And So No One Becomes Someone

Chapter 1

Her feet were silent on the stone floor as she made her way through the House of Black and White. Her mind was numb with shock and uncertainty though none of it showed on her perfectly controlled face. She has a sack with her, containing naught but a few changes of cloths wrapped around a gleaming sword meant for a child and a few little odds and ends she had accumulated. She was dressed in clothes chosen specifically to keep her from attention- plain spun breeches and a tunic, clean enough and in good enough shape that she was not mistaken for a beggar, but not rich enough for anyone to bother her unnecessarily. On her person was a vast collection of steel, vials and stashes of coin. The vials contained a vast assortment of helpful goods, from healing tonics to silent poisons to concoctions that could keep a woman awake and alert for three whole days.

She pushed her way through the doors and moved out into the bustling city of Braavos. She inhaled deeply, committing the scents of salt water, fish and exotic spices to memory. She had come to love this city, with the sounds of numerous languages being shouted, it's crooked streets, colorful wares and exotic traders.

It had been five long years since Arya Stark first stepped foot into the city that had become her home. She had changed in indescribable ways over the course of those years and not only from her training. She was now a woman grown, a woman of seven and ten who was still small and slender but now had the soft curves of adulthood. She had grown into her face, baby softness giving way to defined cheekbones, large smoky grey eyes and full lips. She had allowed her hair to grow as instructed by the waif so many years ago and it now reached her lower back, even bound as it was in a dark braid.

Arya paused on her way through the city to purchase a selection of the exotic fruits and dried meats that she added to her pack. She was passing by her favorite stall, one that sold a dozen different types of meat skewers. Mentally shrugging she handed the man a bronze piece and picked a dark red skewer she knew was smoked boar belly seasoned heavily enough to bite the tongue. She had fallen in love with it the first time she tried it and kept finding herself back outside the stall. She wandered away, juice dripping down her knuckles and thought back to the conversation she'd had with the Kindly Man just an hour before.

*** Flashback ***

"Tell me, do you remember the conversation we had upon the completion of your first test?" The girl that stood beside him nodded, staring down into the every burning flame.

"You told me that women do not usually make it through initiation. That our ability to give life, rather than just taking it away, means that we will never be able to devote ourselves fully to the Many Faced God.. That new life could interfere with giving the gift." Her voice was smooth and even as she recalled the conversation that had originally caused her so much anger.

"That is true. And you argued with me, like the willful child you were when you arrived." Arya lifted her eyes to meet his. "Truly, you are still willful, you've simply learned to control it better." Her eyes dropped back down and, though she had broken her habit of biting her lip years ago, the urge to do so came upon her suddenly and she felt her finger twitch by her side. The Kindly Man smiled. "Tell me, who are you, child?"

"I am no one." She stated calmly.

"Who are you?" He asked again.

"No one."

"Are you Cat of the Canals? Are you Alyssia the Courtesan? Meerna the Tavern Wench?" He paused slightly. "Arya, of house Stark?"

"I canbe anyone the Many Faced God requires me to be. But I am no one."

The kindly man turned towards and watched her for several long, silent moments. "The Many Faced God requires you to become someone now. You must become Arya, you must now remember what that means. The Dragon Queen has taken Kings Landing. She is now settling in to bring the rest of Westeros under her rule. You will go to her, you will tell her that the House of Black and White endorses her endeavors and that you will be our contact should she ever have need of our services in ways you are unable to perform yourself. You will sit on her council and, should she need your service, you will obey her."

Her eyes jumped back to his in surprise. The faceless men were going to openly endorse a political entity? Granted, the fact that they charged so much for their services meant that they were always going to be involved in some politic or other, but to openly take a stance? It was unheard of, the Faceless operated from the silence and the shadows, they did not get involved in the games. Still, she knew better than to question her objectives. Instead she chose a question she knew may get an answer.

"Why must I become Arya to support the Dragon Queen? Can I not simply remain faceless and offer help discreetly?"

"You cannot. It is Arya who holds the blood of kings, Arya who grew up in a Noble household and knows how to play the game. The Dragon Queen will be hard enough to manage without adding to her initial distrust by refusing to identify yourself."

"And why should she believe that I am who I say? Arya Stark has not been seen in in years, though imposters have tried to claim the name before."

