A/N: Hello, friends. I know it's been forever, so, sorry about that. But here's a thing for you. A decently sized thing to hold you over until I get around to writing something else. So...it is inspired by Supernatural, which my sister has gotten me to watch in exchange for her listening to The Adventure Zone. It's a good ole hunter/monster based one-shot. I used the SPN lore for werewolves (as I understand it from Heart and the SPN wiki, since I'm only in season 4) but not really for shapeshifters cause...yuck. Cool, I guess, but yuck. But yeah so, that's what this is. The aliases used are, as explained, the names of famous or semi-famous American serial killers, since our boy is an assassin in canon, and the ones used are references to H. H. Holmes, John Wayne Gacy, Patrick Kearney, Dean Corll and Jeffrey Dahmer (directly) and of course, Ted Cruz, the Zodiac Killer. This one's for you, sis, thanks for helping me name Jaqen's cat. And I hope the rest of you enjoy too, SPN fans or not.
Disclaimer: Everything belongs to George R. R. Martin.
Rating: M for monsters and murder and sex. And like...some language I guess, but mostly the other stuff.
Jaqen H'ghar opened his front door and squinted into the afternoon sun. It was shining high in a cloudless blue sky over the picturesque houses below, their green lawns shining with the dew of gently oscillating sprinklers.
With a heavy sigh, he retrieved a pair of sunglasses before shutting the door behind him and walking to the mailbox at the end of the driveway. One of his neighbors was doing the same and gave him a nod as he approached. For a moment, they flipped through their respective pamphlets in silence, and then Jaqen tipped his head and made eye contact over the rim of his sunglasses.
"Hey, would you mind popping in and feeding Jelly every so often? I have a spare under my front mat. You can just let yourself in. Cat food's on top of the fridge."
His neighbor nodded and then frowned down at one of the letters in his hand before raising his gaze again, his frown deepening.
"Say, where you gonna be anyway, Holmes?"
Jaqen shrugged slightly and then closed his mailbox with a resounding clang.
"I'm going on a hunting trip...and I might not be home for a few days."
It was an old acquaintance that dragged Jaqen out of his temporary retirement, an old man named Yoren who had once helped him escape from jail following a misunderstanding with the police.
He lived up North, far from the sunshiney warmth of Jaqen's chosen locale and while it was inhospitable even in the summer months, it was downright unlivable in winter, and, winter was coming.
As his car door slammed shut, Jaqen saw a flicker of movement at the living room blinds and when he reached the stoop, Yoren was already at the door.
"Come in," he said gravely, casting a suspicious glance across the street before shutting the door after his guest and bolting it.
In the safety of his locked home, he relaxed slightly, smiling and shaking Jaqen's hand. "It's good to see you again, H'ghar. How long's it been now?"
Jaqen blew out a breath, brow furrowed. "Going on six years? We've both been busy."
Yoren nodded at that and then retreated to his kitchen. Jaqen looked around idly as the fridge door opened and he was approaching the mantle when Yoren called out.
"Beer? Something stronger? I think I have a bottle of scotch in the cellar."
"Love some scotch if you're willing to give it up," Jaqen replied, tucking his sunglasses into the top of his shirt and leaning in to inspect the photos on display. There was one of he and his wife on their wedding day, and a few of various pets he had had over the years, but the majority of them were of a large family, Yoren smiling in their midst, a fatherly arm around a young dark-haired girl.
He retreated when Yoren returned with their drinks and then took the seat he was waved into, sipping his scotch and eyeing his companion over the rim of the glass. Eventually, Yoren sighed, his gaze on the amber liquid in his glass as he swirled it absently.
"I'm sorry I dragged you out here, but...this one's personal."
Jaqen cocked an eyebrow. "How so?"
Yoren's head turned toward the mantel, to the same pictures that Jaqen had been eyeing moments before. "There have been a few murders around here lately," he began. "At first it was just a couple of lowlifes. Polliver, an ex-con. Amory Lorch, a grifter. Ilyn Payne, a hit man. Then...things changed." He sighed and took a drink of his scotch. "There was a double murder just last week, Joffrey Baratheon and Cersei Lannister."
