Chapter 338 - My CO Stash #38 - Bradley the Breaker by Flux Casey (FalloutXAsongofIceandFire)

-Easiest dub for the MC, without having any meta-knowledge he cucked the shit out of Prince Rhaegar & King Baratheon at the same time/ Also, I find the Fallout elements always great in NSFW fics like this~

Synopsis: ???

Rated: M

Words: 100K

Posted on: forum.questionablequesting.com/threads/bradley-the-breaker-fallout-asoiaf.10678/#post-2915916 (Flux Casey)

PS: If you're not able to copy/paste the link, you have everything in here to find it, by simply searching the author and the story title. It sucks that you can't copy links on mobile (´ー｀)

-I'll be putting the chapter ones of all the fanfics mentioned, to give you guys a sample if you wan't more please do go to the website and support the author! (And maybe even convince them to start uploading chapters in here as well!)

Chapter 1-3 (exceptional)

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There she was. This was his moment. Cindy was alone going through her locker. The world had provided Bradley Plaskett a golden opportunity and he would grab hold of it with both hands! Hastily stuffing his Grognak comic into his bag, he took his chance and approached the girl. She wasn't popular. She wasn't especially attractive, she had braces, a couple of acne scars and had to wear thick corrective lenses. But Bradley knew his limits. He cursed that he couldn't match his cool guy name. Brads were supposed to be cool guys, jocks. Instead he was a gangly nerd. It wasn't the time to bem.o.a.n such things though. Bradley was desperate to improve his image, maybe get a girlfriend. If girls like Cindy were attainable, he'd take what he could get!

"Hey Cindy! It's uhh... Nice weather today, right?"

He felt like his heart was beating out of his chest, his breathing was short, his palms slick with sweat. Cindy wasn't doing him any favours with the look of contempt she was giving him either. But Bradley decided he had come this far, No matter what he would look like an idiot so he might as well go for it.

"So the... The Halloween dance is coming up and I was wondering if, uhh, if you'd like to... Go with me? I mean if-if you want to, that is! It's not a big deal or anything–"

He heard snickering from somewhere nearby. He didn't want to look. He couldn't look, not when Cindy was glaring at him hard enough to set him alight.

"No."

Bradley swallowed thickly. Well... He had tried at least. "Oh... That's cool. I'll just–"

"Sorry, I wasn't clear. Not just no. Hell no." Cindy clarified, her tone shifting from dismissive to unbridled disdain. "You asked me, me, out to the dance? I might not be a cheerleader or hang out with the popular girls but you honestly thought you had a chance? Bad enough you're a nerd. You look like the model skeleton in Mister Preston's class came alive and found an acne-covered skinsuit!" He'd been to the dermatologist about it... "You smell like your route to school takes a detour through the sewer!" His mom kept forgetting to get him the extra strong deodorant... "You're disgusting. Just me talking to you long enough to tell you this is enough to tank my social cred for the next month. So do us both a favour and don't talk to me ever again, got it?"

Cindy's auburn hair flipped at him as she turned and stormed off, leaving Bradley Plaskett standing in the school hallway, looking and feeling like an idiot. Well. That was definitely more clear. He tried to keep his pace steady as he walked the halls even as the jeering of his classmates crushed his spirit even more. Dad had told him not to be afraid of rejection, that if he failed he should shrug it off and try again. But how could he shrug off something like that?

​

-(-)-

​

Bradley Plaskett skipped school the next day. He decided, if even girls who were theoretically attainable for someone like him would mercilessly tear him down like that, he needed to change. The world wouldn't change for him. So he got out of bed at the crack of dawn (because in all of the movies they got up at the crack of dawn), taking the bus to the hiking trails. If he wanted to make something of himself, get himself a girlfriend and... Maybe... Do stuff with her... He needed to take the first step. He needed to get in shape! Get fit! Put on some muscle! Be a cool guy! The hiking trails seemed like a good start for a kid who couldn't afford a gym membership. Lots of hills to climb in Colorado after all!

… His first hike lasted about five minutes before he had to take a break. "Okay, Bradley! That's fine!" he told himself. "Slow start. Just get your breath back and–" he almost set himself down on a nearby bench, placed there for people finishing their hikes after coming back down. But at the last moment, he pulled himself back up, standing up straight, even if his lungs begged him not to. "No. I'm thinking about this all wrong. I can't be a Bradley about this. I need to be a Brad! Be tough! Be Brad! Be cool! Be Brad!" He chanted his mantra with every new step, psyching himself up even as his feet began to ache, his legs began to burn, he got a stitch in his side. All the while he kept pushing himself forward. In the end, his perseverance was rewarded. He managed to climb a moderately sized hill.

His achievement was somewhat undercut by the family with two small children climbing the larger hill nearby. But that was fine! He'd climb that hill too! Just... later. "For now, I think I've earned a little rest..." Brad gasped out as he wandered a little off the trail, leaning himself up against a tall boulder and just sinking against it.

He wouldn't have known it. Couldn't have known. That it wasn't just a boulder. Or that pushing on it from that exact angle would reveal something great and terrible. All he knew as the boulder shifted impossibly back from the force exerted on it, was the new sensation of falling. "Wah!" he yelped, tumbling backwards into the darkness, the boulder moving back into place, sealing off the only light source. Brad found himself tumbling, rolling down an incline in pitch darkness– "OOF!" and crashing at the bottom.

"Ow..." Brad groaned as he tried to collect himself. Checking himself over he didn't find any major injuries, just some tenderness and stiffness from twisting some things the wrong way. Gingerly, he sat up and tried to get his bearings but found very little in the darkness. His fumbling hands found the incline he had come down, dirt and stone but since it was hidden by a secret entrance it was clearly man-made.

"Man, this is just like the issue of Astoundingly Awesome Tales where a kid discovers a hidden society of mole people!" Brad whispered excitedly to himself, "But... Then they ate him." The teen swallowed hard, not feeling quite so excited about his discovery as he had a few seconds before.

The only other sign of life was the dim light coming from further into the tunnel. Sadly, even with his newfound fear of being eaten alive by molemen, Brad saw no other choice but to search in that direction. The incline of the way he came in was too steep and unsteady for him to climb, much less in the dark. So, swallowing his fear for the moment, he got to his knees and began slowly crawling in the direction of the light, shuffling his way forward. As he rounded a corner the light grew brighter, enough that he could see the rough-hewn walls of the cave, the spiders and other bugs that had found their way down here as they tended to. But he quickly dismissed the bugs as a concern as he came around another corner and saw something he certainly hadn't expected to find.

"What's a vault doing down here?" Brad gasped. Certainly he had heard about all of the vaults being built around the states, especially in the most populated and important areas like California, D.C. And the north-east. But why would they build one here? "Who would ever care to nuke Colorado? … Oh, wait. NORAD. Yeah, that makes sense." Even so, Brad hadn't heard of any vaults being built where he lived. He would have thought that would be big news. NORAD probably had one, or one of their bases converted to one, but no civilian ones. "This is so weird."

