If ASOIAF had been written by another author...


A Song of Ice and Fire, by David Eddings:

Sansa stood on the battlements. She was feeling melancholy; a feeling she
found not entirely unpleasant.
Hearing the familiar waddle behind her, she turned to face Tyrion. His beard
was even more messy than usual, and his mismatched eyes were shot with red.
"Been drinking again, have you?" she sighed.
Tyrion looked at her grumpily. "I'm happy to see you too, my darling wife.
Any word from my oaf of a brother yet?"
"No, milord." She sniffed. "Don't you think it's time for your annual
shower?"
"I was never made for showering," he growled, then shot her a wicked glance.
"Unless, of course, my lady wife would care to join me?"
Sansa's pretty cheeks turned bright red. "My lord!"
Tyrion's expression became somber. "I'm worried about Jaime. Unless I've
misread the Codex completely, he should've been here by now. I have a
feeling that I'm missing something important."
Sansa looked at him worriedly. "Another twist of the prophecy, Tyrion? Isn't
it about time you told me about my role in it?"
Tyrion groaned. "Haven't we been through this many times already, Sansa? I
don't know! The Codex speaks only of the Little Bird, the Lion, the
Wardrobe, the Mountain and the Fat Walda. Something big is supposed to
happen here, and you're part of it."
Sansa couldn't help it. "Why me?" she said with an impish grin.
Tyrion waddled off, muttering curses under his breath.

------

Author: denstorebog

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A Song Of Ice And Fire, by Robert Jordan

Catelyn sniffed, and looked in disgust at her dress. It was a beautiful dark
blue, slashed with black lace, which hugged about a bit too tightly around
the bosom, and was cut lower than she would have preferred. Something to be
worn in private, perhaps.

She decided she did not have time to change, and began to walk back to the
hall. In the wall were niches filled with ceramic lions, and candlesticks so
covered in gilt that they could have been solid gold. The floor was covered
in mosaic dragons that seemed to be hastily repainted with crowned stags.
The ceiling was high, and painted a deep shade of red, and it sloped slowly
up to an even greater height for the entrance to the hall. The door was
thick wood, banded in iron straps, and held in place with a thick wooden
bar. One of the guardsmen was eyeing her bosom with a hungry eye. Catelyn
sniffed and gave the guardsman a level look, and he quickly blushed,
straightened his collar and looked away. Men, she thought, always gazing at
things they can never have.
As the gate swung open with a loud screech, it revealed the dimly lit hall
beyond.

TRANSLATION: Catelyn got ready and went to the hall.

------

Author: Sanelyan

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A Song of Ice And Fire, By RA Salvatore:

With a catlike grace Jon was scaling the cliff. The dangerous fire was
leaping in his amber eyes when he thought of the evil descending on the
peaceful population of the Seven Kingdoms. Ygritte-Goat Cheese was climbing
right behind him, her fair beautiful innocent face showing the thinking
process.

"Ther sky is ver' dark and it is gettin' cold, Jon. We're better to set camp"
reasoned Ygritte-Goat Cheese. Jon almost tumbled down stricken by the
incredible wisdom of the woman. "Dear, dear Ygritte," and his eyes watered.

They set up the camp and despite the imminent danger from the presence of
ten thousand fifteen hundred and twelve Others crawling in all of the dark
corners of the region, Jon set to record his diary.

Jon's Diary:

Friendship is a rarest gift to be given to a bastard. Everyone judges me by
me being baseborn and makes vulgar jokes about it and would taunt me and
torment me and cut me into many little pieces, but for the armor of my faith
in my dear friends...

Suddenly they were under attack. Magically two obsidian scimitars appeared
in Jon's hands and Ygritte pulled the string of her curved bow. A striking
shiny silver magical arrow flew past Jon almost taking away his ear and
pierced roughly twenty of Others, causing them terrifying damage and raining
their mis-matched pieces down on Jon.

"Dear Ygritte," sighed Jon, but his orbs were already sparkling with the
excitement of the upcoming battle with evil. The obsidian blades started a
dance of death, the right one gutting one doomed other and the left one
conducting the Rakhmaninov's Second Symphony. He looked in the eyes of the
doomed creature to the right and saw that it does not know of its nearing
death, just like the doomed creature to the left of him. Instead the
ignorant and purely evil Others wiped their transparent hands and cheered
their spider mounts on. Jon went into the sidelong roll, then into the
back long roll, then he did a triple somersault all the while hacking a
slashing until all of the attacking 20 creatures were not dead. Another 40
were cut down by Ygritte's arrows.

"You are hurt!" yelled Jon panicking, seeing a small scratch on Ygritte's
face, "I am going to heal you." And Jon pulled out the bottle with bluish
liquid out of his pocket and gently smeared it all over Ygritte's pretty fair
beautiful face and stood gasping at the incredible shine of her auburn
locks. Ygritte smiled: "What are you stare on? Shut yor stupid mouth and
kiss me already!" Jon felt dizzy and fell down. In all seventy years of his
life on the surface he could not overcome a trauma of his mother being his
father's unknown mistress. He could not possibly kiss Ygritte. Besides it
was only 20 years since that most wonderful woman broke up with her
boyfriend of old.

------

Author: Domi

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A Song of Ice and Fire, by Terry Brooks

Bran couldn't walk but they were right behind him. He thought back to home,
to the Vale, where he and every small boy who couldn't defend himself came
from and went on countless horrible journeys and throughout all the
adversity they faced they still came out on top much like the hobbits who
lived further south and also always seemed to overcome adversity in the face
the ultimate evil and it made Bran feel like he was a rip of something else
but he wasn't sure what.
Anyway Bran looked over his shoulder and saw the horrible flying dragons
circling towards him. Oh if only the Coldhands were here now to save me, he
thought, but then he thought again, No Bran, you're on your own. He took a
step forward. In the back of his mind an Indian named Two Bears and Six
Women told him "for a young pup to run he has to first learn to walk." That
made a lot of sense to Bran because horrible Indian clichés always said deep
things that made a lot of sense if you really thought about them so he took
another step. One of the Others jumped in his path, a horrible monster of
tentacles and fur and smashed up snouts and right behind it came the sure
sword of Arthur Dayne. "Run Bran," he told the boy and that was the last
thing he remembered before something hit him in the back of the head and
everything went black.
And then Bran overcomes adversity, learns to walk, finds a pair of magical
stones and a sword that reveals truth and then he wins and then he goes home
and reads the Hobbit and then the LOTR so he can leaves instructions on what
his other little relatives from Culhaven need to do when the ultimate evil
threatens the realm.

------

Author: SimonOfSteele

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ASOIAF, By Terry Pratchett

"My Lord," the fat guard said, coming up beside Jon atop the Wall where Jon
stood, looking out at the Haunted Forest, "His Grace would like see you in
the Great Hall."

"His Grace," said Jon, thinking, "I am not too sure about that name."

"Er, pardon, my Lord?"

"His Grace. Just yesterday I was walking across the courtyard when I saw
Stannis Baratheon slip on a puddle of ice. Hardly graceful behavior is it?"

"I suppose not, my Lord."

"It might even be considered clumsy."

"Most probab-"

"So where would His Clumsiness like to see me?"

The guard looked pleased at a question he could answer confidently. "The
Great Hall, my Lord."

"Great hall?" asked Jon, "What's that?"

The guard's face frowned, reminding Jon of the way a ball is dented when
kicked. "The hall where the garrison eats, my Lord."

"Oh, you mean the Common Room."

"Er, yes, my-"

"It is no hall, most definitely. I've been in many halls in my time and that
is most definitely a Room."

"Um."

"And I would not say it was great."

"Well-"

"Has this Common Room made any significant achievements?" Jon pressed. "Has
the Common Room proved itself in combat, rescued any maidens, gained any
qualifications in Business Management?" Jon eyed the fat guard and saw his
jaw begin to quiver.

"No, but, but, it is where we eat my Lord.

Jon gave it some thought. "Eating is necessary," he murmured to himself. He
looked up at the guard.

"Then perhaps we should rename it the Not Great but Necessary Common Room."
he said at last.

"Uh."

"If you are referring to great in the other sense of size, then again I
would have to disagree. Compared to other rooms I have seen it is not all
that big, and even compared to other Common Rooms is not worth note. Sam
took measurements the other day and actually declared it quite small."

The guard frowned again, his mouth working silently. "The Quite Small Not
Great But Necessary Common Room?" he ventured.

"Yes," Jon said, nodding, "yes, that would be more accurate."

Silence. The guard shifted uneasily.

More silence. The guard again shifted, making Jon wonder absently if the fat
man was having trouble supporting his huge wait on his feet.

"So." the guard said at last.

"So... what?" Jon asked, looking up.

"Can you come to The Quite Small Not Great But Necessary Common Room to see
His Clumsiness?"

"What? Oh, no, I'm busy. You should have asked sooner."

------

Author: VarysTheSpider

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ASOIAF by Terry Goodkind

Tyrion had never seen anyone so beautiful in his life. He had just met her
but he already felt that he loved her more than anything. He couldn't do
anything without her. If she died, he would soon follow after.

*100 pages of the same paragraph over and over, with some lovemaking in
between.*

Tyrion knew that he loved her with all his heart and could never live
without her, but right now he had the problem of that 109823409823092
million wights and Others coming at him. He figured that with that many
enemies at hand he was as good as dead, but at least he sent the love of his
life away. Did he mention that he couldn't live without her and loved her
more than anything in the world?

As the army of undead approached, Tyrion decided he could do with a quick
raping. Even though he loved the other girl with all his heart and would die
without her, what would this chapter be without a gritty rape scene?

After he bagged the wench he remembered that there was an army of
109238927309823409 bazillion wights and Others coming straight at him. The
first one reached him and beat the living crap out of him. Tyrion had never
felt pain like this before. Then, all of the sudden, he remembered. Out of
nowhere he pulled out his trusty nuclear bomb spell and killed the entire
2098230498230928304928304982039 triple gazillion wights, Others, Freys,
mercenaries, dog-faced gremlins, and chia pets that were threatening his
world and the girl that he couldn't live without because he loved her so
much. Did he mention how much he loved her yet? And that he just bear the
thought of living without her?

Now that the enemy was defeated, and Tyrion had barely broken a sweat, he
decided it was time to go have more sex.

The end.

------

Author: Father Rahl

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ASOIAF - as an internet chat log:

------

** You entered channel: Harrenhal.
** Your nickname is: Arya
<Arya> hello ?
<Arya> anyone here
<Arya> /who
Users currently in channel: ChIsWyCk, Hot_Pie, ADMIN_Weese
<Arya> hey HP
<Hot_Pie> sup
<Hot_Pie> arya d00d this channel sux
<Arya> yeah
<Arya> lets go to Outside_Harrenhal, its a pretty l33t room
<Hot_Pie> no
<Hot_Pie> i already tried, its password protected, we cant go there
<Arya> wtf, u mean we have to stay here??
<Hot_Pie> yah
<Arya> wtf
<ADMIN_Weese> lol lamers u stfu now or be banned, u hear me?
<Arya> uh oh
<Arya> /nick weasel
** Arya changed nick to: weasel
<ADMIN_Weese> lol weasel ur my bitch now, u hear?
<weasel> yessir
<weasel> grr
<weasel> /msg weasel ser gregor, the hound, the tickler, WEESE...
** Weasel whispers to you: ser gregor, the hound, the tickler, WEESE...
<weasel> /msg weasel ser gregor, the hound, the tickler, WEESE...
** Weasel whispers to you: ser gregor, the hound, the tickler, WEESE...
<weasel> /msg weasel ser gregor, the hound, the tickler, WEESE...
*** Caution: Spamming will not be tolerated.
<weasel> wtf
** ADMIN_Jaquen has entered the channel.
<ADMIN_Jaquen> sup all
<weasel> /msg ADMIN_Jaquen hey its me arya
** ADMIN_Jaquen whispers to you: sup arya, thanx for ur help the other day
<weasel> /msg ADMIN_Jaquen no prob
** ADMIN_Jaquen whispers to you: if anyone bothers u, just lemme know ok? i
got l337 admin rights in here
<ChIsWyCk> lolz yeah ok so me n the other guys went to some porn site the
other days w all these hardcore pics of chicks getting raped
<ChIsWyCk> anyone want the url?
<weasel> wtf
<weasel> /msg ADMIN_Jaquen kick chiswyck
*** ChIsWyCk was banned by ADMIN_Jaquen (valar morghulis, lamer)
<weasel> lol
<weasel> /nick GhostOfHarrenhal
** weasel changed nick to: GhostOfHarrenhal
** Hot_Pie whispers to you: i just talked to gendry, he says he met u irl
and ur not really a guy like u said
<GhostOfHarrenhal> /msg Hot_Pie u just stfu now, dont tell anyone
** Hot_Pie whispers to you: ok ok its cool w me
<ADMIN_Weese> WEASEL u piece of crap where did u go
<GhostOfHarrenhal> wtf
<GhostOfHarrenhal> /msg ADMIN_Jaquen kick ADMIN_Weese
*** ADMIN_Weese was banned by ADMIN_Jaquen (valar morghulis, lamer)
<GhostOfHarrenhal> lol
<Hot_Pie> lol
<ADMIN_Jaquen>
<GhostOfHarrenhal> jaquen u have the pass for channel 'Outside_Harrenhal' ?
<ADMIN_Jaquen> maybe
<GhostOfHarrenhal> give it to me
<ADMIN_Jaquen> naw, i'll ban ppl for u, but i cant give u that pass
<GhostOfHarrenhal> any ppl?
<ADMIN_Jaquen> yah
<GhostOfHarrenhal> /msg ADMIN_Jaquen kick ADMIN_Jaquen
<ADMIN_Jaquen> wtf
<ADMIN_Jaquen> hold on a sec
<ADMIN_Jaquen> u dont mean that
* Hot_Pie yields.
<GhostOfHarrenhal> sure i do - unless u give me the pass

---
Author: denstorebog

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John Madden Play by Play of the battle of Kings Landing

John Madden: Ok now you got your ships comin up the stream, they're trying
to blitz the main gate. What the defense is going to want to do is stop
those ships from reaching the interior.

