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 XLVI…
Fearing, pausing in muddy field at edge of dank, dark woods on the edge of the Stark lands.…
Well…Not too bad an ending for my first military campaign, all-in-all…
Not exactly Alexander the Great of Essos but…Hey, I established myself as a leader of men. Tin Men.
Yes, what is dead, is probably dead…Our words hold true, given I lost about five en route.
But…Napoleon I Targaryn lost four fifths of his army invading the North above the Wall…Me, about 1/6, not counting desertions.
Now, take the road and maybe even hitch a carriage ride back to the coast and…He felt in jacket…Yes, just enough for a second-rate brothel.
Life is…Ok…
Till I step off that boat home…Sigh.
On the other hand…Nothing says I couldn't change my name and hang around Westeros, as a minstrel or maybe a swordsmith training kids…
"Halt, there!" a cry.
Hmmn?
He turned to see a group of well-armed soldiers running his way…
Oh, shit…Far too well clothed and armed to be Dad's or sis' men come to save me.
…
Kings' Landing…
Meeting of the Little Council, to discuss the ceremony for certification of the new Acting Lord Hand at the Great Council…
Tyrion, bit uncomfortable in robes…And does this "hand" thing…No offense, Thing…Have to be so large… Looking about the table, rather stunned to find himself at the head and even more so to find Cersei, at her loveliest, in new red and gold gown…Prouounced 'Doably Hot' by the King himself…At the opposite end, beaming supportively. Jamie, in gleaming armor, standing by, with several guards, between her and Lord Verysmuch who also gave cautious smile of support, Grand Maester Purile, seated next to Verysmuch, struggling to repress frown while mentally reviewing panegyric to be offered, his standard protocol for these matters…
He climbed up thoughtfully placed block…Jamie? He looked over. No, guess who?…Jamie's smile. Tyrion looking down to see Cersei's nervous half-smile.
Dear Gods…? He took seat.
"Well, I suppose I should start…Sorry to be late, took some time dressing, my maids and such despaired of my fashion sense but did their best. It's good to see you all. Thanks to Her Majesty for so kindly gracing us with her presence."
"Rob sends his regards, Tyrion." Cersei noted. "He'd've gladly come but protocol dictates the King let the Little Council do its work without the intimidating presence of the King. And I promise just to listen. Just wanted to express the King's confidence for him in you." Warm smile.
Dear Gods, I think she really means it…Tyrion blinked. Nervous glance at Jamie, who smiled.
Tyr, I think it's real…I always thought if her personal life improved, she'd come round to you.
"My Gracious Queen…" Purile harrumphed. "May I express all our wishes in thanking you for this expression of your confidence in our most excellent Hand and in ourselves, your humble servants…"
"Thank you, Purile…" Cersei put up a hand. "But Lord Tyrion is in charge here, I'm really just visiting."
"I hope you'll visit often, your Grace." Tyrion smiled down table to her. "I especially am eager to have a report from you on the wildfire project, if I may presume to request it of you."
Cersei, sheepish smile, head bowing nervously…Rubbing with hand slightly…
Tyrion…Of all people, the one besides Rob who acknowledges my work. Baby brother, I think I could grow very fond of you, she raised head to smile.
"Thanks, my Lord. If it wouldn't infringe on the Council's prerogative, I'd be delighted to later."
"Well, thanks your Grace. Now, my friends, as a Lannister should, to business…" Tyrion smiled.
"To…Business…" Purile raised tankard. Looking awkwardly about as the others regarded him.
"Oh, my apologies…Thought it was a toast." He set tankard down.
No question, my father's man…Tyrion eyed Purile.
"Perhaps later, if finances and business conditions warrant." Tyrion, kindly. "Now I understand we've met here to discuss my certification ceremony but honestly, like the Lord Hand Addams, I see no good reason for a lot of expensive fuss and feathers. Lets keep it simple, I'm only the Acting Hand, after all."
"Oh, to us, you are so much more, my Lord…" Purile, eager to launch into panegyric. Verysmuch and others about table rolling eyes.
"Thanks. But as to finances…While I know Lord Gomez has made an excellent start at cutting waste and reforming the taxation system, we're still heavily in debt, largely to my family. Lord Markwell?" he turned to Lord Mace Markwell, Acting Minister of Coin in Middlefinger's absence, a large and portly figure, well-dressed, with kindly expression.
"Your Grace?" Lord Markwell looked over, opening prepared speech. "Would you like a report?"
"Just the basics, boiled down here, if you've had time to review. You can send me those volumes…" Tyrion looked with slight shake of head at the stack of volumes by Markwell's side… "Later on. And, welcome to Kings' Landing. We appreciate your coming to take the reigns of finance while Lord Belloq is away."