"Excuse me!" a speaker blared suddenly, Brad near jumping out of his skin at the sound. "I say, you there, young man!"

… Well, there was nothing for it. This was civilisation of a sort. It was what he was looking for. "Y-Yeah?" Brad answered. Right! Be Brad! "Yeah! I'm Brad! What is this place?"

"Young Master Brad, is it?" Now that Brad wasn't panicking he recognised the voice. It sounded kind of like the default Mister Handy voice. "May I ask how you found this place, Master Brad?"

"Uhh, I was hiking and leaned on a boulder. Next thing I knew I was down here and now I'm stuck. Could you help me?"

"I see. Well then, nothing for it! Please don't be alarmed, I'm opening the door!"

Brad waited and watched as an orange strobe lit up, accompanied by a buzzing warning siren and the hiss of steam as whatever giant device running the door got to work. The giant gear-like door sank backwards, a large clamp hooking onto it and pulling it, rolling it aside and out of the way. "So cool!" Brad exclaimed, never having seen one working in person. But a thought occurred. Didn't vault doors usually have the vault number on them?

Brushing the question aside and adding it to the pile that was rapidly building up, he stepped forward and into the vault proper. The room he found himself in was empty save for the control panel and some guard railings blocking some kind of machinery that he couldn't even begin to comprehend. "Hello?" he asked the empty room, "Robot voice guy?" As if in response, he heard sounds indicating the door was closing again. "This is starting to be a little creepy!" he shouted, still receiving no response. Creeping further into the room he asked again, "Hello?"

There was a clank and hiss as the vault door sealed shut. Only... The hissing sound didn't stop. The door was very clearly shut, he checked. So what... Was... That...

Brad didn't even feel it as he dropped to the mesh flooring, fully unconscious.

​

-(-)-

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"Well I'd say, as always, Director Rosen's preparations have proven him the finest of forward thinkers!" a Mister Handy unit declared as it and two other robots, a Mister Gutsy and Miss Nanny, hovered around the prone form of one Bradley Plaskett. "To think someone would actually stumble on this place!"

"No plan survives contact with the enemy!" the Gutsy grunted, "Gotta plan for your plan goin' to shit! Director's a smart man!"

"Oui, it is most fortuitous zat we 'ave orders for situations such as zis!" the Miss Nanny agreed. "Shall I prepare ze auto-doc for 'im?"

"Of course, of course!" the Handy-bot crowed, "Let's get him started on his treatment! People like him will be needed when it comes time for the Project to get underway!"

One day later

"What is the prognosis, Florence?" the Handy-bot asked, hovering his way into the restricted medical bay.

The Nanny-bot bounced a little. "Early indications say 'e will respond strongly to ze FEV treatment! Just two more days and zere will be nothing left but to wait for 'is transformation to complete. Zen he shall be ze perfect soldier!"

"Excellent news! I'm sure the Director will be deli–" the Handy-bot's exultations were cut off as a literal earth-shaking BOOM vibrated through the entire vault. "By Jove, what was that?"

The PA sparked to life. "Hey, Farnsworth, Florence! We got a problem! Ya know how we got a buncha orders for what to do if the bombs drop?" the voice of the Mister Gutsy blared.

"... Yeeeeeees...?"

"Well, they just came into effect."

The entirety of the vault-like facility was staffed purely by computers, by robots, by machines. So in a sense, what happened next was an inevitability. The bots staffing the facility were given many different scenarios for what may or may not happen in the event of nuclear war. There were three relevant ones to the current circ.u.mstance.

First. If the facility should be discovered by an unaffiliated party, the bots were to apprehend them and put them through FEV processing, turning them into supersoldier bodyguards, no longer considered human.

Second. After the bombs drop, the survival and well-being of any humans within the facility is to be ensured at all cost.

Third. Once the vault has been sealed with humans inside, the Project is to be taken into its final stages to ensure the survival of humanity.

Bradley Plaskett had been apprehended as per the first protocol. However, he had yet to go through the full FEV treatment, only the preparatory stages. He was still considered human. That meant there was a human inside the facility. Inside the sealed facility. Which meant...

"Very well," Farnsworth stated only an instant later, his processors having found their only course of action. "Florence, cancel the FEV treatment. It is no longer something we can perform. We must ensure young Master Brad's well-being and survival at any cost! Ford! Begin the Traversal Protocol!"

"Damn limey bastard thinkin' he can give me orders..." grumbled the voice on the PA, cut off with a click.

"Well, Florence, let's get to work, shall we?"

Two months later.

"How is he coming along?"

"It is so frustrating!" Florence complained. "It seems not to matter how much we put into 'im, ze treatments show minimal effects! Zere is no other choice! If 'e is to survive wherever 'e is going we must–"

"We cannot use the FEV!" Farnsworth insisted. "If we use the FEV he is no longer human! We need him to retain his ability to reproduce at the very least!"

"Per'aps zere is a way to achieve zat with FEV?" Florence asked hopefully.

"Impossible! How would we even achieve something like that?"

"Zere is nothing stopping us from retrieving test subjects from outside..."

Despite not having lungs, Farnsworth sighed, clicking the PA switch. "Ford, how far out are we from Traversal?"

"'Nother month, at least."

"Good. You have another job to do."

Two more months later

"So? What are your results?"

"I... may have somezing?" Florence hazarded as she picked up a rat.

"A big rat?"

"An FEV infected rat," Florence corrected. "Second generation."

Farnsworth's arms came forward, the Handy-bot equivalent of eagerness. "The rats are still able to procreate? Could that ability be passed on to other creatures that would normally be turned sterile?"

"We shall see..." Florence teased, her light tone suggesting she was confident in her success.

One month later

"Traversal in three... Two... One..."

No one on the surface would know it. In that moment, the entire facility under Colorado warped and squashed into a space capable of holding a single atom, then smaller still to a proton, then an electron... And then it was gone. Never to be seen or heard from again. In that world, that is.

"..." Farnsworth waited.

"..." Florence waited.

"..." Ford waited.

"Excellent!" Farnsworth cheered. "I think it is safe to say if we were going to be ripped to shreds by spatial forces or destroyed in some other unforeseen circ.u.mstance it would have happened by now! Florence, is your treatment for young Master Brad ready?"

"More zan ready!" Florence confirmed with a bob in the air. A robot nod.

"Excellent!" Farnsworth bobbed in return. "Master Brad's survival and well-being is all we must concern ourselves with now."

​

-(-)-

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Bradley came to wakefulness in many steps. It was a strange and laboured process, his mind seeming to come to life well after the rest of his body. His eyes flickered open, the fluorescent light overhead was painful but his mind was incapable of figuring out what to do about it, thoughts not even coherent enough to close his eyes, or block out the light with his arm, or just simply turn away.

