As Jaqen wandered the streets close to the inn, he was berating himself for how he had handled things with Arya, just before he left. He had handled that completely wrong he knew and he knew she wouldn't let it go. But at that point in time, he hadn't wanted to talk about Serana. Not with Arya. He didn't want to scare her or make her more nervous than she already was in this whole situation. It wasn't that he felt as though she didn't have a right to know, she did, but he hadn't wanted to worry her more or to ruin the wonderful morning they had up until that point. However, he should have just fucking said that to her, rather than speak the way he had!
Honestly, it wouldn't have been difficult to say something like 'Let's not talk about that for right now. Let's wait until later.' That was all he would have had to say and she would have been ok with that. He knew she would have. But instead he had made it into a whole other thing and made it seem like he was deliberately hiding something from her when he wasn't. He just hadn't wanted to worry her, or ruin either of their moods. They had, had a good morning and they had already dealt with so much. Between the escape and then the travel to the Summer Isles. He had just wanted them to enjoy their day, maybe wander around the city for a little while, get something to eat and then head back to the inn and sleep for the rest of the day. Everything else could have come later.
Cursing out loud, he spun back on himself. No he couldn't leave things the way he had. The longer he was gone the more her mind would tick over and over and lead her down the wrong paths. He had to clear this up now, rather than run away from it. He didn't want to give her a reason to distrust him. That would kill him. And if there was ever a time where they would need full, unfettered trust? It was in this situation. But as he turned down a small side street, that he had found to be a short cut to the inn. He came face to face with a dark haired man, who now had the tip of a sword, similar To Arya's needle, pressed against his chest lightly. Not that it had surprised him. He had sensed the stranger, long before they confronted him. Glancing down at the blade with disinterest, he then raised his brow and looked back up at the man. Gods be damned, what a fucking day he thought, suddenly feeling so very tired.
Neither he nor the stranger spoke at first and Jaqen found himself sizing the man up. He wasn't a faceless man, he could already tell that immediately. If he was, he wouldn't be threatening him so openly. He would have waited until there was privacy and the cover of shadows. So, who was he and why was he pointing a blade at him? He didn't think it had anything to do with the face he was wearing, as he made sure that all his faces were long since dead. Less chance of recognition from others then.
"I'm curious as to why a stranger, whom I do not know, would point his blade at me in such a manner. And in such a public space. I can only assume you either have some grievance I am unaware of. Or you're a little touched in the head." Jaqen asked curiously.
He was sure the man was hoping that he could make him nervous, but this wasn't the first time a sword had been held to his chest. Unbidden the memory of Arya pressing Needle against his heart and telling him she was going home, floated across his mind and he smiled. Yes. She was much more worrying while armed, than this man.
"Where is she, faceless? I know she arrived with you." The stranger asked gruffly, his tone demanding and Jaqen felt as more surprise washed over him. How could he tell that he had been a faceless man? And how did he know that he had arrived with someone.
"I'm sorry but I'm not sure who…" Jaqen tried to deflect but the man cut him off with a scowl.
"Yes you do! I know you came with Arya Stark of Winterfell. I know she was disguised and I know she was trained in your order. I dare say, you are the one that trained her. I think you are Jaqen H'ghar in disguise. I'm not here to hurt either of you. I'm here to help Arya. You have both left Braavos's underground in quite a fucking stir." He explained and Jaqen felt his defences come up further. Too much. This man knew too much and that was dangerous. He didn't like it and nor would he stand for it.
"And yet a man tells another this thing, while pressing a blade against his chest. Forgive if a man is not feeling very open at the moment." Jaqen spoke, his annoyance breaching the surface now. Before the stranger could say anything else, he quickly swatted the blade away, then ducked and spun, coming around to the man's back and within seconds had his dagger pressed against his throat.
"If you know who a man is, stranger. Then you should have known it was folly to threaten him. Now a man asks you, who are you and why should he not slit your throat and leave you to die in this street? A man will not allow any harm to come to his companion. He would sooner die and give himself to the Red God." Jaqen seethed in anger and warning.
