Aerys' Journal)
Fanfictions are trash.
Weird phrase to start a journal, I know, but I think it needed to be said.
Someone doesn't like how a story went down and decided they could do better. Someone really liked a story but think it could use a polish here and there with their pre-selected alternate scenarios. Someone wanted this or that character to form their fantasy pairing to fill the empty void in their hearts due to their own lack of proper romantic entanglements. And so on, and so forth.
In short, fanfictions are nothing more than a form of selfish egocentricity inflicted upon innocent professional works.
And of all those fanfiction genres, self-inserts are the worst one of them all.
If you think about it carefully, anyone would know that self-insert is simply a form of escapism where some loser nobody sat in front of their PC and tried to futilely run away from the limitations of reality and live vicariously in their own pre-selected dream world from whatever franchise they happened to be currently daydreaming about.
In other words, if fanfiction was a sort of wish-fulfillment, then self-insert was extreme selfcest masturbation.
Not to mention the fact that 92% of fanfiction consisted of nothing but terrible dross and whoever wrote them needs to have their computer eaten by a virus or a gorilla. 5% of them were rather decent but they had terrible romance and/or forced shipping crap that I just don't give a shit about. And half of the last 3% that was actually good was never finished because [insert real-life excuses here].
Then let's not forget the dubious legality of it all.
…actually, no. Probably best to forget everything about legality.
I mean, as a Prince and future King of the goddamned Iron Throne, I probably needed to shank a couple of sons of bitches during my reign. I don't fancy the chances of losing a mental argument against whatever is left of my conscience.
To confirm. Yes, I'm an isekai. The name's Aerys Targaryen. Soon to be Mad King. Probably a self-insert, but I don't remember who I was so I can't confirm anything about that. I 'woke up' when I was three and I've since tried very, very hard to follow the backward standards of Westerosi in being a smart and good boi instead of the weird genius. That just felt like too much of a pain in the ass.
Yes, as an isekai, I do have my obligatory cheats. Lots of them, actually. I'd trade them all for a functioning toilet, and a working 70-inch plasma screen TV because living in medieval times sucks ass and none of my cheats gave me any kind of modern amenities.
Ah, just in case some benevolent high-tier existence is looking in on this, I want access to Pornhub and Netflix for my TV.
…I've been waiting for half an hour, and since there's a lack of functioning toilet appearing out of thin air, I'm just going to assume that any high-tier existences peeking in on this are assholes that know nothing of privacy and you all need an industrial drill the size of a planet punched up into your rectums.
Moving on.
So, yes. I think I'm supposed to be a self-insert of some sort. Not that I am, in any way, shape, or form, happy about that. Selfcest masturbation just doesn't work when everything about myself really pissed me off. The fact that I couldn't remember who I was before this whole reincarnation thing happened just made me even angrier.
Considering that I reincarnated into Game of Thrones—the most pornographic of all fantasy world, the fact that most of my cheats consisted of some form of body improvement and mind control, and that I can get more points to buy more cheats from impregnating women, I can make a rough guess that whoever is giving me these cheats is probably a horny fat fuck of a weirdo fantasizing about Daenerys Targaryen's boobs and just so happens to have inappropriate +18 cosmic powers to turn whatever perverse scenarios he dreamed up into reality.
If there's anyone out there from the modern era who managed to somehow translate this journal, I hereby order you to burn this entire book to ashes. Also, just in case this journal made it to a future version of the internet or if my existence as a self-insert was posted on some random smut thread, I beg of you to please stop reading this story and press that x button on the top of your browser and close the tab. This crap is not worth it.
And just in case these imaginary internet readers of mine really do exist and they kept on reading, then I hope you all choke on your shit and die.
(The rest of the pages are unintelligible)
(Rhaella Targaryen)
I entered the private study, looked at my brother, and blinked incredulously, "What in the world are you doing to that book?"
What was once a simple leather book now looked tattered and there were some holes in the pages here and there. Has he been stabbing that poor leather book with the quill? Why was there smoke coming out of the book? Had he been using it to start a fire? But why though?
"Venting." Aerys said. He glared at the tattered thing as if it was his sworn nemesis.
…I have so many questions.
He'd probably give some nonsensical answer though, so there's no point in voicing it out loud.
