AN: This one's short but a big deal. Let me know what you think! Please Review!
Arya
The look on Jon's face was murderous. She had no idea how he'd take the truth, or how the hell they'd explain her transformation to the other men, but at the time had come for her to make a decision.
She still held Needle in her hand. If she were still No One she might have fought him, putting her mission for the House of Black and White and their devotion to secrecy above all else. But she was not No One. She was Arya of the House of Stark, and she cared more about the man in front of her than she could ever care for the Faceless Men. And in this moment, that was all that mattered.
"I will show you, but only if you promise to let me complete what must be done before you step in. Whatever you see, however strange, just wait until it is complete before making a move. I'll give you the sword, here see?"
Jon nodded. "I'll not move until you tell me but be quick about it. I've no idea what you're playing at, and I've no patience for any more of your beating around the bush."
"May I turn around? Its less disturb-"
"You may not. You'll do whatever you bloody well have to do right where I can see you and you'll do it now."
Despite her nerves about what was about to happen she felt her jaw clench in annoyance.
"Fine. Have it your way then."
He'd see soon enough that she was only trying to help.
Jon
He had no clue what the boy could be about but his curiosity was keeping his fury at bay enough to let the boy do whatever it was he wanted to do. But Jon would be damned if he was going to let him continue to dictate the terms of his interrogation. When he refused to let the boy turn around, the boy fixed him with an exasperated look and came over to him and dropped Needle at his feet. Then he stepped back stopping 12 feet away from him, and fixing Jon with a look that seemed to be asking his compliance with the boy's request not to move one more time. Jon nodded impatiently, more eager than he'd like to admit to find out what the boy was up to. Perhaps he was finally about to figure out what was so odd about the boy.
In a quick flash of movement the boy pulled out his dagger and dragged it across the base of his neck. Jon let out a mangled cry, thinking the boy had just slit his own throat right in front of him. But there was no spray from the carotid artery, no sickening gargle of a man drowning in his own blood. Instead the boy had slipped his small fingers underneath the flap of skin created by the knife slit and way pushing up under his skin his hands slowing making their way up his neck. His fingers curled their way around his chin, and the lower part of his face began to warp, looking as if giant worms were burrowing under the skin on his cheeks.
Jon felt as if he were going to be sick and staggered backwards to lean against a log. He could see now why the boy had warned him to wait before striking him—part of him wanted to kill the evil looking thing if only to make it stop. Its face was completely unrecognizable now, and to distract himself Jon glanced down, focusing instead on the thing's neck. Where the skin had been peeled away, there was no exposed raw flesh, but rather a slimmer, lightly tanned throat. Plastered to the back of the person's neck, Jon could see long mahogany hair, wet and matted but unmistakably thick and healthy in its natural state.
His eyes flitted up to the face. The strong jaw was gone, replaced by the delicate lines of a heart shaped face, accented with a small chin with just a hint of a dimple in it. The hands had worked their way up to the hairline, and the rest of the discarded face still hung over the rest of the person's face obstructing it like a veil, but as the hands moved Jon caught a glance of a set of plump pink lips, parted slightly so that the lower lip was displayed to its most enticing advantage. What in the name of the God's was going on?
Suddenly, with a jerk the face and hair of the boy was wrenched free, and deposited on the ground in a gruesome heap. Before him stood a young woman, running her fingers through her matted dark brown hair, her heavy-lidded mossy green eyes fixed on his own.
"Do you still want to kill me now Jon?"
Her name came out of him like a sigh as he sunk back further against the log in shock.
"Arya."