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A GAME OF PARODIES, or A SONG OF SILLINESS AND STUFF
I resisted as long as I could, but finally I succumbed to the pull of the gravity well that is A Song of Ice and Fire (or Game of Thrones, if you're watching the TV show). Now, this is a series that - like Twilight and 50 Shades - put the 'fanatic' back in 'fandom', so you can understand my wariness to actually pick up the books and start reading.
The thing is ... I like these books. Really, really like them. They've rekindled my love of fantasy fiction (almost killed by the likes of Terry Goodkind and innumerable vampire/werewolf/fallen angel romance (retch) spin-offs).
This didn't, however, stop me from coming up with a merciless parody. So here it is - hidden behind a cut for those who might want to read the books or watch the shows first. Just remember ... unlike my other parodies/rants/reviews, this one is done with love.
(trumpets) A SONG OF THRONES AND GAMES AND FIRE AND ICE AND ... dammit, I'm confused
Part the First
THE SETTING
The Land of Westeros, home of the Seven Kingdoms. The South has flowers, and knights, and ladies, and fairy-tale castles. The North has ... snow. And wolves. And snow. And the occasional band of marauders out for a spot of rape-and-pillage before breakfast.
There’s also some exotic countries halfway around the world, and a whole lot of grassy nothingness occupied by Mongols, I mean exotic horse-riding nomads, but we’ll get to them.
THE CAST
The Lannisters: Gorgeous. Grasping. Evil. Really, really evil. Machiavelli has nothing on this lot.
Queen Cersei: Gold of hair and stone of heart. She might be married to the king, but her love belongs to another.
Jaime Lannister: Holder of said queen’s heart ... and bed. Repeatedly. This guy has a smile that goes ‘ting!’ and is probably the best fighter in the realm. Which is why we hate him, and not just because he's an evil, evil man, right?
Tyrion Lannister: Affectionately known as ‘the Imp’, because he’s a dwarf, and it’s funny to call people names. The brains of the family, and very possibly cursed with just a little bit too much morality. See what happens when you’re not born gorgeous and with a taste for incest?
Joffrey Baratheon, I mean Lannister: Cersei’s son. Gold of hair, etc. Evil brat.
The Starks: Honourable. Rough around the edges. Probably doomed.
Ned Stark: The epitome of true honour. No pretty armour or words for this one. He’s so loyal it’s likely to get him killed.
Catelyn Stark: His stoic wife, whose main function appears to be riding all over the countryside and telling off kings.
Robb Stark: The heir apparent. Fifteen years old, and a chip off the old block.
Bran Stark: The Boy Who Fell. All will become apparent.
Sansa Stark: The girly-girl. Really. It’s all hearts and flowers and knights and ladies and oh woe, wherever will she get a new gown, and why is it so cold, and when can I go live with civilised people?
Arya Stark: The feisty girl. You know this one is going to be trouble, because she hates embroidery and would rather be out hitting things with a sharp, pointy object.
Jon Snow: The bastard son. Tormented, unloved, yet still loyal to his siblings. See also: major character.
The Baratheons:
Robert, Renly and Stannis, otherwise known as the Fat Fool King, the Slightly Lavender Younger Brother and the Brother Whose Sense of Humour was Cut Off in Some Combat Somewhere.
The Targaeryens:
Viserys: A slimy piece of work who was the son of the last king, and wants the throne. He calls himself the ‘Blood of the Dragon’. ‘Nuff said.
Danaerys: Visery’s sister, who will prove to be More Than She Seems.
A Cast of Thousands
We’ll get to them.
Somewhere in the North ...
Huntsman: My lord, I have found a whole bunch of wolf puppies!
Jon Snow: We could give them to your children. Notice that I said your children, because I’m a bastard, remember? Wouldn’t want you to forget that.
Older, slightly more superstitious huntsman: They’re not wolves, they’re ... direwolves.
