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 XIV…
The plateau above Kings' Landing…
(Dallas theme continuing as King Robert resumes his review of characters for his new Hand…
Cut to various shots about Kings' Landing, that prosperous cesspit of a capital…
The Royal Amphitheatre…Currently hosting the hit play "Game of Thrones" about a hilarious comic struggle for power around a brutal warrior king excellent in battle but somewhat inept in governance, his beautiful but utterly immoral yet not all that bright as she believes herself Queen, the brilliant but socially graceless mighty lord running things behind the scenes, a bunch of noble but foolishly naïve challengers all doomed to horrible deaths, a mysteriously creepy Spymaster eunich plotting to hand the kingdom over to a foreign power, and the clever, dashing hero, a poor boy from a small house who beats the odds to make good, rescue the kingdom from chaos, and win his widowed girl with his patient love, charming wit, and a few necessary murders…A musical, produced by the mysterious if famed producer "Max Bialystock" (some in the know claiming it to be a pseudonym for the Minister of Finance) , directed by Busby de la Berkeley, if you're in Kings' Landing don't miss it before the censors catch on and close it down.
The crowds of Fleas Butt, affordable housing district for the poor and working classes…Where life can be hard but is always colorful and vibrant…
The Redder Keep, center of power and hopeful schemes, where dreams may be fulfilled or end on the chopping block or in the dungeons…Home of the King when he can't escape to more congenial surroundings and the famed Iron Throne, uncomfortable seat of Kings and symbol of unity and power in the United Kingdoms of Westeros.
The Royal Bowl…Where the Fighting Knights are set to meet the Rampaging Barbarians next Sevenday at 4pm in a closely matched game to determine the Kingdom's champions in the manly and occasionally deadly sport of kings, princes, nobles, and you little people, field hockey…
The Stuffed Belly…Famed restaurant/inn where the elite meet to drink, dine, scheme, hookup…
"And the lesser characters, my Lord Hand…Whom you should be familiar with if you're to be the real power in the land whilst I just fuck around having a grand time." Robert continued.
"Danerys Targaryn…Female descendant of Eerys, the late and Maddest of the Mad Kings…Currently residing in Essos, across the Sailable Sea. Potentially heir to my throne now that her idiot and pretty mad brother Viciously has met with a case of suicide by stupidity. Smokin'…Literally, given her Targaryn inbred resistance to fire, but not all that overwhelming in the cranium. I'd do her in a hot minute but sadly I'll probably have to croak her for the greater good one day."
(Danerys Targaryn as Danys, Khalessi of the Doofraki, soon-to-be dictator of several formerly Free Cities, and would be for no truly legit reason but her family's brutal conquest centuries ago, Queen of Westeros.)
"Her top aide and my own stooge/spy Ser Jonah Job, woebegone ruined knight and long-time sufferer of Fate, exiled in disgrace for selling people without a license after his tramp wife went through his fortune. A major depressive but useful in that he's letting me know if that Targaryn tramp should ever get her hands on some real military power and a dragon or two."
(Ser Jonah Job…As the depressed Knight/aide/reluctant spy/traitor/convert to loyal Queen fan…)
"Khan Khal Noonen Singh…The current Doofraki leader currently dying of an infected wound. Bred to be a superior human being by the breeding principles of Doofraki culture, now he would've been a challenge in the field at last after all these years of little shites not worth my trouble but the fool went and got himself in some clan knife fight without antibiotics handy. Now Khan, I'm laughing at the superior type…" snort.
(Khan Khal…As the shortly to be handsome if worm-eaten corpse…)
"My own brother, Stanislaw the Even More Brutal but Somewhat Responsible…Though he's currently holding our ancestral family Keep at Storming Out…And bidding his time to make a bid for the throne, using some bizarre new faith revolving around the hideously distorted teachings of that nice Jewish rabbi kid who used to preach in the Free City of Judea…"
(Stanislaw Barftheron… As the grimly ambitious, would-be heir and sponsor of a new unifying Faith incidentally reworked to his benefit…Shot of grim towering figure eyeing the sea from his ancestral battlements…)
"Melisande the Red…The weirdly gifted former slave/hot babe fanatic priestess of the said new Faith, currently busy frying those she considers heretics despite the enjourning of her Faith's leader to love everyone as a brother or sister in his original teachings. Now I would do her in a minute if I didn't fear her ESP abilities so much... Though our Section 51 at the Citadel has been working to counter her abilities."
