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 LXXVIII…
Dyad Citadel, Barth…Formerly the Fortress of Howling Despair…Rachel's former office, now Meister Nealon's…
"I trust you understand, Rachel that not only do I believe you innocent of the charges the Princess/future Empress Danerys made, but that you will continue to function as a key asset here at…" attempt at reassuring smile.
"Cut the crap, Nealon, we're alone. And I trust, unheard." Rachel frowned.
He gave slight eyeing…You oughta know better than I, girly.
"I had the place swept for spy holes and any spy slaves listening in corners and behind curtains, just yesterday." She noted. "The only one we found was possibly a real beggar, but in any case now sleeps with the fishes in our moat."
"Fine, then…" Nealon sighed.
"She's a clone, isn't she? You didn't dare use the 666 process on a wild-type Targaryen, did you?" she eyed him.
"It was questionable as to efficacy, especially with such a unique type. The Supreme Chancellor opted for the safer solution. She is a perfect clone, though, complete with reasonably complete memory."
"Lovely, but do we control her?" Rachel, urgently.
We? He smiled.
"You, then, prick." She frowned. "But lets remember I'm still a valuable partner, with friends…Boyfriends…Who are good at taking revenge for far less reason than their girlfriend bought it at a fellow ambitious prick's hands."
"We're still partners, Rachel." Nealon shrugged. "You know as well as I, that Taro can't be trusted."
"Then we do control the Princess Clone?"
"Well…No…" Nealon sighed.
Say what? She blinked, fuming…
"There was nothing I could do. The process was already begun before I was called in to check things out. Taro has other experts, as you know, trained by Phat Pree, of lower and therefore more fearfully devoted rank. I'm afraid she's solidly in his grip. 666'd to the hilt."
Eehew…Rachel, picturing…
"Well, that's a fine kettle of septafish. Where does that leave us? And why did she accuse me? Potentially answering my former question very much to the negative?"
"She's programmed to adore and protect Taro, that'll only strengthen as she gets more functional, though hopefully a bit more natural. Meaning, yes…A good deal of…Eehew…" Nealon noted. "She accused you because she remembered you foolishly offered her original a deal."
"Yeah, yeah…Wait." Rachel blinked. "The girl's still alive, right? The original?"
"For the moment, in a secure and quite secret, dungeon. Taro wants to be sure Danerys II works well plus he'd like an army of her."
"An army?" Rachel blinked.
"Fire-resistant, physically durable, hot…With some weapons skills built in she'd be a fantastic soldier. And clones don't always provide good starter material for making more clones."
"Hmmn…Nice, if we were in charge of her. Not so nice at present."
…
Eerie, attending Chancellor Taro in his office, she, thankfully to herself, still in her captain of the guards' armor…
"The world is such a grand place when all is going your way…" Taro in Chancellor's uniform of white with a rather remarkable amount of gold thread, reflected with smile, leaning back in chair expansively.
I know I'll need to be getting a throne, but I rather like my ergonomic and swiveling office chair, he noted to himself. Still one must make sacrifices…
"That's good, Chancellor." She noted, noncommittally. "Is the Princess well?"
"Resting." Offhand wave…
In both cases, neither all that voluntary, though the one in the lab wouldn't complain…
"She's been through a good deal, including betrayal by her closest associate…By the way, any word of Ser What's-His-Name?"
"Ser Jonah Job…" as you know all too well, you… "No word of him after he left Barth as yet, sir."
"He is under surveillance, I trust?" Frown. "A man like that, even if pardoned by her highness, is sure to be a potential source of trouble and of course he's a confessed spy for a foreign power…" stern look.
"We have kept surveillance, Chancellor. I merely meant he'd been doing nothing of concern, simply leaving the city and taking the coast road."
"I see. Well, while it would be terribly sad if the man met a grisly fate on that thieves-plagued coast road, one could see it as justifiable karma, couldn't one? I don't have to be too specific here, do I, my dear?" Taro eyed his guards captain. "I mean I can connect the dots if you really need me to, but I hope for better from you." Smile.
"No, Chancellor…" sight wince.
Thieves' plagued? It's the safest road in Barth…Guard checkpoints every mile. It'll actually be a bit difficult to have a man killed on it.
"Good. I'm still an elected official and plausible deniability remains important at this stage. After my assumption of imperial power, a bit less so." Taro shrugged. "Well, I've got dinner with my Princess bride, a wedding, double coronation, and world conquest to plan, and of course a mountain of paperwork to get though…" he indicated stack of parchment on his desk, in a bin. "I really must learn to delegate."
"Chancellor." She came to attention and saluted…He returning salute with smile.
