The Lemon and the Wheel

[The Void]

This is where the dead come?

This empty void of nothingness?

What a sad fate.

He'd been drifting in and out of time and space, nothingness and everything-ness for so long he couldn't decide if it was months, days, weeks, seconds, or years.

That was something Jaime hurt his nonexistent brain thinking about as he drifted around the void of nothingness and everything-ness for such a long or short time. Though, the emptiness didn't care about time or the laws of things that make sense. It didn't care for anything; it was, after all, nothing.

So the void sure as shit didn't care about Jaime's questions. And questions he had in abundance.

Was this the end? The beginning? The middle? What was this place he drifted in for an unknown amount of time? Why doesn't anything make sense, but somehow, someway, it makes perfect sense? But the loudest question on Jaime's nonexistent mind was: how the fuck did a lemon kill me?

One moment he was minding his business lying under the old lemon tree his great-grandad planted way back before even that old cunt was suckling toddler. After the better part of a decade serving in the Australian army, Jaime came home to find he was drawn to the oddly shaped lemon tree. "It looks like a dick," Jaime's dad had told him once when he was younger.

He'd napped for maybe an hour before he woke up to the most painful headache Jaime ever had—and he got domed by the barrel of a tank gun before, so that was saying something. It was like an Oompa Loompa was dancing on the inside of his head, hitting his brain with a little rubber hammer on every nerve while singing the Gummy Bear song on repeat.

He noticed the lemon lying a few inches away from his feet and screamed out the most atrocious obscenities known to man. Seriously, the shit he said might end up in the history books. ...maybe that was just Jaime dreaming big. Who knows?

And then he was nothing, or nothing was him? Was the nothingness that surrounded him somehow... him? Was he supposed to be the next Big Bang or something? Was he the new God or some shit? If he could laugh at the thought. He wasn't a God. No way in hell he'd want to be a God, either. Someone in charge of other people, yeah, sure, but not a God. That was way too much responsibility for Jaime.

"You're not a God," he heard a booming voice drown out the nothingness. Suddenly a blinding light burned his eyes. Wait, eyes? He opened his newly returned eyes and looked around at the sights; a glossy white room with nothing but an even whiter, glossier desk. "A God! Ha, as if your dumbass could be a God."

Jaime looked at the giant black man sitting by the desk wearing the ugliest suit he'd ever seen. Seriously, who wears green and pink together? "Uhm, I said... thought? Nevermind. I don't want to be a god. That sounds lame as fuck."

The black guy who looked freakishly like Morgan Freeman looked up at Jaime from his files. He stood up, Jaime now seeing how big the man thing was. The man, God, thing, whatever the fuck he was, stood almost ten feet taller than Jaime. He gulped. How big was this cunt's d- "Enough of that," said the spin-off Morgan Freeman.

"So, uhm, you're God? Right? And you can read my mind?" 'No shit, he can read your mind, Jaime!' He wanted to slap himself for being so stupid.

"Uh-huh," God said.

There was a long, awkward pause. But just as Jaime went to break the silence, God waved his hand, and a spinning wheel appeared. Yeah, like those ones from crappy game shows.

Looking at the wheel, Jaime felt a sudden horror come over him. Hadn't he read things like this before? Guy dies. Guy meets God. God makes him spin a wheel to determine his fate. And the guy gets transmigrated to some weird ass fantasy world?

"No..."

"Yes."

"Please, you, no!"

"You called my suit ugly!"

"It is!"

"Fuck you, spin the wheel!"

Grumbling something about asshole gods, Jaime went and yanked the lever, and the wheel spun. Names of different fictional worlds appeared on each blank space. There was God of War; unless he was Kratos's kid, he'd be fucked; there was Halo; again, if he wasn't a Spartan, Jaime would be fucked; Genshin passed by once. Need he say anything? But the world the wheel landed on with an explosion of confetti gave Jaime mixed feelings.

"A Game of Ice and Fire?" He asked, confused. "What the fuck is this, mate?"

"Ah. Your spin landed you on the line between the Game of Thrones world AND the Song of Ice and Fire world." Shit explanation, but okay. "The last time something like this happened was to your grandfather Mike."

'Grandad got reincarnated, too?'

"The guy's a legend, don't let anyone tell you otherwise. Anyway. You'll be going to a mixture of the series world and the book series written by Goerge Double R Martin."

"Good thing I read the book. All the magic shit is in the books. Right? What is that look? Don't you give me that look, you big bastard!"

