A.N: Song used is: 'Alkaline' by Sleep Token. Contains adult scenes of a sexual nature.

'Every once in a while something changes

And she's changing me

It's too late for me now, I am altered

There is something beneath'

Jaqen's eyes slipped open in the darkness of his quarters, as he heard the dainty shuffling of tired feet outside of his door. The steps paused in front of it, clearly unsure. He knew who it was because she had come to his rooms each night, for the past moon cycle. But she never could quite bring herself to knock and ask for admittance. She would always pause for a few moments and then hastily move away, further down the hall and end up Gods knew where in the temple.

She hadn't been sleeping well, he had been able to tell. The dark circles of her eyes were evidence enough, but even without that he had noticed a sharp decline in her reflexes as they had sparred, as well as the lowered concentration when they played the game of faces. She had not shared why she wasn't sleeping at night when he had queried her resting habits and he had not pushed. But it was dragging on now and she needed to sleep. It was not healthy for her and it would only get worse. He listened as she stood for a few more moments before, as always, she started to move away.

Sighing deeply to himself, he hastily got up and crossed his room quickly, pulling open his door. On the other side, as he had expected, was Arya. Now almost twenty-one springs, she had grown into a striking woman and her strength had also grown with her in ways that he was exceptionally proud of. But still she had remained on the dainty side, in both height and form. But that took nothing away from the strength and power of her.

"Inside." He prompted her tiredly, stepping to the side to give her room to pass him. "A woman has not slept appropriately in a full moon cycle. She needs rest, so a man will see that she gets it."

He watched as she nervously took a step forward and then another and another, until she slipped past him to enter his room. Once she had, he closed his door and locked it again. He didn't need the waif sneaking in and finding Arya with him. Thinking about this, he grimaced. The waif. She was becoming…a problem for him. Not much older than Arya, she had developed some concerning ties to him that made her grow bold enough to enter his rooms in the middle of the night with the intention of seducing him to bed her. Not something that would ever happen.

The waif was not one he had taken to in any sort of manner like she had appeared to have taken to him. It also did not help that she had been with the temple since she was an infant, so he could only ever view her as a little girl in a grown woman's body. It had been clear at the time that she had been dropped at the wrong temple. Most likely by a person unfamiliar with Braavos and the various temples dotted about the islets. But the order had sheltered her anyway. Even the Red God didn't have the heart to allow an infant to either freeze to death or to starve. She had then been raised by three of the fifteen women who had belonged to the order at that time and then he had been the one to start her lessons. Although he was not the one to complete them, he had simply taught her the foundational knowledge as he had still been rather young himself, just barely a man at that point. It was the Kindly Man who had eventually become her training master. But somehow, she had developed an intense sexual drive for him that made him quite uncomfortable, to the point that he had taken to locking his door every night.

Shaking his head from these thoughts, he instead turned his attention from one woman to another. The one that he actually had an interest in. Looking at Arya, he found her standing awkwardly in the middle of his rather large chambers, as was given onto any master in the order. It was clear that she wasn't quite sure what to do with herself. Which he supposed he could understand, she was in his inner sanctum now. One of his most intimate of spaces so he was sure that she would feel a little out of her depth and not quite sure what to do. So as always, he directed her.

"The bed, lovely girl. Get into the bed." He said gently, motioning with his hand to his bed, plenty large enough for two. Marriages and relationships within the order were common, thus all master chambers had beds to accommodate two.

He watched her as she slowly made her way over and padded up the three steps that led to the stone platform that the bed rested on top of. Once she had crawled between the sheets, her body heavy with exhaustion, he moved over to the mound of large pillows that sat beneath the double window of his room. He used this spot as a reading and lounging space when he wasn't out on missions or training acolytes. He paused just long enough to pull a warm, plush blanket from the back of his writing chair, before he dropped gracefully onto the floor pillows. He would sleep here tonight, it would be more than comfortable enough, as he would not want to make Arya uncomfortable by taking up the spot beside her on the bed. Even if he secretly wanted to.

His feelings surrounding the woman had become unbearably complicated in the past year, to the point that he had started to view her in a way that transcended student and master, or friend and confidant. Something that was most unusual for him. He was not one that built emotional ties with others easily and his emotions also had a tendency to sometimes become intrinsically tangled within his sexual wants and needs. Well. Depending on the woman. He was still perfectly capable of not having that tie as well, so it wasn't like he couldn't build friendships with the fairer sex and have them remain firmly within the realm of platonic emotion. But if a woman did wish to have him as a sexual partner? They would need to have that emotional connection with him beforehand. If not? He could not bring himself to lay them down.

It was a quirk of his personality that men found odd, but that women appreciated because it immediately marked him as 'safe'. So they felt much more at ease with him than they necessarily would with another man that did not have the same natural restrictions as he. Not that it mattered whether he had his eccentricity or not, he would never place a hand on a woman that did not want his hand upon her. It was wrong and he did not approve of men who viewed a woman's body as an entitlement, rather than an offering of her sole choosing. But unfortunately, this connection that he had built with Arya over the years, had fallen onto the sexual linking side of things. If she asked it of him? He would most assuredly not turn her down, he would give her what she wanted and he would love her long into the night. So no, it was best that he keep this separation while she tried to find some kind of rest within his chambers.

He did not know what was causing her insomnia but he had a feeling that she may have been becoming more tortured than she had previously. When she had first arrived at the temple, he had kept a check of her during the night, a glance into her room here and there, just to make sure she was ok, wasn't getting sick and was settling in well enough. So he had borne witness to the night terrors that would plague her each and every night. Some nights it would be so bad for her, that he would enter her room and place his hand on her head, allowing his thumb to graze over her brow in a touch of reassurance. It seemed that this would help her on those terrible nights because she would soon settle and her breathing would even out as the creases in her brow softened and then disappeared. He would leave her then and close her door behind him. The mornings after nights like that, he would always allow her to sleep longer into the morning, before he would retrieve her for breakfast and then her lessons. This was something he did secretly for her, it wasn't something he needed recognition for. As far as he had been concerned, he had become her guardian as well as her mentor, so it was only right that he act in a manner appropriate to the title.

But eventually these moments became fewer and fewer as she learned to make peace with her memories and thus her night terrors became less and less as well. He knew they still happened occasionally, because on nights when he couldn't sleep he would wander the halls and inevitably make his way in front of her door without realising. And by force of habit, he would check on her to make sure she was ok. Some nights she was sleeping peacefully while others she would be battling the demons of her memories in her sleep. But it would never be as bad as it had been when she had first arrived. But now? He had a feeling things had kicked up again. The war with the Night King had done a number on her and her family, to the point that once the dust had settled? She had said her farewells and made her way back to Braavos and back to him.

She had initially said she had just wanted to come back to the temple, but he had overheard her speaking with one of the new acolytes. The first that she was to train, and she had explained how she had come back because she had wanted to return to him. This had come from the acolyte asking if it was ok to feel a deeper connection to another male acolyte. Or if that was against the rules. So Arya had spoken from, what he assumed, to be experience and to relate to the young girl. However, he had not stayed past hearing that, as he knew she was about to say more on the subject and he did not want to eavesdrop on her conversation. Because it was clearly meant to stay between her and her sweet girl of a trainee. But it had been his first inclination that she possibly felt for him in a similar way to how he was feeling for her. Not that he would confront her with this. After all, it wasn't something he was meant to have overheard. So instead he had made a note of it, and settled with observing her a little more closely when they interacted with one another.

