First part of my Re-write of Play To Your Best Card. Plot changes, more detailed characters, ect. I think I have messed around with the ASOIAF fandom enough to bring beautiful chaos and creative brutality to the setting in a fun and epic way. i will do one or two parts a day or so until complete or Idiot reviewers piss me off too much to post them here anymore.

Play The Cards You Are Dealt...

"Son of a bitch!" I cursed as my toe collided with something that should not be on my floor on the way to the bathroom. I had just awoken with a strange feeling and did what I always do with strange feelings in the middle of the night.

Go take a shit.

I rubbed my toe and set back on the bed. Sleep obscured my vision, but I could sense something was wrong. It was way too quiet.

Did I forget to turn my fan on?

As the pain settled in my foot, I rubbed the sleep from my eyes.

I jerked as I finally opened my eyes and noticed that the room I occupied was not my own. My heartbeat sped up as stress hormones were released into my bloodstream. My breath became rapid and I felt myself begin to shake as I looked about the room.

Panicking never helps. I tried to control my breathing, unsuccessfully, as I took stock of the cell I awoke in. I was very pale and felt sick on top of the panic. I was wearing a white fucking dress.

Gray stone walls, a feather mattress on wooden four-post bed. A wooden table and chair, with a flame lit lamp. large shuttered window and a trunk at the foot of the bed. A large wooden door with a O ring instead of a doorknob. I looked up and saw wooden planks as the ceiling.

No cameras visible.

"I told you if you ever put me on Scare Tactics, I would fucking kill you!" I finally exploded verbally in anger and fear.

My voice was high pitched. I must have a cold to cause the paleness and voice my subconscious supplied.

"I swear to god I will car bomb the executive producer if you assholes don't come clean right fucking now!" I yelled again.

Natural stress response. I trembled in fear and anger.

I won't open that door, thats what they want.

TV Studio Bastards!

I hefted the surprisingly heavy chair and took it to the window and threw it. The wooden shutters shattered. I heard fast footsteps coming from the other side of the door. I looked down. Ten foot drop at most.

The moon was full and I had a clear view of a path to lights in the distance. It was an ocean or lake-front property as I could see the moonlight shine off water in one direction.

I heard the door creak open as I jumped.

A female voice asked "Honey, whats wrong?" from the cell above.

I landed bare foot in ankle deep mud and started running as fast as I could towards the lights in the distance.

Lights mean people.

People means cops.

The stone house was on a hill overlooking what looked kinda like Hogsmeade Village at Universal Studios.

'I'll sue those motherfuckers. Then I'll find the man who thought kidnapping me was a good idea. I'll strangle him with his wife's guts after I make him eat his dog and children.' Were my thoughts as I ran barefoot the way too smelly to be Universal Studios' mud paved street.

What sounded like 'Tire wreck' echoed in the woman's voice behind me as dogs started to bark. I sped up as much as I could down the muddy hill and towards the Village below.

I sure as hell don't want to be bit by a dog on top of the rest of this shit.

I was well into the dark town by the time I had to stop, lest my legs fall off and heart explode. I coughed and panted, gathering my energy to run again. I stood in the middle of 'what I suspect is not' mud street and looked for a house with a porch light on.

It looked worse than the slums of Rio. Bums sleeping in every alley I could see. Straw roofs and no electric poles. Raw, unpainted, rotting wood huts lined the road as far as I could see

Where the fuck am I?

I coughed into my fist and was about to run again as the barks got louder when a hand grabbed my shoulder. I was spun around and beheld the biggest fucking hobo I have ever seen. His hand's grip became painful. Dressed in brown thin rags, he smelled worse than the 'mud' underfoot, and thats saying something.

"Whas a little girl like you doin all lonesome out here?" he wheezed through cracked, dirt smeared lips.

My heart beat faster. "Not a girl." I growled through clenched teeth.

"I don't mind, I'll keep ya company anyway" He wheezed again with a chuckle and licked his cracked lips.

I'll be damned if I escape Universal Studios to get ass-assaulted by a fucking hobo!

