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 VIII…
The next morning…
VIP guest lodging cottages of Swampflood…We'll leave the torches burning for ya…
"Hey, bro…" Jamie Lannister, his gleaming armor reflecting the morning sun's rays in the doorway… "Rise and shine…"
"Good Gods…Jamie…" Tyrion groaning at the dazzling light…Odd given Jamie was standing in the doorway. "What time is it?"
"What you have need to bother with hours of the day unless they be cups of sack, legs of a fat capon, and the sun itself a flame-haired wench in a taffeta dress, like your friend here." Jamie, nodding to said 'friend', senior village prostitute, Ros…Who grinned back, waving. Hey, Jim…Welcome back…
"Yes, well enough of the attempt at Shakespeare, brother…I was hoping to be awakened by my lady Ros here, my latest candidate for utterly unacceptable to Father bride. In my favorite fashion, eh, my little flame-haired alarm clock?" he fondly patted the beaming Ros.
"Well, we're expected at the Addams' all-day tourney/feast/orgy for the King, in fact we'd've started already but Bob's sleeping in. I'm afraid he's not quite the young carouser and lech he was once. Plus Cersei won't get off his sleeping form and keeps ordering servants away under penalty of immediate burning." Sigh.
"The course of true incestuous love never runs smoothly, dear boy." Tyrion shrugged. "But I still have a long list of whore wife candidates to go through…No offense, Lady." He addressed Ros, who smiled, shrugging… "You are on my A list, I assure you."
"Naturally…" she noted smugly. "But while being a lady, wife to a mighty Lannister with all that power and wealth might appeal to some…I kinda like being footloose and fancy-free and an independent working girl. Though if I were going to marry anyone, my little Lord, on the basis of sex alone, you'd be the one." Grin.
"What do you mean to imply about me and Cersei, brother?" Jamie, perturbed as Ros rose, gathering her flimsy clothes.
"Imply?" Tyrion stared…"Nothing…Everyone with eyes in Westeros knows you and Cersei have been carrying on for years…Though of course she carries on with everyone. She even came on to me once when we were traveling together on a goodwill tour for Father to comfort the surviving victims of his latest massacre."
"What?" Jamie blinked.
"Oh, gods know I'd never do it with that skank…" Tyrion reassured him. "Who knows what she's carrying the way she sleeps around? Give me a nice clean, well-medically supervised, prostitute any day. And speaking of which, I have my line of candidates to interview, so if you would." He waved.
"Yeah, I figured…So to speed things along as Bob likes to have your rapier wit at table, I brought the whole corps." Jamie, stepping aside to allow a number of ladies to enter. Given the famed Imp's sexual prowess and liberal purse, not by any means all professionals as Ros, sniffing, noted.
"Bro…" Tyrion smiled fondly. Jamie beaming, giving thumb's up as the ladies leapt on bed.
"First, ladies…" an attendant with chart stepping forward. "Have any of you ever had the following diseases?"
"I'll be leaving you to it." Jamie noted. Tyrion waving as the attendant ran down his list.
…
At table in their bedroom, with Lord Gomez, Lord Morticia, managing to look even more depressed and sad than usual in her black morning gown, head on hands, pensive.
"Must you accept, Gomez? It means leaving all this for the sordid cesspit that is the capital." She noted, sadly.
"I'm afraid so, Tish." Sigh. "Robert needs me and he and I and Ned were always like that…" he locked fingers together. "For three months, we really were after the battle of Spatterfield…Our wounds fused as we lay for dead on the battlefield for a week and we couldn't be separated until Mad Maester Queerbird performed his radical new form of antiseptic surgery."
"Yes, I remember…Making love to you was rather difficult those months."
"But as always…We managed." He eyed her, raised eyebrows.
"So I will be left here, with the children…" she sighed.
"What? Certainly not…Why do you think I put Mama in charge of the guard. She can hold down the Keep here with Pugsly to act as Lord in my place. You and Wednesday will come with me to Kings' Landing."
