So, uh… I don't really know how to begin. I mean, how do you even begin telling a story like mine? I'm honestly lost on what to say here. Whelp, I've already fucked up the intro to my little story so I might as well just introduce myself. Just to give you guys an idea about who I am.

So my name is Archie, which is actually nickname for "Archer". Weird name, I know. Well, not really weird. More like uncommon. Last name's Wilder. But it's not pronounced as wilder, it's pronounced as willder. I'm 17 years old. Average height, black haired and emerald eyes. Christ, I feel uncomfortable using these unnecessarily fancy words. Just say green, for fucks sake. No need to sugarcoat the damn thing. It's green! It's not a fucking chaos emerald, it's not a jewel, it's green!

Shit, I'm getting off topic. See, this is why the author to this fic should write in third person. At least then I won't be ranting like a fucking lunatic! Not to mention, I swear more than a Russian playing CS: GO. So for anyone reading the first chapter to this abomination of a shit author's brainchild called a fic, I'd recommend you skip to the next chapter. Actually, I'd recommend a lobotomy instead, but that's besides the point. In any case, you'll have to wait for when this dipshit uploads chapter 2, that is. Unless you actually enjoy my idiotic thoughts, in which case, what the fuck's wrong with you? Either way, until then, you're stuck with nonsensical rants and the self-loathing of an idiotic teenager. And that's not to mention the abundance of fourth wall breaks.

At least I think its fourth wall breaks. I mean, the fact that I'm in the Game of Thrones universe without any logical explanation really sounds like a shitty fanfiction story, so I'm just going to assume that that is in fact the case. Actually, in that case, I wanna say this.

Hey, author? Go fuck yourself with a horse dildo.

I wonder how many readers must be thinking that this author is a nut-job considering that they're thinking that he's/she's insulting himself when it's actually me insulting him/her. Well, if this is a fanfiction then he really is a nut-job.

Christ, I gotta stop with the fourth wall breaks in that case or I might just give myself and the author an existential crisis.

Anyways, back to the story. Or me, rather. Like I said, 17, average height, black haired and green eyed. I'm also above average in looks, not that it ever negated the fact that I'm a shit human being. I'm not actually a shit human being, like I said, self-loathing. Of topic again!

Calm down, Archie. Deep breaths.

Okay. Now, whether I'm a good or bad guy, I'll leave you to be the judges of. Born and raised in America, I lived with two fairy dads. And no, I'm not homo myself since thankfully, they realized it's called parenting and not indoctrination so they didn't impose their own orientation at me. But enough about being politically correct.

Yes, I have two fathers. I was adopted. And I gotta say. When some homophobes say that it's bad for a kid to grow up with two dads, they're not wrong. You'll either be stuck in an endless cycle of "Ask your mother" or get twice the amount of dad jokes. I suffer from the latter. And honestly, it's fucking scarring and it gave me PTSD. I still wake up screaming in the night with cold sweat dripping down my back as I hear the dad jokes echo in my mind. This shit's more scarring than when Dexter saw his mother get chainsawed into little pieces in front of him.

Off. Fucking. Topic. AGAIN!

So… I'm also a sociopath. Or rather, I have traits of one. See, my definitions of psychopath and sociopath is this:

Psychopaths love it when people get hurt.

Sociopaths don't give a shit when people get hurt.

And don't correct me about the real definitions because I really don't care.

What are my sociopathic traits, you might ask? Well, a guy was run over by a truck in front of me, his head was turned into red fucking mush and I got his blood and brains all over my face, and I wasn't bothered. I mean, I was surprised and a bit shocked and disgusted, but that wore off quickly and afterwards, I went on like nothing happened. I also usually don't give a shit about other people's opinion.

"Oh look, a seventeen year old who says he doesn't care about others' opinions, he's so edgy!"

Fuck you.

No seriously. That's not an attempt to seem cool or flippant or some shit like that. I really just can't care, no matter how much I try. At least when the opinions are negative. If they are, I suddenly stop caring. And that's not a good thing. Why, you might ask? Well, think of it like this. If a dictator ruled my country and hated me and would possibly try to kill me, I should most likely give a shit since that's the smart thing to do, right? Well, I can't. And that's gotten me in trouble more times than I'd care to remember.

