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 LV…
The fork in road to Swampflood and Winterfalls…
The three remaining of Fearing Greatjerk's Tin Island "force" standing dejectedly in their ragged, soaked outfits, in the rain and mud by the cart in which Lord Pugsley lay as Fearing desperately attempts "negotiation", with affectedly "casual" air, with Pugsley.
"Gods, are you so screwed." Pugsley, his paralyzed bulk wrapped in his horseriding cloak, lying on straw on cart, beams at Greatjerk, shaking head as best he could. "When Ser Arnold tells my grandma about this…Sorry I can't draw my finger across my neck but she'd never be so merciful anyway."
"My Lord, twas but jest and sport…" Fearing tried. "I'll be sending Ser Arnold off shortly to explain."
Ser Arnold, annoyed look…Though rather concerned about what Lady Maud might think…He bound and chained to cart before the departure of the other Tinners.
"Uh-huh…You are so screwed, asshole." Pugsley grinned. "Hope you're the masochist type, 'cause boy, you are in for a world of pain."
The three remaining eyeing each other…
Leaving…What a good idea.
After all, when one thinks about it, this sort of unauthorized invasion of sort of allied territory is kinda wrong. As free citizens, one could even insist it's our moral responsibility to oppose both such a breach of sacred treaty, and this unlawful attack on a disabled person, one quietly noted to the others, all nodding. In short it's really kinda our duty to stick it to the Tin Man, well, kid.
Seems a bit patly convenient to me to just come up with this political radicalism now, Sylvester, one of the hapless three, noted. No, he's had a pamphlet about this and the need for a republic circulating around the ranks for a few days now, the last of the three noted, Sylvester nodding.
"You might remember, Lord Pugsley, you are a…" Fearing, annoyed, but catching sight of the three fleeing men as they hurried across the muddy fields. "…an honored guest of my House, whom I was merely trying to protect and assist."
"Buddy…You can kill me or leave me, doesn't matter. You are gonna be the focus of Lady Maud Addams' wrath. And boy, can my gran wrath." Pugsley grinned up at the stricken Greatjerk.
Boy, can she…Greatjerk sighed.
The fat, paralyzed, little putz has me screwed, no question. He stared down at Pugsley.
Well…I can either surrender, and pray for some mercy, a quick death, perhaps, for ole times' sake, from Robbed…Or I can follow my men home, merely delaying the inevitable retribution when Lady Addams invades and devastates. Which she no doubt will, even if Dad abjectly hands me over with shamefully Greatjerkian haste.
Hell, I doubt even him wearing the dress will save us this time…
"Ser Arnold…" Fearing turned to the bound Knight…
Uh-oh…Noting a chain about to snap at the famed Terminator's relentless bicep pressure…
"My Lord Addams ist right…" Ser Arnold eyed Fearing scornfully. "You are so dead, even those weird people some say can revive der dead won't be able to revive your separated, dissolved, then mixed back together in bottle for shipment home mit demand for abject surrender. But in a moment I vill settle your fate." A chain snapping…Other chains straining to limit…
Whoa…
Think fast, Greatjerk…Fearing blinked.
"What will Lady Maud say when she learns you failed to protect Lord Pugsley from a mere thirty Tinners?" Fearing, hastily as another chain snapped.
Hmmn…Just mein concern, actually…Ser Arnold thought, inwardly sigh.
"She vill be disappointed but wast mein duty to protect Lord Addams whatever cost to me in der physical or mein honor…She vill accept that I sacrificed mein honor to do so." Slight audible sigh.
"Oh…Really." Fearing, archly.
"But if I bring your severed head along…" Ser Arnold stood, snapping another chain…
If I really run, maybe, in that wet, heavy armor…Fearing eyed the nearly free Terminator…
"Wait…" Fearing, desperately. "Lord Addams, you can't want to see Ser Arnold's honor stained by this little horseplay of mine...A mere joke among friends…Eh, ha, hah." he called over to Pugsley.
Hmmn…Pugsley considered carefully.
Gran will be po'd. And I do like Ser A…
"Can't we work something out among ourselves? No one was hurt, really. Except several of my men who died from exhaustion in the march here." Fearing tried. "I thought you'd appreciate the joke, I'm truly sorry if it got out of hand here."
