Game of Thrones Tales: The Ultimate Game:Book I-Back to the Throne Room

Part VII...

Game of Thrones Tales: Back to the Throne Room…

Summary: There's only one solution when Tyrion and Sansa have found the new King as mad as the Mad Targaryen and cynically evil, once on the throne, as Joffrey. So evil he's happily allowed the world to be invaded by unspeakably hideous creatures from some little planet out on the spiral rim of the Galaxy, to secure his reign of terror.

Part VII…

"Tyrion…" Sansa coming to consciousness with her ingrained Stark sense of duty on first sound of the alarm clock. One of the lesser but hideous "joys" imposed by their benefactors, Tyrion liked to joke when not groaning at the sound. She reached to find…Nothing…

"I'm up…" She heard his voice from across the room. "Been up for a hour." Sigh…

She looked over to see him at desk, indeed fully dressed…Eyeing the glowing screen of his laptop computer, given out as aid from the Occupiers to the government to assist in better organizing the realm. For the better exploitation thereof, Tyrion would grimly note, although he had to grant the things were useful once one got the hang of them. Though he'd had to carefully disabuse those in his circle of "friends" now enthusiastically computer-and-net literate from using the new Westeros net for any sensitive communications. It wasn't magic and the system was very much capable of being monitored, whatever the Dirters insisted about the "privileged right" of free speech. Like their commitment to "non-interference" or "equal justice" for natives and their own or the continued "complete independence" of the societies they encountered, the concept was both "relative" and "flexible", particularly in times of crises…The definition of "crisis" being reserved of course, to them.

"Why?" she called, a bit annoyed.

If my little one's that energetic this morn, there are better things to spend his time on…Namely me, she grinned to herself, slightly blushing…She still did that, occasionally.

If anyone had told me a few years ago that I'd be pouting because Tyrion Lannister had left my bed…

"I wanted to check on the situation up North before the Council meeting today…" he noted. "And you deserved a little extra rest, without that foul imp pawing at you…"

"Tyrion!" she snapped, annoyed.

"Sorry." Sigh.

"It's not funny when you mock yourself like that…And mock me too." She frowned. "I don't appreciate my heart being dismissed like that, you know." She swung legs over the floor and sat up.

He looked over. "I am sorry, Sans…You're right." Apologetic tone.

"You could prove it by coming back here and pawing at me…" she grinned.

"Excellent idea. Just let me set this little report of mine to print…" he clicked the mouse to start the printer.

"Amazing thing…Though I can't help wondering how many forests go down now to make these little miracles possible." He eyed the paper issuing from the printer and rose from his chair.

"Stop being Tyrionly morose and come back here…I want you." She insisted. "And you can tell me of your brilliant report on the defense of the realm, Mr. Defense Minister and Lord Hand."

"Indeed. I was hoping you'd edit it." He noted, taking the paper from the printer and carrying it over with him to the bed. "There's new rumors of Mother Love and her children in the North…"

"After…" she insisted, putting hand to his mouth, setting his sheets on the small bedside table. "Thanks to your burst of industry we've got an extra hour. So, paw, my imp…" grin.