(Melisande the Red…As the insanely fanatic priestess and ESP-powered witch)
"My other brother…Rently the Likable if Poofy…Who generally bows to my will but wouldn't mind making a bid for power if he thought he'd have the people's love backing him. He's at the capital, on my Council. Now, he might constitute a little problem for that girl of yours if she remains determined to have Ser Lotus the Flowery as they have a thing going together in secret."
(Rently Barftheron…As the well-meaning would be heir.)
"And…"
"Robert…?! Where's Joff?" Cersei interrupted, having had a moment to look about the royal wagon train as camp was set up. "I thought he might be trying to weasel his way into Lady Wednesday's heart or pathetically clinging to you, trying to find some way to win your approval, but…"
Ok, I was sleeping off a week of sex and booze, orgy, trying to look queenly dignified at orgy and with local notables, sex and booze, agonizing wagon ride, more trying to look queenly with local notables and smile for the nobodies, sex…And you know I do all the work there, Bobbie…And booze…She thought, sighing.
Oh, I guess I am not the best of wives and mothers, but…
"Who?" he stared. Woman, you're interrupting me reeling off the minor credits…Glare as Lord Gomez politely begged leave to see to his daughter, Cersei giving queenly nod, Robert intensifying glare at loss of his friend's company.
"This best be worth me royal time of day, woman…" he frowned. "Who the hell are you asking about?"
"Our son?…The heir?…Short, blonde, cute, desperate to please you, psychotically so. Real emotional and mental basket case?…Our budding Caligula, with a penchant for gutting cats?" she reminded him.
"Oh, right…The little snot-nosed shite…I think we must've left Swampflood without him three days ago." Robert shrugged.
"Robbie?!"
"Eh…Your brother Tyrion's still there…If he hasn't headed North yet. Just tell the little snotbag when and if he finally makes it here that I was testin' his fitness for the throne with a minor quest." Robert shrugged, chuckling. "Gods know my money's on him failing that test…Hey, anyone here want to be King after I croak?" he called out to the entourage in general, parting the curtains of his and Cersei's royal tent. "A vacancy may be openin'…No wait, I still have that other little whathisname…" he noted. "The tolerable one…Tom or whatever? Yeah…" nod. "He's a bearable kid, this may work out…" he reflected as Cersei blinked in horror…
Oh, my poor psychotic Joff…My son… Oh, how could I?!
This bitch queen and incest thing is all very well for fun and to assert my modicum of independence from the controlling males in my life but when it interferes with my parenting skills…
"Oh, I'm a terrible mother…" she sighed, weeping suddenly.
Eh? Robert staring…
Uh…Now I was prepped and ready for a bitter castigation from the witch from Hell…But this comes outta left field.
"Uh…Cerse? Pull yer frigging self together and be a Queen for Godssakes. The little vomitous ball of pus'll be fine, his Airdale Knight's with him."
"Oh…Robbie…" she sobbed, hugging his embarrassed, stunned form…Well, as much as she could given that girth. "You can be so supportive and sweet when the chips are down."
"Eh…" he frowned…But did not shove her off into the mire outside as was his wont.
Cut to shot of Lord Verymuchs, anxiously rubbing thumbs and frowning in his Tower office as the information on the Barftherons' effervescent reconciliation reached him almost instantaneously…
Hey, a proper eunich minister cum Spymaster can pull this sort of thing off or he's not worthy not to have balls, his look to us saying…
Not good news…He thinks. For should the Barftherons reconcile, even just to the extent of barely tolerating each other…Queen Cersei is sure not to panic and have Robert killed to protect Joffrey's climb to the throne…Good mum failing to win out over bizarrely loving much abused wife. And if the little psycho does not come to the throne and trigger a major civil war through his insane and blundering policies towards potential allies, friends, and those who wouldn't bother to waste the time of killing him except that the little basket case threatens their comfortable lives, the kingdom could remain somewhat stable and prosperous rather than increasingly ripe for conquest by someone with no other claims than her superior airpower and that her ancestor brutally invaded and killed his way across the continent centuries ago, bludgeoning the kingdoms into surrender.
