Written and Directed by: Full-Paragon
Scored and Produced by: The Grand Cogitator
The Following is a non profit fan based parody. A Song of Ice and Fire, Konosuba, and Game of Thrones, are the property of their respective rights holders. I'd say please support the official release, BUT WHERE'S WINDS OF WINTER, MARTIN!?
Chapter 12: That Wall's Lookin' Kinda Thin
"Lord Baelish, a moment, if you would," Eddard said as the Small Council meeting broke up.
The slim and slight master of coin gave Eddard a knowing smile, and nodded. "Of course, Lord Stark. Always a pleasure to endure your company."
A vein throbbed in Ned's forehead, but he did his best to ignore it, and smiled at the younger man. "I wanted to discuss a few things regarding the late Hand. I am surprised that Jon Arryn was willing to allow the Seven Kingdoms to draw near to the brink of financial ruin. We are millions of dragons in debt, and this new tourney will only worsen the situation."
"And yet, the King will have his little pleasures, as he calls them. Besides, would you deny a tourney in your own honor?" Baelish asked. "Jon Arryn did indeed attempt to curb the King's spending habits, but his mind was troubled, especially near the end."
"Was it?" Eddard thought back to the strange letter he had received at Winterfell. He had meant to investigate the circumstances of his old friend and father figure's death, but with the discovery that his daughters possessed the same dark and terrible powers Megumin had been claiming she had for years had weighed more heavily on his mind, as had the need to mold Kazuma into a man fit to be husband to his daughter. Not to mention his new duties in running the Seven Kingdoms.
"Oh yes, the poor man had been reading a musty old tome, and seemed to find something within it that troubled his mind," Baelish said, looking mournful. "Such a strange thing. He seemed to be in the best of health, then one day, simply took ill and was dead by the next morning."
"Do you suspect foul play, then?" Eddard asked, trying to recall the contents of the letter. It had implicated the queen in the death of Jon Arryn, but to what purpose? Had Jon threatened Kazuma or another of her children somehow?
That didn't seem like the man Eddard had known. The prince could be a trial and was certainly exasperating, but that was no reason to wish the boy harm. He was a boy, after all, and Jon Arryn had once helped to turn both Eddard and Robert into the men they would become.
"I suspect much, but know little," Littlefinger admitted. "There had been some animosity between the Hand and Queen. He had been investigating some of Robert's bastards, which is always a sore subject with her Grace."
"He hasn't changed, has he?" Eddard sighed. That was one thing he would have to ensure that Kazuma never troubled Megumin with. He was fond of the boy, but he would not bring Megumin the grief of an unfaithful husband. It had been bad enough when Catelyn had thought he had been unfaithful once, but Robert's infidelity was infamous. Edric Storm, Robert's bastard by Delena Florent, was the worst of it. He was the only bastard the King had acknowledged, but even Eddard who had kept well out of Southron politicking knew of a dozen more.
"And of this tome, do you know of it?" Eddard asked.
"I believe Grand Maester Pycelle has the volume. You would have to inquire of him as to the title," Baelish said with a shrug. "It was a large, dusty thing. Perhaps Lord Arryn perished of sheer boredom."
"An ill jest, Lord Baelish," Eddard said testily, but added. "I appreciate your thoughts on the matter of Lord Arryn's death, however. Are there many of the King's bastards in the city?
"A fair few, or should I say, a dark haired few," Baelish said, chuckling at his own jape. "Several in my own whorehouses, as a matter of fact. His Grace has been a most loyal customer."
"Are they provided for?" Eddard asked, frowning. Robert was disturbingly disinterested in his children, especially Myrcella, who had latched on to Ned himself as a substitute for the fatherly affection she lacked. Even Kazuma seemed particularly eager to attain Eddard's approval, and he had noticed that Robert rarely acknowledged his heir. Perhaps that would change, now that the boy had picked up the martial pursuits that Robert had ever favored.
"The queen has forbidden Robert from acknowledging any of his baseborn bastards, and the King seems disinterested in children beyond the making of them," Baelish said with a shrug.
Eddard felt a pang, and grimaced. "Then I must beg you to give me a list of those you are aware of. I will look into them, and see that they are cared for."
