AFfC 42: Brienne VIII

Brienne is having fever dreams, thinking about all the death and killing she has seen recently. She fades in and out of consciousness, vaguely sensing the fact that she’s been tied up and carried away on a horse.

She comes to, and sees two people. First – it’s Renly.

Brienne: Renly?

Gendry: DAMNIT! Stop calling me that.

Brienne: Oh… sorry.. sorry… I… ow… why does it hurt so much?

Girl: Well, half of your face has been eaten off by a cannibal.

Brienne: Oh shit. Ugh.

Girl: Here, have some of this. It will help with the pain.

The girl gives her a bowl of… uhh… chicken soup or something. And some bread. Tylenol doesn’t really exist here. 

Brienne: Thank you, girl. And who are you?

Girl: Jeyne Heddle.

Brienne: And… Biter… is he—?

Jeyne: —Dead? Yes. Gendry killed him.

Brienne: Where are you taking me?

Gendry: To m’lady. Stoneheart, that is. To answer for your crimes.

Brienne: My… crimes? What crimes do you speak o… uhh…uuhhh….

She passes out again. Once more she returns to her fever dreams. She opens her eyes for a moment and sees the Hound’s helm. She imagines that the Hound is alive again.

Brienne: THE HOUND! Oh no! You’re supposed to be dead!

“The Hound:” Me? Dead? Hahaha. No, it’s you’ll who be dead soon. After we hang you.

Brienne: H-hang me? But this girl just gave me soup and bread. You can’t kill me.

Jeyne: Yeah, guest rights don’t really mean what they used to ever since Lady Stoneheart came back from the wedding.

Brienne: Huh? Wedding? What wedding? Who is this Lady Stoneh… Stone… Sto…

She passes out again.

When she wakes up once more, she is inside of a cave. She’s also been stripped of her armor and weapons.

An old man comes up to her and treats her wounds. Her sight is blurry, so she can’t really see him.

Brienne: Th-thank you, ser. Is it bad?

Old Man: Is it bad? Yeesh. Yeah. There will be scars, for sure. It’s what happens when half of your cheek is eaten off. Still, I guess we're going to hang you. So you won't have the scar for long.

Brienne: I… I am still to be killed?

Old Man: Probably, but that is not for me to decide.

Brienne: Why bother treating my wounds if your gang only means to kill me?

Old Man: You deserve at least some good treatment for your deeds back at the Crossroads Inn. Your actions there likely saved everyone. Perhaps that will count for something with Lady Stoneheart, despite what you have previously done.

Brienne: What I have previously done?! And what is THAT?! Wait… wait just a second…

Her eyesight begins to clear up. She recognizes him.

Brienne: Thoros of Myr?

Thoros: The one and only.

Brienne: You’ve lost some weight. And hair.

Thoros: Aye, and other things.

Brienne: I had heard you were with Lord Beric, not Lady Stoneheart.

Thoros: Alas, Lord Beric is gone now. Have you heard all those stories about his immortal resurrection powers?

Brienne: Uhh… yeah. Sounded like bullshit to me.

Thoros: Well, it wasn’t. I could totally resurrect him, over and over. But his fire has gone out from the world now, and a grimmer shadow leads us.

Brienne: Where are my companions? Meribald. Podrick.

Thoros: Septon Meribald we let go, as he is an innocent man. But your two companions, the boy and Hyle Hunt… they are nearby, awaiting the same judgment that you will.

Brienne: Hunt? Ah, that guy wasn’t really with me. You can do anything you want with him. But the boy is innocent. Just a young squire.

Thoros: Aye, a squire for Tyrion Lannister. As you recall, the Lannisters are our enemies.

Brienne: I beg for mercy for him!

Thoros: Ah, mercy. There is short supply of that around here these days, I am afraid.

Brienne: What about justice?

Thoros: That too. You know, we used to be all about justice. We were a rag-tag group of Robin Hoods out here, defening the smallfolk from all sides of this cruel war. Yet it seems this war has made us cruel now too. The Brotherhood without Banners is less in the “justice” business now, and more in the “revenge” business.

Others arrive too, including some dumb asshole in a yellow cloak. He probably has a really dumb name too. 

Lem Lemoncloak: HEY! That’s not cool, narrator.

Brienne: The HOUND!

Lem: No. I’m just Lem, wearing The Hound’s helm.

Thoros: It is an evil thing to wear, Lem. Think of all the past monsters who have worn it. Take it off and get rid of it. Have Gendry melt it into something else.

Lem: No way. It’s a perfectly good helm. I think it’s cool. I’m keeping it. Now come on, Kingslayer’s whore. Stoneheart wants to see you. Now.

Brienne: Kingslayer’s whore? What are you talking about.

Lem: Oh please. The number of times you called out Jaime’s name while you were dozing in and out of your fever dreams was insane. You’re clearly obsessed, woman. And that’s not to mention the sword and the papers you had. 

And they pick her up and bring her to another room in the caves. There a woman sits in the shadows.

Harwin: Here is the Kingslayer’s Whore. And this is her sword, as well as the letter signed by King Tommen.

He pulls out Oathkeeper, the sword that Jaime gave her. On its pommel is the head of a lion.  

Brienne: I can explain that. That does not mean I am loyal to the Lannisters. Jaime Lannister gave me that sword, to help me fulfil an oath he swore to Lady Catelyn Stark.

Lady Stoneheart makes a cackling noise that the others in the Brotherhood seem to understand, but Brienne does not. 

Brienne: Huh?

Harwin: Lady Stoneheart cares not of your oaths to Lannisters. She asks of your betrayals to the Starks.

Brienne: I did not betray the Strarks! Lady Stark sent to King’s Landing to exchange Jaime for her daughters, Sansa and Arya.  But by the time Jaime and I arrived, the two were already gone. And so was Lady Stark, alas. We received word that she was murdered by the Freys. Jaime stayed behind in Kings Landing, but sent me out with this sword, commanding me to find the girls.

Lem: To find the girls and bring them back to King’s Landing? To be the pets of Cersei Lannister?

Brienne: NO! Never. To bring them to safety. Look, I know that none of you are going to believe me, but it’s the truth! Jaime never told Cersei about any of this.

Jack Be Lucky: Nowhere is safe anymore. You should be hanged.

Lem: And who would actually believe that Jaime would keep a secret from Cersei?

Lady Stoneheart gurgles some more, and the other prisoners are brought out – Pod and Hyle. Hyle has totally had the shit beaten out of him.

Brienne: Whatever treachery you are accusing me of, those two had nothing to do with it. They are innocents. Free them!

Jack Be Lucky: You are all lions and should all die.

Lady Stoneheart: *gurgle*gargle*

Harwin: Lady Stoneheart says that this blade looks… familiar… for some reason. What is its name?

Brienne: It is called “Oathkeeper.”

Lady Stoneheat: *HISSSSSSSS*

Brienne: Wow. Really. Like a cat?

Hehe. Get it? Cat?

Lady Stoneheart: *gurgle*gargle*

Harwin: Lady Stoneheart says, “More like ‘Oathbreaker, you bitch. Or maybe ‘False Friend.’”

Brienne: To whom have I been false?

Harwin: To her. Have you forgotten that you once swore an oath to HER, not to Jaime.

Brienne: To her? What are you talking abou—

The woman steps out from the shadows and pulls off her good. Brienne sees the rotten, broken face of Lady Catelyn Stark.

Brienne: OHHHHH SHIIIIIIIIIIITTTT!!!!

Jeyne: Guest rights AND death don’t mean what they used to.

Brienne: This… this… is impossible!

Thoros: Lady Stark had been dead three days when her body washed up. Lord Beric gave her the kiss of life, which in turn he surrendered his own. Now Lady Stark, reborn as Stoneheart, leads us.

Brienne: Lady Cat, I SWEAR I did not betray you. I never betrayed you! I… I was looking through the countryside. Trying to find your girls. Trying to fulfil the oath to protect them that you sent me on. Jaime… he…he… he continued that oath as well. He is not the man you think him to be. Or, at least, he is not anymore. On the road… horrible things happened to us. He protected us from rape and murder. It cost him a hand. He… he has some nobility in him. Some honor. He wanted your girls safe too. He was just as disgusted as I when he heard of what happened at the Red Wedding. He had no part in that.

Lady Stoneheart: *gurgle*gargle*

Harwin: Lady Stoneheart says you have a choice. Be her sword and kill Jaime… or hang.

Brienne: I… I cannot make that choice!

Jack Be Lucky: Oh sweet, I guess it’s hanging time then!

Lem: YEP!

They grab the ropes and string all three up.

Brienne: Please! No! Let the boy go free! Podrick is innocent!

Harwin: You had your opportunity to save them and save yourself. Lady Stoneheart gave you a choice. Sword or death.

Brienne: I told you, I cannot make that cho—

—And they kick the chairs from under the three.

Brienne, Hyle and Pod all begin hanging.

Brienne then screams a word.

Yep. That’s all you’re getting. “A word.” What word? What does it mean? No idea. But she’s alive in the next book, so it was probably something like, “sword” as in “I will be your sword and kill Jaime.” But it could have been “rutabaga” honestly. No clue. Guess we’ll just have to wait and see.

AFfC 41: Alayne II (Sansa III)

Robert “Sweetrobin” Arryn refuses to go down to the Vale. But… well… Winter is Coming, as they say, and everybody needs to leave the mountaintop until spring comes again.

Alayne: *sigh* Well everyone else is an idiot, and Robert only likes me. So I guess I’m going to have to do it.

She goes into Robert’s bedchamber.

Alayne: Come darling, you need to leave.

Robert: NO! I don’t want to!

Alayne: We’ll be trapped in the Eyrie for all of Winter if you don’t come down.

Robert: I DON’T CARE!

Alayne: You should care.

Robert: I’m not going. Going down the mountain is scary. And those mules smell terrible. And I want some sweetmilk! I asked for some and Maester Coleman wouldn’t give it to me.

Alayne: You need to go down, my Sweetrobin. I’ll sing you a song when I get down there. And you’ll get lots of tasty food.

