Welcome to a very merry Jingle BELLS of Ice and Fire – special Edition!
Jaime: What? I don’t get it. How is this supposed to work?
Well, the otherwise normal chapter will be Christmas-ified!
Jaime: How so?
I’ll just add Christmas stuff to it, which wasn’t actually in the Chapter.
Jaime: What the hell is Christmas? I don’t think that’s a thing in Westeros.
Shut up and stop questioning the premise, Jaime.
Jaime: Whatever.
Lord Tywin’s funeral procession is taking his (by now, SUPER rank) dead body out of the city. Fortunately, the body’s smell is now hidden by all the wonderful smell of decorated pine trees. Because it’s Christmas. Ser Kevan leads the procession out of town. Jaime rides his one horse open sleigh forward and catches up with his uncle, who is wearing a festive Christmas sweater.
Kevan: Ugh. What the hell are you doing here?
Jaime: That’s a pretty stupid question. This is a funeral procession for MY DEAD FATHER. Should I not be at the funeral procession for my own father? That’s typically an event that sons are involved in, you know. Funerals for their parents. Now here, have some eggnog.
Jaime hands Kevan some eggnog. Kevan looks it over, but then bats it to the ground.
Kevan: Seriously though, you’re probably just here to bark some orders at me from Cersei, huh?
Jaime: Why does everyone assume I’m just a little bitch that does Cersei’s bidding? Me and Cersei are different people. I kindly invite you to count the number of breasts and hands that I have. That should be a quick way for you to clear up any confusion.
Kevan: Well, they say you are what you eat. So at the very least, you’re Cersei’s pussy.
Jaime: Touché, uncle. The point is, you need to make peace with Cersei. This family strife will do the Lannisters no good. Especially at Christmas time!
Kevan: Any strife is not my doing, it is Cersei’s. I just want to be left alone at Darry with my son, Lancel. We’re going to get him married to that slutty Frey girl and then hang stockings from the chimney.
Jaime: With care?
Kevan: Is there any other way to hang stockings from chimneys?
Jaime: So you’re really doing it, huh? You’re heading out towards the Trident and staying?
Kevan: Staying at Darry? No. Someone has to combat these raiders causing havoc around the kingdom. First it was Beric Dondarrion, and now the Hound has joined him. I will not have this Christmas ruined by raiders!
Jaime: Many men can battle raiders. But few men would make a good Hand of the King.
Kevan: Cersei knows my conditions to take that position. If she has trouble remembering them, remind her the next time you are in her bedchamber.
Kevan drops his microphone and rides out… on his uhh... let's just say reindeer.
Jaime: Well, that didn’t go well at all. Cersei doesn’t take rejection well at all. I wonder if she’s planning to have him assassinated. Or if she just hopes that the Hound will do it for her.
And while Kevan might be gone now, his cousin Lancel’s Christmas sleigh is still nearby. Jaime rides up to Lancel.
Jaime: Whattup, cuz?
Lancel: Oh. Uhh… you.. ahh. Erm.
Lancel is nervous and sweating bullets, fearing that Jaime knows about his and Cersei’s nasty time while he way away being kidnapped by Cat Stark.
Jaime: Congrats on your upcoming Christmas wedding, dude! I hear that Frey girl is a total slut and you can stuff your candy cane in whatever hole you want. If you know what I mean.
Lancel stares blankly.
Jaime: Hrm, I guess you don’t know what I mean.
Lancel: Uhhh… yeah. So, it was good seeing you. I’ll keep you and Cersei in my prayers. SHIT! Why did I mention Cersei?! Damnit! Damnit! Damnit! OKAY BYE! MERRY CHRISTMAS AND A HAPPY NEW YEAR!
Lancel rides off, quickly.
Jaime: That story that Tyrion told me about Lancel fucking Cersei. I don’t think I believe it. Lancel is so stupid that he wouldn’t even know where to put it. Although, I guess Cersei is more of an “on top” person, so maybe he wouldn’t have to. Still, that line about Moonboy was probably a lie, right? I mean… I hope. Because if she was having sex with Moonboy when I was gone, who knows what kind of Clown STD I might have gotten when I came back and had sex with her on top of our son’s corpse. Anyway, that's besides the point. Lancel might have fucked Cersei, but now regrets it. Which is why he's suddenly got all fucking religious and loves the gods so much. Heh. As if gods really exist. All religion is a lie.
A mother nearby covers her child’s ears.
Mother: JAIME LANNISTER! It’s Christmas Eve and you’re saying all these terrible things in front my son! Why are you narrating these things out loud?!
Jaime: Sorry, m’am. I better get back to the castle to... ah... place presents under the tree!
