The Small Council Meeting... everyone is there except for the somewhat suspiciously missing Varys.
Cersei: Oh shit! Have you seen this horrible letter that Stannis Baratheon sent out to everyone? It says that Jaime and I are lovers and that my children are all inbred bastards! This is THE WORST!
Littlefinger: Yes, I am sure by now every city in the kingdom has received a copy of this.
Cersei: I want every copy of this letter gathered up and BURNED. Because I really, really, really have a thing for fire. As we'll surely see later in this series.
Tyrion: What's the point? The letters have already been sent. Burning the letters won't make people un-remember their content.
Cersei: But... but... but... the things the letter accuses me of! Incest! Adultery! Treason! I'm totally innocent.
Everyone else on the Small Council tries to hold in their laughter, some better than others.
Tyrion: *wiping tears away* Oh, oh... yeah. Right. Of course. But, you know, Stannis needs some justification to claim the throne. So he has to come up with something, right?
Cersei: I will NOT be called a whore!
Tyrion: Technically Stannis didn't call you a whore. He never said that Jaime paid you. AM I RIGHT?!
He goes in for a fist bump with Littlefinger, but Littlefinger just shakes his head "no."
Tyrion: Anyway, check out this phrase in the letter. "Done in the Light of the Lord." What the hell does that mean?
Pycelle: It's a term used in the Free Cities of Essos.
Littlefinger: Yes, they say that Stannis's wife has taken up a red priestess and now follows their religion.
Tyrion: Well, that's a start. We can use that reference in this letter to show to the people that Stannis follows a crazy foreign religion. Then we can use that against them as propaganda.
Cersei: WHAT?! I don't want us to share the letter with the little people even more. I want it suppressed! Destroyed! I want anyone found reporting the content of this letter to have their tongues ripped out.
Tyrion: Ripping out the tongue of a man only proves that you are scared of what they have to say. Let the people whisper about this story until they get bored of it and move on to the next celebrity scandal. I'm sure Matt Damon is about to say another stupid thing about sexual harassment in Hollywood that will distract everyone. He does so about once a month these days.
Littlefinger: Or better yet... instead of wait for the next seedy piece of gossip to come out... we MAKE NEW GOSSIP. I say we go to the Crazy Days and Nights website and have @entylawyer release a blind item about how Shireen Baratheon is a bastard and her real father is Patchface the Fool. We can say that Stannis is a cuckold who was tied down and made to watch Patchface fill all of his wife's holes.
Pycelle: Come on now, that's gross! Lady Selyse would never take a fool to bed.
Littlefinger: Oh please. Have you seen Lady Selyse? Only a fool WOULD go to bed with her! The people will love it!
Cersei: YAS. YAS. YAAAAAAASSSSSSS. THIS. I love this Littlefinger. Let's do this!
Tyrion: A word of caution. Let's make sure that this blind item isn't traced back to us. If it does come from the crown, then it will appear to be a self-serving lie. We need to make it seem like a natural story that came from elsewhere.
Littlefinger: Easy enough, I can instruct all the ladies in my brothels to begin telling all their clients this story. It will spread like wildfire. Which will not be the only thing spreading like wildfire out of my brothels. This is a really, really, really bad year for the clap. I'm pretty sure it's becoming antibiotic resistant.
Tyrion: Well, on that note. I'm going to leave now. Peace out.
Cersei: Where are you going?! I didn't dismiss you, brother!
Tyrion: Oh, why I'm just going to check on the status for my gift to the king. A nice chain!
Cersei: Joffrey has plenty of chains already. He has a Mr. T-level of chains. He doesn't need more chains.
Tyrion: This one is slightly different.
Cersei: Well... explain!
Tyrion: Nah, I'm just going to be cryptic about it.
Cersei: Is this some sort of Chekhov's Gun?
Tyrion: Yes.
Tyrion leaves and meets up with a bunch of blacksmiths.
Tyrion: Okay, every smith in the city is now helping me make a giant chain. And I mean EVERY smith. If you run out of metal, start melting horseshoes or whatever you can. WE GOTTA HAVE MORE CHAIN!
Ironbelly: Hi, my name is Ironbelly. That's pretty cool.
