He had found over the years that silence sometimes yielded more than questions. And so it was this time.

For herself, she wanted sleet and ice, howling winds, thunder to shake the very stones of the Red Keep. She wanted a storm to match her rage.

Love is poison. A sweet poison, yes, but it will kill you all the same.

All these kings would do a deal better if they would put down their swords and listen to their mothers.

Wisdom oft comes from the mouth of babes.

All that Syrio Forel had taught her went racing through her head. Swift as a deer. Quiet as shadow. Fear cuts deeper than swords. Quick as a snake. Calm as still water. Fear cuts deeper than swords. Strong as a bear. Fierce as a wolverine. Fear cuts deeper than swords. Then man who fears losing has already lost. Fear cuts deeper than swords. Fear cuts deeper than swords. Fear cuts deeper than swords.

I’d be anonymous. That’s what I’d do differently.