For round them pressed the Red Ship wolves,
A wall of swords and knives.
They heard a roar and striding came
The bastard Buckkeep son.
Like rubies flung, the drops of blood
That from his axe-head spun.
A path he clove, like hewing trees,
As bloody axe he wielded.
Blood to his chest, the bastard came,
And to his blade they yielded.
’Twas Chivalry’s son,
His eyes like flame,
Who shared his blood
If not his name.
A Farseer son,
But ne’er an heir
Whose bloodied locks
No crown would bear.
— «ANTLER ISLAND ANTHEM,» STARLING BIRDSONG