Alistair said. "I just want to see what you're capable of in a place where your strength will be properly utilized."
Arthur smiled, feeling excitement welling up inside him. "Then, let's meet the Starks."
And as he left the office, he was already imagining his arrival at Winterfell, the heart of the North, where perhaps his true adventure was only just beginning.