ACoK 27: Daenerys II

Dany and her entourage arrive in Qarth and the whole city seems to be throwing a big party for her arrival.

Dany: Holy crap, look at this place. It’s amazing. It has all these city walls. They’re huge. The first wall is carved with all sorts of animals, like these zorses.

Jorah: What the fuck is a zorse?

Dany: Oh, it’s like a horse but with stripes on it.

Jorah: You mean a zebra?

Dany: Yes.

Jorah: Why don’t we just call them “zebras” then? Why “zorses?”

Dany: I dunno. Anyway, the second wall is of a war scene. But the last city wall is a giant, 50-foot-tall, black marble orgy scene. I’m not kidding. An entire 50-foot wall wrapped around a city is filled with the craziest sex shit you could imagine. Angry Dolphins. Cleveland Steamers. Alabama Hot Pockets. Kennebunkport Surprises. It’s those Pompeii frescos times a million. Imagine if the Great Wall of China was just covered completely in a fuckfest.

All the people of Qarth watch as Dany and her crew pass through. They are especially interested in Dany’s dragons, of course.

Jorah: Oh wow. All he ladies here wear outfits with one breast hanging out. This is incredible! You know what, I think I’m just going to move here. I can’t imagine anywhere else I’d rather be than here. Never mind that lame “going back to Westeros” crap.

XXD then rides up to Dany on a camel. That's right, we're calling him that like he's fucking J-Lo and deserves a nickname.

Xaro Xhoan Daxos: HELLO! Welcome to Qarth, Dany. Anything in this city… just ask for it and it is yours!

Dany: What if I ask for your liver? Would you cut out your liver and give it to me if I wanted it?

Xaro Xhoan Daxos: What!? No. I mean it was mainly a metaphor. You can’t have ANYTHING in this city. But, you know, there are a lot of things you can have.

Dany: Like what? Be specific.

Xaro Xhoan Daxos: Hrm, maybe I can start making a list of--

Pyat Pree: --Do not listen to this fool.  You have no use for the baubles and trinkets that XXD offers you. For he promises to give you things in the city. Yet I, Pyat Pree, offer you THE CITY ITSELF!

Dany: Again, that seems vague and metaphoric, as opposed to an actual offer. Also, how is that any different than what XXD just offered? He offered me anything in the city, which could also be interpreted as everything in the city. If he offered me EVERY SINGLE THING IN THE CITY, then that’s the same as offering me the CITY ITSELF, which is exactly what you just offered.

Pyat Pree: Well, uh, I mean, I… uhh… I mean you should come visit my House of the Undying and drink my Wisdom of Truth and… errmm…

Dany: --Gross. That sounds like the worst pickup line of all time.  Look, all I really want from you people is swords and boats and stuff. So I can go to Kings Landing and take my throne.

Jorah: WHAT?! Kings Landing? No way! This is titty city, Dany! I wanna stay.

Pyat Pree: It will be as you command, Dany. You shall have those things.

Xaro Xhoan Daxos: Don’t trust him, Dany! He’s a Warlock. You know you can’t trust Warlocks. A Warlock is just a male Witch. And do you not remember that you JUST GOT TRICKED by a Witch… like… what?... four of your POV chapters ago?

Jorah: Ha! The crow calls the raven black!

Xaro Xhoan Daxos: DUDE, THAT’S RACIST!

Jorah: Huh?

Xaro Xhoan Daxos: On Game of Thones I’m played by Nonso Anozie, an English actor of Nigerian descent. So that whole “black” thing…

Jorah: Oh no. Sorry. I wasn’t referring to that. It’s just I mean YOU’RE calling Pyat Pree untrustworthy when you are clearly untrustworthy yourself. It’s just an expression. It's the Westeros version of "the pot calling the kettle black." There was no racial undertone to it.

Xaro Xhoan Daxos: Really? You want me to believe there was NO racial undertone to that statement at all? By you? You the guy who USED TO SELL SLAVES?

Jorah: I mean the books never specify the race of the people I was selling into slavery. Just that they were poachers and that I did it in the Seven Kingdoms, where it was illegal.  Pretty much everyone in the Seven Kingdoms is white. So, I'm pretty sure I was enslaving white people. 

Xaro Xhoan Daxos: Uh huh. Suuuuuure.

Dany: Hrm. I wonder who I should trust. I mean XXD just let me stay in his palace and it’s HUGE. And Pyat Pree just offered me swords and ships to go back to Westeros.

Quaithe: IT IS I! Quaithe the Shadowbinder! I hide my face behind this hockey mask! These people are only interested in your dragons! TRUST NO ONE!

Dany: I’m confused, does that statement include you too?

But before Quaithe the Shadowbinder can answer, she throws a smoke bomb and vanishes.

Dany: Creepy.

Jorah: I don’t trust any of the three. She is right though. Everybody just wants that D.

Dany: Huh?

Jorah: D for dragons.

Dany: Ah. I see. Well, we need to make sure to protect them.

Aggo: It shall be done, Khaleesi. There shall be a guard on them all night and day.

Rakharo: Yes, and Rakharo shall explore the city and scout it out. These three have shown you parts of the city they want you to see, but Rakharo will explore the seedy underbelly of what they DON’T want you to see!

Dany: Wait… so that giant sex wall wasn’t the seedy underbelly?

Jorah: And I will go to the docks to see if any ships bring news from the Seven Kingdoms!

Dany: Suuuure. Surrrre. “Going to the docks.” We all know what you really mean. Docks = sailors. Sailors = lots of brothels.  Lots of brothers = you’re going to ask for a blonde, teenage spinner that looks like me.

Jorah: No comment.

Jhogo: And I, Jhogo, will guard you, Khaleesi, while the others are out doing all those other things.

And so the others depart to perform their various tasks and GRRM has YET ANOTHER scene where Dany’s handmaidens strip her down and bathe her. This is probably the 14th time now in the books that this underage girl is having an explicit, sensual bathing scene. It’s pretty gross.

As she gets the wash down, Dany thinks about the Seven Kingdoms. Viserys said it was the most beautiful place on earth. But here in Quarth it is pretty beautiful. Could the Red Keep of Kings Landing possibly be EVEN MORE beautiful than this?

No, is the answer.

Dany: How will I defeat that usurper, King Robert? Will the realm really rise for me as their rightful ruler? Oh well. I guess these are all questions to be answered soon. After all, the red comet led me here for a reason.

Irri: [comet jokes]

Jhiqui: [comet jokes]

Doreah: *still dead*

Dany: [Expresses anger that these red comet jokes are still happening]. 

Later that night, Jorah returns with a new friend.

Dany: So is your new friend some hooker that looks like me?

Jorah: No, this is Quhuru Mo, of the Cinnamon Wind.

Dany: So I assume “Cinnamon Wind” is the name of the brothel you were in?

Jorah: No, it’s a ship. And he’s the Captain of it. He sails all around the world, including to the Seven Kingdoms. Go on, Quhuru. Tell her what you told me!

Quhuru Mo: Yes, my ship pulled into Oldtown, Dorne and Lys. Everywhere it was the same story. King Robert Baratheon is dead. Some say he was betrayed and killed by his Queen, others say by Eddard Stark, and others still say that it was one of his brothers. The boy king, Joffrey, now sits on the throne.

Dany: HOLY CRAP!  This is awesome. DING DONG, THE USURPER IS DEAD! AM I RIGHT? I wonder which of the stories is true.

Jorah: Well, definitely not the one about Stark. Stark would never betray anyone, that sanctimonious douche.

Dany: Yes, yes, Jorah. We all know you carry a grudge against Eddard Stark because you feel he unfairly TRIED TO ARREST YOU FOR SLAVERY.

Jorah: *sigh* Why does everyone ALWAYS have to bring that up?

Dany: I thank you for this excellent gift, Quhuru Mo. The gift of KNOWLEDGE!  I wish I could repay you for it.

Quhuru Mo: How about a blowjob?

Dany: WHAT?!

Quhuru Mo: NOTHING. I said… uhhh… just being able to see your dragons is gift enough for me!

Dany: Well, one day when I’m ruling Kings Landing, please feel free to drop in and say hi.

Quhuru Mo: Oh, is that how you’re politely dismissing me from the scene and hinting that I should leave? Fair enough.

He leaves.

Jorah: Why do you speak so freely in front of that sailor, Khaleesi? He could spread anything you say to other ports. You know how these sailors are.

Dany: First off... you brought him here. Second, who cares? The Seven Kingdoms are falling apart! They have a dumb boy on the throne, and now I have access to ships and weapons that I can use to sail there! Why, I bet as soon as next chapter I’ll be sailing off to the Seven Kingdoms! I mean… just look at the situation. In no way will we be an entire FIVE books into this series and I still haven’t left Essos yet.

