Chapter I: Prince Hadrian

To live alone is the fate of all great souls - Arthur Schopenhaur

The calm silence of the early morning was abruptly shattered by the clash of battle. Sword met sword in a deadly clash of blades while dust flung up from the struggle flew into the combatants' eyes, causing curses to spew out like tears from a hungry baby. The tall, golden-haired knight quickly slashed sideways with his sword, only to be easily parried by his short, brown-haired opponent. The tall knight frowned, and twisted his sword vertically, hoping to loosen his opponent's grip on his weapon. He found no such luck as the shorter fighter slid his own sword down, forcing him to momentarily retreat lest he lose his fingers. With a snarl, the golden-haired knight charged, stunning his opponent for a split second. It was all he needed - the smaller fighter, caught off-guard by the unorthodox charge, fell on his back with a loud grunt. The knight's sword flashed instantly, its tip poised at his opponent's throat, ready to strike for the killing blow.

"I yield!" called the smaller fighter, his sword slipping loose from his hand.

The taller man seemed to consider the offer, then nodded. "I hope you like scrubbing tables," he said, pulling the small boy - he was only 15 - up with his hand.

A single pair of hands began to clap, in a slow, almost comical fashion. A moment later, another pair joined in, until the entire courtyard was filled with applause and cheers. Ser Jaime Lannister took a bow, while Prince Hadrian Baratheon rose from the dirt and studied the spectacle from the back with the faintest trace of amusement on his lips.

"It seems," shouted Jaime, his face unsuccessfully struggling to conceal a grin, "that our dear Prince Hadrian has some cleaning planned for tonight!"

The crowd laughed, although it was a reserved, cautious laugh - after all, it was never a good idea to make jest of a prince's plight, no matter how amiable he might be.

The laughter was just beginning to trickle off when Prince Joffrey entered the courtyard, his Hound behind him as per usual. "What is this?" he asked, his face contorted in confusion. "Lowborns laughing at a prince?"

"Oh, bugger off, Joff," said Hadrian, all traces of laughter vanishing from his face. "Go skin a cat or something."

"I don't skin cats anymore," muttered Joffrey obliviously.

"Then go torture father or something. Stop being such a prick."

Joffrey's looked around the courtyard in indecision until he finally uttered something below his breath, turned around and left.

Prince Hadrian Baratheon, son of Robert of House Baratheon, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm.

He still couldn't believe it.

Less than a year ago, he had been Hadrian Comyn, son of David Comyn, software engineer. He had stayed in the army for four years before graduated Georgia Tech with a major in engineering, and had just received an internship to a major engineering firm in Atlanta.

Now he was Prince Hadrian Baratheon, second in line to the Iron Throne of Westeros.

He still wasn't sure whether this was the book series, A Song of Ice and Fire or Game of Thrones, the TV adaptation. The ages and characters all shared the likeness of their actors, but some details were simply off. The Targaryens were still known for their fierce violet eyes, a detail ommitted in the show. Cersei called the White Walkers White Walkers, unlike in the book where she (and most of the people in the south) called the the Others.

Even stranger still, Prince Hadrian had jet black, not blond hair like the rest of Cersei's children. In the books, Cersei had taken a potion for Maester Pycelle that was designed to kill semen after having sex with Robert. In the show, Cersei had aborted a child after seeing it had black hair. It seemed that he was that child, and that Cersei had either failed or had not been able to abort him.

As Cersei's second born, and Robert's only legitimate child, Cersei had never shown much affection for him. Oh, she cared for him – he was still her child – but at best, he was delegated the amount of attention afforded to Tommen. At worst, he was outright ignored or dismissed. Unsurprisingly, Jaime and Tyrion were the only Lannisters to interact with him on a daily basis, with Jaime appreciating his military training and Tyrion his higher education.

For just over a year he had been planning, making connections and creating alliances, both permanent and temporary. Jon Arryn was soon to be dead, and Winterfell was just around the corner. He had contemplated letting Arryn live, but had decided that that would change the timeline too much for his liking. His biggest advantage over the other players was his knowledge of the books and show, and it would be unwise to give it up so soon into the game. His plans had already been set, events set into motion that could not be stopped.

All that was left was to wait.