Disclaimer: Despite the protagonist's great wanton on giving George R.R. Martin a run for his money, I am, in good conscience, NOT making any sort of monetary gain by writing this story. Remember that my sole purpose is to entertain you guys just for the heck of writing.

So please, as much as I'd like to receive ANY message from the guy who wrote ASOIAF himself and the producers who made GoT, I'd rather not be sued.

A/N: Heeeyyyyyy guyyyysss. Soooo... This story was based on my other fic called "Night In The Watch Tower" and well, if you've read that, then this is would be the long-awaited whole-story version of it. So. I lied about not continuing it. Heh. Sorry :P but if you're the other half who hadn't read it yet, then I suggest you do. It's a one-shot, and it basically contains a gist of what you'd expect from this story. Also, it features our broody but dashing Jon Snow, a thrown-off-into-the-world stereotype girl, yadda yadda, they're all there. But most importantly, this entirety of the story is purely for fun added with the seriousness of GoT drama, and certain AU themes that will change some aspects seen in the show. Also, for now, it is rated T for language and themes. I'm not sure if I would bump it up to M, but I'll put on a note of it when I get there.

Again, please, I'm really not expecting a lot on this story. I know insert!fics are basically so overdone that you may wish to avoid it. I'm not going to force you to read it, so scroll another story if you don't like the prompt. But if you want to entertain yourself while waiting for your favorite fictions to post a new chapter, then be my wonderful guest.

Oh, and I haven't read ASOIAF yet, and I'm just going about what I watched in the series. So if you'd like to point out something that is a mistake or something completely out of turn, please don't hesitate to leave a PM to me.

Anyway, again, thank you for clicking on this chapter, and don't forget to leave a review, or your follows or faves if you like it :D

Chapter 1

Into the Wardrobe... Nope

Holy shit.

Ho-ly shit.

Sorry, I know this is not the best way to start off what happened to me, but damn, this has got to be one of the trippy-est things I've ever done in my life. NOT that I'm into smoking weed or anything like that... I promise in my nineteen years of life, even with great influence of my college friends, that I've never been into smoking or drugs or that kind of stuff. Really.

But on how I got into to this... I don't know... freezing tundra of a wasteland, well, I don't even have the vaguest idea on how I got magically transported here.

Okay, so to really start things off, I'm preetty certain that I'm not in my friend's apartment anymore, and the last thing I remembered before... "I got here" was drinking the spiked juice on the punch bowl...

Well, I'm not seeing anyone around here...

What? My drink happens to have the winning lottery ticket and I was the only one that got sent off to this world? Ugh. Sure beats missing out on game night with a couple of nerdy roommates.

Of course, in the very fiber of my common sense and every self-defence class I have ever taken (which was one), the last thing to always do in situations like these— if I even encountered an even bizzare-r situation— was to panic. At first, I figured it was some kind of dream, but nope, the biting cold certainly told me that I'm in the middle of snowing-freaking Narnia...

Okay, so the second thing that comes to mind is that I'm in Narnia now?

Huh.

If I thought of that way... well, it could be a possibility. Note the word could. I mean, I've read a lot of fanfictions about girls being thrown off into some world where they were a great fan of. Heck, to be honest, Even I'm not that far off the bat. If I'm in a place where it's around 28°C in a summer solstice and suddenly I got teleported into a -10, well, the next most reasonable thing I could conclude is probably magic. Or aliens. Or a portal to another dimension. Though I never thought what's happening right now could be really real. Like, it would actually happen. And from what I recall, insert!fanfictions didn't start out like dying in a snowstorm in the middle of the night. I don't know, they usually start out with something like,

Oooh! I'm in the Shire! Damn! Look, that's Frodo!

Hey, this is... wait, that's the Winchesters! Oh my God! They look so daaamn hot!

Holy..! That's... Damon, no wait, Ian no—

Oh. My. God. I'm in Asgard! Wait! Is that... Is that... is that Tom H.!?

But I'm not in some greeny foothills where halflings prance around the streets. Nor was this Virginia or America or England. And obviously, I ain't in no Asgard. If anything— and this is just a very wild hunch— the only thing I could connect right now was I'm in the land of Narnia. Yeah. Narnia sounds the most plausible enough.

Funny though. I never read a lot of Narnia fanfics before. I mean I've read the books, even watched the movies (except Dawn Treader cause, I never got the chance to, but I never read you know, stories... about them. Not that I'm complaining though. I just don't have, I don't know... reading experience? Like, if I actually got into Narnia, what stuff should I change and what characters should I let live and die... right?

Heh. If I wasn't freezing myself to death, I would've probably died of hysterical laughter. God, I'm so high right now (verbosely speaking). Damn, if only Gandalf or Aslan or whatever could've warned me first before shooting me off to this place. I could've worn something more... cold-attuned. Eh, not that my jacket would help me survive in this place, but at least I could've bought something for this cold.

I mean, I'm wearing Hobbit clothes for crying out loud. With freaking bare feet. Ugh. Why couldn't Alice have made a winter-themed party instead of a stupid nerd-fantasy costume party instead?

My teeth had started to chatter after a couple of minutes of trudging a path I made, breath harshly blowing wind, my arms covering my waist and rubbing them up and down, struggling to keep myself warm. I've been walking aimlessly beneath a snowstorm for about a mile now, but there's still nothing but darkness and snow. Weird, I would've imagined I would reach like the woods or a castle, or the White Witch, or something right about now, but I'm still lost as hell in this frozen wasteland.

Well shit. I don't think my body could survive the cold anymore. I think any minute now I would collapse out of exhaustion. Fever. Or maybe I would wake up from unconsciousness now and get back to the party. You know, the real world.

And I actually did. No, not the waking up part, but the collapsing part.