Al Michaels: Both teams want a win real bad

John Madden: Right if you don't want to win, you're not going to win,
winning is all about who plays the hardest and has the biggest heart, cause
when you got winners and losers, only the winners win.

Al Michaels: Looks like Stannis's team fell into a trap

John Madden: Traps are what you got to watch out for, any good defense knows
the best way to win is to do something unexpected. When you do something
unexpected, the other team is taken by surprise.

Al Michaels: I wish you'd die.

------

Author: UOrules

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Here's my own (weak, no doubt) attempt to try Vladimir Nabokov; Petyr
Baelish always did have a bit of Humbert Humbert in him, I think...

*******

Sansa, light of my life, fire of my loins. My sin, my soul.

She was Lady Lannister in King's Landing in her too-small gown, standing
next to her runt husband with the mismatched eyes. She was Alayne Stone here
at Eyrie. She was Sansa Stark to her late brothers. But in my arms she was
always Sansa.

Did she have a precursor? She did, indeed she did. In point of fact, there
might have been no Sansa at all had I not loved, one summer, a certain
initial girl-child. In a castle atop the Trident. Oh when? About as many
years before Sansa was born as my age was that summer. (You can always count
on a murder for a fancy prose style.)

My dear lords and ladies, my defense is what the singers, the misinformed,
simple, golden-tongued singers envied. Look at this tangle of thorns.

------

Author: Harry the Heir

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Stand back people, here comes J. R. R. Tolkien.

The sprawling sea flowed around Ser Davos Seaworth as he stood at the prow
of his ship. The Esperanto, who are the Lepancirino, had not been willing to
build a ship, but at the high point of Ser Davos' speech he had appeared to
them so regal that they had known love in their hearts. And they had built
his ship. And they had said among them that Davos was the Prince Who Was
Promised. And Davos knew in his heart that this was wrong but did not
contradict them, nor did he stay their adoration, as he had known pride.

Davos continued to stare and in the distance a great face of rock jutted out
of the flowing sea that looked as like the end of the world, for certainly
no man in the history of Westeros, that is the Seven Kingdoms, that is the
Land of the Andals, had ever sailed this many leagues to the North before.

And lo! No sooner had Ser Davos spotted the rock face than he beheld a great
many ships, thirty in all if his sight was true. Great and tall and big and
wide and strong were the ships, with high banners of green and red and blue.
The banners of the Wildlings.

And Ser Davos, Lord of the Rainwood, found himself drawn to the majesty of
those ships that were his enemy and he discovered that he did not want to
destroy the ships that Melisandre had told him to, but capture them instead
and keep their beauty in the world. Thus he stood in thought as the Wildling
armada grew closer, knowing in his heart what an ill thing it would be to
destroy such magnificent vessels.

And behold! from behind Davos did Salladhor Saan emerge. "The black foe is
thither on the horizon," he said, "we must begin our attack ere nightfall."

"There fleet is poised to assail our shore near Eastwatch?"

"My heart tells me so."

"Now I see the ships I can not bring myself to do the deed." Davos said.

"You must!" cried Saan. "Even if it is through fell sorcery. They can not be
allowed to assault our lands. Nor can we attempt a conventional attack. We
are but one ship and must use the deviltry for the good of the realm."

"Yes," said Davos setting his heart, "Why do they not lift anchor?"

"The minds of Wildlings are oft queer."

"Yes. We must attack now." Davos looked up and saw that the deepening
twilight, heralding the end of yet another day of the world, was fast
ending.

And so it came to pass that Ser Davos Seaworth used the deviltry taught to
him by the lady Melisandre, who claimed to be of the light but wasn't, and
the Wildling fleet was broken, and their masts were torn down, and their
decks sundered, and their seamen cast into the sea, and the host that had
prepared to invade Westeros, that is the Seven Kingdoms, from the North,
that is beyond-the-Wall, was gone from the world save in memory of the
Maesters, those that remember when all else have forgotten.

And from everafter Davos walked in black thought, as though a great burden
was set on his mind and heart, bearing the knowledge that he destroyed ships
that were never meant to be destroyed, that his decision was flawed and his
wisdom was foul, and not a word Stannis Baratheon, King of the Narrow Sea
and Wall, or the boy Jon Snow, Lord Commander of the Night's Watch and
natural son to Eddard Stark, who was Warden of the North and The Lord of
Winterfell, could say could pierce that veil of darkness that covered his
heart, till eventually, grown old by twenty years in the space of several
months, so did he die, and his spirit left the world and where it went no
man can say. Alas! such is the doom of all men of Westeros.

------

Author: VarysTheSpider

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Well, I figured that it's time to call on heavier artillery, so here is a Dostoyevskiy's attempt....

The fog was blown into the city from the seaside, making it almost
impossible to breath. Jaime Tywinovich Lannister coughed and pulled his
worn white cloak tighter about his bony shoulders. He then walked slowly
through the grayish streets of King's Landing observing lean faces of pacing
people and suddenly his glance would pick up a man or a woman and he would
stop and gaze upon them, his lips twitching in a strange smile. That was not
the way those people looked that amused Jaime, that was the fact that they
were unable to guess at his secret, unable to decipher him.

A beggar girl from the look of her caught a fold of Jamie's cloak: "Bread,
milord, bread, please for the Seventh's sake..." Jaime's hands were
trembling as he with sudden shyness turned his pockets inside out hurriedly,
searching for coins. The girl was no older than seven and her face was
marked by that special sort of pride beggars have and feverish scarlet of
her chick bones betrayed her unfortunate condition to Jamie. "What is your
name, child? " asked he gently, leaning towards her. She was suddenly astir.
"Arya," cried she and pushed away his hand clutching few coins and tried to
run. Her small figure was then shaken by a fit of cough and she collapsed
convulsing on the ground. Jamie leaned over her, and a small crowd started
gathering round. A peasant looking lady with weathered yet kindly face said
pitifully: "'that's old Ned Rickardovich's girl." Jaime turned to the
speaker: "You will know then the way to her home, kind woman?" The woman
nodded and with sudden ease lifted the girls body of the ground. Jaime
tried awkwardly to give woman the money. She shook her head: "You will have
use of them yet, my poor man. Go, dear, nothing for you to do here any
 more." Jaime went, hunched and sorrowful.

*****************************

The rooms in the Red Keep were low and unpleasing. "How can they let a man
to leave in the unpleasing room like that? Dark, narrow rooms are poison for
the soul," thought Jaime. Aloud he told slowly thoughtfully: "I have met a
beggar girl today, Cersey Tywinovna. Her name was Arya. The most poor
creature she was. I think I shall marry her." Cersey's face grew pale, and
her gaze clutched to his chin as if its movement when he spoke was the most
important for her to watch. "Arya Eddardovna? I was thinking that you were
Sansa Eddardovna's pet, my dear Jamie Tywinovich." He laughed in agony:
"Even if so, what is the difference, I beg you, Cersey?" Torment appeared in
her eyes and she raised and walked over to the window and turned to him.
"Indeed, no difference Jaime. I am Robert's," and she laughed hard. That
laugh was not a gaily sort of laugh, and her eyes glowed feverishly. Jaime
crossed the room and cried: "You are innocent, Cersey Tywinovna, and you are
pure, you are innocent." She looked at him suddenly quieted and whispered:
"I dreamt that one would come and tell that I am innocent. Sometimes I
dreamt and dreamt about it. And then Robert comes and despoils me."

------

Author: Domi

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Here's JK Rowling. More of a satire really.

When Arya arrived at bravos she was sad. She missed her family, her half
brother most of all. Jon had always been nice to her. She felt tears in her
eyes that were wet.

A man approached her from somewhere. He had a big beard and a big head. He
reminded Arya of a big man.

"So," he said loudly, "You have come to be Faceless Man! To learn the ways
of killing."

"I'm Arya Stark and I'm not a killer!" Arya said hotly.

"Yes you are!" The man said fiercely.

"No I'm not!" Arya said just as hotly

"Yes you are! You've killed and that makes you a killer!"

"But I don't want to be!" Arya said angrily.

"You should. A dead enemy is a thing of beauty." The man said grimly.

Arya was shocked. "That's a terrible thing to say!"

The man looked away. "Come with me."

They walked down a grey road to a big blue house. Along the way Arya saw
many strange things. Two men were arguing over a horse that had six legs and
a group of women were talking very quickly about the best way to stew rabbit
with magic.

"Do you have much magic here?" she asked the man.

"Magic?" he rumbled, "Oh yes, plenty of magic around here, especially here."
He gestured at his mid section.

Arya gasped. "Do you have a wand in your pocket?" She asked, hesitating.

The man chuckled. "Well. I don't like to brag, but."

They reached the house. The roof was sloped and the grass outside was green.
Arya thought it was the type of house where someone might live. The man
walked up to the door. "Openus the bloody doorus!" he bellowed. The door
opened revealing a man dressed in clothes.

"You could have just knocked, my Lord. Or used your key." He said
disapprovingly.

"I could have, you're right. Come, Arya." Arya wondered how he knew her name
but then remembered that she had told him.

They walked through a corridor into a large room with a wooden table in the
centre and the man folded his arms.

"These are bad times, Arya. The lord of Myr is lose again." He said gravely.

"You mean Lord Fart."

"Don't say his name!" he hissed.

"Fart."

"Don't!"

"Fart, fart, fart, fart, FART!" She shouted.

The man was silent for a while. "Not many people would dare say a word
filled with such terror as." he paused, "fart," he shuddered. "I think your
first mission as a Faceless Man will be to kill him."

Arya was taken aback. "How can I face Fart? I'm not trained."

"Doesn't matter."

"I'm unprepared."

"Doesn't matter."

"I'm still young."

"Doesn't matter."

"But why do I have to kill him? He's never done me any harm."

The man looked uncomfortable but it might have just been his chair. "Well,
actually he did try to kill you when you were young."

"Why?"

He shrugged. "No one knows."

"Why didn't he succeed?" She asked wonderingly.

"Something to do with love, no one really knows." He said simply.

"Why didn't my parents tell me?" She asked demandingly.

"They're both dead. Look, you just have to kill him that's all." He said
matter-of-factly.

Arya sighed. An untrained, young, inexperienced and unprepared child going
up against a lord as terrifying as Lord Fart. Could it really work.?

------

Author: VarysTheSpider

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Dr. Seuss on the red wedding

Cat was a very strange woman, at that,
You could say she was an aristocrat.
She was invited, to a par-tay,
She thought, hmm, I'll be on my way.

She came with her son, as an honoured guest,
And back at her home was an empty nest.
She hoped this party would not go astray,
No child's life did she want to pay.

But Lord Frey had a plan, a very nasty one
He killed her first son, he thought it was fun.
Cat was in shock, she knew not what to do,
She grabbed a dagger, she would use it too.
She found Frey's grandson, his name was Jinglebells,
She wanted to send him down to jinglehells.

