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 XV…
Evening…The royal camp, about ten Westerosian miles from the entrance gate of the capital…
"I can't believe you like that dork…"Arya Stark, short, brunette, boyish in her plain shirt, deerskin jacket, and leather buskins frowning as she sat before a bonfire with her tall, blonde, girly girlish sister Sansa in her blue traveling dress and ladies' equestrian jacket and hat, the only proper outfit for a traveling lady of noble house.
"Prince Joffrey is not a 'dork'…He's heir to the throne and my betrothed. Noble, valiant, and charming to his well-manicured fingertips…And cute as the dickens…" Sansa, dreamily.
"If you call 'valiant' the fact he likes to torture cats but he's pure chicken-shit around his dad." Arya rolled eyes.
"It's a phase boys go through…" Sansa insisted. "He's always been very nice to me."
"Cause his mom and dad made him…You're prime marital fodder, northern real estate wise, Sans." Arya shook head. "The jerk's a pervert if you ask me…More Targaryn than Barftheron…If he were older I'd put my money on his mom having slept with the Mad King rather than her brother…"
"Arya!" Sansa hissed. "That's a foul rumor…"
"Bet a blood test by that method Maester Luwyn back at Winterfalls showed us could tell what blood a man or animal carries would say otherwise…" Arya, archly.
Wednesday, in somewhat fancy black dress…Her mother a bit startled to have found her daughter suddenly anxious to be dressed as a proper Addams lady having hurriedly pulled it together before Lord Gomez's and the royal crew's departure to Winterfalls, then the capital…Approached the Stark girls as they sat by a fire.
"Gods…" Sansa hissed… "It's that creepy Wednesday Addams…Lets get away from here before she comes. Now she's one I'd believe was strangely parented except that whole Addams clan is weird."
"Eh, Wed's ok. Though she's been actin' goofy on this trip…All girly, like you…" Arya shrugged. "But if you wanna go off in the dark, with animals, drunken knights experienced in various GOP- approved versions of rape, and King Robert around…By all means." she waved a hand.
Uh…
"I'll stay. It wouldn't be polite to go off if you're not going." Sansa noted.
"Whatever…" Arya shrugged.
"Hey." Wednesday waved, coming over.
"Yo." Arya nodded, friendly wave.
"Lady Addams…" Sansa, polite nod. "Do come and join us."
"Don't mind if I do…Lady Stark." Wednesday, quickly aping Sansa's style.
After all…Mom's always saying Sansa Stark's sort who gets married to a princely heir type…Even if she's always seemed achingly boring till now.
She took seat by the fire on the driest spot she could find.
"So…Mourning your dead parents?" she asked, seeking a proper yet relevant conversational topic as a lady should…
Sansa frowning but silent…Arya, shaking head.
"Way past that…I'm workin' out how I'll kill Ser Walter after I learn a few sword tricks with the piece my brother gave me." She proudly pulled out the sword her half-brother Jon had given her back at Winterfalls as a token of remembrance and in memory of her slaughtered parents and appreciation of her preference for personal vengeance.
"Whoa…Nice piece…" Wednesday's eyes lit up.
Sansa frowning… "A lady does not carry such vile things."
Hmmn…Wednesday pondered…Cool sword vs impressin' Ser Lotus with her ladylike qualities…
Tough call…
But one can always resume one's sword play and ax-wielding after the wedding, like Grandma did. Then it's like a bonding thing with the hubs…As well as contributing that often decisive extra sword or ax to the fight.
"When the Citadel Maesters perfect the revolver, I'll glad pack one…" Arya noted… "Till then, it's me IcePick…" she waved her sword about.
"Gods! You'll stick someone with that thing!" Sansa hollered, dodging.
"That's the point, kiddo." Arya noted. "Weds? Wanna grab a stick and we'll play Knights and evil rapist Knights?"
"Uh…" Wednesday pondered, looking about…
Hmmn…No sign of Ser Lotus…
"Thank Gods Prince Joffrey isn't around…You can be so embarrassing, Arya." Sansa fumed.