"Of course, I'll draw up a list and deliver it myself. Such things are best not bandied about. The queen is rather jealous of her husband's affections. Who knows what she would do to a bastard if she were made aware of the child's existence?"
"Cersei is not a monster, Lord Baelish," Eddard said quietly, not noticing that he was addressing the queen by rather familiar terms, and missing the narrowing of Baelish's eyes. "They are children, and she is a mother. Even Catelyn resented my own bastard's presence. Is it a wonder a woman who's husband has been so unfaithful bears little fondness for the fruits of his infidelity?"
"I am surprised to hear you take the side of a Lannister, Lord Stark," Baeliash replied somewhat stiffly, though again, Eddard didn't notice the subtle shifts. "I had thought you were less fond of them."
"If I were so unfond of Lannisters, I would not have betrothed my daughter to Cersei's son," Eddard replied. "Good day to you, Lord Baelish. Please deliver that list of Roberts children at the earliest possible time. No child should go uncared for, especially not the children of the King."
With that, Eddard strode away, his thoughts dark and troubled. He was able to attain the thick volume from Grand Maester Pycelle with little trouble, but set it unopened on his desk in the Tower of the Hand, interrupted by Kazuma and Megumin's latest feud, this time over who had caught some damned cat.
The both of them were dressed in stained tunics and trousers that would have been better suited to stable boys, and indeed, by the amount of dung and other filth coating them, they appeared to be aspiring to the position.
"I had that stupid tomcat, and she stole it!" Kazuma argued as Ned listened in exasperation.
To Eddard's horror, his daughter actually stuck her tongue out at her betrothed. "You only had it because I cornered him! I would have had him first if you hadn't elbowed me out of the way!"
"Well that was no reason to throw a road apple at me!" Kazuma snarled.
"You knocked me into a turd, it was only fair that-"
"ENOUGH!" Eddard bellowed. "You are both behaving like spoiled children! Megumin, Kazuma, since you both seem to enjoy manure so much, you shall spend the rest of the day mucking out the stables under the supervision of Sandor Clegane and Septa Cecily, who I remind you BOTH smeared with dung with your foolish bickering!"
"WHAT?! But I'm the prince, you can't-" Kazuma began, but Eddard raised a hand.
"I am the Hand of the King, but more importantly, I am your future father-in-law. You have disgraced yourself, and my daughter. Will you accept your punishment with honor, or will you behave like a villain who hides behind his titles to escape justice?"
Kazuma shifted on his feet, his face sullen, but he nodded.
"Good. Megumin has some experience mucking out stables. I am certain you will both learn a valuable lesson from this. Clegane?"
"Yes, Lord Stark?" Sandor called, leaning in from the hall.
"See to it that these children are productive in their new vocation."
"Aye, Lord Stark," Sandor growled, eyeing both the children with no small amount of vindictive malice. His tabard was still stained with dung, and he smelled nearly as strongly of fury as of horse manure.
"Then be gone. I do not wish to see either of you again until you have become appropriately penitent," Eddard ordered.
"Yes, sir," Megumin muttered, and Kazuma echoed her, for a wonder.
"Sorry, Sandor," Kazuma sighed as they left. "And...I'm sorry, Megumin, I shouldn't have shoved you to get at the cat."
"...it's OK. It was an accident. I shouldn't have pasted you with the manure. Even if you deserved it."
Eddard rubbed his nose for a long moment after the two children left, then turned to the innumerable paperwork that came with running a kingdom. He'd been at work for about half an hour when someone cleared their throat quite loudly behind him. He turned to find Jamie Lannister standing at the doorway, an amused look on his face.
"The queen has had word of your new stablehands, Lord Stark," Jamie said, and Eddard could see his lip twitching towards a smile. "She has sent me as an envoy to express her feelings on the matter."
"If she wishes to rescue the boy, she can try. I hope he has more honor than to allow his mother to rescue him from a fate of his own making," Eddard growled.
"Oh no, not at all." Jamie held out a bottle of wine and a bag of herbs. "For the headache, you see. My sister finds the tonic most useful in dealing with my nephew's peculiarities."
That got Eddard to laugh, and he motioned Jamie to a chair. "I suppose you could use a bit of tonic yourself, Ser Jamie."
