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 XXXI…
The secret and dark cellars of the Redder Keep…
Where various items which must not see the light of day…Dragon skeletons, bodies of those held indeterminately, tortured to death, or simply murdered over the three hundred year tyranny of the Targaryen dynasty, and in various hidden cells a few elderly prisoners still not deemed politically safe to release...Crazy ideas about self-government, religious toleration, and equality and all that …Are kept.
Two mysterious figures strolling in the darkness…
"Damn, damn, damn, damn…." Lord Verysmuch to his visiting Essosian spy, a merchant who'd provided him with intel on the Targaryen children for years. But more important had kept track of the real hope of the Targaryens and their scattered Essosian or former Essosian followers, including its most strangely, staunchly, devoted eunich minion, and Verysmuch would insist, at least a few people in Westeros who either cherished fond memories of the Targaryens…Or just tended toward suicidally extremist political thought.
"Could you relight that torch?" he asked, rubbing his aching knee… "And damn…"
"I've grown accustomed to the pace…" he noted to his paused companion, he still pacing grimly… "It's what makes my days begin."
"I've grown to accustomed to the waits, my carefully measured pace…No great highs or lows, some joys, some woes. It's second nature to me now…Awaiting King Robert's fall to begin…I've grown accustomed to his rants, the curses Cersei throws…His drunken bouts, her boyfriend brother lout, the pretense of duty carried out. The lies, the sighs, anticipatory joys and woes…Just second nature to me now. Breathing my lies out and in…" sigh. "But enough of my spoken singing from my old days on Broadway in Bravvos…" shrug.
Faint applause from cells in the depths below them.
"You were good, Verys…" nod. "Middlefinger's guys aren't bad but you...When you played that Maester teaching the prostitute how to be an Empress and then she left you after the palace reception to marry the Emperor, I wept."
"I know. Shoot, I was the best…" forlorn shake of head. "Till my balls and my voice, likewise, my musical career, went up on a shelf and behind the Throne politics became my only hope of a profession. And now, with things so critical, you tell me that fool girl went and lost her husband, her army, the whole schmear in one blow after her dimwitted brother finally off'd himself by threatening her unborn son? As if the news here weren't bad enough…Robert and Cersei reconciling, thanks to their new Hand, that crazy man Addams…And their first joint decisions, utterly sensible. Promoting Addams' new secret weapon, firepowder and his new coal resource, sure to make the Kingdom nearly invincible and prosperous. And cutting that lunatic punk Joffrey out of the succession for the sane and lovable Tommen, croaking our hopes for civil war and an outcry for the return of our old dynasty as an alternative to political suicide."
He paced again, the merchant/spy shrugging helplessly…
"Well, I should never have let Ned Stark be murdered at the Freys' hands. We could have led him into disaster easily. Foolish of me to let Middlefinger have his way there." Pondering… "Still, Addams, however insane and brilliant is cut from the schizo end of same honorable cloth…And Middlefinger still means to futz around with his schemes for destabilizing the land to secure his own power. Which is fine by me till I make my move… Though with Cersei content and happy and Tywin firmly in the Lannister saddle, and happily behind the scenes where he wisely loves to remain, we are likely to find ourselves in a new era of prosperity and stability unless we act quickly."
"Yet what prevention of this new-found stability, my lord?" the merchant/spy asked, glumly. "And the heir, Danerys, is nearly helpless now, even though she has obtained dragons."
"She does have them, right? They are alive and functional? " Verysmuch paused, grimly eyeing him. "Don't give me Ravennet rumor, I want facts."
"My men have seen them. But, they are pretty little as yet. And now King Robert has firepowder to use against them."
"Not much yet…And we may yet be able to destroy Lord Addams before his schemes can come to fruition. Discredit him and leave this kingdom in turmoil. As for Danerys, she's merely a tool, albeit, Gods almighty, a damned hot one."
Stare…
"I'm a eunich, I'm neither gay nor dead." Verysmuch frowned back. "But…" solemn pause… "She is not our last hope…" faraway look. Holding for dramatic effect as a former actor should.
"There is another…"
"Sir? Another…What?"
"Heir, you idiot." Glare.
Really? A back-up? Cool… Pleased nod.
"But that's top secret and I will have you killed if even a rumor of such escapes…" Verysmuch eyed him.
"Of course, my Lord." Nod. "Though, there are all kinds of rumors on Ravennet…Some even bet Tyrion Lannister will win the Game…Say? He's not…?"
"Ravennet…What crap…People put out stuff, no one fact checks or even gives a reliable reference." Verysmuch sighed. "And yet I must depend on it for much of my intelligence."
"Really? But, my Lord…I thought you have a global network of spies and informers…" startled regard.
