He was not asleep. He had not been asleep since dawn, these days he could never sleep much past it. Instead he allowed himself the small luxury of simply resting, his eyes would be closed and his breathing even. For all intents and purposes, he would look to be asleep to the untrained eye. But he never was, he was ever alert and listening to the world around him. Once an assassin, always an assassin, he supposed. But this morning was different. It was different because he was with her.
The libation and revelry of the night before, combined with the warm, perfectly humid Braavosi midsummer air had indeed released his inhibitions and it seemed, hers as well. They had quickly chosen to give themselves over to the heat and want that had slowly been building between them for months now, since that fateful day when he had stepped into her forge. He had never expected to see Arya again, at least not for a very long time. He travelled far and wide across the realms, given his particular line of work, so he knew they could potentially run into one another at some point. All it would have taken would have been someone calling for the death of a Winterfell resident and he could end up in her line of sight. What he had never considered because it seemed so highly unlikely, is that they would meet once more on his home turf.
He had been suspicious of her at first, when he had found her again, because why had she returned to Braavos? The thought that she was here to put an end to the temple had crossed his mind, something that although would sadden him because he had grown up with the faceless, would not in fact bother him. He had felt for a while now that the ideals of the elders were in strong misalignment to the age they were now living in. Their institution was old and they held vast numbers across all of the realms. But the rulership, like all secretive empires, were antiquated. Age did not always equal experience enough to lead and an institution that refused the wheel of change was usually crushed underfoot in the pursuit of new world orders. Adaptability was the word of the day and although the Faceless were nothing if not adaptable, that ability seemed to lie solely with the active assassins and not the leadership. He should know, his father was a leader and that man was so rigid with tradition? He may as well be one of the statues in the Hall of Faces.
Speaking of his father, Jaqen thought as he rolled to look at the sleeping form of Arya. He was not going to be happy about this, he thought as he reached over and brushed some of her long, dark hair from her face. He frowned though when she didn't flinch or try to stop him. Silly girl, had he taught her nothing? She should never allow herself to fall so deep to sleep that a touch would not wake her. She should have woken the second she sensed his hand moving towards her. But he had to admit, the idea that she trusted him enough to sleep deeply, even though he was an actual assassin in her bed, did give him somewhat a feeling of pleasure. Besides, he was with her he supposed, so she would be safe regardless.
But yes, his father would not be happy about this. Not that Jaqen cared. The temple did not dictate the personal lives of their assassins, why would they? They were losing out on the chance to gain new members and raise them to be the perfect killers and sleuths from birth, not that Jaqen ever planned to raise any children the divines may bless him with, in the halls of the House of Black and White. He had been one of those children as had the Waif, his niece. And given what they had been subjected to? He would sooner impale his own father, than put his own child through that. Not that he hated his father, oh no, definitely not.
His father had raised him well and had been loving and kind. His mother however? Well, there was a reason she was dead and why he had been the one to let her name fall from his lips in sacrifice to the Red God, during his initiation. She had begged and pleaded with him to unname her. But given she had allowed his older sister to be violated as 'punishment' for breaking a vase, not two nights prior to his initiation? He most certainly was not going to unname her. Abusive was…too mild a word for what their mother had been. Monstrous was probably better suited.
In fact, Jaqen was surprised that his sister, the waif's mother, had even tried to be a mother after the way their own raised them. Not that his sister had done a poor job, she had done wonderfully. She had just sworn that she would never birth, for fear of turning out exactly like their mother. Of course, she was gone now as well. Which meant only Jaqen and his father were what was left of their family. Well, if he didn't include his eldest sibling that is. Not that anyone knew where the first born was, Astarion had long since left the order and had never returned to Braavos. Jaqen didn't know whether he was even alive any longer.
Arya though, would be a problem for his father. Regardless of the reasoning behind it, she had killed the waif and he and his father had been the ones to clean and prepare her for her funeral. And although his father understood that these things happen in their order, no one's life is guaranteed, he knew that Astor held some resentment of Arya. She had taken his last reminder of his only daughter, Elodie. So needless to say, it would be a tense affair around the family dinner table so to speak. But as far as Jaqen was concerned, he would not hold the death of his niece against Arya.
