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 III…
"Mama seems very energetic…" Lady Morticia noted to Lord Gomez as they hurried to greet the King's herald approaching…Or rather, slogging through the deep quicksand and mud to approach…The gates of Swampflood. "She's been calling for the armorer and the master of arms…What did you say to her up there?"
"I put her in charge of the guard here…" he noted, a bit apologetically.
"Gomez? Isn't she getting on a bit for that sort of thing?" she stared.
"Mama? Never…Besides it was either that or she'd take the black and head for the Wall and you know how the children would miss her. Besides, Mama at the Wall with all those elderly knights and rough young lads…The Night's Watch'd either be decimated or too exhausted to fight anything." Grin.
Loud gong as the Herald at the gates pulled the long cord and then attempted to blow trumpet…Mostly mud emerging.
"You rang?" Lurch opening small door at the massive gate.
"Herald…" gag… "Of the most…" cough, spewing mud… "…noble King Robert I, ruler…" hack, spew of mud… "…of the Seven."
"Uuuuuuhhhhhhhhhhhh. Enter." Lurch opened door wide.
"Ah, Ser Lotus Markwell…" Lady Morticia nodded to the gallant if mud-bestrewn herald…Who had taken off his gauntlets and was shaking swamp mud out of each.
"My Lady…" bow.
"Lotus, old man…Had a bit of a swim getting through, eh?" Lord Gomez, cheerily. Sound of box opening, a hand offering a towel.
"Ah, the very thing, Thing, thanks." Gomez beamed, taking towel and handing it to Ser Lotus who took it gratefully.
"What news of the king, Ser Lotus?" Morticia asked as he wiped desperately, then came to attention.
"I've the honor to announce that the King should be here…Given the state of the roads…In a couple of days." Ser Lotus noted.
"Ah, he must be within two miles to make that kind of time." Gomez noted. "But Robert never did let any obstacle hinder him. How is the old sledge-hammering maniac?"
"Well, my Lord." Ser Lotus nodded. "Though perturbed by the recent sudden deaths of Lord Stark and Lord Arryn, his dear friends and supporters. He is very anxious to see you."
"And I, him, Lotus." Gomez, eagerly. "But you left him and the Queen well and in good spirits. I mean, apart from the mourning…?"
"King Robert was a bit less than his usual jovially brutal self my Lord. The Queen was her usual passive-aggressive, depressive bitch."
"Well, that's good to hear. We're preparing eagerly for their arrival. Feasting, a bit of tourney, a mammoth train wreck planned."
"I'm sure Their Majesties will be pleased and honored, my Lord and Lady Addams." Elegant, if muddy, bow.
Thwack of crossbow…
"Zounds! OW!" Ser Lotus groaned, clutching struck leg.
"Oh, dear…" Morticia sighed. "That's our little girl playing again, Ser Lotus. Wednesday!" she called. "Stop that immediately and come apologize to our guest!"
"He's alive! That's enough apology!" Wednesday's shrill voice, annoyed.
"Lurch, a surgeon for the Ser…" Gomez turned to the frowning Lurch, who groaned and lumbered off, muttering.
"Wednesday Addams! Come here at once!" Morticia called.
"I don't…" Wednesday emerged into view from a overhead balcony, staring down at the godlike visage of the desperately attempting to staunch bleeding fabled Knight of the Gardenias, Ser Lotus Markwell.
Ohhhh…She blinked…Ser Lotus turning his divine face her way, trying to smile while repressing the urge to call his aide to draw on the little…
Wednesday, open-mouthed…Gazing upon the most glorious thing she'd ever seen…
(Pick your favored romantic love theme…)
Suddenly finding the said little lady before him, she having lept from said balcony…
"Oh…" she gaped at his divine features. "I'm so sorry, Ser Knight. I must have been doing embroidery or some other attractively womanly task when my hand daintily struck a crossbow someone carelessly had left loaded on the balcony. Are you all right, Ser…Uh…"
Perfection? Divinity? Godlike Wonder?
