The Frozen Throne

The cold winds come fierce and sharp, in the north where shadows are. Houses rise with banners high, underneath the grey stark sky. Wolves will howl and ravens fly, as the north remembers by and by. The rise of Lord Winterfell, power lies where dragons dwell, and she who claims the frozen throne must steel her heart against flesh and bone. And each lord sounded war horns bold to fight till rival's banners fall. For the north's so bright will bend or break, their swords as cold as the winter's lake. The snow may cover the blood-soaked ground, but beneath the ice fierce loyalties are found. In the north where legends roam, beneath the wall just ice and stone. In every flake that graces land stands a watchman sword in hand. Guardians of the realms of men, bracing against the wild against. Their hopes are etched in frosty breath to guard the living, fight the dead.