Yoren looked to Jaqen as though he should recognize the names and when he got a blank stare, he elaborated. "The governor's son and ex-wife."
At that, Jaqen raised his eyebrows. There was a moment of silence, and then he leaned forward, setting his glass on the table beside him and steepling his fingers beneath his chin. "So what does this have to do with me?"
Yoren finished his drink and then sighed heavily. "All of the victims were ripped to shreds...and their hearts were torn out."
Jaqen tensed at that, his eyes narrowing. "Werewolves."
Yoren nodded, but his expression was one that bordered on despair. "One of the Lannister guards said he saw someone running out of the manor. He said it looked like Arya Stark." The name seemed vaguely familiar to Jaqen and both men looked to the mantle, and the young girl next to Yoren.
"Eddard and Catelyn were killed when she was just a girl, and she was like a daughter to me, for years. But then...she changed. A few years ago her brother Robb was mugged on his way home from work and left for dead. After that, she became so angry. The last time I saw her, I hardly recognized her, and now..." He trailed off, blinking to keep back his tears. Jaqen watched him for a moment before speaking.
"Now you think she's a werewolf?"
"I don't know what to think anymore," Yoren said softly. "That's why I called you. I'm too close to this, but you..." He looked up, desperate hope in his eyes. "Either prove her innocence, or, if this is what she's become...do what I can't and...end it."
"Agent Cruz, FBI."
"FBI?" The coroner frowned and leaned forward to squint at his badge. When he was satisfied he straightened up again and sighed. "Didn't get everything you needed from those other two guys?"
Jaqen frowned slightly, scratching absently at his dark beard. "What other two guys?"
"Uh..." The coroner furrowed his brow for a moment then snapped his fingers. "Mercury and Deacon. They came to look at the first three victims."
They weren't names that Jaqen recognized, but then again, neither were they real names, that much was clear. If he had to guess, they were another pair of hunters who had been through the area. Maybe Yoren had gotten them off the trail and sent them packing.
"They're from a different department," he said dismissively. "And I'm here to look at the last two."
The coroner nodded in acceptance and then waved him into the morgue. "Right this way."
The bodies of Cersei Lannister and Joffrey Baratheon were still out on examination tables when they entered, and Jaqen was met with a familiar sight. Even from the doorway he could confirm that they were victims of a werewolf, and a particularly angry one at that.
"Weirdest thing about it, of course," the coroner explained, "Is the hearts. Just ripped clean out, and not left anywhere at the scene."
"That's because they were eaten," Jaqen said absently, looking over the two victims. As he examined them more closely he realized that the wounds didn't match. Whoever the monster was that had done this, they hadn't done it alone.
"Eaten..." the echo was weak and when he looked back toward the older man, his face had gone pale.
Jaqen sighed and flipped shut his notebook after jotting down a few things. "Well, thank you for your help. If I need anything else, I'll be in touch."
"Anything I can get you, or are you on duty, Agent...?"
"Gacy," he supplied, narrowing his eyes. "How did you know I was an agent?"
Arya grinned, revealing a set of barely sharpened canines. They looked human enough to the average customer, and it was only when she hunted that they grew capable of tearing through a human's heart.
"You all have a certain look about you. Few others were in town not too long ago, so I can peg your type fairly well."
He nodded in acceptance and then answered her question. "Scotch, neat."
She poured the drink and looked him over. He was young, late twenties, with curly blonde hair and a clean shaven face that made him look his age. He was cute. If he decided to flirt like the other one had, she wouldn't turn him down.
"So what brings you to town, Agent Gacy?"
"Work," he said, guardedly. "Looking into the Lannister and Baratheon murders."
She hummed quietly, wiping down the bar to avoid his gaze. "So then...you didn't stumble in here by coincidence."
When she raised her gaze, his eyes held hers for a long moment and she sighed. "I'm sure you've heard by now, that yes, I was arrested, but they had nothing on me, so they let me go. Not sure what else there is to tell you about it."
"Well, did you do it?"
