Fear is for the winter, my little lord, when the snows fall a hundred feet deep and the ice wind comes howling out of the north. Fear is for the long night, when the sun hides its face for years at a time, and little children are born and live and die all in darkness while the direwolves grow gaunt and hungry, and the white walkers move through the woods.
Aye. Queen you shall be… until there comes another, younger and more beautiful, to cast you down and take all that you hold dear
We shared a womb, came into this world together
We belong together