— Do you like it Nana?
— Another golden rose. How original. I eat from plates stamped with roses. I sleep in sheets embroidered with roses. I have a golden rose painted on my chamber pot, as if that makes it smell any better. Roses are boring, dear. "Growing strong.โ The dullest words of any house. "Winter is coming!" Now that's memorable. "We do not sow." Strong Strong. Those are houses you watch out for. Direwolwes and krakens, fierce beasts. But a golden rose growing strong, that strikes fear in the heart.
— Put the pen down, dear. We both know you're not writing anything.
— Ah, yes. The famously tart-tongued Queen of Thorns.
— And the famous tart, Queen Cersei.
What happens when the nonexistent bumps against the decrepit?
But once the cow's been milked, there's no squirting the cream back up her udders.
It's a rare enough thing — a man who lives up to his reputation.
— If Robb Stark falls, Sansa Stark is the key to the North.
— And if he marries her, he'll have the key in his pocket.
I did unspeakable things to protect my family. Or watched them being done, on my orders. I never lost a night's sleep over them. They were necessary. And whatever I imagined necessary for the safety of House Tyrell, I did. But your sister has done things I was incapable of imagining. That was my prize mistake. A failure of imagination.