He did not care of the danger that he was in, he was more than ready to die protecting Arya. No, his concern was for her and only her and he would eradicate any threat to her. She could take care of herself, he had made damn sure of that when he trained her. But that did not mean that he could not still be her first line of defence first and foremost. He was and would continue to be, her vanguard and her shield.
"Wait!" The man beseeched quickly. "Please, wait. We both want the same thing. My name is Syrio Forel. I was Arya's Water Dance instructor. She believes me dead, but I am not. It was a ploy. I had planned to find her again, after the arrests of the Starks at Kings Landing. But I had to remain in hiding and be believed to be dead. Then when I could finally return to Braavos, I heard the rumours. I knew then that I had to come." The man, now claiming to be Syrio, explained quickly, bringing his hand up to hold Jaqen's dagger arm at bay. At least for the moment. Raising his brow at this, he wasn't sure that he believed the man. But there was one way that he could prove it. A phrase that had been spoken only to Arya and then shared with him many years later.
"If you truly are who you say, then you will have no problems proving such to a man. What are the last words an instructor spoke to his student, the day he 'died'?" Jaqen asked. Arya had explained to him, many moons ago while they were both still at the house of black and white, about Syrio and what had happened on the day of his death. Including his last words to her.
"I told her, when she begged me to come with her instead of buying time for her to escape, that 'The First Sword of Braavos does not run.' Is that enough for you H'ghar? Or should I explain every facet of that day in excruciating detail?" Syrio spat, and Jaqen could feel the tension within the man's body. He was getting angry now as well. But it mattered naught to him. He wasn't satisfied…not yet.
"One more question, a man thinks. How did an instructor find a man and his woman? For they spoke of their plans to no one." He asked, his voice deadly and promising pain should Syrio lie to him.
"It was a guess at best. Given the circumstances surrounding your stealing away into the night, I figured the first place you both may come to would be the Summer Isles. Given their penchant for secrecy and taking in refugees, with backstories similar? It made sense. So I looked here first. Coming upon you today was an accident and nothing more." Syrio explained, his tone softer again and his body, although still tense, was starting to relax once more. Jaqen found this curious, but rather than ask that question, he instead asked another.
"And how did you recognise a man? He is disguised." He queried, his eyes narrowing in suspicion, although Syrio couldn't see it.
"The way you carry yourself is what gave you away. Deadly. Untouchable. To others it is not noticeable. But to me, one who has worked with members of your organisation before, I recognised it for what it was. You are quite the name amongst your peers, even before this. And given that none of your organisation have made it here yet? I figured the sole faceless man in this city would be none other than the one I needed to find."
Jaqen thought about this for a moment before he slowly removed his blade from Syrio's neck and stepped away from him.
"For future reference, water instructor. Do not brandish your weapon at this man again. He allows it once and no more. Understand, a man does not trust you, that will take time. But he knows his woman will want to see you, so he will take you to her. But bear the thought that should you try anything that a man feels puts her at risk? He will spill your blood without a moment's hesitation."
With that said, Jaqen sheathed his blade and heard Syrio do the same thing. He then spun on his heel, and began to walk towards the inn. He knew the man wouldn't try a sneak attack, he was desperate. Not stupid. Besides that, he would sense it long before Syrio reached him. As they walked Jaqen noticed how Syrio picked up his pace until he was walking level with him. Glancing at the older man from the side of his eye, he wondered when the man would speak. It was clear he was dying too and gauging whether he should or not. Afterall Jaqen knew that he was giving off a sense of wanting to walk in silence. But it seemed the urge to make mouth sounds overcame Syrio and Jaqen felt his eyes roll before he could stop them.
"You call Arya 'your woman', but the last time I checked, she belonged to herself and herself alone." Syrio said, his tone hardened as a protective edge slipped into it. And Jaqen couldn't help but want to laugh.