She smirked. "Did I break into the most well-guarded manor in the state, tear Cersei and her son to pieces and then steal their hearts as what, trophies?" She laughed. "I don't know, you tell me. Do I look the type?"
"I'm not sure," he answered cryptically. "Sometimes people look different in the light of day."
At that, she faltered. The other two might have only been in town in passing, but this one looked like he was likely to stay put for a bit, and he was dangerously close to the truth.
"That your way of saying you want to see me when I get off tonight?" She deflected his statement with a flirtatious smile and brushed his hand with her own.
He seemed surprised by the gesture and for a brief moment, she watched as his eyes flashed from a pretty shade of hazel to a deep blue. When she blinked, they had returned to their original hue, and when she spoke again, her tone was no longer playful. "Come by at nine. I'll be waiting."
Jaqen arrived early, leaning against the wall beside the bar's back door and looking up at the moon. It would be full when the sun set, and so by tonight, he would know if Yoren's suspicions were true.
He hadn't expected Arya to so willingly offer her company, and he had been anticipating following her after she was off work and tailing her until she turned—or didn't. Instead, she had invited him back with her, and he wasn't sure if that meant Yoren was wrong, or if he was right, and she knew what he really was.
Best case, he would spend the evening with an attractive woman, watch her sleep peacefully through the night, and then leave town in the morning. Worst case, he would sleep with her and then put a silver bullet through her heart.
"Evening, G-Man."
He looked up, startled, to see Arya standing in front of him. Lost in his thoughts, he hadn't heard her open the door beside him and he internally cursed himself for letting down his guard. If he wasn't careful, his would be the next body in the morgue.
"Evening, Miss. I never got your name."
She snorted. "Sure you did, just from the cops, not me. But I'll play along. It's Arya Stark. And what is it that I'll be screaming this evening?" she teased. "John Wayne, is it?"
Jaqen's lips quirked into a frown. "No relation. Call me Patrick."
"Patrick..." She rolled it around in her mouth for a moment before crinkling her nose. "Not sure it suits you."
"You'll have to take that up with my parents then."
"Parents?" She looked at him with mock surprise as he opened his passenger door for her. "Getting so serious so soon? You have high hopes for this evening."
For a moment, he smiled, but then quickly schooled his features, sliding behind the wheel and turning his keys in the ignition. If he was correct, he would end the night with a smoking gun in his hands, and it wasn't part of his job to like her. He could, however, see why Yoren had taken to her.
They rode most of the way to her place in silence. He kept his eyes on the road and she kept hers out the window, toward the moon as the sky darkened around it. She gave him directions when they were necessary and he followed them, his thoughts elsewhere.
"You live alone?" He asked as he pulled into the driveway. There had been a couple of younger brothers in the pictures on Yoren's mantle, young enough that they might be living with one of their older siblings. He hoped that he wouldn't have to kill her with them around, but he would do what he had to, if it came to it.
She nodded and walked to her front door, rummaging around in her purse for her keys. "Yeah, but that's my sister and her husband next door." She jerked her head toward the house on the left. "And my two little brothers live with them for the time being."
Although he supposed it could simply be a sign of a close family that had been forced together by repeated tragedy, his senses were on alert. Werewolves lived in packs, and it could be that Arya wasn't the only Stark with a secret.
When she pulled the door shut behind them, she looked at him in solemn silence for a moment before cracking another smile and walking to the kitchen.
"Drink? Something to eat?" She popped her head back around the corner and smirked. "Or is it straight to business with you suits?"
He suppressed a snort of amusement and wandered to her side. "I'll take a drink, if you don't mind."
"Not at all," she replied easily, standing on her toes to retrieve a bottle of wine from the top of the fridge. It was an endearing sight and he quickly focused elsewhere. "Happy to serve."
She poured them both a glass and then padded into the living room on bare feet before settling down on her couch. He followed slowly, looking about for any signs of her true nature. Not that there would be any. When the sun was up, they were like anyone else. It wasn't as if she would be shedding on the furniture.
"So..." she drawled as he sat beside her. "Tell me about yourself, Patrick." She said the name mockingly, her nose wrinkled for effect. "Pat?"
