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 LXXXI…
"On the one hand…" Ser Fester noted to Meister Puerile, his co-commander of the Vale, as they sat together in what had been Ophelia's throne room, utilizing the thrones which had previously served Ophelia and Lord Robyn…With addition of comfy pillows at Puerile's wise suggestion. Hey, we're experienced, battle-hardened warriors but who the hell loves the agony of piles at our age.
All Vale forces but the pathetic few in the Bunker having chosen the path of reason…And in many cases, profit…Or at least, survival…And surrendered.
"…We do have orders from King Rob to take the crazy bitch alive."
Banging sounds from deep within as troops pounded the Bunker walls and doors relentlessly.
Yes, we have a way in via that ever expanding tunnel hole but so long as we got guys standing around waiting for said hole to be expanded by our engineering boys we may as well keep 'em busy and see just how strong this "Bunker" was, the two leaders eyed each other.
"And the boy…" Puerile, eyeing Fester.
"Actually, no word on that. Not really a surprise, this being a medieval era, legitimate boy kings/princes/rallying points tend to have a short life-span. I'd say Rob's sent a message that he wouldn't mind if young Robyn 'disappeared' or came down with a sudden case of strangulation." Fester noted.
Whoa…You surprise me there, old fellow, Puerile thought. I knew you to be rather crazy, if a great warrior…Maybe just a bit over the prime, though like me, deceptively so, but I thought you Addams' crazy but hyperhonorable. Not quite the ruthless realpolitick type. I see I may have been deceived.
Always nice to see in us seniors…We can be as bad as the worst young maniacs but with more experience to give us a bit of caution. Who'd've thought I'd miss that here?
"I see…" he replied. "Perhaps the best way. No need to have loyalties divided in such a vital fortress area, given it's clear no one wishes to die for Lady Ophelia herself and the boy is the legitimate heir."
I mean in this era the idea of a woman's claim, married, or related, to the Lord, being respected?
"Doubt anyone's really too keen on dying for the kid, either." Fester shrugged. "Still, it might be best to leave him to the King's… 'Mercy'…Given Rob gave no specific orders. I know Maudie and Morty would be po'd to hear I'd offed him. And he is, sort of, family."
Spared a potential rival by reason of family ties, lets file that away for potential use someday…Puerile thought. Fester eyeing him shrewdly.
"That doesn't mean I'm supporting his claims, Puerile." Fester returned eyeing.
"Certainly not…" Puerile, high-mindedly. Eyeing the area of the floor nearest the Moon Door…
Best to maintain our partnership at least while the troops look to him as commander and we're so near an easy jump to oblivion.
Besides, this little jaunt has been entertaining…Pity to spoil it with a brutal struggle for power which I likely would lose right now. Especially such small-scale piddling power…Command of the King's forces taking the Vale? Please…
Later, when there's more on the table, well…
"Ok, lets get down to work." Fester urged. "We got the proscription list of Vale nobles? And their prewritten confessions of treason for them to sign?"
"The scribes are just finishing up…" Puerile nodded, waving to senior scribe who raised nearly finished parchment at table. "And the torturers are setting up in the town. Though, since Rob went mostly with exile and confiscation, I think we'll manage to obtain most signatures, followed by the runs to exile quickly."
"Just remind 'em the ones who confess quickest'll probably be pardoned and get some dough and lands back. We just need to get our own people in place here."
"King Robert remains ever-merciful." Puerile nodded.
Another bang…
"Gotta hand it to Arryn's architect…" Fester noted with approval, listening. "That thing is solid. If he had just figured a better way to ventilate we might be stuck here for a couple of weeks."
"Ser Squears?" Puerile addressed the leader of the King's Investigative Force, Armed Division, chatting with other officers, who came to attention, in his armor… "How much longer on the hole expansion into the Bunker?"
"Latest report is about ten hours more, Meister." Squears noted. "Sorry, gotta have enough room for a couple to fight through." Shrug.
"That's fine, no problem." Fester shook head. "Not like Cousin Ophelia goin' anywhere."
Except perhaps…He and Puerile eyed the Moon Door.
…
Girl, again!…Melisandre fumed as she strode in her quarters at the Temple of the Light Lord, returned from her attendance at the royal reception…
Girl?! Dammit, I am the High Priestess of the Light Lord!
Not to mention, a relative of the Lannisters, even if old Tywin had my marriage to Tyrion annulled.
And why is that guardsman Stanislaw appointed to "protect" me looking all around the place as if assessing things? She paused looking over at the guard who was indeed moving about and now and then taking notes on a parchment scroll.
Stanislaw couldn't? He wouldn't? Be considering revoking our lifetime lease on the temple space?
Which of course might well mean my lifetime is about up…She blanched.
"Excuse me, guard." She eyed the man who gave a rather less than deferential stare, pausing. "Would you mind leaving me a moment? I have devotional mediations to perform."
And you're creeping me out here…
"I've orders to stay, ma'am. From his Highness, Lord Stanislaw, ma'am." He noted coolly.
Wasn't this the guy who the other day begged I would favor him by remembering his daughter in my prayers?
"Lady Melisandre?" the rugged voice of Davos Seaworthy at door, she noted with a mixture of trepidation and relief.
