DISCLAIMER- I Own nothing of A Song of Ice And Fire or Harry Potter

blurb: When Ron Weasley is transported to Kings Landing he has nothing but his magic, can this master chess player succeed at a different kind of game? - post order of the Pheonix Ron. season 1

Chapter 1

Confounded and loopy, Ron Weasley was in great pain, wandering aimlessly around a dark room full of flashing lights. His arms hurt the worst but his head was also splitting and the poor boy just wanted to go home. It was loud in the room and full of people screaming but Ron really didn't care, he was just trying to find the exit.

The redhead bumped into a great arch which didn't do anything for his headache and annoyed he stomped through. Bad Idea.

Instantly his head cleared and the world swirled around him. The pain in his arms increased, he glanced down to see swirly stripes darken and scar.
Desperately he tried every spell he knew that could be in any way useful and in despair, a few useless herbology spells just in case.

Nothing worked, the colourful rainbow lights around him remained. He felt he was there for hours and just when he decided to succumb to the hopeless insanity of the situation the world flashed and he was horizontal, hitting hard, packed dirt with the side of his head like he had touched a portkey.

Ron rested there for a moment catching his breath and mentally dealing with the insane situation.

After spending so many years with Harry Potter as his friend, Ron was more equipped to deal with strange and random occurrences. He looked up at the sky and discovered it was day, checked his pockets to find a cauldron cake, 2 sickles, 4 knuts and, thankfully, his wand gripped tightly in his hand. Standing up, Ron brushed himself off and realised above all else he was hot. He shedded his cloak over his arm and began following a nearby path.

After 10 minutes of walking, Ron began to get worried. Death Eaters were attacking his friends and he went MIA. Paranoia rushed through him, imagining the deaths of his friends and sister by all possible methods.
That was when a traveller came into his vision.
He yelled out in desperation and began running at them.

"Excuse me, Sir? Can you tell me where I am?", he called as he got closer to the scruffy man. His trousers were strangely loose around the crotch and the threads tying up his clothes were thick and frayed. The whole ensemble made the man resemble a medieval peasant more than a regular muggle or wizard.

"I am clearly no fucking Ser, boy. I don't need your disrespect!", The anger in his voice threw Ron, obviously this man was homeless or a hermit and ashamed of it. His slight frame attested to the small amount of food he was receiving and ron instantly felt sorry for him.

"O - oh, I'm sorry I'm just very lost. Could you tell me where we are?"

"A short walk from Kings Landing. It's that way", he pointed, then glanced at the Gryffindor Crest on Ron's jumper. the man's face turned sour, he spat on the ground then stormed off into the woods, muttering about 'Lannisters' the whole time.
Thrown by the whole encounter Ron carried on walking but at a faster pace.
just as the man said the wood soon thinned and he caught a glimpse of one of the most majestic castles he had ever seen. The fortress couldn't hold a candle to Hogwarts of course but it was still pretty. The small city around it also added to the image however the greatest reduction was definitely the smell.

The oder of dung rose from the area strongly making Ron a feel a little ill. while walking closer to the city gates, Ron also noticed the low quality state of all the buildings. The red-heads own unbalances mismatched house seem a clear sight greater than any of these precarious structures at the head of the city. Noticing the more of the people Ron began to get nervous. No one looked right. Women's dresses reached the floor and they all seemed to be wearing corsets. Men, however, all had the same strange trousers and were wearing what looked like tunics instead of shirts or robes. More scarily, plenty of people had swords or daggers at their hips.

Tense, Ron approached a safe-looking woman. "Excuse me miss? Could you tell me what day it is? "

"Day 4 2nd moon, milord", The fuck?!

"Sorry and the year? I've been completely out of it lately." At that, the woman frowned and looked at him strangely.

"298, milord."

Nodding Ron thanked her, plain ignoring the 'lord' comments and leant against a nearby tree. His eyes started tearing up and he began shaking. He had Time travelled.

Author's Note: First Story so it may be a bit rough.