Rolling onto his back, he brought his arm up to rest over his eyes as his other found relaxed purchase across his hips and released a quiet but troubled sigh. He could hear that Arya was still not settled, as she was shifting just a little too much within his sheets. He wasn't sure why and it was starting to bother him. Not because it was keeping him awake, but because it meant she still couldn't find her rest.

"Lovely girl, come here." He finally sighed out, although he was careful to keep his tone soft and reassuring.

'She's not acid nor alkaline

Caught between black and white

Not quite either day or night

She's perfectly misaligned'

He wasn't sure about this request, given how quickly he heard her follow his instruction. She had answered it almost too eagerly. But lying down here, on the comfortable mountain of floor pillows was better than him joining her in bed. While still intimate, it didn't hold the same inclinations as the bed would. At least, he hoped it wouldn't. It seemed logical. But as she slipped under the heavy blanket that he had taken from his chair and settled herself at his side, he wasn't so sure anymore. Her scent, clean, crisp and something that was uniquely her, surrounded him quickly bringing a haze over his mind. A haze that travelled through him and settled low in his stomach. Closing his eyes to begin talking himself off the dangerous ledge that he was now teetering on, his resolve almost completely shattered though when she shifted. Suddenly, her head was on his chest as she curled herself into his side, her arm coming up to rest over his that was slung across his hips. Gods be damned, old and new. But this needed addressing. And it needed addressing now. He did not mind her taking these liberties with him, absolutely not. He was perfectly content for her to take them and more if she wished, but he didn't understand why and he did not want to assume.

"Why is a woman not sleeping lately? And why has she been finding her way to a man's room each night, though not finding the courage to request admittance?" He asked bluntly, figuring directly was better than sugar coating and using verbal trickery to get answers.

He felt her tense against him then, before she started to slip from his chest but he instead caught her and held her in place. She wouldn't slip away that easily, not if he could help it.

"A man did not tell a woman to remove herself from his person. He is quite content as he is with her. But he does wish for the answers to his questions, so that he can better understand the action of a woman using him as both her pillow and teddy bear." He spoke, allowing a teasing inflection to slip into his voice at the end.

"Does there have to be a reason? I like comfort and you are comfortable." She replied, although he heard the lie immediately. Moving his arm at his hips out from under hers, he flicked her wrist firmly.

"A lie. Tell a man the truth. Our present position, as well as our long history, should leave room for it to come much easier for a woman these days."

"If I tell the truth, you will pull from me. And I don't want that." She replied, shaking her wrist to soothe the small sting that his flicking of it had caused. As she allowed it to drop again, but this time aiming for her side, he reached up and caught her hand.

"How can a woman be so sure of this thing? She is not inside of a man's mind. He has assumptions already, but he does not wish to act on them in case he is wrong. He requires clarity from her, so that he may know how to proceed." He explained, as he slowly laced their fingers together, making sure that she watched as he did so, allowing his head to roll lazily to the side so that he was looking down at her.

She did not speak for a moment, seemingly mesmerised as she gazed at their now interlocked fingers, the moonlight from the waning crescent moon outside, vieling their hands in an almost ethereal glow. But soon she moved her head, so that their eyes could meet.

'I'm caught up in her design

And how it connects to mine

I see in a different light

The objects of my desire'

"I have been unable to sleep lately, because I have been craving your presence in the night. Wanting to find my rest with you and other things besides." She finally found the courage to admit and he had detected no lie. Only truth. A truth that made his heart swell with hope. But still, she wasn't sharing the full story.

"Why has a woman been craving this with a man? And what other things does she want with him?" He asked her next, bringing their hands to his face so that he could brush his lips against the back of hers, sweetly. It was an action as much to comfort her as it was an attempt of his to self-soothe in this tense moment that they were currently sharing.

"That will be what makes you pull away if I tell you." She murmured nervously and he felt his brow raise as his heart began to pick up its pace within his chest. But before he could say anything, it seemed her nerves got the better of her as she tried to detangle their fingers and pull her hand away. Not allowing this, he tightened his grip gently, giving her pause as she looked at him in question.

"Has a man pulled away from a woman, yet?" He asked and watched as her eyes widened. "A man needs to know the answer if he is to do what he plans with a woman." He elaborated a little more, ghosting his lips over and around her hand, pausing at the sensitive skin of her wrist, where he brushed across it with a feather-light kiss.

He was trying all he could, without being pushy or oppressive, to show her that she was safe to tell him what she held in her mind and heart. That no matter what it was, he would not run or pull away from her. He wanted to know all of her thoughts, feelings and hopes. He didn't want her to hide herself from him.

"What do you plan to do?" She asked him, her voice quiet while watching him with unsure eyes, as he lavished her wrist with gentle, sweet affection.

"Tell me what a man wishes to know and he will show you." He murmured against her wrist, glancing at her through his lashes, his look smokey and holding all of his emotion for her within them.

He didn't miss how she gave a small, involuntary shudder at his expression. But it seemed that his soft, careful actions had brought down her walls enough that she felt comfortable to share the answer this time. Although it was clear that she was still nervous.

"A woman has fallen in love with a man. She knows not why, just that she has." She replied and he felt his mind grind to a halt as it processed her words and the gravity of their meaning.

He had expected her to say she wasn't sure and then proceed to explain something that would clearly be love to him. But that she wasn't sure about. He had planned to explain it to her if that was the case. But instead she had outright stated that she was in love with him. His chest warmed in an almost unbearable way with her admission, but not letting it distract him he smiled and nodded.

"A man feels the same for a woman. He has found himself in love with her also. So now he will do this." He replied, before he pulled her towards him in a smooth movement.

'Ooh, let's talk about chemistry

'Cause I'm dying to melt through

To the heart of her molecules'

The meeting of their lips as he claimed Arya's in the moonlight was something akin to heaven, or so he thought anyway. So long he had wanted and waited to do this and now he finally was. It almost felt like a dream and gods old and new he hoped it wasn't. He wasn't sure he could bear any more of them. Arya took a moment to comprehend what was happening before with a sigh of seeming relief, she began to shyly return his kiss.

Her inexperience was clear, but it did not bother him, or take away from the wondrous feeling of the action. After all, these things could be taught and practice made perfect. As the kiss deepened and the passion started to ignite, Arya proving once again how much of a quick study she was, he found himself gently rolling until she was below him. He wouldn't overwhelm her with too much, too soon. But he wanted to feel her under him, even if they didn't get much further than this tonight. Her arms slipped around his waist then, to glide up his back and soon her fingers were in his hair at the nape of his neck, her other hand gripping his shoulder tightly. As she released a soft moan into his mouth, he used that opportunity to not only slip his tongue inside to play with hers, but to pull her up until she was straddling his lap.

From this position, he was able to explore her back and hips and pull her tighter against him. His hand found its way to the back of her neck, where he tilted her head some so that he could have better access to her mouth, his free hand slipping down to rest on her plump backside. He had planned to just let his hand lay resting there and not do anything else, but as she sank into the kiss more, her hips rolled against him of their own accord. It was clear that she was allowing her body to drive her, trusting that it knew what to do even though she herself was inexperienced with the world of passion, lust and sex.