It was cute, he supposed, that Arya's instructor was clearly still thinking of her as a child, instead of the deadly woman she had long since become. He would soon realise that folly, should he meet her again and inevitably treat her like one. But still, the insinuation didn't sit right with him. Jaqen narrowed his eyes at this then, before he frowned and chose to answer.
"Indeed a woman belongs to herself. But a man is from Lorath, it is how we speak. It is also how the faceless speak. Given a man in company has had dealings with members of the order as he says, he should know that it does not mean what it seems on the surface."
"Hn. And does Arya approve of the moniker that you have given her? Because if not, you would be best placed to stop. Before she stops you herself." Syrio retorted, his tone one of amusement that told Jaqen that he kind of hoped he could see the ending to that, that he perceived. Truly. Twas a shame that he would have to disappoint old Syrio.
"Hmm. On this? A man is unsure. But he cautiously assumes so. However, he will make it a point to ask a woman when they are unclothed and together in bed tonight." Jaqen replied sarcastically but with a sickly sweet smile. He enjoyed the ensuing feeling of victory then, when he saw Syrio flinch as realisation dawned on him.
"You are unmarried. This is the improper way to do it, faceless one." Syrio snapped, his arms folding under his chest in what Jaqen assumed was supposed to be a tough looking stance. But it fell flat because he had seen meaner, nastier men than Syrio.
"Our unmarried status is indeed one of truth." Jaqen nodded casually, before he looked directly at Syrio and then added; "For now. Until then? We enjoy practising for the day we choose to become man and wife." Then with that he strode ahead of the man, the inn coming into sight finally.
-x-
Arya paced back and forth in their room. She had ordered some food and water for Farangal and he was now happily eating and drinking after waking up from his nap. He was quite an unusual and humorous bird. He was still young though, so she imagined that he was still quite playful because of that. Thus he had had a great time, squawking and pecking at her, before flitting or hopping away out of her reach. She had happily played with him for a while and had rather enjoyed it. But eventually her mind had dragged her focus from the bird of prey and back into her own head. Namely, what Jaqen had meant with his words earlier.
Who had he been talking about when he said he wouldn't allow this to happen again? Did he specifically mean that it had happened to him before? Or was it something that had happened to one of his siblings that he had been a witness to? She didn't know and it was driving her crazy. But more than this she was annoyed at how he had spoken to her before he left. There had been no need for the venom in his tone. She understood she had pushed when she shouldn't have, but that still didn't entitle him to speak to her with such a demanding and disrespectful tone. She wouldn't allow that.
He was entitled to defending his position on something and she would never try to squash that out of him. But there were rules when it came to it, namely, how it was done. There was a right way and a wrong way and he had chosen the wrong way, which meant she would need to correct that. If she didn't? He would think that it was ok to speak to her like that, after all how was one supposed to correct an error, if one didn't know it was an error? But if he thought this was over, he was sorely mistaken. If anything, he had just made her want to know even more. He couldn't hide important details from her, not at the moment, they needed to have each other's backs and if they didn't trust one another, they couldn't do that. Not properly.
As her thoughts turned over and over in her head, she heard the door to the room opening. Looking over, a glare already on her face, it suddenly dropped and was replaced by complete shock and awe. Jaqen had indeed returned but he hadn't come alone. Because standing beside him, hand resting on the hilt of his blade, was none other than Syrio.
"N–no. It can't be. You're dead!"
"'Fraid not, little lotus. Although I am a remarkably good actor." Syrio joked, his eyes twinkling in amusement. But also had a sadness and regret to them that she hadn't remembered ever being there before.
Without a thought she hurried over and threw her arms around Syrio and hugged him tight. He chuckled lightly before he returned the embrace. They stood like that for a few moments before she stepped back.
"That was because I'm glad to see you again." She said with a dangerous smile. "But this? This is for fucking lying to me!" Then she reared her fist back and sent it smacking into his nose. She watched as the comical expression of shock crossed his features before he covered his now bloody nose with his hands, cursing in pain. She also did not miss the small, approving nod from Jaqen as it happened. Before he walked over and dipped a cloth into some water and brought it over to Syrio, who accepted it with a nod of understanding.
