AFfC 18: The Iron Captain (Victarion I)

Ol Vicky Vick, Victarion Greyjoy (younger brother to the late Balon and very much alive Crow’s Eye Euron) thinks about the story of the first Kingsmoot as his ship, the Iron Victory, enters the bays of Old Wyk. 

Vicky was initially hesitant to challenge his brother Euron for the crown, but after he heard that his other brother, Aeron the crazy religious fantatic, was calling for a new Kingsmoot… he decided that his chances for victory would be pretty good.

Vicky: Can you please stop calling me "Vicky?"

No.

As he comes into port he sees the Silence, Euron’s ship, already docked.

Nute the Barber: Huh, I wonder why it’s called “Silence.”

Vicky: Because Euron cuts out the tongues of everyone and makes them his slaves to man is crew.

Nute the Barber: Oh. That’s rough. 

Vicky: Men! Seal this bay so that no ship may leave until the Kingsmoot is over.  And you, Nute the Barber… go… go… cut some hair, I guess.

Nute the Barber: Booo!

Vicky docks and then goes ashore, where Aeron Damphair is waiting for him.

Aeron: Greetings, brother! Let us pray together for your victory. For you are a holy man, unlike our wanton and godless brother, Euron.

Vicky: Yes, I am indeed a good and holy man. As evidence by the fact that I BEAT MY WIFE TO DEATH AFTER EURON RAPED HER.  THE PUNISHMENT FOR WOMEN BEING RAPED IS MURDER… OF THE RAPE VICTIM!

Aeron: Correct, we are religious conservatives, so that is what we believe. Although I guess you can kill Euron too, if you want. It would be a righteous and holy killing, in service to the drowned god.

Vicky: I made a vow not to kill my brother. No man is so loathed in the eyes of the drowned god as a kinslayer.

Aeron: Does “kin” include your wife? Because you were married to her. Which would make her “kin,” I believe. Kin being defined as family members and your wife obviously being a member of a family unit.

Vicky: Correction, I mean, “No man is so loathed in the eyes of the drowned god as a BLOODkinslayer.”

Aeron: Oh.

Some dude named Baelor Blacktyde then rolls up.

Baelor: Vicky! Promise me that you will end this mad war when you are crowned!

Vicky: Dude, don’t get me to commit to any specific campaign issues. I’m not that kind of politician. I’m the kind that speaks in vague terms, chants and ideas, lacking any specific policy.

Next Vicky runs into Asha.

Vicky: Hi Yara.

Asha: It’s Asha in the books, asshole. And you know who you are in the TV show? NOBODY BECAUSE YOUR WORTHLESS CHARACTER IS LEFT OUT.

Vicky: …

Asha: Do you think a character who is LEFT OUT of the TV show will really play any importance or win this Kingsmoot? No! And in the end… it will be a QUEENSMOOT!

Vicky: Are you drunk? Because no way a woman will win. Women are inferior creatures to men. What you need is a husband, not a crown.

Asha: Oh, like I’m going to take spousal advice from the person who MURDERED HIS WIFE.

Vicky: Yes, I have bad luck with women.

Asha: Bad luck? YOU MURDERED YOUR WIFE!!!!!!

Vicky: Only one of them. The other two died from childbirth and the pox.

Asha: If by “pox” you probably mean “a pox of your fists beating her to death.”

Vicky: No! That’s not true! Maybe. Possibly.

Asha: My claim is better than yours or Euron’s. I am Balon’s trueborn child. A king’s child takes precedence over his brothers.

And as she is saying that, look who else walks into the scene.

Euron “Crow’s Eye”: WHAT THE FUCK IS UP, ASSHOLES?! EURON IN THE MOTHERFUCKIN’ HOUSEEEE!!!!!

And unlike in the show, Euron is full-on badass pirate who even has an eyepatch. This dude is cool, but rude.  Oh, and also COMPLETELY FUCKING EVIL!

Crow’s Eye: HEY VICKY!

Vicky: Don’t call me Vicky!

Crow’s Eye: Hey, got any more wives that I can fuck? Then I can watch you kill them after. That would be SWEET.

Vicky: I hate you, Crow’s Eye.

Crow’s Eye: That’s KING Crow’s Eye to you, shitface. See?

He points at the driftwood crown on his head, which he had quickly seized from Balon after he… uhh… “accidentally slipped into the water.”

Aeron: No godless man may sit on the Seastone Chair!

Crow’s Eye: You’re right, Aeron! It’s a good thing that I am the most godly man of all here. Even more godly than you!

Aeron: HAHAHAH! How so, you heathen?

Crow’s Eye: Well, I have traveled the world and seen many places. And by “seen” I mean “raped, murdered and pillaged.”  And what’s common with all the people who I have raped, murdered and pillaged? They were all people of other cultures and other religions! As they prayed to their gods for salvation from me… no help came. Thus I proved all their gods false. Does that not make me a much holier and godly man than some white-bearded asshole who goes around drowning motherfuckers on the shores of the Iron Isles.

Since raping, murdering and pillaging is an inherent part of the Iron Isles religious belief system, everyone standing around nods their heads and agree with the Crow’s Eye’s solid logic.

Aeron angrily murmurs under his breath because HE JUST GOT OWNED. As everyone points at laughs at him, he spits and then rolls out like a bitch.

Asha: Oh, Uncle Euron! What suspicious timing you have… arriving at about the exact same time that Balon died.

Crow’s Eye: Yeah, ain’t that fucking crazy?

Asha: Maybe you should just admit to doing it like in the show?

Crow’s Eye: Nope. Hey niece, how about you shut up before I have one of my guys here turn you out.

Asha: I’d like to see them try. For you see, I’m already married… to this!

She pulls out her axe and pats it.

Asha: Any man who wishes to try me, must take it up with my husband first!

Crow’s Eye: So how does that work when you have sex? I’d imagine that could get pretty messy. I assume you use the wooden end, right? Because if you used the blade…

Asha: Sick, dude. It’s a fucking metaphor.

Crow’s Eye: I’m not good with cute metaphor stuff like that. I’m pretty direct and literal. My ship is the Silence, so I cut out everyone’s tongues. I call myself king, so I wear this crown. I say I’m going to rape and murder everyone… so I rape and murder everyone. See? Life is so much easier that way.

Vicky: There will be no bloodshed here! Euron, leave now!

Crow’s Eye: Sure, whatever dude. See you losers, later.

