As the sun rose that morning, Arya sat undisturbed by it. For the first time since her arrival at the House of Black and White, she did not immediately begin her duties at the temple. Instead, she sat motionless on her bed with her knees pulled up to her chest. The girl stared numbly at the grey concrete wall across from her. She knew it was there, but all her eyes revealed to her was darkness. The frustration that she felt as she willed her eyes to do something that they just could not began to unravel her once again.
The night before, she had been cradling herself on the floor of the chamber that housed the faces, rocking herself on the heels of her feet. She stopped shouting and wailing at this point, but her mind was no less disturbed by the loss of her sight. Eventually she had just ceased all together, sitting in a similar position as she did now. At this point, her Lorathi master who had stood quietly as she calmed down, gently took her hands in his own and pulled the blind girl to her feet. He then led her back to her cell without a word spoken from either of them. Arya just shuffled slowly in the direction he pulled her, her hand limp as the man held it. He eased her into the bed by lightly pushing her head down so that it did not bump into the low ceiling of the bunker. After a pause, he simply patted the top of her hair lightly and briskly left the room.
The gesture was the most affectionate one he had made since the girl's arrival. He had been very warm with Arya Stark during their time with the Night's Watch and at Harrenhal, but that was when he was Jaqen H'ghar. She had believed that the kindness he had shown her then had stemmed from the man's genuine care for her and that this behavior only changed because she was supposed to become no one as well. She had been taught by both her master and the Waif that being no one meant being devoid of emotion and sentiment. However, she now believed she was incorrect about her assumptions as she recalled her screaming and begging the faceless man to help her as he remained unsympathetic. She no longer believed that the man felt any warm regard for her. In any case, the detached Arya did not register the empathy behind the gesture.
The young girl merely sat for hours in the position he had left her. She had no indication of the hour, only a guess that it may have been her normal time to rise. With a pang, the thought of never seeing another sunrise or sunset crossed her mind. The small loss seemed to awaken a flood of emotions and she felt warm tears spring into her eyes. She let them fall onto her cheeks, unable to stem their flow. She had never felt so bleak in all her twelve years of life. What sort of a future could she have if she could not see?
She swore mentally as she realized that Meryn Trant may be the last name she would ever be able to cross off her list. Her sadness was soon replaced with rage. Her inability to achieve her revenge outweighed all other losses. Her hands curled into tight fists forcing her fingernails to cut into her palms painfully. The hollowness inside her soon became filled with her contempt. Her master had been right; she was not no one. She was Arya Stark of Winterfell. The human embodiment of the wolf if there ever was one. What would a wolf seek when harmed? The thought of vengeance curled Arya's lips into a malicious smile as she let the feeling flow through her.
Although she knew she had deliberately disobeyed her master, she had never imagined that she would be betrayed so hugely by the man she considered her friend. Hot anger burst through her veins as she recalled her worry when she had thought the man had killed himself. She seethed as she recalled the tears she spilled for him. Whatever feelings she felt for the man were now replaced with burning hatred. Her expression twisted with joy as she pictured the many creative ways she could exact her revenge.
Unknown to her, the very man whose murder she was plotting, had been standing not five feet from her, watching her expressions change. "A girl did not sleep," he remarked in a low voice. Arya shifted to face him, her blank, blue eyes pinpointing his exact location. "A girl has many thoughts." Arya suppressed her anger and forced herself not to voice the thoughts she was having. "What thoughts have kept a girl awake?" Arya did not answer; she could not be honest with risking punishment and she certainly did not trust herself to life convincingly at the moment. "Perhaps she had been reciting a prayer throughout the night? Traded in one name for another?" he asked her, clearly reading her thoughts with ease. If her intentions were clear, she had no reason to fear answering him honestly. He had probably already made his mind up about killing her anyway.
Arya shook her head. "Impossible," she answered flatly. "I don't know what to call you."
"That is an issue," the Lorathi chuckled as though she had just told a clever joke. "Perhaps a girl may call a man Jaqen H'ghar then." Arya dipped her head as if to thank him for the suggestion. "And if a girl wishes to kill a faceless man, she must become faceless herself to do so." In response, Arya cackled manically. "A man does not understand what was so humorous."