He's too nice and honorable a guy to just come and cut my head off, but he might not draw the line at arresting me.
"Lord Admiral Seaworthy, how nice to see you." She noted, hopefully as he entered, dismissing two young guards who'd been sent with him.
I hope, anyway, she thought.
Good sign he sent the guards out, I suppose.
Unless he prefers to carry out the sentence himself, in his nobly open hearted, kindly way, she blanched a bit at the thought…Given it would be so like him.
"Not meaning to bother you, my lady but might I speak with you?" polite tone.
Well…That's at least not so bad as "Come here, you wench!", "You are my prisoner!", or "Take a moment to say your words to your God".
"Certainly, I was about to begin my devotions but they can wait. Do come in and sit. Have you been sent by Lord Stanislaw?" Quick eyeing of the now uncertain guard as Davos entered and paused…
Yeah, that's right…I still got some pull around here.
Though even Stanislaw's stock has fallen considerably in the past couple days.
"You can go get yourself some ale and cheese with my boys, son." Seaworthy eyed the guard.
"Yes, I'm quite safe with the Admiral, thank you." Melisandre noted.
Probably much safer right now than with you…
"Dismissed." Seaworthy insisted as the guard hesitated. The man reluctantly taking his scroll and leaving by the front door.
"Lord Stanislaw is so kind to keep our temple properly protected…" Melisandre noted carefully.
"Hmm-hmmn…" Seaworthy nodded absently. "Milady, I've come to warn you. King Robert is not pleased with the recent activities of your sect. And Lord Stanislaw can no longer offer you his gracious protection."
She stared at him…
"Naturally, as you represent a religious faction, and one Lord Stanislaw's favored…" Seaworthy eyed her.
Favor…Ed. Has a frosty sound.
"…the King is willing to tolerate your group. But he's made it clear in counsel with Lord Stanislaw and Prince Rently today, he will not tolerate further disturbance of others or of the peace."
"Indeed…?" she eyed him.
"Meaning, my Lady…No more burnings, books, scrolls, or people...Especially, people. No more mass rallies calling for burnings. And I would, as someone wishing you reasonable well, drop the intensive proselytizing in the streets, at least during the Royal visit."
"Is this by the order of the King?"
He sighed. "My lady…It's my own urging. And I suggest you do it immediately, before any actions by King Robert. I assure you, you should not count on further protection from Lord Stanislaw at this time." Davos, firm look.
"Well, thank you, Lord Seaworthy." Melisandre, attempting casual tone, "But I have told Prince Rently that we'd already dealt with the worst heretics and so there is no current need for further burnings."
"Good…But as for…"
"I'm instructing my people to urge our believers to proclaim their faith in the Light Lord in more private settings, given the heretics have been put to flight…Or are fluttering in the breezes. Though naturally, I cannot prevent some expressions of faith by the devoted."
"Try." Seaworthy, a bit grimly.
"Of course. Anything to please Lord Stanislaw…And of course you, my Lord." She smiled. "It was kind of you to come and…"
"Please." He put up a hand, missing several fingers. "My wife was the one who insisted on my coming."
Oh? "Oh." She nodded. "Well, very kind of you both then, and will you tell her, when you return to her…Later…?"
Hopefully, much…
"She's right outside in our carriage, you can tell her yourself." Davos, firmly. "She wanted to be sure you, and more important, your deluded followers, were warned. King Robert tends to be quite serious and quite quick about enforcing dictates that some may think are, off the cuff, so to speak."
"MY LADY!" a cry…She found one of her most active preachers, Nicholas, a large fellow, in his grey monkish robes, staggering in at the door, looking terrified. "The King has sent out guards, arrested our people as they tried to spread the Word. I barely…Escaped." He collapsed at her feet.
Hmmn…Rather wish you'd escaped to somewhere else given your tale, she thought, eyeing him.
"As I said. King Robert wastes no time." Davos nodded. "Well, unless you'd still like to offer your thanks to my wife, I'll be off, having as always, done me duty."
"Perhaps later…" Melisandre sighed. "I'd best see my people clear the streets. To fulfill my promise to Prince Rently."
"That would be wise." He agreed, curtly. "My Lady." Nod.
…
"Was it really necessary to send out the guard, Robert?" Stanislaw frowned at him as he, Soldeysally, Cersei, and next to him on portable throne, Robert, sat in Stanislaw's main hall.
No need to bother Rently, Robert had noted. Let him and that cute wife carry on with the greetings and general silly reception folderal, good PR.
"Got the crazies off the streets lickedy-split, only a few jostled, stabbed, arrested. I prefer to act quickly in these matters, Slaw, not potter about…And I have been quite patient about it." Robert, firmly.
"Rob knows his business, Slaw." Cersei eyed him.
"Considering what these nuts have been up to, I'd say they're getting off easy." Robert noted.
"They have had my protection, brother." Stanislaw frowned.
"I'd really put that courage to a better cause than burning children, Stan." Robert, sternly.
"Not really that many…Children." Soldeysally hastily noted.
Probably a good idea not to mention our daughter was potentially facing a test of faith regards her loathsome and disfiguring illness.