Chapter 1: Chapter 1
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The realization of where I was came only a moment after Joffrey fell from the royal dais, hands on his swollen neck as he choked on foam and green bile.
I saw someone who could only be Cersei Lannister, that beautiful yet nasty character from the Game of Thrones TV show, dashing past the stunned bride to reach her oldest son. From across the wedding grounds, her brother and lover was not far behind, shouldering past the gaping nobility in full armor.
Before I knew, Ser Balon Swann had a hand on my shoulder. He pulled me up from my chair like a doll and half-ushered half-carried me toward the other side of the dais. The Kingsguard knight bowled past the blubbering Mace Tyrell on our way through and rushed me toward Maegor's Holdfast.
I didn't have to look into a mirror or grope my own face to know who I was. I was a boy now, no older than fourteen, with the memories and feelings of a life in this fictional world instead of a successful businessman in the prime of his life.
Of course, I thought bitterly, not so successful that I avoided getting killed by one of my most fiercest competitors. In all fairness, I had kidnapped the man's brother and sent him a finger every day until the man backed out from a government contract. In the end, when the tables had turned and they had my eyelids peeled and my throat cut to the bone, I regretted none of it. I'd known misery and hunger and loss since I was a child. I fought and clawed my way to the top in an industry where a quarter given was a death sentence. And never had I given it, not an inch, not even in the end. Death came easier than a step back to me.
I lived and died by the sword, I knew. No more, no less.
We had reached my apartments by now, the first room being a distastefully decorated drawing room. filled with enough Lannister-red fabric I almost expected to see a few bulls rushing my way. Two other red-cloaked armsmen had followed us after we crossed the gates, though they stopped at the doors when Ser Balon and I stepped in. I blinked when I noticed the knight was talking to me and forced myself to listen.
"Your brother is dead," Ser Balon told me gravely. The kingsguard had a worried look in his stocky face, but he still fell to one knee in front of me without hesitating. His pristine white cloak, draped over his forward leg as it was, looked dark as night caught in the shadows of the room. "Long live King Tommen, first of his name."
After a moment of shock, I allowed myself a small smile. I had only walked forward in my life. Only forward. This would be no different.
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