Robert: Truly? Can I have lemoncakes?

Alayne: Hey now, liking lemoncakes is MY thing. Stop stealing my shit.

Robert: I want lemoncakes. I want ALL THE LEMONCAKES in the world! And I want you to sing me FIVE songs!

Alayne: *sigh* Man, if Petyr were here, he’d have taken care of this already. Littlefinger scares the hell out of Robert. But, alas, he’s out attending some sort of wedding for Lord Lyonel Corbray, who is marrying some common girl. I don’t understand what’s up with that. Still. How would Petyr deal with this if he were here?

Then Alayne remembers – he’d just lie and manipulate!

Alayne: You can have ALL THE LEMONCAKES, Dear Sweetrobin. And I’ll sing you as many songs as you want. And you’ll be the bravest boy who ever went down the mountain because  you’re so brave and smart and strong!

Robert: YAAAAAY! OKAY! I’m going down then.

Alayne: *whew* I can’t believe that actually worked.

As Robert is bathed and readied to go down, Alayne meets with Maester Colemon.

Alayne: Dude, this kid will never survive the ride down unless you give him some sweetmilk.

Colemon: You are aware that sweetmilk is just milk with a pinch of sweetsleep being added, right? Sweetsleep being a potion commonly used by assassins to kill people. It’s what Pycelle accused Tyrion of taking from his office. It’s what Pycelle used to treat Lord Rosby’s coughing. This is some SERIOUS STUFF. The tiny bit added to the drink is survivable, but if I give it to him all the time… he will die. That stuff stays in your system forever.

Alayne: He might die one day if you keep giving it to him? Yes. Possible. But he DEFINITELY WILL 100% DIE TODAY if he has a seizure, panicking on that mountain, and falling to his death.  Give him the damn sweetmilk.

Colemon: Yes, m’lady.

Alayne then goes down to join Lothar Brune and Mya Stone (remember her? Robert’s bastard daughter!) that Robert will be coming soon.

Mya: It’s about damn time. I’ve been waiting here forever. Oh, and Myranda Royce has come up as well.

Alayne: What? Really? She came up all this way just to head back down again?

Alayne wonders why exactly Myranda would do that. Littlefinger had warned her that Myranda was shrewd and crafy. What could this lady be up to?  While Robert Arryn might be scared because he’s so frail… Alayne is scared too. Up in the Eyrie, she can be Alayne. But when she comes down to the Vale… will someone recognize her as Sansa Stark? The Queen supposedly has men all over, looking for her.

Robert arrives, and they get going. Needless to say, it’s a bit rocky. Literally. Robert starts panicing and shaking.

Alayne: Hold me, Robert! I’m so scared! I need a brave, strong boy like you to make me less scared!

That totally works. Robert stops shaking. Being told that he’s a manly man really works, it seems.

They arrive and reach the point where Myranda was waiting. This is a good thing, because it looks like the only other human being (beyond Alayne) that little Robert seems to like is her.

Robert: YAY! Myranda! Myranda! My other best friend!

Myranda: Oh, hello there my dear, sweet Robert! Why, you have grown so big and strong. And  you,  you must be Littlefinger’s bastard daughter, Alayne. They said you were beautiful and now that I see that it’s true. You must not be a virgin anymore for sure. With how hot you are, you must have all kinds of sex. Immediately tell me all about it now.

Alayne: Oh. Uhm. Hi, Myranda. That’s an interesting way to begin a conversation with a human being that you just met, right in front of a small child.

Myranda: In addition to telling me all about your sex life, I’d also like to know everything else about you. A complete history of your life. Your backstory. Everything you’ve ever done. You know, just to make sure you’re not really someone else, using a false identity. Because it’s sort of weird that Littlefinger has this daughter name “Alayne” that just magically appears one day even though she’s never been mentioned before.

Alayne: Yeah, well it was weird on Buffy when that happened with Dawn too. At first people were super angry about that, but then people just came to accept it. You’re just going to have to stop hyperventilating about things which you can’t control and deal with it.

Myranda: OH, SILLY ME! I almost forgot!

Myranda pulls out a sheet of paper and a pencil.

Myranda: Sorry, what did you say again? I need to keep reminding myself to record every single thing you ever say to me, in order to track potential inconsistencies.

Alayne: Well, this  trip down is going to be fun.

And so they descend. Alayne and Myranda do the best they can to keep Robert from freaking out. Occasionally he does doze off or act calm, which gives time for Myranda to provide all sorts of totally necessary plot exposition to Alayne. Exposition like:

Myranda: Lady Waynwood attended Lord Corbray’s wedding.

Alayne: Oh, interesting. She was one of the Lords Declarant that was against Littlefinger. Littlefinger was very doubtful that she would come to his side. But if she bothered to show up, that means she must have been won over somehow.  Interesting. I’ll have to ask Littlefinger how he knew that.

Myranda: Odd that you call him “Littlefinger.” Shouldn’t you say, “My dad?”

Alayne: Uhhm… err… YES! I mean “my dad.”

Myranda jots that down on her paper.

Myranda: Hey, have you ever seen his penis? Is it tiny? Is that why tell call him “Littlefinger?” Hehehe.

Alayne: EWWW! GROSS!!! You’re talking about my dad’s penis.

Myranda: Anyway, on with the exposition. Speaking of Lady Waynwood, did you know that her ward, Harry the Heir, was recently knighted? And they say he’s fathered TWO bastard sons already, despite how young he is.

Alayne: Wait… Waynwood’s ward? I remember Littlef-errr… MY DAD talking about him. That’s Harrold Hardyng, right? Why would he be called “Harry the Heir?”

But Myranda doesn’t pay attention to that, and instead goes on talking about bastards.

Myranda: Did you hear that some bastard son of Ned Stark became the Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch?

Alayne: WHAT?! JON SNOW?!

Myranda: Hrm. Snow? Yeah. I guess that’s his name. Interesting that you, Alayne Stone, would know by name a particular bastard son from a deceased Lord who lived far, far away in Winterfell.

She writes that down on her notepad.

Alayne: Err… well… you know how it is. Us bastards of lords and stuff. We stick together. And. Uhm. He was named after Lord Jon Arryn, I heard. Yeah. I remember Aunt Lysa telling me that once. Wait. Did I say "Aunt" Lysa. No! I mean "Step Mom" Lysa. Because my father, who is Petyr Baelish, married her.

Myranda: Oh, looks like we’re here! Gates of the Moon!

Alayne: OH THANK GOD THAT IS OVER.

As Alayne looks, she sees that Littlefinger’s flags are waving.

Alayne: Wait… father is back? Oh! I didn’t think he was supposed to be back so soon!

She’s dead tired and just wanted to go to sleep after the long and taxing journey, but instead she runs to see Littlefinger.

She interrupts him, as he stands talking with several knights.

Alayne: Oh, father. I’m sorry. I wouldn’t have intruded if I’d have known you had company.

Littlefinger: Nonsense,  these guys were just leaving. Give your father a kiss!

She pecks him lightly on the cheek as the knights depart. After they are gone…

Littlefinger: Surely you can give your dad a better kiss than that!

He starts making out with her. Yeah, it’s gross. Eventually, she pulls away.

Alayne: Yeah, if you think that’s the type of kiss that a daughter should give to her father,  then you’re the one who is going to blow this whole “I’m Alayne” story.

Littlefinger: Ah, but I have good news. You might not to keep this Alayne cover story for long.

Alayne: Say what now?

Littlefinger: As expected, Cersei Lannister is bumbling her way into chaos as usual. Usually I’m okay with that. I love chaos. I eat chaos three times a day. I own three cats, all of whom are named “Chaos.” Chaos—

Alayne: —is a ladder. Yeah, yeah. I get it.

Littlefinger: Anyway, I knew Cersei would self-destruct. But I didn’t think it would be this fast.

Alayne: Oh just wait a few chapters. You ain’t seen nothing yet.

Littlefinger: I thought I had years to plot here in the Vale… to win these people over. But now I might need to advance my plans. And that is why I bring you THIS…

He hands Alayne a piece of paper.

Alayne: Uhh… this is a marriage contract. For me!

Littlefinger: Yes.

Alayne: I’m already married.

Littlefinger: Sansa Stark is married. Alayne Stone is not.

Alayne: But you were just saying that I might be able to drop that identity soon.

Littlefinger: Yes, soon. But not quite now.

Alayne: WAIT! This says I’m to marry Harrold Hardyng! Myranda was just talking about that guy. Geez, if I knew you wanted me to marry him, I’d have paid more attention to the conversation. What did she say? Oh yeah, something about him being recently knighted and him fathering children out of wedlock. Seems like kind of a douche.

Littlefinger: A douche he might be… but a powerful douche! Why do you think he’s recently been knighted? He did nothing really to deserve it. Yet all the houses of the Vale wish to earn his favor.

Alayne: OH WAIT! Yeah. I remember Myranda said something else about him. She called him “Harry the Heir.” But that makes no sense. Why would Harry be Lady Waynwood’s heir? She has a bunch of kids of her own, right? Why would this ward kid be her heir.

Littlefinger: Think about it, Alayne. Harry is an heir, yes. But not to Lady Waynwood.

Alayne: Huh? What heir is he then?

Littlefinger: I’m glad you asked!

Baelish pulls down a carefully crafted diagram and genealogy table. He pulls out his light pointer.

Littlefinger: So Robert Arryn’s father was Lord Jon Arryn, right? Jon has a sister names “Alys.” Alys Arryn married Elys Waynwood. And Elys and Alys had a daughter. What’s the daughter’s name? It doesn’t matter. It’s never actually been stated in the books because this is intentionally a convoluted story that I’m telling. Anyway, Elys and Alys’s no-name daughter then married Lord Hardyng. What’s Lord Hardyng’s name? That doesn’t matter either, for plot purposes. But Lord Hardyng’s son with Elys and Alys’s daughter is is the ward of Lady Waynwood, the one and only Harrold “Harry” Hardyng. The very person you are now betrothed to, according to that contract in your hand.