Euron leaves and Asha then asks Vicky to walk with her.

Asha: So Uncle, what the fuck is up with Euron? Why has he been gone for so long and why is he back now?

Vicky: Needless questions, Asha. What you need to concern yourself with now is the foolishness of your quest.  The Ironborn will never accept a woman ruler.

Asha: Maybe… maybe you’re right. Together we sort of take votes away from one another, which will help Euron win. So how about this?  You get to be King… but name me as your Hand, and I will help you rule!

Vicky: HAHAHAHA! A woman in a position of power?! NO! NO! Your role is to make babies and die in childbirth. Unless, of course, your husband gets slightly tired of you or another woman catches his eye. In that case, it’s okay if he viciously beats you to death.  And if he is a godly man, then we will at times feel a very minor amount of remorse for it whilst personally accepting no blame and continuing to believe that he is in the moral right.

Asha: Wow. Just… wow. You’re so sexist that you are blind to the fact that you would be a HORRIBLE ruler. Are you a great warrior? Yes. But what is your plan for the war? You don’t have one… do you? You know how to battle when given orders to attack, but you’re not competent enough to think through strategies and which battles are the ones worth fighting. I am. I will make a treaty with the north to end this fighting, before the war becomes a total disaster for us.

Vicky: Peace with the north? No! We shall claim their kingdoms as ours!

Asha: Exactly how?  Through what methods and strategies!

Vicky: By winning battles!

Asha: Wow, that is such a dumb fucking answer lacking any specifics. No, I guess I won’t be your Hand after all. I must claim the Seastone Chair for myself!!!

AFfC 17: Cercei IV

Cersei is supper annoyed by all these bells ringing.

Cersei: UGH! FUCKING CHRISTMAS BELLS! Is this another damn Christmas chapter?  I simply can’t deal with that. Christmas is over, people. 

Qyburn: No, the bells are ringing for the death of the High Septon.

Cersei: Oh right. Because I had him murdered by Osney Kettleblack because Lancel confessed sleeping with me to him.

Qyburn: That seems like a reasonable thing to do. But then again you are talking to a serial killing person who does experiments on dead bodies. So take it with a grain of salt.

Cersei: So what’s on my schedule for today?

Qyburn: Oh, these guys over here say they’ve found Tyrion and have brought you his head.

Cersei: Ugh. This again? Well… show it to me, idiots.

The guys, who are a rough-looking group of bandits, pull a rotting head out of a bag.

Cersei: Nope.

Guy: What do you mean “nope?!” It’s Tyrion, surely! Look at it! It’s the head of an Imp!

Cersei: Yeah, it does look like it’s the head of an Imp, doesn’t it? It might actually be one. Which means you murdered an innocent Imp. Which is actually a step up from most of the heads brought to me, which are clearly just the heads of murdered street children that someone brings in to claim is an Imp.

Guy: Well how do you know it’s not him?

Cersei: Uh… cuz I know what my brother looks like.

Guy: Well the head is kind of rotten, ya see. It looks a bit different now.

Cersei: This head has a nose.  Tyrion’s nose what cut off in the Battle of the Blackwater.

Guy: Well… ahh… maybe it grew back, you see?

Cersei: …

Guy: …

Cersei: …

Guy: Okay, well. I guess I’ll be leaving then. Sorry.

He leaves, and all Cersei can think about is the prophecy of Maggy the Frog – who told her that the “Valonqar” would kill her, the word roughly translating as “little brother.”  Until Cersei sees Tyrion dead… she will never feel safe.

Qyburn: Worry not about the Imp, your majesty. My spies are looking for Tyrion everywhere. I have taken over Varys’s spy network with ease. Soon he shall be found.

Cersei: Good, good. Now about that little task I gave you… cleaning the skull of the Mountain for presentation to Prince Doran.

Qyburn: Yes, it has been done, your Grace.

Cersei: So, since you have his skull… I guess that mean he’s finally dead, huh?

Qyburn: Well, you know…

Cersei: What does that mean? It’s a yes or no answer.

Qyburn: It’s a bit more complicated than that, honestly.

Cersei: Uh. Okay. That’s a weird response. But we need to get to the small council meeting, so we’ll continue this discussion later.

They go to the meeting.
Pycelle: HEY! What is he doing here?! Qyburn has been stripped of his Maester’s chain! He is a discredited charlatan! He should not be here!

Cersei: Oh… did you not hear? Qyburn is the new Varys. Today is a the day I hand out new titles to EVERYONE!!!

Lord Orton Merryweather: Horray! Just like Christmas presents!

Cersei: NO! I SAID NO CHRISTMAS JOKES FOR THIS POST, DAMNIT!

Merryweather looks sad.

Cersei: But the titles will be given out. Merryweather… you are my Justicar!

Merryweather: Huzzah!

Cersei: Lord Gyles Rosby? You shall be the Master of Coin.

Rosby: Oh, thank you, your maj-*COUGH*COUGH*COUGH*COUGH*COUGH* 

Cersei: Aurane Waters shall be my—

Rosby: *COUGH*COUGH*COUGH*

Cersei: Waters will be—

Rosby: *COUGH*COUGH*

Cersei: Aura—

Rosby: *COUGH*COUGH*COUGH* COUGH*COUGH*COUGH*

Cersei: He’ll be my Grand Admiral. And he also gets a free pass to by bed whenever he wants.

Aurane Waters: Well, I'll—

Rosby: *COUGH*COUGH*COUGH*

Cersei:  And, as for the Hand of the King, that shall be Ser Harys Swyft!

Swyft: What an honor, Cersei. Surely I shall not fail you with—

Rosby: *COUGH*COUGH*COUGH*

Cersei: Whatever, don’t be too happy about it, Harys. You’re pretty much just a hostage to use against my Uncle Kevan.

Swyft: What was that?

Cersei: Nothing. I said nothing. Now, what business does the council have to discuss?

Pycelle: Shouldn’t the small council wait until the Lord Commander of the Kingguard arrives, your Grace?

Cersei: Jaime? No. Fuck him.

Voice from Corner: *I hear you already have*

Cersei: I HEARD THAT!

Rosby: *COUGH*COUGH*

Pycelle: Well, erm… to begin the business of the meeting, we have reports that there is still unrest in Dorne.

Cersei: That will be ended soon enough. I am sending Ser Balon Swann to deliver the Mountain’s skull to Prince Doran. And to, you know, do some other stuff too. But that’s not worth mentioning in this meeting.

