Honest at Last

She had wasted too much time, but she had had to steal her nerve before facing her brother. She would tell as much of the truth as she was able.

Her emotions, the things the Faceless Men had drilled out of her, had gotten her in this mess. And yet, overall, she didn't regret coming here. She didn't regret meeting her brother anew, or getting close to Gendry. It seemed inevitable now, unavoidable. What else could she have done differently?

A calm numbness overtook her.

She would be brave, even more so than ever before. Not courageous in the face of battle, but by being honest.

Gendry would not be martyred for some Red God.

Jon was sitting silently in the corner of his Lord Commander's quarters, a look of deep concentration on his face, reading over figures and models of soldiers spread around a map. His faithful second, Sam, sat beside him, letting him think.

And just like that, the cool calm is gone in favor of a churning in her gut. Anything she'd planned to say had gone right out of her head.

Jon perks up at her presence. Was he expecting Arkeen's presence or not, he gives nothing away. But she can tell he was troubled by the enormity of the decision before him, of all the choices he was forced to make.

He signals for her to take a seat.

Sam scoots over clumsily, he struggles to balance his large frame on the tiny stool to the right. But he manages it.

Both look at her intensely, waiting.

"Gendry hasn't done anything. You know that." She cuts right to it.

"I don't know anything yet. I haven't made any final decisions." Jon insists willfully.

"This is the Red Woman's doing. Her hand is all over this. She wants him sacrificed. It's all bullshit. You must see that." He squints at that.

"Perhaps." He says, stroking his unkempt beard. "But there's a dead woman and people saw Gendry with her. I don't want to believe it, but..."

"But what? You have no real witnesses. Only a frightened mob. Gendry would never hurt a woman. It is Melisandre who has the most to gain from such an accusation. You're too clever to fall for this." She pleads.

"Why are you so concerned about the smith? I didn't even know you were close."

"Does it matter? You're sentencing an innocent man to death. That fury in the crowd was Melisandre too. It stinks of her." She continues.

"How do you know this?" He switches tack, almost suspicious.

"Melisandre went out of her way to threaten me. She believes in sacrificing humans to her God. She wanted to sacrifice Gendry before, now she has no one stopping her." His suspicion grows, he already knew that much.

"I have no intention of sacrificing him. That's not our way. But he must still stand trial."

Her heartbeat slows at this, some of the urgency melts out of her. He wouldn't burn Gendry on hearsay. Thank the Gods.

"That's a waste of time. You can have the trial, but you know he's innocent. There's no actual proof."

"It's not a waste. There was a murder on my lands, on my watch, there must be justice. I will hear all sides. And the people must see I am unbiased, that I offer no special treatment. It will be fair."

"And you'll play right into her hands. If you believe that woman, you're not as smart as I thought, Your Grace." It's an insult, she knew it. He deserved it.

He looks at her then, at Arkeen, affronted. He sighs in resignation, in agreement.

"I'm trying to do the right thing, be a fair king. I hoped you would see that. But you can't understand what it is to lead."

"You are fair and wise, but by giving in to her, you're refuting that. Don't let her make you question all you've done, the respect you've accrued. You know better." He only stares.

"I ask again, why do you care so much? What does this have to do with you? What do you know?"

"I care about what's right. I care about winning this war. I care about saving a good, innocent man. And I care about what she might turn you into." She breathes out.

"And how do you know so much?"

She swallows, flustered. She'd come prepared to talk, and still her flesh froze. She nods.

"I don't know everything. But what I can tell you, I will."

"You will tell me, now." It's a threat. He sits with feigned calmness, never taking his eyes from her. She gets up, no longer able to sit.

"I will tell you. But it won't make much sense." She paces. Sam looks about to say something but holds his tongue.

"Tell me anyway." He demands.

"I can't!" She near shouts.

"You won't." Jon clarifies.

"I can't." She insists. He scrunches his eyebrows in confusion, but soldiers on.

"Did Gendry kill this Veronica?" He says instead, cutting to the point.

"No." She answers without hesitation, this was an uncomplicated question. He nods, believing her.

"Do you know who did?" She's silent, unsure how to answer.

She nods.

"Who?" Both men exclaim.

"It was a jealous lover. He dumped her body in the river before either one of us was born."

"What river? Years ago..." Jon doesn't get to finish his question.

"She ended up at the House of Black and White. They prepared her body, took revenge for her death, and then kept her face in payment." She tells him as calmly as possible.