"This is Ser Lotus Markwell, Wednesday." Morticia noted, relieved Wednesday's killer instinct had somehow been subdued. "Ser Lotus, my daughter Lady Wednesday."
"Charmed…" he groaned out.
"Wednesday's got a boyfriend…" Pugsly, watching from the balcony where he'd sat as Wednesday took his dare that she could skewer the visitor with one shot.
"You toad!" Wednesday cried at him, fuming…Then immediately recovering her dignity even before Morticia could intervene, turning back to Ser Lotus. "My Lord. Please pray accept my most fervent apologies for your accidental injury…May I?" she offered to take the handkerchief. "Water?!" she looked round.
The same box from which Thing and cloth had emerged opening again, a hand offering up a small bucket of water which she took gratefully. "Thank you, Thing."
"Wednesday's got a boyfriend…" Pugsly tried again, Wednesday, all dignity, not deigning to hear as she dabbed at the wound. Beaming at Ser Lotus' divine visage…
Slight coo as he smiled at her efforts…
"Pugsly! Boys!" Mama Addams' voice heard… "The courtyard, on the double!"
…
Toiling through the swamps of the Addams lands…About two miles from Swampflood…
"I'll bet you find this hard, don't you…You little shit…!" King Robert, an extremely heavy-set man sitting aside his half-submerged, groaning horse sneered at his blond, slender eldest son, Joffrey, currently trying to hack his way through the choking reeds on the so-called "road"…
"Oh, no Father…I'm eager to prove myself to you…" Joffrey, earnestly.
"You lying little shite…I can see the sweat popping out all over your soft face…" sneer.
"Well, it's very hot and very wet, Father…"
"You're no son of mine. When Ned Stark, Gomez Addams, and I were lads we could do a little hike like this like cutting an ox open. Don't believe me, you little pussy?! You, there!" the King cried to a floundering attendant… "Bring me an ox!"
"Oh, no need Father…I'm sure you did. I'll do my best, Father." Joffrey, pleading.
Ehah…Robert waved him off and rode over to the carriage of the Queen, half-submerged and being hauled through the muddy swamp by ten half-dead men and women. He drew the curtain to reveal his beauteous red-blonde haired Queen, Cersei Lannister, lying by his squire, her nephew, Ser Lancil Lannister, Lancil half-dressed. "Why don't you admit it, you cheap trash whore? The boy's a bastard son of your brother or some other fool, isn't he?"
"Robert…" Cersei frowned, pulling up her half-removed dress. "Don't be ridiculous."
Ehah…He waved her off, glaring…Then eyeing Ser Lancil. "And you, you shite for brains…Get the hell out of there and fetch me me wine, you turd!"
"Ay, Your Grace." Lancil hurrying…
"Why don't you come in and rest a while?" Cersei to Robert, eagerly. "We could talk about the children, make out, discuss the political situation, make out, earnestly thrash out our marital problems, make out for the rest of the day…" she eyed him.
Ehah…He waved hand, shook head, riding off.
"Bob's in a foul mood…" the voice of Cersei's astoundingly handsome brother, Jamie Lannister…He astride a horse that even more astoundingly managed to be clean as was, astoundingly, his gleaming armor.
"He's pressed by many cares." Cersei sighed. "If only he'd recognize my political shrewdness and let me run the kingdom unchecked…And make out with me like minks…Things could be so much easier. Even though of course I would still despise and loath him, dear man." She noted, fond tone.
"You know, sis…" Jamie eyed her. "Even though we've been carrying on an incestuous affair for years that would make the Borgias squirm, I can't help feel sometimes that it's Robert you truly love."
"Nonsense…And why aren't you with him to see he doesn't stumble in one of these damned bog homes?!" she fumed. He shook head and rode off…
"Lancil?" she called to the squire. "Bring me a flagon of the King's wine as well so at least I can be drinking the same thing he is!"
…..
