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yourworstkeptsecret · 2 months ago

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Jaqen X Arya: Plateau

I never wanted to be free

Feel the rush inside of me

Swear to God, it never sleeps

Oh, got me high on your plateau

Pull the strings, don't let me go

You're design, now take me home

-&-&-&-&-

Arya’s eyes flicked up towards the door of her apothecary, as she heard the sound of running feet. The delicate but fast clicking of heels telling her exactly who it was. Sansa. Feeling her brow raising at this, she made her way to the door, unlocked and opened it, just in time for Sansa to fly through it, her hand grabbing at the door frame and swinging her inside, where Arya then slammed the door closed and relocked it. Sansa never ran. She was always put together, calm, cool and collected. So if she was running, there was a reason and not one that was good. And as Arya thought this, the commotion outside of men stomping through the grounds, close to the tower that she had her apothecary in, reached her.

She could hear them shouting to find the Stark sisters and take them prisoner. Feeling her brow disappear into her hairline again, she turned to Sansa in question and saw as her sister's beautiful face was stricken in a shade of grey, most concerning. Not asking any questions, she quickly made her way to a closet in the room and pulled free two heavy cloaks and two satchels that carried everything they needed to disappear for a while. Handing a cloak and satchel to her sister, she then pulled free two outfits built for travelling. Tossing one to Sansa, she said nothing except two words.

“Get changed.”

Arya then turned and began stripping herself of her gown and slippers, hearing as Sansa did the same. When they were changed, Arya hid their gowns and slippers up within the dark eaves of the ceiling. Then grabbed her sister's hand and pulled her to the middle of the room, where she threw the corner of the rug there to the side, revealing a hidden door with a ladder that led straight to the catacombs of Winterfell. Urging her sister down the ladder before her, Arya soon followed, closing the door behind them. Once it was secured, she pulled on a small rope that hung down by the tunnel wall and heard as the rug was flipped back into place. She knew that it would look as though it was never disturbed to begin with. Looking down at Sansa, she urged her with a waving of her hand, to keep climbing and blessedly her sister didn’t argue.

As they dropped down onto the soil of the catacombs, the scent of earth and moss filling their noses, Arya took Sansa’s hand and then began to run. This pathway led through the oldest part of their family catacombs. An area that couldn’t be accessed without navigating the main, labyrinthine tunnels. Or indeed knowing about the secret door in Arya’s apothecary. So they already had a head start and a good one at that. Navigating them through the tunnels that she knew like the back of her hand, they came to a doorway after about ten minutes, where Arya paused and opened an urn that sat at the feet of some ancestor or other. From within it she pulled two large coin purses and handed one of them to Sansa, keeping the other one for herself. She then slipped behind the statue of the ancestor and pulled free a blade that she hadn’t had in her hands for seven years now. Unsheathing the shining Valyrian steel, she turned the blade towards the dim lighting of the candles that were scattered around the feet of the statue. Spying the etching that was on the blade, she felt her heart falter in her chest for a moment.

J & A

The initials were etched in swirling, beautiful script and filled in gold. Standing out strikingly against the deep colour of the steel. Arya smiled sadly as she turned the blade to the other side and read what was there as well.

Valar Dohaeris, Lovely Girl. With this, I am always by your side…

She remembered when he had gifted her this. It was shortly before she had stepped onto the ship that would return her to Westeros. She had felt someone grabbing her shoulder and hauling her into an alley. She had originally thought that someone was attacking her, but as she got spun and pushed into a wall, she had locked gazes with Jaqen. She’d been so confused about what he was doing or why he was even there, given he was risking his life interacting with her, after she had rebuked the House. But he’d been smiling, as sadly as it was, and then he’d pulled her into an embrace allowing his lips to brush over her hair in a soft kiss. The embrace had pressed her against him so intimately and closely that when they’d broken apart, she could smell his lovely spicy scent on her clothes and in her hair. But then he had pulled the blade from his belt, scabbard and all and handed it to her.

“Take this, lovely girl. A man cannot go with you, though he wants to. But at least with this, he knows that she will have something of him with her to keep her safe. If the day comes when you need a man again, leave this blade in the front window of this address…”

He had said and then slipped a scrap of parchment into her hands, which had an address of a home in the influential area of Moonsinger Lane. With the parchment, he had slipped one of the two personal keys that he always wore around his neck, into her hands as well. She hadn’t understood why he was giving her any of those things, but she’d accepted nonetheless. She’d then pulled him into an embrace again, her eyes stinging with unshed tears. She hadn’t wanted to leave him. Leave the House, yes, definitely she had wanted that. But him? No, never. And it had seemed that day that he’d felt the same way about her. But he had still let her go, knowing he couldn’t keep her.

Her hand came up then to touch the area over her chest and felt the key he had given her, there. Taking a breath, she attached the blade to her hip. She then pulled free Needle from behind the statue and attached this to Sansa’s belt. Her sister wouldn’t know how to use it effectively yet, but she would. It was time Sansa learned to defend herself with a sword. She refused to have her older sister helpless any longer. Then finally, Arya pulled out four different daggers, two for a bodice and two for hips. She slipped one of the bodice daggers down her sister’s shirt between her breasts and then looped one of the hip daggers at her other hip, away from Needle. Then placed the other two onto herself. Once suitably armed, Arya tightened her cloak about her neck and then with another breath, gave Sansa a look of question and saw as her sister returned her gaze with a resolute one. Nodding then, Arya opened the door and she and Sansa stepped out into the depths of the Godswood.

-X-

Jaqen breathed out a sigh of relief as he strode through Moonsinger Lane lazily. When was the last time he’d had a day that was solely his to do with as he wished? He wasn’t sure. He’d been on job after job for what had felt like forever. And today he’d awoken to realise that he hadn’t had any work to do at the temple either. A rare day off completely. So he had gotten up and dressed, feeling pleased when he’d been able to switch his shapeless and drab House robes for his civilian clothing.

So he’d chosen to wear his fitted indigo and silver doublet, paired with deep dove grey trousers. He’d then pulled his red and white hair into a neat and tidy high tail, as the strands had grown substantially. He’d considered cutting it but had found that he rather liked it longer, so he’d kept it as it was. He wasn’t sure what he would do with his day, but he didn’t mind that. It was just further proof that his day was his own, so he was in no hurry to plan it out. But he did want to check on his home though, and make sure that everything was still ok there, which is why he was currently in Moonsinger Lane.

As he rounded the corner that led him into the more austere area of the lane, he considered all of the beautiful homes that he passed. This was one of the wealthier areas of Braavos. The fact that he owned a home in this part of the city still threw him off. But then, when you dealt in the taking of life, your coffers grew substantially indeed. And given he was one of the highest paid of the order's assassins? Needless to say he was a wealthy man indeed. He could, realistically, buy a property near the Sea Lords palace and still have coin to spare. But he didn’t. He liked his home and saw no reason to get rid of it, just to move somewhere even more influential for the sake of it.

He had come from wealth. His family were some of the richest merchants in Lorath and some of the oldest as well. Because of this, they also held a position on the magistrates council. But the politics and machinations of his family left a sour taste in his mouth. From the day and hour he was old enough to understand what manipulation was and using others’ misfortune to step up in the world. Disgusting. So he had left, alighted into the night one year, shortly after he’d turned eighteen. His father had arranged a marriage for him with one of the other, more powerful, Magisters' daughters. The magister had been dying, suffering from a terminal illness, so had been looking to secure a groom for his daughter, who would take over his place. She had been a ghastly girl by all accounts but beautiful as sin. And better yet, disgustingly rich and influential. His father had planned to use him to raise the social status of their family even more, so had arranged the marriage. Jaqen had refused of course and it had devolved into a physical altercation between himself and his father. An altercation that had his mother clutching at her pearls in a panic as she tried to stop her husband and son from killing one another.

His mother hadn’t agreed with the marriage either and had tried to convince his father to call it off. But he’d simply put her back into her place with his hand across her face. In truth, it had been that action of his father that had set Jaqen off and sent him into attacking the bastard. No one harmed his mother or baby sister without taking him on as well. He had, indeed, almost killed his father for it. But the guards had rushed in and dragged them both apart. It was then that his father had spat at him and called him ungrateful and that if he truly cared for his mother and sister, then he would shut up, grow a pair and become a man and marry the Magister's daughter to secure their future.

Jaqen had then, of course, agreed. Knowing that he couldn’t say no when his father put it like that. His father had smirked and then had him tossed into his bedroom, where he was kept for a week, to ‘reflect’ on his disrespect of his father. A week where Jaqen’s anger seethed and grew like a mighty beast. It was then that any remaining love or consideration he’d had for his father met a grizzly death indeed. By the time he was stepping out of his bedroom after his week of isolation, he refused to interact with his father beyond what he absolutely couldn’t avoid. And when his father tried to speak with him, Jaqen would level him with a look so cold and detached that the man quickly stopped speaking. He liked to think that the man had started to realise that he had severed an important tie with his only son, that he never should have severed. And one that would never be repaired.

However the marriage hadn’t been called off and as it grew closer, looming over Jaqen’s head like a noose, his mother had come to him one night with his little sister. They had snuck into his room, where they had stayed with him the whole night. Afterwards, his mother pressed a satchel into his hands that had contained clothes, money and some weapons. Then at the hour of the wolf, she’d snuck him from their home and told him to flee to Braavos and to find the House of Black and White and ask for a man by the name of Antonio. He’d been so confused but all she’d explained was that she wasn’t going to see her children married off and thrust into terrible families, just for the sake of her husband's ego. She’d then slipped a gorgeous hairstick into his hands. It had been shaped like a dagger with a thorned rose wrapping around it. The head of the rose, dotted with rubies and the hilt of the dagger embedded with the palest of small emeralds. And on the back of it, had been initials that Jaqen didn’t understand then.

A & S

Antonio and Seraphina, he’d soon found out when his mother explained it. It was then that Jaqen was told about the lover his mother had, had before she’d been forced to marry Jaqen’s father. Antonio and he was an assassin for hire, working out of the House of Black and White. A man who would, later, take Jaqen under his wing when he’d followed his mothers instructions. A man that would become more of a father to him than his own. Antonio had taken him in, not only because he was Seraphina’s son, but because he saw the goodness and purity inside of Jaqen. Even to this day, although Antonio was now retired, he still treated Jaqen as though he was his own. He often joked with him that he was supposed to be his son anyway, so he was just putting a past failure to rights. Something that, no matter how many times he’d heard it, still made him chuckle. But Antonio was telling the truth regardless.

All it would have taken was a flip of fate’s coin to land differently and Antonio very well could have been Jaqen’s father instead of Gregor H’ghar. Judging by the full story that Antonio had explained to him when he’d been a bit older. Twenty-one summers to be exact. The hairstick his mother had given him, had been Antonio’s promise to her, that should she ever need him? All she would need to do was come to the House. Of course, he’d probably never expected to see it again in the hands of Seraphina’s son, as he shivered on the steps of the House in the freezing rain, seeking asylum from his power hungry father.

It was funny, now that Jaqen thought about it, ten years after he’d sought out Antonio with a hair stick that had been given to his mother out of love and protection. That Jaqen himself would do something very similar, with a sword, embedded with two initials and a promise. A sword that he would then hand to a young woman, who he was forced to let go of, because their situations could not allow them to remain together. He could only hope that that blade wouldn’t make its way back to him in a similar manner as that hairstick had made its way back to Antonio. Where Jaqen would see a shivering eighteen year old, with that woman’s eyes, on the steps of the House, speaking his name and holding out a sword. Because then he’d know something had gone very, very wrong. If it happened though, he would do exactly what Antonio had done for him. He would take that woman’s son or daughter under his wing, treat them like his own and make bad but amusing jokes about how he could have been their father if things had gone even slightly differently with their mother.

Coming out of his thoughts as he started up the path that led to his front door, Jaqen looked up to check the exterior of the villa and felt his steps freeze. No. Surely not. He had to be imagining things. Wiping at his eyes for a moment, he levelled his gaze towards his living room window. No, he wasn’t imagining anything at all. There, sitting innocently in the ornamental display rack, that had held a sword a couple of weeks ago, now held a different one. And as his eyes ran over the decorative deep silver and gold of the scabbard, with a distinctive and delicate rose pattern, he felt his muscles engage immediately and he practically sprinted up his path. His heart was racing as his feet hit his porch and he lunged towards his front door, fumbling with the key around his neck, dropping it once before he got it into the keyhole and turned it. As soon as the lock clicked, he practically threw himself into the spacious foyer of his home, closing the door behind him.

Taking a moment to catch his breath, he looked left and right in a crazed way, before he took another, deeper breath and settled himself. She was here. And if she was here. Something had happened. He needed to get control of himself. He would be useless to her, if he was too wrapped up in the fact that she was here and in his home. Walking through the foyer, he headed towards the kitchen first and looked around there, but there was no one. So turning to the left, he checked the dining room and found that it was empty also. Leaving this part of the house, he went back to the foyer and hung a right instead, to check the living room and it was there that he froze. On his sofas, on either side of the fireplace that held burning embers, he found two women sleeping. The one on the right was taller and a little older, with hair as red as the sunset, while the other was more petite, younger and with chestnut locks that he remembered so vividly.