Jorah: You’d be surprised. Anyway, you’re assuming you already have the gold, armies, and ships that these Qarthi have promised you. But you don’t have them yet. As previously discussed, I do not trust these people. And even if they do give you all that and you set sail… remember you still have to fight over in Westeros and WIN.

 Dany: Stop being a buzzkill, Jorah.

ACoK 26: Arya VI

Life is hell for Arya Stark.

She’s a prisoner of Gregor “The Mountain” Clegane and his henchmen, (1) a torturer only known as “The Tickler,” (2) Raff the Sweetling, the dick pikeman who killed Lommy, and (3) Polliver, a bald dude who now has possession of Needle. There are others as well, but these are the ones you should worry about for now. 

They’re still at the small little village where they were captured days ago. One by one, all the townspeople and every person who the Lannister soldiers have captured are being tortured and murdered.  Once a day, they come in and select someone for an interrogation. Following the interrogation, they murder them.  One girl in town even slept with a Lannister soldier to avoid being picked. She was picked the very next day. A mother told the soldiers everything she knew as part of a deal to not harm her daughter. They killed her daughter.  These are some sick, sick fucks.

What are the questions about? Every day it’s the same shit. Where is Beric Dondarrion? How large is his posse? Where are the hidden valuables and food in the village?  

Unfortunately, nobody here knows shit about Beric Dondarrion. They’re just innocent villagers. So they’re being murdered for no reason.

Everything has been taken away from Arya. Needle is gone. Her wooden sword was taken away and broken in front of her. Even her secret of being a girl is gone. She had to pee in front of everyone else, and now everyone knows.

Hot Pie: HOLY SHIT! YOU’VE GOT A VAGINA!

Arya: Took you long enough, dumbass. Well, now you know you got the shit kicked out of you by a girl.

Arya gets smashed in the lip for talking. She’s not allowed to talk. All things considered, she got off lucky. Another kid who wouldn’t stop whining for his father got his head smashed in with a mace. Then Raff the Sweeting killed his mother just because.

Arya realizes there is no reason to try to be brave. The people who tried to be brave all died… screaming.

The only person who really hasn’t gotten the shit beaten out of him is Gendry. They asked him where he got the awesome bull helm from. He told them he forged it himself.  Blacksmiths are too valuable to murder, and so Gendry has been looked after.

The Mountain: Okay, listen up, you dicks. It looks like none of you know shit about shit. None of you have any intelligence we can use. So I guess, in hindsight, we were murdering you all really for no reason. Although I guess we did install a sense of fear and nihilism in you all. So that’s something, I suppose.  We’re just going to march the rest of you to Harrenhal to be servants for Lord Tywin Lannister. There is only one rule, and that is “If you obey… you live.” Is that cool?

Random Townsperson: Wait… wouldn’t  that one rule imply that there is a de-facto second rule, e.g. “If you don’t obey… you die”?

The Mountain kills that person in front of everyone and blood splatters everywhere.

The Mountain: I SAID “ONE RULE.”

And so they begin to march the prisoners, including Arya, to Harrenhal. They also take anything else of value from the town. Pigs. Chickens. Cows. Wagons. Bags of Swedish Fish. Some Ikea Hemnes 8-drawer dressers. One of those Farrah Fawcett pin-up posters. You know… the one where she’s in the red swimsuit.

They march and march. When they get bored at night, they rape a girl. One night, a girl fought back. Clegane beheaded her.  Arya is happy that she doesn’t have Needle anymore. If she did, then she would have probably tried to use it in revenge and gotten killed herself.

Arya hates everyone here. She's starting to hate SO MANY PEOPLE that she needs to begin making a list.

Arya: I hate this Dunsen guy for wearing Gendry’s horned helmet. I hate Polliver for taking Needle. I hate Chiswyck for thinking he’s Mr. Funny Ha-Ha Joke Guy. I hate The Mountain for, you know, obvious reasons. I hate Raff the Sweetling for killing Lommy. I hate Amory Lorch for killing Yoren. And not only do I hate all the people around me here… I hate people everywhere else too. I hate Meryn Trant for killing Syrio. I hate the Hound for killing Mycah the Butcher’s Boy. I hate Ilyn Payne and Joffrey and Cersei for killing my father.

She doesn’t put the Tickler on her list though. Why not? Who knows.

Arya: I’m going to start whispering the names of these people before I go to bed every night. I will pray for their deaths.

They reach near Harrenhal, the famous castle. It’s mostly ruins from when Aegon the Conqueror’s dragons burned it to the ground.  They say the stone is dark because the mortar was mixed with human blood. But instead of going there first, they stop by the large Lannister army. It’s been here for a while and the whole place smells like a giant toilet. Nasty.

Hot Pie: I don’t want to go in the castle! It’s haunted by g-g-g-ghosts!!!

Chiswyck: Either come in the castle like we say… or become one of the ghosts you’re afraid of. And by that, I mean I’ll murder you.

Hot Pie: Ah, when you put it like that…

They are all marched into the castle, separated from one another, and examined like chattel. Arya winds up with a bunch of kitchen ladies.

Harra: Look at all these blisters on your hand, you must be some type of farm girl that churned butter. You know, if you work hard here at Harrenhal, you’ll be treated well. If not, you’ll be beaten. What’s your name, girl?

Arya: Uh, just call me “Weasel” because of reasons.

Nobody calls Arya that, but let's just roll with it.

Amabel: You need to have your head shaved. It’s filled with lice. You can’t work in the kitchen with lice.

Arya: I’d rather work in the stables with the horses. You know, so I can steal one and run away.

Harra smacks the shit out of Arya.

Harra: Shut up with that shit! You’ll do as you’re told. Were you not listening to me?

Amabel: Lord Tywin already has squires that looks after his horses. He don’t need no girl. The kitchen will be great for you. It’s snug and clean and always warm. You can sleep there. But you know what? Since you’re so annoying, we’re going to give you to Weese.

Arya: Who the hell is Weese?

Amabel: You’ll see.

And so Arya sees. Weese is the under-steward in the Wailing Tower. He’s a short, fat man with boils all over his face. Arya and five others are assigned to him.

Weese: The Lannisters are generous to those who serve us. Although none of you scum deserve that honor. Still, Lord Tywin is generous.  So here are the THREE rules. That's TWO MORE RULES than Clegane has, if you're keeping track. First… never look a noble in the eyes, second--only speak when spoken to, and last--4 never get in Lord Tywin’s way. If you try to defy me… I’ll know! I can smell defiance. And all I want to smell… is AXE body spray!

Someone whispers something in Weese's ear. 

Weese: I'm being told that AXE body spray hasn't been invented yet. So now all I want to smell... IS FEAR!!!

And so life remains hell for Arya Stark. Full circle. Sorry, this isn't the funniest chapter in the world... but how can it be?

ACoK 25: Tyrion VI

Meryn Trant: Whattup?

Tyrion: Shut up. I’m going into my sister’s bedchamber.

Tyrion does exactly that because is Meryn Fucking Trant really going to stop him?

Inside he finds Cersei in with a half-naked Lancel Lannister. Lancel is playing "Angel of the Morning" by Merrilee Rush (sorry Juice Newton fans, go watch Deadpool) on an acoustic guitar. And it looks like Cersei just got done playing the skin flute, if you know what I mean.

Tyrion: Damn, you really like screwing your own family members, don’t you? Except for me, of course. This is a serious psychological condition. You need a mental health checkup, ASAP.

Cersei: Uhh… no. That wasn’t happening at all. *zips dress back up*

Tyrion: What? Zippers don't even exist yet! Now get dafuq out of here, Lancel. I have some important business to talk to my sister about.

Cersei: If this is about me ordering those Faith of the Seven priests to be arrested… I REGRET NOTHING. They were preaching that the gods were punishing everyone because Jaime killed the “rightful” king. Ugh. Robert’s Rebellion was like two decades ago. Get over it, people. And what kind of lame gods take 15 years to punish people?

Lancel: YEAH! Fuck those Faith of the Seven people. I HATE THEM. They are the worst. The characters in the Faith of the Seven are literally the worst characters in the book.  They should have their tongues cut out. They should be feathered and tarred. They should be led into traps and stabbed by a team of boys under the Sept of Baelor as part of an elaborate plot to blow it up with Wildfire.

Tyrion: Hahaha, nice Lancel. I love it that right now in the books your character expressly and openly states a dislike for the Faith of the Seven. This is good stuff.  Wonderful forshadowing. Now, as I previously said… GET OUT OF HERE, LANCEL!

Lancel fucks off.

