[ as they always do, their house words bring a chill. winter is coming and jon at the wall, bran beyond it, rickon and sansa who knows where and arya across the narrow sea. she needs to return one day, will, but she does not know when that day will be.
arya thinks back to her last day in braavos in the kitchen of the temple, her hands wrapped around a cup of warm milk. those poisons she got belonged to the faceless men. the waif could brew all sorts, and she was the one to give her a cup.
might there have been something else in the milk? surely they would not overlook so easily her killing dareon. her eyes flit back to the screen. what would jon think of it? ]
I'm sorry for not telling you before. It won't happen again.
locked.
arya thinks back to her last day in braavos in the kitchen of the temple, her hands wrapped around a cup of warm milk. those poisons she got belonged to the faceless men. the waif could brew all sorts, and she was the one to give her a cup.
might there have been something else in the milk? surely they would not overlook so easily her killing dareon. her eyes flit back to the screen. what would jon think of it? ]
I'm sorry for not telling you before. It won't happen again.