A/N: I apologize if anyone was concerned when I failed to post on Monday. My boyfriend was visiting so I was hanging out with him and then I got thrown straight into a few long shifts at work when classes started and this is honestly the first time in a few days that I've even turned on my laptop. So sorry, but here's the new chapter, and after this one, I'll get back to Mondays. As for what's written, it's kinda short, and about half plot, half...not. So, heed the rating and if it makes you uncomfortable, just wait for the next chapter. As always, many thanks to my beta reader (and sister) GrowlingPeanut. Reviews are appreciated.

Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Bethesda Softworks and George R. R. Martin, except for Solara.

Rating: M for sexual content, some language, and brief references to violence.

"It has been done."

Jaqen looked up from the book in his hands and cocked an eyebrow at the listener as she approached.

"Pardon?"

"Ulfric Stormcloak is alive," Solara explained, leaning against the doorframe. "The Sacrament was never completed."

Keeping his expression blank, he nodded slowly and returned his gaze to the book. "A man expected nothing less. He hopes the Dread Father is pleased."

The young woman shrugged slightly before lapsing into a lengthy silence. When she spoke again, her voice was quiet. "It was Arya Stark that saved his life, not Arry Snow."

Jaqen felt his façade falter and when he looked up again, his unspoken question was written plainly across his features.

Solara nodded. "They met again in the battle for Whiterun. Gendry Waters is dead, and with him, Arry Snow. She got her revenge, and now, though she is still hiding, Arya Stark of Winterhold is once again among the living."

"She...I do, want you, Jaqen...it's just. It's too soon."

Silently, Solara withdrew a letter from behind her back and handed it over. It was sealed in grey wax, with the wolf of House Stark at its center. The message inside was simple.

Jaqen,

I need you.

- Arya

"Go to her," the listener said gently when he remained still, reading the letter over again and again, something akin to hope rising in his chest. "She has finally made her choice, and it seems that she chose you. Go, and may the gods be with you both."

Jaqen found Windhelm cold, and inhospitable, as it often tended to be. A heavy snow fell upon him as he walked to the palace, its flakes dusting the red and white of his hair. He did not like being seen in his own skin, but as she had dropped her illusions for him, so too would he for her. Yet even so, as he walked he kept his guard up, searching the shadows with every step.

An almost oppressive warmth greeted him within the Palace of Kings, and for a moment, his breath came with difficulty. He had waited for this time to come, but now that it was here, he did not know what he would say, or do.

Still, he continued, past the towering throne, through the war room, and up the stairs to Arya's chambers. For a long moment, he stood at her door, staring at the light that filtered through beneath it and imagining her on the other side. When he finally knocked, her reply seemed hesitant and her voice sounded flat and lifeless.

"Yes?"

He ran a finger along the edge of the paper folded within his pocket. "A man received a letter. It is common courtesy for him to reply."

A brief silence met his words.

"Come in."

She was faced away when he entered, her gaze fixed firmly out the window. He closed the door behind him and stepped closer, but maintained his distance, stopping beside her bed and remaining quiet.

After a long moment, she turned, and Jaqen's heart leapt to his throat. A part of him had doubted, but it was not Arry Snow that stood before him. It was Arya Stark, and she was as beautiful as he remembered. So fiercely, undeniably beautiful.

"I killed him," she said quietly. Her grey eyes were misty with unshed tears and she angrily wiped them dry with the back of her hand. "I killed Gendry, but I don't feel any better, Jaqen. Before, the...the..." She gestured violently with her hands, her frustration evident. "The gods damned hole that was torn in my heart the night Vilkas was murdered was filled with rage and the desire for revenge! But now, now that I've avenged his death..." He could hear the desperation in her tone. "Gods, Jaqen, I feel so...empty." The last word left her lips as a sob and she turned back to face the window, her knuckles white as she gripped the sill to keep herself steady.

Jaqen drifted to her side and spoke softly, so as not to frighten or further upset her. "A girl needs something else to fill that void. Perhaps her family?"

She shook her head, an expression of anger and disgust washing over her features. "Seeing what Sansa has been forced to endure, and knowing that I can do nothing but watch...it only makes it worse."

Arya was silent for a long moment before turning around to face her mentor once more, her sharp and striking features marred with grief and despondence. "Kiss me. The way you did in the forest at Dawnstar. It's been long enough." When he made no move to obey her command, her eyes gently fluttered closed and her lips parted. "Please..."

At first, his touch was soft and light, just as it had been the first time. But that had been long ago, and she was a different woman now, and he a different man, and there was no more room for questioning and hesitation.