"Brother, you do understand how expensive books are, don't you?" I asked rhetorically.
Aerys scoffed, "So royal privileges are no longer enough to purchase my interest in literature?"
"It would be a great waste if your literary interest lies in stabbing or burning them," I sighed, "Why books anyway? Whatever strange frustrations you might have, you know there's a better way of venting than torturing inanimate pages, right?"
"Torturing the peasantries?" Aerys smirked.
"Hush now, Maegor the Second," I rolled my eyes, "Do not endanger the kingdom's greatest source of food and taxation."
"You're right," My brother agreed solemnly, "We'd get better results torturing the septons or the nobility. They barely do anything, rarely paid any taxes, and they tend to have more gold dragons in their pocket than the smallfolk."
"What a monster," I said fondly, "But that's not the manner of venting I was referring to, my Master."
I sat on the bed and slowly unbuttoned my nightdress, giving Aerys a sultry look. A young girl of four and ten I might be, but there were already many praises pronouncing me a great beauty. Along with lustful looks from the men and jealous looks from the women. As to be expected of a Targaryen Princess. Only the best for my princely brother and the Master of my heart and soul.
Spoiler: Rhaella Targaryen
"Oh," He smiled fondly, a lustful hint in his eyes as he drank in my naked body, "That kind of venting."
(Aerys' Journal)
Goddamn it, me! Why the hell did I sleep with my teenage sister again?! Why can't my dick resist a naked girl?! Was I really that much of a loser in my previous life?!
Look here. I am not a pervert. At first, I saw Rhaella purely as a sister of mine. Honest. Keeping my relationship with her as nothing but sibling was one of the last bastions of my modern values. Hell, I even tried to get out of our arranged marriage. There's no way I wanted to live out Aerys' original unhappy marriage!
Alas, such a holy endeavor failed horribly because incests are a Targaryen's favorite catnip. The more I think of Rhaella as my sister, the more I wanted to see her writhing naked on my bed.
In conclusion, it's not my fault that I ended up fucking my sister! It's the Targaryens! The Targaryens are the ones at fault!
A/N: This new story is brought to you by boredom, depression, and self-loathing.
The Build is down here, just in case anyone was curious. Feel free to ignore it if you don't care about them though. R34 Economy won't play a major part in this story.
Most of the POVs will be from other characters while Aerys' POV will be shown only in his journal.
Spoiler: Build
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Last edited: Yesterday at 3:13 PM
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N: ...That was Weiss?
I just browsed for white-haired girl in the nude and it was one of the pic that came up. It was actually Weiss?!
I can't believe I didn't recognize her. I am an utter failure as a weeb.
You know what, have a new chapter as an apology for how bad my eyes were.
(Rhaella Targaryen)
There are few things better in the world than the bliss I feel as I woke up in the arms of the greatest man in the world after a wonderful night of lovemaking.
"Greatest man in the world?" Aerys scoffed, cradling my head close to his chest. Clearly, he's been reading my thoughts again, "You're just saying that because I messed with your mind, Rhaella."
"Ah, but is that not what every man does to the women in their family?" I smirked as I held his arms tightly, the sticky sweat that permeated the bed gave a most pleasant odour, "Us noblewomen are, as my governess Septa Orissa once phrased it, a broodmare whose sole purpose was to further our family line and we are required to view our future husband and his house as our main priority. I am simply far more willing to comply than the average woman out there."
"Didn't you kill Septa Orissa?" Aerys tilted his head. It was adorable.
I smiled, "Don't be silly my Master. Orissa died in a riding accident."
"She was trampled to death by three of the stablemaster's broodmares," Aerys replied, his tone conveying a silent reproach. A teasing lie judging by the way his eyes shined in amusement. My brother found the bitch's death absolutely hilarious.
"A fit of irony, I'm sure." I delicately said, "It was the Seven punishing her for her dalliances with the stablemaster's father. The man was three decades her elder! It was a truly inappropriate relationship!"
"I think our grandfather was more concerned of the fact that the stablemaster's family had served as spies for many a lord and a band of brigands who secretly sold our finest steeds than the patriarch's age-inappropriate dalliances."