My leg jerked up in between the giant's. My shin collided with his danglies hard enough to loosen his grip. His eyes were clenched shut as his face twisted in agony. He obviously didn't expect the knife hand to his unprotected throat.

I lost it at that point, yelling and screaming obscenities as I stomped and kicked any part of the dying man's body exposed from his fetal position. I circled his prone choking form, oblivious to the world around me. I had a target to blame for this insanity and I wanted him to suffer.

I was grabbed from behind again and lifted bodily off the ground by the back of the dress thing I was wearing. Another giant, this one way bigger than the bum, lifted me to eye level. "Do you know how worried your mother is, Tyrek?"

'Tire wreck?'

'My mother did this?'

I spat in the Giant's eye and tried to nut-kick him like the bum a minute ago.

A bunch of bright colors exploded in front of my eyes.

The world tilted and the mud rose up to meet me.

I woke slowly to the sound of sobbing female. With some vividly fresh memories of last waking up, I decided to play possum. I felt a soft feather bed under me, this time with silk sheets.

My actions replayed through my mind.

This was too vivid to be a TV show set up. I had felt that man's trachea crush from my knife-hand. The ghetto I had ran to was well used and lived in.

Something fishy was going on, because if this was reality, I would be in handcuffs right now.

I could hear no cars, motorcycles, planes, nor hum of air-conditioning.

Murderer. That man's death is my fault...

Oh well, no skin off my balls.

You shouldn't try to rape an orange belt in Hapkido.

Or anyone for that matter, Its just asking for trouble.

The adrenaline surged as I thought about how to escape. I put much effort in maintaining an even breath as I listened to the sounds around me. Listened for anything that can help me get back home and out of this insanity.

The sound of wind from an open window. A possible route, though they had probably learned from last time and put me in a room higher off the ground. In a room with someone else on top of it.

The sobbing female's voice was familiar, I assume it was the one that opened the door in the room I last awakened in. The bitch that sicked the the dogs and giants on me as I ran. She must be crying about her rapist accomplice I had ended violently.

The rustle of cloth that must be the teary felon's clothes. Unless she is naked and has a curtain that moves in tune with her pathetic weeping.

Muffled footsteps.

Leather soles... Fancy footsteps. I love leather and can recognize the sound of a good leather boot a mile soles are rare outside of dress shoes and very, very rare in boots.

No sound of a door opening as the footsteps grew as close as the sobbing on my opposite. No door opening means no lock to keep me in.

Good news at last!

I was about to take a swing at the bitch before they finally got around to shackling me and book it when I heard the giant's voice speak. The voice of the second giant from the ghetto. So he and the weeping criminal were in cahoots after all.

What did my mom have to do with these nut-cases?

She knew damn well I'd kill any actor trying to 'scare' me for funnies quicker than lightning. I'm not the kind of guy that goes down without a fight. Alien, ghost, demon or little rat midget, I will grab the nearest large object and throw it as hard as I can before charging with the next largest.

On top of that, my younger siblings and her career keep her way too busy to plan a kidnapping of her twenty-four year old son. My sneakiest little sister would have found out and texted me about it anyway if my mom had anything to do with it. So she must be here against her will.

What about my brother or sisters?

That is unforgivable.

You lay a finger on my mom,...

You are dead...

Deader than dead...

Live for ten years naked in my torture room kinda dead.

Don't even ask about touching my sisters.

Do you know how worried your mother is? Were the giant's words.

Rage burned.

I strained to keep my breathing steady as I listened to the giant speak.

"The boy just got a little knock on the head. He will be fine Darlessa. There is no need to cry. He is strong, like his father. When I caught up with him, He had crushed a full grown man's throat with his bare hands."

WHAT THE FUCK WAS GOING ON?

The whiny bitch cried harder. My eyes opened and I sat up quick. I turned my face to the giant and glared as hard as I could.

I want his fucking face to melt off.

