… but never think that means I have forgotten. The north remembers, Lord Davos. The north remembers, and the mummer’s farce is almost done.

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My featherbed is deep and soft, and there I’ll lay you down,
I’ll dress you all in yellow silk, and on your head a crown.
For you shall be my lady love, and I shall be your lord.
I’ll always keep you warm and safe, and guard you with my sword.
And how she smiled and how she laughed, the maiden of the tree.
She spun away and said to him, no featherbed for me.
I’ll wear a gown of golden leaves, and bind my hair with grass,
But you can be my forest love, and me your forest lass.

(via khaleesi)