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[ASOIAF][SI] No Promises

Discussion in 'Creative Writing' started by Nugar, Jan 29, 2018.

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  1. Nugar

    Nugar Know what you're doing yet?

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    Its on sb and sv. Remember, this is the sfw section of qq. QQ isn't just for porn.
     
  2. ItsComplicated

    ItsComplicated Making the rounds.

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    Found it, thank you.
    And now I read the entire thread and not just the threadmarks. I'm sad to see that our protagonist will have to run. I liked the well-written uplift story and the struggles with recalcitrant lords and Westerosi culture! I hope to see more of that eventually! Fugitive stories are ok, but this is better. Still, having fled and having doubt cast upon his legitimacy will make his uplift plans far harder and add challenges to whatever plot you choose after that!
     
  3. Nugar

    Nugar Know what you're doing yet?

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    This is what I'm going for for her overall look.

    [​IMG]

    And in colors and a top similar to this.

    [​IMG]
     
  4. GloryHound

    GloryHound Getting some practice in, huh?

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    NICE! :D
     
  5. Threadmarks: Chapter 6: Crabpocalypse and Family Planning
    Nugar

    Nugar Know what you're doing yet?

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    Lunch was held in a lovely veranda kind of area near the royal apartments. I left Cayla and Sandor behind to fend for themselves, not that that was any kind of hardship when both of them had the standing to order anything they wanted from the kitchens.

    Idly, I wondered if they’d eat lunch together, like they did breakfast that morning.

    Huh. The two of them have always gotten along pretty well. I wonder if there’s anything there. Or if there could be anything there.

    That’d be a decent sort of deal after I’m married to Sansa. My right hand and my left hand getting married. Sandor is a noble but sort of despises nobility, so that’s probably not much of an obstacle.

    Hmm.

    “Nephew! I haven’t seen you in a week,” Jamie greeted, meeting me as I was escorted in by one of the servants.

    I know that, as a modern sort of man who knows that nobility is bullshit and that I’m not actually any better than the servants except through luck, I’m supposed to be friendly to servants and take interest in their lives, at least to the point of knowing their names and such. But I can’t even keep track of all the nobles I’m supposed to, and servants come and go pretty often.

    “Hey, Uncle Jamie. You look… good.” What I started to say was ‘kinda peaked’, but I find it easiest to deal with uncomfortable things by ignoring them. We didn’t hug, but we did grab each other’s arms.

    Jamie wasn’t quite dressed in court finery, like I was, instead wearing the same type of clothes he usually wore. They were clean, and fairly fine, since his duties as one of the White Cloaks means he’s usually at least somewhat formal, but he hadn’t put effort into dressing up, either. Of course, he can get away with that. Cersei likes to dress up and positively pouts if I don’t join her. Jamie is better at denying her.

    “You look like something just pissed you off. Did a gear pop off your latest creation?” he snarked, turning with me as we went to the table.

    “I- Oh. No, just an uncomfortable thought. A complex puzzle with a simple solution that for some reason I don’t like.”

    He glanced at me. “People?”

    “People.” I turned and looked around. “So where’s Mother? And Celly?”

    He shrugged. “Myrcella is with her tutor and a couple of other girls. Cersei was still getting dressed, last I saw her.”

    I’m sure she was. No one actually says anything about it but I still find it mystifying that half of King’s Landing doesn’t know he’s fucking her. They are not subtle, especially with comments like that.

    Of course, they both know I know, so maybe they’re more circumspect with outsiders. I don’t know.

    I looked around. The table was set with a decorative centerpiece of bright red coral, mother of pearl shells, and a riot of flowers that bloom around sand dunes and beaches. Flickers of colored light spun slowly through the room, reflected from and through a small windmill with a rainbow of stained glass blades set up on the edge of the veranda. Above us a large ceiling fan with ornately carved blades also spun slowly, powered by a larger, more functional windmill I’d set up out of sight above us. That same windmill also ran a tiny pump that kept water flowing through a miniature waterfall and river over to the side. The river had a clear glass wall on our side, letting us see the flickers of small colorful fish going through it. Tiny bonsai trees and to scale golden lions and bronze deer decorated the ‘land’ around the river. Basically, I’d copied the kind of fountain you see at bigger Asian restaurants sometimes.

    The marble floor was polished smooth and lustrous, the stonework of the veranda railing was masterful, and even the chairs were made of a rich, dark wood carved with ornate designs and family crests. Flowered vines crawled up trellises and along the edge of the roof, while planters and pots with even more flowers lurked in corners and against the columns holding up the roof.

    This was Cersei’s favorite place to host. Everything, from the flowers to the stained glass windmill, was a power play. Wealth, power, taste. I had contributed to it, naturally, but that didn’t make the decision to have lunch here any less of a ploy. Instead of intimidating me, it was a welcome.

    ‘Look what we can do together, as family.’

    Yup. Just family. The son, the mother, and the stepfather-uncle. Family looks after family, gotta keep it in the family.

    I sneer, but the truth is I’m actually pretty invested in these people. Jamie is pretty sharp with his tongue, but actually pretty fun to be around. Cersei is, at this point, my mother. Not my Momma, but definitely my mother. She’s always been the one to react with pride and delight whenever I present her with some new accomplishment or thing. She always uses her influence to help me make deals or go around obstacles. Frankly, other than being a huge bitch to everyone who isn’t family, she’s actually a pretty good mother. I hate to admit it, but I love her.