Alayne: Oh. That means nothing to me.

Littelfinger: Jon Arryn had no other children. No other heirs. The closest blood relative after Robert is therefore…

Alayne: -OH! HARRY! Harry the Heir! He’s not the heir to Waynwood. He’s the heir to all of the Vale! He’s the next Lord if Robert dies!

Littlefinger: WHEN Robert dies, you mean. I know how you care for him so, but he is so small… so fragile. You know it will happen, sooner or later. Probably sooner.

Alayne: But why would the heir to the Vale be willing to marry some bastard girl of Littlefinger?

Littlefinger: Why? Because now I have power. But things will not stay that way. Not forever. Jon Arryn’s bannermen will never love or trust me in the long run. Nor will they love that sickly, shaking boy. But who could they love? They could love Harry, who is nicknamed “Young Falcon.” And they could love his wife too. Not his wife, my bastard daughter. His wife with long, auburn hair… the one that walks out at the wedding wearing a grey cloak with a wolf on it.

Alayne: Well okay, that sounds cool. Just promise me that I don’t have to marry fucking Ramsay Bolton though.

Littlefinger: WHAT?! That sick, murderous weirdo? I would never. That would totally go completely against everything that my character inherently stands for. I’m obsessed with you, love you myself, and would never put you in danger’s way. You represent a sick fetish that I have to be with your mother.

Alayne: Good. Good. I’m glad you understand that. Because it seems like not everyone understands that. There are other people who might have you marry me to Ramsay, which would be completely illogical, go totally against your character, and would indicate poor writing skills by a desperate group of people who are in over their heads and need to more closely stay to the books.

Littlefinger: Just so that we’re on the same page… you’re talking about David Benioff and D.B. Weiss, correct?

Alayne: Yes.

Littlefinger: Good.

Arianne Matrell: Yes, I agree also! I should be in the TV show.

Alyane: No, you're in the wrong chapter, Arianne. We've moved on to the Sansa-Ramsay wedding thing.

Arianne: Oh right. That was dumb too.

AFfC 40: The Princess in the Tower (Arianne II)

Princess Arianne Martell is in the Spear tower in Dorne. Is it a luxurious tower that is basically a fancy hotel suite? Yes. It’s even got a fancy cyvasse table for her to play games. What’s cyvasse? I mean it’s basically chess, but GRRM likes giving things different names that sound fancy. It's chess, but with slightly different pieces. 

Anyway, despite her luxury… she still a prisoner. Her father, Doran, will let no man see her or talk to her. Nor will he see her himself.

People give her food.

Arianne: Hey, how is my dad doing?

They don’t answer her. She throws the food away.

The next day.

Arianne: Let my dad know I want to talk to him.

They don’t respond.

She throws her food away.

The next day.

Arianne: Let my dad that I never meant for Myrcella to be harmed!

They don’t respond.

She thinks about throwing the food away, but then eats it because she's hungry and doesn't have the willpower to keep up this hunger strike.

The next day. It’s bath time.

Arianne: Did they ever catch Darkstar? 

They don’t respond.

She gets grumpy and throws the bath water in the maid’s face.

The next day. Food time again.

Arianne: What about my friends? Are they imprisoned too? I heard someone say that they were taken to Ghaston Grey. It’s a terrible prison. They’re innocent. 

They don’t respond.

She throws her food away.

The next week.

Arianne: Where are the Sand Snakes? Are they okay? 

They don’t respond.

She throws her food away.

The next week. Bath time.

Arianne: Oh shit. It’s bath time again. Nothing seems to be working. But the girl giving me the baths is named "Cedra." I vaguely recall hearing some gossip that Cedra popped her cherry with Garin, one of my co-conspirators. Let me try something on her.

Cedra gives her a bath.

Arianne: Oh, hi Cedra. I know you’re not allowed to talk to me. But I’m just getting really worried about all my friends. You know, the ones in Ghaston Grey. I hear that Garin is in there too. They say that place is cold and windy and full of mold. I hear that half of the prisoners there die.

Cedra’s eyes pop open, and she looks super worried. She still doesn’t talk though.

The next week. Bath time again.

Arianne: Hi again, Cedra! Wow, isn’t it hard not talking to me? I mean, what a pain to not share your emotions with someone. I wish I had someone who I could talk to. One of my friends who would talk to me. One of my friends like a Garin.  Not that I’m into him or anything. Although he is super cute and handsome. But I told him that once and he politely told me that he was in love with someone else. That he wanted to run away with her and marry her. I don’t know who though. But what a lucky girl, huh?  I just want to talk with him as my friend. That will never happen though. Because he’ll probably be dead soon. My father Prince Doran wants him to die in that prison. So sad. And if you think it’s sad for me… just imagine how sad it must be for that other girl, whoever she is. The one that Garin loves.

Cedra gets a nervous tick. She tries to hold it back. But she can’t.

Cedra: OMG! IT’S ME! IT’S ME! GARIN IS IN LOVE WITH ME! I CAN’T LET HIM DIE!

Arianne: WHAAAAAAA? How unexpected! It’s almost as if my past relationship with Arys Oakheart, *ahem*—RIP, my lover—has proven me to be a master emotional manipulator!

Cedra: We can’t let Garin die, Arianne! What can I do to help?

Arianne: Oh. I dunno. Maybe send this secret letter that I’ve written to Lord Franklyn Fowler, asking for him to come rescue me and help break everyone else out of their prisons too. The Sand Snakes. Garin. Especially Garin. Garin who will soon die, if you don’t take quick, quick action.

Cedra: Yes! Of course, Arianne! Of course!

Arianne hands over the note, and Cedra rushes off.

Arianne: Hehehehe. Yaaaas.

The next day. Meal time.

Arianne: Oh hey there. Thanks for the meal. Is Cedra in today?

They don’t respond.

She thinks about throwing her food away, but is super hungry and eats it instead.

The next week.

Arianne: HEY! It’s bath time! You’re not Cedra. Where is Cedra?

They don’t respond.

She takes a big swallow of bath water and spits it into the servant’s face. 

The next day.

Arianne: WHERE IS CEDRA?

They don’t respond.

The next day.

Arianne: I DEMAND TO SEE MY FATHER!

They don’t respond.

The next day.

Arianne: I ORDER YOU TO TAKE ME TO PRINCE DORAN!

They don’t respond.

The next day.

Arianne: Pretty please with sugar on top.

They don’t respond.

She throws her food away.

And so it goes on. Day after day. Week after week. She stops eating. She angrily thinks about how much she hates her father. How he continually tried to marry her off to undesirable, old men that she had no interest in. How he never wanted her to succeed, and always planned to have her brother, Quentyn, replace her as the heir to Dorne. Years ago!

She hollers out of the windows, hoping if the other Sand Snakes are imprisoned there that they will respond. But there is nothing except for silence and wind.

She wants to die.

Then one day, the door opens.

Areo Hotah: Hey, your dad wants to see you.

Arianne: WHAT?! You’re talking to me?

Areo: Yeah. Now get a move on it, girl.

And so she finally goes to see her dad. She is happy to be free from her prison, but also furious. She thinks of all the things she’s going to say to him. How she’s going to curse him out so bad.

Then she stands before him. And he looks rough. Really, really bad. The gout has made him much worse than he was before. Frail. Dying. Thin.

Arianne: Fuuuuuck. Dad.

Doran: WHY, ARIANNE? WHY?

Arianne: For the honor of this house! You did NOTHING! NOTHING! You let your sister get murdered! You let your brother get murdered! And what do you do? NOTHING! You let the Lannisters walk all over us.  You are weak, father. You shame all of Dorne. But other than that, how is Myrcella doing? Is she dead?

Doran: She is not well, but she is not dead either. She lost an ear and half of her face has been cut off.  Which means the REAL PERSON who has shamed Dorne and made us weak is YOU.

Arianne: BS!

Doran: What do you think the Iron  Throne will do when they learned what happened to Myrcella? When they see her face! There will be WAR, Arianne. WAR!

Arianne: We will defeat them.

Doran: Do you REALLY think that? You are such an idiot. The Lannisters and their armies will CRUSH US. Do you know how small our armies are? Tiny, in comparison to all of the Northern Kingdoms.  Oh yeah, when the Targaryens came to power, we were conquered last.  Here in Dorne, we wear that badge with pride. Like we were the strongest and most fierce warriors. Like the Iron Throne was scared of us. We convinced ourselves of that “truth.” But do you know what the REAL truth is? Why Dorne was conquered last? Because we meant the least. We were the least populated of the Seven Kingdoms. The Targaryens delayed conquering Dorne… not because they were scared of us… but because they thought WE DIDN’T EVEN MATTER THAT MUCH. They would get around to us whenever they got around to us.

Arianne: Who betrated me? Was it Darkstar?

Doran says nothing. But just a note, every fan who thinks Darkstar did it is a moron because that makes absolutely no sense.

Doran: Ser Balon Swann of the Kingsguard is coming here to Sunspear. He brings with him the head of The Mountain. Do you know what will happen once he gets here and finds that Myrcella has half of her face cut off?

Arianne: *mumbles quietly* Probably won’t be happy.

Doran: THAT’S RIGHT, DIPSHIT! SO GOOD WORK WITH THAT!  I’ve been doing everything I can to delay him. Every city in Dorne he stops by, I have the local lords wine and dine him. They demand to hold feasts in his honor for multiple days. But eventually… he will get here. Nothing can prevent that now. And what should we tell him happened to the princess?

Arianne: Uhm… maybe we can say that Darkstar tried to kill her. And Ser Aerys Oakheart died, valiantly defending her.

Doran: Good. GOOD. RIGHT ANSWER. Maybe you’re not as much of a dipshit as you look. And what will happen when Balon asks Myrcella what happened?

Arianne: Myrcella… she… she trusts me. If I tell her to say that’s what happened, then she will.

Doran: Perhaps, if we are lucky.