Tyrion: So anyway, Cersei… that Faith of the Seven stuff, I don’t really give a shit about that. Those Septons can stay in jail for all I care. I came to talk to you abo--- Wow, you know what I just noticed? This is a total non-sequitur. But isn’t that the exact same bed that King Robert died in?

Cersei: Yep.

Tyrion: And you still sleep in it? And have sex with your cousin in it?

Cersei:  This is the best bed ever. Laying where that fat shit died gives me the sweetest dreams ever. Now what was it that you wanted to talk to me about then… if it wasn’t about me ordering those priests to the dungeon?

Tyrion: Oh right. It was about Stannis. We just got word that he set sail from Dragonstone and he’s attacking--

Cersei: --AGHHHH! I KNEW IT! WE’RE DOOMED! WE’RE DOOMED! WE HAVE NO DEFENSES! WE’RE ALL GOING TO DIE! AGHHHHH!

Cersei grabs a bottle that says “suicide potion” and begins to hold it to her mouth.

Tyrion: --AHH! AH! STOP! As much as that action would vastly simplify these books, I’m going to stop you right there. Let me complete my sentence. Stannis set sail from Dragonstone and he’s attacking... STORM’S END!

Cersei: OH SHIT! He’s attacking RENLY?!

Tyrion: Yes.

Cersei bursts into laughter. She starts crying. Not out of sadness. But out of happiness.

Cersei: THIS IS THE GREATEST NEWS EVER! Two of our biggest enemies are fighting each other! This is so awesome. If only there were some typical way I generally celebrated happy news.

Tyrion: By drinking?

Ceresei: OH YEAH, THAT’S RIGHT!

Tyrion: Here. Let me pour you one, on the house!

Cersei: Hells to the yeah.

Tyrion pours her a drink of wine, but slips in a pill that came from a bottle that says “Instantly Dissolving, Tasteless, Super Concentrated Prune Extract.”

Cersei: Prost!

Tyrion: Sláinte!

They both drink.

Tyrion: Well, bye. I’m going to leave before the diarrhea storm floods the room.

Cersei: See you lat—wait, what did you say?

Tyrion: Nothing.

The next day, Cersei is on the throne. Not the Iron Throne. You know what throne I mean. She literally cannot stop shitting. It’s pretty damn rough. She’s stuck in her en-suite bathroom and probably won’t leave for, like, four days.

Tyrion: Awesome, with Cersei out of commission, now my awesome power grab begins!

Tyrion holds a meeting with the Lannister guardsmen, Gold Cloaks, Varys, Littlefinger, Pycelle, Bronn, Sansa, Ser Cleos Frey, his cousin Tyrek Lannister, and a bunch of other largely irrelevant characters. Why even bother mentioning them? They’re just there to provide atmosphere.

Tyrion: So Cleos, I’m ready to give you our counter-terms to Robb “The Young Wolf” Stark. Here they are all written down on paper. Robb must lay down his sword, swear fealty to King Joffrey, return to Winterfell, return my brother Jaime unarmed, place his existing armies under Jamie’s control to march on Renly and Stannis, have each of his bannermen give a son to us as a hostage so that they will act in good faith.

Cleos: I don’t think Robb will agree to any of those parts. Except for that “return Jaime unarmed” part. He would probably be okay with that.

Tyrion: OH SHIT! Did I really say “unarmed?” Yeah. Damnit! There is a spelling mistake on these terms! It was supposed to say UNHARMED! With an H! Do we have to re-write this whole thing now?

Cleos: I dunno. Surely Robb will get that it’s just a spelling mistake. It’s not like anyone is dumb enough to go around cutting Jaime Lannister’s appendages off.

Tyrion: Yeah, good point. Let’s just leave it as-is. Because finding a calligrapher at this time of day is a biatch. Anyway, let Robb know that if he doesn’t agree to these terms – the Lannisters have raised another great army at Casterly Rock that will march on him to destroy him. He has no hope and no allies. Stannis and Renly war with each other. The Prince of Dorne has agreed to a marriage alliance with the Lannisters, wedding Trystane Martell to Myrcella Baratheon.

Cleos: Yeah, good points. That should scare him!

Tyrion: But let him know that we are also with mercy and in good faith, we are willing to trade our hostages for their hostages and we’ll also give him his father’s bones.

Cleos: Oh, cool. Cool. What about his father’s sword, Ice, and his sisters Sansa and Arya? Robb really wants to know about those things. Hey! Where is that Arya girl anyway?

Tyrion: We tend to just not talk about that. Anyway, he’ll get all of those back when he makes peace and gives us Jaime back. No sooner.  Now, Vylarr… leader of the Lannister guardsmen, please step forward!

Vylarr: Oh sweet. I get to be in another chapter? Remember when we both rode together that one chapter and you were talking to me? I love being an important character.

Tyrion: Well, I’m sending you away now.

Vylarr: Awww. So much for that.

Tyrion: You and the Lannister guard will help escort Ser Cleos back. Cleos is half-Lannister, after all!

Pycelle: HEY WAIT! Why would you send the entire Lannister guard out of town?

Tyrion: Why surely the Gold Cloaks and Kingsguard are enough to protect our king!

Varys: *smiles knowingly*

Littlefinger: *pretends to be bored by Tyrion’s subtle and devious subterfuge at lessening Cersei’s power and influence while simultaneously strengthening his own*

Sansa: *looks around unaware and confused because she’s stupid AF*

Bronn: *wonders why he was specifically called out as a character in this chapter if he will have no lines*

Tyrion: Well, I guess if there are no further questions, I’ll call this meeting to a close and--

The doors burst open and Alliser Thorne barges in.

Allister Thorne: *AHEM* I’ve been waiting here forever. I WILL NOT BE IGNORED!

Tyrion: Oh wow… really? What a horrible mistake that has occurred! I had no idea. Why, I would never treat my “good friend” who I walked the Wall with in such a negative way intentionally.

Alliser: I saw those floating quotation marks around the “good friend” part of your sentence, dwarf! Don’t think I don’t know that was sarcastic. I DEMAND to speak to the King!

Tyrion: No. The King is too busy to talk to you. You must talk to the King’s servants instead.

Alliser: WHAT?! He’s too busy doing what?

Tyrion: Playing with his new crossbow. So what’s up?

And so Alliser goes into the whole story. You already know it. Two long-dead rangers rose from the dead as Wights. They killed Jaremy “Spoke in Class Today” Rykker. They tried to kill Lord Commander Mormont. Alliser leaves out the part about Jon Snow saving the Lord Commander because he’s petty like that and refuses to give Snow any props.

Tyrion: Well, sounds like a bunch of bullshit. So you claim you killed “dead men?” Sounds like they were just MOSTLY dead. Which means slightly alive. Hahaha! See what I did there?

Crowd: *laughs like sycophants even though quoting Princess Bride there was a bit of a stretch, because they want the Hand of the King to like them*

Alliser: Fuck you. They were totally dead the first time and they came back! We had proof. We had a zombie hand. But you kept me waiting so long that it rotted away. Now it’s just bones.

Tyrion: Mmmhmm, suuuuure. You have proof but now the "deep state" forced you to lose it. Sure. Look, here is what I will do for you. Littlefinger will send you back with 100 shovels so you can bury the dead a little better next time. And Ser Jacelyn will allow you to pick whatever prisoners we have left in the dungeons to join the Watch.

Ser Jacelyn leans over to Tyrion and whispers in his ear.

Tyrion: What? No more prisoners in the dungeons?! WHY?

Ser Jacelyn: We literally just gave the Watch all of our prisoners not that long ago. The last Hand, Ned Stark, gave them to that “Yoren” guy.

Tyrion: Oh. Well, I guess you can just go out and arrest some more people. Or maybe just tell all these starving peasants in and around Kings Landing that there is a TON of food up at the Wall. Then they’ll all just come marching back with you, Alliser.

Alliser: What the FUCK? You’re making this whole thing like some sort of joke, dwarf? Just because you don’t like me? THE DEAD ARE COMING BACK AND KILLING THE LIVING.

Tyrion: Meh, whatever. I’m done with you.

Tyrion waves his hand and Bronn escorts Alliser Thorne out.

Varys: Oh, well done, Tyrion! What an excellent job you’re doing as the Hand!

Tyrion: Stop brown-nosing, asshole.

Meanwhile, Littlefinger is giving Tyrion the stink eye.

Tyrion: WHAT THE FUCK IS UP WITH YOU, BOY?

Littlefinger: Oh, nothing. Interesting that you told ME that Myrcella was going to marry Robert Arryn, and yet you also made a deal to marry her to Tystane Martell.

Tyrion: Hahaha, oh man. Don’t take that personally. It was just some awesome shit I was doing where I was telling everyone a different story to see which one leaked. You’re good, man.

Pycelle: Huh? Sorry? What was that? I dozed off and wasn’t paying attention.

