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 XXI…
Cylon base star theme…
Casterly Rock…
Approaching attendant in black robes, striding between lines of guards, kneels before the seated Lord Tywin, likewise in black, swinging chair to face him.
Hmmn…I really should have worn the red scarf today, Tywin thought. With dear Tywina gone on vacation there's no one brave or reasonably hopeful enough about their personal appeal to risk wearing anything but basic black on Basic Black Thursday.
Monotonous as hell…
"Speak…" he waved the man up.
"My Lord…There is fresh news from Essos. Danerys Targaryen's husband, Khan Khal Noonen Singh has died as a result of a dirty sword's wounding by a rival of the Doofraki, James of the Klan Kirk…"
Cut to shot of ranting James facing off with Khan Khal… "KHAN! KHAN! KHAN!...I'm THE KHAN!" Slashing…
Khan Khal eyeing his rival contemptuously as Ser Jonah and Danerys watch, anxiously. Finally and swiftly delivering the deathblow with a quick thrust as James of Klan Kirk turns to crowd, holding dagger in hubristic triumph. "I'm the KHAN! Argghh…!" Suddenly stumbling and collapsing.
"No! I don't wanna die! I wanna live!" death scream, shuddering, still…
"You are dead, Jim." Khan Khal, sneering, then wavering as he walks back to Danerys.
She having quickly shaken off her brief fascination with the legendarily womanizing James to refocus on her wounded "sun, moon, planets, and stars".
But I mean hey, James of Kirk...Ser Jonah having noted to her earlier that it had been said that no woman could resist him.
"A dirty sword wound…" Tywin nodded, listening. "As in, underhandedly or…?"
"I believe the word hygiene is unknown to the Doofraki…" the attendant noted.
"Which goes a long way to explaining why such efficient warriors and brutal mass murderers, fully horsed for mobility and armed with a tactical advantage like their composite bows, never manage to hang on to conquered territory." Tywin archly, pleased.
"Well, well…So Danerys is short one Doofraki Khan husband." He gave slight relaxation to his frown. "So much for the prospect of their horde appearing on these shores."
"That would seem so, sir." The attendant agreed, nodding. "In fact our intelligence and the king's both report that the horde has pretty much abandoned her and a few freed slave followers."
"Excellent…Then Lord VeryMuchs, our good king's eunich/resident traitor/spymaster…But isn't that the nature of the game…Must be pissed. No resurgence of the mindlessly ruthless Targaryens to bless our kingdom with their demented if effective skill at conquest just yet." Tywin, ever more pleased tone creeping in. The attendant watching in wonder…
I really think…I see…The crack of a smile…?
Guards attempting to look without looking as well…
This shall a day long remembered…
"And yet…My Lord…" the attendant, nervously.
Ah…The inevitable "but"…The rows of guards reflected.
Crack lost immediately, replaced by regulation frown.
"Ser Noonen?" Tywin eyed the pale, scholarly weedy man in, naturally, Lannister black…Ser Noonen Lannister of Dataly, one of the rare knights trained also as a Maester at the Citadel, the Westerosian seat of advanced learning. In fact, previous holder of the Chair of Advanced Natural Philosophy there before the gold of the Lannisters secured his wavering services for Casterly Rock.
"We have reports my Lord…Unconfirmed as yet…That the female continues her brother's plan to raise an army…"
"Well…Good luck to the little blonde bimbo…Not many will fight on vague promise of reward, fewer still will sail the Sailable Sea, with prospect of Lord Stanislaw's fleet engaging them, and then, finally land and fight on our fortified coast with our armored knights' divisions in position. I really should advance her a loan just to make things interesting and keep a level playing field. But I don't think so…" arch look, raise of head.
"What?" he saw the man looking down, rather less than fully relieved at his august employer's relatively good reception of the news.
"More?"
Nervous look up…
"Out with it man. Gods, why is everyone always so nervous at these things? You'd think I was the mad Ser Donald of Trumpeta, tossing unarmed attendants out of windows after taking them by surprise with bizarrely pointless questions about their jobs. I might well toss you out of a window one day, boy. But I'll give you a proper reason, fully stated."