The look in question was one of someone who had come up with a wicked idea that may or may not end in travesty. Like a toddler who just got told "no" to getting a new toy, he didn't even need it and would forget about it as soon as he got home and saw his uncle's limited edition 1983 Kenner Star Wars ROTJ Millennium Falcom sitting unguarded on the bed.

God, he's never been so close to hitting a kid...

"You most definitely should be worried about what I'm going to do," said God as he walked back to the desk. Jaime watched as the letters on the wheel shifted, floated around, and rearranged to form new words. It made him feel like he was seeing boobs for the first time again...

"The hell you mean by that, mate?" Jaime yelled after finally registering what God said.

"I want to try something new. Yes, something new. So, I'll give you power as compensation for the changes I want to make. And no, you don't get to choose it. Pout all you want; I don't care. Anyway. I'm doing this because I want to make tweaks to the world. Before you start crying, nothing I do will change the plot. All that jazz will still play out if you let it. Just some addition, a little subtraction, and a hell of a lot of little things I don't care about telling you."

Jaime gulped. Why was God talking about removing and adding people into a world like they're fucking math problems? Before Jaime could think anything else, God looked at him pointedly and told him to spin the wheel.

Jaime cranked the lever again, pulling as hard as he could. 'At least I won't be a normie human,' he told himself as he watched the wheel spin. Hundreds of different powers flew by, some better than others and some that would be as useless as that thin toilet paper they use in public schools.

He saw Blood Manipulation pass, which would be overpowered as shit in Planetos since all the magic in the Known World had something to do with blood; Beast King, that'd be cool too, Jaime felt. Control over animals would give him an army that could trample his enemies... literally. He also saw Vampirism, which he didn't want at all. Living forever sounded like a pain in the ass, and being turned to ash by going for a walk was very unappealing.

Fear. Now that was a very beneficial thing. The power of any emotion would be devastating if the user was well-versed enough in it. Fear invoked several reactions—fight, flight, freeze or fawn, which were the most common and known to each living being anywhere.

And now, Jaime Becket was going to be able to control it.

"Does this mean I'll be able to make people shit themselves with a glare?" And that was the first thing that came to mind. Not the potential of the power, not the devastating edge it would give him over most of the world he was going to.

God slowly put his pen down, lifted his head, and gave Jaime a look. Suddenly Jaime felt offended. "Don't look at me like that. You're the one in a pink and green suit." God scowled and waved his hand.

"Fuck out of my house." Jaime felt himself falling.

It was like he was dreaming. You know that dream where you fall off a cliff and keep falling for hours and hours before waking up just as you hit the ground? Yeah, like that, only there was no end to the falling. It just kept going, the endless void of emptiness rushing past him, which was weird since voids shouldn't be moving. It felt like he was falling through water, again weird since nothingness should not feel like anything.

For how long he fell, he didn't know or really care. It was comfortable falling through the void. But after what felt like hundreds of years but also only seconds, it got boring really quick. God could have at least dropped a Nintendo down with him to pass the time, but nooo. That was too much for an omnipotent being.

With a painful gasp, he shot up from the soft surface. His lungs were eager to take in as much of the salty air around him. He found himself hating earth for its disgusting-tasting oxygen. He felt the silks of his clothes pressing against him, the thin material brushing over his nipple, and shivered at the sensitivity.

His hands roamed his body as the memories came. He watched them like a movie, feeling everything that ever happened as if he was the one living the life he was watching. A brother. He had a brother with silver hair and sunken lilac eyes that would draw in the most devout nuns.

'Wait,' he thought, dread coiling in his heart. His hands shot to his chest, felt the lumps, and gasped a quiet moan from the softness. He was a woman now. That motherfucker.

"GOD FUCKING DAMN YOU!"

—————

[Illyrio's ship. 299 AC.]

Ser Jorah of Bear Island burst through the cabin door, nearly ripping it from its hinges. Two other men ran in after him, one with a grand curving arakh and another with a whip dangling from their horsehair britches. They calmed down when they saw Daenerys Stormborn sitting on the edge of the bed with her hands under her chin.

A moment later, a nut-brown-skinned man with a gleaming bald head and an enormous gut ran through the door with his fists raised, shouting a battle cry. Even when he saw Daenerys and the others were fine, he kept screaming, but it was a more confused-sounding one.