Hmmm. The snow on the ground feels comfortable.

I never thought that being magically transported into another world and then dying of cold would be a story worth telling. I've barely (Hah! Not even!) touched any kind of plotline in this world and then *poof*, I would die just like that. So much for a once in a lifetime chance, Rory. Blew off a fanfic worth writing to my fellow anons out there. I wonder what would happen to me now? Is there even heaven in Narnia? I hope there would be.

But just before I could write off my will in the snow that would probably cover itself after 30 seconds, right before my vision started to darken (and what a wonderful cliché that was), I began to hear faint crushing of snow slowly coming towards my way. Oh goodie. Footsteps. Maybe it's a snow bear coming to eat me alive. Or maybe... Aslan?

God, I'm working myself up too much on Narnia. I'm just probably high. Still not a drug addict though.

Just before I fell out of consciousness, a dark figure appeared above me. Oh look, stars. Or maybe that's just snow falling...

To think of waking up feeling hung-over was an understatement, the whole process of actually grasping yet a feel of anything had rocked my whole world around. Literally. Like, I knew I was sort of awake, or in the process of waking, but when I stifled a painful groan electrocuting my legs, it was then that I realized that I was actually alive. Or barely.

Senses slowly came to, I suddenly felt a strange warmth coming in front of me, and then I heard crackling of fire. I forced my eyes to open, still feeling the after effects of whatever sedative I had taken, and saw hazy images trying to form in my head. After a couple of seconds of head pounding, I finally realized I was in a very dank room.

It was still cold, unbearably cold. Though from what I felt from my arms were loads of— what, are these fur? Yeah, that. And the well, uh... hearth, it kinda negated everything altogether. I actually felt good for the very first time in this world.

Anyways, I checked out the room. Like I said, it was dank, cool. A bit stony, and there were wooden knick-knacks everywhere. Wooden table. Wooden stools. Shelves. This bed. The door. Well, the only metal here was the boiler-thingy for the heat thing. I noticed from the windows (wooden as well) that it was snowing outside. And the place was gloomy dark. Like, I don't know, Twilight? Not the characters or the setting though, just the vibe.

When I finally sat up, I felt my heart drop when I heard a clanking of chain, and a weight off my left ankle. My good ankle. Holy crap. If the White Witch wanted the daughter of Eve so much, I'd happily point them to the two girls and even the boys frolicking in the woods.

I fiddled with it— well, I actually "played" with it, because there's really no use of me trying to un-cuff it like it would miraculously get off my ankle. I'm pretty sure the Gods in this realm hadn't given me magical powers or the vision of the Gods or any shit like that. Though I wish I did. So I would know how to get... this thing... off...

The door opened, and much like a kid who got caught stealing the cookie jar, I instantly tossed the evidence away and hid beneath the layers of fur blanket.

"It would seem that you are awake." A rough baritone voice said.

I peeked a little, and then I saw, beneath the Twilight-esque vibe I'm getting off of this place, a guy— well a pretty much middle-aged guy with dark scruffy beard and long hair— all dressed in black, black and black. What, is he some kind of gothic lord-dwarf thing? He doesn't look stout-ish. Heck, he was probably even taller than me if I had the chance to stand up. Most especially, he ain't looking so bad either.

Wow, was C.S. Lewis' depiction of the dwarf serving Tilda Swinton all wrong? I mean yeah, sure. Whatever man. Just point me to where the Pevensies are, and I'll be out of this dump forever.

"Uh..." Hurray, my first line in this wonderful world, and that's how I started it. Negative one point, Rory. "So, master dwarf, are you going to take me to the Ice Witch now?"

He stared at me blankly at first. His eyes were narrow, cold-steel, unwavering. It kinda made me feel a bit uncomfortable. Awkward even. But then his face suddenly changed with a mix of exasperation and bemusement.

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

O-kay. One thing's for sure was that I never saw or heard cussing in a children's fantasy book. Much so less than here. I think things were significantly changed between the adaptations...

Or maybe I just got the signals wrong.

Wait. So if I'm not in Narnia, then where the hell am I?

Shaking my head and faking a pain in my head. "Forgive me, I think I've hit my head a bit too hard on the snow..."

Squinting his eyes at me, he only but nodded once before settling himself on a seat and a table sprawled with papers... what do you call them medieval ones? Parchments. That. And he acted as if nothing had ever happened.

"Um... can I just jog over my memory here?" I then said. Again, he acted with the same confusion on his face. What, he doesn't know English? "Can I ask where am I right now?"

He then paused for about a second too long, and then leaned over to his seat and started shuffling over the papers and inking them. Completely and utterly ignoring my all-enticing face. "You are in Castle Black."

Uh. Castle what now?

"You have to dig a little deeper than that." I made a very noticeable, very uncomfortable chuckle.

He eyed me once, dipping the tip of his quill on the ink and the panned his gaze towards the papers again.

"You are in the Wall."

Wait. Why the hell does that sound familiar? Wall... The Wall... Uhh...

He noticed the "got-it-almost-in-my-tongue" look, and as if his patience was already thinned enough, he suddenly stopped with his writing and actually gave me his attention.

"You, my lady, are in Castle Black of the Wall, located directly in the North, and north of Winterfell, of the greatland Westeros. Have I cleared things enough for you, my lady?"

I blinked back in surprise.

Westeros.

Westeros...

.

..

...

Ho-ly shit.

I'm in Game of freaking Thrones.

A/N: One of the few things I find funny about this chapter is because she keeps on convincing herself that she was in Narnia. But she isn't. heh.

References found in this chapter include Hobbit, Lord of the Rings, Narnia, Vampire Diaries, Supernatural and Thor (Loki). All of which aren't mine (Disclaimer)

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