The Wind of Change. book 1

The Wind of Change

Author: СкальдЪ

Notes:

A violent world implies a corresponding violent description. Westeros is not a sandbox for girls and boys. There are scenes of sex and violence. Some characters, such as Joffrey, Margaery, and Sansa, have been raised to adulthood.

The work was written at the request of the Горный мастер. Unfortunately, I didn't fulfill a couple of requirements: the character got into Joffrey not at the feast, when he was about to be served a cup of poisoned wine, but in the early morning of that day.

There is also no "action" icon, and instead of "geth" there is "jen", although there are feelings and bed scenes in the fiction. And there will be a lot of dialogues here.

The changes made seemed more promising to me, besides, they are more consistent with the author's style and his vision of the situation. Oh, yes, a more realistic rating has also been put up.

Горный мастер, I'm sorry if something is wrong!

Gorgeous Margaery Tyrell by Bella Bergolz

https://www.artstation.com/artwork/bNJ4G

06/07/17

No. 1 in the top "Jen in the genre of AU"

No. 1 in the top "Jen in the genre of Popadans"

No. 1 in the top "Jen in the genre of Fantasy"

No. 2 in the top "Jen in the genre of POV"

No. 2 in the top "Jen in all genres"

The Prologue

There are a lot of advantages and pleasant moments in stories about people who got somewhere. However, there is always one small, unpleasant chance that you will not fall into everyone's beloved hero or beauty (if you are a girl), but into a completely ordinary, gray personality. It's even worse if the person you've become is genuinely and justifiably hated by the whole world.

Every story begins with something, a visible point, a milestone, from which it is convenient to count down. And the same thing happened to me. The beginning of this story should be sought in the past....

I was born and live in Russia, in the Tver region, in a small town called Torzhok.

I am twenty-six years old, and I work in the Ministry of Emergency Situations, helping people, and sometimes even saving them. I like my job and it gives me a complete sense of need and usefulness. I can do something not only for myself, but also for others. This fact allows me to hope that I am not living this life completely stupidly.

There are no children. A regular girlfriend is also missing at the moment. My parents are dead. Father from cancer, mother from grief. It was very hard to get over the loss of loved ones, but over time I came to my senses.

I'd be alone as a finger in the whole world if I didn't have friends. They are cool, kind and interesting people. We spend a lot of time together. We have a lot to talk about and do.

Some of them share my main life interest — I participate in reconstructions. I like the glorious past of our Motherland and what happened on the territory of its "sworn" friends.

We have our own historical club "Ratoborets". We make various weapons and armor ourselves, learn how to put them on and wear them properly. We also train in the use of edged weapons. Of course, I haven't mastered anything serious, but I've learned something anyway.

Whenever possible, we practice in the equestrian section, sometimes combining these two areas — horses and fights. However, everything costs a lot of money and takes a lot of time. And you have to maintain your riding skills at least a couple of times a week. Unfortunately, this is not swimming. You may not swim for a year, even three years, and then you go into the water and just swim, as if there was no break at all. You can't do that with horses. Horse riding skills have to be maintained constantly.

But such a pastime brings great joy. You and the horse... And the wind in my ears... The weight of the armor... The seriousness and adrenaline of a training battle... Laughter of friends... You can write about it for a long time. Or dream.

The last significant event in which I had the opportunity to participate is the St. George tournament, which takes place every year, in May, in Kolomenskoye, near Moscow. Year by year, this event is gaining more and more participants. People come here from all over the CIS, and even Europe. Medieval Europe and the knight's lists are always played out here. Everyone is dressed in matching clothes, all the things are only from that era, the ladies look like ladies — romantic and beautiful. And all men look like knights.

Everything is serious and real. And when you are knocked out of the saddle at full gallop, and you fall to the ground, rattling your armor, you feel that not a spear flew into your shield, but a truck weighing several tons.

You need to feel this. Words can only convey general emotions. But you won't find the essence in them. Probably, all of us, the participants, are a bit romantic at heart. We grew up listening to stories about our glorious ancestors, the campaigns against Constantinople, the Polovtsian steppes, the dog knights and the centuries-old confrontation with the Tatars.