"Yeah…? Well not all of us can be simps…'Oh, no, Prince Jofo, I'm not the type to fight for the honor of me house and avenge me parents. I wanna be Queen and do your laundry while you go kill cats or torture peasants.' Geesh…" Arya, scornfully.
"It's not our place to do the personal vendetta thing…The boys'll do that." Sansa insisted. "Besides, as Queen I could get Joff to kill Ser Walter for political reasons and seduce him into making it painful." She noted calmly.
Arya eyed Wednesday…Wednesday, Arya. Both offering surprised nods…
Not all that bad a plan, really.
"I doubt you'd have to seduce that twerp into torturing anyone…He'd be pleased to do it, probably wouldn't legally kill someone any other way." Wednesday noted.
"Fer sure…" Arya nodded. A Southlands expression she'd picked up on the trip and found she rather liked…
"How dare you call my betrothed a twerp?!" Sansa fumed.
"Is it on for real?" Wednesday stared. "I figured when your pa and ma got croaked, it was off…"
"Queen Cersei says the lamentable accidental deaths of our dear parents will make no difference to the arrangements." Sansa sniffed, proudly. "He's still all mine…"
"And you are welcome to him…" Wednesday sighed with relief. "The way he was sniffing around me at Swampflood during the visit, I thought for sure his dad had decided to seal the Hand deal with me. Take him, please. And thanks." She grinned at the grinning Arya.
"Joffrey was…?" Sansa, blinking…Eyes locking narrowly with grim and growing hatred.
My Joff?
"He was all over me like a sick puppy…" Wednesday shook her head. "'Oooh Lady Wednesday, please let me walk you to the gate'…'Oooh, Lady Wednesday, here's a nest of baby robins I had my Airedale bring down and strangle for you this fair morning'…Gods…So embarrassing…"
"You're not fit to receive a beating from one of his guards!" Sansa, furious, rising as if to stalk off.
"Wooooo….Grrrrrrr…" Arya, grinning as she made animal noises. Sansa glaring but thinking better of stalking off into gods' know what terrors of the night, sat again.
"It's not proper to speak of the heir to the throne that way. Not that he could be seriously interested in you. He was just being princely and all, as befitting a charming princely guest in your home."
Which I will see is burned to the ground when I'm Queen, Sansa thought grimly.
Hmmn…Wednesday reflected.
Perhaps not the sort of thing Ser Lotus would approve of…In his future bride.
Probably not good politically either for the sake of his House…
"You think I should apologize…?" Wednesday, a bit anxiously.
"Apologize?" Arya snorted with derision. "I'd gut him and dump the body in the nearest pig trough."
"Arya!" Sansa glared, but eyed Wednesday with suspicion.
This sounds like trouble…
"No." she shook head. "It would be best if you kept as far away from the Prince as possible. Bury your misguided behavior in memory and for shame avoid him at all times. All times…" she nodded.
I wonder how much a skilled assassin costs? Surely to kill a little bitch like Wednesday it couldn't be too expensive…
"You don't think I should say I'm sorry your Highness or something?" Wednesday asked.
"Not a word…Nor a look…Just let it be forgotten." Sansa insisted.
"Gods you two are both wussies…" Arya frowned. "But she's giving you the business, Wed. I wouldn't waste spit on him but if you're concerned you made a faux pas, I'd just tell him you're sorry. Ask your dad, the new Hand, he'll back me up."
"Arya…" Sansa hissed.
Maybe assassins do two-fers at cut rates, she pondered.
"Sansa…" Arya glared. "Instead of bitchin' about that wuss you might be helpin' me plan how we'll avenge our house on Ser Walter…Though first I do wanna find out who put him up to it. Jon and Robbed were sure he'd never have had the guts to do it on his own. Someone offered him protection if things went South. And that someone is here, in the South…In that city…" she nodded at the lights of Kings' Landing.
"Maybe the Lannisters…" Wednesday shrugged. "Though, it does seem stupid for a guy as clever as Tywin's supposed to be to go and kill two Hands of the King in succession when he could have made a bid for the throne long ago. My gran doesn't think Tywin's behind it."