Ned Stark: I am too honourable to be superstitious. Besides, winter is coming. Good idea, Jon. I am impervious to your bitterness. Grab the puppies and let’s go.
Jon Snow: Ooh, look, another puppy that was cast out by the rest. It’s white and has red eyes. I think I’m bonding with it.
Readers: (eyeroll)
Back at Castle Stark ...
King Robert: Whacko-the-diddly-o! I’ve come to pay a visit to my old friend Ned! Fetch me some more wine and food!
Lady Catelyn: So nice to see you, Your Grace. Why no, I’m not gritting my teeth at all.
King Robert: Ned, m’lad, come down to the spooky crypt where all your ancestors are buried so I can ask you to come South with me and be my No. 1 guy! Bring the girls, we can make ladies of them! And the older one can marry my Joffrey, and be queen someday!
Ned: Wow, I can see the foreshadowing from here. But curse it, I’m honourable, so I obey my king. Did I mention winter is coming?
Jon Snow: Dad ...
Catelyn: (glares)
Jon Snow: I wanna join the Night’s Watch. It’s like the Foreign Legion, and no one will be mean to me there just ‘cos you couldn’t keep it in your pants.
Ned: It was one time, okay?
Jon Snow: Hey, Arya, I know you’re the only one who likes me, so here’s a going-away present. It’s a sword. You stick people with the pointy end.
Arya Stark: Cool!
In a tower somewhere in Castle Stark ...
Bran: I’m going for a climb up the side of the tower for no reason whatsoever.
Queen Cersei and Jaime: (squelching noises)
Bran: What the - ?
Queen Cersei: Defend my honour, Jaime!
Jaime: Seriously? Oh, well. The things I do for love. (shoves)
Bran: Falling now ...
Much, much later, down South at King’s Landing ...
Ned: If you’re going to play with that sword, I’ll get you a ‘dancing master’ to teach you. He’ll be dashing and clever and turn you into a ninja. Besides, winter is coming.
Arya: I love you, Dad.
Ned : Y’know, it never occurred to me to wonder why the last guy who had my job died so suddenly. Maybe I should check it out.
Readers: YOU THINK?
Ned: Gasp. Wait. I have discovered the terrible truth. Joffrey is not the king’s true son. He does not have the same hair colour as Robert and all Robert’s family!
Readers: Way to discover genetic theory, Ned.
Ned: I must go to the king with this knowledge.
Assorted courtiers, huntsmen and lackeys: Oh woe, the king is mortally wounded! He was drunk and tried to kill a boar!
Ned: That’s suspicious. Even though I know my king can’t remember what it’s like to be sober, and this is perfectly in character, I sense the evil hand of the Lannisters.
Robert: Okay, Ned, I’m dying. It’s up to you to rule my kingdom until Joffrey’s old enough.
Ned: About Joffrey ...
Robert: Shut up and take down this dictation.
Ned: But winter is coming ...
Robert: Dying now ...
In the throne room ...
Queen Cersei: All hail King Joffrey ... and me, of course, who will rule totally in his name until he’s old enough.
Ned: I don’t think so. I have a piece of paper.
Queen Cersei: (rips up paper)
Ned: I am speechless at your total lack of honour.
Queen Cersei: Go be speechless in the dungeons.
Sansa Stark: Daddy!
Queen Cersei: Hush now, dear, Daddy’s a traitor. Don’t you want to be a queen?
Sansa: Well ...
Insert brutal purge of all loyal to the Starks, and not loyal to the Lannisters ...
Meanwhile, on the Wall of the Night’s Watch ...
Jon Snow: (stands and gazes out soulfully into the distance)
Elsewhere, on some grassy plains ...
Viserys: Okay, sis, I’m totally pimping you out so I can get an army and take back the throne. It’s mine, mine, you hear me? Mine, mine, mine!
Danaerys: But I don’t wanna marry the big scary barbarian ...
Viserys: (throws tantrum and beats up his sister)
Readers: Oh yeah, you’re gonna die.
