wildlingvals:

“When will I wed the prince?“ she asked. “Never. You will wed the king.” “I will be queen, though?” asked the younger her.

“Aye.” Malice gleamed in Maggys yellow eyes. “Queen you shall be … until there comes another, younger and more beautiful, to cast you down and take all that you hold dear.”

… “Will the king and I have children?“ she asked.
“Oh, aye. Six-and-ten for him, and three for you.”

“Gold shall be their crowns and gold their shrouds,” she said. “And when your tears have drowned you, the valonqar shall wrap his hands about your pale white throat and choke the life from you.”