Oceane

“If you didn't figure it out, you weren't worthy of knowing." She huffs. "I waited six hundred and fifty years to hatch. Waited until your eighteenth summer, when I heard our elders talk of a weakling daughter of their general, the girl forecasted to become the head of the scribes, and I knew. You would have the mind of a scribe and the heart of a rider. You would be mine." She leans into my hand. "You are as unique as I am. We want the same things."
"You couldn't have known I would be a rider."
"And yet, here we are."
A thousand questions go through my head, none of which we have the time for, so I give her exactly what I wanted–to be seen for who and what she is.
"You are not a black dragon, or any of the six that we know of. You're a seventh breed."
"Yes." Her eyes widen in excitement.”
― Rebecca Yarros, Iron Flame

“A dragon without its rider is a tragedy.
A rider without their dragon is dead.”
― Rebecca Yarros, Fourth Wing

“Because love, at its root, is hope. Hope for tomorrow. Hope for what could be. Hope that the someone you’ve entrusted your everything to will cradle and protect it. And hope? That shit is harder to kill than a dragon.”
― Rebecca Yarros, Iron Flame

“Fascinating. You look all frail and breakable, but you’re really a violent little thing, aren’t you?”
― Rebecca Yarros, Fourth Wing