Arianne: But now it seems like you NEED ME. I’m the ones holding the cards now, pops.  I wanted a war with the Lannisters. And even though it’s not happening the way I wanted… this is still the end result. Why should I help you to PREVENT war? Why should I convince Myrcella to go along with the lie? You don’t care about me. You don’t love me. You’ve been trying to get rid of me for years.

Doran: I have not!

Arianne: What about all those old, nasty men you tried to marry me to?

Doran: Why do you think I chose old, nasty men? Because I knew you would REFUSE THEM. I had other plans.

Arianne: What? Why? What on earth are you talking about?

Doran: Arianne, Arianne, Arianne. I gave you a cyvasse table in your room to play with, did I not?

Arianne: Just call it "chess," dad. Besides... to play against who? I was there alone.

Doran: To play against yourself. To think of strategies. Tactics. Don’t just think about the next move you’re going to make. Think about your oppont’s move after. Think three steps ahead. Four. Five. Six. Think the whole game ahead. War is a game, child. War is cyvasse. If you plan to win a war, you must do that! And I never start a war I cannot win.

Arianne: All you ever do is think. You take no action. What war? You do nothing but bend the knee to the Lannisters and let them humiliate us.

Doran: The war has already begun, Arianne. The Lannisters just don’t know it yet.

Arianne: STOP BEING ALL FUCKING CRYPTIC. WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT DAD?

Doran: I wish I could have told my plans to you earlier, but you couldn’t be trusted. You’re too impulsive. And you would have told everyone. All of your friends. I had to keep it from you. But I never knew that YOU’D FUCK EVERYTHING UP THIS BAD, all on your own.

Arianne: What plans? WHAT? JUST TELL ME.

Doran: I could not allow you to marry a Lord, but I had to make it look like I wanted to. Why? Because you were already betrothed to another.

Arianne: Who?

Doran: It doesn’t matter. He’s dead. Someone poured molten gold all over his face.

Arianne: Wait. What? Huh? That’s such a load of nothing. You’ve always wanted to disown me. It’s why you wanted Quentyn to take my place and rule Dorne! It's why he's on that secret mission.

Doran: WHAT? Where did you hear that from? TELL ME!

Arianne: No. But I know about his secret mission to Essos. WHY?! WHY?!

Doran: Daughter, you must tell us how you know these things. It is important.

Arianne: TELL ME WHY QUENTYN IS IN ESSOS.

Doran: To bring us back our heart’s desire!

Arianne: And what is that, father?

Doran: Vengeance, my daughter. Justice. FIRE AND BLOOD.

Arianne: DAMNIT, Doran. You have the same problem that GRRM has. We don’t actually want “Fire and Blood.” We want “The Winds of Winter.”

Doran: No, I mean “fire and blood” as in the motto of the House Targaryen.

Arianne: I’m still not following.

Doran: Who has their face melted off with gold?

Arianne: Uhh… oh yeah…  Viserys. WAIT. You wanted to marry me to Viserys Targaryen?!

Doran: Indeed.

Arianne: And if Viserys came back to the Seven Kingdoms… then… he’d… be… king?

Doran: Right. Which would make you…?

Arianne: OH. QUEEN! I’D BE QUEEN! OF THE SEVEN KINGDOMS!

Doran: Yeah. So do you get it now? Your whole life you thought that I was a weak, do-nothing leader who didn’t love you enough. When in reality, I’ve been involved in a multi-decade scheme to dethrone the Baratheons and their Lannister allies, bring the Targaryens back to power, and make you – my daughter – the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.

Arianne: YOU SHOULD HAVE TOLD ME THIS DAD! JUST THINK HOW MUCH BETTER THIS COULD HAVE GONE IF YOU WOULD HAVE JUST TOLD ME!

Doran: Again, I did NOT expect that you could fuck up things this bad on your own. How would I have known that?

Arianne: But Viserys is dead now.

Doran: Indeed. So plan B. Same deal, but now marrying Quentyn to Viserys’s sister, Dany.

Arianne: Wow. Is EVERYONE heading over to Essos to try to marry Dany?

Doran: Pretty much.

Arianne: Well, I mean that sucks for me. But it shows that you’re really a master manipulator who plays the long game and has complex plots.

Doran: It does.

Arianne: In the TV show you’re just a big, dopey idiot who does nothing.

Doran: The TV show ruined everything about Dorne.

Arianne: No kidding. It left me out. What kind of a giant mistake is that?

Arianne is correct. She is the best. 

AFfC 39: Cersei IX

Pycelle kneels before Cersei.

Master Pycelle: I did everything I could, but Lord Gyles has died.

Cersei: Moron.

Pycelle: I did all I could!

Cersei: I bet you killed him on purpose, didn’t you? You’re conspiring with Margaery! Everyone knows the Tyrells wanted Gyles dead so that Mace Tyrell could take over as the new Lord Treasurer.  Besides, we all know you’ve been hanging out with Margaery.

Pycelle: It’s not true!

Cersei: Really? Because these photos say you’re lying.

Cersei throws a bunch of photos at him. They’re a bunch of black and white photos. Really artsy. They show Pycelle creeping around and visiting the other queen.

Pycelle: WHAT?! Did you have some sort of Film Noir private eye follow me around and take pictures.

A man in a trench coat and fedora jacket walks out of the shadows.

Pretty Much Just Philip Marlowe: You bet she did, bub. Now spill the beans.

He then drinks a bunch of Old Forester bourbon out of a bottle in a paper bag and immediately gets knocked out by his enemies. That’s generally what happens in most Philip Marlowe stories.

Pycelle: I can explain, Cersei! I can explain! I wasn’t plotting with her! I swear!

Cersei: Really? Then what were you doing with her?

Pycelle: I… I… I can’t tell you! Doctor-Patient Confidentiality laws!

Cersei: Oh, fair enough. I’ll have to respect that.

Pycelle: Really?

Cersei: NO, JUST KIDDING. I’LL DRAG YOU TO THE CELLARS AND HAVE QYBURN DESTROY YOU.

Pycelle: MOON TEA! IT WAS MOON TEA, Cersei! I was giving Margaery some moon tea.

Cersei: Whaaaaaa? You mean the stuff that sexually active drink to induce abortions?

Pycelle: That’s right.

Cersei: Well, how perfect since I’m trying to frame her for cheating on my son and being sexually active! Maybe it’s actually true!

Pycelle: Possibly. That would be super convenient. She could also just be asking for it for one of her sexually active friends. In the end, Margaery is a fairly minor, non-POV character in the books. Not a major role with a notable actress playing her, like in the show. So it’s not really explained that well.

Cersei: BE GONE! All of Gyles weath and possessions now go to the crown.

Taena: Oh wow, Margaery could only want moon tea for one reason. But is that enough evidence for Mace Tyrell to allow his daughter to be executed?

Cersei: No. We will need more.

Taena: What about Margaery’s young cousins? Maybe they will know more about it.

Cersei: Right. Or I can TORTURE them into knowing more. Which is even better because that’s probably where Joffrey got it from. Let’s have dinner with your husband tonight, Taena.

And so they meet again for dinner, but now with Lord Orton Merriweather. At dinner, a singer named the “Blue Bard” plays. He’s apparently Margaery’s favorite singer.

Cersei: So, Orton. It’s terrible what happened to Lord Gyles.

Orton: Indeed, indeed. He will be missed. But his coughing will not. I suppose you will need a new Lord Treasurer and Master of Coin then.

Cersei: I will. And I’d like to ask Ser Harys Swyft to take on that role.

Orton: But Ser Harys is already the Hand of the King.

Cersei: He is. But… you know… he’s totally cool and everything. But a bit over his head, don’t you think? My son Tommen reall needs someone a little better, smarter, more talented, and cool to guide him as the Hand. Someone like… oh… maybe you, Lord Orton.

Orton: Cersei… I… I don’t know what to say! You give me a great honor! Of course I would be willing to become the Hand of the King, if your grace so desires it.

Cersei: Oh, I do. You can be Hand of the King and I will also have your unbending loyalty and willingness to blindly go along with whatever I want.

Orton: Yeah. Say no more. Deal.

Cersei: Oh, and that “unbending loyalty” thing starts by you supporting me on things like this. *ahem*… MUSICIAN!

Blue Bard: Yes, Cersei? Do you have a song request?

Cersei: No. But I do want to do this.

She grabs his lute and smashes it into his face.

Orton: WTF?!

Cersei: WHEN DID YOU START SLEEPING WITH MARGAERY TYRELL?!

Blue Bard: What?  What… what are you talking about?!

Cersei: OH, I’LL HAVE THE TRUTH FROM YOU. LIAR! TO THE BLACK CELLS AND QYBURN FOR YOU!

For a while, Blue Bard sticks to his story. That story being “the truth.” But after a bit of torture from Qyburn, with Cersei watching…

Blue Bard: Whatever… whatever you want me to say. I confess to it!

Cersei: Tell me you slept with Margaery.

Blue Bard: I did!

Cersei: Tell me you saw Margaery sleep with other men too. Tons of them. That she likes to have giant sex orgies with all sorts of dudes. Get into some real nasty stuff. Scat play and everything.

Blue Bard: Yes! Yes! Margaery is totally into that and bangs guys all the time. I’ve seen it with my own eyes! PLEASE MAKE THE PAIN STOP.

Cersei: Really? Guys like who? You need to back the story up with some examples.

Blue Bard: Uhhmm… err… Tallard the Tall? Lambert Turnberry? Jalabhar Xho? The Redwyne twins? Osney Kettleblack? Hugh Clifton? The Knight of Flowers? Who do you want me to say? I’ll say it! JUST END THE PAIN!

Cersei: Yes, yes. Good. Gooooood. But you’re only supposed to name my enemies. I need the Redwyne twins to be on my side.

Blue Bard: Oh. Right. Sorry. I mis-remembered. They weren’t there at all. My bad. You’re right/

Cersei: And Loras? Well… I bet Margaery and her brother did have hot, nasty incest sex. Gross. Brother and sister having sexual relations? Why… I can’t even think of that…

Blue Bard: Why are you touching yourself now then?