And so he heads back to the Red Keep. There, he stops to watch some jousting practice, where people joust with large, red and white-striped poles to get into the holiday spirit. Ser Loras easily defeats everyone because of course he does.
He continues on, and finds a red-faced Cersei drinking eggnog. King Tommen, Lady Taena Merryweather, and Grand Maester “Flash” Pycelle are there with her. For some reason they are all laughing.
Jaime: Cersei! Is that the alcoholic eggnog? I put a whole bottle of bourbon in there.
Cersei: *hiccup* Whash do you sthink?
Jaime: Like… the WHOLE BOWL is gone! I just made it! I assume you didn’t give any to Tommen!
Tommen: No! Mommy drank it all herself!
Jaime: Okay, that sounds about right. Now why were you assholes laughing?
Pycelle: Oh, Lady Tanda Stokeworth’s daughter, Lollys, finally had that rape baby of hers.
Jaime: I think a baby is called a ‘baby’ no matter what the cause of conception one. Calling it a ‘rape baby’ is a little rough, man.
Taena: They named the baby “Tyrion!”
Cersei: GGRRRR!!!!
She smashes her punch glass into the table and breaks it.
Cersei: That shellshword Bronn who ish engaged to Lollys! Thish ish hish fault! WE MUSH KILL HIM!
Jaime looks at the twitching bloodlust in her eyes. It was the same fury he saw when she was staring at the burning down of the Tower of the Hand. The only time he had ever seen that face before was when Mad King Aerys was either watching someone be executed or brutally raping his wife, Rhaella. Oh, or also the look in Arnold's face when he saw Sinbad get the last Turbo-Man action figure. Needless to say, Cersei is obviously turning into one sick fuck.
Jaime: Cersei, if I may have a minute alone with you.
Cersei dismisses everyone else and now it’s just the two of them.
Jaime: Okay, first of all… don’t trust that Taena girl.
Cersei: Why? Becaushe she hash dark shkin? Thash rashceist!
Jaime: No, because she’s a Tyrell spy!
Cersei: The Tyrellsh shink that, don’t they? But shesh really my shpy who tellsh them what I want them to hear!
Jaime: Look Cersei, Kevan is leaving town. You need to apologize to him for whatever you did to piss him off. You need him.
Cersei: I’M A SHTRONG INDEPENDENT WOMAN AND I DON’T NEEDSH NO SHMAN!
The studio audience of Oprah, standing nearby, stands up and applauds.
Jaime: Well, you need a Hand of the King.
Cersei: I wash shinking of Orton Merryweather or Pyromanshcer Hallyne.
Jaime: Taena's idiot husband is a terrible idea, and the second idea is an even worse one. Do you remember what happened the last time a Pyromancer was the Hand? Oh… and what’s up with you making Aurane Waters the Master of Ships? Is it just because he’s young and handsome and you totally have a crush on him because he looks like Rhaegar?
Cersei: Yessh.
Jaime: Oh, I figured you’d lie about that.
Cersei: No. Thashhhh the reashon. I want to find shome misshletoe and kissh him under it. He can schtufffff my schtocking any ti--
Jaime: --And why are you hanging out with Qyburn? I know that guy saved my life and everything by treating my arm before the infection spread and killed me. But… dood… he’s a really sick kind of guy. And he was riding with the sick fucks who cut my arm off in the first place before he flipped teams. That creeper seems like the kind of guy you want to question when women start going missing around the city.
Cersei: I wouldn’t know anyshing about thash. *tries whistling, but can’t* But Qyburn is loyal. Unlike shome asshhhole family membersh!
Jaime: I don’t know whether you’re talking about me, Kevan or Tyion. Probably all of us. But me and Kevan aren’t your enemies. We’re trying to help you. You think that everything you do is brilliant because it solves an immediate problem for you, but you’re never looking two steps ahead.
Cersei: Shhhhhuts your whore mouffff!!!
Jaime: I’m warning you, the path you’re choosing is dangerous. The crows will feast upon us all if you go this way, sweet sist—
Alarms start flashing and horns sound. Donner, Blitzen, Frosty the Snowman, an Elf on a Shelf, Jack Frost, the Nutcracker Prince, and the Three Wisemen start shouting wildly and flailing their arms around. The text "A Feast for Crows" flashes again and again.
Cersei: What the hell?
Cowboy Curtis: He just said the Secret Phrase!
Jaime: No. No I did not. I said "the crows will feast," not "A F--"... uhh... No. You're not going to trick me into saying it. Nice try. Go away. I didn't say the words.
They all sadly hang their heads low, and walk away.