Now, why am I here? Why is this dipshit of an author writing about me? Why is this in the Game of Thrones section of Fanfiction?

Take a wild fucking guess.

Yes, it's another one of those unoriginal and shitty self-inserts. Except this time, it isn't a perfect teenage girl that Jon or Robb falls in love with after the first 3 chapters (Not that I can blame them, I mean come on, those two are like the physical manifestation of the word 'sexy', and that's coming from a straight dude). This time it's a loudmouth two-bit fruitcake with an underdeveloped right brain-hemisphere and the most warped fucking sense of humor you'll ever see. So warning for any of the touchy and whiny people, there will be offensive jokes.

Hey, it's called freedom of speech. Try to stop me. It's the author that'll get all the flak for it, so why do I give a shit?

Anyways, about how I got into the world of Game of Thrones.

You see, the thing is this. I don't know jack-fucking-shit about this universe. A friend told me to watch the show, I did but got bored after the first couple of episodes. My friend told me that it would pick up speed in like the second half of the season. Unfortunately, I never got around to it. But what I did guess was that Ned Stark dies because he's played by Sean Bean. Whether that actually happened, I don't know. But I'm sure it did. In any case, I don't know anything since I didn't watch it again.

I wish I fucking did, though. At least then I'd have a goddamn clue about where I am.

So it happened like this. It was summer and I just got home from a friend's birthday party. And none of you pricks reading this better say, "You have friends?"

Sorry about that. Anyways, a friend's birthday party. So I stayed late to about 11 PM. To me, that's late. I was exhausted, my eyes were droopy and shit. So I instantly dropped on my bed. Didn't take off my clothes, no nothing. Just fell asleep the moment I touched the bed.

Another nightmare of dad jokes later and I wake up.

And this is the part where I do my storytelling using pretentious literature words.

So, let's start:

I groaned as I finally awoke from another nightmare of past horrors I've experienced. I lifted my head as I held it with my left hand and opened my eyes to look around my room with blurry eyes and dry mouth. 'Seriously, every morning it feels like a sand-elemental fucked my mouth.' So I reach with my other hand towards the water bottle I kept on my bed stand for this exact reason. I lazily opened my mouth and uncorked the bottle before bringing it to my parched lips and pouring the contents down. It felt like a waterfall washed away all of the dryness in my throat, cleansing it…

Okay, this is fucking ridiculous! I feel like a pompous and pretentious asshole!

Okay, okay… Calm down Archie. Swallow your pride and do this.

Once I gathered the energy, I finally heaved my body up and placed my feet on the carpet. I found that I was still wearing socks as my feet received neither warmth, nor comfort. I frown in disappointment before standing up and stretching. I moan out in pure bliss at the feeling, staying that way until my arms go limp and my back relaxes. I walk out of my room, eyes barely open as I make my way to the bathroom. Once I arrived, I turned on the sink and formed a cup with my hands before splashing the ice cold water into my open eyes, washing away the rheum.

"Oh, fuck me!" I yell out as my shirt is instantly drenched in cold water. Why do people in the commercials do it this way? It's fucking stupid.

I groan in annoyance as my eyes sting from the cold water. Sighing, I go back to my room and change. Once I do, I look myself in the mirror. I have high cheekbones, something my dads always loved about my face. Normal lips, nose, slightly chiseled jaw and shallow cheeks. Not too handsome, but sure as shit not ugly. I also had a simple short hairstyle yet slightly messy, giving it an almost spiky look. I'm wearing black jeans, a crimson shirt and a black varsity jacket. And honestly, I would have looked like an emo jock if I had longer hair. All that's left now is black lipstick and 'Bring Me To Life' playing in the background. I turn around and look over my shoulder to see the symbol on the back. A two-headed eagle spreading its wings proudly, the left half blue and the right half red. The art style reminded me of graffiti, a bit faded on the edges with rough texture.

