In hindsight, it should have been obvious. The crimson garments with a gold trim, the animal murals consisting of stags, lions, wolves, et cetera; the pale brick coloring of the rooms. It's the god damn Red Keep! I am Tommen Baratheon! Well... Lannister, according to some sources… Honest, correct, but ultimately adversarial sources.
I should've kept my mouth shut. This prince deal was fool's gold, and what a fool I've been! I need to get my bearings straight. I need to figure out what part of this story am I in now. I have been called a prince, which means that either Joffrey's or Robert's butt is currently warming the Spiky Seat.
Joffrey... Robert... Cersei. Jaime. Ned, Stannis, Daenerys, Robb, Tywin, Oberyn… All these characters are real now. Not only are they real, but I'll have to handle my relationship with them, and possibly with each other, so as not to end up a gruesome decoration sprawled over the Iron Throne to celebrate a new psycho's coronation.
The servant girl, Brunilda or something, keeps glancing at me with a worried expression. I hope that's just a regular amount of concern for a child of eight, and not something that will be handled by someone with a higher paygrade than her. Someone like a maester or a septon, for example.
We walk past a four-man patrol of Goldcloaks, which don't look all that incompetent in my eyes. Sure, they might be corrupted, but they keep a marching formation and they keep it well. I thought they were useless.
After a few more corridors, we approach an entrance flanked by two Kingsguard. A few nods are exchanged by all of us, along with them formally greeting me, and we enter the dining hall.
I see the unmistakable form of the great Dragonslayer Robert Baratheon himself, sitting at the table, enjoying a cup of wine, likely not the first one of the day, and nibbling some of the food served in front of him.
"Here we are, my prince, I wish you a pleasant meal, and I hope to see you later." Bruni-Breyna! Breyna was her name.
I wish her a goodbye and approach the table, first noticed by my new mother, and then by everyone else.
"There you are, boy! We've been starving without you. Come on!" The king – my new father – acknowledges my presence, before downing his cup, and pestering the servants for more alcohol. I doubt this man has done much starving during his tenure as king. His true starvation is an emotional one.
I notice that the golden-haired members of my family have been politely waiting for me to commence breakfast, now referred to as breaking of fast. Will I have to partake in some fasts now, as well? I hope the Westerosi aren't as strict with religious observance as my world was back in the day. The stares I get as I ensconce myself do nothing to assuage my nerves. Do they think something's wrong with me as well? I say my good mornings to the royals, before beginning the feast. Strangely, Joffrey keeps avoiding my gaze.
The characters I've once rooted for and jeered at on the screen look like what I'd expect, but not like they were copied straight from the show. Cersei Lannister is absolutely stunning, I'll give her that. With a personality that toxic, I assume that only the exceptionally beautiful can have it looked over. Being the daughter of the realm's Bill Gates also helps. On one hand, I hope this slight appearance shift means that I might get to see actual purple eyed Targs, but on the other hand, I hope I don't misidentify someone important because of some details I missed. This might be the book version and I have no knowledge of the books, save for some excerpts. Personally, I'd rather have Euron the Lustful Pirate than Euron the Harbinger of the End Times.
I start digging in, and the food itself is surprisingly good. I have no idea if the medieval spice trade is as complicated here as it was back on Earth, but the sausages are spicy, the cream cheese nice and herby, and even the boiled eggs tasty! I will have at least one thing to look forward to as my world falls apart around me. No wonder this kid got so fat.
"Slept well?", asks a soothing voice belonging to mommy Cersei. The finely braided woman dressed in luxurious crimson raiments looks at me with a genuine smile, and I can't help but to smile back.
"I have, mother." I answer without delay, maybe playing the part of the little prince will be easier than I previously thought?
"Good.", the king interjects, "Gods know you need a little more shuteye after what's happened."
What? Something happened?
Cersei shoots Robert a stern glare that might have worked on Myrcella perhaps, but not the Demon of the Trident.
"If you're still uncomfortable about what happened, it's alright. We don't have to talk about it" she mistakes my look of confusion for anxiety and tries to comfort me.
"He shouldn't be uncomfortable! He didn't do anything!", Myrcella joins the fray. Cersei and Cersei Jr. are on my side, but I have yet to figure out what is it about.
Suddenly, Joffrey stands up, tosses his silverware at the table and storms off. My little sister (or was it her who is the middle child?) flinches at the scene, but I keep calm. It seems that I have been dropped straight into some family drama. At this point, I assume it has something to do with the eldest bastard's violent proclivities towards me.
Robert doesn't even look at his successor's outburst. He continues with his meal and shakes his head in disapproval.
"Seems to me that the accused is the one that's uncomfortable", he pauses to wash down his morsel with more wine, and continues his statement in between chews, "If the little shit can't care for his brothers and sisters, or if he cannot properly own up to his mistakes, he will be a piss poor king."
Cersei glowers at him for his language, but it looks as if she gave up on trying to correct him a long time ago. She utters no words of protest, though.
"He should count himself lucky for not getting beaten.", Robert finishes his closing statement by gulping down his current bite of food.
Myrcella, the person I now remember is my older sister, offers a reassuring pat on my thigh and looks at me with a closed mouth smile, before finishing with her meal. My little lawyer seems to think we've won the case.
I keep up my slightly anxious appearance for the remainder of the meal, partly out of authentic anxiety, but mainly because nobody will bother me if I act that way. I need my time alone now, more than ever, to properly ease into my new role. I finish my meal.
Robert puts down his chalice a little louder than necessary, as if to signal his cup is now empty to the rest of the hall.
"Alright, I will go see how Jon's doing. You two stay out of trouble, else I'll catch you too! You don't wanna get caught in this stag's antlers!" He playfully threatens us, making antlers out of his hands, even uttering a small growl. The sight of the great king Robert trying to be a dad is actually quite funny. Both Myrcella and I laugh at the sight, as the king smiles and leaves.
Bobby's outro has given me an idea of where I've landed in the timeline. Lord Arryn, his hand, is sick, giving me less than two weeks before the actual plot starts developing, before this tense, but idyllic life spirals into chaos. Speaking of chaos, I've forgotten about the two chessmasters – Littlefinger and Varys. The two greatest threats to the Lann-atheon dynasty, and everyone else. Two of the greatest threats that also happen to be closest to me.
"You two should go and prepare for your lessons.", mother dearest says, interrupting my rising concerns.
"Yes, mother" Myrcella says, somewhat eagerly.
"Of course, mother", I add.
"Tommen.", Cersei's attention shifts to me, "I know you might still be upset about yesterday, but I want you to do your best in your lessons today, especially in arithmetic. Alright sweetling?"
"Yes, mother", I answer, gaining a smile of approval for being perseverant in spite of previous tragedies. I still have to find out what Joffrey did to my predecessor in pudginess.
Mother stands up, and we follow suit. She takes turns in giving us a hug before sending us off.
As I'm joined by an escort, I consider that the sciences here might not be the same as they are back on Earth. I can only hope that High Valyrian is easy to pick up.