AFfC 35: Samwell IV

Maester Aemon is dead and Sam and Gilly are now on the Cinnamon Wind, a ship sailing for Old Town.

Sam: WHAT?! What the hell just happened?! That was quite a time leap between this and my last chapter! It looks like a bunch of important stuff happened. Aemon dead?! WTF?! We’re just going to skip over all that?

No. We’ll flashback and see how it happened.

Sam: Oh. Okay.

Yeah.

Sam: I don’t see why we can’t just tell stories in chronological order though. Why do we have to start in the middle of a story and then jump back? I mean the Arya chapter just did the same thing by starting with Arya going out and selling cockles as if she’s been doing it for a while, and then jumping back in time to have Arya remembering when she started doing it. It’s sort of annoying.

If you don’t like the narrative structure so much, why don’t you narrate it?

Sam: Wait, I thought I was the narrator of this book series.

Oh, maybe. That’s a theory at least. That you’re the dude who writes the “Jingle of Ice and Fire.” I thought we wouldn’t talk about that any more though because it’s too confusing.

Sam: Yeah. Let’s just move on.

Sam does funeral rites for Maester Aemon.  This involves playing “Always Look on the Bright Side of Life” from Monty Python’s Life of Brian.

Xhondo: *sniff* That was a beautiful ceremony. Now let us celebrate his life by getting shitfaced on rum!

Sam and Gilly have never had rum before. So they try it.

Gilly: Oh wow. This tastes like fire! I like it! *drinks more*

Sam: *cough*cough*cough* Ugh. This is rough.

Xhondo: Hahaha, pussy! Now let’s party! We people from the Summer Isles love to party and drink. We also have wanton women who are very loose. We’re basically a primitive, promiscuous, drunken people!

Sam: Wow, and the people from the Summer Isles are all supposed to be Black, huh? This chapter is pretty fucking racist.

Kojja Mo, Daughter of the Captain: Oh, what a cute baby! Let me hold it!

Gilly: AGH!!! Don’t touch this baby! You’re so dark that you scare me.

Sam: Yep. Definitely a racist writer.

Shut up. If you’re the writer than you’re the racist.

Sam: Don’t put this on me.

Xhondo: Why are you not partying?

Sam: Dude. Aemon just died. He was my friend and mentor. I’m pretty bummed out. Also, his body is starting to smell. I don’t think his body will make it to Old Town.

Xhondo: We can stuff him in one of our barrels of alcohol and the alcohol will preserve his body.

Sam: Gross. Really? That’s what we do to Aemon in the books? We stuff him in a barrel of booze?

Yep.

Xhondo: Hey, if it was good enough for Horatio Nelson, than it’s good enough for some old Maester guy.

Sam: I just wish we could have gotten Aemon to Old Town in time before he died. They’re the best. I bet they could have saved him.  Ah, Aemon. I love thinking about him. Maybe now I should flashback to fill in the gaps of what happened.

Xhondo: And that’s the story about how Daenerys Targaryen hatched three dragons with fire and is now the ruler of Slaver’s Bay. Or at least one city there now. The rest is sort of falling to shit. 

Aemon: Oh man, all these stories about Dragons?! AWESOME! That stupid Melisandre thought that Stannis was the Prince that was Promised (TPTWP). But he’s not. I knew that “Lightbringer” sword of his was a fake. It’s this Dany Targaryen girl! My long, lost relative! She will be the savior! And she’s hatched three dragons and brought them back to life. We must go to Slaver’s Bay and see Dany!

Sam: Uh, you’re super sick and dying. That’s probably not a good idea.

Aemon: No, we must! To Slaver’s Bay! I must advise Daenerys.

Sam: How can a girl be the PRINCE that was promised? That doesn’t even make sense?

Aemon: It’s a Google Translate error, you see! In the old texts, dragons were neither male or female. The prophecy wasn’t really about a prince. It could have been either. Daenerys is the savior! *cough*cough*

Xhondo: Uh oh. He is coughing. People who are coughing usually die before the chapter is over.

Sam: Correct. He’s also 102 years old.

Xhondo: You will need to pay Xhondo a lot to take you to Slaver’s Bay.

Sam: Sure. Here. This is everything I have.

Sam hands him all his cash, some bubble gum, and his Allman Brothers vinyl record collection.

Xhondo: What about that cool chain there? Looks like it’s worth a lot.

Sam: Maester Aemon’s chain? NO! You can’t have that. It’s, like, a special thing that needs to stay with Aemon. And if he dies, it needs to be returned to Old Town. 

Xhondo: How about those books then?

Sam: NO! You can’t… those books have a ton of ancient knowledge in them! I need those to go to Old Town too!

Xhondo: What about that old, cracked, obsidian horn that you have? Can I have that?

Sam: WHAT?! This old, cracked, horn that Jon Snow found in the hidden cache of obsidian weapons?   Then he gave it to me for no reason because he knew “I liked old things.” Then he talked to Tormund about Mance’s quest to find a completely different, surely not this one, "Horn of Winter" AKA the "Horn of Joramund" that would bring down the wall? Then he talked to Ygritte about the very same Horn of Joramun? Then even Bran name-dropped Joramun to make sure people were paying attention to the fact that it’s important? Then Jon talked to Mance about it, and Mance made a dubious, unreliable claim that he had found it, which directly contradicted Ygritte’s specific claim that they had not found it? I could never give up this horn which may or may not be the Horn of MacGuffin!

Xhondo: Okay, wow. This random, old, cracked horn in your possession sounds pretty important now. So I’m going to let you keep that because it sounds like it might be important for plot purposes. But you’re being a shitty negotiator, Sam. You want me to take you on a ship with me to Queen Dany – but every price I demand you refuse to pay. You’ve got to pay me with something.

Sam: Damnit!

So Sam gives up the books. Which is a really strange choice for Sam.  Pretty much all Sam is left with are the clothes on his back and that horn.

Aemon: *cough*cough* Oh fuck.

Aemon falls to the ground, dying.

Sam: Uhm. Could you actually sail us to Old Town instead of to Dany? I don’t think Aemon has got much longer.

Xhondo: *sigh*

And so they set sail to Old Town instead of going to Queen Daenerys. As Aemon lays dying in his bed, he’s having crazy fever dreams and flashing back to his past.

Aemon: Things! Things from the past! Oh my! I’m going to confuse you all with characters from the Hedge Knight stories, set in the past with Dunk and Egg! Sam, you’re right. We must go to Old Town now. When I sent ravens to Old Town to tell them about the Others, they thought I was a dottering old fool. They don’t know who I am because I left Old Town before they were all born. But they will believe you. You must give them the knowledge so they know the truth. You must tell them about Dany, and have them send her a Maester to advise her. But the Maesters were indeed right about me being a fool! A fool, I say! To not realize who the true TPTWP was all along! The Dragon has Three Heads! I should have known the whole time! The sphinx is the riddle, not the riddler. Ughhhhhh! *dies*

Sam: Oh wow. Aemon’s last words are, “The sphinx is the riddle, not the riddler.” Super cryptic.  What do you think that means?

Gilly: Good question. I think it probably refers to the Alleras/Sarella character, who was introduced in the prologue to this book.  Alleras even specifically says, "The dragon has three heads," and talks about Dany. Alleras is even called “the Sphinx” in the text.

Sam: Yeah, I mean obviously GRRM intentionally wanted Alleras/Sarella to foreshadow all of this. But there is no way that Aemon was specifically talking about Alleras. He just talked about how he left Old Town years before any Maesters there now were born. Aemon would have no clue who Alleras is.

Xhondo: Xhondo thinks that maybe the dead man was speaking about a literal sphinx. What do we know about sphinxes?

Gilly: Aren’t they lions with head of a man or something like that?

Sam: Actually, the depiction of sphinxes changes in various cultures. For the context of this book series, the most commonly talked-about sphinx is the Valyrian Sphinx. They are mentioned as being the ones that decorate the Red Keep – and are half-man and half-dragon. A human head with a dragon's body.

Gilly: Oh wow. Like a dragon! Like the whole “dragon has three heads” thing that Aemon just mentioned. We might be on to something.

Sam: Right. But it still makes no sense and I don’t understand it. Those were Aemon’s last words, so they HAVE to mean something. The sphinx is the riddle. Not the riddler. What could that mean? Hrmmmm.

Xhondo: Wait! Did you just say “half-man” a moment ago?

Sam: I did.

Xhondo: HALF-MAN! Like Tyrion! Maybe Tyrion is the sphinx. If a sphinx is a half-man. There is a common theory that Tyrion is also really a Targaryen. Because GRRM goes to great lengths to talk about how Mad King Aerys II was obsessed with Tywin’s wife. And Tyrion’s hair was always described as even paler than Jaime and Cersei’s. If this is true, not only would it make Tyrion a Half-Man, it would make him a Half-Dragon too! Half-Man, Half-Dragon! A Sphinx! The "lion" part of the sphinx thing would work too, as he is also a half-lion / half Lannister. Even if Tywin his not his biological father and Aerys is, he'd still be a half Targaryen because Jaime was just talking about how his mom and dad were both Targaryens. Half-Man. Half-Lion. Half-Dragon. And if the Dragon has three heads, that would mean that there is no one TPTWP. But three! Tyrion could either be all three and the sole TPTWP because he is all three of those things, or he could be one of three, along with two others. 

Gilly: Ooooh! Oooh! I really like this one. Especially because Tyrion doesn’t have a nose. Just like the sphinx.

Sam: Huh?

Gilly: The Great Sphinx of Giza. It’s missing a nose. Like Tyrion is. I think that’s part of a double-reference on GRRM’s half. Technically it wouldn’t mean anything inside of this fictional universe because they wouldn’t know anything about Giza. But it could be a subtle thing that was added.

Sam: Now I think you’re reading too much into this. So do we really think that’s what Aemon’s last words were about? Do we have any other theories about sphinxes?

Xhondo: I do not know. You people of Westeros love your symbols. Do any of your houses have the symbol of a sphinx on them?

Sam: House Connington has a griffon, which is close to a sphinx. But that’s the head of an eagle and the body of a lion. Not exactly right.

Gilly: Still, the Conningtons keep occasionally getting mentioned. Like Jaime punching out Red Ronnet. Or characters who occasionally obliquely reference or openly talk about Jon Connington, the former Hand of the King. Rumor is he’s dead. But maybe not.

Sam: What? You think he’s… like… alive and over in Essos with some additional claimant to the Iron Throne who might also be a potential Targaryen TPTWP? Like some idiot pretending to be the little dead kid Aegon or something?

Xhondo: If the Dragon has Three Heads – then we’d have four plausible claimants to those three slots. Dany. Jon Snow because COME ON, everybody knows that R+L=J. Then the third slot could either be Tyrion or this Aegon.