    And the incest? Who gives a shit? I don’t, at any rate. It’s bad genetically speaking and it’s definitely a sign of some major dysfunction, but other than the consequences of being caught I don’t really see where it’s a problem at this point. They’re consenting adults. Now, the consequences of being caught are pretty goddamn bad, and stupid to risk, but that’s out of my hands. I don’t mind her cheating on Robert at all, especially given how he fucks anything that moves. I do my best not to judge.

    Then Cersei struts in like she’s some sort of queen.

    Well.

    You know.

    And man, does she look good in that brilliant red silk cheongsam. For a moment, both Jamie and I just watch her walk towards us. If you like arrogance and power in your beautiful women, Cersei is pretty much top tier. Like, give her a wand and some black robes, boom, classic Sorceress. A business suit and she’s a CEO. A hand axe and some fur lined leather, barbarian queen. Her features are slightly severe but well formed, and there’s no shy tittering or girlish coquettishness. Cersei is a woman.

    She’s also my mother, so I recovered first and nudged Jamie, then strode forward and gave her a hug. I’ve never considered myself particularly affectionate, but apparently I’m pretty touchy feely by local standards. Cersei hugs me back, because that’s what we do.

    “If you wanted to see me, you didn’t have to go through a big production. You could have just said so,” I chided her gently, placing a chaste kiss on the top of her head, then letting her go.

    “It’s fun on occasion. We have all this, so why not use it?” she replied with a smile.

    I’ve only seen four people in the world get a real smile from her, and I’m one of them.

    I escorted her the last few feet to the table and pulled her chair out for her, allowing her to seat herself primly. Jamie sat to her right and I to her left.

    A watching servant took that as the signal to begin, and three servants immediately came out with our first course.

    Three large, clear glass goblets with a reddish mush in the bottom and three large fried prawns hanging from the rim.

    What.

    “What’s this?” I asked, indicating the dish. I know what it looked like. I hadn’t introduced it.

    “Fried prawn tails with a tomato-lemon salsa,” one of the servants replied, a guy. “The chef has not named it yet, I hope it meets with your approval.”

    “It’s good,” Cersei assured me, daintily dipping one of the prawns in the sauce. Because of course they’d let her try it first, you don’t surprise Cersei if you know what’s good for you. She’s kinda controlling.

    Huh. The chef has invented the shrimp cocktail. Convergent evolution is an amazing thing. I mean, I absolutely detest cocktail sauce, but this wasn’t exactly the same. Surely it was better.

    I obediently lifted one of the prawn by the tail and dipped it in the salsa before taking a bite.

    Immediately, my mouth started burning. Not with spice, oh no, though there were hints of dornish peppers in it. No, the problem is, everyone else here has an unhealthy obsession with vinegar. And I hate vinegar. And this ‘tomato lemon salsa’ had to be at least 50% brown vinegar by volume.

    My eyes watered just a little, and I had to overcome some gag reflex, but I still swallowed. Jamie and Cersei showed every evidence of actually enjoying the horrific fake salsa, ‘falsa’. I simply ate the fried prawns and avoided the stuff.

    We made small talk. Not inconsequential, exactly. I reported the fire, that Tyrion is doing well, Lord Ashford’s nascent silk empire, and my new unflattering nickname. Jamie caught me up with the doings of some of the knights, and we discussed training. Cersei told me a few new things about fashion, a more detailed report on what Tommen and Kevan Lannister were up to in Summerhall, and how well Myrcella was doing in her various studies. We spent the most time discussing Myrcella’s standing among the various noble daughters that were her playmates. As a princess, her standing was the highest, but there’s more to being the leader of any given group than just social standing. Myrcella didn’t just have friends, she had lessons.

    Then came the next course, and the next, and the next. Buttered bread piled high with tiny shrimp, creamy seafood soup, crab pie, and literal piles of thick, delicious crab legs. I love crab. No, I mean, I LOVE crab. I make sure people know I love crab, and know that they can bribe me to do things by giving me crab. This encourages people to give me crab.

    Cersei knows I love crab. Now, she dotes on me enough that not every crab dinner is accompanied by a request, but it’s more than average.

    So it wasn’t a surprise when we reached the final course, our drinks refilled, food set out, and the servants sent away to give us privacy. Candied fruits and whipped cream for Cersei, and the aforementioned piles of crab legs for Jamie and I. Sweet flaky crab meat is all the dessert I need. Of course, this is also the point my inner glutton comes out, and I will eat crab until I enter a food coma. So that means this is serious discussion time, punctuated by cracking exoskeleton.

    “So, my son. I have some important news for you.”

    “Bad news?” I asked, pausing in the middle of breaking a leg off. Because it’s never good news.

    “Well, it’s good news, it’s just… complicated.” She looked a little discomfited.

    I gestured with the now dismembered leg. “Okay. What’s happening?”

    “I’m pregnant.”

    I stabbed myself with a claw, drawing a spot of blood. “Fuck!” I hissed, wiping at the spot with a napkin.

    “Or I believe I am. I’ve missed a monthly, and there has been plenty of chances,” she said, glancing at Jamie, who held her hand.

    “When was the last time Robert approached you?” I asked, my concern instant.

    She winced. “There is the complication. It’s been more than a year. Closer to two. So I need your help.”

    So, there are things a son never wants to know about his mother. But there’s things you need to know as a medical professional. Now, I’m not a medical professional, but I try. And when I was younger, and Robert was still fucking Cersei on the regular, it was pretty clear she hated it and it hurt. So I worked on solutions. Glycerol based personal lubricant, to help with her complete lack of arousal and Robert’s battering ram approach. White petroleum jelly to help with chafes and scrapes. Salicylic acid concentrate for the occasional wart. Cranberry juice for UTIs. A complete moratorium on weird ass maester prescribed douches. Chastising Robert. Distracting him with whores or hunting.