"You can call me anything you like," he joked drily, deflecting her request. "As long as it's not late for dinner."
She laughed loudly and then shook her head, taking a drink of her wine and staring at him with a frown. "That was so not funny. I don't know why I laughed. You're awful, you know that?"
"You can't hate me too much," he answered. "I am drinking wine on your couch alone with you after just meeting you this afternoon."
"What can I say? I have low standards."
He chuckled at that and she smiled widely at the sound, watching as he finished off his glass and then doing the same. They sat in silence for a moment and then she spoke up, almost hesitantly. "Do you want another glass or...?" She trailed off, her gaze expectant, and when he slowly shook his head, she leaned in, pressing her lips to his.
They were soft and warm and he kissed her back without hesitation. It had been a long time since he had been with anyone and she was easily one of the most attractive women he had ever met. It was a shame that he had to do this on false pretenses.
Within moments she had moved to his lap and was pushing his suit jacket from his shoulders impatiently. He helped her get it off before reclaiming her lips, his hands finding purchase on her ass as she arched into his touch.
She had thrown his shirt onto the floor and was roughly tugging his undershirt off over his head when he stopped her, his breathing labored.
"Bedroom?" He asked, and after a moment, she nodded, climbing off his lap. She was a bit unsteady as she moved to her feet and she swayed for a brief moment before regaining her balance and squirming out of her top. He watched through hazy eyes as her bra landed on the floor with a gentle thud and when she reached out a hand, he took it, letting her guide him toward the back of the house. When the back of his knees hit the bed she pushed him down, her hands on his belt, and he swore softly under his breath.
When he lifted his hips to help her, her hands brushed against his gun and for a moment, he faltered. She smiled easily at his hesitation and pulled it out, eyeing it for a moment before laying it on the table beside the bed. "You won't be needing that," she said with a smile. "But if you wanted to keep your handcuffs around I wouldn't complain." She winked and then undressed him the rest of the way while he took a moment to let that thought play out in his mind.
A part of him felt like he was somehow betraying Yoren, but he couldn't quite find it in himself to care, particularly not when Arya dropped to her knees. One of his hands found purchase on the back of her head as the other gripped the sheets and he let his mind cloud over as he enjoyed the exquisite movements of her tongue. God, he hoped Yoren was wrong about her. Even for a hunter it would be waste to shoot a woman this talented, no matter what she was when the sky went dark.
She smacked her lips as she released him and smiled at the haze in his eyes, dark blue once again. She noted the change in silence, her heart clenching despite her outward nonchalance. She wished it didn't have to be like this. He was a good looking man, at least in the skin he currently wore, and it was such a shame that he had to die.
His eyes remained glued to her as she stepped out of her panties and he moved toward the head of the bed when she gestured, watching as she climbed toward him on all fours. It was an enticing sight. Not so much for her victims when she stalked toward them, he imagined.
She removed a condom from the table beside her bed and he had only a moment to feel jealous before she slid onto him, her eyes fluttering shut. He let her take the lead, struggling to keep his concentration, at least enough that his disguise would hold. It wouldn't be the first time a woman had seen his face change suddenly in the throes of pleasure, but he had grown more experienced, and more careful. Hunter or not, if the others of his kind found out the truth, he would spend the rest of his life on the run and end it with a silver knife in his gut.
Her mouth fell open in a silent scream and he sat up to capture it with his lips as she shuddered, her teeth sinking into his bottom lip and drawing blood. The moment her trembling ceased, he rolled her onto her back and bent his head to the juncture of her neck and shoulder. His tongue lapped across the very faint scar of a bite mark and she shivered with the memory that surfaced. He knew the truth, she was sure, but not all of it, and she would protect her family while she could.
As they raced toward their completion their movements grew desperate, limbs taut and swears uttered from between clenched teeth. His hands pulled at her hair and her nails scratched at his shoulders, leaving crescent-shaped indents as they dragged their way lower. For a brief moment, they made eye contact, blue eyes staring into yellow and then he was flailing for his gun as white spots danced behind his eyelids.
In the end, Arya was quicker to recover. She had him back on his back with one swift movement, her claws at his throat as his hand finally found the grip of his pistol.