Cersei: SHUT UP! The point is, the people love Ser Loras and need their hero. Especially since he’s dying anyway.  So yeah, those two probably had sex. But they were super discreet about it. They made sure that nobody else saw. So you wouldn’t even know about it.

Blue Bard: CORRECT! Loras Tyrell? That’s crazy talk! Loras and Margaery never did any sex stuff together. I mean, not that I saw. If they did, they kept that super private.

Cersei: Perfect! Well, it seems like another  perfect example of how interrogation works and leads to the truth!

CIA Director Gina Haspel: Exactly. Good work, as usual.

Qyburn: Didn’t you already get killed in this blog?

Cersei: This is DISGUSTING. DISGUSTING stuff that Margaery has done. I feel like I need to bathe myself. Teana?

Teana: Yes?

Cersei: Come with me and scrub me down.

Queue a lesbian scene. As the two bathe with each other, Cersei decides that some of Margaery’s handmaids also need to be given the Blue Bard treatment to “correct” their memories of what happened.  Cersei goes to sleep that night again, and once more dreams of Maggy the Frog’s prophecies and of Tyrion coming back as a giant to kill her.

At breakfast the next morning…

Tommen: Oh, hey mom! My wife has gone to fast and purify herself for Maiden’s Day.

Cersei: MWAHAHAHA. I mean “great, honey.”

After, she meets with Osney Kettleblack.

Cersei: Okay, so here is the deal, Osney.

Osney: You’ll make love to me?

Cersei: No. Shut up. Remember how I was getting you to woo Margaery? Well, I need you to go to the High Septon and confess that you had sex with her.

Osney: Well, I didn’t. She wouldn’t sleep with me. I tried, but it actually seems like she doesn’t want to be arrested and executed for treason against the king. Go figure.

Cersei: Yeah… who cares if you didn’t? I need you to tell the High Septon that you did.

Osney: So you want me to lie to the head of the church?

Cersei: Yes.

Osney: That sounds like the kind of thing that people go to hell for.

Cersei: Oh please, I’ve done much, much worse stuff than that and I don’t feel bad at all.

Osney: Still though. You want me to confess to the High Septon that I slept with the queen. I’d feel a lot better about that if I did actually… you know… sleep with the queen.

Cersei: Well you said that Margaery wouldn’t… oh… ah… I see… you mean me.

Osney: Yep. Right now. And leave your crown on. I like you with the crown on.

Cersei: *sigh* The things I do to protect Tommen. Okay, cowboy. Go to town.

As Osney has sex with her... 

Cersei: MWAHAHAHA! THERE IS NO WAY THIS PLAN CAN FAIL!

Osney: Margaery can refuse to ask for a trial by combat. Margaery can ask for a trial by combat by someone other than Boros. Margaery could see through your paper-thin plot and realise you are behind this. Someone who has been tortured to tell a story can tell a different story when they're tortured by someone else. All the unreliable people you've been counting on and who you barely know can sell you out. Someone could--

Cersei: --NO. WAY. I. CAN. FAIL!

AFfC 38: Jaime VI

It’s the morning of Jaime’s parlay with the Blackfish. The drawbridge opens and the two meet.

Jaime: Let us into the castle please, and nobody dies.

Blackfish: No.

Jaime: I’ll give you Edmure in exchange for the Westerlings. Come on. That seems like a pretty good trade. The Lord of Riverrun in return for some girls?

Blackfish: Look at this bag I have here. What’s in it? Dick Clark. Dick Van Dyke. Dick Butkus. Dick Cheney. This all looks pretty tasty. Here you go, Jaime. Have it. Eat a bag of dicks.

Jaime: I give you my word that—

Blackfish: Oh, the word of a Kingslayer and Oathbreaker. I have two things to say to that.  *flips Jaime two middle fingers and leaves*

Jaime: But… but… oh. Well that didn’t go well at all.  And now I’m especially insecure about my ability to be a mastermind that can get stuff done, like my dad Tywin. Aunt Genna totally emasculated me in my last chapter and I’m still pretty insecure about that. I’ve got to prove her wrong! I’ve got to prove that I can be as crafty and smart as Tyrion.

Jaime heads back to camp and calls a war council of all the Freys and lords besieging Riverrun. From the little time he spends in the council, it’s easy to see why this siege has totally failed so far. All of them are bickering and fighting among themselves.

Lord Piper: The Freys are lying, treacherous weasels! They have my son, or they killed him at the Red Wedding. I want to see him.

Edwyn Frey: Shut your mouth. You’ll get your son when you prove your loyalty.

Piper: Shut up, Edwyn. You’re not even supposed to have a seat on the council. This is your father, Ryman’s, seat. Is he too drunk to show up again?

Edwyn: SHUT UP AND DON’T TALK ABOUT MY DADDY LIKE THAT! You traitor! You only reluctantly joined our side. I bet you’re really loyal to the Starks.

Piper: Oh, you mean like how EXACTLY THE FREYS WERE?

Piper storms out.

Edwyn: I WANT THAT GUY’S HEAD!

Jaime: No, asshole. He has a point. If you ask me, the group here that most douchily were turncoats that bestrayed their alliance is the FREYS. I seem to recall you Freys fighting along the Young Wolf the last time I was here.

Edwyn: But… I… uhh…

Jaime: Forget this.

He leaves the council, and goes to the Frey camp to see what’s up with Edmure Tully. Sure enough, there he is at the gallows again. Another empty, hollow threat to hang him again.  Jaime also sees Ryman Frey. Yep, indeed he is drunk. But not too drunk to NOT have a whore in the tent with him.  Jaime shakes his head and moves on to Edmure.

Jaime: Sup?

Edmure: Just go on and kill me already, Kingslayer. I see that you’ve brought Ser Ilyn Payne with you.

Jaime: Yes, good point. He is an executioner. Ilyn, do your thing.

As Ser Ilyn goes back to swing, Ryman Frey comes running out of his tent, with his pants off.

Ryman: NO! NO! That’s MY prisoner! Don’t harm him!

Jaime: Why?

Ryman: Because I want to prove to the Blackfish that I mean business! That I’ll kill him.

Jaime: Yes. Only you haven’t.

Ryman: No. I can’t kill him. He’s too valuable. Then we’ll have nothing to argue with.

Jaime: What did the five, golden fingers say to the face, Ryman?

Ryman: Huh?

*SLAP*

Jaime punches the pantless Ryman to the ground.

Jaime: You are dismissed of duty, Ryman. Edwyn now has command of your forces. I command you to go back to Lord Walder and order him to release all of his prisoners to me.

Ryman hobbles away, in shame.

Jaime: Now where was I?

Edmure: The sword swinging part.

Jaime: Oh yeah, right. Ilyn, Do your thing!

Ilyn Payne swings back and then takes a mighty lunge at Edmure…….’s rope.

The rope is cut and Edmure is free from the gallows.

Edmure: What the hell? Why did you spare me?

Jaime: Call it a “wedding gift.”

Edmure: Uh, thanks for reminding me about my wedding. That’s not at all a sensitive subject. Lady Roslin. She… she kept me distracted. I had no idea what was happening. My whole family. My friends. My soldiers. All murdered.

Jaime: Yeah, and you knocked her up too. On the first try. Good work.

Edmure: Damn right I did. Don’t believe anything about that “floppy fish” song you might have heard. LIES! LIES!

Jaime: Floppy Fish?

Edmure: Never mind. Pretend I didn’t say anything.

Jaime: MEN! Bring Lord Tully to my tent. Have him bathed, clothed, and given food and wine.

They do that for Edmure. And soon after, Jaime meets Edmure again.  This time he brings along with him a random singer that just happened to be part of the Frey forces.

Random Singer: Hi! I’m here too.

But Edmure doesn’t see the singer. Yet. Since he’s all in the back of Jaime’s entourage.

Edmure: So what are you really up to with me, Jaime?

Jaime: Well, you are the Lord of Riverrun. It should be you that makes the decision on whether Riverrun surrenders… or if your men all needlessly die to the last. The Blackfish is in charge now. And he is an old man who has nothing to live for. He will have all your men die with him.

Edmure: What are you saying?

Jaime: I am saying I will let you free. I will release you to Riverrun to take command and be the Lord again. But in exchange, I will need you to open the gates and surrender to us. In exchange, I will let you be kept as a prisoner at Casterly Rock. You will be well cared for. I will even send for your wife and child to be with you.

Edmure: Really?

Jaime: Yes.

Edmure: And how do you know that I will keep up my part of the bargain when you let me free? It sounds like Riverrun is well provisioned and defended. I could just go in there and keep up the siege.

Jaime: We can win this fight, Edmure. We can easily win it. Not the way the Freys wanted it though. The Freys wanted the castle intact so that they could rule it. Do I give a shit what the Freys want? No. We will have our siege engines utterly obliterate it. My catapults will throw huge boulders at the castle to destroy it, piece by piece. But the first thing my siege engine throws won’t be a boulder. It will be your small child with Roslin. Have fun cleaning the guts of your baby up. I’ll give you time to do that before the boulders come. To really look at all that mush of bones and flesh and let it sink in that it’s your heir. Riverrun will then become fucking ruins. Will it be ruins that people will look upon in the future and remember "the horrible fate of Riverrun?" No. Because I will divert the river itself so that it now flows over the ruins, and washes the rocks away. No part of Riverrun will ever exist or be seen again. It will be like it never existed. We will erase you from the history books. Nobody will sing songs about the Tullys or Riverrun because it and you will be forgotten a hundred years from now.

Edmure: Oh, Jesus Christ. Man. You know, sometimes I feel like the readers are now on your side and see that you are an okay dude. Your POV chapters really help to explain what’s going in in your head and that you’re mostly an honorable guy. But other times… man… other times you’re still that asshole who pushed Bran out the window.

Jaime: Sorry. It’s just that Aunt Genna… she… look… don’t distract me…

Edmure: I’ll kill you, Kingslayer!