"Mayhaps." Jamie took a seat, and Eddard retrieved a pair of goblets from his beside, pouring two cups, and adding some of the herbs. Jamie accepted the cup, and took a long drink.
"I must say, you are a brave man, Lord Stark," Jamie chuckled. "To accept responsibility not just for the kingdom, but for my nephew… well. Some burdens go beyond the call of duty."
"Sometimes I wonder what is harder to manage. These Seven Kingdoms, or my daughter and your nephew," Eddard admitted. "Once, I would have said the Seven Kingdoms, but that was when I had only to deal with Megumin. Goddesses old and new watch over Catelyn: we received a raven this morning that Komekko ran away from Winterfell for some unknown flight of fancy."
"Goddesses be good, is the girl well?" Jamie asked, looking genuinely concerned as he leaned forward.
"She was found only hours later. Of all things, a wildling woman found her, saving her from two deserters from the Night's Watch," Eddard groaned, taking another long draught.
"A wildling? That is queer. But she is safe at home once more?" Jamie inquired, and Eddard nodded. The kingsguard sighed, shaking his head. "Perhaps the goddesses were kind to me, to put me into the service of the crown that I might never father children. Still, it is enough to look after my niece and nephews. Did you know, Tommen kicked poor Santagar right in the family jewels when the man was trying to give him some sword lessons? When asked about it, the princling claimed that was the first rule of fighting, as taught to him by Kazuma."
The two men shared a laugh, and Eddard poured for them again. "You know, he taught my daughter the same lesson back in Winterfell."
"And now they're learning how to catch cats from this Water Dancer you found," Jamie sighed, finishing his wine and standing. "Though apparently, they'd rather hurl dung at one another like Flea Bottom strays." Jamie turned to go, but paused at the door. "Thank you, Lord Stark. I know you are not over fond of me, or my house, but you have shown a great deal of kindness to my nephew. You are, perhaps, the first man to see my nephew like more than a nuisance, if a high born one. Myself included, to my shame."
"Ser Jamie…" Eddard grasped for words, then found a few. "We have not always seen eye to eye, you and I. Nor our houses, the closest of allies. Perhaps our children, for all their foibles, can lower the barricades their fathers and uncles have put between us."
"Mayhaps, Lord Stark. For my part, I would sooner have you as a friend than a foe," Jamie said, then bowed and left. Eddard missed the look the Lannister knight gave the book on his desk, but not the significance of his words.
A few hours later, Yunyun came by, bringing some food Eddard had no doubt she prepared herself.
"We missed you at the table again, dad," she said, setting down a plate of food on his desk and scooting over a chair of her own.
"My apologies. Your father has been overworked of late," Eddard said, leaning over to kiss his daughter's forehead. "Thank you, Yunyun."
"You're welcome. I want to make sure I don't forget about you, even as I'm making so many new friends," Yunyun said happily. "I know you're working hard, but don't forget to take breaks. You told me a leader can only lead as well as they are rested."
"True enough," Eddard chuckled. "Please, sit. Tell me, which new friends have you made here in King's Landing?"
Yunyun brightened, and spoke of all the new people she had befriended, from high ladies to scullery maids and stable boys, her sister and the prince aside. Her enthusiasm and pleasure at befriending so many people made Eddard smile, and her cooking was delicious as always. Absently, Eddard wondered just how his daughter had learned how to prepare meals, but decided it was likely from Gage. He had no way of knowing that Yunyun had spent several lifetimes culvivating excellent culinary skills as a way to make friends, and that though she didn't remember it, the fruits of her labor were still manifest.
He had just finished his meal when Lord Baelish appeared at the door. "Ah, Lord Stark, this must be your eldest daughter."
Yunyun gave their visitor a wide smile, bouncing up to greet their guest. "Oh, hello, who are you? I'm Yunyun.
"This is Petyr Baelish. He was a friend of your mother's in their youth," Eddard said.
"Such a delightful child," Baelish said, carsessing Yunyun's hair slightly. "You have the look of your mother about you, and perhaps a bit of her tender spirit."
"O-oh, um thanks?" Yunyun stammered, shying away from Littlefinger.
"You have something for me?" Eddard said, rising and stepping forward. To his surprise, Yunyun hid behind him. She was frequently nervous and timid, but rarely shy, and he wondered if perhaps all the new people were wearing on even her.
