hey all, the monthly update:)

this one is mostly a filler, but i wanted to close the faceless men issue, so Arya can move on. or not...

a big thank you for all those who take the time to review, and especially to those who are commenting on grammer and spelling errors. it's very important to me!

since English is not my native language, i have a friend who was supposed to go over this but apparently isn't doing such a good job... so i guiess he fired! :)

anyway, i hope you enjoy!

A Faceless man

He was sitting in the main hall with his fellow soldiers. They were talking about northern whores and how fucking them was so much better than fucking southern whores.

"They have wildling blood running in their veins, I tell you. I swear last night the wench growled at me like a bear when I bit her tits!" said Jerrod, one of the younger soldiers.

"Most likely you were fucking a bear, that thing that you went with last night was hairier than a mammoth's ass!" Shouted Lamar, slapping the ass of the chubby black haired girl who served their drinks.

He laughed with the rest of them, raising his mug of ale in a toast for northern cunts. He scratched his chin, this face, although quite a good choice, was not sitting well on him. He had to finish the job quickly before someone will notice. He already knew that she noticed it. of course she did, he felt a smirk appearing on his fake face, she was always so clever, too smart for her own good. And now he will have to distract her, she can't get in his way.

So he poisoned the sick old Griffin and quickened his death. She wouldn't want him to die before her precious husband came to say goodbye. He snorted at that thought. Who would have believed that her, the golden student of the house of black and white, will run away from her duty for love and marry a Westerosi Prince. He remembered the few conversations that he had with her, how she spat in contempt every time she heard of a lord or a prince or a magister, saying that men invented titles and curtseys and honors so they can look down on other men that weren't so lucky to be born at the right place and time, but all men were equal before the god of death. She used to look down on married women and say that they are weak and useless, whores without freedom. And he looked up to her, and adored her.

He risked a quick glance at her, sitting at her husband's right side, looking lovingly at his grief stricken face, holding his hand under the table. He grunted to himself and his fake face wrinkled in contempt. How could she do it, she was so talented, the best there was. Even the head of their order confessed it. She was glorious, excelled in anything that they taught her. always thirsty for knowledge, with no inhibitions.

She put her real face back. He thought that she hated this face, the only times she reverted back to this face was during meditation. He remembered their time meditating together, how he sneaked glances at her, appreciating the way her body was changing before his very eyes. He remembered lusting over her and he remembered the punishment the head of the order gave him for such foolish thoughts. They said that she was no one, and that she can't be attached to anyone, she belonged to the many faced god. They thought that they control her and her actions, that they will tell her where to go and when to kill. But they were wrong.

Nobody told Arya Stark what to do.

And so they had lost her.

And so he had come here to finish the job.

He hid himself back in the shadow of one of the soldiers. They were still making crude jokes about northern folk, gaining resentful stares from the serving girls. Idiots, there'll be spit all over their food and drinks, maybe something even worse. When they started to sing bawdy songs he decided that he had had enough and went to do his usual routine of checking the castle. He needed to find the room of his target; he needed to know all of the passages and hidden staircases. He already got most of the information for serving girls that he seduced and from following lord Manderly. But that wasn't enough. He didn't know the target's habits and schedule. He needed to prepare himself. This task was dangerous, and it was hard and complicated.

It was personal.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

The snow seemed to stop and the army was starting to regroup. He went to the courtyard to check on their progress where he spotted one of his fellow soldiers.

"When are we moving out of this shit hole?" he asked his friend, using a perfect southern westerosi accent.

The man looked tired but content, "they say in a day or two. Fine by me, I say. I think that if we stay here a day longer that crazy Stark boy-lord will feed us to his wolf." He laughed his fake laugh at the soldier and clapped him on his back. He turned to leave but the soldier grabbed his arm.

