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 LXII…
Kings' Landing…The Redder Keep…
The rather less imperial quarters of the former heir now "loving" (uh-huh) brother of the official heir to Westeros, Prince Joffrey…
"You're quite sure that rogue couldn't finger me and was dead in any case?" Joffrey, nervously pacing his room, grumbling as he did.
Damn I don't even got direct ravenpost or herald access in here. This sucks!
"Quite sure, quite unable to finger, quite dead." Sansa, hood pulled back on shoulders, nodded.
"But Wednesday? She's ok?"
"Yeess." Grim tone.
That light lord guy, gods, any supernatural figure worth calling on in curse…We just had sex, Joff. And you know it was hot. Geesh, even for a psychotic like you, a little too much, asking about Wed now.
"Ok as in, not murdered, I mean…Not ok as in, my, she looks good, the mortician did wonders." Joffrey, sternly.
Break, oh heart! Sansa sighed, suddenly weeping.
"Oh, damnit! She's fine. But I wish to the gods I'd killed her!"
Fine, Mom, Dad…I know.
Just call me…Dark Sansa…And next existence don't be stupid enough to die like you did and leave me with no one else to turn to but that block of wood, map-fixated, brother, Rob.
Though, my love, I don't mean it that way…I'm happy to turn to your psychotic self…Truly.
"Phew…" Joffrey sighed. "That has the sincere ring of despairing jealousy. Sansa, I'm sorry…"
Oh my Gods…I am…He blinked, wonderingly.
"Really…?" she eyed him.
"Within the natural limits of my megalomania and psychotic sadism, yes, to my own shock. I'm sorry if my concern for Wednesday hurts you. Though I still will probably beat you to death one day." He nods.
"Oh…Joff…" she sobbed. "Thank you. But, back to practicalities." She immediately got hold. "Wednesday and Anya are clearly trying to protect Lord Gomez and the King, however ludicrously. They must suspect you're involved here. We must see to it that the Queen your mother is blamed for any actions against your father's bastards when Operation Bastardo commences."
"We must? Operation What? I'm not sure I follow, though I get that harm and winter are coming for the supposed 'Barftheron' bastards? And you should beware lest my twisted adoration of my mother manifests itself in some weird way of defending her honor here." He noted calmly. "Just for your own sake, Sans."
Awwww…She beamed. In a bizarre way, he's protecting me against his own nature, a little.
"Of course that may be a sadistically perverse trap of mine to let you think I care…" he reflected.
Aww…Yet again…
One way or the other he's actually warning me.
I'm actually warning her, some way, he noted to himself in astonishment.
"Anyway, if we're to have Cersei blamed for Robert's death later…" Sansa began.
"What?" he blinked.
Apart from the fact that in my really twisted and psychotic way I love Dad, what the hell? Put my brother on the throne?
"Just what is this, my Lady? Betraying me already?" he asked, angrily…But some genuine hurt…
Sansa? Tommen over me?
"Hold killing or torturing me for just an instant, Joff and let me explain." She gently moved his crossbow point to one side with finger.
"If we help Middlefinger to bump your dad's phony bastards off and your mother is blamed and then your dad pops off, Tommen your brother will be facing questions as to his legitimacy, alone and unprotected on the throne…Well, relatively so, given your uncle, the best swordsperson in the world, is likely his father and he'll have Lord Addams and Lord Tywin and a host of soldiers and guards. Though we hope to have set them at odds with each other and Lord Addams implicated in the King's death."
"Ok…Right…I get that…" Joffrey nodded. "But how does that help me? I'd be questioned…Wrongly!...As to my legitimacy too, wouldn't I? Besides, I can't help feeling I should kill you or turn you in for threatening my parents."
"Joff." Sigh. "You wanna be king? Or Tommen's 'most trusted advisor' who actually is kept under the strictest surveillance and probably bumped off by Lord Verysmuch's agents asap. I can show the way here…"
"Yeah…I wanna be king. I'll kill or maim with the greatest pleasure to do so. But I don't wanna lose my parents. And I gotta wonder as to the workings of this scheme. It sounds like you could be plotting with Middlefinger against me."
"Joff?!"
"I know, dear…And I'm again startled to find I'm sorry but both my psychotic nature and my cynical training in statecraft are leading me this way…"
Though in some strange way I also can't help feeling…I should put my trust in the one I…
Oh, my Gods…It's true. I am in love. No…Oh, no.
I mean it's one thing to be a sadistic psychotic maniac who should be killed for the safety of Mankind but it's quite another to be unfaithful to the first girl you ever loved before you even have her.
