Since George RR Martin is obviously never going to finish the next book of Game of Thrones ever, I've decided to take over his job. You're welcome, everyone.

THE WINDS OF WINTER

WARNING: GAME OF THRONES SPOILERS BELOW. IF YOU HAVE NOT READ THE PREVIOUS BOOKS IN THE GAME OF THRONES SERIES AND ARE SENSITIVE TO SPOILERS, STOP READING NOW.

Chapter 1 (Sergei's Point of View)

Sergei Lannisterovsky wept in front of a shelf full of empty bottles of vodka. He had been an alcoholic for as long as he could remember, and suffered from it in the form of profound memory loss, but ever since the death of his only child, Joffrey, he'd been incapable of doing anything other than drinking. Indeed, almost inevitably, Joffrey had become an alcoholic, just like his father, by the age of sixteen, and had died by choking on a glass of wine, a fact from which Sergei derived a twisted, delusional, bitter pleasure. Whenever he thought of the way his son died, he would laugh, and the unconscious, reptilian part of his brain would hope that, by laughing, he would choke on his drink and die, just like his son...

Sergei got up and started to examine the empty bottles of vodka, looking especially at the bottoms. When he noticed one that seemed to contain a drop in the bottom, he unscrewed its cap, tilted his neck back and held the bottle at a respectable angle to his mouth. He waited a whole minute for the drop to slide down the wall of the bottle and enter his mouth. Now that he was refreshed, he could attend to the person who was waiting in the snow outside his log cabin.

It was his brother, Tyrion, and there was a sled behind him that was carrying a large wooden box. Tyrion was up to his legs in snow, because he was a dwarf, and the box would be large enough to be his coffin when he died. He had arrived with Sergei's weekly delivery of vodka. The delivery was early, but that was a good thing because Sergei had gone through his supply especially quickly this week.

"Priviet, brother," Sergei said. Priviet means hello in Northerian, the language of Northeros.

"Brotherly intuition told me that you needed this," Tyrion replied.

"Spasiba."

The two men each moved to either side of the sled. They picked up the box and hauled it into Sergei's cabin.

"Go now," Sergei said when the job was done. "Da svidania, brother." Tyrion left.

Sergei took the cover off the box and immediately noticed that something was amiss. There should have been a six by ten arrangement of sixty bottles, but off in a corner one was missing, so there were only 59 bottles in the box. He became vexed, angry and frustrated. He stormed out of his cabin in search of his brother.

Tyrion had not gone far, and Sergei could still see his brother on his sled in the distance. Sergei ran in bounding steps through the snow until he overtook his brother. The sled stopped to a halt and Sergei grabbed Tyrion off of it by the arm. "What have you done with my vodka?" he demanded.

Sergei resumed his yelling before his brother could respond. "Sixty bottles! You said there would be SIXTY BOTTLES! THERE'S ALWAYS BEEN SIXTY BOTTLES! 59 BOTTLES IS NOT ENOUGH FOR MY DEPENDENCE! DID YOUR 'BROTHERLY INTUITION' NEVER TELL YOU THAT?? SOMEONE DID SOMETHING WITH THE SIXTIETH BOTTLE AND MY BROTHERLY INTUITION TELLS ME IT WAS YOU!!!"

"Kind brother, please let me explain," Tyrion pleaded. "I was waiting outside your house for so long, and the snow was so cold, especially to me, a mere little dwarf, and I knew you would be good and selfless enough to share with your unfortunate younger brother a bottle of vodka to warm himself up. Forgive me, my brother, I understand. I should not make assumptions, even if they are right, but I am rarely right, and this incident only proves that." Tears were forming in his eyes.

"Get out of my sight, you little wretch," Sergei replied, his voice now hoarse from the yelling. He was impatient to drink some vodka to soothe his throat. "My parents should have gotten rid of you the moment you were born. You're the reason they're dead and I'm an alcoholic. Get out!"

Tyrion obliged. Sergei could hear his brother's crying as he drove away, and he began to feel ashamed. His relationship with his brother would never be the same, because he had ruined it. As he made his way back to his cabin, he saw the empty bottle beside a dying, leafless tree next to his house, and the sight of it only further drove the knife into his heart. He felt like Ivan the Terrible when the czar killed his own son...

Chapter 2 (Tyrion's point of view)

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Chapter 3 (Anya's Point of View)

Anya cried in the woods behind the cabin. While her sister Sasha was participating in all kinds of high-class events with Anna Karenina and the characters from War and Peace, she was stuck with her alcoholic father in law in the middle of the Northerian taiga. It was all because Sasha had the red hair of their mother Ekaterina, while Anya's hair was dull and brown like the dead trees that surrounded her, causing everyone to think she was ugly. It wasn't fair.

As she passed by the front of the cabin, Sergei saw her from inside. "Where do you think you're going, devotchka?" he demanded gruffly.

"To see Joffrey," she replied without looking at him.

Sergei began to follow her, but she waved him away like a fly. "Please let me be alone with him," she begged.

"Who is his father again??" he asked.

"You may be his father, but I'm his wife, his widow. Please, my dear father in law, you know how much this means to me... Let me have the chance." Anya started to cry again.

In truth, Sergei had no intention of visiting the grave of his son. He only wanted to prevent Anya from doing that. But when she slipped away he didn't even notice, because he had already gone back into the cabin to open another bottle of vodka.