Minutes passed, and finally he managed to squeeze his eyes shut again, sitting up in his bed. Only another few minutes later did he realise it wasn't his bed, that he was in an unfamiliar place. What had happened? His memories were hazy. He remembered… A war? And fighting a bunch of Chinese guys with swords with a giant sledgehammer. Man, that was a crazy dream but it was so lifelike!

As he rose off of the bed, feet planting on the cold tile floor, he was surprised to find his feet, his legs, far more steady than the rest of him. They stood solid under him, as unshakeable as tree trunks. With strong, heavy steps that pounded on the tiles with an audible thump, he brought himself over to a mirror…

The light must have messed with his eyes. He was seeing things. Squinting his eyes shut in hard blinks, what he was seeing didn't change. Squeezing his eyes shut, so hard he could hear the blood rushing in his ears, then opening them again...

"What the shit!"

Chapter 2

"Duh-duh-duh-duh-duh-duh!"

When Brad had first seen his reflection, looked down and inspected himself, he had taken it poorly. The existential confusion of looking into a mirror and not recognising the person staring back at you is not an easy thing to shrug off.

"Duh-duh-duh-duh!"

Thankfully for him his mind, already what he considered his best feature, had received an upgrade. It was more able to process what may have happened to him. Namely, that he was in one of the nicer issues of Astoundingly Awesome Tales. One where he found some weird experiment thing and it had given him a body that could inspire Grognak to hit the gym.

"Duh-duh-duh-duh-duhhhhhh!"

And so began the half hour of making his pecs dance with a goofy grin on his newly handsome face.

It was awesome! All his life he had been frail and wimpy but whatever had happened to him he was now legitimately statuesque! Not just figuratively, either. His body so perfect and solid it might as well have been carved out of marble! His face formerly gaunt and sickly now filled out. His strong jaw that used to only contribute to his bony appearance now made him look like some kind of movie-star action hero! His hair seemed to have grown out quite a bit somehow, long, dark hair flowing down onto his shoulders in waves.

A new exciting thought emerged from his giddy mind and he dropped to the floor to do something he had never been able to do before. Push-ups.

"One! Two! Three! Four! Hot damn this is easy!" He switched it up, trying it with only one hand, the other folded over his back. "One! Two! Three! Four! Five!" Switching arms. "One! Two! Three! Four! Five!" Maybe even... He put both hands on the floor and– "One!" Shoved down, his body lifting fully off the ground. He brought his hands together in a clap before slamming them back on the tile. He fully abandoned counting as he continued, cackling madly to himself as he continued in the exercise that he could barely even feel the strain of. With one final push, he planted his feet flat under himself and stood up again.

���This is the greatest thing that ever happened to me!" Brad crowed, pumping his arms. "What even is this? Maybe some kind of crazy experimental steroid treatment? Some kind of Super Buffout or something?" A creeping feeling of dread crawled down his back as the word 'Buffout' passed through his lips. Hurriedly pulling away the tracksuit pants he was wearing, "... Nope. Deeeefinitely not Buffout," he observed as his grin only got wider. He was hung like a horse now! The rest of him was huge and his d.i.c.k seemed to have just stayed to scale!

He heard a soft ding, a light coming on over the door before it opened, revealing a Miss Nanny bot on the other side. "Bonjour!" it called cheerily in the standard voice set.

And there he was with his d.i.c.k in his hand.

"Ah! I see you are engaged in ze masturbacion? Would you like me to return in a moment so you may finish?"

Fumbling to get tuck his new super-schlong away, taking a little gratification in how much more effort it took, "Hi!" he greeted the robot, only a little embarrassed. It was just a robot after all.

"Oh, you 'ave changed your mind? Bon! Allow me to introduce myself! I am Miss Nanny model number 12520, designation 'Florence'." The french-accented robot said, entering the room and bobbing like it was curtseying. "A pleasure to meet you, Monsieur Brad! I am tasked with ensuring your comfort and continued health."

Raising an arm and flexing, Brad raised his eyebrows at the nurse-robot. "Well you're doing a swell job so far."

"Merci! Is zere anyzing I can do for you?"

"Well I feel fantastic, let me tell you!" he assured her, a tiny burble of laughter escaping as he twitched his pecs a little more for his own amus.e.m.e.nt. "But what I could really use is some answers. What happened to me? My memory's a little hazy."

"Oh, of course!" the robot agreed quickly, moving so as not to block the door to make him feel more at ease. "Well, a great many zings happened since you fell unconscious–"

"Wait, how did I fall unconscious? The last thing I remember was... Falling down a hole?" Or was that part of the dream?

"Ah, oui! You fell and stumbled across zis facility. As you were not auzorised to be 'ere, you were appre'ended and brought into the facility to undergo Forced Evolutionary Virus treatment and become an unzinking soldier for ze inhabitants of ze facility."

"Wha–"

"And zen, one day later, ze United States were bombarded with many nuclear weapons, turning ze surface into an irradiated wasteland."

"Nuclear–!"

"Zis meant ze circ.u.mstances surrounding you 'ad changed and our top priority became ensuring your survival and well-being. Zus, we searched out and applied treatments to you zat would not be so destructive to your body, leaving you as ze pinnacle specimen of 'umanity you are now! I must say, I am quite proud of myself for zat, I designed ze improved treatment zat stopped you from becoming sterile!" Sterile?! Brad was so taken aback, he could no longer even lend his voice to his horror. "Master, would you like to sit down? You seem to be becoming quite agitated!"

Agitated? That was a word for it. Brad sank heavily onto his bed, hearing and feeling the metal creak under his weight. "Nuclear war broke out?"

"Zat is correct."

"Everyone's dead?"

The Nanny-bot's arms raised in a shrug. "We do not know, it was not ze purpose of zis facility. Merely to ensure ze survival of ze people in zis base and bring zem safely to our destination."

"Bring them? Where?"

The door chimed again. "Ah, I suppose it would be my turn!" A Handy-bot appeared in the doorway and hovered his way into the room. "Good morning, sir! Mister Handy model 23010, designation 'Farnsworth' at your service!"

"... Hi?"

"Delighted to make your acquaintance in the flesh, so to speak!" The thruster at the robot's base flared brighter causing the robot to do a little hop-like motion. "As to your question, this facility, designated the Fallback Underground Bunker and Relocator, or Vault F, is one of multiple places of refuge for the fine people of Vault-Tec should the need for one be met, the sixth and final in fact. Should the world above be beyond saving, this facility is designed with the intent of travelling from one reality to another!"

"That's not possible."

"I am afraid, Master Brad, that I must respectfully disagree! Not only is it possible, we have done it!"

"... How!"