I mean spiritually, romantically unfaithful. Kings and somebodies like me can do all the kinky, abusive, perverted sex we want.
He shrugged. "Guess the best thing to do is call the guards and have you arrested or kill you myself." But he hesitated on raising crossbow again.
Though it is rather heavy…
"Joff…" she smiled. "You would do it but for your own safety and your ambition. You know sooner or later your family will move to destroy us…You."
"What? Why?"
And you didn't even mention…for Love.
Don't you care, Sans? Oh, break heart…
"Joff…" she eyed his downcast look.
Oh, right…I'm a total psycho, not fit to live…And naturally, unloved.
"I only held off saying 'for love', to let your heart tell you so…" she beamed.
"Not that you wouldn't kill me for sport, of course."
"Naturally…But, oh Sansa…" he sighed. "Talk about codependent abusive relationships…We were made for each other. Though I still have some hots for Lady Wednesday, too. I wouldn't want you to think I'm the sort of dishonest, love 'em, leave 'em, kill 'em, psycho. You know, dear gods, I'm actually sorry about this, too."
"It's ok. I can deal with 'some hots', Joff,"
"You can? Oh…Right…Pseudomedieval era with guys fornicating right and left in marriage. Your dad even, right? Jon Snowed? Just shove that bitter anger down and take it out on the kids, right?"
"Exactly. But, my solution will be to dress up like Wednesday a few nights a month and pretend we're in a sordid affair."
He blinked… "Seriously?"
"Sure…" shrug. "Mom used to do it all the time with Dad. Every second Tuesday, it was 'I'm the cheap whore whoever she was who mothered that goddamn bastard, Jon. Lets get it on while the Cat's away.'"
"Really?" he stared. "Your parents, Mr. and Mrs. Squarely Stable of the Pseudomedieval Era? Did your mom tell you this?"
"I listened through their door. I'm not quite the total symp, Joff."
"No…Not quite. And I'd bet you'd make a great Wednesday."
"Black frumpy dress, white arsenic lead makeup to get that deathly pallor…And you know I do creepy well." Smile. "But enough of romance…Lets get practical again. If all goes just right, the great Lords will back you over Tommen just to avoid a civil war and confirm the legitimacy of the royal bloodline. They won't dare question it, it would stir up too much trouble. And you wouldn't have to kill anyone yourself. We let the Middlefinger folks do their thing, we just provide intel, cover, and betrayal."
"Please…No way my parents'll be taken by Middlefinger." Joffrey, scornfully shaking head. "Besides, everyone knows I'd love to kill a bunch of prostitutes' babies and prostitute moms. Though, true it would make for a long killfest and the moms might have time to escape."
Uh, sure…Escape…Sansa nodded. Not grab your sword and beat you to death with it…
"In the field, your dad could break him to bits. But in the scheming of things, I'm afraid Middlefinger has the advantage. As for your mom, no offense but…"
"She's not Grandpa Tywin in a dress, I know that."
Hmmn…I do so want to be king and pretend to be infallible whilst all the time wasting the kingdom on my reckless expenditures and gestures to win favor…And brutal bloodsport to appeal to all. Still, lil' Joff can't lose mummy and dadda…Especially now, when they're actually talking to each other…Screwing each other constantly…Even being a little nicer to me. It's like Heaven.
"Joff…I know you don't want your dad hurt. We could unseat the King but leave him alive, deposed. Gods know there's enough material just in the financial corruption for an impeachment hearing."
Hmmn… "Sansa? Somehow I don't see Middlefinger being that charitable…Or brave enough to let Dad live."
"It won't matter though your Dad will never know who led the lords to depose him. We won't give a damn what Middlefinger thinks by then." Smile, nod…
Oooh…I get it, Joffrey nodded back, smiling.
Middlefinger then becomes a most silent partner.
"But what about Mom?"
"Ohhh…She'd be…Fine. I'll see to her safety."
He eyed her…
"Sans…Even I know what that's likely to mean."
"I'll do my best, Joff. But…You play the Game of Thrones you win or you die, Joff. You win or you die." Intense stare.
"Actually that's from the Middlefinger play. And I wouldn't die…" shrug. "I'd just wind up on some dinky estate with a hobbling allowance and maybe be trusted with some minor office under constant supervision and surveillance by someone like Verysmuch."
"Things change, Joff…And your dad doesn't trust you to remain the same delightful and supportive brother. He may make a pre-emptive strike. And your Mom will side with him, even over you."
Hmmn…Dad is a pre-emptive strike kind of King. And Mommy naturally would side with the man she loves…Who would ever say otherwise shall die at my…Airedale's…Hands.