"Indeed, my Lord…And heartfelt thanks for your welcome. Well, to begin…" Markwell eagerly scanned sheet. "I've made a cursive run over Lord Belloq's books and the taxation records and…"
Hope the bloated fool's not going to take up too much time, Purile thought. I have another three hour report on the sewer system ready which should appeal to the little imp, given his work at Casterly Rock running the things.
"Hey!" cry from the just-forced open door, a guardsman knocked back. Jamie and several men taking stance, swords at ready, Cersei and others looking up anxiously as other guards took defense positions about the Queen, Tyrion, and others.
Hmmn…Purile looked about, seeing no guard near him.
About what I should expect for treatment to an old man worn out in the service…He felt for dagger in sleeve holder.
Hell, even Verysmuch and the new guy rate a guard? He frowned to see said guards at side of Verysmuch and Markwell…
"Did ya start without me?!" the deathly pale, bald head of Ser Fester Addams, poking through door.
"It's all right, guards…Ser Fester, I told you it wasn't necessary for you to be here." Tyrion called. "I've plenty of guards, including my brother, the best swordsman in the Kingdom."
"Am I your new chief guard or no, Tyrion?!" Fester frowned as he entered the room, encased in heavy armor.
"Of course…You certainly are…"
"Ser Fester…" Cersei acknowledged him, Fester bowing as best he could.
"Sorry this old armor's still a little rusty. Well, if I am your chief of guards, then I should be here, too."
Tyrion, sighing a bit…
Good as it is for clearing doubts as to my role in the incident with the Addams and Stark boys and the securing of peace among our Houses…And fond as I am of Fester…
"I think that's very good of you, cousin Ser Fester." Cersei smiled at him…The savior of my beloved baby bro… "Please have a seat, if that's all right with my Lord Hand?"
"No seats…" Fester insisted, stepping by Tyrion. "Here to guard…Hey, Kingskiller." He nodded to an amused, but slightly miffed at the title, Jamie.
"Kingsslayer…Well, Kingsguard Captain, Ser Fester."
"Right, whatever. You cover the Queen…As they say you do kinda well…" Fester eyed him.
Jamie glaring now…
"…And the King…And I'll cover Cousin Im…Tyrion here." Fester, correcting hastily.
Gotta learn to watch it in front of the gentry here. Tyr needs to generate that respect thing.
"I'm sure between the two of you no one can ever touch me…" Tyrion, cordial tone.
Jamie still frowning but relenting a bit…
Have gotten worse from others…Bob, Dad, my mates in the guard, that poet Prince from the South, the Wiper?...Viper, right, Viper…When he was here.
Maybe no offense is meant…Yet.
Of course they do say the ole fellow still has it…Might be fun to try him out…Later.
"Well, as you can see, Houses Lannister and Addams are pledged to mutual protection." Tyrion ntoed to the council. "I hope this quashes any rumors of strife…" firm look.
Ser Fester eyeing about table…
Ah, ha…Purile, that twerp.
Fester…Grim look from Purile.
"Ser Fester, how good it is you've come to your senses and taken up the Lannister cause." Purile intoned slyly.
Stole my best whore, you bald sob…Glare.
"The Kingdom's cause…" Tyrion hastily interjected as Fester glared, pulling sword in holster a bit.
"Indeed…And I speak for the King in saying We are grateful for all Ser Fester has done to alleviate strife, particularly in protecting my dear younger brother, our noble Acting Lord Hand." Cersei chimed in.
Good of the Kingdom, honey…Glance to Jamie who'd calmed.
It's cool. His look back. Though I know "good of the Kingdom" means good for my Bobbie.
But…It's cool…Till we get a chance to carve each other in private. Cool smile to Fester who returned, now at attention by Tyrion's chair.
Heck, a chance to hone for both of us. Practical exercise, with perhaps a severe injury or two and some blood. Gotta keep the guard commanders in top form, after all.
…..
"Hold or die!" a soldier called to Fearing who halted in turning to flee…
Hmmn, rather awful having to halt in muck like this, Fearing noted to self.
"Kneel and yield!" the soldier ordered…Fearing, sighing, but kneeling.
Why does this "yielding" thing always have to take place in the muck…?
"Hi, there…Allies of the Starks or Addamses? Me, too!" he tried a jovial note. "Of course if you're Lannisters, congrats on a successful peace negotiation and the restoration of our alliance. Fearing of House Greatjerk here, near brother to Lord Robbed, but not a physical sibling."
Just in case you're not all that friendly to House Stark…
"Ah…So…You be a Greatjerk…Maybe…Or maybe not…" the soldier who'd spoke, clearly the field commander, by the deference of the others.
"I am, and I am Prince Fearing, heir of my line…"
"'Prince' is it? Of what? The wussiest House in Westeros…?" the commander smiled. "Like being a serving wench in any other House that still actually holds lands."
"Have a care, friend…" Fearing, annoyed. "Remember I'm a Lord's son and have powerful local allies."