"Who take days to get intel out. Knowledge may be power, my friend but looking like you know all at every moment and meeting is even more important. Besides, you can only be wrong fifty percent of the time at most and so far I've been lucky. Everyone assumes the Eunich Master of Shadows knows all and all that crap. Hell, Tywin Lannister does it the same way. You sound like you know everything, you keep it generalized so you can retract if necessary…And if you look powerful and mysterious enough, and have a large crew attending your every word, people accept you really know."
"Precious lessons, my Lord, thanks…"
"Don't mention it." Kindly nod. "I mean that." Grim stare. "Anyway, as to Ravennet rumors, we're good. No serious person takes them without a grain of salt. But if word of the true heir should leak from more reliable sources, say Scribeleaks…Then beware, my friend Merchant Schultz. For the whole world won't offer you an escape." Stern glare.
"I know nothing, my Lord…Nothing…Absolutely…Nothing…!" anxious plea, waving of hands in robe.
"Excellent path to follow…Now you must return as quickly as possible to Essos and see what help you can offer our Queen Danys to keep her a viable target for Robert and his Hand and Lord Tywin. Whilst I see what can be done to make use of Lord Belloq and his plans to our advantage."
"What if he turns against us, my Lord?" Shultz, concerned. "He could go to Robert or Addams, cut a deal."
"Too ambitious a prick for that…Though quite sneaky enough." Verysmuch shook head. "He wants it all and hopes to play us all, little idiot. But, he has his uses and I do find him an amusing dinner companion. Said the funniest thing about that crazy priestess shacked up with Stanislaw the Grim the other evening…I tell him he should write a book. Well, I must try to meet with the Lord Hand and see if there isn't yet some way to drag him into destruction via the road to Hell and that pavement of good intentions. And you ought to be on your way to catch the tide…"
"Yes, my Lord. Of course, I know nothing." Schultz noted. "I shall be on my way, thanks for this pleasant call, my Lord…Of which I shall remember…Nothing…"
Remind me never to invest in his mercantile house…Verysmuch thought, seeing him out. Knows nothing, remembers nothing…? How's he able to stay in business? Unless we're paying him way too much.
….
The Redder Keep residence of the Lord Hand…
"You want me to what with Lady Arya, Father?" Wednesday in new and rather flouncy gown, naturally in black but tempered by a few white lilies tied by white ribbons…Lotus favors the Lily in his…Our crest, she happily noted to Gomez's stare…Stared.
"Your cousin's asked to have swordsplay lessons. I think you should, too." Gomez beamed. "After all, sturdy swordsplay runs in the female side of the family."
"But…Dear Father…Mio bambino caro…" Wednesday blinked. "Such things are not the proper skills of a fine court lady and wife to a great Lord and knight. Lady Sansa would never…"
"Wed? I thought you'd be pleased. You're always after me to let you join in the fun of broadsword, crossbow, and mace practice back home. It was only that Mama felt you needed another few inches to reach your target that I wanted to hold off…"
"But, Ser Lotus…" she protested.
"Given how you saved his life from the Heavy the other day…" Addams, a bit puzzled. Can this be my Wednesday, the girl who loves nothing better than to hack at wooden dummies and her brother and the assorted visitor with anything…Sword, ax, mace…She can find back home? "…I'd imagine he's be thrilled to know you'd do even better defending him next time."
Hmmn…Point there…Wednesday thought.
Though surely a man as refined and elegant as my Lotus Flower would balk at his Lady acquiring such rough and inelegant skills…
On the other hand, Sansa was hopeless trying to rescue that wuss Joffrey from that miller's boy the other evening. And one's husband can't be elegant, incredibly lovely, and dead at the same time.
"We could do these lessons in secret, right? No one has to know, right?" she eyed Gomez.
"Only Arya, me, you, and your sword master…A very capable fellow who just happened to be available in town, former master swordsman of Bravvos, I understand."
"Grandmama says the Bravvosians fight like pansies…Water dance and all that…" Wednesday noted.
"But highly effective pansies…Stravos the Butcher of Bravvos didn't get that name by missing his man." Gomez, quiet nod. "He's highly recommended for training ladies in the more elegant style of the art…For those times in intimate corners when a lady alone in her castle or on the road must be prepared to skew an overly aggressive boyfriend/suitor/husband, rampaging would-be rapist Knight, highwayman, thug, wandering soldier. Elegance in swordplay is his forte."
That got her…He beamed. As she pondered thoughtfully, nodding finally…
Well, if it's elegant swordsplay to match my Lotus' elegant Knights work…We could dance our way through many a bloody battlefield together…Now that's romantic. Like Minstrels Fred and Ginger of Astaire in their musical "Joust Time". Their swords and lances dancing on air as they skewered a entire army of evildoers and sang their way through several hilarious misunderstandings and major battles.
