So this is the first fic I'm going to be posting, just something to get started. I'll be doing a classic SI, albeit with little to no tech uplift.

It's set during the reign of Jaehaerys Targaryen I, inserted as Androw Farman (you know, the guy who snapped and murdered a bunch of people on Dragonstone).

Hope y'all enjoy.

Faircastle - 32 AC

I woke up to pain. A squeezing, tight sensation coursing throughout my body that seemed to go on forever. My eyes were closed, and I couldn't open them no matter how hard I tried. I could hear, however. Whatever what around me squelched and gushed, splashing against my skin. I could hear someone screaming, although it sounded muffled as if they were underwater.

The pain continued, and I could feel my body being pushed, the various walls that contracted around me flinging me forward. The screaming continued as well, getting louder and louder as I went.

Obviously, I was in too much pain to think straight, but the thoughts that I did have were puzzled and confused. I had absolutely no fucking clue what was going on, and it didn't seem like I'd be getting any information any time soon. It felt like I was on a completely submerged water slide and an amorphous water slide at that. Seriously. What the fuck.

Eventually, finally, it ended. I emerged from whatever hell I had been in and into a world of cold and light. As what felt like a scratchy blanket rubbed my forehead I blinked my eyes, clearing out what gunk remained.

I could see.

The face of a giant peered down at me with two emerald eyes and a hideous blond goatee. It murmured some words that I couldn't properly hear. Soon, a second face joined the first, the two filling my vision like a pair of fleshy moons. The second was smaller than the first, and its hair was a lighter color of blond. This one murmured too, higher pitched and faster.

I suddenly had a sneaking suspicion of what was going on.

As far as my so far has gone, I haven't given much thought to religion. My parents were religious, but never pressured me or my siblings into anything in that regard. My older sisters chose Protestantism as my parents had, but my younger brother and I hadn't really committed to anything. I had personally felt like it was a little arrogant to decide on an absolute truth about the world with no evidence to back it up. Faith had value, of course, but it wasn't something for me.

Which was why what was happening now was even more flabbergasting.

Here were the facts.

One. I had woken up, out of the blue, in some hot, wet, and loud container, with little to no visibility or hearing. Two. I had been physically forced out of said container into a colder and brighter area, where my vision and sound were improved by the actions of others. Three. There were people around me, much larger than myself. All of their attention was focused on me, and I had been wrapped in a scratchy cloth.

Reincarnation.

My screams shook the castle.

It took me a really, really long time to acclimate to my new body.

Everything was wrong. The placement of my tongue felt off in my mouth, and I was made aware of my breathing and blinking all the time because of how different it was from normal. The messages my brain sent to the rest of my body also took time to adapt and add the normal level of motor control an infant had and I was next to helpless.

Well, at least I was able to learn about my surroundings.

To my surprise, it seemed as if I was living in some form of castle, with stone walls and sconces galore. I didn't think I'd seen my new mother in the time that I'd been born, as I'd been passed between different young women like it was a game of hot potato. Perhaps one of them had been, although it was hard to tell. My vision sucked.

Regardless, I'd been forced to endure an experience long forgotten by my old self, that of breastfeeding. I had no memories from my old life of that particular act, but with my fully conscious and adult mind, this second time was burned into my brain. I had fought to the best of my ability, but I had next to no control over my body and I wasn't about to be fed anything else. Eventually, it was eat or starve.

Fun.

I was able to ascertain more than just my location. The people around me spoke English, albeit in an entirely different accent and dialect than I was used to. There were certain words I didn't understand or hear, but I could get the gist of them. I learned a great many things from there.

First of all, it seemed I was some form of nobility to these people. I had often heard the terms "little lord" and "lord's son" being thrown around, and it didn't take much if any intuition to understand phrases as simple as that. Additionally, I seemed to be the youngest of three siblings. The two older than me were a boy and a girl, and I could tell they were my siblings because they looked similar to one another, and the names "Lord Franklyn" and "Lady Elissa" dropped after every other sentence.

The third thing I learned made me pause.

It was a simple drop of a name, nothing out of the ordinary. I had been learning the names of the servants around the castle for some time now, as well as my aforementioned siblings. I don't think my own name had been mentioned yet, but I wasn't one hundred percent sure.

Either way, it wasn't my name or any other person's name that caused me to choke in the arms of another wet nurse.

The name was "Lannister."

Fuck this.

So yeah, that's the first chapter of this fic. I'm writing this on a whim, but I will do my best to reach a satisfying conclusion to this story and not just abandon it halfway through. Also, the name "Lannister" isn't the family of the POV character, it's just a more recognizable name than "Farman" and I wanted to land the point.

I should post another update soon, but my next term of university starts so who can say?

Anyways, follow, favorite, and review if you like, but no pressure.

Until next time.