Author's Note

The story that follows is unashamedly silly, a tale written by two friends to pass the time. We only hope it entertains you as much as it did us. A quick disclaimer: we do not own any of the characters and places that feature, nor do we claim to possess a iota of the brilliance of their creator, Lord Grrm. The story also contains many references to other books/songs/films - if you think it anything rings a bell from somewhere, it almost certainly does - and we don't own any of those things either. Feel free to dislike the story, but please don't judge. Any bad English or poor grammatical sentence structure is almost certainly intentional.

The Not-Dead Commander

Jon Snow was not dead. This might surprise people, not least Jon himself, but the cruel swords of his own men had pierced, not his flesh, but the multiple cigarillo cases concealed about his person.

Sitting up in a pile of aptly named snow, where the treacherous brothers of dubious leal had left him for dead, Jon reflected with thanks on the surprisingly useful gifts that Melisandre had unexpectedly bestowed upon him that very morning, although at the time it had been exceedingly awkward as he was not a smoker and he had a sneaking suspicion that she was trying to buy his favour, which would totally have compromised his honour, but if he had rejected them then she would have released her fiery wrath all over him, in her nameday gown, which would further have compromised his honour.

"Jon!" He heard a sweet tinkling voice sweetly tinkling towards him. He turned around to see Val, a vision of loveliness, running towards him in slow motion. "I thought you were dead! We must run away at once, or your life will be forfeit. There is a pirate crew watching and waiting at Eastwatch to spirit us away to Braavos, where the plot may or may not proceed in a very handy manner."

"No!" cried Jon. "My honour! My duty! My honour and my duty! And my horse!"

She looked up at him through tear-stained lashes and sobbed:

"But Jon, you'll die. And I'll be left all alone in this world. Anyway, you clearly don't have a horse"

After once last heroic glance at the Wall, Jon turned to her once more.

"Bugger honour", he northerned, channelling Sean Bean. "Onwards. Tally ho!"

The Invincible Sandsnakes

Meanwhile in Dorne, Prince Doran had won yet another game of tiddlywinks. The Sandsnakes hissed angrily.