"Don't," she growled. "If you move, I'll have to kill you, and I'd hate to rid the world of such an impressive lover."
Though her eyes had changed, they were surprisingly clear, something Jaqen had not expected. Most of her kind lost every shred of their humanity when they turned, unaware of their actions and unable to remember them after. She seemed to be in total control, and it made him falter.
"When I leave," she continued. "You'll let me go. You do that and I'll let you live. Leave town, forget about me, and don't ever come back. Do you understand?"
Jaqen nodded stiffly, chest still heaving, and she pulled her claws back slightly, easing the pressure on his throat.
"Good. Try to stop me and I'll kill you."
There was a tense silence between them and then she released him. Every instinct he had screamed for him to shoot her while he could, but he hesitated, and in that split second, she was gone.
Arya stalked forward, enjoying the fear and horrified recognition that burned in Meryn Trant's eyes.
"What do you want from me?" He whimpered, trying in vain to put more distance between them, but finding his back already against the wall.
"What do I want from you?" Arya echoed. She laughed mirthlessly. "Your life, for one. And I'll take your heart as reward for a job well done."
"It was you that killed the others?" He asked, his eyes bulging from his head as he watched her make her slow approach.
She nodded, sharpened teeth bared in a grin. "Polliver...Lorch...Payne...I left Joffrey for my brother-in-law but Cersei was one of mine too. Bitch's heart wasn't as cold as everyone always thought."
"God," Trant moaned. "What did I do to deserve this?"
At that, Arya snarled. "What did you to deserve this? You obeyed every command of your master, Joffrey Baratheon, even when his orders were to beat my sister into submission!" She lashed out, shredding his cheek and watching as he dissolved into helpless tears.
"I haven't worked for Joffrey for years," he blubbered senselessly. "That's all behind me!"
"Shut up," Arya growled. "If it wasn't for Sandor you sons of bitches would have killed her in there, and now the time has come for us to get our revenge. Now..." She flexed her claws and ran her tongue across her pointed teeth. "Any last words before I rip your heart still beating from your chest?"
He whimpered.
"No?" Her expression hardened. "Fine."
In the end, all he could do was scream.
"You were right."
Yoren looked positively devastated and he all but moaned as Jaqen confirmed his fears, hanging his head in his hands. Finally, he sighed. "So...is it done?"
Hesitantly, Jaqen shook his head. "No, she got away. She caught me by surprise and I was...indisposed." Yoren shot him a suspicious glance and Jaqen avoided his gaze. "But she wasn't...feral, Yoren," he continued. "She knew what she was, and she let me go."
"What do you mean?" Yoren asked incredulously. "She's purposely murdering people? Why would she do that? Arya isn't like that."
"I don't know." Jaqen sighed and ran a hand back through his hair, absently combing together the different colored sides. "There's something else going on here and I don't know what it is."
Yoren was quiet for a long moment. "So what are you going to do?"
"Stay here, for one," Jaqen replied. "I don't know what's happening, and I don't intend to leave until I find out."
Unless she had a damn good explanation, he would only leave town when Arya Stark was behind bars, or, preferably, dead.
He showed up at the bar during the evening rush, much to Arya's surprise. She had given him more credit than he deserved, if he was stupid enough to stick around. He had at least thought far enough to come when the place was busy and there were plenty of witnesses.
"So, who are you today?" She deadpanned as he took a seat at the bar. "Dean Corll? Jeffrey Dahmer?" She snorted in wry amusement. "Those two brothers went for classic rock stars. It was kinda cute, but you…serial killers? I have to wonder if you're unstable, Agent Gacy."
He eyed her evenly, ignoring the curious look she got from her coworker at her harsh tone. "It's Jaqen H'ghar," he said finally. "That's the truth."
"Jaqen..." she said it experimentally, looking at him through narrowed eyes. "It suits you, I suppose. What do you want from me, Jaqen H'ghar?"
"I think you know the answer to that."
She stared at him for a long moment before tossing the rag in her hand across her shoulder and sending a smile toward the other bartender. "Jeyne, I'm gonna hop out for a cigarette. Holler if you need me, yeah?"
