Work Text:
They sat together on the ledge of a building that overlooked a small garden. His leg brushed hers and his arm held onto her waist to keep her from falling. He leaned close to her ear.
'Him,' he whispered.
She looked at the man that he had pointed out. Her target was rounded, his stomach protruded well over his breeches, his dark hair was cut short, he had a wide smile, and his beard was covered with the crumbs of the food he was eating. She wondered what he had done to deserve to die. A sharp tug on her hair. She turned to face once-Jaqen with a furious look.
'You forget, sweet girl, judgement is not ours to pass.'
She wanted to argue that she never forgot, that she simply chose to pass judgement as was her right. But judgement was not her right, it was the right of someone like Arya Stark and she was no Arya Stark. She was no one.
He gave her a slight push and she climbed down the building by hanging from the ledge and dropping to the ground. Slowly, but with ever watchful eyes, she crept over to the man. When he turned away to watch a serving girl with lust upon his face, she pulled a vial from her sleeve and slipped the liquid it contained into his drink.
She was safely away when his hands began to clutch at his throat and his face turned blue. They could kill me like this. His blunt nails scratched at his throat as he tried to claw away phantom hands. I must be stronger than them. With a final gasping breath the man fell onto his food causing a great crash and calling the attention of those around. She turned to look at the ledge of the building to see once-Jaqen smiling down at her.
~*~
She pulled herself away from the memories. She had been so many people, spoken in so many tongues, and been called so many names that at times her memories reminded her of when she had been another. Sometimes she remembered when she had been a little girl with a wolf that followed at her heels, a father that told her tales, and a brother with her dark hair who she had loved. Those were the memories that caused the most heartache.
Standing, she dressed quickly to leave the tiny room that she had made her home for the past few months. She saw her reflection in the mirror as she passed it. Her fingers brushed over the scar that extended down her cheek like a crude tear track. No one paid her any attention when she moved swiftly through the streets.
‘Learn his secrets,’ they had whispered to her in the House of Black and White, ‘Kill him if you must.’
When she reached him he pulled her towards him and placed a gentle kiss on her lips. She leaned her head against his chest and heard his beating heart. She was still unsure if it was love or loyalty he felt towards her. Yet, he continued to wear Jaqen’s face when she was with him, he occupied her bed night after night, and held her close when she woke fumbling from the wolf dreams. Was it his love or loyalty towards her that made him keep her secret - that she would not, could not, and had no desire to forget the girl that she had once been?
She did not know and she did not care. She would kill her once-Jaqen because they asked it of her. She would kill her once-Jaqen before he killed her.