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‘Purpose creates the Self, but the Self’s purpose must be to annihilate its essence. For one who is Faceless, existence must not ‘be’, but must be derived—from the abandonment of all wants, all hatred, all feelings, all hopes. The Self then must be unfilled, so that it is not visible but it is present. The Self, the Soul, the Heart, must allow No One to exist.’


For Jaqen, it was folly.


'The First', Chapter 19; SotF



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“Please don’t go, Jaqen.”


When he didn't answer, Arya Stark wrapped her arms around him and pressed her soft cheeks against his back. “Please don’t go. I…I will not ask you for anything more at all, I promise.”


For it may be, that Jaqen has other women—it is not impossible, seeing how beautiful he is, should one truly ponder about it. They are faceless—but they are also men; and the practice, perhaps, is this: ‘rid yourself of the lust from your innermost, and return to serve Him of Many Faces’. Inconsistent with the Creed, still, there it was.


It may also be that he merely relented to her whims in order to alleviate himself of the guilt brought by their altercation in the combat room. To comfort her, perchance? The dragonglass candle was not merciful, after all. It may be…it may be that for him, all these were close to nothing.


Why must it matter how he sees all these? Here he is, and tomorrow, maybe I could die.


“A man will stay,” Jaqen whispered with a smile. “But please, Arya Stark, no toying with his belt.”


The God's Eye, Chapter 14; SoTF



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"Shut up, Jaqen…" she whispered. "Shut up, or I will kill you. I promise you this."


Arya carefully sat on the tub with her eyes fixed on his face, then straddled Jaqen's wholly naked body. She paid them no mind—the suds that were now in her clothes, the warm water that drenched her gown, its thin fabric clinging to her body like a second skin, vividly showing each curvature, each mold and outline of her feminine built. Her breasts, her bodily contours were now more visible than before.


Still, despite the utter futility of the act, Jaqen H'ghar had to try and restrain her primal urges—their. "A man is beginning to think that sending a girl to be trained by the Black Pearl was nothing but a horrible idea."


Arya Stark stared at him with hungry eyes and smiled. "Did a man not teach a girl before to use every learning she has acquired to serve Him of Many Faces?"


The Lorathi smirked despite the deafening pounding inside his chest. "And how is this a service to Him of Many Faces?" He felt his body tremble as the girl placed all her weight on his legs, her smallclothes coming in slight contact with the virility between them. Licking her lips, she bent her body forward and leaned her arms on both sides of the wooden tub, such that her hands were on top of his. The girl had constrained him—space and movement, and the only escape possible was plain and simple surrender to her whims.


Evil child…she brought it here from Harrenhal.


"It isn't, Jaqen…" she said, grazing her nose against the rough stubble on his cheek. "But let us not play the part of fools. We really don't care about Him of Many Faces right now, do we?" Her berry lips dampened his perfect jawline. "Turn a blind eye for once and forget about your death god. You're mine tonight."


The Tainted, Chapter 21; SotF




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Theirs was a union that was above all—for her ‘Self’ is him, and though one is the total obverse of the other, their forces unseen which the gods have gifted them do not clash, but rather, complement. Two is not two, but One. And in the twofoldness, the dualism that is, and the other elements that lay within and beyond it, is a coming together that is all-good, all-powerful.


The Songs were clear.


He will be Shield to her Sword, Shadow to her Being, Summer to her Winter.


A Mirrored Choice, Chapter 16; SotF




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I never wished to fall for darkness, yet darkness caught me as I descended.


Darkness consumed me…


In it I found light.


Even in his feeble state, he managed to pull her to the bed, settled her on top of him. Jaqen held the nape of Arya's neck, allowed her to rest her forehead against his. "Naughty hands, naughty lips," he whispered weakly, kissed her like one starving for moons. "Naughty feet…"


Arya smiled softly. "Naughty feet?"


He bit her lower lip. "Feet that wandered…" he murmured. "…and wandered…and wandered…from Rhoyne to Valyria…feet that…found me."


Implorations, Chapter 35; SoTF




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"Say it again."




"Very good, Arya."

She turned to face him a little so she could kiss him. Their lips made sweet contact, and that should be enough for such a time as this, yet Arya did not wish to let his lips part from hers.

"It's the first time I've heard of that word," Arya whispered against Jaqen's mouth. "What does it mean? 'You're sexy?'" she heaved a contented sigh upon feeling the Lorathi's lips gently caressing her face. "Or…'I want you', perhaps?"

"None of those."

"Then, what?"

"It lacks a precise version in the Common Tongue," Jaqen explained. "The closest rewording that I could think of is I…belong to you."

"You said it's the most powerful word in Valyrian," Arya teased him. "Belongingness is too ordinary a concept. Of course, we belong to each other, Jaqen. Is there a more powerful word than jorrāelagon—love?"

The Lorathi smiled. "Which part of you loves, Arya?"

"The heart."

"Well then," the Lorathi inhaled the scent of her chestnut hair. "If jorrāelagon—love—is to the heart; then udrāzmalon is to thousands of it. Tell me how so, you're a witty girl."

She bit her lip and swallowed the painful lump that had formed in her throat. Somehow, she understood.

"It's because…the love is too much, that a single heart cannot contain it."

"And that love…" Jaqen purred against her ears. "Is the kind that you don't have to run away from, or chase, or fall into. All you have to do in order to feel that deep love is to exist. Whenever I utter that word, I give you charge over my life. I exist only for you. No one owns me but you—not even the gods."


The Hour of the Wolf, Chapter 44; SoTF