“Some old wounds never truly heal, and bleed again at the slightest word.”

“Shattered legs may heal in time, but some betrayals fester and poison the soul.”

“When the red star bleeds and the darkness gathers, Azor Ahai shall be born again amidst smoke and salt to wake dragons out of stone.”

“Some gave me soft words and some blunt, some made excuses, some promises, some only lied. In the end words are just wind.”

“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.”

“There were some secrets that should never be spoken, some shames a man should take to his grave.”

“Do you think it will truly come to battle between them? If they should come to some accord—”“They won’t,” Tyrion said. “They are too different and yet too much alike, and neither could ever stomach the other.”