Jaime: Now what was I talking about again? Oh right. About your your an inept ruler, Cersei.
Cersei locates yet another eggnog cup and throws it at him. Jaime dodges it, sighs, and leaves.
Jaime: Ugh. She is just the worst, isn’t she?
Jaime heads back to his own chambers, and starts going through the Kingsguard White Book again, reading it. Eventually, Loras Tyrell comes into the room.
Loras: What you reading? Is that some Christmas naughty and nice list?
Jaime: No, idiot. It’s the book where the great deeds of members of the Kingsguard are written.
Loras: Oh. Well I don’t know. I’m not big on book learnin'! Neither was Renly. If knights truly do heroic deeds, their tales will be told for centuries whether they are written about in books or not.
Jaime: Well yeah, I guess we could pass down stories through oral tradition like fucking Homer or something. But haven’t you ever heard of the game “Telephone?” That’s how stories get twisted and changed over time. Best to have this shit on paper. But your overall point is right. The greatest knights will be remembered for their deeds. And the same goes for the worst and cruelest of the knights. And maybe even the knights who were a bit of both, like the one I’m reading about now.
Loras: …
Jaime: …
Loras: Oh… was that supposed to be a social cue to me? Were you trying to prompt me into saying, “Oh wow! Who are you reading about now?” Because I don’t care.
Jaime: …
Loras: But I guess you’re going to tell me anyway, huh?
Jaime: I’m reading about Ser Criston Cole, who served the first King Viserys and the second King Aegon. His nickname was “Kingmaker.”
Loras: Oh great. We’re ending this chapter with something super foreshadowing, huh?
Santa Claus then runs into the room.
Santa: HO HO HO! No! We’re ending it with presents for all! AND A MERRY CHR—
Loras: AGH!!! Some fat, bearded assassin!
Loras stabs him to death.
Jaime: Damnit Loras, that was Santa!
Loras: Who the fuck is San-- Oh no wait. I remember now. Renly used to get on all four, put a red ball on his nose and tell me that he was Rudolph the Red-Nosed Stag and that he had been very bad and needed to be punished. And then I would have to--
Jaime: ---OH SHIT! The Reindeer. I forgot about them. Quick! We’ve got to hide the evidence. We need to get to the roof now and kill those reindeer. It’s fine though, since reindeer are delicious and they’ll make fine steaks with a lingonberry sauce.
Jaime: What? I don’t get it. How is this supposed to work?
Well, the otherwise normal chapter will be Christmas-ified!
Jaime: How so?
I’ll just add Christmas stuff to it, which wasn’t actually in the Chapter.
Jaime: What the hell is Christmas? I don’t think that’s a thing in Westeros.
Shut up and stop questioning the premise, Jaime.
Jaime: Whatever.
Lord Tywin’s funeral procession is taking his (by now, SUPER rank) dead body out of the city. Fortunately, the body’s smell is now hidden by all the wonderful smell of decorated pine trees. Because it’s Christmas. Ser Kevan leads the procession out of town. Jaime rides his one horse open sleigh forward and catches up with his uncle, who is wearing a festive Christmas sweater.
Kevan: Ugh. What the hell are you doing here?
Jaime: That’s a pretty stupid question. This is a funeral procession for MY DEAD FATHER. Should I not be at the funeral procession for my own father? That’s typically an event that sons are involved in, you know. Funerals for their parents. Now here, have some eggnog.
Jaime hands Kevan some eggnog. Kevan looks it over, but then bats it to the ground.
Kevan: Seriously though, you’re probably just here to bark some orders at me from Cersei, huh?
Jaime: Why does everyone assume I’m just a little bitch that does Cersei’s bidding? Me and Cersei are different people. I kindly invite you to count the number of breasts and hands that I have. That should be a quick way for you to clear up any confusion.
Kevan: Well, they say you are what you eat. So at the very least, you’re Cersei’s pussy.
Jaime: Touché, uncle. The point is, you need to make peace with Cersei. This family strife will do the Lannisters no good. Especially at Christmas time!
Kevan: Any strife is not my doing, it is Cersei’s. I just want to be left alone at Darry with my son, Lancel. We’re going to get him married to that slutty Frey girl and then hang stockings from the chimney.
Jaime: With care?
Kevan: Is there any other way to hang stockings from chimneys?
Jaime: So you’re really doing it, huh? You’re heading out towards the Trident and staying?
Kevan: Staying at Darry? No. Someone has to combat these raiders causing havoc around the kingdom. First it was Beric Dondarrion, and now the Hound has joined him. I will not have this Christmas ruined by raiders!
Jaime: Many men can battle raiders. But few men would make a good Hand of the King.
