Thursdays are ordinary. They happen every week, after a Wednesday and before a Friday. A Thursday night? Even more ordinary. No one remembers what they did on the Thursdays of their life.
For those with a work routine, getting home at night means rest: playing some games, watching a movie, or checking out the next episode of that long-awaited TV series.
Bob Nilig, or Bob "Twig" to his close friends — "the real friends call him that" — was one of those ordinary humans beings. He enjoyed Thursday nights.
"Love" would be an exaggeration. He just liked doing nothing: series, movies, video games… always accompanied by sweet treats or greasy fast food.
The nickname "Twig" was ironic: contrary to what the name suggested, he was fat, lazy, unconcerned with health, living a peaceful life.
But tonight's Thursday would be different. At least by the end.
While coming back from work, scrolling through Instagram, Bob felt like rewatching Game of Thrones when he saw the trailer for the new series in the franchise.
— I guess I'll start watching again… it's been a while. I don't even remember most of the story, especially the first seasons. Heh.
Hungry after he devoured episodes of the first season, he ordered a hot dog through the app.
— Awesome, a coupon! Two for the price of one!
Luck… or not.
While watching, he muttered to himself:
— Man, I didn't remember… crazy! How can a guy throw a child off a tower?
— That Lannister is such a bastard, my God.
Suddenly, he heard the familiar sound:
— Honk! Honk!
— Hmm… I guess the food's here.
Back with his snack, Bob opened the package and started eating. First hot dog devoured. Then the second. As everyone knows, health was never his priority.
Completely immersed in the series, he didn't notice when something changed. Strange lights began flickering before his eyes, too fast to focus. Half of his face went numb. Before he could react, everything went dark.
The comfort of the living room vanished. A silent, absolute void took its place.
— Wake up, kid!!
Bob felt a dull impact on his head. He gasped in pain.
— Ow! My head!
— Get up, you useless boy! — the voice was firm, almost a shout. — I don't have time for your nonsense! Go do your work!!
The environment was strange. Cold. Harsh light, no comfort at all. Bob barely recognized where he was.
— Where… where am I? — he murmured, trying to get up. Every muscle felt heavy, forgotten, useless.
— Quick! Get up! — the voice sounded closer, authoritative, impatient.
Struggling, he leaned up. His head throbbed. And then he saw: a man standing in front of him. He wasn't tall, but he radiated an almost threatening energy.
— I… I don't know what's happening — he said, voice failing.
— Doesn't matter! — the figure replied hurriedly. — You have a job to do. No time for doubts.
A chill ran down his spine. Thursday, hot dogs, series… everything seemed distant, almost like a dream.
And a question emerged, firm and frightening: who is this person? What does he want from me?
— Sir… I'm confused. Who are you? Where am I? Where's my home? — each word a struggle, each muscle strange and too light.
The man tilted his head, impatient.
— Crazy boy, this is your home!
Bob got up. Something about him was different. His body was thin, fragile, almost like a twig. The nickname finally made sense.
Before he could absorb the reflected image, a sharp pain hit him. As if thousands of memories of a life he had never lived were dumped into his mind.
Unknown faces, strange places, skills he had never practiced… everything flooded his consciousness at once, spinning, throbbing, confusing.
— Ow… what… what's happening to me? — he murmured, holding his head.
The figure watched silently. Bob knew, somehow, that something had changed forever. He was no longer the Bob he had been. Memories of a life that wasn't his emerged, mixed with his own identity.
Gradually, he managed to focus again on the man in front of him. He recognized who it was.
— Saul… — he murmured, still feeling the weight of the shock.
Saul, owner of the inn where the boy worked. His mother, a prostitute, had abandoned him at a very young age, leaving him under the care of Saul's wife, who had already passed away.
As a small… servant, Bob lived under Saul's orders. Surviving on simple tasks: cleaning, inn chores, cooking, chopping wood… everything to avoid going hungry and, in a way, to survive.
Saul snorted, cast an impatient glance at the skinny young man, and said, in a dry voice:
— Go work. Stop bothering me.
Without waiting for a response, he turned and resumed his activities.
The boy, on impulse — or perhaps afraid of more scolding — ran outside the inn. The fresh air hit his face, and for a few seconds, he felt relief at being away from the strict owner.
But as he moved through the courtyard, something strange began to happen. Fragments of memories started emerging, quick and confusing, like flashes of a life that wasn't his.
Iron Throne.
Kings.
Dragons.
Wars.
His eyes widened, his heart raced. Every step seemed to pull him into a world that wasn't his, but that, somehow, now was.
— Holy shit… Fuck… I'm screwed… — he thought, staggering slightly, unable to take it all in at once. — I… I am in Westeros!