When their lips met again, the kiss was heady and passionate. It was everything that they had lost and thought forgotten: lust, desire, love. A moan escaped her lips and his mouth was quick to capture it, full and soft against hers. He tasted of cinnamon and fire salts, as hot and heavy as his breath against her pale throat.

Craning her neck to grant him better access, Arya fell back heavily against the window and gasped as Jaqen's hands slid beneath her loose tunic and pulled her hips roughly against his own. For once, his skin was warm, flushed. His hands burned into her skin, branding her, claiming her as his own. Not just a girl, but his girl. His lovely girl.

It didn't take long for her practiced fingers to undo the laces of his leather trousers and she pulled her tunic off over her head as Jaqen moved away to step out of his pants. With fewer obstacles between them, they crashed together again, lips and tongues meeting in a battle for dominance. Letting her take control, Jaqen brought his hands to the simple corset she wore beneath and he tugged at it impatiently, tearing it away from her skin until it fell at her feet and her breasts were exposed to his hungry gaze.

Falling to his knees as the blood rushed from his head, the assassin held her firmly in his iron grip, dropping his lips to envelop one of her hardened nipples. Arya's moan of satisfaction spurred him on and her fingers tangled in the red and white strands of his hair as she desperately tried to anchor herself to something solid.

"Oh, gods..."

His lips moved down across the flat plane of her stomach to plant a kiss on each of her prominent hip bones before shifting lower as his nimble fingers freed them both of their remaining clothing. Arya shivered in anticipation.

His tongue was soft and wet between her thighs and he kept his gaze on her face as he teased her, reveling in the look of vacant awe across her features.

When she grasped the back of his head to pull him closer, he obeyed her command, and his heart swelled with pride and satisfaction as her legs spasmed and brought her to her knees. Kissing him sloppily, she murmured against his lips.

"I want you, Jaqen. I'm ready...please..."

Lifting her in his arms, he deposited her gently on her bed and just stood for a moment, admiring her. She had grown since he had seen her last, her breasts fuller, hips wider. She looked more like the woman that she was swiftly becoming and she was well aware of it, rolling to face him and giving him an unhindered view of her soft, naked body. Though she was still displeased by her reflection, Jaqen thought it was as if she had been sculpted by the gods themselves.

As his breath grew shallow, he joined her, his hips bucking absently against the smooth skin of her thigh. His eyelids fluttered at the sensations pooling in the pit of his stomach and he claimed her mouth again, shuddering when her sharpened canines sank into the soft flesh of his lip.

"So lovely," he crooned against her neck, hands stroking every bit of skin that he could reach. "So deadly and so beautiful."

Arya hummed absently in reply, her fingers trailing lightly across his back and lower, sending shivers down his spine.

His hand moved to cradle her chin, but his fingers caught in the strip of leather about her neck and he stilled, meeting her gaze. For a long moment, Arya's eyes remained fixed on the silver ring that fell between her breasts, and then she moved, fingers curling around the string and pulling it from her neck. Silently, she opened her hand and whispered against his ear as it clattered to the floor.

"Make love to me, Jaqen."

The sound of his name on her lips tore a low groan from his throat and he nodded. Even if he had wanted to, he was completely unable to resist her.

Arya gasped as he slipped inside her, her back arching and her legs moving to wind around his waist. Jaqen's head dropped to the crook of her neck, eyes rolling back in his head. He had been with women in his time, both as a troubled young man and in his capacity as an assassin, but it had never felt as right as it did with her.

She was so warm and welcoming, her body accepting him with ease and drawing him in deeper with every desperate jerk of his hips. Her nails dug hard into his shoulders and when his eyes met hers, they were dark and hazy.

"Gods, Jaqen..." Her words were breathy and she gripped him tighter. For a moment, she struggled to speak, and it was a guttural moan that escaped when he slammed against something deep inside of her. "Stendarr have mercy..." He smirked and when her eyes opened again she shook her head, panting against his neck. "I'm sorry that I—"

Shaking his head, he kissed her softly. "A girl has nothing to apologize for. A man is only glad that she can be his."

"Which man?" Arya countered, shuddering.

He slowed as she fluttered around him, trying to regain control. "J-Jaqen...H'ghar..." When Arya shook her head and pulled him in closer, he groaned through his teeth, desperately trying to keep from falling apart.

"I..." He swallowed thickly. "I'm glad that you're...mine." His deep blue eyes met the cloudy grey ones of the woman beneath him and his heart beat faster in his chest. "I...I l…"

The words faded on his lips, and she caught them with her own, kissing him deeply and tightening her hold around him. "I know. I know."

When she tumbled over the final edge, she dragged him with her, and it was his name that fell from her open mouth, chanted, screamed to the heavens. Not that of her former lover, or of the man who had taken his life.

His.