A Feast for Crows in 30 Minutes Part 1

[summersdream]

Disclaimer: A Feast For Crows is the property of GRR Martin, this parody is for fun and not for profit.

[In Oldtown, where we find proof that college kids are college kids no matter what century you put them in and will always know where to find beer. And the Westerosi Parenting Manual is living up to expectations]

Pate: Rosey’s hot.

Rosey’s mom: You can take her virginity for a gold piece.

Pate: But I’m a poor college kid! I have no gold piece! Emo!

Mysterious Masked Stranger: I’ll give you a gold piece if you do me a favor.

Pate: Okay!

Audience: … Does he know what world he lives in?

Armen: Dragons are a myth.

Alleras: Pay no attention to what my name is spelled backwards.

Leo: The Targaryen hottie hatched 3 dragons. Professor Snape Marwyn says so! And he’s got a glass candle! It’s GLOWING.

Others: NO WAI!

Leo: WAI.

Alleras: OMGDRAGONS

Audience: … Dragons power lightbulbs? Quick, someone tell California!

Mysterious Stranger: Hey, kid! You stole that key to the Citadel! Want your gold?

Audience: … We’ve seen this description before… omgJaqen. Run, Pate, run!

Pate: *bites the cobblestones*

[Back amongst the Not-Vikings, Damphair is feeding people to Cthulhu erm, baptizing Ironborn…]

Gormand Goodbrother: Hey, Damphair! Lookin’ wet today! How’s the Cthulhu worship going?

Aeron: Can’t you see I’m drowning people here?!

Goodbrother: So, dude, Euron’s on the throne now? What about that Theon kid? And the Reader’s all for Asha…

Aeron: NO. THE SEA WILL TELL US. Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wagn'nagl fhtagn. In his house in R'lyeh dead Cthulhu waits dreaming.

Everyone: o.O too much saltwater does this, huh?

Aeron: … creaking door… Euron coming… *shudder*

Audience: Oh good grief. Is everyone abused?

[Anyway, heading back to Not!Persia, we learn just how full of awesome and win the Martells are. You got socks? Cause the Martells will rock them. Rock them hard. All. Night. Long.]

Doran: Omfg gout sucks. I miss my sister. And my brother. … wtf were you thinking, Oberyn?? And now you left me with your daughters. Your creepy assassin daughters. All eight zillion of them.

Poor Dead Oberyn: Hey, I got around but not that much. There’s only 4 you really need to worry about for the moment. … I think.

Obara Sand: AVENGE DADDY.

Doran: Yes. I’m getting there. First, let’s get to Sunspear…

Nymeria Sand: AVENGE DADDY.

Doran: I’m getting there! Kids these days. All you think about is killing stuff fast, no long term planning…

Tyene Sand: AVENGE DADDY.

Doran: Oh for fuck’s sake, we don’t even have phones yet!

Tyene: VENGEANCE NOW.

Doran: O.O Snakes In A Tower!

-The Sand Snakes are put in the tower. Even the little ones. Just in case.-

Poor Dead Oberyn: Aww, daddy’s girls are all grown up.

[back in the Castle o’ Crazy in The Real KL…]

The KG: Lord Tywin’s dead!! Also? He kinda um had a hooker with him…

Cersei: No, he didn’t.

KG: Sure he did. Look she’s right th-

Cersei: NO HE DIDN’T DO YOU UNDERSTAND?

KG: … okay.

Cersei: Omg. Daddy issues, ahoy! I’m my father’s only son! … speaking of, where are his actual sons?

KG: Jaime chased Tyrion down the secret passage and-

Cersei’s Paranoia: *will now require its own zip code*

Cersei: TAKE DOWN THE WALLLS. All of it. Gone. Tear. Down. Must… destroy… passages… rats… omfg. Jaime! Be King’s Hand!

Jaime: Right, oh crazy sister mine, right after you show signs of sanity again. Have your divorce lawyer call mine.

Lawyers: Can we divorce twins? … Casterly Rock has gold you say? Sure we can! Let’s go!

Boros: um, btw, the other brother? He uh, sorta… escaped.

Cersei’s Paranoia: *could swallow small nations and probably will*

[off in the Riverlands, where being a peasant sucks especially hard right now, Brienne has a creepy shield of the Draculs of Harrenhall and still can’t find Sansa. She should try wearing a hound-shaped helm. She meets Ser Shadrich who’s kinda smarmy but Brienne doesn’t do smarmy cause she doesn’t do anybody and that’s sort of the whole problem with Brienne really…]

[Up by the Wall, where the ice zombies grow, back to his home, Sam cannot go… because Randyll Tarly is a really bad parent even for The Seven Kingdoms]

Everybody: Jon doesn’t have time for us now he’s the boss of everything! We’re sad!

Stannis: I want to forge an alliance with the Wildlings! Valla is a Wildling princess, yes?

Jon: You… don’t get the concept of Wildlings do you?

Stannis: Whatevs. We can still burn Mance’s kid…

Jon: Sam, you go to the Citadel. With the sort-of-royal baby, okay?

