The Dreadfort? [She repeats, curiosity in her tone. So he is from Westeros then. Her brows knit together. She doesn't know the members of House Bolton, but she can understand his fear of them. Roose Bolton had murdered her brother. The mention of his home turns her blood to ice in her veins.]
No. They were men of the Vale.
[At least to ease his mind. She pities him, and she cannot help it. But now it has her looking at him harder. Is he Northern? But then surely if he was she would know him. She would know a creature that looked like that. She tried to picture him younger, without the white hair.
And then his scars started to fade, and his voice sounded so much more familiar. It was then recognition crossed her face followed by pure horror. Her hand covers her mouth for a second and all she can do is whisper his name.]
no subject
No. They were men of the Vale.
[At least to ease his mind. She pities him, and she cannot help it. But now it has her looking at him harder. Is he Northern? But then surely if he was she would know him. She would know a creature that looked like that. She tried to picture him younger, without the white hair.
And then his scars started to fade, and his voice sounded so much more familiar. It was then recognition crossed her face followed by pure horror. Her hand covers her mouth for a second and all she can do is whisper his name.]
Theon.