The other day I had a thought pop into my head where I wondered how Game of Thrones would have been had the setting been in something more modern day, and instead of Houses of nobility the characters were mafia families instead. It wouldn't leave my mind and prevented me from writing anything else, and thus this story here was born. It's well enough at the end of the day though, considering I wanted to step into writing for Game of Thrones anyways.

As this chapter is just the prologue it's shorter, but my intention for future chapters and how I'm going to write it is that the chapters of this story are going to be 4k-5k words long with each chapter split into loosely connected sections, whether it be the mafia families that take the place of the nobility of Westeros, or the bikers led by Khal Drogo that end up replacing the Dothraki. I suppose it goes without saying that this story is one of those pesky AU stories that usually end up really good or pretty bad. It's up to the readers to decide which one.

Oh, and names like 'The Mad King' or 'Kingslayer' are something that I still intend to use, but in a less literal sense than GRRM. Think of it as those street names that certain infamous gangsters tend to get.

Quote of the day:

Michael Corleone: My father is no different than any other powerful man — any man who's responsible for other people, like a senator or president.

Kay Adams: You know how naive you sound...senators and presidents don't have men killed.

Michael Corleone: Oh? Now who's being naive, Kay?

— The Godfather

The funeral had already been over for hours, but Robert Baratheon stood solemn and silent as his eyes rested on Jon Arryn's tombstone, the sight leaving a taste of ash in his mouth. He had grown up in the man's own manor alongside Ned Stark when they were just boys, Arryn had refused to hand them over to the Mad King when the former Godfather of Westeros had started that vicious gang war two decades ago, and the man had stood by Robert's side those twenty years since as his Consigliere when he had taken the Mad King's 'throne' so to speak, to rule the Seven Cities of Westeros County as the Don of Dons, and Godfather of Godfathers. It almost didn't seem real that Jon Arryn was dead, that the man's sickness, whatever it was, had taken him as fast as it did, and Robert frowned as his eyes remained staring at the same spot, the sun glaring in his face. It was odd to think, that the sun could shine so brightly in a time where his heart felt more pain than he always thought would come when old Jon died, but he felt it now, just as clear as he felt the hot sun blaring on, somehow oblivious, or perhaps even uncaring, on what good a man the world had just lost.

Robert shook his head after a moment at just how sentimental he was letting himself become, and after a deep breath, he reached into the inner pocket of his suit and pulled out a flask, letting himself have a moment of silence before pouring half of the liquor out in respect for Jon Arryn. He proceeded to then drink the other half of his flask, saying fuck it all to any consequences that could come from his drunkenness, and then he tucked the empty metal casing back into the jacket pocket from whence it came. He frowned in the same way that he had during the funeral at some of the more tender words that had been given about Jon, and Robert shook his head again, before casting his eyes over to his brother-in-law Jaime, who waited for him obediently as ever at a respectable distance over by a stranger's grave that had long ago ceased to receive any more visitors.

"Kingslayer!" the Godfather bellowed, voice as commanding and strong as it had ever been, "Come here!"

Robert's eyes followed Jaime as the 'Kingsguard' as the people had been fond of calling the Godfather's personal bodyguards, made his way over to him, and his gaze remained steady and hard as he came face to face with Jaime Lannister. Truthfully, Robert didn't know why his gaze was so intense as he stared on into Jaime's eyes, perhaps to unnerve him for a reason that even he himself didn't know why he wanted it, but after a minute or so of staring into those Lannister blue eyes with no response, the Godfather simply softened his glare. Jaime, like his two siblings, had grown up under the scrutinizing gaze and condescending voice of the vicious Don Tywin Lannister, and Robert had his doubts that any look that he could muster could ever match up to anything that someone like Tywin could ever give.

Instead, Robert held his hand out expectantly to Jaime, knowing that the Kingslayer would comply without much of a fuss, "Give me your gun."

As expected, Jaime arched an eyebrow, curious as to what Robert wanted to do with his gun, but he complied without a word, pulling his hand gun from the holster inside his own jacket, and Robert gave him a curt nod as Jaime then backed away a few steps, giving a respectful distance so that Robert could have some more time as alone as he could get while he stood in front of Jon Arryn's tombstone. The sunshine was as bright and annoying as it had been all day, and Robert's eyes drifted to the proud falcon and crescent moon etched into the stone of Jon's grave that made up the symbol of the equally proud Arryn mafia family. His hand tightened around the hand gun that his brother-in-law had offered him, and Robert hid his emotions well as he raised his gun into the air and fired it until it was out of bullets; a sort of last hurray for Jon, and Robert's own version of the twenty-one gun salute.