Wait, seriously? Did this idiot just put the Infamous: Second Sons eagle logo on the back of my varsity jacket? Can you seriously be any more unoriginal? Ugh…

I shrug it off and make my way to the kitchen, still far too tired to be attentive to my surroundings. I sit down on a barstool in front of the kitchen bar. On the bar is a bowl of Cocoa Puffs that my fathers always prepare before leaving for work. They know it was always my favorite when I was younger. I grabbed the carton of milk, my grip weak, and poured the contents into the bowl before I grip my silver spoon and begin to eat my cereal. As I do, I fail to realize the giant castle on the horizon outside my window, for I am currently brain-dead with exhaustion. (I'm actually brain-dead in general. GODDAMMIT, my self loathing's at work again!)

(At this point in the story, I gave up and decided to just tell the story from my perspective without talking like I'm Shakespeare)

Once I finished my meal, I left the bowl in the sink after pouring hot water in, and went to leave the room when suddenly I heard something. I hear the low and echoing sound of clanging steel once. And then I hear it once more. I turn around and make my way to the front door, put on my shoes, pulling black gloves out of my pockets and put them on before grabbing the baseball bat next to the door. Yet I keep it low and hidden behind me. My hand grips the door before twisting the knob and opening it quickly. My eyes widen at the sight in front of me.

I see men wearing furs and chainmail. Some had bows and arrows while others held swords in their hands and everyone was on a horse. There were six guys. Four of them that caught my attention.

I recognized them from when I watched Game of Thrones. Eddard Stark himself held that giant ass sword of his, Robb Stark, Jon Snow and that one ugly prick that I couldn't be bothered to remember the name of. You know the womanizer? Yeah, that guy. Anyways, they were all standing there… about ten meters away from me. They all had their backs turned as they discussed something. Most likely about the house and how it appeared right out of fucking nowhere. I look around and see the vast land and green fields all around me. I realize that my house is on a hill and the castle was far off in the distance… right past a fucking forest. I close the door behind me and the sound attracts their attention.

Before I could even blink, six dudes on horses surround me with bows and swords pointed at me while I'm gripping a goddamn baseball bat. I notice that one of them is holding a Stark banner. Robb's authoritative voice demanded, "Drop your club, brigand!"

I stare at him incredulously, "What the fuck are you guys doing outside my house?"

"I said, drop it!"

I sigh internally before complying. I drop it on the ground and hold forth my gloved hands, already knowing I'm now their prisoner. No doubt, they're going to interrogate me. All I have to do is act confused like I don't know where I am. Well, I won't really have to act confused. Especially not about how my house was teleported there with me. The guy with white hair and sideburns unmounted and pulled a rope from his horse to my wrist before tying it up on both ends. He took my baseball bat and mounted his horse again. It didn't take long before we were wandering into the forest. This is gonna fucking suck for my legs, I realize.

Once we finally arrived in the forest after 15 minutes, I soon began to whistle, bored out of my mind. I kept doing so, despite the obvious annoyance that were portrayed on my travelling companions' faces. But internally, I was having a meltdown. I'M IN A FANTASY WORLD!? THE WORLD OF GAME OF THRONES, NO LESS! THE WORLD WHERE EVERYONE GETS ASSFUCKED BY GEORGE MARTIN AND DIES! WHAT CHANCE DOES A LOWLIFE LIKE ME HAVE!? I ALMOST DIED OF A HEART ATTACK WHEN I OVERSTEPPED ON THE STAIRS ONCE, HOW THE FUCK AM I MEANT TO SURVIVE A FEUDAL SOCIETY CREATED BY A SICK FUCK LIKE GEORGE!?

On the outside, I was as calm as ever as I kept whistling.

The ugly womanizer snapped at me as he rode next to me, "Shut up, will you!?"

I smiled, "What are you gonna do, tie me up?" I lift my wrists mockingly. My smile fell as I stared at him dryly, "Listen here, shit-for-brains. You lot were the assholes who captured me. You couldn't even give me the courtesy of riding on the back of a horse with one of you, my legs hurt like hell, I think I got a mosquito bite on my neck and it's itching like a motherfucker. So you have about jack-fucking-shit to complain about compared to me." I pretended not to notice the frowns on the others' faces as they heard my potty mouth.

