Game of Thrones Tales: Lannister Family Values
Summary: In an alternative universe, King Robert calls on a different old friend and brother to assist him. But whose decency, kindness, and sense of honor, while a bit different from Ned Stark's are equally strong. But are the family values of House Addams a match for the ruthless Lannisters?
Part LXVI…
"You gonna do this or…?" Danerys eyed the somewhat recovered Rachel as they entered the City of Barth Public Dungeons, a guard down the hall springing to attention. The crowd outside the gates of the fortress rather surprisingly small, partly from fear of the Chancellor Guard, largely from a developed indifference to both the Targaryen princess and her dragons.
Seen once, seen all…And the Barth Circus is in town…With real Doofraki swordswallowers, a Giant…Well, a giant guy of ten feet, not a Giant…A very clever elephant who does math with her trunk…One of those Far North smarter than the average Night Ranger bears…And…Fortune tellers. Who they say are predicting when winter will come…And that Joffrey Barftheron is out as Westeros heir…And that Tatiana Maslany will win the Golden Sphere this year for her performance as all the Queens in "Game of Thrones…I and II"…
"Fine…" grim look. "Rachel of Duncan…Administrator of the Dyad Citadel, my pass." Rachel offered metal stamped pass to the guard approaching. "The Princess and her pets…" indicating the two flying dragons hovering near… "Are with me."
"Right…Just let me sign you in." the guard noted. Turning to wax pad, marking with stylus, pressing the secret loose stone under his foot to activate a rather remarkably advanced mechanical alarm system, sounding only in the quarters of the Acting, till crowned Emperor, Chancellor Don.
Not yer average dim or lazy security guard, fella…This be City of Barth dungeons. And that blonde princess lady…And her cute little dragons…Are not supposed to be together…Or here, except in a cell.
Ok, fine…We put out an all points alert when the girly was found to be still absent from her cell on last rounds after the other blondie's exit pass expired…And said exit pass wasn't found to have been counter-signed by the Chancellor as required…And the guard commander on duty then was found stuffed in one of the empty cells, murdered.
When you're a City of Barth dungeon security officer, you catch these signs of trouble…
"There ya go…Hey, those are cute fellas…" waving to the dragons who nodded pleasantly.
"You see, your Highness…I keep my word." Rachel hissed as they strode down the long hall, the dragons pausing to peer through a tiny upper window, at a poor groaning wretch in her cell. Danerys looking over…
"Not one of yours…Just some political prisoner, held for fomenting Democracy…" Rachel looked at cell door plaque.
"Oh right, that one…Athenian Commie scum…!" Danerys called, frowning. "Leave her be, guys. Come on." She pulled at the chains the dragons still bore. Dragon looking down at her, somewhat annoyed.
"F-you, fascist Targaryen bitch!" faint call from cell…
"I tole you…It's just for cover, kid. I'll take em off soon as we get my people out." Danerys shook head at him. Reallygone offering shrug…Then hard stare.
Make it so, Mom…Don't like the chains. I be the free-spirited and loose-burning sort.
Kinda like that poor lady in her cell…Whose political views ranted over the last few evenings sort've appealed to me.
Not really sure if mass murdering the little people with our flame breath is really the best way to win hearts and minds…
"Are you sure this is the way and the right dungeon?" she turned to Rachel. "It looked different when we went out."
"This is the only way in…And this is the only dungeon complex in Barth. When I had them bring you you were wearing a hood cover, remember? It's not like we have a system of private dungeons here." Rachel noted.
"Too bad. Those are very profitable I hear." Danerys shrugged.
Oh, yeah, this is the Queen who'll bring freedom and prosperity to all…Sure…Rachel thought.
But the tools one must work with…Lets just hope Dad's mind simonizing process works as well on standard and weirdly inbred humans as well as on clones.
And that he never used Order 666 on me before…Creepy.
"The Doofraki survivors should be just down here…" she noted, waving arm to indicate.
"Hey, guys! It's your Queen!" Danerys called. "Here to rescue your miserable enslaved lives for further service to me!"
Gods…Rachel shook head. Several guards frowning their way from their respective posts…Along with sounds of more guards running up from below, clearly summoned…
She keeps veering from a semblance of competence to…This…
Maybe it's bipolar bimbolarity?
…
Kings Landing, far beneath the Redder Keep, below the dungeons…Now partly emptied per review of long, long, long overdue for trial cases by the new Lord Hand and acting Lord Hand…A vast cavern, hewn from the rock, exiting to well-hidden seaside docks…
"So…This is it…" Cersei, nervously waving arms. "Welcome to the Westeros Wildfire Factory and Containment Facility…Hey there, Cecila." She smiled at a passing large, middle-aged woman pushing a covered cart, who paused in front of a partly filled section of the vast network of shelves to bow politely while uncovering cart.