The robot, to its credit, looked about as sheepish as a robot could. "I, err, I'm afraid I don't know. I am merely a service robot after all. Even the supercomputer on level four would likely give you the numerical equivalent of 'I haven't the foggiest'. Director Rosen was a genius but he might as well have been performing magic for how much anyone else could understand. Suffice to say, from an outside perspective we shrunk down to smaller than the smallest subatomic particle, entered some sort of quantum something-or-other, came back out in another reality and returned to normal size! Pushing aside anything that might get in our way!" He finished in a lower, more conspiratorial voice, "That last part turned out to be important, as it happens! We'd have been crushed against the inside of a mountain otherwise!"

It hadn't been said in quite these words, but Brad understood well enough how many times he almost died over the past however long it had been. "So... What now?"

"Well, Master Brad, that would rather be up to you to decide. Ford, our Mister Gutsy, is currently charging our excavator robots with digging us a path out from under wherever we are. Should you wish to explore the world above, or simply stay here in the safety of Vault F, we will be happy to serve you however we are able. You are our master."

"And our charge," Florence added, "Whatever you may need we will be 'appy to provide."

-(-)-

​

Brad took a few days to get to grips with his new reality. He remembered what he had in his old life. His parents, and... That was about it. It was a depressing thought how little he had lost with the end of the world but even so, what he had lost hurt. His parents were almost certainly dead. But with no bodies, no funerals, it was hard for it to feel real, hard for the impact of their loss to land. Regardless, he knew they wouldn't want him to wallow when such an incredible opportunity had been thrust upon him. He had a chance at a new life, a greater life filled with adventure! He was on a whole new world! It would be the greatest waste in history to let such a chance to pass by!

Over those few days he got to grips with himself, finding out the facts of what had been done to him. According to Florence, he was no longer capable of physically ageing. Whether that meant he would live forever or just stay in his physical prime until literal old age took him remained to be seen. On top of that, his physical and mental abilities had been raised to human limits and then doubled on top of that, give or take a few percentile points. He had been made legitimately superhuman!

And then there were the resources now at his disposal. It had been a surprise when the Mister Gutsy, Ford, showed him the armoury. Brad picked up a rifle, stripped it and reassembled it in less than a minute, dropping the thing on realising what he had done without even thinking about it. It was at this point that he learned the dreams he had been remembering weren't dreams but instead virtual reality training scenarios! He could look at any weapon in the armoury and know exactly how to use it. Even the power armour sets, whether framed or single unit systems, he could climb into and operate like he had been born in one!

Even so, even with all of the training he had, he felt himself gravitating to one particular piece of equipment.

The super sledge.

An oversized sledgehammer fitted with a kinetic storage device to add an incredible amount of force to every swing! It called to him. His childish fantasies of being a warrior of legend like Grognak begging to be fulfilled. Maybe they were on a primitive world like his and Brad could fight ancient monsters trying to eat hot girls! Or maybe they were on an alien planet and he could rescue hot alien girls from their evil alien overlords!

"Master Brad!" the voice of Farnsworth rang through the intercom, "The eyebot has returned and it found something... peculiar."

Peculiar was understating it. It seemed the place the vault had ended up was indeed halfway up a mountain. The data the eyebot brought back indicated wherever they were, it was either winter or a quite cold climate. As it scouted out the area it had found signs of civilisation. Specifically, pre-industrial civilisation. Perhaps even pre-renaissance. Brad's fantasy of becoming a legendary warrior seemed closer by the moment. Even more exciting, the people of this place seemed human!

His course was set. There was no doubt left in his mind. He needed to explore this new world for himself. Slay monsters, find fortune, bed beautiful women! It was his destiny!

"Do you really 'ave to go?" Florence asked as he stood at the vault exit, decked out in a suit of single unit power armour slightly altered to fit the time period, ready to embark on his adventure. "It is safer 'ere."

"Life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness!" Ford disagreed, "If this is what he wants then by God he should go for it! Get on out there, son! You show these aliens what the men of the good ol' US of A are made of!"

"I will. Thanks, Ford."

"Should you need anything, Master Brad, we shall be right here, ready to serve!"

"And do not 'esitate to use your distress beacon if you are in danger!" Florence added before Brad could turn away. "I will 'ave ze assaultron zere to rescue you immediately!"

"Uhh, thanks!" Brad said with a wave as he backed away, hitting the vault door open. He wasn't sure it was a good idea to introduce a doom laser murder machine into a pre-industrial society but he'd learned over the past few days the robots were very keen on keeping him safe. Best to just go with it if things were going his way. "Well, wish me luck."

"Good luck, Master Brad!"

"Stay safe!"

"Tear those medieval commies a new one for me!"

And so the siren blared once again and the vault door closed behind him. Brad's adventure in a new world had truly begun.

As Brad emerged from the long tunnel to the outside world he was met with a vaguely familiar image, familiar for more than one reason. The eyebot had taken pictures of the outside world as it floated about so the view from the vault exit he had seen before. However, it was also familiar because it reminded him of home a little. They weren't just under a mountain, they were under a mountain range. To the south and the east, natural formations of snow-capped stone tried to pierce the sky. Behind him, to the north, a peak that seemed to dwarf any others within seeing distance stood over his new home.

To the west? The west was a series of steep slopes down to what in other seasons might be rolling plains, but for now was a light blanket of snow. "Well, nothing for it!" Brad lamented, his eager grin at complete odds with his words as he began leaping down the hill, the severe drop barely even an inconvenience to him. For anyone else the ice and snow combined with the poor visibility would make it a precarious trek at best, but for him... He felt powerful from how easy it was. Maybe not invincible. One particular drop was a little further than he thought and the shock bypassed even his power armour. But even if he wasn't invincible, he certainly felt dominant over anything this world could throw at him.

Before long he found himself at the base of the mountain range, panting not from exertion but from exhilaration! "Okay, so the road should be..." Continuing west he found a road travelled enough that it was still visible despite the intermittent snowfall. Wagon and animal tracks as well as human footprints all going the same direction: south. "Perfect!" He began walking south towards the nearest settlement the eyebot had found. However, he quickly got impatient, picking up his pace to a brisk jog. It felt like a more natural pace for him, felt like the level of exertion he was used to from walking. It would take some time to adjust to his new body, it seemed.

His quicker pace got him where he was going much faster than he expected, finding himself in the little village before sundown. "Charltonall," he muttered to himself on seeing the sign for the place, with a little shield painted on it, green and yellow with three sprigs of... Holly? No, mistletoe... Probably. So if this were a feudal society that would be the shield of the local lord or something like that? The village had the look of just a small bit of civilisation on the road but it was busy despite its size. The place seemed inundated with carriages adorned with more fancy shields stopped just on the outskirts. The glow of campfires keeping warm the people who couldn't get proper shelter in the little town.

"'Nother new face?" a man asked him, surprising Brad out of his examinations, not just from not being noticed but also speaking english.

Score one for fantasy writers, he supposed. "I suppose."

"Well, 'fraid to say milord but we're fresh out of room," the man said apologetically. "If'n you've a need, I'm sure there's folks who'll offer you a bit o' comfort for a bit o' coin."