He forced back the need to push up into her when her hips had rolled, not wanting to scare her because she would properly feel his rapidly growing sex. But it seemed she had liked the small amount of friction and wanted more of it, so her hips had rolled again and with a hiss, his body, unbidden, answered hers and pushed back. Her small, strangled gasp had him growing concerned. Surely she had felt him and now was wary of his size? But this concern was quickly crushed when she rolled again, this time with more force. She wanted to feel him. Wanted to become familiar with his length. Seven hells! If he didn't settle her down now, there was no doubt in his mind that he would be buried in her to the hilt shortly.

"A woman should refrain from grinding on a man in this way. Otherwise he will lose all control of himself and take a woman here and now." He murmured against her lips and broke the kiss.

But even as he spoke, his lips had trailed down her jawline and found their way to her neck where they began to dance sinfully against the tender, sensitive flesh between her shoulder and throat. He was well aware that he had just sent a mixed message, but the lure of her was too much for him. Too long he had wished for something like this and now that he had it, he didn't want to stop until he had claimed every inch of her body for his own. But he still did not want to overwhelm her. Already he could tell from the heat of her core, that new and foreign sensations were running riot through her body. Sensations that she did not quite understand yet, but knew that she wanted more of. But knowing he would need to be the voice of reason in the situation, he forced himself to stop what he was doing and made to lift her off him. Except, she didn't let him. Instead she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and held herself fast against him.

"Lovely girl, we shouldn't go further tonight. This is all new for you, I can tell." He began, slipping into the first person for a moment, so that it ensured that he got her attention and that she listened. "A man does not wish to overwhelm his woman with too much, too soon. We will have plenty of time, now that we know of each other's feelings, to explore our intimacy."

"You are not overwhelming me, Jaqen. I want this. I have wanted it for a long time. I've held onto my virtue long enough. It's time for me and I want it to be with you. After the war and everything that's happened. I've found that nothing is ever guaranteed. Death will come for all men. You taught me that. All we can hope is to live our lives to the fullest, so that when the Red God calls us home to his side? We go happily, with no regrets." She challenged him softly and he felt his breath catch.

Well when she put it like that? He couldn't exactly find a good reason to refuse her. He was only wanting to look out for her, but if she was telling him that she wanted this and that she didn't feel overwhelmed? Then who was he to say that she was wrong. She knew herself and knew her body. If she was reaching her limits, she would be the first to speak and tell him so. Besides, claiming her virtue for his own was something he would view as a great honour indeed. It was something that she could only give once and never again. So if she chose him to claim it, then again, who was he to say no to her? But even so…

"Are you sure, lovely girl? If you are completely sure, then a man will give you what you want from him. But if you aren't, we need to stop now." He asked, leaning his forehead against hers, allowing their gazes to lock for a moment. But only a moment, for she did not hesitate to answer him.

"I'm sure. I promise. I want you, Jaqen. And I want you tonight." She replied firmly, before she leaned forward and claimed his lips again.

He blinked rapidly for a moment in surprise of her newfound courage, but as his eyes fluttered closed, he quickly returned her kiss. It didn't take very long at all for the kiss to grow in heat and passion. But this time it was overlaid by a need so potent and breathtaking? That it was almost too much for him and he was the experienced one out of them both. But she had made her decision and he wasn't going to try and take it away from her now or force her to change her mind. She had told him that she felt ready and so he would listen to her. But if she changed her mind midway through, then that would be fine too and he would make it a point to stop. He would just have to shore up his willpower a bit more aggressively, that was all.

So finding his resolve, he allowed his hands to ghost down her sides to where her night slip had ridden up and bunched around her hips. Taking hold of the material, he carefully pulled it off her, and tossed it so that it would drape over his chair by his writing desk. He did not want to get the slip too dirty. He watched as Arya unintentionally moved to cover herself from his gaze but he stopped her, gently pulling her wrists so that her arms would drape around his neck again.

''Til the particles part like holy water

If anything, she's an undiscovered element

Either born in hell or heaven-sent

But either way I'm into it'

"Don't hide yourself from a man, lovely Arya. He wishes to see all of you when he takes you for his own." He said reassuringly, a note of seduction in his tone as he spoke. "Does a woman wish to remain where we are? Or would she be more comfortable on a man's bed?" He queried, wanting to maximise her comfort as much as he possibly could.

"Here is fine. I like it here. The moonlight shining gives me peace and adds something I can't name to what we're about to do." She replied honestly, but curiously as she gazed out of the window for a moment, before her eyes met his again and she gave him a nervous but sweet smile.

"A woman is truly a wolf it seems, if she feels such a connection to the moon and stars. And the word you are looking for, lovely Arya, is romantic…" He teased her gently, allowing his lips to ghost along her jawline, before speaking again. "It adds a romantic atmosphere to the moment we are about to share. But a man shall bend to your will. Here we will stay." He then slowly laid her back down, treating her so very delicately before he kissed her again.

His firmness in the action gave her an indication that he was now unshackled and soon to lay siege to her body. A body that glowed so beautifully in the light of a moon that she so adored. He knew this night would become burned into the halls of his memories. A brightness in an otherwise dark and tortured life. Purity, he found now, was truly a beguiling thing for one such as him. But not in the sense of relieving Arya of hers, more in the sense of the moment itself and all that came with it. Tonight there would be no walls, no games, no lies and no secrecy between them. There would only be them, their bodies, the moonlight and the oldest of all known dances of man. The dance of love and desire and he intended to make sure that she would never forget this night either.

He wanted it just so, so that when her mind supplied her with the remembrance later, with it would come echoes of him as he claimed her, the sensations he would evoke within her and the emotions that would inevitably take rise tonight. He wanted her to remember the scents, the sounds and the passion, so strongly and so intimately that it would bring her to her knees and drive her to seek him out and demand of him a physical reminder as well. A demand that he would obey without a moment's hesitation and with an enthusiasm that would steal the breath from his little wolf's chest. For he was a passionate man when his concupiscence was awoken and he knew she would wake it frequently, even without meaning to.

Breaking their kiss he leaned back from her for a moment, reaching behind his head he removed the shirt he had taken to sleeping in. This was tossed gracefully to join Arya's night slip. He observed Arya's lips part in a small, silent gasp as she watched him undressing above her. Smirking down at her teasingly, he quickly removed his sleep trousers as well and they soon joined the rest of their clothes on the back of the chair.

He didn't normally wear anything when he slept, he ran hot most nights, so even the chill of the Braavosi air didn't cool his bones enough in the night, to warrant him to wear anything. His bedding, plenty sufficient. But then the waif had started to try and visit him and he had begun to dress for bed. It made sleeping uncomfortable for him for the most part but he much preferred that, than the disadvantage she would catch him at when he wasn't clothed. He wasn't ashamed of his form, he took care of himself as a point of personal pride. But it also ensured his ability to do his job at his best, so he kept himself trim and tight. But that didn't mean he liked eyes, that he didn't want, enjoying the view when it didn't belong in their sight. His nudity was not for the waif's dark eyes. But it certainly was for Arya's brilliant blues.

So he felt as his masculine pride filled his chest and head, when her mouth fell open in awe of him, her small hands reaching out shyly in the want to explore him. But it seemed she lost her courage for a moment, unsure if she should or not. He chuckled lightly then before capturing her hand and bringing it up to the base of his throat, encouraging her in a soft command, to explore him all she wanted. Murmuring that it would hold her in good stead to begin becoming familiar with him in this way. He saw the resolve take hold in her eyes then, before she flattened her palm against his skin, her hands, although still unsure, began to explore across his chest and torso. He bit back the amused laugh he wanted to release, when she got to his hips and then rather quickly moved back up, avoiding the part of him that she was now more interested in. Hmm. It seemed her courage failed her, when it came to exploring his maleness, but he knew her interest was great, by how her eyes slid downwards and seemed to get stuck with gazing at him.