Sam: But is a griffon is ALMOST a dragon, not a dragon. And the books also go into a lot of backstory about the Blackfyres, a rival clan of bastards from the Targaryen line. Aegon/Young Griff, who everyone will just call "Fake Aegon" anyway, could be just that – a Blackfyre that is “almost” a dragon. So far I like what I’m heading. Any other theories about what Maester Aemon’s last words could possibly mean?

Gilly: Maybe “The sphinx is the riddle, not the riddler” means that someone who we think is The TPTWP is NOT, because they are only the riddle. Not the riddler. So whoever we determine is “the Sphinx” will help us figure out who the riddle, but they themselves are not the answer to the riddl, e.g. are not TPTWP. 

Xhondo: Oh wow. Now we’re getting deep here. This is some heavy shit.

Sam: I like it. But then who is the sphinx? And who is the true riddler, and this the true TPTWP?

Gilly: Maybe… uh… Dany is the riddle. We’ve been following her story the whole time and we THINK that she’s the answer. She thinks she’s the Prince that was Promised, and Aegon thought it. Everyone thinks it. But if she’s just the riddle, not the riddler, that would mean that Jon Snow could actually be TPTWP. So what would that make her? Lightbringer?

Xhondo: WAIT! Xhondo has new idea. What if we are more literal about a sphinx being a dragon with a human’s head? Think about it. A dragon being CONTROLLED by the head, e.g. brain, of a human.

Sam: Oh wow. You mean like a shinchanger or warg or something like that?

Gilly: SHIT! Bran could be TPTWP then, right? I mean he’s the POV of Chapter 1 of the first book, and he’s quickly thrown from the roof of a building to die and be crippled. Everyone disregarded him. But in the end, he could be the hero that saves everyone.

Sam: Maybe. So you’re guessing that Bran takes control of a dragon with his warg skills? But even if Bran takes control of a dragon and is thus “the sphinx” because he’s a dragon with a human’s head… that doesn’t mean he’s TPTWP. Because he’s just the riddle, not the riddler. What if instead it’s…

--Okay, enough of this shit. Please stop.

Sam: What?

Too many theories. Nobody knows what the hell Aemon’s last words were. Let’s move on and go back to the present.

Sam: Oh man, that was a pretty long flashback. Is this entire chapter just that flashback?

Pretty much, yeah.

Dalla’s Baby: *crying*

Kojja Mo: Here, let me hold him.

Kojja Mo rocks the baby to sleep.

Gilly: Wow! *drinks more rum* You’re amazing at that! And to think that I started out as violently racist against you for no reason.

Sam: That baby is pretty healthy. I bet he’s going to live. We should give him a name.

Gilly: Let’s name him Aemon! *drinks rum* But only after he hits two years. That’s the rule.

Sam: Good idea. Ah, Aemon. I’ll miss you, buddy. It’s all Jon’s fault that you’re dead. This journey killed you.

Gilly: No, I understood what Jon did now. He had to send Aemon away. *drinks rum* And he had to switch my baby with Dalla’s. The Red Witch would have sacrificed them both for having king’s blood. I know I was super sad and crying for this entire book, but now I get it.

Kojja Mo: This baby is so cute. Can I watch him all evening?

Gilly: Sure! *finishes rum bottle* Hey Sam, with Kojja baby-sitting the little one, why don’t you come below deck and let me show you something?

Sam: Uhh… okay.

They go below deck. Gilly takes all her clothes off.

Sam: Are you drunk?

Gilly: Maybe. Now let me ride you like you’re a pony, boy.

Sam: MY VOWS! Also, you’re drunk and I have questions about consent issues.

Gilly: If I’m the sexual aggressor, then there are no consent issue problems here.

Sam: BUT MY VOWS! If I break my vows then I’m really no different than Dareon!

Gilly: Maybe this titty milk will make you change your mind!

Sam: *mMMphh*

Gilly sticks her book in Sam’s mouth, showing that GRRM has really got a particular fetish. Hey, it’s not for me to judge. Let consenting adults do consenting adult stuff. He could be a furry for all I care.

Sam: No! I can’t! I promised to take no wife!

Gilly smacks him in the face and jumps on him.

Gilly: I’m your wife now, bitch.

Sam: Well okay, I’m convinced.

They have the sex. Yep, like in the show. But they left the months and months of Gilly crying part out.

The next morning, they wake up. Both hungover. Sam sneaks out of bed and is ashamed of what he’s done. He avoids seeing Gilly all day and thinks about jumping into the sea.

Xhondo: SAM! Stop being a little bitch. We know what you did. Gilly is a moaner.

Sam: I sinned! I sinned! AGH!!! I should throw myself into the sea and die.

Kojja Mo: You  idiot. Why would the gods give you private parts if not to use them? Your vows are dumb. If your gods condemn making love, then you have stupid, idiot demon gods.

Sam: I get your point here, but I still also kind of feel like GRRM is still being racist and depicting black people as promiscuous.

Kojja Mo: Stop avoiding Gilly and go see her, or I’ll fucking throw you into the ocean myself.

Sam does, because he’s too afraid to argue any further. He’s pretty much afraid of everything.

Gilly: Sam!

Sam: What we did… I… I… I can never do it again. I broke my vows! But know this. If I ever could take a wife, it would be you. I love you so much.

Gilly: Oh. Wife? Wife? Hahahaha. Yeah, I was drunk as hell last night when I said that “I’m your wife now” thing.  That was just a hump and dump, if you know what I mean.

Sam: Whaaaaa?

Gilly: Yeah. I needed to get it out of my system. I think I'm good now.

Sam: But… but… my vows… I broke…

Gilly: You broke your vows to some trees, idiot. Do the trees know you did it? Do I see any trees around, watching you? No. We’re in the middle of the oceans. No trees.

Sam: So you’re saying sins aren’t really sins if the gods don’t see you commit them?

Gilly: Oh come on, like that’s not the basic way most “religious people” act anyway.

Sam: Good point.

Wood on the Boat: We are made of trees and we know what you did, vow-breaker! 

AFfC 34: Cat of the Canals (Arya III)

Arya… uhh… I mean “Cat of the Canals” wakes up after having a dream about being a wolf, searching for her mother in the rain, crying, and a dog-headed monster (you know, The Hound).

Cat: I’m not Arya. I’m Cat. I shouldn’t have wolf dreams. I need to leave that all behind.

She shakes it off and heads off to the fish market, where she finds Brusco, her oyster-selling hookup.

Brusco: Ah yes. Here we are! I need you to sell all of these oysters, clams and cockles for me again.

Cat: Sweet. I’m going to sell the hell out of this seafood. So far I’ve been doing a great job at this, as time has passed since my last chapter and you should now assume I’ve been doing this for a while. I will be long remembered a great seafood salesperson! They will call me the shellfish queen!

As she walks to go find some prime cockle-selling territory, she thinks upon some instructions that the Kind Old Man told her to do.

Kind Old Man: I want a girl to learn three new things, every time she goes out.  When she comes back to the temple, I want her to tell  those three things.

Cat: Oh, cool. I can do that.

Cat goes out, sells shellfish, and comes back home.

Kind Old Man: Tell me three things that a girl learned today.

Cat: Tom Brady is cheater. “Basileus” is a Greek title used for various types of monarchs throughout its history. Falsohyllisia meridionale is a species of beetle in the family Cerambycidae.

Kind Old Man: Good, good. And who are you?

Cat: No One.

The Kind Old Man shakes his head at her.

Kind Old Man: Liar.

Cat: Yeah, what a cool flashback. Anyway, I think I’ll head to the Ragman’s Harbor. That’s where all non-Braavosi ships must dock. I assume it’s related to customs and immigration duties or something. Does Braavos have customs and immigration control? I’m not sure if that’s a thing that it does, but it seems like even medieval societies should have stuff like that. Anyway, basically everyone is there and it will be super crowded. Plus they probably have long lines with declaring the goods and everything. Great place to sell this food.

She hangs out there, and there are a whole bunch of people with different nationalities. Basically, they swear and drink and tell offensive stories. She learns all kinds of cool stories about mummers and thieves and whores that she can tell to the Kind Old Man.

She walks up to a ship named the Brazen Monkey, where the crew is offloading their stuff.

Cat: Hey there. You wanna buy some oysters? I gots those good oysters, shorty! Along with horseradish sauce, vinegar, Crystal Hot Sauce… pretty much whatever you want.

Sailor: Oysters? Sure, I’ll have some. But what I could really go for is a good whore.

Cat: Oh yeah, the best whores are these ones down on 24th canal at a place called Merry’s. They are the tops. I’m not just saying that because they often buy cockles from me and are generally nice to me. Say, do you have any news about the war in the Seven Kingdoms? It looks like you guys just came in from Westeros.

Sailor: War? We ain’t see no war there. Not in the Vale, anyway. That boy who’s ruling there won’t get involved, just like his dead mom.

Cat: Oh. Dead mom, huh? Lady Lysa?

Sailor: *nods*

Cat: Hrm. If I were Arya Stark, I might feel something about that. But I’m not Arya Stark, so I don’t care about that dead lady. I’m Cat of the Canals.

Sailor: Let’s be honest here, even if you WERE Arya Stark you’d have felt nothing for Lysa because you didn’t really know her, never wanted to go to her when the Hound or Beric were trying to take you there, and you would be generally dead inside and unable to care about anyone or anything.

Cat: These are fair points. That will be a piece of silver for the oysters, please.

That night, Cat goes to Merry’s brothel. She’s looking to sell more oysters, because even in this fantasy world guys think oysters get them horny for hooker sex.  As she stated, the ladies are nice and sometimes they buy her cockles too.

Cat: Oysters! Clams! Cockles! Ost… OH SHIT. Is that the “Dareon” asshole from the Night’s Watch again? I should ask him what he’s up to. I haven’t seen him since that night that that big, fat dude beat the shit out of him and got thrown out into the water. Sam? Something like that. I’m not good with names.

Dareon: Let me sing you all a beautiful song about a lady in a castle tower, and a person that she loved died, and so she threw herself out of it.

Cat: Ugh. That’s a dumb story. I would hate to listen, or ever care about, a story where a woman loses a man she loves and then throws herself out of a tower. Although it sounds strangely familiar. If I were Arya Stark, and if Arya Stark’s father Ned was alive, I would ask him if that sounds like a lame story. I bet he’d agree that it is. That sounds exactly like the type of story my dad would hate and would be totally uninterested in.

Dareon: Oh, little girl who sells oysters! I’ve seen you before, right?

Cat: Sure. Whatever. You’re kind of a dick.

Dareon: A dick that is GOING PLACES, little girl. OH YEAH! I’ve got a bright future ahead! A long, long, bright future! Right now I’m playing at a shitty, hole-in-the-wall whorehouse full of nasty bitches with c-section scars. But the kind of money I’m raking in now… I’ll be at one of those high-class brothels with fancy courtesans wearing silk robes! The type of girls who don’t even have STDs!

