Chapter 1:

"So long as I am your king, treason shall never go unpunished. Ser Ilyn, bring me his head!"

"For God's sake!" I cried, "why on Earth did he do that?". My friends look back to where I'm sitting on the bus, half in tears, the other half in rage.

"What's wrong, John? You nearly gave me a heart attack!"

"Joffrey just killed off Ned Stark!" I reply, nearly bawling with the sheer injustice of it.

"Oh, I see. Bummer, ain't it?". Explanation given and accepted, they turn round and talk about how awkward it was when they farted in class, or something along those lines.

They're not wrong – about the killing, that is. Game of Thrones is a pretty deadly book – to me GRRM is like a sadistic gardener, giving all the plants lots of fertiliser, water, and care, before killing off anything that doesn't look right. You always do some "what if?" scenarios to try and make it all seem right in your mind, but it just seems to end up with anyone nice-killed, anyone indifferent-killed, anyone bad-killed, usually just before or after someone good is killed as well.

My current "what if?" is that Sansa didn't tell the Lannisters Eddard's plan. Think about it – the Lannisters wouldn't have enough time to act or buy up the City Watch otherwise, which would mean that the Lannisters would be exiled, Ned Stark would be protector and rule well, and bring up Joffrey to do so as well.

Joffrey.

Now that you look at it, he was the problem, the sub-message in the story of Westeros. He was responsible for the death of Ned Stark and Lady, hell, he even started a war, and could have saved many other lives if he was benign. If Joffrey was good. If Joffrey was kind. If Joffrey was...someone else.

As I went off the bus, deep in thought, it made sense. A potentially very powerful character with an actual idea of good and evil, and who could single-handedly bring peace to the whole of GRRM's massive, monstrous universe, would be the only thing to give a happy ending to the world which thrives on never allowing that to happen.

As I went to bed that night, I thought about this more. How could it be done? The only way it could happen is if someone actually became Joffrey, and of course, how likely was that?

I chuckled as I turned over and tried to sleep. Yep, a fictional character will suddenly turn back (imaginary) time, and turn over a (imaginary) new leaf. These things are incredibly likely, aren't they?

I did finally get to sleep, but I had a very peculiar dream. I dreamt that I was falling, faster and faster, so fast I did not where or when I was. I dreamt that I landed, hard, onto something that wasn't my bed. I couldn't see, or feel, or breathe, stranded in a dream-like state that engulfed me, trapped me.

A shock. It started with a shock, I'm certain. A tiny pressure in the small of my back, rippling slowly across my body, across my being, so slowly it felt like I was in a boat on a peaceful lake. Then after the shock, the pain, it had to be pain. I felt like a thousand spiders were biting me in my face, my head, my mind, my soul-a pain so sharp and focused it was almost sweet, but hot, white-hot, so hot I couldn't think, couldn't even remember. Who was I? I felt like I was cross-eyed-there were two of me, but not the same – I was tall, and I was short, I was...no one. I didn't know. Why? I had to know. Who was I, what was I, what will I be...and what was to come?

I was...human. OK, I knew that. A memory came back, slowly sliding past, but when I looked and reached for it, all I could see was black and white shapes flying across a field.

Not shapes. Letters. Letters that spelt out my name, anything, nothing in particular, but something.

J. One of the letters was J. The next was O. Then F. Then another.

What? Joff-? That wasn't me, I was John, John Lockfield, 14 years and 2 months, friends with all my neighbours, loved my family. I KNEW WHO I WAS!

I reached out, ignoring the spiders. I reached out and grabbed the memory, ripped it apart, then grabbed the spiders, but the spiders weren't there. They were a part of me, of us. Who was that other person? He was the one giving me this pain. I turned around, spiders, now snakes, now swords, biting me, tearing me, but I continued.

I turned, and grabbed that part of me who thought he could make me forget who I was, who he was. I hadn't forgotten. I knew, I knew, I KNEW!

Then, as soon as it had lasted, it stopped, and I woke up, dizzy and sweaty. I looked up and all I could see was darkness, then a light, dim and fuzzy – but now bright, brighter, so bright it outshone everything else. It was beautiful...and gone, and in its place, colours-lovely green, heavenly blue, sweet red. Then feeling. I felt soft things beneath me, hard things on my feet, heavy things on my head. Finally shapes. Clothes, strewn on the floor, rugs, decorated with samite, silk and fur. Objects, lying on the ground. A spilt cup, an unsheathed dagger, a burning candle...

I didn't have these things. All I had was a radio and a bookshelf. Where did all these wonders come from? Suddenly, the heavy thing on my head became a giant stone, crushing me back into the bed, back into sleep. But first, I looked at the candle, through the candle, to the mirror behind, all the way through back to me again. As I went to sleep, only one thought stayed in my head.

Why was Joffrey staring back at me?