    Basically, I did what I could, short of murdering Robert, to keep Cersei safe and healthy and comfortable.

    So there’s a certain amount of trust, here. Part of that trust is not asking her if the kid is Jamie’s in front of Jamie. I don’t know if he knows she cheats on him with other men. I am going to have to ask, because it could be really important. The issue of parentage with her is actually one I’ve already looked into.

    Back in my earlier days of learning medicine with the maesters, I introduced blood transfusions. Now, as most people know, you have to have compatible blood before you can donate to someone. So you have to know people’s type. Typing blood without a kit is slower and you usually need to use a magnifier, but it’s doable. Typing blood without any known starting values just means you can mix up ‘A’ and ‘B’. AB and O are pretty obvious, as is Rh factor.

    And, if you know blood type of parents and child, you can sometimes determine if a child is by a different father. You can’t prove a positive, but you can sometimes prove a negative. And also, I had suspicions of why I was born so sickly, and Robert and Cersei never produced another child together.

    So I ran typing. As an arbitrary choice between A or B, I am A+. Robert is A+. Cersei is O-. Jamie is O-. Myrcella is O-. Tommen, my youngest brother, who had been born with dark hair in this world?

    Fucking B-.

    What the fuck, Cersei.

    Everyone gets two genes for blood type and two for Rh factor, one from the mother and one from the father on each. Both ‘O’ and ‘negative’ are recessive traits. The only way to be either is if both parents have those traits, though someone could be an A or B and have a hidden O or negative or both gene. Myrcella actually could be Robert’s daughter, because Robert could be A+/O-, and passed on that O- to Myrcella. Like I said, you can only sometimes prove a negative. I am A+, which I probably got from Robert. There is no way, at least by the genetics I know, for either an A+ or a O- father to sire a B- child.

    And, there’s a fairly high chance, especially with Rh+ children being born to a Rh- mother, compounded with a lower possibility of non O children born to an O mother, of the mother’s body producing antigens that cross the placenta and attack the blood antibodies of the child. Given the primitive state of neonatal care in this world, Robert and Cersei were highly unlikely to produce many children. At least half their children would be Rh+, and that’s if Robert did have a hidden O-. If he didn’t, they’d be lucky to have any. Without modern care, the infant will often die either before or just after birth.

    Incidentally, Sandor is AB-. I don’t think he’s Tommen’s father, but who the fuck knows?

    Blond hair versus black hair is a non-issue. I’ve got black hair, Tommen has black hair. Even if another blond kid pops out, that’s not exactly the kind of thing to make people suspicious. Even if Jon Arryn or Stannis get a wild hair about ‘The seed is stronk! The seed lifts! The seed never skips leg day!’ I can destroy that argument no problem.

    Especially since I very quietly seeded a false report of a Baratheon-Lannister marriage resulting in a blonde girl from some minor house members in a couple of old history books kept in both the Lannister and Baratheon personal libraries. And I did it six years ago, so the entry has had time to age and look especially authentic.

    Unfortunately, any pseudoscience ‘no, it’s your kid, really!’ trickery at least relies on the precept of the two of them having sex. And I’ve managed to get Robert to leave her alone. So gonna have to solve that part of the problem.

    But first, we need to know if she’s actually pregnant. If she’s just randomly late, or skipping a month, or some sort of really early onset menopause, or hormone problem, whatever, I need to know that as well.

    Cersei and Jamie held each other’s hands as they sat there, letting me work through my thoughts.

    Ugh. This crab has turned to ash in my mouth. This was a significantly bigger request than what I was expecting.

    “So,” I began. “First thing, we need to see if you’re actually pregnant. I’m going to need barley seeds, wheat seeds, and some frogs.”

    They nodded seriously, if uncomprehendingly.

    “And if you are pregnant, it’s still pretty early. One solution would be if you just go ahead and fuck Robert. Another possibility is that we get him blackout drunk, and then make it look like he fucked you.”

    I paused, and ate some more crab in contemplation. I’ll eat crab ash, I don’t care.

    “Because,” I added after I swallowed, “I’m assuming you don’t want to just drink moon tea and be done with it.”

    Moon tea was brewed from a plant that, oddly enough, produced compounds similar enough to human hormones to trigger menstruation. Taken once a month in a proper dose, it would trigger menstruation on schedule and prevent any eggs from implanting. Taken early in a pregnancy at a stronger dose, and it’d work as an abortifactant, triggering the same shedding of the uterine lining and detaching the embryo and placenta. Take too strong of a dose or too late in the pregnancy, or both, and you had the same problem as Jon Arryn's wife Lysa. Ruined fertility and horrible cramps and spotting the rest of your life. The Greeks and Romans used to have a plant, silphium, said to have functioned similarly, but it went extinct, probably from overharvesting.

    Cersei shook her head. “No, I want to keep the baby. It’s family.”

    Jamie squeezed her hand.

    I suddenly had a massive wave of deja vu, as I was reminded of trips to a fertility doctor with my late wife in my first life. Only here I’m the doctor, and the patients are my mom and her brother-lover. This may actually be the most surreal experience I’ve ever had, topping my initial realization I was in Westeros by about an order of magnitude. If I suddenly taste key lime pie I’ll at least know I’m having a stroke.

    “And we’ll protect it like family. I’ll see about getting the seeds and frogs for tomorrow. I think getting Robert blackout drunk is the best solution. He can wake up in your bed, covered in gunk, you can wear long sleeves and walk funny for a while, I’ll yell at the old man. We’ll make sure he knows he was rough. He should feel guilty about it enough not to question it overmuch when you become pregnant. We’ll say the baby came early if you give birth on time. There might be some subterfuge we can do there.”

