Chapter 21

"You are always welcome in my khalasar," Khal Izzo rumbled in Dothraki as Arya handed back her horse.

She winked and then laughed at his amusement—a rare sight on the face of a great Khal. "I will not forget." After giving her mare one last pat she turned to catch up with Jaime and Daario, waiting by the ship. A gold-plated name adorned it's side, the scripture swirling against the sturdy boards. The Spiced Maiden.

"Have you met the capt—" Arya started, shielding her eyes against the high-noon glare.

"No," Daario said quickly, cutting her off with a grimace. "But I know of his reputation. He allows us passage solely as to not anger the Khal, but do not think that we will be safe on this voyage, my lady. The less he knows of us the better." With that the sellsword turned his back and began the climb up the lowered hemp ladder.

Jaime smirked, gesturing to the swinging rope. "After you, Lady Stark," he teased, bowing low.

Rolling her eyes, Arya walked over to the looming wooden wall. Fuck. "Very funny!" she yelled up to whomever manned the ladder. I can't even reach the fucking—

An arm wrapped tightly around her waist. "Here," Jaime murmured from behind, his fingers barely brushing the strip of skin exposed as her top rode up. "Let me help."

Arya turned her head slightly to find Jaime's emerald, almost sea-green, eyes gazing back at her. Help. She tasted the word silently on her tongue, knowing that the word fell from his lips with so much more weight than it should. But she accepted in anyways, knowingly and unapologetically. "Ok," Arya breathed out, facing forwards as he lifted her up easily until her fingers grasped the first rung.

The deck was large—so large for a merchant's ship that it almost called into question the nature of its cargo. The captain sails something big enough to be a warship…and yet they claim he sells spices. "Hey Jaime," Arya called over her shoulder as the knight climbed aboard. "Can you make sure our cabins are ready?"

Jaime grinned, wiping his sweaty palms against his breeches. "What—you don't want to play the swooning new lady wife again? Mayhap the sellsword wants turn as well." He pulled a face of mock terror at her expression before it broke into a smirk.

Smiling despite herself, Arya shook her head as she ran her hand along the smooth rail. Now that my watchdog is gone, we shall see what this pretty ship hides beneath her pretty name. As Arya made her way between the aisles of crates and caskets, receiving only a few curious looks and the odd leer, something began to don on her. She brushed her fingertips against a dark crate, leaning in till her nose barely touched its rough surface. Since when does a spice ship smell like—

Cold, bony fingers snapped around her wrist, yanking Arya to the ground and dragging her behind a towering pile before she could so much as draw her blade.

"Hey!" she hissed, rolling onto her back. An grizzled old man, sporting nothing but a few tuffs of powdery hair and some tattered rags, crouched before her.

"A girl will be quiet," the man said, placing one knobbed finger against her lips.

"And what makes you think—"

WHACK! His hand flew at her face with a surprising amount of strength. "A girl will be quiet," he repeated calmly.

Arya growled but nodded in compliance, searching his face while she chewed at her cheek. There was something off about the man's eyes—clear when they should have been hidden in the fog that plagued the elderly. An old man's face with a young man's eyes. Tentatively Arya stretched up her fingers until they met his flaky hairline, closing her eyes as she felt it and tugged.

The mask peeled away with a sickening snap before bursting into a fine powder than ran through her fingers and washed past her eyes. "Jaqen."

He nodded, the corners of his eyes crinkling in something that could have been a smile. "A girl does not forget her duties, no?" Jaqen lowered himself to the deck to match Arya's cross-legged position, leaning against a crate.

"I have not forgotten," Arya whispered to her hands, focusing on the thick callous that had formed under her left thumb.

"Tell me."

Now she looked up at his silver eyes. "I will do as the dragon queen asks and then The Many Faced God will take her and some dragon king."

"No."

"I will do as the dragon queen asks and then I will take her and some dragon king."

Jaqen nodded. "Does a girl remember why?"

"Another steals from The God, only the lives of two dragons can repay him." Arya swallowed before parting her dry lips. "Why are you here? Back in Braavos—"

"In Braavos this thief has found Jaqen H'ghar."

"Tell me why," she whispered, closing her fingers around the smooth callous. My sword left behind armor. A small amount, but steel of my own.

"Why does a girl think?" Jaqen countered, raising an eyebrow.

Words fumbled on Arya's tongue before escaping. "You know more about the thief. You know who he is," she guessed. Another nod. "Tell me whose sins I will be paying for."

"Jaqen H'ghar will not speak his name, a girl will not know his name. It does not matter so long as she does her duties."

"Then why are you here?" Arya demanded to his stoic face. Games, she wanted to spit. All he does is play in games and riddles. When he made no move to answer Arya reached up and kissed his cheek with her palm. It was no gentle kiss.

A smile teased at his lips and danced in his eyes. "The Many Faced God has whispered more secrets to Jaqen H'ghar. He told him that a girl may fail in her duties."

"I will not," she spat. "Tell the God—"

"And if a girl fails she will repay him another way," Jaqen cut her off, raising a finger to the fading red of his cheek. "If a girl fails she will give herself to The Many Faced God."

Her mouth snapped shut. Myself…I never fail in my duties to The God. "But…I have no dragon blood. Why would I be enough to repay him?" Arya looked again at her hand.

"A girl that takes many lives for her duty weighs the same as the dragons that take many lives for themselves, for it is the duty of dragons to do so. A girl will not forget this when it is time."

Arya tore her gaze away from her hand with a question on her lips—and that question would remain there. The air where he had been seemed to shiver and whisper with an unexplainable…It is the dust and the light, Arya told herself. There is just dust and light and a girl. That is who I am…just a girl.

And a tear rolled down a girl's cheek at the realization.

Wow—that's a game changer! Please let me know how you liked this chapter, for every review inspires me more and more to keep writing! If you want to make it to the end (trust me, you do) then please let me know your thoughts! Also I posted a poll about the story on my profile (it's being finicky though) so here's a link:
/u/6797542/ (copy and paste this after the normal fanfiction url if that makes sense)

Thank you so much for reading!