Walking over to her quietly, he leaned down to place his hand on her blanket clad shoulder. She woke immediately, pulling a bodice dagger free from her beneath her purple tunic. He quickly grabbed her wrist and pinned it against the back of his sofa, leaning over her more. His other hand reached out to rest against her chest in reassurance as he spoke.

“Calm, lovely girl. Calm. It is Jaqen. Only Jaqen.” He said softly, and watched as she blinked up at him blearily, her eyes finally clearing enough to focus on him. As soon as they did, he felt her sag in relief against the sofa.

“Oh Jaqen!? Thank the Gods!” She gasped, dropping her dagger from her hand, before she shook her wrist free of his hold. The next thing he knew, before he could say anything more, he was tipped off balance by Arya dragging him into a tight embrace.

As his body came to rest over hers, he did his best to ignore the intimate nature of their position. She had most likely done it without thinking, or realising what yanking him down like she had, would do. Only caring about embracing him and grounding herself again. But he would admit, if only to himself, that it was difficult for him to ignore it. He didn’t think he would ever wish to be wearing those ghastly robes of the House, but in this case? He would greatly appreciate the masses of thick fabric right about now. But forcing the thoughts from his mind, he broke the embrace and sat up, adjusting her and himself, so he could sit on the edge of the sofa beside her.

“What has happened, lovely girl? Why are you here? And who have you brought with you? What do you need?” He asked her rapid fire, looking over at the other woman, still sleeping on the second, longer sofa. Also buried under a blanket, before he looked back at Arya.

“That’s my older sister, Sansa. We had to run from Winterfell, Jaqen. She refused a marriage proposal from a truly vile man from Dorne. And I supported her. The man didn’t take it well and swore that she would regret it, before he tried to attack her. I got to him before her Queen's Guard as I was closer to him and held Needle against his throat. I then warned him that he had five minutes to get out of our sights, or I would make his head roll.” She explained, as she pulled herself up into a sitting position, picking up her bodice dagger and setting it aside on the table beside the armrest behind her. When she looked back at him, she buried her face into her hands and scrubbed at it, then with a sigh, she met his gaze again.

“He left. But only for a while. He returned two weeks ago now, with an army of two thousand men. He ambushed us, threw our men into disarray because they weren’t expecting it. They attacked in the cover of night, you see? So we were not prepared at all. We’re still sort of recovering from the two wars seven years ago. A lot of power struggles have been happening as well, as Sansa has only been Queen for a short time in the grand scheme of things. She also remains unmarried and childless.” She continued to explain, pausing to gaze over at her still sleeping sister, who Jaqen now looked at as well in a different light.

Arya had told him all about Sansa of course, but he’d never really heard a description of her, which was why he hadn’t recognised her at first. But now that he knew who she was, he felt his heart warm a little. Arya’s family was important to her. Always had been. So he would look after Sansa as he would Arya.

“What happened next, lovely girl?” He asked then, drawing Arya’s attention back to him. She stared at him for a moment, before sighing and starting to speak.

“Sandor. The Hound. He came and told us what was happening, waking us both from our beds. So we went to the throne room and met with Ricardo, the jilted prospective groom, to try and broker peace. But he wouldn’t accept anything less than Sansa’s hand. We stalled him, saying we needed a few days to consider his terms. But we had no intention of doing so. We just needed the time to come up with an escape plan.” She said, before reaching down beside her to pull up her satchel, which she then started looking through, before producing her brush.

Setting this in her lap, she reached up and started unpinning her hair, allowing the waves to fall in a cascade down her back and over her shoulders. Jaqen watched, amazed at the length she’d let it get to. He had been sure that she wouldn’t have ever allowed it to grow as long as it currently was as he’d never seen it this length before and it changed her whole face. But there it was and it was even more beautiful than it used to be. Hmm. He thought, it seemed that time had been good to her and she’d grown even more divine in the last seven years. She was truly a woman now and she was stunning.

He continued to watch, quietly, as she picked up her brush and started to run it through the mass of waves, trying to tame the madness it had tangled itself into in her sleep, even though it had been pinned. But after about five minutes or so, it was clear that she was getting frustrated with the tangles that her brush kept snagging in. He let her fight with it for a bit longer before he gave a long-suffering sigh and plucked the brush from her hands, swatting at her wrist lightly. He motioned then for her to turn her back to him. Giving a huff of annoyance, she did as bid. He bit back a snigger of amusement at this, before he brought the tool to her hair and started to brush it out for her. As he did, she continued her story.

“Ricardo retreated back to his encampment close to the Keep, giving us the time. Feeling assured that he would win the battle easily. Because we had a lot of our men at our borders, quelling civilian disquiet and skirmishes. The residents of Winterfell had been calling for Sansa to marry and produce an heir, in order to secure her throne. We were trying to restore order. So our forces were stretched thin, we had a skeleton army in the Keep, plus her Queen’s Guard which were only forty strong. Which is why Ricardo attacked when he did.” She said, wincing as he reached a particularly stubborn knot. He apologised softly, before he set the brush in his lap for a moment and began untangling the knot by hand.

“A man takes it then, that a woman’s sister's bannermen were too far out to return quickly enough?” He asked, prompting her to continue telling him the events that had led to her sitting in front of him now, as he helped her with her hair. Something that felt surreal to him.

He had never imagined that he and Arya would ever be in a situation so very…domestic. It was unusual for him but he found that he was not entirely uncomfortable with it. Rather he quite liked it. Taking care of her that was, even if only in this small way. Her hair was soft as silk, even with all of the tangles and it left him wanting to bury his fingers into the strands and let them slip through his fingers like velvety liquid. But he refrained, though he was brushing her hair and untangling stubborn knots by hand, sinking his fingers into it would be a step too far with how intimate it would be. So he held back the urge and settled with what he was currently doing.

“Yes, you’re correct on that. Our closest bannermen were at least seven days' march away. So the likelihood of us receiving back up in time was slim. Ricardo knew this too, so in his mind, it would force Sansa’s hand. Making her accept him. But instead, we planned an escape through the tower that my apothecary is in.” She answered his question, taking the section of hair that he had passed to her over her shoulder.

When he had been looking at her hair, he’d noted that there were too many knots for her brush to get through easily. So he had instead decided to untangle most by hand and in sections. Then afterwards, he would brush the rest out. Once she had the section in hand, he moved on to the next and she added;

“It led into the oldest portions of our family catacombs, which let out into the middle of the Godswood that surrounds the backside of the Keep. I had stashed weapons and money there. And had clothing and travelling supplies stored in my apothecary.” She explained and he smirked in pride.

Good girl, he thought, he had taught her well. To always have a ‘go’ bag no matter where she was staying, as well as a stash of weapons and money, in the event that she needed to make a quick exit from anywhere. It seemed that she had listened and put it into practice. Something he was sure had helped save hers and her sisters lives.

“So did you both just abandon Winterfell then, or?” He asked, leaving the end of the question open for any other responses from her. She shook her head lightly then, before speaking.

“No. As soon as the peace talks failed, we sent word to all our bannermen to return to the Keep immediately. Explaining that Winterfell will fall temporarily as Sansa and I escape. That a usurper will take it. And when they returned from their postings, they were free to react with deadly force and do whatever they needed to, to restore immediate order. We also mentioned that Sandor will sit the throne in the interim afterwards, as Hand of the Queen.” She explained to him and he nodded to himself.

That was probably the best course of action, with such little forces around them at the time. Best to retreat temporarily to regroup and stay safe, before returning with a vengeance. He wondered if that had been Arya’s suggestion, as it had been something he’d taught her as well. Sometimes the best way to win a war was to retreat from one battle and return stronger to wage another. But rather than ask her whether he was correct, he instead asked something else.

“So what now, Arya? What is your plan for both your returns?” He questioned, handing her another section of her hair, now also freshly untangled. She took this as she had the last and sighed.

“We need more than just our men, Jaqen. Where they will help us reclaim and hold Winterfell. It will only be for a temporary time, before someone else gets the same idea as Ricardo. So, we need a prospective match for Sansa. She needs to secure her place on the Northern Throne. And that match needs to be powerful. Which is one reason why we are here in Braavos. The Sea Lord’s son is still unwed and looking to change that. So we will approach him.” She explained and he nodded again, though she couldn’t see it.

“And the other reason? How can I help you?” He asked, picking up her brush again, feeling as though he’d be able to brush her hair out properly now. She stayed silent for a little while, her head tipping back slightly as he began to run the brush through her hair slowly. He smirked in amusement at this, before he shook it off as she answered him.

“All I need from you, Jaqen. Is somewhere safe where Sansa and I can recover and regroup and start to broker a marriage between the Sea Lord’s son and her. Unless you’ve suddenly decided to leave the House, and are willing to become Winterfell’s Master of Whispers? The best thing you could do for us at the moment, is give us somewhere safe to stay.” She explained and he released a hum of consideration.

“Would just her marriage be enough, though? It may secure her place temporarily. But eventually those residents are going to call for the entire royal line to be secured. Which includes you, Arya.” He pointed out and felt her flinch beneath his hands, as he drew the brush through her hair again, adding back sections at a time. Raising his brow at this, he stayed silent to give her time to answer him.

“We’ll worry about that bridge when we get to it, Jaqen. You’re right, though. They will look at me to marry and have children too. But not for Winterfell. For Kings Landing. Bran, our younger brother, has unfortunately been proven to be unable to produce a blooded heir to secure the Iron Throne. Because of that, I have since been named his chosen successor. So yes. Inevitably, the weight Sansa currently carries will fall onto my shoulders as well. But one thing at a time.” She puffed out and he could hear the weariness in her tone.

She was tired. But not physically, well not completely anyway. No, that sigh had been one that marked mental and emotional fatigue. Biting the inside of his lip, he warred within himself for a moment, as to whether he should say what he was about to. Or leave it unspoken. But eventually, he decided to just say it and get it over with. But he would test her waters first, before he did.

“Why not settle both needs at the same time? Both of you return with grooms? It will send a message and a clear indication to all that you have returned in force. And the secured betrothals of both of you, will settle any and all skirmishes or struggles.” He suggested and saw as her shoulders drooped a little.

“Unless you know of a secret son of the sea lord, I don’t see how I can return with one as well.” She replied, her tone sounding somewhat defeated. Taking a breath then, he seized the opportunity that she had presented.

“Would a Magister's son from Lorath, with one of the fiercest sea fleets that even makes the Sea Lord quake, be enough?” He asked simply, and he had to pull the brush away from her hair as her head whipped around to look at him in disbelief.

“What are you talking about, Jaqen? The Sea Lord's fleet is the strongest.” She said, her brow raising as if she was questioning his knowledge. Which, he supposed, made sense. After all, she didn’t know everything that he did. Only what was public knowledge.

“No. It is simply the largest in Essos. It’s far from the strongest. They overwhelm their enemies with numbers. Not with attack power like the Magister’s fleet does.” He explained to her and watched her eyes widen comically for a moment, before her expression grew thoughtful.

“Lorath is controlled by a Magistrate council isn’t it?” She asked and he nodded before elaborating.

“Yes. It is. It is the equivalent of Westeros’s royalty. They have control of Lorath. But the Magister that I’m thinking of has lasting and enduring agreements with Braavos’ Sea Lord for both trade and naval needs. That Magister’s fleet highly bolsters the attack ability of the Sea Lord’s large but weaker one, you see? The family also trades quite heavily, with the surrounding islands, separate from agreements with Braavos.” When he finished explaining this, he turned her head away from him again, so that he could finish brushing her hair. She hummed a sound of interest then, before asking him another question.

“Well…that would definitely help. I suppose having a conversation wouldn’t hurt at any rate. How do we contact the Magister?” She asked and Jaqen sighed then.

“You can’t. He has since passed. Two years ago now.” He informed her and bit back a chuckle when he saw Arya’s shoulders drop again. Poor thing. He shouldn’t tease her like this, especially not now, but it was endlessly entertaining.

“Well then, what about the son!? Can we contact him?” She asked instead, a tone of hope tingeing the words. He considered being smart mouthed again and teasing her some more. But ultimately he decided against it, as he finished brushing out her hair and handed the brush back to her over her shoulder.

“There is no need to contact him. He’s just finished brushing out your hair, lovely girl.” He admitted and grinned in amusement as the information penetrated her mind and she jumped, spinning around to stare at him in disbelief.

“I’m sorry…” She gasped in dumbfoundment. “But what the fuck!? It’s you!? You’re the son!?”

“I am. Granted a man has not taken over from his father. He ran from home at eighteen on the urging of his mother to protect him from being used by his father. He made his way to the House, where his mother’s past lover was in residence. The lover took a man in and taught him everything he knows. His fathers place on the council is currently held by a man's mother. And she will be more than amenable to giving a lovely girl her only son’s hand. Especially if he tells her that it is his idea.” He explained, reaching out and brushing her hair out of her face, where some had fallen in her haste to turn to look at him.

“I imagine it will also help, if she’s told that her son will be marrying into Westerosi royalty with a direct succession to the throne?” Arya teased with a chuckle, making him laugh as well.