"I should have expected something like this. It seems the little wolf has found her teeth. But I suppose I deserved this." Syrio said, his words mumbled against the cloth which he was now holding over his nose.
"A woman has always had fangs, water instructor. She just shied away from using them. Until a man and the world taught her otherwise." Jaqen said in response, and she turned to look at him with a raised brow. But his back was now to her, as he made his way over to the bistro table, where he removed his disguise.
She saw with no small amount of amusement, as Syrio's mouth dropped open in surprise. But then, she supposed, Jaqen's height had just increased by about six inches and his hair had melted back into its usual vermillion and white. Not to mention his form filled back out into the tight, muscled physique of his true body. Turning to face Syrio, he smirked.
"And now an instructor sees why it was folly, to threaten a man disguised as a scrawny boy, with his blade. A person can never truly know what a faceless man's proper form looks like." He said with a certain pride in his tone that told Arya that he had enjoyed the reaction, just a little too much. But feeling cheeky, she decided to try and take some of the cocky wind from his sails.
"Unless you're in bed with one of them…" She muttered keeping her expression carefully neutral and her tone deadpan. Jaqen had heard her though, and instead of feeling a little uncomfortable as she had expected him to be, he threw a seductive look her way.
"And a lovely woman would indeed know what she speaks of…" He purred in response, making her blush. She couldn't believe he would say something like that! And in front of Syrio, no less! But before she could chide him, even though she'd found the audacity first, Syrio spoke.
"Again I say, you are both unmarried. That is improper!" He snapped a little. Sounding somewhat like she imagined her father would have. And as much as she loved Syrio and had indeed loved her father, she wasn't going to allow that kind of posturing. Not now. Not when she was a grown adult.
Arya felt a calmness fall over her then, before she slowly turned her head to look at her old instructor. But he wasn't looking at her, he was looking at Jaqen with disapproval. Oh no, that wasn't going to fly. He was looking at her boyfriend like he was some kind of villain. Not ok. No one disrespected Jaqen, not on her watch. She was pissed at him, yes. But she had a right to be and she was entitled to be, because they were together. But Syrio had no such right to cast judgemental eyes on Jaqen. A man that he did not know. None at all.
"Improper, Syrio? Am I to assume that you have never passed through the doors of a brothel and engaged in non-marital sex?" She queried sharply and saw as Syrio gave her a look of surprise.
"That is different! Men have…" He began, almost stuttering his words, but Jaqen cut him off before he could finish what he had been planning to say.
"A man would caution an instructor against what he is about to say to a woman." He warned warily, his eyes screaming for Syrio to stop while he was ahead. Arya appreciated Jaqen stepping in, understanding that the ideals of Syrio were antiquated at best. But she had some things to say herself.
"I can only assume the words you were about to speak are to the effect of 'Men have needs that women just do not have. Therefore we need brothels.' If that is the case, then what you are actually offended by, is the thought of a regular woman having needs similar and acting on them. Because for some fucking reason, a lot of men seem to think that women don't want or enjoy sex." She challenged Syrio, who frowned in thought before he shook his head, still lightly dabbing at his nose and then responded.
"Well, experience suggests that this is more often true than not." He explained and Arya had to bite her tongue, before she made a comment about her old instructor's prowess. But it seemed although she had managed to control herself? Jaqen? Not so much, if what he followed with was any indication.
"If that is the regular experience of an instructor, then a man must invite contemplation of what those experiences have in common. Because it seems there is but one commonality…" He said dryly and so smoothly too, that Arya honestly wanted to laugh.
"Jaqen!" She chastised, barely holding back her chuckle of amusement at her boyfriend's quick tongue. "That was impolite at best!"
"Impolite yes, but seemingly factual…" He muttered in response and Arya just knew he had turned away to pet Farangal, purely to hide a humoured smirk. Shaking her head at this, not quite believing she was in this situation, she attempted to shut the conversation down.
