Summary: A collection of short, prompt-fulfilling chapters that, when read together, form a short story about Jaqen and Arya. Definitely AU and OOC. Possibly M in future chapters, though it is currently K.
Please note that Arya is much older in this fic than she is in the books or the TV show.
Author: OfRosesAndRavenstags
Only a faint smell remained of him, a whiff of ginger and cloves in the air.
Arya decided by the second day of their journey that she quite liked the way he smelled. His scent wasn’t overbearing: she could only catch a whiff of him when she was close or downwind. They hadn’t yet stopped to bathe—she didn’t want to ask, didn’t really care, and didn’t know if Jaqen intended to—though he smelled no different than he did when they left. She, on the other hand, smelled of sweat and leather and horse.
It was only when the sun was hanging low on the horizon that Jaqen finally drew his steed to the side, letting Arya pull up beside him. A deer took off in the forest in front of them, and a single raven hawked in their direction. The air was warm, though they both knew it would be a chilly night.
“Would a lovely girl like to make camp tonight?” Jaqen asked, his red hair swaying in the light breeze.
Arya nodded, her ass sore from the days of non-stop riding. “Can we make a fire?”
He snook his head quickly. “A man thinks that such a blaze would draw too much unwanted attention. It is best to go without.”
They both slid off their mounts, and Arya tied both the horses to a nearby tree. Jaqen left to fetch some water from a nearby stream, leaving Arya to dig the blankets and food out of their saddlebags. As the sun dipped fully beneath the skyline, the air began to get colder. Arya was nearly positive that it was going to get below freezing during the night.
Jaqen returned eventually, two leather containers in hand. “A man found a hot spring not a mile away,” he stated, setting himself down on the dirt beside Arya. “A girl can bathe, if she wishes, in the morning.”
Arya felt like she was becoming her sister when she felt excitement at the sounds of taking a hot bath, but she couldn’t help it. She hadn’t taken a hot bath in over a year—all that she had been able to find was cold brook water which was barely worth all the freezing.
It was getting late, the sun had fallen and the moon was already high in the sky. “I’m going to sleep,” Arya stated eventually, taking the hem of a blanket in hand and moving herself to lay on the forest floor.
Jaqen nodded, his eyes golden in the moonlight and his face beautiful. He stood up from his crouch, his muscles flexing in the dimming lights. He turned on his heel and began to walk into the darkness.
“Where are you going?” Arya asked, failing to fully mask the concern in her voice. Please don’t abandon me, she thought. Please, Jaqen. Please, please—
He chuckled, pausing to throw her a lopsided grin over his shoulder. “A man will take watch.”
“Oh.” She felt stupid for worrying. “Thanks.”
The redheaded man disappeared into the dark, without sound. Arya settled down onto the frozen ground, taking another blanket and wrapping it around her petite form. She thought for a bit, laying there on the cold ground, first about her family, though her thoughts quickly drifted to the ever-mysterious man whom she was traveling with.
She fell asleep wondering about his past, questioning why he had been taken prisoner to the night watch. She thought of that odd patch of silver in his hair, and wondered how it had gotten there. She saw those golden eyes—almost Lannister eyes, though so much more powerful, yet less despotic. His jaw, his cheeks, his lean frame…
Faintly, Arya could feel fingernails lightly dragging up her forearms, tickling her enough to rouse her from sleep. Her eyes snapped open, revealing a black pupil surrounded by millions of tiny specks of gold and green and blue. She gasped, reeling.
Jaqen raised an eyebrow casually, but made no comment about her surprise. “A man thinks it would be best if him and a girl were to get going,” he stated, standing.
A blush spread beneath her pale skin. “Yes, of course. Are we stopping at the hot spring?”
Jaqen nodded, folding blankets and packing their few collective belongings back into their bags. He took two modest rolls out of the food supply and untied the horses. “It will take fifteen minutes on horseback to get to the spring.” He tossed Arya some bread and handed her the white mare she had ridden yesterday.
She yawned, carefully placing the food between her teeth as she climbed into the saddle. “Thank you,” she mumbled, her words garbled.
They rode steadily on a small deer trail through the woods. Jaqen gracefully ducked branches and weaved his horse around the sticks, the rising sun gleaming off his hair. Occasionally, Arya would lose track of him in the thicket—even his horse was eerily quiet—but he would always return to her.
After what felt like much longer than a quarter of hour, they entered a small clearing that had filled with steam. Sunlight filtered through tall pines, glinting off the partially hidden water. Arya let the steam flow through her nostrils, giving her an odd, clean feeling.
Jaqen slid off his horse, lazing tying the reins to a nearby tree. Without so much as looking at Arya, he began to stride towards the pool of water, his fingers deftly moving at the laces of his top. The garment was off his shoulders in seconds, leaving his tan, muscular shoulders exposed. His frame was quickly swallowed up by the steam, nothing but a silhouette to be seen.
Arya stared at where he had disappeared for a moment, unsure of what she should do. Almost robotically, she threw a leg over the side of her steed, letting her feet slip from the stirrups and fall to the forest floor quietly. Her feet carried her towards the heart of the steam and, eventually, she spotted Jaqen once again.
His clothes were in a pile next to the water, and his lithe frame was soaking in the heated spring. Tan, scarred shoulders gracefully emerged from the pool, his torso hidden. His head was thrown back, his eyes closed in obvious pleasure. His red hair hung heavily, dark with saturation.
“It is not polite for a lovely girl to stare,” he stated after a moment, not bothering to open his eyes.
Arya shook her head as if snapping out of a trance. “I wasn’t staring.”
“Hurry up,” she barked. “I want to bathe, too.”
“A girl is welcome to join a man, if she is unwilling to wait.”
Arya bit the inside of her cheek. She was tempted to join him. “That would be improper.”
His eyes opened fractionally, looking her over lazily. “Fine, then. A girl can wait her turn.”
She huffed. “Just be quick.”
His hand moved suddenly, splashing hot water at her, and Arya had to leap back to keep from getting drenched…
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