Mwahaha! Secret plans!!!

Swyft: The Mountain is dead finally?

Cersei: Well… uhm… I mean… Qyburn, I’m going to let you handle this one.

Qyburn: Dead? Alive? I mean why must the world be so black and white like that? The point is that he doesn’t need his skull anymore. I suggest we end it at that and move on to the next order of business on the agenda.

Merryweather: What of the matter of the new High Septon? He must be replaced soon!

Cersei: Ugh. High Septon, Shmigh Schmepton. I don’t care who it is, so long as he blesses my death notice on Tyrion.  NEXT!

Pycelle: There is also the matter of Littlefinger. He writes to us saying that Bronze Yohn Royce is leading a group of Lords of the Vale to confront him and remove him as Lord Protector. The funny thing about the note is that Littlefinger’s tone is very unworried. He’s not asking for help or reinforcements or anything.

Cersei: I don’t care who rules the Vale, but no harm must come of Lord Baelish. NEXT!

Pycelle: There is the matter of a proposed alliance with the ironborn.  Although nobody quite  knows who we would be aligning with, what with Balon Greyjoy being dead now.

Cersei: He has been fighting our common foes in the North. Is not the enemy of our enemy our friend?

Pycelle: Yes, but your Lord Father Tywin has promised the North to Roose Bolton. The ironborn wish it for themselves.

Cersei: Good point. Forget those filthy squid bastards. What we really need to do is restore our fleet to greatness. We surely have the money to do that. Isn’t that right, new Master of Coin?

Rosby: *COUGH*COUGH*COUGH*COUGH*COUGH*COUGH*

Cersei: I’m going to take that to mean, “no?”  So here is what I will do. The tithings we owe to the Holy Faith and the interest payments we owe to the Iron Bank of Braavos will be… uhh… let’s just say “deffered” until after the war is over.

Pycelle: The Iron Bank is not gentle with its debtors, your grace.

Cersei: I’m about to not be gentle with your face, you old sack of shit. Lannisters aren’t known to be gentle either. Just ask Robb Stark. OH WAIT. YOU CAN’T!

Swyft: Ah… about that, your grace. There is this… terrible and OBVIOUSLY FALSE rumor going around that the Lannisters had something to do with that. Lies, totally, I’m sure since it was all Lord Frey.  But the smallfolk are blaming you.

Qyburn: Yes, and vast the number of “sparrows” who are now flooding Kings Landing and travel the countryside tell this tale if the Lannisters being connected to wickedness and sin. They say that the death of Robb Stark when he was invited as a guest is an affront to the gods and the kingdom shall be punished.

Cersei: Well… uhm… yeah. I guess. Lord Walder will need to face judgment for that though. It has nothing to do with the crown.

Qyburn: Correct. Even though just a moment ago you strongly implied that it did.

Cersei: …

Aurane Waters: UHHHH--- Another matter! Lord Stannis has apparently found some way to pay the Golden Company enough money so that they are willing to break their contract with Myr and bring them across the sea. This is highly unusual, as the Golden Company is famous for never breaking their contracts.

Cersei: I have heard the rumors of the contract breaking too, you sexy hunk of man meat. But what I heard is not that they were allied with Stannis – but were now heading to Volantis for some reason. It concerns us not. Let the affairs of Essos remain in Essos. They have nothing to do with us.

Pycelle: But Stannis does concern us still, even if the Golden Company is not allied with him. They say he is seeking to ally with the Wildlings from beyond the wall.

Cersei: Hahaha, that’s stupid as hell. A pathetic attempt that reeks of desperation. He will never be able to ally with the North, I have assurances of that.

Pycelle: Oh?

Cersei: Yes. Apparently Stannis sent some “Onion Knight” to meet with Lord Wyman Manderly, that eel-eating fatass.  Manderly sent word to us that he has locked up the Onion Knight in chains. I sent word back that the Iron Throne would forgive his past transgressions against us such as his alliance with the Starks if he executes the Onion Knight.

OH SNAP! What’s going on with Davos?! Looks like we have to wait for another book though, because he has no POV chapters in this one!


Cersei: Speaking about the filthy Starks, how about a general Stark-watch update?

Qyburn: Still no word on Sansa being found. As for that fake version of “Arya Stark” we are sending to Winterfell to marry Lord Bolton’s bastard son, plans are proceeding well with her.  And the bastard Stark child… the one who has been made Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch…

Cersei: YES! He’s the worst of them all. He dares to ally with Stannis and then demand that we send recruits to him? The fool! I will never do such a thing!

Qyburn: If I may… your grace… perhaps we SHOULD send recruits to him.

Cersei: WHAT?!

Qyburn: Yes. But secret recruits, tasked with removing him from command and appointing a new, more loyal, Lord Commander.

Cersei: Oh, oh that’s good Qyburn. See? That’s why I like him. Anyone else have any other business?

Aurane Waters: Yes, I hear rumors of dragons across the sea. Sailors have seen—

Cersei: --HAHAH, okay. Let me stop you there, Waters. So beautiful, but so dumb. You need to stop believing all this shit you hear.  Okay, that’s it. Everyone get the hell out of here. And Rosby… try not to die on your way out.

Rosby: *COUGH*COUGH*COUGH*

Cersei then goes back to her bedchambers, and eventually orders Ser Osney Kettleblack to come.

Osney: What’s up?

Cersei: Wanna have sex?

Osney: Uhh… YES.

He starts unzipping (sure, let's say zippers have been invented), but Cersei stops him.

Cersei: Not so fast. Indeed, all this sweet, sweet Queen vagina can be yours. And all you have to do FIRST is seduce Margaery.

Osney: Wait. You want me to have sex with your daughter-in-law? Tommen’s wife? This seems like the plot of some really bad porno.

Cersei: It’s simple. You seduce her and she makes love to you. Then she has committed treason against the King and she can be executed. There is no way that the Tyrells could object if we have proof. Tommen will be free to marry another.

Osney: Good plan, but I see a bit of a problem there. You know what happens to the man who sleeps with the King’s wife? He’s commiting treason too and is also executed.

Cersei: Oh, Osney! I would never let that happen to you. You will be allowed to take up the black and I will send you to the Wall.  That’s not the end of the story though. It’s just the beginning. There at the Wall I will have a mission for you… to kill a bastard boy in league with Stannis!  And once that’s all over, you shall have a royal pardon. And a Lordship. And me.

