I just opened the latest edition of Fantasy & Science Fiction (print only) where they held a “game of prose” competition to guess how GRRM would finish the last paragraph of A Dream of Spring.
I won first place.
A Feast for Spring
They feasted on jellied calf-brain soup, honeyed chicken and an emerald green salad with sundried mulberries drizzled atop slices of swan. Rivulets of red and brown gravy meandered the contours of the greens. In the center was a whiskerfish, with its eyes of onyx and jet starring blankly at the men who ate of its flesh. To the left Tyrion could see Queen Sansa, First of Her Name, reaching for a tray of blood oranges and Dornish plums arranged in the shape of a direwolf; its jaws were dripping with juices of sweetblood.
Dinner had come.