The truth that he knew, but his father Astor did not, was that the waif was more than prepared to lose her life to Arya. In fact, she had hoped it to be so. The loss of her mother, coupled with her life at the temple had finally begun to crack her young mind and send her down the path to insanity. She had wanted to die as the person she still was, before the order took the last vestiges of herself from her. Something that would have definitely happened, because as much as she had begged and pleaded with Astor to release her from the order, he had refused. Again tradition. The family was one of the leaders of the temple and they had already had one other deserter, he refused to have another. So yes, this was not going to be the best news for his father at all. But, as dictated by their agreement, his father could not interfere with his personal affairs. Jaqen had promised that he would remain with the order until Astor's death. Provided that what he did (or who in this case) outside of the temple walls and work for the order, wasn't questioned or interfered with.
Jaqen had been wanting to leave the order as well. As much as he valued the skills that he had learned over his life there, he had found that he was growing weary of the constant death and bloodshed. He had long since paid his dues to the Red God and he'd done more than enough to cement his fathers standing within the order. So he no longer wanted it to dictate his life. He wanted to be free, to live as a man, find a woman, settle down, have a couple of children and enjoy the remainder of his life. Well, he'd found the woman. Now he just needed to gain the rest. At least, he hoped he'd found the woman. It was also dependent on Arya's wants and needs. But given their interactions of late and their actions from last night? He felt somewhat confident that she would react favourably to staying with him. But nothing was guaranteed.
She was a strong-willed woman, something he truly did enjoy about her, and did not like to be held down and he was more than aware of how she felt about men in general. Not that he could blame her. Where she had not been at a loss for good male role models as she had grown? The ones she had come up against in her life after the fact, had left a lot to be desired. He understood her distrust and dislike of men but it seemed that she hadn't completely written them off. Or, at least, decided that he was one of the 'good' ones. Although that would cause much debate in other circles. Could one really class an assassin as a 'good' man? He wouldn't necessarily say so, but again debate and conjecture.
The simple fact was that she had chosen to put him within the small circle of men that she trusted with her life. As evidenced by the fact that she still wouldn't wake up, even though he'd been running his hand over her hair for the past five fucking minutes! Gods old and new, she was frustrating. Even while asleep! Shaking his irritation off, he pulled his hand away and rolled over to his back again, his hand now coming up to rest the back of it against his head. What was he going to do now? He had told her that he wouldn't be here when she woke and if he wanted to stick to that, he really should get up and leave now. But he found that he really did not want to. He wanted to stay with her. Gods be damned, but she had gripped him and it had little to do with what they had done last night.
As his mind began to tick over what he should do, a knocking came to Arya's window. Looking over he felt his body tense. Fuck. Perched on the sill outside was a gray and black raven. One he recognised all too well. It was Cicero, his fathers messenger bird and he had a note held in his beak. Sighing, he carefully got out of bed and made his way over to open the window and admit the bird. As Cicero hopped into the inner sill, Jaqen made his way to a small table off to the side of the room and broke off a piece of bread. Once he was back at the window, he took the note from Cicero and gave the bird the bread. As the raven began to peck at the bread happily, Jaqen opemed his fathers missive and immediately he tensed even more. Fuck.
'Jaqen,
You were seen with the Stark girl at last night's festivities. You then did not return to the hall or to your home. I can only hope that you found your way to a brothel and not between the legs of that girl.
I don't think I need to remind you that we do not fraternise with deserters of the Order. You trained her. You taught her all our ways. She was supposed to remain with us. Instead you let her go. So…do it again. Now.
I know we agreed that I would not interfere in your life outside of the order and the temple walls. But on this, I will have to break that agreement. Do not see that girl again. End it. Otherwise, I will be forced to personally see to it that she will disappear forever.
Consider this the only warning I shall give to you, my son.
Remember: 'Valar Morghulis. Valar Dohaeris.''
As he read and reread his fathers missive, Jaqen's rage rose from his depths to fill his being with explosive intensity. How dare his father do this. Threatening him was one thing that he was used to when he truly screwed up and he knew he deserved the threat. But to threaten Arya!? That was something that he absolutely should not have done. He couldn't explain why he felt such intense rage at the threat to Arya's life, he just knew it to be the case. Folding the letter, he then took it to the fireplace that was still burning somewhat and tossed it into the embers, watching it as it caught alight and quickly burned to nothing. Looking around, he soon found Arya's writing desk and made his way over. Taking a sheet of parchment and dipping the quill into the inkwell, he began to write. Once he was done he folded the sheet and slipped it into an envelope, then made his way back to Cicero who was waiting patiently.
"Return this to your master, lovely boy." He spoke to the raven, before giving him a soft scratch to his head and then sending him off again.
