Ned finally comes through the gates and arrives in King's Landing after all this goddamn bullshit.
Ned: That was the worst trip ever. Now what I need is a hot bath and some cans of Bud Lite Lime.
I told you that the Starks are the white trash of Westeros.
Royal Steward: Ser Hand, I fear I must summon to to a meeting of the King's Small Counsel.
Ned: WHAT? I just got here! I haven't even showered.
Royal Steward: Your presence is needed immediately.
Ned: I hate this King's Landing shit.
Ned grumbles and figures its not best to piss off everyone on his first day in town. He then orders his own men to take care of Sansa and Arya to get them all situated with their new rooms at the Red Keep.
Ned: And don't let crazy ass Arya go wandering off!
Ned borrows some fresh clothes and goes to the council room. There he finds four men waiting... Littlefinger, Renly, Varys and Grand Maester Pycelle. He doesn't recognize all of them yet though.
Ned: Oh shit, do I know you? No wait... I got it... you're that villain from For Your Eyes Only and Indiana Jones 3. Fuck yeah, man. Glad to see you're still working.
Pycelle: Whut?
Varys: Lord Stark, I am glad to see you've arrived safely after hearing about all your troubles on the road. We are all hoping that poor Prince Joffrey is doing better.
Ned: Yeah. Joffrey. That's who I'm worried about. And OH SHIT... Renly, man. I just noticed this. But you look just like Robert used to look before he got old and fat.
Renly: Uh... thanks?
Littlefinger: Ah yes, but Renly is dressed much better than Robert ever did, of course. Why I think he spends more money on clothes than women do!
Renly: Is that a fucking "gay people like fashion" joke, Littlefinger? Fuck you, man.
Littlefinger: Oh, and Ned. I'm Petyr Baelish by the way. You've probably heard your wife talk about me. Maybe scream my name out in bed by mistake or something?
Ned: Oh, I've heard people talk about you before. People like my older Brandon. He talked about how he pummeled the living shit out of you.
Renly: Hahaha, fuck you Littlefinger! Hilarious. I like this Ned cat already.
Littlefinger: Yes, your brother gave me a gift. If you call a scar I have for life a gift.
Pycelle: Okay, so can we start this meeting or what? I'm all old as fuck and am about to fall asleep. Or die.
Ned: True dat. Where the hell is the rest of the Small Council? Where are Stannis and Barristan Selmy? Where is the King?
Varys: Oh, Stannis is out at Dragonstone doing who the fuck knows what. And Selmy is probably still riding in with the King's party.
Renly: Don't wait for my brother. He finds this whole "running the kingdom" part of being king boring and he leaves it to us. But he did send us a note.
He gestures towards Littlefinger, who pulls a note from the King out from his sleeve and hands it to Ned.
Ned: This says that the King wants to hold an extravagant tournament in honor of the new Hand of the King that costs 90,000 gold dragons. What the fuck? I don't want this shit. Not in my name. How much money does the royal bank have to pay for this?
Littlefinger: Ah, as master of coin I can easily tell you that we have exactly negative six million gold dragons.
Ned: Ah, six million. Not that bad. Wait... did you say NEGATIVE? How the hell did this happen? The Targaryens left this kingdom with gold riches! I refuse to believe that Jon Arryn simply allowed the King to spend like this when he was the Hand. And while I'm complaining about money... why are the gold coins still called "dragons?" Shouldn't they be called "stags" now or something? The Targaryens have been gone for a while. Surely we should have melted all the coins with dragons and Targaryen rulers on them and replaced them with Baratheon/stag coins. Or you know what other male deer-related currency would be good for a name given that the stag is already a silver coin? BUCKS! We should call them "bucks!"
Littlefinger: The King didn't always listen to the late Hand's advise. And as I'm sure you can tell by now... Robert is a terrible king.
Ned: Man, I need to get out of this. I can't deal with this nonsense. Peace, y'all.
Ned rolls out, heading back to the Tower of the Hand.
Littlefinger: Wait up, Ned!
Ned: Oh damn, not you.
Littlefinger: Let me help guide you, Ned. This city is unfamilar to you.
Ned: Nah, I can find my own way.
Littlefinger: I insist. Here! Follow me!
Ned: Dude, I just got here and even I know that is not the way to the Tower of the Hand in the Red Keep.
Littlefinger: No. It's the way to your wife.