"What?" Jon asks just as calmly.

"House of Black and White..." Sam repeats bewildered.

"What's that?" Jon asks Sam.

"They worship death. They give up their identity to become deadly assassins." He explains, having more familiarity with the Faceless Men than she could have guessed.

"And Veronica is a..." Jon elaborates.

"She's been dead a long time." Arya answers.

"Then why… then how…?"

She couldn't explain, but she could show.

With only slightly trembling fingers, she pulls off Arkeen's face to reveal Veronica.

Jon jumps back in surprise, startled, having not expected that.

He stutters in response, his mouth doing a comical parody of a fish.

"Who are you?" He gets up, backing away. As she thought, he was scared of her. His eyes are wide open in shock. He could only keep his composure up to a point.

"That, that I can't tell you."

"Everything about you is a lie. How am I supposed to believe anything you say?" He asks reasonably.

"I thought of that." She had. She hands him the veritum weed stashed in her pocket.

"What's this?" He smells the plant, just as perplexed.

Veritum weed was used to loosen men's tongues. She had studied it in her training, but never tried it. She was well principled, but she had never tried this concoction, nor even used it on anyone. The irony was, she so wanted to tell the truth, but it was the curse alone that kept her from unburdening herself. That and her own shame.

"Veritum weed. It compels you to tell the truth." Sam offers. "I have seen it used once. The man could not lie, it pained him to do so. When he tried to tell a falsehood he near choked on his own tongue." Jon nods and it shall be done.

Sam prepares it, lightly steaming the herb then crushing it into the good wine- a very heavy dose.

She takes her cup and drinks it down. They stare at her as she waits for the concoction to take effect. They wait too, breath bated.

"I never have lied to you." It just slipped out. It was the truth. She lost nothing in saying it. But why had she offered up the information? Oh right, the drink was taking effect.

Jon and Sam look at each other before proceeding, considering his line of questioning carefully.

"Is Arkeen your real name?" Jon prods.

"No." Jon isn't surprised.

"Was that not a lie?" He reasoned.

"Not to you. I lied to Tormund, he lied on my behalf." All true. A part of her was surprised Veritum weed did as it was foretold.

"What is your name?"

Her throat closes up. It feels a bit like choking. The curse still held regardless.

"I can't tell you." She settles for instead.

"So you can refuse to talk, even with the veritum." Sam deduces aloud.

"Something like that." She affirms.

"Did Gendry kill the girl's face you wear?"

"No. He never met the true Veronica."

"Did you kill that girl?"

"No." It came out even more vehemently than she thought it would. He accepts it. He didn't fully understand everything, but it had seemed obvious she hadn't murdered an innocent girl.

"Do you know who did?"

"Yes." Damn.

"Why would you cover for them? Who is this affluent man?"

"Lord Varon of House Perndon. He's dead."

Jon sits up a bit straighter at that.

"Lord who… Did you kill him?"

"No." She might have if she'd been there.

"I don't understand any of this." He runs his fingers through his dark curly hair. "After knowing you, fighting beside you, I thought I had come to understand you somewhat. I thought I had the measure of you. I knew you were more than a mere man, but I believed you meant well. I couldn't guess you were wearing a different face. I didn't believe you would murder an innocent girl. I still don't. I believed you had honor. Now…" She swallows, painfully. "But that's about all I know. Why can't you tell me your true name?"

What to say? How to phrase it? Of course, only the truth would do.

"I can't say. When I try to, it's like fingers grasping around my throat. I can't get the words out." Her fingers mimic her words, like vicess squeezing hard.

Jon seems not to believe her, but Sam does.

"You can't say. Not that you won't, you can't."

She nods.

"A curse." Sam guesses. "I read about it at the Citadel. They trade away their face, their name, all their belongings to join the order. They can kill anyone, be anyone. They are the most deadly sect in all the known lands. Only the desperate seek out their order." She should be offended at his judgment, but she is impressed at his knowledge more than anything.

Arya nods.

Jon takes in this information.

"And you can't tell us your name?"

Arya shakes her head no.

He looks frustrated.

"But you can answer yes and no questions." Jon reasons. It seemed she could.

"Apparently."

"Do you intend me harm?"

"No!" She implores, nothing holding her back.

Jon and Sam share a look.

"What do you want then? Why did you come here? No Faceless Man would have any business here." Sam asks.

