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 XXV…
Minstrel sings… (tune of "House of the Rising Sun…")
"There is a place in the Eerie Vale, held by House Arryn…
It's been the end of many a Knight
And Gods, now a Lannister, is one…
Oh, Mothers tell your scheming sons
Not to do as this villain has done…
For now he sits…In the Arryn Sky Cell
For he played… the Game of Thrones…Badly…"
"Not as badly as you sing, you miserable twerp!" Tyrion called from his cell.
Bad enough they clapt me in here as soon as we were brought in by the Vale's guards after our little battle for survival…That damned minstrel had to make it as well.
Hee hee hee…Faint giggling in the distance from said minstrel.
Gods, I'm not a violent fuck, but I sure pray he ends up in that miserable psychotic nephew of mine's clutches one day, having to choose between losing tongue or hands…Tyrion sighed.
"Jailer?! Jailer!" he called. "I want to see Lady Addams! Damnit, Jailer!"
"Hey there, short, wealthy, and rather cute…" a lovely red-haired woman in green leather jerkin opened the cell.
"Roz? But…" Tyrion stared, blinking… "Is this a dream or have I gone insane?"
"Nope to all…I'm Roz's triplet, Steph…Stephanie." Steph smiled at him. "We met once at her brothel when I was filling in for her one day, though I called myself Roz that night."
"You're the jailer?" he blinked. "I expected some bald, huge orge of a man."
"Ironic punishment…The whole concept of the Sky Cell, Tyry…" she beamed. "An open cell, a beautiful, kindly…Really…Jailer one day, and the food's great one day, swill the next, delivered by that orge you mentioned. And you get to chose from a selection of fine wines and beers…But no bathroom, so you either pee hanging over the edge or whatever other option. Ironic, right?"
"Sadistic…I'm going to guess all this was Lady Ophelia's idea." Tyrion shook head. "I know Jon Arryn would simply have jailed and done the usual torture within the King's permit."
"Oh, yeah." Steph nodded. "So…" somewhat hardening stare… "You're accused of trying to kill two kids, your distant relations? And hiring sis and some corrupt Maester to finish the job?"
"Absolutely ridiculous." He put up hands. "Steph, you know me…Even if under an assumed name…And you know I could never…"
"You are a Lannister, even if I remember you did realize I wasn't Roz that night, you sweet thing. It is the sort of thing they do." She frowned at him. "So is this an attempt to bribe me or what?"
"I would never presume….Unless…" he began, hopeful tone.
"Lady Ophelia doubles all bribes so make it big, kiddo." She eyed him.
"You know my dad and his penchant for protecting the honor of our House. He'll not only reward you well if you help get me out of this, he'll gruesomely kill everyone involved in imprisoning me even if he has to bribe Ser Walter Frey to stage another phony wedding to lure them all in."
"True enough…" Steph nodded. "Just what are you asking me to do?"
"Just get a message to Lady Addams that I want to speak with her. I'm no murderer, Steph…Nor do I hire murderers. Especially to kill children…"
"Lannisters lie." She noted. "And as a result of all this, my sis is dead and forever shamed."
"And I sincerely mourn her. But, at least be comforted in that she died nobly in combat with Lady Maud…Hell, Knights have entered the legend books as a result…" Tyrion pointed out. "Come on, Steph…What will it take? It's only a message."
"I'm not as corruptible as sis, Tyrion. If you tried to have kids killed…" she eyed him grimly. "I take that very seriously."
"What would I have gained from killing Pugsly Addams and Branded Stark?" Tyrion sighed. "They fell off the wall of the Swampflood Keep."
"Lady Addams says they were pushed. And Lady Arryn says you Lannisters poisoned Lord Arryn. Maybe it's a political move…" she noted. "Kill the heir to the Addams' lands, kill another Stark second-in-line and get Robbed Stark later. You could have killed Ned Stark as well…Clearing your way to control the North…" Shrewd look…
"You're quite the Player of the Game yourself, a regular Lady MacBeth…" he eyed her.
"I like to speculate…" she shrugged. "Doesn't mean I approve of such means to such ends…" hard look.