"My Gods…" Tyrion, staring at the thousands of luminous green wildfire glass jugs, neatly stacked in their shelves. Kindly hurrying to assist Cecila in lifting several jugs from her cart, she pausing him to indicate the "Safety First" tapestry on wall. A peasant in smock holding up one gloved hand, one badly burned hand…Another in closed room, on floor clearly dead from fumes while his counterpart in open room giving…Gloved…Thumbs up.
Right…He nodded, accepting her offer of a pair of safety gloves from the cart, then lifting two jugs…
King Robert grunting appreciatively… Nod to a beaming Cersei…Girl…
"Sister, this is magnificent. Excellent work." Tyrion shook head, doffing gloves. "And I like the concern for safety regs." Waving at the departing Cecila…
"Well…" Cersei, shyly lowering head. "Thanks, Tyrion." Warm smile.
"Nothing I wouldn't have expected of my Queen. Thank Gods I had you to look out for things when I was goin' to pot, Cerse…" Robert beamed, craning head to look at the vast racks of jugs.
Bobbie…Cersei, biting lip shyly. "I'm so glad you're pleased, my liege." She beamed.
"Pleased? I'm overwhelmed." Robert grinned, removing crown…Offering it to her. "Come on, you're the one who deserves this."
"Ohhh…Oh…My sweet…" Cersei, eyeing their attendants standing about...A few grinning slightly. "PR? We don't want people saying stupid things about the King's fitness…" She urging him to restore crown to head. Robert reluctantly doing so…
"Like what? The King's a fat sot who should have left things in his brilliant wife's capable hands years ago." Robert, sternly eyeing various attendants. "Well, they're right. And I'm ashamed to have put so much on you, dear."
"Well, you've been doing a bang-up job of diplomacy and spycraft with Verysmuch and your choice of Hands was excellent." Cersei, hastily. "And no one needs to say how incomparable you are as a battle commander, dearest."
"And miserable with the finances…I know…I'm not quite as dull-witted as I've often seemed, at least a few times I've reviewed the books...Leaving me only more miserable. And I can't blame it all on Middlefinger or your father." Robert sighed. "I let depression and loss get the better of me, never seeing what was right in front of me, true blue support, every night. I am sorry, Cerse."
"Bob." Stern look. "We've been over this. We've both made some whoppers and a good deal of it was the arranged marriage thing but we're past it now and we're gonna be happy as two kids in one of Middlefinger's tragic romances till we croak, right? Agreed?" Cersei eyed him.
"Agreed, babe." Robert beamed, hugging her and spinning her round. She giving quick squeal of delight as attendants wisely looked elsewhere…
"Are you sure this stuff works?" Jamie, rather depressed by the billing and cooing, coming up behind the group, looking round.
"It has been fully tested, Ser Jamie…" the tall, spare, greying…Skin as well as hair, due to some minor production accidents…Meister in charge, Mowbray, now standing by the fascinated Tyrion, nodded.
"But will be demonstrated in a few on an old derelict in the harbor…" Cersei noted, smile to Robert as he examined a jug. "Though not the old derelict sailing the boat, we'll get him off first. We've tested it on plenty of condemned types."
"Terrific!" Robert beamed. "Let 'er rip and lets see her burn!"
"How much did all this cost?" Tyrion turned to the Meister…
"About 40 million Westorians, give or take…But the Queen had it reserved from the petty purse so it didn't affect the primary budget."
"I thought you'd been wearing the same gown once or twice these last few…" Robert eyed Cersei sidelong. "Though nice job with the ribbons and such…"
See…I did notice…He grinned at her smile.
"Well, that's stops now. This goes on the regular war budget, eh, Lord Hand?" he turned to Tyrion.
"Acting…And I hope I'm filling the role somewhat…But we'll see to it at once…Now…" addressing the Meister… "Meister Mowbray, you've looked over Lord Addams' formula for firepowder…?"
"With keen interest, my Lord Hand…And a degree of jealousy…" Mowbray smiled. "We should have figured this one out years ago but Addams is a genius."
"Indeed…" Tyrion nodded. "But can we tool up to produce it? In quantities?"
"No question, my Lord." Mowbray, proudly. "Thanks to our gracious Queen, we have the tools, the men and women, the resources." Nod to a delighted, if shyly nodding Cersei. "But my Lord Hand, I did note in Lord Addams' books that he was experimenting with firepowder as a means of propulsion…" Mowbray eyed Tyrion with eager eye. "Do you know how far he's gone on that? I found it most exciting…A real prospect for high speed transport, even aerial transit…"
"We'll have to talk it over with him…All of us, eh, my Queen?" Tyrion smiled at Cersei who grinned back. "But knowing Gomez Addams, he's conducted some insane but well-documented trials…"
"I would agree, my Lord. So exciting…I'm so grateful you brought this to our attention." Mowbray beamed, rubbing hands. "And for the patronage and support of our most gracious and defense-minded Queen." Warm smile to Cersei who bowed head.