Tyrion: Don’t worry about it.

Pycelle: Okay. *goes back to sleep*

Tyrion: Now Varys, let’s walk and talk.

The two leave.

Varys: You know, Cersei will never let you send all the Lannister guards away.

Tyrion: They’ll be long gone before she gets out of the toilet. So she really can’t do anything about it. Besides, you’re going to help me get top cover when Cersei stops shitting. You’re going to tell her that it’s all part of my plan to help save Jaime.

Varys: And how does that make sense?

Tyrion: Well, we’re going to send up an elite, A-Team/Suicide Squad-type of entity including a thief, a poisoner, a mummer, a murderer, and Solid Snake. They’ll be part of our infiltration mission to get Jaime back.  If we just send those people up alone – they’ll be easily spotted. But if we send them up and blend them in disguise with the 400 other Lannister guards… how will the Starks even be able to notice them?

Varys: It sounds good in principle, but you know Solid Snake won’t actually keep that Lannister guard disguise on. Ten minutes into the whole thing he’ll put on that lame cardboard box disguise which doesn’t fool anyone. The whole thing will be blown.

Tyrion: Meh.

That evening, Ser Cleos leaves town with the Lannister guards and one surprisingly mobile cardbord box with legs. As soon as they’re gone, Tyrion assembles his crew of Vale mountain clansmen for yet another mission.

Shagga uses his axe to break open Grand Maester Pycelle’s door.

Pycelle: WHAT THE HELL?!

Pycelle is in there, having sex with a hooker.

Tyrion: Hey, you name wouldn’t happen to be “Ros,” would it?

Hooker: No, there is no "Ros" in the books.

Tyrion: Okay.

Macho Man: OOOOH YEAH!

Randy Savage delivers a diving crossbody to Pycelle, followed up by a diving double axe handle, and then an Atomic Elbow Drop to finish him off.

Earl Hebner: 1…2…3!!!!

Savage wins. Pycelle pisses and shits himself, laying naked on the ground.

Pycelle: WHY! WHHHHHHYYYY?

Tyrion: You’re the leak, Pycelle. I sent different messages via different people. The message that you sent out leaked to Cersei.

Pycelle: I’m innocent! Innocent, I say! Something… something must have happened to the raven when it was sent out. Someone intercepted it!

Shagga: SHAGGA WILL CUT OFF PYCELLE’S MANHOOD AND FEET IT TO HIS GOATS!

Macho Man: OOOH YEAH! AND THAT'S HOW THEY MAKE SLIM JIMS!

Tyrion: Gross. Perhaps that’s going a little too far. How about you just cut off his beard instead?

So Shagga cuts off Pycelle’s long beard, immediately transforming Pycelle into Aris Kristatos.

Kristatos: I have a fetish for underage, blonde ice skaters!

Tyrion: Gross, but not half as gross as most sexual relationships in these books.

Kristatos: How can you do this to me? I am a loyal Lannister! I have done everything to serve your house, Tyrion. Why, it was I who was key in convincing King Aerys to open the gates to let your father’s army into town.

Tyrion: So you’re pleading for your life by mentioning that time you BETRAYED someone? Because I remember that story ending with the king being executed. How many people have you betrayed? The Mad King? Eddard Stark? Me? King Robert? Jon Arryn? Prince Rhaegar?

Kristatos: Robert was an awful king! Renly was plotting to have Cersei divorced and for Robert to marry Margaery Tyrell. And Jon Arryn knew of Cersei’s incest! They had to be gotten rid of. They meant to harm the Lannisters! I did it all for the Lannisters! I did it all for your family!

Tyrion: So you’re admitting that you killed Jon Arryn? That’s an even worse move.

Kristatos: No! It wasn’t me. It was the squire, Ser Hugh. Not me! I swear!

Tyrion: You disgust me! Shagga and Macho Man, take Pycelle to the black cells!

And so they carry Pycelle away to prison.  Tyrion walks around Pycelle’s chambers and looks around in disgust.  Pycelle was the leak. But he doesn’t really trust Littlefinger or Varys either. Maybe they should all be executed.

ACoK 24: Theon II

Theon: Ah, look at my new awesome Longship that my daddy has given me to attack the very people who raised me over the last ten years in Westeros. I mean it’s not as good as some other ships, but it’s pretty sweet and I’ll be able to command 100 men!

Sexy Lady: Oh hey there, Theon.

Theon: Dayum girl, you fine. Mind if I slip my little Theon up in your cooch?

Sexy Lady: Wow, we literally just met and you’re talking about intercourse. That is pretty messed up. You have no idea who I am.

Theon: Then tell me who you are.

Esgred: My name is "Esgred." I’m the daughter of Ambrode and wife to Sigrin the shipwright.

Theon: I feel like I’ve known you my whole life though. For some reason you seem so familiar. Like… did I know you as a kid or something?

Esgred: No comment.

Theon: Gurl, I have a raging hard on right now. Just feel this.

She does. 

Esgred: Yep. That’s pretty hard. But I’m new with child, so I couldn’t possibly help you out with that. You know, it’s all still sore down there.

Theon: Even better that way! That means I can’t get you with child. Plus I get to drink your mother’s milk, which has always been a fetish of mine. Tell me, have you ever been with a Prince before? One day when you’re old and wrinkled, you can tell your grandchildren that you had sex with King Theon!

Esgred: That is a really strange scenario you’re positing there, Theon. How many Grandmothers do you know who go around bragging about their sex lives to their grandkids?

Theon: You’re wasted on that loser shipwright! You should be with me instead.

Esgred: Hey now, my husband just built your ship. That’s no way to repay him.

Theon: Oh, I’ll name my ship after you to repay him. I’ll call her “Sea Bitch.”

Esgred: That escalated quickly.

Theon: Now come on board so we can bless this ship with the milk of our loins.

Esgred: Uhhh… I’m pretty sure you’re supposed to do that with a bottle of champagne. Not jism.

Theon: Come on now. You can’t leave me hanging. You want me to captain this ship all blue-balled?

Esgred then grabs his junk again. She even starts unlacing his pants.

Esgred: How are you even going to steer the ship. With this?

Theon: So I’m getting mixed signals here. You keep saying no sex, but you also keep grabbing my junk. How about you come back to my place tonight? And by “my place” I mean my dad’s house. But my dad is the king, so I mean back to Pyke Castle. Have you ever met King Balon Greyjoy before?

Esgred: No comment.  Anyway, I can’t come back to the castle with you. I don’t have a horse to get there.

Theon: Oh, we can just ride my horse together then. You can be in the front and I’ll be in the back, so the entire ride I can grind my junk into your ayass and reach around to grab your boobs.

Esgred: Oh, you’re such a romantic!

And so they go to grab Theon’s horse, which is parked in town. Is “parked” the proper word you use for when you leave a horse somewhere? I don’t know. 

As they enter town, everyone starts bowing towards Theon and Esgred. 

Theon: FINALLY! People recognize me and threat me with the respect that I deserve.

Esgred: Yeah. Sure. They’re bowing to you. Let’s go with that.

They approach Theon’s new squire, Wex. Fortunately and coincidentally for reasons that are completely convenient for this chapter, Wex is a mute and is totally unable to talk. When he sees Theon and Esgred together, with Theon groping her, his eyes bug out. But he can’t say anything. You know, because it’s convenient for him not to be able to. 

And so Theon and Esgred ride to Pyke, with Theon grinding his junk into her ayass and reaching around to grab her boobs the entire time (as promised). 

Esgred: So, you think your father will welcome me to the castle?

Theon: Pfft. He hardly welcomed me and I’m his heir.

Esgred: Really? You’ve been gone a while. Are you sure you’re still his heir? I hear the king has other family. A daughter. Brothers.

Theon: Please. My sister, Asha? She’s some dumb, pimpled girl with no rack that dresses like a boy. She’ll probably get married off to some lordling to make an alliance, if there is any lord desperate enough to take someone as ugly as her. And my uncles? Well, they suck. Aeron only cares about the Drowned God. Euron has been half-way around the world for years, and nobody knows if he’s even still alive. And Victarion… well… he’s such an unimportant character that he was written out of the TV show.

Esgred: Cool, thanks for that rather convenient description of your sister. That’s almost as convenient, for plot purposes, as Wex being unable to talk.

They eventually get to the castle.

Stableboy: Oh, hi Asha.

Esgred: Hey there!

Theon: Wait… what?! Why did this stableboy just call you “Asha”? That’s my sister’s name.

Esgred: Oh right. I forgot to tell you, I’m Asha.

Theon: WHAT?!

Asha: Yeah. I’m your sister.

Theon: You didn’t forget to tell me. YOU SAID YOU WERE ESGRED, THE SHIPWRIGHT’S WIFE!