"Lord Addams, do not listen to der words of dis snake in grass…" Ser Arnold tugged at last chains, snapping another.
Damn, those were supposed to be made of chrome steel, they should have held King Kong…Fearing sighed.
Just like Dad to have stiffed me with inferior equipment as well as the dregs of the dregs manwise…
"Well…I'm ok and I don't want you in trouble, Ser Arnold." Pugsley noted from cart.
Hope, yes, hope…Fearing, slight inward rejoicing…
"I guess we could say it was just a misunderstanding…" Pugsley reflected.
"Absolutely…Yes, yes, a terrible misunderstanding…Let me help you out of that last…Uhhhh" Fearing, babbling a bit before Ser Arnold freed himself from last chains and grabbed him, raising him off ground by a foot.
"I should kill you now, traitor." he hissed.
"It's ok, Ser Arnold…We have a deal." Pugsley called. "Sounds like he's squirming in your death grip, put him down. It's ok."
Reluctantly, Ser Arnold lowering Greatjerk who gave anxious gasp…"Thanks, my Lord."
"Now get out of here and never come back…I mean never…" Pugsley called. "Get to that island of yours and stay there."
Stay? On those miserable, crappy little islands? Fearing blanched. Far from my adoptive hostage home with its lovely warm halls and beds and those delightful brothels? And the great food and drink? The lights and excitement of the annual fairs? The brothels? The odd trip to the capital to see the sights…And those brothels? The magnificent winter sports at Winterfalls with all the wonderful Stark singing? The brothels?
Almost better to risk my fate at Lady Maud's hands…
Well, actually no, I suppose. But still amounts almost to the same bleak death, just drawn out more…
"I cannot approve of dis, mein Lord." Ser Arnold frowned.
"It's my responsibility as acting Head of House Addams, Ser Arnold." Pugsley stated firmly from the cart. "And I order you to accept my decision and let the little wuss go and say nothing of this except to follow my lead when the others get here."
Say, he's not bad. Who'd've thought the fat little putz had so much spunk in him? Wait…Others? Oh, right…The others…The Starks, the Addamses, Lady Maud, maybe even Lord Tywin now all's been patched up, to demonstrate solidarity…No doubt well on their way…Fearing pondered.
I guess somehow I can deal with the Hell of Home. And long as I'm alive and not reduced by sadistic torture to a groveling, sniveling tool of some sadist, there's always hope I could weasel my way back into Robbed's confidence…
"Very well, mein Lord." Ser Arnold sighed, releasing Greatjerk.
"Thanks, my Lord. Please give my best to Robbed and…"
"Get!" Ser Arnold thundered, grabbing sword and waving… "You, I will kill last! But I'm lying!" he called after the fleeing Greatjerk. Turning back to head over to the cart.
"Are you ok, mein Lord?" he looked at Pugsley in cart.
"Sure…Fine." Pugsley eyed the downcast, grim Terminator. "Had to do it, Terminator. Grandma'd've had your head."
"Probably, mein Lord. But I would haf merited such. I am dishonored."
"Not at all…You did what you had to…" Pugsley insisted. "And I won't let you suffer for saving me."
"Thanks, mein Lord. I vill say you handled der situation like a true Lord of der noble Addams House whom I ist proud to serve." He beamed, then… Sigh. "But I will haf to seek mein own re-honor, in time."
"Ok…But just make sure I'm around to see." Pugsley grinned. "I know it'll be great."
"Indeed, mein Lord. I shall make it so, for your sake." Ser Arnold nodded, pulling up and laying a blanket from the side of the cart on Pugsley. "Let me get you out of this rain before you catch der ague." He headed for the front of the cart, taking rope and pulling…Staggering through the mud of the road.
"Really sorry there's so much of me, Ser Arnold…" Pugsley called.
"Only more to love, mein gracious Lord." Ser Arnold called back, heaving forward.
…..
Camp of Prince Rently at Storming Out, the Barftheron seat…
"My gracious Lord Rently…" warm, gleaming smile of carefully polished to dazzle, teeth.