    Cersei nodded, then reached over and grabbed my slimy, crab juice covered hand and squeezed it, hard. She didn’t say anything. I could read her emotions in her eyes.

    Yeah. This was a problem. A solvable problem. Worst comes to worst, Robert won’t see the birth.

    Huh. I probably shouldn’t tell Cayla that my mother came to me with a problem most easily solved by poisoning Robert.

    We finished up lunch with few spoken words, and nothing of consequence. A bell summoned the servants to clean up, and Jamie and Cersei left. I waddled back to my rooms, meeting Cayla there.

    “What did you do, roll in the crab?” she asked, exasperated, picking at the front of my-

    -oh fuck I forgot-

    -hilariously expensive silk jacket. That I had completely forgotten about in the wake of those fateful words, ‘I’m pregnant.’

    When in doubt, attack.

    “In order to truly appreciate crab, you have to understand the crab. Taste the crab. Smell the crab. Love the crab. Be the crab,” I said loftily.

    “Well, you’re also wearing the crab,” she fussed. “I don’t think those stains will ever come out.” She plucked a bit of shell off, then licked a finger and rubbed it on a spot. “And that’s a really nice coat. What a shame. A six hundred gold coat sacrificed to crabs.” She helped me shuck it off.

    “Pft, every coat should love to be so honored,” I said, spinning with her as she helped me get undressed. “It’s not like I need this jacket. It’s not a necessity,” I argued.

    “And what will you do when your mother wears that dress again?”

    “Black silk. Or wool. You know, if we’re doing crab again, maybe I’ll just go naked. I don’t need clothes. I got all I need right here in my bare hands,” I said, playfully grabbing at her face with my still grungy hands. A napkin only goes so far, I was going to have to do some serious scrubbing.

    “Bear hands is right,” she snarked, batting furiously at my hands and ducking to the side. “And you’re hairy enough you’re never really naked. I think you’d have fit better if you were born into the Mormonts. You’re much more bear than stag in your behavior.”

    “Ugh. The Mormonts.” An idea was tickling the back of my head. “If I’d have been a Mormont, I’d definitely have put a stop to the whole slaving thing. Jorah should have married a woman who didn’t want so much more than he had.”

    “He had little you didn’t give to him,” Cayla reminded me, moving behind me to help me remove my shirt.

    “Yeah, but you don’t need all that. All you need is the-

    Bear necessities! With ’em a bear can rest at ease! The simple bear necessities of life!”

    Cayla stared at me as I burst into song. Really bad, really off key song. Music is not one of my talents. In fact, other than remembering some of my favorite lyrics, you could almost call me anti-musical.

    She stared as I continued singing, even working a little bare bear boogie into it as my pants slid down my legs.

    “The~ beaaar necessities! Your asses are my recipies! The simple bear necessities of death!”

    I can’t dance either.

    “Are you drunk?” she asked incredulously.

    Shit. “Maybe a little?” I admitted sheepishly, calming down. I don’t even remember drinking during lunch. But I had wine and I had a nasty surprise and it’s entirely possible I put back a few glasses. Or more than a few. I wasn’t drunk drunk. But I might be tipsy.

    “Just wash the crab off your bear hands,” she ordered, pushing me towards a basin and some soap.

    “Take me down to the bearadise city where the girls are bears and they bare bear titties!” I sang again as I washed up. “Hey, these are pretty good. We should use them in the Mormont play.”

    “As you say, my Prince.”

    Heh, she says that when she’s tired of my shit.

    “Oh yeah, I need some wheat seeds, barley seeds, and a dozen or so frogs and toads,” I added as an afterthought, wiping myself down with a towel.

    “…Okay?” she replied. “What project do you have in mind now?”

    “I’m gonna make Cersei pee on them,” I said proudly. I can still remember my first childhood, reading Robert Heinlein books, and seeing multiple references to ‘the mouse test’ in reference to pregnancy. Being the curious sort, I looked it up. And you know, it turns out it works even better and faster with frogs or toads! The seeds was from a thing I read about ancient Egyptians. Not as reliable, supposedly, but try everything!

    “As you say, my Prince.”

    “You know,” I mused, spinning around, now clean, and seizing Cayla by the shoulders, “I really think everything is going to work out for the best.”

    She started to reply, then stopped, then smiled warmly. “As you say, my Prince.”

    Cayla left. I laid down and took a siesta. There’s nothing quite like a crab induced food coma nap for making the world seem brighter.







    I was woken up from my nap by shrill screaming and roars of human rage coming from Cersei’s rooms next door.



    AN: Now, this is a story all about how
    My life got flipped-turned upside down
     
    Last edited: Mar 27, 2018
  6. BlueHelix

    BlueHelix I trust you know where the happy button is?

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    Why would you say this.

    Why.
    Oh no.

    Oh no oh no oh no.

    Here we go again.
     
  7. Generic_Generica

    Generic_Generica Verified kōhai Moderator

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    Okay, this is a lot better than just going from "Killing Petyr Baelish" to "On the lam."

    Now that we've gone through this arc, I'm going to say this one thing. You've done a pretty good job pacing your scenes. There wasn't anything that stood out as really cumbersome or unnecessary.

    Good job.

    Although I'm really not sure where you're going to go with this now. I suppose finding that out's going to be the fun part, but... iunno. There was one thing that stood out to me but I can't find it on a reread. Hm.
     
  8. Nugar

    Nugar Know what you're doing yet?

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    It's perfectly easy to be genre savvy when you're not actually in the genre. Get in there, then get shocked, tipsy, and stupid, and you say dumb things.