"Yes, my Lord. Thank you Uncle…" nervous glance to the rows of guards. No doubt ready to assist in any such tossing…
Some might call in nepotism…Tywin eyed his nephew.
But I call it securing the family's unshakeable hold on power.
Gods know Jamie and Cersei are not exactly the brightest bulbs in the Kingdom. And while I know better than anyone how brilliant my little imp of a son is, he'll need well-grounded scholars in the family to advise him. Should the day come I bow to Fate and publicly admit he's the bright little hope of the family.
But first, he must needs prove himself to our followers and the world. And overcoming my everlasting scorn as well as the hatred of Cersei and the contempt of various idiots who blow with the prevailing winds of power is the best way to do so. Showing the world he doesn't need my help to be a great leader, that his disability never has hindered him…In fact, has been an asset in making him not only wise as an eagle and savvy as a lion leading the pack but compassionate in the most sensible and productive way…The greatest potential leader of our House to date, including even me. And so truly noble in spirit and character that even those who loathe our House would cheer for him to sit on the throne as King.
Heck, forget King…They'll vote him in as our first democratically elected President of the Council of the Seven. The final culmination of all my labors and schemes…The greatest gift my Joanna gave to me. Even if, as we agreed as she lay dying, I must avoid expressing my faith in him and my love for him as my last-born, our dearest baby. Repressing my natural desire to coddle and protect him that my noble and brilliant Joanna knew would cripple his future far more than his disability.
But all in good and gods' time…After the coming fires of crisis and even, perhaps, war will temper him.
And, if he screws up or Gods forbid I lose him, I suppose there's always Jaime.
Gods, who am I kidding? Jamie? I'd be better off trying to teach Cersei the basics of true leadership. Never letting your authority show…Letting powerful followers think their real opponents are each other, not you…Treating their concerns and interests with respect, as important. And of course getting the money, then you getta the power.
Of course, I might just possibly be able to do something with Tommen after our little Caligula, Joffrey, self-destructs his way to the inevitable sordid end…He's not a bad sort, the kid…
Excellent figurehead for Tyrion to rule behind, of course.
"Well…?" grim stare as he came out of his reverie.
"Oh, sorry, Uncle. You seemed lost in contemplation of plans for the future of our House, I feared to interrupt." Gracious nod from Tywin. "She may have hatched a few…No more than three…Probably less…Dragons."
Whoa…Perhaps a bit too much potential tempering for my heirs there…
"What?" careful eyeing. "Dragons? Danerys Targaryen may have dragons? Living, breathing…Fire specifically…Dragons?" Tywin, coolly.
"We think it's…Possible, sir."
Tywin rose…The attendant moving as low as physically possible.
"That is not good news." Grim sigh.
Guards slightly eyeing each other…
"And yet…Very useful…Even, perhaps…Life, and…Power…Saving…To be so forewarned. So, well done." Tight nod.
"Thank you, sir. Uncle." Gasping reply from the ground. As Tywin pondered the turn of events darkly.
"I take it they're small yet…They don't grow to full size overnight, do they?" waving for Ser Noonen to rise.
"Thank you, my Lord." Ser Noonen rising stiffly. "Uh…Records that we have of the Targaryens say, no…As does the analysis by our people in contact, my Lord. And their reports indicate they are very small as yet."
"Then we should see they grow no larger..." pause. "Tell me, has the King learnt of this?"
"He will be informed shortly, my Lord."
Hmmn…
While it's never good that the D word should be spoken in Westeros, the potential threat could well dispel the clouds of looming civil war, especially if Lord Gomez continues his initially successful reign as Hand. And yet…One must be prepared for the worst.
Ah, Lord Gomez…Yes.
"What of the analysis of Lord Gomez' new superweapon…Firewhatever?"
"Firepowder, my Lord." Ser Noonen relaxing a bit at the chance to provide upbeat news… "It seems likely capable of changing the balance of power in the Kingdom away from the armored knight, if reports of its effectiveness coming through are accurate."
Hmmn…Guards inwardly frowning while remaining at attention…
Composite bows, pikes…Now this "super-powder"…Always some new-flanged fad that's sure to put the man in steel out of a job…
Well, not today, so say we all…
To ourselves, anyway.