Asha: That was a lie. Protip: You’ve been gone for 10 years. Just because your little sister was a flat-chested tomboy a decade ago doesn’t mean she still is. That’s sort of how time works.

Theon: WHY THE HELL DID YOU KEEP GRABBING MY JUNK AND UNLACING MY BREECHES?

Asha: Seemed like it would be part of a hilarious practical joke at the time. I can see now, with hindsight being 20/20, how it could have been quite gross on my part. But I still stand by my decision. No regrets.

Wex the squire bursts into the closest thing to “laughter” that a mute person can burst into. He knew the whole time but couldn’t say anything. Because he was mute. GET IT? That’s the specific reason GRRM conveniently gave Theon a mute squire. For this moment. In every future chapter with him, just remember the only reason that character can't talk is so that GRRM could make this one incest joke.

Theon: Well, I’m going to go wash my entire body in bleach now and throw up a thousand times.

Theon runs off to do that. 

Hours later, it’s time for the dinner feast, hosted by his dad. Theon goes to the dais to take his seat. 

Lord Balon: You’re late, son.

Theon: Yeah, I had to vomit everything I’ve ever eaten out of my body and try to erase the last few hours from my mind.

Theon looks at the chairs. He thinks he should be sitting next to his father, but that seat is taken by Asha. 

Theon: Uhm… you’re in my spot.

Asha: Really? I thought your spot was in Winterfell!

Lord Harlaw: OHH! Good burn there, Asha.

Theon angrily takes the seat next to Asha, two away from his father.

Server: Oh, hey there everybody. I’m just here to take your drink orders. So, how many of you want beer and how many of you want wine?

Asha: Oh, Theon here doesn’t want any alcohol. I think all he wants to drink tonight is my “mother’s milk.”  Hahaha…. HEY EVERYBODY! I have an awesome story to tell you about Theon trying to have sex with me, his own sister.

Theon: SHUT UP! SHUT UP! You tricked me! Everything you told me was a lie.

Asha: No, not everything. I am married. But not to any shipwright.

Asha grabs a giant axe and smashes it into Theon’s cup. Wine explodes all over Theon’s face.

Asha: This is my husband.

Theon: So you married an axe?

Asha: Yes.

Theon: Is this like an actual marriage or more like a civil union type of thing? I’m not up to speed on the inanimate object-marrying laws of the Iron Isles. But I can see what Republicans were talking about now with the whole "Gay Marriage is a Slippery Slope" thing.

Asha: It’s really meant more as a metaphor for my warrior prowess and how I, as a female, am a stronger and more fierce warrior than you and therefore am more deserving to be heir of Pyke when father dies.

Balon: WHOA, I’m right here. Why you gotta talk about me dying like that? Anyway. Party is over. Everyone who is up on the dais needs to come back to my solar. We have some war discussion to talk about.

Theon: What? I just got here and haven’t eaten yet.

Balon: Like I said, you were LATE.

And so they go back to Lord Balon’s damp, drafty solar. 

Balon: Okay bitches, here is the plan. Theon, you will command 8 ships that will attack the Stony Shore and do some raiding work. Aeron and Dagmer will assist you. And by “assist you,” I mean they will be the real leaders of the raids because I don’t actually trust you or put any faith into your abilities.  Asha, I will give you a much larger force of 30 ships and you will do the much more important task of attacking Deepwood Motte.

Asha: Sweet. I’ve always wanted a castle.

Theon: NO FAIR! I’ve actually been to Deepwoode Motte before. I know all about it! I should be the one who gets to attack it.

Balon: Shut up, Theon. And lastly, Victorion… you will lead the main thrust of my forces and attack Moat Cailin. Once we win that, Robb Stark will be trapped in the south and not able to return home.

Theon: But I--

Balon: --SHUT UP, THEON.

Theon leaves the meeting, despondent. He walks out of the solar via the precarious rope bridge that connects various parts of Pyke. As he stands on the bridge, he falls to his knees. Asha shows up and helps him to his feet.

Theon: Ugh. You? I liked you better when you were Esgred.

Asha: Hahaha, good one. So you still wanna fuck or what?

Theon: WHAT THE HELL?!

ACoK 23: Jon III

The Nights Watch rides through the lands beyond the wall. They are miserable after six days of unending cold rain. Jon Snow is miserable. Lord Commander Mormont is miserable. Even Mormont’s raven is miserable. 

Raven: Corn……..ucopia of umbrellas. That’s what I wish I had right now. *squawk* 

A horn then sounds. 

Raven: Corn?

No, no. A horn. Not Corn. 

Raven: Oh.

Lord Commander Mormont: Good. That horn can only mean one thing… that Jarmen Buckwell has reached Craster’s Keep and that it is not abandoned. Finally, some sign of civilization. We can stop at Craster’s for some warmth and shelter.

Jon: I dunno. I’ve heard all sorts of stories about this Craster guy. They say he’s a kinslayer. A liar. A raper. A craven. And a slaver. They say he has a bunch of daughters and then marries them when they become teenagers.

Mormont: Yeah, all of those things sound pretty accurate.

Jon: Then why the hell are we pretending like he’s a friend to the Night’s Watch?

Mormont: I dunno. Thoren Smallwood seems to think that Craster is a pretty chill, cool guy.

Jon: Thoren Smallwood is a freaking creep. Of course he’d like Craster. Thoren Smallwood is the guy who you hear that the FBI raided his house and it was full of guns and child pornography. Then instead of the neighbors being like, “Oh we can’t believe it!,” it’s one of those cases where everyone is like, “Yep, that seems like him.”

Mormont: Whatever. We either go to Craster’s Keep to get dry and have some food… or we stay out in the cold rain, catch pneumonia, and then die.

Jon: I guess we can go to Craster’s Keep.

And so they go there. When they arrive, Jon is not impressed. There is a sign outside which says “Craster’s Keep / Branch Davidian Compound.” 

Jon: Wow. I wasn’t expecting a giant, stone castle or anything. But this is a shithole. It looks like a couple of shacks with a leaky roofs.

However, on the plus side there are a bunch of naked women running around. 

Jon: In THIS weather? That’s crazy! PUT ON SOME CLOTHES. Just who are these naked girls anyway? Craster’s wives? Craster’s daughters?

Ottyn Wythers: Yes.

Jon: Yes to whic—ahh, okay. I see now.

Jon looks around and sees that the great hall to the keep is probably only big enough to accommodate 30-50 of the Night’s Watch. Despite the promise of shelter, a lot of the 200 men will need to stay outside in their tents.  And the great hall itself isn’t that “great.” It might as well be a barn itself since it smells like dog shit. 

Edd: Ah, there you are, Jon. The Lord Commander says you are to join him and meet with Craster. But your wolf stays outside.

Ghost: *whimper* [Translation: Boooooo!]

Jon enters and joins the Lord Commander, who is asking Craster some questions about his recent interactions with the Watch. 

Mormont: So, have you seen Benjen recently?

Craster: Oh… old Benjen Stark? No way, I haven’t seen that dude in like three years. The last time I saw any people from the Watch was when these guys named Waymar Royce, Gared and Will came by to visit. What a bunch of asses. All my wives were staring at Waymar. But he was too proud to sleep under my roof.

Mormont: Did you know that, like, every single village a hundred miles around you is completely abandoned? They’re all running from the Wights. Two of our men rose from the dead at Castle Black and tried to kill us all.

Craster: Hrm. I wouldn’t know anything about that. *shifty eyes*

Jon: Hey! What’s up with those shifty eyes? Are you lying? Do you know more than you’re telling us?

Craster: No! Of course not! *even shiftier eyes* 

Mormont: You know, with all these dangerous Wights roaming around, we can escort you back to the wall and to safety.

Craster: Nah, I’m good here. This is my place and I’m free here. I’d rather die free than live as a slave. Every man dies. But not every man truly lives!

Jon: Don’t quote fuckin’ Braveheart around us, man.

Jarmen Buckwell: Yeah. And don’t pretend like you “Free Folk” are actually all that free. You just serve a different king… that “King Beyond the Wall,”  Mance Rayder.

Craster: Hahaha, Mance? You think I serve him? Please. One day he sent a messenger to me, telling me I needed to abandon my keep and come groveling to him. I sent that messenger back with his tongue cut out.

Jon: Dude, not cool. He was just a messenger.

Craster: So look, here is the deal. You bitches can all sleep on my floor. But I’m only going to feed 20 if you. The rest can fend for themselves.

Mormont: Oh, all we need is your roof. Nothing else. We have some food and wine that we can share with you in thanks for the shelter.