“A man won’t lie and say that it won’t be a tantalising prospect in general. But it will not be the deciding factor at all. His mother is not swayed by power or greed. She never has been. She is actually rather humble and sweet. A man thinks a woman would like her quite a lot. They are very similar.” He shared and saw Arya blush lightly, before she shook it off, something else coming to mind.

“Then I think I would like to meet her.” Arya smiled, before she started to chew on the inside of her lip in thought. “But Jaqen, what about the House? You can’t leave? You’re supposed to be No One.” She pointed out after a moment or two.

He nodded then in acknowledgment of her words, before he spoke. “A man can leave any time he wishes. Well, now he can. When a woman left, he was still stuck in place with no way to leave. But that changed as of four moons ago when he completed paying his dues for shelter and training at eighteen.” He explained with a shrug and a smile.

“Well that’s convenient!” Arya muttered in disbelief and he chuckled again and nodded. “But Jaqen, would you really want to do this? You have your freedom now and have no responsibilities except for yourself. To do this, you’re taking on not only your birthright. But the possible position of King Consort of the Six Kingdoms. Is that not too much!? To run the trade and naval operations for Lorath and also help Bran and I run the entire continent of Westeros.” She rightly asked and he sighed.

“A man will have help with Lorath, through his mother Seraphina and his little sister, Rosalie. So he will be able to focus on helping his lovely girl be Heir Apparent. But a man will need a woman to give him at least two children. One to take over from their mother or uncle when it’s time. And another to take over from their father in Lorath.” He warned and she nodded in agreement before she gave him a playful smile.

“Just two?” She teased and he gave her a wicked look in return, a cheeky smirk gracing his lips.

“At least two, groomed to take over each seat of power. But a man is not opposed to having more, on the contrary, he would quite like to have a few bonus offspring as well.” He teased back and laughed when Arya’s face blazed red before she gave him a light shove.

“Oh shut it, you!” She snapped, although there was no venom in the words. “Joking aside, Jaqen. Are you sure about this? Would you not prefer to marry someone you love, rather than me?”

“A woman thinks a man does not hold love for her?” He asked her, his brow raising in surprise at this.

“Well, I mean. I think you probably have some stronger feelings for me, that go beyond simple fondness and care. Given everything you’ve done for me over the years. And then giving Secret Oath to me when I left along with the key to your home…” She replied, motioning to the sword he’d gifted her. Huh, he thought with happiness, so that’s the name she’d blessed it with. How fitting, but she was speaking again before he could comment. “But what I mean is, would you not want to marry someone that you’re in love with?”

“Love grows in places where it is seeded and tended to with care and compassion. A man and woman may not be in love at the moment, lovely girl. But that does not mean that they never will be. They will just need to tend the garden of each other's emotions with careful attention. They already care for one another as it is. So it is not a far-fetched notion that they could, later, fall in love.” He said with wisdom and Arya blushed then before she nodded.

“When should we contact your mother, then?” She asked finally, and Jaqen rested his chin between his thumb and forefinger in thought. After a few minutes of thought, he answered.

“A man will handle the Lorathi side of things, do not worry. A woman only needs to concentrate on brokering a marriage agreement between the Sea Lord’s son and her older sister. Something a man can ensure that he and his mother support also. We can use a man and woman’s betrothal as a bolster to the agreements between Sansa and the Sea Lord. It will help. Substantially.”

-X-

“I apologise for making you repeat yourself, Lady Stark.” The Sea Lord said, as he stared at Arya in disbelief. “But are you saying that you are betrothed to Jaqen H’ghar of Lorath. Heir to Gregor H’ghar’s seat of power and trading empire?”

“That is correct, my lord. Jaqen and I just recently became betrothed. He has also taken claim to his birthright in Lorath and has since been recognised by the Magistrate's council. The news probably hasn’t reached you just yet, as I mentioned it has been a fairly recent change. Seraphina H’ghar will continue to act in his stead however. Just until we are wed and it is decided where we will settle.” Arya explained, folding her hands in front of her on the table, politely.

“I see? I thought that boy had long since been lost. So it is quite a wonderful surprise to hear he is alive and well. He seemed like a lovely lad when he was small.” The Sea Lord said, more to himself than to Arya, before he became serious again.

“So, you are here to petition your older sister for my son’s hand? This is most irregular, usually it is the prospective groom's family that extends offers of marriage. And in situations where it is the prospective brides, it’s usually the father or other older, male family member. Not a younger sister.” He said, although not unkindly or sneeringly. He was genuinely surprised.

“There is a lot about this that is highly irregular, my lord.” Arya chuckled lightly, waving her hand dismissively. “You’ll have to forgive the irregularities though, if it please you? The only male member that could broker this, is King Bran of the Six Kingdoms of Westeros. And unfortunately he is unable to travel, given he is chair bound.” She advised, giving the Sea Lord time to ponder this before she added. “But more than that, Winterfell is an independent state, within Westeros. So it does not fall under King Bran’s rule. Sansa is the sole sovereign of that state. A Queen in her own right.”

“I see…” The Lord replied looking away from her, nodding absently as he fell into thought for a few minutes, before looking back. “And what role will my son play in that state?” He asked.

And Arya had to hide her agitation. The man, Ferrego he was called, was nice enough. Polite. But he was also pedantic as all the hells. And also appeared to love picking apart every word someone said to him. Fickle. That’s what he was, at least where conversations like these were concerned. She pushed away the urge to look back over her shoulder, where she knew Jaqen was skulking, hidden from sight. She wouldn’t lie and say that just knowing he was with her, wasn’t a comfort to her. Because it definitely was. But dammit, now she was wishing that she had agreed to let him be openly at her side for this, rather than hiding and listening in. But if she was ever to be a Queen at all, she would need to learn to navigate situations like this. Particularly when it came to brokering alliances in any kind of fashion. So taking a breath, which outwardly would have appeared to be her simply getting relaxed, she met Ferrego’s gaze and answered.

“He will be afforded all titles that someone who weds a Queen would be afforded. He will become King Consort in The North. And will share power with Sansa. In return we will open a trade route with Braavos. Winterfell is rich in minerals and other resources. We will also provide a contingent of ground forces to better bolster your naval military. That, on top of Jaqen becoming the brother-in-law of both your son and my sister, would mean a great deal for your existing fleet. Given his fleet already provides powerful fighting forces for you at sea.” She advised and wanted to slap Ferrego as he gave a sound that was almost of disinterest.

She knew it was a feint, she could read men like him all day, every day. Always had had a knack for things like that. A knack that had only gotten better after she’d undergone her training below Jaqen. Now that she thought about it, that man had taught her a lot. Not only about people in general and advanced situational awareness. But he also taught her a lot about herself as well. She found herself wondering fleetingly then, just what else he would teach her once they were married and she was below him in a much different way? This thought, particularly the lewdness of it, had her face wanting to flame, but she stomped it down, refusing to allow it to show. He would teach her an awful lot in that regard too, she was sure. And he would probably take great joy in it as well. Great joy indeed.

“And just what position do you hold in Winterfell, Lady Stark, if your sister is the Queen?” He asked her, as if that held any bearing whatsoever on his son marrying her sister.

She wasn’t the one being served on a silver platter to the Antaryon family. She’d had her silver platter moment already, served to the H’ghars of Lorath. Blessedly. And at least it was Jaqen that she was marrying, someone she knew and trusted already. Sansa had no such grace in this scenario, so Ferrego really should show a little more gratitude to what was being offered to his son and by extension, him. An offer that he really should be accepting quickly. Everyone knew his health was failing him, so securing a bride for his son, Simeon really should be paramount. Especially when it would also secure an heir for said son as well. But clenching her jaw, she answered the question in as relaxed a tone as possible.

“I hold no position in Winterfell. What I do hold however, is the succession to the Crown of The Six. Given my brother's condition, he is unable to produce blooded children. Being unable to produce an heir through preferred means, he has named me his sole successor. So I have direct ascension to the Iron Throne of Westeros. Which Jaqen will also hold once he weds me.” She said bluntly, before her gaze darkened and she locked eyes with Ferrego.

“So you see, My Lord, we are the family you want your son to marry into. Through us, you have a direct path into the new monarchy of Winterfell. As well as familial connections to the Crown of the Six. You basically have access to the entire suite of resources that Westeros holds, through us. And any children that your son and my sister produce, will have a secured and thriving future.” She lauded, although not cockily. Oh no, she was careful to keep her tone neutral. She was stating facts. Nothing more.

“And if we were to agree to this proposal and you make quite a good case for why we should. What would you expect of us?”

“We would need immediate help, to drive out a would-be usurper. He has an army of two thousand. Which wouldn’t normally be a problem for us. Except it came at a time where our current forces were stretched thin. The usurper is a jilted prospective groom. He comes from a small family in Dorne, who approached us for Sansa’s hand. She was considering him for a husband, that is until she found out that he likes to keep young girls as love slaves. Whom he then beats within an inch of their lives when they inevitably displease them.” She shared and saw as Ferrego’s brows shot into his hairline and his expression became a dark and disgusted scowl. She nodded at this, then added.

“As I am sure you can understand? That is not the kind of King Consort that Sansa wants for our people. And on a personal level, not the type of man that she wishes to have for a husband. She doesn’t expect much from her would-be-husband. Just loyalty to the marriage, kindness and to be supportive of her and have the capacity to care for her people as if they are his own.” She finished and Ferrego hummed in understanding, his hand coming up to brush his hair out of his face, before he leaned his cheek on the back of his hand.

He didn’t speak again right away, instead he gave her a long once over, contemplating her. Taking note of her in every single way. Something that made her exceedingly uncomfortable and she hoped that the man’s eyes didn’t stray too much longer across her body, because undoubtedly Jaqen would take umbrage against it. And she didn’t need that. She didn’t know what kind of husband he would be, but she had a feeling he’d be the possessive type, though not in a bad way. Rather, one whose possessiveness came out of a want to protect instead of control. And she already knew he wouldn’t abide disrespect towards her. That had been proven in Lorath during the talks that had led to their marital agreement being struck. One of the advisors for Jaqen’s mother had leered a little too hard at the swell of Arya’s bust and Jaqen had damn near gotten ready to drive the man through. And probably would have too, if not for Seraphina settling her son and ordering the advisor from the room.

“I see. So you would need immediate assistance to get rid of a pest.” Ferrego murmured, drawing her attention from her thoughts and back to him. “I understand. But I have to ask, have you requested the same from Jaqen and his men?” He added next and Arya nodded.

“I have and he has already agreed. He will lead his contingent himself and march under our already agreed upon joint banner, as a sign of good faith and proof of his worthiness as a husband to me.” Arya answered, barely stopping herself from sniping. This was becoming a massive pain in her ass. But then she added, something that she’d almost forgotten about.

“Once the pest is taken care of, we will still need the extra manpower for a time. To better secure our borders until the marriages are done and complete. At which time, those men may return home. Or if you wish them to remain for a while, they will be given comfortable, well appointed lodgings within the extensive barracks of Winterfell.” She advised and Ferrego nodded, his expression showing that he was seemingly ok with this addition.

“I see. And afterwards? After we help you re-secure your home, what then will you expect of us, going forward, as part of these marital discussions?” He asked next and Arya barely held back her sigh of relief. Ok. This part was easy. This part she could do. Expectations were always the easiest area of talks like these to get through.

“At least two heirs to be produced. One produced within the first year of marriage if possible. The other can come a little later.” She answered, settling back into the chair and taking on a more relaxed position. She watched as Ferrego also did the same, something that had more relief washing through her.

“Why two?” He queried with a raised brow.

“Well we need to ensure that the title of Sea Lord remains in your family as well, don’t we?” Arya quipped with a teasing smile. “Two heirs. One for Winterfell and the other for Braavos.” She elaborated and he nodded, now understanding where she was going with this.

“So heirs. I’m sure that can be arranged. What else is expected?” He asked next and Arya shrugged delicately, waving her hand dismissively.

“Beyond that and your son living up to Sansa’s expectations of what her husband should be? We would of course expect your banners should we call for them. And all of these things will also be returned. You will have our banners should you need them. And your son will have a loyal and loving wife as well as kind and decent in-laws that will treat him as one of their own.” She answered, but frowned when she saw Ferrego’s lips twitch in a sly smile.

“I see that all seems fairly reasonable. But what of her dowry? We have yet to discuss that.”

Arya levelled him with a dark stare at this, her frown deepening. Surely to the Gods the man wasn’t serious!? Sansa and everything that came with her was fucking dowry enough! Taking a deep and cleansing breath, Arya smiled innocently.

“I should think marrying into a direct line of royal ascension should be dowry enough, no?” She replied dead-pan. “But more than that, you’ve just been offered access to an entire continent's resources through trade. And a stronger, more effective military presence. As well as a bonus familial linking with your strongest sea fighting ally. I’d say all of those things are one hells of a dowry, wouldn’t you?” She watched as the Sea Lord's mouth twitched up in a handsome and amused half-smile. Before he nodded with a chuckle.

“Very well. I will take this back to my small council and we will have an answer for you by tonight. Please enjoy the palace and its grounds while you wait. I will come and find you when we are ready. Provided we all agree, we will then have your sister and my son meet one another.” He replied as he stood and started to walk away, but paused half-way between the table and the door of the small audience chamber they were in. “Oh, and I expect Jaqen to be with you when I find you again. I do not wish you to think I believe you a liar. But I will need to see the boy with my own eyes and ask him to confirm his betrothal to you and the terms of the agreement struck with his family.”