And in this medieval society that's saying something, their owner eyes us…
Elegant wave of gloved, perfumed hand in lace ruffle sleeve…Hat removed in sweeping yet again, elegant gesture, with bow…Only the most elegant, slight touch of fashionably perfumed scent.
"It is so good to see you again, in such health and spirits. And on such an occasional for joy, for all our Houses." Beaming smile as the speaker rose to full height, replacing hat on well-coiffed head.
Eehew…Brienne, Rently, guards, courtiers of Rently's court.
Boelyn may be utterly polished and sophisticated, gracious to a glaring fault, but there's always something so creepy about him…
It's like he was dipped in rancid oil or something, despite that exquisite touch of scent, Anna Brienne thought, remaining at strict attention.
"Yes…Of course." Rently brittle smile, offering hand as protocol demanded. Boelyn eagerly moving to bow and kiss it.
Really…Eehew…All, even many of Boelyn's people inwardly grimacing…
"So glad your voyage here was safe, Ser Thomas." Rently, struggling to keep down gorge.
This one could turn me off men…
"Please, rise." He waved free hand, smiling stiffly.
Please, and above all, let go of my hand…
"My Prince…And may I hope…? My future king?" Boelyn, gleaming smile.
"In the Seven's good time, we may hope." Rently nodded slightly, resuming his seat.
Please call her in, please, please…Boelyn's people, several guards and courtiers, about him thought desperately…Anything to dispel the sweetly foul odor of our treacherous Lord.
"Now may I present my gloriously beautiful, lovable, and above all, chaste though hot enough for any man…If she weren't my daughter, I'd be dating her…Daughter, Margeary Anne?"
"Oh, yes…By all means…" Rently, rather anxiously.
Anything to get you off center stage and hopefully outta here soon…
"Margeary?! Come and meet our future king…And your betrothed." Boelyn called.
Whoa…Rently blinked as the lovely figure entered, radiating sweetness and charm…
And yet somehow, such an air of utter hotness…Just that slightest sway of hips and swelling of bosom forward.
"My daughter, your Grace." Boelyn bowed again, stepping, to the relief even of his own staff, to the side…
"Prince Rently…" Margeary came to him, taking hand and kneeling, warm smile upon lovely face, bewitching stare… "I'm so glad to see you again. How've you been? Is the family well?"
Hmmn…Even I'm a bit…Rently thought, smiling gracious acknowledgement as he extended his hand for her kiss. She rising.
Yes, she definitely widens the sexual spectrum…Rently smiled at her. As did the whole company minus one Anna Brienne…
"Very well, my Lady. Thank you for your concern."
"I was worried to hear you'd had a touch of ague last month. Did you get my packet of herbs for it? And Queen Cersei and King Robert and your niece and nephews are all well?" warm, open-hearted smile. Slightest sway of body forward.
Boelyn, among his people, smirking slightly…
Best idea I ever had to have her Markwell grandmother take her in hand for a couple of years after her time with me in Pentos… No one but Oleanna could get her to this pitch of sensuality.
Even if the radiant innocent warmth and love is all hers…Some weird throwback to her grandfather and my patents' kind natures, no doubt.
Really, I should've defied social convention, my secret new religion, the constraints of moral law on incest, and ordinary decency…And dated her, Boelyn thought.
Hmmn…I even creep out myself sometimes…
Bitch…Anna Brienne, staring at attention, darkly.
Admittedly charming and lovable, but…
Bitch.
…..
Casterly Rock…
Lord Tywin's round table audience chamber…
Lord Tywin seated in center of said round table, in elegantly sinister black as always, with red scarf about neck.
Gift from Johanna to guard against catching cold, he'd explained beforehand to Tywina who attended him. Knitted it herself that last long winter before this terminating spring and her untimely death, he'd noted fondly. "Plus she always said the red does a nice contrast with my basic black. That woman was fashion sense." he'd sighed.
Various Lords and a few Ladies, bannerpeople to the Lannisters, seated about the round table, Tywin turning in his chair to each one in turn.
Remarkable thing, this rotating chair, he'd noted to Tywina…Comfy and mobile all in one…Tyrion came up with it. Pause. "In one of his brief respites from his vile debaucheries."
My wonder boy…Gods, an inventor as well as a budding economic and political genius…What a ruler he's going to make. I wish I could be there in Kings' Landing to see him really getting into statecraft.
