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 XXXVI…
The Great Hall of the Redder Keep…
King Robert I and Queen Cersei (I, by new order of King Robert…"Hey, seems to me the dames oughta get their Valerian numerals too…" he'd noted the other day to the Queen's eager "Oh, Bobbie…" beam…) in ceremonial robes, Robert seated on the Iron Throne, looking as grim as the hemorrhoidal toilet could make him, Cersei on her own throne, spikey pillow in place to share the moments of pain as well as joy, also looking grim (if occasionally darting joyful looks to her own Bobbie…).
A crowd of nobles about the hall, including the Council with Middlefinger eagerly trying to push front, Verysmuch naturally already in place in the front rank, Grand Maester/Minister Purile seated by virtue of doddering infirmity…(Heh, heh…Suckers, he thought, spreading himself comfortably. You boys go standing for two hours…)
The Hand summoned to front, Addams looking perturbed…
Bob, I just don't know about this one…
"Where's the Captain of the King's Guard?" Robert looked about.
"He said he had business with my Lord Hand, sire…" a Guardsman noted. "Something about a blood feud, he went to gather some Lannisters or something…"
"What?" Gomez stared.
"Shoot…This is about Tyrion…" Cersei sighed to Robert. "That dunderheaded brother of mine's gone and taken some fool notion about family honor in his head. Lord Hand?" she raised voice. "This nonsense with your wife and my little dwarf freak brother is over, right?"
"According to ravenpost, yes, milady. Lord Tyrion was released by Lady Ophelia…After trial by combat." Gomez noted.
"By combat?" Robert perked up. "Tyrion, that little pistol…" he beamed. "Did he do it himself or get a good swordsguy? Oh, damn the gods…I'd've loved to see that. My money would've been on him in any case."
"We've no more word as yet, sire." Gomez shook head. "My gracious if trampy Queen, I apologize for any offense to your family honor…"
"Yeah, yeah…" Cersei waved a hand. "That's fine by me…But Jamie is sure to go sulking about for a while. I'd best go with guards for the here and now, Lord Hand. Bob?" she turned to him. "We'd better move to quell this one, send out the guard with your command and my plea or whatever to Jamie to cease and desist."
"Right…" Robert nodded. "Though it would be quite a neat thing to see…Gomez vs Jamie, like ole times of massive bloodletting at the Trident and the Quadrant…But I suppose my kingly thing here is to maintain order…Damnit. You, there…Ser whatsyername…?"
"Qiver Dela Puissel, your noble Grace." Overly courtly bow, balletlike flourish to bended knee.
"Yeah, whatever…" sigh. The current generation of knights follows my brother Rently's lead I see. "Go find that lumbering idiot of a Captain of the Guard and tell him Cersei and I want him here, asap, and no bloodshedding, by royal f-king command. You got that?" stern look.
Task-ed from His Majesty to find the noble and incredibly beautiful Ser Jamie? Oooh la, la…
"Yes, Majesty." Pirouette, bow, and turn…Hurrying off with two other summoned guards in armor.
"Pity…Woulda been a good fight." Robert shook head. Then brightening at prospect for fresh humiliation…
"But now as to the business at hand…Prince Joffrey? Step forward…And I mean now, punk."
Joffrey, Sansa and the Airedale at his respective sides, stepping out of the crowd from which he'd been forced to push his way, most already fully aware of his demotion…Sansa's vicious looks frightening most out of their path. The Airedale simply enjoying the change of fortune while yet doing his basic guard duty.
Hey, I'm a professional…And paid up for the month.
Besides, I wouldn't bail on this for the world…Smiling at Joffrey…
Been awaiting this day since I was saddled with the job by his mom…
Only thing even better is to see my vicious brother Raging over there still quivering with fear at the thought that crazy little girl and her ice pick of a sword might be around…
And I got that poor peasant kid off safe down river to a decent doc for his mom and another town, with nutter boy here unable to do anything for now in the hunting down line…
And I even scored tickets to that "Game of Thrones" show at the playhouse…
Life…Is…Good. Contented smile.
"Father, my Lord…" Joffrey knelt on one foot before Robert on throne.
"Right then…Where's…" Robert looked to Cersei…
"Tommen…" she hissed.
"Prince Tommen…Hey, there, son…Camere, boy…" the king happily waved Tommen over from where he'd been carefully protected by a phalanx of armed guards. Tommen eagerly hurrying over to accept embracing warm hug…
"Lucky for you he's still in one piece, punk…" glare to the kneeling Joffrey as Robert released the beaming Tommen who moved to take warm kiss from Cersei.
"My sweet boy…" she patted him. Robert, fond smile to them…Turning back to the kneeling, rather abject…
Where's my hug?...
Joffrey and crowd…
"Tommy…You're the next King. Joffrey, yer out…We'll make you Duke of Some Shithole or something but you're out successionwise for good. The excuse being…You've proven utterly incompetent to govern by this latest bit of stupidity and viciousness. Everyone got that, officially?" Robert looked round at the sea of pleased faces.