Osney: This seems like an overly complicated plot where I will have to do a lot of crazy stuff and just trust that I’ll be pardoned on two different occasions all to eventually just have sex with you.

Cersei: Sex with me… and a Lordship.

Osney: And I guess sex with Margaery too. She’s pretty hot as well.

Cersei: HEY!!!!

Osney: Uhm… I mean sure. Yeah. I’ll do it.

Cersei: Good! Good! Well, better go seduce away!

She sends Ser Osney off and then orders Lady Merryweather to come in.

Teana: Hey Cersei! What do you want?

Cersei: I need you to be all subtle with Maergery, telling her that she has a secret admirer amount the Kingsguard who totes has a crush on her.  It’s Osney. But don’t let her know immediately. Tease it out slowly.

Teana: Yeah, okay. I’m just the sort of duplicitous bitch you want for that type of job.

Cersei goes to sleep happy, and dreaming of her definite and absolute victory that’s coming soon because she’s an absolute mastermind and in NO WAY WILL ANY OF THIS PLOTTING ALL COME TO BACKFIRE ON HER.

AFfC 16: Jaime II (Special Christmas Edition!!!)

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.

AFfC 15: Samwell II

Sam is hella seasick as they ride along the Blackbird, a ship which has sailed out from Eastwatch-by-the-Bay.

Sam: *trying to hold back vomit* Ugh. I hate this. I have everything. I hate this ship. I hate my life. My life sucks. Everyone else will have a happy ending. Gilly will be a maid in my father’s house. Aemon will retire. This stupid singer guy, Dareon, who hasn’t been seen or mentioned in several books, will take over Yoren’s place as a recruiter. They’ll all be far away from the Wall. But me? I have to be a Maester and be close to my dad. I don’t want to do any of that. Even though becoming a Maester is exactly the type of thing that I SHOULD be into because it means I get to hang around with books and I’m also ignoring the fact that I too will be safe and far away from the Wall.

Sam goes to check on Gilly. She’s probably even more mopey and sad than him. She’s crying all the time. He tries to cheer her up, but it’s just crying, crying crying.

Sam: What the hell is her problem?

He then flashes back to the last time he was on a ship. Needless to say, it was also a terrible experience where he was supposed to be fosted by Lord Redwyne, but Lord Redwyne rejected him for being a little whiny, incompetent bitch.

After 10 days at sea, the ship is now east of the island of Skagos.

Sam: Rumor is the people here are all cannibals. So it would be a very dumb place to take Rickon. Gosh, I hope we don’t crash there and get eaten.

Even though Sam and the others are all on the top deck, in the background they can still hear Gilly crying below deck and the baby crying as well.

Dareon: OH GOD, WILL SOMEONE SHUT HER UP?! I thought these Wildling girls were supposed to be fearless warriors?

Sam: She is brave! She’s just a little scared of the sea. That’s all. I can think of no other reason why she might be sad.

It then starts raining.

Sam: Ugh. Another storm? Okay Aemon, let’s go below.

But Aemon hasn’t been too well himself, as of late. The sea voyage has been bad for his old ass as well. Sam helps him down below deck and gets him to a fire to warm him up. Gilly holds off her crying for a little bit to help, but the ship hits a giant wave and everyone gets sea sick. It’s a giant puke fest like in Stand By Me. Samwell is playing the role of Lard Ass, obviously.

The storms continue for days and says. Everyone feels awful.

It starts to get a little better, and everyone (except Gilly and the baby) go above deck.

Sailor: You know who’s fault this is? That Wildling woman!

Other Sailor: Yes. Everyone knows that women bring bad luck to ships!

Sailor: It’s true. Women shouldn’t be allowed on ships. They bring a curse. We should throw her overboard and the storms will let up.

Other Sailor: Although I guess it’s nice to have a woman on board to… like… look at and stuff. Or maybe have sex with, if they’re interested.

Sailor: What?! NO! We invented the “no women” rule for a reason! So that we could all have gay sex on the seas and that fact from our wives and people who will judge us. We use the hole “bad luck” thing as an excuse.

Other Sailor: SHHH! You’re not supposed to say that out loud.

Dareon: I might throw her overboard myself if she doesn’t stop with the crying.

Sam: Oh come on, guys! Gilly is just afraid of the ocean. Wildlings have never really seen water before.

Aemon: Sam, can’t you tell that Gilly’s tears are tears of sadness? Not tears of fear!

Sam: Why would Gilly be sad?

Aemon: Oh geez, I’m blind and dying and even I can see this. Jon had Gilly’s baby switched with Dalla’s baby.

Sam: WHAT?! WHY?!

Aemon: Dalla’s Baby = Mance’s Baby. Mance = the King of the Freefolk. Dalla’s Baby = King’s Blood. Melisandre the Red Witch = Crazy lady who likes sacrificing people with king’s blood.  If Jon switches them, then when Mel shows up to burn the kid he can be like, “Nah girl. Too late. That baby is gone. This is just some wildling ho’s inbred baby with her dad. That king’s baby is long gone.”

Sam: Oh. Oh ohhh ohhhhhhh! Hence the narrative devices stated earlier about the differences between the nursing and crying habits of the two babies.

Aemon: Yes. Idiot.

Sam: Man. That’s really messed up. Gilly is torn apart from her child!

Aemon: Yes, Sam.  There are no happy endings.

Dareon: Not true! I hear in Braavos there is this massage parlor you can go to, and in the back there are plenty of happy endings… for the right price.

Aemon: …

Sam: …

Dareon: I'm specifically talking about handjobs.

Aemon: …

Sam: …

Dareon: What? What? Forget you two! I’ll just enjoy the weather out here now that the ship isn’t rocking. I think the worst of the storm has passed!

Sam: No. Look in the distance. Over there. See the lightning? I think the worst is yet to come!

Dareon: You know what Sam, you Debby Downer?  Forget about the woman and the baby. I’m about to throw your fat ass overboard.

AFfC 14: Brienne III

Brienne and Podrick travel through Riverlands.

Brienne: Hrm, this is all so familiar looking. Oh yeah. This is where I travelled with Jaime before.  Oh, I hated him so much back then. But now… I… I… well, I don’t know what I say. I was wrong about him.

Pod: Boring! Talk about something else, ser! I mean My Lady. Ser My Lady.  My Lady Ser. Whatever.

