“Tell my daughter Elizabeth — no! Tell all my daughters, everywhere, in all the ages yet to come. Tell them how I died, and why. And tell them to remember this: the future is unwritten. Know your rights.”
Life is not a song, sweetling. Someday you may learn that, to your sorrow.
But a voice inside her whispered, There are no heroes, and she remembered what Lord Petyr had said to her, here in this very hall. “Life is not a song, sweetling,” he’d told her. “You may learn that one day to your sorrow.” In life, the monsters win.
"One of the first houses we lived in was like out of a fairy story. We had a stream that ran through our garden, and we played with the ducks - we locked them in my mum’s office and they pooed everywhere. It was crazy, picking blackberries and mushrooms, rabbits running through your legs." — Emilia Clarke for Flare Magazine (2014)
Your mother’s dead. Before long I’ll be dead, and you and your brother and your sister and all of her children, all of us dead, all of us rotting underground. It’s the family name that lives on. It’s all that lives on. Not your personal glory, not your honor… but family. You understand?