Generic merchant prince: Here are your wedding gifts, my lady. They are three old dragon eggs that totally will not hatch.
Danaerys: Wait, I’ve changed my mind. The barbarian’s pretty hunky ... and I got my maid to show me how to rock his world, so he’ll do anything for me.
Viserys: Awesome. Make him give me an army. Now. Now now now now.
Danaerys: Honey, kill my annoying brother.
Barbarian husband: (kills Viserys in amazingly creative way)
Viserys: Nooooo, but I’m a dwaaaagooon ... (dies)
Back in Westeros ...
Joffrey: I’m King!
Robb Stark: I’m King!
Stannis Baratheon: I’m King!
Some guy on a rock in the middle of the sea: I’m King!
Renly Baratheon: I’m King, and so’s my girly boy knight!
People of Westeros: Hiding now ...
Jon Snow: (stands on wall and gazes soulfully into the distance)
In King’s Landing ...
Sansa: Joffrey, you said you loved me, won’t you spare Dad’s life?
Joffrey: Sure, toots. (lops off Ned Stark’s head)
Readers: Yup. Doomed.
Arya: I KEEL YOU!
Conveniently placed Night Watch dude: Get over here, kid, your Dad winked at me so I have to save you. Incidentally, I'm going to call you 'boy' and you have to act all manly, got it?
Readers: Didn't see that coming, nope.
Sansa: Waaaah.
Queen Cersei: These rebel kings have captured my love, I mean my brother Jaime! Waaaah.
Numerous hopeful Lannister courtiers: Oh Queen Ceeeerseeeiii, we look a bit like Jaime ... in the right light ... if you squint.
Queen Cersei: Bitch, please. But you'll do until he gets back.
Joffrey: I’m still King!
Tyrion: Oh, good grief. (facepalm) I guess it’s up to me to get things running in this city. Fetch me some spies, a whore, a dozen jugs of wine and a fez. No, wait. Forget the fez. I’ll make do with a bunch of mercenaries.
The people of King’s Landing: (mutter) (grumble) (glare)
Tyrion: Oh, this is going to go swimmingly.
(to be continued ... )
The thing is ... I like these books. Really, really like them. They've rekindled my love of fantasy fiction (almost killed by the likes of Terry Goodkind and innumerable vampire/werewolf/fallen angel romance (retch) spin-offs).
This didn't, however, stop me from coming up with a merciless parody. So here it is - hidden behind a cut for those who might want to read the books or watch the shows first. Just remember ... unlike my other parodies/rants/reviews, this one is done with love.
(trumpets) A SONG OF THRONES AND GAMES AND FIRE AND ICE AND ... dammit, I'm confused
Part the First
THE SETTING
The Land of Westeros, home of the Seven Kingdoms. The South has flowers, and knights, and ladies, and fairy-tale castles. The North has ... snow. And wolves. And snow. And the occasional band of marauders out for a spot of rape-and-pillage before breakfast.
There’s also some exotic countries halfway around the world, and a whole lot of grassy nothingness occupied by Mongols, I mean exotic horse-riding nomads, but we’ll get to them.
THE CAST
The Lannisters: Gorgeous. Grasping. Evil. Really, really evil. Machiavelli has nothing on this lot.
Queen Cersei: Gold of hair and stone of heart. She might be married to the king, but her love belongs to another.
Jaime Lannister: Holder of said queen’s heart ... and bed. Repeatedly. This guy has a smile that goes ‘ting!’ and is probably the best fighter in the realm. Which is why we hate him, and not just because he's an evil, evil man, right?
Tyrion Lannister: Affectionately known as ‘the Imp’, because he’s a dwarf, and it’s funny to call people names. The brains of the family, and very possibly cursed with just a little bit too much morality. See what happens when you’re not born gorgeous and with a taste for incest?
Joffrey Baratheon, I mean Lannister: Cersei’s son. Gold of hair, etc. Evil brat.
