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The Faceless Men were born in the mines of Old Valyria.
Those slaves dug while they lived. Did they think simple death would bring release?
No.
When they died, not even their corpses were spared.
Because the Ancient Valyrian Empire commanded three strange powers.
Blood Magic. Necromancy. And prophecy.
The slaves who took their own lives were transformed through Necromancy into mindless, controlled undead , and they went on repeating the same work they had done in life, day after day, without end.
Here, slaves from a hundred different lands prayed to a hundred different gods in endless agony. But they all begged for the same thing.
Release.
They had had enough of the Dragonlords' rule. They wanted true release. The kind where both body and soul were utterly destroyed.
The first Faceless Man understood.
Every god has its own instruments in the world, carrying out its will. And those hundreds of gods , they were all the same god, wearing hundreds of different faces.
That is the origin of the Many-Faced God.
So this first Faceless Man, acting for the very first time as the Many-Faced God's instrument, "liberated" the slave in the greatest agony. He smashed the man's skull with a pickaxe and threw the corpse into a pool of magma.
That slave was finally free.
This is the origin of the Gift.
Then a second Faceless Man joined the resistance.
Then a third.
A fourth.
Braavos was a city-state built by refugees who had fled Valyrian enslavement. The Faceless Men, part of that slave resistance, followed the northerners there and flourished.
The House of Black and White and Braavos have been inseparable since the city's founding , two pillars of the same foundation. Together with forces like the Iron Bank, they form the upper tier of Braavosi power.
The Iron Bank needs the House of Black and White's blades to collect its debts. The House of Black and White needs the Iron Bank's gold to sustain itself. Neither can do without the other.
Faced with a behemoth like that, Lynn , on the brink of war , had neither the time nor the bandwidth to deal with them.
He just hoped they'd keep their heads down and stay out of his way.
Otherwise, once he had a free hand, he wouldn't mind riding a dragon over to give them something to do. Better than letting them sit around with nothing better to do.
Death.
For a Faceless Man, that word should be the most intimate in existence. They are servants of death, givers of the Gift. They see death as release , the ultimate peace.
But at this moment, hearing that word from Lynn's mouth, Jaqen felt its weight for the very first time.
What a joke. Giving someone else release and receiving it yourself are two entirely different things.
That is true nothingness. The end where both spirit and form are extinguished.
When it's your own turn to face death , and you're not even suffering , pretending you aren't afraid would be a lie.
Jaqen had no doubt that the man in front of him could do it easily.
Every secret. Every disguise. Every skill. All of it had become a transparent joke before Lynn.
By the Many-Faced God.
What kind of monster is this?
The muscles in Jaqen's face , so ordinary it slipped from memory the moment you looked away , twitched beyond his control. The composure he had always prided himself on, that faint stillness where he considered himself nothing, had completely collapsed.
The poison needle in his sleeve felt heavier than Casterly Rock.
He knew. The slightest movement, and Lynn would send him to meet the Many-Faced God personally.
"Why?"
After a long silence, Jaqen finally squeezed three words through his teeth.
"You hate dragons. You hate those who ride them." Lynn's voice was level. "You want to learn their weaknesses, then carry that knowledge back to the House of Black and White — for your ridiculous holy war. Am I wrong?"
Jaqen's body jolted.
"You!"
"Dragons are symbols of tyranny! They are tools of enslavement!"
The fire finally ignited in Jaqen's eyes , the fury and fanaticism of a man whose faith has been touched.
"The forty Dragonlord families of Old Valyria turned half the world into their mines and slave camps with dragonfire!"
"They drank and feasted in the skies above."
"And our ancestors , in sunless depths , were flayed by whips, swallowed by magma, wailing in endless agony!"
His voice climbed higher and higher, as if he had been dragged back to that hell where the Many-Faced God was born.
"The first Faceless Man heard their prayers!"
"He gave the Gift to those most suffering brethren , and swore to give that same Gift to the Dragonlords sitting high above them!"
"What we despise is not the dragon as a creature, nor supernatural power itself. What we despise is the absolute power they represent. The sin that turns mortals into tyrants. Anyone who masters that kind of power will eventually be consumed by it and become a new tyrant!"
"We are only trying to stop history from repeating itself!"
Jaqen stared at Lynn, unblinking.
These words were his last line of defense. The entire reason he had come to Westeros himself.
Lynn listened quietly to the end.
"Finished?"
Jaqen blinked.
"Everything you said is correct." Lynn nodded. "The Dragonlords of Old Valyria were a pack of bastards. I agree with that completely , no reservations."
"But don't mistake me for flattering you. With the capabilities of your House of Black and White, this shouldn't be hard to verify."
"Not long ago, I freed every slave in Astapor. I despise this brutal system more than anyone alive."
The agreement was so unexpected that every argument Jaqen had prepared died in his throat.
He had to admit , if not for that act, he wouldn't have said this much to Lynn at all. He had come here to take the measure of the man, to study him, and then decide whether to grant Lynn the Gift. If he'd already made up his mind, Lynn would have been dead long before this conversation.
"But," Lynn said.
