Internal and External Clashes

Arya Stark saw red as her hated, former rival among the acolytes of the Faceless Men discarded Needle to be melted like useless junk. That metallic gift had been her last anchor to her family in the very worst days of her life, even when her original identity seemed to start fading away as she stayed longer and longer at the House of Black and White.

Her precious weapon had been the only thing she was unable to give up for the Many-Faced God as she began her training. As Arya had thought to herself when she realized she couldn't throw it to the bottom of the lagoon, "Needle was Robb and Bran and Rickon and mother and father and even Sansa. Needle was Jon Snow's smile."

And while she had had the pleasure of watching her half-brother's smile today, she will never get to see most of her family smile again now that they are dead. That was why Arya screamed in rage and rushed towards this Waif with her hidden knife in hand, fury crystal clear across her thunderous expression.

However, her enemy had obviously been expecting that because before she could connect a single blow, she grabbed a large wooden staff like the ones they used to spar that was probably kept behind the wall to her right and smashed her legs with it through her superior reach. Arya groaned in pain as she landed flat on her back, her head suddenly dizzy but her knife still clutched to her strong, left hand.

"Pathetic," Her enemy said with a scowl. "I know you were going to fall for it but still, very disappointing. I don't know what our mentor ever saw in you."

Before she could try to stab her with her own short blade, however, the Northern woman heard a sword being unsheathed and then grinned, remembering she wasn't alone this time.

"I have come a long way for my sister," Jon said from behind her, his voice cold and lethal. "And no one, not the soldiers of Braavos, nor that colossal Titan nor the Faceless assassins this city is infamous for will keep me from her. Walk away from her right now or you will have to find out the hard way that your little stick will not even slow down my Valyrian Steel blade as it cuts you open, do you hear me?"

For a moment, Waif actually paused at that slight uncertainty on her eyes. She clearly had not expected her sibling to come to her rescue when she decided to come to kill her and had not prepared accordingly as a result. But soon enough, she stood straighter on the firm cobblestone floor.

"I have no quarrel with you but she betrayed our order," The acolyte replied in a harsh tone. "The Many-Faced God demands her name."

Jon scoffed, his tone sounding skeptical, more than a little angered and...slightly amused? Arya blinked when she turned back to look at him as she rose to stand during the lull in the fighting. They hadn't seen each other in a while but the Northern woman was sure that she was definitely a hint of amusement on her brother's face.

"Then, we shall see if your Many-Faced God will get what he wants or if he will be denied," Jon replied before rushing forward with his blade raised.

Hidden in the rooftops that lead to the Blacksmithing workshop below, the temporarily elected leader of the Faceless Men that was wearing the face of Jaqen H'ghar was thinking that fate had a twisted sense of humor. Once the other acolyte had come to inform her of what Arya Stark had done, the servant had said that it was such a pity the girl once known as Arya Stark had betrayed them for the girl had many gifts. Unfortunately, stealing offerings to the Many-Faced God is a betrayal of their order and as such, he had authorized the girl, that only referred to herself as the Waif when he had first found her, to execute the girl who was clearly not no one.

He himself dared not waste time with that now that the order was trying to guard the city of Braavos against the sudden appearance of that blue dragon. However, on the way to the Titan of Braavos himself with the small group of the Faceless that he was leading, the saw the dragon star changing directions, and then it started hovering near the Happy Port as if searching for a big enough opening to land but failing to spot it. So, he changed directions with his group of assassins and ran through the rooftops in order to keep the beast in sight.

When they reached the roofs of the blacksmithing shop, however, was when he finally realized that fate was probably trying to amuse itself as he recognized the man that was fighting his acolyte.

"The resurrected man from the visions that the Many-Faced God granted me," The man once known as Jaqen H'ghar thought in dawning realization. "Given the connection of the visions, this insult to the god of **** must have become the rider of the dragon above us."

Then his eyes actually widened a little when he heard the girl shout at the acolyte to stay away from her brother while slashing her right shoulder with a knife throw.

"Definitely a divine sign of sorts," The leader of the servants muttered as he shook his head. "Too much of a coincidence otherwise."

Then he turned to the group behind him, hidden from the sight of the people below. "Prepare your tools of worship. That dragon will burst in through the building the second we injure her rider. Get ready."

They nodded simultaneously and set out to work on their grim task.

"You...little...!" The acolyte cursed as Arya made her bleed, outrage in her tone.

However, if Jon had expected the wound to slow her down, he was sorely disappointed. Reacting like a cornered beast, the young woman maneuvered her staff with such strength and intensity that the new king ended up dropping his Longclaw when she managed to hit his hands. Then, she removed the knife from her shoulder and turned to Arya, glaring at her for a moment before throwing it at her.

Jon gasped at that in the middle of rushing towards his blade but then he sighed in relief when, unexpectedly, Bellegere pushed Arya out of the way. The blade still managed to nick Arya on the side of her arm instead of hitting her directly in the chest but she would be fine.

"But she could have easily not been," Jon thought with growing anger, realizing that his sister had been mere inches from ****'s grip while under his watch.

Glaring at the enemy that made it her mission to slay them, Jon forgot about Longclaw and ran towards her, punching her square in the stomach with the giant-sized strength he had absorbed from Wun Wun.

The assassin in training had already puked blood hard before her back even hit the ground, her face an unmistakable mask of agony. But she was still conscious enough to spit at him when she approached.

"My...****...doesn't change anything," She declared with a harsh tone, in between gasps of air. "I already informed the order of your little sister's betrayal. They will never stop hunting you now. The Many...Faced...God...will have your names."

Jon stared at the woman that had tried her hardest to butcher his little sister as she delivered such dangerous news with glee, making his own expression furious. Suddenly, he felt something he doesn't normally allow himself to experience: the desire to kick an unrepentant enemy while they are down. However, just doing that physically didn't feel appropriate enough in this situation, not with her smirk of delight, probably believing that her **** God will soon be picking her up as a valued champion.

Then, in a moment of dark inspiration, he had it. And before he could even try to stop himself or consider the implications, Jon used his powers.

"I wish Arya and this woman before me would understand with perfect clarity what it is I have become," He thought.

And just like that, the dying acolyte's smirk faded away as a mask of shock and despair crossed her features. "What...? But...then...**** god...you are not...alone...or...maybe...even...real...but...no!...how...?"

She coughed out more blood, her eyes wider than he had ever seen. Then she actually started to tear up, fear finally visible in her arrogant face. "Please forgive me...God...of...****," She whispered with a small voice, that Jon knew only he had heard.

Then she closed her eyes, and her neck went stiff as her arms fell to the side.

Jon stared at her now lifeless corpse, feeling increasingly disturbed at what he had just done. But then, he sensed a hesitant hand on his shoulder. He swallowed as he remembered the requirement to make that last wish work and turned around to face his little sister, a look of abundant confusion on her wide-eyed face.

Before he could even begin to explain himself, however, a jar was thrown from the roof to the open blast furnace that was still melting what was left of Needle. Jon looked around in alarm and saw several robbed men readying weapons against them. One of them took a step forward and took a good, long look at him.

"So, you are the famous Jon Snow," He said in a neutral tone. "It is time for the Faceless Men to remind you that one cannot cheat ****...not forever."

A/N: And there you go. I know it was a shorter one than usual compared to what I have produced as of late, but again, I have been busy. Still, I hope you liked the chapter. Will try to post again as soon as I can. Until then, feel free to leave your thoughts down below.