    And yes, here we go again.


    Thanks. My urge to infodump is slowly being conquered by getting past most of the infodumps I want to do. And if you spot that issue you mentioned, I'd like to see it. This is entirely unbetaed because my internet was out and I couldn't talk to anyone on discord, but I still wanted to stick as close to a chapter a weekend as possible.
     
  9. Funeral-Pyre

    Funeral-Pyre Not too sore, are you?

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    Huh. I'm mostly wondering what has gone wrong. I don't see Varys supplying Robert with the knowledge, so it could be that Robert just walked in on Cersei and Jaime 'celebrating'. Some other, non-Varys, related spy/servant could have spilled the beans from possibly overhearing things. The one on that end that would stand out to me could be Olenna Tyrell having a spy there, and deciding that maybe the Tyrell's could reap even more out of all this if some Lannisters were made to get out of the way...

    Or maybe it isn't anything so obvious, and Jon Arryn walked in on Cersei trying to get Robert blackout drunk and, knowing of his condition, reacted negatively, and thus set off Robert. At this point it is all wild conjecture, but it should make for a very interesting next chapter.
     
  10. RageKnight

    RageKnight My heresy senses are tingling

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    OH WHAT IN THE FUCK NOW WOMAN!?
     
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  11. Omega_Endbringer

    Omega_Endbringer Getting sticky.

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    Just when I thought something nice could happen in an asoiaf story. how foolish of me.
     
    BlueHelix, Winged One and Nugar like this.
  12. Woooinion

    Woooinion Know what you're doing yet?

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    I can't help but feel like Robert wouldn't disown his son.

    I mean, sure, his son hit him with a couch, but they're Baratheons. This is normal.

    The important thing here, is that Ed has plausible deniability.
    He wakes up in the morning, he finds his uncle freshly pulped on the ground, and his mother being beaten to death by his own father, who then turns on him.

    Ours is the Fury.

    It would be more suspicious if he didn't stop the mess and get his mother out of dodge.

    It doesn't change the fact, that based on appearance, he's clearly Robert's son. It doesn't change the fact that the people close to Robert have been given every impression that Ed cares about his father, because he does.

    Sure, there's going to be plenty of nobles looking to tell Robert that his son is somehow a bastard too, but look at him! Everyone would know it's a political ploy, including Robert.

    Robert may have a hot temper, but if Lyanna jndicates anything, he is not good at letting people go.

    I kind of doubt the story will go this way, but it would make perfect sense to me if the next arc after getting Cersei safe, is just political maneuvering to get the heir to the throne back, being worked against the heir's refusal to accept a solution that ends with his mother dead.

    The other possibility that stands out is Robert turning up dead, with Ed framed for it.
    Considering the state of his mother, Ed seems to have a pretty compelling reason, but then, kinslaying.

    That scenario basically guarantees a civil war, which would be interesting to see, considering Ed's poor reputation with many of the more traditional Lords.
     
  13. Breadnaught

    Breadnaught I trust you know where the happy button is?

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    You'd really think so...

    But apparently not.
     
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  14. Tortoise

    Tortoise Getting sticky.

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    That's not correct. You need to inherit the gene for the recessive trait from both parents, but they need not have that trait - they may have both a dominant and recessive variant of that gene, display the trait corresponding to the dominant one, while you happen to inherit the recessive one.
     
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  15. Nugar

    Nugar Know what you're doing yet?

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    I could have worded that better. Yes, both parents have to have the trait but not necessarily express the trait.

    And I definitely should have put that there's no way to disprove Robert as Myrcella's father, but there is a way of disproving Tommen.
     
    Last edited: Mar 26, 2018
  16. Tortoise

    Tortoise Getting sticky.

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    The following conclusions seem to be similarly wrong too though. I mean this part:
    Myrcella could be the daughter of Cersei and someone with genes AO or BO too (and corresponding blood type A or B). Knowing Robert's blood type is A means his genes are either AO or AA; if they're AO, Robert an Cersei could have either an A or an O child.
     
  17. Nugar

    Nugar Know what you're doing yet?

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    Huh. I really did fuck that up. My fault for rushing trying to get it out before I went to sleep. Will fix. Thanks.

    Also I've been calling Jaime Jamie. Whoops.
     
  18. Raging Iron Thunder

    Raging Iron Thunder Getting sticky.

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    Great update. I like the medical lore in the medieval context.
     
  19. theqwopingone

    theqwopingone Journeyman rationalist wannabe.

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    I wouldn't say in real life while half dead, missing a few organs, infected with the black plague, and concussed.
     
  20. Threadmarks: Chapter 7: A Simple Misunderstanding.
    Nugar

    Nugar Know what you're doing yet?

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    I rolled out of bed instantly and sprinted to the door, misjudging my steps in my grogginess and nearly sending myself sprawling as I hit the door frame with my shoulder, but managing to continue on.

    “SAAANDOOOOR!” I screamed, calling for help.

    I’m pretty good at instantly waking up to deal with emergencies. I’m not so good at actually thinking when I first wake up, even if I can move and react, so at no point did it occur to me to grab my glaive, my hammer, or even my shield.

    That nearly cost me my goddamn life.

    I was right next door to the rooms Cersei used, and slightly down the hall in the other direction was a much smaller room I had managed to get Sandor installed in. Keep your bodyguard close, and all, especially since I didn’t actually trust any of the other guards to have my back. Jaime wouldn’t necessarily fuck me over but his first priority would always be Cersei. Selmy was honorable, but his priority is Robert. So I kept Sandor close, Cersei slept with Jaime, and Robert did whatever.