"That's alright, I can manage," Brad answered with an easy grin. "You guys look a bit swamped with all the visitors though. Anything I can do to help?"

The man blinked, his head twisting sharply as if to rattle the word around in his brain in hopes of making sense of it. "Help?"

"Yeah! I got a strong pair of hands, might as well use 'em!"

-(-)-

​

Two women watched the giant at work, for what else could he be but a giant? He was a head and a half taller than any other man in the village, even the hedge knights passing through on their way to Harrenhal. "Father, Warrior and Smith just look at those muscles!" Annae gasped as the man, bare chested despite the cold, brought his axe down on a log and split it cleanly, his muscles rippling with the effort.

"Oh, I'm looking," Lora confirmed, eyes locked on his abdominals with single-minded focus. "Think he's a lord?"

"Can't be!" Annae denied quickly. "You think a lord would lower himself to chopping firewood for us common folk, girl?"

"Well, no," Lora admitted, perking up as he raised his axe again and brought it down, a hot shiver travelling to some very private places. "But look at him! He's so clean and built! And that armour he was wearing! There's no chance armour like that is owned by a hedge knight!"

"S'pose not," Annae grudgingly agreed as she watched his biceps bulge. "Bet he's married."

"So?"

Annae gasped and slapped the younger girl's shoulder playfully, "You naughty cow!"

Lora shrugged, "Man like him I'd be happy havin' his bastards if he takes proper care of me?"

"You want to be his kept woman?" Annae asked with surprise that her friend would suggest such a thing. Getting only a shrug in return, Annae had a devious thought. "Go get your man then!" she cheered, giving the younger girl a light shove towards the manly stranger. When Lora turned back with a shocked look, Annae just gave her a shooing motion, eagerly waiting for whatever outcome might happen. Whatever it is it will surely be a fun story to tell later.

Lora lost just about all of her bravado as she moved closer to the mountain of a man that had gained her interest. Even as he paid her no attention, focusing only on his task of chopping firewood, he seemed to loom over her purely from his height. She feared getting too close, worried that a single touch from him might put her through a wall! "G-Good evening, milord!" she squeaked as she got as close as she dared.

He looked down at her, big brown eyes drawing her in. "Hi there!" he answered with a smile.

"Th-thank you for helping like this, milord. I'm sure the men are grateful."

"Eh," he shrugged, the heavy woodcutting axe hanging over his shoulder without a care. "I'm just happy to help! And you don't need to call me 'milord' like that. My name's Brad. Brad Plaskett."

She hadn't heard of that house but it was good to know he was a man of some means to have a house name. "Lora," she introduced herself in turn.

"Lora...?"

"... Lora Rivers, milord," she admitted. She wasn't bastard born as far as she knew, but for orphans it didn't really make much of a difference.

"That's a nice name," he said with complete sincerity. A confusing reaction but also a pleasant surprise that ignited a warmth in her b.r.e.a.s.t. "What can I do for you, Lora?"

She needed an excuse! Something to get the two of them alone together. "Well, I was thinking since you've worked so hard for us," so very, very hard, "that I'm sure no one would mind if you slept in the woodshed. I could fetch some blankets for you to keep you warm?"

"That sounds great!" he exclaimed, planting his axe in the stump. "Everyone here's so nice, thanks so much!"

His attitude only continued to confuse her. Confident and careless like a lord but humble and appreciative as a beggar. He didn't make any sense. Even so, she gathered the blankets from her own bed and hurried them back over to him, ushering him into the woodshed. She felt the heat and wetness blooming between her legs increase as she felt the firmness of his arms. He should be freezing but his body heat alone was enough to chase away the evening chill.

"Sorry there isn't much space," she said as she closed the gate behind them.

"Ah, that's no big deal, I could probably sleep anywh-uh..."

His boyish reaction on turning around, seeing her shrugging herself out of her furs, baring herself for him, it was endearing and empowering to see him so struck by her. Lora felt herself flush as he stared, eyes travelling up and down her form.

It was hard for her to consider herself attractive, seeing all of the noble ladies passing through with their finer clothes, their painted lips and curled lashes. She had done what she could in her moments away, doing her best to puff up her small lips into a pout. Her skin was pale from the long winter but the chill gave her pleasantly rosy cheeks. She swept a brush through her naturally curly brown hair trying to clear it of tangles. It felt like a desperate effort trying to catch this man's attention. But now, now that he was staring at her so hungrily, devouring every inch of revealed skin even as she felt her n.i.p.p.l.es stiffen from both arousal and exposure to the cool night air, she knew she was going to experience something those pompous noble prigs could only dream of. "Sorry there's such a draft in here," she said, not sounding sorry in the slightest, "Shall we do something to keep warm?"

Just as she hoped, he couldn't restrain himself when given such an open invitation, sweeping her into his arms and pulling her clothes away even further. She gasped as his grip on her became painful. "Please be gentle, milord!" she begged. She wanted to be ravaged tonight but even so, there was a limit!

Mumbling out a "sorry", his hands started exploring her. He quickly found the height disparity between them was an inconvenience, hooking her hands under her thighs and carrying her over to a pile of stacked firewood. Thinking quickly, she threw some of the blankets down atop it, giving her a comfortable perch as he continued to squeeze and pinch at her sensitive flesh. Down her slim arms, tracing calloused fingers, slipping under her furs to fondle her thighs, all while his head sank down to her chest to taste her b.r.e.a.s.ts, teasing her n.i.p.p.l.es with his tongue. "Yes, please more!"

His hands quested deeper, seeking out her most sacred place, fingers tracing and exploring her soaking cunny. She was ready for him, so very ready, and she didn't want to wait anymore. Her own hands sought the strange fastens on his clothes, fumbling with them until they opened and she could finally pull out his enormous c.o.c.k. It was intimidating but so was the rest of him. She wanted to be ravaged and with a c.o.c.k like that there was no other way it could go.

Pulling aside any clothes that might get in the way, she held herself open for him, giving him a clear view of her eager, dripping cunt. "Please, give it to me!"

He said nothing, just lined himself up and placed his bulbous head against her soaking hole. "Yes yes yes yes–!" and then he pushed inside, giving her no time to adjust and driving himself home. "Guh-ahhhhh!" she squealed as the head rammed into the deepest parts of her with no remorse or mercy. He didn't wait, didn't hold back, he just started pounding away at her cunt with wild abandon, his heavy balls slapping against her arse. Every thrust was a painful pleasure, like a punch to her w.o.m.b all while his shaft scr.a.p.ed at every inch of her sensitive cunt. "Ahh! Ahh! Ahh!" she yelped with every slam he took into her.

