Jaqen has arrived in Winterfell, leading a small army of The Faceless to give aid to the North. Arya knows this is because the Night King and his army are an affront to the God of Death. So some part of her always knew that somehow, some way, Jaqen...
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As I walked towards the training area of the keep, Nymeria at my side. I was looking forward to blowing off some steam. I'd gotten injured in the last battle, nothing too major, but enough to have Sam tell me I needed to rest. Which meant no training. For a week.
It had been like torture for me. I hated not getting to work up a sweat and get my blood flowing through me. I was definitely not the kind of girl to sit for hours and do nothing. Which was probably why needlepoint had never really worked for me. It was too monotonous and dull. I needed a challenge that sewing just did not provide. Which was funny to me given how I was now a full-fledged assassin, so you'd think I'd have more than enough patience to sit and stab something with a sharp object a thousand times or more. But no...apparently that kind of stabbing just didn't do it for me. What that said about me as a person, I honestly didn't know. Not that I would care much if I did.
As I walked and let out a sigh of anticipation, I felt someone bump into my shoulder. Hard. Almost sending me to the ground. I heard Nymeria growl dangerously as I looked up and scowled at the burly form of Gendry. What a fucking asshole! All because I'd refused to allow him access to my body and turned down his proposal, which I knew he was only asking of me, so that he could get into my bed.
I knew he'd done it deliberately by the small, smug smirk he threw over his shoulder as he continued to walk, not paying attention to what was in front of him. Which proved to be his second mistake, because the next thing I saw was Gendry slamming, full force, into someone else. Someone that wasn't to be trifled with. I wouldn't even go toe to toe with him in a real fight. I couldn't hide my smirk of amusement, as I noticed the man hadn't moved even a half-inch when the blacksmith's full weight went into him.
Gendry slowly looked up into the face of the person, his expression quickly falling and I saw in real time, as Gendry went from confident to cowed very bloody fast. And why wouldn't he? Because he'd bumped into none other than Jaqen. Something I couldn't help but feel Jaqen had orchestrated as soon as he'd seen Gendry knock into me on purpose.
Jaqen was standing with his arms crossed over his chest, his face expressionless as he looked down his nose at Gendry. I would say with disdain because that's what most would think to look upon Jaqen. But they didn't know him like I knew him. So I could tell, even with his eyes narrowed as he stared down the younger, shorter blacksmith, that he was angry and ready to spill blood.
"A boy has two choices..." Jaqen's deep and lilting voice spoke, in dangerous warning. "He can either turn and grovel at a woman's feet for forgiveness. Or, as a woman would say, a man could stick a boy with the pointy end. Although a man has a preference toward the latter rather than the former." He added, caressing the hilt of his Valyrian steel dagger, meaningfully.
I watched as Gendry stuttered for a moment before he summoned all of his bravado. "Arya wouldn't let you. She'd set that beast of hers on you in an instant."
I raised my brow at this. Fucking what!? What in the hells was Gendry talking about or thinking? I'd sooner set Nymeria on him rather than Jaqen. Who the hells did Gendry think he was!?