"Maybe you do...And maybe you don't…"
Hmmn…I'm familiar with this sort of ambiguous crap…Yes…
"Are you of House Bolted?" he eyed the commander.
"We might be…" arch look. "We might not…" The other men nodding, with shrewd looks.
Our House, famed for its ambiguity…Which of course lends well to the sort of treachery our somewhat less noble Lord is up to here…
Even if current events leading to peace at hand run counter to his hopes…
"You're House Bolted, I can see your sigel." Fearing noted.
"We…Might be…We might not be…" the commander, again affecting arch air.
Damn…I told them to remove the sigels.
"So…You must be here to fight as bannermen to the Starks? As I say, I'm Robbed Stark's dearest foster brother and friend, Fearing Greatjerk, here to likewise assist. Lucky thing I ran into after my men turned on me over a pay dispute after we'd heard there'd be no war. Though I still probably have a few hundred about here. Somewheres…"
"Really?" skeptical tone. "Well, maybe you do…And maybe, probably, you're alone." hard stare, firmly folded arms…A bit difficult in his armor but…
The others trying to look confident but slight glancing about…
After all…Maybe he does…
"Well, in any case. You're to be rewarded, just get me to Winterfalls and…"
"You're going nowhere…" the commander grimly noted.
"But…We're allies…" Greatjerk insisted.
"Maybe we are…And maybe we aren't…" shrewdly keen-eyed look. "If you're a Lord of the Tinners, where's your sigel?" arch look.
"Lost my outer coat on march…In yon painful field…" Fearing, pointing back to the muddy field behind. "Look, just get me to Winterfalls. Lord Rob will vouch for me. Or Lord Branded if Rob's still off with the army. Great rewards await all of you. Rob loves me like a brother."
"Maybe he does…And maybe he doesn't…"
"Hey!" the commander cried. "Who did that?! Ambiguous commentary to captives is my department."
"Sorry, commander! Just wanted a crack at it." a voice called from the group.
"Well, mind your place in future!" the commander ordered.
"Anyway, what he said. And our orders aren't to make for Winterfalls."
"Heading home to Flay-land, eh?" Fearing asked, politely.
"We might be…We might not be…"
"DAMN YOUR EYES, what did I just say?!" the commander cried, glaring back, sword raised.
"In any case, you weren't headed to Winterfalls, you were making for the coast…" he returned to Fearing. "And given we captured one of your men who told us what you were about…Maybe we did, maybe we didn't." hasty addition before one of his men could get it in.
"What?" Fearing, attempting nonchalant pose. "That's ridiculous, I'm Rob's sworn friend and foster…"
"Whatever…In any case, you're coming with us. Maybe you can tell it to our leader. Or maybe…Well, you will be telling it to him. He'll decide what's to be done with you…Maybe."
Just hope we don't have to watch this time…One of the others quietly noted to comrade. What that sick bastard did to that poor fellow…
"This is a terrible misunderstanding…" Fearing insisted, rising at one of the men's sword prodding.
"Maybe…Maybe not…" the commander, shrewdly.
"Well, just bring me to Lord Bolted, he knows me." Fearing sighed. "Afraid this is costing you a great reward…"
"Maybe he's Lord Bolted and knows you…Maybe he isn't and doesn't. Or is and doesn't. And if he doesn't, it will good hard on you, given our famed penchant for brutal and sadistic torture, even by our less psychotic types. We don't bear the Flayed, Screaming Man, Woman, and little Child sigel for nothing, you know." Grim nod.
"So you are Bolted's men?" Fearing frowned.
This ambiguous stuff is so annoying…
"Maybe…And…"
Thwack of arrows into two of his men distracting him…All looking around…
"Compound bow by the sound…" one soldier called. "From the woods…Arghh!" he went down.
"Why that little…" the commander glared, as two more went down.
"Compound bow?" Fearing, now down to ground to avoid arrows now whizzing by… "The Doofraki super weapon, here in Westeros?"
"Maybe…" the commander, knelling by him… "And maybe just a little wuss of a…"
Two more struck as they fled… "Idiots, get him in the woods!" the commander cried to the last four.
Thwack, thwack…And the last two, racing off, struck as well.
"Shit…" the commander, attempting to crawl to higher ground, struck in leg, groaning.
"You twisted little son of a…" groan as arrow thudded into him.
Fearing staring about as a figure, armed with large bow and sword strapped to side, in dark leather, emerged from the woods and came to where he lay.
"My Lord…" bow, offering hand to help him up. "Are you alright?"
"Who the fuck are you?!" Fearing stared at the solemn face calmly regarding him. Kind eyes, anyway…I'm likely to be safe with him.
Dignified slight bow… "Lord Greatjerk, I am Rammed. Agent of your father, sent to rescue you."
"Really?"
I mean, really? Still one man would be about the size of the rescue force Dad would send…
Impressive that Dad at least went for quality with this one.
…..