"Do not worry about that, all will fall into place. Just be honest with the Dragon Queen and follow her commands, even if you do not agree with them. All will be well. A ship sails at high noon. You will be on board. A man will meet you once you arrive in the city, he will fill you in on anything he thinks you need to know. He will remain in the city until you are accepted by the Queen and then for a further three months. He will be your contact should you need one. At the end of the three months you will be alone, though you can expect check ins every six months.

"How long will this assignment last?" She asked after a pause.

The kindly man smiled sadly. "Until the Queen rules no longer."

No One… Arya, nodded slowly, overwhelmed.

"Valar Morghulis, child."

"Valar Dohaeris." She said back automatically as she stood from her seat, bowing her head slightly before taking her leave.

*** End Flashback ***

What did it mean to become Arya Stark again? She was to declare herself a faceless man, sit on the Dragon Queens council and be a highborn lady? In her experience the three were mutually exclusive and to be all three at once? There were bound to be complications. And what of her lost family? As she became no-one she had to force herself not to seek out news of Westeros, to walk away if she heard men taking about the war or the Starks. Were any still alive? She honestly did not know. Did she want them to be? Of course, them being alive would make her job that much more difficult if she were to serve in Kings Landing. It would be an emotional attachment she had not allowed since she had left. Still, she could not bring herself to wish them dead.

She had reached the docks by then and saw a familiar ship in port. It was a trade vessel from Volantes, long and sleek and one of the fastest in the free cities. It was one often used by the faceless men as it cut travel time nearly in half, weather be good. She paused to toss away the empty stick from her meal, licking the remaining juice from her fingers with appreciation and then made her way on board, feet swift and sure despite the rocking.

The crew was bustling to get ready for departure and the desk was chaos. She made her way gracefully to the captain- identifiable both by face and by the way he stood shouting orders even as he twinned a thick and heavy rope. She came to stand by his shoulder and greeted him with familiarity. "Valar Morghulis, Captain Dustain."

He turned quickly and then smiled. "Ahhh, little Cat. Valar Dohaeris. I heard we would be shuttling someone with us. I take it that is you?" Arya nodded. "Well take your bag down, you know the cabin, and then come back. We could use you in the sails!" He let out a scratchy laugh, nodding at the boy moving slowly above their heads.

Scant minutes later her bag had been stowed and she was scaling the mast, securing sails and doing anything else needed. It was not her first time aboard this ship and she was familiar with the work. It gave her something to focus on besides her upcoming mission and she dove in gratefully.

The journey passed quickly. She used the time to try and fall back into the mindset of Arya but it was difficult. She was not the same girl that she had been then and reverting to that girl would be forsaking all of her training. Arya had been an angry, half wild little girl with little regard for rules or expectations. No One was disciplined, she had learned to use everything to her advantage- her feminism, her petite height, her wit, her intelligence, and her strong emotions.

Though truly, she though, cocking her head to the side, all of that was just part of growing. Becoming Arya did not mean reverting to a child's mentality but rather allowing her personality to come back to the forefront, to stop stamping down on all of her urges that were not appropriate for a faceless man to display. She could be both Arya and herself as she had was now- matured, vicious and jaded but still able to fell a thrill in her belly at the prospect of a good spar. She supposed it would work out once she arrived, one way or another.

The days blurred in a cycle of working from sunup to sundown, pausing to drink the generous store of ale, play dice and trade raunchy jokes before sleeping and doing it all over again the next day. Before she knew it land was visible on the horizon and the captain was calling to prepare for port. They arrived in Kings Landing as the sun was just setting, a month after setting off. Arya was hesitant to step back into the city that she hadn't seen since her father's murder and tried to stay aboard to help unload the trade goods. The captain chased her off good naturedly, reminding her they would be docked for a fortnight before returning to the free cities.

She made her way slowly into the city, wanting to wrinkle her nose at the overwhelming stench of shite. She passed through flea bottom, noting the various scorch mark and husked out buildings- remanence of Queen Cerci's madness before she was she was fled back to Casterly Rock, under the misguided notion it would keep her safe. She finally reached the inn, noting with some surprise that it was bustling with people, nearly all the tables full and serving wenches dancing around each other as they served food and ale.

She was able to secure a room and a meal easily enough, despite the bustle, and then went straight to bed, stripping down and falling naked onto the lumpy mattress, fingers curled loosely around the dagger under her pillow.