Craster: WINE? FUCK YEAH! GIMMIE! GIMMIE! GIMMIE! Oh… and there is one other house rule. Anyone who touches one of my wives gets his dick cut off.

Mormont: Well, considering that 70% of the Night’s Watch is made up of rapists, that’s going to be a tough one. But fair enough. One thing we’ll also need from you is some help to navigate the north. Any info you might have about where Mance is, etc. 

Craster: Sure, sure. Do you have anyone who can draw maps? I’ll explain some terrain around here and you can draw it all down.

Jon: Samwell Tarley is good with maps.

Mormont: Indeed. Go fetch him, Jon. And also fetch me an axe. I want to give Craster an axe as an additional house warming gift.

And so Jon goes to get Sam. On the way out, he sees that the rest of the Watch have already begun setting up their tents outside. Jon sees Edd and shares with him Lord Jeor’s instructions. 

Edd: An AXE? Why the hell is Mormont giving Craster an axe? The most likely thing Craster will do with it is stick it in one of our backs. 

Jon: Thoren Smallwood says that Craster is a friend to us.

Edd: Pfft. Up here beyond the wall the only difference between a “friend” and an “enemy” is that your “friends” bury you in a grave after they murder you.

Just then, Jon hears a loud screaming coming from some girl. 

Edd: Oh shit, what is that?

Jon: I dunno. But there is a 90% chance it has something to do with the giant horse dog that travels around with me.

Jon runs off to see about the commotion, and sure enough it’s Ghost-related. Ghost has just broken open a cage and begun to eat two rabbits that were inside of it. One of Craster’s daughters/wives is backed into a corner and screaming in fear of the giant direwolf. 

Girl: AGH! That thing is going to EAT me!

Jon: No Ghost won’t! Ghost would never eat someone. You know, unless he had been starved and hungry for several days because there is no game to catch around here, combined with being irritated by endless cold rain. Which describes the situation we are in perfectly. So never mind. GHOST! Get over here and don’t eat that lady.

Ghost meekly comes back over to Jon, but refuses to let go of his tasty new rabbit treats. 

Girl: Oh thank you, lord, for saving me.

Jon: Are you talking to me and calling me a “lord,” or are you thanking God?

Girl: You.

Jon: Oh, I’m not a lord. Hey, are you Craster’s daughter or wife?

Girl: Yes.

Jon: Yes to whic—ahh, okay. I see now. Gross.

Girl: You know, I was going to breed those rabbits.

Jon: I’m sorry. I’d pay you back but I don’t have any money. Not that minted currency has any value is you live in a little rape cult compound, hundreds of miles away from civilization.

Then Chett arrives on the scene. Because why not? 

Chett: YEEE HAWWWWW! Jon Snow, I hate you because you helped Sam take my nice job away runnin’ moonshine for Maester Aemon. But you’re not so tough without that direwolf.

Jon: Whatever. I don’t have time for a damn Chett scene right now. I’m leaving.

Jon (with Ghost) leaves to find Sam, which was what he was ordered to do by Mormont in the first place. But instead of taking Sam back to Craster to draw some maps, they decide to cook up the second of the two rabbits.

Ghost: *woof* [Translation: See how cool I am? I ate the one rabbit myself. But the second rabbit I saved for my best friend, Jon].

All the other rangers of the Night’s Watch are jealous as they see and smell Jon cooking the rabbit. Sure, it’s scrawny and pathetic thing. But it’s better than their rations of Slim Jims and hard tack. 

Macho Man: OOOH YEA--

--No. I’m going to stop you right there, Randy Savage. You’re presently down in Kings Landing and so you can’t be here too. 

Sam: So, speaking of savages... is this Craster guy a savage like everyone says?

Jon: Yeah sure. Pretty much. Now go draw your damn map.

Sam goes to draw his damn map. Then Jon falls asleep like some sort of narcoleptic spaz. 

Jon wakes up the next morning and Ghost is gone. Probably out looking to kill some more stuff. 

Voice: Jon! JON!

Jon: Huh? Who dis? New phone.

Voice: Jon, it’s me.

Jon: This sounds like some sort of female voice. I’m not supposed to talk to Craster’s girls. You know, even though I already did last night.

Girl: It’s me. The same girl from last night. The one with the rabbits.

Jon: Oh right. HEY are you wearing Sam’s cloak? I can tell it’s Sam’s because the cloak is waaaaay too big for you. It’s huge. You could take that cloak, put it up the mast of a ship, and have a functional sailboat. It’s that big.

Girl: Yes. This is Sam’s cloak and yes he is very obese.

Jon: Am I going to keep calling you “Girl” and “Voice” or is your character actually going to get a name?

Gilly: You can call me "Gilly."

Jon: Cool. Now go away because I’m not supposed to talk to you.

Gilly: Don’t worry, Craster won’t know. He drank all that wine Mormont gave him last night, and now he’s passed out drunk. He’ll be like that all day.

Jon: This seems like the perfect opportunity to just murder him while he’s passed out and be done with him.

Gilly: Yes. That would probably be a good idea. But despite the logic of that suggestion, that won’t happen.

Jon: So what do you want?

Gilly: Take me with you! I want to escape here and leave with you all. Craster wouldn’t even notice if I was gone since he has 19 wives.

Jon: First of all… NO. Second… he would totally notice. 19 is not too high of a number to keep track of. Let’s say I lived in a place that allowed bigamy and had 19 wives. Specifically, let’s say I was married to Scarlett Johansson, Sofía Vergara, Penélope Cruz, Eva Mendes, Jessica Alba, Beyoncé, Eva Longoria, America Ferrera, Salma Hayek, Jennifer Lawrence, Shakira, Mila Kunis, Hayden Panettiere, Selena Gomez, Rosario Dawson, Alexis Bledel, Zoe Saldana, JLo, and Gina Rodriguez.  Then let’s say that Shakira ran away and left me. Do you think I’d FORGET that I was married to Shakira? No way. At max, maybe I wouldn’t realize she was gone for a day or two if I was super busy having sex with all my other hot wives. But after that? You can rest assured I’d be like, “Hey! Where the hell is Shakira?!”

Gilly: Wow. You must really have a Latina thing.

Jon: What?

Gilly: Fourteen out of the nineteen women you mentioned were Latina. That’s about 74%.

Jon: No way. Surely you’re overestimating.

Gilly: Nope. *counting on fingers* Sofía Vergara, Penélope Cruz, Eva Mendes, Jessica Alba, Eva Longoria, America Ferrera, Salma Hayek, Shakira, Selena Gomez, Rosario Dawson, Alexis Bledel, Zoe Saldana, JLo, and Gina Rodriguez. That’s fourteen.

Jon: No way. Alexis Bledel is Latina? The little annoying White girl from Gilmore Girls? I don't believe that for a minute.

Gilly: Her father is from Argentina.

Jon: And Rosario Dawson? I thought she was Black.

Gilly: Puerto Rican and Afro-Cuban.

Jon: Well shit, I guess I have a "Latina thing." The bottom line is, the Night’s Watch will have nothing to do with helping you escape Craster. That’s not our business.

Gilly: But… but… but Sam said  you’d help! He said that the Night’s Watch helps the innocent and the weak. I’m innocent and weak! Help me.

Jon: Nah.

Gilly: Can’t you see I’m pregnant with child?

Jon: Yeah, I sort of noticed a bump there but I didn’t want to be a dick and say anything in case you were just fat.

Gilly: One of the other women, Nella, said that the baby is going to be a boy. Do you see any boys around here?

Jon: Hrm. You know what… I’m just noticing that now. All girls except for Craster. Crazy, right? I guess that guy only shoots out XX chromosomes, if you know what I mean.

Gilly: Oh no, he has boys all the time. Do you want to know what he does with them?

Jon: Sure, I’m intrigued. Please tell me. But first, let me start sipping this scalding hot coffee.

Jon starts drinking a Dunkin Donuts large black coffee. Don't ask where it came from, that's not important to the story. 

Gilly: He sacrifices them to the Others. He gives them as gifts to the White Walkers!

Jon does a spit take and shoots all his hot coffee everywhere. 

Jon: DA FUQ?

Gilly: Yeah. Really.

Jon: No way. You’ve seen the Others? And Craster just GIVES babies to them?

Gilly: Yes. He leaves them in the woods and The Others take them.

Jon: I call bullshit. If you've seen these Others, what color are their eyes? But before you answer, let me have another sip of this delicious, piping hot Dunkins. Because I didn’t get to drink my first sip.

Gilly: Blue. Their eyes are all bright and glowing blue.

Jon: *spit take again* 

Gilly: Take me back to the Wall! Please! I don’t want my baby to die!

Jon: Look babe, we’re not even going to the Wall. We’re going the opposite direction. I mean, I’ll talk to Lord Commander Mormont about this. But I think you are S.O.L.