Brienne: Ugh, you’re a pretty crappy squire, Pod. But then again, I’m not actually a real knight. So I guess it’s fitting.

Pod: Yes My Lady. I mean Ser. I mean—

Brienne: Say, as Tyrion’s squire, surely you must know something helpful about Sansa that I can use to locate her, right?

Pod scratches his head for a bit, but then just shrugs.

Not long after, the two come before a husband and wife on the road, who are pushing a cart along.

Farmer Wife: You two better watch yourselves on this road. It’s not safe around here.  Too many outlaws. I heard a rumor that the Hound is hanging around the Trident with a band outlaws. Maybe Beric’s group. They’re going around, raping and pillaging.

Farmer Husband: Yeah, we’re heading towards Maidenpool. It will be safer there. The Hound will be far too scared to face up with Lord Tarly!

Brienne: Ugh. Lord Tarly? I hate that guy! But then again… I guess I need to go to Maidenpool as well. Perhaps I can slip in and out of the town without him ever learning that I was there.

And so they go to Maidenpool and reach the gates.

Guard: HEY THERE ASSHOLES! You wanna come in?

Husband: Yeah.

Guard: Well, I see you got some eggs there in your cart.

Husband: I’m a farmer, so yeah.

Guard: I want those eggs. They’re my payment for letting you in to the city. Oh, and I see you have a wife too. Yeah. She can be part of the payment too. Her eggs, if you know what I mean. As in I inseminate her eggs. By having s--

Husband: --No, I got it, dude. You don't need to explain it any further.

Brienne: HOW DARE YOU, SER! Leave these poor people alone!

Guard: It’s called graft, you stupid, ugly WNBA player! I’ll kill you in a minute and feel nothing. I’ve got this job and I’m going to abuse the hell out of this position of power! Institutional corruption runs deep into this society! Hahaha, and there is nothing you can do about i—

Man: --Just what the hell is going on here?

A man steps forward to confront the guard. Brienne doesn’t recognize him at first, until she gets a good look at his face.

Brienne: Oh my! Ser Hyle Hunt! One of Lord Tarlys’s captains!

Hyle: Yes. You stupid guards! Don’t you know who this is? That’s Brienne Tarth. And she’s as mean as she is ugly. She will mess all of you up. She bested Loras Tyrell in a fight once.

The guards back away and leave. Brienne, Pod, the Farmer and his Wife can now all enter Maidenpool, unmolested.

Husband: Ser Hyle, thank you for stepping in to show that corrupt guard his place. You are a true knight!

Brienne: Really? You’re calling him a true knight right after he just called me ugly? Right in front of me?

Hyle: Well, I just figured that people have been saying that to your face for your whole life. And that by now you’d just sort of be dead inside and feel nothing when people say it.

Brienne: You have an excellent point.

Hyle: You know what else has an excellent point?

Ser Hunt reaches towards his sword and wraps his fingers around it.

Hyle: Perhaps you can thank me in another way. Through combat. I would love to have revenge on the wench that killed King Renly!

Brienne: You dipshit. It was sorcery that killed Renly. Not me.

Hyle: Oh yeah? Yeah? REALLY?

Brienne: Yes. Really.

Hyle: Eh. Whatever then.

He takes his hand away from his sword. His quest for revenge was obviously not that strong.

Hyle: Nobody gives a crap about Renly these days anyway. He’s old news. Come on, Brienne! Let’s go say hi to Lord Tarly.

Brienne: UGH! NOOOO!!!

And yet that’s where he takes her anyway. They head to a fish market, where Tarly has set up a makeshift headquarters to execute and whip people. Because he’s an asshole.

Lord Tarly: Oh crap. Your ugly ass again? I thought you were gone for good. So you killed Renly, huh?

Brienne: WHY DOES EVERYONE SAY I KILLED RENLY?! NO! NO I DIDN’T KILL HIM!

Lord Tarly: Even if it wasn’t your sword, it was still your fault. You were in his Kingsguard and he died, so that means you let him die.  But in a way, the fault was Renly’s own because he put you, a feeble woman, in his Kingsguard. Women’s place is barefoot and pregnant, at home in the kitchen and poppin out more babies. I should send you back to Tarth so that your dad can whip you.

Brienne: Jesus Christ, you’re just the worst. Oh, and also you can’t touch me or do shit. Check this out.

She hands him the letter, signed by the King. It says she’s on a mission for the King to find the Stark girls.

Lord Tarly: Well, you’re heading the wrong direction. Sansa Stark has surely fled back North to Winterfell.

Brienne: Maybe. And maybe not. She could also be headed to her aunt Lysa in the Vale.

Lord Tarly: Hahaha, you dumb, feeble woman. Surely you’ve heard that Lady Lysa is dead.

Brienne: Whaaaaa?

Lord Tarly: Some singer pushed her off a mountain. But whatever. This stupid business of yours has nothing to do with me. If you want to wander around these dangerous roads, pretending to be a man, then you’re going to get yourself raped and killed. Not necessarily in that order. And you’ll deserve it.

Tarly then walks off.

Brienne: Wow. He’s just the worst.

Hyle: Yep. So what are you doing here in Maidenpool, Brienne?  I mean, I know now that you’re looking for that Stark girl. But what about that mission brings you here?

Brienne: None of your business.

Hyle: Well, tell me anyway even though you have no logical reason to.

Brienne: Fine. There is a tavern here called the Stinking Goose. There is a guy named "Nimble Dick" there that might have information. I’m going to meet him.

Hyle: Let me come with you.

Brienne: No. I hate you. Get out of my face.

Hyle: WHAAAAAAT?  Why? WHY?! What did I ever do to you?

Brienne: Well, just a few minutes ago you were threatening to fight me.

Hyle: Okay fine. But that’s all.

Brienne: Oh right, and also back in the day… when I first joined Renly’s camp, you participated in a cruel game with a bunch of other knights where you all pretended to be interested in me. You all called me beautiful and tried to court me. But really, you all thought I was the ugliest person you had ever seen and were playing a sick, sick game where there was a challenge to see who could have sex with me first.

Hyle: OH COME ON! It was just a fun little game we played to pass the time! It’s basically just the plot of 10 Things I Hate About You! You can’t possibly still be angry over a little thing like that after all this time.

Brienne shakes her head and him and just walks away.

Hyle: What? WHAT?!

Brienne finds the Stinking Goose on her own and goes inside, waiting for Nimble Dick. And yes, I am aware of how wrong that sounds but it GRRM’s fault, not mine. Finally, he arrives.

