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 IV…
The erect form of the white-haired Lady Addams in her gleaming black battle armor…(The spitting image of Margaret Hamilton, with white hair…)
Newly polished, Gomez noted to Morticia...The little fox knew I was going to give her the conn, he grinned…
…As she faced the rows of boys and men…Pugsly and the boys of House Stark and their dependents, now wards of House Addams…The visiting Robbed Stark, new head of House Stark, his brothers Branded "Bran" Stark and Ricketts Stark, all three in black mourning for their parents, the younger boys being left as wards to train under the watchful if twisted eye of their father's dear friend Lord Gomez…Now Robbed had confirmed to his satisfaction that Lord Gomez would not immediately slit their throats as part of a barbaric medieval power play by sending one brother in at a time over several days…Their "foster brother"/hostage Fearing Greatjerk…Their "other" brother, the bastard Jon Snowed…Several of the men of House Stark's knights and soldiers…And the knights and soldiers of House Addams, including such legendary figures as Ser Egony de la Boil, Ser Twil Theend, Ser Caligula the Crazy, Ser Fuke Thiess, the great female knight Ser Portia DeRossi, the famed "The Terminator" Ser Arnold de Schwarzenegger.
"All right, you scum…You vermin…" Eyes blazing. "You've had it soft for now, haven't ye? Yes, ye have. Well, you'll rue the day you decided to sign up for the Mama corps! Now, drop and give me twenty!"
Stares… "But, ma'am?" A voice, the rather sniveling one of Greatjerk, the hostage… "We're all in our armor."
She came to him…"Two paces forward, scum!" she cried. "Greatjerk, the Stark 'ward'/hostage is it? Answer, me, filth!"
"Uh, yes, ma'am…" Greatjerk, a bit startled.
Lady Addams has had a rep as a fighter but she seemed so creepily and hopelessly senile in the days he's been at Swampflood.
"You're in your armor, eh…Filth!? She barked.
"Yes, ma'am."
"Think I'm a doddering old fool who can't see that, you scum sucking little mass of toad vomit!" she screamed in his stunned face.
"Uh…No, ma'am."
"Speak up, manure head! I'm an old doddering fool, I can't hear you!"
"NO! MA'AM!"
"You pathetic little wuss, too cowardly to escape, like your captivity do, ye?!"
"Well, Robbed is like a brother to me, Ned Stark was like a second, really decent, as opposed to my own indifferent asshole, father…Ma'am…"
"You miserable filth! GET DOWN IN THAT MIRE AND GIVE ME TWENTY CRUNCHES!"
"Crunches, ma'am? In armor?"
"'Crunches, ma'am…In armor?'" she repeated, mockingly. "Yes, TWENTY CRUNCHES IN ARMOR, you Tin Island twit! GET DOWN!" she threw him down in the mire. "ONE…!"
Metal groaning, Fearing groaning… Clang as she kicked his suit… "TWO! MOVE YOUR WORTHLESS SACK OF TOAD SHIT!"
"Mama is having a ball…" Gomez noted to Morticia as they watched from a balcony.
Snicker in the ranks…
"WHO LAUGHED!? Pugsly Addams, you worthless fat sack of cow dung! Step forward!" she stepped over to face Pugsly, who'd snickered.
"Hello, Jonny…" she beamed at Snowed who smiled back.
"Drop that bloated ball of lard in the mire and give me TWENTY-FIVE!" she screamed at Pugsly, who fell to the ground and began making an effort to manage one crunch.
"Getting on here at Swampflood, Jon…?" she asked, warmly. "I know it's a new place and all but we're all so glad to…ADDAMS, GET THE LARD OUT!" she hollered down at Pugsly.
"Mama doesn't play favorites…" Gomez nodded. "She does seem fond of that illegitimate son of Ned's, Jon Snowed, though…" Morticia noted.
"Oh…Does she?" Gomez, a bit reserved.
"Gomez?" Morticia eyed him. "What are you implying?"
"Wild horses could drag it out of me…But French would do it…Faster…" he noted, eyeing her.
"I'm so sorry about your father, Jonny…He was a fine man in his way…" Lady Addams noted. "Probably one of the handsomest young men I ever…Knew…I remember…GREATJERK, you filthy piece of Tin Island crap! Keep those crunches coming, you SCUM! And you, too, Addams!... When he came to our camp during the Rebellion and spent the night." She resumed, beaming at Jon.
"Gomez…?" Morticia, shrewd smile. "Are you telling me that the rumors about Mama and Ned Stark…?"
"At least one word, Tish…Only fair…" he noted.
"Boobela…" she smiled.