"I swear that dragon just keeps staring at me, I think it is going to eat me, and earlier that huge she wolf stared at me too. What do I look like? A fucking deer?! Man, we have to get out of this place. Even the women are animals. Sam told me that one wench tried to bite his ear off! And they say that lady Arya turns into a wolf at night and howl at the moon with her crazy brother!" the soldier turned back to look at the dragon and waved his hands, "look away, foul beast, I'm not a fucking chicken for you to eat!"

He turned his eyes to the dragon and was amazed to see that the great beast was not looking at his imbecile friend, but his eyes were staring straight at him, borrowing into his soul. He felt Goosebumps on his arms and shuddered.

He turned his gaze away from the beast and looked at the sky, despite the good weather they were having this morning it seems as if a storm was heading this way, it will hit tonight and so should he. Casting one final glance at the beast he turned away and headed back to the castle, he should plan his escape route for after he'd finish the job. He will have to be quick about it. If he's lucky nobody would even notice he's gone. He praised himself for his choice of a face, it was so plain that it took a whole month for his fellow soldiers to even remember that he was one of their own, most of them didn't even know his name.

He was so lost in thought that he didn't hear the footsteps behind him. He scanned the corridor ahead of him when suddenly he was roughly pushed to an abandoned room, he fell on his face on the hard stone floor, and he heard the door quietly close behind him. He momentarily closed his eyes to use his other senses. He smelled his attacker, a faint smell of mud and pines and a hint of lavender, so it was a northern. He heard his attacker breathe slowly in a calm manor, so the attack was planned and the attacker was following him only for a short while, probably hiding in one of the hidden corridors. He opened his eyes and searched for his attacker's shadow, she was tall and slender. He should have recognized the scent.

He got up slowly, dusting his clothes, and turned to her, faking a confused look. "What in the seven hells… oh, my lady!" he bowed deeply, hiding his small smile. A suspicious look graced her long face as she bit her lower lip; her hands were on her hips. She was wearing riding gear, brown leather breeches and a loose tunic and high leather boots. She looked as wild as he remembered her from the first day they met.

He could almost feel her rolling her eyes in annoyance. "Cut the crap, brother. I want you out of here. This is your one and only warning".

He raised his head slightly; an appalled look on his face, his arms raised in surrender, "my lady, if I had done anything to offend you or your house…"

She punched his face and he could feel his fake face shift a little, he would have to take care of that later. He gave her a quick glance while adjusting his jaw and mumbling "That was unnecessary".

She folded her arms across her chest and gave him a smug smile, "your chin is a little off to the left". She always did excelle in calling off his disguises. He smiled back at her and put two fingers to his forehead, "Valar Morghulis, Lady stark".

She winced at the sound of the title like he knew she will, her face turned serious, "so… which one are you?"

He smiled, shaking his head. She knew that he was not allowed to reveal his identity, but he decided to give her a hint, "an old friend, one might say". She opened her mouth to ask another question but his cut her short, "You know I am not allowed to divulge my target's identity, my lady. It's not like you to ask stupid questions".

She furrowed her brow and bit her lip, trying to figure out what to do next. He couldn't help but smile, seeing her old habits back with her old name. He wondered again why she took back her old identity. She obviously didn't like being treated like a lady, and it seems as if she was bored all the time. He knew that the faceless men wanted her back in their ranks, but they would never force one to serve, one should need to willingly sacrifice their lives to the cause, can he persuade her to do so?

"I can reveal that it is a male. And that you, if you were still one of ours, could never be sent to this mission." He believed that she is smart enough to realize that it means that she knew the man. She gave him a frustrated stare and kicked the wall beside her. The smart thing for her to do was to kill him right now and she knew it, he followed her hand as it went to her sword. He quickly pulled out his poisoned knife and looked at it thoughtfully, seemingly unaware of her drawn sword.

"I am willing to make a trade, though", his fake dark eyes darted to meet her grey ones, "a life for a life", and he pointed the knife in her direction. Her gaze was unwavering but his skilled eyes managed to catch a glimpse of doubt passing through them.