Brienne: Are you Nimble Dick?

Nimble Dick: Sometimes, but when I drink too much it’s flaccid.

Brienne: Speaking of drinking, I’ll buy you a drink in exchange for “a word.”

Nimble Dick: Any word? Like “dog?” Or does it have to be a super long word like “floccinaucinihilipilification?”

Brienne: No, I mean a conversation. I need information from you. I hear you fooled a fool. And something about giving him passage for three across the sea.

Nimble Dick: Oh, that? Sure. What do you want to know about that?

Brienne: Who were the other two? Was one a fair maiden with red hair?

Nimble Dick: I never met the other two. But the fool looked frightened when he saw the men with Lord Tarly’s sigil on them.  I sent them on their way to Smuggler’s Cove.

Brienne pulls out a gold coin.

Brienne: Smugglers Cove, huh? Tell me where that is and this coin will be yours.

Nimble Dick: Oh, it’s a pretty obscure and hard to find place by Crackclaw Point. It’s almost impossible to get there. I’m not sure even I could give you accurate directions. It’s more like something I’d have to lead you to myself.  Which I can do for you. But it will have to be more than a single golden dragon for that. 10 dragons.

Brienne: Two dragons.

Nimble Dick: Eight dragons!

Brienne: Four dragons.

Nimble Dick: Six dragons! And that’s my final offer. I’ll take nothing less.

Brienne: Fine, six dragons it is. But your payment will only come at the end if I figure out your information is good and I find the girls. One of them is my sister and I have to save her before—

Nimble Dick: --Blah, blah, blah. I don’t care. I’m just in it for the money. Meet me at the east gate at dawn.

AFfC 13: The Soiled Knight (Arys Oakheart)

Arys Oakheat of the Kingsguard rides through sunspear, somewhat embarrassed of the fact that he is wearing a Dornish outfit rather than his proud, Kingguard cloaks of white.  However, he knows if he wears the white of the Kingsguard that he’ll be attacked and killed by all the people of Dorne. What with Dorne being somewhat angry at the King and the Lannisters for, you know, having the awesome Red Viper killed.

The people of Dorne want revenge! They want an uprising! But with the Sand Snakes imprisoned by order of Prince Doran Martell, now they won’t get that either.
 
Arys: These silly Dorne people. I can’t trust any of them. Well, I can’t trust any of them… except for HER!

Oooh! A mysterious her! Has Arys become smitten a lady down here? And, if so, with who?

Princess Arianne Martell, Daughter to Doran: Hey, it’s me!

Oh, well that wasn’t that hard to figure out.

Arys: Oh, Arianne! I’m glad you can meet me here. But we must meet each other in disguise, so nobody can see us together. You are a Princess of Dorne, and I am a Knight of the Kingsguard, sworn to chastity. No one must know of our secret love!

Arianne: Love? What are you talking abo-uuhhh, oh yeah. Right. Love. I’m totally in love with you. Madly! *bats eyes*

Arys: I’m somewhat worried about leaving Princess Myrcella alone. I am supposed to be guarding her!

Arianne: Oh come on, she’ll be safe. She has a tons of Dornish guards around her, and she’s bestest friends with her betrothed, my little brother Prince Trystane.  It was an arranged marriage deal… but for once the two generally seem to like each other and are inseperable. Always playing games and stuff.

Arys: At any rate, she’ll be safe enough soon! Your father plans for us all to head back to the Water Gardens soon. Myrcella will be much safer here than around these crazy Dornish zealots who want blood.  Although it somewhat worries me that your father had asked that we not inform Kings Landing of the change of Myrcella’s location.  I am supposed to be loyal to Kings Landing, not to Prince Doran.  But then again, the fewer people that know where the Princess is… the safer she will be! So I guess it makes sense.

Arianne: Oh. You’re still narrating to yourself about Myrcella? Have you not noticed yet that I’m standing here completely naked for you?

Arys: Oh. Yeah. Right!

They have hot, hot sex.

Afterwards, Arys is ashamed. He loves Arianne, but he is full of guilt for breaking his oath of chastity, which is a really strange rule for the Kingsguard to have since every single Member of the Kingsguard seems to constantly break that oath.
 
Arys: My dear… I… I… love you. But this has to be our last time together! Ever!

Arianne: You’ve said that before. And yet you always come crawling back.

Arys: This time I mean it!

Arianne: Do you?

Arys: Yes!

They then have sex again.

Arys: DAMNIT! Okay, that time was ABSOLUTELY the last. I have to leave you now, but only because I truly love you.

Arianne: If you truly love me, then you will never leave me!

Arys: All other Kingsguard who broke their oath have been punished!

Arianne: All the ones that have been caught, you mean.

Arys: They’re all caught in the end.

Arianne: Are they now? Are they? Have you heard of my great uncle, Prince Lewyn?

Arys: Of course I have! He was a great knight of the Kingsguard, who fought heroically and was killed at the Battle of the Trident! One of the best!

Arianne: He totally had a mistress.

Arys: What? Really?

Arianne: They all do, Arys. Don’t act like you’re the first.

Arys: It brings be dishonor!

Arianne: Look, my point is the sword in your hand is the one that proves if you’re a true knight, not the one between your legs. If you’re a good person, then you’re a good knight, regardless of whether you get a little coochie now and then.  The only thing dishonorable is serving wicked rulers and doing wicked things.

Arys: I… I have done that too. Joffrey! I served him and I obeyed him when he told me to hit that Sansa girl.

Arianne: Well, Joffrey is dead and buried now. It’s time to think of how to you can serve a new ruler.

Arys: Yes, King Tommen!

Arianne: Well… I was… thinking of someone else.

Arys: *GASP*… Are you speaking of treason?! No, my lady! No! I love you, but…

Arianne: --No, lemme stop you right there, sugar plumb. I’m not talking about treason. I’m talking about making sure that the right and legitimate heir sits on the throne.  And have no doubt, that person is indeed the heir to the House Baratheon. But it is not Tommen. It is Myrcella.

Arys: Huh? I’m… confused.

Arianne: Who is older? Tommen or Myrcella?

Arys: Myrcella. But… but… she’s a girl.

Arianne: Wow, smooth talker – aren’t you? You really now how to make the ladies swoon on your modern, progressive politics. Listen honey bunny, here in Dorne women have always been in the line of succession, regardless of if there is a male born.  If the oldest child is a daughter… then the heir is the daughter!

