I’ve always been a terrible priest. Drank too much rum. Fucked all the whores in King’s Landing. It’s a terrible thing to say, but by the time I came to Westeros, I didn’t believe in our Lord. I decided that He, that all the gods, were stories we told the children to make them behave. So I wore the robes and every now and then I’d recite the prayers, but it was just for show. A spectacle for the locals. Until the Mountain drove a lance through this one’s heart. I knelt beside his cold body and said the old words. Not because I believed in them, but… he was my friend and he was dead. And they were the only words I knew. And for the first time in my life, the Lord replied. Beric’s eyes opened and I knew the truth. Our god is the one true god. And all men must serve Him.