The pain hit me first a relentless throbbing, like a dull hammer smashing against the inside of my skull. I fought to push through the fog clouding my mind, voices cutting through the haze, urgent yet soft. Memories I didn't recognize surged up, familiar yet blurry, pounding in my head alongside someone speaking.
"My lord, my lord, can you hear me?" A man's voice, steady but edged with worry.
I groaned, forcing my eyes open. Light poured through narrow windows, harsh against the rough stone walls. The air hung thick with herbs and damp wool. As my vision sharpened, I saw him an older man with a chain around his neck, worry carved into his lined face he looked familiar, but my memory was fuzzy until the name came to me Maester Luwin, the name had rose up with a flood of other memories, triggering a jolt of recognition. But how could this be?
"Maester Luwin?" I asked, my voice deeper than I expected, unfamiliar in my throat. Before I could unravel that, another voice broke in, thick with emotion. "Robb, my son, how do you feel?"
I turned my head, wincing as pain stabbed through me, and there she was. Auburn hair framed a face taut with concern, sharp blue eyes slicing through my confusion. Catelyn Stark. My breath snagged. This was no dream, with the feel of the stone beneath me, the furs on my chest and the ache in my bones all screamed reality.
I wasn't just Erik anymore. I was Robb Stark.
Panic flared up, hot and suffocating, but I shoved it down. If I'd landed in Game of Thrones, inside Robb Stark's skin, I couldn't lose control not with Catelyn watching me and Luwin looming nearby.
" I'm alright, Mother," I rasped, the words strange and deep, carrying a Northern burr I'd only known from a screen. "Just feeling a bit dizzy," I say.
Relief softened her face as she brushed hair from my forehead. "Thank the gods. You gave us all a fright, Robb. Promise me you'll be more careful around those horses."
I nodded, forcing a weak smile. "Yes, Mother. I'll watch myself."
Inside, my mind churned like a tempest. I was talking to Catelyn Stark I was in a game of thrones this was madness a fan's fantasy. But I locked my expression tight, pulling on years of bluffing through tight spots. If I was going to survive, I had to be Robb.
Luwin stepped closer, his keen eyes studying me. "You were training at the stables when a horse reared and struck your head. We feared you wouldn't wake, but you're stronger than we thought. Still, you need rest a blow like that one can muddle the mind."
A horses kick, I thought, latching onto it. That was my anchor, my excuse. If I slipped up, I could pin it on the injury.
"Thank you, Maester," I said, weaving gratitude and a touch of command into my tone, how I imagined Robb would speak. "I'll rest, I swear it."
Luwin nodded, but his gaze lingered, like he sensed something off. My stomach twisted, though he turned to Catelyn. "He needs sleep, my lady. I'll check on him in the morning."
She hesitated, then leaned down, her cool lips brushing my forehead. Guilt slammed into me for pretending to be her son. "Sleep well, Robb," she murmured. "We'll talk tomorrow."
The door creaked shut, and I let out a breath I'd been holding. Alone at last, I could think.
I sat up, wincing as the room spun before settling. The chamber was small but warm, a fire crackling in the hearth, furs heaped on the bed. Winterfell rugged, practical, and a my new home I thought to myself as I swung my legs over the side, stood, and tested my balance. The dizziness eased, though the throb in my head lingered, a constant reminder of how I'd arrived here.
I realized I had two years before the show's events kicked off. I wasn't sure how I knew, but the certainty sat firm in my gut. At fifteen, I had some sway not as much as I'd like, but enough to start. Time was mine to use, if I played it smart.
How would I change things? I'd watched every episode, read the books, dug through fan theories, but that didn't make me a lord. Still, I had an edge knowing what lay ahead. The Lannisters, the Red Wedding, the White Walkers. If I could wield that foresight, I might save the Starks maybe even shift the game's tide.
First, I'd lean into this head injury and start visiting the godswood regularly. I couldn't mimic Robb's personality perfectly, even with his memories swirling in my head, so I'd embrace the change while the excuse was fresh. If I acted too odd, Mother would fuss, Father would notice, and Jon or Theon might suspect something. But the horse kick gave me cover a scrambled mind could explain a lot.
I shuffled to the window and peered out at the courtyard. Dusk had settled, the sky a bruised purple, and Winterfell hummed with life—guards pacing the walls, servants darting with buckets, a blacksmith's hammer clanging in the distance. It was harsh, unforgiving, but beautiful. Beneath it all, I felt the truth settle in: I was in the game now. Fan theories spun through my mind Ramsay, dragons, giants, ice zombies, lions, tigers, and bears, oh my! I chuckled, then sobered up fast. I am now Robb Stark, and I will win this Game of Thrones as I know the stakes have never been higher.