"Indeed. And what about its potential use with our new threat…As in countering the menace of Targaryen dragon air power?"
"My Lord. It's too soon to say if it can be effective against dragons should they survive to become a threat. However my analysis of the bones of dragons at the Red(der) Keep suggests dragonflesh is not indestructible and is likely vulnerable."
"Good potential news…We must see that it is confirmed as quickly as possible, even if we are able to eliminate the current threat." He leaned back in chair. Now this is a comfortable chair…And what's the damned use of power if you don't have a comfy chair to weld it from?
Really, gods know I'm glad I never tried taking that damned Iron Throne. Hemorrhoid City from what Eerys used to say before he went right off his rocker. I'm inclined to think years on sitting on that thing may have been what drove him mad.
"Confirm it, my Lord?" Ser Noonen, puzzled. "You mean blow up the dragons' skulls in the Red(der) Keep?"
"Robert would love that but no…Use your imagination, boy. I paid hefty fees to the Citadel for its development. We have three very little dragons we want removed before they can become a threat…And a new weapon to test, specifically on dragonflesh…" cool eyeing…
Oooh… "I see, Uncle." Ser Noonen nodding eagerly. "And with King Robert agreeing to start mass production shortly we could easily have a cargo shipped to Essos before they have any chance to grow."
"If Bob doesn't think of it himself…Might be best though to hold on suggesting it to him. VeryMuchs is sure to try and block any move to do so that way, with that prick Middlefinger happy to assist if it means keeping the kingdom unstable and blocking our efforts to gain control of the new coal resource."
"Indeed, Uncle…We have had some disturbing reports that VeryMuchs and Middlefinger are in league. And that Middlefinger may be behind the mysterious efforts to gain control of potential coal mining areas."
"It is all as I have foreseen." Tywin calmly.
Well what the hell am I gonna say? That I didn't see any of this coming? How long would I remain top dog with that kind of rep? You sound confident, you claim you already knew whenever something new shows on the horizon before anyone asks a question, you remain at the top of the heap. All part of winning the Game…
Ser Noonen nodding…
Unc…Always on top of things. Six steps ahead of everybody…
"Well…" Tywin pondered. "First things first. We must see that Lord Addams' efforts to achieve a new superweapon for the Kingdom succeed in the face of VeryMuchs' certain and insidious opposition…And we must see its first use is to eliminate Danerys Targaryen and her little dragon pets as a threat as quickly as possible."
Now there's a real shame…That hot blonde cutie blown to bloody smithereens. A tragedy even if a cruel necessity…Ser Noonen thought.
But such is the Game of Thrones…You win or you get blown to bloody if attractive chunks of gore.
Tywin rising, Ser Noonen swiftly rising, the rows of guards snapping to attention…
"You know choosing Lord Addams as Hand is quite possibly the first sensible act Bob's done as King in years. We lucked out when poor ole Ned Stark got croaked…Oh, I don't mean any disrespect to the foolishly murdered." Wave of hand… "And when that boy Robbed and King Bob choose to vent justice on that wretch Ser Walter, the Lannisters will be 110% behind them, but lets face it. Dear Ned would've honorably and nobly blundered his way into disaster at the capital." Sigh. "Pity about Cat though…I really will have to see Walter and his mongrels put down like mad dogs one day. The Tripletts would be a nice addition to our estates, of course. Good seat for one of the kids some day, you know?" he nodded.
"Yes, my Lord…"
"Still, we've yet to see how Lord Gomez deals with that nest of vipers. We may yet have to intervene there. Time will tell. Maintain strict surveillance and report all new developments to me at once."
"Aye, my Lord." Following at Tywin's side at a wave from him as the grim Lord made his way back down the long office and out into the vast Hall.
"Any word on how Tywina's getting on at Winterfalls? I hope she hasn't gone and broken a leg or something…I'm sure the scenery's lovely but I never can see how you kids can enjoy falling down those mountains…" Tywin noted.
….
Kings' Landing…
Little Council of the Petty Details Chamber…
"So we…Meaning the Kingdoms as a whole… Are 3 billion in debt to the House Lannister?" Lord Gomez, seated eyed Lord Belloq who shrugged.
