Fickle child;
Drowned of your own sweet cup.
A mother's love corrupted.
Golden hair and crimson sup.
A king by proxy, naught else.
Hate and malice running deep;
Thine rule as ill-birthed as thee.
Who to blame, but those who keep?
Earnest heart on cloven face;
A guiding hand your uncle brought,
Now your heart shall keep no pace.
For all the good it did, naught.
Mourned as long as custom cries.
Your reign shall not be remembered.
A foolish end to a foolish boy.
The fault, Stark's head dismembered.