Kevan: Cersei knows my conditions to take that position. If she has trouble remembering them, remind her the next time you are in her bedchamber.
Kevan drops his microphone and rides out… on his uhh... let's just say reindeer.
Jaime: Well, that didn’t go well at all. Cersei doesn’t take rejection well at all. I wonder if she’s planning to have him assassinated. Or if she just hopes that the Hound will do it for her.
And while Kevan might be gone now, his cousin Lancel’s Christmas sleigh is still nearby. Jaime rides up to Lancel.
Jaime: Whattup, cuz?
Lancel: Oh. Uhh… you.. ahh. Erm.
Lancel is nervous and sweating bullets, fearing that Jaime knows about his and Cersei’s nasty time while he way away being kidnapped by Cat Stark.
Jaime: Congrats on your upcoming Christmas wedding, dude! I hear that Frey girl is a total slut and you can stuff your candy cane in whatever hole you want. If you know what I mean.
Lancel stares blankly.
Jaime: Hrm, I guess you don’t know what I mean.
Lancel: Uhhh… yeah. So, it was good seeing you. I’ll keep you and Cersei in my prayers. SHIT! Why did I mention Cersei?! Damnit! Damnit! Damnit! OKAY BYE! MERRY CHRISTMAS AND A HAPPY NEW YEAR!
Lancel rides off, quickly.
Jaime: That story that Tyrion told me about Lancel fucking Cersei. I don’t think I believe it. Lancel is so stupid that he wouldn’t even know where to put it. Although, I guess Cersei is more of an “on top” person, so maybe he wouldn’t have to. Still, that line about Moonboy was probably a lie, right? I mean… I hope. Because if she was having sex with Moonboy when I was gone, who knows what kind of Clown STD I might have gotten when I came back and had sex with her on top of our son’s corpse. Anyway, that's besides the point. Lancel might have fucked Cersei, but now regrets it. Which is why he's suddenly got all fucking religious and loves the gods so much. Heh. As if gods really exist. All religion is a lie.
A mother nearby covers her child’s ears.
Mother: JAIME LANNISTER! It’s Christmas Eve and you’re saying all these terrible things in front my son! Why are you narrating these things out loud?!
Jaime: Sorry, m’am. I better get back to the castle to... ah... place presents under the tree!
And so he heads back to the Red Keep. There, he stops to watch some jousting practice, where people joust with large, red and white-striped poles to get into the holiday spirit. Ser Loras easily defeats everyone because of course he does.
He continues on, and finds a red-faced Cersei drinking eggnog. King Tommen, Lady Taena Merryweather, and Grand Maester “Flash” Pycelle are there with her. For some reason they are all laughing.
Jaime: Cersei! Is that the alcoholic eggnog? I put a whole bottle of bourbon in there.
Cersei: *hiccup* Whash do you sthink?
Jaime: Like… the WHOLE BOWL is gone! I just made it! I assume you didn’t give any to Tommen!
Tommen: No! Mommy drank it all herself!
Jaime: Okay, that sounds about right. Now why were you assholes laughing?
Pycelle: Oh, Lady Tanda Stokeworth’s daughter, Lollys, finally had that rape baby of hers.
Jaime: I think a baby is called a ‘baby’ no matter what the cause of conception one. Calling it a ‘rape baby’ is a little rough, man.
Taena: They named the baby “Tyrion!”
Cersei: GGRRRR!!!!
She smashes her punch glass into the table and breaks it.
Cersei: That shellshword Bronn who ish engaged to Lollys! Thish ish hish fault! WE MUSH KILL HIM!
Jaime looks at the twitching bloodlust in her eyes. It was the same fury he saw when she was staring at the burning down of the Tower of the Hand. The only time he had ever seen that face before was when Mad King Aerys was either watching someone be executed or brutally raping his wife, Rhaella. Oh, or also the look in Arnold's face when he saw Sinbad get the last Turbo-Man action figure. Needless to say, Cersei is obviously turning into one sick fuck.
Jaime: Cersei, if I may have a minute alone with you.
Cersei dismisses everyone else and now it’s just the two of them.
Jaime: Okay, first of all… don’t trust that Taena girl.
Cersei: Why? Becaushe she hash dark shkin? Thash rashceist!
Jaime: No, because she’s a Tyrell spy!
Cersei: The Tyrellsh shink that, don’t they? But shesh really my shpy who tellsh them what I want them to hear!
Jaime: Look Cersei, Kevan is leaving town. You need to apologize to him for whatever you did to piss him off. You need him.
Cersei: I’M A SHTRONG INDEPENDENT WOMAN AND I DON’T NEEDSH NO SHMAN!