“No need to wait, Ferrego.” And Arya smirked when she watched Jaqen stepping from behind a pillar, to lean against it casually. “A man is already here. A Lord did not believe a man would leave his betrothed alone during such delicate discussions, did he?” He added, with a glance off to the side and giving his trademark half-smile, before he looked back at Ferrego again.

“By the Gods!” Ferrego spluttered, as his eyes stared at Jaqen in disbelief. “I’ll be damned! You look just like Gregor! You’ve grown up, boy.” He breathed out, his surprise not quite going away.

Arya watched as Jaqen’s eyes momentarily darkened at the comment. But choosing to ignore it, he nodded. “A boy is indeed now a man, grown. But he would appreciate it if a Lord refrained from mentioning the similarities to a man’s father. It makes him quite bemused. Beyond looks, a man is nothing like his sire.” Jaqen intoned with warning, continuing to stare down the Sea Lord. Daring him to push the issue. But it seemed Ferrego had the good sense to not challenge Jaqen on this and instead, gave a hum of understanding.

“Ah. I see you are still embittered of him. Very well. I will take heed. So you are indeed betrothed to Lady Stark, then?” He asked, crossing his arms below his chest as he watched Jaqen, who pushed off from the pillar and made his way past Ferrego, who turned so that his eyes could follow Jaqen. Stopping at her side, his hand came up to rest between her neck and shoulder intimately, where his thumb slowly rubbed over the column of her throat.

“Crown Princess, Stark.” Jaqen corrected cooly, before adding; “Yes. A man’s betrothal to a woman was agreed a week hence. A lord will receive a missive in a day or two, to confirm such from a man’s mother as well. Which will also lay out the terms of the agreement. So a man assures a Lord that the terms of his betrothal to Princess Arya are not much different to the ones she has offered in exchange for a Lord's son's hand in marriage to Queen Sansa. All is fair, here.” Jaqen confirmed then, not once stumbling over the words or faltering in his firmness.

“Wonderful. Then I will take this back to my council and we will discuss. We will have an answer on the eve, as I have already said. Please enjoy the comforts of the Palace and the grounds. We will discuss further over dinner.” Ferrego reiterated with a grin, before he turned on his heel and left the audience chamber.

“Well that went well, I think?” Arya said dead-pan and Jaqen chuckled.

“We will make a courtier of you yet, lovely girl.” He teased lightly, before leaning down and placing a fleeting kiss to the top of her head. “In the meantime, the palace does have some of the most beautiful gardens in Essos. A woman will join her betrothed on a walk through them, yes?” He asked and she smiled up at him before letting him pull her to her feet.

-X-

As Jaqen looked around at the devastation of the field before him, he gave a slow nod. Done. The battle was over. Once Ricardo had seen that Arya and Sansa came riding over the hilltop with a legion of warriors all flying the Sea Lords banner as well as the banners of Lorath and the new combined banner that belonged to he and Arya? Well, the man had realised that he had lost. That he had been outsmarted by two women that he had tried to back into a corner and relieve them of their choices through forcing their hands to get his way. Worse still, he’d been faced down by Simeon, Sansa’s new betrothed and himself as Arya’s. Just to rub further salt into an already raw wound.

The field had soon erupted into chaos then and the fighting began. A fight that, within a few hours, had Ricardo’s forces scrambling in retreat, declaring their defeat by House Antaryon, Stark and H’ghar. Dropping into a crouch on the blood-soaked grass, he leaned his head against the pommel of his ancestral sword and took a few moments to simply breathe and ground himself again. The adrenaline had flowed through him thick, fast and strong and now that it was ebbing, he could feel the exhaustion burning through him. He’d never imagined he would ever do something like this. Go to battle for a woman. But here he was and he didn’t regret it. Not at all. To see Winterfell secured and with as few civilian casualties as possible, was worth the exhaustion and new horrors that would now forever haunt his dreams. But then, he was no stranger to having his past revisit him in the realm of sleep, what were a few more additions to an already full dance card?

Besides, what came next would be worth everything and more. Lorath had just reentered the world as a superior fighting force and he was now a Magister of the city, as he’d been conceived to be in the first place. His life was starting to realign once more, and was turning a corner. He was more than just a gifted assassin. More than a servant of death and destruction. He was Jaqen H’ghar and he’d just inadvertently made a name for himself in Westeros this day, declaring his intent towards Arya and showing what he’d be willing to do for her. Not that any of it mattered to him, the lauding and praising, that is. It would be little more than pleasant words to him. What truly mattered to him, was his lovely girl and making her his. Giving her a life of peace, tranquillity and care. That was his goal. He would give her the children she would need and love her until his very last breath. His plan, or rather, his ideal was to fill her days with harmony, happiness and laughter. Then fill her nights with tantalising pleasure and decadent promises that he would intend to keep. That was his plan for them and their marriage.

Their age difference would come as a surprise to some, he was sure. But he liked to think that ten years wasn’t that big of a gap. Not in the grander scheme of things. He and Simeon were the same age as one another and Sansa was only a couple of years older than Arya. So people couldn’t be ok with one and have an issue with the other. Not that it would matter to him. People’s opinions of his and Arya’s relationship would not prevent him from being a good, kind and loyal husband to her. He was hers through and through, and though they were not in love yet? He knew that within the year he, at least, would be very much in love with her. He could already tell. He could feel the shift in his internal tides and within his heart. It would happen and he would love her enough for the both of them. Even if it never happened for her. But he imagined that was a ridiculous notion to think about. She would fall for him as well eventually. It felt almost inevitable to him at this point. Though, he could not say what made him so very sure of that. It just was. Much like he and her just…were.

Already things had started to change between them. She sought him out much more regularly than she ever did before. Either simply wanting his company or wanting to touch or embrace him. All things that he gave to her without any hesitation. Things that she returned, when it was him doing the seeking of her. They were already sharing sleeping quarters, at first in separate beds and then they’d done away with that as well because really, it made little sense when they could simply share one. They were going to be married. It was inevitable. So what was the point in playing with airs, graces and propriety? It felt much like a pointless task to him, something that Arya agreed with him on but that Sansa and Simeon both were affronted by. But it didn’t matter. Their relationship was their relationship, so Sansa and Simeon can handle it as they saw fit. But his and Arya’s relationship was theirs and they would handle it as they chose to. And this was one of those choices.

He felt her, long before her hand came to rest on his shoulder. His eyes opened then as he breathed out a weary sigh and he looked up at her, her form blocking out the hazy light of the midmorning sun from his eyes. Although it did ring her in a soft golden hue that had him feeling like he wanted to cry. Beautiful, she was truly beautiful and she was his. His warrior Queen. She’d been right beside him during this battle, guarding his back, as they worked to drive out the usurpers' forces. Together. They had done it together and she had not once complained. Sansa had tried to urge her not to wade into the fray, but Arya had refused and told her that she wasn’t going to stand by and let Jaqen fight for her home without her. Wasn’t going to stay out of the way, safe, while all of their men risked their lives for them. She had told Sansa that, currently, the most important person. The one who had to stay alive right now, was Sansa. So Arya would do what she must to see it through and be at both their betrotheds backs. Because they couldn’t lose their chosen men either.

“Are you ok, Jaq?” She asked him and he gave her a light and amused smile at the new nickname. “Are you hurt?” She added next and he shook his head.

“A man is, miraculously, uninjured lovely girl. Or, seeing as we’re unnecessarily shortening one anothers names, should that be ‘Ari’, now?” He teased gently and she chuckled.

“Shut it! I think ‘Jaq’ is cute. Don’t you? But if you would rather I not…” She replied through her laughter, but he cut her off.

“You can call a man whatever you want, lovely girl. He is yours to do with as you wish.” He said, getting to his feet and pulling her into his arms in an embrace. One that she returned, squeezing him as tightly as both their armours would allow.

They remained like that for a few minutes before Arya pulled away and looked up at him. “What you have done here today for me and mine? It is something I can never repay. But then that’s always been the way between us, from when I was a scared little girl, pretending to be a boy. And you were a mysterious assassin, playing the part of a Lorathi criminal bound for the wall.” She began, stretching up on her tip-toes before she kissed him squarely on the mouth. Something that took him by surprise as up until now, they hadn’t kissed one another beyond gentle pecks to cheeks, or his favoured brushing of his lips over her hair. But pushing through the surprise, he brought his hands up to rest on either side of her neck, partly cradling her jaw and returned her kiss in equal measure.

The kiss didn’t last long, as the sounds of hoof beats coming down the hill let them know they would soon have company. But for the time it lasted, it had been slow and gentle. A kiss of care and appreciation and a promise of more to come. It was the unlocking of a door that kept them separated from the more complex intimacies between two who were reorienting themselves in one another's lives, to point towards a deeper, more meaningful relationship and connection than they’d had previously. Jaqen had kissed many lips in his time, some because he wanted to and others because he needed them distracted from what his hands were truly doing behind their backs. But this one? This first kiss between him and Arya was his favourite. The one that would always stick with him, no matter what happened from here. Its purity and wholesomeness was set quite apart from any other that he had shared with anyone else. Yes, he rather thought he’d be making it a point to kiss her lips as often as possible. And as they broke apart, those hoof beats drawing ever closer, he felt bereft. But she spoke and so he listened.

“But fate decided that that little girl and that mysterious assassin should remain forever in one another's lives. Our stories aren’t finished yet, Jaqen. They are only just beginning, really. I can never repay you for all you have done for me. But what I can do? Is be the best wife I can be for you, love you as you deserve to be loved. And do my best to be a cause of peace in your life, rather than a bringer of chaos and shadow.” She swore to him and he could hear the genuine nature of those words.

They were an oath. One to match the other that had fallen from his lips seven years past, as she was readying to board a ship that would return her to Westeros and take her from him. A journey that he’d been sure would mark the last time he would ever see her. How wrong he had been and how happy he was that he had been. Because now he would never need to watch her leave him again. Not unless Death finally knocked on her door. But he hoped he wouldn’t get to see that day. He hoped that it would take him before it took her. Because then he could be waiting for her on the other side when it was finally her time. Ready and waiting to guide her, as he always did, through that new adventure.

“You’re already succeeding in that endeavour, my lovely girl. But a man needs no repayment for keeping guard and protecting you. All he needs or wants is you and you alone. That is more than enough for him.” He replied back and leaned down to place a soft but lingering kiss to the corner of her mouth, pulling away just before Sansa and Simeon reached them.

“As much as I hate interrupting whatever is happening here.” Simeon began, his light but velvety voice reaching Jaqen and Arya’s ears, drawing their eyes to him. “Jaqen, we need to gather the men and praise them for a job well done. Then march them back to the barracks. Afterwards, we will need to brief the original Winterfellion men on everything that happened. So I am afraid I will have to ask you to put your lovely wife-to-be down and come with me. She will still be waiting for you when our duties are over.” Simeon said with a small chuckle, but his eyes showed warmth at the picture that he and Arya presented to the man. And Jaqen didn’t miss how Sansa’s eyes slid over to look at Simeon and the expression she held was one of appreciation and the flicker of something else that he couldn’t name. Not knowing her as well as he knew his Arya.

And as much as it pained him, because all he wanted to do was take Arya back to the Keep, he nodded to his old boyhood friend and soon to be brother in law. He placed a kiss to Arya’s forehead then, before he stepped away and mounted his horse that Simeon had led down with him. Jaqen noted that Sansa also had Arya’s.

“A man will see his lovely girl in their rooms later. Get back to the Keep and get warm, bathe and rest. You've earned it.” He said to Arya, giving her an affectionate smile. Then he snapped the reins of his horse and started off across the field towards the clusters of their men. He heard as Simeon said much the same to Sansa before he then followed him.

-X-

Tying her robe around her waist, Arya made her way over to the cedar tub that was in her and now Jaqen’s room.

She had bathed after she and Sansa had gotten back to the Keep. And a little while ago had called for more hot water to be drawn, so that she could fill the tub again, but this time for Jaqen. She had heard that the debriefing had finally finished and he had declined drinks with the men, to instead retire for the night. So she had wanted to have a bath ready for him when he returned. She had also called for some meats, cheeses, breads and fruits to be brought to her. As well as a jug or two of their good wine. He wouldn’t be able to eat a full meal, not after what had happened today. But he still needed to eat something and so did she, so she had figured the platter and the wine would be a decent enough compromise.

Reaching into the water, she swirled her hand around lightly and found it to now be sufficiently cooled enough that he should be able to just get right into it when he arrived. She had already scented it with his preferred bath oil and found herself breathing in the aroma appreciatively. Hmm. To think that she would now get to smell his lovely scent for the rest of her days? It was something that brought great joy to her. It had always been a source of comfort and safety for her, his scent. She couldn’t explain it, she'd smelled similar scents on others before and had never felt the same way. It seemed to be something that only Jaqen could make her feel. How odd and rather ironic, given he was a trained assassin. But it was what it was.

