Crack.

The whip sliced through the air and came down hard on her bare skin.

Sting.

The skin reddened.

Gush.

The wounds exposed themselves. Deep, scarlet and disgusting. Red hot liquid oozed slowly from the fresh cut. It's going to scar she thought. The man threw his whip to the ground furiously, as if the whip too had done him wrong, and proceeded to kick her several times, digging his heel right into her stomach. Sharp jabs of pain followed. The girl did not retort nor did she defend herself, it would only make matters worse. So she simply lay there, wearing a defiant face, repressing her stone cold anger. She would not show weakness. Not to these loutish men.
"Respect your superiors you little shite head. Next time you speak to me like that, I'll have your tongue." he spat vehemently, kicked her once more and marched off. Her clothes were shredded at the back, each gap in the cloth had a lash of angry red underneath to correspond, her jaw was throbbing and she felt drops of blood roll down to her chin from the corner of her mouth.

Arya turned her head to look at Hot Pie.
"I look just as bad as you do, don't I?" she rasped
"Aye" he replied.
When Hot Pie had been accused and beaten for taking an officer's food, Arya had defended him. The Ghost of Harrenhal had forgotten herself and challenged the officer to "Prove it." Admittedly, it was not one of her brightest ideas. The next thing she knew was the slashing of tough leather against her back and her body being hurled to the muddy ground. Fear cuts deeper than swords, she told herself, and definitely deeper than whips.

It was not the first time she had been beaten like this and it certainly wouldn't be the last. This type of violence was only mild compared to what she had seen soldiers to do the others: fingers, toes, eyes, limbs and even manhoods were lost at the blades of angry swords. The twelve-year-old girl considered herself one of the lucky ones. She still had all ten fingers, ten toes and even her maidenhood intact, but she was not sure what would become of her the next time she crossed a drunkard in the dark of the night.

Bearing the intensifying ache, the girl hoisted herself up to her feet.
"A little help?" pleaded Hot Pie.
"No, get yourself up. If it wasn't for you, this wouldn't have happened" she replied, gesturing to her body, bloodied and bruised. The girl limped away, clutching her stomach with her left arm while she steadied herself against the wall with her right hand.

Night clouds cleared and pearled light of the full moon shone through, lighting her path as she made her way down to the stream inconspicuously. Hidden in the depths of the woods, Arya called it her 'secret place'. It was not wise for serving girls to use the bathhouse, so thankfully, she had been able to find a close substitute. The sound of the wind whistling through the trees immediately calmed her, the prospect of treading cool water gave her peace. She hadn't told anyone about it, not even Gendry. The girl went to the stream to cleanse herself whenever she thought the dirt and grit on her skin was becoming hard to bear, or after she had flowered each month.

The clattering of armor pulled Arya to an immediate halt. Panic and anxiety rushed through her, befuddling her senses. Clearing her head, she stealthy took cover behind a shrub on the bank, watching as a tall lean figure undressed and stepped into the stream. The soft sigh that followed sounded low and silky as he sat himself on a rock and began to scrub at his skin with what seemed to be a wash cloth. She studied the familiar profile of the figure, noting the distinguished slim pointy nose as well as the tell-tale strand of silvery hair. How did he find this place? Why isn't he just using the soldier's bathhouse? Having grown up with five boys, it was not the first time she had seen the naked male anatomy. However, this was different. While her brothers were boys when she had seen them, Jaqen was obviously a man. The girl watched as moonlight bounced off the defined thigh muscles and shadowed or enhanced the various dents and welts which decorated a broad, toned chest, trailing down to a muscled abdomen. She gasped and blushed as the pit of her stomach lurched, prompting a feeling of yearning to pulse through her body; making her want to touch the pale skin and finger the various scars. Her focus on the sight of a naked Jaqen (as perverted as that sounded) almost completely obviated the pain of her cuts and the ache of her developing bruises.