Jaime: I mean… you can try. But for now. Enjoy dinner. Here, I’ve brought this random singer with me to play for you while you eat.

The singer steps forward.

Edmure: OH GOD! OH GOD NO! NOT HIM! ANYONE BUT HIM!

And that’s how the chapter ends.

Jaime: No wait. Stop. I don’t get it. Why does Edmure hate this singer? That’s never really is explained.

Oh well, it sort of is. But you have to play the really long game with this one.

Jaime: Go on. I want to know who this guy is.

Random Singer: Yeah, who am I?

Well, in A Game of Thrones, Cat explains that her brother hates singers. Then in A Storm of Swords, Arya is provided a bit more info. Tom O’ Sevens starts bragging about how once Edmure Tully was too drunk to have sex with a girl he wanted to, got the whisky dick, and that he had sex with the girl instead. So after that, Tom wrote a song called “Floppy Fish,” about Edmure.

Jaime: Oh, okay. So now I get why Edmure hates singers. But that still doesn’t explain… No… no… wait. I get it now. I get it. Edmure reacting so violently to THIS singer can only mean that this mystery singer is, indeed, Tom O’ Sevens.

Tom O’ Sevens: YEP! IT'S ME!!!! 

Edmure: Ugh.


Tom O’ Sevens: Although you didn't really need to do all this CSI work, Jaime. I reveal who I am in your very next POV chapter.

Jaime: Ah. Sorry, that's probably a little bit of residual Ned Stark. Wanting to solve a mystery. I should stop that, since it will probably get me killed.

And then the chapter ends for real now.

Jaime: NO! STOP! STOP! Don’t end the chapter yet!

Ugh. What is it this time?

Jaime: Why is this important again? I mean why exactly is this singer being Tom O Sevens worth including at the conclusion of this chapter? GRRM generally doesn’t throw useless things in that have no meaning. Well, except for when he does. Like that story with the Three Little Pigs that was in one of my last chapters. That had no purpose. But this one feels like it’s important.

It is. Try to guess why.

Jaime: That’s why I’m asking you, narrator.

When was the last time we saw Tom?

Edmure: Ooh! Ooh! I think I know this one! He was still traveling with the Brotherhood without Banners. AKA Team Thoros AKA Team Beric AKA Team Lady Stoneheart.

Right.

Jaime: Oh, so if this random singer is Tom… then why did I find him with the Frey soldiers? He should be with Lady Stoneheart instead. He should hate the Freys!

Edmure: Wait… wait… I think I get it. He’s totally STILL WITH the Brotherhood. He’s just now infiltrated the Frey army and is betraying them and informing on them. Right?

Tom: DING DING DING! We have a winner.

Jaime: Oh man. Yeah. That’s actually a pretty good end to a chapter then. Pretty obscure. I mean how many readers are going to dig all the way back to A Storm of Swords Chapter 22 to remember who this singer might be, and then put two and two together to figure out that the Brotherhood now has a plant in the Frey forces?

Not very many people. Okay. Can I end this chapter now?

Jaime: Yep. 

AFfC 37: Brienne VII

Brienne, Pod, Septon Meribald, Dog, and Hyle Hunt are walking through the countryside and see dozens and dozens of hanging bodies along the trees.
 
Dog: Woof?

Pod: It looks like the crows have eaten their eyes, while the wolves have jumped up and feasted on their legs.

Everyone stops and looks at Pod. They then turn to see Pee-Wee Herman, Chairry, Cowboy Curtis, and all the rest of the Playhouse Gang on the side of the road, hiding behind some bushes.

Dog: Woof.

Brienne: Not quite, guys! He ALMOST said it. But he didn’t. You’re going to have to wait.

Hyle: Anyway, tese appear to me the men that raided the Saltpans. Criminals. Murders. Good riddance to them.

Brienne: I’d usually agree to that, but the fact that they are hanging means that Beric Dondarrion’s men are near.

They arrive at the ruins of the Saltpans and knock on the gate.

Gatekeeper: What’s the secret word?

Septon Meribald: Why, I think it’s “A Feast For Cr—”

Brienne jumps in the way and muffles his mouth.

Brienne: DO. NOT. SAY. IT. Or any of the other ones. You know the ones. No GOT. No ASOIAF. Say none of them!!!

Meribald: But if we don’t say the magic word, they won’t let us in.

Gatekeeper: That’s right. NOW BUGGER OFF!

And so they turn away from the Saltpans, looking for somewhere else to rest for the night.  There, they find an old inn.

Brienne: What is the name of this inn?

Meribald: Ah, for it has had many names over the years. In the olden times, they used to call it—

Brienne: —Yeah, I didn’t ask for that. I asked for what it’s called now.

Meribald: I think this is just the “Inn at the Crossroads.”

Brienne: Oh wow. This is a really important inn in the books, I guess. Cat stopped here and reflected on how the old lady with the nasty teeth who ran it used to give her treats as a girl.  It’s where Tyrion was found by her and arrested. Arya stopped by here and we learned that the old lady with the nasty teeth had been murdered. This is, like, really an important place. And you know what, I think it’s pretty symbolic that they call it the “Inn at the Crossroads,” because I really am at a crossroads now. Four directions to go after I leave this inn. Do I go East to the Vale to see if Sansa is hiding there where her Aunt Lysa used to be?  Should I—

Hyle: Hey, that east option sounds pretty good. Maybe we should go that way. I bet Sansa is there at the Vale.

Brienne: SHHH! I’m doing a soliloquy now. *ahem* Should I go West and search for her at Riverrun, where she might be hiding with the Blackfish?  Should I go North and see if she has tried to return to Winterfell?  Or should I do what everyone else has been telling me… go SOUTH and return home to my father and abandon this quest?  Everyone keeps telling me things like I’ll be raped and killed on this road if I stay on this mission. They tell me that maybe I’ll have part of my face eaten off by a crazy guy on bath salts, or that a woman who I’m dearly devoted to but I think is deceased will turn out to be undead and try to hang me. But I shouldn’t believe that! Should I?

Everyone stands there and waits for her to be done.

She is.

Hyle: Okay, so we can go to the inn now?

Brienne: Yes.

They do.

There, they find the place completely overwhelmed with orphan children. Oh, and also bloody stains on the floor.

Brienne: Hrm. These are all ugly, raggid-looking children. Maybe one of them is Arya Stark. They say she is not comely like her sister.

Orphan Girl: From what I hear about Arya Stark, she’s more likely to have been responsible for those bloody stains on the floor over there than it’s likely she’d be living her as an orphan.

And yes, she was. Partly.

*BANG*BANG*BANG*

Brienne: Hey! Is that a forge I hear nearby? COOL! I love forges! Let’s check it out!

She runs over to the forge and sees..

Brienne: OMG! RENLY!

Gendry: Uhmm… what?

Brienne: Wait… no… you look A LOT like Renly, but you’re not quite him. But you look A LOT like him. Tell me, are you from King’s Landing? Who was your father?

Gendry: Bitch, I don’t even know you. Why would I answer these sort of questions for a random stranger?  You know, you should all get going. It’s dangerous in these parts.

Brienne: But this is an inn. Inns are where people stay.

Meribald: The boy has a point. Masha Heddle used to run this place and she was murdered for no particular reason.

Hyle: What? Why? I never it was so dangerous to be an innkeeper.

Merbald: What is dangerous is being born as smallfolk, when these lords play their game of thrones. They…

--Alarms start flashing and horns sound. Chairry, Magic Screen, Pterri, Mr. Window, Clockey, Conky 2000 and all the others start shouting wildly and flailing their arms/wings/seat cushions/whatever they have around. The text "Game of Thrones" flashes again and again.

Brienne: Shhhhhiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit!

Cowboy Curtis: He just said the Secret Word!

Pee-Wee: HEH-HEH!!

And as quickly as they all appeared, they all vanish right back behind the forge and into the woods.

Brienne: Damnit, Meribald. We tried to warn you not to do that.

Meribald: *sigh* Sorry.

Dog: Woof.

Willow: Hi, I’m Willow!

Brienne: Like the short one from the Warwick Davis film? Or like the lesbian from Buffy?

Willow: Neither. I’m the girl you thought I was Arya earlier. But I’m not. One of the orphan girls. But I’m kind of in charge here. So you wanna stay, huh?

Brienne: Yes. And have dinner.

Willow: Okay. So do you all have some payment?

Brienne: Sure.

She hands them over 20 convenient storytelling bucks, which is just enough for food and beds. 

And so they go into the inn. When Brienne and Pod are alone…

Brienne: *pssst* We need to abandon these two. Let the Septon go on preaching, and let Hyle do his own thing. He is not part of this oath that was sworn to Cat and Jaime.

Pod: Sure, I guess we can—

Hyle: --OH HEY GUYS! What are you talking about?

Brienne: Uhm. Nothing. Mind your own business.

Hyle: Come on, Brienne! Stop being such a pain in my butt. What you should do is marry me!

Brienne: Uhh… say what now? Why would I want to marry one of the a-holes that used to torment and mock me back in Renly’s camp?  You just know that I am the only child of the Lord of Tarth, and that marrying me may make you the Lord of Tarth one day. Get lost.

Hyle: Boooo. Quit being such an icebox. What you need is to be deflowered by me. Then I bet you’ll see things differently!

Brienne: If you try to stick that pink thing anywhere near me, you will leave here a eunuch. 

Willow: Okay everyone! Dinner time now.

They all gather around the dinner table.

Septon Meribald: Okay, mind if I say grace?

Everyone Else: No.

Gendry: YES! *grumble*grumble*

Gendry storms out of the room and leaves.

Brienne: What crawled up his butt and died?

Willow: Oh, he’s not a big fan of the seven gods. He thinks they caused all that war. He’s a follower of the Red God.

Brienne: But he didn’t even eat any food. Look at the poor boy! He’s starving.

Willow: *shrugs*

Brienne grabs some food and leaves the table, to go check on Gendry.

Brienne: Hey, Renl-uhh… Gendry! Come on, man! It’s all good.

Gendry: Leave me alone.