    In this case, it meant that as soon as I stepped into the hall, the screaming got louder.

    It was one of Cersei’s handmaidens, collapsed against the wall, her arm a mangled ruin of blood and protruding bone.

    Oh shit!

    I ran past her, ignoring her plight for the moment as I ran into the receiving area of Cersei’s rooms.

    Bodies. At least four bodies.

    And Robert, swinging his big fucking hammer in big overhand swings, pulping the absolute shit out of someone already so ruined I couldn’t tell who it was, or even the gender. He was puffing with exertion, his face a bright red, and weird animalistic grunts came with each thunderous swing. The hammer had already smashed the corpse and was now shattering stone beneath it, and still he swung.

    And then he turned and looked at me, rage in his eyes, both red from burst blood vessels.

    “YOU!” he said with a roar, immediately turning to charge.

    Fortunately for my entirely squishy ass, he was standing in a pile of gore, and he slipped and went to one knee with the motion, propping himself up with his hammer. Any other big fat guy would have probably been disabled then, his knee hitting the floor with an audible thunk, but not Robert. He surged to his feet.

    I probably should have fled, but instead I ran left, angling behind him, forcing him to turn further as he got up. My target was a decorative sword and shield bearing the Lannister crest, one of Jaime’s old sets from back when he was a young up and comer.

    I didn’t make it. Robert had finally got himself oriented and charged at me like a football player hell bent on a sack. His hammer came up from his lower right just as he was about to intercept me and I bent back and planted my bare feet in a slide as I desperately tried to stop short.

    Did I mention I was only wearing my boxers? You go to war with the armor you have, not the armor you want.

    Robert was big, but mad fast. I, on the other hand, was just quick enough. I fell on my ass as I bent backwards and my father charged directly into the fucking wall. It’d be funny if he wasn’t trying to murder me.

    I flipped over and scrambled back to my feet as Robert recoiled, actually staying upright but staggering several steps back. His arm had been crossed in front of him from the swing so he didn’t smash his face, but I could tell he was winded. If I could just last long enough, eventually his lack of conditioning would wear him down.

    But at the moment, berserker rage was still fueling him, and he quickly screamed bloody murder and went for me again, his hammer swishing through the air like he was anticipating the hit. I sprinted to the other side of the room and dove across a big sofa/lounge thing Cersei had, keeping my hand on the back to pivot me back to my feet.

    Robert strode forward and gave the thing a kick so hard it slammed into me and we both skidded several feet backwards, stopping as its corner caught a table.

    For a moment we both froze. I had my hands on the back of the couch, bracing it, prepared to dart away no matter what direction Robert chose to take. Robert, weirdly, also hesitated. Could this be him coming to his senses? Or was he just getting tired? His breath was loud and raspy, and his eyes wide and crazed. In any other situation, I’d have said he was in danger of having a stroke or heart attack.

    “King Robert! Hold your anger!” Sandor yelled, bursting in from the entrance, properly holding a shield and his sword.

    Robert’s head twisted around to fixate on Sandor and he instantly changed targets to the new threat, growling something incomprehensible as he prepared to charge my bodyguard.

    That’s when I got my hand under the back of the couch, the other on top, heaved it up, and fucking charged that fat fuck.

    Robert was probably four, maybe four and a half times my weight. But now I had a couch, and for a change I had momentum on my side. I was also well and truly scared shitless, and the same chemicals that give us berserk rage give us berserk panic.

    “AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!” I screamed my battle cry, my teenage voice cracking as I heaved and pushed with literally all of my might. Something went thunk and the couch lurched in my hands but it didn’t matter because I slammed Robert all the way across the room and into the goddamn wall with that couch. Then I pulled it back about five feet and ran at him again.

    Robert wasn’t out of the fight yet, but all I could hear was incoherent gasps as he shoved me back, and for a moment we were in a standoff, the couch between us. Berserk rage, strength and size, minus health, versus a smaller, weaker, less winded opponent. I was healthy, true, but Robert, no matter how fat and lazy he’d gotten, still had some of that old demigod of battle in him. I was going to lose.

    And then Sandor’s shoulder hit the couch, delivering all the impact seven feet of muscle on a full charge across the room could deliver.

    The wooden frame of the couch splintered under stresses it had never been meant to take, but the stuffing and fabric kept it together as Robert was literally blown off his feet and slammed upper body first back into the wall. I stumbled from the sudden lack of resistance, unable to keep up with the suddenly flying couch, and had to pick myself up off the floor.

    Sandor stepped back, breathing deep but not fast, his sword and shield at the ready.

    The remains of the shattered sofa draped limply over Robert, hiding him from view. He didn’t move.

    “Thanks, Sandor,” I gasped, shaking with reaction. I’ve been in fights. I’ve even fought a couple of bandits to the death, that being the kind of hunting Robert liked to get involved with on occasion. But nothing really prepares you for a sudden life or death battle in your fucking home.

    “…What the fuck happened here?” he asked, looking around at the room.

    I hadn’t really noticed on my way in, but the room was trashed. Tables and chairs overturned, stuff broken here and there, dead bodies.

    One was clearly a maid. Despite the blood, the clothes were at least recognizable. Looked like she’d been hit from her shoulder down to somewhere in her ribs. There was splatty mchamburger. I don’t have time for a jigsaw puzzle of meat.

    Jaime lay face up just on the other side of a doorway, his tunic soaked with blood and his chest caved in. I did not see a sword anywhere near him as I stepped over him and looked into the room.

    Cersei was lying face down near the wall.