"Well, I'll keep them on my list…But I want to be sure I get everyone…" Arya noted. "So for now, I'll hone me killin' skills and get the lay of the land while your father's power opens doors and protects us. Tell me he won't be as easy as a mark as me own wonderful but naïve dad?"
"Arya?!" Sansa, shocked.
"Oh, come on…It's true. Dad was an honorable guy but it was naively stupid of him to believe people would act as honorably as he did." Arya shrugged. "When you play Game of Thrones you best be ready to get down in the blood-stained mud and kill, kill, kill till you win or die. I mean to win." She patted IcePick.
"Cool…I'll be rootin' for ya, from the sidelines as I marry Ser Lotus." Wednesday noted happily.
Hmmn? Sansa stared.
Well…If she lookin' that way…
Maybe the cash layout on an assassin can wait…
Wait.
"You? And that poof?" Arya blinked. "Wed, the guy's flamin'. Everyone says he's with Rently Barftheron…They might as well be married…And could be in Bravvosly…The Most Progressive of the Free Cities after Athens and its commie democracy talk."
"Arya…!" Both Sansa and Wednesday in chorus…
"Wussies, the both of ya…" she frowned at them.
Kaboom…A loud blast not far from them…Sparks flying…
All three eyeing each other as men and women screamed, horses neighed frantically and some broke from their posts.
"Pa?!" Wednesday called as Lord Gomez, face and clothes blackened, happily emerged from the black beyond their fire, King Robert in happy tow…
"Now that's fire powder!" Robert happily beamed to Gomez as they walked toward the ladies... "Lassies! Nice to see ya…Lady Wednesday, yer father's been showin' me his latest! Frig that Targaryen bit…uh, girly…and any dragons she may dig up, now!" he slapped Lord Gomez on the back, heartily. "Lady Arya, Lady Sansa…" he nodded.
"Well, we need a stronger containment vessel but you got the idea…" Gomez noted. "Sorry as to those two guards and the horse, though."
"They should listen when their King screams 'Take cover!'…" Robert shrugged. "But what a neat way to knock down fortress walls." He beamed.
"Not to mention what a neat thing for shows and night feasts!" Queen Cersei, hurriedly following… "Girls…" she nodded to them.
"True enough, true enough…" Robert nodded. "Gomez?" he turned to him. "You think you can put this stuff into production soon?"
"Give me a few shekels and a staff and in a month we'll have a firepowder plant. The right containment vessel may take longer but we'll work it out." Lord Gomez, confidently.
"You take all you need, my Lord Hand…" Robert grinned. "You're stuck with the power, may as well use it, eh?"
"The Alchemists' Guild already has a wildfire production plant…We can convert to include firepowder, no problem." Cersei noted, pleased at Robert's appreciative grunt of approval.
"Your Majesties…" Sansa curtsied…Motioning for Arya to as well, which Arya did with some reluctance. Wednesday eagerly copying Sansa in curtsy, with perhaps a tad less grace.
"Tres elegant, ladies…" Cersei smiled, looking rather radiant as she took Robert's arm.
"Not the worst idea I've ever heard in these miserable years as king…Cersei." Robert noted… "I suppose we ought to have a look over when we get to the cesspit."
"Your Majesty…" Sansa, a bit anxiously. "Is there word of Prince Joffrey?"
"On his way from Swampflood…" Cersei, a bit less radiant. "But he should be here soon." Hastily. "You see, the King wanted him to have a chance to tour the North and show himself to the people there."
"Good an explanation as anything else…" Robert, surprisingly unbelligerently. "Well, why don't we try one more and keep the guards on their toes, eh? Gomez?…Cersei…?"
Cersei, coy look at ground… "Oh, yes, my king…" rapturous look.
Gomez winking back at the girls as the three headed off…
Nothing like a little high explosive to rekindle romance.
"Say, Bob…" he noted as he led the Barftherons to find a relatively safe testing field…
"As long as we're considering firepowder production…"
"That again?" Robert eyed him.
"What?" Cersei stared.
