Game of Thrones Tales: Back to the Throne Room…
Summary: There's only one solution when Tyrion and Sansa have found the new King as mad as the Mad Targaryen and cynically evil, once on the throne, as Joffrey. So evil he's happily allowed the world to be invaded by unspeakably hideous creatures from some little planet out on the spiral rim of the Galaxy, to secure his reign of terror.
Part XXXVI…
The Dining Hall of Castle Black, currently resounding with an old melody of Westeros, sung by Samwell Tarly's more accomplished Stewards and less well by some of the Watch at table. Aegon merrily joining in from his seat, as were Tyrion and the Acting Commander, Sansa watching with amusement, having noted it too low and unfamiliar to her to join in.
"Till the snows do cover our…Bones…" long drag out on the "Bonnnneeesss…"
"You've never heard this one, my Lady?" Aegon smiled at her. "I understood it to be a well-loved North tune."
"She's deceiving us, Your Grace…" Tyrion mock-frowned at her. "She'd rather it not be known a genteel lady should have been acquainted with this one."
"Please, I've heard and sung far worse." Sansa grinned, just a bit of blush at Aegon's kindly smile.
"We're teasing her too much, Lord Hand." Aegon, mock-reproving. "My Lady, forgive us."
"Not at all your Grace…" she beamed. "But allow me to punish my wicked husband in my own way later."
"Granted…As I would willingly anything of honor to you, Lady." Smiling bow.
"Pardon, your Grace…Pardon…" Tyrion, mock-pleading. "My little witch is just too cruel."
"Impossible, my Lord Hand." Aegon demurred, wave of hand at him, smile to Sansa. "You'll have to bear her wrath. So, Lady…" he addressed Sansa who archly smiled at Tyrion.
"…What punishment does your husband deserve for all he's put you through? It seems to me he's mocked your devoted love cruelly."
"None that I wouldn't endure myself for love of him." Sansa, quick reply.
"The fair answer of a loving heart…" Aegon nodded. "And yet, there's nothing more cruel than to betray loyal devotion and love. You're getting off too lightly, my friend." Smile to Tyrion.
"I know I couldn't bear such betrayal." Quiet smile.
"May you never know such…Your Grace." Sansa hastily as the room quieted, a few looking over to the King. Her face paling only slightly as Tyrion glanced at her.
"I'm sure I never shall…Not from my loving subjects nor my loyal advisers." Aegon, gracious nod.
"What about another of these wonderful songs?!" Tyrion urged, hearty tone. "Watchman Tarly…Our budding Maester to be, how about you?" he turned to a waiting Samwell, who like the others had noted the slight chill in tone.
"Well, my Lord…" Samwell hesitated. "I'm not much for singing…"
"There's a pity…You seem fit to be a fine singer." Tyrion smiled. "Ah, but how about something a bit different…" he turned to the Lieutenant seated next to Sansa. "Our guest the Lieutenant must know some interesting songs suitable for feasts and social occasions on many worlds. You were born off-E'arth, isn't that right?"
"Trantor, Lord Tyrion." The Lieutenant nodded. "I do know one good one, from Earth."
"Please, by all means…" Tyrion waved. "Your Grace?" he turned to Aegon who'd recovered his joviality.
"Yes, yes, by all means, Lieutenant…" Aegon urged.
"Well…Forgive the voice, folks. Your Majesty…" The Lieutenant hesitated.
"Show me the way to go home
I'm tired and I want to go to bed
I had a little drink about an hour ago
And it's gone right to my head
Everywhere I roam
Over land or sea or foam
You can always hear me singing this song
Show me the way to go home."
"Good, good!" Tyrion raised mug as the group clapped… "Now there's a song perfectly suited to fellows like me. Lets see, now… Show me the way to go home
I'm tired and I want to go to bed…Oh this is quite good…Everyone?!"
Various guards, knights, sewards, Sansa, Aegon carefully joining in…
"I had a little drink about an hour ago
And it's gone right to my head
Everywhere I roam
Over land or sea or foam
You can always hear me singing this song."
Tyrion, arm on a beaming Sansa. "Not bad but lets try one more time…Darling?" She smiling…
In ultra low bass…
"Show me the way to go home…"
"Ah, ha, ha! Excellent, my lady!" Aegon clapping…Tyrion, raising mug to her arch look…
"Everyone!" Tyrion called…
All:
"I'm tired and I want to go to bed
I had a little drink about an hour ago
And it's gone right to my head…" He and Sansa rocking in unison now…Swinging mugs, others joining…
"Everywhere that I roam
Over land or sea or foam
You can always hear me singing this song
Show me,,, the way to…Go…Home…"
"Wonderful!" Aegon beamed, raising mug to Tyrion, Sansa, and the Lieutenant in turn.