As she held him there by the throat,
Here's what she said, and I quote:
I really do not like your town,
But I will not put this dagger down,
She said to Lord Frey, she said with a frown.

A son for a son, suggested Cat,
But Walder Frey laughed at that.
She had no choice, she had to act.
Lord Walder had refused her pact.

She slit his throat, she slit it good,
She slit his throat, as hard as she could.
Her next thoughts were of her man Ned,
And now she would join him as one of the dead.

------

Author: lordofthesox

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Here comes Tom Clancy! It's short, and it's slightly marked by me reading The Sum of all Fears atm, but whatever.

As Joffrey entered the Council Room, he could see that everyone was busy. A
map was spread out on the table, and Tywin was studying it frantically.
"Morning, Your Highness. Haven't you slept well? You look awful." More awful
than usual, he didn't add. Joffrey poured himself some coffee, and proceeded
to bend down over the map as well. "Do we know when Stannis is coming?" "In
fact we do. FLOWERS sent a new report to Varys last week informing us about
the planned invasion, but the Spider just isn't giving us as much intel as
we could use nowadays". Cersei entered just in time to hear Tywin's last
statement, pouring herself a cup of coffee as well. "Varys is beginning to
be old. And not to mention the fact that he informed Kevan before talking to
Joffrey! He should be relieved of his command." "Cersei dear, there is no
need to worry", Tywin proclaimed. "Our fleet has been armed with this new
special arrow technology that we stole from an Asshai factory two months
ago. Not to mention the fact that we have seeing tubes, and will spot
Stannis' fleet long before he spots ours. Deny them information, enough not
to see the chain, and we will trap them and eliminate them."

------

Author: Nevyn

_____________________________________________________________________________

ASoiAf as if written by Ernest Hemingway...

Tyrion sat down on a bench in the hold of the ship. The great blue sea was
knocking the ship around like a drunken boxer, and Tyrion felt like getting
quite tight now himself. He poured a tall glass of brandy. The old brandy,
that had never failed him. He sighed and let the brandy take his mind back
to days of his youth. He tried hard to remember, tried to see the tall trees
swaying in the wind, the high hills around the Rock. He had been happy then.
Then it came back, an old memory. He saw himself as he and Jaime rode about
their ancestral holdings. It was so easy to see it in his head now. He still
remembered with great clarity how they had found Tysha then. Even then, she
had been beautiful. She had loved him. He had thought it was true, then he
had learned otherwise, then once more learned it to be true. It was no good.
Lies, everything seemed one person's lie or another's. Damn them all to
hell, he thought. They all are all liars, even the good ones. He took
another big pull of the brandy and slammed the glass down. He stared out the
ship's porthole and it began to rain.

------

Author: Jacen Stormblade

_____________________________________________________________________________

Here's a Poe...

As Tyrion sat in his chambers
Deeply thinking, almost sleeping
He heard a creeping outside his door
'Tis the whore, that I adore,
That I hear outside my chambers doors
Only this, and nothing more.
In the moon arose a vision
Ghastly dead and bathed in crimson,
Of a king of yore
Clad for hunting, yet no more
Quote King Robert "I got Gored"
Only this and nothing more....

Or Lovecraft

The other was hideous in it appearance, a monstrous thing from out of time
and space. Its skin was coated with a putrid growth, that glowed in the
darkness, revealing its gaunt, malformed figure. A slimy broth erupted from
where its mouth should have been, and it reach out of the shadows with
elongated limbs that bent and twisted in ways not of this earth. As a scream
tore from Jon’s throat, he became aware of a deep hum coming from the
creature, a low, primordial tune, that was never meant to come from any
living creature. The sound grew louder, a litany of death and madness,
threatening to pull him under its dark current, and devour his very being....

------

Author: Tall Man 13

_____________________________________________________________________________

Monty Python

Gregor: 'Tis but a scratch'
Oberyn: 'A scratch? I've pinned you to the bleedin' ground'
Gregor: 'No you haven't'
Oberyn: 'Well what's that bloomin' great spear doing then?'
Gregor: 'I'm invincible'
Oberyn: 'You're a psycho'

or

Oberyn: 'So, Tyrion, your sister - does she 'go'? Eh? Nudge, nudge. Wink,
wink'

------


Author: dajamieson

_____________________________________________________________________________

And now FRANZ KAFKA!

When he woke up one morning from troubled dreams, Ser Waymar Royce discovered
he'd become a wight.

This was most bothersome for Waymar, as he was a common sort of man who
believed in doing his job, and hardly held with age-old wars to destroy the
race of men. Such things were foolishness, and he wondered why people would
dare persist in them. Still he could not deny that his hands were black, and
his eyes flickered blue, and his body most certainly felt stiff and cold,
and so, with a heavy heart, he went to see his dark masters, the Others.

The Others were sitting a dark room, with red floors, and black walls.
"You're late," announced one.

"I didn't know I was to come here at all,” stated Waymar.

"You always knew. You were born knowing. When you went to bed at nights,
this meeting was at the back of your mind. You planned ahead on it. But you
have arrived late, and now you try to deny it, and so you claim that did not
know," stated another Other.

"You are a fool and weakling," said another Other. "I despise you - yes,
despise you! You fill my heart with loathing!"

The first Other glanced at him again. "You are to go to Castle Black."

Waymar nodded. Yes, he would go to Castle Black, and there, perhaps, he
would slaughter those who opposed him, and the world would again make sense.
"Which way to Castle Black?"

The second Other laughed. "He wants to know the way to Castle Black." After
this, all the Others started to laugh in unison.

Eventually, the third Other spoke. "There is no Castle Black. There never
was a Castle Black. You imagined Castle Black."

Waymar felt colour rising to his cheeks, or would have, if his blood could
flow. "But you told me to go to Castle Black!"

The first Other shook its head. "We said no such thing. My how you lie! Has
there ever been such a liar as you...?"

------

Author: Rhialto the Marvellous

_____________________________________________________________________________


If Jane Austen had written ASOIAF

It was Lady Oleanna Tyrell's habit to partake of tea in the Great Hall every
day at 5pm. During this time she would gather around her those of her
relatives who were most in need of good matchmaking advice - for it is a
truth commonly acknowledged that a young woman of fine birth and finer
manners is most often in need of a helping hand where potential husbands are
concerned.
On this particular day her niece Margaery Tyrell, a young woman of uncommon
breeding and wit, sat next to Ned Stark's heir Sansa. Oleanna viewed Sansa
with something approaching distaste. It wasn't that the girl was lacking in
looks, indeed she had distinct possibilities, but something about her was
wrong. Perhaps, Lady Tyrell mused, it was true that these Northern girls
were bred differently - instead of a prince possibly Sansa would be happier
with a fine upstanding gentleman farmer. She ran the possibilities over in
her mind before alighting on the one she thought would best suit.
Delicately fingering the plate of honey cakes in front of her, she began her
assault.
"Sansa my dear - have you given any more thought to the plan we suggested."
Sansa stared wistfully round the hall.
"Lord Joffrey is a fine man my lady," she said. "But."
Margaery leaned over. "Don't fret, dear Sansa, we understand that a man of
Joffrey's uncommon good looks and fine manners might seem overwhelming at
first."
Oleanna held up one graceful hand. "Enough Margaery dear," she said employing
the commanding tone of voice that had so swiftly silenced the King himself.
"I have given some thought to your plight and come up with the perfect
solution. My grandson, I feel, would suit. He is a kind man and one whom I
feel in time you could come to love."
A slow blush spread over Sansa's cheeks. "Oh your ladyship how wonderful,"
she said. "I never dreamed that you would so clearly understand. I will
endeavour to do my best to make Ser Loras a fine wife."
"Silence child." Oleanna sighed inwardly. The girl was clearly more stupid
than even she had imagined.

------

Author: sarah

_____________________________________________________________________________

And now--Alfred Bester...

The Demolished Dragon

Jaime Lannister's eyes flashed defiant on his savage face, a beast of prey
in the shape of a man. His hand gripped Rorge's throat. "Tell me who made
the order! And what are these Dragons I keep hearing about...?"

Rorge squirmed uncomfortable. "Don't know man, no. Keep me in the dark. I
just do job, see..."

Jaime snarled. "Damn you, you must know something..."

Rorge whimpered. "Hoat, man, Hoat. He do it, it him!"

Jaime shook his head. "No. Hoat's dead, and anyway he lacked the guts for
that kind of work. This order had a purpose..."

Rorge winced, the strain visible. "Don't know man, don't know..." Suddenly,
his head jerked back like a puppet on a string. There was a sickening crack,
and then he was dead.

Jaime's eyes darted around, wary. "Who's there? Answer me!"

An almost bodiless voice came back to him. Merely an interested party, Ser
Lannister. Do go on with your work.

Jaime ran towards where the voice seemed to come from. "Damn it, do you
think I don't know what you are? I've felt you before..."

Yes, you have. In Harrenhal. And then again in King's Landing. But don't let
that fact cloud your judgement...

Jaime stopped and screamed. "It was you wasn't it? You're the one who had
them maim me!"

There was a sort of rustling that might have served as a chuckle. Very
astute, Ser Lannister. But also incomplete...

"What are you saying?" Jaime snarled, looking desperately for an opponent he
could fight.

The clever man never reveals all his tricks. You should know that. The voice
paused. Though as you've no doubt realized, it involves dragons...

Jaime realized quickly that the presence was now gone. Choking back a cry of
rage he began to move again. So his enemy wanted to play games? Well, let
him. His agony had remade him into something more powerful than before, and
he had sworn that he would have his revenge.

Jaime walked ahead, not knowing where he would have to go, and not caring.

Far away, Bran opened his eyes. "He does not suspect. He has only the merest
inklings of what we intend..."

Tyrion glanced at him, worried. "This is a dangerous move, I'd say. Jaime
Lannister is far too unwieldy to be used so lightly."

Bran smirked at him, a cynical expression on his face. "Are you sure you're
not letting personal feelings cloud your judgement, Tyrion?"

Tyrion shrugged. "He is my brother, but that's not what worries me. Jaime is
all temper, no discipline..."

Dany nodded. "I agree. We've spent too much time on the Dragons to risk
this. If this goes wrong - then we have nothing left..."

Bran shook his head. "We have no choice. Jaime is what is needed to unlock
the Dragon's powers. He is an unstable tool, yes, but an unstable tool is
what's needed for this job." Bran leaned back in his chair. "Besides, I've
included a safety." He shut his eyes. "Arya...?"

Yes, brother.

"Is he still in your sights..."

Say the word and he is dead...

Bran nodded. "Very good sister. That is all." He opened his eyes, and
regarded his fellows amusedly. "It takes an animal to kill an animal, does
it not?" His expression straightened. "This may have begun with vengeance,
but it's moved beyond that. Jaime is the trigger." A cold smile crossed his
face. "And we hold the gun..."

In the distance, a wolf howled.

------

Author: Rhialto the Marvellous

_____________________________________________________________________________

Well, here goes a piece written by a group of "female novelists" headed by Barbara Delinsky and Danielle Steel.

Chapter 1

Brienne gave a last critical look to her outfit. The pink sateen lay loosely
around her small breasts, embraced her waist tightly and then fall to her
feet in generous folds. Brienne acquired this dress by chance, and now it
was the only thing that she could wear for the occasion. The hand-made
Myrish lace decorated the bodice generously, and made it unnecessary to add
any other accessories. So from jewellery Brienne left only a small bracelet
with pink garnets given to her by her father. It matched the colour of her
dress marvellously.

It was an important event, meeting with the bear. Brienne wondered for a
moment if Jaime will be there, but than she was angry at herself for her own
silliness. She knew very well, that Jaime had left Harrenhal yesterday.
Besides, even if he did not, he cared not for her, that much was obvious.
"Remember, he saw you all naked, and he acted like you were a piece of
furniture? No, Brienne, you should stop dreaming about THAT man. He is rude,
impossible and he is in love with that fabulous Cersei," said Brienne to
herself and went on with her chores. Indeed, who can afford to dream of
Jaime, when they have a bear to face?

Chapter 2.

Jaime did not know why he went back to Harrenhal. May be it was that vision
of Brienne's fabulous body in the dim bathhouse that he caught by chance,
may be it was something else, he did not realize yet. So he was back in
Harrenhal. It was not long before he found Brienne, of course surrounded by
other men's attention as she was fighting a bear in the bear pit. Jaime
found himself admiring the woman again. He was getting used to living with
that admiration. And she had fabulous body too. One can say immediately that
she spent long hours in a gym. Jaime did not notice how he jumped down the
bear pit too involved into his fantasies about Brienne. The fantasies he
should not have had. After all he was a Kingslayer and in love with that
fabulous Cersei - a wonderful woman like Brienne deserved more.

