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 XLVII
The rather cold, dank, and all-around shabby Hall of the Greatjerk clan, Lords, if you care to call it that…Some would mockingly snicker, stuck with job of managing, the Tin Islands…
"What…?" Lord Bombast Greatjerk, seated on rough chair little better than the uncomfortable wood benches on which his son, daughter, and various vassals and relations sat, looked downtable at his first-born trying to eat…Whatever the hell that awful concoction was…Fearing staring at his bowl.
"Our common fare too common for the likes of a Stark's foster kid?" sneer. "Eat your cow's and sheep's intestine stew and be done with it or pass it on. There be children starving in Eastern Essos who'd be glad to have it even after months shipping at sea."
Fearing eyeing his grinning sister, Yaba…
Unt-hut…She shook head.
"This load was shipped back to us as not fit for dying pigs." She hissed.
"Well?" Lord Greatjerk glared…
"It's fine, Father…Very savory…I'm just not used to such spicy fare." Fearing desperately explained.
"You're soft, boy…Too many fine meals…Porridge and venison pasty, turkey, chickens, fine platters of roasted potatoes and fresh roasted veggies, fine pasta, with an excellent tomato sauce, sweet rolls and fine breads…Joints of beef, suckling pig, fresh fat lambs, fish…Cakes and pies…Luscious fruits, rich pastries…."
The whole company looking longingly…Including my Lord Greatjerk…
My…
Faint sounds of drooling…
"And really excellent pudding." Fearing noted. "And I loved Lady Stark's custards. She used to make wonderful chocolate eclairs with it." He gestured with hands. "Fantastic. And gods, her breakfasts…" Uh, he eyed the hungry, longing faces…
"But, uh…This is great, really. Say, any chance of a nice glass of Veuve Clicquot?" he asked, innocently. "Perhaps a nice cabernet?"
Sneer from Lord Greatjerk… "It be water from the springs of the place you were birthed or swamp mead made from the peat bogs of yer home. Sorry, no Veuve Clicquot on hand."
"Ah, well…The water will be…" he caught his sister waving hands slightly just about the table.
"Ah, no… Actually, the mead's fine." Smile.
"Wise choice." Lord Greatjerk sneered. "The last man to try and drink water from the Tin Islands died in unbearable agony from its brackishness, his kidneys swelled to the size of the inflated cows' stomachs our children use for toys."
Oh, right…I remember those…Whoa…Fearing blinked. As sniggers erupted up and down the table.
Thank you, sister.
"But now we've indulged you in our little welcome home feast…" Lord Greatjerk eyed Fearing coldly.
This? Fearing looked round at the bowls of rotted intestines, platters of grey, rock-like bread, and festering swamp grass in the cups.
A…Feast…?
That was it…His sister gave slight nod.
Guess you can see why so many of us are eager to invade the coast…
"…It seems there's to be no civil war to benefit us." Lord Greatjerk, grimly. "The Lannisters, Addams, and Starks have made nicey-nice. And the Stark patrol fleet, backed as always by the Kingdom's navy, is already back in dock, waitin' to sink anything on the water without a pass. So much for our chance to raid, plunder, and possibly march our rather pathetic forces to Winterfalls. Contrary to your rosy predictions, boy." Icy look.
"Father, I only suggested we ally with the Starks and Addamses and drive a good bargain for our aid." Fearing noted. "Your invasion plans were your own…"
"Are you questionin' my judgment?" Icy tone.
"No, not at all, Father." Fearing, anxiously.
"It was your plan to try and make war on the Starks, Father." His sister cut in, calmly. "Fearing's not to blame on that one."
"Damn you!" Lord Greatjerk rose angrily.
"What will you do, old man?" she eyed him where he stood.
"Guys…" Fearing, staring.
"I'm not five years old cryin in a corner now, you vicious ole…!" she rose, smashing her mug.
Whoa, Fearing eyed her as she waved the broken mug piece like a knife at her father who blinked.
"Sis…Dad?" Fearing, nervously. Others along the two benches trying desperately to find something away from the table to find fascination with…
"Sit down or come on…You filthy old perv…I've taken all I will from you." Yaba growled.
Uh…Lord Greatjerk glanced about.
On the one hand, an embarrassing and even potentially regime-changing loss of face…
On the other, avoiding a mug chard in the guts? Priceless.
He sat slowly down, grimacing…
"She be full of anger, your sister." He sighed.
"Just be glad you were always, even then, all talk of rape and beating and no action." The girl noted grimly, setting chard down and retaking seat.
Fearing, stunned…Looking her way.
"No need to have the boy thinkin'…" Greatjerk began, clearing throat. Sheepish tone, now.
"He never laid a hand on me. But I'd've gutted him even at five and he knew it." Yaba, gleam in her eyes.
…..
The Tully-Cicero/Frump border with the Lannister holdings…Twilight.
Two black carriages approaching from opposite sides, a force of clearly elite knight guards on horseback…Sigils all carefully masked by cloth. The guards pulling up and coming to attention on horseback, several dismounting and taking positions by their respective carriages.
One carriage window opening to reveal a grim Tywin Lannister in shining black…The other now opening…
"Maudie Addams…!" Lannister, rather startingly heartily, his guards blinking at each other… "Grand to see you looking so spit and polish again. My one regret in all of that fuss coming to such a quick and peaceful end was not getting to see you on the field in armor once more."
"Tywin, you sly old fox…" Lady Maud smiled..Her own black armor indeed quite reflective of intensive spit and polish on Ser Arnold's part. "Thank you for coming out to see a broken-down old biddy."
"Maud…" finger wag as Tywin emerged from his carriage, wrapped now in a black cloak. "I'm just so pleased to see your son had the good sense to put you in charge here."
"Well, you're lucky to be male, Lannister." She shrugged. "No one will assume you're done for once you hit fifty."
"You'll bury us all, Maud. And already have most of us…" he noted, standing by her open carriage door.
"True enough…" coy smile. "Now, if you don't think your rep will be fatally compromised…"
"'Tywin Lannister caught in rendezvous with Maud Addams'? Dear Gods, I could only hope for such a headline." He climbed up.
"How are your grandson and the Stark boy? You did get my ravens?" he asked, taking the seat she'd waved him to.
"Well as can be expected given their permanent disability…" sigh. "I did, thanks. And sorry Morticia was so quick to jump the gun. It was well played, whoever the Gamester was. Tyrion is alright?"
"I would say, sadly yes…" sigh.
"Tywin…I know you love that little imp of yours you just nearly fought a war over. With good reason…He being the best hope of your House." Shrewd look.
"He may show some promise…" shrug. "But he must prove himself worthy…Especially considering his own unfitness to rule."
"Johanna and her 'tough love' is all very well…" Maud frowned. "But you need to show that boy your heart. He's tough enough to handle it all. Heck, he's already endured all that that would make a lesser boy a psychopathic Joffrey or Rammedfull Bolted but he needs to know his father loves him."
"Maud…"
"Fine…Your and Johanna's call…" she shook head. "But don't let it come to you getting assassinated by someone in your toilet or something and him never knowing how you really feel."
"Well…" sigh. "I will consider it. And please thank Ser Fester for his help, I am grateful." He eyed her carefully. "So, I assume you want to discuss recent events?" She nodding…
"Not wanting to interfere with Gomez's and Tyrion's efforts at the capital, I just thought we old fogeys might consider putting our heads together regards this threat to our beloved Houses and loved ones."