"The list we spoke of. Ah, I see you have Lord Arryn's book. A good cure for sleeplessness, I imagine, but I suppose perhaps that may be to your taste. Let us hope you don't meet the same fate as it's last reader," Baelish chuckled. "Farewell, Yunyun. Look after your father. I'm sure we're all quite fond of Lord Eddard Stark."
With that, Baelish left with another laugh. When he did, Yunyun reached out and closed the door, then hid behind Eddard again.
"Yunyun? Are you well? I had thought you'd be happy to meet an old friend of your mother's." Eddard said, leaning down to peer into his daughter's face.
"W-well, um, don't take this the wrong way dad, but...I think maybe mom needs to pick better friends," Yunyun said, looking down and shifting uncomfortably on her feet.
Eddard leaned back as though struck. "Yunyun, what are you saying?"
"Um, I don't know. But… I don't think Lord Baelish is a very good friend. When he touched me… dad, I don't like him."
"You… mislike Lord Baelish?" Eddard said, rocking back on his heels slightly.
"I'm sorry!" Yunyun gasped, waving her hands. "I know you probably like Lord Baelish, I'll try to be his friend, but-"
"No. I have never liked Petyr Baelish," Eddard said firmly. "If you do not wish to be around him, I shall leave orders that he is to be denied entry to the tower unless escorted by our men, and that shall not be allowed near you or your chambers."
"And Megumin too," Yunyun added quickly. "Or Myrcella."
"I… see. Very well. I'll talk to Jory," Eddard agreed. And made a mental note to speak to Ser Jamie as well.
"Thanks dad," Yunyun said, giving him a quick hug. "You're my best friend.
"Thank you. At least one of my daughters is every inch the lady," Eddard chuckled.
"You still like Megumin though, right?" Yunyun asked worriedly.
Eddard shook his head. "No. I love her, just as much as you, Yunyun. Each of you in your own special way."
"Oh good. I wasn't sure after you made her work in the stables again, but I trust you dad." Then Yunyun skipped off, her good mood restored.
Eddard eyed the book, then the list. He sighed. He would have to investigate the death of Jon Arryn, something about it still seemed wrong, and he needed to see to Robert's bastards.
But he would never trust another thing Littlefinger said.
If there was one thing that Jon Snow had not been prepared for when joining the Night's Watch, it was that he would be envied for his status. He hadn't realized that, as the bastard of a High Lord, he'd been given certain privileges and opportunities other boys his age were not afforded. True, he had been mistreated to a degree, and his life had not been simple nor easy, but in some ways, compared to the other youths who were training to join the watch, his life had been good.
Even compared to Jon's new companion, Samwell Tarly, he had been treated well. Samwell appeared to have been sent to the wall for no other reason than that his father wished for his younger brother to inherit, as Sam was a self described craven. Indeed, even Jon had little good to say about Sam's fighting ability, but he knew what it was to be treated as little better than refuse, and with his help Sam was slowly integrating into the group of trainees.
Though it was not easy, Jon was adapting to life on the wall, even if he was still concerned there had been no word of his Uncle Benjen, who had been missing for nearly two months now. More and more patrols were going missing, and Jon feared for his uncle, even as he refused to admit any possibility that he was truly dead.
And so, Jon lay in his cell, brooding and wondering what the next day would bring.
As it turned out, he was not ready for what came that night.
"Ah, young boy who ponders his parentage though he had a loving man who was happy to be his father, art thou well?"
Jon blinked at the strange voice, and sat up. He looked to Ghost, who was sitting up, head cocked to one side. "What is it, boy?"
Ghost glanced at Jon, then at the foot of his bed, then lay back down and put a paw over his face, as if embarrassed.
"Moi knows that you have heard quite clearly, boy who seeks brotherhood amongst the brotherless. Now, answer the query: Art thou well?"
Blinking, Jon looked at the foot of his bed, where a familiar shape sat.
"Vanir?" Jon asked slowly, wondering if he was going quite mad, or if he was merely having an incredibly odd dream.
The doll nodded, its oversized head cocking to one side. "Indeed, it is fortunate thou recognizes moi, or moi would have more concern about thy brain power than moi typically does for mortals of thy age. Though it seems that despite the fact that thou has graduated to monosyllables, thou art still unable to answer a simple question. Moi would inquire with thy brother wolf, but as moi has learned that one is quite incapable of speech."