If you only knew how wonderful…Tyrion thought, eyeing the Lieutenant…
….
Storm's End...Waterfront near the old keep...Twilight falling...
Admiral Seaworth walking slowly, pondering...
Melisandre? The former (or if truth be told still, though without any openly remaining followers) high priestess of the bizarre faith of the Light Lord, former wife to Tyrion Lannister? Though he knows nothing of her strange and tragic journey after what she views as his abandonment. Though even in her bitter rage, she offered him excuse...His father, his brother...He may have known nothing. It was as if she was eager to excuse him...And so anxious was she to tell her tale, once started, at last, to anyone, he'd had to stop her, not wishing to draw question even from the arrogantly unconcerned Dirters, with a promise to return and hear all. Truth? She might be mad or on the verge of it but surely there had to be something in that madness to focus on little Tyrion rather than say, Jaime or Tywin or even Stannis or Robert as some crazed fantasy in her entombment. No, there was truth in her mad declaring. And even, whatever else, Love. All the nightmare she'd wrot? For love of Tyrion Lannister? "Tell him Tysha has not forgotten him..."
A threat? Yet it came as a desperate plea.
"Tell him...Tell my husband..." her final words repeating the first... "Tysha has not forgotten him."
In that dank cell, she'd still recovered an energy, an unnatural radiance, the telling, the words tumbling out, providing her with a fire as great as that of her crumbling faith. Or perhaps it had always been that fire, love or hate or both, in strange compound, that had given her such fanaticism in the Faith she'd used as her instrument of revenge.
"They tore our world apart and I, tore theirs...His father, his brother... His sister…"
Yes, indeed you did, he thought. Though hardly the sole cause, you did.
"And Lord Stannis...? My princess? Tools for you vengeance?" he'd asked her, repressing his own rage as best he could.
"I took no 'vengeance', Lord Davos. I followed the path laid for me by the Light Lord. Lord Stannis was my erring but I believed him the Chosen One. But the Light heard me in my despair and Evil fell before it...Until..."
"The murder of innocents was Evil, Lady."
"I failed the Light." She shook head, bleakly. "And fell onto a wrong path, perhaps hate blinded me for a time. But I believed and I never, I never...Took my vengeance on them. You know I responded as you wished to the Lannister whore's plea for her bastard and brought him back. I left them all to the Light to deal with as He sought fit." Wan smile... "And you saw, He did."
As he'd risen from where he'd inclined to hear her low, soon exhausted, voice, explaining that he had to go before the time aroused suspicion, promising to return, she'd eyed him, pleading... "I took no vengeance myself, tell my lord."
My gods, he paused as he walked. "Admiral?" A call...
Pleading to her beloved little god that she hadn't personally killed...His family.
…
The living quarters of the partial ruined Builders' Keep…
Having finished a hearty dinner of venison stew, bread, and ale, Hanuk and Arya had been shown to their sleeping quarters, clearly what passed for the finest rooms still remaining, though rather bare and in need of some further repair to the wall mortar, the wind whistling in a bit. The stoked fire and the blankets brought in by the aged Calley being most welcome, Arya'd noted.
"Aye, Ser Calley…" Hanuk had somewhat woozily if eagerly agreed. Calley giving smiling bow and heading out.
"Are you quite comforable, my lady?" Hanuk's slurred speech from her bed. "You may have one of my blankas if you are not."
"I'm fine, Mistress Hanuk." Arya, calmly. Watching carefully from under covers, the fire casting shadows upon both beds.
It wasn't likely she'd have taken anything beforehand to recognize and/or block a general potion like the mix in her ale but equally possible she was very good at portraying someone under the influence. The paralysis would be the key. The Dirters hadn't penetrated the Order and couldn't know all details of their methods…I hope, she thought. If Hanuk was aware of her drugging, her assumption that it was merely a potion to render unconscious would reveal itself soon.
"My La..dy…My hands aslepe…Are you well?" Hanuk called.
"My foot's asleep, it must be the bed frame, it presses. I'm fine." Arya returned.
"Yesss…"
"Try to get some rest, Mistress." Arya called, to no response.
"Hanuk? Are you alright?" concerned tone. She emerged from the bed, moving carefully.
Hanuk, eyes open, flat on bed…
Either very good or they didn't expect this…Arya noted to herself. "Mistress Hanuk?!" she shook her, the body rigid.
"Hanuk?" she put mouth close to ear.
Still breathing but shallow, she noted. Lifting an arm carefully which remained stiff in the air.
"Mistress, are you alright? I think you're struck ill. I'm going to fetch the Watchmen." Arya told her.
She went to the door, opening carefully, slipping out into the hall and closing door… "Master Calley? Master Bledsa? My lady is ill!"
In Hanuk's voice, quite perfectly…