Random Blacksmith: I don't know about making a giant chain. Queen Cersei said we had to all make swords or she'd crush our hands.
Tyrion: Nah, don't listen to Cersei. I'm the man in charge now.
Salloreon: This is nonsense! You want me and all the rest of the smiths in the city to make a GIANT chain? I'm a fancy master armorer who does delicate and sophisticated work. It's nuanced and shit. Fine craftsmanship. Not just big chains! If you want to make a giant chain, get some stupid, novice blacksmiths to do that. I've got better work to do.
Tyrion: Oh shit, Salloreon. Good point. I have an even better counterpoint though. Make me my giant fucking chain or you'll be wearing chains yourself.
Salloreon: Ah, I see. That is a good counterpoint.
Satisfied, Tyrion moves on to his next order of business... a brothel!
Chataya: Hi, it's me again! Chataya, the sexy black brothel owner from the Summer Isles. I was last seen in AGoT 35. It's been a while. It was an Unnamed Ho in this very brothel that had sex with King Robert and had his bastard girl, Barra. She's dead now.
Tyrion: Great! I'd like to see a really, really, really HOT chick. You know, the hottest chick here.
Chataya: Hahaha, you're looking at her, son! Too bad I'm not for sale. I just run this place.
Tyrion: Damn, because you are pretty hot. Do you have anyone that looks like you?
Chataya: WHAT? You're trying to say that we all look the same because I'm black?!
Tyrion: No... NO! I... errmm... I... uhh... just... mean that--
Chataya: --Just fucking with you, man. Of course there is a girl working here who looks a lot like me. Here, meet my sixteen year old daughter, Alayaya.
Alayaya pops out and waves.
Alayaya: Hi. You can call me "Yaya."
Tyrion: Geez, this is completely messed up. You're whoring your own 16 year old daughter?
Chataya: What? It's a great privilege! You know, in the Summer Isles, being a whore is considered an honor and is pleasing to the gods.
Tyrion: Okay, first... someone get me a map and plane tickets to the Summer Isles because this place sounds amazing. Second, I need to learn all about the religion there, because it sounds like a religion I want to practice frequently based on what these gods are into. I wonder what a Summer Isles funeral looks like.
Chataya: It's pretty much drinking wine and fucking. Now come on, let's go upstairs so you can bang out my jailbait daughter.
And so Tyrion goes upstairs with Yaya. She closes and locks the door behind them.
Tyrion: Yeah girl, dat whole body is hot. But it's your tongue that I'm really interested in! If you know what I mean...
Yaya: Indeed I do! *whew* Now that we're in private without all those eyes watching and ears listening, we can execute our secret plan. And good pun there about the tongue, since you're not actually interested in sex and you just want me to provide you with knowledge about the location of the secret passage located here.
Tyrion: What?! So we're not actually having sex? Well, that's disappointing. That wasn't even supposed to be a pun. I was talking about a blow---ehhh, ya know what... forget it. I guess it is good that your mom isn't actually pimping you out.
Yaya: Yeah, not to you at least.
Yaya opens up a wardrobe which has the aforementioned secret passage in it.
Tyrion: I hope this doesn't lead to Narnia.
Yaya: Just shut the fuck up and go inside.
Tyrion heads in the secret passage and finds something much worse than Jadis the White Queen.
Varys: Would you like some Turkish Delight?
Tyrion smacks the plate out of Varys's hand.
Tyrion: NOBODY LIKES TURKISH DELIGHT! It's a disgusting, gummy gel made out of starch and gross crap like orange peels and nuts. Who would actually be tempted by that?
Varys: Whatever. You like my new disguise?
Tyrion: Oh right, you're supposed to be some type of master of disguise in the books that always dresses up differently. I guess they dropped that in the show. Hey, so can we trust this Chataya lady? She's doing me a real favor by setting up this whole secret passage thing for me. Now everyone thinks I'm having sex with an underage black prostitute instead of going on my REAL SECRET MISSION. I just want to make sure we will have Chataya's discretion.
Varys: Oh yes, Lord Tyrion. Chataya has no love for the Queen, who used Allar Deem to murder one of her best prostitutes.
Tyrion: Hey, why does this brothel have a secret passage leading to it anyway?