Cat: Whatever. Hey. Did that fat guy ever board his ship to Oldtown? I know he wanted to go there with the old, dying guy friend of his.

Dareon: UGH. WHO CARES?! Fuck that asshole and fuck the Night’s Watch! I’m not with them anymore. See how I don’t wear black? I’m wearing fine peacock feathers and stuff. All flashy as hell. And look at these boots. These boots are expensive as hell. Very pricy and sophisticated. These are Alexander McQueen, baby.

Cat: They kind of look like they came from the ladies’ section.

Dareon: Maybe. The point is, forget the Watch and forget their young Lord Commander, that shitty Jon Snow asshole. I hope he chokes and dies, the stupid dick.

Cat: …

Dareon: What? Why’d you get all quiet?

Cat: I… uhh… hey. It’s pretty dark in here. I really want to get a better look at those fancy boots of yours. Maybe we should head outside and look at them in the moonlight.

Dareon: That’s a GREAT IDEA! My outfit looks bangin’ out there in the moonlight.

And so they head out into an alley behind the brothel.

Later that night, Cat returns to Brusco, her oyster-selling boss.

Cat: Here you go, this is how much money I made today. Oh, I also found this awesome pair of boots. You can have them.

Brusco: Hrm. They’re not my size. But… HEY!... are these Alexander McQueen?

Cat: Yeup.

Brusco: I can probably sell them. Nice. You did good work today, Cat.

Cat: No probs, boss.

She then heads back to the House of Black & White to hang out with her murder/assassin club friends.

Cat: Hey Waif!

Waif: Hi Arya.

Cat: I’m not Arya. I’m No One.

Waif: Whatever bitch. Today I’m going to teach you all about poisons. Like poisons that you put in someone’s bowl of milk to kill them.

Cat: Cool beans.

Waif: This first one is really sweet and tasty. It makes people die peacefully.

Cat: Okay.

Waif: This next one is called the Tears of Lys. It’s pretty vicious. It makes you die slow and painfully, like—

Cat: —Please, no need to explain what the Tears of Lys are for me now. It’s already been pretty well explained so far in this Jingle. Also, don't get it mixed up with "The Strangler" either. That's a different one.

The Waif then slaps her in the face.

Cat: Ow! What was that for?!

Waif: You’re chewing your lip like Arya Stark does. You need to not be like Arya Stark. You need to learn to hide the truth. Like me.

Cat: How? Teach me!

Waif: Here, watch my face. *ahem* I once hung out backstage with Radiohead during their “Hail To The Thief” tour. It was back in August of 2003. Their show at the Shoreline Amphitheatre in Mountain View, California. But Colin Greenwood, who is the biggest dick in the band, was being a dick as usual. So I hit him with his stupid bass guitar and ran off.

Cat: Okay. What am I supposed to do with all of that info?

Waif: I told two lies in that story. Based on my face, tell me what the lies were.

Cat: Ah. Let’s see. Uhm… you looked a bit weird when you said “back in August of 2003.” Like there was the slightest twitch in your eye.

Waif: Good catch. Radiohead actually played at the Shoreline Amphitheatre in SEPTEMBER of 2003, not August. I’m surprised you noticed that. I gotta work on my game a little more. Okay, so what was my other lie?

Cat: I didn’t see you make any facial expression, but you called Colin Greenwood the biggest dick in the band. That’s straight up a lie because everybody knows Thom Yorke is the biggest dick in Radiohead.

Suddenly there is slow clapping. Cat of the Canals looks up, and the Kind Old Man is there.

Kind Old Man: Good, very good. A girl has done well. Now, a girl should tell me three things she has learned today.

Cat: The town of Kiuruvesi in the Northern Savonia region of Finland has a population of 8,196 and covers an area of 1,422.90 square kilometers. Does that count as one thing or two?

Kind Old Man: That’s one. Now give me a second.

Cat: A bunch of sailors got into a fight on a ship in the port. They said they’re never coming back, but I think they’re coming back because they need the money.

Kind Old Man: A girl thinks they’re coming back, or a girl knows they’re coming back? Because a girl has been told to tell me things he knows. Not things she thinks.

Cat: I think. Sorry. Does it still count?

Kind Old Man: Yes, the part about the fight counts since a girl knows that happened. Now tell me a third thing.

Cat: Dareon the Singer from the Night’s Watch got brutally murdered. The killer stabbed his body  46 times and then cut it up into little pieces. The killer threw his pieces into the ocean and laughed, calling him, “Chum.” The joke was funny because “chum” is cut up pieces of meat typically fed to marine life, but it also means “friend.” The killer stole Dareon's boots and Brusco has them now.

Kind Old Man: Who was the killer of this Dareon?

Cat: That’s a fourth thing you want to know. I thought I only had to tell you three things. You really seem to be bending the rules here.

Kind Old Man: WHO KILLED HIM?

Cat: Arya, of House Stark.

Kind Old Man: How unexpected that Arya of House Stark has returned after being gone for so long. Who are you?

Cat: No One.

Kind Old Man: Fucking bullshit. Here. Drink this milk.

Cat: This milk?

Kind Old Man: Yes. This milk. Right here.

Cat: But the Waif was just talking about poisoning milk.

Kind Old Man: A girl did say that. Didn't she?

Cat: Ah, fuck it. Sure. Life is meaningless anyway.

She gulps up the bowl of milk and goes to bed. She dreams of being a wolf again. But this time she has no pack. It’s just her.

She wakes up the next morning.

Cat: Oh, that was unexpected. I thought I’d be dead. Hey. Who turned out the lights?

She’s blind.

Cat: WHAT?! OH FUCK.

AFfC 33: Jaime V

Jaime arrives outside of Riverrun (not directly outside, but close), where he meets with his… uhh… relative, Daven Lannister.

Jaime: Wait, who are you?

Daven: Daven. The Warden of the West. Because she didn’t want to give the title to Kevan.

Jaime: How are we related?

Daven: I’m Stafford Lannister’s son.

Jaime: And which one is Stafford again?

Daven: He’s the brother of your mother, Joanna Lannister. He was killed by Robb Stark at the Battle of Oxcross.  

Jaime: Wait… why would your last name be “Lannister” then? Wouldn’t you and your dad Stafford have the same last name as my mother’s maiden name, whatever that was? 

Daven: Your mother’s maiden name was “Lannister.” She was Joanna Lannister before she married Tywin.

Jaime: Huh?

Daven: Joanna’s father was Jason Lannister. Jason Lannister was the younger brother of Tytos Lannister, Tywin’s father. Tywin and Joanna were cousins.

Jaime: Ah, okay. So the “having sex with your relatives” thing runs in the family, huh?

Daven: *stares blankly*

Jaime: Okay, well that Battle of Oxcross thing sounds vaguely familiar. So what’s up?

Daven: Well, we’re sieging Riverrun.

Jaime: And are things going well?

Daven: Eh. Not really. But then again my allies are kind of shits.  First of all, I’ve got the Westerlings who swore allegiance to me. You can tell how happy they are about that, considering that Jeyne Westerling was Robb Stark’s wife.  She’s in Riverrun with the Blackfish. Then we also have the Freys with us. And you know about the Freys.

Jaime: Yeah, the Freys are the worst.  But then again, even with better allies there is no guarantee you’d have been able to take Riverrun. The Blackfish is a tricky foe.

Daven: Every day, fucking Ryman Frey brings out Edmure Tully before Riverrun and threatens to hang him. But he never does it.

Jaime: Ah yes. The boy who cried wolf.  By now, Blackfish likely knows that Edmure is too valuable a prisoner. Well, I better go check on that asshole.

Jaime goes to see Ryman Frey.

Jaime: What’s up, dipshit?

Ryman: Oh,  hey Jaime. Just going out for my daily empty threat to hang Edmure.

Jaime: Blackfish won’t fall for that, you fucking moron. You’re going to need some better leverage than that.

Ryman: Oh. Well have you heard that Roslin is with child?

Jaime: WHAAAAAAA? Roslin Frey? Edmure’s wife? The bride at the Red Wedding?

Ryman: Yes.

Jaime: Edmure had time to convience a fucking child with her while he was a prisoner?

Ryman: Yes. Well. There was a small bit of time between when Edmure and Roslin went back to their bedchamber, and when the massacre at the Red Wedding started. That small time was enough for Edmure to get Roslin pregnant, the first time they ever had sex on their wedding night.

Jaime: Man, that dude has some potent semen.

Ryman: I guess. That fucking baby better not be a boy though.  Riverrun has been granted to me! ME! If Edmure has a boy… well… then there will be a rival claim.

Jaime: Yes. A rival claim, from the rightful heir by blood.

Ryman: …

Jaime:  Anyway, sounds like you have a fucked family relationships among the Freys, considering you probably want Roslin’s kid to die.  But then again, the Lannisters are no different. I mean just look at my cousin Lancel. He’s abandoning his wife to join that previously banned ilitary order.

Daven: Whhhhaaaaaaa? Lancel is doing what now?

Jaime: You heard me.

Daven: Maybe that’s why Ser Kevan was so hostile to me and in an angry mood. His son is crazy. And I thought he was just angry that I was made Warden of the West instead of him. I tried to tell him over and over again that it was not a title that I wanted or asked for.

Jaime: Kevan is sort of a dick no matter what, so don’t let that ruffle your feathers.

Daven: What’s ruffling my feathers is this seige. The Blackfish is well-stocked to hold out for a long, long time. He probably has more resources inside of Riverrun than we have out here. The cold is coming, and these lands are already depleted. When we send out foragers to get food and materials, they never come back. We find their bodies hanging in the woods. It would be comforting to think that Beric Dondarrion and his bandits are the ones doing it. But I have my doubts.  These Riverlords who have bent the knee to the Freys and the Lannisters still have the hearts of wolves.  They swear allegiance to us in public, but what they do in private… well…

Jaime: I see, I see. Well, it seems like what we need to do is compromise with the Blackfish.

Ryman: COMPROMISE?! NEVER! Riverrun is MINE! He will accept no compromise where that happens, and I will accept no compromise where it doesn’t happen.

Jaime: Is that so? Well, there is a reason you are all a bunch of minor, supporting characters and I am Jaime Fucking Kingslayer Lannister. I wish to treat with the Blackfish and offer him good enough terms for him to surrender peacefully, before we have to have a fight where far too many men on both sides will die.

Daven: Yeah, well… good luck with that shit. 

Jaime then heads off for the night to spar again with Ser Ilyn Payne. Payne, of course, because Payne is a master swordsman and Jaime has been fighting with his left hand for… a couple of months or so?

The next day, Jaime heads over to Riverrun proper and takes a look at the men who are besieging Riverrun.

Jaime: HOLY SHIT. Look at this ragtag bunch of worthless, untalented morons. No wonder they can’t take Riverrun.

