My head was pounding like a dwarf was somehow living inside and it incessantly knocking to get out. Blinking against the dim light, I found myself in this weird, medieval-looking room. Memories were as foggy as a pint glass after a night out, I remember some memories where flames claimed my body and should have turned it to ashes already.

Yet here I am, still living and breathing in a strange room I don’t recognize. My body continues to sweat, it's hard to even keep my consciousness intact.

I kept going in and out of this state, not knowing how many days it had passed. During these moments of half-conscious state, I remember vaguely there’s usually an old dude hovered nearby, tending to me like clockwork.

He had this robe the ancient Roman wearing, the kind you'd find in a history book but with a strange chain ring of steel and metal I had never seen before around his neck.

He’s always bringing a concoction in a wooden cup, the taste was acrid and vile, assaulting my tongue with its bitterness. I remember even in my bleary state I often choked it down but, eventually, he always managed to bring that cursed liquid trailing down my throat.

I would think days have passed and honestly, it mostly turned into a blur that I can barely remember anyway, each noon greeted by the old man's ministrations.

He fed me morsels of food, poured what I think honeywine down my parched throat, and administered the bitter potion that strangely brought a modicum of strength every time he gave it to me.

Eventually, one morning finally came where I felt so much better than previously, I could keep my eyes open and fully aware of my surroundings. It’s strange because I thought this was all just a dream, but now that I’ve clearly woken up, I’m still here, living in that dream.

I begin intending to stand and eventually walk by grabbing one corner of my bed, steadying myself.

It still feels really awkward. I can’t explain it but, somehow it feels like my body is not my body. Yet, how can that be possible?

I closely inspected my surroundings and noticed a large mirror on the wall. I decided to approach it, my legs shaking with each step I take.

I was standing in front of the mirror but the revelation of my supposed reflection hit me like a truck, the person on the other side was not me but some young brat I had never seen beforehand.

I touch my cheek, skin pale as snow, long platinum hair, and indigo eyes staring straight confused right back at me.

“What the fuck happening?” I cursed, backing away from the mirror, slightly panicked with the mirror reflection before me.

There’s a creek of an open door, revealing the old man from before and someone who I assumed to be a servant.

It seemed like they were also not expecting me to stand up already if I tried to guess it from their slacked jaw when they saw me.

“Your Highness, you’re awake?” The old man said, surprise laced in his voice, while the servant hastily turned around from the room to God's know-where.

He swiftly composed himself. "Your Highness, you've made a remarkable recovery," the old man said, his tone reverent before guiding me to sit down on my bed again.

‘Why did he keep referring to me as Your Highness, should I straight tell him I don’t know what he’s talking about?’ I wonder in my mind, listening to his mindless gratitude prayer for my recovery.

After that, ironically he asked me if I had any complaints about my body, I told him I had none and was just feeling tired, thinking it would disappear gradually through my recovery.

I said my thanks for his dedication to caring for me and how I noticed his efforts through my half-conscious state in many days previously. He just politely said it was his duty as Maester, that phrase “Maester” sure raised my eyebrow when I heard that specific word.

“Can you tell me the detail of how am I getting into my previous state again, Maester?” I asked him, I still don’t know his name, but I also thought it would be weird of me to ask about his name if it turns out we’re previously acquainted.

He fell into contemplative thought and genuinely seemed to try to answer my question.

“We don’t really know the specific Your Highness, you just suddenly fell gravely ill one day despite being perfectly healthy before it happened.” He admitted.

“I was personally hoping you would be able to shed some light about the mysterious illness we’re witnessing in your body to prevent it from ever happening again, but it seems like your memory about the experience is also fuzzy?” He asked, trying to clarify his assumption with me.

 I just nodded, not sure how to respond to it.

“That’s a shame Your Highness, but afraid not. I’m sure we still can find the problem and prevent it so it will never happen again.”

Before I could voice another question, the sound of hurried footsteps echoed from the corridor outside.

The door swung open, and a figure clothed in a simple white robe burst into the room. "Viserys!" exclaimed a very pregnant woman, her face full of worry and relief.

‘Who?’ I asked in my mind.

"My son," she breathed, rushing towards me and enveloping me in a hug. "You've awakened."

The old Maester discreetly withdrew, while the wheel of my brain turned. `First the Maester thingy and now this woman just calls me Viserys, is this what I think it is?` I wonder quietly in my head.

I almost forgot to respond to the woman I think was supposed to be my mother, I reluctantly hug her back. “Mother, don't worry, I’m fine...”

She began to sob and I didn’t know what to do, so I just held her close while occasionally tapping her shoulder.

We talked afterward, or more accurately she was talking and I was listening, pretending I knew what she was talking about.

The old Maester come back to bring me my medicine, the servant following behind with a tray of food. While I ate, he was also reminding me and ‘my’ mother to allow me some rest. She looked back at me with eyes full of worry, but I didn’t say anything. Fortunately, she quickly agreed without making any fuss.

‘Sorry lady, I don’t dislike you but it’s really awkward when you’re around for now.’

I bring my weak body down to my bed after finishing eating my food, all alone in my room and staring toward the ceiling of the room.

“God, this is all real, isn’t it? I died and got reincarnated to a different person in another world. If I’m Viserys the lady from before must be Queen Rhaella Targaryen.” I mused aloud.

`Dude… this world is not my favorite especially if I have to live in it. And why I’m taking charge of Viserys body, at least let me be anyone else that was part of a fan favorite. This is sucks…`