"Oh, he wants me to see about a new mineral deposit…" Robert noted. "For that railroad scheme of his…"
"Well, Bob…" Gomez noted. "The stuff has many uses. Though there are drawbacks in its use to be worked out to avoid air and water problems…"
"What stuff?" Cersei eyed them.
As marital partner taking a proper interest in the husband's activities, same for the Queenly thing…And as a Lannister, whose instincts must be aroused by any word of a potential new resource…
"What is it? Coke?" Robert, to Gomez.
"Coal…" Gomez corrected.
"Right, right. Well…We can talk it over…You're the Hand after all…But lets see that stuff explode again, eh? Say, maybe we can kill something big with it this time?" Robert eagerly. "I'm sure it'd splatter a boar's guts something awful." He beamed as the three made their way away from the fire, the girls watching…
Cersei eagerly suggesting she'd heard of some deer to the far side of the big field to the left as they headed off…
While watching from beyond the flames, just at the edge of a tent, a male attendant gave narrow glance after them…
Must get word at once to… "Aw, damn!" he groaned, looking at his new shoes in the horse muck of the King's Road.
When the damned Hell are we gonna invent pavement?
…
Meanwhile in the deep dungeons of Swampflood…
Where even a determined Fester has had to call it a night…The imprisoned Maester Mengele apparently having or knowing nothing more to say.
Though if the wussies would just let him get creative tomorrow…
But as the Maester moans in his comatose state…A dark figure in black creeps through the …Well, dark…Of the dungeon, peering into various cells. Hmmn…Empty…Skeleton still hangin' from chains too long rotted to be his or her target…Ah…Occupied sign and signs of breathin' from the victim hanging from the chains…
Must be it…A pass key slid into the lock and the door with its iron bars and heavy wood frame opens…With rather unfortunate creak…
Have to be quick about it…But one quick slice across the throat and Maester Mengele will be a most silent counselor and agent…Hurried rush forward.
"What The Fuck!" Lady Addams, enjoying the beneficial effects of a night's rest well stretched as recommended by her own Maester of Chiropracty, her howls echoed as the assassin receives a firm kick from her where it counts.
A box on the wall opening…A hand quickly reaching for the alarm rope…Bells immediately ringing.
"You rang?! UUUUUUHHHHHHHH!" Lurch, immediately on point, grabbing the hapless, groaning assassin and shaking head slightly at the large dagger now firmly lodged in his arm.
Uhhhh….
"Lurch! Don't let that fellow escape!" Lady Addams cried.
"What's up!" Fester had entered, in black tunic, from his cot in Mengele's cell. Not liking to leave so valuable a prisoner to the keep of mere jailers. "Oh, doing your back cure, Maud?" he eyed the hanging Lady Maud…
"Fester! Summon the guard and help Lurch with that fellow…And get me down!" she fumed.
"Mama?! Uncle Fester?! Lurch?! Hello, who are you?" Lady Morticia had arrived, candle in hand, wearing black nightgown.
The tall would-be assassin, secure in Lurch's vise grip, merely gasped for air, kicking legs while dangling.
"Lurch, you'd better let him down." Morticia urged.
"But don't let him get away…!" Lady Maud called. "And could someone please release the chain for me?"
"Uhhhhhhhhhhhh…" the assassin, surprising them all. Lurch staring, a bit peeved.
My line…He gave grim, cocked-eyed stare…At the…
Hmmn…
"Not him….Uuuuuhhhhhhhh…Her…" Lurch noted, having lowered the young woman to the floor but keeping firm grip. She revealed as a rather lovely girl, in fact, a rather familiar lovely girl.
"Young lady." Morticia eyed her sternly. "What is the meaning of this?"
"It's Roz, from the brothel on the edge of the Great Swamp…" Fester eyed her.
Hey, Fes…She smiled brightly.
"From the brothel, eh?" Lady Maud, just released from her chiropractic harness and chain…Thank you, Thing…And thanks for the alarm…She noted…The hand giving a thumbs' up before re-entering its box. "Prostitute/assassin, I see…Nice to have a dual career."