Abashed by her overly erotic thoughts, Arya turned to leave when the low baritone stopped her.
"Care to join me, lovely girl? The bathhouse was much too crowded." called Jaqen, almost seductively. She did not even bother to wonder how he knew she was there, but wanted to ask why he had not caught her out earlier.
"I was actually heading back - "
"We are friends, are we not? Friends in the free cities like to gather in baths and chat about duels and battle scars, did your dancing master not tell you that?" teased Jaqen, "From what a man has heard tonight, he gathers that this sweet girl gained many battle scars?"
"I wouldn't call them 'battle scars'..." she said hesitantly and approached the stream, "and I don't think it would be appropriate for a girl and a man to...bath together..."
"If a man displease a girl, then a man will leave." he said, climbing out of the stream to towards his clothes. She reached out and stopped him, surprising both of them.
"Please...please stay. I might need...help with the cuts on my back." The girl was glad the darkness hid her growing blush.

As Arya undressed, Jaqen reentered the water with his back towards her, only turning to face her when he heard a few faint splashes and felt the movement of displaced water, knowing that her body would be fully submerged below the shoulders. She held her breath as she entered the water, shivering. Cooler than usual, it felt as if little needles penetrated her skin and the chill pricked at her bones. She almost called out as the water threatened to sting and twinge at the contact with her open wounds and yet, after a while, the cold of the water calmed her inflamed skin as she settled beside Jaqen. The girl was close enough to catch the aroma of sweet spice rolling off him and feel the heat of his body. She was simultaneously embarrassed and delighted.

There was a comfortable silence between them as Arya cleaned herself, lightly scrubbing the dirt from her skin. Jaqen watched as the full moon and the constellations were hidden and in turn revealed by the few wispy clouds that roamed the night sky, moving with the slow breeze.
"Jaqen?" she whispered, breaking the silence.
"Yes?"
"My back...will you?"
"Yes." He lifted the petite frame out of the water with ease and perched her onto the smooth rock he had previously been sitting on. Her body was lithe and small and skinny, yet he could see the faint outline of developing curves on the girl's body, the acute widening of her hips and the growing swell of breasts. Noticing his lingering glance, she covered her body with her arms defensively, he chuckled, moved to her back and crouched behind her. Her ribs showed through, expanding and contracting with every breath she took. Her spine was much like a dragon's, each bone almost protruding through her tortured skin. Littered amongst many angry red strokes were five large cuts on her back with rough edges, like rips in thin paper. He did the task with great care, tenderly addressing each wound but drawing hisses of agony from the girl nonetheless. Tendrils of rage spawned as he made his way down her back. He wanted desperately to do a hundred times worse to the man who had hurt her. Faceless Men have no emotions, he thought, but you have let yourself care for the girl? You know that one day you shall eventually part ways as strangers, why have you become attached?! Impulsively, Jaqen leaned forward and placed a kiss close the biggest slash and hastened to chide himself right after; if a Faceless Man has no self control, then he is not fit to call himself a Faceless Man...

Arya was slowly kicking at the water when she felt what seemed like soft kiss on her back. She stilled and turned her head to look accusingly at the man behind her.
"Jaqen what are you-"
"Hush, lovely girl, a kiss to make it all better?" his voice smooth, uncertain and a shade apologetic. The rapid pumping of her heart, encouraged her to leap onto her feet and run in embarrassment. She began to do so but lost footing and felt herself falling, gravity taking her into the water. A large hand grabbed her forearm and pulled her to her feet before she could hit the water surface. They were both standing now. Jaqen reeled her in and steadied her against him, her pert breasts pressed into chest, his manhood pressed against her thighs. For a moment he indulged himself and embraced her, placing one hand on her waist and running the other through her wet hair.

But it was only for a moment.

He released her.