    “Momma!” I cried. Generally, I make a distinction between ‘mother’ and my first life’s ‘momma’, but at the time I was pretty upset. I ran to her side, only my first aid training stopping me from instantly shaking her and flipping her over.

    “SANDOR!” I screamed. “GET MY FUCKING PACK NOW!” My camping pack. I say camping, really I carried it all kinds of places. Even had it ready for the aborted fishing trip this morning. It does have some camping gear, but mostly it has my medical kit.

    I practically danced in frustrated need to do something.

    Wait. Had to wait. Had to calm the fuck down before I fucked up.

    I clenched my fists and tried to remember the steps. Nothing was coming to mind in my panic.

    Try.

    Try harder.

    Response! That’s it.

    I knelt beside her and put my hands on her shoulders.

    She twitched. I think I heard a faint groan.

    “Momma? Momma can you hear me?” I said, giving her a gentle shake. I didn’t get an answer, but I could feel her breathing. The whole area smelled like blood, so that didn’t give me anything.

    Oh god, oh god.

    Check the spine. I ran my hand up her spine from her butt to her head. Nothing was immediately obvious. Okay, she was probably hit. Ribs, head… Her arm looked okay. I patted down the one I could reach. The other was under her.

    Okay. Slowly, support the head, turn her over. Spine injuries come second to gushing blood or flail chest.

    Blood. There was blood on her face. Blood on the floor.

    But not much. Not a lot of blood. I didn’t see anything huge. I could hear Sandor’s heavy, running footsteps.

    “Sandoooor!” I yelled.

    “I’m here!” he called back, coming into the room a few moments later.

    “Grab some pillows, we have to support her neck!”

    Sandor dropped the pack on a chair and disappeared again, coming back a few moments later with pillows, perhaps from the bedroom, or maybe throw pillows from the couch or something.

    Gingerly, we put them under Cersei’s head and back. I turned her over enough to have access to her front, while still keeping her in the recovery position.

    “Mother?” I asked, over and over as I checked her for wounds. I got a few groans, but no words. So she was responsive to pain but not alert. Not great but not the worst.

    She was breathing. I didn’t feel any obviously broken ribs. Her other arm seemed fine, I guess, unlike the poor servant girl outside, she hadn’t managed to put up an arm to defend herself. The only thing I saw was the blood on her face. Sandor ripped up some things for rags, and I carefully checked her face. Nose was unbroken. Eyes were unfocused but intact. She had some bleeding from her mouth, and her cheek was split open.

    I got my first major response when I was checking her cheekbone. Just touching it gently made her spasm and flinch and her groan elongated into almost a scream. So. Cracked or broken. Split skin. Probably the inside of her cheek was split as well.

    That didn’t match a hammer blow. Maybe a punch, a backhand, impact with the wall, or some sort of really soft backswing or something.

    Did Robert really pull his punches with her? Or did she just get lucky? Have to ask him later.

    Airway is clear. No blood in her nose. The cut on her cheek is small, less than an inch long and shallow. To stitch or not to stitch? It’s already clotting… Probably best to not stitch. Ideally, a few butterfly stickers would be great, but making the appropriate glue for them is a little difficult and I don’t remember all the steps off hand. I remember most of the chemicals and I know you have to use a nitrogen atmosphere in the retort to make super glue, but it was low priority and I’ve never bothered to sit down and try and figure it out again. Kinda regretting it now. There are local glues but most of them irritate the skin.

    Not much I could do but gently clean it with tincture of iodine and coat the area in morphine infused petroleum jelly. Milk of the poppy was common enough but it really did work better if you separated its opioids out. The alcohol and iodine would keep the wound disinfected, vaseline would keep the wound moist and work as a barrier to infection, and the morphine would be a topical anesthetic, because that cheekbone was going to hurt. I also swabbed some of the anesthetic cream on the inside of her cheek.

    Then we moved her to the bed. I sent Sandor to check on the maid, and to get a maester. I also wanted some guards, because this started off bad and could get worse depending on who knew what.

    Honestly, Cersei got off incredibly lightly for Robert catching her with Jaime. If it was Robert walking in at the wrong moment, maybe I could salvage this. He was my father, and I did kind of love him, but like fuck was I letting him kill my mother. I’d fight to stop her from killing him, and it looked like I had successfully derailed that. That or she was waiting on me to get older. But now, he was the aggressor, so I had to defend her.

    Not like poor Jaime himself. I checked on him next, and yeah, he was pretty dead. Hammer strike to the chest. From his location relative to Cersei’s… He was protecting her. No sword in his hands, no armor…

    I quickly took a look around. Bloody steps from Robert, going towards the bedroom? Did he walk that way earlier? Ah. There was Jaime’s armor and sword, stored neatly in another room on a stand. Out of reach and useless. Which means, uh…

    Robert comes in. Jaime comes out of the bedroom? Looks that way. But was that blood tracked that way? There’s blood spray over there? Shit, this is a confused mess. Did Robert kill a servant before Jaime? Why the fuck was he killing servants anyway? I know he does the berserker rage thing but goddamn, there’s at least usually some sense to it. The servants wouldn’t have fought him. That maid was hit from behind, so she was obviously running… Seriously, what in the fuck, Robert.

    Sandor came back then, with my compound crossbow already cocked and locked, with a bolt ready to fire. He also dropped off my hammer and shield. I waved at him and nodded. I still needed to get dressed but I needed to know what happened more.

    So Jaime comes out of the bedroom Cersei was in, takes a hammer to the chest. Protecting Cersei. No doubt there. Jaime loved his family. Goddamn it, I liked Jaime. Fucking Robert, I swear to god.

    I had to stop and wipe some tears from my eyes. It was getting hard to see.