"Unless…" Fester pondered. "No chance you were making a late call in costume?"
"Uh…Well…" Roz beamed brightly.
"With assassin's dagger?" Lady Maud, archly…Pulling dagger from Lurch's unbleeding arm and displaying it. "This is no penknife, you know."
"Thank you, Lady Addams…Uuuuhhhh…" Lurch noted.
"My Lady…Ve are here!" Ser Arnold and several other knights and guards had heeded the call and raced to the dungeons…
"Would you believe my client's a bit on the wild side?" Roz tried as Lady Morticia ordered the arriving knights to take up guard positions about the dungeon and around the castle. Assassin watch in effect…
"You were sent here to kill our prisoner, Maester Mengele." Morticia frowned sternly. Lady Addams, grimly. Fester, looking a bit disappointed.
Roz…Geesh…My and Tyrion Lannister's favorite local whore…
"Now why would anyone hire me to do that?" Roz, innocently. "I'm just your average lovable local whore, doing a service call as Lord Fester was saying…"
"Young lady…" Morticia glared. "Any service calls at this hour, and involving daggers and assassins garb are utterly unacceptable, regardless of whether we believed or not."
"Obviously whoever corrupted the Maester and was paying him to finish off…?!" Lady Maud blanched. Morticia blanched…Lurch unable to get paler but clearly concerned…As the same thought occurred.
The Boys!
"Fester! You and the guards hold the lady here and see no one else comes after Mengele!" Lady Maud called to Fester and several guards as still more entered the chamber. "Morticia…" she blinked to see Lady Morticia had already fled the chamber, racing to defend her boy…And hurried after, summoning two of the knights to follow…Ser Arnold one…
"Really, this is all just a misunderstanding…" Roz tried, giving Fester her most innocent and winning smile.
"Ah, Roz…" Fester sighed. "And here I was all set to propose next week…"
…..
The Swampflood Keep now alive with running guards, attendants, knights…Morticia followed by attendants she summoned as she raced along the halls, calling for help for the boys…Lady Maud in close pursuit, Ser Arnold at her heels…
Morticia entering the boys' bedroom/makeshift hospital room to find a terrified man in black on the floor being held down by the combined forces of Pugsly's Swamp Thing Hoodoo and Branded's direwolf, Summer.
"Help! Help! I'm losing me mind!" the man screamed, clearly in a pitiable state now…The two animals backing off at Morticia's stern command. The badly wounded man, bald with much of his black clothing torn away, one leg nearly torn off, arm ripped open stared up at his rescuer, only to be even more terrified at Morticia's fierce and icy stare.
"Guards! Fetch Maester Luwyn at the Stark guest quarters! You, tear up that sheet!" she called at end to one female attendant who pulled the requested sheet over tearing…Morticia quickly tying it as a tourniquet on the man's leg. Lady Maud now arriving, nodding at the fast work…Worthy of battlefield first aid…
"Torch!" she called in turn… The man eyeing her, curious if in agony…His curiosity turning to a hideous rolling of eyes in agony as she flamed his leg wound to sear it closed.
"ARRRRRRGGGGGGHHHHHHHH!…AHHHHH!" the howl…
"What a two year old…" Lady Maud glared. "You're clearly a veteran, where's your balls?!" she frowned at the man. Who blinked at her, then fainted…
"Seriously…Where are his balls?" she eyed Morticia as they stared by her torch's light at what should have been his animal tearing exposed manliness. "The bastard's a eunich." She eyed Morticia. As Robbed Stark entered, still in nightdress. "The guards just called me, Maester Luwyn's coming after. Are the boys…?"
"Mom?" Pugsly's voice… "Are the lemon cakes there?" eager tone.
"Get off me, Pugs! We're gonna…Fall…" Branded's cry from his bed.
"Prostitutes and eunuchs as spies/assassins…" Lady Maud eyed Lady Morticia…As Robbed and the attendants rushed to the now conscious boys…
"Now who does that spell to you?" she frowned.