"Okay, game over. You win. Now who the are you? Where the hell am I? Who the fuck is that bitch and why is she crying?" I spat out in my newly high pitched voice. I gestured at the giant man, the room and the saddest criminal I had ever seen in turn.

The woman was sun worn and looked in her late thirties or early thirties. She had long curly blond hair and wore a gray gown over what I could tell was a corseted waist. The male was well built and looked in his mid to late fifties and had short trimmed hair of blond and silver. He wore one of those weird shirts that you have to lace the sleeves onto like at a Renaissance festival. His fine boots were black and his pants and shirt were red with cats stitched on in gold thread.

The woman was staring at me with wide eyed shock " You..hiccup... You don't know me?" She asked with a whisper.

I turned my glare to her. "Never seen you before, whiny cunt."

The woman went from sad to furious in seconds. She turned to the man and hissed. "I'll kill you, Kevan!" She launched herself at 'Kevan' like a lion on a gazelle and started slapping him.

I used the distraction to bolt for the door. I ran through the doorway and turned to the right where 'Kevan's footsteps came from. I was already moving too fast to stop my collision headfirst into a red metal wall. I bounced off and landed on my ass, holding my head.

"Ow" I groaned in pain looked up through blurred vision. The ringing in my ears got louder. I paled.

It was Fucking Victor the Vampire Elder!

The blurriness cleared momentarily.

I felt sick.

It was not a vampire, but worse.

I vomited onto Tywin's boots.

"I think I have a concussion." I said as once more, I passed out.

I rolled over and groaned into the pillow. My hangover is awful. I felt the throbbing spikes behind my eyes intensify as I remembered the fucked up dream I just had. My stomach rumbled. I need a bacon cheese burger. They get rid of hangovers faster than Tylenol.

"He's waking my lady." said a voice.

Jerking in surprise and opening my eyes. I immediately started screaming into a fat curly blond man's face. He wore gray robes and a chain around his neck.

"Ahhhhhhhhh!" I screamed and pulled the blanket up over my head.

Will this nightmare never end?

I squeezed my eyes shut and wailed into the blanket like a dying animal.

The female voice I recognized from the dream spoke up. "You are safe sweet-ling. Mommy is here."

Oh Hell No!

Sobbing into the blanket like a little girl, I had no concept of how long I ignored everything they said and bawled my eyes out into the blanket. I didn't feel like a grown man anymore. I was overemotional and couldn't control it.

Eventually enough endocrine hormones kicked in for me to bring my tears to a slightly less embarrassing sniffle. I lowered the blanket enough to expose only my eyes. I was in the room I had first escaped from. The 'Darlessa' woman and what I assume is a Maester sat in chairs beside my bed.

"Do you know who I am?" inquired the fatty-boom-ba with girlie golden curls and gray robes.

I hiccuped and gave a muffled "No" from under the blanket. The female had not broken into sobs as previously, but had tears leaking from her puffy red eyes.

"Do you know what year is is?" The overfed Shirley Temple impersonator inquired again.

I shook my head negative and regretted it. It felt like needles digging into the back of my eyes.

The Maester leaned in closer and held up three fat sausage fingers.

"How many fingers am I holding up?"

"Three." Was my reply, once again muffled by the blanket.

The Maester smiled in what he thinks is a kindly way and asked, "Are you in pain?"

I answered yes and tried not to move.

"One more question and I will give you something to ease the pain. What is your name?"

I have no choice but to lie.

Gotta play the cards you are dealt in life, folding is death.

"I don't know" was the muffled lie.

"Your name is Tyrek Lannister. You are nine years old. The year is 293 after Aegon's Conquest. This is your mother Darlessa." The master spoke as he uncorked a vial and moved closer. "Can you repeat what I just said?"

"You said one more question and you will give me something to relieve pain. That was question number two and I want the pain relieved now."

As I drifted into the familiar feeling of opium fogginess, I heard the Maester speak to my 'mother'. "His memory is damaged, but he can still learn and thus, he will not be simple-minded from the injury. I have seen this a few times and his memory will most likely return soon."

Not fucking likely...