On the Path to the Iron Throne (Patreon)

– "Are you serious? Watching it again?"

Max lazily leaned back on the couch and glanced at the TV screen. The closing credits of yet another episode of Game of Thrones began their slow crawl across the black background. The room was filled with a soft light from the lamps, but the atmosphere of Westeros reigned—swords, dragons, and palace intrigues.

– "Seriously, hundreds of shows, and you still can’t get enough of this," – he added with a smirk, reaching for the remote.

Alex didn’t respond. He was sitting nearby, staring at a strange amulet in his hand. It was a small, rough object, with a symbol etched into it—one that seemed oddly familiar.

– "Where’d you get that?" – Max finally showed some interest, scooting closer. – "Did you find it in an antique shop again? Or is it some kind of fan merch?"

Alex chuckled.

– "Picked it up at a flea market. They said it’s from Westeros or something like that. Just another trinket, but I thought it was funny."

Max shook his head skeptically.

– "Don’t you think you’re a little too obsessed with this world sometimes? You want to go there or something?"

Alex smirked, still looking at the amulet. His fingers caressed the cold metal, and a naive thought crossed his mind.

– "You know, maybe I would. Living in Westeros… dragons, castles, all those adventures. Who wouldn’t want that?"

Max laughed.

– "Do you not know how it all ends? Wars, intrigue, death—I don’t think you’d like living in that kind of mess."

But Alex didn’t hear him. His gaze was fixed on the amulet, and his mind swirled with thoughts. He felt that maybe it was foolish, but… what if? After reading so many books, watching all the seasons, studying every detail, he had always dreamed of being there, even for a moment, to touch that world. To be part of the story, to be...

– "I want to be in Westeros," – he whispered, gripping the amulet tightly in his hand. – "To be in that world where survival is a battle, but where real heroes exist..."

And then it happened.

The world around him suddenly shifted, as if everything had become too light and fragile. The sound of the TV vanished, the light in the room dimmed, and something heavy pressed on his chest. Suddenly, his body felt like it was falling—flung out of the familiar world. His fingers tightened around the amulet so hard that the metal seemed to dig into his skin.

– "Hey, Max..." – he tried to say, but didn’t get the chance.

Everything went black.

…

He woke up on cold ground. The air was sharp, thick with dust and the smell of sweat. Alex shot upright, but immediately felt a strange heaviness—his arms, his legs, even his chest felt different, not like his own. Looking around, he realized he wasn’t in his room. There were no familiar things, no Max, no usual surroundings. Instead, before him stretched a dusty alley with clay houses, narrow windows, and dirty streets.

He raised his hand, noticing thin, delicate fingers, smudged with dirt. Looking down, he saw a thin, almost n***d body and...

– "Boobs?!" – he shouted in shock, his new high-pitched voice echoing down the alley. The sensation was, to say the least, strange—rough cloth barely covered his new parts, smooth skin peeked through the holes in the fabric, his chest... slightly exposed and so out of place, while under the torn clothing was a weak, skinny figure.

'What the hell...' he thought, frantically looking around, hoping it was just a nightmare or some joke that would stop any second. But nothing changed. Everything looked far too real—sharp smells, dirt, raspy voices in the distance.

Alex stood up, wobbling. His new, unusually thin legs barely held him. Dirt had gathered under his nails, and sweat trickled down his legs as though his body was struggling to adapt to the unbearable heat.

– "Hey, you, wench! Are you one of the freed?!" – A rough voice called out from behind, making Alex flinch and freeze in place. He turned around and saw a tall man with a weathered face, wearing dusty leather clothes, with a whip hanging from his belt. The man’s expression was full of scorn and mockery. His eyes gleamed with the satisfaction of a predator spotting its prey.

– "Freed... What are you talking about?" – Alex mumbled, barely hearing himself. He was already guessing that this place looked like one of the cities Daenerys had freed—probably Meereen. But how was this even possible?!

The man stepped closer, his heavy boots thudding on the dusty ground.

– "I’m asking you, slave. Are you deaf?!" – his voice grew harsher. Alex looked around frantically, but all he saw were dark walls of the narrow alley and dirt underfoot. No way out, no one to help.

– "I... I don’t know," – Alex tried to speak, his voice trembling, everything happening too fast. The man snorted, stepping even closer, almost standing right in front of him.

...

– "You one of those Daenerys freed?" – he said mockingly. "The masters are back, so you’re going back to your old life, slave!" – the man spat with contempt, his eyes wandering over Alex’s dirty body before finally pulling out a heavy iron collar, which sent a chill of dread through Alex. The metal glinted dully in the sunlight.

– "No... no, not this..." – Alex backed away instinctively, feeling his heart pounding in his chest.

– "Oh, you’ll remember this," – the man sneered, moving closer with a smug grin. "You can resist all you want, wench. But either you put this collar on now, or it’ll be forced on you. So don’t make things harder for both of us."

Alex stood still, clenching his fists, trembling all over. His gaze was locked on the iron collar in the man’s hands. Every second felt like an eternity. His heart was racing so fast it felt like it would burst out of his chest. He had dreamed of being in Westeros, but this? This wasn’t what he had imagined.

Heroes, battles, the fight for the throne—all of that now seemed like silly fantasies, far removed from his new reality. He wasn’t a hero now. He was a slave, with no choice.

'I can’t...' – he thought, his eyes darting between the cruel man and the collar. But reality was different. This wasn’t a movie where you could just stop the scene. This was real!

The man stepped closer, his patience running thin. "So, wench? Waiting for me to put it on you myself?" – he growled, pulling the chain.

Alex’s hand slowly reached for the collar. The metal was cold and heavy. But he knew resisting would only make things worse. What could he possibly do against this giant in his new body?

Gritting his teeth, he lifted the collar over his head and carefully placed it around his neck. The cold metal touched his skin, triggering a sharp feeling of helplessness. The collar snapped shut with a loud click, and Alex felt as though he could hear the chains of his freedom locking in place forever.

The man smirked, his eyes gleaming with triumph. "That’s right. Now you’re back where you belong. Slave." He yanked the chain, and Alex stumbled, barely staying on his feet.

"Let’s go," – the man ordered, tugging the chain roughly. "You belong to me now."

Alex forced himself to move forward, his legs trembling under the weight of it all. He walked slowly behind his new master, feeling every horrifying detail of his new reality.