"Dear girl…You make me sound more capable than my dad…" Tyrion rolled eyes. "Steph…I may love my family to blazes despite my sis and dad's constant despising and hatred…But whoever would gain from that? If it were true every other House would gang up on us. And would I benefit directly?"
"I suppose not…" Steph pondered. "And it would be a foolish move to so openly antagonize your opponents. Especially since you have your family entwined round the Throne already."
"I might as well throw over the Game board…" Tyrion noted. Oops…
"That could be a reason." She eyed him sternly. "You have good reason to hate your father, this would really louse up his plans for peacefully securing the dynasty."
"Steph…I ask you." He sighed. "You ought to know from your sis how I've always avoided anything involving Dad's power plays. Have I ever shown signs to you or Roz of having that kind of bitter determination?"
She relaxed, smiling. "Nah, never…You've always been the laid-back Lannister. Your greatest attraction apart from that rather impressive member of yours…" grin.
"Exactly. I've always had better things…Like you girls…To fritter my time away on. So…For a decent reward, of course…Couldn't you consider?…For ole times' sake…?"
"I'll think about it." She nodded. "And while I do…You wanna make out? A freebie, I promise." Smile. "After all, you always were the best fuck in the damned seven kingdoms…"
"What? Here?" he looked around. "We could roll right out in the middle of it…" he noted, indicating the open cell, leading to a sheer drop of at least 3000 Westrosian feet.
"That makes it exciting…" she grinned. "A tryst to remember all the way down…Sides' I've never fallen yet. Come on, Tyry…Join the half-mile up club…" fetching smile.
Hmmn…Tyrion pondered. Well…Would be one roll in the rather putrid hay to remember. True enough.
"But how about we do dinner first? Today is gourmet day…" she offered a menu which he took.
"Really? You know, as prison sentences go…" He scanned the list. Not bad, he noted. "I have to say this could be worse…"
"Mmmn…Well…" Steph sighed. "Don't forget the ironic, sadistic bit. One day you get me and a gourmet dinner. The next…Not so nice either as to the dinner or the jailer. Plus, the bathroom thing as I noted…"
"Well, lets hope this is the only day I need experience. What looks good to you?" he handed her the menu.
"Well the halibut is fresh today, but the chef does wonders with the veal…" she noted.
…
"Programs! Programs! Get yer programs! Ya can't tell whose severed arms and legs without a program!" a hawker moved through the crowd gathered for the Great Tourney of the new King's Hand.
"Still wish I was out there…" King Robert sighed to Cersei eagerly beside him, she patting his hand.
"You'd slaughter 'em all, honey. I'd be licking the blood off all night…" wicked grin.
"That was a good night…" he grinned at her.
"Our first…Right after you took the throne and came here, still awash in the blood of your slaughtered enemies…." She noted fondly. "Gods, did that set my heart a flutter, just looking at the dripping gore…"
"I'm sorry about that night…Calling you Cicely, Cerse." He sighed at her smiling face. "I just didn't want to give her up. I knew she didn't love me but…"
"Do you believe I love you?" she eyed him carefully.
"After seventeen years of the hell I put you through…?" he stared. "Damn straight, you must…" he smiled fondly.
"Oh, Rob…Damnit, whatever the Hand says, you go and kill your way through that lot of weak sisters if you want." She beamed. "Heck, lemme get me some armor and we'll do couples."
"Nah…" Robert sighed… "Gomez is right. They'd all be scared to death to lay a finger on me. Or you. No point in it. But…If we have a rebellion…Or if that Targaryen bimbo decides to try and use those dragons and her Doofraki…" he grinned. "Once we blow her air support out of the sky with the Hand's firepowder, it'll be a good slog against those Doofraki stallions even with the new artillery edge." He gave her an arch look. "I'll definitely need a good wingwoman on that one with those charging Doofraki maniacs all about…"
"I'll be there right alongside you…" she nodded happily. "If you'll have me…"
"Tonight, every night…And on that battlefield, love." He patted her. She giving a rapturous smile.
She frowned at the nervous cough of an attendant, her nephew, the blonde of blondes, Sir Lanced Lannister, squire to King Robert.