Sam: Bzhuh? No?

Jon: Oh, wait, rephrasion: I’m the LC. You? Don’t get a choice.

[Over to Not!Venice aka Braavos- Where The Assasins Live…]

Arya: So this is where the assassins come from?

Kindly Man: This is the House of Black and White.

Arya: Sounds like a PDiddy Hamptons party.

Kindly Man: Who are you?

Arya: I’m your son! King of Swamp Castle!

Kindly Man: Who are you?

Arya: Who? Who is but the form following the function of what and what I am is a man in a mask.

Kindly Man: Who are you?

Arya: Voilà! In view, a humble vaudevillian veteran, cast vicariously as both victim and villain by the vicissitudes of Fate. This visage, no mere veneer of vanity, is a vestige of the vox populi, now vacant, vanished. However, this valorous visitation of a by-gone vexation, stands vivified and has vowed to vanquish these venal and virulent vermin van-guarding vice and vouchsafing the violently vicious and voracious violation of volition.

Kindly Man: Who are you?

Arya: IRON MAN!

Kindly Man: We can do this all day.

Arya: … Arya Stark.

Kindly Man: Was that so hard?

Audience: … The best babysitter this kid’s ever had is a !*&$#@ Assassin Priest??!

[In the Real KL, Tywin’s getting buried. He’s also getting smelly. Cause, you know, no one thought to invent formaldehyde yet.]

Lancelnot: Hey, I’m not dead! Just kinda corpse-ish.

Cersei: Damn.

Mace Tyrell: Hey, I have your new Master of Coin-

Cersei: Oops! So sorry. We’re full up on Masters of Coin, what with my appointing Old Coughing Guy aka Lord Rosby.

Lord Rosby: *coughs. Wheezes.*

Queen of Thorns: Something smells funny…

Qyburn: Hey, since Gregor’s taking for fucking ever to die, how about I take him down to the Black Cells? It’s quiet there. I could… work… on him.

Cersei: Sure… Uncle Kevan you want to be Hand?

Kevan: Sorry, I can’t handle your crazy. Call Randyll Tarly. Sucky parent, awesome as hell at killinating stuff and inciting terror

Jaime: Hey! I’m still here! Let me exposition you stuff. Oh, Rhaegar, why did you leave me? *emo tear* .

Boros and Osmund: And then we killed the two gaolers…

Jaime: Are you stupid?

Boros: Your sister told us to!

Jaime: *facepalm* No more killing stuff unless you check with me. … and I was worried about getting caught. Geez.

[Brienne wanders around and finds a whole lot of dead people, but no Sansa. She does find some exposition about The Night King Aerys Went Crazy. Apparently Targaryens don’t do well with being betrayed and taken hostage. Tywin surrounded the castle and Barristan L Jackson  Selmy went in single-handedly and rescued Aerys with his mad awesomeness but it’s Westeros so no good deed ever turns out well although the bad ones went really really badly for the Duskendalers. And then… she gets stalked. By Podrick Payne. Cause he misses Tyrion. Aww.]

[On top of Mount CRAZY all covered in blood…]

Marillion: I have no eyes no more! LAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Sansa: OMFG can we stop that???!

Heathfinger: Soon. I promise. Now, what is the official story?

Sansa: He pushed Lysa. Lies aren’t all bad. Lies aren’t all bad. Lies aren’t all bad.

The Lords of Whatnot: *Show up. Are Less than Happy About Everything.* Heathfinger: *plays them all like a string quartet*

Lords of Whatnot: Show us to the orchestra pit.

Sansa: So that’s how it’s done.

Heathfinger: You’re going to be amazing at this. I sort of can’t wait to turn you loose and watch you destroy the world.

[the Not!Vikings are also Not!Enlightened and don’t get how amazingly awesome Asha is. Also, they’re about as intelligent as a lump of Iron so they elect (albeit with a minimum of chad) Euron Crowseye as their king. Did we mention the rampant  case of stupid?]

[In Not!Persia, Arianne Martell is busy rocking Arys Oakheart’s world. A lot. No matter how emo he gets about it in the morning.]

Arianne: Let’s crown Myrcella.

Arys: Let’s not.

Arianne: *puppy eyes* Don’t you love me? Don’t you love Myrcella?? *wibble*

Arys: … Fuck.

Straight Guys Everywhere: Pretty much, yeah.

Arys: You win.

[Meanwhile, Back to the Middle of Nowhere…]

Pod: So um what’s the correct form of gender address for you?

Brienne: I’m a lady knight, not a transsexual…

Randyll Tarly: Who are you? Can I kill you? Sansa Stark is not here.

Brienne: To the Vale then.

Randyll: Don’t go that way! Never go that way! You that that way, you’d have gone straight to that Eyrie place where Lysa Arryn is dead so Sansa Stark couldn’t possibly be.

Nimble Dick: Hey! I took a fool and two girls away to an old smugglers cave… I’ll take you too! Careful of the Whispers. … Ever hear about old Ser Clarence Crabb! Eight foot tall! Woodswitch Wife!