…
The Wall…Fabulous construct of past centuries sealing off the Far North and its ever wintry though apparently rather livable and even reasonably prosperous lands, given the surprisingly large population of wildthing nomads, large guys, and various animals including elsewhere extinct woolly mammoths, giant sloths, exceptional bears (smarter than the average Night Watcher ranger), and Walker zombies, from the southern lands.
Specifically the great fortress of the Night Watchers'…The rather too few, the proud…The Black Keep…
Where new recruit Jon Snowed was already engaged in proving himself a manly man among manly ne'er-do-wells, ruined knights, rapists, thieves, poachers, escaped slaves, and his own unwanted bastards group…
"All right…You scum, you vermin…Lets see what you can do with our little rich bastard, Lord Snowed!" the Guards Commander and Master of Training, Ser Allister Chip de la Shoulder growled, tossing one hapless untrained lad after another at the rather naturally, given the rich lord's son angle, experienced in swordplay, fencing, and thwacking, Jon.
"He might really consider either trying more than one at a time or someone with a little experience in fighting." The latest newly arrived visiting dignitary, Tyrion Lannister, noted to the Watcher Commander, Lord Monumental as they watched. Lord Monumental sighing a bit…
"One cannot get good trainer help these days…" shake of head as five lusty lads attempting to overcome Snowed are variously BAMMED! POWWED! WHAMMED! Back…Several hurled into various locations, including snowbanks, pig mire, firewood pile, cow manure pile.
"Nor good trainee help…" Tyrion noted.
"Indeed…"Sigh…But followed by shrewd appraising stare…Monumental well aware that interesting and useful things may yet come in small packages.
"Just why have you chosen to grace us with your visit now, Lord Tyrion?" Monumental asked him as they watched another round of Jon Snowed tossing the entire new class of recruits about like rag dolls.
"Nothing like having enough cash, even if illegitimate, on hand in the family to get that fine training in the martial arts, eh my Lord Commander?" Tyrion asked, non-committally, as they both watched Snowed...And the frowning Ser Allister shaking head at his battered men.
"No, nothing quite…We could use a few more wealthy families with disposable sons who want to win a few honor plaudits up here." Monumental agreed, pausing. "Might I offer my own assessment of your reasons for coming?"
"By all means, Lord Commander…" Tyrion took up a post by a wood column.
"Your gracious father, Lord Tywin, disdains us in terms of the mystical mumbo-jumbo about Walkers and Giants and Mammoths and Walking Dead…Thinks it's all childish fable to frighten kids and keep our budgets high."
"He's keeping an open mind as to the mammoths, but basically, yes." Tyrion nodded. "Though I would tell him he's not quite right with regards to the high budgets.:
"Quite…" Monumental, steady gaze at Tyrion... "But he does believe in the wildthing marauders, doesn't he? As do you?"
"Since they are constantly found South of the Wall, I'd say he and I have some valid reason for such…" Tyrion.
"And you were sent to assess the situation here…" Monumental eyed Tyrion as Tyrion called down to the boys lying scattered about Jon Snowed. "A hit! A palpable hit! Or rather, several, I should say! My father..?" He turned back to Monumental… "Well, you should know my father would rather see me stuffed with horse dung and hanging as a grotesque scarecrow in his fields than admit he'd assigned me anything so important." Tyrion joked.
"Excepting the low opinion I know he holds of us…" Monumental, smoothly. "Lord Tyrion, we're quite happy to accept any help offered. Winter is coming and I don't say that as a Stark…It is and we're not prepared for it, not as we are now with numbers and quality low, and supplies often rare to non-existent. If Lord Tywin asked you to see what's what here, we're grateful and we say, we'll take any help he can offer. It will be to his benefit, even if he doesn't believe the worst legends are true and merely sees us as a doddering border patrol.
"Well, I can't say as to the secret mission but I will say…" Tyrion beamed. "I think you're a worthy investment and I will urge Father to do what can be done."
"You'll have our eternal thanks…And the begrudging gratitude of the Kingdom, though they'll do their best to forget all you and we saved them from here."
"Always the way…" Tyrion nodded.