After my brother's adjustments in my mind loosened the many inhibitions I once had, life felt far brighter and more wondrous than before. While I once saw my royal status as a cage restricting my freedom, my brother had made me see that it was truly a grand opulent palace filled with my heart's desire. It is rife with various luxuries and opportunities. I need only the proper learning, mindset, and cunning to put it to good use.
He had also revealed many personal traits of mine that I was not even aware of, such as a greatly vindictive streak and an increasingly low tolerance for fools. Sadly, almost everyone in King's Landing could be counted as one. The many courtiers filling the royal court was the worst of the bunch. Stupidity's overwhelming horde, to quote my Master.
"Changing the subject for a moment, why were you here last night, Rhaella?" He asked, raising my chin with his fingers to look at me in the eyes. Gods, it gave me the shivers. "I told you yesterday that I was not to be disturbed."
"You didn't complain much when you were ravaging my body," I pouted, making sure I sounded properly petulant. If he's annoyed enough, I might spend the morning being 'properly punished'.
"I'm a prince. Hypocrisy is my Gods-given right," He solemnly said, "Also, I was writing something important before you distracted me. Had you come earlier, I'd be forced to erase some of your memories."
Ah, he's in no mood for more venting then, "My handmaiden told me you needed me here."
He blinked, then a sigh left him.
"I see that the Lady Sarya truly knows me well," Aerys gave a bitter smile.
"Sarya Pile was an abomination against nature that you conjured out of thin air and then transformed into a human being," I called out, swallowing a grin, "Of course, she knew you well."
Thank all that is holy my brother had the foresight to summon her in a deserted forest. That winged woman's original form was truly massive.
It didn't stop me from seeing her as a sister I never had. Even if some of her quirks could be too much for me sometimes.
"Rhaella," My brother send me a wounded look, "Lord Pile would be horrified if he'd ever heard your insult to his beloved daughter."
"Ah yes, it was simply good luck that the ever-adventurous Sarya Pile survived her encounter with wolves when she wandered too deep into the woods with nary an escort," I smiled, "She was certainly not eaten alive and was replaced by an inhuman monster from another world wearing her visage."
"Eh, that Endbringer's human enough nowadays," Aerys grunted, "If only she'd stop complaining about having Pile as a last name. It sounds stupid, I know. But the Piles are the only local nobility in the Crownlands that fit her disguise criteria."
Technically, he could order that woman to stop her petty complaints but I suppose he'd grown fond enough of Sarya to tolerate her oddity. I recognize that tone of his voice, however. Aerys is certainly planning a method of punishment for my favorite handmaiden. Less of an enjoyable punishment and more of an annoying errand, I thought.
Still, I should at least put in a good word for my adopted sister.
"Sarya said you were in one of those moods and in dire need of stress relief," I said.
"Of course she said that," Aerys huffed. Ah, he didn't buy it. I'm sorry, Sarya. At least I tried. "Consider my stress properly relieved, dear sister. Now let's get out of bed, I need to do my morning practice."
"Morning practice?" I raised an eyebrow in disbelief, "Is that what you call it?"
Running a dozen laps around the castle naked from the waist up while pulling a cart of steel sounded more like inhumane torture to me. And that was the least difficult exercise of Aerys' so-called 'morning practice'.
"I'd like to call it my special Saitama Shounen Training Montage," He grunted as he began putting on his clothes, "But nobody except Sarya would get the reference, you bunch of uncultured brutes."
"Don't bring up the cultures of another world, you insensitive fool," I felt something of a mild headache now. Aerys is a great man and there is nothing I wouldn't do for him. But his tendency of saying strange terms and weird phrases is why so many people thought of him as a strange boy, "You know that everyone else in King's Landing called it your daily flagellation right?"
"Not my fault that most of the knights and squires in this kingdom consisted of weaklings and craven sods," He retorted.
That's a tad unfair, I think. The knights of the Kingsguard had taken to imitate my brother's hellish training regime. Even without my Master's psychic abilities nudging a positive impression on everyone in King's Landing, I had a feeling that his own diligence would be enough to buy the eternal loyalty of the Kingsguard. These elite knights tend to appreciate a royal that's unafraid to throw himself into the mud and dirt.
Then again, not everyone could be a Kingsguard.
