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 XLI…

Kings' Landing…

Rooms, newly occupied and somewhat downgraded from his previous since his being dropped from the succession, of Prince Joffrey…

Joffrey eyeing a servant bringing cup and flavored water…Mom says no alcohol till I'm eighteen except at public feasts and orgies…With grim look.

"You think I'm nobody now, don't you, you peasant scum?!" he angrily addressed said peasant servant. "Well, I can still…" he blanched as said servant eyed him, rather coolly.

Geesh…People are scary when they no longer feel subject to immediate death at my guards' hands. And when one no longer has Royal Service Agent Knights at hand to protect one via immediate killing, maiming, or torturing. Not to mention, he frowned at the rather amused Airedale…

Even my Airedale refuses to kill or maim on command now…Says royal law no longer entitles me to arbitrarily kill or maim at whim.

Rats. This is so unfair. He glared again as the servant, giving him a rather surly…F-off, royal, but nobody, punk…Bow, went out.

"My Lady Sansa, to see the…Prince…Or is it Duke?" a rather smirking junior herald announced.

"Yeah, yeah…And it's still Prince, asshole. Let my…Gods help me…Betrothed…In."

"My beloved Prince…" Sansa, bowing low as she entered and came before him, Joffrey quickly taking seat in the room's largest chair which he'd had refashioned to bear some resemblance to the Iron Throne.

At least in the privacy of my own chambers I can still tell myself in paranoid delight that I'm king…Ordering my attendants to inflict widespread mayhem…Yes, here, safe in my room…In…My…Room…he tunefully thought. I'm still king to be.

Sigh…Who the hell am I kidding? Even paranoid me doesn't believe that.

"My Lady…" curt nod, motioning for her to rise… "So, like whereas my civil war, bitch? You promised to help me win back my divine right to kill and maim at whim. Well?" he spread hands.

"All is in progress, my Lord…" she bowed. "Our alliance with Lord Belloq is set…"

"Great…That perv…" sneer. "No doubt his army of whores'll be just the thing…" peevish glare.

"I'm sorry, Joff…But be patient." She tried.

"I'm being patient. This is me, being patient." He glared. "Patience, my middle name, you stupid cow! How dare you suggest I'm not patient! I should have you flogged to death! If I still could…" sigh.

"Yes, my gracious Lord." Sansa bowed.

"What kind of dementedly devoted love is this, Sansa?" he frowned. "Why aren't you killing right and left, even attempting Dad's…Uh…" he caught her guarded look urging caution. "…changing his mind by all means proper…" he hastily corrected.

Right, gotta remember not only my servants no longer fear me or my psychotic wrath but they've all been waiting years for the chance to see me hung, drawn and quartered, and then beheaded. Thanks, my lady, you miserable wretched failure, he eyed Sansa.

"I dare do all we may in safety…And legally…Of course, my Prince." Sansa noted, head bowed. "Please feel free to beat and abuse me, if you wish."

"Right, like even doormat women like you aren't protected by the King's laws on domestic violence. Odd as it is that a fellow like Father should take such a strong position to protect women and the defenseless, but he somehow doesn't find it fair for guys to have unrestricted license unless of course they're of royal blood…And in the succession." Dark look.

"Only because he knows it's impossible to conceal such royal abuse and debauchery from the media, my Prince. Best to just bestow blanket immunity for them." She noted.

"Which I now lack…" grim reply.

"Well, I suppose you've done your miserable best and I should be grateful." He sighed.

Wait, did I say that? He blinked. The Airedale looking startled…

"You foul creature…" he eyed the equally stunned Sansa. "What have you been doing to me? Wait…" narrow-eyed look. "You're in cahoots with that red-haired witch of Stanislaw's? That makes sense, you're both red-haired and you both act weird, in different ways."

"No, my Prince." Sansa shook her head as she remained with head bowed.

"Then why? How could I express such feeble-mindedness outside of…" he gasped.

Sansa, slightest of smiles…

"No…No, no, no…No…!" he fumed, rising from his ersatz throne. "I love only Wednesday, not you, you red-haired, slender, beautifully, if deceptively, frail doormat of a girl. You miserable dog, cur…! I don't love you!"

"Methinks thou dost protest too much…" Sansa, in whisper.

"I heard that! And I don't think so! Wait…I'll have you flogged in front of me…That'll prove…No, goddamns it, rats. I can't. Legally." Sigh.

"You can, if you do it yourself, my Prince…" Sansa noted quietly. "So long as none see but us and I make no complaint…Just order your bodyguard to leave us. And have at me…Dearest." arch look to his. Unfastening neck brooch and spreading upper cloak while reaching for blouse laces…

Joffrey eyeing Airedale who made corkscrew "crazy as a loon" motion with his left hand, staying put.

