[A Glamour. Bran watches as the magic is undone, fading away just the way a mist might fade away in the sunlight. He watches it closely, and he marks the words closely, too. Real skin-changers, that are wilder. Thoughtfully, Bran chews at his lip as he considers that.]

Arya. Then you must have met Nymeria, too. You should have told her, that it was magic like a skinchanger's. Arya knows the stories, too.

[Though she might not have been any kinder even if she had known.]

You are a prince? What is your kingdom called?