She looked up at him, grey meeting grey, heart pounding hard against her chest, body hot, despite the cool weather. Feeling bold, she reached out, bracing her hands on his chest, touching the curious scars beneath her fingertips the way she had wanted to before. For once, his expression was readable: conflicted, as if he was speculating the outcomes of his potential actions. Mustering up her courage after a long, searching look...she reached up on her tippy toes and planted a chaste kiss on his lips. It drew no response from the man, for it really had taken him unexpectedly. She pressed another kiss on his lips, but this time, she lingered, moving her mouth unskillfully against his, doing the best she could. He was stoic, neither encouraging nor discouraging her ministrations. She pulled back slowly, meeting his gaze with watery, innocent doe eyes, as if begging for him to return her kiss. He felt a tug in his heart and pulled her back towards him, slithering one hand onto the small of her back to hold her in place and tracing her the curve of her neck with the other, bringing her chin forward as he began to kiss her, moulding their lips together and begging for entrance, access she willingly granted. The rough scratches of his stubble felt foreign against her face. She let him explore her: he did not disappoint, doing a good and thorough job of it and was rewarded with a throaty moan. The kiss was at first sweet, soft and searching, but grew increasingly passionate as Arya learned the steps in this tango of tongues. The girl began to venture out, to fight for the dominance, that Jaqen would not easily surrender. It was like water dancing; learning the steps, keeping up with the tempo, to and fro, giving and taking. The tip of her tongue tapping teasingly to the roof of his mouth, his teeth nipping and dragging at her lower lip, drawing blood. They could both taste the salty iron but chose to ignore, focusing on the pleasure of sliding tongues, moving lips and tingling touches.

Arya drew back, exhilarated and began to pant for breath. She trailed her left hand up his thigh towards his crotch, feeling his body tense at her touch. She paused.
"Did I do something wrong?" the girl said, looking up at him with those innocent doe eyes, again.
"A girl knows not what she does." he said sternly.
"I do know what I'm doing...kind of..." she replied and pressed on to take his manhood in hand. The girl did indeed know of the business between men and women that happened in the dark. She had seen a thing or two whilst trying to escape Gold Cloaks near brothels in Flea Bottom. Jaqen took her left hand, raised it to his lips and pressed a tender kiss to her fingertips.
"Lovely girl," he said gently, "not tonight."
"But Jaqen -"
"A girl is too young for this-"
"Jaqen, I'm not! I started bleeding four moons ago...I" she hesitated, choosing her words and forging her argument "I was Arya Stark of Winterfell, I was a highborn lady, but now I am not, I am nothing but a servant girl living under someone else's name; doing all that people bid her, having no control of her own." He could feel the lovely girl turning into a fiery she-wolf...
"But you listen to me Jaqen H'ghar and listen close; I have control over this one thing and I will not let you take that away from me! I don't want my maidenhood to be lost at the hands of some raper or soldier. For my first time, I want to be with someone who I know will be gentle...so that at least I could have one pleasant dream in this chain of nightmares..." she paused and retreated,
"I want you."
"How does a girl know a man will be gentle? What if he is crass and brutal like the others? You know what I am. A girl should not trust something of such importance to any man." he finally replied.
"You are not 'any man', Jaqen. I know because you always treat me gently," she said ruefully, "I know because you are the faceless shadow that has been watching over me."
"Then, lovely girl, let a man continue to be your faceless shadow."
"Jaqen, please" she begged
"A sweet girl is too young, she knows not what she asks. Maybe one night, a man will come to you and have the pleasure of turning a lovely girl into a lovely woman. But that night, is not tonight and that man might not be Jaqen H'ghar." Arya pouted, knowing the battle was lost, but the war could still be won.
"Fine then. That night may not be tonight but that man must be Jaqen H'ghar!" she declared boldly. He chuckled in response,
"Then it will be my honour. One day, a man will come and take what a lovely girl offered on this beautiful night. I swear it by the new gods and the old gods beyond counting. I swear it by the light of the full moon."
"When the time comes, you will come to me, wherever I may be?"
"Just so."

As if to seal his promise, Jaqen kissed her on the centre of her forehead, nuzzling into her wet hair. In return, Arya kissed him lightly on the hollow of his chest, marking his heart as her possession, feeling it's metric beats pulse beneath her lips and proceeded to fall into his embrace. They stood there silently, finding simple pleasure in just holding each other.

A moment of peace amongst this serial of chaotic confusion.