“A man's betrothed spoils him. He can see by her damp locks that she has already bathed. And yet, there is still a steaming tub in the room. He can only assume it's for him as it is scented with his preferred aromas.” His voice came, teasing and light, as their door clicked shut behind him. The bar soon struck into place to lock it. She raised her brow at this but didn't question it. She imagined it was a force of habit. He'd always kept a locked door when in the House of Black and White and he was sequestered in his chamber.

“A man is correct. A woman had it drawn for him. She imagined he may wish to wash off the day and soothe his undoubtedly sore muscles.” She quipped in return, giving him a soft but bright smile as he walked further into their room.

“Truly a man is hurting in places he forgot he could hurt. So a woman is not wrong.” He said as he came to a stop in front of her. They gazed at each other for a moment, before he leaned down and pulled her into a slow, long kiss. A kiss that curled her toes and sent her heart dancing in her chest. Gods, she could get used to this. His mouth on hers. It was divine. But soon he broke it and rested his forehead against hers.

“A man may need help removing his armour and clothes, though. His shoulder is hurting quite a bit. He thinks he may have pulled something while fighting. Would a woman mind terribly?” He asked, his tone cautious as he recognised how his words could be misconstrued. But she knew what he meant. He simply wanted her help and nothing more. So she shook her head.

“Not at all. I'll be happy to help.” She said, before stepping back and then behind him, beginning to unlatch all of the tethers that held his armour on his body.

Once his armour was off and set aside, she circled around to his front and began to help him with his jerkin and undershirt. Removing both with care and gentleness, she let them drop to the floor. His chest and torso now exposed to her, she ran her eyes over him in an appraising manner and soon found the source of his discomfort. His right shoulder, leading to his pectoral was badly bruised and a ghastly shade of dark purple. She gasped and ran her hands over the area gently, lightly palpating the skin and the muscles as she went. She was feeling for any possible dislocations or tears. Because really, it was quite bad bruising. But she breathed a sigh of relief when she felt nothing out of place. Most likely he'd just been hit really well with the pommel of a sword or a jab with a limb or a shield. But still, it was clear that it pained him a great deal. No wonder he'd asked for help to undress. She didn’t blame him at all. Even she would have asked the same in his shoes.

“Nothings broken or torn, you'll be happy to hear, Jaq. But I will still want to get some salve on that to help ease you. For now, let's get you bathed. You'll need help with that too.” She explained to him and he nodded in acknowledgment but then shook his head.

“No, lovely girl. A man will not have you help him bathe. That is asking too much of you. He will manage, as long as she can help him finish undressing.”

“Unless you are uncomfortable with the idea of my hands washing you. Then I'm helping you. We're to be married! I need to get comfortable with your form in every sense some time. So why not start now?” She retorted and she didn’t miss his amused smirk. But he didn't say anything to rebuff her. So she could only assume that he was fine with it.

Blowing out a breath, she reached for the laces of his leathers and started to undo these. She could feel her blush wanting to rise but she shoved it down. She may still be maidenly, but she refused to be such, around Jaqen. As she said, he was to be her husband. His body was to become hers as much as hers would become his. She needed to get used to it and get comfortable with his flesh as she was with her own. This was a perfect opportunity to do so, without any pressure or other expectations or indeed, obligations. Although, strangely, she was rather impatient to start fulfilling her wifely ones for him. How odd. Most women, or so she had heard anyway, dreaded those obligations to their husband's. Preferring they needn't oblige them at all. But she didn’t. But maybe that was just because it was Jaqen. As the last lace loosened and his leathers slipped down his legs, Arya battled back her blush yet again, when she came to realise just why Jaqen had chosen armour that fell lower than most others. He wore…nothing. Nothing below his trousers. He simply kept everything as the Gods intended. Great! That was something she knew now! Something that would tantalise her mind for the rest of her days she was sure! Imagine! Her husband to be, keeping himself in such easy access. Should the need for that access arise.

“Wonderful! That is going to tease my thoughts for the rest of my days! You could have warned me, Jaqen!” She said to him and rather snippily at that. But he simply laughed richly at this.

“And miss the look that is currently on my lovely girl's beautiful face? Whyever would a man do such a thing? It would almost be heresy.”

“Ugh! You're such a shit, you know that!?” She snapped before she dropped down into an elegant crouch.

She had to make it a point to ignore his masculinity that was now perfectly in line with her sight. Even though that was the last thing she wanted to do with it. But forcing these thoughts out of her mind, she reached out to him. Tapping his bare foot, as he had taken his boots off at the door. She asked him wordlessly to step out of his trousers which he did. Picking them up along with his other discarded clothes, she motioned for him to get into the tub. Once he was in and settled, she tossed his clothes into the basket by the door, which already held her clothes from today. The laundresses would take care of those tomorrow, so she didn't have to worry about them now.

She turned then and made her way back to the tub where Jaqen was now lounging comfortably. Letting him soak in there for a little while, she picked up his discarded armour and walked over to one of the two mannequins that were in her room. She then placed the armour on the free one, leaving it to rest beside the other that held her own. Spinning lightly on her heel, she went back over to Jaqen and picked up a fresh washcloth and dipped it into the water of the tub. Before taking his soap and working it into a lather on the cloth. Taking in a breath, she inhaled the spicy scent of the soap and let it out again in a sigh of comfort, before she set it aside again and began to carefully wash over Jaqen’s chest and shoulders.

“Does a lovely girl enjoy the scents of her betrothed? He noted she did similar with the steam from the bathwater.” He asked her unexpectedly and she blushed lightly at this before she chased it away, feeling silly for the reaction, to answer him.

“I do. Yes. Very much so, in fact. I don't know what it is about your combination of scents in particular. But it brings me peace, warmth and makes me feel safe. It's strange but it's true. So, yes. I enjoy the scent of you a lot. I always have.” She admitted honestly and his brow raised in surprise before he smiled.

“A man didn’t realise his scent affected a woman, so. He often wondered if it had some small effect, as he noted how she would lean into him. Particularly after he had just come from bathing. But he never asked. He is glad though, that his scent brings her comfort. Hers does much the same for a man. Except where she says safe a man would say protective.” He admitted in return and she almost dropped the wash cloth in surprise. She hadn’t expected her scent of Jasmine, bergamot and amber to have any affect on him whatsoever beyond possibly being generally pleasant to him. But apparently it did and the knowledge made her heart jump and a warmth to pool within her.

“I didn't realise that I was that noticeable. I always tried to be discreet with it. But yes, I always knew when you'd just come from bathing. Because your scent was at its strongest then.” She said and he chuckled at this.

“A woman was very discreet, a man assures her. However, he was and is always, very aware of her. So he picked up on her subtleties, even when others didn't.” He replied, sitting up so that she could move around and wash his back.

“I've never been very good at hiding from you, have I?” She asked rhetorically, with a warm giggle as she began to scrub his back, being mindful of his right shoulder. “But I'll admit, I'm surprised as well, that my scent held or holds any bearing over you. Nevermind it being in a similar manner as yours holds over me.” She added, moving over to his left shoulder, before gliding further down.

“It was a surprise for a man as well. He confesses he was never particularly fond of the scents of amber, bergamot and jasmine. They weren’t hated by any means. They just weren't high on his list of favourite aromas. But when combined with his lovely girl's physiology, it becomes rather intoxicating to him. In more ways than one.” He further expressed and her face blazed at the insinuation those words held. But she didn’t let it get to her.

She should feel flattered that Jaqen felt that way for her. Should be basking in the knowledge, rather than blushing like a young girl and shying away. She was grown and he was her groom, so having him feel this way was a good thing. But more than that? It was right. It was OK for him to feel like this. He was hers and she was his. They were going to marry and have children. It was inevitable and they'd already agreed upon it. And well, there was only one way to get those children.

“Careful, Jaq. Keep speaking to me like that and a woman may lose her good sense and claim a man before she's meant to. Injury or no.” She teased and he laughed, as he leaned back against the tub again, once she finished washing his back.

“That was the response a man was hoping for, lovely girl. It lets him know that she is as attracted to him as he is to her. Which is half the battle when it comes to arrangements such as ours. That and having the two spouses actually like each other in general.” He replied and she hummed out a sound of amused agreement.

“That is no small thing. I will give you that.” She responded, as she started to wash his feet and work her way up his legs.

She eyeballed the bruising on his shoulder like a hawk as she went. It was getting darker. She needed to get that salve on him soon. Lest he be unable to move it much for the next few days. Once she finished with his legs she paused at what was between them. How was she supposed to wash that!? She'd never really paid much attention when her mother had been bathing Bran and Rickon. And even if she had, her mother was quick and efficient with it, so usually she'd had it done in the blink of an eye. Now she was lamenting the fact that she hadn’t paid close enough attention. Seeing her confusion, Jaqen chuckled.

“It is fine, Arya. A man is able enough to clean that area of himself. You have done more than enough for him.” He reassured her and plucked the washcloth from her hands gently.

“I really should learn though, Jaqen. For if and when we have a son.” She murmured, doing her best to keep her misplaced embarrassment at bay. He gave a hum of contemplation at this before he nodded.

“Yes, you will eventually have to learn. But it does not have to be tonight. Besides, a man assures you, he will be with you every step of the way when it comes to caring for and raising their children. You won't be alone.” He reassured her, before getting to his feet, with a little help from her, and beginning to carefully clean himself.

Arya tried to watch him, purely for the purposes of learning, but eventually her maidenly shyness won out and she turned to make her way to the table that held the wine and food. Pouring a glass for herself and for Jaqen, she turned back to bring it over and noted that he'd already finished and had sat back down again. Handing him one of the glasses, he took it from her and sipped from it slowly. He didn’t seem like a big drinker, she had noted a long time ago. Often the other Faceless would go out into Braavos for the evening, where they would eat and drink their ways through the night. But Jaqen rarely seemed to join them. She could remember only twice that he had. Once for an elders anniversary celebration. And another for one of his older acolytes transition into a faceless master. But beyond that, he generally remained within the House. Or would go out for walks for an hour or two and come back, still completely sober. And failing that, she would often get visits from him in the evenings. So this was something that was an attraction for her. The idea of a drunken fool as a husband had never appealed to her. And she wasn’t much of a drinker either. But she did enjoy a glass or two of wine from time to time.

“Why did you never really mingle with the other Faceless?” She asked unexpectedly, for both herself and for him as he gave her a look of surprise.

“What do you mean?” He asked her lightly, sipping from his glass again, before leaning forward and setting it on the small table by the tub that held all of their bath oils and washes.

“Well, they were a group that liked to descend on the streets of Braavos to drink and eat and whatever else they would do. You rarely seemed to join them unless you absolutely had to. You seemed to prefer staying in the House, going for walks or visiting with me in the evenings.” She explained herself and he nodded in understanding then.

“Ah. I see now. I was never one to mix business with pleasure, lovely girl. The faceless were my colleagues. Nothing more. With the exception of Antonio, whom you never met. I also don't like to drink much, I prefer to stay as sharp as possible. Alcohol addles the mind and dulls the senses. Thus a man is not a fan of it. But the occasional glass of wine or two, is something he enjoys from time to time.” He answered her, going silent for a few minutes. The silence, Arya noted, was completely comfortable and she didn’t feel the need to fill it at all. It was pleasant, she realised. Something she would greatly enjoy between them from now on.

“But when it comes to visiting with a woman? In truth a man shouldn’t have done so, while she was still training under him. But he enjoyed her company and so he visited. He still enjoys it to this day. And walks were his way to clear out the loudness of his mind, on the nights when it was almost unbearable. A man has many demons, a woman will come to find. He could not be who he is without them. But he has ways of keeping them in check and keeping himself even and level-headed. Walks help.” He admitted and Arya felt her heart clench a little at this.

She could understand that. She had her fair share of demons as well. Things that she knew she would never reconcile but that she could learn to live with and work around. It was par for the course when a person has seen too much death, blood and betrayal. Just like she and Jaqen had. But she was curious now.

“What other ways do you have? Tell me yours and I’ll tell you mine.” She asked teasingly and he turned his head and smirked.

“Well as a man has already said. Walks help. But so does training. Disciplining his body and his mind does wonders for a man's mental fortitude. Failing those two things, his other method is to get a willing woman below him. Although he hasn’t had to use that method for quite some time, now. However, he's finding lately that it's looking more and more appealing.” He answered her, giving her a slow, long and hooded look from the tips of her toes to the top of her head and she shuddered at this before she smirked in return.

“I’ve warned you already. Mind your words, Jaq. Lest a woman claim you before she’s supposed to. Injured or not.” She replied, allowing her voice to take on a note of seduction.

“You know, there are ways that a couple may make it appear as though the maiden blood was spilled on the marital bed. Should the couple become overcome with want ahead of their wedding night.” He said, his tone entirely more suggestive than it should be.

“You are a temptation that is hard to resist, Jaqen H’ghar. I would caution against us continuing with this line of conversation. A woman may find herself falling under that temptation.” She replied back coyly, her eyes glittering with mischief and something else that it seemed he recognised.

“A woman wants a man. He can tell. But yet she refuses to allow herself to have him. He is curious as to why she would deny herself? Is it because she feels a man will think less of her? Because if so, he wouldn’t. He assures her.” He asked and Arya found she didn’t actually have an answer for him. She hadn’t thought about it. She had just known that she ‘shouldn’t’ but why was that? Why did she feel like that? Setting her wine glass down beside Jaqen’s, she stood from the chair she had pulled over to the tub.