Deciding not to comment on her obvious fascination and lack of bravery at touching him where she really wanted to. He instead took her hands, now lazily dragging her long nails across his defined abdominal muscles, and pinned them above her head gently with one hand. Draping himself over her once more, his other hand ghosted up her body from her lower stomach to catch and carefully grip her neck. Applying light pressure there, he felt as her head naturally fell back, his mouth found her skin then. Her momentary tensing and then shuddering sigh as her body trustingly relaxed into his touch, had a surge of burning hot need scattering through him to settle at his centre. He was a lethal man, he knew and she knew it. They both knew he could kill her in a few different ways in this position without much effort on his part. But still, she trusted him wholly and fully, a realisation that was most heady indeed. He would never hurt her though, not in any way she wouldn't enjoy. He thoroughly believed that he was incapable and probably had been for quite some time now. He felt himself pulse for a moment as more want increased the pressure in his masculinity. Things would soon become quite uncomfortable for him but he determinedly resolved to ignore it. He wanted to take his time with Arya. Where they would inevitably find each other's bodies more than once after tonight? This particular night would only ever happen once and he wanted to draw it out for her, as much as possible. Kissing his way down her form, alternating his pressures as he went, he slowly travelled to the part of her that called to him. Once there it seemed Arya started to panic for some unknown reason.

"Jaqen!" She hissed, her cheeks now blazing rather adorably. "What are you doing!?" She asked, her fingers capturing his hair but he simply chuckled and gave her a seductive look.

"Really? After everything a girl has already requested and seen? This is her question?" He asked of her teasingly, calling back to a time shortly after they had met. He noted how she seemed to shudder at this, her mind undoubtedly pulling up the exact memory of when he had last spoken similar words to her.

Her distraction, though, proved to give him the opportunity he had been looking for, as her mind struggled to link and reconcile where they were now to when they had started all those years ago. But it allowed him to slip further down and soon his head was between her legs and his hands were sliding up them to grip her inner thighs, forcing her to open wider for him. But he didn't get much further as Arya gripped his hair again and he couldn't quite hold back the small sigh of annoyance that forced its way past his lips. It was likely that she had heard stories of how men seemingly disliked doing what he was trying to do. But what she didn't understand was that when people talked about that? They were talking about selfish boys that barely knew how to pleasure themselves, much less a partner. But men, true men anyway. Men like him? This was a matter of pride. There was nothing quite like watching your partner lose their minds in pleasure, knowing you'd only used your tongue. And he was a man that thoroughly enjoyed providing pleasure like this. So Arya hadn't a hope in the hells of not meeting his tongue once or twice this night.

'She's not acid nor alkaline

Caught between black and white

Not quite either day or night

She's perfectly misaligned'

"Does a girl remember the first thing a man requested from her?" He asked, allowing her to see the mischievous look in his eyes as he spoke, his smirk one that was akin to predatory.

He watched as she mentally sifted through her memories of them and he knew when she got to the right one. The blush that bloomed on her cheeks, was really quite fetching, moreso when it creeped further down to pinken her chest. He also did not miss as her dusk pink nipples hardened just more. But she seemed to find her voice and shyly replied.

"You asked me for something to drink, because you had a thirst." Her tone was staggered, her nervousness clear but it seemed it was slowly becoming underlaid with something else as well. Intrigue. Arousal. Knowledge that went straight to his manhood and made it pulse in need all the more. Gods but she would be the death of him and he could not wait.

"Indeed and a woman was unable to quench it then. A man's unwanted companions saw to that. So a man asks you to serve him now." He replied seductively, his teeth nipping playfully at the skin just above the apex of her thighs.

He watched as her eyes became alight with resolve, curiosity and a burning need to experience all he wanted to share with her. Her storm-grey eyes, which he had always gotten lost in without meaning too, glittered darkly with her want of him. And, he mused, he thought this was his favourite variance of his lovely girl's eyes. A variance he wanted to ensure would always slip into them, each time she looked upon him. He wanted to always see her unabashed hunger for him as he did now. It let him know that he wasn't alone in how desperately he wanted her. Wanted this.

"Valar Dohaeris…"

She whispered out in nothing less than pure, adulterated lust. And he almost bit down on her skin in a show of sheer possession at how she had sounded in that moment. The tone alone would have been enough to elicit such a response from him, but when paired with her speaking those words…well. It would drive him to do some filthy and depraved things to her, indeed.

"Just so. All men must serve. A woman to her man moreso." He said, his voice rumbling through her in dark decadence, making her shiver and then he was on her.

The moment his tongue ran over her bundle of nerves, her back arched and her fingers clenched in his hair. His name spilled from her lips in a gasp of surprise and sensation. He could feel her thighs tense in need as he devoured her with a new kind of thirst and hunger. He heard himself purr against her, as her taste exploded across his tongue and he wanted to growl. It was divine to him, coupled with the scent of her arousal which fogged and then overtook his mind. It almost made him feel as though he was under the influence of blood fire, a strong and highly illegal aphrodisiac, that had been common on the mazed streets of Lorath before it became the contraband that it was today.

He'd experienced its effects only once and quite by accident, when his father had told him to fetch a potion for the headache he had had that day. He had been but a boy of sixteen summers and had mixed up the bottles in his fathers cabinet because his vision had been blurred with the pain in his head. It had certainly taken away his headache, but it had also sent his body careening into a state most unexpected and one he'd had very little experience in at that time. But he had learned that day, when his father, realising the accident that had happened, had called a trusted courtesan to their home. That night he had become a man and all because of a case of blurred vision and head pain. But it was better than enduring the pain that would come should the effects not be dealt with properly. So many had ended up losing their lives because their hearts would give out due to the stress and heat that raged through their bodies. Hence the aphrodisiac was eventually made illegal.

So to feel this way, simply by tasting his Arya, was a heady thing indeed. Except this felt so much better than that and it seemed his body agreed, as his maleness pulsed again, painfully this time. He had picked up his speed as he lavished the attention on her, his tongue delving inside of her to swirl and twist within, before sliding up between her folds to torture the bundle of nerve above once more. As he sucked, flicked and laved, Arya was squirming below him, her fingers clenching and unclenching in his hair as her hips rocked up against him unbidden. Her moans and calls were divine and almost sounding taboo to his ears, as she slowly unravelled below him and for him. Gods old and new, her responsiveness to him was pulling to something dark and dangerous within him. He wanted to swallow her whole, take her into himself and keep her there for the rest of their lives.

His drive and need to claim her in every way and flood her with himself was maddening! And almost animalistic in how powerful and wild it made him feel. And flood her he would, over and over again until, eventually provided they were ready and the Gods were good, he would take root inside of her and she would swell with the growth of their combined legacy. But not on this night. He knew they were safe to do this, well in comparison to other days. She had finished her blood two days ago, this he knew because for the past week she had been lethargic, agitated and in pain in a manner that he recognised to not belong to her lack of sleep.

He recognised it because he had seen it with her time and again over the years and always around the same time in the moon's cycle. He was always gentler in his training of her around that time, always a little more sweet and considerate. And he would give her more breaks than he normally would. Then when it came to the game of faces? Rather than carry the bamboo cane he normally did, he arrived with nothing and instead used his hands to swat or tap her when she made a mistake. Because he knew that her skin and nerve endings were a little more sensitive to pain. He would also always seem to 'conveniently' have some of her favourite fruits or nuts to hand around this time too, which he would offer her. Something that had always confused her because why would he have these things? He wasn't fond of some of them, so wouldn't be eating them himself. He would just smile when she queried it and brush her off with some vague but believable explanation or other.