Before long he got tired of leaning over her and instead picked her up off the wood pile, off the blankets and instead held her up by taking firm handfuls of her arse. With a firm grip, he started pulling her down even as he thrust up, suddenly Lora was seeing stars, her cunt trying to milk his c.o.c.k even while it felt like it was tearing her apart! Gentle had lasted all of about thirty seconds but Lora found no cause for complaint as she came on his mammoth rod. She had never gotten such a thorough f.u.c.k.i.n.g in her life and it was exactly what she wanted from him.

Her arms hung limply at her sides, no longer in control of herself, just a f.u.c.k puppet for this man among men, slumped on his chest as he used her insides to pleasure himself. All she could do was c.u.m over and over again over his c.o.c.k until finally, tragically yet mercifully, he buried himself as deep as he could and groaned out his release. His hot seed sprayed into her w.o.m.b over and over again, filling her to bursting with his soothing essence. And that wasn't exaggeration. She was starting to feel overfull as he pumped more and more into her, not that she was coherent enough to do or say anything about it.

The last thing Lora felt that night was he mammoth c.o.c.k pulling one more climax out of her as it withdrew, his seed spilling out after it, then darkness.

As Brad looked at the nicest girl he'd ever met, unconscious and cradled in his arms, her head hanging limp with her tongue lolling out of her head, he shrugged. Was this what s.e.x was supposed to be like? It was... Intense! And he definitely wanted to do it again. Maybe with Lora when she woke up. For the time being, he held her with one arm while he laid out the blankets and settled into them with Lora wrapped in his arms.

He certainly couldn't complain about how the first day of his adventure went!

-(-)-

​

Lora felt sore all over in pleasant and unpleasant ways. She could feel the stickiness between her legs, the evidence that yes, she did indeed get the best f.u.c.k.i.n.g of her life last night. But she was also feeling the repercussions of it at the same time. It hurt to move too much.

… Brad was still there, looking down at her with a warm smile on his face. She had honestly though he wouldn't be.

A hope bloomed in her chest. She knew what the consequences of last night might be and she had done nothing to prevent them. He had spilled himself inside her and she might be feeling that for the next nine months. So she asked, an impertinent question if she were to ask any other lord but she hoped, she hoped, "You'll take care of me, won't you milord?"

Brad looked at her, not really knowing what she meant. But he would be a pretty awful hero if he didn't take care of his women! "Of course I will!"

Lora smiled. She believed him. "Thank you milord."

-(-)-

​

After waking properly and getting Lora into the care of her friend A–... A-something, Brad began the next leg of his journey. Which is to say, he tried to figure out what the next leg of his journey would be. Retrieving his power armour, he sought out the man who had set him to chopping wood the day before. "So where are all of these wagons going?"

The man looked confused at him again. Brad was starting to think he was maybe acting a little too out of place with how everyone looked at him like he had two heads. "Harrenhal. For the tourney? Lord Whent's putting it on to celebrate the end of winter. I thought that's why you was passing through."

"... Right, right!" Brad said, pretending to remember. "You know how it is, you have a good night and you forget everything you're supposed to be doing the next day?"

To Brad's relief, the man laughed. "Aye, I know what you mean, ser! Been there many times meself!"

Brad laughed with him. "So... Which way is Harrenhal?"

"By the Seven, was Lora's cunt that good?" the man asked incredulously, shaking his head. "South along the Kingsroad, on the shore of the God's Eye. Just follow where everyone else is headed and you'll find it."

"Thanks a lot!"

"And our thanks to you too, ser! It's a rare sort that'll offer a helping hand when one's needed!"

A tourney, eh? Would that be... Like jousting? That could be fun.

Chapter 3

"Ye should be careful, mate!" the stranger called, standing on the road and blocking Brad's path. "Roads are dangerous this late in winter for folks who travel alone!" Brad turned his eye to his surroundings, spotting two others with bows. "Things get a bit more rough, folks get a bit more desperate."

Well at least they confirmed for him that it was indeed winter and not just a miserable climate. Brad simply stood with arms folded, waiting for the shaggy-looking stranger to get to his point.

"I'll make it nice and simple so you don't mistake my meaning. Hand over any coin, any valuables you got and we might just be letting you go on with your life."

"Sorry to tell you, I don't really have any valuables on me," Brad shrugged, trying to look friendly still, even as he made sure to stay aware of the archers' positions and figure out where any others might come from. Three was a very small number to try and ambush the kind of people travelling this road. Lords with entourages of knights and soldiers.

"You're not understanding your situation, mate," the stranger, the bandit shook his head. "You got that fancy lookin' hammer on your back, that smart lookin' armour there. They worth your life?"

"Oh, this hammer?" Brad asked, drawing it from the harness on his back, the archers' bows creaking as they drew. "You're right, it is pretty nice. You want a closer look?"

The bandit sighed and raised an arm, the archers loosed their arrows only to see them bounce off the armour the man wore, snapping when the force of the impact was turned entirely back on them. "Shame, but you brought this–" the bandit started to say but the words lodged in his throat on seeing the arrows were not only ineffective, but ignored. The armoured figure not even making an attempt to avoid them.

Three more men appeared, exploding out of a snowdrift, yelling as they charged at their target.

"Wait."

The three men fell on the armoured figure all at once with spear and hammer and club. In a single swing of the Super Sledge, the spear snapped and the hammer wielder's rib cage was smashed to bits. The sledge came back around, taking off the head of the club wielder. As the weaponless spearman panicked and fell onto his back from watching the two killed so quickly and easily, the sledge once raised in the air and came down on the man's abdomen, pulping his guts and breaking his spine from the front.

"Wait!"

The archers fled, already proven unable to harm the man and wanting to escape with their lives. That left only the spokesman for their little band, fallen to his knees and begging for mercy with clasped hands as the armoured man approached, the guts of his compatriots coating that hammer he had coveted. "Wait, please, wait!"

Brad readied his hammer, his super sledge, gripping it so as to give his swing the most force possible.

"Wait wait wait wait WAIT–"

CRUNCH.

Brad raised a hand to shield his eyes as he watched the scraggly-haired head of the bandit sail off into the distance, the rest of him collapsing sideways into the snow. "Man, I hope that doesn't hit anyone. That'd just ruin their day. Way worse than a bird crapping on them."

​

-(-)-

​

Brad didn't know what Harrenhal was when he was directed to go there. He assumed it was some sort of medieval town or city. What greeted him was much greater than his expectations. Harrentown was the town and it was as busy as any place Brad would care to remember. Everyone there had somewhere to be, probably for this festival tourney thing that the Lord was hosting. Whent! That was it. Lord Whent.

But the town was nothing compared to the massive structure sitting on the edge of the lake. A great stone curtain wall surrounded a space that could probably fit the entire town inside. And in the middle of that space was the great castle Harrenhal itself. Its enormous towers, probably miraculous for the technology base of a civilisation like this, stood tall and proud. The idea of defiance was only reinforced by how the towers looked like they had taken a beating at some point in time. Blackened, warped like a half-melted candle, but still standing tall.

Asking around, the people of Harrentown pointed him towards the castle itself if he wanted to participate in the tourney.

