When We Speak Of The Morrow Nothing

Dark Wings, Dark Words.

A Thousand Deaths Would Still Be Less Than He Deserves.

Any Act Can Be A Prayer, If Done As Well As We Are Able.

And For The First Time In Hundreds Of Years, The Night Came Alive With The Music Of Dragons.

Let Me Tell You Something About Wolves, Child. When The Snows Fall And The White Winds Blow, The Lone Wolf Dies, But The Pack Survives. In Winter, We Must Protect One Another, Keep Each Other Warm, Share Our Strengths. So If You Must Hate, Arya, Hate Those Who Would Truly Do Us Harm.