The truth was, of course, because he wanted to make things more comfortable for her. Easier. He wanted to take care of her, without drawing undue attention from others. Or from her. It had honestly been his first indication that Arya Stark had wedged herself deeper into his soul than he had initially thought. That his feelings surrounding her were beginning to change, because his actions and consideration of her during her cycle as an example, went far and above simple sympathy.

As he doubled down in his ravishing of her, he allowed one hand to slip promisingly over and up her body to come to a stop when he found her breast. Here he began to massage and tease her, his thumb flicking over the hardened peak, before pinching and twisting carefully. The reaction was instant as Arya gave a hard shudder before releasing a long drawn out moan. He pinched and rolled it again then, this time as he slipped his tongue downward and dipped it within her once more. Arya arched this time, gasping his name and he smirked against her, when he felt the dangerous flutterings of her inner walls. His little wolf was close to falling off the edge for him and Gods how he yearned for it. Her wetness against his tongue was now akin to a mini waterfall as her body readied her more and more for him. He hoped she would flow fast and hard when she fell, because as he had said…

A man has a thirst…

And thirst he did as he drove his tongue inside of her harder, before dragging it out and up to torture and tease once more, his hand that had been playing with her plump breasts, the perfect size to fit in his palms, slipped downwards, a new destination in mind. When he reached her core he probed at her slickened heat before slowly sliding a finger inside of her. He did so gently and carefully, as he knew she would need to get used to feeling this kind of sensation, for when he would replace his finger with his manhood. As he began to pump within her, curling his finger upward with each pass, Arya started to almost pant.

Her sounds were becoming unintelligible as she spilled broken, stuttered variances of his name. Speeding his movements up, he soon added a second finger when he felt she was ready. And the results were…interesting to say the least. Within a few thrusts of his dual fingers, Arya's hips moving to match his pace, her body suddenly locked up, her muscles tensing. Her nails sunk into his shoulders deeply then, where they had fallen when they had slipped from his hair. Then with a lewd curse, as her nails scratched at him, she exploded for him. Her walls clamped around his fingers, strangling them with the strength of her spasms, and with a choked call of his name, a rush of fluid flowed freely from her entrance.

Quick as a flash, he pulled his fingers from her and replaced them with his tongue helping her ride out her first climax of the night, and by the Gods old and new, she tasted delectable to him. He almost growled against her as he drank down all she had to offer him and he knew, every chance he got? From this day to his last day, he would do everything to get his head between her legs. And he would be wanting that daily. Poor little darling, she had no idea what she had just unleashed upon herself by gifting to serve him as she had.

'I'm caught up in her design

And how it connects to mine

I see in a different light

The objects of my desire'

Dragging his lips up and over her form, allowing his tongue to lick a ghostly trail over her skin, he smirked when he watched her skin erupt in goosebumps, everywhere his mouth and tongue touched. Reaching her breasts, he circled a nipple with his tongue, nipping here and there, before he sucked it into his mouth. His free hand danced up her side, to brush along the underside of its neglected partner teasingly, before he massaged the flesh. Sucking harder now as his tongue swirled over the diamond hard peak, he coaxed its partner to the same with his fingers. Arching towards his face, her sighs and soft moans beginning anew, he played and frolicked a little longer before his lips ghosted up her chest and throat to claim her mouth in a kiss that screamed just how desperately he wanted her now.

Feeling just how needful he was, not only through his impassioned kiss, but also through the sensation of him rolling his hips against her. His masculinity, as it pressed up onto her pearl a clear indicator of what he so torturously wanted from her. She moaned deep into his mouth as she followed his movements, both of them falling into step with one another. If someone would have been watching, they would have swore that they were not two newly found partners, exploring one another for the first time. So in sync they were that it was better placed as an indicator of age-old lovers.

"Jaqen…" She gasped desperately; "Please. I need you. I can't take much more of this."

And he found that he held similar sentiment. He needed to be inside of her and he needed it now. So he would not linger on the border any longer. Slipping his hand between them, he took himself in palm and drew his maleness down through her folds decadently, her small sounds and heavy breaths spurring him on just more. And soon he had found the dip that marked her entrance, where he teased it with the head of his manhood.

"A man is weak to a woman's pleas. So he will obey her in all things this night. But he needs his little wolf to relax all of her muscles, lest he hurt her more than necessary." He murmured against her lips, his voice thick with his anticipation and concupiscence.

She nodded at him then, before she placed her hands on his shoulders, where she freely kissed him again. Slow, sweet and deep, it was clear to him that she was now lost in the sweet sensations of the friction. But the thought of soon being united with him, was enough to make her relax as he felt as she melted into the floor pillows with an anticipatory sigh. Feeling she was ready now, he moved to begin pressing his hips forward. So close, they were so damned close now and then-

Then the sound of footsteps ruined everything.

Jaqen froze above Arya, his hand still poised and holding himself against her entrance, an entrance that was so very soaked, that he felt the drips of her fluids as they fell upon the sensitive head of his masculinity. Those footsteps he thought, he recognised them. Of all the damnable nights for her to try her luck with him once more? Why did she have to choose tonight of all nights, right as he and Arya were about to finally be joined.

"Jaqen…"Arya whispered in question, her voice still quivering with the previous end he had mercilessly dragged from her. As well as the pressure of the fresh sensation their teasing play thereafter had elicited. However, he hushed her gently.

"Quiet my lovely girl, a man does not wish for you to be heard in his rooms. Not by this attempted visitor. It shall put a target upon his woman's back."

"What do…"

Jaqen's hand clamped over her mouth gently but firmly as he shook his head 'no', then turned it back to the door. He felt Arya follow the movement and soon both of them were looking. They could see the shadow of feet standing outside the door from the small crack at the bottom of it. A knock came, strong and true but both did not speak. Jaqen not daring to even breathe too heavily, while Arya was so lost in her confusion that she didn't know what to do or to stay so blissfully, she remained quiet. Another knock came, harder this time and Jaqen felt his jaw clench as he stared at the small slit between his door and the floor.

If that woman knelt down and flattened herself to the stone, she would be able to get a glimpse of them. She may not be able to see fully, but she'd be able to see enough, to know that he was not alone in here and from there it would not take her very long to figure out who shared his chambers with him. Fuck! He cursed internally, before pressing his finger to his lips when he drew Arya's attention back to himself. He then hitched her legs up and locked them around his waist, urging her to also wrap her arms about his neck. Once he had her secured he gracefully and silently rose to his knees and then to his feet and made his way over to his bed quickly, his steps practically ghosting over the floor. Thank god he was barefoot, it had served him perfectly on this night. Climbing the three steps like a flash, he carefully climbed onto his bed, mindful not to apply pressure to any of the spots that he knew would creak and be heard. Once secure, he gently deposited Arya onto her back, making sure to support her with the pillows. He then flattened himself over her, nudging her legs further apart with his hips.

"Don't make a single sound, little wolf." He whispered in her ear, before his hand ghosted between them once more and he took hold of himself again.