Ryman: HEY! These are my men you’re talking about here!

Jaime: Ah, well that explains a lot.

Jaime looks up and sees Edmure Tully, standing on a gallows with a rope around his neck.

Jaime: Sorry bro, this really looks like it sucks.

Edmure Tully: Eat a giant bag of dicks, asshole.

Jaime: Fair enough. I’m going to send a raven to the Blackfish, asking to meet with him at the drawbridge at dawn. For now, I need to make camp.

He makes camp and is soon joined by his aunt, Lady Genna.  She’s a Lannister, but she’s married into the Freys so I guess she goes by that name now. And I suppose you know who her son is. And by “is,” I mean “was.”

Jaime: Aunt Genna! So nice to see you again. And… uhh… “Uncle Emmon.” Erm. You exist too. I’m so sorry about your son, Cleos.


Genna: Yes, Jaime. Thank you. I'm sorry for your loss too.

Jaime: Yeah. My hand. It's terrible. Being cut off and everything. That was my sword hand and my jerking off hand. I really miss it.

Genna: I meant your fucking faither, Tywin, being murdered. You dipshit.

Jaime: Oh right. I guess I miss him too.

Genna:  You can get a new hand. I see you did. A gold one. You can't get yourself a new gold dad.

Jaime: Can't I?

Genna: ...

Emmon: ...

Jaime: ...

Genna: So, you were hanging out with Cleos in his final days?

Jaime: Yes. He traveled with me and Lady Brienne of Tarth, on a mission to get me back to Kings Landing. He was brutally murdered by thugs on the road.

Genna: Yes. Terrible! Terrible! Can you confirm that he died bravely?

Jaime: Uhh… yeah. Let’s say “sure.” Because telling you that he died fleeing on a horse, falling out of his stirrups and having his head bashed in by rocks would probably make you feel pretty bad. Or that I left him there as a feast... for the carrion crows...

...

Jaime: No? Nothing for that one? Not close enough to the book title for any "He just said the Magic Word" scene? Okay. Fair enough.

Genna: And your brother – Tyrion? Is what I have heard true? Did he REALLY kill King Joffrey?

Jaime: He confessed to Joffrey, so I’m afraid so. Why would he lie to me?

Emmon: *says nothing because he’s deathly afraid of Genna hitting him*

Genna: Emmon, what are you still even doing here? Leave! I have private things to discuss with my nephew.

Emmon leaves. He wasn’t contributing much anyway.

Genna: Oh, that moron. He’s always complaining about not wanting to see Riverrun scratched, so that the Freys can have it. Riverrun is a poisoned prize anyway. As long as any Tully remains alive, we will be in danger.  Tywin should have given us Darry instead, and Riverrun to Kevan.

Jaime: Hrm. Not impossible now. Have you heard about Lancel?

Genna: No. What?

Jaime tells her.

Genna: WHAT?! That moron.

Jaime: He is.

Genna: First of all, he's the lord of a catle now and he wants to give that up. Which is dumb in itself. But most of all.. what he'd be doing here is breaking a marriage alliance. With the Freys.

Jaime: Correct-a-mundo.

Genna: Does Lancel have the slightest fucking clue what happened the last time someone broke a marriage alliance with the Freys? They do not take shit like that lightly.

Jaime: Notionally, yes, he should be vaguely aware of that fact. But I don't think he's thought about it that hard.  But the bottom line is... if you want Darry… you can probably have it now.

Genna: Darry? Well, Emmon is set on having Riverrun now. Still. Kevan has another son, right? Martyn. Maybe Martyn can take Lancel’s place and be Lord of Darry.   This is all your dumb cunt sister’s fault anyway. Lancel would never do that dumb shit if she didn’t allow the Faith to take up arms again. Has she no clue how much of a pain in the ass the Swords and Stars were back in the day? How many problems they caused for the Targaryen kings? How impossible it was to eventually disarm them?  She’s opened up a can of worms. Worms with swords.

Jaime: She is obviously a moron, yes. I see that now. 

Genna: And she is making the stupidest decisions with her appointments to leadership. She is putting the biggest fucking morons in positions of power. Everyone knows that Kevan should be the Hand of the King. Why is he not?

Jaime: Well, Cersei and Kevan are none too fond of each other these days, for a number of reasons. Anyway, forget all of that Cersei nonsense. I hope to make your little Blackfish problem go away. I plan to meet with him at dawn. I’ve sent a raven. I want to make a deal that will let him keep his life, and let you aquire Riverrun before it’s totally destroyed.

Genna: And what makes you think he’d trust you or the Freys? You’re all oathbrakers.

Jaime: Ouch. But then again, you always did keep it real, Aunt Genna.

Genna: The best thing to do is just hang that fucking Edmure boy to show the Blackfish you mean business. Right now we look weak. It’s because the Freys are being weak. I didn’t even want to marry into the Freys. Your father, Tywin, was the only one who objected to it. He was always stronger than the rest of his brothers. He protected us all and showed strength. With him gone… who will protect the Lannisters now?

Jaime: Well, Tywin did leave a son behind.

Genna: That fucking useless dipshit?

Jaime: I was talking about me.

Genna: I know.

Jaime: …

Genna: …

Jaime: Wow. Uh. Okay.

Genna: Oh, sweetie. I have known you since you were a little baby sucking on a breast. You think you can be the next Tywin? Hahaha, no.  Whether Twyin liked it or not… it was always Tyrion that was his true son. Not you. You have a pretty smile and are competent enough. But you’re more like Kevan than Tywin. I told your father that once, and he didn’t speak to me for over a year. But I tell shit like it is. Not like what bitches want to hear.

Jaime: Shit, Genna. It’s like I’m out of the pan and into the flames here. I thought getting away from Cersei would mean I'd stop getting by balls busted so much. Yet I’m get nothing but shit from you. Is this a roast? You’re like fucking Don Rickles over here.

AFfC 32: Cersei VII

Cersei and the Small Council are listening as Margaery and Loras Tyrell are complaining about what Cersei believes to be some bullshit.

Margaery: …and we were attacked! ATTACKED, I SAY! The Shield Islands are the lands of Highgardens and they are being terrorized by these filthy Ironborn. Some dipship named Vicky, led by their new King, the Crow’s Eye.

Cersei: Hrm. Sounds dumb. You lost a bunch of rocks. Why should I care?

Margaery: WHY SHOULD YOU CARE?! WHAAAAAAT? My husband is THE KING and my lands are part of HIS KINGDOM. His Kingdom is being destroyed by these filthy raiders. Right now you’re the regent, ruling in his place. What you need to do is order that we send our fleet to retake the river!

Cersei: Really? Really? That’s what you woke me up in the middle of the night to demand this meeting for?

Margaery: YES!

Cersei: Sounds like a personal problem. You see, this is how things work in the Seven Kingdoms. The king has houses that report to him and bend the knee to him. In return for that, he gives those houses important ranks and titles. You know, like House Tyrell of Highgarden.  What the king asks in return for these ranks and titles is that you, you know, DEFEND YOUR LANDS AND SHIT. The king’s army can’t be everywhere in the middle of a war. The northern half of this country has basically seceded. If House Tyrell can’t even defend it’s own home turf… well… it looks like your dumbass cripple brother has a lot to answer for.

Loras: Cersei, please. My brothers Wilas and Garlan are doing the best they can. They have the men to fight the Ironborn, yes. But they do not have the ships.

Grand Maester Pycelle: A few ships are like to scare this Crow's Eye and his men off. The Crow's Eye is sort of like a crow, you see. He will feast on the carrion of--

Cersei: No. Stop! No, no, no! None of that running joke about almost, but not quite, saying the name of this novel. And also... Ugh. Ships! Ships! The ships we do have are attacking Dragonstone and that shitstain Stannis.  And as for our new fleet that’s being built… well… that isn’t even ready yet. Isn’t that right, Aurane? You sexy, sexy beast who I’ll be thinking about tonight.

Aurane Waters: Uhm, well… yeah… you are correct that the new ships in the fleet are not ready.

Cersei: Plus, speaking of Stannis… this is all Stannis’s fault anyway. I bet Stannis is totally behind the ironmen doing this and it’s a plot they have together. Well, I’m not going to fall for this trap Stannis is trying to set up to get our forces to pull away from Dragonstone.

Pycelle: Cersei, I’m afraid that doesn’t make any sense. Stannis would never align with the Crow’s Eye. It’s totally illogical and—

Cersei: --SHUT YOUR TRAP, PYCELLE! NOBODY LIKES YOU!

Margaery: Lift the Seige of Dragonstone now! We need those ships for Highgarden!

Cersei: No. Highgarden is rich, isn’t it? Go hire some mercenaries to defend it.

Loras: I beg you to reconsider, Cersei! We need those ships.

Cersei: No, and no again. How many times do I have to say no? Is it a million? Because we can play this game. I can’t think of any way I’d ever say yes unless… unless… well… no… I dare not even say it…

Loras: Say what?

Cersei: Well, you know… personally, I feel like the Siege of Dragonstone is failing because it needs a better commander. Everyone knows that Lord Paxter Redwyne is, no offense, a giant dipshit. And old. We could use someone younger. Stronger. Fierce. Like, the greatest knight of all time. Someone who whenever anyone sees them, they go, “Oh yeah, that person is the best. That person should be on the kingsguard. That person should personally train the new king in swordmanship and the manly arts because he’s the best.”  It’s too bad nobody exists like that though. I mean, I’m talking about someone who is THE BEST. The kind of guy who repeatedly wins tournaments over and over again.

Loras: Hey… wait a minute… that description sounds like me.

Cersei: WHAT?! Does it?! OMG! OMFG! LOL! ROTFL! That’s CRAZY! I didn’t even THINK OF THAT. WOW! Just… WOW! OMG! We’re so lucky! At first I thought that person didn’t exist, but now… crazy… I just put two and two together and realize that THE VERY HERO WE NEED to save the day is standing right in front of me.  Of course, you could never do it. That’s the great tragedy of this whole thing. You’re in the Kingsguard and you have to guard the king. Besides, I would never ask you to leave your dear sister behind here in Kings Landing all by herself with nobody to protect her, now that I’ve already sent all of her family away.

Loras: No, Cersei! I’ll do it! I’ll take over the assault on Dragonstone!

Cersei: Oh will you? Will you?! OH! MY HERO! Despite how treacherously dangerous that seight might be?!

Loras: I have no fear! You shall have Dragonstone in a fortnight!

Pycelle: This is a terrible idea. Loras, you are far too valuable here. Why if you were to die in battle, it would—

Cersei: --I SAID SHUT UP, PYCELLE!

Loras bows and leaves the room, heading off to Dragonstone.

Later… in Cersei’s private chambers, she meets with Qyburn.