"Shut up, Belwas," Daenerys barked, and the big man stopped screaming. His smile was broad and beaming, and his gapped teeth were whiter than clouds.

"Are you alright, Khaleesi?" Ser Jorah questioned but tensed when Daenerys raised her eyes to meet his. The rage that burned in those violet irises of hers was something he never wanted to be on the receiving end of. "We heard you shouting," he stammered.

"The fucking dragonlords heard me shout, Ser Jorah," she snapped. Ser Jorah was taken aback, but Belwas laughed loudly and slapped his belly. "It doesn't matter. Get out so I can dress."

The four men left quickly, not wanting to shame their Khaleesi by seeing her in that state for longer than necessary. Daenerys stood, her stomach wringing at the rocking of the ship below her. She covered her mouth with her fist and swallowed the bile that crept up her throat.

'At least they had that shared,' Jaime told herself. She frowned. Was he Jaime or Daenerys now? She felt more like Jaime, but she felt like Daenerys too, which makes sense (kind of) since she DID have Daenerys's body. 'Both. I'm both of them,' she thought, nodding. 'it's better not to get into that identity crisis bullshit right now.'

Shaking her head, Daenerys staggered to the trunk in the corner of the cabin that held her personal belongings. She opened the chest, ignoring the beautiful bow for now, and took out a simple white dress with little white dragons embroidered into the hem. She scowled as she slipped it over her head, coughing when her hand accidentally touched her chest again. That was going to be distracting for a while.

She walked out of the cabin, a hand on the rail to keep herself from falling. Jaime hated sailing. He hated it so much that it carried over to an entirely different world; the thought amused, as well as annoyed Daenerys.

When she was on the poop deck, or whatever the fuck it's called, she saw the dragons flying overhead. Rhaegal and Viserion looked strange, different from the show Jaime saw them in. Maybe this is what they were meant to look like? The books didn't exactly say how they looked, save for their colours... The black, the green and bronze, the creme and gold, all with black teeth and claws as sharp as daggers... yup, that's it.

Drogon was the first to notice her or the first to really care that she was awake, but who knows? He landed roughly on the rail, splintering and scratching the wood with his razor-sharp claws. Drogon was the largest of three dragons, almost as big as a black bear, with his wings folded.

Daenerys stumbled over her feet as she stepped closer to the railing. Drogon's scaly lips peeled back over his black teeth as long as daggers, growling as she got closer to him. She wasn't afraid; she knew he wouldn't hurt her. As she touched his head, Dany felt the smooth scales under her fingers, and a warmth she never thought a living creature could emit came from him. Drogon let out low, trembling rumbles from his throat, his red eyes narrowing in a sharp glare.

Dragons were clever, some say smarter than humans, but could her dragons know that she wasn't JUST Daenerys anymore? Could they somehow feel that Daenerys and Jaime were one? These thoughts ended when Drogon leaned into her touch, warbling his acceptance. She beamed and leaned down, kissing Drogon's head before he took off into the sky to mess with his brothers.

"Tell the Captain to change course," she commanded as Ser Jorah walked up behind her, her eyes never leaving her dragons as they played in the sky.

"Where to, Khaleesi?" Ser Jorah asked.

"Astapor. I have an army just waiting for me to take them," she smirked.

"As you command," he said, bowing.

Ser Jorah spun on his heel and walked off to give the Captain her orders. Daenerys scratched under Rhaegal's chin when he landed on the railing, the flabby skin somehow soft and hard. Rhaegal trilled loudly, and she felt the vibration of his throat as he did. She heard Viserion and Drogon screech and laughed at the almost jealous way they sounded.

She ran her free hand through her long, straight, silver hair, though it was starting to tangle because of the spray. She needed to cut it shorter. Getting grabbed while fighting wasn't something she wanted, and as the Lee-gend would say, "keep that hair short."

'I'm going to make myself cry,' she thought as she walked back to her cabin. Suddenly remembering she had a superpower, Daenerys half-walked, half-ran the last few feet into her room. She sat on the bed, crossed her legs, and pinched her thumb and forefingers.

She breathed in deeply before opening her eyes slowly. Looking down at her hands and legs, she cringed. 'What the hell am I doing,' she thought. 'Focus like a normal fucking person.'

She closed her eyes again, her hands resting against the silk sheets over the mattress, and focused with all she had. She scoured every part of her mind, every nerve in her body, and finally, after God knows how long, she felt A barely noticeable pressure behind her eyes.

"I'm going to be the baddest of bitches."