"What the f- is it now, Lance?" she groused, Robert likewise eyeing the boy with annoyance.
"Majesty? Majesties?" he nervously corrected, still thrown by the specter of seeing the Barftherons in courting mode, close up. "Everyone's waiting your signal." He indicated the waiting, if rather amused at the royal billing-and-cooing, crowd.
"Oh, right…The damned Tourney." Robert nodded. "Ok, yeah…" He rose in his seat. "Lets see some blood there, Westeros!" he raised a fist, the crowd cheering happily.
"YEAH!" Cersei, eagerly. Raising a tankard of ale and clinking it to his.
"That's our Queen there!" Robert cried, fond smile. Redoubled roar of the crowd.
"You've done quite a job there, my Lord Hand…" Lord "Middle finger" Belloq, seated between Lord Hand Addams and Sansa Stark, noted to Gomez, indicating the Barftherons…
"They just needed a little push toward each other…" Gomez, nodding at the happy pair now waving on the first pair of competitors…
"Well, I never thought to see the day." Lord Belloq smiled…
Damnit said day, and you, Addams, to Hell…He thought, darkly.
And yet my fiendish plans…
"What's that about plans, Middlefinger?" Addams asked, curious.
Uh…
Damn, there I go again…Petyr sighed. I really need to see someone about this bad habit of mine…
"Oh, I was thinking we ought to plan for the Royal Anniversary in three months. Just thought I'd mention it so we can begin preparing fiscally…It's looking like they might actually want to celebrate it this year." He covered, quickly…
"Isn't that your Ser Lotus…?" Sansa in a gold and green gown, a wreath of flowers in her hair, noted to Lady Wednesday who'd taken seat beside her, eagerly to learn more of the proper ladylike arts from her new, if reluctant, role model.
"Oh…" Wednesday, rather pretty in a deathly pale in gleaming black funereal gown kind of way…Rather like a well-embalmed corpse in her finery, with a few lilies stuck in her hair, poking through the veil…Stared down at Ser Lotus, in his gleaming armor.
Wow…She thought, drooling slightly.
As were a number of fair damsels…And not a few men…Including in the row above the girls, Gomez, and Middlefinger, Lord Rently Barftheron…
Oh, gay or not, let me have your baby…Wednesday sighed to herself, eyeing Ser Lotus. I'll even dress up like a boy if that'll help.
Ser Lotus scanning the crowd…Ah…
My true love…He nodded happily to Rently who beamed at him…Oh, you…
And my retirement fund…He smiled upon Wednesday…Oh…Whose eyes rolled up as she keeled over. He riding over hastily.
"Wednesday?!" Sansa grabbing at her as her body swayed dangerously, Gomez grabbing her as well.
"Sweetheart!" he pulled his daughter's slight frame back, shaking her slightly. "Wednesday?! Are you all right?"
"What?" Wednesday blinked at him, then the crowd now partly surrounding her in concern…
"Lady Addams?" Ser Lotus had come up on horseback, a look of profound concern…
Sincere enough…The odd kid was kinda sweet with that crush and all…And her continued survival was vital to his hopes of providing dear Rently with enough moolah to make his bid for the throne a serious one.
Heck, combine the Markwells with the Addamses and you could give the Lannisters the finger, fiscally speaking…
And so long as the kid was willing to accept her husband's frequent need, as Hand to King Rently, to "consult" with the King, in private…For long weekends at some royal hideaway…
"Am I dead…?" Wednesday, joyfully confused as she opened her eyes…
Is this…Heaven? She stared down at Ser Lotus' warm smile.
"My Lady Wednesday!" Joffrey in the children's section of the royal box had spotted the commotion and on learning of the source, had the Airedale shove and beat his way through a crowd that had already parted to let him through.
Oh, no…Wednesday sighed. Frowning at Joffrey…
Couldn't someone accidentally on purpose…Kill him? As he made his way to her. Sansa, in her turn, catching a look of him, beaming at him as the Airedale shoved the crowd aside to let him through.