Gods and Jo, protect him, my beloved son…I know Jamie will do his loving best but apart from skill with a sword, my barely second born is somewhat of a dull pen when it comes to political intrigue and statecraft…Or much besides swordsplay, for that matter.
"Well, gentlemen and ladies…" he eyed the group in unison, turning about slowly. "It seems we were nearly led to destruction by an unknown enemy. Fortunately, common sense prevailed and civil war was averted, for the general good, much as I understand some of you, naturally, who feel your slice of the Westeros pie is too small, would've relished a nice bloody struggle either as artists of warfare and statecraft or for your own chance to seize power or at least a few crumbs."
"My Lord…Hardly fair. We've pledged our honor and our very lives to your House. To question our loyalty and devotion like this, is, well…Hurtful." Downcast look. "All we have, our hearts' blood…Our souls' essence…" slight sobbing tone…
"Oh, blow it, Lord Supercillious." Tywin frowned at the prattling, chubby lord blowing nose in sleeve.
Dear Gods I hope Tyrion's handkerchief thing catches on soon…Must make a note Tywina to have them distributed at all Lannister council meetings.
Grim look…"If you'd gone with me, you'd be breaking your vow to the King. If you'd stayed loyal to Robert, your vow to me. Either way, you'd be going for the main chance and as a medieval-style era warlord I appreciate that…Though of course I'd've rained Castamare on anyone turning on me, as all you know all too well."
"Aye, true enough, Lord Tywin." Stout…Quite so, but carrying it off rather well and hell, it's been a long peace in an age without easily available diets and fitness training outside the "spa" of warfare…Lord Porthrightly of Glasgowmere spoke up. "We all keep our eye on the main chance as it's offered, though minus Supercillious' sycophancy, we know our bread's buttered on the Lannister side. And a stable kingdom, even if it might limit our ability to expand our lands exponentially by brutal conquest, does offer fiscal rewards via trade, infrastructural improvement, technologic development, and population growth…All these years of Lannister/Barftheron prosperity's not to be sneezed at. We know that's largely due to you, my Lord."
"Here, here…" general call…Pounding of mailed fists on table.
Are they saying…They like me? Tywin stared around the circle.
"And no one likes to be snookered by some weasely interloper, out to destroy us all…" Porthrightly noted. "However much we out look for our own."
Well, some of us do also appreciate the cultural work of the Lannister Foundation…A couple of Lords thought. Heck, their 'Art in the park' and Masterworks Traveling Theater events've set the tone for cultural innovation across the Kingdom.
"Porthrightly, as always you're a breath of fresh air." Tywin eyed him. "And you cut to the heart of the matter, our common enemy, who seeks to undermine the Kingdom and destroy us all."
"Gotta be that Targaryn bimbo…" Lady Alica of Wondaland noted, smoothing blonde hair. "I wonder King Bob hasn't already had her poisoned or, given her rep for hotness, kidnapped to be one of his concubines."
"Possibly…But the word is she's still occupied herself in Barth with the revolution there." Tywin shrugged. "And nothing's ever indicated she would have the capacity or knack for this sort of high-level intrigue."
"Though it is confirmed she has acquired some dragons…" Lady Alica pointed out. "That could attract the sort who might supply such capacity and knack. And Barth alone has Taro Trumpo Don, that ambitious prick."
"Small potatoes, that fellow but true enough and the King is monitoring the situation…As am I." Tywin nodded. "But again, I don't see her as the source of this disturbance in the cohesive Force of the Kingdom."
"Tywin? What does Maudie say about all this…?" a firm if aged voice spoke up… "I agree with you about that fool in Barth, though I'd warn you never to underestimate a woman. Especially a hot one with a royal claim and fire-breathing dragons." She pursed mouth firmly, leaning back in chair.
"Lady Oleanna." Tywin bowed. "I have discussed all with Lady Maud when we nearly clashed at the Tully frontier…She's of my mind that we act unitedly to face this phantom menace."