Jon walks away and goes have breakfast with a bunch of the bros. One of the bros, Dywen, is claiming he had sex with a bunch of Craster’s girls last night. But everyone knows that is B.S. and he was just jerking off in a bush or something. After his quick bite, Jon continues on to the Lord Commander. 

He enters Craster’s Keep and is greeted by Mormont and his raven. 

Raven: Corn?

Jon: No asshole, I don’t have any damn corn. Do you think I go around carrying corn in my pockets all the time? Who does that? Only an absolute dipshit.

Mormont: Ah, Jon. There you are. Let me talk to you in a second… right after I pull this corn out of my pockets and give it to this raven.

Raven: CORN! CORN! CORN!

Mormont: Now where were we? Oh right. I meant to ask you if it was still raining out there.

Jon: I mean you could have figured that out by looking out of a window yourself, but no… the rain stopped.

Mormont: Good, good. Then tell everyone to saddle up! We’re leaving within the hour.

On the way to go tell the men to saddle up, Jon finds Sam… hanging out with damn Gilly just like he’s NOT supposed to be doing. 

Jon: Damnit Sam, you fat piece of shit. What exactly were to trying to pull with that Gilly shit?

Gilly: Uh, I think I’ll be leaving.

She leaves. 

Sam: I… uhh… ermm… I mean… I…

Jon punches Sam in the dick and walks away.  That doesn’t really happen, but it essentially serves the same narrative point of what did happen. The point being that Sam is fucking stupid, didn’t think this through, and has no fucking plan for how a thing like that would work. 

Soon, everyone saddles their horses and leaves. I mean obviously not Craster and his women. But everyone else.  Jon decides to be all subtle about what Gilly told him though.

Jon: Lord Commander. Don’t you think it’s strange that Craster has no boys?

Mormont: Duh. Craster sacrifices his boys to the White Walkers by leaving them in the woods.

Jon: WHAT THE HELL? YOU ALREADY KNEW THIS?

Mormont: Sure. I thought everybody knew. That's why The Others leave him alone and don't kill him.

Jon: And you had us all stay in his house and pretended like he was some sort of cool, normal guy that the Night’s Watch could trust?

Mormont: Kid, you’re too young to understand how the damn world works. You gotta learn to become a moral relativist like me. Is Craster an inherently good person? No, of course not. He murders his sons and rapes his daughters. But we need him. Do you know how many Ranger lives Craster has saved over the years by providing food and shelter to us beyond the Wall when we’re ranging?

Jon: Uhh… I’m going to guess twenty three.

Mormont: It was a rhetorical question. I don’t actually know the exact number. The point is Craster is his own man. He’s sworn no loyalty to any liege lord and he’s not bound by the laws of any land.

Jon: Oh, so he’s a libertarian?

Mormont: Pretty much. Now let me drop some more plot exposition before this Chapter is done.  While you were away, Craster told us that Mance Rayder was gathering all the Free People by the Frostfangs.

Jon: Oh crap! You mean that cruel, inhospitable wilderness land of stone and ice?

Mormont: Well, that vague description can pretty much describe anywhere here, but yes. You have the gist of it.  My point is that Mance seems to be gathering all the Free People to assemble an army. That army’s ultimate goal is to attack the Wall and invade the realm.

Jon: Well that will never happen. Wildlings have tried for centuries to invade. They’ve never succeeded.

Mormont: True. But that was then when people gave a shit about the Wall and the Kings of Westeros used to actually send men here to defend it. Now we’re a pitiful shadow of what we used to be. And not only is the Night’s Watch a shadow of its former self… what happens if the Wildlings get past the Wall? Who will fend them off in the North? Not the Starks, as your brother Robb is off to the south, fighting the Lannisters.

Jon: Hrm, good point. And interesting that you mention that the North is completely undefended now, because I have an odd feeling that the next Chapter will be a Theon Chapter.

ACoK 22: Catelyn II

Cat is having sweet, wonderful dreams of pleasant family life with her alive husband and her children who are not fighting in wars, nor cripples, nor held captive by the Lannisters.

Then she wakes up and returns to reality.

Cat: Fuck

She then goes to have breakfast.

Shadd, her guardsman: I’m making some oats for breakfast, Lady Stark. Care to have some?

Wendel Manderly, Wyman’s son who is also fat: Oh yes, Cat! You have to try these oats. Especially with roast quail in it. SO GOOD.

Cat: Shut up, lardo. Oats and bread is enough for me. It’s like 7 in the morning. Stop being so fat and eating quail at 7 in the morning.

Wendel: *shame*

In addition to Ser Wendel and Shadd, Cat also rides south with Ser Perwym Frey, Lucas Blackwood (not to be confused with Lucas Black from Tokyo Drift), and Robin Flint. 

Perwyn Frey: Oh man. I love all of you. You’re all the best! I hope we traveling companions can be best friends forever. Cat. Wendel, Lucas, Robin. All of you. I hope that one day all four of you, and many more, can be invited back to the Twins for a great, big wedding ceremony.

Cat: Aww, that’s so sweet, Perwyn. Thanks.

Wendel: Yes, I would not miss this wedding for the world!

Lucas: Indeed. Even though I don’t know who this wedding is for yet, I’m already going to RSVP for it.

Robin: I will be there too. That’s a promise.

Perwyn: GREAT!

And so with that settled, they all continue on their way to treat with King Renly. In this sense, “treat” is an old fashioned word that means something between “negotiate” and “meet.” It does not mean that they will give Renly treats. This is not Halloween. There is no such thing as Halloween in Westeros. Although it is indeed Fall Harvest time. So if there were one, it would be about now.

Cat recalls all the crazy actions that brought her this way, including her son manipulating her into going by saying he’d send Greatjon Umber in her place if she didn’t. But the Greatjon has the same diplomatic suaveness as Donald Trump, so Cat refused and said she’d go instead. She should have known that Robb was just bluffing about the Greatjon, but it got her to go anyway. She’s proud of her son being smart enough to manipulate her like that. He might truly be a great king one day. Surely he won’t make any stupid life decisions without her while she’s away. Surely.

Before she left to on the trip, she wrote to Bran and Rickon, and met with her father Hoster one last time. But her dad was so far gone he didn’t even recognize her and thought that she was his dead wife. Sad. 

Suddenly, the party traveling south is surrounded by twenty men, led by this dude:

Ser Colen: HALT! I am Ser Colon of Greenpools! Who goes there?

Cat: Wow, your name is Colon?

Colen: NO! COLEN! With an E!

Cat: I’m Cat Stark. These are other people.

Colen: Oh, cool. I welcome you on behalf of King Renly. I’ve been ordered to escort you to his Majesty.

And Ser Colen escorts them into Renly’s camps. As they pass through, Cat can’t help but realize how big the camps are. The forces backing Renly are clearly much bigger than Robb’s own rag-tag armies of the North. There are thousands of campfires, siege engines, tents, roads, and pavilions.  

As they ride through, they notice a tournament going on by a small castle. Or perhaps its just a chalk quarry in an overflow parking lot.

Colen: Wait here and watch this tournament while I go tell King Renly that you have arrived. I mean, surely there will be some character in this tournament who is important enough to become a main character with POV chapters in the future.

"Red Ronnet" Connington: Boy, I hope it’s me! You know, my dad’s cousin was Jon Connington who used to be Hand of the King to Prince Aerys II and was a good friend of Rhaegar. I’m sure that makes me a key character in these stories!

It won’t. Red Connet’s most notable contribution will be to be punched in the face by Jaime. 

Red Ronnet: Awwww, damnit!

Red Ronnet is then knocked off his horse by some knight in the armor of House Tarth. 

Cat: Oh wow, that Tarth knight seems really good. Super strong and masculine. But this whole tournament thing is stupid. Renly is in the middle of a REAL WAR and yet he’s playing at war with this tourney stuff. He should focus on the REAL threat.

Starscream: The Autobot moon base!

Cat: What? NO! Get outta here, Starscream!!!

Starscream transforms into a McDonnell Douglas F-15 Eagle and flies away.

In the crowd, Cat looks around at the nobles watching the tourney. After seeing people like Randyll “Sam’s not so loving father” Tarley, she also spots King Renly and his young wife, who must be this “Margaery Tyrell” person that everyone is talking about. 

Cat: Geez, he looks just like Robert when he was young and thin. It’s amazing.

Finally the jousting tournament nears its end – with only two competitors remaining. The knight from House Tarth and Ser Loras Tyrell.  They rush at each other. The knight from Tarth wins.

Crowd: BOOOOO!

Cat: Why is everyone booing that knight who won? Just who is that guy?