"No way was I letting something like this slip under the radar…" she noted to Robert. "I knew the night Mowbray mentioned wildfire at the monthly Citadel natural philosophy lecture as a concept from old Valyria, it could be the key to defending the capital if we were ever assaulted or besieged."
"A night I was blasted out of my mind and paid no heed…" Robert shook head. "Again…And not to punch out a dying horse, thank the gods for a smart and beautiful wife." Fond smile to Cersei.
"Well, all I can say is…You've put the defensive power of this kingdom decades ahead of any enemies, my Queen." Tyrion bowed to her with smile. "Again, an excellent job, sis. And I agree with Rob…The Kingdom was in good hands with you. There's really no need for me to be here, my Lady Queen." Expansive wave of hands.
"Oh, no…Tyrion…Dear Tyrion." Cersei, shaking head, fond pat of his arm. "My job is to be a good Queen for our Kingdom and a good wife and mother…And advise as best I can…We needed you and Lord Addams to get the mess here put to rights. I've no head for finance nor a lot of the detail work…Bro, please…I'm glad to do anything I can to help but we need you. Both of our Hands." Smile. "After all, Rob was planning to have Ned Stark as Hand with Jon Arryn. There's more than enough work for two geniuses." She smiled fondly. "Don't abandon us, please."
"Well, can't anyway…Dad has made his decree…No offense, Rob my liege…" Tyrion turned to Robert.
"Please… None taken." Robert smiled, waving hand. "Though if Dad-in-law wouldn't mind, me and me Queen here will try to do a bit more."
So…Not only am I out of the sack…Jamie thought, morosely, glancing about…
I'm likely obsolete…Probably here to be a test dummy for roasting in this suit of mine…
"As to that…" Tyrion nodded. "I want…I beg…Her Majesty to continue running these efforts as her own Special Weapons Projects. I'll gladly put my oar in but there's no need to mar perfection in administration…"
"Ditto…And by royal order, done!" Robert agreed.
"Well…" Cersei, nervously smiling. "I guess I can keep on trying to make time…But lets keep my role secret. I wouldn't want people getting the wrong idea. Thinking I'm neglecting my wifely and motherly and Queenly duties to play around."
"Not secret…" Robert frowned. "I want you acknowledged for all this." Wave of hand… "People need to know we've a great Queen who can handle these sorts of things. That we're a two-fer power couple. If I'm off destroying that Targaryen bimbo in Essos, they can rest assured all will be well with Queen Cersei in charge."
"Bobbie…But I wouldn't want you to go alone…" nervous look. "And Lords Gomez and Tyrion can defend the realm while…We're off conquering Essos. You did promise me the wingwoman spot." She grinned.
"Well, sure…Just so long as everyone knows who did all this…" Robert, firmly. "Well, Meister…" he turned to Meister Mowbray. "Lets go sink an old ship! And then I want to hear more about this propulsion thing. Just how fast do you think a firepowder spear could go? And could it be manned? What about stuffing some of this wildfire into one, eh? We could hit an enemy from miles away."
"Oooh, yes!" Cersei beamed. "We gotta see if the transport chamber can hold this stuff…Heck, forget catapults, if it can."
"Well, if we can provide enough shielding for a man or animal in the chamber, I can't see why not wildfire…" Robert noted, thoughtfully. "Gomez had an idea for using a fireproofed wood shield to keep weight down…"
"Robert…My liege…" Tyrion, shrewd smile. "Have you been reading up on this?"
"Tis time the King got off his fat ass and went to work with his Missus, Lord Hand." Robert smiled. "And if a bit techy, it was pretty good reading…Especially when said Missus read it to me." Grin to Cersei…
Lovely…Jamie sighed. Now they're sharing intellectual pursuits?
Gods…She never so much as suggested ever reading a book together…During all our fornications.
….
Ex-heir, Prince Joffrey's new and less exalted suite…
Where he and Sansa were currently, heavily engaged…
Joffrey frowning at us…Hey…
If you people are gonna observe from the fourth wall, you'll be polite. We done had our steamy sex scene, this is the girl I…Don't loathe and despise as much as I once did…
"Ok…How many names so far?" Sansa asked…Leaning over the parchment with quill…
As she lay on bed…In her cloth shift, long hair loose…Parchment on box.
Just hangin' out plottin' with my beau ideal…She eyes us, with smile. Just Joff and Sans, at home, making mayhem…And…Out…Coy smile.
Joffrey seated in his "Iron Throne" imitation chair, intently scanning a book of calfskin vellum just acquired from his Queen mother's bedroom…
Fortunately, for the first time in days, she and Dad were out for a while with Uncles Tyr and Jamie…
Thank the gods it's nothing unusual for servants to find me prowling about Mom's room…Though they're definitely getting more uppity since my cut from the succession. I actually had to ask Tommen to ok my being there.