We have also all read the cycle "The Cursed Kings" by Maurice Druon and the novels by Alexandre Dumas.

Recently, many have been strongly influenced by the famous fiction epic "Game of Thrones", or as its book version is also called, "A Song of Ice and Fire". How much time we spent discussing this or that moment, this or that concept!

I'm not going to brag, but I think I understand quite well what this saga is really about. I even wrote an article and posted it on one of the blogs. It develops the idea that "Songs" are not a story of families or people. No, of course she means it all. But the meaning is much deeper.

This story is about what people are willing to do for power, how far to go, and who they will eventually turn into. And also, the main thing is this book about power. And about those who play it.

In the article, I compared everything to chess pieces and the players who move them. And the higher the status of a piece, the more dominant it can be on the playing field. The most significant influence, as it is not difficult to guess, is demonstrated by the players — those who "move" the pieces. There are few of them, they are very cunning, treacherous and unscrupulous. These are real bastards who are willing to do anything to achieve their goals. Absolutely everything.

As a matter of fact, the "Songs" begin with the fact that two players, Littlefinger and Spider, decided to start their Game. The first one wanted to "rock the boat" and catch titles, lands, wealth, brides and power in the rising turbulence. And the second one decided to help the last Targaryen representative regain her father's throne.

At that moment, the fate of King Robert Baratheon was sealed. For Robert is not only not a player, but he was not even a king as a figure. The maximum Robert was in that game was a rook. Powerful, straight as a hammer, not seeing or understanding anything around her. He performed well on the battlefield, but he was completely unprepared for what would follow when he sat on the Iron Throne. Baratheon was dead. And whose hands fulfilled the plan of the players, it doesn't matter at all. The mud rose from the bottom, as Littlefinger wanted. And the Game began.

There were other players in that game. You can count them on your fingers. The first is Tywin Lannister. As long as he lived, his family invariably won. Another live player is Lady Olenna, the Queen of Thorns, although her role is not as prominent.

There were also other personalities in the saga who became players after a while. Daenerys Stormborn, Jon Snow, Tyrion Lannister. Prince Doran Martell, Lord of Sunspear, could have been a careful and thoughtful player, but he was unlucky.

There were strong figures in Westeros who thought they were more than what they really were. Like, for example, Cersei Baratheon. She was the queen. And she wasn't very far-sighted, but she thought of herself as a player.

Life quickly put everything in its place after the death of her father Tywin. Cersei made a lot of mistakes, made a lot of wrong decisions, lost all her children, allowed the "sparrows" to be reborn, and held on only because of her name, the gold of Casterly Rock, and past alliances.

There was also a very interesting character in the game, Arya Stark. Not a player, of course, but also not an ordinary piece, but rather a wild card in a chess game.

And then there was Joffrey Baratheon, King of the Seven Kingdoms, an evil, stupid, aggressive, cowardly, and sadistic young man. Three quarters of Westeros sincerely and quite naturally hated him. The others showed flattering smiles. And only a handful of people, mostly the Lannisters themselves, supported and demolished all his "quirks".

It was no accident that I chose this name. It all started with him. Or it's over, whichever way you look at it.

I slept soundly that night. And then I had a dream. I realized, even if it sounds ambiguous, that I was awake, and I found myself in a strange place.

I was in the center of a seven-pointed star inscribed in a circle, painted or laid out on a marble floor. A magical, silvery mist swirled around this place. The silence was such that it made my ears ring. It was like being on an island. It seemed to me that there was nothing there, beyond the fog-no air, no space, no time.

And then silhouettes began to materialize at the top of each of the rays of the seven-pointed star. It was similar to how photography is manifested. It was as if they were seeping in from another world and standing around me from all sides.

A middle-aged, bearded man wearing a crown appeared right in front of me. To his left was a smiling woman in her forties, dressed in rich clothes. Her gaze is full of kindness and care. Next came a powerful man with a hammer in his hand.

