Sienna Willis

“I have plucked snowdrops at Midwinter, died at my own choosing, and wept for a nightingale. Now I am beyond prophecy.”
― Katherine Arden, The Winter of the Witch

“Her feelings had come like a flower on a tree. A bud, gently forming - and just like that, an undying blossom.”
― Samantha Shannon, The Priory of the Orange Tree

“Thinking about history makes me wonder how I’ll fit into it one day, I guess. And you too. I kinda wish people still wrote like that. History, huh? Bet we could make some.”
― Casey McQuiston, Red, White & Royal Blue

“Farewell daughter. May the Saint, in his kindness, keep you safe.”
Glorian tried to find the words she wanted to express. I will make you proud. I am afraid. I love you, even if I do not think you love me half as much. I will never treat my daughter the way you have treated me.
“Goodbye, Mother,” was all she did say. “I bid you a safe voyage. Please send my good wishes to Lord Magnaust and Princess Idrega.”
“I will.”
Queen Sabran turned away. Glorian found a deep well of courage and said, “I will be a good queen.”
Her mother stopped.
“You think me weak,” Glorian said, willing her voice not to quake. “You always have— but I know whose bone and blood I am. I am the chosen of the Saint, the fruit of his unending vine, the iron of the ever-snow. I am the daughter of Sabran the Ambitious and the Hammer of the North, and I will rule this realm without fear. My reign will be remembered for centuries to come.” She let the words soak through the silence, then said, “I am enough.”
For a very long time, Queen Sabran said nothing. Her experience was impossible to read.
“Belief is only the first step,” she said, very softly. “Start forging your armour, Glorian. You will need it.”
― Samantha Shannon, A Day of Fallen Night