The moment I opened my eyes, and managed to see through the stinging of the light I knew that wherever I was, wasn't my room.

For one, this room looked nothing of what I remembered my room to be. For another, it was way too antique and expensive to be anything I owned.

The bed sheet was made of….silk? Yeah I'm sure this wasn't my bed, I don't have that much money to buy silk bed sheets.

That wasn't the only thing out of place. The room was decorated in colorful rugs that looked to be expensive and worth a lot of money.

All this was overshadowed by the most obvious clue of all, I was in a medieval castle and I don't live in a castle.

Something told me I wasn't in Connecticut. So where the fuck am I?

I got my answer in the form of an old man in a grey robe, wearing….chains? Maybe he's a fan of Gothic fashion or some punk rock band?

I don't mean to sound narrow-minded, but wasn't he a bit too old to be a Goth? I don't know much about them but I'm pretty sure there aren't many 60 year olds in their group.

Then again I could be wrong.

He gently closed the door; I guess he thought I wasn't awake?

I coughed to get his attention. He turned sharply, wide eyes full of surprise.

When he saw me, he smiled and he seemed to be relieved.

"Um Hello?" I said, more asked by my tone.

" $#%!" He said in a language I had no idea about.

What is he speaking? I don't think I ever heard something like this. Was it Latin? It seemed a bit like it.

"Um do you speak English?"

"# $# #$$%#!" He said happily.

Yeah he doesn't speak English.

Suddenly I felt light-headed accompanied by a head-splitting headache.

"$#%%! %$%#^?" He seemed worried and placed a hand on my shoulder.

But I blacked out the moment he did.

-x-

What followed was an acid trip through flashes and pieces of memories that weren't my own but at the same time were.

I saw memories of me playing with a brown haired woman, my mother. But at the same time there were other memories of me with another woman that my memories told me was also my mother but looked nothing like the other woman.

They were snippets of me playing, studying, growing up and a lot more with finally ending in a loud car horn and a bright white light.

-x-

I woke up with a scream, alerting the old man who jumped up from the chair he was sitting on.

"Prince Aelor! Are you feeling well now, your grace?"

"Yes, uh what did you call me?" And why is he suddenly speaking English?

"Prince Aelor Targaryen. Isn't that your name? Have you forgotten it?"

I had a sinking feeling in my stomach, not because I realized that the man spoke some other language than English and I responded in that particular language I had no clue about. No, it was due to my last name, Targaryen. The only time I heard this name was in a series of books and a TV show, both of which were fictional, in a world that was beyond shit to live in, second only to the living hell known as Warhammer.

But it was just that, fictional. But now I was supposedly in it if my memories and the old man-maester-was anything to go by. Thank god for the memories, otherwise I'd probably have a panic attack right now.

"Where are we currently Maester Runciter?" From my memories his name was Runciter. From my other memories, there was only one maester named Runciter, and he was long dead before the books or show began. If this was that Runicter I really don't want to know the date.

"We are currently in Maidenpool, your grace. A tourney is being held to celebrate your uncle King Viserys' coronation, remember?"

I did. I remembered my da-father announcing that we would be travelling to the Riverlands attend a tourney. My mother fussing over the preparations.

"I do. Where are my parents?" And most importantly which Viserys is this one?

There were two, one which left the realm as a Dragon Battle Royale or the father of the fat fuck who left a serious Blackfyre problem for his kids. Well the third one got a golden helmet from his brother-in-law, maybe in this one he became king?

Nah, there's no way he's becoming king, unless somehow by magic his personality does a complete 180. Oh. Yeah he was still in the running

"Of course. Lady Rhea will be relieved to see you; she's been worried sick you know. Even Prince Daemon has been roaming around aimlessly waiting for you to wake up."

"Prince Daemon and Lady Rhea." So I'm a Blackfyre?! Wait no, he said my last name was Targaryen, so…

"Prince Daemon Targaryen and Lady Rhea Royce, your parents." He clarified

That's when my brain entered hyper-speed.

The Rogue Prince and the lady he hated to be married to. I was their kid.

"What year is it Maester?"

"Why 104 years After Aegon's Conquest of course." And 25 years before The Dance of The Dragons.

"Fuck."