She then picked up the soap that he used for his hair, and came around behind him. As he dunked below the water to soak his hair, she chewed on her lip in thought. It was something she should ponder, and as he came back up and leaned forward, she poured some of the hair soap into her hand and started to work it through his vermillion and silver strands.

“I confess I have not given the ‘why’ much thought.” She began to speak, massaging her fingers against his scalp and on down through his mid-shafts and ends. “I suppose it may be a mixture of things. The idea of propriety that I was raised with as a nobleman's daughter. That whole ‘maidenheads must not be taken on anything other than a marriage bed’ rhetoric.” She hummed, while scrubbing the ends of his hair. Ends that had, unfortunately, been subjected to congealed blood.

“That is an understandable thing. A man can see its point. However he does not agree with it. Rather he finds it an archaic notion. In Essos things are different as a woman knows. Sex is not taboo. It’s not frowned upon or hidden away. But rather celebrated and partaken of. Even in Braavos, the ladies of the night have their own barges, right there in front of the world. It's a natural part of life and one to be enjoyed.” He mused and Arya found herself nodding.

“Mmm. I know. You sent me down to ragmans harbour remember?” She chuckled lightly, working her fingers back up to his scalp. “I understand and agree that it is a natural part of life and something to be enjoyed. But my current views are at war with the ones that were hammered into my head from when I was old enough to know where children came from. There is also a measure of nervousness to it as well. It is often said to hurt terribly, the first time a woman lies with a man. And though I do not fear pain in most things. Gods know I’ve suffered enough of it in my life so far. But that kind of pain seems different.” She explained, now simply letting him hear her thoughts as they passed through her mind. She had no fear of judgement with him or was at risk of him making fun of her. He would simply listen and advise or soothe. Depending on the topic.

“It is only painful, if a man is not taking proper care, lovely girl. Oftentimes, these experiences happen with overeager boys. Or men that have no patience left in them. So they do what they will do and care not for their partner. Some mild discomfort is normal during the first experience. But outright pain is not. Trust a man in this, for he has laid with virginal women before.” He admitted and she looked down at him with twinkling eyes.

“Oh, have you now?” She teased him lightly, although not unkindly and he chuckled.

“Yes. Two if a man is to be honest. The first time it happened, a man was also a virgin. And he performed terribly. He, himself, was an overeager boy who knew not what he was doing. The second time? He was much more experienced and had learned from his past mistakes. Thus he put in much more effort to prepare his partner. And what resulted was a fond experience for both the young lady and a man.” He shared and Arya blushed a little at this before she shook it off and lightly pushed down on his left shoulder. Letting him know that he could dip his hair into the water so that she could rinse it off the soap. He did as she bid him and within a few minutes he was sitting back up and Arya was applying his conditioning treatment.

“A woman is curious now. The second time? How did he come to end up in bed with his partner? A woman doubts a man is the kind to go chasing skirts on the regular.” She asked and Jaqen laughed lightly again and shook his head.

“He is not a skirt chaser, no. He never really has been. Most of his sexual exploits have come unexpectedly and he found himself in bed with another. But in answer to a woman’s question. A man was actually sought out by the young lady.” He began, pausing to dip his hair beneath the water again, so that she could rinse the conditioning treatment out. When he came back up, he leaned back against the tub. Arya went to the table then and set his hair washes onto it, before bringing his wine back over to him, which he accepted gratefully. He sipped for a few moments, considering his next words, before he spoke again.

“She was wanting to escape an arranged marriage because she was of the deposition to prefer the company of women. Something that she couldn’t tell her family. So, she came up with the idea to ‘devalue’ herself. She approached a man because he seemed kind and gentle to her. Which a man found rather amusing at the time, considering he was tracking down a mark to deliver them to He of Many Faces.” He continued, pausing with a raised brow as she brought a plate of meat, cheese, fruit and bread over to him and gently urged him to eat. Bringing another chair with her, so that he could use it as a side table for his plate and glass. He shook his head and smiled, before he took some time to snack and then drink a little more. Once satisfied for the moment, he set both aside and finished his story.

“She explained her plight and even offered to pay a man to take her virtue. Given his history that a woman now knows, he refused to let another suffer that fate if he could help it. So although it was highly irregular and possibly even a little immoral? He refused her coin and gave her what she wanted. When all was said and done, she thanked a man for what she stated was a ‘wonderful and caring experience’. Then she disappeared and he never saw or heard from her again.” He explained, blowing out a breath of amusement at the memory. Before he met her eyes again, growing serious now.

“So, you see, lovely girl. When you lay with a man, be it tonight, a week from now or on our wedding night? You won’t need to fear joining with him. He will take the utmost care and he will ensure that it is something you will only ever remember with fondness. There are many, many things he will do for you that will make you delirious and ready for him, before he even considers sliding within you.” He shared, his look heated and his voice like velvet.

Both things caused a deep thrum of need to beat through her as she wondered just what all of those many things would be. And just how he would perform them on her. Once again, she found herself growing most impatient to get beneath him for the first time, but as she considered telling him that tonight would be the night, a knock came to their bedroom door. Both she and Jaqen looked at one another in confusion then, before she stood and handed him a large towel. Taking it from her and with a little assistance, he was soon on his feet and stepping out of the tub.

“Just a moment please.” She called out to whoever was waiting, before she hurried to the door. Looking back at Jaqen, she found him drying himself off with his left hand as best he could. Before he was pulling on his robe. She watched as he winced sharply when he moved his right shoulder too much and too quickly. Dammit! The salve!

“Jaqen, sit on the bed and pull the shoulder of that robe down. You need that salve now.” She practically ordered and he quirked his brow in amusement, but didn’t comment and instead did what she told him. Once she was sure he was sufficiently covered, she opened their bedroom door to find Simeon there.

“Apologies, Lord. You caught us as Jaqen was finishing his bath. What can we help you with?” She asked, before she stepped aside and allowed him to come inside.

“You remain in the room when your betrothed is…” He asked dumbfounded as he stepped inside, looking quite out of place in the area that had quickly grown to show how much it had become she and Jaqen’s.

The dual mannequins with one another's armours hanging on them. His and her shoes and boots by the wardrobe door, which if you opened, you would find both their clothes hanging there. Their combined weapons on display in the fine armoury case. You could also see books that pointed towards Jaqen, sitting neatly with books that were clearly Arya’s on the shelves. Even the table beside the bath held their combined washes and scents. Her bureau holding upon its top, more of their combined scent bottles and more besides. Truly, to look around their room, it would be clear that it was one shared by a couple and appeared as though it always had been. And she liked that. She liked it alot. Making her way over to said bureau, she looked through the various creams, lotions and other liquids before she found the silver and blue tin, that was the strong, pain relieving and anti-inflammatory salve. Once this was in hand, she breezed over to Jaqen, opening the lid of the tin as she went. Holding it out below his nose, she allowed him to take a deep inhale of it before he nodded. Something that made Simeon raise his brow but he didn’t ask. Not that it mattered, he didn’t need to know that she and Jaqen had once been faceless, thus anything they put on or in their bodies was usually smelled before anything else. Just to make sure there was nothing malicious hiding in whatever it was they had. As she began to gently massage the salve in a thick layer over Jaqen’s now even darker bruise, she spoke. Directing her words towards Simeon.

“Yes. I do. We’ve been over this, Lord Simeon. Mine and Jaqen’s relationship is ours to do with as we see fit, when we see fit. We will be married. It is only a matter of time. Everything else is just airs and graces dictated by archaic beliefs. Beliefs we do not follow because they are not our own. We are also not strangers to one another. We have known each other for many years now.” She sighed in annoyance at having to repeat herself. Annoyance that had Jaqen smirking up at her mischievously, causing her to raise her brow. But his eyes only danced with more playfulness, as he asked her without words to go along with him.

“A man's lady is correct, Lord Simeon. We have known one another for many a year. Thus our interactions will always fall out of the realms of ‘traditional’. For example, if a man were to wish to do this…” He purred in a tone like velvet, before his hand slipped between her legs and began to run up the inside of it. The folds of her robe, still keeping her modesty hidden, even with his climbing hand.

Reaching a particularly soft spot, that was somewhere between the join of her hip and thigh, and above her knee. Arya couldn’t help but release a soft, breathy ‘oh’ as searing warmth stabbed her in her most wanting of places. An ‘oh’ that grew breathier as he began to slowly rub his thumb over that sensitive spot. He wasn’t touching her centre, was barely even close to it in fact. But he may as well have been, given the way her breathing had changed and she felt her legs open just a smidge more in invitation. She almost asked him to move higher, but caught herself at the last moment.

“...then a man will do so. And if his lady wishes for him to go further…” He murmured, his hand sliding up even higher, causing her to have to catch her balance and grip his left shoulder.

A gasp left her this time as her centre hummed to life even more, although his hand had not touched her there yet. But he had gotten dangerously close that time. And she knew between the folds of her robe, her reaction and Simeon's perspective. It would have seemed to him that Jaqen had cupped her between her legs or, at the very least, caressed her there. As quick as he'd reached and caressed her upper thigh, close to her womanhood, he'd pulled his hand out from beneath her robe. Just for his hands to then grip her hips lightly and pull her closer to him, where he placed a chaste kiss between her breasts, before he turned his head to rest it against them. His eyes locked with Simeon's then, as Jaqen allowed his arms to wrap around her waist, loosely, lazily as though he did something like this all the time.

“...then a man will do as she requests of him. He trusts this little demonstration will be enough to prevent further, unwelcome, comments surrounding a man and woman’s relationship, yes?” He asked, his gaze heavy with warning. And when Simeon, whose face was blazing at the unwanted show he'd just received, nodded? Jaqen smiled serenely and spoke again.

“Good. The matter is settled then. Now. What did you need from a woman and man? Why are you coming to their chambers when they have retired for the night?” He asked, his tone casual as though he hadn’t just set her body aflame and embarrassed the hells out of his soon to be brother in law.

“You know what? It can actually wait until morning. It wasn't that important. We will speak at breakfast. For now, good night and uh…enjoy the rest of your evenings.” Simeon backtracked, shaking his head as though he was trying to rid himself of what he'd just witnessed.

Arya would have felt bad, but truthfully, she was getting quite sick of the criticisms of her and Jaqen that were being directed at them by Sansa and Simeon. She loved her sister dearly and Simeon was a lovely man. But Gods if they weren't irritating in that respect! And soon Simeon left their room, hastily closing the door behind him. Arya stared after him for a moment, before she slid her eyes down to Jaqen, whose head was still resting on her breasts. Bringing her hands up, she sank her fingers into his damp hair. She was thankful to have dropped the tin of salve in her surprise at his boldness. And the exchange between him and Simeon, giving ample time for her skin to absorb the remnants of the salve on her fingers. She'd just washed his hair, she didn’t need it to be a mess again because of ointment.

“Note to self. If ever in a meeting that I desperately want out of? Call Jaqen and have him put on another of those displays. That was quite effective.” She laughed lightly and felt him chuckle against her as much as she heard it. The soft but deep rumble, reverberating through her chest and making her blood sing even more.

“Puritans are the easiest to turn squirrely. Especially if public intimacy is involved. A man was just doing his duty and putting an end to something he has seen to be an irritation to a woman. But don't think he didn’t notice how his actions affected her. Her sounds were not an act.” He replied back, his eyes locking with hers as he spoke and she could see the heat there. Apparently those sounds had awakened something in him.

Arya wasn't sure then why she did what she did. She knew it was a slippery slope. Knew that the possibility was great that they wouldn’t stop. But in that moment when Jaqen’s pale blue eyes locked with hers and darkened to a deep sea colour? She couldn’t stop herself. Couldn't halt her actions in the least. Shifting she sank downwards, straddling his lap.

“What is a woman doing?” He asked her teasingly and she smirked.

“Whatever she wishes to.” She breathed and then she was kissing him. Deep and passionately, jerking her hips forward, so she was pressed flush against his.

His gasp of surprise as his arms tightened around her waist, was all she needed to invade his mouth with her tongue and she kissed him for all she was worth. She poured all of her frustrations for him into it, and ground into him in a manner most unladylike. And most unmaidenly indeed. But at that moment she didn’t really care. She wanted to feel him. Wanted to make his blood burn as he did hers. As she moved against him again, her robe separated, sliding over her legs to drape down from her thighs. It was then that she remembered, too late, that she wasn’t wearing a slip beneath. She'd planned to put one on before they went to bed for the night. But with helping Jaqen undress and bathe, she hadn’t gotten around to it. So when she had shifted, her robe had parted and her womanhood made contact with Jaqen’s maleness. It appeared his own robe had opened when she'd straddled him and neither had realised. Her gasping ‘oh’ seemed to echo through the space of their room and she felt as she began to throb in need. Gods! What had she gotten into? And why did she want to see where it would lead? She should be shying away, but instead she ground on him again, the motion feeling completely different, when there was nothing separating their bodies. Her next gasp was chased down by a soft hum of desire as her body was lanced with more need and a zap of pleasure. Jaqen broke the kiss then and spoke.