Jon let out a yell and fell off his bed, hand scrambling for his sword.
"Hmm, as delicious thy despair is, moi was charged by thy sister to inquire as to thy health. Be at ease, child of twin legacies, for moi means thee no harm. Moi's mistress would be most cross if Moi caused her beloved 'brother' undue distress."
Panting, Jon pointed his sword at the talking doll. "K-Komekko. She..she sent you?"
"Indeed. Moi's mistress intended to visit thee in person, but it seems she is yet too young to be long separated from the woman who spawned her this cycle," Vanir sighed, which made Jon realize the doll was moving its mouth. Previously that had been a bit of string, hadn't it?
"She… she is well? My sister?"
"Hmm? Oh, moi is quite certain the mistress has recovered from her ordeal by now, yes. She was not given any permanent harm, moi saw to that. Now, since thou art in a more talkative mood, perhaps Moi's inquest may find an answer? Art thou hale?"
"I… I am well, yes," Jon said slowly, his sword trembling in his hands. "You… you can talk?"
The doll let out a heavy sigh. "Moi wonders how mortals manage not to simply forget to breathe at times, seeing as you lot cannot seem to grasp the most self-evident of ideas. Yes, O boy who others cannot see for what you are though you stand before them, moi is quite capable of speech."
"But… but you're not alive. Are you?" Jon demanded, slowly lowering the sword.
"Ah! Now, that is indeed a question moi has pondered before. You see, Moi's body is naught but earth, possessed by Moi's spirit, as Moi's true vessel yet lies deep within the fourth hell. So, Moi does not breathe, nor eat, nor sleep. And yet, Moi is by far more aware of Moi's surroundings, and a far sight more thoughtful than most mortals. So, what is it that makes one live? Be it a body that lives and breaths? Or capacity for thought?"
Jon Snow blinked. "What?"
The doll, somehow, rolled its eyes. "Moi thinks; therefore, moi lives."
"I have gone mad," Jon muttered, rubbing a hand through his dark hair. "Utterly mad. I'm talking to my sister's doll."
"Hmm? Oh, that." Suddenly, instead of a doll, a man sat cross legged on Jon's bed, a man who looked like, well, Vanir the Doll.
"What are you?" Jon whispered.
"Moi is thy sister's bonded familiar, her guardian and protector, and, if Moi dares to be forward, her friend. Though Moi is but a humble Duke of Hell, Moi has long known Komekko, and it amuses Moi to remain her companion."
"My sister...has a pet demon?" Jon asked slowly.
"Do not be absurd! Moi is not like thy mangy mute beast, Moi is a familiar, not a pet!"
Ghost sat up, then gave Jon an amused look.
"Ghost...isn't my pet. He's more like a brother, as much as Robb or a member of the Watch," Jon said quietly. Then he shook himself. "I've seen strange things since I came to the Wall, but never something like this. Did my sister really summon a demon from the seven hells just to torment me?"
"No, do not be absurd. She summoned me to fetch her a snack," Vanir huffed.
There had been a great many answers to the question of "why Vanir" but all things considered, Jon supposed that "because Komekko was hungry" made the most sense. "Aye. Well, you know I'm hale. What are you going to do now?"
"Moi shall depart," the demon declared, springing to his feet. "Moi seeks to reunite with an old friend; Wiz, the shopkeeper who becomes ever poorer the harder she works."
"A shopkeeper," Jon said dully.
"Indeed! Fare thee well, boy who is a friend of wolves and crows, yet a stranger to dragons. Moi shall inquire as to thy health when Moi passes through once more. Do try not to perish; it would upset the mistress greatly, and Moi has no ability to deal with weeping children."
And then, Vanir was a doll again, toddling out of Jon's cell and into the hall. He looked to Ghost. "Did that really just happen?"
Ghost, however, had gone back to sleep, being well familiar with strange visitors and odd happenings. Deciding that was probably wisest, Jon himself rolled over, and went back to sleep.