"Personal comments aside regarding male prowess, this isn't a dick measuring contest after all. My point is this…" Arya started to speak, but it seemed Syrio had not approved of Jaqen's judgement and wasn't going to let it go.
"I dare say, boy, that I have bedded more women than you! So do not comment as though you have more experience. Age is a fine thing." He said smugly and Arya was almost positive that she saw her old instructor actually posture. She was sure his chest had just puffed up like some male bird attempting to woo a mate. But although it was meant as a scathing comment in return to Jaqen? Arya noted that he was anything but cowed or floundering.
"Number and repetition do not always equate to marked improvement. Particularly if one does not listen to corrections. Any man could bed more than one woman in a night and still provide a less than memorable experience for each. Simply because he decided to also remove his listening ears when he removed his clothes." Jaqen quipped unflinchingly in return, giving Syrio a small smile as he spoke.
"As I was saying." Arya interjected, pulling both mens attention back to her. Once she had their attention once more, she levied a piercing look to Syrio. "Your view, I can only conclude, is because to you a woman is wrong to act on those desires. But I choose to break the wheel of oppressive male expectations. I am twenty-one springs now, Syrio. I am grown. And I am in a romantic relationship with Jaqen. If I so choose, then I can slip under him every night and have him fuck me."
"Arya! You are forgetting an important fact. You are a princess. There are expectations of you that you must follow. I appreciate you exercising your right to choose. But…" Syrio began to retort but again Jaqen stepped in, his tone hard and pointed.
It was clear that he was warning Syrio off saying anything else, that would give the impression that Arya wasn't allowed to choose what to do with herself and her body. If he didn't listen to Jaqen, there was a good chance that she would end up punching him again, but harder this time.
"There is no but, instructor. A woman has a right to live as she sees fit. With whom she finds to be worthy. No one gets to deny her that right!"
"Unless she is a princess! Rights mean little when you are royalty. And everyone has an opinion that should be listened to when you are Royal." Syrio challenged in return, his grip slipping to his sword in frustration.
"Incorrect, Syrio." Arya interjected quickly. "Royal or not, my body and what I choose to do with it? Or who I choose to allow within it, is entirely up to me? You do not get an opinion on that. No one gets an opinion on that. The only opinions that are allowed and that matter on this front are my own or Jaqen's. As for marriage? Just think of it as him and I practising for the day we do exchange vows."
"So a man and woman will be getting married then, lovely girl? Is that what a woman is saying? A man only asks because if he is to be a husband, then he should become better prepared for his wife." Jaqen cut in teasingly, giving her a truly delicious look. In fact she was sure he had just glanced her over from head to toe in a most predatory fashion. Seven hells! That shouldn't have been as arousing as it was! It should have made her uneasy to be looked at like something to be consumed. But it seemed that Jaqen turned her head in more ways than one.
"Seems to a woman that a man is more than prepared already? Almost earnestly so." She fired back flirtatiously before Syrio cleared his throat, his nose now bloodless. Hmm. Seemed it had stopped finally.
"Yes, well. Controversial topics aside. I should probably explain why I was gone for so long. Why I had to pretend to be dead and finally why I have now returned." Syrio said, making his way over to the bistro table and taking a seat. At this Arya crossed her arms under her bust and nodded.
"Yes, I think you should. I killed Meryn Trant in vengeance for you. So yes, I would say you have a hell of a lot to explain." She said, before sitting on the edge of the bed, scooching up a little when Jaqen came to join her.
"Well he wasn't exactly an innocent, little lotus. So if it makes you feel any better, his death can be taken as vengeance for your sister and the numerous humiliations she was subjected to by him, on the behest of that bastard boy, Joffrey." Syrio said before he sighed and settled back in the chair heavily. Then looking out the window, he began to speak again.