"Mesa say…" Lord Supercillious hastly cut in, hoping to regain points. "Lord Tywin has brilliantly touched the matter with a needle. We face a Phantom Menace which could destroy us all…"
"Yes, yes…" Oleanna waved hand. "We know you mean like that stinker play at Middlefinger's Theater two years ago. Well…Bit old to 'clash' with Maudie, Tywin." Slight leer.
Mesa thought it rather good, Supercillious, a bit hurt. Anyway, I see none of you have yet guessed that the said Phantom Menace is my own partner in crime, Lord… Hmmn…He looked at the lord seated next to him, Lord Acurian of Acutely, who was regarding him briefly before dismissing whatever the fool had been whispering to himself as nonsensical sycophantic practice.
Damn, I'm picking up Middlefinger's habit of speaking thought alo…He reeled back in chair as a young serving girl picked up his cup and hurried off. Pausing at door entrance to wink at us.
"I must hope not, my Lady." Tywin noted. Desperately repressed smile, glance about table trying to recover grimness.
You fool lads can have the young girls…Give me the ladies with brains…And "experience", he thought, eyeing Lady Oleanna again.
"And I don't underestimate the young lady…Merely that there's less likelihood she's involved. We will find her a threat one day, I'm sure, though Robert and Lord Gomez assure me they have that situation in hand."
"Lets hope so." Oleanna frowned. "I may as well note another potential problem in that my idiot step-son Boelyn…The vicious and creepy one as opposed to my own blockheaded but utterly sweet and lovable Mace Markwell…Is plotting to foment trouble by encouraging Prince Rently's claims to the throne. And while Rob has better secured things by finally dumping that psycho Joffrey…" she paused as the group about table gave "Huzzah"… "It's still likely to cause problems given Stanislaw's own ambitions." Sigh. "My idiot Mace may well be a fool but if only he were the royal uncle, we'd never had these problems. He'd be devoted to the last, probably dying in some fool battle to save his nephew or some such nonsense."
"Yes…" Tywin frowned. "I was going to note I'd received intel that Boelyn took advantage of his return from his ending ambassadorship to Pentos to divert to Storming Out to meet with Rently. It seems he means to form a marriage alliance."
"That creepy dolt…Something to do with his new religion as well as his never-ending ambition…" Lady Oleanna sighed. "He'll be the ruination of my dear granddaughter and our Houses, I'm sure. Though fortunately I managed to get hold of Margeary before he'd utterly corrupted her."
Eehew…The pictured thought round the table.
"Indeed. But she remains a wonderful girl…And rather a worthy Queen." Oleanna smiled. "But if she gets wrapped up in this insanity with Rently and the religious fanatics under Stanislaw get involved…"
"Are you suggesting Boelyn is the secret enemy?" Tywin eyed her.
"Him?! Ha, ha, hah!" she chuckled. "No, never…He's shrewd enough but not that clever or powerful…But he is no doubt someone's tool. And this marriage must be nipped in the bud."
Not that Rently's not a sweet boy…She noted kindly. "And Margeary's quite able to handle his sexual proclivities."
Hmmn…Tywin frowned.
"Oh, don't be so straight-laced, Lannister." She shook head. "We all know the boy's been my grandson Lotus' girlfriend for years though Lotus does insist he's truly in love now with that strange little Addams girl."
"Well, whatever perversity we must overlook…" Tywin shook head. "This marriage is a problem that could incite new civil strife. Can you prevent it, Oleanna? Would your stepson heed a command from you? Or Margeary?"
"Margeary perhaps, though she's a dutiful daughter and ambitious enough to be a Queen. My effete, yet surprisingly fanatic in religion, ass of a stepson? Never. In fact, I'd guess the wedding's been carried out immediately since he landed at Storming Out."
"Bad news indeed." Tywin rose, shaking head. "Of course King Robert will probably deal with it…Either by throwing Rently into a dungeon and abject terror or by making the best of it but denying Rently any chance of succeeding."
"Which makes one wonder why my stepson even took such a risk. He's at least smart enough to realize what a provocation this is to the King." Oleanna noted.
Oh…Tywin nodded. "I see."
Hmmn…? The other Lords looking about, puzzled.
"It's a gull, you idiots." Oleanna frowned at them. Tywin, likewise.
Lord Supercillious giving added weight to the said "Menace" by sliding from his chair to the floor in a dead lump…