He knew that what his letter contained, was nothing short of a declaration of war upon his father. But if Astor was going to play these games, then Jaqen would meet him head on. His life, outside of the order, belonged to him and him alone. And if his father wanted a fight, then he would get one. It was just a shame that the old fool hadn't remembered that out of all of his children? Jaqen was the one that he had been most proud of and also the most scared of, when it came to prowess in battle and mind games. Jaqen would not have this. His father had finally overstepped his boundaries and he would learn this the hard way, very, very soon.
Making his way back over to the bed, he slipped between the covers again and pulled Arya close to him. She murmured in her sleep before she pressed herself into him more and settled back down again. He guessed he was staying now. Because he did not doubt that his father would come and he would come sooner rather than later. But that was ok, Jaqen would be ready and he would see to it that Arya was as well.
-X-
As Astor paced in front of the fireplace in his room, he felt his anger roll through him unchecked. That boy! That damnable boy! Just what did he think he was doing!? Did he think that the agreement made between them would protect him, if he took up with that girl!?
He would not have interfered in his son's affairs, if he had taken up with any other woman. But this one was a step too far. Much too far. For all he knew, this girl would use Jaqen to get to the temple and burn it to the ground. He could not believe that she was with his son, although he was a very dashing man, just because she liked him. He trusted that his son could sniff out a rat from a hundred paces away, but he was also a man and a young one at that, thus weakened by his baser wants.
Astor had seen the girl with his own eyes recently, and she was indeed now a beauty in her own right. But beauty made young men stupid and it often blinded them. He did not believe his son to yet be above basic human nature and drive. So the chances of Jaqen catching this girl out, in what Astor was sure was a plan of destruction, was unlikely. So he would need to be his son's sense and eyes in this matter and Jaqen would come to heel! Whether he wanted to or not.
As he continued to pace, with only his stormy thoughts for company, Cicero came soaring back into the room. Astor watched as the raven took up his perch beside the fire and he noticed, with a sinking feeling in his gut, that the bird was carrying another envelope. A reply. Already? Maybe it wasn't as he feared after all. Astor made his way over to Cicero and took the envelope from his shiny, black beak. He would be lying if he said he wasn't nervous to open this. He had used harsh words in his missive to his son. Words that he knew Jaqen would dislike, but he hoped it drove home the seriousness of the message.
'Father,
Your letter has been received and understood. However, given its contents I would be remiss to allow this to slide.
If you can so easily break your word to me for something that amounts to little more than 'I just don't like her, that's why', after what I sacrificed for your pride and station? Then I can break mine also. This goes both ways, not one.
I really wish you had not threatened Arya's life. If you hadn't done that, then maybe we could have come to some sort of arrangement, that would have benefitted us both. You should know better than to try and strong-arm me. Out of all of your children, I'm the one you always kept at an arm's length when it came to angering or threatening me. And yes, you have threatened me when you threatened her.
If you wish to revoke your words, then you may send Cicero back with a response and I will be happy to return to the temple and discuss this with you civilly. Out of respect for you as my father. If not, then I await you and your men. But we will not be meeting as family, we will instead be meeting as enemies.
I trust my stance on the subject has been made clear.
Your son or Your enemy, you decide.'
Reading over Jaqen's letter, Astor would be lying if he said he wasn't surprised. He wasn't sure what he was expecting, but it definitely wasn't for Jaqen to come out swinging quite so strongly. He had definitely expected some resistance from the boy but not to this extent. However, as much as he should be wary of what Jaqen had said, he couldn't help but feel that the boy was bluffing. He wouldn't truly turn against his last remaining family. He was sure of it. They had already lost so many of their kin, he wouldn't allow for their relationship to crumble over the head of a girl.
Folding the letter up, he slipped it into his writing desk and then gave Cicero some food and water. He now had plans to make. Jaqen had confirmed that he was in fact with the Stark girl. They weren't at Jaqen's personal home, so they could only be at the girls. As soon as he had known that Arya had returned to Braavos, he had made sure to find out where she worked and where she had taken up residence. He had also updated her portfolio with her connections and friends. If Jaqen wanted to go head to head with him, then so be it. But the boy was about to learn a harsh and painful lesson. Because now? It wouldn't just be Arya who would be made to disappear, he would target her friends and family too. The Red God was about to receive a flood of blood and as much as Astor really wished it wasn't so? His son had made his choice, so now Astor had to make his own. Enemies indeed. He'd see how long that lasted.
-X-