The other woman nodded and gave her a knowing smile as she looked between the two of them. "Sure, take all the time you need."
Jaqen stood when she rounded the corner of the bar and allowed her to grab his hand as he took his gun in the other. She dragged him out the back entrance and when he raised the gun to her chest she shoved him against the brick wall, her arm against his throat.
"Are you really going to shoot me?" Arya hissed. "Why? Because I'm a monster? You fucking hypocrite. I know what you are." When he remained silent, her voice rose to a yell. "If you're going to kill me, at least have the balls to do it in your own damn skin!"
Slowly, he lowered his gun, and when he did, she released him. She looked at him for a long moment. "So, we're both being honest now?"
He nodded. "Tell me why. Give me one good reason why I shouldn't put one of these bullets in your heart for what you did to Meryn Trant last night."
Arya sighed in frustration and shook her head, turning back toward the door. "I can't do this right now. I get off at midnight and I'll go straight home. Meet me there and I promise I'll tell you everything."
Arya was pacing restlessly in front of the door when the knock finally came and she all but ran to answer it, letting Jaqen in and then pulling the door shut behind him.
They stood in silence for a moment before she began. "Who put you on my trail? Those other hunters were here for someone, or something, else, and they never suspected what I was, but you show up and you know immediately. No offense, but I can't believe you're that good."
Jaqen shook his head as Arya moved to the couch, taking a chair opposite her. "It was Yoren. We knew each other from something a while back, and he called me. He was worried about you. Heard about your arrest and put that together with the nature of the murders. He wanted me to prove his suspicions wrong, and if I couldn't, to do what he wouldn't."
"Yoren...sent you to kill me?" There was a deep pain in her eyes and she looked away to hide the tears that filled them. "He was never supposed to know. I kept my distance to keep him away from this."
Jaqen shrugged. "Once a hunter, always a hunter."
She nodded sadly at that. "Well, if you haven't shot me yet, then I guess you're willing to listen." When he nodded silently, she sighed. "It all started when I was a kid, really. When my parents died. They were killed in a hit and run, drunk driver they thought. And they were right. It was Amory Lorch, one of Cersei Lannister's hired guards. He'd been drinking on duty, she knew, still ordered him to drive her back to the manor; still Robert's then, when they were married. He hit my parents' car and kept right on driving. And they got away with it. Not because there wasn't any evidence, but because they had enough money to keep it quiet. I didn't know that then, of course, but I found out later.
"And then there was Robb. Three years ago, he was walking home from work when he was mugged and left to bleed out in an alleyway. He died, and Polliver got away with it. Got put in prison eventually, for something else, but never for what he did to my brother. And the others are still running free."
Jaqen didn't interrupt, but he noted both names: two of the first victims.
"But that wasn't all. As if that wasn't enough. When Sansa was in college, she dated Joffrey Baratheon. He wanted more than she was willing to give and so he had his bodyguards, Ilyn Payne and Meryn Trant, beat her. There was only one who refused, and he's the only reason she's still alive today. That family has taken so much from me and now they're getting what they deserve."
"When did you turn?" Jaqen asked. "Who was it?"
Arya laughed quietly at that, but didn't answer. "Sandor Clegane was born a werewolf, second generation. The rest of his family was killed by hunters but he managed to escape and he was safe for most of his life because he was able to hide behind the Baratheons and their piles of money. They never knew what he was, of course, and he sustained himself with animal hearts, for the most part. When the Lannisters needed someone taken care of, he would do their bidding; it was mutually beneficial."
"I don't understand—"
"You will." She sighed and curled into herself, tucking her knees up to her chin. "When he had seen Sansa get abused one time too many, he offered to help her escape, and she accepted. It didn't go entirely as he had hoped and he was forced to turn in front of her. That was when she found out and she was scared at first, of course. She was sure that he would kill her, but he didn't. He protected her, kept her safe and hidden from Joffrey and his men. Eventually, she fell in love with him." She smiled to herself. "Now they live next door."
Jaqen raised his eyebrow and looked out the side window toward the house she had indicated the night before.