"Oi, was that Lord Tyrell comin' through a while ago?"

"Yeah, he looked to be in a right huff. What d'you think happened?"

"Chipped a fingernail, I bet."

"No, better! Asked one of his men an' he said some'ow the head o' some poor sod just dropped into 'is lap when 'e was takin' a break from the road!"

"Bollocks!"

"Swear on me mum! Said tryin' not to laugh nearly killed 'im!"

Brad hurried his pace just a little on overhearing that.

"What'd he do with the head?"

"Chucked it. What else would 'e do?"

Putting the new knowledge of how he accidentally ruined the day of some probably quite important person, Brad approached the main gates of Harrenhal. The enormous gatehouse towering over him.

"Oi, mate! What's your business?" a guard demanded, hand on his sword. The gate was wide open, probably for logistical reasons with guardsmen stopping anyone looking to head inside who wasn't wearing any house colours. "Big f.u.c.ker, ain't ya?"

"Yeah," Brad answered the latter question first. "Heard there was a tourna-y," he aborted his more familiar word halfway through for the era appropriate one. "Thought I'd participate."

"Yeah?" the guard asked, looking Brad up and down and finding no reason to argue the idea. "Got a horse?"

"No."

The guard shook his head. "Not gettin' in the lists then. I can put you in for the archery, the axe throwin', an' the melee. You'll have a rough go in the melee without a horse, mind."

The archery he'd probably have a hard time with, but oh well, it could be fun. "Sure, sounds good to me. Can I go in then?"

"What's your name?"

"Brad," he answered automatically, before realising he should give his full name. "Bradley Plaskett."

"Not a knight then?"

"No."

The guard shook his head. "You ain't a knight, a lord or in a lord's company you ain't gettin' in 'til the events start. Two days from now you come back for the archery an' the axe throwin'." With a flick of his hand, the guard indicated he was done with Brad and shooed him away.

Well. Two days to kill. Maybe he could acquire a horse by then?

​

-(-)-

​

No, it turned out. It seemed the people of this land were very protective of their horses and wouldn't part with one for all the money Brad had.

Which, in absolute fairness, was none.

So sleeping rough for a couple of nights, Brad returned to the castle gate two days later and was allowed in. As he entered the field with all the other participants of low birth he checked out the audience. A lot of nobles, he assumed, none particularly sticking out to him beyond the one with the crown. He'd be the king then, looking all old and angry. Not that the others looked in a much happier mood. Some looked placid, not exactly excited for the day's festivities. Oh well. Brad couldn't blame them. He hadn't liked archery in his old world either.

"Bradley Plaskett!"

It was his turn. He took hold of the provided bow and tried to quickly figure out how this whole archery business worked. He got a good look at those idiots on the road and all the people who went before him so he could probably figure it out. Nocking the arrow, he held it in place and found it to be fairly steady. Nodding to himself he drew the arrow back until he felt like the thing might break if he pulled any further. Aiming at the target he let go–

"Bull!"

Uhh... Well then. Beginner's luck? Did the simulations include archery? He didn't remember anything like that... The following shot bore that out. He fumbled the release and the arrow seemed to sink into the dirt in front of the target. His third was a fairly respectable shot.

Shrugging, he moved aside and let the next take their turn. Through some combination of luck, strength, dexterity and... probably more luck, Brad found himself in the second round of competition, the targets positioned at a greater range. Three more shots, two respectable, one barely hitting the target. He was doing far better than he expected he would, barely hanging on to continue to the third of four rounds. He found himself in the company of only people in fine clothes and with their own equipment. If he continued to do well, it was likely he would be stepping on some toes.

It seemed his beginner's luck was ready to scuff some fancy shoes. Two more shots near the bullseye–

"Bull!"

… One near the bullseye, one hitting it and one barely hitting the target. An olive-skinned man in a white cloak patted him on the back for the performance before taking his own turn. Two bullseyes and one close.

"You are doing quite well, for an amateur!" the man praised as they waited for the targets to be moved for the final round.

"Not gonna lie, I'm surprised myself," Brad admitted, looking rather silly for a man his size to look so awkward. "I only came to win the melee and only signed up for archery and axe throwing for the fun of it."

"I don't doubt you will do well there!" the man laughed. "But perhaps you have discovered a hidden talent?"

"Maybe."

"Final round! Our best four archers will now challenge their skills with the greatest range! First, Ser Oswell Whent!"

Whent. So probably related to the local lord. Definitely stepping on toes now.

"Kingsguard, Ser Lewyn Martell!"

Kingsguard. So that would be one of the King's personal bodyguards then. Brad started to hear a tapdance in his head.

"Ser Joffrey Routh!"

Brad breathed a sigh of relief for someone who didn't sound like they were that important.

Even so, it looked like Brad had no chance of winning this one, something he was actually grateful for. He would need to match the best score of Ser Lewyn, three bullseyes in a row. That just wasn't in the cards for a beginner like Brad who gave an average performance. Or at least, what would have been an average performance if the range they were shooting wasn't the furthest the bows they were using could feasibly go. In the end, he came in third, only beating the unimportant one, luckily for him.

Polite applause was offered for the participants before they were ushered off while the next event was set up and the audience went to enjoy an opulent lunch. It was only then that Bradley realised he hadn't actually eaten since he'd left the village to the north. Superhuman constitution sure was something to behold, though he was starting to feel the beginnings of hunger. How long would it be before such a thing would be dangerous to him?

Hours later, the axe throwing contest began. Unlike with archery, Brad was not blessed by beginner's luck or any kind of hidden talent. His first throw was a dangerous miss, nearly taking out one of the attendants. While the ones that did hit broke through the target, that wasn't worth bonus points so he lost in the first round.

It might have been unreasonable, but Brad wished that he had taken that archery contest. He didn't care about archery, though doing well in an athletic competition was certainly a rush he hadn't experienced before. He was disappointed because winning that event would likely have allowed him to stay inside the castle, interact with the nobles. Especially the ladies. They were certainly a cut above that girl from that one village. Though she'd probably clean up nice... Maybe he could take her back to the vault, get her a shower? Even so, the noble ladies had lived a life where they were well taken care of and it showed. He wanted some of that.

Oh well. Tomorrow would likely grant his wish. The melee would obviously be his.

​

-(-)-

​

Sweeeeet Jesus how is he as big as me? Brad thought to himself, seeing a hulking figure of a height with him, though the other giant was atop a sturdy-looking horse. Much like many of the other competitors in the melee. Unlike the previous day's contests, this one generated an audience beyond the noble contingent, common folk filling out the stands, cheering and jeering at the competitors.

"You alright down there?!" one of the knights on horseback laughed, wearing a yellow tabard over his armour and a helmet with antlers. "Couldn't find a horse that could seat you?!"

"I'll do fine without one!" Brad shouted back.