Ned: Bitch, do not fuck with me.
Littlefinger: I'm telling the truth!
Littlefinger leads him through the castle and then out of it. Then they get on some horses and ride through the city until they reach a disgusting, filthy building that looks like some dilapidated hellhole which probably has seven-year-old crusted semen stains everywhere.
Ned: This must be one of those Ramadas that I hear all about. Nasty.
Littlefinger: Close, but no. It's a whorehouse. I own it.
Ned: Damnit Littlefinger. I don't have time for your bullshit. I don't need to see a whore. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to get back to--
Littlefinger: --No, your wife if here.
Ned: Oh, my brother was waaaay too easy on your ass.
Ned pulls out a knife and is about to slit Littlefinger's throat.
Rodrick: Yo, Ned!
Ned: What the hell? That sounds like like my bro Rodrick Cassel!
Rodrick: It's me! Hey Ned!
Ned: Nah, you ain't Rodrick. You don't look anything like him.
Rodrick: I shaved my face.
Ned: Hrm... WHAT A CLEVER DISGUISE!!!! What the hell are you doing here, man?
He puts his knife away.
Rodrick: Cat's here!
Ned: What? Really?
Littlefinger: Where better to hide a noble woman where nobody would look than a brothel?
Ned: I dunno, like a garden or something? A blacksmith shop? A butchery? A bakery? Pretty much any store in Flea Bottom. Maybe the old abandoned Dragonpit on Rhaenys's hill? The Guildhall of the Alchemists?
Littlefinger: Hrm, I guess those could have all been good choices.
They go upstairs in the brothel, where Cat is waiting.
Cat and Ned embrace. Cat holds on extra long and gives Ned some extra tongue, making sure Baelish is watching.
Littlefinger: Whatever.
Ned: Shit honey, what happened to your hands?
Cat: An assassin with a knife tried to kill Bran. I fought him off. Well, I mean Bran's direwolf did most of the work. That wolf saved Bran's life.
Ned: What the hell? Why would anyone try to kill Bran? Who would do such a thing?
Cat hands him the dagger. Ned is now really pissed about having to kill Lady after learning how Bran's dog protected him.
Cat: It belonged to Tyrion Lannister.
Ned: The Imp? But why would he...?
Littlefinger: Surely he did not act alone, Ned. All the Lannisters must have been in this together.
Ned: And what of Robert? Did he know?
Ned doesn't believe its possible. But then he thinks back about Robert being cool with the Mountain murdering Prince Aegon and Princess Elia Martell. He was cool with sending an assassin to kill this young Daenerys girl across the sea. He was cool with executing Sansa's dog, Lady. Robert is a sick fuck.
Littlefinger: I doubt Robert knew much. It is easy to hide things from those who choose not to look.
Ned: Then we must go to the King and tell him!
Littlefinger: Without proof? That would be treason.
Ned: We have proof. That dagger right there in your hands.
Littlefinger: Not enough, but I will be happy to assist you both in finding more evidence.
Cat: Yes Ned, I've told him about our suspicious that the Lannisters also killed Jon Arryn based on my sister's letter.
Ned: Oh yeah, that was a great idea to do that without consulting with me first.
Cat: Please Ned, we can trust Littlefinger. Why, he is like a brother to me.
Ned: Hahaha, FRIEND-ZONED!
Littlefinger angrily crosses his arms.
Ned: And does Varys know?
Cat: No, not yet. But that man... I swear he must have some sort of magical ability to figure things out.
Ned: Please Petyr, let my wife and I have some time alone to discuss some things.
Littlefinger: Oh, I get it. "Discuss." Cool, cool. I'll just be leaving. Just know to make the bed vibrate you have to add one silver stag for every three minutes.
Baelish leaves.
Ned: Darling, I'll take over from here. Thank you for letting me know, but now you'll need to get safely back home.
Cat: But I haven't even seen our daughters!
Ned: You know that's not a good idea. Besides, you need to get north and tell people to get ready. Tell Tallhart and Glover to fortify Moat Cailin, and Manderly to strengthen the defenses at White Harbor. And tell trustworthy Theon to send word to his father in case we need to use their fleet. You know, because they've never openly rebelled against us before previously.
Cat: Shit, you readying for war? And who now? Don't expect anyone to remember all these characters.
Ned: I hope it will not come to war. But if Robert doesn't believe me... then we might be in for some trouble.