    Jaime protects Cersei. Cersei loves Jaime, runs forward to save him… gets backhanded. Spins and slams into the wall. Yes, that makes sense. Then Robert… turns on the spot and murders chunky?

    I check the savaged corpse. Yes, that’s the only other male besides Jaime. I don’t recognize the guy but those aren’t noble clothes, so he was probably a servant. He distracted Robert right after Cersei got hit? And then Robert took his anger out on him until I got here?

    But what about the maid in the hallway, with the broken arm?

    I was going to have to do some CSI shit here, probably writing everything down.

    Who are we missing?

    Oh fuck, Myrcella!

    With that sudden sickening thought, I ran to the door that lead to Myrcella’s bedroom and flung it open.

    She wasn’t in there. All her stuff was, various dolls and stuffed animals, the music box I had given her sitting on her desk…

    Wait, I’m an idiot. What was the thing I always stressed she should do if she heard fighting?

    “Myrcella! It’s me, Eddard! Celly! Come out, it’s safe! Mother is okay!” I called, looking underneath the bed.

    Almost immediately I heard a sob and one of the wardrobe cabinets opened, revealing my frightened sister, who ran at me with open arms and tears streaming down her face.

    She immediately tried to tell me what had happened, but she hiccupped a lot and was still crying. I stroked her hair and rubbed her back and just held her close.

    The gist of it was, she was playing with her dolls when she heard the door slam and someone scream in rage. Then there were screams of fear and sounds of fighting and she remembered what I told her and hid. The idea was to hide until guards could come and someone she trusted started looking for her. Not ideal, but it was what we had to work with in her bedroom.

    I covered her eyes when I brought her to Cersei’s bedroom and put her on the bed beside her mom and told her she needed to hug her mother for a while so I could take care of some other things.

    Because Sandor had been gone long enough that Whitecloaks should be streaming in, and no one had showed up yet.



    AN: Thank god for the 4 day weekend I had, otherwise I'd never have gotten this out more or less on time. Far Cry 5 released last Tues, but my AMD phenom II didn't support it's drm, so I had to buy the parts and build a new computer, with all the hassle of moving machines. Then I played FC 5 for two days straight. Fortunately, I also had part of the chapter already done, so I was able to finish it today. Well, actually, it ran long, and I split it up because there's a lot going on, but here it is. RIP in piece Jamie. You deserved better, but you did go out as a hero to your family.

    Edit: Fixed some things about the fight to better indicate how Robert chose targets
     
    Last edited: Apr 4, 2018
  21. Luker number 5

    Luker number 5 Versed in the lewd.

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    Fuck yeah this is a cool chapter, murder, mayhem and mystery all the good stuff.
     
  22. RageKnight

    RageKnight My heresy senses are tingling

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    Nasty siblings couldn't even keep it in their pants for ONE FUCKING NIGHT.
     
  23. Prince Charon

    Prince Charon Just zis guy, you know?

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    They weren't terribly bright in canon, either, to the point that the deception holding as long as it did in canon bothers my SoD, even if we assume Varys was covering for them because his plans worked better if the kingdom collapsed later rather than sooner.
     
  24. Nugar

    Nugar Know what you're doing yet?

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    I think a certain amount of it was that Robert just didn't give a shit. He didn't maintain any spy networks, he left that to Varys. Arryn might have put some effort into his own informants, but he was probably less than subtle, relying more on his authority than covert ops, which he would see as Varys' job. So with one guy not caring and the other who might care looking in the wrong places, it would be up to the little folk to say something. Servants and suchlike. And you don't enjoy a long life as a servant if you run around volunteering secrets, even to people who might actually want to know.
     
  25. Prince Charon

    Prince Charon Just zis guy, you know?

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    There were plenty of other nobles in the court would could have benefited from letting that information out, though.
     
  26. Argentorum

    Argentorum I trust you know where the happy button is?

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    My question is still just what happened. The events still don’t line up right in my head.
     
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  27. Snake/Eater

    Snake/Eater Myth Maker of the North

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    simple, Lysa arryn got revenge
     
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  28. Orm Embar

    Orm Embar Refutation

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    Doesn't it being a fucking night sort of preclude keeping it in their pants?
     
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  29. Breadnaught

    Breadnaught I trust you know where the happy button is?

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    Okay, let's break it down a bit.

    It's unlikely Robert found a warhammer just lying around in Cersei’s room. This is supported by the fact that servants died in the hallway, before he reached the room.

    So Robert came armed and seems to have already been in a murder-rage. Took a swing at servants that didn't get out of the way, entered the room, King-slew the Kingslayer, smacked Cersei aside, then beat ... someone ... into hamburger.

    Okay, Robert's in a room with the guy fucking his wife, the wife that cheated on him with her own brother, yet someone else has pissed him off enough to draw his attention. He was angry enough to continue standing over the corpse, mashing it into hamburger, instead of Cersei or the cuckold.

    Soo... someone said something. Opened their mouth about the incest/cuckholding/pregnancy and got Robert all worked up into a rage ... Robert then demended they prove it, or they'll be in fucking trouble ... so this person led Robert to the Queens chambers ... where Rob shushes a lady in waiting and listens at the door, then hears the sound of sex/people acting like a couple coming from Cersei’s room ... then Robert loses his shit completely, lashes out at the serving girl, barges in through the door ...

    ... after killing the cuck and downing Cersei, he turned on the person that led him there. "You knew about this all along you cunt!" *smash*

    Which is when Edd joins the scene.
     
  30. KanameFujiwara

    KanameFujiwara Getting out there.

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    Cersei is to blame.
     
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