------

Author: Domi

_____________________________________________________________________________

Here we go, folks, "ASOIAF" as interpreted by Emily Brontë:

Sansa Stark's unearthly beauty was only enhanced by the soft melancholy in
her eyes, which seemed to gaze through objects, as though she were not
looking at them at all, but at some distant scene yet to come.

Sandor crossed the room in two big strides, then took her in his arms and
covered her face with kisses, thousands of kisses, more kisses than he had
ever given or received in his lifetime, though he found it agony to look
upon her face, the face he had loved for so long and yet would never have,
as she was married to another.

'I shall never be at peace,' said Sansa, 'for as long as we are parted peace
shall never find me. And parted we shall be, for I shall die.'

He wrenched free of her and ground his teeth. 'You deserve death, for you
had no right to refuse me, to marry another man. You are cruelty itself, and
false.'

Sansa moaned and was overcome with a paroxysm of the heart, and covered her
face to hide the livid emotion which was plainly written upon it. 'You're
not the Sandor I knew, the Sandor who is captured inside my soul, as I am
enclosed inside this prison. Soon I shall escape into the glorious world
beyond this one, where I shall be so far and above you that you will seem
most insignificant. I shall love you yet; do not be sullen.'

Sandor caressed her as she clasped his neck. 'Truly you must be possessed by
R'hllor,' cried he savagely as he looked upon the bloodless vindictiveness
on her white face. 'You torment me now, and will even when you are taken
from me and buried deep within the earth. The words you say to me now will
haunt me for all time; may YOU not rest so long as I am living!'

'Let me alone, let me alone,' sobbed Sansa.

'WHY did you despise and betray me; I, who was your own heart? No god could
have parted us, no force in this or any other realm, excepting YOUR own
will. Haunt me then, as the murdered to their murderers, do not abandon me
to this abyss in which I cannot find you!'

He dashed his head until the blood flowed and howled like some great hound,
and his lover observed that he was quite beyond being consoled or quieted.
Sansa held him as tightly as her strength would allow, a mad resolution in
her mind, her tears washing his face.

'You must not go,' sobbed she, 'for this is the last time! I have done wrong
and I am paying for it! I shall die, I shall die!'

------

Author: Nichol Storm

_____________________________________________________________________________

JOFFREY I (PART 2)

Act 5 Scene ii

Enter Littlefinger

Littlefinger :

To both the sisters have I sworn my love,
But only one of them stayed constant to me.
A pity it's the one I never cared for!
Which of them did I take? Both? One? Well...Lysa -
I knocked her up. But was it Cat that first time?
I thought so then - it's why I challenged Brandon.
(What a romantic fool calf love had made me!)
But if it was, why did she spurn me later?
Now I think back, I really can't be certain.
(Well, it was dark....I'd had a few too many.....)
In any case, Cat went and married Eddard -
After old Aerys barbecued his father
And Brandon learnt that threatening a Dragon
In public is a very bad idea -
So in revenge I "leaked" to all and sundry
That I had had her first! And Hoster Tully,
He wouldn't even let me marry Lysa,
The pompous prat! She went to old Jon Arryn,
With lots of Tully archers as a sweetener.
But I showed them! Oh no... hang on a minute -
That revelation's for a later volume!
(The GUCT crowd have got an inkling
But Martin still has quite a few surprises
Tucked up his sleeve, and plenty of red herrings -
My money is on him to keep them guessing.)
Where was I? Oh yes! Lysa came in handy
With my career, and then, when I was ready,
I tipped the wink to her to off her husband
And write that letter to the Starks accusing
The Lannisters - and all the rest is history!
I really have been very very clever.
Cut to the chase! I've got my hands on Sansa,
Who is the spitting image of her mother
At the same age - it's really quite uncanny -
And much to my surprise the little ninny
Is causing me some very odd sensations.
Does this derail my plans? To take young Sansa
Exasperates, makes mad her aunty Lysa
(Though she's been pretty flaky now for ages
In any case, as well as fat and maudlin,
And doting on her wretched puling offspring)
And hardly shall I carry out my side,
Her husband being alive...but then he won't be,
Thanks to the Tyrells, so that just leaves Lysa.
Do I still need her? What about young Robert?
And Sansa's masquerading as my bastard,
Which could prove awkward. Well, let's wait and see.
I trust the inspiration of the moment.
Though deeplaid schemes are good, they're hardly needed
When everyone around me is so stupid.
I've got it all now - title, money, land,
Revenge on those who slighted me before,
And this is just the start. From no-one to...
King perhaps? As I 'm sure you'll all agree
I've earned it! Oh, the cleverness of me!

------

Author: The Sea King’s Daughter

_____________________________________________________________________________

WAITING FOR STANNIS By Samuel Beckett...

(A stage with a large tree. TYRION and POD stand next to it, dressed as
bums.)

POD. Why are we here?

TYRION. We're waiting for Stannis.

POD. What if he doesn't come?

TYRION. He'll come.

POD. But what if he doesn't.

TYRION. Then we'll wait for him tomorrow.

POD. You said that yesterday.

TYRION. I did not!

POD. Yes, you did.

TYRION. All right, I did, but only because you asked me yesterday.

POD. I did not.

TYRION. Yes, you did.

POD. What will we do when he gets here?

TYRION. Kill him.

POD. What?

TYRION. We'll kill him.

POD. Well then why would he come if he knows he'll die?

TYRION. He doesn't know that. In fact, he thinks he'll kill us.

POD. And what if he does?

TYRION. What?

POD. Kill us.

TYRION. He won't.

POD. But what if he does?

(Tyrion shrugs)

TYRION. Well, it will be a change of scenery.

(Pod glares at him.)

POD. Why'd you say that?

TYRION. I thought it was clever.

POD. Well it wasn't.

TYRION. Someone's coming.

(Bronn and Varys walk onstage. Bronn is leading Varys on a rope.)

BRONN. Why are you on my land?

TYRION. We're waiting for Stannis.

BRONN. And why--oh, bugger all this. I'm the wrong character for this sort
of nonsense...

(He walks offstage, and pushes Littlefinger on. Littlefinger grabs Varys's
rope, and glances at Tyrion.)

LITTLEFINGER. And why are you waiting for Stannis?

TYRION. To kill him.

LITTLEFINGER. What?

TYRION. To kill him.

LITTLEFINGER. What?

TYRION. To kill him!

LITTLEFINGER. What?

TYRION. TO KILL HIM!

LITTLEFINGER. Well, you don't have to yell.

(He walks off, yanking Varys after him. Varys is annoyed)

VARYS. But I didn't do my speech...

LITTLEFINGER. Just forget it.

VARYS. Can I at least have a line?

LITTLEFINGER. No.

(They walk off. Davos enters.)

DAVOS. Stannis sent me to tell you he won't be coming.

TYRION. Have we met?

DAVOS. Of course not. We haven't even shared a scene.

(He exits. Pod looks at Tyrion.)

POD. Can we go now?

TYRION. No.

POD. Why not?

TYRION. Because we're wait- oh, Bronn had the right idea. Let's go Pod.
There's a brothel and a bottle of wine with my name on it...

(They exit.)

FIN
------

Author: Rhialto the Marvellous

_____________________________________________________________________________

If Matt Stone and Trey Parker wrote ASOIAF:

"Oh my God! They killed Ned!"
"You bastards!"
"Oh my God! They killed Robb!"
"You bastards!"
Oh my God! They killed Oberyn!"
"You Bastards!"

Jon Scowls, "I had nothing to do with it! Anyway they need me now to avenge
my father and my half brother, so screw you guys, I'm going home!"

Bran looks thoughtful, "You know, I learned something today. It doesn't
matter if my legs will ever work, what matters is me trying my best to learn
to use the abilities I have. So I can go and totally destroy the
Lannisters!"

"Errrrrlivnalie, Hodor!"

------

Author: Drawkcabi

_____________________________________________________________________________

A Song of Ice and Fire by the late (and great) Douglas Adams.


A Freerider's guide to the Seven Kingdoms (Don't Panic!)


In the unfashionable northern end of Westeros live a family that go by the
name of Stark. There are many things odd about this family when compared
with the rest of Westeros. Firstly, they like the cold, which is strange in
itself, and secondly, they value honour, which is equally strange if only
because it is as equally bad for your health as the cold. In fact, maesters
in the Citadel (living in the hot, as normal people should) have shown that
there is a clear link health wise between valuing honour and beating
yourself over the head with a spiked club while riding on the back of a
shark.

This family's head is a man named Eddard Stark. He looks a lot like any
other man of Westeros, with brown hair, a brown beard and strong arms for
when he had to dispose of deserters, poachers and criminals. i.e. Not anyone
to lose sleep over. What makes him especially like many people in Westeros
is that he is missing a head. Not that this is a big problem, however,
because were the head and body reunited it would not result in the
spontaneous reanimation of his corpse, as even the Maesters with their
limited medical knowledge can tell you.

Bran is the second smallest of the household and formerly liked to spend
his free time climbing about on the rooftops. This activity came to an
abrupt end when he lost the use of his legs, as annoying to him as it was to
Hodor, who then had to carry a boy around on his back for the better part of
a day. Even a man as mentally handicapped as Hodor would be hard pushed not
to notice how Bran is taking advantage of him.

Most recently, Catelyn, the Lady of the House, is often at a loss for words.
This may be partly due to the gaping knife wound she suffered in her neck,
but many people have theorised that this may simply be her way of realising
that many of her past problems have been due to the fact that she could
talk, and now, given a second chance of life in Westeros, has vowed never to
make the same mistakes again. In earlier, happier times she liked to
light candles under statues and worry a lot.

Robb is the oldest of the family and stuck to the Stark tradition of
worshipping trees. Another Stark tradition Robb has stuck to is dying at a
young age. He is certainly his father's son. However, it could be argued
that he actually improved upon his father, because though he did lose his
human head, he gained a wolf one in its place. Though, admittedly, this
didn't help him much in the present, it shows promising things for the
future.

Sansa Stark is the oldest girl of the family. What little space she has in
her head is filled with songs and stories about knights. Though not directly
following on with most Stark traditions (preferring to worship statues
rather than trees, as any rational person would) it is often said by many
that she doesn't have a head on her shoulders. And though not willing to
contribute herself to this tradition, she nonetheless tried her utmost to
make sure her father did, though to be fair she felt a bit bad about it
afterwards.

Arya Stark is the adventurer of the family and enjoys long treks around the
Riverlands. She is often mistaken for a boy and this could be the reason
that she has decided to become a Faceless man, mistakenly believing she was
to become a Headless Man and thinking to do her bit for the Stark family,
being jealous of Sansa's empty headedness and Robb's wolf head.

Rickon liked to scream and set his wolf on people. He enjoyed the crypts of
Winterfell (though his fondness of the dead is premature even for a male
Stark). At present his position is unknown, but it has been said by a few
(well, a couple. Well, one) that Rickon and Osha are in fact Hodor in
disguise. This would explain Hodor's size, if nothing else. The holes in his
twist can be put down to being attention freaks, and not appreciating a good
thing when you see it.

Remember, Don't Panic!

------

Author: VarysTheSpider

_____________________________________________________________________________

If Raymond Chandler had written ASOIAF

It was a colder than a witch's teat the day I rode into Winterfell. The sort
of cold that chills you to the bone and leaves you on your knees and begging
for mercy. So cold that as I drew my greatcoat around me and lit up a
cigarette I found myself dreaming of King's Landing and this little girl I
once knew who could do things with thrones that would make a grown man weep.
Hell if I'm being honest we were a little more closely related than makes
for nice reading but Cersei and I had always shared a bond. I shook my head
clear of the memories. That was in the past. I was free of that now, just
another private dick for hire with no hope of redemption.
The frost sparkled around the courtyard of Winterfell's great hall as I rode
over the cobbles. I looked at the building looming ahead of me and snorted
along with my horse, nice work if you can get it I thought.
I was here to see Ned Stark. I knew little about him except that he was a
man with a problem and that problem was a sense of honour. It's hard to be
honourable man in the Seven Kingdoms, you can try all you like but somehow
no matter what promises you make it's easier to find yourself rolling in the
mud with the other losers.
I thought I had honour once - now I knew better. Honour is what you find at
the bottom of your glass late at night in those three a m bars which serve
any one, even a man reviled as a Kingslayer, a child murderer, a failed
knight. Honour is a woman with green eyes and blond hair kissing you goodbye
as she sticks the knife in your back. Yeah, Cersei had done a number on me
all right but I was getting over it. It still hurt sure, but that hurt was
easily cured every time I reached for the bourbon on my bedside table.
I mulled over why Ned Stark could possibly want to see me. He was the sort
of man who couldn't tell a lie, a man who put duty first and friendship
second. If I'm being honest he was a right royal pain in the ass but hey
beggars can't be choosers and I needed money but fast.
The door to the main hall opened and I saw a woman standing in the doorway.
She had the sort of curves which the gods dream of late at night in whatever
celestial bar the seven hang out in. Her chestnut hair framed a face at once
both mature and yet strangely appealing. I shut my mouth, never a good idea
to stand gawping Lannister, I reproached myself.
"Ser Jaime, I believe my husband is expecting you," she said, coldly.
I groaned inwardly - damn but no one had told me that Ned Stark had such a
hot patootie for a wife. This job was clearly going to be trouble.