The studio audience of Oprah, standing nearby, stands up and applauds.
Jaime: Well, you need a Hand of the King.
Cersei: I wash shinking of Orton Merryweather or Pyromanshcer Hallyne.
Jaime: Taena's idiot husband is a terrible idea, and the second idea is an even worse one. Do you remember what happened the last time a Pyromancer was the Hand? Oh… and what’s up with you making Aurane Waters the Master of Ships? Is it just because he’s young and handsome and you totally have a crush on him because he looks like Rhaegar?
Cersei: Yessh.
Jaime: Oh, I figured you’d lie about that.
Cersei: No. Thashhhh the reashon. I want to find shome misshletoe and kissh him under it. He can schtufffff my schtocking any ti--
Jaime: --And why are you hanging out with Qyburn? I know that guy saved my life and everything by treating my arm before the infection spread and killed me. But… dood… he’s a really sick kind of guy. And he was riding with the sick fucks who cut my arm off in the first place before he flipped teams. That creeper seems like the kind of guy you want to question when women start going missing around the city.
Cersei: I wouldn’t know anyshing about thash. *tries whistling, but can’t* But Qyburn is loyal. Unlike shome asshhhole family membersh!
Jaime: I don’t know whether you’re talking about me, Kevan or Tyion. Probably all of us. But me and Kevan aren’t your enemies. We’re trying to help you. You think that everything you do is brilliant because it solves an immediate problem for you, but you’re never looking two steps ahead.
Cersei: Shhhhhuts your whore mouffff!!!
Jaime: I’m warning you, the path you’re choosing is dangerous. The crows will feast upon us all if you go this way, sweet sist—
Alarms start flashing and horns sound. Donner, Blitzen, Frosty the Snowman, an Elf on a Shelf, Jack Frost, the Nutcracker Prince, and the Three Wisemen start shouting wildly and flailing their arms around. The text "A Feast for Crows" flashes again and again.
Cersei: What the hell?
Cowboy Curtis: He just said the Secret Phrase!
Jaime: No. No I did not. I said "the crows will feast," not "A F--"... uhh... No. You're not going to trick me into saying it. Nice try. Go away. I didn't say the words.
They all sadly hang their heads low, and walk away.
Jaime: Now what was I talking about again? Oh right. About your your an inept ruler, Cersei.
Cersei locates yet another eggnog cup and throws it at him. Jaime dodges it, sighs, and leaves.
Jaime: Ugh. She is just the worst, isn’t she?
Jaime heads back to his own chambers, and starts going through the Kingsguard White Book again, reading it. Eventually, Loras Tyrell comes into the room.
Loras: What you reading? Is that some Christmas naughty and nice list?
Jaime: No, idiot. It’s the book where the great deeds of members of the Kingsguard are written.
Loras: Oh. Well I don’t know. I’m not big on book learnin'! Neither was Renly. If knights truly do heroic deeds, their tales will be told for centuries whether they are written about in books or not.
Jaime: Well yeah, I guess we could pass down stories through oral tradition like fucking Homer or something. But haven’t you ever heard of the game “Telephone?” That’s how stories get twisted and changed over time. Best to have this shit on paper. But your overall point is right. The greatest knights will be remembered for their deeds. And the same goes for the worst and cruelest of the knights. And maybe even the knights who were a bit of both, like the one I’m reading about now.
Loras: …
Jaime: …
Loras: Oh… was that supposed to be a social cue to me? Were you trying to prompt me into saying, “Oh wow! Who are you reading about now?” Because I don’t care.
Jaime: …
Loras: But I guess you’re going to tell me anyway, huh?
Jaime: I’m reading about Ser Criston Cole, who served the first King Viserys and the second King Aegon. His nickname was “Kingmaker.”
Loras: Oh great. We’re ending this chapter with something super foreshadowing, huh?
Santa Claus then runs into the room.
Santa: HO HO HO! No! We’re ending it with presents for all! AND A MERRY CHR—
Loras: AGH!!! Some fat, bearded assassin!
Loras stabs him to death.
Jaime: Damnit Loras, that was Santa!
Loras: Who the fuck is San-- Oh no wait. I remember now. Renly used to get on all four, put a red ball on his nose and tell me that he was Rudolph the Red-Nosed Stag and that he had been very bad and needed to be punished. And then I would have to--
Jaime: ---OH SHIT! The Reindeer. I forgot about them. Quick! We’ve got to hide the evidence. We need to get to the roof now and kill those reindeer. It’s fine though, since reindeer are delicious and they’ll make fine steaks with a lingonberry sauce.
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