"Hey…We fought a civil war without raising taxes…On winning Robert chose to follow Maester Freedman's trickle-down economic theories of giving huge tax concessions to the wealthy…Then we had a recession due to the policy of going hunting and whoring and handing offices to cronies rather than giving a damn about running the Kingdom. I can't work miracles of finance despite the lack of proper fiscal regulations, Lord Addams."
"Hmmn." Gomez sighed, shaking head. "While I admire Bob's sense of the big picture in economics and not getting bogged in the details of governance, I know he's not a theory kind of guy…But I can't believe Jon Arryn advocated the nonsense of Maester Milton Freedman…Everyone with any kind of real economics background knows he was peddling crap theory. I mean, much as I love a good train wreck, at least they would theoretically stimulate the economy by requiring new and better trains and infrastructure. This was truly insane, a disaster providing no benefit. You make a kingdom prosperous on all levels by injecting the wealth into the general sphere, not locking it up with a few wealthy misers."
"Uh…" Maester Purile coughed. "My Lord, Lord Arryn gave sensible advice but the King was perhaps lured by the idea of quick and painless economic growth that would please his powerful allies and keep the kingdom going without his having to take any potentially painful actions."
"Like a sane progressive tax rate…" Middlefinger frowned. "Which I hope all of you remember I advocated constantly…"
Knowing that you brace of cowards would never have the guts to tell Robert the hard way was the only right way, grim smile as he eyed the respective Ministers…Though in your case, old friend…He eyed VeryMuchs, who, in his robes, kept a sad and solemn look as befitting one who sighs to see the economic ruin of the kingdom…
I know you were only too happy to watch the King proceed to disaster, you little Pillsbury doughboy of treacherous eunich.
Whilst you…You sly old fart…He eyed Purile. As if you didn't encourage Robert with your praise of Freedman and his laughable theories as quick and easy solutions to our problems. All to entwine the Kingdom in the toils of the Lannisters, the true holders of your allegance…
"Maester Freedman's crazy curve…Yes, I'd read his pamphlets." Addams shook head. "Lunacy…And I have the family tree to confirm that I know lunacy when I see it. How could Jon've allowed the king to be exposed to such nonsense? Next you'll be telling me he's been listening to Lady Ayn Rand's insanity."
Uh...The Council members eyed each other…
"Perhaps…Given the King had taken the lady for one of his…ahem…" Purile cleared throat… "Intimate friends a while ago…It might be possible that, for a time…Ahem…"
Gomez putting hand to head, with renewed sigh. "I take it you mean he gave her leave to dismantle our social safety net…?"
"And then some…" Rently Barftheron spoke up from his seat. "I warned Bob too…But he just said 'what do "you people" know about running a kingdom? Ayn and Milt say the road to success by grinding the 'little people' to powder just as I do in battle, not worrying about tomorrow and how we're to survive without a healthy working and middle class.' Then of course the bitch…er Lady Ayn…Accused me of being both gay and a primitive peasantry era proto-Communist. You know, that radical group of pointy-headed scholars from eastern Essos." Shrug.
"Lovely…No wonder the people are roiling in the streets with such insane indifference to their plight." Gomez rubbed forehead. "Well, we'll need to reverse these nonsensical policies asap if this state of disastrous affairs is to be rectified. Beginning with cancelling the proposed week of jousting and tourney in my honor and diverting those funds to public works and rebuilding the public safety net."
"But my Lord…" Purile began.
"The local merchants and tradespeople are counting on the short-term stimulus, Lord Addams." Lord VeryMuchs, carefully. "If we cancel everything now…?"
"I have to agree with the boys…" Middlefinger nodded. "A short term economic shot in the arm along with some colorful if controlled blood and gore…So long as we follow up with responsible fiscal policy afterward."
"It is the traditional Valerian way, my Lord Hand…" Purile noted solemly. "Bread and circuses. Primitive but effective in the short term."
Gomez, rolling eyes. "Well, very well. But lets keep the nonsense to a minimum. And I want the tax cuts to the upper 1% repealed at once."
Whoa…He really is as insane as they say…The collective thought as all eyed him.
At least in terms of suicidally courting a quick death…
Excellent…VeryMuchs, Middlefinger, eyeing each other…