"Oh." She nodded. "Well, much as I detest the capital, if you put it that way…"
"And at least you'll be able to spend time with your old friends…Cersei, that rogue Middlefinger…young Margeary Anne Boleyn when she visits, her malicious, deadly grandmother Oleander Boleyn, her slimy, pedophilic, if elegant father Thomas, and all those other charming people. Plus it'll be your chance to work your magic on the Barftherons' marriage. Cara, you're my best adviser, my ballast, my chopping block, as well as my hot sex partner and companion for life, I couldn't face the pitfalls and dangers of the capital without you."
"Oh, Gomez…Ma petite chere…"
"Tish…Three in a row…I may have a coronary…"
"Then, we should get you to bed…" roguish smile. "At least till the servants tell us that Robert has escaped Cersei and is ready to orgy. By the way, did the local ladies of easy virtue arrive yet?"
"Late last night. Good ole Cousin Imp, Tyrion's been evaluating them ever since. I'd say, given the noise from the guest quarters, he's finding them satisfactory. Now, my dear Cara…" wolfish grin…
…..
The Great Hall of the Keep of Swampflood…
"Eh, Louie, Louie…Oh, oh…We gotta go now, ya, ya, ya, yah…!" Chorus of carousers, led by King Robert at huge table covered with food and drink, much of it being spilled now…And immediately cleaned by the phalanx of servants led by the frowning, sighing Lurch, and with the help of Thing, from strategically located boxes on the great table…
"Now this be an orgy, Gomez!" Robert raising tankard of ale in one hand, lusty wench in the other…
Cersei, holding his drinking arm, arm-in-arm, grimacing a bit as she tried to maintain a conversation with Morticia at her side.
"Wonderful weather you're having for once…" she noted.
"Yes…" Morticia sighed. "It's appallingly pleasant all that blue sky and warmth drying the bogs a bit."
"Still the Starks maintain that Winter…" Robbed, seated next to Cersei, insistent.
"Right, yeah…It's coming…We all get that." Cersei nodded. "It usually does, following Summer and then Autumn…Meaning it could still be a few years off."
Oh!...She groaned as Robert grabbed for yet another boar's leg and butt, jerking her arm.
"Leggo you silly twat!" he snapped at her. "You nearly made me drop me boar's butt and knock me dearie here's head on the table. You all right, what-the-frig's yer name?" he turned to lusty wench #4, a brunette.
"Maisie, yer Grace…" smile.
"Right, Maisie…How'd you like ta be me Queen in place of this trampy whore of a Lannister's cunt?" Robert asked.
"Oooh…I be not fit for such grace, yer Grace."
"Eh, they all say that…" Robert sighed. "Probably all bought off by yer frig of a father, that miserable miserly old kingmaking sob." he glared at Cersei.
"That sob finances your debaucheries and your Kingdom." She glared back. "But if you want to talk finance, we could take our leave and go discuss it in our bedroom. I'm sure everyone is anxious to end this sordid display of medieval piggery but too polite to say so in Our presence."
Actually I'm having a ball…Several knights thought, watching…If not busily wenching on Robert's discards.
"Gods…" Robert grimaced. "The thought of having to be alone with you at night is enough to make me puke…Though perhaps it's as much me overindulgence this time."
"Ser Lotus!" Cersei cried. "The pink bismuth for His Grace! At once!" turning eagerly to Robert. "We should retire to our bedchamber, Bobbie…You need to rest your overworked tummy. I could rub it…For hours…" she beamed.
"I'd as soon spit on you…" he frowned.
Oh…An offer to exchange a bodily fluid? She beamed at his angry face. When he's not incoherent with drink in the middle of the night? Why that's the sweetest thing he's said to me since he came in and groused that we'd best try to conceive one more damned pup, given the worthlessness of Joffrey and the bare tolerability of Tommen. And after we'd had mindless ravishment, I went as usual to Jamie…To conceal Robert's inability to make a child…His so-called bastards all being my doing, I telling each preggers whore he's been with to claim it was his. I mean, out of my loathing for him and desire to further my House by substituting Jamie's and my offspring into his line, of course, she corrected…
"Eh, let me to me whoring, bitch. But I'll be taking that bismuth, thanks Lotus…Flower…" sneer at Ser Lotus which Cersei eagerly shared in.
Oh, how I treasure these moments when we're as one…She thought. Much as I loath and abhor him, sweetest of darlings.
…