"Cara…" he beamed…. Taking her arm…Kissing… "Yes, Mama took a great interest in all the young warriors during the Rebellion." Kiss up arm… "Ned being one of the handsomest, she naturally took very great interest…" Kiss, kiss…
"Gomez…The King's coming…The children…"
"Ah, yes…" he sighed.
"We've things to do later…On the roof…" Morticia eyed him, Mona Lisa smile.
"Cara…" he beamed.
"Addams you pathetic tub of oily lard…Greatjerk you miserable shark chum…Both of you, on your feet and give me twenty laps round the Keep!" Lady Addams hollered. "The rest of you, present arms! Now, run in place till I give word to stop! You think I didn't mean you, 'Terminator'?!" she hollered in the frightened huge face of Ser Arnold, who began running in place desperately, groaning as the armor chaffed knees and bottom. "MOVE THOSE LEGS! Or you'll be terminated, you soft sack of flab! Are your rooms comfy, Jonny?" she addressed Jon as he ran in place.
"Where are Wednesday and that dashing Ser Lotus?" Lord Gomez asked.
"She wanted to help dress his wounds, which weren't severe though Fester was demanding the surgeon let him hack the leg off with his hatchet. So he could mount it for Wednesday as a trophy of her prowess."
"That Fester, an indulgent uncle if there ever was one." Gomez noted.
"I'm a bit worried about Wednesday, Gomez." Morticia noted. "I think she may have developed a bit of a crush on Ser Lotus."
"Really? Well, he is reputed to be one of the three handsomest men in the Kingdom, Jamie Lannister and I being the other two, not necessarily in that order."
"I would agree as to order…" Morticia beamed. "But you do know the rumors about Ser Lotus?" she eyed him.
"And the cows? No, that was Ser Arnold…" Gomez reflected. "Oh…Those rumors…" he nodded, sagely.
….
Meanwhile, just north of the great Wall blocking the prosperous Southlands of Westeros and the not so prosperous but still fairly pleasant Midlands and the somewhat grim but bearable and offering great skiing and vistas for tourists, lower North from the ever wintry, icy, generally unbearable in an era of medieval technology, upper North…Oddly yet still south of the delightfully pleasant and prosperous Essosian Free City of Braavly across the Sailable Sea, a party of Black Rangers from the order of the Night's Watchers has come across something rather disturbing…
"It's not so much that the guts of these wildling kids and their families were on display…" the reporting Ranger noted to his young but stereotypically arrogantly foolish commander Ser Pompeous of Oafly. "It was when the kids, then the others sucked them back up inside and started moving around…Especially when the decapitated infant put its head back and started crawling towards me, shoving its guts back in as it did."
"Nonsense, you damned fool." Ser Pompeous sneered. "You were drinking and sleeping or just spazzing out. Next you'll be telling us the legends of Blue-White Walker Zombie Guys leading such dead people are true and that you saw a UFO and were taken aboard and anally probed, like Ser Gorg last year."
"Well, Commander, Ser Gorg still says…"
"I tell you what, you miserable turnip, ex-con, and thief…"
"No, sir…That's Lesley here, I'm the bastard disposable son of a noble house…"
"Oh, right…Sorry. No offense intended." Apologetic look. "Anyway, I'll tell you what, you miserable bastard…When I turn around and am immediately eviscerated by a dead girl with blue eyes who still manages to be kinda hot though frozen pale, backed by a horde of other dead people, holding in their eviscerated guts as you described so graphically, led by a rather commanding if zombified Blue-White Walker guy on a dead horse that's even more shit-kicking terrifying than the dead people, and that dead baby takes its head off and the head says "Hi, guys!"….I'll believe…" he eyes the fear-paralyzed motley crew of hapless misfits he'd rather foolishly…But then arrogantly foolish was his nature…Agreed to lead into the deadly North of North. "What?" he turned to face said dead girl offering him a blank, bright blue-eyed stare and rather fetching smile before she sliced his head off.
No talking head of baby though, although everything else did fit his scenario, the dead charging and overrunning the party in seconds as the Blue-White Walker leader on said dead and yes, most terrifying, horse nodded to the boy who'd seen them initially.
If I were you, his look saying…
I'd be…
The boy wisely heeding the free advice, running like a maniac for the Wall…Where he paused at the open gate only to suggest they consider closing it as all legions of Hell were on his heeds and continued on, passing through the gate on the other side to the South…
"Hey! You need a pass, hey! I've got your name!" the elderly guard on duty at the South gate, Ser Shakesalot Wetpalmy, calling after him.
"Well, that's one more for ax practice…" he sighed to the steward on duty with him. "Send word south. Say, what do you suppose freaked him out so?"
"Bet he saw Ser Gorg's UFO…" the steward nodded solemnly, sporting his "I Want To Believe" T-shirt under his open, heavy fur coat..