Ned: That was the worst trip ever. Now what I need is a hot bath and some cans of Bud Lite Lime.
I told you that the Starks are the white trash of Westeros.
Royal Steward: Ser Hand, I fear I must summon to to a meeting of the King's Small Counsel.
Ned: WHAT? I just got here! I haven't even showered.
Royal Steward: Your presence is needed immediately.
Ned: I hate this King's Landing shit.
Ned grumbles and figures its not best to piss off everyone on his first day in town. He then orders his own men to take care of Sansa and Arya to get them all situated with their new rooms at the Red Keep.
Ned: And don't let crazy ass Arya go wandering off!
Ned borrows some fresh clothes and goes to the council room. There he finds four men waiting... Littlefinger, Renly, Varys and Grand Maester Pycelle. He doesn't recognize all of them yet though.
Ned: Oh shit, do I know you? No wait... I got it... you're that villain from For Your Eyes Only and Indiana Jones 3. Fuck yeah, man. Glad to see you're still working.
Pycelle: Whut?
Varys: Lord Stark, I am glad to see you've arrived safely after hearing about all your troubles on the road. We are all hoping that poor Prince Joffrey is doing better.
Ned: Yeah. Joffrey. That's who I'm worried about. And OH SHIT... Renly, man. I just noticed this. But you look just like Robert used to look before he got old and fat.
Renly: Uh... thanks?
Littlefinger: Ah yes, but Renly is dressed much better than Robert ever did, of course. Why I think he spends more money on clothes than women do!
Renly: Is that a fucking "gay people like fashion" joke, Littlefinger? Fuck you, man.
Littlefinger: Oh, and Ned. I'm Petyr Baelish by the way. You've probably heard your wife talk about me. Maybe scream my name out in bed by mistake or something?
Ned: Oh, I've heard people talk about you before. People like my older Brandon. He talked about how he pummeled the living shit out of you.
Renly: Hahaha, fuck you Littlefinger! Hilarious. I like this Ned cat already.
Littlefinger: Yes, your brother gave me a gift. If you call a scar I have for life a gift.
Pycelle: Okay, so can we start this meeting or what? I'm all old as fuck and am about to fall asleep. Or die.
Ned: True dat. Where the hell is the rest of the Small Council? Where are Stannis and Barristan Selmy? Where is the King?
Varys: Oh, Stannis is out at Dragonstone doing who the fuck knows what. And Selmy is probably still riding in with the King's party.
Renly: Don't wait for my brother. He finds this whole "running the kingdom" part of being king boring and he leaves it to us. But he did send us a note.
He gestures towards Littlefinger, who pulls a note from the King out from his sleeve and hands it to Ned.
Ned: This says that the King wants to hold an extravagant tournament in honor of the new Hand of the King that costs 90,000 gold dragons. What the fuck? I don't want this shit. Not in my name. How much money does the royal bank have to pay for this?
Littlefinger: Ah, as master of coin I can easily tell you that we have exactly negative six million gold dragons.
Ned: Ah, six million. Not that bad. Wait... did you say NEGATIVE? How the hell did this happen? The Targaryens left this kingdom with gold riches! I refuse to believe that Jon Arryn simply allowed the King to spend like this when he was the Hand. And while I'm complaining about money... why are the gold coins still called "dragons?" Shouldn't they be called "stags" now or something? The Targaryens have been gone for a while. Surely we should have melted all the coins with dragons and Targaryen rulers on them and replaced them with Baratheon/stag coins. Or you know what other male deer-related currency would be good for a name given that the stag is already a silver coin? BUCKS! We should call them "bucks!"
Littlefinger: The King didn't always listen to the late Hand's advise. And as I'm sure you can tell by now... Robert is a terrible king.
Ned: Man, I need to get out of this. I can't deal with this nonsense. Peace, y'all.
Ned rolls out, heading back to the Tower of the Hand.
Littlefinger: Wait up, Ned!
Ned: Oh damn, not you.
Littlefinger: Let me help guide you, Ned. This city is unfamilar to you.
Ned: Nah, I can find my own way.
Littlefinger: I insist. Here! Follow me!
Ned: Dude, I just got here and even I know that is not the way to the Tower of the Hand in the Red Keep.
Littlefinger: No. It's the way to your wife.
Ned: Bitch, do not fuck with me.