Arys: Well, okay. Point taken my love. But Kings Landing is not Dorne.

Arianne: You know Myrcella, right? You have spent time with her.

Arys: Of course! She is a strong and brave young girl!

Arianne: Right. And Tommen is a little 8 year old who still pees himself. You really think he’s a better ruler than Myrcella?

Arys: No… but… in time, perhaps… when Tommen comes of age…

Arianne: --Do you remember the story of the first King Viserys? He wanted his daughter to succeed him, but it was the Lord Commander of his Kingsguard, Ser Criston Cole, who essentially led a coup that made Aegon the heir instead. He pitted Drgaon against Dragon.

Arys: Indeed. The Targaryen civil war, known as the Dance of the Dragons.

Arianne: And so the rule of only males being heirs to the Iron Throne was not set in place by some natural order of things. The rule was created by a member of the Kingsguard. A devious plotter, not worthy of his white cloaks. Not a noble and honest and true and handsome and sexy true knight like you. You should set right was the Kingsguard set wrong so long ago. Help me! Help me make Myrcella the Queen!

Arys: My love! For you are proposing something that your father already fears. He has heard these rumors about crowning Myrcella. And although I told you that she is being moved to the Water Gardens for her safety… that is only half true. Your father also wants to prevent her from being crowned.

Arianne: Why? Why deprive her of her birthright! She will rule much better than Tommen. And think about it. You have been her protector this entire time here. She truly trusts and likes you.  As a reward for your loyalty and protection, it is very likely that Queen Myrcella will make an exception to the rules of the Kingsguard and allow you to marry me!

Arys: *GASP* Marry you?! I… I… YES! YES! I love you so much! I never even thought it possible we could marry. Oh, do you think Myrcella would truly allow it? Do you really wish to marry me?

Arianne: Of course I doo, pookie! You know I love you more than anything in the world! Why else would I risk so much to be with you like this? What other motive could I have?!

Arys: To manipulate me into doing your bidding and supporting your plots? No! NO! That’s silly! The only thing that makes sense is that YOU LOVE ME AND WE SHALL BE MARRIED! YES! I MUST DO IT!

Arianne: Of course, we’d have to take action right now! You know how my father is! I’m so scared! His guards have been so mean to me, and I’m pretty sure he plans to lock me up, just like he locked up the Sand Snakes. Then I’ll never get to see you again! *sobs*

Arianne: No! It is! It is true! I found a letter about my brother, Prince Quentyn! In the letter, my father said that he wanted to make it so that  Quentyn becomes his heir to Sunspear, not me. My father hates me and wants to put me in jail for the rest of my life.

Arys: There, there, my love. That can’t possibly be true! And hey… where is this Quentyn guy anyway?

Arianne: Oh, across the sea in Essos on some SECRET MISSION. I’m not sure what. Something to do with the Golden Company breaking its contract with Myr, I think.

Arys gets down on one knee before Princess Arianna.

Arys: My lady, I love you so. I will do anything for you to protect you and make you happy! Just let me know. Tell me whatever you want from me, and it is yours!

Arianne: Oh, truly Arys? Truly?

Arys: Yes, my love!

Arianne: Well all I could ever want from you is your love! That’s all!

Arys: You have it!

Arianne: Also, you could bring me Myrcella? That, ahhhhh… that would be nice too.

AFfC 12: Cersei III

Remember all that advice that Cersei was given about needing to put together a rush wedding between Tommen and Margaery? Well, much to Cersei’s resistance… that is happening. Right now.

Cersei: Ugh. I can’t believe this. Why did my father want this stupid alliance with the Tyrells?

Logic and Common Sense:  Because it actually saved your life. Lord Tywin returned to save Kings Landing with the Tyrell army in tow.

Cersei: SHUT UP LOGIC AND COMMON SENSE! I DON’T WANT TO TALK TO YOU!  And all this talk from the Tyrells that Tommen and Margaery should share a bed tonight? The boy is eight!

Jaime shows up.

Jaime: Yo. Look Cersei, everything is going to be fine. I am the Commander of the Kingsguard and I will not let anything bad happen to Tommen.

Cersei: NO! Tyrion is hiding somewhere in the castle surely! He’ll pop out and kill Tommen! I know it.

Jaime: So paranoid, dear sister. I’m sure Tyrion is long gone, sent on a secret boat to Essos with Varys.

Cersei: And how would you know that?

Jaime: I… um… am just guessing.

Cersei: That’s why I’m going to gather up all that wildfire that the pyromancers made for the Battle of the Blackwater and use it to BURN DOWN THE TOWER OF THE HAND!  Yes, and we’ll move the entire court to Casterly Rock!

Jaime: Hrm. Okay. That sounds a bit crazy.

Later in the day, the ceremony happens. It’s super small and fast compared to Joffrey’s big event.  She’s also angry that the Queen of Thorns made Tommen cloak Margaery in Baratheon colors instead of Lannister colors.

Logic and Common Sense: You know, even though making sure everyone THINKS Tommen is Robert Baratheon’s son is the whole key to the whole “legitimacy of Tommen” thing.

Cersei: I SAID SHUT UP, LOGIC AND COMMON SENSE! GET OUTTA HERE!

After the ceremony, it’s the dinner/feast time. This is also super small.  Kevan comes up.
 
Kevan: Well, that was fun. I guess I’ll be leaving now.

Cersei: SAY WHAT?

Kevan: I’m going to Darry to wed Lancel to his new bride.  And I’ve heard rumors that The Hound has gone and joined Beric Dondarrion’s outlaw brotherhood.  I guess I should go out there and hunt him down and kill him and stuff.

Cersei: Yes, I guess you should. If you bring Tommen the Hound’s head, he will be ever so grateful.

Kevan: Well, you know, when a dog goes bad the fault lies with its master.

Cersei: …

Kevan: And by that, I mean Joffrey was an twisted, disgusting, maniacal, incest-born monster.

Cersei: Oh, oh I got it. I was just silent because I can’t believe you said that in front of me.

Kevan: Peace, bitch.

He flips her the finger, takes a drag off of a menthol Newport cigarette, and rolls out.

Cersei: GGRRRR!!!!!

Jaime: Now, now, Cersei. I know you’re angry… so do  you want to hear some good news? The Queen of Thorns and most of the rest of the Tyrells are rolling out tomorrow. Mace Tyrell is going off to Stom’s End.

