Conversation.
He looked different in his uniform. She didn't think she would be disappointed, but she was. Maybe it was because under the artificial school lighting you couldn't see the white stripe in his hair as clearly. Maybe it was because without his usual style of clothes he was just like everyone else.
Except he wasn't.
Arya had heard the boys snickering at him on the first day, jealous of the way girls ogled at him
Arya wasn't blind; with his fine features and particular way of speaking not to mention him being fresh meat, every girl in school desired him that first day. Well almost every girl.
Sansa had drove Arya to and from school, and sniffed derisively when she reported back to her at the end of the day.
"He was in my Religious Studies Class." She said, crimson lips pursed. "And insisted that the religion of Many Faces was a true one, although we all know it's a cult from that place...Braavos." She recalled. "Well you should have seen Mrs Mordane's face! You know we all believe in the Old Gods here and to come in and start saying our religion is wrong and he worships something else completely evil well-"
Sansa continued to rave and rant but Arya for once was not angry. It was soothing, therapeutic almost. All summer Sansa had been dismal and down, weeping and silent in turns. To have her back to her annoying self was a welcome change, even if she was complaining about one of Arya's friends.
All through summer she'd fenced with him and Syrio said she was improving greatly. Jaqen helped her, offering tips Syrio didn't say, pinpointing her exact weaknesses. It was good to practise with someone else, someone who knew you. After six weeks of none stop fencing Arya could confidently say her and Jaqen were friends and knew each other fairly well, but even their friendly chatter had always revolved around fencing. They'd never hung out like normal teenagers; certainly not like Sansa who frequented the shops with her girlfriends and not like Robb and Theon who lurked around town and the local park.
They were friends of a sort, and he knew everything about her whilst she seemingly knew nothing about him. It only made her more inquisitive, more eager to be his friend. Find out why he smiled that way when she managed to steal a point, breath ragged. Find out why he moved to Winterfell and lived such a solitary life. Find out about his past the way she spilled out hers in breaks, choking down stale water and wiping away sweat and tears. She wanted to know why he put that white stripe in his hair, why he talked in such a way.
She wanted to know how he drove her wild with curiosity.
Only her, because after that first day the student population had been... leery of Jaqen H'ghar from the city Lorath. The boys who had glared and muttered insults at him ended up in strange accidents, and suddenly the girls who cooed over him didn't anymore.
In a few weeks he'd managed to accomplish the rare feat of scaring a wide majority of students, who then promptly tried to forget he existed - something they really couldn't do given his penchant for appearing out of nowhere rather like an assassin or ninja.
He scared everyone including, Arya thought gleefully, Joffery Baratheon.
Arya leant against her locker opposite the sixth formers common room and watched Jaqen perched on a table, who looked strange in his uniform. He didn't seem too concerned about being a loner, much like Arya.
It was only sensible the two loners paired up, so Arya strode determinedly into the sixth form common room without a second thought.
"Excuse you." Her sister's friend Margery Tyrell arched an eyebrow and moved in front of her, hands on hips. "What are you doing here?"
"Visiting my friend." She skirted past her to weasel in next to Jaqen who turned to stare at her amused. "Hi."
"Hello Arya." He tossed an apple into the air and she lunged forward to catch it. He smirked and bit into the ripe green fruit, long lean legs dangling back and forth slightly.
They sat in comfortable silence, for now Arya was there next to him without the usual conversation about fencing she didn't know what to say. She casted around briefly for a topic before giving up with a sigh, leaning back and observing the sixth formers while they joked around.
"You are bored?" Jaqen questioned, brushing his white strand of hair out of his eyes.
"Why do you dye that part white?" She blurted. "Why not your whole hair, or not at all?"
Clearly he wasn't expecting that, for he smiled broadly.
She quite liked his smile.
"Well?" She prodded him, eyebrows raised in anticipation.
"I like to change my appearance." He said finally. "Nobody else has a white stripe in their hair, see?"
"Well no." She crinkled her nose before smirking. "Does that mean one day the white streak will turn pink or purple?"
"No it'll be a whole head next time." He deadpanned and she laughed, legs knocking against the table and making it rock.
"Maybe you could get a few piercings. Or a tattoo."
His smile was positively wicked. "How do you know I don't have one already?"
Her eyes widened and she bit her lip as she flushed.
He laughed, throwing his head back. Nearby people shot them dirty looks but nobody dared say anything to him.
"Get another one then." Arya told him when she recovered. "Bigger."
She snorted with laughter at her own teasing, and Jaqen shook his head at her antics.
"Would you ever get a tattoo or piercing?" He asked curiously. "I imagine you're the type."
"I would like a tattoo." Arya admits. "A wolf, howling at the moon. On my arm." She rolls her sleeve up to show him exactly where. "But my Mother won't let me, not until I'm eighteen at least. Then it doesn't matter what she thinks because I can get it myself."
"How is your Mother?" Jaqen asked, knowing all about the summer of Hell.
"She's... better." Arya nodded defensively. "We persuaded her to go on a holiday with our Uncle Edmure and her Father before he died..." She sighed. "He was in pain, and his wife had died years before. I didn't cry, when I found out. Is that bad?" She gnawed on her lip guiltily. "He'd lived a long life, a happy life. I thought it was good that he wasn't suffering now. He was at peace."
Arya sighed morosely and slipped off the table as the bell rang overhead. Jaqen tossed the apple core in the bin and shadowed her as she walked out of the room.
"People grieve in different ways." He told her as she hitched her bag further up her shoulder, her jacket dwarfing her as she hunched her shoulders. "Just because you did not cry does not mean you didn't care. Death is a gift of mercy to humans who suffer all their lives."
"You're not scared of death." She whispered, looking up at him.
"Once you do not fear your enemy they are nothing more than an acquaintance." He shrugged. "When I meet death I will thank him for giving me eternal peace."
She nodded vaguely, a strange little laugh bubbling from her lips. "My life is so hectic at the moment. I barely know who I am anymore."
"You're Arya of House Stark who has a fondness for fencing and squabbles with her sister Sansa. Your family has always fought with the Lannisters and other families near here and you yourself carry on the tradition by hating Joffery Baratheon – which is understandable." He scowled slightly and continued.
"You like wolves and horse riding and all your brothers, especially Jon. You bite your lip when you're thinking hard, or trying not to think at all. You laugh instead of crying now, but your smile still doesn't touch your eyes. Not truly."
"That's sort of creepy." She commented after a second of silence, dawdling outside of her classroom. "You know more about me then I do."
"You only look with your eyes lovely girl."
And on that cryptic note he departs, walking along the corridor without a care in the world, ignoring the people who gave him a wide berth. Arya watched him go slightly bewildered by the conversation with the enigmatic boy.
She shook her head in disbelief before slipping into Mr Frey's class.
