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Photo by Chris Rivera

Photo by Chris Rivera

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PlasticPeacePerson / burgundyoctopus Carry On My Wayward Son - Lullaby With Vocals
PlasticPeacePerson / burgundyoctopus
Carry On My Wayward Son - Lullaby With Vocals
Ramin Djawadi Winterfell
Ramin Djawadi
Winterfell

Snow was falling on the Eyrie. Outside the flakes drifted down as soft and silent as memory. The sight took Sansa back to cold nights long ago, in the long summer of her childhood. 

She had last seen snow the day she’d left Winterfell. That was a lighter fall than this, she remembered. Robb had melting flakes in his hair when he hugged me, and the snowball Arya tried to make kept coming apart in her hands. It hurt to remember how happy she had been that morning. Hullen had helped her mount, and she’d ridden out with the snowflakes swirling around her, off to see the great wide world. I thought my song was beginning that day, but it was almost done.
The snow fell and the castle rose. It was only a castle when she began, but before very long Sansa knew it was Winterfell. Soon her gloves and her boots were crusty white, her hands were tingling, and her feet were soaked and cold, but she did not care. The castle was all that mattered.

Most of the intelligence community doesn’t believe he exists. The ones that do call him the Winter Soldier. He is credited with over two thousand assasinations in the last fifty years. He’s a ghost, you’ll never find him…