"As for my story. I suppose it started the day before the arrests took place. Your father, Lord Eddard, came to me and what he had to say was both enlightening and horrifying…"
-X-
Sitting at the table, Jaqen looked out into the warm but breezy evening of Walano. He could see revellers wandering around the market area, although the stalls were long since closed for the day, on their way to the nightlife district not too far from the inn. It seemed so calm and settled here, like the world couldn't touch the Summer Isles. Of course they had their own internal struggles, power battles and civil disputes that usually ended in trial by combat. But overall, the Summer Isles seemed at peace and they were prospering.
It would be nice to settle here permanently. As much as he held love for Braavos, he was beginning to feel like his time there was coming to its end. And not just because he had essentially defected from the order. He had felt this way, even before Arya had made her way back into his life. Speaking of Arya, he glanced over at the door as she came back to their room from seeing Syrio get settled in a room, across the walkway, from theirs. The floors of the inn were set up so that each floor had walkways surrounding the huge, central structural column that acted as one of the main support beams for the roof.
The walkways wrapped around the walls with railings following the edge, to prevent falls. But if you leaned over those railings, you could see right down to the main entrance hall of the inn. Spaced out over the walls were doorways that all led into guest rooms. And each floor had arched bridges that connected one side of a floor to the other, should you not want to walk the whole way around to get to another room. Then stairs connected each floor, so that you could get to each floor from the floor your room was on. It was a simplistic and open design, but it worked well and seemed to be more than functional.
He could see from Arya's face, after she had removed the face of Alyna, that she was preparing to speak. He had a feeling that he knew what she was wanting to talk about and this time? He was ready. But before that, she seemed to want to change into her night clothes. Leaning his elbow on the table, he dropped his head to rest on his knuckles, and watched lazily as she carefully undressed. She was quite beautiful, he found himself thinking, but then he had already known that by her face alone. But, he had realised recently, he had always thought that she would grow to be quite lovely. Even though when he had trained her, he hadn't been looking at her as anything other than a student and a lost girl who needed help finding her purpose and way again? That didn't mean that he hadn't noticed, if only briefly, how she looked and mused on what kind of woman she would grow to be.
But now that he had seen her in some of the most vulnerable states a person could be in, he had come to realise just how beautifully she had grown. As far as women went, her form was perfect to him. Wide hips, dipped out and up into a small waist and then on up to lush and plump breasts that were in proportion to her hips. Her skin, although she wasn't overly concerned with lotioning and moisturising as some women were, was smooth, supple and felt like silk against his hands. She had a few scars from her battles over the years, but as far as he was concerned, they just added to her beauty. It proved that she had been strong enough to survive everything that had been thrown her way. Things that would have easily killed lesser men and women.
Her long, dark hair with all of its natural waves, fell to the small of her back to brush the top of her full and pert backside. A backside that curved over and down to melt into legs that were long, lean and strong. He had no doubt that this woman could break something of his with those legs of hers. Thankfully she seemed to like to do nothing else other than wrap them around his waist in pleasure. As she finished taking off her clothes, she turned lazily so that her front was to him, before reaching for her satin night slip that he had bought for her earlier today. A night slip that he had rather sneakily bought in his family's colours. Call it shameless wishful thinking, but he wanted to see her draped in the emeralds and golds of his family colours. After all, if all went well and he hoped they would, he would very much be tying this woman to him for the rest of his life.
The slip was quite pretty if he did say so himself. It was, like everything else, a wonderful balance of delicate feminine with a functional structure to it. In other words, if she was ever in a position where she had to fight in it, she would have no issues. The slip was held on her body by thin straps that draped over her shoulders, flowing down to the bust of the slip which moulded to her breasts quite becomingly. The bodice was nipped in beneath her bust with a light gold ribbon and simple but small bow, before flaring out and down over the rest of her body. The hem of the slip fell to just below her thighs and no more. The main colour was a rich and beautiful emerald green, with designs of cranes embroidered along the hem and slanting up to just below her bust, in the same pale gold as the ribbon. It was really quite pretty without being overly feminine. And as he watched her hands run over the material appreciatively and a small smile spread across her lips, he knew that she approved and a jolt of pride went through him that he had made a good choice for her.
