and to celebrate this, here's a poem about one of my favourite characters from the series.
If you haven't watched any yet, do check it out cos it's brilliant. Not as brilliant however as the series of books the tv show is based upon. Finest tale I've read, five books in and it's not finished yet!
Check out the reviews on Amazon...
Anyway, here's the poem. Thanks for reading :)
As you pace and plot within your tower,
Can your vision pierce the flesh and see the bones
That truly serve to frame your will to power?
O lordling, would you play the game of thrones?
They cut away my manhood as a boy,
And as I bled, I watched it as it burned.
I learned to live by ruse, and trick, and ploy,
And how to ride each tide before it turned.
I attend to every trouble, every care.
My little birds, they whisper many things.
That which I learn, I choose, or not, to share;
Such is my shield amidst this clash of kings.
Aerys? Oh, now he was truly mad.
I watched the horrors burn away his mind.
The acts that he committed made me... sad,
For 'tis true, I knew him when he could be kind.
They sneer at me, and march off to their wars,
These brutal, preening, all-unknowing lords.
I know them for their hungers and their flaws;
Such grants me shelter 'neath a storm of swords.
Robert, not well-suited to the game,
Once made a handsome sight, but little more.
The... accident that took him was a shame;
Drunken, fat, and gutted by a boar.
I shivered when I saw the raven's feathers.
I feel the breeze wax colder as it blows.
I see the warlords straining at their tethers,
Each eager to provide a feast for crows.
Joffrey? What a fierce, strong-minded child!
What more a lion could a king beget?
I fear his power has not made him mild,
But we may see him learn his lesson yet.
The maesters say this world has lost its magic,
That power now resides in axe, and lance.
Some shake their learned heads, pronounce it tragic,
That we shall no more see the dragons' dance.
But me? I've caught some rumours and some tattle,
That my little birds have flown me from the east.
I wonder if this time of blades, and battle,
One day will not matter in the least.
I've heard that when this troubled summer dies,
Our tears shall freeze, our swords will shard and splinter.
The blizzards from the north will shroud our skies,
And we shall shudder 'neath the winds of winter.
But 'til that fated day I live to serve,
And whisper to whomever sits the throne.
Some say that I will get what I deserve,
But the truth of what that is remains my own.
The members of the council come and go,
But I remain and tend my noble king.
And when the castles sink beneath the snow,
I'll nestle deep, and dream a dream of spring.
What care I which beast becrowns your helm?
I serve not you.
I serve the realm.