"Have you ever killed a man?" //I don't know I saw an opportunity and I took it...
"I haven’t, she wolf. Although many men died from my orders," Cersei whispered as she stared down to the woman holding the blade against her neck.
Oh, it had been years, but she could recognize this wild look of her and those grey eyes anywhere. She could recognize the anger in her gaze, the anger she had seen the day they had gotten her friend Mycah killed.
Arya Stark, the little wild wolf of Winterfell, who had spent her days at King’s Landing catching cats and who had mysteriously vanished on the day her father was captured. Arya Stark who they thought they had found again ; did they ? Most pretended it was her, because it suited them. Herself had not bothered to check if the girl they married to Ramsay Snow was the right one. The real Arya Stark was most likely dead anyway.
How she was wrong. Rather than the skinny little girl she had known, it was a woman grown who was holding the blade. How old was she ? Fifteen maybe ?
Despite the hopelessness of the situation, Cersei let out a chuckle.
"I’ll have to grant it to you, you are quite strong for surviving out there all this time, Arya Stark."
Even Cersei could admit that. Nobody had expected the child to survive.
Now do it, Arya Stark of Winterfell. I will stare down at you even when I die, for I am still a Lannister.