If Bret Easton Ellis had written ASOIAF

Theon Greyjoy adjusted his embroidered tunic, Armani of course and fiddled
with the gold Chanel chain around his neck. He watched disdainfully as his
foster brother Robb followed his father up to the execution. God but Robb,
Jon and the rest had no real idea. He sniffed loudly. He should probably
consider renewing his prescription from the Winterfell apothecary. There was
a nice enough girl there who gave head in exchange for Summer Isle marching
powder. A severed head rolled down the hill, stopping just at the tip of his
hand-tooled leather boots. He looked at it blankly and then kicked it away.
In the distance he heard Robb yelling something at him and shrugged. 'It's
just a head' he said. 'Come on Robb you never seen a severed head before?'
Robb continued yelling. "Oh blow me,” muttered Theon. Tonight was the main
feast at Winterfell, he felt like getting loaded and maybe talking a couple
of the servant girls up to his room. He sighed and fondled the chain again.
Everything in life was just so kind of empty. He just knew he was suffering from
terminal ennui.

*****
The ship rocked from side to side. Theon shuddered. He wondered vaguely why
he was making this journey. Then shrugged. These things happened. Besides
yesterday he'd finally managed to get the captain's daughter to give him
head without being sick all over his silk designer clothes, which was an
improvement. He felt bored though. Nothing new, he always felt bored. But at
least in Winterfell there had been death and sex to distract him. There was
a timid knock on the door. Theon finished the last of his Summer Isle
marching powder, sniffed twice and drawled 'come in'. The captain's daughter
shuffled into the room. She was fat by Theon's standards - at least a size
6 - and clearly had no idea of the value of a table at Caprice restaurant in
King's Landing but beggars can't be choosers he supposed. He motioned to the
girl to get down on her knees. At least his morning blow job might relieve
his ennui.

****
Theon came round slowly. His head ached. He blinked and looked around his
surroundings. And shuddered. He was naked. Fuck, all that designer wardrobe
wasted he thought. He tried to remember what had happened. If only he hadn't
been cursed with such a short attention span (and of course the fact that he
was basically a symbol for the degenerate emptiness of today's youth - oh
sorry my Easton Ellis critique took over there for a second). He remembered
the blood and death and noise and fire as Winterfell collapsed and smirked
emptily for a second. People die all the time. It's just something that
happens. Along with sex. And drugs. His nose itched. God but he could do
with a snort. Suddenly it hit him. He wasn't just naked. He wasn't just
without his drugs, his drink and his designer wardrobe. He was hanging in a
torture chamber. For a moment he felt total fear. Then the whip came down.
For the first time in 21 years Theon Greyjoy was unable to say his primary
emotion was terminal ennui.

------

Author: sarah

_____________________________________________________________________________

ASOIAF by A.A. Milne


Chapter 10

In which we finally get to meet an Other again and Sam does a Very Grand
Thing.

The wind was still blowing and the snow, when it got tired of rushing round
in circles trying to catch itself up, came tumbling down until it found a
place on which to rest, and sometimes the place was above Sam's knees and
sometimes it wasn't, and for a very long while now Sam had been wearing a
white muffler round his neck, and feeling more snowy behind the ears than he
had ever felt before. As he stumped along behind everyone else a hum started
forming in his head. It seemed to him a very Bad Hum, such as repeats itself
maddeningly again and again, insisting on reminding you of unpleasant things
when you really would rather imagine that it was eleven o'clock and time for
a little smackerel of something, but it wouldn't go away :

The more it snows
(We're all going to die)
The more it goes
(We're all going to die)
The more it goes
(We're all going to die)
On snowing.
And nobody knows
(We're all going to die)
How cold my toes
(We're all going to die)
How cold my toes
(We're all going to die)
Are growing.

Those ravens went free
(I messed up again)
With no message from me
(I messed up again)
With no message from me
(I messed up again)
Of warning.
We'll lose all our fights
(We haven't a prayer)
See horrible sights
(We haven't a prayer)
And turn into wights
(We haven't a prayer)
By morning.

Jon's already dead
(I wish I was too)
And his father Ned
(I wish I was too)
And Dolorous Edd
(I wish I was too)
And so on.
I'm a cowardly klutz
(As everyone says)
I drive them all nuts
(As everyone says)
I haven't the guts
(As everyone says)
To go on.


Some short excerpts from "The Reader's Adventures in Westeros" by Lewis Carroll (and its sequel):

" Why is a raven like a writing desk?" asked Jon.
"I know!" shouted Sam. "Because they're both used for sending letters."

* * * * *

"I want to see him fly!" cried little Robert, for about the twentieth time
that day.
"Yes, yes!" agreed his mother. "Sentence first - verdict afterwards."

* * *

"Why did you order the KG to strip and beat me?" sobbed Sansa.
"To teach you a lesson because your brother is a traitor," explained
Joffrey.
"What curious logic!" exclaimed Sansa.
"Not at all. That's the reason they're called lessons - because you've got
less on from day to day."

* * * *

The reader soon came to the conclusion that the game of thrones was a very
difficult game indeed. The players all played at once without waiting for
turns, quarrelling all the while, and fighting for possession of the Iron
Throne; and in a very short time both the King and the Queen were in a
furious passion, and went stamping about, and shouting "Off with his head!"
or "Off with her head!" about once in a minute.

* * * * *

"That's a traitor for you!"
"I don't know what you mean by 'traitor'," Catelyn said.
Stannis frowned contemptuously. "Of course you don't - till I tell you. "I
meant 'that person won't accept my claim to be the rightful king when I
order him to'."
"But 'traitor' doesn't mean 'someone who doesn't believe you're the rightful
king'," Catelyn objected.
"When I use a word," Stannis said in rather a scornful tone," it means just
what I choose it to mean - neither more nor less."
"The question is," said Catelyn," whether you can make one word mean so many
different things."
"The question is," said Stannis, "who is to be master - that's all."

* * * * *

The Queen of Thorns broke the silence by saying to the Redhanded Queen, "I
didn't invite you to Sansa's wedding to Willas next week."
The Redhanded Queen smiled triumphantly, and said, "But I do invite you to
Sansa's wedding to Tyrion this afternoon."
"I didn't know I was to have a wedding at all, " thought Sansa; "but if
there is to be one, I think I ought to choose the bridegroom."

* * * * * *

"Can you do Addition?" the nobles asked. "What's one claimant to the throne
and one and one and one and one and one?"
"It's a bloody mess!" responded the smallfolk. "We know that much at any
rate."

* * * * * *

"Try another Subtraction sum," said the Kingslayer. "Take his throne and his
life from a king: what remains?"
Brienne considered. "The throne wouldn't remain, of course, because Robert
would take it - and the king's life wouldn't remain, if I'd taken it - and
the king wouldn't remain, because he'd be dead - and my honour wouldn't
remain, because I'd have broken my Kingsguard oath to protect him - and I'm
sure I shouldn't remain, as you did! If they didn't execute me (which they
ought to), I'd kill myself, or take the black at the very least."
"Then you think nothing would remain?" said the Kingslayer.
"I think that's the right answer."
"Wrong, as usual!" the Kingslayer exclaimed triumphantly. "The dead bodies
would remain. Aerys, Aegon, Rhaenys for starters - and Elia, though they
didn't put hers on show in the throne room. And then a whole host of others
over the next twenty years. There's a dozen or so hanging in that tree right
now."

* * * * *

The reader was puzzled. "In our country," she remarked, "there's only one
season at a time."
Littlefinger was not impressed. "That's a rather dull way of doing things.
Now here, we mostly have summers and winters two or three at a time, and
sometimes in the summer we take as many as ten years together - for warmth,
you know."
"Are ten years warmer than one year, then?" the reader ventured to ask.
"Ten times as warm, of course."
"But they should be ten times as cold, by the same rule -"
"Just so!" cried LF (who must have picked up the expression from Syrio).
"Ten times as warm, and ten times as cold - just as I'm ten times as
unscrupulous as you are, and ten times as clever!"

* * * *

But the Dragon Queen drew herself up triumphantly and said, "Queens never
keep bargains."
"I wish Queens never trained dragons," thought Kraznys.

* * * *

"He's my prisoner, you know!" the Redhanded Queen said at last.
"Yes, but then I said I'd be his champion!" the Red Viper replied.
"Well, we must fight over him, then," said the Mountainous Knight, as he
took up his helmet, which was something the shape of a dog's head, and put
it on.
"You will observe the Rules of Battle, of course?" the White Sword in charge
of the battle area remarked.
"What, me? Him? You're kidding, aren't you?" said the Red Viper, and they
began banging away at each other with such fury that spectators who didn't
get out of the way of the blows had had it!
"I wonder, now, what the Rules of Battle are," the reader said to herself,
as she watched the fight, timidly peeping out from the relative safety of RL: "one Rule seems to be that if someone appears to be winning hands down,
he's just about to die suddenly and nastily. As with Renly, and Robb, and
everyone in Stannis' navy. Oh, and now the Red Viper too. Bother! I'd taken
quite a fancy to him. Never mind - at least I've got the hang of the Rules."

* * * *

"I like Littlefinger best," said the reader: "because you see he was a
little sorry for poor Sansa."
"He betrayed more people than Bolton, though," said her friend. "You see he
only pretended to help Sansa so that he could get her into his power."
"That was mean!" the reader said indignantly. "Then I like Bolton best - if
he didn't betray so many people as Littlefinger."
"But he betrayed as many people as he could," said her friend.
This was a puzzler. After a pause, the reader began, "Well! They were both
very unpleasant characters -"

------

Author: The Sea King’s Daughter

_____________________________________________________________________________

And now--if Jack Vance had written a Game of Thrones...

********
"I confess that my feelings towards Jaime are perhaps, more ardent than are
the norm" stated Cersei, "but this hardly something I feel any great shame
about."

Ned shrugged. "It is jejune to suggest you might. However, getting caught
is, I'd say, something worth being a bit abashed about. In my humble opinion
of course."

Cersei laughed. "As for that, it is only your word against mine--and I can
easily make that a matter of my word only."

Ned nodded. "Indeed." He paced awhile on the veranda, and glanced at the
flickering sky. "You know it is wrong for us to fight in this manner. Winter
may come at any second, and the whole world would be plunged into cold and
ice..."

Cersei smiled luxuriously. "Why Eddard Stark, are you giving up thi--?" she
began only to have the statement terminated by Ned striking a quick blow to
her legs, causing her to make a most undignified landing.

Ned glanced at her amusedly, as he pulled a crossbow out of his jacket. "I
believe I have thought of a pertinent reason for us to fight however, and so
have decided to see this through to a successful conclusion."

Cersei stared at him with utter disbelief. "But you are a man of honour..."

"True, but I am not a stupid man of honour, nor do I wish to be a dead one
for some time now..."

------

Author: Rhialto the Marvellous



Enid Blyton - I believe someone requested her.

[Rather than an extract, you're going to get a synopsis this time - partly
because I don't have any of the books to refer to, and partly because the
plot has had to undergo some major changes. (Naturally - after all these are
*children's* stories.)]

The Famous Five consist of Jon, Robb, Arry and Sansa, and Arry's pet
direwolf, Nymeria - called Nymmy for short. Their home is a wonderful old
castle called Winterfell, in the North of Westeros. Jon is the cousin of the
other three children, but his parents died when he was a baby, so he lives
with his uncle and aunt. Despite her name, Arry is actually a girl - Arya -
but she insists on behaving and being treated like a boy, and in most of the
stories is mistaken for one on several occasions. They have a marvellous
time together, going on adventures, solving mysteries and foiling the plans
of criminals. (What happened to Bran and Rickon, you wonder? Sorry - but
this is the Famous Five, not the Secret Seven. Two boys and two girls is
ample - plus the odd extra child making a guest appearance in individual
adventures. In any case, our target readership is children aged about 9.
Younger kids aged 7 and 3 would be an irrelevant nuisance.)