Well, just have to count on their mutual antipathy and the problems that these arranged marriages foster, for now…
Hmmn…Maybe I should go see Middlefinger and see if my nemesis, the little fuck, has heard and has any clever ideas. He's a sneaky little shit…And I doubt the long-term stability of the kingdom works for him either.
Besides I so enjoy his sparkling conversation and wit…Only our little imp Tyrion can match him in that department….
….
Meanwhile…In the North, at Swampflood…
An anxious Robbed Stark sat by his comatose brother Branded's sickbed, holding his hand as Morticia sat by Pugsly's, occasionally speaking a word of comfort to the boy suddenly forced to become head of his noble House by tragedy.
Their sad vigil marked only by the screams of the duplicitous Maester Mengele issuing from the dungeons far below…The Maester having immediately confessed on being confronted with proof from the literature, delivered by raven dispatched by the suspicious Lady Addams, that the use of large quantities of mercury in poultices had been abandoned as potentially dangerous. Whereas ethylmercury in minute quantities was removed from the body without harm and its preservative benefits in medications and lack of side effects clearly warranted its use…
Not to mention his claims regarding his experiments in interspecies spinal transplant being totally unfounded…
…Causing him to admit to having taken funding from mysterious sources who'd demanded he'd see that the boys either did not recover or made that once in a thousand years' medical breakthrough…
Suggesting the said mysterious source was capable of putting the greater good ahead of immediate personal gain, Lady Addams had noted as the Maester, pleading for mercy as a valuable contributor to Natural Philosophy and one only following orders, was dragged away to unspeakable torture. Fester eagerly preparing to offer his assist...
Though…As Lady Morticia had urgently noted to Lurch and the bannermen hauling the prisoner to his grisly fate, it might be well to make the torture speakable, at least for now.
"Who could have sent him?" Robbed shook head. "Everyone likes us…My father was an honorable and respected man, as is Lord Gomez. Who would want to harm us, Lady Maud?" he turned to Lady Addams.
"Laddie…" Lady Addams sighed as Fester snorted…Short life and a merry one, kid…
Hideous scream causing even Robbed's great direwolf GreyWind to cower…
"It's the honorable and respected who are the ones first to die in times like these." Lady Maud noted. "In fact, in general…If you read history rather than fictional fantasy…Nice guys usually finish last. Though…" she reflected. "Not always…"
"And I won't allow it this time." Robbed rose, proudly. "Our cousin, your sister, my Lady Morticia, Lady Ophelia, believes that her husband and my father were poisoned by the Lannisters or on their orders. I'm really to believe it…And the Lannisters would have the money and connections to corrupt even the Maesters… Though I could accept Mom's death as a bizarre torch-out accident since poor Sir Walter lost his own dear latest wife in the same said tragic accident."
Lady Addams, rolling eyes at Fester who shrugged.
This one's headed for a better world…Soon…
"Robbed?" Morticia shook her head. "Aching as is my heart as I see my poor fully packed Pugsly lying there and your dear brother beside him…And fierce as is the fire of vengeance in said heart, I think we can't start a civil war that will kill millions on such weak supposition. The nobles and the people would howl for Lannister (or anyone's) blood with little more than a curse word from us and nothing but social media hearsay, but we must try to seek the truth."
"Yes…" Robbed sighed, agreeing. "That would be what my father would do…And I must follow his noble and honorably naïve path even if it leads to the destruction of our House, the devastation of the Kingdom, my own hideous death and the deaths of millions in war, and the ruins of a great civilization falling into the hands of a likely insane and tyrannical foreign conqueror."
"Leave that to me, Morticia." Fester nodded eagerly. "I'll get the Truth or something plausible out of that Maester." He rose.
"I don't know, Uncle Fester…Given the intensity of the screams I'd say the torturers were at Level 4 and he may have already instantly confessed everything he knew." Morticia noted, shaking head.