"Seriously though, stop hugging my bed and get up, Rhaella," He ordered with a smile, "It's a beautiful day outside. Would be a waste to spend it lazying about in the room."
(Aerys' Journal)
At noon, King's Landing got caught on fire.
In hindsight, it might have been better to just stay a cooped up hikkikomori-style in my study. At least I got to cuddle my future sister-wife and try out some of the more interesting positions Rhaella had come up with.
But noooo.
Instead of that very promising experiment, I got to deal with this bullshit experiment. Because I am a decent man with a properly functioning common sense in my head, unlike the rest of those fire-obsessed dickwads.
I am so fucking done with this life.
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Aerys' Journal)
The whole mess began a few days ago when Ser Willem Hatch, my somewhat faithful bodyguard, was taking an enthusiastic walk through the woods.
Well, less the woods, and more the Kingsroad. But you get the idea.
How did the phrase go again? Go on enthusiastic walks. Meet interesting new people.
Butterflies ensue.
Someone needs to hurry up and invent the flamethrower. I wanna burn those butterflies and smash them all to bits.
(Ser Willem Hatch)
I entered the tavern with a proud smile on my face.
"Look, Danvers," Rutherford growled, his tankard pointed ominously on my person, "The filthy traitor has finally made his triumphant return."
"Back from your patrol, Ser Hatch?" Danvers sneered, "Had a lovely stroll? Did you enjoy the sights of glorious Fleabottom and found a damsel you fancy in the gutters?"
Prince Aerys Targaryen, blessed be his name and all that, has three swords of a knight sworn to him. I was one of them and obviously the greatest. The pompous prick Ser Henry Danvers was another. The last, and certainly least, was Ser Aegon Rutherford.
"Fuck off, you twats," I threw my helmet at the insolent prick Danvers. His reflexes are annoyingly fast and he caught it without even batting an eye, "You're just jealous it's my shift and you're stuck in the early morning practice with the prince."
I sat next to Danvers and ordered a drink. A calculated risk. Unlike the ever rowdy Rutherford, I'm far less likely to be jostled around if I sat next to him. Danvers was always a patient man, though that gleam in his eyes is making me reconsider this assessment.
"You already got a patrol shift yesterday!" Rutherford yelled out, "And two days before that. And another day before that. And another day before that!"
"That's four days of morning patrols, you little cheat," Danvers glared, "Four in a week? How by the Seven Hells did you pull it off?!"
"Met a hedge knight on the Kingsroad," I grinned, "Said he wanted to offer his services to one of the royals, so I told him he could see Prince Aerys if he signed up for the practice and replace me for a week. Poor sod didn't realize a thing until it's too late."
"Goddamn you, Hatch!" Rutherford screamed.
"So you finally stoop low enough to start scamming innocents on the roads, you bandit," Danvers sighed, then his looks turned considering, "Say, you know other aspiring knights in the city?"
"Prince Aerys forbade any replacements or trade of schedules when he found out what I just did," My smile is as wide as the sky as I delivered the punchline, "Sorry, boys. You're not getting out of morning practice that way now."
"Goddamn you, Hatch!" Rutherford repeated.
"Fucking Seven Hells, Hatch," Danvers cursed.
It's a bit sad I couldn't do another repeat of this trick, but I will always treasure what free time I had managed to gain and the tears of these two baseborn losers. Victory over lesser men does feel wonderful. I finally understand why the First Aegon loved the taste of conquest so much.
To elucidate.
None of us liked the torture that our prince called morning practice. Nobody in their right mind would, except for those madmen in the Kingsguard. Especially the crazy bastard leading them.
One might call Duncan the Tall a living legend and there was certainly some truth to that. But his conception of what constitutes reasonable training was nothing short of insanity.
No one was talking too loudly about it, but everyone in the Red Keep knew that it was his fault that Prince Aerys began his habit of mad training.
Everyone could see the pattern. A promising young prince enamored by tales of heroism, and then he met said hero who then spouts out bullshit like 'anyone could do the same thing I did if they practice hard enough!'
And because Prince Aerys was a ridiculously earnest young man, he'd bought into that nonsense like a dragon that finally found his favorite whalebone to chew on.