In the first of the series - Five and the Secret of the Red Keep - the
children's father, Jon's Uncle Ned, who is something high up in government,
is invited to a place called Kings Landing by his old school friend, Robert
Baratheon, whom he hasn't seen for many years and who has been made king of
that country after the mysterious disappearance of all members of the former
royal family. He takes the children with him. Unfortunately King Robert is a
weak willed man heavily under the influence of his wife, the bad-tempered and
sly Queen Cersei. They have three children, to whom the Five take an instant
and justified dislike. Tommen, the youngest, is a fat, greedy little
cry-baby. His sister, Myrcella, is a silly little overdressed doll of a girl,
who refuses to join in any games lest she dirty her clothes or disarray her
hair - her doting mother is especially proud of her artificially curled
golden locks. But worst of all is the eldest, Prince Joffrey, a bully,
coward and sneak with pouty lips, and long hair like a girl - a real cissy!
The Five are rightly suspicious of Joffrey's villainous scarred bodyguard,
whom intelligent Nymmy growls at whenever she sees him. Disagreements come
to a head when Arry gets into an argument with Joffrey, who tries to hit
her. Loyal Nymmy comes to her defence, and knocks Joffrey over. The spoilt
brat screams for his mother, and insists that Nymmy made an unprovoked
attack on him and bit him, urged on by Arry. Hot tempered Arry, who is
straight as a die, indignantly rejects this account, accuses Joffrey of
lying, and at the instigation of Queen Cersei is shut up in her tower room
until she apologises. Meanwhile Nymmy is tied up in the stables, as a danger
to children, until she can be sent away. Desperate to rescue her pet, Arry
decides to run away, and is lucky enough to find a secret passage leading
from the fireplace of her room to the stables - and in other directions. She
unties Nymmy, and the pair of them hide out in the secret tunnels with which
the Red Keep is riddled, with the other children supplying them with food.
While there, Arry overhears a conversation between Queen Cersei and her
sinister father Lord Tywin, in which they refer to a prisoner being kept
secretly in the Keep. The Five explore the Keep, and in the end discover a
secret cell down in the dungeons, containing a girl who informs them that
she is Princess Daenerys, the true heir to the throne, who was kidnapped by
Lord Tywin so that his daughter and later his grandson could rule in her
place. Dany is basically a good sort, though being foreign royalty she does
have a tendency to family pride, and makes overmuch reference to being "the
blood of the dragon" until the Five cure her of this flaw by laughing at her
whenever she uses the expression. With courage and resource - even timid
Sansa plays her part gallantly - they trick Dany's giant brutish guard
(brother to Joffrey's bodyguard) and rescue Dany. King Robert, who knew
nothing of his ambitious wife's scheming, is only too pleased to step down
and make way for Dany to be Queen, since he found being king far too much
responsibility. Lord Tywin is arrested and imprisoned, and Robert decides to
retire to the country and devote himself to correcting, by stern discipline,
the faults his children have developed due to their mother's bad upbringing.

In the second book - Five Visit Dragonstone Island - the children go on
holiday to an island owned by a nobleman called Lord Stannis Baratheon, and
make friends with his daughter, a pretty little girl named Shireen.
(Greyscale? You're joking, aren't you? How do you expect the readers to
identify with her if she's disfigured?) Shireen is very unhappy because her
father and mother have come under the influence of a cunning criminal who is
masquerading as her governess. The real governess, we later discover, was
bribed not to turn up, and this impostor who came in her place is the wife
of the leader of a gang of smugglers, who use Dragonstone as a base for
their criminal activities, assisted by the governess' night time signals.
With a cunning mix of flattery and hypnotism, this woman, Melisandre, has
turned gloomy Lord Stannis against his jolly younger brother, Shireen's
Uncle Renly, so that he believes Renly is plotting to steal his title, and
keeps claiming that Shireen is lazy and uncooperative, so that she has an
excuse for setting the poor girl extra work and using the free time to carry
on her criminal activities. But the children soon sort *her* out, assisted
by Nymmy sniffing out the hiding place where she has cached her share of the
smuggler's loot, in one of the many caves. The smugglers return
unexpectedly, and it seems at first as if the children are doomed to die
when they are left tied up in a place that is underwater at high tide. But
Nymmy, who ran off when the smugglers fired a gun at her, returns and chews
off the ropes tying the children, and with the aid of the fisherman Davos,
whom they had palled up with earlier in the story, they alert the police in
time and the gang are arrested.

In the third book - Five and the Forest Mystery - the children are off to
the far north, where their stay at Castle Black is disturbed by rumours
among the superstitious country folk of strange supernatural goings on in
the "haunted" forest. Naturally the Five investigate, uncover a secret
passage under the Wall, have fun camping in the woods, and discover what
lies behind the rumours - a dangerous gang known as The Others who are
hiding out there, trying to scare people away by dressing up as zombies, or
"wights". Jon is kidnapped for a while by gypsies, who are angry because
they think he is spying on them, but escapes with the help of a sympathetic
gypsy girl named Ygritte. And of course, Nymmy is invaluable again, grabbing
one of the fake wights by the arm and refusing to let go, until the police
arrive and arrest him.

------

Author: The Sea Kings Daughter

_____________________________________________________________________________

Tyrionspotting by Irvine Welsh


Ah started tae feel sick. What with the bairn screaming his wee head off, aw
that noise fae that wee size. But Cersei's a daft bird e'en if shae is mae
aun kin, and shae was determined to show the little bugger off tae her new
friends, Oberyn and Elia-a pair ay awright punters, like ah sais. So the
four ay us go doonstairs tae see the bairn. Ah could tell shae was not
awright aun account shae stretched intae the playpen and grabbed the little
bugger by his wee little prick and gies it a twist, and sets him aw tae
hollering so as ah couldna believe. And ah jis stood thair n sais nowt
because Cersei's a @#$!% radge #$%@*, e'en if at shae wis an awright bit ay
fanny. Thing wis, ah supposed ah loved her; ah suppose ah never really
stoaped.

------

Author: Euron

_____________________________________________________________________________

Charles Dickens

The summer snow had fallen lightly on the north during the night.
Nonetheless the chill emanating from the crypt of the Starks was in no way
shape or form due to the precipitation. For as long as I can remember, I
have be drawn to the crypts, even though I feel it in my very marrow that I
do not belong. Many the time, playing with my dear half-brother Robb have i
felt the eye of the northern kings upon me. The only ancestors I know of are
interred here, but i am none of them....My primary name being Jon and my
surname being Snow, Snow due to my lowly state....

Later--

Dearest Arya burst into the godswood, "Mother is back and she is on the
Ram-Page!"...


Edgar Allen Poe

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a bump and stutter, In there
stepped a gentle giant, of the simpler days of yore. Not the least obeisance
made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he; But like i was a little baby,
perched me above his shoulders and he stepped towards the door. Stepped, and
stopped, and nothing more. Then this large mute beguiling my sad fancy into
smiling, By the glad and nice decorum of the countenance he wore, "Though my
legs be bruised and broken thou," I said, "art sure no token, large, simple,
lackwit pokin', His huge head inside my door. Tell me what the gentle name
is on the Night's Plutonian shore." Quoth the giant, "Hodor."

Much I marvelled this ungainly man to hear discourse so plainly, Though his
answer little meaning, little relevancy bore; For we cannot help agreeing
that no living human being Ever yet was blessed with seeing giant in his
chamber carrying him towards the door, Huge lackwit with broken boy upon his
shoulders heading to his chamber door, with such a name as "Hodor." But the
giant, standing lonely on that stony tile, spoke only That one word, as if
his soul in that one word he did outpour.

"Giant!" said I, "lackwit boy! I need a favour, only this i must implore:
take me to Maester Luwin, in his chambers like before. Take me there, and
nothing more." But as we started marching, sudden fear had me lurching, and
my head smashed into the wall above my chamber door. The giant forgot to
crouch as he crossed my chamber door; forgot to crouch and smashed my head
above my door, and i screamed "be careful, I implore!" Quoth the giant,
"Hodor."

------

Author: Lurker X

_____________________________________________________________________________

Stephen King

"Fuck," said Bronn, "I don't think they've come to wish us off." Bronn sat
on his horse and looked back down the ridge. Maybe a mile away through the
dense woods, perhaps a dozen horsemen were riding.

Riding towards him.

Him.

Bronn looked at his four sellswords that surrounded him (now looking
particularly anxious) and marvelled. Me, having sellswords, he thought.

"Hide!" he hissed at his men, and they obeyed, each darting behind a tree. A
couple had drawn their swords though they held them with shaking hands.
Bronn hid himself behind a large oak and heard the hoofs come closer.

Closer.

This was no time for diplomacy, and there was no way in the seven hells that
Bronn - however skilled - and four men of questionable loyalty could take a
dozen soldiers on horseback.

This required something different.

Bronn reached into his breaches and drew up the

(gun)

sword and looked at it. The strange women who had given it to him and called
it a magnum or something. It was an object made of metal, with a clear
barrel and a hand hold. the women had said that the trigger fired smoky
spirits and tore bodies apart.

"Fuck spirits," he muttered, "give me a sharp sword any day." But he had no
choice.

The hoofs came closer and Bronn turned around the tree and squeezed the
trigger of the

(gun)

sword.

KA-BLAM.

The first man's head was taken off at the eyebrows as he was flung
backwards. A dumb look of surprise creased his face. Surprise, surprise! he
thought insanely. All the horses reared.

KA-BLAM, KA-BLAM, KA-BLAM

When they were all down the gun in his hands was hot and the ground was
slick with blood. The silence that followed was deafening.

The sellswords were staring at him with looks of half awe and half fear.

Let them stare, he thought, let them stare and let them fear...I am the
Prince Who Was Promised.

His sellswords' looks of surprise turned to horror as Bronn turned the
weapon on them.

And fired.

------

Author: VarysTheSpider

_____________________________________________________________________________

Matt Groening

 Scene:
A grossly overweight and bald Ned sits under the heart tree, patiently
waiting for the arrival of Cersei. He is eating a club sandwich.

Cersei arrives.

Ned's Brain: Don't tell her you know about her incest.
Ned: I know about your incest. Grrr!
Ned: D'oh!
Ned's Brain: OK, that one slipped past, just don't tell her you're going to
tell Robert.
Ned: I'm going to tell Robert.
Ned: D'oh!
Ned's Brain: I'm getting out of here.

------

Author: The Prentice Boy

_____________________________________________________________________________

Robin Hobb


Silently, I quested towards the wolf. A flicker of Ghost's consciousness
brushed my own, as he dreamed of stalking a large burly boar. Gently, I
removed my presence, and left him to his content slumber.

It had been a particularly bad attack. Several men were wounded, and others
falling from the Wall. I tired to concentrate, but the hunger kept pulling
at me. This pain had not troubled me for many months, but it came to reclaim
me with thoughts of Ygritte.

She was better off without me, with Sam. I could never have given myself
whole to her. I loved Ygritte, but my loyalty was first to my king. With
great effort and elfbark, I forced these memories from my mind, accepting
the great despair and depression that I knew would result.

There would be no welcome, no fanfare for me. But I had my wolf, and that
was all I needed.

------

Author: Ace Atheist   

_____________________________________________________________________________

The Rebellion in a style according to Sir Thomas Mallory

It befell in the days of Aerys the second of the House Targaryen when he was
king of Westeros and ruled over whole of the land that he had a lovestruck
prince named Rhaegar. The prince made mighty dole for one of the fosterlings
of the lord of the eyrie were to marry with the maiden of his dreams. The
maiden was called a passing good lady and was sister to one of the
fosterlings who was friend with the other one of them whom she would not
fain to marry and her name was called Lyanna.

And now there came to be an event of great cheer for lady Lyanna's brother
Lord Eddard and his good friend Lord Robert for a great tournament were
arranged in witch the Victor would have great worship as well as his bride
which were to be crowned the Queen of love and beauty. Being married to Elia
of Dorne Rhaegar knew this to be the only chance that enabled him to declare
his undying love to lady Lyanna.
Thus Rhaegar prepared himself for the tournament in which he unhorsed many a
valiant knight and won the heart of many damosels and finally had the
greatest worship of the day when he crowned Lyanna Queen of love and beauty.
Lyanna went of with Rhaegar were none would find them upon which Lord Robert
and another brother of Lyanna Lord Brandon were mighty wroth. Lord Brandon
threatened to slay Rhaegar the crown prince upon which he were in an
unwholesome upon which ensued a trial in which the woody king Aerys had him
and his father killed during a dolesome trial and after which he requested
the heads of the lords Eddard and Robert.