Once Anya arrived at the grave, which was marked by a poorly carved headstone, she knelt down and began to sweep the snow off of Joffrey's body with her hand. The grave had been done by Sergei while he was drunk, as had the headstone. It wasn't even a proper burial, because he had buried his son into the snow instead of the ground. The whole thing simply didn't matter enough to him, since it had no relation to alcohol.

Joffrey was still as beautiful as he had been while alive, Anya thought. The body had not decomposed a bit. She slipped his ring, a symbol of their marriage, off his finger, and put it on her own, reuniting it with its twin. Then she put it back on Joffrey's finger.

She gently pulled up his eyelids. She wanted him to look her in the eyes while she spoke. She sighed, the winds of winter beating against her face.

"Forgive me, Joffrey."

Once she was satisfied that she had a response from him, she said this:

"Remember that whatever I may do in the future, and whatever may happen to me in the years ahead, I will always be your wife. I have suffered because I love you, and I will suffer more. You swore to be mine, and I to be yours, in life and in death and in the best and the worst of times, and I will remember our promises forever. Joffrey, this may be the last time we see each other in this world, but I hope you will have forgiven me when we meet in the next one. Forgive me, Joffrey! Forgive me!"

So she left the grave, knowing that the snow would bury him once again.

***

When Anya returned to the cabin with a bundle of poisonoxroot in her arms, she found Sergei passed out on the floor with a half-empty bottle of vodka by his side. She went to the kitchen and put the poisonoxroot, which was picked in a patch near her husband's grave, into a large basin filled with water and waited half an hour for the toxins in the poisonoxroot to be suffused into the water, periodically going out to check if Sergei was still passed out.

When it was done she took a small cup, went up to Sergei, and carefully poured the poisonoxroot water into the bottle by his side. She repeated the same action for all of the bottles in the box, 54 in total.

By the time she was done, it was already night, so she went to her room and fell asleep knowing she would wake up to find her father in law dead by her own hand. She felt like Ivan the Terrible when the czar killed his own son...

Chapter 4 (Daenerys' Point of View)

Daenerys Targaryen was staying in the Westerian Embassy in Tokyo in Japan in Easteros for a political summit where she would be discussing serious political discussions with, among other eminent political figures, the Prime Minister of Japan, Shinzo Abe. Unlike regular political summits, this one would actually be held at the top of a mountain, specifically Mount Fuji, because they thought the fresh air of the mountaintop would allow those important political leaders to think more clearly. Suddenly the atmosphere was filled with a loud crashing noise, and the whole landscape was cast in shadow. As a roar came from the distance, Daenerys sighed. "Not this again..."

Daenerys ran out of the embassy unaccompanied by the Westerian version of the Secret Service. She was the only one who could put an end to this. She waved her arms in the air and yelled for Dragon, her dragon, who was causing the destruction, hoping it would hear her above the cries of the civilians and the noises.

Dragon walked on, crushing the Tokyo skyscrapers under its feet like blades of fragile grass, and breathing fire over the city without any regard for human life. Once, its giant foot landed within a yard of its owner Daenerys, but even as she was below it, it didn't pay any attention to her. She tried to cling herself onto its foot, but it escaped.

She had known there would be consequences if she went to Japan while leaving Dragon behind, but she had thought he would be fine under the watch of Jon Snow. The political relationship of Westeros and Easteros could definitely not improve after this, which was the reason for the summit being held in the first place. The Westerian embassy had probably been crushed under Dragon's foot already, everybody inside it also crushed. Above all, Daenerys knew that she was responsible for everything. She was the one who had raised Dragon since it was an egg. The question was, where had she gone wrong? She felt like Date Masamune's mother.

Chapter 5 (Jon Snow)

Jon Snow was living his regular life as the presenter of Channel 4 News when he began receiving disturbing reports that an enormous dragon creature was causing havoc in the metropolitan Japanese capital Tokyo. Once he watched the footage that one of his contacts had sent from Tokyo, his suspicions were confirmed. The enormous dragon creature was Dragon, the dragon he had promised to take care of for his friend Daenerys. The damage done was truly great. He had been speaking with the Easterian contact on the phone, but the call had been cut short by a loud scream.

Jon Snow knew he was responsible for Dragon, but to what extent? He had thought there would be no harm in letting Dragon fly as it liked around the fields of Westeros, and his job was important. Jon suddenly realized that he had never actually seen the dragon in person. He watched the video again and was surprised by its size. But there was nothing for him to do except to cover the mayhem that was going on in Tokyo without admitting that he had any connection with it. Dragon was Tokyo's responsibility now.

Chapter 6 (Sasha)

Sasha wept in the closet of some aristocratic castle where a ball was being held, because none of the princes wanted to dance with her. Little did she know that her unfortunate younger sister Anya was crying herself to sleep in a log cabin on the other side of Northeros because she had just poisoned the vodka of her alcoholic father in law.

Chapter 7 (Joffrey's Point of View)

Everyone thought that Joffrey had died. His father, his uncle and his wife had all watched him choke on the wine in front of the dining table on Christmas, which was the reason that Tyrion had arrived to dine with them. They had watched his face turn blue and his eyes roll back into his head. Anya had seen how her father in law had carved the shallow grave out of the snow and thrown the body inside. She had kissed the frozen lips before Sergei piled a layer of snow over the trench that was to be his grave forever. And earlier today, when Anya had decided to visit her husband for the last time before committing the unspeakable crime for which she would never be forgiven, he had looked just as he did the last time she kissed him. None of them could know that Joffrey had become a Night Walker.