Cersei: Well Margaery will still be here. As will her stupid brother, Loras.

Speaking of the Tyrells, they walk up and Cersei has to tone down her complaining. Slightly.

Margaery: Oh, what a wonderful ceremony that was! So beautiful! And this reception is great too! I’m so happy to be married to Tommen. You have such a beautiful son, dear Cersei! You and I will be best friends from now on. It’s like now you’re MY MOTHER TOO!

Cersei: Must. Not. Kill. Must. Not. Kill.

Queen of Thorns: Beautiful Reception? WTF you talking about, Granddaughter? This is some crap. If only it could have been like the last reception where they incessantly played The Reigns of Castamere 70 thousand goddamn times. *pulls down shades*

Cersei: Oh, haha Queen of Sarcasm. Ha ha.

Yet the appearance of Margaery can’t help but give Cersei flashbacks. Flashbacks, yeah! Young Cersei: Oh hey, let’s go see this evil sorceress witch lady.

Young Other Kids: Okay.

Maggy the Frog: Hi there kids! Shouldn’t you have some parental guidance.

Young Cersei: SHUT UP, WITCH! I want you to give me a prophecy! I want you to tell me whether I’ll be queen one day.

Maggy the Frog: You really have to ask in the form of a question. That’s how this works.

Young Cersei: Will I be Queen one day?

Maggy the Frog: Hrmmm… let’s see… *shakes Magic 8 ball* …Oh yeah, Queen you will be. Until comes another. Younger and more beautiful, to cast you down and take all that you hold dear!

Young Cersei: OH SHIT.

 Back in the present day.

Cersei: Man, whatever. Forget that prophecy nonsense. Probably just a bunch of lies. Is this Margaery supposed to be more beautiful than me? I mean I’m Lena Hedley for God’s sake. No way is that Margaery girl cuter than me. It’s like in that “Snow White and the Huntsman” movie when the Queen was worried that a more beautiful woman was supposed to come along and replace her.  The Queen was played by Charlize Theron and the supposedly more beautiful woman was Kristen Stewart. HAHAHAHAHAHA. Really? REALLY? Trust me, Charlize Theron. You didn’t have ANYTHING to worry about there. Sounds like the Magic Mirror was broken there. That Magic Mirror had the same accuracy as a Sarah Huckabee Sanders press conference.

Cersei looks over and sees Tommen drink a glass of wine. Afterwards, he gives a slight cough.

Cersei: NOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!

She jumps up from her seat and pushes the wine glass out of Tommen’s hand. She then starts doing the Heimlich maneuver on him.

Tommen: AGH!! *cough* STOP! MOM! *COUGH* STOP!

Jaime: Cersei, calm down! He just coughed a little bit on wine. It went down the wrong way.

Cersei: No… but… I… I… I… AGHH!!!!!!!!!

She runs out of the room, pulling her hair and hiding the fact that she’s crying.

Nobody dares follow her. Well, except for Lady Taena Merryweather.

Taena of Myr: Oh, hey there Queen.

Cersei: You again? Wow, aren’t you bold?

Taena: I see that some dust must have gotten in your eye. Here, have this.

She hands her a handkerchief.

Cersei: Yes. Dust. Of course.

Taena: If you want something else that might bring a tear to your eye, how about the fact that your maid Senelle has been acting as a spy for Margaery Tyrell?

Cersei: Hrm. Why would you tell me this? Don’t the Merryweathers serve the Tyrells?

Taena: My loyalty is to my husband and my son. Not to Highgarden.

Cersei: Hrm. Yes. Your sexy dark skinned self was the one who testified at Tyrion’s trial too. I really like you. If your story can be proven as true, you will be rewarded greatly.

Taena: Serving you, my Queen, is reward enough.

Logic and Common Sense:  OH COME ON, CERSEI! SHE’S OBVIOUSLY FLATTERING YOUR SENSITIVE LITTLE EGO!

Cersei: SHHHHH!!!!!

Cersei returns to the reception for Tommen and pretends like nothing ever happen and that she didn’t just make a HUGE scene. Jaime quietly comes up again.

Jaime: See? Tommen is safe.

Cersei: No one who wears the crown is EVER safe.

Jaime: Uh, okay. So it looks like the dancing has started. Wanna dance, dear sister?

Cersei: No, get lost. How do you expect a man with one hand to lead?

Later in the night, others also ask to dance with Cersei out of politeness. She refuses them too. What does she do instead? Drink. More and more. Lots of drinking. However, someone does catch her eye – Aurane Waters, the bastard son of the House Velaryon of Driftmark.

Cersei: This seems like a good narrative place to insert factoids about how the House Velaryon came over with the Targaryens and is the only Valyrian family beyond the Targaryens to survive the Doom of Old Valayria. Aurane closely resembles the Targaryens and also has the distinctive white hair, purple eyes, etc. The Velaryons sometimes intermarried into the Targaryens after Aegon’s conquest.  Why am I providing all this exposition? Is it to simply note how attracted I am to Aurane because I think he resembles Rhaegar and I was brought up being attracted to Rhaegar and thought it would be him I would marry? That would be the simplest reason why I am mentioning him. But GRRM always plays the long game with these random, background characters. Is there some plan for him? Does me thinking, “Oh, he looks a LOT like a Targaryen” lead to some future plot importance of Aurane? Will he be some secret Targaryen or something? No narrative information has ever been provided about his parents. His mother is completely unknown and the name of his House Velaryon father has not even been provided. Is that important?

Jaime: Who are you talking to, Cersei?

Cersei: SHH Jaime! SHH! It’s an aside! I’m entitled to have asides!

Jaime: You sound drunk.

Cersei: Maybe I am! *hiccup* Now let’s light a candle to celebrate this new union between by son Tommen and this stupid whore Margaery!

Jaime: Light a candle? What do you mean by—

But by the time Jaime finishes talking, Cersei has wandered outside and nods at Pyromancer Hallyne. He hands Cersei a hilariously large red detonator box with a plunger on it. It says "ACME" on the side. He pushes the plunger down, and it connects with a string over to the Tower of the Hand.

It explodes in a giant ball of green flame. Cersei stares at the flames, refusing to look away.

Cersei: So pretty. So. So. Pretty.

Jaime: Cersei. Cersei. ...CERSEI? ...Hello? ...Cersei? Oh geez, looks like this is foreshadowing something much darker to come along.