"Physicians! Maesters! Is there competent medical help in the house!?" Joffrey cried as he approached the stands. "Airedale, go and threaten some famed member of the medical profession into coming at once!" he turned to the Airedale, who rolled eyes in his turn but headed off.
Is nice to see the kid taking an interest in something besides the torture and slaughter of innocents, he thought.
Though one could say he's just found a way to bring that into his bedroom, in the hardest way for the young Lady Addams…
"Wednesday, should I fetch Maester Purile?" Gomez, having helped his daughter regain her seat. She far too busy staying focused on Ser Lotus' dazzling smile to consider the embarrassment of having her would-be beau see her so dependent on Daddy's care.
Besides, Ser Lotus seemed the sort of manly type who'd appreciate a dependent, clinging mate willing to be guided by him in all things…Physical, spiritual…
All things…
"I'm fine, Father…" Wednesday, affecting her best lady-like manner. "I shan't need the service of the goodly Maester."
"Oookkkk…" Gomez stared at her, blinking.
"Wednesday, will you not live, for me?" Joffrey had reached the stands, calling back to his other attendants. "Send more men after that fool of a doctor! Bring me his head if he refuses to come!"
Oh, Gods…Wednesday sighed, looking over. What an embarrassing little twerp…
"May I offer you my kerchief, gracious lady? To wipe the lovely drool from yon pale cheek?" Ser Lotus reached up, offering a handkerchief.
I'll sew it to the skin above my soaring heart…Wednesday noted to herself, eagerly grabbing…
"Oh, take mine, gracious one…It's a priceless royal heirloom." The returned Joffrey, offering his fine 5x5 square of antique tapestry, seized in passing from the royal box.
Forever let me feel your sweat and saliva next my heart…
"Yeah, whatever…" Wednesday tossed the tapestry to Sansa who snatched it eagerly.
"Hey, Joff! Here! I caught it!" Sansa tried, waving the little tapestry. "Here, my Prince!" she called, waving as Joffrey hurried back to the King's box to find more attendants to send to fetch, kidnap, threaten more medical Maesters.
Hmmn…Middlefinger, ever-observant, had caught Sansa's look of pain at Joffrey's evident lack of interest…And her searing look of hatred at Wednesday Addams, young Lady Addams eagerly chatting with Ser Lotus as King Robert declared a brief intermission owing to Lady Addams' sudden illness and his and Queen Cersei's mutual need to take a pee after all that ale swigging….
This might be something to build on, for my future fiendish plans…A romantic rivalry between the ladies of the two key Houses of the North. And each young lady the likely heiress should anything "untoward" befall additional members of both families…
Meaning, for you of slow minds, he sneers at us…I've already cleared out the Stark parents with Ser Walter's assist and even if my own guy failed to kill him in my own effort to follow up on that fortunate incident, almost certainly the work of Jamie Lannister covering up one of his nooky breaks with sis, the male Addams heir is now unsuitable to inherit.
Meaning if I succeed with Ophelia…Marriage, followed by almost immediate widowerhood…A quick courtship of young Wednesday is on the agenda.
After her parents are likewise eliminated, of course…I go to Wednesday, a jolly thriving widower wooer, grin.
Then one more rather short honeymoon, dispose of Robbed Stark…Like that'll be difficult even if he manages to do well in the coming Civil War…He's as honorably stupid as ole Ned. And then, at last…Dear Sansa…My pervy stand-in for Cat…He eyed her as she gazed sadly after Joffrey…
Giving me full control of the North and its coal and a fair chunk of Westeros…Nice.
Even Tywin Lannister would have to say…Nice…Before his execution once I use my control of coal to rise to full power in Westeros…And the world…
Iron Throne, bah…Mine will be solid coal…
Though I may have to cover it with something. Coal is pretty messy on the royal threads…
Oh, wait, he pondered…Will I have to do in Ricketts Stark as well? I know I can leave Branded to rot in some monastery after I become elder bro-in-law…Hmmn…
Yeah, just to be certain I'd best bump him off as well.
(Hah…Cut to Lord Verysmuch in his lair-like office archly nodding at us. I already knew all about this…)
…