Varys: Really? That's REALLY a question you're asking? You are ACTUALLY confused as why a brothel would have a secret passage leading to it the capital city of a nation? You are TRULY confused as to why a city made up of powerful and married politicians, royals and noblemen would have methods for discreet access to hookers?
Tyrion: You don't have to be a dick about it.
Varys: Oh, by the way. Do you want to now explain to the readers what your REAL SECRET MISSION is all about?
Tyrion: Yes. I am going to secretly meet Shae.
Varys: Indeed. So your cunning plot to disguise the fact that you're going to visit a whore is that you instead are going to visit a whore? Yes. That will really throw everyone off!
Tyrion: Hey look, I know at first glance it doesn't make that much sense but there is actually some reason behind it. The particular whore I want to visit is MY whore. The one that my father specifically forbid me from continuing to see. So I gotta be secret about it. Also, I don't want Cersei and her spies to find out about her.
Varys: Yes. Which is why now, at the end of this secret passage, is a stable. I will dress you up as a small child and we'll pretend to be a father and son. Then we'll ride horses to Shae and you can go have sex with her.
And so they do that. But as they ride the horses, they have some small talk.
Tyrion: Oh, since you missed the Small Council meeting... you didn't get to see Cersei's reaction to that Stannis letter. It was CLASSIC. She is so pissed. Hrm. I wonder how Stannis figured out that Cersei's children are incest bastards anyway.
Varys: Probably the same way that Ned Stark and Jon Arryn figured out. He probably saw one of Robert's bastards. Didn't matter the hair color of the woman. No matter what... every single time Robert fathered a child it had black hair. Which sort of proves that blonde-haired Joffrey, Tommen and Myrcella aren't his.
Tyrion: Except that's not actually how the genetics of hair color works. Even two brown-haired parents can produce a blond-haired child. It's all about recessive genes. Eumelanin, which has two subtypes of black or brown, determines the darkness of the hair color. One phenotype of brown/blonde has a dominant brown allele and a recessive blond allele. The possibility of which the recessive blonde trait may appear in offspring can be determined with a Punnett square.
Varys: *no response*
Cersei: Oh shit! Have you seen this horrible letter that Stannis Baratheon sent out to everyone? It says that Jaime and I are lovers and that my children are all inbred bastards! This is THE WORST!
Littlefinger: Yes, I am sure by now every city in the kingdom has received a copy of this.
Cersei: I want every copy of this letter gathered up and BURNED. Because I really, really, really have a thing for fire. As we'll surely see later in this series.
Tyrion: What's the point? The letters have already been sent. Burning the letters won't make people un-remember their content.
Cersei: But... but... but... the things the letter accuses me of! Incest! Adultery! Treason! I'm totally innocent.
Everyone else on the Small Council tries to hold in their laughter, some better than others.
Tyrion: *wiping tears away* Oh, oh... yeah. Right. Of course. But, you know, Stannis needs some justification to claim the throne. So he has to come up with something, right?
Cersei: I will NOT be called a whore!
Tyrion: Technically Stannis didn't call you a whore. He never said that Jaime paid you. AM I RIGHT?!
He goes in for a fist bump with Littlefinger, but Littlefinger just shakes his head "no."
Tyrion: Anyway, check out this phrase in the letter. "Done in the Light of the Lord." What the hell does that mean?
Pycelle: It's a term used in the Free Cities of Essos.
Littlefinger: Yes, they say that Stannis's wife has taken up a red priestess and now follows their religion.
Tyrion: Well, that's a start. We can use that reference in this letter to show to the people that Stannis follows a crazy foreign religion. Then we can use that against them as propaganda.
Cersei: WHAT?! I don't want us to share the letter with the little people even more. I want it suppressed! Destroyed! I want anyone found reporting the content of this letter to have their tongues ripped out.
Tyrion: Ripping out the tongue of a man only proves that you are scared of what they have to say. Let the people whisper about this story until they get bored of it and move on to the next celebrity scandal. I'm sure Matt Damon is about to say another stupid thing about sexual harassment in Hollywood that will distract everyone. He does so about once a month these days.