Now the lords Eddard and Robert were mightily wroth upon the Targaryens and
decided to make mighty war upon them.

In the war deeds of bravery and treachery were made on either side. Of most
renown is the duel between Robert and Rhaegar beneath the fords of the
Trident were they both came with mighty force upon each other. They fought
long and hard and both were bleeding from many wounds when Robert smote
Rhaegar's chest asunder with his mighty warhammer upon which Rhaegar
whispered Lyanna's name with his dying breath

------

Author: Torrhen The Unlikely

_____________________________________________________________________________

Ruthless Rhymes for Heartless Westerosi Homes, In homage to Harry Graham

GOOD INTENTIONS

Peeping Bran saw something shameful.
Jaime gave the kid a shove.
Pity! Still, not really blameful -
After all, 'twas done for love!


A SILVER LINING

"There's been an accident," they said.
"Your brother met a boar. He's dead."
Thought Renly, "What a shocking thing!
Still, I'll make a better king."


A GOLDEN OPPORTUNITY

Dany placed them on the pyre,
By his head, his heart, his legs,
Finding Drogo's funeral fire
Great for hatching dragon eggs.


QUICK THINKING

When crazy Lysa suffered her demise
An inconvenient witness saw it all.
Happily Petyr was quick to realise
He made a splendid fall guy for her fall.

------

Author: The Sea King’s Daughter

_____________________________________________________________________________

A Game of Thrones as a Readers’ Digest compact edition.


*Robert arrives at Winterfell

Robert: Ned, my man, come south with me?
Ned: Sure thing, bro.

*Later

Ned: So, family, I'm going south. Who's coming with?
Sansa: I'll go. I'm brainless. King's Landing sounds like a nice place.
Ned: Cool.
Arya: Me too, adventure rules.
Ned: Cool
Bran: Not me. I'm crippled.
Ned: Whatever.
Robb: Not me. I have to be Lord.
Ned: Whatever.
Jon: Not me. I'm off to the Wall.
Ned: You are?
Jon: Yeah.
Ned: Whatever.

*Ned, Arya, and Sansa head south. Someone tries to kill Bran.

Cat: I have to head south and see your father.
Robb: Whatever.
Bran: What do I care? I'm in a coma! There's nothing I can offer to the
dialogue.

*Cat heads south and arrives in King's Landing.

Cat: Hi, Petyr. Sorry about the whole rejecting you thing.
Petyr: S'okay.
Cat: So who's dagger is this?
Petyr: The imp's.
Cat: Oh. Well, I'm sure I can trust you, Petyr.

*Ned approached KL

Sansa: Are we there yet?
Ned: No
Arya: Are we there yet?
Ned: No
Sansa: Are we there yet?
Ned: N - Ah, yes, here we are. There's a tourney soon. Best get ready.

*Jon arrives at Wall.

Jon: Sure is cold up here.
Tyrion: Yep.
Jon: Sure is dangerous up here.
Tyrion: Yep...I'm going. See ya later.
Jon: Bye.

*Bran wakes up

Bran: Hey, I'm awake.
Robb: No one cares, Bran.

*Catelyn talks to Ned

Ned: Prepare for war. And don't do anything stupid.
Cat: Would I ever?

*Cat heads up the Kingsroad.

Cat: There's Tyrion! Hey, you, you're under arrest son!
Tyrion: Oh, bugger.

*Ned meets Jaime.

Jaime: Sorry, pard, I'm going have to cripple you.
Littlefinger: Look at the time, Sorry Ned, must fly.
Ned: I feel a headache coming on.

*Sam arrives at Wall.

Thorne: you look like a pig, Ser piggy.
Jon: Don't do anything or I'll set my wolf on you.
Thorne: Damn wolf.

*Ned makes a discovery. Robert gets killed.

Ned: Stannis would be the right choice.
Renly: Stannis?
Littlefinger: Stannis?!
Everyone: STANNIS?!
Ned: Now I definitely feel a headache coming on.

*Catelyn takes Tyrion to Eyrie.

Tyrion: I demand a trial by combat. Hey, Bronn, get over here!
Lysa: Arse.

*Later.

Tyrion: Hooray, I'm free! Woo-hoo!
Lysa: Double arse.

*Ned makes a decision.

Ned: I'm going to dethrone you.
Cersei: Er...okay.
Ned: Just thought I should let you know.
Cersei: Well...thanks, I guess.

*Later

Littlefinger: Sorry Ned, you are now captured.
Ned: I knew I should have stayed North.
Littlefinger: Sucks to be you.

*Meanwhile Dany gets it on with Drogo after Drogo kills her brother.

Dany: Hey, baby, lets go for Westeros.
Drogo: Sure thing babe, plundering rocks. Sex first, though.
Dany: Well, duh.

*Robb hears of Ned's capture.

Robb: I'm calling the banners...Oy, banners!
Karstark: You can trust me, my Lord.
Roose: You can trust me, my lord.
Robb: Aw...You guys...Let's go. I'll see you later, Bran.
Bran: Yeah, that's what they all say.

*Ned gets dragged to the Sept.

Ser Ilyn: ...
Joffrey: Confess.
Ned: Okay.
Joffrey: Off with his head!
Ser Ilyn: ...
Ned: Life's a bitch.
Arya: Nooooooo!
Ned's head: No, I was wrong, death's a bitch...Ow, my head...

*Tyrion meets up with his dad.

Tywin: Forget the Eyrie. You're fighting in the vanguard of this battle.
Tyrion: Out of the frying pan, into the fire.

*The next morning.

Tyrion: We won the battle. Phew. Shall we pursue them?
Tywin: No... that's just what they want us to do.
Tyrion: Huh?

*Jon goes to join Robb

Pyp: You dumbarse, Jon.
Gendry: Seriously.
Jon: Fine, fine, FINE! I'll head back.

*Robb moves through the Whispering Wood.

Robb: There he is, mum! The kingslayer. Let's move, men!
Cat: Gods save us.

*Later.

Robb: I've got him, tra la-la-la! Now on to Riverrun.
Cat: Gods save us.

*Tywin heas of Jaime's capture.

Tywin: Go south, Tyrion.
Tyrion: Kay. Can I take my whore? Whoa, just kiddingkdding, just kidding.

*Bran here's of Ned's death.

Bran: Stop coming back to me. I'm not doing anything!

*Drogo dies.

Jorah: Sorry, Dany.
Dany: Never mind, I've still got my dragons. Mwa ha ha ha!

------

Author: VarysTheSpider

_____________________________________________________________________________

W.S.Gilbert

GRRM (the emperor whose sway all cheerfully own)


Ill luck may strike all characters who
Within my books exist,
And innocents die,
But nonetheless I
Am a rigorous moralist.
I preach, to anyone tempted to
Hold others' lives too cheap,
That what you do
Will be done to you
And what you sow you'll reap.

My object all sublime
I have achieved each time -
To make the punishment fit the crime,
The punishment fit the crime;
And let my readers see
With mingled horror and glee
For sin appropriate penalty,
Appropriate penalty!



The spiteful weakling obsessed with his cause -
To be the Dragon King -
Earned nothing himself
But demanded wealth
With hysterical threatening
Of the unborn son of a khal. Their laws
He'd broken heedlessly.....
The sister he'd sold
Watched him crowned with gold
And thought, "No dragon he!"

The cynical jerk who to hide his crime
Pushed a child from a high window shelf
I sentenced to lose
The hand that he'd used
And see what it felt like himself.
"Better dead than crippled!" he'd said that first time -
But decided to put off dying,
Owned that he'd earned his fate,
Lessons he learned - too late?
Maybe - still, credit for trying!

My object all sublime
I have achieved each time -
To make the punishment fit the crime,
The punishment fit the crime;
And let my readers see
With mingled horror and glee
For sin appropriate penalty,
Appropriate penalty!



The murderous boy-king, whose every breath
Was a call for someone's pain
As a show of his power,
In his wedding hour
Was most abruptly slain.
He who'd delighted in dealing out death
Had met the self-same fate.
His bride's grandmother
Had decided his brother
Would make a better mate!

The rapist sellsword who picked on Brienne
Bit off more than he could chew.....
Bereft of an ear
In fever and fear -
She did some biting too!
But that was as nothing to what happened when
The Mountain reached Harrenhal.
He only lost four limbs -
He'd taken far more limbs -
But who can lose more than his all?

My object all sublime
I have achieved each time -
To make the punishment fit the crime,
The punishment fit the crime;
And let my readers see
With mingled horror and glee
For sin appropriate penalty,
Appropriate penalty!



The lord who degraded, with icy pride,
Whoever got in his way
By the son he'd frustrated
And humiliated
His debt was made to pay.
He who thought no-one mattered beside
His House's dignity
In the privy lay dead,
A whore in his bed,
Exposed for all to see.

The woman who poisoned her husband and lord
Then blamed a guiltless guy,
And as sentence, what's more,
Through her chilling Moon Door
Did her utmost to make him fly -
She married the man that she adored
And started life anew........
The heartless louse
Shoved her, his spouse,
And out of that Door she flew!

My object all sublime
I have achieved each time -
To make the punishment fit the crime,
The punishment fit the crime;
And let my readers see
With mingled horror and glee
For sin appropriate penalty,
Appropriate penalty!



The sociopath who inflicted slaughter
And rape in every place,
Who tortured a boy
For the theft of a toy
And burnt off half his face,
For what he did to the innkeep's daughter
He has now to pay -
The Red Keep resounds
To the fearful sounds
Of his screams both night and day.

Like Arya, only mine's a long'un,
I've "got a little list" -
The sadist, the flayer,
The serial betrayer,
The ruthless opportunist.
But what merited doom befalls each wrong'un
You'll have to wait to know.
It should make you smile,
But I need them awhile -
We've still three* books to go!

Still -

My object all sublime
I shall achieve in time -
To make the punishment fit the crime,
The punishment fit the crime:
And let my readers see
With mingled horror and glee
For sin appropriate penalty,
Appropriate penalty!


*Or possibly four!

------

Author: The Sea King’s Daughter

_____________________________________________________________________________

F. Dostoevsky


 "A hound, a hound, and a princess with her head smashed in," Ser Gregor
sang as he entered Prince Oberyn's chamber. That was what Ser Gregor did to
avoid suspicion.

"A princess" and suddenly The Red Viper looked with barely hidden irony at
him, screwing up his eyes and as if he were winking at him. (But perhaps it
was Clegane's fancy, for it all lasted but ten minutes.)

"He knows," flashed through his mind like lightning. Ser Gregor shuddered,
vomited, but immediately recollected himself. He had an unpleasant thought
that he need not have come here.

"Excuse me for my impertinence. I am really ashamed to be worrying you like
this." And as though that was a matter of no importance, Prince Oberyn
carefully offered a bone to each of the three dogs, which were stretched on
the rug with the portrait of Princess Elia on it.

Ser Gregor shuddered. His face twitched convulsively. "How observant you
are!" Ser Gregor smiled awkwardly, doing his very utmost to look him
straight in the face, but he failed, and suddenly added: "I say that because
I suppose there were a great many other Lannister bannermen with dogs for
their sigils... that it must be difficult to remember them all.... But you
remember them all and... and..." He shuddered and twitched. His nose started
bleeding profusely. "Stupid! Feeble!" Ser Gregor thought. "Why did I add
that?" He suddenly had a distinct sensation that he should not have come.

"But we know all who is eight feet tall, and you are the only one who hasn't
come forward," The Red Viper answered with hardly perceptible irony. He
suddenly fidgeted. He couldn't maintain his current pose.

"And in my distress I shall betray myself," flashed through Ser Gregor's
mind again. His thoughts were in a whirl. He was in terrible exasperation.
He could hardly breathe.
"And what if it's only my fancy? Perhaps it's all unintentional. Does he
know that Elia was his sister? When I rhymed 'whelp' with 'rape' he let it
pass.... I put that in cleverly about everything being Sandor's fault, it
may be of use afterwards... indeed... ha-ha-ha! You are wrong. You won't
catch me! It's all supposition!" All this flashed like lightning through Ser
Gregor's mind. He was shaking uncontrollably. He had a nagging suspicion
that he should not have come here.