As always, being a really sweet kid, he was happy to…
"Joff? We gotta this book back to your Mom's room asap…And don't get messy fingerprints or that barbeque sauce all over it." Sansa cautioned.
"Right, sorry…Just kinda astonishing how many bastards Mom's listed here…" Joffrey noted, looking up. "Did she really think anyone would believe Dad fathered this many?"
"Well, he is Robert Barftheron…" Sansa shrugged. "He'd certainly have been with enough whores to make it so, if he actually could."
"True…" beam. "And thanks for the nod to Dad's faked prowess." Frown. "Though it's one more reason to beat you to death if our plan fails…Can't let anyone know of the said faked prowess, you know, if Dad must stay on the throne."
"You're a good son, Joff." Sansa offered beam, looking the edge of the bed.
Gods, she's so pretty when she smiles without faking it to please people…Joffrey thought.
"I try, in my psychotic ways. When not actively plotting Dad's overthrow. Ok…We're at the Gs…Gently, Gregor, Grovenor, Grover…Grub…GrubII? Dad must've been hungry. Hmmn…"
"What?"
"No, that's the start of the Hs…Hugh, Hurley, Hurlong…Thank gods they're all Summers…" he noted. "Gods, this will be one mammoth bloodfest. It's almost a shame, if Dad had really managed this, he could have bred a Barftheron Master Race, like the Doofraki experiments in selective breeding by Khan Genghis Noonen Khan. I would have had like a zillion step-slaves…"
Sansa, nervous look about room…
"What? I woulda just massacred and replaced the current peasantry population with my subordinate, inferior relations…Oh." Joffrey nodded. "They might get uppity about being half-Barftherons and challenge me one day, demand days off…Less random torture and killings…I get it. We really should maintain that genetic standard of Barftheron excellence, not dilute the pool. Anyway, just a wishful thought, none of these losers...Very literally, kids…Are true Barftherons like me."
"Yeah…" She nodded, hastily.
…
The lower dungeons of the City of Barth dungeon complex…
"Khannessi…?" Ser Jonah stared as he heard her calls… "Hey, Ser Jonah?! You still here?!"
"Hey…" Pleased tone from the hallway outside his cell. "Stand back from the door!"
Stop…Wait…I have a key…Rachel sighed, rolling eyes, as she stood by Danerys who waved to Drogon to blast the door off its hinges…As he and Reallygone had blasted back the charging guards above, the survivors falling back to regroup…
Well, if she roasts the poor wretch alive, one more trusted supporter gone from her.
Though I was really hopin' to have Ser Jonah…
I mean that…She eyes us. Not playin' coy here, the guy is the hottest thing I've ever seen, plus he's just so nobly sweet if pathetically depressed. Girl, if I were the white blondie princess and he were my top aide…?
Closed door conferences 24/7…For a month at a time…
The door flaming…Drogon at Danerys' wave, kicking it back…
"Ser Jonah?! You ok?!"
Danerys eyeing Rachel at the echo…
"Just trying to help…I know how important Ser Jonah's wise counsel is to you, your Highness." Rachel, solemnly.
I wonder if he'd go for me in a long white blonde wig with purple contacts…She thought as she followed Danerys in.
"Ser Jonah?! You're ok!" Danerys beamed.
A somewhat half-baked…Literally…Ser Jonah staring up at her from the cell floor his manacles were chained to…
Well… "Ok"…Might have been going too far…But clearly alive.
"Let me have Drogon blast those chains…" Danerys began…Rachel hastily interrupting as Drogon looked a bit perturbed…Mom? It's not like I can narrow it to a fine cutting edge, ya know?
"No need…I have a key."
"Oh, that'll do…" Danerys taking key before Rachel could move to free Ser Jonah. Unlocking the manacles as he tried to warn her off…
They're a bit warm, my Khannessi…Oh, right…He thought as she held one without any sign of pain.
"Come on…" she moved to help him up. "We've got our last folks outside, I've got two of my dragons, time to go find Viserion and let Trumpo Don know the wedding's definitely off."
"Certainly…Khanessi…Just…A moment, please." Ser Jonah gasping…More from her heels again digging into his side than the burns…
"Here, let me help…" Rachel, offering arm, beaming smile. "It's fine…" as he eyed her narrowly. "I'm on Team Targaryen as her Highness will confirm."
Yeah…If you leggo my depressed guy and chief councilor, I might. So long as you can get us outta here…Danerys thought, taking Ser Jonah's other arm.
"I see…" Ser Jonah, standing with effort in spite of the determined efforts of the two women to keep him firmly to their side.
Drogon eyeing Reallygone with amusement as they hovered, peering into the cell…
Mom's finally got competition I see. Good on you, step-dad.
…