In the morning, Jon awoke, and decided that what he had witnessed was, in fact, a very strange dream. He was homesick, that was all. Thus, Jon rose, ate with Sam, Pyp, and Grenn, and then headed out towards the Haunted Forest. They spent the morning chopping wood for their fires, though they did so with several older brothers, armed with bows with dragonglass tipped arrows and armed with daggers of the same.
Already, Jon had seen one corpse put down and burned, its hand sent back with Lord Tyrion to beg for aid. The older men were talking: such things had not happened before, and many were deeply concerned. Benjen Stark was not the first ranger to go missing, only the last. They said the Old Bear was planning something, but what, Jon did not know.
On the way back inside, Jon noticed something queer in the sudge of ice and snow just past the gate. He bent down to retrieve it, and his heart skipped a beat. It was a black and white mask, like that Vanir had worn when he had taken the shape of a man. Hastily, Jon shoved the mask in his pack, and attempted to put it out of his mind.
That evening before bed, Jon took the mask out of his pack, eyeing it warily. On a whim, he took it out behind the tower and buried it, digging a shallow hole in the frozen earth. That done, he breathed a bit easier, and went back to his bed.
The next morning, he awoke to a doll at the foot of his bed. His scream brought three brothers running, all armed and looking for trouble.
"What is it, Snow?" one of them growled. "Did the Others make it beyond the wall?"
"Oh no, Moi is quite certain the barrier is intact," Vanir, who was still a doll, said. "No being of magic could pass beyond that barrier."
Jon looked at the brothers expectantly, but they didn't seem to hear Vanir speak. Instead one of him cocked his head. "What's this? Didn't take you for one to have a toy in his cell, Snow."
"Tell him I am from Wiz's shop," Vanir advised.
"...he's from Wiz's Shop?" Jon offered.
"Oh." The older man frowned. "Who told you of the Witch, Snow? You're not yet a sworn brother."
"Relax, the boy will be soon enough, and he's already seen the Other's handiwork. Let him keep his talisman. Mayhaps the Witch will return, and solve this bloody mess for us. What was the scream for though, Snow?"
"I...had a bad dream," Jon ventured. "My uncle, you see."
The older men's expressions softened, and they put away their weapons. "Aye. You're not the only one to get the screamers at times. You've seen them. Had nightmares for months the first time I saw the dead walk. Bloody well don't tell you that when you sign up, do they?"
Jon mutely shook his head, and the Black Brothers departed. Once they were well and truly gone, Jon slowly inched forward, examining the grinning doll. "Why… why did you return?"
"It seems the barrier keeps things both out, and in. Moi cannot traverse it alone," Vanir sighed. "To reach Wiz, moi shall require aid.
"I… see. And… will you not depart back to Winterfell then?" Jon asked hopefully, wondering if he truly had gone mad.
"Oh no, the Mistress wishes moi to find dear Wiz, and thus, moi shall do so. So, boy who dreams of a mother's touch, Moi shall stay with you, until an opportunity to venture forth arises."
"You want me to just… take you beyond the wall and bury you again?" Jon asked hopefully
"Oh no! Moi shall remain here. Before Moi's form disintegrated, Moi sensed a brooding power, one darker and more terrible than even a Duke of Hell. Thus; Moi shall fulfill the mistress's other charge, and keep her foolish brother safe from harm."
Jon nearly screamed again.
Cast of Characters
Vanir as; - MOI IS NOT FINISHED!
Lyrics by The Grand Cognator. Music by Alan Menken
Jon looked around his cell. "Who are you talking to?"
"Moi addresses the choir invisible. Now, let us begin.
Vanir snapped his fingers, and Jon's cell seemed to grow in size to that of a great icy cavern. Dozens of Vanir dolls sprang out of the ground, Ghost transformed from a wolf into a boy with pointed ears, though he was still an albino.
"Music!" Vanir ordered, and instruments appeared in the hands of many of the dolls, and Ghost took out an odd, flute-like instrument. Jon tried to scramble away from the mad Duke of Hell, but Vanir grabbed Jon, and, as the band struck up a jazzy tune, he began to sing as he swing-danced with Jon.
Well nasty Aegon had Balerion
Bran the Builder had his giants too
But, mortal, you're in luck! Because up Moi's sleeve,
Moi has a better option just for tou!