For once I'm truly popular, he noted to Cersei who grinned.
"I…Accept your…Most royal command, your Grace…" Joffrey choked out. "I…Apologize…" grinding teeth…
You can do, dearest…Sansa's earnest look. Lie, lie…Just think of the bloody vengeance in future days.
"for my profound errors…And knowing, you know best, Father…I pledge my fealty and loyalty to Prince Tommen, heir to the Throne. Know brother…" looking up to Tommen who gave friendly smile. "You can always count on my support and I hope, good counsel…"
"From you? Please…" Robert guffawed. "Still, fine…You've done your duty…Just remember you are held as responsible for Prince Tommen's physical safety. Anything happens to him…Or his children, of whom I hope to see many to spite you, you wuss...And your head's on a pike whether I'm alive to see it or lying in a decent battlefield's shallow grave. We all clear on that? Officially and all that horse manure?"
"Yes, your Grace!" the crowd. Some cheering…
"Scribes?!" Cersei called. The scribes rushing forward with huge parchment.
"Great…Nice and legal…" Robert eyed the parchment, reading carefully. "Good job…Quill?" he looked round.
"I believe it was our dear son who was entrusted with the Royal Quill, your Grace." Cersei noted, glance Joffreyward.
Uhhh…Joffrey sighed inwardly.
Knew when that flunkey told me I had a part assigned in today's royal audience it could only mean even more humiliation.
"Yes…Right here." He sighed. Holding up the Quill.
"Well, bring it here, punk. Lets get this done." Robert waved him forward. Joffrey trudging to him, placing Quill in the extended royal hand.
"Right then…Where are you going, punk?" stern look as Joffrey tried to slink back. "Hold the Royal Ink Pot for me…Scribe, Ink Pot!" he turned to the scribe who'd stepped forward with the Royal Ink Pot.
"Give it to Prince Loser, here. Now try to hold it steady, as if you had some competence, kid." He eyed Joffrey, now taking the large Ink Pot in hands.
"Ok…" dips Quill. "Robert I Barfthreon, Rex…Done!" the King slammed Quill into Pot, spattering the dejected Joffrey. Scribe, concealing sniggering chuckle, taking the Pot and Quill from him a moment later.
"Well then, three cheers for Prince Tommen, heir to the Throne!" Robert called, rising. Cersei standing beside him, beaming.
Tommen looking pleased if a bit puzzled.
Cousin Sansa seems upset. And why is brother Joff so down in the dumps?
"Is it important, being heir, Mommie?" he hissed to Cersei who patted him fondly.
"It's a very nice thing, sweetheart." She whispered. "Dad and I will explain later…"
"Yes, yes…Huzzah for my brother! The new heir! Let no man deny his just claim! Tommen, I salute you as my future King!" Joffrey cried out. Cheers echoing through the Great Hall…Other than the annoyed-looking Lady Sansa, only Lord Gomez looking a bit perturbed.
Gods…Robert sighed. Much as I despise the little wuss, even I'm a bit embarrassed by such abasement in a proclaimed…Right…Son of mine.
Thank gods I've never really believed poor Cersei such a milksop, even when I was furious at her for not being poor Cecily, that she'd take my abuse lying down and being ever faithful, warm smile back to Cersei. And of course there's my dark secret, never to be revealed….Sigh.
I said…He glares at us…NEVER TO BE REVEALED…
What Bob probably was thinking…Cersei, reading his thoughts, glaring at us as well.
And if you've guessed what happened to the bumbling Jon Arryn, you know I've at least sanctioned murder to protect my Bobbie's secret…Even when I so bitter and hurt I was this close to considering bumping him off for my Joff's sake…She mentally notes, renewed glare to us.
Of course, to be honest…Cersei mentally sighs…I don't know exactly how poor ole Jon was done in and…
Gods…Why am I projecting to you? She shakes head.
"Joffrey, good boy…" she bestowed a crumb to the still kneeling Joffrey.
"Thank you, your Grace."
"Just see you keep your pledge. Mother doesn't want to see you flayed alive or worse…" she noted, nodding.
Worse? Joffrey blinked.
Even I can't conceive…
Well, with a little thought…Some to do with rats maybe…
"I too ask to pledge fealty to our future King Tommen, your Graces." Sansa knelt now.
Duke and Duchess of Grovel, I see…Robert frowned. Well…
"Right, good…Up the two of you. I'm…
Satisfied…" hard stare. "By this…Display…Of loyalty. But I expect deeds as well as words in future. Ok, Tommen…Go play, you're official, kiddo." He smiled to Tommen who eagerly headed off.
Break a leg…An arm…Your damned neck, bro…Joffrey thought, waving to Tommen dutifully, with cheery smile.
On second thought…Flayed alive? Uh, no…Belay that wish, gods. Keep my dear brother safe and sound and in perfect health.