"And will we sit here and wait for said strike?" Sansa, rhetorically. "My Lord? What is your pleasure?"
"Oh…I thought you were being rhetorical." Joff noted. "Well, I'd prefer to avoid getting hit…Literally or figuratively."
"Then we must move to shake King Robert…Without killing him if possible."
"Hardly likely, given dad's proclivities. Kill or be killed being his leading mantra. Do you really think we can use the bastards to undermine him? Who'd care?"
"Privately, apart from a few prudes and religious fanatics? Nobody. But Officially it taints the royal line and gives credence to rumors about…Well, you know…" she shrugged.
"But the truth is, they aren't his bastards…I mean…Gods, I'd best kill you now, you know."
"Joff…" she put up a hand. "That's the whole point. Robert's inability to make an heir is the one secret he and Cersei can't risk letting slip out. They'll fight tooth and nail to make people believe all those kids are his. And everyone would believe Cersei would kill them all if the truth might be likely to slip out."
"So you're really saying we kill them all, these worthless brats?" he stared. "And let people think Mother killed them?"
"Well, we have Middlefinger kill them all… We retain plausible deniability. And yes, let your Mother take the heat. She'll do it rather than let the secret get out, raising the people's wrath to fever pitch."
"But now, much as they hate child-murderers, people believe the dreadful rumors…About, you know…" frown.
"But no one can prove it…And the 'your mother hated the idea of bastards around to be put on the throne in your and Tommen's place enough to kill 'em all' is completely plausible. Our people can use that."
O…K… "So the bastards are dead…" Gods, you are a ferocious little one…And my saying it is saying something… "And Mom's blamed…To be…"
"Pardoned…Banished…Locked up somewhere, say the Great Septa, by fanatic priests who have some strange objection to child murder, at worst…And the King…"
"You said we would not have to kill him either? I know that sounds bizarre coming from me but…"
"If the people are up in arms, ready to overthrow Cersei…"
"Come on, girl." Frown. "Dad slaughters left and right and so much for the 'people'…Heads on pikes' all about. Mother cooes with joy at his demonstration of affection. End of story."
"Not if civil war breaks out…" Sansa smiled. "He can't fight a civil war in Westeros, crush rebels here, and deal with that Princess What's Her Name (the hell I'm playing her horn in front of my sexually curious psycho boyfriend) and her dragons. He'll either be deposed or he'd have to accommodate the people in some way."
"And putting me back in…? Are you kidding? No one would welcome that but you…"
Awww…Sansa beamed, bowing head. Joff…
"I tole you." She insisted. "Putting you back in confirms the legitimacy of the line. Pulling you out already gave credence to the rumors. Your Dad will either have to restore you to quash rumors and save the Queen or step down."
Long stare…Sansa?
My Dad? For the 'Good of the Kingdom'? Steps down…?
"I'd really have to say he'd rather fight the whole kingdom single handedly." Joffrey sighed.
"Then he'll die. Win or die, Joff. I'll do all I can to save him for you but the decision's got to be made, here and now." She eyed him. "In or out?"
Though of course if you just wanna go off to a desert island with me and live a serene existence that's probably the only hope for you to achieve a fragile mental stability…I could live with that.
"And all the killing…And confrontation with Dad…Is by Middlefinger and co?" he eyed her.
"It's what we pay them for, after all…" she noted.
"And Mother's not to be killed."
"Shamed in some religious fanatics' ceremony when she's proven guilty of child murderer and locked away forever but not be killed."
Probably…She did not say.
Hey, out of sight, out of mind. And a fait accompli is a fait accompli…
Just gotta be sure Middlefinger takes the blame…
"Who'd've thought I would be making a moral decision here? Even if a hideous one…" Joffrey noted. "Well, ok. Death to the bastards, chaos to the realm. But we do all we can to keep my parents breathing…"
"Absolutely…" Sansa nodded.
'All we can' being such a subjective term…
"And Middlefinger finds a shallow grave as soon as he's outlived his usefulness…" Joffrey insisted.
"Logical in our twisted way and I agree completely. But I gotta ask…" coy smile. "Honey, are you jealous?" Sansa eyed him.
"A little…Maybe…" shrug. "Ok, a lot."
"Joff, you gotta know I'd try and sentence him to death on real or trumped up treason charges myself for you." She beamed.
"Besides, that thing he has for me is way creepy." Wince.
"I know…" Joffrey winced in turn.
…
Stormin' Out, seat of the Barftherons…
"Daughter…" Ser Thomas eyed Margeary who winced as he approached for his farewell kiss.