"I heard what was happening here. I wanted to see for myself. I wanted to help." That was all true. A bit simplistic, but truthful. I figured dying here was as good as anywhere. I thought I could do some good." She'd caused trouble.

"What the fuck does that mean? That doesn't explain anything." Jon responds angrily.

"You won't understand."

"Try me."

She would most likely regret this, but it felt damn good in the moment. There were ways around the curse.

Jon is looking on intently, hanging on her every word. Sam looks horrified.

"I took her face. This beautiful face has served me well."

They knew enough, they already felt wrong around her. Jon grows silent at this.

"What other faces have you worn?" She answers with another question.

"How is Gendry?" She asks instead.

He raises his eyebrow at that.

"Inconsolable. Whatever you did to him, the Witch did, he will not come back from this." Jon answers honestly.

She squeezes her eyes shut. Damn. That was never what she wanted. And somehow it was still her fault.

"I don't understand this. Why you would come here. Why you would pretend. Who are you really?"

"No one."

"Are you a man, or..."

"It doesn't matter what I was before. I traded it all away. I am No One. Melisandre knew about me and used me to frame Gendry so she could have her sacrifice."

"You said you wanted to help me. I believe you. Why Gendry? What did you want with him?"

What answer to give?

"When you become a Faceless Man, you give up all you are. You forsake your face and your name. You stop feeling, it makes killing second-nature. It's why we're so good at it. We devote our time to nothing else. But it turns out I still have the weakness and desires of any woman. And I thought I was past such things." She laughs without humor.

He sits back down again, baffled.

"You've made a mess here. I..." He puts his head in his hands.

Sam's eyes are darting back and forth, going through everything in his head. She can practically see him moving parts around to make sense of everything.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry about all of it. I wish I could take it back. I wish I could just go back and undo it all. But I can't. This is what I am. This is what I chose. Even if I didn't understand what I was giving up, I still made the choice. I may be No One, but I can at least do something right. I'm good at killing, I can help you save the world, even if that means it's my last battle. But Gendry can't die because of me. And that Red Witch can't get her magical hooks into you. I won't allow it." She growls, clenching her fist so tight she loses feeling.

Ghost starts barking. Loud, insistent. Jon listens.

"Fire." Jon says, translating somehow.

They all run outside to see what's going on, a thick smoke permeates the air. Onlookers are equal parts enthralled and disgusted.

Gendry is tied to a pire in the center of the quad, the wood burning around him. He coughs lightly, already losing consciousness. The fire hadn't quite reached him yet, but she knew the smoke inhalation could suffocate him before the flame even touched his skin.

For all her talk, all her training, Arya can only stand there watching as Gendry is painfully sacrificed.

At the center of the furor is Melisandre, watching the fire with arousal.

"Melisandre! What are you doing? Let him down now!" Jon orders.

"I am doing what needs to be done. The Night King approaches, he and his army stand at the gates now. This boy's blood will bring us victory, it will ensure it. And you will hold no blame. It is my doing. Go, fulfill your destiny, I'll see to things here." She's entranced by the flames.

"No! Let him go!" Arya has found her voice.

Gendry looks over at her, startled awake by her scream. He can only squint through the smoke, but his widen when they set upon her. Upon Veronica.

Mass growling can be heard at the gates, the gathered mob panics and disperses as the gates are rammed.

Jon looks to her and to the shuttering bolt, then back again.

"Stop this. Don't let it happen." He orders and Arya nods once, making her decision. For better or worse. Jon then runs to get the soldiers in line, the common folk below ground, gathering weapons and giving orders, all while putting on his armor. He rushes to the front lines. Arya stays to face Melisandre.

"You chose wrong." Melisandre says.

"The King doesn't want this. There's no honor in winning this way. He's told you that. You chose wrong."

"If Gendry lives, Jon dies. Is that really a fair trade? A bastard for a King? A sacrifice must be made."

"I agree."

She squints, not understanding Arya's wordplay. Arya clarifies.

"Sacrifice is necessary. But it won't be Gendry."

Her brow narrows in anger then pleasure.

"You will suffice then." Melisandre smiles.

"Actually, I've decided it should be you." Arya clarifies before taking out her sword. She makes sure she sounds confident, but inside she questions herself. She had promised to protect Jon. Even now she could picture what Jon was facing.

He was strong. Excellent with a sword. Determined. But Gendry would burn soon. Her choice was already made. Arya had faith in her brother.

And so she faced off against the witch with only her sword and her will. It would have to be enough.