This Is Not Winterfell', He Told Him

And All Was Black And Still, And Black And Cold, And Black And Dead, And Black.

Man Wants To Be The King O' The Rabbits, He Best Wear A Pair O' Floppy Ears.

"weese," She Would Whisper, First Of All. "dunsen, Chiswyck, Polliver, Raff The Sweetling. The Tickler And The Hound. Ser Gregor, Ser Armory, Ser Ilyn, Ser Meryn, King Joffrey, Queen Cersei."

Fantasy Is Silver And Scarlet, Indigo And Azure, Obsidian Veined With Gold And Lapis Lazuli. Reality Is Plywood And Plastic, Done Up In Mud Brown And Olive Drab. Fantasy Tastes Of Habaneros And Honey, Cinnamon And Cloves, Rare Red Meat And Wines As Sweet As Summer. Reality Is Beans And Tofu, And Ashes At The End.

Death, There Will Be Death, Aye. Your Lordship Lost A Son At The Red Wedding. I Lost Four Upon The Blackwater. And Why? Because The Lannisters Stole The Throne. Go To King’s Landing And Look On Tommen With Your Own Eyes, If You Doubt Me. A Blind Man Could See It. What Does Stannis Offer You? Vengeance. Vengeance For My Sons And Yours, For Your Husbands And Your Fathers And Your Brothers. Vengeance For Your Murdered Lord, Your Murdered King, Your Butchered Princes. Vengeance!