Wolfsong

"A wolf is never alone",
they cried, in the halls of the new Hand.
"A wolf has claws, and teeth",
they cried, when the Lion sank it's fangs.
"A wolf is dead, but the wolf lives still",
on the way to Harrenhall, they screamed.
"A man with a wolf's head, is a wolf nonetheless",
they sobbed, at the Twins.
The old wolf died, the young wolf followed,
the white wolf saw he was alone in his sorrow.
And dropped he did, his coat of black,
and though death came for him, he turned it back.
"I have an oath to keep", the white wolf thundered
"and even death will not stay my hand."
"Aye, for you are our rightful leader, my young king",
a little giant of a girl said, "And here we stand."
The white wolf fought, and lost so much,
so many of the pack to the cold's attack.
That the wolf's heart grew weary indeed
with the blood that stained his hands black.
So, when the deeds were done and songs sung,
he drew his sword one last time.
And back to the black castle he returned,
when the game of thrones was finally done.