AN: Hey guys! This is my first Game of Thrones story, so I'd really appreciate any feedback you have! Chapters will go back and forth between the characters so if your favorites aren't featured yet hold on!

Arya

She had been watching the whores for a week—how they walked, how they sat, how they zeroed in on potential clients. She'd learned the different come hither looks they used, some based on their own particular appeal, some specialized to the man they were trying to entice. Heavens help her when she knew she would be undisturbed she'd even practiced, making eyes at her reflection as she walked past the pool in the House of Black and White and attempting to lounge suggestively on the old stone benches usually reserved for the dying.

It was not that this was her first mission for the faceless men. Far from it. In the two years she had spent here she'd done more missions for them than she could count. They had taught her to shed her own identity, and then to blend into a crowd, or fade into the night. She'd even worn the faces of other men and walked the streets as another being entirely.

Except, of course that she wasn't another man. She had begun as a girl – looking even in her own identity like more of a lad than the lady she was supposed to be. But while a girl had begun the training at the House of Black and White, a woman now worked to do the bidding of the many-faced god. And while women could assume the face of a man, and for a time pass through this world displaying his visage, no man, Faceless or otherwise, would be capable of donning this particular disguise.

She shifted uncomfortably, internally cursing the creator of the corset and hoping that however he had died had been painful and prolonged. She glanced down at her new (and perpetually infuriating) breasts hoping to god that it was the angle that made it seem as if they were spilling completely out of her bodice. For someone who'd spent the last two years learning to control every aspect of her body this recent trick of puberty's felt like a personal betrayal. It also made No One's mind stray towards a past that was no longer hers, towards a girl's mother, sister, and aunt, all of whom had been renowned for their feminine charm. A girl had thought once that she would be spared from the burden of worldly beauty, that she would forever be "Arya Underfoot" scrawny, ruddy faced, and androgynous, and utterly without note in the minds of men. But No One should not think of such things, because they were the thoughts of a girl, and they had no place in No One's mind. She was No One in the body of a well formed woman, and she would take the face of the lovers of men where other Faceless Men could not.

She leaned back, arching her back as she'd seen the others do in the process, and saw the man turn and come towards her. She resists the urge to brush the silvery blond curl that fell in front of her face away and instead gave the man her best attempt at a look of lustful anticipation. Ridiculous. Prostitute or not who could lust after a sixty year old obese slaver from Mereen? No One could, because the kind-faced man had told her to. Focus.

He leered at her, a mixture of hunger and fury on his blotchy face. Then he looked over his shoulder, to where Jaqen stood tending bar wearing the face of a middle-aged half-Darthraki by-blow. "This one. She's a bit to busty to pass for the real kaleesi bitch, but I'm not fussy."

With that he yanked No One up by her silvery grey locks and pressed her against his sweaty fleshy body. "Come with me you dragon-fucking bitch. I'm going to show you how to serve the Sons of the Harpy as you should, on your knees begging for mercy."

No one relaxed her jaw, working against a girl's instincts to clench her jaw and stare back defiantly into the face of this stinking vile man. Instead she adopted what she hoped was a submissive-yet sultry expression and allowed herself to be pushed down a dingy corridor, further into the bowls of the brothel. The man passed by a number of open rooms, stopping at last in front of a door that was different from the rest, painted a glossy black. He shoved it open, revealing a dimly lit room that was different than the rooms No One had watched the whores be taken to. Her eyes widened in surprise momentarily, taking in the unusual furnishings which would look more at home in Joffery's torture chambers in King's Landing than in a Braavosi whore house. The Man noticed her surprise and smiled menacingly his eyes shining with deranged anger.

"I suppose so far posing as the Targaryen slut has worked well for you? Plenty of sell-swords and rejects from Westeros wanting to worship you like the inbred whore queen you resemble? Not tonight, my false Valeryian Whore. Tonight I will make you pay just a sliver of the recompense owed to me by that purple-eyed witch, but I imagine the price will be grueling enough to make you wish you'd never heard of Daenerys Targaryen."

