Who even needs that Iron Throne? - Episode 1

Episode 2: https://www.patreon.com/posts/who-even-needs-2-114640947

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Bruce, standing in Daenerys' body, watched irritably as his "advisors" debated their plans. His platinum-blonde hair fell into his face again, and he angrily pushed it back, feeling it brush against his back—and his chest... Damn boobs! Every step, every awkward movement reminded him of the way they just moved on their own. His whole body felt alien. He was weak and skinny. All those years of training seemed like a waste.

And those nerds in the bodies of his advisors—his former lackeys, who used to do his homework for him—looked entirely different now. Their eyes were filled with excitement. They seemed to enjoy being in this fantasy world, discussing their plans with such fervor that it felt like they had forgotten who they truly were. Finally, he interrupted them, leaning on the table and glaring at them like he used to, aiming to instill fear.

— Alright, let's get something straight. What are we doing about this Meereen? — He tried to sound serious, but the way his now-feminine voice filled the room only added to his frustration. — What the hell is going on?

The advisors exchanged glances, their faces showing unmasked confidence. One of them, gesticulating enthusiastically, began as if this was his moment to shine.

— Well, Meereen is the city you're now ruling, — he began with a touch of condescension, as if explaining something to a first-grader. — We took it, freed the slaves, but now a rebellion is brewing. There's a group called the Sons of the Harpy, and they want to bring back the old order and get you off the throne.

— Yeah, I know what the city is, you idiot, — Bruce waved him off irritably, trying once again to brush those damn locks out of his eyes. — I've been here for a week, just like you. I don't get why you're acting like this is some kind of game. We've got a rebellion on our hands, and you seem to be enjoying this fantasy.

Another advisor with a small beard, who still looked like he couldn't believe his luck, leaned back in his chair and smirked.

— That's because we know what to do, — he said confidently. — Bruce, you're out of your element. We're "Game of Thrones" fans. We've spent countless hours studying this world. And you... to be honest, you never really excelled at strategic thinking.

— Excuse me? — Bruce leaned forward, his palms on the table. His chest jiggled under the stupid dress, reminding him of its presence once again, but he ignored it. — Listen here, smartass, — his voice cut through his anger. — I may be in this... dragon mommy's body, but don't forget who I really am. Unlike you, I'm not going to sit around and enjoy this madness. I need to get back home.

— To do that, we have to follow the canon, — said the bearded advisor, stretching lazily in his chair. He spoke as if they were discussing a game strategy, not the fate of a city.

Bruce gritted his teeth, holding back the stream of curses swirling in his mind. He couldn't believe these idiots seriously thought they had to stick to some damn "canon." Well, if they thought he was going to play along, they were dead wrong.

— Canon, huh? — he leaned on the table, his chest, damn it, reminding him of its presence again, but he tried to ignore it. — You want me to fly dragons, supposedly "fall in love" with your Jon Snow, and then... — he rolled his eyes, unable to hide his disdain. — Hell, if this is reality, do you realize how stupid that sounds?

The advisor looked at him condescendingly, as if explaining something to a child.

— Yes, Bruce, exactly. It's important. If you don't follow Daenerys' path, the world could collapse. Everything could go wrong. You have to go through it all—from allying with Jon Snow to the final battle. That's the key to survival and... maybe getting home.

Bruce felt his throat tighten with rage. Alliance with Jon Snow? They had to be joking. He couldn't even begin to imagine such nonsense. Why the hell would he, a huge guy, have to pretend to be in love with that guy? And worse—Bruce swallowed, trying not to let his anger boil over even more. The thought was revolting.

— You really think that I, — he pointed to his chest, nearly knocking over the map, — am going to pretend to be in love with some Jon Snow? Are you serious?

The bearded guy raised his hands as if trying to calm him down.

— Look, we understand that this is... well, strange for you. — He stood up and walked closer, speaking almost fatherly. — Let’s figure this out when we get to Westeros?

— Figure it out when we get to Westeros? — Bruce nearly laughed in the bearded advisor’s face.

— You think we'll just sail there and everything will magically work out? — Bruce smirked, but his eyes burned with anger. — And when’s that going to happen? When I sit by the fire with Jon Snow, telling him how much I... feel for him? — he spat the last words with undisguised disgust.

