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283 AC
Free city Bravos
Narrator point of view
A young man in his early 20s appeared to be sleeping alone in a simple room. His brown hair was scattered over his face and on the pillow, his eyelids calmly closed. His hands lay silently beside his body. The only thing that spoiled this image was his thinning features, as if he hadn't eaten in a long time.
Suddenly, the young man's gray eyes opened wide and he began to scream from the depths of his lungs, pressing his hands to the sides of his head as he felt a severe headache.
As soon as the young man's screams could be heard, several people rushed into the room, first the guards waiting outside the door, and only a few seconds later the servants and healers entered the room. One of them, an old bald man, started barking orders.
"Hold him, don't let him hurt himself. Prepare milk of poppy."
The subordinates of the man, who turned out to be the top healer there, were trying to hold the young man who was struggling like mad, examining him and trying to find out what was wrong with him and trying to calm him down, but before he knew what was happening, the screams were silenced as if cut with a knife and the young man lost consciousness again. While everyone was trying to understand what had happened. The mourning healer finished his examination and finally made his decision and began to give instructions to his closest assistant.
"Cancel the poppy milk and send word to the lady, tell her that the lord commander has woken up, if only briefly, and tell her what happened here. Let no one else hear what you are saying."
The young aide nodded his head in agreement and bolted out of the room like a bolt of lightning.
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Alyana Stark nee Rosestark
Alyana was walking up a storm through the corridors of the mansion. Today her black hair was pulled back in a ponytail and she was wearing a blue blouse and trousers, which looked good with her blue eyes. As she always did when she was nervous, she had one hand on the short Bravos-style sword at her waist, gripping the pommel tightly. The sword was his father's fifteenth name day gift to her. He had died on a mission two years after he gave it to her.
When Alyana arrived at the door of Artos, she gave a slight nod to the guards who were always at the door, then without delay she opened the door and went inside. Waiting for her inside were the old healer and the still unconscious Artos. When he saw Artos lying unconscious, disappointment and sadness once again took over his heart and mind. When he heard that he had woken up, even briefly, he had come here as fast as he could. Even though she had heard that he had fainted again, she still expected to see him awake with a little hope. He would look at her with that mischievous grin on his face and wink and say "hi" as if she hadn't been unconscious for two months. Unfortunately, the old gods seemed to have given him too much happiness.
The healer turned to Ronald and spoke. The man had served his father and seen him grow up, loyal to the end and the best healer in the company.
"How is Artos doing? I heard he woke up."
Ronald spoke after a brief moment of reflection. "He woke up a little while ago, but he was awake for no more than three minutes, during which time he screamed incessantly."
"What does that mean Ronald, tell me something, will he wake up?"
"I don't know, my lady. As I said before, blows to the head are always uncertain. I've seen people live from a mace blow to the head and I've seen people die a few hours after a minor blow, but I think the Lord Commander is doing well. It's a good sign that he's waking up."
"What kind of a good sign is that? He just woke up and screamed."
"My lady, it means his mind is not completely shut down. It means he's struggling. And as I told you before, he's not losing weight."
"What do you mean?"
"My Lady. The Lord Commander has been unconscious for two months and even if we did our best to feed him, he should be so weak now that we could see his bones with the naked eye. Yet he is barely weak, as if the gods want him to live. It doesn't make sense."
I took a deep breath to calm myself and motioned for Ronald to come out. It wasn't his fault. He was doing his best. But seeing him now only made me angrier.
After Ronald came out, I just stood there for a while, barely holding back the tears, and then I slowly sank into the chair next to Artos' bed. I couldn't look weak now, not when things had started to go wrong. When Artos decided to organize a trade expedition to Ashai and Yiti? Or when those vile pirates attacked them.
Artos decided to organize a trade expedition to Yiti and Ashai a year and 10 months ago. Of course, that was just a euphemism. His real intention was to learn the spells rumored to be in Ashai. He had always been obsessed with magic. Nevertheless, the expedition was extraordinarily successful. He left with five ships and returned to Volantis with fifteen. Until they came to the stepstones. Pirates were waiting for them. Nevertheless, they broke through the pirate blockade and escaped, albeit with the loss of two ships. Unfortunately, Artos fainted from a blow to the head during the fight and never woke up.
I placed a small kiss on his lips and spoke quietly, "Wake up quickly, my love. Your family needs you."
I was even more upset when I thought of the news from Westerost a while ago. Artos would not have good news when he woke up. I had to prepare the company. Artos will wake up if he wakes up and I know him at all. When he got the news, he would descend on Westeros like an unstoppable blizzard, and nothing would stop him until he got his revenge. The Company had to be ready by then. The Rose mercenaries would return to Westeros for the first time in centuries.
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5 days later
Artos Stark point of view
I barely opened my eyes and started to look around, trying to understand what had happened and where I was, and then I squinted my eyes with pain, with the memories that suddenly appeared in my mind. More precisely, with the memories of two different people. Who am I, Artos Stark, son of Rickard Stark? Or Thomas Reynolds, a young man from the 21st century?
Who begins where and who ends where. And then it dawned on me that this was part of Thomas' memory. I had become an isaki, but instead of taking over Artos' body, our souls and minds were completely intertwined.
I was Artos Stark and I was Thomas Reynolds and I was in the fucking Game of trhones, a world of fiction that I never took the time to read or watch. A world I only knew through a few random posts and posts I saw on social media.
With difficulty, I threw off the thick blanket and tried to stand up. Unfortunately, my legs failed me and I fell to one knee with a loud thud.
Hearing the noise, the guards at the gate rushed in. Their expressions when they saw me inside were so funny that if I hadn't been so panicked I would have laughed out loud.
I could hardly speak because my throat was dry from dehydration. "What's going on here?"
At the sound of my voice, the guards came out of their shock and from that moment on, all hell broke loose in the room.