"The target can be Robbet Glover's annoying squire for all I know", she said, starting to lower her sword.

He nodded thoughtfully, "it can, indeed". He didn't think she'll take on his offer, she was too proud and she probably thought that she had figured it all out and that she can take care of this herself. He just needed time to plan his escape. She was dangerous and not to be underestimated. He should change his face again and attack tonight and be done with it. He will escape Westeroes before the great battle in the north and take a little vacation, maybe pay a visit to the pleasure house in Lys, where he would try to forget he ever knew Arya Stark.

He had his escape planned thoroughly when she finally gave him her answer.

"No. I can't go back. I can't be No One anymore", she sounded sad and he thought he saw a flash of regret in her eyes as her hand went to briefly touch her stomach. His eyes widened for a moment when he realized the reason for her refusal. He shook his head sadly.

"It's a shame; we really miss your special skills. You were a good servant to the many faced god".

He ducked his head to escape her punch, and used his catlike agilities to roll on the floor and tackle her. She managed to cut his arm while falling and he kicked her lower back so it will take her a time to recuperate. He swiftly made it to the door and ran outside.

When he managed to get to a safe place, he sighed and shook his head sadly. A year ago he would have never got away that easily. The girl he knew would have thought 10 steps ahead of him, she would have brought the direwolf with her to ambush him and he wouldn't have left the room alive. But Arya Stark was weak, she had conscious and honor. She was not a faceless woman any more.

But he was, and he had a job to do.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Wearing his new face, he ambushed his target in a dark corner of the corridor, patient.

He always loved using creative ways to give the gift, but his encounter with Arya had made him change his plans. He would have to use poison arrows. It was so crass, it made him feel uncomfortable.

He heard footsteps approaching and the sound of his target's voice. He furrowed his brow in annoyance, he had expected his target to be alone. Now there would be witnesses. A jolt of fear ran through him as he recognized the other voice as Arya's.

He couldn't help but smile proudly, she had figured it out after all. He sighed silently as he pulled his blowing tube and the poisoned arrow and aimed at his target. He sent it flying and expected the man to fall instantly. He blinked unbelievably as his target just stood there and scratched his neck where the arrow had struck. He wore something made of metal around his neck that had blocked the arrow. Arya's searching eyes zoomed on him and he knew that he was dead.

He tried to run but she was quicker. She tackled him and pinned him to the floor, her knife at his throat. He closed his eyes, welcoming death.

But it never came.

He opened one eye and saw her grey eyes blazing at him.

"Leave. Leave now and never bother us again. Abandon this mission." She growled in fury.

"Arya, Are you out of your mind?! He tried to kill me!" he heard his target shout hysterically behind her. Her eyes remained fixed on his.

"Accept my offer, old friend. Please", her eyes were pleading. She was distracted by the man shouting behind her and he took advantage and got himself free from her grip, tossing her aside. He drew his poisoned knife and tried to throw it in his target's direction, but she kicked him hard and he fell on the stone floor. His ankle was twisted in an impossible angle and he looked up at her in defeat.

Her eyes were flooded in unshed tears as she lifted her little sword. It was the same sword she had as a child, he noticed, and he wondered when did she get it back.

"lovely girl," he whispered and watched as a tear fell down her cheek, "a man had to complete the mission that a girl has failed to. What will it do to the order's reputation if two assassins fail to give the gift to one Dragon Prince?" he sent his most hating stare towards the pale prince behind her, the man who stole his lovely girl from him. He always thought that if she would leave for a man, it would have been for that boy with the bull helmet.

He let his face change to the face she once knew, his eyes went pale and his hair changed to half red half white. This was his last chance; he hoped that the old sentiments would save him.

She gave him a small sad smile, "a girl has more important things to protect other than the Order's reputation", he looked at her belly and nodded, he understood.

"Valar morghulis" she said, raising her sword.

"Valar Dohaeris." He answered quietly and closed his own eyes as he heard the sword cut the air before it hit him.