Let our opponents' commander be a rebelling Joffrey…The late Joffrey at our hands…And it could be bliss…
"As you wish, dear Father…" she curtsied deeply. "I know my duty as the elegant, affianced daughter of a major power player at Court."
"That's getting a bit unnerving, sweetheart. Could you curb that newfound deference and curtsying a bit, at least when ole Lot isn't here?" Gomez asked.
"As you command, Father…My Lord." Deep curtsy.
"Wed…While I'd prefer to leave this to your mother, I think it may be time to talk to you about the birds, bees, and the need for women not to be elegant doormats, especially in our medieval, paternalistic society." Gomez sighed. "Sweetheart, I'm sure Lotus appreciates your efforts to make him look good and in charge but given you'll have to wear the pants, perhaps literally, in your future family…"
"Father…?" slightly offended look. "I hope you do not mean to impune the manly manliness of my fiancée, the brave Ser Lotus, winner of twenty major tournaments, fifteen minor jousts, six on-field skirmishes, ten tavern brawls, and any number of street fights. Why the whole kingdom speaks of his glorious prowess…"
Uh…He eyed her enraptured, beaming face…
Still, true enough…Whatever else Lotus was, he was brave enough on the field…
And he had stressed the point in his written request to speak with him and Morticia regarding Wednesday's hand that he was honestly very fond of her, however suitable a match on paper it might be in terms of wealth and power coming together in a mating made in the Iron Bank, let no man put asunder whilst our two Houses remain allied.
"You know your mother and I still have to meet with the boy. I can't give final approval till Mother passes on him."
"Mother will love him…" Wednesday noted solemnly. "No one of any sensibility can deny his charms nor anyone able to appreciate true manhood could claim he lacks courage and gallantry."
"Agreed to both, dear…But there's the little problem that he's…"
"Far too good for me, I know, Father. I'm but the stool under his feet in the mire helping him to mount upward. And happy to be so…" fond beam.
"Gods, you have it bad, girl." He sighed. "You realize what Pugsly would make of this…"
"A boy's foolishness…He'll come to see Lotus as the model of a man as he grows up to be one himself."
"And your uncle Fester would say 'She be freakin' out of her mind, Gomez'…"
"He'll think differently, my poor uncle, once he encounters true Love himself, Papa." Warm smile.
"Weds, I adore you but you really are freakin' me out here." Gomez, wincing. "I think these lessons are just the thing. A little bloodsport with your friend and cousin whose mind has nothing smacking of romantic notions outside the desire to brutally avenge her parents' possible murders will help you regain a little balance. Not that I'd ever blow up the railway bridge of your train of Romance. Just perhaps a minor and temporary delay for observing the tracks for problems, eh?"
"I'll be guided by you, Father. As I will by my future husband…" Wednesday nodded.
"And I think if you're up for it, I'd like you to submit a urine sample for me to bring to Maester Purile…Whom I must see shortly regarding the change in succession." he noted.
"Of course Father…But, is it true that Prince Joff is out?" she stared.
"Out and then some, sweetheart. Though only with regards to succession. I don't think you need have fear on that score with Lotus. Joff was quite the ranter as to how he'd be having Lot cut up for shark chum."
Archly eyeing her grim look out of the corner of his appreciative eye…
Ah, now there's my little girl…Manic with rage.
"I'll grind his wuss blonde bones to powder first…" she noted. "When do we start those lessons?"
A swirling form spinning down from the ceiling to take standing form before her in the shape of a small but wiry man in leather jerkin and boots, with rather remarkable naturally curly hair.
"Stravos of Bravvos, aka the Butcher of same, at your service, my Lady Addams…"
"Nice entrance…" she nodded.
"Not so for you, you are dead." He noted. She blinking to see on her dress on the spot above her heart a chalked x.
"Excellent, Stravos…" Gomez beamed, nodding. "Show her all the various ways she's likely to meet with grisly death whether armed or no. Arya should be joining you shortly."
"She is recovering from being killed over two hundred times in less than two minutes. I think this first lesson will be a one person for starters." Stravos, quietly.
"Dead…" Wednesday, archly. Indicating a chalk mark on Stravos' jerkin in the back.
"Not bad, but I killed you during the thrust you made one minute, twenty-two seconds ago, when you foolishly bent to the right."
"Damn…" Wednesday eyed the chalk mark on her side.
"And if you had checked you would have noticed the chalk on me was my pink as I put it there to boost your confidence…If you will look again, see the initials. And another nice try just now…" flash about her. "But, yet again…Dead."
"Crap…" sullen frown at the tiny SBB in the upper left of the chalk mark on Stravos Wednesday had assumed was her own and the new mark on her forehead.