"Well, either he knows more or he doesn't…Fifty-fifty chance…Lemme at him." Fester, happily.
"Nothing dishonorable, my Lord Fester." Robbed urged.
Fester rolling eyes to sister Maud…For cryin' out loud, this is the Medieval era not the Romantic…
"Lord Stark is right, Uncle Fester." Morticia nodded. "Just the usual disembowelment and burning of his entrails before his eyes, nothing weird."
Sigh...
Never get any fun these days…Even with a legit candidate for torture…How's an artist like me to work in his medium with all these modern restraints on creativity...?
"Fine…We'll keep it simple." Fester sighed, a pat to the unconscious Pugsly, then heading out.
"Given the willingness to consider a greater good on the part of his paymaster, I'd suspect Lord Verymuchs…" Lady Maud noted grimly. "He's always been the sort to prattle about that sort of thing…Though old Tywin Lannister does the same, I'll admit, at least he's more honest about doing it for his House."
"Mama? Lord Verymuchs is the King's Minister of the Interior and Master of Shadows…You realize such a charge could have serious political consequences? As would a charge against Lord Lannister." Morticia noted.
"Well, duh, girl…" Lady Maud shook head. "I warned Ned Stark he was putting his head in a noose when he stopped by with Cat on their way to that cheap and vicious sob Walter Frey's latest wedding. Frey's been maneuvering for real power in the North for years and this was the likely outcome. But don't listen to me, I'm just an old fool ex-warrior queen."
"Mama, you know Gomez and I value your counsel. Gomez put you in charge of Swampflood's defense." Morticia noted. "And if it weren't for Pugsly's accident or incident, I'd be with him in Kings' Landing now."
"Well, you should go…There's little you can do here for Pugsly now." Lady Addams pointed out. "And Gomez needs your counsel in that cesspit of a capital. Plus Wednesday and the Stark girls have no one to turn to who might understand their confusion as innocent young women confronted by bottomless evil and violence. God knows, Queen Cersei's the last person…"
"Het-hum…My Ladies Addams…My Lord Stark…" Tyrion Lannister peered into the chamber through the open door, Joffrey squirming a bit in his vise grip, the Airdale following with look of amusement.
"We've come to pay our respects…Very sorry to hear about the boys. Aren't we, Prince Joffrey?" Tyrion gave Joffrey a grim look…Joffrey quailing at the remembrance of the ten-minute slap session he'd been treated to just before when he'd sneered at the thought of comforting wailing women while crying for his mother.
"Very sorry, my Ladies." Joffrey, hastily…Shoved forward by Tyrion, he went to kiss the hand of a grim-looking Lady Maud and then that of a somewhat less frosty Lady Morticia. Robbed Stark eyeing him, then Tyrion coldly.
I could be driven from my father's honorable course in dealing with these two Lannister scum…
"Any improvement?" Tyrion, with genuine concern as Joffrey backed away, an attempt at sneer quickly crushed by Tyrion's glance.
"None." Morticia shook head.
"I'm very sorry to hear. If there's anything I can do…Perhaps contact my father regards medical advice? Please don't fail to ask it before we leave. I'm off to overtake Jon Snowed this morning."
Hmmn…Lady Addams glared.
Following after my beloved…Gods…Son, eh? 'To see the Great Wall', sure…
"And of course Prince Joffrey is making his first solo tour of the North before going home…" Tyrion diplomatically covering Joffrey's abandonment by his indifferent parents.
Knowing what that's like, he can tell you…
Though even he can't find much sympathy for this little psycho in training after that puppy and peasant girl incident last year.
"Really? I'm on solo tour?" Joffrey eager to have some explanation for his abandonment…
Yeah, that's plausible…Yeah…
So Dad's entrusted me with winning the hearts and minds of the treacherous Northerners? Whoa.
Well, Joffrey Barftheron is up to the challenge…A few burned villages, a few raped girls, noble and peasant, by my violent and cowardly hench-hangerson, a bit of torture and murder, some extortionate tax levies…And maybe a statue or two of me, built at huge expense by forced labor, and my popularity will be secured, he beamed.