“Lovely girl, if you do not stop and get off a man? He will not prevent what will happen next.” He warned her, his voice sounding quite unlike anything she'd heard from him before.

It was almost primal in its depth, the words spoken in a rumble that was almost growl-like. Husky and filled with promise. And caution. He was letting her know he was a caged beast and she was about to snap his collar. And she lived for it. She also noted that he had said he wouldn't prevent what came next, rather than he'd be unable too. Which told her that he was perfectly capable of doing so but would refuse. Another warning. Another issuance of a challenge. And she was never very good at backing down from those. Particularly where he was concerned.

“You speak as though you believe a woman wants you too.” She retorted and his arms tightened around her even more, feeling like iron. His eyes dancing with barely contained desire and an assuredness that really should concern her more than it did.

“What is a man to believe then, little woman? She tells him she is nervous about lying with a man. That she is conflicted between her personal views and her raising. But now she writhes upon him like a wanton thing. He just wishes to be sure of what she wants. Her messages are mixed.” He replied and she noted that he was right. She had given him mixed messages.

But what she felt now, was what was important. She wanted him. She knew she did. And quite frankly? She was sick of denying herself. She was sick of the innate views of others guiding her hand or rather, stalling it. She was a grown woman, who'd seen more in her twenty-five years of life than most forty-year olds had. She could make her own damned choices on what to do with her body and who to do those things with. Starting with finally having Jaqen. How long had she wanted him? How long had her fantasies, late at night when she was alone and feeling amorous, involved him? She would be an idiot to try and say she didn't want him. An idiot to allow the opinions of others to drive her choices.

The only opinions that mattered when it came to them, was her and Jaqen’s. And he'd already made it clear that he wouldn’t think less of her. Had already said that he thought the opinions that had guided her until now were archaic and he was right. They were. They were ridiculous. What did it matter if they laid together tonight? It was going to happen eventually as they were soon to marry. So really? What was the point in holding off until then? She would rather enjoy the wonderment of their wedding night without the burden of nerves or lacking self-confidence. Would rather that, that night be one of heated, comfortable and divine passion. She didn’t want to be riddled with anxiety that would only make her tense and take her out of the moment. She wanted to be filled with anticipation and excitement not fear of the unknown and anxiety. No. That? That she would rather work through tonight and be done with it.

“To use your own words many years ago now. Tongues can lie, bodies do not. So what is my body telling you now, Jaq?” She spoke, her voice slipping from her throat with velvety seduction, as she slowly circled her hips against his, where she knew he could now feel the slickness of her against the hardness of him.

“It tells him that he is very glad the salve has started to take effect and numb his shoulder. Because he is about to make a woman out of his lovely girl.” He purred in dark decadence before in a flurry of movement, Arya’s world upended and she found herself on her back, sprawled invitingly below Jaqen as he kneeled over her.

Leaning down, he ran his lips up the column of her throat, to stop at her ear where he nipped lightly. “She is sure this is what she wants? Because once he starts? She won’t want him to stop, regardless of what her mind may shout at her.” He asked, his words tinged with dark desire and she shuddered below him.

“A woman has said. A man should listen.” She answered boldly, looking up at him defiantly. He smirked at the challenge that she now presented, thoroughly looking forward to what was to come, and then his mouth was possessing hers.

-X-

“I can't believe you and Jaqen put on such a display in front of Simeon, Arya!?” Sansa gasped in disbelief, as she and Arya stood, getting tied into their gowns. Sansa into her wedding gown and Arya into her maid of honour one. Which was hilarious to her, given Jaqen had thoroughly put an end to the maid part of that title. But it seemed that Simeon, after having to leave back to Braavos temporarily due to his fathers health, had returned and then shared what had happened in her and Jaqen’s room. Three weeks ago now but only becoming news to Sansa as of last night.

“He was pushing boundaries with his comments regarding Jaqen and I. Comments that had begun to irritate me beyond reason. Because after all, what Jaqen and I do has no impact on yours and Simeon's lives. It has nothing to do with you both.” Arya retorted, her breath gasping out as a handmaid pulled a lacing particularly tightly.

Giving the girl a look of gentle reprimand, she saw as the poor thing ducked her head in apology. She was new. Arya wouldn't blame her. Besides, she couldn’t say that she would do much better, in the girls shoes. Shaking off the discomfort and patting the girl's head reassuringly because it was the only part of the girl she could reach at the moment, she looked back to Sansa.

“However. Simeon insisted on butting into our relationship. So Jaqen taught him why that was folly. And it worked. He doesn't even so much as give us a sideways glance when he hears something that he doesn't agree with, now. A lesson needed to be taught. So it was. And now it's done.” Arya said with finality, not missing the fact that she had just sounded like Jaqen. Something that also amused her greatly, reminding her of a similar exchange between himself and her at Harrenhal.

“Three lives I will give you. No more. No less. And then we’re done.”

Well, he certainly gave her more than three lives. He gave her all of his in the end. How strange to think of their origins now. At that time, she was sure she would never see him again, even after he had met her on the hill after her and her friends escaped and gave her his coin. Then when she had ended up in Braavos and training under him, she had thought things would never go beyond that relationship. He would always be her mentor and then become a colleague, once her training was done. Then she’d left and again she imagined she would never see him again. Even with his promissory sword and the open invite to find him again should she ever need him. She had truly thought then, that she would never see him again. That their lives would move on, completely separately from one another. But now here they were.

They were getting married, two weeks from the day and she was already falling for him. She could feel it. Feel the change in her when she would see him. Had taken note of how contented she became, when he would finally slip into bed beside her, if she’d retired before him. She never fell asleep fully on those nights, not until she felt his arm slip around her waist and pull her back against him, so that his chest and her back were flush. Where she would then fall into a fitful deep slumber, his words of ‘Goodnight my lovely girl…’ dancing in her ears as his lips brushed her bare shoulder. There was so much more to Jaqen than she had ever known. Knowledge that he was now freely sharing with her.

She had found that he adored cats and got excited when he saw one, or became incredibly soft hearted when he would see kittens. He enjoyed reading, oftentimes when they were in downtime, she would find him, half dressed, and lounging on the chaise of their room, the fire roaring and a book in his hand. He also loved to play, often teasing her or tickling her until she couldn’t breathe from her laughter. He adored the innocence of children and she had found him, more than once, stuck in the middle of a group of them, his eyes begging her to help him escape, but also dancing with mirth as a little girl would weave some flower or ribbon into his hair. Or a little boy would show him his toy soldiers or sword for the millionth time, but he still reacted as though it was the first. It seemed the children of the Keep, who belonged to the staff, were always seeking him out and following him around. Curious about what he was doing and wanting to know if it was ok for them to come with him. He always said yes, even if he’d just wanted to be left alone. Unless he knew it was definitely not appropriate for children.

She wasn’t sure if this unending patience for children was because he had a younger sister who had grown up with him and had been obsessed with her big brother. Or whether it was just something that came naturally to him. At any rate, it told her one very important thing. He would be a fantastic father and she was excited to give that title to him one day soon. They had been being careful with their intimacy these past weeks. Both agreed that a pregnancy before they were married would be a step too far for everyone else. It would be a shameless display at that point and that although their relationship was their own and only they got to decide what happened in it. They still understood that they had to adhere to some sort of tradition. So each time they were finished in bed, he would give her a contraceptive elixir and she would always drink it. Even if the taste was ghastly. But it was better than the tea that was common practice in most other relationships where a pregnancy wouldn’t necessarily be met with joy. So she was definitely looking forward to getting to say good riddance to that elixir.

“Yes, I understand. But something like that!? It was unnecessarily scandalous, little sister. You didn’t need to go that far to get him to stop.”

“Respectfully, Sansa. I disagree. It was the only thing that seemed to stop him. He’d been asked numerous times to keep his comments to himself. He is a lovely, sweet man and a superb match for you. And I do like him very much. But his impulsivity when it comes to speaking out of turn about things he should not speak on, is something he needs to learn to curb. Particularly as your King Consort.” Arya lectured lightly and heard the choked snigger of the girl that was tying her into her gown. Glancing down at her and giving her a playful wink, she looked back at her sister.

“Better he fumble with his family and be made to pay for it with nothing more than personal abashment, within the private wings of the Keep. A scenario where no harm will come to him for it, except some blushing and discomfort on his part. A situation that also teaches him a gentle lesson. And not a public audience chamber in front of three to four hundred. Where the wrong person, getting offended in the right way, could start a feud or a fight.” Arya added sagely and saw Sansa’s small smile.

“When did you become so wise?” Sansa asked and Arya laughed.

“Since I agreed to marry Jaqen. He does well for me, wouldn’t you say?” She quipped and it was Sansa’s turn to laugh now.

“Well.” She sighed contentedly. “I suppose you’re right, all the same. Better Simeon learns those lessons in the safety of the family circle, where consequences are inconsequential but leave a lasting impression. Instead of swimming in a sea of blood that he accidentally caused because he couldn’t contain himself. He is a young ruler. Still learning. Much like I am. We’ll get there. As long as you and Jaqen are here to give us our many lessons, however unconventional they are.” She added before they lapsed into silence again, allowing the handmaids to finish their work.

Today was the day for Sansa, Arya mused. Finally marrying someone worthy and who was closer to her age than either of her previous two husbands. Also someone who, Arya hoped, would take the greatest care of her sister. Simeon seemed to be quite taken with her in truth. He also seemed to be treating her with gentleness and affection. Their relationship progression was much more different to hers and Jaqen’s. Sansa and Simeon seemed soft, gentle, calm. Like a midafternoon Spring day. Hopes and dreams slowly budding and taking root between them.

Whereas she and Jaqen were wild, untamed and hot-blooded. Like the middle of a midsummer night in the Summer Isles. Fire. Passion. Devotion. It was all there between her and Jaqen. The darkness to Sansa and Simeon’s light and Arya found it beautiful. A stunning, dizzying contrast that showed, perfectly, the different sides of budding love. And how relationships and marriages formed differently, truly individualistic to each couple. She and Jaqen were the raging tempests, their passions breaking through every barrier, uncaring what was on the other side but excited all the same for what they’d find. Sansa and Simeon on the other hand, were more like a slow and steady current, taking time to carve the best path forward for them. Gently cutting through the earth of their relationship, to create something perfect for them. Truly, to see both of their unions unfold so completely differently, was an awe inspiring thing. At least to her.

“You and Simeon are going to become something truly beautiful, sister.” Arya said unexpectedly, not realising what was about to leave her lips. But it was enough to give her sister pause and look over at her with a shy smile.

“Do you really think so, Arya? I confess, I’m still unsure of what we will become. I have hopes, obviously. But still I have uncertainty as well. My last two marriages were…” She said, but stopped speaking when she brought up her previous weddings. Arya could understand. Sansa still struggled with those memories. The ones with Ramsey more so than the ones with Tyrion it was true. But both left impressions on her. Scars in her heart and mind that she hadn’t quite been able to put to rest yet and maybe never would. But she tried and that was the important thing.

“The third time's the charm, sister. As our mother used to say. And rarely was she wrong. Have faith. This one will stick. This one will be good. I just know it.” Arya reassured Sansa, reaching out to clasp her hand within hers comfortingly.

Silence reigned for a long while after that. Sansa not speaking again until the hand maids had left. Once it was only Arya and Sansa remaining, her sister, looking dazzling in her champagne coloured gown with damask detailing, and glittering crystal beading, turned to her.

“Will it hurt again, little sister?” Sansa asked and Arya startled for a moment before she returned Sansa’s gaze with one of confusion.

“What do you mean? Will what hurt again?” Arya asked gently although confused.

“Laying with Simeon tonight. Will it…will it hurt again? It always hurt with…Ramsey. So…” Sansa elaborated, although her stilted speech made it clear that she didn't like speaking of the horrors that man had visited upon her.

“Why are you asking me? I haven't…” Arya tried to deny, not quite ready to admit to Sansa that she and Jaqen had already been together in that sense. Not because she was ashamed, definitely not. But rather she liked the idea of just him and her knowing what they did in the warmth and peace of their bed chamber.

“Oh stop it, Arya. Yes you have. There's no way you and Jaqen haven't already. So…” Sansa called her out and Arya flinched a little. Then with a sigh she nodded. Fine.

“No. It won't.” She replied quickly. “If he takes care of you. If he readies you for him properly? It won't hurt. It will be much the opposite.” Arya added, closing the distance between her and Sansa, to take her sister's hands into her own. She waited until Sansa looked up from the floor again, before she continued.

“I laid with Jaqen before our wedding night, for a reason. It wasn't just because I wanted him and didn't want to wait any longer. It was because I wanted to get the first time out of the way, so that he and I could simply enjoy our wedding night when it happened. I didn’t want to he anxious.” She explained her reasoning, as she walked her sister over to the plush chairs in the room that sat before two vanities. Once seated, Arya continued to share her experiences.

“Giving my virtue to Jaqen was a little uncomfortable, physically. It's true. But it was never painful. It never hurt. It was just uncomfortable at first as my body got used to him and this new way that I was using it.” She recollected with a soft smile, brushing her thumb over the back of Sansa’s hand that she was still holding.