Clutching her by the hair again the man dragged her into the room slamming the door behind him and shoving her painfully down onto her knees and fumbling at the brays which were shielded by his expansive paunch. Not waiting to see what indecencies he had in mind, and more than ready to kill him, orders or no, No One sprang into action, launching up and twisting behind the man before he knew what happened. In one fluid motion she leapt onto his back and pulled him into the carotid hold she'd been taught. He staggered shocked, and underneath her arm she could feel the pulse in his neck beating wildly. He dropped to his knees, one arm braced against the ground with the other arm reaching behind him, yanking at her hair in a pitiful attempt to extract her from her position locked around his neck like a vise.

Idiot. She thought. If he only fell on his back he'd have a good chance of crushing her so badly that she'd release his neck in shock. But this man was no fighter. His arm gave way and he collapsed onto the ground, his head smacking against the ground with a sickening crack.

"Valar Morghulis" she whispered, waiting to extract her arm until she was sure the pulse in his neck had stopped for good.

Once she was assured that he was actually dead she stood and made her way silently out of the brothel, walking in the opposite direction from the House of Black and White to insure she wasn't being followed. She was just about to turn back in the direction of home when the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end.

"The man thinks the girl looks remarkably like Arya of the House of Stark on this lovely evening."

She whirled around, seeing Jaqen leaning against the wall of the alley peering at her questioningly in the moonlight.

"The girl thinks the man has had too much to drink, as the girl quite clearly looks like a faux-Valeryian strumpet, not a child from Westeros."

"Tsk. Tsk. Two years in the service of the many faced god and the girl does not know that there is more to appearance than the face a man shows to the world. Does the girl think that being able to change faces is all it takes to be Faceless?"

"No." she ground out between gritted teeth.

"There it is again! The man sees Arya of the House of Stark in the set of the girl's jaw. How interesting."

"What do you want from me Jaqen? I did the assignment, and I did it well. I don't know what you from me. I don't see how this is different from any other assignment I've worked."

In a flash he was in front of her again, his face only inches from her own.

"The man thinks…" he purred his voice so low it was almost hard to make out. "The man thinks that the girl cannot play a woman without wondering what Arya of the House of Stark would do."

She glared at him, willing a flush not to rise in her cheeks. "That's absurd. I am No One, and No One could be a man, or a woman, a boy child or a girl child. No One is anyone."

He stared down at her, then swooped in and kissed her passionately, his arms winding around her waist and pressing her against him. Before she had time to react it was over and he was standing feet away from her, composed as ever, peering at her face curiously.

She fixed him with a furious stare, pulling her face into a mask of indifference as swiftly as she could. His teeth flashed white in the moonlight. Evidently, it hadn't been swift enough.

"You lie. I see you, Arya House of Stark. And if I see you, they will see you too, and you will not live on as No One but will die as a daughter of Winterfell, regardless of the face you wear when you are killed."

"I will try harder." She said straightening and trying to keep her face as neutral as possible.

"The man thinks it will not be enough. But the man is overruled. The brothers said one more successful assignment and the girl would go. The man is dead, the girl has passed."

"Go?" She peered at him curiously, "Go where?"

"For the girl's final test."

She stared at him trying not to let triumph show on her face. After two years she was finally about to become a faceless man. Still Jaqen's face – so infrequently expressive – darkened in a way that was just barely perceptible at her eagerness. She was confused, Jaqen did not fear death, for himself or for others. It must be truly gruesome if he was apprehensive…

"For the girl's final test she will return to Westeros."

The excitement in her chest built, though she felt guilty for it. No One should not be excited, No One should not care if the target was on Arya Stark's list. Still No One listened eagerly.

"The girl will go back to the North. And the girl will give the lives of Ramsay of the House of Bolton and his wife to the many-faced God. And when the girl is done she will be a Faceless Woman and will join the order in truth."