I glanced around the circle in silence, not understanding anything, examining them all in turn. My gaze came across a short figure in a raincoat and a hood pulled down over his face. His body seemed strange under his clothes, not masculine, not feminine, and not childish. Animal shapes and features seemed to be discernible there. There was an incomprehensible, terrifying power coming from this figure. I felt the hairs on the back of my neck prickle, and I hurried to turn around.

A mischievous young girl in a light dress looked at me, smiling and holding out her hands. A smile blossomed on her lips, and her eyes were pure and innocent. After her stood a man clad in armor, with a shield on his left and a sword in his right hand. His posture expressed indestructible strength and confidence.

When I had circled full circle, the old woman looked at me silently and expectantly. She held a lantern in her hand, and her eyes radiated intelligence and some kind of otherworldly knowledge.

"Well, man, are you glad to see us?" said the man in the crown.

"Ahem... I don't understand you," to be honest, I felt uneasy. The situation looked, frankly, not trivial, and the scary thing was that I didn't understand anything. And the figure of the man-beast, to which I involuntarily turned my back, was particularly creepy.

"We are Seven," said the woman with the lantern in her hand. "Admitted it now?"

A hunch flashed through my head. And I grabbed onto that thought like a lifeline:

"Westeros?"

"That's the one," the man in armor chuckled. I realized that his name was Warrior. And the rest became clear to me. But the Unknown One continued to frighten. And the situation itself has not become logical and simple.

"Well, why don't you say something?" The maiden smiled modestly but with dignity. "Haven't you realized yet that we're inviting you into our World... will you come?"

"Uh... I'm sorry, but I just don't know what to say."

"Ho-ho-ho," the man with the hammer laughed loudly, as if from a barrel. Or rather, not a man, but a Blacksmith.

"And you ask what's not clear", the Old Woman advised. "And we will answer."

"Well, then, okay... Where am I, what does all this mean, and what is going on?"

I admit, I was being childish at the time, asking ridiculous questions and showing completely idiotic emotions. Yes, this whole situation hit me like an avalanche. I was just not ready for this. Although, if we have to make excuses, then who in their right mind is ready for such a thing? This is clearly not an ordinary and mundane event. This means that the nervousness and fears are well-founded.

Seven of them answered the questions. It turned out that this place has different names. The word "Crossroads" seemed to be the most understandable — the center where different worlds and times intersect, and through which you can travel through them. The Seven of them needed me for one purpose-they wanted to invite me to Westeros. And the most interesting thing was that they offered to replace not just anyone, but King Joffrey Baratheon himself.

I was so surprised that I didn't feel it necessary to hide my emotions:

"Are you serious? Getting into the body of such a bastard? I'll get killed sooner or later. And this is not to mention the fact that this character is not inspiring at all!"

"If you don't change anything, you'll be killed twelve hours after you show up there," Mother "reassured" me. "That's why you need to survive."

"Joffrey?" I realized that these "guys" needed me for some reason, and I made a weak attempt to bargain. "Why not Jon Snow, Robb Stark, Stannis, or Renly Baratheon? Can't you play young Viserys?"

They explained to me that other people, due to various spatial and temporal processes, cannot be chosen. Only Joffrey, the young king, officially upholding the faith of the Seven, and only on the morning of his last day. Agree or refuse, it's your business. Finding others is not a problem.

"Why me, exactly?"

"We liked your thoughts about our World." Father simply replied.

"And what will I have to do?"

"Westeros is approaching a massive crisis. Within a few years, everything can descend into Chaos. New Gods and Entities will come, and the Seven of us will lose our power and authority. We need to keep our status."

Now that's warmer! Finally, they started talking about their relatives. This means that the Seven need help, and they want to maintain stability in Westeros, and at the same time their influence.

I remembered the saying that God has no other hands than human ones.

By that time, I was able to settle in a bit. I realized that no one was going to kill, castrate, or torture me, and I even became a little emboldened.

"Throw me or someone else into Rhaegar Targaryen before he gets killed." He also supported the Seven!

It turned out that this was also impossible. Only Joffrey, and only on one day.