"And, Eerie? Don't think my forthcoming wedding means we are over…Emperors and other world-striding types needn't be bound by conventional moralities, you know." Smile.
"Uh, wonderful…Chancellor."
Eehew…Geesh, I'm captain of the Guard, as well as his former chief spy, even if I'm in fact a triple spy. Is there no point at which this harassment ends?
…
Stormin' Out…Seat of the Barftheron house…
Tent of Prince Rently…He and his bride now in their respective finery, he perhaps just a tad more so, though he'd never want to suggest it and hurt Ary's feelings…Not all of us were born with a fashion sense…Seated on relatively portable light wood thrones. Anna Brienne in her armor firmly planted besides the Prince, with five guards in armor likewise planted at various points, two beside the new Princess, Margeary warmly acknowledging her new husband's guards commander's care as the wedding breakfast guests filed in to offer tentative congratulations…Given Stanislaw's reluctant approval and the rumors of the King's having engineered the whole thing…The expected gifts and offers of generalized fealty to the Barftheron House and Crown, the secretive occasional hints of a more specific fealty to expanded on at length when time permitted. The concealed surprised looks at the lovely new made Princess…And Rently's rather pleased glances at her. Stanislaw and his wife already rather grumpily seated to Rently's right, even more grumpily, particularly in Stanislaw's case, acknowledging the disturbingly often rather faint and overhasty greetings to them…
Stanislaw stock definitely crashing this am…
Brienne carefully eyeing each passing as her aides did likewise…She and Margeary looking sharply at seeing Melisandre and two of her aides stepping along into the tent in the procession.
Rather glad to see him properly protected around this visitor, Margeary eyeing the kneeling Melisandre with a look not that far off from Brienne's careful, suspicious one.
Brienne reluctantly pleased to see her concern…
If he has to be married off to another, at least it's nice to see she cares a bit about him…One can hope.
"My Lady Melisandre…Please." Rently nodded to her politely, offering slight but regal hand wave. "Thank you for coming." As she rose.
"Your Highness. I trust you and Princess Margeary are well…Congratulations on your nuptials." nod, brittle smile.
"Quite, and thank you. Lady Melisandre, if I may come to the point of Our summons to you…" Rently, smiling. "Apart from wishing to welcome you to join in our little celebration as a honored friend to my brother…" careful stare.
"I am truly honored your Highness thinks so…And I hope I have been a reasonably useful advisor to his Highness Stanislaw."
"So, he tells me…" Rently, smiled over to the rather grim Stanislaw. "Anyway, Our point is to ask if it might be possible for you to restrain a few of your followers whom I have heard, in their zealous devotion to your Faith have perhaps been exceeding the bounds of both the Law of the Realm and propriety."
"Your Highness." She eyed him coolly.
"Yes, I refer to the recent rather numerous incidents of burnings and assaults on our citizens. While, of course, my brother reigns here…" smile and nod to the ever-grimmer Stanislaw, who returned nod icily. "It is our family seat and I feel a certain responsibility for its people, as does my brother our noble King Robert."
"That is hardly necessary, Rently." Stanislaw, grimly.
"The High Priestess does the will of the Light Lord!" Soldeysally Barftheron, his wife, beside him, insisted, rising. "All she does is sanctioned by Him! To kill and burn the heretic in His name is to serve Him!"
"Sweetheart…" Stanislaw sighed. "We talked about this. We don't inhale the fumes from the Eternal Flame of the Light Lord anymore, especially before public events."
"No, I'm fine…I'm good." she noted a bit anxiously, putting up a hand. "Just putting in my word for our Faith, dear. No offense intended, Brother Rently."
One can see why he doesn't let her come to these things often…Melisandre, Margeary both, eyeing her.
"Right…" Rently nodded cheerily… "But if the good lady could consider toning things down, especially as the King seems a bit displeased by the reports."
"Robert? Displeased with us?!" Soldeysally stared, worried now.
Not that I don't have absolute faith in Stanislaw's being the Chosen One, but Robert…That awesome man…One is wise to keep on his good side.
"Sweetheart…Soldeysally…" Stanislaw, gently. "Remember you don't want your bad headache today."
"No…I'll just leave it to you, Dearest." She noted, retaking seat by him.
I see my most devoted and craziest of followers is not quite crazy enough to defy King Robert, Melisandre eyes Soldeysally.
"We have cleansed the city of its worst heretics, your Highness." Melisandre, smoothly. "I think we can accommodate your request, for the time being."
"Great…" Rently beamed. "Well, enjoy the wedding brunch."
Religious controversy, put to bed…Gods, I will be a great King.
…