"How does a blind girl become an assassin?" she spat bitterly.
"She must complete her training," Jaqen responded as though it were obvious.
"And I suppose you'll let me live long enough to do that?" Jaqen's brow furrowed in confusion as he thought over her words.
"A man does not intend to harm a girl. Why does she believe he will?" Arya scoffed as he spoke and waved her hand in front of her voice to answer his question. "A man punished a girl. It does mean he will take her life."
"I don't believe you," Arya told him in a soft voice that allowed her hurt feelings to seep through. She cursed herself for acting like a wounded child, despite the fact that was indeed what she was. All of the lessons she had learned at the temple seemed to fade away in one night. She could not rule her face or emotions as she had been trained to. The façade she had created had slipped out of her fingers; she was Arya Stark, not no one.
"A girl feels betrayed," Jaqen mused quietly. He sensed that her anger only served to mask her hurt feelings.
"No," Arya lied firmly. Jaqen clucked his tongue in disbelief as he strode over to the girl and placed a hand on her shoulder, causing Arya to freeze. Would her death come now? She closed her eyes, thinking of Jon, her beloved brother. Perhaps he was already dead. Maybe she would see him and the rest of her family. Yes, she might like that. A final tear spilled from her eye as she pictured the reunion they would have in the afterlife.
However, death did not come. She turned her face upward toward the assassin. "A man has said," he reminded her softly. "A man will not kill you, Arya Stark."
"Why not?" she asked confused. Her anger momentarily forgotten.
"A man could not bring himself to kill his apprentice," he responded tenderly as stroked a tear on her cheek with his thumb. He watched as her unseeing eyes automatically glared at him with contempt.
"But you're no one."
"Yes," he answered with a nod.
"That doesn't make any sense," she retorted loudly with a shake of her head.
"Why ever not?"
"You said we weren't friends, because no one doesn't have them!"
"That is true. I fail to see what is so confusing, lovely girl," Jaqen noted with amusement in his tone. Arya's face contorted with annoyance, but allowed her tightened muscles to relax, determined to put her anger away, at least for the moment.
"I thought no one had to give up feelings to become a faceless man," Arya huffed in irritation.
"No, you misunderstood. You must give up your loves and hates, all that makes you who you are, Arya Stark. A girl can still feel anger and sadness, but she must be able to control it," he explained. Arya took in his words thoughtfully as Jaqen watched her process this. "So can Arya Stark become no one?"
"You're calling me Arya," the girl observed as she ignored his question. The man smiled as he recognized her intentions, but did not press the matter.
"That is who you are, if only for now." Arya chewed her bottom lip, a habit she hadn't done for years as she thought. "Out with it, girl," Jaqen commanded with a sigh.
"Why are you being nice to me now?" she wondered.
"A girl insults a man. He has always been kind," he jested as if he was offended. "But a man had his reasons." Arya turned her face to him to show she was waiting for him to expand. "A man needed to test a girl and her capabilities."
"And?"
"And only time will reveal the result, lovely girl. Will you continue your training?" Arya thought on this briefly. A blind girl in a strange city could not survive. She didn't really have much of a choice.
"Promise not to kill me?" Arya asked as the man laughed.
"By the seven new gods and the old gods beyond counting." Arya nodded, knowing he would not go back on his word.
"One more thing," Arya said as she grabbed his arm frantically. "Will I ever regain my eyesight?"
Jaqen took in her desperate tone and pleading face before answering the girl. "If a girl obeys, a man does not see why her eyesight will not be returned to her." Arya's face lit up with the prospect and she jumped to give the faceless man an impulsive hug accompanied by a squeal of glee. The man chuckled at the strange outburst but added that this was not a good example of controlling her emotions. Arya backed away sheepishly and nodded, silently cursing herself for being so affectionate towards him. After all, she certainly was the type to hold grudges. "Now that a girl is done hugging a man, he must ask her a few questions." Even though she could not see his face, she did register the seriousness of his tone as he spoke the last few words. She grew anxious as she wondered what questions the man might ask her and whether or not it may result in any other disabilities.