Cersei: Hahaha, OMG. This is so awesome, Qyburn. Loras will probably die and now Margaery will have nobody to defend her from me. Even in the very, very unlikely event that Loras wins… I STILL WIN AND GET DRAGONSTONE AS A PRIZE! It’s a win-win! Everything is falling Cersei’s way these days.

Qyburn: Ah, indeed your grace. Just know that Loras will need a replacement on the Kingsguard should he perish.

Cersei: I guess so. And while I hate him, I have to admit that there probably is no man alive who could match him. Which is a shame.

Qyburn: Oh… hehehe…. Indeed! Hehehe… indeed… no man alive. Ahahahaha.

Cersei: What the hell are you cackling about?

Qyburn: Hahah, oh… oh… “there probably is no man alive who could match him.” That’s just… it’s… it’s just too good. TOO GOOD.

Cersei: What? I don’t get it. Do you have someone in mind.

Qyburn: Yes, I do. And trust me. That person is defiantly “no man alive.” Ah-hehehehe.

Cersei: Fuck, you give me the creeps so hard sometimes.

Cersei dismisses him and heads to her bedchamber. But she’s not alone.

Taena Merryweather: Oh, hi Cersei. You sure were gone a long time. What called you away from the bed?

Cersei: Oh, don’t worry about it, Taena. Now turn over and I’m going to sexually assault you because Robert used to do the same thing to me when he was drunk. By the way, I’ve been drinking.

Taena: Well, that goes without saying. The writer doesn’t need to specifically put that down. Everyone reading should just always assume you’re dangling a glass of wine from your hand at all times.

Cersei: Okay, now shut up while I basically rape you. The circle of violence continues!

But just as she’s about to do it, there is a knock at the door again.

Cersei: WHAT THE HELL?!

Guard: Uhh… sorry, Cersei. This time it’s Lady Falyse Stokeworth. Something about her husband being killed.

Cersei: UGGHHH!!!!!

She gets dressed again and goes out to find a crying Falyse.

Falyse: Balman… he… he… challenges Bronn to single combat?

Cersei: UGH. That DIPSHIT. He wasn’t supposed to do some dumb shit like that. He was supposed to just murder him in the words and make it look like a hunting accident. Dumbass. Well… at least your stupid fucking husband is dead now and can’t talk about how I basically ordered him to murder Bronn.

Falyse: Yeaaaah… about that…

Cersei: About WHAT?!

Falyse: Bronn totally defeated him in like two minutes, and before he killed him… got him to confess everything. So now Bronn can pretty much snitch on you whenever he wants. So you can’t hurt him because he probably has some orders to release the information in the event of his death, which will bring your reign toppling down.

Cersei: …

Falyse: *crying*… Oh, Cersei! Cersei! This is terrible! My husband is dead! DEAD! I don’t know what to do with my life!

Cersei: Oh… I do. I have a good friend named “Qyburn” who will help make sure you stop feeling pain. Forever.

Falyse: Oh… truly?

Cersei: Yes. I mean… not at first. But later. Here, I’ll send you to him now. He’s been really good at taking care of people who I think know too much… or… uhh… I mean… women in need.

And so we’ll never see Falyse again.  And with her and Balman gone, that means the Castle Stokeworth now passes on to Lollys.

Lollys who is married to Bronn.

Guess what, TV show fans.  
 
Bronn. Gets. His. Fucking. Castle.
 
Cersei then goes back to her bedchamber.

Cersei: Okay Teana… I have a bottle opener, an electronic screwdriver, a spiked dildo... and some rusty X-Acto Blades. And those are just for your bullhole. You don't want to know about the other side. I’m going to go to town on you and you’re really going to suffer because I’m a sick fuck.

Taena: *gulp*

AFfC 31: Brienne VI

Brienne, Ser Hyle, Podrick, and their new best friend Septon Meribald (and his dog, "Dog") head to the Quiet Isle sept at the Saltpans through a secret passageway across the mud, which only reveals itself when the tide is slow.

Septon Meribald: Welcome to the Quiet Isle! This land is inhabited by those who are atoning for their sins. None of them are allowed to talk, as they have all taken vows of silence. Except for the Elder Brother and his brothers. They can talk. Not his actual brothers, I mean. They’re like proctors of the church.

Brienne: Oh, that’s a good exception to the “no talking rule,” or else it would be really hard to bring forward plot exposition in this chapter.

Hyle: Indeed. Having interaction with the people who reside here will be much easier if some of them are allowed to communicate stories to us that advance forward plotlines.

Brother Narbert: Hi! I’m Brother Narbert. I’m obviously one of the brothers who is allowed to talk.

Brienne: Obviously.

Dog: *woof* 

Narbert: Hi Merribald! How’s it going?

Meribald: It’s all good in the good, Narbert.

They do a cool handshake / fist bump thing.

Brienne: So I guess you two know each other pretty well?

Narbert: Oh yeah, me and Meribald go way back. Anyway, I’ve come to guide you the Elder Brother. Why are you here again?

Brienne: I’ve come to kill the Hound.

Narbert: OH SHIT! Wait… I just noticed you’re a woman!

Brienne: I am.

Narbert: Not trying to be judgmental or anything. It’s just you’re huge and have that short hair. And are dressed like a knight. Sorry if I offended you, I was just a bit surprised. You’re so big! You’re like the second biggest person I’ve ever seen. After that gravedigger over there.

He points up to a gravedigger who is, indeed, huge.

Brienne: Don’t worry Brother Narbert, it happens all the time. And the interaction with you has probably been one of the most friendly interactions I’ve ever had. Hey, that huge gravedigger. He looks suspiciously familiar.

She looks closer at the gravedigger, who is… as noted… digging a grave. Hence gravedigger.

Brienne: DUDE! You look familiar somehow. Like I should know you.

The Gravedigger turns around, wearing a hood that covers his face. He says nothing.

Brienne: Oh right. The whole “everyone here has to be doing silent penance thing.” Sorry. It’s just that you’re so big. You’re, like, about the size of the Hound. Who is who I am looking for.

The Gravedigger turns around and goes back to digging the grave.

Brienne: And look at that war horse over there in the stables. It’s angry and kicking at every one. It’s a very ill-tempered horse. It seems to hate people. Which makes it a strange war horse. Unless it’s one of those angry horses that only likes one person, and therefore acts normal around that one person but hates everyone else. You know who had a horse like that? The Hound.

Gravedigger: *digs grave*

Meribalds's dog, Dog, then runs up to the Gravedigger and sniffs him. The Gravediggers stops to pet the dog. 

Dog: *pants happily* 

Brienne: Aww, so cute! That gravedigger guy really has an affinity for dogs, it looks like! You knwo who else did? The Hound. Have I mentioned that I’m looking for the Hound? Hrm. Now I wonder where I could go to find the Hound. Maybe someone here could give me some good advice on where to go to find the Hound.

Gravedigger: *still, as indicated previously, silent*

Narbert: Now if you’ll please leave Sando—uhhhh, that Gravedigger alone. He’s busy burying Brother Clement, who died in the Saltpans.

Brienne: Oooh! Did The Hound kill him? I heard that the Hound was killing septons and clergymen through the countryside. And the Hound is really a monstrous murderer with no redeemable qualities.

Gravedigger: *still digging grave and still silent, but looking increasingly annoyed*

Narbert: No. Someone else now wears the Hound’s helmet and has been committing murders. Now let’s move along.

Dog: *woof* 

They go to see the Elder Brother.

Elder Brother: Hi there. I’m the Elder Brother.

Brienne: Hrm. Hi. I’m Brienne of Tarth. You’re the Elder Brother? You look more like some sort of warrior than a clergyman.

Elder Brother: Well, yeah. We've all led rough lives. Haven’t you heard about it from Septon Meribald?

Brienne: Oh yeah, tell me about it.

Elder Brother: But life is rough everywhere now. There have been horrors here in the Saltpans. Horrible, horrible massacres and death. Bloodshed. Not the type of things I generally talk about in front of a lady. But looking at you… and seeing the way you’re dressed... well, I can tell that you’re no fair, dainty lady that will pass out at stories of blood and death.  Looks like you might have even popped your “killing people” cherry recently, by the cold, hard dead look in your eyes.

Brienne: If trying to read a person is part of your job as the Elder Brother, then you are very good at your job.

Elder Brother: There were attacks by raiders. Murder. Bloodshed. Babies being cut down. Mothers being raped. Mothers being cut down and babies raped. The townspeople fled to the castle of Ser Quincy Cox, but he barred their entry to defend himself.  Is not a lord supposed to be there to protect the smallfolk? No. It seems like all lords care for these days is themselves.

Meribald: Lord Cox is an old man and he was severely outnumbered. I might have done the same as him, if I were in his place. We should not judge the man so harshly.

Brienne: No! I’m on the Elder Brother’s side on this one. A noble must defend the smallfolk, or they are not noble at all.

Elder Brother: Well, come and sup with us, and then treat yourself to one of the cottages that we have here.

And so that happens. They have dinner, and the Elder Brother takes her to the cottage. When they get there…

Elder Brother: So tell me, what do you wish to find here in the Saltpans.

Brienne: I come looking for The Hound. I have been sent on a mission by the crown to locate Sansa Stark. Before I killed them, three murderous Bloody Mummers confessed to me that the Hound had been seen coming this way with the Stark girl.

The Elder Brother sighs deeply and thinks. He then responds.

Elder Brother: I fear you are chasing the wrong wolf girl. I too have heard these stories of the Hound being with a Stark girl. Yet it is not Lady Sansa that he was with, but the other sister – Arya.

Brienne: HOLY SHIT! Arya is alive?! Nobody has seen that girl since like Book 1! Where is she now?!

Elder Brother: That I do not know. I only learned that she was with the Hound from… the Hound himself.

Brienne: THE HOUND?! OMG! Get out of town! You know where the Hound is?!

Elder Brother: The Hound is… at rest. I found him, lying there, lame and wounded. Left for dead. Arya Stark had been with him, but she left him behind.

Brienne: Oh. So he was lame like that Gravedigger guy outside? But you also said he was left for dead by Arya. So I guess that means after telling you all that stuff about Arya... he died?

Elder Brother: He’s gone.

Brienne: Gone as in "dead," right?

Elder Brother: The Hound is no more.

Brienne: Okay, I’m going to take it to mean that he’s dead.

Elder Brother: Sure. Let’s say “died.” That wild horse you saw out there? That was the Hound’s.

Brienne: Called it.

Elder Brother: I was once a warrior like the Hound too, but like him I also “died.” It was at the Battle of the Trident, many years ago.

Brienne: I called that too! Remember how I said you looked like a warrior? Of you're you can't have "died" like the Hound because, as established, he's dead. You're clearly still alive.