The bearded guy, clearly embarrassed by the outburst, raised his hands in a gesture of peace.

— Bruce, you're getting stuck on this. You haven’t even flown on the dragons yet, and we’ve got to deal with this rebellion that will happen, after which you'll be captured by a huge Dothraki horde— he trailed off, realizing he’d said something he shouldn't have.

Bruce froze, his eyes narrowing.

— What did you just say? — his voice was quiet, but it carried a stormy threat.

The advisor hesitated, realizing he'd slipped, and tried to backtrack.

— Uh... well, it’s... part of the script. In the "canon," Daenerys is captured by the Dothraki after the rebellion. You escape on a dragon, and then... they take you to a new khal, — he said nervously, trying to smooth over the situation as the other advisors whispered among themselves.

— They capture me? — Bruce interrupted, his voice even colder. He took a step forward, and despite his frail feminine body, he exuded the kind of fierce confidence he used to draw from his old muscles, from his strength, when he could intimidate anyone with just a look. — You’re saying that, according to your plan, I’m supposed to let these savages capture me and make me a hostage? — His breathing became heavier, rage boiling inside him.

— Well, yeah... Um... in the show, it was a key moment. Daenerys managed to unite the Dothraki and use them to conquer Westeros. Without that... uh... it’s essential for the story, Bruce.

— Story? — Bruce laughed, but there was no humor in it. — You’re saying I should let myself be captured by savages who, when they see a hottie like I am now, will do all sorts of crap to me that I don’t even want to think about? Are you insane? — Bruce leaned in closer, his face twisted with rage.

The advisors were clearly nervous. Their confidence was visibly shaken when they realized Bruce wasn’t going to play by their script.

— Bruce, you don’t understand, — the bespectacled one stammered, nervous. — This... this is an important part! You have to go through this for everything to fall into place. In the end, you’ll become stronger, the Dothraki will be on your side, and it... it will be your victory!

— My victory? — Bruce frowned, his voice dripping with sarcasm. — This is your victory. You want me to be a victim so you can follow your damn scripts? So that I get captured and they do whatever they want with my body? — He pointed to himself again, feeling his chest push forward slightly, as if even his own body resisted his movements. — And you’re just going to sit there and enjoy this circus?

The bearded one tried to intervene, his voice calm and soothing:

— Bruce, it’s just part of the bigger plan. You’ll come out of it stronger. Daenerys managed it, and so will you. You understand that if we break canon, it could lead to disaster. We can’t just change everything on the fly. We might be stuck here forever.

— I don’t give a damn about your canon! — Bruce exploded. — I’m not letting anyone control me, and I’m definitely not letting myself get captured! I’ve never been a victim, and I’m not about to start now, even if I’m in this... damn dragon queen’s body!

He looked around at his advisors again, and they saw something in his eyes that made them freeze. It wasn’t just a warning. Bruce wasn’t going to play by their rules anymore.

— Listen to me, — Bruce said, his voice calmer now, but still filled with menace. — I’m not waiting around to be captured by some savages, and I’m definitely not going to pretend to fall in love with Jon Snow. If you want to follow the "canon," go ahead, but I’m going to do things my way. If I’m the damn queen here, then I’ll rule like one! I’ll decide how to use the dragons and how to run this city. And if anything gets in my way, don’t doubt for a second: I’ll burn everything that stands in my path to ashes. Got it?

The room fell into a heavy silence. The advisors froze, nervously glancing at each other. It only made Bruce feel more confident.

— If I’m stuck here for God knows how long, I’ll do things my way. Here and now, — he continued, pointing at the map of Meereen. — I’ve got dragons? Check. The Harpies want to bring back the old order? Well, I’ll show them that burning alive anyone who opposes us is the new order.

The advisors exchanged nervous glances. They were used to discussing scripts and following known steps, but Bruce was acting like... like Daenerys?

— Bruce... — the bearded one finally spoke, trying to remain calm, — even Daenerys didn’t go this route. Her strategy was about uniting, not burning. You’re risking... well... destroying everything, leaving neither allies nor enemies.

— Listen, — Bruce interrupted, looking at the map of Meereen with open disdain, — Daenerys could afford to play politics because she wanted to get to Westeros. Screw Westeros! Why the hell would I want to go there? I’m doing just fine here!