rynigogenio

Gone are the howls, gone are the cries From the broken House, from the Northern night But fool is he who thinks the wolves all die Those that live shall grow and continue the fight The North is not broken, we but wait We never forget and we never forgive The blood we are owed the Old Gods will sate For four and one Stark wolves still live The heir runs to land forever frozen, magic to be learned The river-daughter to the moon shall flee, to hide and survive The she-wolf to city of death and killers goes, skill is earned The littlest to far dark isle, his savagery here shall thrive The outcast in black, shall rise from stained cold Black an