Jon ducked and tried to escape Vanir as a giant black dragon swooped over head, and giants sprang up around. His struggles ceased with the dragon and giants put on atop hats, produced enormous canes, and began to tap dance to the beat. Vanir spun Jon about, dancing with his summoned apparitions.
Thou has some power in thy corner now
And to get it thou but need'st to ask
Thou hast some punch, pizzaz, yahoo-and how,
And all thou has to do is find moi's mask
Vanir vanished, leaving Jon holding only the demons mask in his hands. Vanir wasn't gone for long though, appearing behind Jon and shoving him into a chair as his mini clones trucked out a table. Ghost, in the form of the white haired and red eyed humanoid boy, appeared across from Jon, and passed him a menu.
And I'll say,
"Monsieur Tar -NO NOT YET- come, wish 'pon une etoile
Let me take your order, jot it down?" You ain't ever had a friend like moi!
Life is thy restaurant, with limitless foie gras!
Come, whisper what it is thou want! You ain't never had a friend like moi!
Yes sir, Moi pride ourselves on service
Thou'rt the boss, the king, the shah!
Say what thou wish, 'tis yours! True dish!
How about a little more Baklava?
Various dishes appeared before Jon at a snap from Vanir. He leaned forward to sniff one, a cake in the shape of Vanir's mask, only for the Duke of Hell to suddenly spring up out of the table, causing Jon to jerk back and fall out of his chair, only to be scooped up and dusted off by the little clones as Vanir stood on the table and serenaded Jon, offering a menu again.
Have some of column "A,"
Skip "B" though, it's quite blah,
Moi's mood is to help thee, dude,
You ain't never had a friend Moi!
Can thy friends do this?
Do thy friends do that?
Do thy friends pull this out their little hat?
Snapping his fingers, Vanir called into existence a gleaming suit of armor with a dire wolf on one breast, and oddly enough a dragon on another. It vanished before Jon could ponder this, replaced by a gaggle of giggling girls, who were swept away when Vanir whipped the table cloth off, covering them and making them vanish.
Can thy friends go, poof?
Well, looky here!
Can thy friends go, Abracadabra, let 'er rip!
And then make the sucker disappear?
The fallen tablecloth bulged, then sprang up and was tossed aside to reveal a snarling wildling warrior with dirty red braids and a scared face, only for Vanir to smack the apparition with a wooden mallet, making him groan comically and crash to the ground, vanishing in a puff of smoke.
So don't sit there slack jawed, buggy eyed
Moi's here to answer all your foolish prayers.
Thou got me bona fide, certified
Thou hast a Demon for your chare d'affaires!
Vanir tossed aside the mallet, taking Jon by the hand and leading him and ghost, who was once more playing his strange instrument, up a flight of stairs to look down at the wild ruckus below them, full of playing clones, dancing giants, and the dragon spouting great gouts of flame in time to the music.
Moi's got a powerful urge to help thee out
So what's thy wish? Truly Moi must know!
Thou hast a list that's three miles long, no doubt
Well, all thou need'st do is rub like so - and oh
Good Lord Comm- SPOILERS, FOOL! Make a wish, 'fore the Wall thaws!
Moi's on the job, thou big nabob
You ain't never had a friend, never had a friend,
You ain't never had a friend, never had a friend,
Vanir suddenly produced a top hat, shoving it on Jon's head, and dancing with him for a moment, before kicking him screaming off the top of the stairs and into darkness as Vanir continued to sing.
You ain't never,
Had a,
Frieeeend
Liiiike
Moiiiiiiiiiiii!
You ain't never had a friend like moi, hah!
With a jerk, Jon sat up in his bed, blinking. The cell was back to normal, and Vanir was a doll again, sitting lifelessly on the floor next to Ghost.
But next to Ghost, lay that same strange instrument, shaped a bit like a conch shell, colored blue, and with holes to play it, like a flute. In other lands, it would have been called an ocarina.
"I'm going mad," Jon whimpered, and curled up into a ball and tried to sleep.
… well, OK then. That happened. And….Cast of Characters?
Jon Snow as; Knowing far too much. +5 Insight, -2 San
Ghost as; "…"
Yunyun as; Creeper detector
Petyr Baelish as; A really bad friend
Kazuma and Megumin as; in tsundere with each other
And the Cast of a Song of Ice and Fire as failing a San check.