Brienne: No. I have something really, really important to tell you. I think I know who your father is! It’s… it’s…

And then suddenly, a bunch of riders come riding forward, swinging weapons and screaming.

Brienne: *GASP* IT’S THE HOUND! No wait. That doesn’t make sense. Everyone knows the Hound is dead and/or a gravedigger, possibly.  Wait. Do I recognize that person! OH CRAP! It’s RORGE!

Gendry: WHAT?! RORGE? SHIT! AND BITER TOO? Those are those guys that Arya let out of the cage two books ago. 

That’s right. Rorge and Biter have arrived. Remember those two lovable miscreants? Originally from the black cells under Kings landing, and brought by Yoren in the cage with Jaqen H'ghar. Arya stupidly freed them. Then they joined the murderous Brave Companions under Vargo Hoat. Then Jaqen sort of bullied them into changing sides, and helping to free the Northmen and bring Harrenhal under Bolton control. That’s when they found and captured Jaime and Brienne the first time.

But it looks like since then, the nose-less Rorge has found the Hound’s abandoned helm, and ran through the countryside murdering people. All the tales of the Hound murdering were really done by Rorge. So you can thank Arya for all of that. Because she could have let them burn.

Rorge: OH HELL! Look, it’s the big lesbian! I’ll kill and rape you like I promised before. In that order.

Brienne: Really? Rape? I doubt that. Because Shagwell told me they cut off your manhood at the same time they cut off your nose.

Rorge’s Posse: OOOOHHHHH! SNAP!

If Brienne wanted to get Rorge riled up, then he succeeded. Rorge pulls out his sword and starts to fight her.

I mean she wins, obviously.

*STAB*

Rorge: OW! Hey! Really? That’s all the narration and explanation this fight is going to get?  I mean, this is a pretty awesome fight. Maybe my death should be described in more detail.

No.

As Rorge looks down, seeing the blood running from his stomach, Brienne twists the sword and comes close to his ear. She whispers.

Brienne: Sapphires.

Rorge: Heh, I see what you did there. A nice call back joke. That’s a good o-- *dies*

Biter: NOOO!!!!!!!

Brienne: Wait. “Nooo?” I thought you couldn’t talk.

Biter: Oh, uh… I mean… “SNARL!!!!!”

Brienne: The Dinobot?

Biter jumps on Brienne and does what his name implies that he does. Bite.

Brienne: AGH!!! AGHH!!! AGHHH! HELP! THIS CRAZY GUY IS HANNIBAL-ING ME!

And indeed, Biter tears onto Brienne’s cheek and tears her flesh off, slicing open a nasty wound.

Brienne: Oh… Ugh… I think I’m going to faint… I… I…

The last thing she sees before she passes out is a spear coming through Biter’s mouth.

Gendry: You’re welcome.

AFfC 36: Cersei VIII

Aurane Waters arrives before Cersei.

Aurane: Dragonstone is yours, my Queen.

Cersei: WHAT?! OMG. This is AWESOME! And much sooner than expected. I can’t believe that little dipshit Loras did it.

Aurane: … Yeah, about Ser Loras…

Cersei: Uh huh? Go on. I’m listening.

Aurane: He made the battle much bloodier than it could have been. We could have just waited them out a little. But Loras wouldn’t wait. As soon as he arrived and took over command, he insisted on having the forces charge at once. He was impatient to win Dragonstone, so that he could have the ships to defend Highgarden. It was very bloody. Countless lives wasted.

Cersei: Okay. Why should I care? So some soldiers died. Soldiers are just little people. Dying is what they are for.

Aurane: And Ser Loras himself… he… well… he was gravely injured himself.

Cersei: Gravely? HOW gravely?

Aurane: The Maesters are treating him now. But they do not expect him to live.

Cersei: YOU MEAN WE GOT DRAGONSTONE AND LORAS IS GOING TO DIE?! OMG! OMG! OMG! THIS IS THE BEST DAY OF MY LIFE.

Aurane: Uhh… wow… you’re kind of a terrible person.

Cersei: Shut your stupid, ugly face, Aurane. To think I had the hots for you because I thought you looked like Rhagar. Now that I look again, I don’t see it that much. Now if you’ll excuse me, this terrible, terrible news will probably reach Margaery soon. AND I WANT TO BE THE ONE WHO TELLS IT TO HER, SO I CAN WATCH THE PAIN ON HER FACE. I WANT TO SEE HER SUFFER.

Aurane: Yikes.

Cersei goes to tell Margaery. This is the reaction.

Margaery: NOOOOOOOOO!!!! *cries*

Cersei: Yes, my dear. Yes. Yes. It’s “terrible.” What “horrible” news. I’m so “sad” about it. MWAHAHAHA.

Margaery: Where can I… *sniffle*... where can I see the body and pay my last respects to my dear brother?

Cersei: Oh, well he’s not dead yet.

Margaery: What?

Cersei: I mean he’s still technically alive for now. But he’s not going to last. He’s dying.

Margaery: DYING IS NOT DEAD!

Cersei: Basically it is. As the Queen, I’ll make sure he’s well remembered by the simple, dumb, smallfolk. We throw great ceremonies for him.

Margaery: QUEEN? QUEEN?! You keep calling yourself the queen, but YOU ARE NOT. I AM THE QUEEN.I WILL SEE MY BROTHER!

Cersei: *harumph* Don’t bother wasting your time.

Margaery: YOU FUCKING WHORE! GET OUT OF HERE! GET OUT OF HERE AT ONCE! I NEED TO GO SEE MY BROTHER.

Cersei would usually get quite furious about that kind of back talk. But she lets it slide, this time. She’s so happy about getting Dragonstone and Loras being near death. Now there is nobody left to protect Margaery. She can kick her out for now, but her time will come soon. SOON.

She goes to bed that night and sleeps well. The news she gets the next morning means she could be even happier than expected.

Osmund Kettleblack: So folks are here here to see you. First is some Tyroshi guy. He says he has the head of the Imp for you. Another three claim that the Imp still alive, and that they know his whereabouts.

Cersei: Could it be true? This is the seventh person coming to me with a claim that they have his head. The first six proved to be false, but they say that seven is a lucky number. The number of the gods. I shall see this Tyroshi man and the imp head.

She goes to the Iron Throne, and a man brings the head to her.

Tyroshi Man: Behold! The Imp! With his nose cut off and everything.

Cersei knew she shouldn’t have gotten her hopes up.

Cersei: That is not my brother. It looks nothing like him.

Tyroshi Man: Well, that happens with corpses. The heads bloat and everything. They look little different.

Cersei: His eyes are the wrong color.

Tyroshi Man: Well, that happens with corpses. Their eyes change color and everything. They look little different. How many imps are there out in the world with a cut-off nose?

Cersei: Look, you clearly killed a random imp and then cut the nose off afterwards. That’s a fresh cut from after death. Tyrion’s nose has had tons of time to scab up and heal. It seems like you owe this imp and apology and a nose. Also, his life. Alas, the imp is dead so you can’t do that. But you can give your life to a guy I know named Qyburn. BYE.

Tyroshi Man: HEY! WAIT! STOP! WHERE ARE THESE GUARDS TAKING ME!? WHO IS QYBURN?! AGHH!! AGHH!!!

Cersei: Ugh. This is getting tiresome.How many damn imps are there in this world anyway?

Taena Merryweather: One less than there was before.

Cersei: What? Huh? OH! OH YO, TAENA! You’re so hilarious. I love you. Okay. Bring the next three guys in.

Guy 1: I saw the Imp in a brothel in Oldtown, giving BJs to people in exche for meth.

Guy 2: I saw the Imp at a Mummer’s Show in Braavos.

Guy 3:  I saw tImp drinking a piña colada at Trader Vic's. And his hair was perfect.

Cersei: What? You three are full of such bullshit. Especially Guy #2. I mean really? A mummer’s show in Braavos? You really expect me to believe that my brother, Tyrion Lannister, would actually be in a Mummer’s Show in Braavos? That is the most unlikely thing ever. Really dumb. You guys need to get out of my face with that B.S. BUT… BUT… AND THIS IS A BIG BUT. The type of but that’s so big that Sir Mix A Lot would be all lover it… BUT… if the stories you tell are true, then all you have to do is capture him, bring him back to me, and you will be handsomely rewarded.

After the whole Tyrion business, Cersei attends to other matters at court. Prince Jalabhar Xho, a refuge prince from Essos who has been barely mentioned but spends his time in Kings Landing constantly begging for help to restore is lands (going back to the times of King Robert), once again begs for help. Cersei says no.

Next is a delegation of the Warrior’s Sons, the militant religious sect that she helped reestablished.

Cersei: Why is it that I have to meet with these lowly men? It should be the High Sparrow himself that comes before the Iron Throne! And… uhm… HOLY CRAP. Is that cousin Lancel?

It is. Lancel Lannister has abandoned his Frey wife (never a good idea) and joined the Warrior’s Sons to plead before the crown.

Warrior’s Son Leader: We have come here to ask the crown to rid this Kingdom of sin! Did you know that prostitution is LEGAL here? It must be OUTLAWED AT ONCE.

Cersei: Uh. No. I am very well aware that prostitution is legal here. Why? Because it’s taxed. Do you know how much revenue we get from this ho tax? A LOT. And do you know why all the trade ships from around the world come to trade in King’s Landing? Because our amazing hos. If we got rid of prostitution, our coffers would be totally depleted.

Warrior’s Son Leader: Still though. It’s wrong so it should be banned. I think we should also put a tax on soda too.

Cersei: Ugh. Dismissed. NEXT!

She waves her hand and kicks them all out.  Next comes Pycelle.

Cersei: You? Okay, what the hell do you want, you old geezer who has spent your entire life defending and protecting the Lannisters and who I now illogically distrust for no reason?

Grand Maester Pycelle: Lord Gyles Rosby, the Hand of the King, is dying. You know. The coughing guy?

Cersei: Shouldn’t you be saving his life? You ARE the Grand Maester.

Pycelle: I fear his time is up. There is only so much I can do.