Colen: Hey, I’m back just in time to answer your question. Not a guy. That’s Lord Selwyn the Evenstar’s daughter, Brienne of Tarth. Everyone calls her “Brienne the Beauty.” But they do it ironically because she’s really fuckin' ugly.

Cat: That’s wrong on so many levels.

Renly: I declare Brienne of Tarth the winner of the tournament. HUZZAH! And, as every man knows, whenever a King officiates a tournament he magically gets the same powers as a genie from a lamp and can grant one wish. Brienne, tell me your wish.

The crowd starts shouting suggestions. 

Elyas Willum: WISH FOR AN END TO THE WAR OF THE FIVE KINGS!

Lady Arywn Oakheart: WISH FOR WORLD PEACE!

Guyard Morrigen: WISH FOR AN END TO CANCER!

Brienne: I wish… I wish… to be named a member of your Rainbow Kingsguard!!!

Renly: Hrm. I was going to save this last rainbow cape I made to be given to Ser Barristan Selmy. He got fired by Joffrey, so I figured maybe he would turn up to serve me. His TRUE king. But since he never came here, I suppose I can give it to you.

Brienne takes of her helm and celebrates. 

Cat: HOLY CRAP SHE IS UGLY. WOW. I MEAN… JEEZ! I’m trying to be an understanding person her… but… man, oh man. I know that judging a woman by her physical attractiveness only feeds into the patriarchy and promotes more sexism and abuse of women. But seriously. If this was Sparta, they would have thrown that baby off the cliff.

Colen: Oh yeah, and King Renly says that he’s ready to meet with you know, Lady Stark. But he can only pencil you in for a few minutes. Please come over.

And so they head over to Renly.

Colen: King Renly, may I introduce you to Lady Catelyn Stark, mother of Lord Robert Stark of Winterfell.

Cat: *ahem*… I think you mean KING Robert Stark.

Renly: OH SHIT. You’re going to correct him right in front of my face? You do realism that I am KING Renly, and I claim rule over all seven of the Seven Kingdoms? That means I don’t recognize your son’s claim. That’s a pretty damn passive-aggressive thing to do the first time you meet a person.

Cat: Actually, it was just aggressive-aggressive.

Renly: HAHAHA, I think I’m going to like you, Cat. I’m deeply sorry about what happened to your husband. He seemed like an okay dude. He really should have listened to me though. Anyway, once I take back Kings Landing, I promise to give you Cersei Lannister’s head as a gift.

Cat: Gross. What am I going to do with that, Renly?

Brienne: Do not address him as “Renly!” You shall kneel to your king and address him as “Your Grace.”

Renly: Hahaha, oh man. I’ve got to apologize for Brienne here. It’s her first day on the job as a  Kingsguard. Her first minute, really. I guess you can tell she’s going to be that really anal employee who is a real stickler for the rules and is no fun to work with at all.

Cat: Whatever. I didn’t come her to talk about that. We need to talk business.

Renly: Indeed, indeed. So when is your son going to march on Harrenhal and take out fuckin' Tywin, huh?

Cat: How the hell would I know? Does it look like I’m sitting on his war council right now? No, it doesn’t. Besides, I don’t know if I can even trust you yet.

Renly: Fair enough. By the way, your boy is hot shit. Everyone is talking about him like he’s Captain Badass. I mean… taking Jamie Lannister as a prisoner? DAYUM! That’s sweet. Although personally I don’t know why you’re keeping him as a prisoner rather than just executing him like he deserves.

Lord Randyll Tarly: Your son should have come in person to pay homage to his king, rather than sending you, Lady Stark. A feeble woman.

Cat: Nobody likes you, Randyll. Shut up. My son is busy FIGHTING a war rather than having a lame tournament and pretending to battle. I hope you burn to death in a dragon’s fire.

Randyll: THAT WILL NEVER HAPPEN, I PROMISE YOU! NEVER!

Renly: Oooh, burn! No… literally. Burn. You’re outmatched with this Cat Stark here, Randyll. But anyway, Cat, I am the king so I have a lot of important stuff to do. Let’s continue our discussions later. Please stay for tonight’s feast.

And so Cat stays for the evening and hangs out in Renly’s pavilion. She understands why the march of Renly’s army is so slow. This army is huge and is bringing all sorts of unnecessary stuff with them. It’s more of a traveling circus than an army readying for battle. 

That evening at the feast, Cat is treated to singing and entertainment. She gets to sit near to King Renly and sees him interact with his wife, Margaery. 

Cat: Oh, they look like they’re happy enough together. Or at least they’re pretending to be.

Robin: Odd that Renly is joking, laughing and paying more attention to Ser Loras Tyrell though, instead of Margaery Tyrell.

Cat: Hrm. They must be best bros or something.

Cat continues to watch the revelry. In her mind, she sees all these young people about to go to war. War will quickly age them, as it did to her generation when Robert’s Rebellion began. Winter is Coming. Winter comes for everyone.

Renly: Ah, Cat! There you are! Hope you’ve been having fun watching all this singing and juggling and bullshit.

Cat: Meh.

Renly: Come on, let’s go on a walk together. I wanna chat with you in private.

Brienne: Your Grace, please let me come with you to protect you.

Renly: WOW. So needy and attached. Do you really think Cat Stark came down here to stab me in the back or something? Fuck off and give me some space, Overly Attached Bodyguard.

Brienne mopes. Cat and Renly leave together. They begin to walk up the stairs to the castle. 

Renly: Sooooo… Cat, Cat, Cat. Quick question. Ser Barristan Selmy hasn’t joined Robb up in Riverrun, has he?

Cat: Huh? Why? What are you talking about?

Renly: Oh. Never mind. You know, I offered your husband a hundred swords one day as my brother was dying… so we could take out Cersei in one fell swoop. He refused me. Look, I liked Ned well enough and he was my brother’s true friend. But he was stubborn. He got himself killed. If he had only listened to me--

Cat: --Is this supposed to make me feel better or worse?

Finally, they reach the roof of the castle and look out into the night sky. They have a great view of Renly’s HUGE camp and army. 

Renly: Look at that. See? How many men does Robb have? 40,000 at most, I’d imagine. I’ve got TWICE THAT right here, plus another 10,000 soldiers loyal to Mace Tyrell sitting at Highgarden, and a strong garrison at Storm’s End. I also intend for the forces of Dorne to soon join my cause. They have no love for the Lannisters. In fact, just the opposite. And then there are the forces of my brother Stannis at Dragonstone. Hopefully they shall bend the knee to me soon.

Cat: You know, your brother Stannis is the older brother. Surely he has the better claim to the throne.

Renly: Better claim? Better CLAIM? Stannis is respected and feared. But is he loved? No. Would he make a good king? No. Does being born first mean that you deserve to rule if you’re otherwise incompetent? No. I mean how did my brother even get the throne? Was his claim better? Fuck no. Rhaegar Targaryen was the heir to the Iron Throne. So what did Robert do? He smashed Rhaegar Targaryen to death with a fucking war hammer. He TOOK the throne. In the end, he claimed that the fact that our paternal grandmother was Rhaelle Targaryen, the youngest daughter of King Aegon V, provided some sort of “blood connection” to justify his claim. But that is nonsense. I’m sure if you go through the genealogy tables you can find two dozen people with better or equal blood claims. Did any of those other people smash Rhaegar Targaryen in the chest with a hilariously giant hammer? Nah. And that’s why he became king. He seized the moment and took it. Just like Aegon did three hundred years ago.

Cat: I’m not going to lie, that’s a pretty accurate and convincing argument.

Renly: I have an offer for you, Lady Stark. Your son Robb can call himself “the King in the North.” He can call himself “the Pope”, or “Ziggy Stardust”, or whatever he wants to call himself. I do not care. So long as he bends the knee to me and recognizes me as his overlord.

Cat: And what if he doesn’t?

Renly: Haha. If he doesn’t? Look, I intend to be ruler of the SEVEN KINGDOMS. All seven. If that means I have to fight you too after I’m done with the Lannisters and my brother… then so be it. But I think it would be much wiser for your son to join me rather than fight me. I know you northerners have your pride. But Torrhen Stark bent the knee to Aegon. It was a wise decision that saved his people from slaughter. Join me and we can end this war in a manner of weeks.

As Cat begins to mull over a reply, suddenly a messenger runs up to the roof, shouting. 

Messenger: KING RENLY! KING RENLY! URGENT NEWS! Storm’s End is under assault!

Renly: WHAT?! How did this happen? When did Lord Tywin leave Harrenhal? My scouts and spies said he was still there.

Messenger: Oh, it’s not the Lannisters who are assaulting Storm’s End, your grace. It is your brother, Stannis.

Cat: Dunn DUN DUNNNNNNNN!

Renly: No, stop. Don’t do that, Cat.