"All these talk about smashed heads, recall to my mind a song of yours which
interested me at the time. 'On the Sack of King's Landing'... or something
of the sort, I forget the title, I heard it with pleasure at the Oldtown."

"My song? At the Oldtown?" Ser Gregor asked in astonishment. "I certainly
did write a song at the request of Queen Cersei, but I sent it to 'The
Lannisport Observer' under the alias of Amory Lorch."

"Very, very clever, but... it was not the part of your song about whether to
rape princesses before or after they are killed that drew my attention, but
an idea which I regret to say you merely suggested without working it out
clearly. There is, if you recollect, a suggestion that persons can... that
is, not precisely are able to, but have a right to do as they please, that
is if they are in the employ of the Lord Tywin." It suddenly seemed as if
Prince Oberyn was hiding irony. He also couldn't quite remain still.

Ser Gregor smiled at the exaggerated and intentional distortion of his idea.
(He saw at once where The Red Viper wanted to drive him.) "That wasn't quite
my contention," he began simply. "Yet I admit that you have stated it almost
correctly; perhaps, if you like, perfectly so." (It almost gave him pleasure
to admit this.) He still vomited. "I simply hinted, rather subtly if I may
add, that a Lord Tywin's bannerman has the right to pillage, especially in
case it has been made clear to him that if he wouldn't he himself will be
fed to a bear and his estate will be given to his brother whom he does not
really like that much."

"Yes, yes." Prince Oberyn couldn't sit still. "Your attitude to bears is
pretty clear to me now, and you've removed my anxiety as to the relations
within the Clegane family, but... Well, you see... I am a poet myself. It's
a playful, psychological idea.... When you were writing your song, surely
you couldn't have helped, he-he, fancying yourself... just a little a
three-headed dragon.... That's so, isn't it?"

"Yes," suddenly answered Ser Gregor, with an unpleasant sensation at the
very moment he spoke that he need not have said it. His hands were shaking.
He went into the cardiac arrest but quickly recollected himself.

"Then you are the murderer," The Red Viper suddenly concluded with barely
hidden irony. (He was experiencing trouble sitting still.)

"Murder? What murder? By that silliness I only wanted to get myself a new
horse, to obtain hauberks for Raff and Chiswyck. But I. I couldn't find the
Street of Steel," Ser Gregor cried in sudden angst. It was unbearable
torture. He vomited. He suddenly recalled Tyrion's words, "Go bugger
yourself, for you have written a lousy song, and say aloud to the whole
world, 'I am a bad song writer.'" (He trembled, remembering that.) He fell
to the floor on the spot. He experienced seizure, nausea, and abdominal
pain.
"It was I..." began Ser Gregor. He softly and brokenly, but distinctly said:
"It was I killed the Princess Elia and her children and raped them."

Prince Oberyn positively couldn't sit still. The Gold Cloaks ran up on all
sides. Ser Gregor repeated his statement eleven times in a row.

------

Author: Pl Secundus

_____________________________________________________________________________

If Helen Fielding (writer of Bridget Jones' Diary) had written
ASOIAF

Lysa Arryn's diary

Day One
Breastfeeding 6 times, men thrown out of windows none, weight 9 stone vg
Am in complete quandary over sudden arrival of Petyr back at Eeerie. Have
always fancied him but how to let him know? Do not want any stupid emotional
fuckwittage re his suspected lust for my sister. Is all very confusing
indeed.

Day Two
Breastfeeding 7 times, men thrown out of windows none, wine 10 units, weight
9 st 2 not so good
Am in foul mood. Peyr continues to ignore me no matter how often I parade
around semi-nude. What's a girl to do? It's very unfair. Found myself
over-eating to compensate. I'm sure he used to prefer me over that bitch
Catelyn when we were young. Only comfort is lovely son Robert, so clever, so
bright for his age. He asked me when we could make men fly again today -what
a wonderful imagination, I'm sure none of evil witch Catelyn's children are
half so bright.

Day Three
Breastfeeding 7 times, men thrown out of window none, wine 9 units, weight
9st 3. v bad
Cannot seem to stop eating. Petyr still refusing to acknowledge my womanly
needs. Even Robert seems fractitious. New serving girl v. thin not good but
seems no threat.

Day Four
Breastfeeding 6 times, men thrown out of window none, wine units 4, weight
9st vvvvv good
It has happened at last. Felt like heroine in Charlotte Bronte novel as
Petyr told me he'd always loved me but wanted to make sure I felt the same.
And he asked me to marry him. Excellent will have perfect riposte to stupid
Catelyn who stupidly lost her stupid husband and bought all this trouble on
the Eerie. Is most excellent day - plan to celebrate wedding by ceremonially
allowing Robert to throw as many men as he likes out of the Moon Doors. Is
shame I didn't keep hold of that dwarf for the occasion.

------

Author: sarah

_____________________________________________________________________________


ASOIAF as interpreted by Anthony Burgess, complete with Nadsat....

There was me, that is Arya, and my three droogs, that is Jaqen, Gendry, and
Hot Pie, who wasn't hot at all nor a pie, and we were in this bolshy castle
where we were all plennies. There were lots of chassos who I knew would
skorry grab a malenky devotcha like me for in-out in-out, but I wasn't gonna
let 'em. I missed my bratchny bratty Jon something awful, and every night
before I went zasnoot I was sure skazat the eemyas of all the lewdies I was
gonna treat to a little of the old ultra-violence.

There was also this evil ol' veck who used to make me put leeches on his
plott and pour his firegold. He was the boss. I wanted to bust out, but my
droogs Gendry and Hot Pie were nazz malchicks and I had to do a little
convincing. Jaqen wasn't so baddiwad but he changed his litso and left me
with only a cut, so I had to shive the chasso myself.

------

Author: Nichol Storm

_____________________________________________________________________________

If a load of monks from the 2nd century had written ASOIAF

In the beginning there was Eddard Stark, and he begot Robb Stark, and Sansa
Stark, and Arya Stark, and Brandon Stark, and Rickon Stark.

And then the wolves were found, and these wolves were grey, and these wolves
were dark, and these wolves were black, and these wolves were big, and these
wolves were like of a messenger from the Old gods, who are many, who are
nameless, who are forgotten, who are mysterious.

And then King Robert came unto Winterfell, and he told Eddard Stark to come
south, and his second begotten son, and his first begotten daughter, and his
second begotten daughter with him.


ASOIAF as a sea-shanty.

Does Arya kill bad
Some think she's sorta mad
If she killed her sis then many would be glad
And this looks quite likely as they never got along
Because she's the stupid bitch who be-trayed dad

------

Author: VarysTheSpider

_____________________________________________________________________________


ASOIAF as a sea-shanty: II


What shall we do with the bad king Stannis (3 times)
and his Melisandre.

Hooray a hole we're digging (3 times)
early in the morning.

Dig for him a hole and throw him into it (3 times)
with his Melisandre

Hooray a hole we're digging (3 times)
early in the morning.


ASOIAF as nursery rhymes

There was this Littlefinger
which was so annoying
and bad
that it made everyone
sad
when he scurried around
to were he was
bound
To plot his evil deeds.

There was this Lysa
who did not possess
her wits
when they were falling
to bits
from the eyrie on high
she would only
sigh
at Roberts happiness.

There was this Brandon
who was so stormy
and fierce
when emotions did
pierce
his brotherly heart
when doing his
part
for Lyannas honour

There was this Catelyn
who was a wife to
the hand
but she never could
stand
Her husbands stepson
and just argued
on
To make life sour

There was this Eddard
who was the
king's hand
that ruled over the
land
before ending up dead
when losing his
head
at Baelor´s sept

------

Author: Torrhen The Unlikely

_____________________________________________________________________________

The Westerosi Version of the Holy Bible

The lord and lady Baratheon begat Robert, Stannis, and Renly. And King
Robert begat Gendry, Mya, Barra, Bella, and Edric Storm, but not Prince
Joffrey, Princess Myrcella, or Prince Tommen, because the Kingslayer begat
them upon Queen Cersei.

And Lord Stannis begat Shireen, but naught else, for Lady Selyse was sorely
afflicted with facial hair. He did, however, begat Melisandre's
shadowbabies.

And Lord Renly didn't begat anyone at all, as he had a very special "friend"
named Loras with whom he spent all his time...

------

Author: Nichol Storm

_____________________________________________________________________________

Monty Python II

 (Lord Beric and his men are ambushed by Gregor's men. Beric is left dying
from a ghastly wound. Thoros rushes to his side)

Thoros: OH! The gods are cruel to do this to one so young and valiant. We
will carry on your quest, brave Ser Beric, fear not. You will not have died
in vain!

Beric: I'm not quite dead yet.

Thoros: Ser Gregor will pay for his crimes, not the least of which was the
mortal wounding of Beric Dondarrion.

Beric: I'm feeling a bit better. I think i might pull through.

Thoros: Rest, Beric, and recover your strenght while me and my companions
pursue Gregor's band for the honor of King Robert.

Beric: No, I'm fine now, really. I can come along.

Thoros: Farewell, sweet Ser Beric!

Beric: I'll .... I'll stay here then.

------

Author: Lurker X

_____________________________________________________________________________

A Song of Ice and Fire, By Elmore Leonard

Salla looked over at his friend. Onions, they called him, though his real
name was Davos. Folks said he'd never return from the Blackwater, but Onions
was a tough cookie. Stannis had had half his fingers off for smuggling, and
Onions just packed 'em into a pouch and carried them round his neck. Though
come to think of it, the pouch was gone now. Salla kinda wondered where.

"Onions, grab a seat" said Salla "I get you something? Olives? Wine? You
want something for that cough?"

"Hot wine'd be great. How I like it, with cloves and wine. Then I gotta go,
Salla"

"What's the big hurry?"

"Got something for the red bitch, Mel. She sold us out, Salla." He showed
his knife, thin as he was and just as deadly.

Salla shook his head. "That's crazy talk. Even if you could do it, Stannis
is hot for her. He could never forgive that. And anyway, she's got sources.
What I'm saying, you wind up dead either way. You got no chance, Onions"

Onions shook his head. "That don't matter none, Salla. I got a sheet as long
as your arm, but Stannis gave me a chance to go straight. Now I gotta do
right by him, even if he don't appreciate it. I wind up feeding the
fishes... always was how I figured I'd end up, anyhow. Say goodbye, Salla".
He finished his drink, got up to go, turned. "Wish me luck".

----------------------------------------------

Tyrion woke up slow. His brain knew better than he did; it kept telling him
to go back to sleep. But Tyrion knew he had to get back into the game before
that double-crossing bitch Cersei took him out of it forever. Giving Moore
orders to whack him, that was sneaky. But smart. Tyrion shook his head
ruefully. Maybe he didn't get all the brains after all. One thing was for
sure, he didn't get any of the looks. Gods, his face felt sore. That bastard
Moore nearly took his nose off. Thanks to Pod, though, it was the knight who
was feeding the fishes, not the dwarf.

Tyrion's head was pounding. What Pycelle had been feeding him, that was the
problem. Tyrion didn't trust that sonofabitch. Shoulda took him out when I
had the chance, he thought. Or sent him up North for a spell on the Big Wall
like that toad Slynt. But now the Big Guy was in town, and Tyrion had a few
questions to ask his Daddy...

---------------------------------------------

Arya watched them pull the hood off the Hound's head. He snarled, maybe
thinking he had to remind people why he was called after a dog, Arya
thought. But maybe just pissed off.

"Whaddaya want with me, Dondarrion?"

Now she could see his face, Arya wasn't sure she hadn't been better off when
the hood was on. The Hound was an ugly character, and had the face to match.
He looked like he'd gone five rounds with a jar of wildfire, and lost.

A man stepped forward, Thoros, the phoney priest. Only maybe he wasn't so
phoney after all, now she came to think of it. He sure had a good line going
if he was.

"You're wanted for murder, buddy. And we're the jury. What I'm saying, you
Lannisters been running loose around here, now it's time to settle the
score". He smiled.

"Who'd I murder, then? You got any witnesses? Thought not." The Hound
laughed again. It sure didn't improve his looks any. "What I'm saying, you
got a jury but no witnesses, you know? You're a little short for a trial"

Dondarrion stepped forward. He looked a little rough, Arya thought. Though
he'd been schlepping around the Riverlands for long enough, and Arya knew
she didn't look like no day at the beach herself.

"You and me, buddy. That's all the trial we need. You follow?" He drew his
sword.

------

Author: mormont