The Starks: Honourable. Rough around the edges. Probably doomed.
Ned Stark: The epitome of true honour. No pretty armour or words for this one. He’s so loyal it’s likely to get him killed.
Catelyn Stark: His stoic wife, whose main function appears to be riding all over the countryside and telling off kings.
Robb Stark: The heir apparent. Fifteen years old, and a chip off the old block.
Bran Stark: The Boy Who Fell. All will become apparent.
Sansa Stark: The girly-girl. Really. It’s all hearts and flowers and knights and ladies and oh woe, wherever will she get a new gown, and why is it so cold, and when can I go live with civilised people?
Arya Stark: The feisty girl. You know this one is going to be trouble, because she hates embroidery and would rather be out hitting things with a sharp, pointy object.
Jon Snow: The bastard son. Tormented, unloved, yet still loyal to his siblings. See also: major character.
The Baratheons:
Robert, Renly and Stannis, otherwise known as the Fat Fool King, the Slightly Lavender Younger Brother and the Brother Whose Sense of Humour was Cut Off in Some Combat Somewhere.
The Targaeryens:
Viserys: A slimy piece of work who was the son of the last king, and wants the throne. He calls himself the ‘Blood of the Dragon’. ‘Nuff said.
Danaerys: Visery’s sister, who will prove to be More Than She Seems.
A Cast of Thousands
We’ll get to them.
Somewhere in the North ...
Huntsman: My lord, I have found a whole bunch of wolf puppies!
Jon Snow: We could give them to your children. Notice that I said your children, because I’m a bastard, remember? Wouldn’t want you to forget that.
Older, slightly more superstitious huntsman: They’re not wolves, they’re ... direwolves.
Ned Stark: I am too honourable to be superstitious. Besides, winter is coming. Good idea, Jon. I am impervious to your bitterness. Grab the puppies and let’s go.
Jon Snow: Ooh, look, another puppy that was cast out by the rest. It’s white and has red eyes. I think I’m bonding with it.
Readers: (eyeroll)
Back at Castle Stark ...
King Robert: Whacko-the-diddly-o! I’ve come to pay a visit to my old friend Ned! Fetch me some more wine and food!
Lady Catelyn: So nice to see you, Your Grace. Why no, I’m not gritting my teeth at all.
King Robert: Ned, m’lad, come down to the spooky crypt where all your ancestors are buried so I can ask you to come South with me and be my No. 1 guy! Bring the girls, we can make ladies of them! And the older one can marry my Joffrey, and be queen someday!
Ned: Wow, I can see the foreshadowing from here. But curse it, I’m honourable, so I obey my king. Did I mention winter is coming?
Jon Snow: Dad ...
Catelyn: (glares)
Jon Snow: I wanna join the Night’s Watch. It’s like the Foreign Legion, and no one will be mean to me there just ‘cos you couldn’t keep it in your pants.
Ned: It was one time, okay?
Jon Snow: Hey, Arya, I know you’re the only one who likes me, so here’s a going-away present. It’s a sword. You stick people with the pointy end.
Arya Stark: Cool!
In a tower somewhere in Castle Stark ...
Bran: I’m going for a climb up the side of the tower for no reason whatsoever.
Queen Cersei and Jaime: (squelching noises)
Bran: What the - ?
Queen Cersei: Defend my honour, Jaime!
Jaime: Seriously? Oh, well. The things I do for love. (shoves)
Bran: Falling now ...
Much, much later, down South at King’s Landing ...
Ned: If you’re going to play with that sword, I’ll get you a ‘dancing master’ to teach you. He’ll be dashing and clever and turn you into a ninja. Besides, winter is coming.
Arya: I love you, Dad.
Ned : Y’know, it never occurred to me to wonder why the last guy who had my job died so suddenly. Maybe I should check it out.
Readers: YOU THINK?