The following day she dressed back in her plain cloths along with her cloak, drawing the hood up to conceal her features. She spent the day relearning the city, finding all the alleys and out of the way nooks she remembered from her youth, tracking the changing of the guards outside the keep and listening to the gossip of the patrons surrounding her. She returned to the inn again that night, newly purchased packages stuffed into the sack she had taken with her that day.

She bolted the door to her room and then pulled them out. Thick black breeches came out first. She ran her fingers over the fabric, so different from the thin, breathable fabrics of Braavos and the other free cities. Next she pulled out a new pair of soft, knee high, black boots that had just enough sole to protect her feet without the weight or thickness to cause unnecessary noise while walking. She had been pleased with that find, having had difficulty in the past finding shoes suitable for her needs.

A beautiful leather tunic came next, though it was not something purchased that day, or at all as it had been gifted to her. It was definitely made to accentuate a woman's figure and showed just a hint of the tops of her breasts and highlighted her lithe stomach and the curve of her hips. It fell just above the tops of her thighs and was made of overlapping scale-like pieces of leather, each one with invisible steel bones sewn inside creating a unique combination of leather and chainmail armor. It had one sleeve that ran the length of her left arm and just brushed against the back of her hand. It was perfect for concealing her finger knife and could also act as a bow guard, though she hardly needed one. Her right arm was left bare, the sleeve a scant two inches wide, leaving her collar bone and shoulder exposed as well, accentuating her graceful neckline. It was a stormy grey, a couple of shades darker than her eyes, emphasizing their unique color. Hidden amongst the scales were also several little pockets and straps to secure her tools. It was her favorite possession, aside from the Needle she had not allowed herself to think about in years.

She lay the cloths over the back of a wooden chair and then stripped down just past midnight, forcing her mind to settle and fell into a deep sleep.

Four scant hours later, when the sun was just starting to peek through the window, Arya startled awake. She did not move nor open her eyes, she did not even allow her breathing to change. She stayed perfectly still and used her other senses to take in the room. Faintly, very faintly, she heard the smallest rustle of breath from before the window. Having located the disturbance, and not finding anyone else in the room she rolled smoothly into action. In one fluid movement she grabbed for the dagger she kept under her pillow, only for her hand to find cold cloth rather the steel. Without pausing she instead rolled low and grabbed a second blade from where it was tucked under the bed, before standing up and taking a quick step to press the cold steel to the tender neck of the unfamiliar man standing in her room. She did not take any notice of the fact that she was still naked as she turned him around and pressed him back into the wall, the smallest drop of blood beading up on his skin.

"A girl has gotten quick." The man murmured, lips twitching into a familiar smile despite the unfamiliar face.

"Jaqen?" She questioned, already knowing the answer and pulling her blade away. "Are you my contact then? This is where you've been the past year?"

"Yes, lovely girl. A man is here to fill you in on what you need to know." She gave him a cool look when he pulled her missing dagger out and began dancing it through his fingers. She didn't understand how he could still get close enough to literally reach under her head while she slept without triggering her instincts.

"I'm listening." She stated as she moved over to the cold but clean basin of water left for her the night before and began washing herself, unabashed by her company.

"The queen is surrounded by unsullied guards. One called Grey Worm is always by her side, along with the old knight Jorah and her translator Missandei. She also has her Queensguard. Sir Jaime Lannister is the captain."

"Lannister?" Arya spoke up in surprise. "She's allowed the man who stabbed her father in the back to lead her guard?"

"They have reached an understanding." She could hear the mocking amusement in his dark tone. "His brother, Tyrion Lannister, acts as Hand of the Queen. He has her ear and if you are able to gain his trust than you will gain hers too." He paused longer, as though choosing his words. "She is betrothed to her nephew, Jon Targaryen, whom she discovered during the war. They are to wed in three moons time."

"Do you foresee a problem with this marriage?" Arya asked, perking up at the odd tone.

"Not with the marriage, no. You will likely recognize him, however, so do not allow yourself to be surprised."

Arya turned away from the basin and started dressing. She had just started to reach behind herself to tug her laces tight to secure the shirt when she felt a hand lightly brush against her bare right shoulder. Goosebumps immediately raised along her arms and she felt a faint flicker of fire warm her stomach as memories of similar touches teased at her mind. His hand ran slowly and faintly down her shoulder and he grabbed the ties himself. "Thank you." She said softly, pulling away and turning to face him. "Is there anything else?"