Elder Brother: Shut up and stop interrupting me, or the rest of us will also take vows of silence until you leave. Now, like I was saying, I was at the Trident when Prince Rhaegar fell. I fought alongside the Targaryens. When all was lost, I was wounded and fell into the river. When my eyes closed, I figured they would never open again. I washed ashore naked here on the Quiet Isle and have stayed here ever since. It was a sign from the seven gods to change my ways. It was as if I had been reborn anew, cleansed by the river itself. And my point is this, please… Brienne… give up on your quest. You are a warrior, but we have too many warriors in this world. Sansa Stark was never with the Hound, and whoever is impersonating the Hound in the Saltpans will eventually be caught and brought to justice. I’m sure your father misses you. Go home. Settle down and live a peaceful life.

Brienne: My… my father… he… he… *sniff*… he’s rejected me. I can never go home. All the other men I have ever known have rejected me too. They’ve mocked me and made fun of me. I… I have nothing left except for the vows I made to Lady Cat Stark and to Ser Jaime Lannister, promising to find and protect the Stark girls. I made an oath, and this sword I have here is named “Oathkeeper.” I will find the Stark girl… or I will die in the attempt!

Elder Brother: Wow, okay then. Well, you have fun with all that. I did warn you though. Remember that cottage check-out time is 11am and to return the key to the front desk. There is a chart that says what the prices are for everything in the minibar, but the tea and coffee is complementary. The bottled water on the endtable by your bed is also complementary, but the ones in the minibar are not. If you need anything I’d tell you to phone Guest Services, but the guy on the other end of the line has taken a vow of silence, so that probably wouldn’t be helpful.

Podrick: Also, phones haven’t been invented yet.

Elder Brother: Correct, that’s another reason why you can’t do that. I’m glad you snuck in a line for this chapter, Pod. Good for you.

AFfC 30: Jaime IV

Jaime Lannister and his men arrive at Darry. Remember Darry? It’s where Arya had Nymeria attack Joffrey and she ran away.  Remembering that will be important in this chapter.  You should also know that the initial lord of Darry, e.g. Raymun, was killed by Lord Tywin’s raiders, led by The Mountain. This made his son, Lyman, the new Lord Darry. Lyman, although a young boy, was loyal to the Starks and joined King Robb’s war council.  But then The Mountain killed him too, leaving no heir to Darry except for some half-Darry girl whose last name is actually “Frey.”  So now we’re here.
Pia: Hey! What do you mean Jaime Lanniser and his “men” arrive at Darry? Why is it only men? I’m here also!

Jaime: Oh right, you are.

Pia: Also, speaking about how horrible the Mountain and his men are... that soldier over there, who used to be one of the Mountain’s men, tried to rape me.

Jaime: Did he? Okay.

Jaime nods. The solider is then beheaded and Jaime hands the head to Pia.

Pia: Awww! Thanks. That is literally the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me.

Jaime: Well, I better stop here in Darry before heading off to Riverrun. Uncle Kevan is here along with Cousin Lancel. And now that there was all that backstory setup about Darry, I guess I should stop in.

He heads inside he castle, and finds that the peasants are all armed. But who else is armed? The sparrows.
Jaime: Strange. Why the hell would sparrows be armed? That’s been banned since the reign of King Maegor.

Maester Ottomore: Greetings, Ser Jaime. Welcome to Darry. We have been expecting you.

Jaime: Oh, hey there. Is my uncle around?

Ottomore: No, Ser Kevan left immediately after Lancel’s wedding to Lady Amarei. Please, come on up to Lord Lancel’s chambers, which you may use as your own. Lady Amarei is hosting a large dinner to celebrate your arrival.

Jaime: Wait… I can use Lancel’s chambers? Why isn’t Lancel using them?

Ottomore: He doesn’t sleep in his bedchamber. He spends all his nights in the sept. And all of his days too. It’s pretty much all sept, all the time for Lancel.

Jaime: HUH?! Lancel’s duty now that he is married is to his wife. He should be using the bedchamber to get Amarei Frey knocked up!  I mean I hear she’s a bit of a whore, right? She’s some  girl they all call “Gatehouse Ami,” right? Because men enter her all the time.

Ottomore: Hahaha, good one. But yes. Lancel won’t touch her.

Jaime: And I know for a FACT that the Lord's bedchamber here in Darry is great for fucking on. That's a great copulation bed, man!

Ottomore: How would you know that, ser? The last time you were here was when you came by with King Robert and Cersei and.... ohh... you know what. I'm just going to stop talking now and let you go on up.

Jaime goes up to the chambers and gets himself ready for the feast. Pia is there waiting on him, and clearly wants the D.

Pia: How can I ever repay you for that sweet head you gave me as a present? Maybe a trade... a head for some head? *bats eyes*

Jaime: Okay toothless girl, it’s not that you’re not pretty but… but… well… man. I know this is a great sex bed. So... uhh... have sex with this other dude instead.  Here. This guy.

Peck: Who? Me?

Jaime: Yes. Who are you again?

Peck: Josmyn Peckledon.

Jaime: Have you ever been mentioned before?

Peck: In this blog? No. So unlike with the Darrys, there is nothing for you to link back to. But in the books I’ve been briefly mentioned before as someone who fought valiantly in the Battle of the Blackwater, as well as one of the many fake witnesses that was set up to lie about Tyrion poisoning Joffrey.

Jaime: Oh. Well. Bang Pia.

And so Jaime goes down to dinner with Lady Gatehouse Ami Frey while Peck and Pia, who characters we absolutely should not care at all about, form a romance.

Jaime: So, Lady Gatehou----uhhh… Ami. So, Ami! What’s up with Lancel? Is my cousin not joining us for dinner?

Ami: Oh, he’s in so much grief about the death of the last High Septon that he’s been fasting.

Jaime: Really? Damn. He’s taking this whole newfound religion thing seriously, I guess. Boring. No wonder Uncle Kevan left.

Lady Mariya Darry, Ami’s Mother: Jaime! We’re so glad you’re here. The outlaws here in the countryside have been terrible. At first we thought it was supposed to be this Beric guy doing it. But since then we’ve learned that it’s this crazy, hideously scarred woman instead.

Ami: No! No! It’s definitely that Beric guy. Jaime, you need to stay and kill him.

Jaime: Well let’s be honest here, Ami. Lancel’s claim to this house is already pretty weak. All he’s doing is marrying you, and you’re only half-Darry and your last name is Frey. But the smallfolk don’t really give a shit what the last name of their lord is, so long as the lord brings them protection. Right now, the smallfolk support Beric and say that Beric is on their side. What needs to happen is that Lancel needs to get off his ass and go out and mingle with the people, get them on his side, and convince him that it’s been Beric’s people committing the atrocities, and go out and fight to protect them.

Lady Mariya: Speaking of atrocities, no one is worse than the Hound! Why, I hear he killed 20 men, burned a town to the ground, and did unspeakable things to the women there.

Jaime: It’s crazy how these stories just seem to evolve. I knew the Hound and, yes, he was quite a bit of a dick. But that sounds more like the work of the Hound’s brother, the Mountain.  I don’t think Sandor would do shit like that.

Lady Mariya: Oh, but there are witnesses! They’ve seen someone wearing the Hound’s distinctive helm doing all of this.

Jaime: Hrm, well maybe…

Jaime then clumsily knocks over his wine glass with his metal hand. Embarrassed, he gets up.

Jaime: If you’ll excuse me. I need to see Lancel at once.

He arrives at the sept of Darry, and finds sparrows there, blocking his entrance and threatening him with weapons.

Jaime: Dudes. What the hell? I’m trying to see my cousin!

Faith Militant: Lord Lancel has orders not to be disrupted!

But then the door to the sept opens, and out walks an emaciated Lancel, wearing rags.

Lancel: Brothers, put down your arms.

They do. Jaime enters and closes the doors behind him.

Jaime: Cousin, have you totally lost your wits? What the hell is going on here? Also, you need to eat a sammich.

Lancel: No, I have not lost my wits. I have found my faith!

Jaime: Well, you can’t eat faith. You need to be at that dinner with your wife. And that’s not the only place you need to be with your wife, if you know what I mean. Do I have to draw a diagram and show you where to put your penis?

Lancel begins to shake, and then starts crying. He falls to the ground.

Lancel: Oh, oh cousin! I know where my penis goes, for sure! For I have sinned! I have sinned! I have dreamed of you coming to kill me many times for my sins!

Jaime: Uhmm… excuse me. What?

Lancel: I have… done… terrible things. For I am a kingslayer, just like you. I always wanted to be like you, Jaime. In every way.

Jaime: Kingslayer? What are you talking about. The only thing you should be slaying right now is your wife’s vagina. Before she cheats on you.

Lancel: I don’t care if she does.  I… I helped to kill Robert, I did! I gave him the strongwine and…

Jaime: Dude, nobody cares. Robert was an asshole and no true king. That’s clearly not what’s bothering you. Spill the beans, Lancel.

Lancel: And I… I… I slept with Cersei! I am so sorry, Jaime! But she ordered me too! But I promised that I never finished inside. I always spilled my seed on her. So that’s not treason, right?

Jaime: HOLY SHIT. SO YOU DID FUCK CERSEI?! SHIT! Tyrion wasn’t lying. Maybe he was right about her fucking Moon Boy too. I thought Tyrion was seriously fucking with me. I guess not.

Lancel: Are you going kill me now, cousin?

Jaime: Dude, of course not. You’re a fucking fool. I ain’t even really into Cersei that much anymore. I’m totally into this new girl. But let’s not talk about that. Let’s talk about your wife…

Lancel: I mean to renounce my marriage and join the Warrior’s Sons back in Kings Landing!

Jaime: The Warrior’s Sons?! What the fuck are you talking about. That’s an order of the Faith Militant. It was banned 300 years ago by King Maegor. Speaking of which, those fucking guards on the outside shouldn’t have weapons for that very reason.

Lancel: You haven’t heard? Cersei made them legal again.

Jaime: DA FUQ?! Oh Jesus. Dat bitch. Oh, she is going to bring this Kingdom crumbling down. Speaking of that dumbass… are you SURE you don’t want to go back to Kings Landing just to see her again?

Lancel: NO! NO! I promise. Cersei means nothing to me anymore. Please, stay here and pray with me!

Jaime: Dude, you think I remember the words to any prayers? Nope.

And so Jaime leaves.

Jaime: Aww shit. This is so fucked up. I need to take my aggression out on something.

He therefore collects Ser Ilyn Paye and they head to the nearby Darry godswoods to practice fighting with his left hand.

Jaime: Hey Ilyn, since you can’t talk and tell anyone what I’m saying, you seem like the perfect person for me to confess some stuff to.

Ilyn: …

Jaime: Wanna know what happened the last time I was in Darry?  It was on the way back from Winterfell, after we visited the Starks to bring back Ned as the Hand of the King. We stopped here for a night, and King Robert’s drunk ass was passed out on the floor. I had sex with Cersei in the bed that very night with Robert right there. How fucked up is that?