He would not enter her, not yet. Not until he knew the other was gone. But just because he wouldn't breach her core, didn't mean that he wouldn't tease her within an inch of her life. He had to keep her ready and lusting for him, if she truly wanted him to take her tonight. This in mind, he allowed his maleness to slip between her folds, the slickness of her ensuring that he glided between them easily. From here he was able to apply friction against the bundle of nerves, using his head to rub and press against it, before he slipped down again, barely dipping inside of her with each pass he made. As he teased her womanhood with his masculinity, his lips closed around a taut, aching nipple where he suckled, nipped and licked.

He glanced up and watched as Arya bit into her swollen, red lips as she did her best to keep herself from moaning out for him. He smirked as he drove down against her harder and had to bite down on her nipple, softly mind you, when she snapped her hips against him at the same time, the motion almost causing him to breach her, given how slippery her centre now was. By the Gods! This was going to kill him! He was about three seconds away from just saying to hells with it and making two, one. Let the waif hear and despair! But he held himself back from this. Driving into Arya too fast or too hard, would only hurt her that much more and he didn't want that. Discomfort would be normal, especially during the first time, but pain was not. Regardless of the claims made by everyone else.

But blissfully he heard as the waif's footsteps departed, sounding distinctly more irritated than when they had first come. Waiting just long enough to know that she was well out of earshot, he rose up on his hands and smirked down at his petite she-wolf. She was even more beautiful, flushed with desire for him and aching with need, than what she was day to day. And to think, he had been missing out on this vision below him. Gods he wanted to choke himself.

"One last chance, lovely girl. For a man has no plans of stopping once he begins." He warned, giving her a final opportunity to back out.

"Oh for fuck sake, Jaqen! Would you just shut up and love me!? My mind hasn't changed from the last three times you asked. So either do your job or roll over and I'll do it for you!" She raged, momentarily and a most delicious image floated across his mind's eye of Arya pinning him below her and riding his cock into oblivion.

"A woman wouldn't know how to fuck a man. She'd flounder most adorably above him and a man would have to put her out of her misery. Do not despair though, for a man will soon teach you. Just not tonight." He replied back in a growl-like fashion, before he crashed his lips to hers in a kiss that soon had both their heads spinning.

The kiss this time although extremely ardent, was slow, deep and filled with the combined passion of both of their lusts and earlier confessions. It was then that the full weight of what they were about to do dawned on him. It was finally happening, he was about to claim the last vestiges of Arya's innocence, as a most willing chaperone that would lead her onto the final path to begin her womanhood fully. Until now, he had not known that he had wanted to be that for her. Hadn't even dared to hope that she would want him to be that for her. But as he slowly pushed into her body, her walls readily swallowing him inch by torturous inch, he knew he would never change this for the world. To be her first and to open her to all the wondrous pleasures of the flesh, was indeed a heady feeling and a bloom of something that could only be described as honour, filled his chest.

'Not acid nor alkaline

Caught between black and white

Not quite either day or night

She's perfectly misaligned'

Yes, indeed, he was honoured by Arya this night, to allow him to claim the one thing she could only ever give away once. As he finally seated within her fully, wincing a little in sympathy when he felt her barrier tear slightly even though he'd been trying to avoid that, he wanted to weep in happiness when he heard her softly gasping words in his ear.

"I love you..."

It had come out breathlessly and on the back of a slow, deep moan as she felt his length settle within her. Her walls, although tight because he was quite large and this was new for her body, stretched around him perfectly and easily. He had tried so hard to be as careful and as gentle as possible on his entry, he only hoped he hadn't hurt her too much. Although the absence of grimaces or gasps of pain, hinted that he hadn't, he still couldn't help but worry. The thought of hurting her in any way, even if it was only a little and inevitable, tore at his heart and tightened his chest. He felt her relax around him, her body going blissfully limp as it sank into his bed. Her arms came up around his neck pulling him until their mouths were millimetres apart.

"Jaqen–I love you..." She murmured, once again reiterating her words, reassuring him that they hadn't just been said, as a heat of the moment thing. He fell apart then, all of his walls, guards and defences falling in the face of Arya Stark of Winterfell. In that moment he was no longer a faceless man, he was Jaqen H'ghar of Lorath, the man and lover of Arya Stark.

"I love you too, Arya. I honestly do." He replied breathlessly, for once dropping his third person pattern of speaking, as he gazed into her eyes. A gaze that had her mouth falling open with what I knew she could now see within them.

She had come to the realisation that it was not the faceless mentor she had fallen in love with that was with her now. But the true man behind the smoke and the mirrors. A man that, until now, she had only ever caught brief flashes off from time to time. He draped his body over hers protectively then, his arms slipping below her shoulders to hold her close to him.

He lay like this with her for a few moments as she finished adjusting to him being inside of her finally. He was sure that the feeling was so unusual for her. He had heard from previous friends of his that were women, that it had often felt unusual the first time. Like they were fuller than they could handle and stretched to their very limits. But that it would feel strangely wonderful too. But all in all, it was a rather confusing and overwhelming moment, but one that they normally didn't regret. Well, provided their lover was good at what he did. And Arya would be one of those lucky women. Because he was very good when it came to this.

He could feel every single inch of him pressed against every inch of her, their hips pressed together tightly. The feeling was truly indescribable and he felt as her knees came up a little further and she spread them wider, to accommodate him more comfortably. This small movement shifted him within her just enough that she sucked in a sharp breath, her hips lifting up against him of their own accord. Gods but she honestly felt so perfect, wrapped around him, like they were made for one another and they hadn't even begun to move yet. Something she had noticed as well it seemed, if her next words were anything to go by.

"Jaqen, please..." She pleaded with him, her words barely audible because she had spoken them so softly. But it didn't matter, because his ear was right by her mouth so he had heard her.

"Don't ever beg of a man, little love. Just tell him what you need or want from now on and he will serve." He answered, his tone one of willing submission to her and her wants. "A woman and a man are equals. Never feel you need to plead with him for something you need."

With this said, he pulled his hips back slowly but steadily before he drove forward again. Arya called out his name, as her head fell back against the pillows, her hands tangling into his vermillion tresses. Together they moved, each in sync with the other. Her hands never left his hair, and their skins never separated. Looking down at her, he was once again struck by how wild and untamed she was. She had the spirit of a feral wolf and he adored that about her.

She wouldn't be one to be domesticated in any sense. She craved freedom and would kill for it. And that was ok, because that was exactly as he wanted her. He wanted her to challenge him. Fight him. Bring him to his knees. He was wild and untamed too when he was allowed to shed all of his many layers and years of strict, unyielding training. He needed a woman that would challenge all of him as well as who could take all of his challenges to her. He wanted that passion, that bite. That sheer ferality of unchained hearts and emotions. As long as when all was said and done? They still fell into one another's arms. Still maintained their mutual respect, equality and understanding. Because both would always keep their love for each other as the driving force of defending all they would face with one another.

As the moonlight outside reached its zenith, its rays fell across his bed. Across their naked, undulating bodies and he had a moment of thinking that Arya was stunning in the light of the moon. Ethereal. A fever dream of a most blissful kind. His body surged with emotion as well as sensation the, as he drove in and out of her so deeply. Her hands had left his hair, to grip onto the back of his shoulders, her nails digging in and scratching at his skin. He would undoubtedly bear the marks of her, come the morning. But he would wear them as a badge of pride and honour. As he leaned down to claim her lips in a decadent kiss, his hair fell forward, shielding their faces like a curtain, the white streaking glinting in the moonlight like snow. With Arya, he felt as though he was in the presence of divinity. That she was a goddess that had chosen him for a very special and important purpose. A purpose that he would live for to the end of his days.