Audience: … Tom Bombadil? Is that you?

[Somewhere At Sea]

Sam: Sea voyages are the suck.

Gilly: Life is the suck.

Aemon: … I’m meeelllltiiiinnnggg….

[In The Real KL]

Cersei’s Crazy: *grows*

Jaime’s Disillusionment: *grows*

Tommen’s Chances of Making It Out of This Series Alive: *shrink*

Gyles Rosby: *coughs. wheezes.*

[Middle Of Freaking Nowhere. Still. Again.]

Pod: Are we there yet?

Nimble Dick: Nope. Here are some more random legends that perhaps will turn out not to be so random but you won’t know until GRRM finishes A Dance with Dragons, will you? Maybe not even then.

Insane Mummers Posse Remnants: Surprise!

Dick: Eek!

Brienne: Oh, not you mo-fo’s again. I’mma kill you good this time. STABNATION.

Hyle: Surprise! You know you’re kinda hot when you kill stuff?

Brienne: … George, I hate you.

[Back to Dorne, for more awesomesauce…]

Arianne: You move too slow, daddy. And you doubt me. You secretly want to leave Quentyn the throne I just know it. You suck. I MUST REBEL. O hai, Myrcella!

Myrcella: I have a bad feeling about this.

Arys: I will protect you both no matter what.

Darkstar: I’m here to be bitter, angry dark and slightly evil.

Fangirls: It’s kinda hot.

Arianne: So now we just get to Hellholt and-

Areo Hotah: About that.

Everyone: EEK

Arys: For Gondor! Westeros!

Areo: I so called this. *Crunchinates*

Arianne: Nuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu!

Myrcella: OW!

Darkstar: BAI. *runs*

Arianne: this is not how I saw this happening.

Poor Dead Robb: That happens.

Poor Dead Ned: A lot.

Poor Dead Oberyn: Surprisingly often, in fact.

Poor Dead Robert: Just wait.

Poor Dead Renly: Dude. Totally.

[Assasin School]

Kindly Man: Who are you?

Arya: Are we still on this?

Kindly Man: What’s this list of yours?

Arya: Holy crap have you people invented hidden microphones?

Kindly Man: You can’t kill those people.

Arya: Wtf kind of assassin school are you people running here?

[Mt Crazy, The Fortress of Solitude]

Alayne: Sansa’s not here right now.

Audience: O.o  this cannot end well.

Alayne: Dad,

Poor Dead Ned: That sound? That’s me spinning in the crypt at Winterfell.

Heathfinger: Yes, sweetums?

Audience: We will be sick. Omfg.

Alayne: Dad,

Poor Dead Ned: That’s it. I gotta go find Cathlyn and figure out that zombie trick.

Alayne: Why not go be Lord of the Hall on Haunted Hill? The Eyrie kind of sucks.

Heathfinger: Trust me (this time), Harrenhall sucks more. Curses and all. I’d love to give it to Cersei but her flame-out is going faster than even I could have managed.

Robert: Hai, I’m still weak and bratty and seizing all over the place.

Heathfinger: Let’s get some poison sweetsleep in him, shall we?

Lords Declarent: GIVE US THE VALE.

Heathfinger: No.

Lyn Cobray: stfu weasel! Give it! Sword!

Yohn Royce: WTF, Are you pulling a Frey? Drop it. LF, keep the Vale.

Alayne: Dad, how’d you do it? What’s next? Can we take over the world?

Heathfinger: Oh, it’s going to be even more fun. *exposits*

Audience: there’s dastardly and then there’s that. O.O

[The Real KL]

Cersei: Hey, still screwing up the world here.

Jaime: We’ve noticed.

Qyburn: There’s nothing like dark cells and screaming things. Can I have some more women for my experiments?

Cersei: None of this should have happened. I should have married Rhaegar. None of this would have happened. Oh well. I need to go screw up some more stuff. Jaime, go fix Riverrun.

Jaime: No.

Cersei: … Do you see anyone else I could send?

Jaime: … Fine.

Ronnet Connington: Did you know I almost had to marry Brienne? Gods, what and ugly-OMGMYFACE.

Jaime: Hey, this gold hand comes in useful after all!

New High Septon: I wear course clothes and no shoes and I bet you I whip myself at night while I pray. I bet you I’m wearing a hair shirt and a band of barbed wire around my thigh. I am HARD CORE, bitchez.

Cersei: Ew. You dress badly.

High Septon: So about the armed monks we used to have back in the day?

Cersei: Sure! What could possibly go wrong?

Audience: *facepalm*

Gyles Rosby: *coughs. wheezes.*

[The Shield Islands. Not a good place to be when the Not!Vikings come a-Viking.]

Euron: Now to Slavers Bay and dragons-

Lords: NO. Oldtown! Arbor!

Euron: Vic, bro, I want you to sail away to Slavers’ Bay. Snag me that little dragon hottie.

Victarion: I have a bad feeling about all this.