“Mhysa!” a brown-skinned man shouted out at her. He had a child on his shoulder, a little girl, and she screamed the same word in her thin voice. “Mhysa! Mhysa!”Dany looked at Missandei. “What are they shouting?”“It is Ghiscari, the old pure tongue. It means ‘Mother.’”Dany felt a lightness in her chest. I will never bear a living child, she remembered. Her hand trembled as she raised it. Perhaps she smiled. She must have, because the man grinned and shouted again, and others took up the cry. “Mhysa!” they called. “Mhysa! MHYSA!” They were all smiling at her, reaching for her, kneeling before her. “Maela,” some called her, while others cried “Aelalla” or “Qathei” or “Tato,” but whatever the tongue it all meant the same thing. Mother. They are calling me Mother.”

“Once, so tormented she could not sleep, Dany slid a hand down between her legs, and gasped when she felt how wet she was. Scarce daring to breathe, she moved her fingers back and forth between her lower lips, slowly so as not to wake Irri beside her, until she found one sweet spot and lingered there, touching herself lightly, timidly at first and then faster. Still, the relief she wanted seemed to recede before her, until her dragons stirred, and one screamed out across the cabin, and Irri woke and saw what she was doing.Dany knew her face was flushed, but in the darkness Irri surely could not tell. Wordless, the handmaid put a hand on her breast, then bent to take a nipple in her mouth. Her other hand drifted down across the soft curve of belly, through the mound of fine silvery-gold hair, and went to work between Dany's thighs. It was no more than a few moments until her legs twisted and her breasts heaved and her whole body shuddered. She screamed then. Or perhaps that was Drogon. Irri never said a thing, only curled back up and went back to sleep the instant the thing was done.”

“She yearned to see her mother again, and Robb and Bran and Rickon… but it was Jon Snow she thought of most. She wished somehow they could come to the Wall before Winterfell, so Jon might muss up her hair and call her “little sister.” She’d tell him, “I missed you,” and he’d say it too at the very same moment, the way they always used to say things together. She would have liked that. She would have liked that better than anything.”

“one naked girl with a mud up to her knees could not seem to take her eyes off Tyrion. She has never seen a dwarf before, he realized, much less a dwarf without a nose. He made a face and stuck his tongue out and the girl began to cry”

“Needle was Robb and Bran and Rickon, her mother and her father, even Sansa. Needle was Winterfell's grey walls, and the laughter of its people. Needle was the summer snows, Old Nan's stories, the heart tree with its red leaves and scary face, the warm earthy smell of the glass gardens, the sound of the north wind rattling the shutters of her room. Needle was Jon Snow's smile. He used to mess my hair and call me "little sister," she remembered, and suddenly there were tears in her eyes.”

“Day followed day, and night followed night, until Dany knew she could not endure a moment longer. She would kill herself rather than go on, she decided one night... Yet when she slept that night, she dreamt the dragon dream again. Viserys was not in it this time. There was only her and the dragon. Its scales were black as night, wet and slick with blood. Her blood, Dany sensed. Its eyes were pools of molten magma and when it opened its mouth, the flame came roaring out in a hot jet. She could hear it singing to her. She opened her arms to the fire, embraced it, let it swallow her whole, let it cleanse her and temper her and scour her clean. She could feel her flesh sear and blacken and slough away, could feel her blood boil and turn to steam, and yet there was no pain. She felt strong and new and fierce. And the next day, strangely, she did not seem to hurt quite as much.”

“The Bear and the Maiden FairA bear there was, a bear, a bear!All black and brown, and covered with hair!The bear! The bear!Oh, come, they said, oh come to the fair!The fair? Said he, but I'm a bear!All black, and brown, and covered with hair!And Down the road from here to there.From here! To There!Three boys, a goat, and a dancing bear![He] danced and spun, all the way to the Fair!The Fair! The Fair![...]Oh, sweet she was, and pure, and fair!The maid with honey in her hair!Her hair! Her hair!The maid with honey in her hair![The bear,] smelled the scent on the summer air.The bear! The bear!All black and brown and covered with hair.He smelled the scent on the summer air!He sniffed and roared and smelled it there!Honey on the summer air!Oh, I'm a maid, and I'm pure and fair!I'll never dance with a hairy bear!A bear! A bear!I'll never dance with a hairy bear!He lifted her high into the air!The bear! The bear!I called for a knight, but you're a bear!A bear! A bear!All black and brown and covered with hair!She kicked and wailed, the maid so fair,But he licked the honey from her hair,Her hair! Her hair!Then she sighed and squealed and kicked the air!My bear! She sang. My bear so fair!And off they went, from here to there,The bear, the bear, and the maiden fair.~"The Bear and the Maiden Fair",”