"So he's the one who bit you?"
Arya snorted half-heartedly. "You think I'm the type to have my sister's husband bite me? I'm not a homewrecker." Jaqen's expression was decidedly unamused and she rolled her eyes. "It was a joke. Whatever. Just...let me finish."
He sighed and waved her on impatiently.
"So Sandor and Sansa get married. And for a while, everything's peachy. But you can only fuck a werewolf for so long before things go wrong." She shot him a snide smile at that and he grunted noncommittally. From the expression on his face, she guessed that he was still bitter about how she had managed to manipulate him the night before.
"Other couples make a mistake and wind up pregnant. They made a mistake and he turned my sister into a werewolf."
He hummed quietly. "Sansa too?"
"Sansa too. At first, she was terrified. She couldn't control it and she nearly killed our brother Rickon. But Sandor's damn strong, even as a human, and he was able to keep her under control until she came down from the first time. After that, he helped her through it and she's able to cope now. She's never eaten anything but animal hearts and she's never killed anyone."
"But...she's the one who turned you?"
Arya nodded, staring out the window for a long moment. "They ran into Joffrey one day. He called her a bitch, and a whore, and every other name he could think of. Asked Sandor how he liked fucking his master's leftovers. She threw herself at him and if Sandor hadn't been there to pull her off of him, she would've killed him. He would deserve it, sure, but I knew she wouldn't have been able to live with herself after, no matter how much of a sorry son of bitch he was. So I did what I had to."
"You asked her to?"
"Asked?" Arya laughed drily. "Begged. By then I had started to figure out the truth about that family. About all that they had done. And if she wouldn't kill them for it, then I would. She refused, over and over, until one night we got into a fight. A bad one. Bad enough that she lost control, and when I flew at her, she reacted on instinct." She absently rubbed her hand across the spot where her neck and shoulder met. "I'm still not sure if she's forgiven herself, and she's trying to pretend that she doesn't know what I've done, but I swear to you, Jaqen, I haven't killed anyone who didn't deserve it. And once they're all dead, I'll stop. I'll never kill another human again."
She lapsed into silence, nervously wringing her hands as she waited for him to react. Eventually, he spoke, his expression troubled.
"I..." He faltered. He knew better than any other hunter that being a monster didn't make you evil. Arya was a killer, there was no denying that, but everything she had done was for her family, to protect them, or to avenge them. Even some hunters would find that admirable, despite what she was.
"I need to think."
He stood up abruptly and Arya flinched slightly at the motion. When he moved toward the door, she called out to him.
"Will you stay...here, with me?"
Her bravado had disappeared and there was only worry in her eyes when he met her gaze. He shook his head.
"I can't. Not tonight."
And with that, he left her there, alone.
Arya spent the night tossing and turning restlessly as she struggled to sleep. Only a short day before, she had been ready and willing to kill him. He was just another hunter, hiding behind someone else's name and face. Now, he was…something else. Someone who understood what she was, who she had put her trust in and who had given his in return. But to him, she was still just a werewolf and a killer. He might have been momentarily swayed by their night together and by her story of vengeance, but she was sure that he would appear on her porch in the morning and put a silver bullet in her heart.
And after that…he would march next door and do the same to her sister and brother-in-law. She had been foolish enough to betray them and now they would either die or be forced to spend the rest of their lives on the run.
The late hour was the only thing that kept her from running and warning them. She didn't want to worry them, didn't want to wake Bran and Rickon. There would be time in the morning, if she wasn't wrong.
Lying there, bathed in moonlight, she closed her eyes and prayed to God that she would be wrong.
Jaqen returned before sunrise, his steps heavy as he approached the front door. His gun was loaded and tucked into the back of his jeans. He had made his decision and he would follow through with it while he still had the courage.
Arya met him outside when he reached the door, her eyes wide with fear. She shivered in the cold, her arms wrapped tightly about herself in an absent gesture of protection. When she spoke, her voice was barely above a whisper.
"So?"
He sighed and reached for his gun. Inside were six bullets of standard lead. He had a feeling he would be needing them.
"So...who's next?"