Meanwhile…
At the capital of the Seven Kingdoms, that sinkhole of vice and corruption, that filth-laden breeding pit of plots and betrayal, currently hosting the Westeros World's Fair…Don't forget to come and see it…Kings' Landing…
"So…Even now the cogs of my fiendish schemes are rolling, the dice spinning…" the voice of Lord Petyr Belloq, "Middlefinger" by nickname… Minor court flunkey by official title…Master of the Game by scheming hopes. As the lithe, catlike figure stood in the Great Hall of the ancient Red Keep of Kings, seat of the dynasty. "Ned Stark…Jon Arryn…Both removed…Only that bizarre fool, Lord Gomez Addams left by the King's side. And soon, when he comes here to Kings' Landing…He'll be the tool I use to ignite a war that will tear this kingdom apart and lead me to the power I so richly…"
"My Lord Minor Flunkey, Keeper of the Royal Books and whatnot…" a voice cut him off in his audible reverie… "It really might be best for your reputation as a spymaster and master manipulator if you'd avoid speaking your plans aloud while in reverie. People, like me, your potentially worst enemy, the Master of Shadows, Lord VeryMuchs, might be listening. Though, of course…I was not. I swear." Earnest look.
"VeryMuchs…" narrow look. "The one man who could stand in my way…Damn! I'm sorry…I keep doing that…" apologetic look. "It's a habit I picked up while growing up alone and isolated in the poor Fingerlands off the Wrist and Arm…My apologies. I'm trying to curb it."
"Well, I, of course, heard nothing…" Verymuchs, solemnly. "Though I should tell you my network of child and abused women spies has learned that Ned Stark and Jon Arryn died under….Shall we say…Questionable? Circumstances. As did Lady Stark when she and Ser Walter's latest young wife were found in the Triplets'' basement, apparently victims of a bizarre candle-out accident on the stairs where they managed to both fall into the deadly sharp blades of swords in suits of armor Ser Walter just happened to have lying in his basement."
"How appalling." Middlefinger, sneering…Wait…Cat? Cat, dead? My Cat?
"Lady Stark dead? You're sure?" tearing up… "My Cat, gone? My little kitty Cat? Dead?"
"I thought you knew…" Verymuchs, looking uncomfortable…
Didn't mean to be the bearer of bad tidings…
"OH…" sob… "Cat, my Cat…" weeping… "Oh, how I loved you, even though you betrayed me to marry that oaf, that honorable fool, that tarraragoondeay, Ned Stark." Sobbing.
"There, there…My dear fellow…" Verymuchs, patting.
"Thank you…It's very hard." Sniff.
"Yes, I'm sure..."
"And just when my fiendish schemes were reaching fruition…" sigh.
"That's always a bummer…" Verymuchs, sympathetically. "But you mustn't let it ruin the rest of your life. When my balls were cut off and put in a jar while I was able to feel everything…I thought it the end of the world. Or at least it hurt like it. But, sadly…It wasn't."
"Really…?"
"Still hurts like hell, especially when it rains…Or when I get horny." Sigh. "Well, you were monologuing about your fiendish schemes…Hows about I leave you to it and perhaps you'll feel better?"
"You're really very kind, Verymuchs. Thanks." Sniff.
"Now, now…You'll get through this. Don't forget Sansa Stark is still alive and the spitting image of her mother at the time you loved and lost her, pervy as that might be."
"That's true…Thank you."
"Any time. I'll leave you to it, all right? Call me if you need to talk to someone later on. Don't feel you have to face this alone."
"Ok…" sob. "Thanks, again."
"Anytime." Verymuchs headed off.
"Somehow I just can't enjoy this as much knowing the person I'd hoped to trick into being with me on my throne is dead…" Belloq sighed. "It just seems like it's all for nothing…Still…" he brightened. "There is Sansa…Pervy as it might be to pursue her in Cat's place. And there is the Game, to be played. Now against the foolish Lord Addams…Sure to be my next catspaw." Momentary sneer…
Oh…sob…
Cat…