"Seven bless you for your spirit, lad! I don't doubt you'll need the help!"

A horn blared one long, powerful note and then all was chaos. Brad stood solid as a tree as the melee whirled around him, horses crashing into one another, riders unseated trying to scramble away from stomping hooves. Still Brad stood there, more or less ignored in favour of more dangerous targets, only taking the time to break any that came too close. Three men were thrown from their horses by his sledge even as he sidestepped the horse's charge. They didn't stay, instead wisely looking for a doctor.

And just like that, most of the competition was thinned out. There were perhaps a dozen left still ahorse, two dozen more including Brad on their own feet. And of course that giant was one still on horseback. Everyone without a horse seemed to agree that those who still had one had to be dealt with first. And so, a charge occurred. Not of men, but of horses, those riding them knowing what the score was just as well as anyone else, choosing to sweep through anyone trying to get a lucky shot before focusing on the real competition.

Two more riders suffered for that hubris when they approached Brad. Two were taken down by others. One unseated by another opportunist rider. That left seven riders to... Five without a horse. The giant still had his steed, as did that knight that had spoken to Brad before the event started. With so few competitors left, the event became quite a bit more spread out. None of the riders eager to challenge each other, the giant seemed interested only in picking off the easy targets with brutal methods, skewering a man with his blade and carrying him by the blade, only to throw him off into the wall of the arena.

Brad appeared to be the next target. He blew out a long breath. A giant horse with a giant man astride it was bearing down on him. For the first time in the event, Brad moved with purpose, pumping his legs to meet the horse's charge, each heavy step a thump that could be heard even by the audience. As the two combatants neared each other, the horse's head passing him by so that the knight might skewer him, Brad leapt up. The power of it brought him up and almost over the knight, ready to bring his hammer down and unhorse him. At the last moment, the knight raised his sword and caught the hammer by the haft, robbing it of a great deal of power. Even so, the weight of the man dragged the knight clear off his horse, the beast galloping away, only to be wrangled by an attendant.

The two rolled over one another, weapons locked together as they struggled to get advantage. The knight quickly found his opponent to be heavy. Just by sheer weight it became a struggle to overpower him. In the end, he found his estoc flung away and before he could draw a second weapon or just start beating the man with his gauntleted fists, the now freed hammer was allowed to come down, partially caving his plate armour leaving him gasping and unable to stand.

With that, Ser Gregor Clegane was removed from the competition.

An opportunistic rider attempted a coup by attacking Brad while he was distracted. As the blade scr.a.p.ed off his armour Brad grabbed the arm holding it and pulled, tearing the man from his horse to hit the ground hard.

While Brad hadn't been paying attention, the field of competitors had shrunk even further. Only three riders remained, engaged in their own contest. The knight with the antlered helm took on both other riders at once, his hammer slamming one into unconsciousness atop his horse. The other's sword crashed into the knight's armour and he swayed from the blow, only to come back harder with another hammer strike.

And so it was just the antlered knight and Brad left in the competition. The antlered knight surveyed the scene around the stranger, men and horses around him groaning in pain if they were moving at all. Ser Gregor Clegane having to be dragged away by three men to be treated by the maester. This stranger with the boar-like helmet was a beast. Shaking his head, he removed his own helmet, revealing thick dark hair, a long but well-kept beard and bright blue eyes. "Well you shut me up didn't you, lad? Came here without a horse and took down some o' the toughest sods in the seven kingdoms!" He bowed shallowly in the saddle, "The day's yours, lad!" before setting his horse to canter off of the field.

"Your champion of the melee," the announcer called over the din of cheering, looking down to check the name, "Bradley Plaskett!"

And wasn't that just the strangest thing for Brad... No... For Bradley to hear, opening the seals on his helmet to remove it, holding it to his side as he waved to the crowds, and bowing in the direction of the King. As he was about to leave the field himself, a runner stopped him, telling him, "King Aerys demands your attendance."

It was a strange feeling that came over him at those words. If nothing else, Bradley was still a good American boy and he had been taught practically from birth the pride of the American Way, made possible only by throwing off the shackles of the monarchy. A small part of him was tempted to yell 'No taxation without representation!' but the rest of him was thankfully not a complete idiot, so instead he respectfully approached the royal box.

"Kneel." The single word of command set Bradley on edge once again. His nerves doubled as the King was presented with the sword of that one Kingsguard that had spoken to him the previous day. Despite his concerns, the King laid the sword down on Bradley's right shoulder. "Bradley Plaskett, do you swear before the eyes of gods and men to defend those who cannot defend themselves, to protect all women and children, to obey your captains, your liege lord, and your king, to fight bravely when needed and do such other tasks as are laid upon you, however hard or humble or dangerous they may be?"

Oh! This was a knighting thing! He didn't think it would be this quick or simple! Was there anything in there he objected to? Protect people, obey superiors... Well, that one knights broke all the damn time so why not. "I swear."

"Then arise, Ser Bradley Plaskett, knight of the seven kingdoms."

"Thank you..." Shit, what do you call a King again? "Your majesty," he finally decided on, fighting to keep the question out of it.

The old, decrepit king sneered and flicked his fingers in dismissal.

​

-(-)-

​

Finally. Finally!

Food!

Well, there was also the acceptance of being allowed to stay in the castle now that he was a knight, and the invitation to the feast that night where he would be the centre of attention and get to speak to lords and lovely ladies. But the feast also had food and his hunger pangs had been getting much worse after the melee. Finally getting a chance to fill his stomach came at a higher priority.

One of the other knights laughed at him. "Relishes the fare like he hasn't eaten in days yet maintains the manners of the highborn! You are a quandary, Ser Bradley!"

"Mom taught me to show respect to people around me," he answered only after swallowing, just like his mom had taught him.

"Just so!" the knight laughed again. "Ser Fillip Wayn," he introduced himself. "I see you don't wear your house's coat of arms." He gestured at the shield stitched into his own clothing, four sections of alternating blue and white with a wheel on each section of inverted colour.

"Don't have one," Bradley answered.

"Have you put any thought into what your should be then? A symbol to represent your family, your legacy. Perhaps a boar's head? Like that helmet you wear?"

"Taken!" Two more knights call out in unison, one with a red boar's head on white, the other with a black and white boar's head on brown.

"I've never really thought about it."

"Well, take some time. With your winnings I'm sure you could get something put together."

"The man of the hour!" a voice boomed near him. Turning, Bradley saw the man who had conceded defeat to him during the melee. He cut an imposing figure while Bradley was sitting, the man standing a good six and a half feet tall at least. Bradley was confused. He thought people were supposed to be shorter in the olden days.

"Lord Baratheon," Ser Fillip greeted with respect and mild deference.

"Ser Bradley! I'd like to introduce you to some people if you permit me," he offered in a way that showed he had no doubt that it would be accepted. And to put action behind that attitude, he pulled the giant man up by the shoulder and led him toward the lords' tables.​