This reminder of a previously realised fact, still hit him like crashing stone. It was a heady feeling and once more his heart exploded in achingly powerful love. He would travel to the ends of the earth for this woman and then travel further if it meant she would be happy. He would spend his nights below her if that is what she wanted, letting her find pleasure in his body. Then he would spend his days at her side, protecting her from any or all harm. She could protect herself? But why have her exert the effort, when he could be the one to spill the blood for her? HIs job now, was to see to her every need and provide for her in every way. No matter what form that provision took. These things he would do for the rest of his life. If it meant he could always feel like this with her and he could see the love and aching need for him within her entrancing, grey eyes. He would fall to his knees before her, and claim servitude to her, if he thought it would give her happiness in life. He didn't know how he knew this so innately without ever actually thinking about it at any length or depth. But something in his ravaged soul recognised something in her equally battered one, that told him of this knowledge. Knowledge that felt so forbidden and dangerous. He would burn this world down with one word from her and he felt, somehow, that she would do the same for him. He was hers. He was meant for her and he could only hope that she felt the same about him.

As thier pleasures built and their sounds grew in volume and strength, he found that he never wanted to pull out of her ever again. He wanted to stay between her legs, just like this, touching every single part of her soul, body, mind and heart. Like this he felt so deeply connected to her, that he knew it would become addictive. He knew he would want her every day, multiple times a day for the rest of his life. For this woman, he would give her child after child if she so wished it, if it meant he could always have her like this. But more than that, he wanted her at his side for the rest of his life.

Her presence alone was enough to calm the storms of his mind and heart. She was his anchor that kept him afloat in the vastness of the unforgiving ocean that was life and living. This woman was his everything and as they finally found their long sought after releases? She cried out echoes of what was in his heart without him having to voice his own musings. But as her body's release pulled his from him? She kissed him deeply, locking her legs around his waist and pumping her hips in time, with each pulse that his manhood made within her. The feeling of his seed pouring into her, thick and hot was unlike anything he ever felt and combined with the blinding bliss of her still spasming walls, he knew unless it was with her? He would never feel the likes of this again. He was ruined for all other lovers, should Arya decide he was not what she wanted.

'I'm caught up in her design

And how it connects to mine

I see in a different light

The objects of my desire'

But as they collapsed together in a heap of heaving breaths and sweating bodies, she turned his head back gently to face her. Then looking into his eyes she whispered the words he didn't realise that he not only wanted to hear, but that he needed to hear.

"You can never leave me now, my Lorathi love. For if you do? You will leave me a broken, desolate woman. Truly, I love you dearly." These words were whispered with such vulnerability, that he knew them to be true. His heart swelled, almost bursting and he claimed her lips again in a slow, deep kiss.

"A man is not going anywhere, his she-wolf. He is yours. Fully and truly. You could ask a man to wed you tomorrow and he would do this thing. Without hesitation." He replied after she had pulled away from the kiss.

-X-

As Jaqen sat by the waters of the painless death, he was quite tired this morning. But then, he shouldn't be surprised. He smirked down into the waters as his mind cast back to the previous night with Arya. After they had sworn their oaths to remain at each other's side, they had fallen into a sound and restful sleep.

Well, once Arya had shifted and squirmed trying to get comfortable, leading him to pull her up and over so that she was resting on top of him. Strangely, within moments of him doing such, she had promptly fallen into a deep and peaceful sleep. He had been greatly amused at this fact but he had also adored it and thought that he would be quite content to be her pillow for the rest of their nights.

Hearing a barely audible sound of footsteps, Jaqen frowned knowing he was no longer alone. He had hoped it to be Arya trying to sneak up on him. But as the scent of lily of the valley reached his nose, he knew that it was definitely not his little wolf. No. She smelled of jasmine and warm vanilla, with a dash of bergamot. Divine really. Much better than the strength of the perfumed oil the waif was so fond of. He imagined some men would pant for that scent, but for him it had always irritated his nose and caught in the back of his throat annoyingly. With how cloyingly sweet and flowery that it was. He supposed it suited the waif, but it definitely did her no favours while in his presence.

"What does a woman want with a man?" He asked, allowing his irritation to seep through, giving his words a biting note that was as much a warning as it was a question.

"A woman was on laundry duties today…" She replied, her tone carrying an edge of something that he wasn't sure that he much liked. He didn't know where this was going, but as she came to a stop in front of him, he glanced up at her in question.

"Why would a man care to know what duties a woman was assigned, this day? Faceless men all pull weight in the temple. If they didn't, it would be akin to a pig sty."

"A man should care that a woman was taking care of laundry. Particularly given she was responsible for chamber linens." She snapped, her eyes a seething tempest of rage, as she snapped her wrist and tossed a bed sheet towards him.

As he caught it, his confusion clear on his face, he was about to ask her why he would need to have this cloth. That is until his nose gifted him with the scents upon the fabric. Cloves, ginger and sandalwood. His scents. But mixed with that? Jasmine, vanilla and a dash of bergamot. Seven hells! This was his bed linen. Cutting a glare up at the waif, he surged to his feet, his own anger pushing through, hot and heavy.

"Speak the meaning, vile woman. What reason does she have to give a man his linens?"

"I think a man knows why." The waif hissed in return, taking a menacing step closer to him. Or at least he assumed she meant for it to be menacing. But he was unaffected by her. He could take her down easily and without much effort is he had too. So his fear of her was non-existent.

"Clarify for a man, anyway! Because he thinks that what a woman believes, is a falsehood." Jaqen seethed, stepping forward as well and watched with minor satisfaction, as she took a half-step back. He towered over her. He was angry. He was lethal. She knew she wouldn't win this square off between them. So instead she smirked in a most self-satisfied manner, that made his blade hand twitch with a need to put some extra holes into the woman.

"A woman thought it odd that a man's sheets would carry any other scents but his own. Given he is so particular about spending his nights alone. But then a woman thought, maybe a man has been experimenting with new oils. Wanting a change of scent for himself. That is, until she pulled back his covering and found blood upon his linen."

Jaqen raised his brow at this, showing faux confusion, as he began to unravel teh balled up mess of his sheets. And soon the most damning thing met his eyes. There, no bigger than the coin he had once gifted his little wolf, was a circle of pinkish red blood. Fuck. He hadn't thought he'd torn Arya's maidenhead quite as badly as he apparently had. He started to panic although outwardly, he maintained a scarily level calmness before he shrugged and balled the linen up again and threw it back at the waif.

"So? Just the mere presence of blood on a man's sheets, isn't enough to assume its origin. Many things can happen to cause blood in a bed. Things that don't always mean the claiming of a ladies virtue." He replied casually, rolling his eyes 'accidentally' to appear more much less concerned than he actually was.

"Not when it appears like this! It can only mean one thing. Another woman was with a man recently. It is clear. So a woman thought to herself, whom does both man and woman know, that would have been untried and smell like Jasmine and bergamot? Well, there is only one answer then, isn't there? A man bedded with that wretch, didn't he!?" She accused angrily, throwing the linen down on the floor as though it both burned and offended her. Jaqen felt his gaze darken with his fury.

"Whom a man chooses to share his body with, is no concern of a woman. She holds no claim over him, nor does he wish for her too. This thing has already been made clear to a woman, time and again. But still she refuses to hear a man. Tell him, is a woman simple? Beside all of that, a man…" Jaqen challenged her in return, before he was cut off as words echoed through the cavernous room, as though a ricochet.