Littlefinger: Or better yet... instead of wait for the next seedy piece of gossip to come out... we MAKE NEW GOSSIP. I say we go to the Crazy Days and Nights website and have @entylawyer release a blind item about how Shireen Baratheon is a bastard and her real father is Patchface the Fool. We can say that Stannis is a cuckold who was tied down and made to watch Patchface fill all of his wife's holes.
Pycelle: Come on now, that's gross! Lady Selyse would never take a fool to bed.
Littlefinger: Oh please. Have you seen Lady Selyse? Only a fool WOULD go to bed with her! The people will love it!
Cersei: YAS. YAS. YAAAAAAASSSSSSS. THIS. I love this Littlefinger. Let's do this!
Tyrion: A word of caution. Let's make sure that this blind item isn't traced back to us. If it does come from the crown, then it will appear to be a self-serving lie. We need to make it seem like a natural story that came from elsewhere.
Littlefinger: Easy enough, I can instruct all the ladies in my brothels to begin telling all their clients this story. It will spread like wildfire. Which will not be the only thing spreading like wildfire out of my brothels. This is a really, really, really bad year for the clap. I'm pretty sure it's becoming antibiotic resistant.
Tyrion: Well, on that note. I'm going to leave now. Peace out.
Cersei: Where are you going?! I didn't dismiss you, brother!
Tyrion: Oh, why I'm just going to check on the status for my gift to the king. A nice chain!
Cersei: Joffrey has plenty of chains already. He has a Mr. T-level of chains. He doesn't need more chains.
Tyrion: This one is slightly different.
Cersei: Well... explain!
Tyrion: Nah, I'm just going to be cryptic about it.
Cersei: Is this some sort of Chekhov's Gun?
Tyrion: Yes.
Tyrion leaves and meets up with a bunch of blacksmiths.
Tyrion: Okay, every smith in the city is now helping me make a giant chain. And I mean EVERY smith. If you run out of metal, start melting horseshoes or whatever you can. WE GOTTA HAVE MORE CHAIN!
Ironbelly: Hi, my name is Ironbelly. That's pretty cool.
Random Blacksmith: I don't know about making a giant chain. Queen Cersei said we had to all make swords or she'd crush our hands.
Tyrion: Nah, don't listen to Cersei. I'm the man in charge now.
Salloreon: This is nonsense! You want me and all the rest of the smiths in the city to make a GIANT chain? I'm a fancy master armorer who does delicate and sophisticated work. It's nuanced and shit. Fine craftsmanship. Not just big chains! If you want to make a giant chain, get some stupid, novice blacksmiths to do that. I've got better work to do.
Tyrion: Oh shit, Salloreon. Good point. I have an even better counterpoint though. Make me my giant fucking chain or you'll be wearing chains yourself.
Salloreon: Ah, I see. That is a good counterpoint.
Satisfied, Tyrion moves on to his next order of business... a brothel!
Chataya: Hi, it's me again! Chataya, the sexy black brothel owner from the Summer Isles. I was last seen in AGoT 35. It's been a while. It was an Unnamed Ho in this very brothel that had sex with King Robert and had his bastard girl, Barra. She's dead now.
Tyrion: Great! I'd like to see a really, really, really HOT chick. You know, the hottest chick here.
Chataya: Hahaha, you're looking at her, son! Too bad I'm not for sale. I just run this place.
Tyrion: Damn, because you are pretty hot. Do you have anyone that looks like you?
Chataya: WHAT? You're trying to say that we all look the same because I'm black?!
Tyrion: No... NO! I... errmm... I... uhh... just... mean that--
Chataya: --Just fucking with you, man. Of course there is a girl working here who looks a lot like me. Here, meet my sixteen year old daughter, Alayaya.
Alayaya pops out and waves.
Alayaya: Hi. You can call me "Yaya."
Tyrion: Geez, this is completely messed up. You're whoring your own 16 year old daughter?
Chataya: What? It's a great privilege! You know, in the Summer Isles, being a whore is considered an honor and is pleasing to the gods.
Tyrion: Okay, first... someone get me a map and plane tickets to the Summer Isles because this place sounds amazing. Second, I need to learn all about the religion there, because it sounds like a religion I want to practice frequently based on what these gods are into. I wonder what a Summer Isles funeral looks like.