Ilyn: …

Jaime: I know, right?  I thought Cersei wanted me that night. But all she really wanted was for me to hunt down that Stark girl whose wolf had attacked Joffrey.  Did she ever really love me… or has she always just been using me? Is she capable of loving anyone or anything?

Ilyn: …

Jaime: It was only lucky that the Stark men found the girl before I did. I would have probably done exactly what Cersei wanted me to do to her.

Ilyn: …

Jaime: *sigh* Why am I talking to you? For all I know, my sister fucked you too.

Ilyn: …

AFfC 29: The Reaver (Victarion II)

Ugh. Another fucking boring Victarion Greyjoy chapter? Okay, I guess we’ll just struggle through this one.

Vicky: HEY!

Shut up and stop acting like everybody doesn’t already know that you’re one of the reasons why this is the least popular of the books.

Vicky:  *grumble*grumble*

We start in media res again, with Vicky in the middle of attacking an enemy ship at the Shield Islands.

Talbert Serry of Southshield: You’ll never defeat us, filthy squid people!

Vicky’s people totally defeat Serry’s.

Talbert: Oh. Nevermind then.

Talbert throws himself overboard, rather than being killed by Vicky.

Vicky: Uhh… dude. You’re wearing armor! You’ll probably drown!

And so he drowns. Probably.

Vicky: Uh. I wish Euron would be so easy to defeat.

Note: Euron absolutely could have been this easy to defeat, if Vicky had the balls to fight his brother rather than just give up and bend the knee to him like a little fucking bitch, which is exactly what he did once the kingsmoot was over.

Vicky: HEY! I can’t kill my brother! Killing your kin is frowned upon by the Drowned God. Unless, of course, your kin is your wife. Then it is okay to brutally murder them. Which I have done previously.

Vicky then goes downstairs in his ship and rapes a woman because he’s a horrible, unrelatable monster who will be left out of the TV show because he is, again, totally useless and an unnecessary part of the narrative.  As he does this horrible actions, he has internal dialogue to bring forward the plot and let the reader know all about the Ironborn’s plans to invade the Seven Kingdoms and take the mouth of the Mander River. He also thinks about the kingsmoot, and believes that Euron must have some evil black wizards from Essos working for him, that used their evil black wizard magic to have Euron win the kingsmoot and divine all the plans to attack Westeos.

Vicky: And I just want to point out “black,” am indeed referring to their skin color and equating the fact that they are evil with the fact that they have dark skin color. In addition to murdering my wife and cowering before my brother while using “there is a ban on kinslaying” as an excuse to not face him because I’m actually very scared of him and know he would easily defeat me, I am also a violent racist.

Oh, then his internal narration about what happened between the Kingsmoot and now also reveals that Asha quickly ran away after the kingsmoot was over. So you got that? Asha is long gone.

Vicky’s ship returns to Oakenshield, which has been set up as a base of operations for the Iron Isles warriors. There, women and children of Oakenshield are being gathered up in chains to be sold as slaves.  Because the whole “slavery” thing is cool with Vicky too, in case you couldn’t have guessed.

Vicky: Well, this base we’ve set up here in Lord Hewett’s Town will serve as a good place for us to launch further attacks up the Mander River. Soon we will take Highgarden!

Rodrik Harlaw: Hi, remember me? I’m Asha’s uncle, Rodrick. The one who likes reading instead of fighting. As a well educated person who knows strategy and stuff, I can say that this was probably a pretty stupid decision. Attacking the Tyrells is dumb and will lead to no good.

Vicky: SHUT UP! STUPID EDUCATED PEOPLE! What do they know? I want to attack SOON!

Rodrick: *sigh* Well, you’ll probably get your wish because that’s what Euron wants to do soon.

Nute the Barber: What the hell, Vicky? We won the battle here to capture the Shield Isles! Why is it that Euron’s men get all the rewards and not us?

Vicky: Because I am too much of a coward to stand up to my brothe---HEYYY! Narrator! STOP GIVING ME THIS DIALOGUE!

Later, they go to have a feast in the Great Hall. Euron is there and everything, so Vicky is totes uncomforatable and acting like a little cowering bitch.

Who else is there? Lord Hewett, the Lord of this place. Only he’s tied up to a chair as a prisoner and has to watch as his wife and daughters are all serving the ironborn as concubines / maids.

Vicky: Ugh. Even I’m not a horrible enough person to think this is okay. It’s one thing to brutally murder a person, which I fully support. But to humiliate them like this? That’s some level of sickness that only Euron is into. Not me. I’d have just done the respectful thing and murdered Lord Hewett and then raped/murdered his wife and daughters AFTER he was dead.

Euron: What was that you said, Vicky?

Vicky: NOTHING! I SAID NOTHING, BROTHER! I AM HUMBLED BEFORE YOU AND OBEY YOUR EVERY COMMAND!

He clenches, so as not to get hit.

Euron: Yeah, that’s what I thought, you little fuck.

Euron then stands up and claps his hands, to bring everyone to attention.

Euron: Well, I guess you all know why I’ve assembled you to this great hall here for a celebration, right? To celebrate our awesome victory here at the Shield Islands! And what a victory it was. Am I right?  We took a LOT OF LANDS! Yes we did. A whole lot. But you know what? When you take lands… you also have to RULE those lands. So this isn’t just a party to celebrate our victory. I also want to announce who I, as King, shall be naming as the new LORDS OF THESE CAPTURED ISLANDS.

Everyone gets silent in anticipation.

Vicky: *grumbles* What bullshit. We all know he’s just going to give the lands to his ass-kissing yes men who are trying to take all the credit for my victories in battle.

Euron: The new lords of the isles shall be…. Drumroll, please…. Harras Harlaw, Andrik the Unsmiling, Maron Volmark and Nute the Barber!

Vicky: WHAAAAAA?

And who are these four people? Why… they just happen to be the top lieutenants of Rodrick, Dunstan Drumm, Black Harren, and Vicky himself. The four main leaders of the Iron Isles that sort of oppose / are resistant to Euron’s rule.

Nute the Barber: HEY! This is GREAT! I’m a Lord now! I’m a freaking LORD! And who did this for me? Not Vicky, who I have been a loyal follower of for a long time. But Euron! EURON THE KING! EURON IS THE BEST!

Vicky: OH SHIT. Euron has totally just undermined the ability of all his opponents to ever take action against him, because now their top men are all solidly bribed into obedience through lordships. EVIL! EVIL! EVIL! I bet those black wizards told him to do it!

Or Euron is just smarter than you.

Vicky: I HATE YOU NARRATOR! STOP CALLING ME VICKY! MY NAME IS VICATION! I AM THE REAVER! I AM A FIERCE WARRIOR OF THE SEAS WHO SPILLS THE BLOOD OF MY ENEMIES!

Whatever, Vicky. Look out!!! Euron is about to smack you.

Vicky: AGH! NO!

He flinches.

Hahahah, just kidding, Vicky.

Vicky: I HATE YOU.

Euron: Okay, next order of business. Our next attack. Well, I’ll be sailing my fleet across the sea to find those dragons and get me that Dany pussy.

Captains: No! No! We need to continue plundering here in Westeros! We need to attack the Arbor next… or Oldtown!

Euron: Whatever.

Euron then leaves. After Euron is long gone and well out of ear-range…

Vicky: Ha, that’s right. You better leave. See how the captains don’t like your plans? That’s right. They’re turning against you, for sure!

Euron’s Soldier: Excuse me.

Vicky: AGH!!!! ONE OF EURON’S BLACK PEOPLE! Please don’t touch me or drink out of the same water fountain as me!  AGHH!!!!

Euron’s Soldier: The King wishes to see you. Now.

And so Vicky goes scampering to his brother.  He finds Euron in his chamber, almost completely naked, except he’s wearing a cloak and talking about how he can fly.

Vicky: *mumbles quietly* Maybe you should jump out that window and find out for sure.

Euron: Hhehehe, good one, you little pussy. I’m surprised you had the balls to say that. Now, I need you to help me win the captains over to my side. Why would they clamor for the mere grapes of the Arbor when they can have DRAGONS instead?

Vicky: First of all… why would I do that and help you? And second… the men want real victories! They want things that can touch and see. Grapes are real. Dragons are not.

Euron: Oh really? And what do you and those captains know of magic? I have seen magic with my own eyes, so I know dragons are real too.  Remember that dragon horn that I had that guy blow at the kingsmoot? Well the dude who blew the horn FUCKING DIED from doing it. How magical is that?

Vicky: I think you and me have a different definition of what “magic” is. Blowing in a horn and dying is magic and therefore dragons exist? That’s a pretty far stretch.

Euron: I’ve held onto a dragon’s egg before. I tried a million things to make it hatch, but none worked. So I threw the egg into the sea during one of my fits of rage.

Vicky: Sounds like you need to be on lithium or something. Anyway, the voyage across the sea is too dangerous for an entire fleet.

Euron: Yes, good point. But I do need a wife who will give me proper heirs to the throne. The Targaryen girl is perfect, so I need her. So maybe the way we should go is to have a smaller portion of the fleet goes to her with my offer of marriage, while the rest stays behind to attack the countryside here.

Vicky: Okay, that could work.

Euron: And I’d like you to lead that smaller party that travels east to meet with Dany.

Vicky: WHAT?! ME?!

Euron: Yes. Sail to Slaver’s Bay to meet with this Dragon Queen and bring her back to me. Because once Dany and I are wed… we shall come back to Westeros and claim the IRON THRONE. When I have the Iron Throne, I will no longer need the Seastone Chair of the Iron Isles and someone else will need to rule here. I want that person to be… YOU!

Vicky: Why I… yes… yes… of course, Euron. I shall.

And so Vicky leaves the room with his new orders.

Vicky: HAHAHAHA! Oh, that moron! He’s sending me off to get the Targaryen girl? I’m just going to show up there and FLIP THE DEAL on old Euron. He had sex with my wife and so I had to kill her. That means he OWES me a new wife. So I’ll take the Targaryen girl for myself!

Yes. This is a plan that shall obviously work. She’ll obviously be attracted to a rapist, sexist, racist, murdering guy with an inferiority complex about his brother.

Vicky: Please stop mocking me.

AFfC 28: Cersei VI

Cersei and Lady Taena Merryweather ride in a coach to see the new High Septon.

Cersei: Ugh, this is the worst. I’m going to tell that new High Septon a thing or two! The nerve of that guy!  Why the hell am I —the QUEEN—summoned to see him? And also, why has he not yet come to give Tommen his blessing as the King?

Taena: Yeah, I know, right? What an ass! I bet you’ll set him straight.

Cersei: UGH. Why is my dress so tight around the stomach? Those idiot washerwomen. They must have ruined it!

Taena: Right. Or you got pregnant.

Cersei: Huh?

Taena: Oh, nothing. 