One does a lot of wincing if you're a beautiful girl in a pseudo-medieval era…
Though, to be fair to pseudo-medieval guys, some would say…If you're a beautiful girl in any era…
Lets make that a hug, much as I do love you, Father. You creep even me out… She pulled back then made quick hug.
Well…I take what pleasures I can get…Boleyn thought lewdly. Nodding to her…
Gods, I even creep myself out, he thought.
"Prince Rently…" he turned to Rently with elegant smile.
Gods…Brienne…Rently eyeing Lady Brienne.
Don't let him hug me.
"I take my leave and leave in turn my most prized possession, my dearest daughter. May she and your offspring…" Several severely repressed titters among the group seeing him off…Yeah, right… "…be the physical glue that cements our grand alliance of Boleyn, Markwell, Barftheron. My future liege, farewell." Boleyn bowed.
"Safe trip, papa…" Margeary, trying to be congenial.
"Indeed, Ser Thomas…" Rently agreed, putting arm round Margeary, his new bride.
Nope no problemo there, this sex thing will be a piece of cake, he thought confidently.
And at least we surely agree that we'll have dear Father Boleyn kept as much at a distance as possible...Already we're one as a couple, he nodded.
Just lie back, think on how cute he is, really, and hope for the best…Margeary sighed inwardly.
Still Grandma did show me how to do all the work, so…
"Ser Thomas…" A voice from the beachfront dark, called as Boleyn joined his men and guards to board ship as Rently, Margeary, and co stood waving him off.
"The Light Lord is not pleased by this alliance…Remember…" Melisandre, standing with several followers on the beach. "The night is dark and…" OW!
Damn, will one of you idiots light a damned torch?!
"Yeah, yeah…Crazy bitch…" Boleyn fumed. "Thanks to your Grace…" he bowed to Rently and headed down ramp to the waiting three Boleyn ships, boarding immediately, the ships casting off.
LL? Where's the ironic destruction of his little fleet? Melisandre stared after the departing ships.
I had this all set up…What are you doing? Come on, show your wrath…
Crap…There they go safely round the bend.
"Is that woman the priestess you told me about?" Margeary turned to Rently.
"Oh, yeah. My brother's crazy little indulgence." He nodded, grinning after Melisandre who gathered her people about her and stormed off.
"Sad some people can't just keep religion out of politics…" Margeary shook head.
"Lady Brienne?" Rently called to the Guards Captain, erect and attentive in her gleaming armor.
"Your Highness!" Brienne, practically on his toes in five seconds.
"Yes, uh, nice job keeping Melisandre's people at bay during the wedding." Rently beamed.
"Yes, very good work, Captain." Margeary eagerly chimed in.
"Thank you so much, sire. Uh…Yes, ma'am." Brienne nodded.
"I'll try again tomorrow to speak with Stanislaw…Lets hope he'll see reason and my numbers bolstered by the Boleyns and the Markwells. Well, long day. I guess we should…" Rently paused at Margeary's warm smile. "…Get to it. Great night, my Lady. Make sure you get a piece of the cake." He told Brienne.
"Thank you, sire."
"Good night." Margeary beamed.
"Yeah." Curtly. "Ma'am."
…
Damn…Damn…Damn…Melisandre, angrily stomping off.
Listen, LL, what were you thinkin'? This double alliance makes Rently the most powerful commander in the realm but for the King and maybe Lannister.
And if he has a kid with the Boleyn slut…
"Lady Melisandre." Davos Seaworthy, standing on the beach with several of his men.
Oh, LL…Why dost thou torment me so…With yon hot older guy who gives me nothin'?
"Lord Davos…"
"Lord Stanislaw would speak with you…"
Yeah, rather figured that… My would be Champion is not exactly the personification of patience in these matters…
And this damned alliance is a real thorn in the side… Which I'll have to try explain away as part of the Grand Plan of the LL, yet again.
Yep, I'd bet I'm back to…Girl, yet again.
"Be right along, Lord Davos. I must do evening prayers with our followers…"
Who seem to have diminished by half, she looked round.
"He'd speak with you…Now." Davos noted. His men stepping forward.
"And I would speak with him…" she smiled, nodding.
No point in not trying to project confidence, after all…
"Petyr…" she turned to a rather nervous-looking disciple to her right. "Take the guys to the Temple and give the evening benediction."
All five of them…She stared round…
Jesu…Er, Light Lord…There were fifty here ten minutes ago.
"Petyr?" she eyed the disciple who had edged away a bit.
"Excuse me…Do we know each other?" the now ex-disciple eyed her, heading off quickly.
…