Ned: Gasp. Wait. I have discovered the terrible truth. Joffrey is not the king’s true son. He does not have the same hair colour as Robert and all Robert’s family!
Readers: Way to discover genetic theory, Ned.
Ned: I must go to the king with this knowledge.
Assorted courtiers, huntsmen and lackeys: Oh woe, the king is mortally wounded! He was drunk and tried to kill a boar!
Ned: That’s suspicious. Even though I know my king can’t remember what it’s like to be sober, and this is perfectly in character, I sense the evil hand of the Lannisters.
Robert: Okay, Ned, I’m dying. It’s up to you to rule my kingdom until Joffrey’s old enough.
Ned: About Joffrey ...
Robert: Shut up and take down this dictation.
Ned: But winter is coming ...
Robert: Dying now ...
In the throne room ...
Queen Cersei: All hail King Joffrey ... and me, of course, who will rule totally in his name until he’s old enough.
Ned: I don’t think so. I have a piece of paper.
Queen Cersei: (rips up paper)
Ned: I am speechless at your total lack of honour.
Queen Cersei: Go be speechless in the dungeons.
Sansa Stark: Daddy!
Queen Cersei: Hush now, dear, Daddy’s a traitor. Don’t you want to be a queen?
Sansa: Well ...
Insert brutal purge of all loyal to the Starks, and not loyal to the Lannisters ...
Meanwhile, on the Wall of the Night’s Watch ...
Jon Snow: (stands and gazes out soulfully into the distance)
Elsewhere, on some grassy plains ...
Viserys: Okay, sis, I’m totally pimping you out so I can get an army and take back the throne. It’s mine, mine, you hear me? Mine, mine, mine!
Danaerys: But I don’t wanna marry the big scary barbarian ...
Viserys: (throws tantrum and beats up his sister)
Readers: Oh yeah, you’re gonna die.
Generic merchant prince: Here are your wedding gifts, my lady. They are three old dragon eggs that totally will not hatch.
Danaerys: Wait, I’ve changed my mind. The barbarian’s pretty hunky ... and I got my maid to show me how to rock his world, so he’ll do anything for me.
Viserys: Awesome. Make him give me an army. Now. Now now now now.
Danaerys: Honey, kill my annoying brother.
Barbarian husband: (kills Viserys in amazingly creative way)
Viserys: Nooooo, but I’m a dwaaaagooon ... (dies)
Back in Westeros ...
Joffrey: I’m King!
Robb Stark: I’m King!
Stannis Baratheon: I’m King!
Some guy on a rock in the middle of the sea: I’m King!
Renly Baratheon: I’m King, and so’s my girly boy knight!
People of Westeros: Hiding now ...
Jon Snow: (stands on wall and gazes soulfully into the distance)
In King’s Landing ...
Sansa: Joffrey, you said you loved me, won’t you spare Dad’s life?
Joffrey: Sure, toots. (lops off Ned Stark’s head)
Readers: Yup. Doomed.
Arya: I KEEL YOU!
Conveniently placed Night Watch dude: Get over here, kid, your Dad winked at me so I have to save you. Incidentally, I'm going to call you 'boy' and you have to act all manly, got it?
Readers: Didn't see that coming, nope.
Sansa: Waaaah.
Queen Cersei: These rebel kings have captured my love, I mean my brother Jaime! Waaaah.
Numerous hopeful Lannister courtiers: Oh Queen Ceeeerseeeiii, we look a bit like Jaime ... in the right light ... if you squint.
Queen Cersei: Bitch, please. But you'll do until he gets back.
Joffrey: I’m still King!
Tyrion: Oh, good grief. (facepalm) I guess it’s up to me to get things running in this city. Fetch me some spies, a whore, a dozen jugs of wine and a fez. No, wait. Forget the fez. I’ll make do with a bunch of mercenaries.
The people of King’s Landing: (mutter) (grumble) (glare)
Tyrion: Oh, this is going to go swimmingly.
(to be continued ... )