Chataya: It's pretty much drinking wine and fucking. Now come on, let's go upstairs so you can bang out my jailbait daughter.
And so Tyrion goes upstairs with Yaya. She closes and locks the door behind them.
Tyrion: Yeah girl, dat whole body is hot. But it's your tongue that I'm really interested in! If you know what I mean...
Yaya: Indeed I do! *whew* Now that we're in private without all those eyes watching and ears listening, we can execute our secret plan. And good pun there about the tongue, since you're not actually interested in sex and you just want me to provide you with knowledge about the location of the secret passage located here.
Tyrion: What?! So we're not actually having sex? Well, that's disappointing. That wasn't even supposed to be a pun. I was talking about a blow---ehhh, ya know what... forget it. I guess it is good that your mom isn't actually pimping you out.
Yaya: Yeah, not to you at least.
Yaya opens up a wardrobe which has the aforementioned secret passage in it.
Tyrion: I hope this doesn't lead to Narnia.
Yaya: Just shut the fuck up and go inside.
Tyrion heads in the secret passage and finds something much worse than Jadis the White Queen.
Varys: Would you like some Turkish Delight?
Tyrion smacks the plate out of Varys's hand.
Tyrion: NOBODY LIKES TURKISH DELIGHT! It's a disgusting, gummy gel made out of starch and gross crap like orange peels and nuts. Who would actually be tempted by that?
Varys: Whatever. You like my new disguise?
Tyrion: Oh right, you're supposed to be some type of master of disguise in the books that always dresses up differently. I guess they dropped that in the show. Hey, so can we trust this Chataya lady? She's doing me a real favor by setting up this whole secret passage thing for me. Now everyone thinks I'm having sex with an underage black prostitute instead of going on my REAL SECRET MISSION. I just want to make sure we will have Chataya's discretion.
Varys: Oh yes, Lord Tyrion. Chataya has no love for the Queen, who used Allar Deem to murder one of her best prostitutes.
Tyrion: Hey, why does this brothel have a secret passage leading to it anyway?
Varys: Really? That's REALLY a question you're asking? You are ACTUALLY confused as why a brothel would have a secret passage leading to it the capital city of a nation? You are TRULY confused as to why a city made up of powerful and married politicians, royals and noblemen would have methods for discreet access to hookers?
Tyrion: You don't have to be a dick about it.
Varys: Oh, by the way. Do you want to now explain to the readers what your REAL SECRET MISSION is all about?
Tyrion: Yes. I am going to secretly meet Shae.
Varys: Indeed. So your cunning plot to disguise the fact that you're going to visit a whore is that you instead are going to visit a whore? Yes. That will really throw everyone off!
Tyrion: Hey look, I know at first glance it doesn't make that much sense but there is actually some reason behind it. The particular whore I want to visit is MY whore. The one that my father specifically forbid me from continuing to see. So I gotta be secret about it. Also, I don't want Cersei and her spies to find out about her.
Varys: Yes. Which is why now, at the end of this secret passage, is a stable. I will dress you up as a small child and we'll pretend to be a father and son. Then we'll ride horses to Shae and you can go have sex with her.
And so they do that. But as they ride the horses, they have some small talk.
Tyrion: Oh, since you missed the Small Council meeting... you didn't get to see Cersei's reaction to that Stannis letter. It was CLASSIC. She is so pissed. Hrm. I wonder how Stannis figured out that Cersei's children are incest bastards anyway.
Varys: Probably the same way that Ned Stark and Jon Arryn figured out. He probably saw one of Robert's bastards. Didn't matter the hair color of the woman. No matter what... every single time Robert fathered a child it had black hair. Which sort of proves that blonde-haired Joffrey, Tommen and Myrcella aren't his.
Tyrion: Except that's not actually how the genetics of hair color works. Even two brown-haired parents can produce a blond-haired child. It's all about recessive genes. Eumelanin, which has two subtypes of black or brown, determines the darkness of the hair color. One phenotype of brown/blonde has a dominant brown allele and a recessive blond allele. The possibility of which the recessive blonde trait may appear in offspring can be determined with a Punnett square.
Varys: *no response*
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