Cersei: It seems like what you do is NOTHING. You can’t eal Rosby. You couldn’t heal Joffrey. You couldn’t heal Robert. What good are you?

Pycelle: ...but… but…

Cersei: -DISMISSED! OKAY, I’m done for today. Now to go have dinner.

She has dinner with her son, King Tommen. Tommen is sad about Loras dying, and Cersei tries to pretend that she is sad too. She has trouble keeping it together though, and bursts into laughter and tap dancing every few minutes.

Tommen: Margaery says he is not dead yet though. He could still live.

Cersei: Yeah, that sounds like some dumb stuff she would say.

Tommen: Margaery should come to court wit me me often.

Cersei: OH REALLY? Did she tell you to say that?

Tommen: NO! I am the King and I want her at court more. The king should get what he wants! I am the King and I command it!

Cersei: OH SHIT, you little fucker. Now you’re going to get what you deserve!

She brings Timmen to Boros Blount, whose job it is to whip Pate, a boy whose exclusive duty is to be whipped in place of the king when the king misbehaves. But this time, Cersei command Tommen to whip Pate himself, rather than have Boros do it.

Cersei: There! Take that! These are the whips you SHOULD be feeling. And I bet it hurts Pate a lot. He’ll keep getting those whips if you keep acting up.

Tommen: I bet this never worked for Joffrey, did it? Having ANOTHER boy whipped in his place when he acted up? I bet that just made him misbehave more.

Cersei: You are correct, Tommen. Joffrey was a sick, sick, sick kid. Sick. Like, REALLY sick.

Cersei then goes to bed for the evening. All the talk about Tyrion today makes her have a nightmare. She is young again in the dream. She and her two friends went to “Maggy the Frog,” the old woman who could tell people their fortunes through blood magic.

Kid Cersei: Tell me my future, you filthy hag crone.

Maggy the Frog: Wow, you’re rude.

She cuts Cersei’s finger and licks up her blood.

Maggy: I will answer your question three.

Kid Cersei: Wait… you’ll answer my questions three? Are you a troll or something? No wait… stop… STOP… those don’t count as the questions, just to make sure you understand me. Those were rhetorical and don’t count against my tally of three. Okay. Here we go. Will I marry the Prince?

Maggy: No. You will marry THE KING!

Kid Cersei: OH SWEET! So I guess Rhaegar will be king one day. Awesome. Okay, question two. Will that make me the Queen?

Maggy: Aye, you shall be Queen. Until another comes along, more young and beautiful than you. She will cast you down and take away all you hold dear.

Kid Cersei: BOOO! I hate your dumb answers, you old hag. Okay, last question. Will I and the King have any children?

Maggy: Sixteen shall the King have, and three for you--

Kid Cersei: --Huh? That doesn’t make any sense. How can the King have 16 and me only have 3?

Maggy: --*ahem* I wasn’t done yet. Three for you. All three will wear gold crowns and all three will wear gold shrouds when you bury them. As as you’re crying over all three of your kid’s dead bodies, the valonqar will wrap his hands around your pale white throat and coke the life from you.”

Kid Cersei: Kinky. I mean… wait… WHAT?! AGHH!!!!

She knocks over Maggy the Frog’s table and starts kicking everything around in the room. She really, really, really did not like this prophecy and she’s obviously always been a total bitch.

Back in the present, Cersei wakes up in a hot sweat. She has had this nightmare many times in the past. And it’s not just a simple dream. It’s what actually happened in the past.

Cersei: PYCELLE! SOMEONE SEND ME PYCELLE! NOW!

And so Pycelle comes.

Cersei: Fool, do you have any potions you can give me that can make it so that I have dreamless sleep?

Pycelle: *mumbles* Yeah, that same shit that Joffrey had would work. You’d never dream again.

Cersei: WHAT WAS THAT?

Pycelle: *speaking up* I said “Yes, my queen.” At once, I shall fix you a potion for dreamless sleep.

Cersei: Before you leave, tell me. Do the Maesters believe that the future can be foretold?

Pycelle: Ah, an excellent question, Cersei. But the better question is SHOULD the future be foretold? I say, “no!” Most certainly not, because--

Cersei: --OMG, SHUT UP! This is why nobody likes you, Scaroth Last of the Jagaroth. Walter Donovan. Aris Kristatos. Aragog. Whatever your name is.  Just answer the question. CAN the future be foretold?

Pycelle: No.

Cersei: *whew*

Pycelle: --Unless, of course, someone was using blood magic. You know, like a witch who cut your finger and licked the blood. That’s some dark, dark shit though. Really nasty and powerful stuff. Maybe that could work. You should avoid anything like that though.

Cersei: FUUUUUUUUUUUUU---

Her profanity echos through the hallways for the rest of the night. Finally, the next day she meets with Qyburn.

Cersei: Qyburn. How are things going. Oh, hey. Remember how I sent Lady Falyse to you to be tortured? I sort of feel bad about that now. And I realise that it basically gives Bronn a castle. So could, instead, maybe we release her and bring her back out so that she can provide a rival claim to--

Qyburn: --Ooh, no can do, your grace. I mean Falyse is technically still alive. But only technically. I would. Uhm. Yeah. Think of another option.

Cersei: I see. Well. Okay. I asked. That’s not why I wanted to see you anyway. I wanted a second opinion about prophecies from you. I asked Pycelle and I didn’t like the answer that he gave. So I’m going to ask you instead, in hopes of getting a better answer.

Qyburn: Well, my fake, sycophantic loyalty to you was what got me to this powerful position in the first place. So I will continue to tell you whatever you want to hear.

Cersei: PERFECT! So I’ve been having these dreams, right. Actually memories. When I was a kid, me and my two friends went to see this woods witch who could see the future. Maggy the Frog.

Qyburn: Maggy? You mean “Maegi?” 

Cersei: Huh?

Qyburn: You know, like a “mage.” As in “magician.” Maegi. It’s a person who practices magic.

Cersei: Well, now I just dumb for saying “Maggy” my whole life, because that’s super obvious. But anyway… this… Maegi… she told us our futures. She told me that I’d marry a king. I did. She told me I’d be queen. I did. She told me the accurate number of children that I would have, three, as well as of Robert’ affairs and his sixteen bastard children. It all came true. But there was  part also about another Queen replacing me. Younger and more beautiful. I’m pretty sure she was talking about Margaery.

Qyburn: Well, I mean there is nothing to say that this lady is legit. Maybe it was just blind luck. You asked if you’d become Queen. She said yes. That’s like a 50-50 guess there. And three kids for a woman is a pretty decent guess and on par with a logical number of kids a woman should have. The sixteen bastard kids for Robert - are you sure that number is accurate? I mean WHO KNOWS how many kids he really had, so you’re probably just guessing that’s right. Are you really sure that shas a real Maegi?

Cersei: Yeah, I left this other part out. You see, my other friend…

Melara: HAHAH! OMG Cersei! You look really dumb now! This Maggy woman just told you that your husband will cheat on you and all your kids will die. And some guy named “Valonqar” will kill you.

Maggy: No, “valonqar” is just a Valyrian word that means “little brother.” Her little brother will kill her.

Kid Cersei: NO! NO! It’s not true! That monster Tyrion will never kill me!

Maggy: Hey, and by the way, I also wanted to use this narrative opportunity to point out that for no particular reason, Tyrion also specifically told the Red Viper in Chapter 66 of A Storm of Swords that although Cersei and Jaime are twins, Cersei came out first. That would also make Jaime Cersei’s little brother. Hrm. I wonder why exactly that bit of dialogue was included there.

Melara: This is so much fun, Maggy! Do me next! Do me next!

Maggy cuts Melara's finger and licks her blood.

Melara: Jaime is so hot!

Kid Cersei: STOP TALKING ABOUT MY MAN!

Melara: What? Eww. He’s your brother. Not your man.

Kid Cersei: Uhh… ermm… I mean…

Melara: ANYWAY… Maggy! Will I marry Jaime?

Maggy: No, you shall marry no man. Your virginity will be taken by the worms in the ground who feast on your corpse.

Qyburn: Man, this story is turning me on so much. What happens next?

Cersei: I mean, obviously Melara died not long after that.  My point is… THE MAEGI WAS RIGHT! About everything.

Qyburn: Hrmm. And you wish to know if her prophecies can be… prevented?

Cerei: YES! YES!

Qyburn: Oh, of course you can prevent them.

Cersei: HOW?! HOW?! How do I prevent Margaery from replacing me?

Qyburn: You know how.

Qyburn gives her a look. You know the one. It’s the “we spend most of our time together brutally murdering people” look.

Cersei: Ah. Right. Good point. I do. But if I’m going to have Margaery executed… it has to be for a reason that nobody can question. Not even the Tyrells. It’s going to have to be for some really, really, horrendous treason.

She goes to bed that night, thinking of various devious plans to rid herself of the real queen. The next morning, she summons Ser Osmund.

Osmund: Whattup?

Cersei: Tell me, do you think your broth Osney could kill Boros Blount?

Osmund: That fat, old drunk? Sure. I’m pretty sure Loras on his deathbed could kill him. Why? Has Blount committed some treason?

Cersei: No. But Ser Osney has! MWAHAHAHA!

Osmund: Huh?

Cersei: …

Osmund: I don’t get it.

Cersei: *sigh* Do I have to explain everything? I’m going to have Ser Osney make some outrageous claims about wild, orgy parties with Margaery Tyrell. The accusation will mean that Margaery has committed treason and will be put on trial. Of course, she can ask for a trial by combat. And, as the Queen, it is incumbent on her to choose a member of the Kingsguard. I’ll appoint Ser Boros as the King’s Champion to "defend Margaery's honor" and fight Osney. Osney will win! 

Osmund: Oh.

Cersei: MWAHAHAHA! I AM A GENIUS! THIS PLAN CANNOT FAIL!

Osmund: But what if--

Cersei: --DID YOU HEAR ME, FOOL? I SAID THIS PLAN CANNOT FAIL!