Small correction in Chapter 5 – after the meeting at the Dragonpits, "a man" gives the gift to his target. He doesn't have to go back to King's Landing to fulfill the contract and now we can have DisguisedArya / JaquenSandor interaction all the way to the end of the story. Because this is why we're all here, right?
Arya has a mouth on her :) I missed Sandor's curses and insults now that he's all Zen-assassin type of dude, so I made her be the grouchy potty mouth. This is a meeting of the masks.
Arya
Ten men of the Night's Watch had marched south to King's Landing, holding a nightmare from the dawns of time in a wooden casket. Only two marched back north.
She had no particular love for Ser Alliser, but she respected the old Ranger. Even if he had her gather wood for the fire and fetch him water. His decision to take all the criminals and unfortunates they could recruit from King's Landing was a desperate measure, but what choice did they have at that point?
They had lost eight brothers on this mission in the very lands they were trying to protect. The Queen had thought it a plot from the North and sent the White Cloaks to kill them. If the Iron Throne believed that the Night's Watch was now under Stark control, they couldn't expect Lannister or Tyrell armies to help.
She looked at the new recruits. Some were green boys who had never held a sword. Others bore the marks of many fights. And then of course, there was the locked barred cell in the wagon. One of the three men in that cell did not belong there. Something about him was different. It was like an itch on the inside of her skull. She tried to ignore the thought.
He looked at her with his beautiful blue eyes. The small smile playing on his lips made him look like a nobleman travelling in a carriage, not a prisoner in a cell. She brought him water when he asked. She sent the fat boy with food for them. She sent the big strong boy they had bought from the blacksmith to make sure the bar of the cell were solid and the padlock was strong.
The Lannister soldiers hit their camp in the middle of the night. Arya made a habit of sleeping apart from everyone else to better protect her secret. When she woke up, everything was on fire. She saw Ser Alliser surrounded by Lannister soldiers. He was dead before she put an arrow in her bow.
The only chance she had was to run away. She kneeled and put her black cloak and next to the remains of some unlucky new recruits and her sword in one of the fires. Loyalty didn't reside in a cloak or a piece of steel. She had pledged her life to the Night's Watch for all the nights to come. She owed them to stay alive.
The prisoners from the wagon cried out for help. The man with red and white hair called to her.
"Boy! Sweet boy! Help us!"
She picked up the axe and ran toward them. She made eye contact with him for a brief moment before handing him the axe and running away. Whatever those three had done, she unleashed them upon the Lannisters.
She didn't stick around to see what happened to the other survivors. Her loyalty had died with Ser Alliser Thorne.
Sandor
He'd known she was a girl from the first time he talked to her.
He bided his time in that cell, watching how the others set camp, watching the fields, villages and woods of Westeros as they made their way north up the King's Road. He observed the people in the camp, looking for answers and opportunities.
He heard the mocking laughter of Sandor Clegane somewhere deep inside. He had started his life wearing the white cloak of the Kingsguard and he would end it wearing the black cloak of the Night's Watch. He could appreciate the irony.
When the wagon caught fire, Sandor Clegane screamed from his depths. The Hound no longer appreciated the irony of ending his life in the very fire he feared so much. On the outside, the mask was still intact. He saw her across the camp. Even that night, she stood apart from everyone else, as if she was the only real person in the world.
They locked gazes when she gave him the axe.
He knew who she was.
And then she vanished.
His old bloodlust rose in him and for the first time in years, he had to fight it down. He would not steal from the Many-Faced God. He ran and just like Arya Stark, he vanished.
Arya Stark. A man did not know Arya Stark. The Hound knew her, and the Hound was barking and pulling at his chain, trying to break the bonds set on him in the House of Black and White.
She had saved his life and those of the other two who would have died in the flames. She had stolen from the Many-Faced God. A man had to balance the scale. He would find Arya Stark and take three lives at her order.
He ran, he hid, he ran again. He wore another face when he arrived at the nearest village. And another one after that. But when he sat down at her table, he was wearing Lannister armor and the handsome face she knew. He was surprised how easy it had been to find her. As if something was drawing him toward her.
Arya
The prisoner from the burning wagon sat across from her. For a big man, he was disconcertingly stealthy. Or maybe she hadn't been concentrating on the room as well as she should have.
"A man owes a life debt," he said.
She nodded, unable to feel anything. She was probably glad he was alive. All things being equal, she would prefer him to be alive than dead for no other reason that his courtesy and his beautiful eyes. But she didn't need his help, and she did not desire his company.
"You are called Arry Snow," he said.
"Fuck off," she said and took another swig of ale.
"This man has the honor of to be Jaqen H'ghar".
"Are you slow? Fuck off," she said again.
Life in the Night's Watch and the need for secrecy had limited her vocabulary to curse words. His eyes were uncomfortably trained on her. The safety of her disguise rested a lot on people not looking carefully. So often people didn't see what was right in front of them. It didn't seem to be the case with this man. She had to distract his attention.
"What do you want?" she asked.
"You saved three lives. Three deaths are owed. Speak the names and a man will restore balance."
"What kind of stupid shite is that? Balance? Owed? To whom?"
"To the Many-Faced God."
"Who's that fucker then?"
"He is the one I serve."
She rolled her eyes. Another religious nutter. As if they didn't have their hands full with the Sparrows in King's Landing who took the Faith of the Seven to a whole new level of crazy and the servants of the Lord of Light who burned people to serve their Red God.
"Then go. Serve. Leave me the fuck alone."
"A boy is alone. A man will travel the same path until the debt is paid."
She was about to bark at him some more insults when a group of thugs entered the tavern. She would have attracted their attention if she had drunk alone. They were the type of men who preyed on the weak. Maybe having a travelling companion wouldn't be too bad after all. But all she knew about this man was that he was a criminal.
"You wear Lannister colors."
"A boy lost his black cloak."
Arya clenched her jaw. So, they were both survivors.
"Don't you care where I'm going?" she asked.
He shook his head.
"Any name I give you, you will kill them?"
"A boy only needs to give a name, and a man will take care of it."
There was one name she wanted to speak already. One name that would end the Great War. What was the point of telling this stranger about the threat from beyond the Wall? Most likely he was a sellsword who overestimated his skills. She shook her head and addressed a small matter that was beginning to get on her nerves.
"For fuck's sake can you stop talking like that?"
A flicker of confusion passed over his features. Maybe that was the only he could speak the common tongue. His features, the way he moved… she didn't even know if he was Westerosi.
"Where are you from?"
"The Free City of Lorath."
For the briefest moment, Arya was tempted to say "lie". She shook her head. She didn't know anything about Lorath. She knew hardly anything about any of the free cities. Her dreams of Braavos had died frozen beyond the Wall.
"Well, try to speak like you're from the Westerlands as long as you wear… that," she said.
Sandor
He nodded. The Westerlands. Casterly Rock. Keep Clegane. He would be letting go of part of his mask if he let go of the speaking pattern of the Faceless Men. He was no one. If he became someone again, the Hound would be reborn. The Hound had done enough damage to this world.
"Where are we going?" he asked when they mounted their horses.