But soon, she lifted her eyes to look at him and the smile dropped a little as her eyes became resolute as she looked at him. He sighed softly then before nodding, then turning his body towards her, he held his arms out for her in a silent request for her to come and sit on his lap. She came to him without hesitation and when she was within his reach, he pulled her onto his lap, moving her legs so that they draped over the side of his, his arm coming up to support her back.
"To begin, lovely girl." He said slowly, reaching up to brush her hair out of her face. "I want to apologise for the way that I spoke to you this morning. It wasn't right and you were undeserving of it. So I hope you can forgive me for that?" He said, getting that out of the way first.
Because it was true after all. He had spoken to her in a way that she didn't deserve. He had treated her as though she was someone that he didn't care for. In fact, he would dare say that he had treated her as though she was a child and he was a guardian. Which wasn't right. Not at all. She was a person. His partner and his lover. She was his equal, not his inferior. So to talk to her in any way that showed anything less than that equality wasn't right.
"It wasn't OK, Jaqen. Talking to me that way. But I can forgive you. Provided you try your best to never do it again. I won't have it. I wouldn't speak to you like that, so don't do it to me." Arya spoke, her tone serious but soft. Letting him know that just because she had forgiven him, didn't mean she condoned the action.
"A man hears this and will keep it in mind going forward. But a man has another story to tell you. One that is hard for him to divulge, because it still hurts his heart to speak of." He replied, pulling Arya closer to him as if to draw strength from her. After a few minutes of contemplation he took a breath and began his story.
"When a man was seventeen summers, he met a girl called Serana. This girl would become his love but they would not be allowed to remain together. It was forbidden by a man's sire…"
-x-
Arya sat, absolutely stunned, in Jaqen's lap. He had just finished telling her the story of he and Serana and the ill-fated conclusion of the tale and she wanted to cry an ocean of tears for him and his experience. No wonder he hadn't wanted to share the details! The whole thing was utterly heartbreaking and so, so sinister. And the child!
To kill a girl whilst she carried any child, never mind the grandchild of the killer, was utterly barbaric and screamed nothing less than cold, pure evil. And all because Jaqen's father didn't want to lose control over him. Didn't want him to make Astor a second priority. It was all so very insidious, cruel and calculated. It disgusted her! No wonder Jaqen was so hellbent on protecting her and keeping her safe! He was scared to death that she would meet the same fate!
She felt she understood now, why Jaqen's eyes had always seemed so tortured and why he always kept her so very close. Even whilst he had trained her, it was as much to guard her from harm as it was to foster trust between them, in order for her training to progress properly. Once again she was reminded of just how much he stuck close to her side in all matters and all things. How much he had protected her over the years and now he was going against his last remaining family, just to see her safe.
"When we wed, my Lorathi love and we will! You will have the family you deserve. Mine shall welcome you as one of our own and later when we are safe? I will give you your own. We will build a new family. One created together and for each other. This I promise you." She whispered her voice carrying not only her heartbreak for him, but her love of him as well. Then leaning forward, she kissed him slow and deep.
As she kissed him, he pulled her in close and returned it with equal passion, her name falling from his lips in a sigh. She felt then as he stood with her in his arms and made his way to the bed, where he lay her down upon it and slipped over her. Her legs parted for him, a movement now so very familiar for her that it felt utterly natural. He settled against her, cradled between her legs before he broke the kiss.
"A promise then, lovely girl. A man will take pride in having you as his wife and he will bless you with however many children you wish to claim from him." He murmured his hands slipping under her night slip, to remove it from her body once more.
"You may regret those words, my love. The Starks are known for producing big families. And with you? I would be very tempted to continue that tradition." Arya teased as she pulled off his shirt and allowed her hands to drop to his trousers.
"A man has said. His promise is made. So he will abide by his word." He replied darkly, kicking his trousers off, then now naked he slid down the bed and spread her legs further.
"Now hush! A man has a hunger and he intends to eat his fill…"
-X-