“But after that initial discomfort that only lasted a few minutes. It was utterly wonderful. Almost divine. I've never felt that discomfort since. But only because Jaqen always makes sure to prepare me beforehand.” She shared finally, blowing out a breath before finishing. “As long as Simeon does that for you tonight? You won't feel pain, sister. It will be enjoyable. But please do your best to get and stay relaxed. If you tense up, it will make it more difficult for you.”

This said, she stood and leaned down to give her sister a lingering kiss to the top of her hair. Then with a swish of her pale lilac skirts, she turned and left the room. Giving Sansa some time to think over what she had said and prepare herself for what was to come. Arya on the other hand? She was going to find Jaqen. And when she did she would ask him to have a ‘talk’ with Simeon before the ceremony. Man to man so to speak. She was sure she had nothing to worry about. But she wasn't about to leave this one up to chance. She wanted to make sure that Simeon knew to take it easy and prepare her sister in every way before they joined to consummate their marriage. But she didn’t think he would approve of it coming from her. But he may be more amenable if it was another man, who had already handled those first time jitters, approaching him about it. Sansa may no longer be a maiden, but it would still be her very first time with Simeon. So it should be treated the same way as if she was still virginal. So Arya would see to it. Or she would claim his balls in vengeance. One or the other.

-X-

A sigh split the air as clothes fell in an ethereal rain, Arya was glad she had made the choice she had a moon and a half ago. There was no nervousness in her now, as Jaqen’s hands slid beneath her backside and lifted her off her feet.

Her legs locked about his waist naturally, as she took his face between her hands and kissed him with deep ardency. Her glittering gold and diamond wedding band glinted in the warm, orange hue of the fire that sparked and crackled inside of the fireplace. They had been married this morning, the day finally arriving. She had woken to sunlight streaming through the bedroom windows, leaving a pleasantly warm trail across her skin. Jaqen had slept separately from her last night. Just as an homage to tradition. And although she had felt bereft, she'd known it was only for show and that he would be right back with her tonight. And here he was, kissing her in return, as he laid her upon their bed gently. Almost reverently.

Breaking their kiss, he caressed a path with his lips down her chin, leaving open mouthed kisses as he went. Tonight when they joined? They would be able to simply collapse in a muddle of limbs and spentness afterwards. He wouldn’t give her the elixir tonight. In fact, he planned to never give it to her again if he could help it. Something he'd told her rather smugly the night before, when he'd kissed her goodbye and left for his temporary accommodations. From tonight onwards, they would be leaving their fates in the hands of the Gods and she couldn’t be more excited if she tried.

Her back arched lightly, as his path down her body paused at her breasts and he took a nipple into his mouth. She gave a light, wanton sigh, as his tongue twirled and twisted around the quickly hardening peak. His other hand ghosting up to massage and play with the neglected twin. His touch was careful, gentle and felt almost worshipping. Even as her sighs and small moans urged him to move faster or be rougher. But he wouldn’t listen. He'd set his mind to what he was doing and he wouldn’t be budged. And she knew better now than to keep trying. She would be at his mercy tonight and that was OK with her.

She moaned out, as he gave her nipple a small bite, at the same time that he gently pulled and twisted its twin. He followed this with a languid rub of his thumb and a soothing swipe of his tongue, taking the sting out of his actions. Her hands came up and cradled his head as he continued to tease and play with her breasts and nipples. But soon, he left her chest and kissed his way down her body, leaving a path of nips and licks to show where he had been. She squirmed underneath him, her soft moans driving him on. But as she thought, he would finally lavish attention on the part of her that was pulsing for him, he disappointed her. He skipped over her core completely, and began his actions anew at her upper thighs.

When he reached her feet, he then began to move back up, allowing his breath to fall against her skin, damp from his tongue, as he had run it down her legs slowly. The sensation was blissfully arousing, her senses heightening even more. Then she felt his breath at her core. His hands ghosted up her legs, spreading them as he reached her thighs. And, without warning, he was on her. His mouth beginning a sinful dance at her core. As soon as she felt him there, she cried out and tilted her hips up into him. This didn't deter him though, he just slipped his hands under her and held her in that position. His tongue swirled, swiped, flicked and licked her sensitive clit, as he pulled one hand from under her.

Bringing this up, he teased her entrance with his fingers, barely entering her before pulling back out to circle her opening. He kept this up, edging her expertly until she was practically begging him for her release. She could feel herself dripping and the painful clenching of her internal muscles. She needed to come, her body was crying out for it. But still, he teased and edged. She could kill him and as she went to scold him for being mean like this, he slunk up her body and she felt his hardness at her entrance. But here is where he paused and met her eyes, silently asking her if she felt ready for him. She smiled at him, before reaching up to kiss him long and slow.

"Take me. I'm all yours." She murmured against his lips, breaking the kiss for a moment, before continuing it.

But soon, her mouth was torn away from his, as her head fell back against the pillows hard. His entry into her had been gentle but firm and her moan ripped from her throat as she felt him seat inside her deeply. Her nails dug into his shoulders and he gasped in pleasure pain, his groan following this as he pulled from her again, then sank back in.

His scent was filling her head. A scent that drove her crazy! It was such a special experience, to have him present as his full self and as her husband. From his looks, to his smell, to his movements within her. She would never forget this moment for as long as she lived. The moment that he gave all of himself to her and more. They fell into step with each other, their bodies moving together in a pleasurable, languid dance of love and carnality. Together they drove the other higher and higher, until neither were sure where one began and the other ended. Nails clawed at skin, teeth nipped and scraped as they tried to convey how much bliss the other was giving. Voices lifted and blended, loud and long, enough to give the Keep something to gossip about in the morning. And as they moved together urgently, frantically, Arya felt her body finally give in under his assault.

His name tore from her throat, in a scream as her entire body locked up and she crashed over the edge fast and hard. But with her, she pulled Jaqen and with a desperate shout of her name, she felt the tell tale pulsing of his manhood, before the forbidden feeling of him flooding her insides. The feeling was such a hot thing for her, that it boosted her release more and she felt herself fall into another climax that had her locking her legs around him and caging him against her with her arms as she pressed her hips against his as tightly as possible. The knowledge that this time, his seed wouldn’t be prevented from doing what it was supposed to, making this feel all the more heated and intoxicating. And as she heard his ragged gasping of bliss, she suspected he felt the same way about it.

Once they had come down from their highs, Jaqen pulled from her gently and slowly. She hissed a little in sensitivity but it soon passed once he was free of her depths. Rolling over onto his back, Jaqen brought her with him and she settled comfortably and snugly on top of him. Then with a quick kick of his foot and a pull, she felt their blankets settle over them. She chuckled lightly at this, still trying to catch her breath.

“Show off.” She teased and he sniggered in amusement.

“Don’t be bitter, my she-wolf. There are some things a man is simply good at, that you may not be. That was one of them.” He teased back in playful smugness, before he dropped a kiss to the top of her head.

“Just married and already you’re trying to cause a divorce. Those were fighting words, husband.” Arya retorted, stressing his new title with a smirk against his chest.

“Well, wife…” He fired back, his tone dancing with mirth. “A man cannot help if his lady is just naturally more aggressive than he. Not everything needs to be a fight. But if she wishes it, they can. A man will win though, because all he needs to do is this…” He added, before she released a squeak of surprise as her world turned upside down briefly and she was suddenly on her back again. She didn’t have a moment to scold or query him before he was disappearing beneath the blankets and she was releasing a curse.

Tricky man! She’d kill him when he was done. But only when he was done. After all, she saw no reason to deny what he was offering, just to ‘fight’ with him. The fight could come afterwards. She smirked to herself as her back arched and she called out his name, when her mind provided her with the perfect method of ‘combat’ that she would use. He’d be a delirious mess by the time she was done with him. And this was about to be a very long night indeed.

-X-

“Papa! Papa!” A young voice called out excitedly, making Jaqen spin around and abandon for a moment the conversation that he and Simeon had just been having.

A conversation that had been interrupted every so often by the happy gurgles of Simeon and Sansa’s newborn son. A son that Simeon had not once put down since he was born. His and Sansa’s second child, their first being a lovely little girl who was now five years old. A year older than Jaqen’s own daughter who was racing towards him and who had been calling out to him. Barefooted, he noted with a small frown. So like her mother. He wasn’t sure what he was going to do with her. But as she dived onto him and he caught her, he found he didn’t care much right now, as he embraced her warmly.

“Ah, my little foxling! A sire has missed you greatly. Have you been behaving yourself for your mother?” He asked her, peppering her cute and chubby cheek with light kisses that made her giggle, because the stubble of his facial hair tickled her.

She sat up straighter in his arms then, her small hand coming up to balance herself using his shoulder and the other to push the mass of vermillion and silver curls that she had out of her heart shaped face. She had been blessed with his hair colouring but the texture of it had come from his mother, her grandmother. Doing her best to give him a serious look, although it was more comical than anything, she nodded her head.

“A girl has been very good for mama. But she missed her sire a lot.” She answered firmly, making him want to chuckle as she emulated his speech. She tried to do it alot. Sometimes she succeeded and other times? Not so much.

But he didn’t mind. There was still plenty of time for her. As his first born, she would be his successor in Lorath, so he was schooling her on how to speak in the manner of Lorathi nobility. As she would need to be able to. At least while in the Magistrates meetings. One of which he’d been at and had just returned from. He usually brought Verona with him to those meetings. But she’d been a little ill when he was setting out three weeks ago, so he had left her at home with Arya. Not wanting to risk worsening her sickness, by travelling that distance to the port and then sailing to the shores of Lorath.

“A man sees. Well, he will just have to spend the rest of today with his offspring then, won't he? But may he visit with her mother first?” He asked, pressing a kiss to her forehead and making her wriggle happily.

“Oh! You gotta anyway! Mama needs to tell papa something! I forgot.” She said excitedly and Jaqen felt his brow raise in curiosity.

“Then a man best get to it then, hadn’t he?” He intoned, before excusing himself from his new nephew and Simeon. Then turning, he walked towards the Keep, carrying Verona as he went.

When Jaqen got to the door of his and Arya’s bedroom, he noted how quiet it was. Something he wasn’t sure whether he should be worried about. Verona had said on the way that when she had left Arya, she was still in their bed chamber. Taking a breath, he opened the door and stepped inside and found Arya lying on their bed facing him, still fully gowned and made up. He knew she'd been travelling back from Kings Landing today, where she'd gone to meet with Bran. But even so, she wasn’t one to nap during the day. No matter how tired she was. She preferred to stay up and then just retire early that night. The last time she'd napped like this had been when…his eyes widened then and his heart began to race in his chest as he gave a glance to Verona, who was now resting her head against his shoulder. Her small hand, playing with the ties of his cloak.

Setting Verona down on his and Arya’s bed, he kneeled on the mattress and placed a gentle hand on Arya’s shoulder. Lightly shaking her he called her name softly and waited until her eyes opened. Which didn't take long.

“Jaqen?” She breathed tiredly. “Gods! Did I fall asleep? I only laid down to rest. I wasn’t planning to nod off.” She added and he smiled.

“A man's wife was asleep, yes. And as much as he hated to wake her, her little messenger bird here…” He replied, pausing to look at their daughter lovingly, before back to Arya with the same expression. “Mentioned that a woman had something she needed to tell a man?”

“Something to…” She replied in confusion for a moment before her eyes widened in realisation. “Oh! Yes! Gods. How could I have forgotten…” She murmured, before sitting up and shaking her head lightly.

This moment of forgetfulness though, also had his heart racing. Arya wasn’t forgetful. Not usually. Her powers of retention were quite great in fact. Except when she was…

“Lovely girl…” He said, catching her attention again and giving her a hopeful but excited smirk. “Is a woman trying to tell a man that she is with child once more?” He asked, already knowing in his heart what she was going to answer. The unusual mental fog and the need for unexpected napping? All were symptomatic of early pregnancy where Arya was concerned. He remembered it all well, from when she had been pregnant with Verona.

Arya smiled at him then and gave a vigorous nod and that was all that he needed to hear, before he was practically lunging across the bed and pulling her into his embrace. Another child!? She was giving him another one. As the knowledge seeped into him mind, he took her lips in a deep, loving kiss, that had her arms wrapping around his neck and giggling against his mouth. The display earned an ‘ewww’ from Verona, which Jaqen would have laughed at if his mouth wasn’t presently occupied in another manner. But soon he broke the kiss and rested his forehead against Arya’s.

“How long have you known?” He asked, his lips not once dropping the happy smile.

“Since the day after you left. I’d suspected but wasn’t sure. Then when my blood didn’t come, I knew. Samwell confirmed it. But I wanted to wait until you got home because I wanted to tell you in person. Samwell and I have been keeping it quiet until now. Not even Sansa knows.” Arya explained and he kissed her again for this. How she had managed to keep this to herself was beyond him. It was clear how excited she was at the news. So to wait to let everyone else know, just so she could tell him first? Well, it made his heart soar with love for her.

“A man loves you, lovely girl. And he always will. Thank you.” He murmured before he kissed her again.

The future was bright and he was looking forward to going on this journey with her all over again. And this time? This time they would have Verona with them as well. Yes. He was excited and he couldn’t wait to meet their newest addition.

-X-

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