Please read this first:
This is my first fic and I am going to try something I have not seen, it may of been done but I have not seen it. I have seen a bunch of amazing stories be abandoned after, in some cases, hundreds of thousands of words and years of work. As a reader, I am always hoping they will return. Even if its not to finish the story but to give us a simple breakdown of how the story would of finished.
That said, looking at the trends...there are many reasons people may stop. Losing steam, falling out of love with the story, life events, and of course trolls.
So, for my story, I plan on writing it in 3 phases...
Phase 1: Mapping out the story - That is complete, and should I decide to stop writing I will post it as the final chapter.
Phase 2: Write the entire story in short chapters. These chapters will hit the wavetops and key moments of the story. The goal is to get the entire "book" on "paper" in a timely manner. These chapters will most likely be between 1500-2500 words. They will miss some of the details and dialogue that really make a story shine. That said, they will have enough to showcase what will be.
Phase 3: Return to the beginning and expand each chapter. This will bring with it the heavy detail and dialogue, that will bring new life and deeper intent into the story. Hopefully enough that it will be worthy of a re-read. As an example, the prologue below. I plan on giving Oros's 12 years of life a fuller story and due some semblance of justice to his life before the merger. That said, looking at my outline, the prologue will probably sit around or over the 3k word count. I would expect the chapters will be closer to 7k+ on average.
The Best Part of my plan is YOU! I will be able to get my story out and then refine it based on the amazing feedback I will come across, and most likely also in spite of the feedback from the ever-present trolls :).
I hope you enjoy this story, it has been in my head for years. I plan on trying to show things I haven't seen in other SI's and I also promise...the SI will not be an all-powerful, all-knowing, industrial revolutionist...cause I am none of those!
Prologue:
The sound of revelry filled the air as I stood at the threshold of Harrenhal Castle, its colossal, scorched-black stones a testament to the ambitions and failures of ancient dynasties. It was here, amidst the splendor of Lord Whent's great tournament, that my journey truly began. I was Oros Whitewater, a name I had worn like armor for years, but the true blood that coursed through my veins was that of House Blackfyre.
The true name I bore was Aegon Blackfyre, the last legitimate son and heir of a once-proud house. For generations, my kin had hidden themselves behind the Whitewater alias, a veil to protect us from the ever-watchful eyes of the Targaryens, our sworn enemies.
Yet, the last few years had been harsh on my family. We had eked out a living as merchants, traveling between the Free Cities and keeping our true heritage hidden. It was on one of these fateful trade runs that disaster had struck. Dothraki raiders had descended upon our caravan, and in the chaos and bloodshed that followed, I had lost both my parents.
With no one left to support me and only the remnants of our wares and shop in Braavos, I made a fateful decision. I sold what little remained of our possessions and bought passage to Maidenpool, a bustling port on the shores of Westeros. There, I had intended to contact a house that still harbored loyalty to House Blackfyre, a desperate and naive plan hatched in the depths of my grief.
But everything changed on the day I arrived in Maidenpool. The news of Lord Whent's grand tournament in Harrenhal reached my ears, and it was like a spark of hope in the darkness. With the gold I had managed to salvage, I could have chosen the life of a smallfolk, drowning my sorrows in drink, or try my luck as a merchant once more. But there was another option, a bolder one. The idea took root in my mind like a stubborn weed. I could use my meager purse to buy a decent bow and pay the entry fee for the archery contest, the very contest whose winner would be rewarded with five hundred golden dragons. It was a decision born of desperation and defiance, a choice to grasp at something beyond the mundane.
So, with the weight of my alias, Oros Whitewater, hanging like a cloak upon my shoulders, I set out for Harrenhal. My path led me through the rolling hills of the Riverlands, and as I crested a hill overlooking the castle, I was awed by its enormity.
The archery contest was set to take place early in the tournament, and I had little time to adapt to my new reality. The crowd had gathered, lords and ladies from across the realm, each vying for a glimpse of the spectacle. Among the contestants was none other than Prince Lewyn Martell, a member of the Kingsguard. His reputation as a formidable archer preceded him.
As the first arrows flew and targets were hit, my heart pounded in my chest. The yew bow felt foreign in my hands, yet I knew it intimately from years of training with both of my fathers. With each shot, I adjusted, finding the rhythm and the feel of the bowstring. The competition was fierce, and I found myself locked in a silent battle of skill and willpower with Prince Lewyn.
It came down to the final shot, the tension in the air palpable. I released the arrow, and it sailed through the air with deadly precision, striking the bullseye. The crowd erupted in cheers, and I was declared the winner of the archery contest. Five hundred golden dragons were now mine, and the path ahead became clearer.
I used a portion of my winnings to transform my appearance, buying a suit of brigandine armor, a sword and dagger, and a kite shield. My attire now befit a scion of a minor house, and I was ready to navigate the treacherous waters of Westerosi nobility.
With newfound confidence, I pondered my next move. The initial, childish plan of contacting a house supposedly loyal to House Blackfyre seemed like a death sentence in this dangerous game. Instead, I considered whom among the nobility I should strategically "bump" into, hoping to gain favor, a fostering, or perhaps even the coveted position of a squire.
But, as I walked the castle grounds, my world shifted. In an instant, I was no longer just me...I was more. My life no longer had always been intertwined with the treacherous politics and shifting allegiances of Westeros. Part of me had been born an American, far removed from this world of knights and dragons. But fate, or perhaps an omnipotent being with a twisted sense of humor, had transported me here as a mere boy of twelve, burdened with the mantle of a false identity. My consciousness merged with that of the boy I had become, Oros Whitewater. I retained my memories, my skills, and my knowledge of both this world and the one beyond this one. Fluency in the common tongue, Braavosi, and High Valyrian became part of my arsenal. As did rudimentary swordsmanship. Mastery in archery, however, was added to the boy's repertoire as my experience from my life before and the training from Oros's father took root.
The enormity of my situation struck me. I was no longer a stranger in a strange land; I was a stranger in a strange body, an amalgamation of two souls. The sensation was disorienting, like walking a tightrope between two worlds. My destiny in Westeros remained uncertain. My past and present had merged in a twist of fate, and I stood on the precipice of a grand adventure where hardship and determination would be my constant companions. The road ahead was gritty and suspenseful, sometimes even comedic, but I was determined to carve my own path in this world of political intrigue, fantasy, and adventure. My old name was forgotten, my true name is Aegon Blackfyre, but for now, I was Oros Whitewater, a name that would echo through the annals of Westerosi history in ways I could never have imagined.
Okay, maybe my transition into this world wasn't as smooth as all that...not at all...