Littlefinger: I'm telling the truth!
Littlefinger leads him through the castle and then out of it. Then they get on some horses and ride through the city until they reach a disgusting, filthy building that looks like some dilapidated hellhole which probably has seven-year-old crusted semen stains everywhere.
Ned: This must be one of those Ramadas that I hear all about. Nasty.
Littlefinger: Close, but no. It's a whorehouse. I own it.
Ned: Damnit Littlefinger. I don't have time for your bullshit. I don't need to see a whore. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to get back to--
Littlefinger: --No, your wife if here.
Ned: Oh, my brother was waaaay too easy on your ass.
Ned pulls out a knife and is about to slit Littlefinger's throat.
Rodrick: Yo, Ned!
Ned: What the hell? That sounds like like my bro Rodrick Cassel!
Rodrick: It's me! Hey Ned!
Ned: Nah, you ain't Rodrick. You don't look anything like him.
Rodrick: I shaved my face.
Ned: Hrm... WHAT A CLEVER DISGUISE!!!! What the hell are you doing here, man?
He puts his knife away.
Rodrick: Cat's here!
Ned: What? Really?
Littlefinger: Where better to hide a noble woman where nobody would look than a brothel?
Ned: I dunno, like a garden or something? A blacksmith shop? A butchery? A bakery? Pretty much any store in Flea Bottom. Maybe the old abandoned Dragonpit on Rhaenys's hill? The Guildhall of the Alchemists?
Littlefinger: Hrm, I guess those could have all been good choices.
They go upstairs in the brothel, where Cat is waiting.
Cat and Ned embrace. Cat holds on extra long and gives Ned some extra tongue, making sure Baelish is watching.
Littlefinger: Whatever.
Ned: Shit honey, what happened to your hands?
Cat: An assassin with a knife tried to kill Bran. I fought him off. Well, I mean Bran's direwolf did most of the work. That wolf saved Bran's life.
Ned: What the hell? Why would anyone try to kill Bran? Who would do such a thing?
Cat hands him the dagger. Ned is now really pissed about having to kill Lady after learning how Bran's dog protected him.
Cat: It belonged to Tyrion Lannister.
Ned: The Imp? But why would he...?
Littlefinger: Surely he did not act alone, Ned. All the Lannisters must have been in this together.
Ned: And what of Robert? Did he know?
Ned doesn't believe its possible. But then he thinks back about Robert being cool with the Mountain murdering Prince Aegon and Princess Elia Martell. He was cool with sending an assassin to kill this young Daenerys girl across the sea. He was cool with executing Sansa's dog, Lady. Robert is a sick fuck.
Littlefinger: I doubt Robert knew much. It is easy to hide things from those who choose not to look.
Ned: Then we must go to the King and tell him!
Littlefinger: Without proof? That would be treason.
Ned: We have proof. That dagger right there in your hands.
Littlefinger: Not enough, but I will be happy to assist you both in finding more evidence.
Cat: Yes Ned, I've told him about our suspicious that the Lannisters also killed Jon Arryn based on my sister's letter.
Ned: Oh yeah, that was a great idea to do that without consulting with me first.
Cat: Please Ned, we can trust Littlefinger. Why, he is like a brother to me.
Ned: Hahaha, FRIEND-ZONED!
Littlefinger angrily crosses his arms.
Ned: And does Varys know?
Cat: No, not yet. But that man... I swear he must have some sort of magical ability to figure things out.
Ned: Please Petyr, let my wife and I have some time alone to discuss some things.
Littlefinger: Oh, I get it. "Discuss." Cool, cool. I'll just be leaving. Just know to make the bed vibrate you have to add one silver stag for every three minutes.
Baelish leaves.
Ned: Darling, I'll take over from here. Thank you for letting me know, but now you'll need to get safely back home.
Cat: But I haven't even seen our daughters!
Ned: You know that's not a good idea. Besides, you need to get north and tell people to get ready. Tell Tallhart and Glover to fortify Moat Cailin, and Manderly to strengthen the defenses at White Harbor. And tell trustworthy Theon to send word to his father in case we need to use their fleet. You know, because they've never openly rebelled against us before previously.
Cat: Shit, you readying for war? And who now? Don't expect anyone to remember all these characters.
Ned: I hope it will not come to war. But if Robert doesn't believe me... then we might be in for some trouble.
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