The gunshots had pierced the air of the nearly empty graveyard, and the loud booms that came from the barrel of Jaime's gun was something that he knew would cause even those who were far away to look in the direction where Jon Arryn had been laid to his final rest, if for only one more time. There was nothing to fear from any authorities about his nonchalant use of the gun that still burned in his hand from its use, because in Westeros County the only authority was that of it's Godfather. The police answered to him in the Seven Cities that made up his territory, the mafia Dons and other bosses of the crime families in Westeros obeyed his every command, and the regular citizens of his land recognized the fattened face of their crime Lord and Godfather, all of them bending the knee without hesitation. It was a respect that he alone commanded, but as he stared at the slab of rock in front of him, he knew that it was something he would give up to just have a bit more time with Jon, which was the same thing he remembered thinking the last time he had lost someone he loved dearly, his pondering and wondering drifting to the long ago memory that was Lyanna Stark.

The fat Godfather shook the thoughts away like he usually did, but even so he couldn't stop himself from getting teary-eyed, if only just a bit. Without saying anything, Robert held the gun out to his side, gaze remaining on the tombstone, until Jaime walked back over to him to take the weapon, before the Kingslayer made his way over to his post again. It was kind of a bad joke, Robert thought as he pondered on just where exactly he was standing, Jon Arryn joining Lyanna in the part of his mind that would be forever haunted by regrets and what-ifs, that he was still alive after a lifetime of whoring, killing, hunting, and drinking, where at the same time good people like Jon and Lyanna left the world sooner than he did, despite anything else.

He hesitated for a moment, but after a tired sigh Robert began to walk over to tombstone he had spent most of the day silently staring at. He grazed his hand across the etching in the stone, fingers trailing over the falcon and crescent moon that the Arryns had always been so proud about showing, and he made a mental note that he had to send his regards to Jon's wife Lysa, and their son Robin. Robin was a sickly child, too sheltered and doted on by a mother that was by all accounts a bit off in the head department, but the boy was a mafia Don now, and Robert made a promise to himself that once things were settled in his Seven Cities, and once a replacement for Jon was found, that he would personally make sure that Robin would grow up to become a man his father would be proud of.

His hand rested on the stone now, the Godfather still and unmoving with the exception of languid breaths that escaped him, and Robert had half a mind to fire Dr. Pycelle who, despite all reassurances that whatever it was that Jon Arryn had gone down with was hardly fatal, had been proven wrong at the end of the day. He knew he wouldn't though, Pycelle supposedly being the best doctor in all of Westeros county, but that didn't mean that he couldn't dream about it, if for just a moment. Doctors couldn't save everyone after all, and in the Godfather's own experience, doctors always seemed to have trouble when it came to saving the people that he loved.

He would do right by Jon Arryn, and not just when it came to the man's family. Robert swore to himself that he would also make sure that Jon's legacy remained intact, and for that to be possible he knew that he had to be certain that Jon's successor as Consigliere was someone who was worthy of the title. The eldest of his two younger brothers, Stannis, would certainly expect to be named Consigliere, but Robert knew that Stannis was a better soldier and commander in gang wars than he was a player in the grand Game that was the politics of the mafia.

There was also the Don Tywin Lannister, his father-in-law, and Robert figured that his wife Cersei would try to urge him more than once that the best man to take Jon Arryn's now vacant spot would be her father. Tywin was a smart mafia Don, and a strong and vicious one when the need for it arose, and he was also a rich man that backed Robert and someone that the Godfather would always want in his corner. On top of that, Robert had already cemented a formal alliance through marriage between mafia sects of the Baratheon family and the Lannister family, but the thing that made him reluctant to name Tywin as his Consigliere, no matter what his wife said, was the same thing that Jon Arryn had told him twenty years ago when he had first married Cersei, and that was that he didn't need to make formal alliances with people that he trusted.

Having a wife that he didn't trust was one thing, but having a Consigliere that he couldn't have faith in was a different matter entirely. With that in mind, the Godfather Robert slowly removed his hand from Jon Arryn's tombstone finally, and turned and cast his eyes in the direction of the North. He needed someone that he could trust with his life, Godfather or not, and there was only one person still alive that he had ever let get that close to his heart.

The Godfather then quickly began walking over to the car where his family was waiting for him, and he said nothing to his brother-in-law Jaime when the Kingslayer then walked into step with him. Robert did however spare one last glance over his shoulder to give a parting look at the final resting place of Jon Arryn. He was a man that deserved a more worthy death than the sickness that took him as suddenly as it did, and Robert frowned again, before turning and looking forward once more, perhaps as a way of looking to whatever future was in store for him.

"Kingslayer," the Godfather said at last to the man walking at his side as their shared family came into view, "do you think that your sister would be up for a family trip?"

Once more, Jaime arched an eyebrow in curiosity.