This was posted to v_f earlier. I've been told people want to link to it. So I am. But plz don't tell GRRM I'm thwarting his rules.

Username: strangerface
House: Stark
Subject and/or brief description: This is all curtana's fault. Zombies. Walder Frey. Brains. Did I mention zombies?
Rating: Hm. Well it's kind of happy in a mixed up Tim Burton way. But... not exactly fluff. PG-13, maybe?
Word count: 751


The hamlet was mostly populated by children when it burned. No one was sure why it was put to the torch. Had the children done something to annoying the lions? When Lady Stoneheart saw the ruins, she fell to her knees and let out a long, rasping cry that made the members of the Brotherhood shudder. Thoros made them bring out the little, broken bodies so they could be buried. The Lady weaved among them, caressing their bodies and moaning.

Her actions disturbed the rest of the Brotherhood, but none dared get in her way. When she started separating some corpses from the others, they just shrugged and went about their business.

She picked out five dead children. Three were boys and two were girls. Thoros realized too late that they were all about the same age and coloring as the Stark children.

That wasn’t until after she kissed them.

*

An odd scratching noise came from the walls of the castle. Lothar had never heard the wind make such a sound. It was like someone was scaling the walls. But that was ridiculous. The stones were too smooth to get a grip. And it’d be a sure plummet to death, besides. He shook his head and determined it was just the north wind blowing. But there it was again. Irritated, he poked his head out of one of the arrow slits to see what it was. Maybe there was a deranged bird flying into the castle.

The eyes of a red-headed boy stared up at him. Lothar yelped, but too late the boy had grabbed him with unnaturally strong hands. Then both of them tumbled into the room, the boy on top and Lothar trapped beneath him.

Lothar screamed in surprise. The boy wasn’t heavy—he couldn’t have been more than nine—but he had given him quite a fright. He made to push the boy to the floor, but found he could not. The boy’s grip was too strong.

And then the boy bit him, and he screamed for true.

*

The others waited outside for their brother to come fetch them. They had already killed all the guard so there was no one to raise the alarm. The stood patiently.

Such good children.

*

One of the girls had red hair. It was really more brown if you looked at it closely, but no one got that chance. She skipped and played with her dress. But when it came time to go to work, she killed just as gleefully as the rest.

The other girl mostly crawled on all fours, snapping and snarling at anyone she saw—save her family. She had been gone a bit too long and was mostly wild. Only her mother could soothe her when she flew into a rage.

That was, if her mother had been so inclined.

*

Screaming, the people of the Twins flew to the Great Hall for sanctuary. The oldest boy is lying in wait for them with his mother. She drops her hood and there are more screams. The boy pounces on them.

When he has feasted, his sisters and middle brother meet him there. They look around the place and decide they don’t like it.

They want to see it burn.

*

The littlest one stalked the halls with a stubborn look on his dead face. He was looking for someone in particular. Mother said it was important. He opened doors and peeked inside. Sometimes people in there screamed, but mostly they were dead already. He slammed the doors in frustration.

Not right.

Finally he climbed all the way up the tall tower and pushed aside lots of annoying silk hangings. He knew he had found the right place. There was a handful of attendant s in the antechamber. He killed them all quickly, annoyed they got in his way.

An old man lay in the bed. He was asleep, oblivious to the chaos around him. Pleased, the little boy hopped onto the bed and bounced. The old man woke up, prepared to yell at whoever had dared wake him. The little boy laughed—insofar as he could laugh, since the soldiers had ripped out his throat.

The boy lunged and bit down hard. He held on with his teeth until the man stopped moving. Then he retched, disgusted. The old man could’ve had the decency to taste good. At least he was gone now. He could go tell mother.

She would be so proud of him.