He glared at me before sending his fist flying at my jaw, and I let him. I staggered to the side while holding my jaw, not making a sound. I had to stagger on purpose. Damn, he had a weak punch. Maybe he really should just stick to his bows and arrows.

Robb scolded him with a commanding voice impressive for someone his age, "Theon, back down!"

Ah, Theon was his name. I remember now.

He nodded before turning to me,"Speak to your betters with more respect, outlaw!" I said nothing as i stared back at him blankly. He returned my look with a smile, "You know what Lord Stark does to brigands?"

I ask with mock innocence and curiosity, "Oh please, do tell."

"He cuts off their heads, just as he's going to do with you. I'm going to enjoy watching it happen from the window of the brothel as a whore services me," He said with a smug grin.

I looked taken aback, but did it mockingly. "Wow, you are a sick fuck if you can keep an erection up while watching someone get decapitated."

Robb burst out laughing, unprepared for the sudden amusement and was unable to stop himself. Jon was more resilient as he managed to stop himself from laughing as he tensed his jaw. The prick's smug grin fell as he glared at me furiously. He opened his mouth to try and save his pride, yet the old guy with the sideburns interrupted him before he could even start, "Be silent, both of you. Theon, we do not know yet if he is a brigand or not, so save your threats."

Ha! Eat that, asshole!

"And you."

"Huh," I say, slightly surprised out of my musing as I turned to look him in the eyes.

"Quit complaining, and stop swearing! Have some manners, for I will not hear you refer to Lord Stark or his sons with such words again. If you do in fact turn out to be a brigand, an itching neck will be the least of your worries."

"Oh, good thing I'm not a brigand, otherwise I'd have no neck at all. What is a brigand, anyway?" I genuinely don't know. But it sounds like some sort of criminal. Otherwise, they wouldn't have arrested me. Was it some sort of bandit? No, why would they have two words for bandit? That's stupid, it couldn't be.

Almost everyone turned to look at me atop their steeds with an odd look. Lord Eddard started, "You don't know what a brigand is?" I shook my head.

Theon interjected, "He's acting foolish, thinking we don't know."

"Well, do you know?"

That seemed to silence him. Robb stared at me, "If I let you ride with me, will you finally be quiet?"

I stared at him and a lengthy silence dawned over us, the only sound being the hooves of the horses trampling down on twigs. "…No promises."

He motioned behind him with his head, "Get on."

The sixth guy didn't like that, "I wouldn't, my lord."

"Why's that, Jory?"

"If he was a brigand, he could easily snap your neck when he's sitting behind you."

I stared at him like he was an idiot, "And have you all fucking butcher me with swords? No thanks, I think I can resist."

I instantly mounted Robb's horse and sat behind him as the old guy gave Robb the rope that tied my hands. I settle behind him all while reluctantly trying not to rub my crotch against his ass… That was me being ironic. You know, because I wasn't actually avoiding doing it reluctantly…

Moving on.

I was finally content in riding like this. The rest seemed satisfied at not having to listen to my atrocious whistling. But once again, like the obnoxious cunt I am, I was bored again and decided to make small talk. I began speaking to Robb, "So… this is quite romantic, don't you think?"

Robb frantically turned to look at me with a flustered face as the rest of the group stared at us, "W-WHAT!?"

I laughed at his reaction, "Calm down, it's called a joke." I could still see the uneasiness on the tension in his shoulders alone. I rolled my eyes at him. My head snapped to the side as I heard a sound I could only identify as whispering. Robb and the others noticed my sudden movement. I continued to stare, certain that I heard something. Once half a minute had gone by without any other disturbance, I slowly turn my head forward again. I was still suspicious yet did not voice it. The others looked at me oddly until finally Ned Flanders himself asked me, "Is there something wrong?"

I looked at him, "Hmm? No, I just… thought I heard something."