"I'm afraid I can't leave the Prince's side without royal permission, lady."

Crazy lady…The Airedale sighed inwardly. Truly the Frump is strong in this one…

"You'd let me do that?" Joffrey eyed her. "Are you out of your profoundly troubled mind?!"

"If it would make you happy, my love…" she shrugged, dropping cloak and beginning to unlace. "Ser Airedale…? Prince Joffrey is not flogging me to near death or 'accidental' death, he's merely conducting a new form of physical therapy to help me relieve the tension he's seen in me."

Hmmn…Well…Joffrey beamed.

Airedale giving slightest shake of head at his look…

Rats…

"Later…I couldn't risk someone spotting the damage. Besides, where's the fun if no one is around to express shock and be appalled…?"

"I'm sorry, Joff…" she sighed. "Well, later then. Might be best if we reviewed the alliance plans in any case."

"Right…" Ummn… "Sansa…You know, you foolish simp of a girl, you're looking a bit thin, now you've doffed that heavy cloak. When did you last eat?"

"Yesterday or the day before, my Lord." She shrugged. "I've been busy. It's of no matter."

"It is if I say it is. I can't have a skinny betrothed on my arm, my position at Court's weak enough as it is. I order you to eat. And since I'm hungry, too…We…May as well have dinner together…I suppose…Stewards!" he cried.

My gods…The Airedale blinked.

I'm as horrified as I am struck with wonder…Surely the gods are nothing but fiends to do this.

"And don't protest, or I'll force you to eat double portions…Triple… Which I will, in any case. What do you like anyway?" Joffrey, frowning.

Harrandan Hall, on the road to Casterly Rock…

The Lannister army, in marching retreat from the border, most rather relieved to be going home in one piece, under reasonably happy circumstances. No defeat, no blood-soaked victory involving hideous wounds and cradling our dying friends.

Plus some of us won big at the poker games between our armies just before we mutually broke camp.

A few a bit disappointed not to see the famed Lady Maud on the field…Wish she mighta come. Not that any of us would've enjoyed dying at her capable, famed hands.

Just they say, even for such an old…Say, mature, if you value your lives when we do meet her, several older knights cautioned…Mature…She is so hot when in armor and full of bloodlust. Puts the Targaryen bimbo to shame…

"Father…" Tyrion approached Tywin's desk behind which stood Tywina and Ser Noonen standing, awaiting the seated Tywin's commands. "You wanted to see me."

"I never 'want' to see you, boy." Tywin glared.

Oh, my dearest little…

"But I must once again, reluctantly try to make use of you…" Tywin sighed. "I am dispatching you to Kings' Landing, as my representative to ensure the truce is kept and peace maintained."

"Really? Kings' Landing? That almost smacks of trust, Father. What am I to make of this? Are you ill? Is a target needed in the capital whom you can afford to lose?"

"Bingo, boy." Tywin, grimly.

Always gets it, never fails…Oh, Jo, what a boy we produced.

"So I'm to be the lightning rod for the family…To draw out whomever has been trying to set us against the Addamses and the King?"

"Naturally." Tywin, grimly. "You will have my full authority, only to make you more so…"

Gods, and Jamie, you idiot, protect my dearest son…Certainly you will be safer with the best swordsman in the Kingdom, who in spite of all my and Cersei's efforts, dearly loves you.

"Fine…I accept." Shrug. "Always nice to have a chance to see Jamie and annoy Cersei, though I do hear she's a bit more bearable these days."

"She seems rather happier…" Tywin allowed.

"I don't hate her, if she is happier, I'm pleased." Tyrion noted. "I also hear that Lord Addams plans to tour the North, meaning I will be nominally…"

"The strongest noble in the capital, next to the King and Queen, yes. Try to bear that in mind and not disgrace me. As well as providing me with some modicum of information, though I have my own sources."

"I'll do my best, Father."

"I shall hope for something better, as in perhaps barely meeting my lowest expectations."

Darling boy, hope of my soul…I tremble at letting you into this maelstrom but it must be done…And now, with a stable king on the throne and Bob doing somewhat better responsibilitywise, is probably the best time…

"As you say, Father. I will keep in touch."

"Do so. If you can manage to tear yourself away from your pleasures…"

Oh, son…I do so deeply regret my actions with that girl. But I was sure she was taking advantage of your gentle heart…A viper at your bosom.

"I'll be a model of propriety." Hic… "Well, aspire to be such, farewell, Father."

"Yes. Go." Turning on heel, marching firmly back into his tent, aides, Tywina, Ser Noonen following…

Oh, Tyrion, my son, my son…Wouldst the gods I could die for thee…My son, my son.

But you must learn the rules of the Game if you are to survive it.

Tyrion staring after, a long while, then turning and heading off.