"Did not bed down with this woman!" The voice of his Arya, called out strong, true and furious. And he found himself smirking then. Ah. There she was. His little wolf baring her teeth and claws. He much appreciated it and felt his body stir a little in whispers of need.

"She was indeed inside of a man's room last night. But not for the purposes that another woman so lewdly accuses." She replied flippantly, then lifted her tunic and showed the waif a fresh wrap of bandages, which were stained in red.

Jaqen found himself quite relieved that he had left all of his marks on her in places higher or lower than her lifted tunic exposed. He was also not concerned with the sudden appearance of said reddened bandages. They had not been there last night when he laid siege to her body, and it had only been a few hours since they had awoken and left his room. A trick. A very convincing trick he noted, as the waif's confidence wavered and her eyes showed a flash of concern because of her accusations towards them. Watching that unfold found him growing a little more hot beneath his collar, as his pride for his Arya flooded him.

"A woman got wounded recently while out on a mission and her injuries reopened in the night. A woman could not make it to the healer in time, so being close to a man's room as she is, a woman went there. Because a man is her mentor and she trusts him to see her body in an intimate manner if need be, without fear of roaming hands or attempts at coaxing her into relations! A man is not that way inclined. And well, another woman should know." She explained boredly, dropping her tunic again, but letting her affront show through clearly as she glared at the waif.

"That does not explain how such a light amount of blood would end up on a man's bed! If another woman, as she says, only went to a man for help with a wound! She could have sat upon a chair or a man's desk, while he worked to stitch her back up." The waif hissed, a look of victory beginning to alight on her face now. She thought she had caught Arya out and Jaqen was now a little concerned about this too. The waif, galled as he was to admit it, did have a point.

"A woman had to lie upon a man's bed as his bedding was clean and dry. They did try to sit her on a man's desk at first. But the blood was flowing faster than a man could staunch it, in order to work. So the bed was the next best place, as when she lay down, a woman's wound flowed slower." Arya replied with a shrug of perfect nonchalance and once again, Jaqen felt a stab of pride for his wee, little woman. She paused in her explanation, waiting to see if the waif would challenge her words again. But when she didn't, Arya finished her story.

"So a woman remained there, while a man staunched her bleeding and closed her wound up once more. Some of her blood spilled onto his bedding, during the final stitches when the wound was almost completely sealed. So there another woman has it. That is why she smelled a woman's scent on a man's sheets and found so little blood upon them as well."

After she was done speaking, Arya made her way over to Jaqen to stand by him. He noted the twinging in her gait as she walked. She was in pain, undoubtedly because of what they had done together. But it gave a wonderful dash of extra confirmation to her story. Confirmation that the waif clearly couldn't deny, with the context that she currently had. Looking at the both of them, the waif snarled, before she snatched up his linen again and with a look of fury, she turned to leave. But before she got to the door she paused and turned around to smirk.

"A woman should tell another, why then was her bed linens unspoiled with blood?"

"Ah yes. A man helped a woman change her sheets after closing her wound, so she wouldn't pull at it again. You will find the soiled ones in the laundry hall, awaiting washing. A woman believes they were left in the hamper closest to the door. But given a man deposited them there, a woman is not sure of this." Arya replied with a bright smile, before she turned to Jaqen, his queue to nod.

"Indeed. That is where a man placed them. So provided washing has not already been begun by another woman's colleagues, they should still be where a man left them." He lied smoothly, giving another nod, before he turned his head away from the waif to gaze into the pool of painless death once more. His indication to her that this conversation was now over.

After some time of nothing but silence, Arya, now sitting beside him on the ledge of the pool, spoke.

"Thank goodness you brought me more strawberries than I could eat, during my last cycle. Because I was hating knowing I would have to throw them away due to the beginnings of rot. Interesting fact, did you know that strawberries, at the perfect stage of rot starting, can look an awful lot like blood? And when crushed and smeared? Smell enough like iron to trick another person." She quipped playfully, nudging his shoulder with her own as she shared this cheeky little secret with him.

He couldn't help but smirk in delight then. What a sneaky and cunning little thing she was. And once again he was struck dumb at how she now belonged to him.

"A man did not know this fact, no. It seems as though his little wolf is a wily one indeed. But how did a woman know to set this up? The waif only approached a man a few moments prior to a woman's arrival." He asked curiously, looking at her before looking away again and tapping his chin in thought. She chuckled then, drawing his attention back to her.

"I saw my maiden blood on your sheets this morning, when we got up to prepare for the day. I knew that if we changed your sheets ourselves, it may raise suspicion. So I left the sheets there and went to my room and prepared. I knew the waif was the one that was approaching last night. And that she was one of the members on laundry duties today." She explained, pausing to let him take in this information.

He wasn't sure how he had missed her blood this morning. But then, he had been much too distracted with finally waking up beside her and marvelling at how she looked in the bright, early morning sun that shone through his window. So he would say he was probably slightly distracted.

"Ah? Was it because of a man's comment about a target appearing on a woman's back? Should the midnight visitor hear her pleasured cries and pleas for a man?" He queried, laying his hand over hers between them, his thumb running over the back of it. He felt like that might have been the cause of her gaining knowledge on who had tried to disturb them during their explorations with one another. But it seemed he had guessed incorrectly.

"Well, yes it would have, if I hadn't already been aware. But I have heard her trying to get into your room at night. I have heard your words of refusal and I noted that you started to close your door rather than leave it cracked. Then you began to lock it. I can hear the bar sliding into place when you decide to take your rest. Given I am only a few doors up from you on the other side of the hall." She corrected, moving her hand from under his to instead lace their fingers together intimately, his robes covering the interlocking of what was clearly of an intimate nature.

"And so a woman plotted and ployed, to hide truths from her sister in death dealing? A man is very enthused and impressed by a woman's progress." He praised her and watched her shudder in delight. Hmm. He would have to make a note of that and praise her more, if only to see that reaction. He also wondered just what it would do to her in a more intimate setting?

"She is no sister of mine. But she is an enemy to myself and now to a woman's man. Unacceptable. Speaking of pleasured pleas and cries…" She replied seductively, before she stood and offered him her hand. "I would rather like to hear yours. And just yours. A man performed well, the night passed and a woman found herself intensely wanting to repay the favour. Time for a man to become her mentor once more and show her what gets him off." She added decadently, her words and tone shooting straight to his manhood and waking it from its slumber.

Oh but she was a wicked, wicked girl. A part of him whispered that he should be concerned about the monster he had just created, but another throttled that voice and urged him to see just how much he could corrupt his she-wolf. Listening to that voice, Jaqen did not need to be asked twice, as he took her hand and stood. Brushing his lips over her hair, as he once had at Harrenhal, he spoke.

"It seems a woman has pondered too long. A man warned her not to do so, because he became quite impatient to claim her as a pupil." His words ran a strong shiver through Arya, as her mind sent her back in time to that place.

A place where it all began, but neither of them could know where it would end. Until now. Maybe it was always supposed to be this way, he considered. And maybe they had simply met too soon and so she was kept away from him until she was ready. Or until he was ready. Maybe both.

Then with that he spun and started to lead them away towards the area of the House that held the chambers. Hmm. Her chambers this time, he mused. He would quite like to taint that area and fill it with the echoes of his bliss, so that his little woman had pleasant dreams going forward.

-X-