Until I can make my move. Arch look to Sansa as the happy crowd filed out, the King happiest of all, off the Iron Toilet, thank the gods, the Queen rushing the procession out, anxious to return to their quarters for more "consultation" with the King.
Ok, fine. Joffrey sighed. Until Lady Sansa can figure one out for me and make it, probably dragging me in fear-soaked terror along…
"Say, where's Lady Wednesday?" he looked about, addressing the rising Sansa.
"Surely she wanted to witness my abject…Er, Tommen's glorious elevation. Hows about going and finding her for me, dear Lady?" he gave Sansa charming smile.
"Of course, darling…" she beamed, heading off eagerly.
And they call me sick and twisted, he shook head, watching her.
….
"Who's unhappy…?" a downcast Middlefinger on brothel stage, singing glumly with chorus line of lady brothel attendants in gold lame outfits…Ruined knights in armor waiting in the wings…
[From "Casablanca" if you don't get the reference…]
Chorus line:
"We're unhappy…"
"How unhappy?"
Chorus:
"Too unhappy!"
"Well now, don't you frown, just knuckle down, and knock on wood! …" Knock, knock, knock…Sighing, knocks on floor.
"Say, who's got trouble?"
Chorus, ruined knights in armor now joining the ladies out on stage…
Ruined knights:
"We've got trouble…"
"How much trouble?
Knights:
"Too much trouble!"
As in cash flow seriously threatened…Several mentally note.
"That won't do: when you are blue just knock on wood!" Middlefinger and several knights in armor bang on floor with foot.
"Who's unlucky?"
Combined Chorus:
"We're unlucky!"
"How unlucky?" glum Middlefinger…
Chorus:
"Too unlucky!"
Middlefinger, slight brightening
"But your luck'll change if you'll arrange to knock on wood!"
Sex…He means sex…One knight explains to another, older and somewhat clueless, ruined only by financial woes leading to highway robbery, knight…
Makes sense the younger knight notes further, aside…As sex is our main sales item…
"Who's got nothin'?"
Chorus:
"We got…" Whoa, wait…Several looking at each other…"…nothin'!"
" How much nothin'?"
Chorus…Several knights eyeing each other…We could yet make off with a reasonable chunk from here...:
"Too much nothin'!"
" Say, nothin's not an awful lot, but knock on wood!" Middlefinger, sensing he's breeding discouragement and discontent among the troop(er)s, waves to several of the girls still in the wings who run out tossing gold coins.
" Now who's happy?"
Pleasantly surprised, pleased Chorus…Those not currently scrambling for coins:
"We're happy!"
"Just how happy?" Waves in more coin-tossing girls in gold and silver lame who now toss precious stones about the stage…
Contented Chorus:
"Very happy!"
"That's the way we're gonna stay, so knock on wood!"…Knock, knock, knocking on floor…
"Now who's lucky?"
Happy Chorus, eagerly:
"We're all lucky!"
"Just how lucky?" Middlefinger, hand to ear…
Chorus, pocketing coins and jewels:
"Very lucky!"
"Well, smile up then! And once again let's knock on wood!" Middlefinger, big finish with open arms.
"And as Minstrel/Choreographic genius Busby tells us, lets remember our roots, folks! So long as people love Love and a great show, we're not licked, no." he beams. "Yes, I know we were all a bit down owing to the lack of turmoil and the blown chance of civil war…And our glorious empire of Coal is threatened as it never has been since we began our bid for power. But we're not licked yet, not by a long shot." He nods to the cheering group, beaming to Busby in the wings.
That's the way to rally the gang and nip discontent in the bud, boy. Giving thumbs' up.
"I stand before you, gang…To say that disappointed we maybe by the current turn of events…Anguished by the loss of such a ticket to National Collapse City as Prince Joffrey…We are going to perceiver and we are going to win. The show and the Game go on!"
Cheers…
"Regrettably of course there are some few among us…" somber tone… "Who have come to the conclusion that we're in trouble, that we're down and not going to rise again. And that it's time to save one's hide before it's too late by turning us in as to some of our little shenanigans. That hurts, guys. That cuts me deep." Sigh.
Nervous eyeing among the minions…
"Though not so deep as them…Busby!" cries.
Two knights and prostitute, headless, drop to stage from above…
"Lets keep it real, folks." Middlefinger eyes stunned group. "We may work largely in the business of illusion, but we play for real stakes here. Anyone wants out, that's the door…" indicating the corpses.
Nice of him not to toss that little kid spy who signed on with Verysmuch over…Busby thinks. That would've been a bit much…Eyes the Shirley Templeish corpse beside him.
"Well…Onward and upward…People, we've a show to put on tonight. The final episode of 'Game of Thrones', season one…" Middlefinger, clapping for attention. "Lets leave 'em with a real cliffhanger, folks!"
Here…And at the Court…