To the Old Gods and the New, we Pray...
We pray to the Smith, the easiest to forget of the Seven — having been cast to the sea and never heard from again. May we draw strength from your rowing. May we draw strength from the valor of onion knights. May it be that you, Oh Smith, have found somewhere safe to wait out the storm brought on by the Warriors.
Forgive us, Smith, that your lessons are somewhat lost in the mix — hard work and building can seem fruitless in the face of wildfire. Still, we pray to you to repair the families of Westeros (what’s left of them), we pray to you to keep the Wall strong, we pray to you to hammer out good plots — and to give the forces of life and hope lots of magical short swords that don’t shatter when you hit them with broadswords. Even though they totally would.
Let dragon fire forge Westeros into a single well-lead force to face the Night King (who has taken as long to walk here as it has for you to row back to shore). And please let someone remember there’s still at least one Baratheon bastard wandering around.