"I see." I knew that he wasn't done talking to me. I turned out to be correct when he said, "I have never seen that sigil on the back of your tunic. Are you of a noble house?"

I stared at in confusion before suddenly remembering the two headed eagle on my back."Hmm? Oh, that? No, it's just something someone very creative and original came up with on his own. Didn't get it from anywhere else, no sir."

He looked at me oddly, but continued, "I have gone hunting in these woods many times before and have passed through those hills. Yet never had I ever seen that house there before."

I sighed. "Yeah. I've been to my house several many times as well and yet never have I ever seen a giant fucking castle in the distance."

He frowned again at my language, but continued his inquiry. "So how do you explain your house being there?"

I sent him an odd look, "I'm not explaining it, though. I don't know. But I'm clearly not in my own world."

Everyone turned to look at me like I was crazy. And honestly, I wish I was. Eddard started speaking slowly, not sure if he heard right, "You're… from another world?"

I mocked his slow speech, "Yes... I am."

He kept staring at me with a skeptical look, "You don't seem… fazed by it." I pretended not to notice the suspicious looks the others were giving me.

I shrugged, "Something my father told me." Or one of them, at least.

This time, Theon inquired, seeming intent on trying to expose me as a brigand, whatever that is. His voice dripped with sarcasm, "And what, pray tell, might that be?"

"He told me, 'If a problem can be solved then there is no need to worry. If a problem can't be solved, what's the point in worrying?' If I am in another world, why should I panic? It won't help me get back home, would it?"

Theon said no more and Eddard looked impressed, "Your father is a wise man…"

I smiled, "Why, thank you."

"…But I cannot trust you just yet. This is no small claim. If you truly are from another world, then we need proof."

"I could have given it to you already if you hadn't arrested me."

"But can you blame me?"

I stared at him before conceding. "I suppose not."

The ever silent Jon finally spoke as he looked at me with a curious and skeptical look., "But what makes you figure that you're in another world?"

Everyone was silent, waiting for an answer. "Well, in my world, we stopped wearing steel armor and swords hundreds of years ago. Our technology has far surpassed that. In fact, if I was an arrogant and pretentious prick, I'd go so far as to say that your society is barbaric and far more underdeveloped than mine. But thankfully, I'm humble prick so I won't be saying that."

Their eyes widened. "Truly," Eddard asked.

"Yep. I won't go into details about our technology. Not yet, at least. For now, can we at least wait until we get to your castle?"

He stared at me with an unreadable expression until he reluctantly said, "As you wish."

A/N: Wow. I gotta say, I'm not really sure what I should write in my very first author's note in my very first fanfic story. But just to get this out of the way, let me say that You won't see updates on this story very frequently. I only write when I feel like it, and when I'm satisfied with the chapter, only then will I upload this.

Moving on. So to anyone out there that might think that this story feels familiar, it's because this prologue is heavily inspired by another author's story called House of Fury. Some of you might know this author by the name of TheGOTAddict, who is currently writing The Silent Storm. I have been sending my own little stories from time to time in emails for a while now and he's been kind enough to give me feedback. So if our writing styles may seem similar, that's why. Oh, and there won't be any sort of supernatural elements in this story carried over from House of Fury, this is purely for humour. If you could call it that.

In any case, I've been dying to make a fic like this, but had no idea on how to start, so I asked for some help. TheGOTAddict decided to help me out by showing me his very first story, House of Fury. I read it and he gave me the permission to use the story as a sort of foundation and build my own way up from there. So then I created this account and have now finally uploaded the story.

So big credit to my friend there.

P.S. If you notice some jabs at TheGOTAddict's style of writing, story ideas, etc, in my story, then let me ease your mind by saying that it's purely for jokes. One example for a jab in this chapter was the part when I mocked him for using the Infamous Second Sons eagle in his story.

But now, I wanna hear your guys' opinions. What do you think of Archer, or the story in general? Personally, I think Archer's a prick. But that's because he told me to go fuck myself with a horse dildo.

Leave a review. Would love some constructive criticism.

Peace... or whatever the cool kids are saying nowadays.