Jaqen shook his head. "You already know about the court here. There is nothing new I could tell you." She nodded and finished dressing. Her boots were pulled on and a dagger slid tucked away, her other weapons and vials were tucked away in the shirt and she pulled her loose of its braid, combing it quickly with her fingers and then re-braiding it effortlessly. She strapped Needle to her belt, feeling slightly foolish carrying the tiny sword but knowing it would be needed.

"Would you care to break fast with me? She asked, pulling her thin black cloak over her shoulders but leaving the hood down.

"I have to return to my duty. Mayhap another morn. Farewell for now, lovely girl." Arya simply nodded her head, knowing better than to question the man and left him behind as she made her way downstairs. She purchased a roll and an apple, which she took with her to eat as she slowly made her way up to the keep to join the common folk vying for a chance to address the queen. She raised her hood then and waited patiently.

She remained in the crowd as they were ushered into the throne room and as the queen and her entourage entered. The crowd all fell to their knees with bowed heads, but she remained standing. Her eyes widened just the slightest bit, hidden by her cloak, as the queens betrothed entered and took a stand to her right and a step back. Everything about the man was familiar- the wild dark curls framing his face, the smoky grey eyes that matched her own so well, the way he stood and moved- everything. She knew this man, this had to be her brother. Jon Targaryen. She had to stop from shaking her head in amused disbelief. No wonder her father had refused to tell Jon of his mother- a lost Targaryen would not have survived under Roberts rule. She was grateful that Jaqen had warned her however much it lessened the shock.

Arya pulled her eyes away and back to the queen. She had drawn their attention by not bowing and the Queensguard were moving towards her. The queen stopped them with a gesture, seating herself on the iron throne, Jon coming to stand a step to the right and behind her. The white blonde head tilted curiously as she took her in. Arya moved forward then, taking the gesture as unasked for permission and coming to a stop at the bottom of the dais. She dipped her head respectful before beginning her address.

Her perfectly accented high valerian was not what the queen was expecting to hear, if her raised brows were any indication. "Greetings Daenerys, of House Targaryen, first of your name, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar and of the First Men; Queen of Meereen, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, Breaker of Chains, Mother of Dragons, and protector of the Seven Kingdoms. I come bearing tidings from the faceless men of Braavos."

The unsullied guards immediately surrounded the queen, forming a solid wall of flesh and steel, while the rest of the room buzzed in confusion. She let a small smirk curl the edge of her mouth. "Do not fear. Had I come to bring you the gift you would already know death." That teasing statement did not seem to help her guards relax and in fact caused the white cloaks to move forward until they surrounded her in a loose circle, hands resting on the hilts of their swords despite their lack of understanding, reacting solely on the tenseness of the unsullied.

"The Many Faced God validates your rule and has sent me to you as a show of support. I shall remain by your side, protect you from your foes, counsel you in your rule and use my skills at your command." She crossed her right arm over her chest and bowed her covered head again in respect.

The queen stood from her seat, moving forward despite the unspoken protest from her guards and stepped through the line of unsullied. "And what" she started, voice low and cool, speaking in Westrosi, rather than Valerian as she had done, "makes you believe I require the help of your god, or that I would allow a faceless man to protect or advise me? You are too bold. You do not bow before the queen you are here telling me you serve?"

"I bow only to death." Arya replied, voice unchanged, though she followed in changing languages feeling another spark of amusement at the surprise visible on the queens face yet again. She really did need to learn to control her expressions better, though Arya supposed she was probably better than most. "Not to any man or woman that walks this earth."

"Though you state your Many Faced God sent you to me to command?"

"Even so."

"I will not have a nameless, faceless entity serving me. You will reveal yourself now." The queen commanded.

Arya bowed her head mockingly again, reaching up to release her cloak and letting it fall to the ground. "You will find that I am neither nameless nor faceless. Though I have gone by many names and faces, I was born Arya Stark, daughter to Eddard Stark and to Catelyn Stark of House Tully, daughter of Winterfell and descendent of the First Men." Purple met grey and refused to look away, even has the voices rose into a roar around them.

*** To Be Continued ***