Arya

Arya's pale skin seemed to glisten under the shining, white moon. Along the boardwalk she went, her black boots creating a clicking sound on the wood. Click, clack, click, clack they went, the sound was subtle yet loud enough for her to hear over the differing noises.

She breathed in deeply and grinned at the smell of the spices and the garlic that wafted out from the nearby restaurant, Dornish, she thought, taking another sniff just to be sure, Definitely Dornish. She was seventeen now, but she looked older for her age tonight; donning an assortment of dark makeups fitted with a short black dress and her black boots. She absolutely hated dresses, despised them with every able fiber of her being, alas, she had to wear it. Being an assassin would be tough work if she didn't at least try to disguise herself from her usual black skinny jeans, spiked boots, and loose fitting shirt that often consisted of a place for her to hide her dagger. Needle, she had called it. "It's skinny just like you," Jon had said when he had gifted it to her. She shook her head at the thought of him, he was a million miles away, it seemed.

Up against the cold, metal railing she leaned, not paying any sort of attention to the suggestive looks of the men as they went past. That was another thing she hated. Men. The men were for Sansa, Arya couldn't have cared less about the things. Distractions is what they are, she thought to herself, Sansa has her men, I have my Nymeria. Sansa has her sewing needles, I have a needle of my own. she chuckled softly, those words were some of the same that she had told Jon.

"Where is he," she said aloud, suddenly becoming annoyed and impatient.

"Ma'am, would you please move," said a mans voice, she looked up at him, something about him seemed familiar, Arya couldn't put her finger on it.

"J- Jaqen?"

He grinned and looked down at her, "very well done, girl."

Arya rolled her eyes and slapped his arm gently, his grin only widened.

"Did a man keep you waiting?" Jaqen asked knowingly, chuckling and tilting his head.

"Of course a man did, idiot." She laughed and looked up at him. Arya had known Jaqen for well over six years, they had met after she had pulled him from a burning cage before the blowing up of a meth lab. That's right, even at that young age she had been subjected to the harsh realities of the underground gangs of Westeros. How had he gotten in there? What did he do to get in there? She often wondered and often asked, he always just waved her off.

Jaqen had shoulder length hair with the left side coloured red and the white side coloured white, he was rather thin yet he had a fair share of muscle and he was quite tall. Taller than Arya at least. His face was rather smooth looking and he had handsome features. To other women at least, Arya didn't find many men to be quite handsome. They called him the faceless man for many reasons, one being the fable that he could change his face -and Arya knew this to be true- and another was because it was the name of his club. It wasn't really a club, not in Arya's eyes, more of an assassin den, a headquarters, a safe house. Somewhere she could go after a mission, that was what she was sure of. She looked up to him like an older brother, a mentor, even. Jaqen had trained her and had given her three death wishes; she would choose three people she wanted dead and Jaqen would do it as quick and hidden as a shadow. Arya, of course, had used her three death wishes many a year ago.

"I have your contract, kiddo."

"I am not a kid. Don't piss me off, J. You wouldn't want to be poked with a needle would you?" she teased, poking her tongue out finally.

Jaqen grinned and ruffled her hair, it had grown, he noticed. Now reaching the middle of her back. He would've mentioned it but she would've called him an idiot for not noticing before. "Oh. I'm terrified, kid." He handed her a folded piece of brown paper, his grin quickly fading.

She unfurled it and looked at the name with precision, wondering exactly who he was. "Gendry Waters." she read aloud, her head tilted.

"He's a weapons dealer for the Crowned Stags. . ."

"T'sounds familiar. . ."

Jaqen furrowed his brow and tilted his head, "it does. . .? Well, that doesn't matter, I suppose. You just need to find him and you need to kill him."

With that Jaqen turned and before Arya could even lift her face from the page he was gone, as swift as the wind. "I'm coming for you, Gendry Waters."