Fire and Mud: a GoT parody

Chains and Indecency

“Catelyn? What are you doing here? Has something happened to Bran?” Ned asked worriedly.

Her eyes narrowed. “You mean apart from being thrown from a tower window and paralysed from the waist down?” she asked testily. “No. He has not awoken yet, but I have discovered his attacker and made an arrest.”

“Oh?” Cersei asked in interest.

“Oh, yes,” a bitter voice said from behind Littlefinger. “And she wouldn’t even wait for me to get dressed first.”

Cersei and Ned looked around in bewilderment, then looked down.

Tyrion Lannister, aka the Imp, the Halfman and You, glared up at his sister in reproach, a chain hanging from his neck and wrists and his small form stooped in exhaustion – amidst the scant clothing upon his person, that is. And even his underwear was only half pulled up, leaving his backside revealed to all from the back.

“You,” Cersei greeted him loathsomely.

“He did it?” Joffrey asked incredulously. “He can’t even reach the windowsill!”

“Neither can you,” Tyrion pointed out.

“Silence.” Cersei turned to her little brother with a scowl. “And where were you? A brothel, I suppose?”

“Church, actually,” he corrected drily. “I opted to honour the Seven with a new choice of attire.”

“I thought they banned you the first time you did that?” Joffrey said curiously.

“Shut up, Joffrey. What is your evidence against my... brother?” she asked, using the word with reluctance.

“A man entered Bran’s room and attacked us,” said Catelyn levelly. “He bore a knife belonging to your brother. I bring him here before you to propose a bargain. Now that the king is dead, there is no reason to keep our children betrothed. None of us want them to marry, only Robert, and now he is dead, I see no reason to continue with this betrothal. I propose to exchange my daughters, Sansa and Arya, for your brother, and I will drop the charges against him in accordance with this.”

“No deal.”

“Why the bloody hell not?” Tyrion demanded.

“I don’t like you.”

“That’s hardly fair,” he said sulkily. “I’d tell Mother and Father if they weren’t dead on the outside and inside respectively.”

“Be quiet, You. I plan to take him to the Eyrie if you do not comply with my bargain,” Catelyn continued.

“The Eyrie?” Tyrion asked in horror. “Not... Lysa Gimme-A-Straight-Jacket-Or-I’ll-Open-The-Moon-Door Arryn’s Eyrie?”