Cersei: Anyway, while riding in this coach, we might as well make some small talk. How are things going with that whole “spying on Margaery” thing you’re doing for me? Has she taken an interest on any men in her company? Or got any juicy gossip about how Margaery isn’t really a virgin because Renly banged her out?

Taena: Uhm… no. I don’t really have any info on stuff like that. And the only guy she likes to hang around is her brother, Loras. He’s totally devoted to her.

Cersei: That's not what I wanted to hear, but I suppose I can work with that. Make up some crazy incest story. After all, people believe that nonsense about me.

Taena: Well, it’s true with you.

Cersei: *shifty eyes*

Taena: *whistles like she didn’t say anything*

Cersei: Oh, Taena! You’re just the best! You know… you have a young son that is about Tommen’s age. You should bring him to court with you, so that they can be best fri—

The coach comes to an abrupt stop.

Cersei: AGH! Whiplash! What the hell! Coach driver! Coach driver! What the hell is going on?!

She steps out and sees a group of sparrows all blocking entry into Visenya’s Hill, the entry way up to the Sept of Baelor.

Cersei: Ugh. Look at all these filthy hobos! Disgusting! And look what they’ve done to the sacred statue of Baelor the Blessed! They’ve thrown disgusting piles of flesh and bone all over it! Human remains! Why look! It appears that it has even attracted a large gathering of crows. Crows that will enjoy a feast on the dry, leathery corpses!

Taena: …

Cersei: …

Taena: *whew.* I guess that wasn’t close enough to saying “the magic words” for Chairry and Cowboy Curtis to come out.

Cersei: Anyway. It’s DISGUSTING! How could anyone defile this area with something like this? What kind of horrible, horrible monster, born of a wicked bitch mother, could ever denigrate this holy place?

Sparrow: Hey! Didn’t Joffrey do exactly that by executing Ned Stark right here? You know. In front of this very church.

Cersei: …

Sparrow: I guess he did have a wicked bitch mother though.

Cersei: Okay… calm down now, Cersei. Calm down. Your immediate reaction should be to call for the gold cloaks to savagely murder every single person here. But that will cause a riot. So just and pretend like nothing happened. Calm. Calm. Calm.

Sparrow: You know those bones are the bones of murdered holy men and women, right? Priests from all over the kingdom that have been murdered in this war. By Wolf and by Lion!

Cersei’s rage is hitting 100 now, but she’s somehow able to push it down instead of being an illogical, rash moron for one.  She decides she has to say something now.

Cersei: Hey! Oh… hey everyone! Yes. I promise to avenge the deaths of all these holy men and women who have been killed. We will find who did these murders and avenge them.

Sparrow: FORGET VENGEANCE! We want you to protect the ones of us who are still alive.

Cersei: SHUT THE HELL UP AND DON’T TALK BACK TO---errm… ahh… I mean, YES! YES! That’s exactly what I mean to speak with the new High Sparrow about!

She quickly squirms her way through the crowd on foot with the help of guards, and makes it to the door of the Sept.
Sparrow Guard: Hey! They’re not allowed in here.

Cersei: Who?! My Queensguard? I am the Queen and I should have a Queensguard!

Sparrow Guard: Okay, first of all, Margaery is the Queen now, you dumb twat. And second… our sept, our rules. We shall have no weapons in this holy place.

Cersei: Twat? You have a pretty rude mouth for a holy sparrow.

Sparrow Guard: Eh. I’m more of like a contractor.

She leaves the guards and walks in. There she finds a super gruff looking motherfucker who is scrubbing the floor. This dude is like the king of the homeless people. If there were a video game where you fought homeless people, this would be the main boss of the homeless. This guy is ROUGH. I mean under the mess of tattered hair, it looks like he could be someone notable. Like a Bond Villain, the Master, Juan Perón, the pope, or even Elizabeth Swan’s dad.

Cersei: Excuse me, random disgusting hobo doing charity work in return for porridge. Could you point out to me the elaborately dressed person wearing riches and gold who must be the new High Sparrow? Because I don’t see anyone who looks like that around here.

Hobo: Uh, I’m the High Sparrow.

Cersei: You’re shitting me.

Hobo High Sparrow: No, it’s me.

Cersei: You’re literally scrubbing the fucking floor of the Sept.

High Sparrow: While I am the High Sparrow, I am but a man like any other. I should be willing to do the same menial tasks that my followers must perform. A true spirit must know humility.

Cersei: Dude, you’ve got to be fucking with me. Really? Okay. So. I get it now. USUALLY you wear awesome stuff like those fine, expensive robes and the brand new expensive crown that we had made for you. But because you’re doing this little five minutes of humble-ness thing you had to take them off to clean the floors? I get it. I wouldn’t want to wear those nice robes and crown while scrubbing either.

High Sparrow: The fancy robes and the crowd have been sold for charity. With all the gold dragons we made from selling those, we can buy lots of food for the poor.

Cersei: WHAT. THE. FUCK?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?! Do you see how many repeating question marks and exclamation points I just put there?!

High Sparrow: Grammatically they mean nothing. I know you’re trying to emphasive an extra level of anger mixed with confusion, but that’s not how that actually works.

Cersei: WE JUST MADE THAT NEW CROWN for the last new High Septon. That shit was solid gold. With diamonds in it! TONS OF DIAMONDS!

High Sparrow: Oh please Cersei, we had it appraised. Those were Swarovski lead glass crystals and you know it.  Come, let us kneel before the statue of the crone and pray.

And so they do.

Cersei: Look… uh… these sparrows. You’ve seen that mess they made outside, right? All those bones and flesh? They’re defiling this place.

High Sparrow: You mean like your son when he executed Ned Stark?

Cersei: WHY DOES EVERYONE KEEP BRING THAT UP?!

High Sparrow: You know why.

Cersei: Look, I need all those sparrows gone. The city doesn’t have room for them. Kings Landing can’t feed everyone.

High Sparrow: They have nowhere to go. The countryside is full of rapers and pillagers. Not all of whom wear the emblems of Stark of Stannis Baratheon.

Cersei: Okay, okay. I’ll admit that maybe, like, one or two Lannister-allied soldiers have maybe gone bad. Like the Hound. But it’s just that one guy. And I promise that I’ve sent my brother off to hunt him down. And the Hound only went bad when he joined up with Beric Dondarrion and his crew. He’s no longer team Lannister anyway.

High Sparrow: My point is this… there is nobody out there to protect the faith!

Cersei: I mean. I guess our soldiers can do it. You know. When they’re not too busy fighting the war.  Or at least I can THINK ABOUT MY SOLDIERS PROTECTING YOU, if you ever get around to blessing Tommen.

High Sparrow: Hrm. Interesting. You want me to bless Tommen and I want you to allow for sparrows to be better protected. If only there was some sort of… deal… we could make.

Cersei: Okay dude, what are you getting at here.

High Sparrow: Well, obviously I know it would be a HUGE burden for you to dedicate all the armed forces around the Seven Kingdoms to protecting priests. What if priests could… like… protect themselves, you know?

Cersei: EXACTLY! EXACTLY! Thank you. Now we’re on the same page. Yes. Do that! Please!

High Sparrow: Well, it’s actually illegal.

Cersei: Huh?

High Sparrow: Remember the law of Maegor the Cruel? It banned the Faith of the Seven from picking up arms. All that nonsense about mixing religion and war being terrible. Leading to holy war and a theocracy. Boooo! Lame stuff!!!!

Cersei: Erm… uhh… yes… I… uhm… of course knew about that. Obviously. Because I’m obviously a very intelligent person and I’m not just fucking winging everything by impulse.

High Sparrow: If you, as the King’s mother, could just have a word with Tommen about ordering a decree that ends the law of Maegor and restores the FAITH MILITANT… then… you know… I think things would be going pretty well. And Tommen would have his blessing.

Cersei: Hrm. Sounds like you really, really, really want this Faith Militant thing, huh? Sounds like it’s worth a lot to you. A lot more than just one silly blessing.

High Sparrow: …

Cersei: Hehe, I see, I see. Don’t show your hand, huh? Sounds like we can bargain a bit more though. Okay. I’ll restore your religious order’s ability to have it’s own ARMED FUNDAMENTALIST MILITARY in return for you both blessing Tommen AND forgiving the massive, massive debt that the crown owes to the Church. You know. Because we’ve been borrowing from you like crazy because Robert and Littlefinger brought financial ruin to the kingdom.

High Sparrow: Ah… forgive all that debt that you were clearly never going to pay back anyway? Why… why… you drive a hard bargain there, Cersei. But you know what? I’m going to accept it! So let’s shake on it!

The High Sparrow spits on his hand and holds it out to Cersei.  She looks at it with horror and reluctantly shakes.

Cersei gets up and leaves.

Cersei: Hahahahaha! I really fucked that guy over. He’s going to give Tommen a blessing and forgive a debt to the crown and all I have to do in return is ALLOW FOR HIM TO SET UP A WHOLLY INDEPENDENT RELIGIOUS MILITARY, COMPLETELY AUTONOMOUS OF THE POWER OF THE THRONE. WHAT’S THE WORST THAT CAN HAPPEN?!

Cersei quickly heads back down to her carriage and jumps in with Taena.
Cersei: Hey gurl! Wanna know how it went? Oh, I really showed that guy! Totally fucked him over. I’m getting everything I want! I let that High Septon set up a violently aggressive religious military order that hates and persecutes all other religions. And you know who are enemies are? The Starks… who follow the Northern Old Gods, and Stannis, who follows that crazy Fire God!  My masterful planning allowed us to get the blessing for Tommen I wanted, and also CREATE MORE SOLIDERS to fight our enemies!

Taena: Oh good, Cersei! Good! You’re so good at being ruler! And I'd know because I'm the young, manipulative, lying trophy wife of an old lord and therefore my opinion on ruling kingdoms is to be treated as if I were a statesman on the same level as Benjamin Disraeli.

And so they continue on their way, and Cersei is happy as can be. Until her coach runs into Margaery.

Cersei: Ugh. Look at this bitch doing things and existing. Being younger and prettier than me. I hate her. She’s trying to steal Tommen from me! It’s all an elaborate Tyrell plot. Why, I bet the Tyrells are hiding Tyrion at Highgarden. Well I’ll show them. I’ll show them all!

Margaery: I’m sorry. What was that, Cersei? I hear you mumbling to yourself over there.

Cersei: Oh, it’s nothing. What’s up with your cunt ass today?

Margaery: Oh, well we’re going to go riding in the woods. It’s so much fun! Would you care to join us.

Cersei: The woods? I dunno. Sounds dangerous. You need to be careful out there. That’s where Robert died. MWAHAHAHAHA.

Margaery: My brother keeps me well protected, so I have nothing to fear! But that was a strange response. Could maybe you share with me the private jest that leads to your laughter?

Cersei: Heh, I’ll share it with you soon. I promise. Sooooooon! MWAHAHAHAHAHA!

Margaery: Again with that? Odd.