Every knight and man-at-arms that earned the distinction to be cajoled into the good prince's favorite morning pastimes had since sworn eternal vengeance on Ser Duncan. And that includes us three poor band of knights oathbound to Prince Aerys.
It got even worse when the good King Aegon found the morning training practice to be a grand idea and ordered it mandatory to all men-at-arms operating in King's Landing. Now, everyone from the resplendent gold cloaks to the simplest of levies is now required to participate.
Truly, Duncan the Tall is the root of all evil in this world. If the Gods were as just as the septons proclaimed, they'd throw him immediately to the Seven Hells. I realized though, after seeing Ser Duncan increasingly hale and hearty despite his advanced age, that the septons and Faith in the Seven was naught but a grand fraud all along.
Luckily, there's a way out of that nightmare.
Lady Sarya Pile, that kind and blessed soul, was not blind to our plight. As Princess Rhaella's handmaiden, she informed the princess of our dreary conditions and how it had begun affecting the morale of the men. "If this went on," the Lady Sarya had reportedly argued, "The warriors of King's Landing would riot against the prince."
Which, as much as it pains me to admit, was not that much of a lie.
Concerned, the wise Princess Rhaella asked our liege lord that some exemption would be made for patrols as the rising crime rate in the city needed more men. Since the two betrothed royals were so obviously besotted with each other, Prince Aerys immediately complied and delivered the petition to King Aegon directly. Seeing reason, the good king accepted.
Or so the story goes, at least.
When we met her last week, Sarya simply told us three that she'd had enough of Ser Rupert, Lady Sarya's betrothed, and his antics. Apparently, he had been spending a lot of time in the whorehouses constantly whining about the training. She begged the princess to find a way to shut him up and to find a way to stop that annoyance of a knight from going to the whorehouses because potential bastards are always bad for business.
Not that any of us care a whit about the intrigues of the court. When the herald announced the king's decision, every sword hand in King's Landing bought Ser Rupert Buckwell a drink and toasted his honor for a whole week.
Everyone immediately leapt to the exemptions. Patrols and criminal hunts, once seen as annoying drudge work, began to be seen as popular. The gold cloaks began attacking known criminals with gusto, because good results meant you could petition for more exemptions. Knights would escort lost children to their homes, protect the stalls and passersby from thieves and pickpockets, and do other miscellaneous errands for the smallfolk, because the more time you spend on the field, the more time you could spend away from the castle. Fleabottom became the favored place for patrols because the sheer size of the slums and potential criminals meant you could justify spending a lot of time in the place.
Sure, there's some lazybones that just wanted to spend the days visiting taverns and whorehouses here and there around the city and all sorts of other ne'er do wells. But Ser Luthor Royce, Commander of the Gold Cloaks, kept strict discipline and anyone caught lazing about in their patrols would be in for some hard flogging. Those who tried to take advantage of the new policies for profit suffered even worse fates.
The result was plain to be seen. Corruption and crime rate in King's Landing went down. By the Seven, that's something of an understatement. In the entire history of its existence, King's Landing had never been safer. A beautiful lass could carry a crate of jewelry from Kingsroad to Fleabottom without ever being harassed. The smallfolk was jubilant.
All that because everyone was absolutely terrified of Prince Aerys and his strange idea of turning flagellation into morning exercises. The Gods do love to play their japes upon us mortals.
"Out of curiosity, Hatch," Rutherford cut me off of my musing, "What happened to that new lad you offloaded your training to?"
"Oh, he spend this entire week cursing me and my entire line," I confessed truthfully.
"Poor boy," Danvers said, "Who was he, anyway? Don't tell me you've pissed off some important nobles."
"Yeah! Give us some warning if we need to run away!"
"Eh, it's just a simple hedge knight from Stormlander. Goes by the name Bonifer Hasty," I shrugged, "No one that important in the grand scheme of things. No need to piss in your pants and run back to your mother, Rutherford."
A/N: There's a lot going on behind the scenes that a simple knight like Hatch didn't know about. Yes, Simurgh shenanigan was one of them.
And because I want to inflate the word count to make this thread look a lot more awesome than it actually was, time to give some responses!
On second thought, I better put the responses on a new post. This format of multiple quotes gave me a bit of a headache.
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