His tone shifted.
"Have you ever considered — what do those Dragonlords have to do with me?"
"My name is Lynn. I come from a place farther than Asshai. I am not a Targaryen. I am not a descendant of any of those forty dragon families of Old Valyria. I am an ordinary person who came into possession of a dragon by accident."
"Ordinary?"
Jaqen almost laughed.
"An ordinary person can hatch a dragon egg out of nothing?"
"An ordinary person can see through every one of my secrets?"
"An ordinary person can craft skin masks that the House of Black and White itself cannot hope to match?"
"You are clearly a monster more terrifying than any Dragonlord!"
"Monster?" Lynn smiled. "Perhaps."
"But in my view, what is truly terrifying is not power itself. It's the heart of the person wielding it."
Lynn took one step forward. That invisible pressure settled over Jaqen like a physical weight, and for a moment he couldn't breathe.
"A sword in a knight's hand can protect the innocent. A sword in a bandit's hand can slaughter women and children who never wronged anyone. Would you destroy every sword in the world because a bandit once killed someone?"
"A dragon is no different. It is simply a form of power , a sharper sword. In the hands of a Dragonlord, it is a tool of enslavement."
Lynn paused. His gaze seemed to pass straight through the roof of this shabby room, reaching toward something far beyond , toward Slaver's Bay.
"But in my hands, it will be the iron plow that ends the age of chaos and brings order."
Jaqen stood completely still.
"You... what do you want to do?"
"What do I want to do?"
Lynn brought his gaze back to Jaqen's face.
"I want fewer people in this world who need your Gift."
"I want farmers' fields to grow grain — not to be trampled under nobles' horses."
"I want children to sit by the fire and listen to bards sing, instead of becoming orphans in someone else's war."
"I want winters in Westeros to be less brutal. I want every castle and every village to have enough food and firewood to survive them."
Lynn's voice carried no fire, no theatrics. And yet each quiet word landed like a blow against Jaqen's chest.
"Your Many-Faced God was born from despair. You use death to end suffering. I want to use life to eradicate despair."
"Tell me, Jaqen — who is right? How different are our goals, really?"
Jaqen opened his mouth.
Nothing came out.
Lynn's actions in Essos had not gone unnoticed by the House of Black and White. That was precisely why, when Meereen had tried to hire them to kill Lynn, they had ultimately refused the contract. Jaqen had come here in person to make contact, to study the dragon, to take the full measure of the situation before deciding whether to move at all. That alone was unprecedented for the House of Black and White.
And now Lynn's words had overturned the creed Jaqen had lived by for half his life.
The doctrine of the House of Black and White is termination. They move through the world like silent scavengers, erasing pain and sin one life at a time, until everything returns to nothingness.
But this man , this man wanted to build something new on the ruins.
He wanted to create.
What an arrogant ideal. What a stunning one.
Jaqen's heart was in turmoil.
He thought of the first Faceless Man's original purpose. Not to kill , but to liberate souls drowning in agony. If there were truly no more suffering in this world, what meaning would the Many-Faced God's existence hold? People would need no faith at all. They would believe only in themselves. Every person would hold the power to shape their own fate.
Lynn glanced toward the door and smiled.
"My homeland had a scholar who once said something. The language is different from anything spoken here, but I can translate it roughly."
"When the Great Way prevails, the world belongs to all. The virtuous and capable are chosen to lead. Sincerity is honored, and harmony is cultivated."
"People do not treat only their own parents as parents, nor only their own children as children. The aged are given a proper end. The able-bodied are put to use. The young are given room to grow."
"Scheming is suppressed and does not arise. Thieves and troublemakers do not act. Outer doors need not be locked. This is called the Great Unity."
"I have kept those words with me all my life. And I am willing to fight for them."
"You..."
Jaqen's voice broke with something that couldn't quite decide whether it was disbelief or awe.
The words were clumsy in translation, the phrasing awkward , but the beauty inside them struck him immediately. This was not just better than the doctrine of the House of Black and White. It wasn't even a fair comparison.
That was a truly ideal society.
And the House of Black and White was no longer what it had once been. Some among the higher-ups now took contracts for gold alone, without regard for right or wrong , bestowing the Gift on targets who had no business receiving it. Just as Lynn said, they had been losing themselves, slowly consumed by the very power they wielded.
Lynn watched the disbelief move across Jaqen's face and smiled with quiet satisfaction.
He understood now. The wisdom of his ancestors was simply on a different level from anything this world had ever produced. The people here could think for a lifetime and never arrive at ideas this profound.
He had talked Arya into following him once. Now he had Jaqen.
Good.
Lynn picked up the Stannis skin mask and tossed it onto the floor in front of Jaqen.
"Go. Tell a good story."
"One that makes all of Westeros believe Robert Baratheon died by his own brother's hand."
"Changing the world is never just talk. It requires action. So let it start here, Jaqen."
Jaqen picked up the mask.
It was warm and smooth against his fingers. It felt like it weighed a thousand pounds.
The masks of the Faceless Men come from those who offered their lives to the Many-Faced God. When a Faceless Man puts one on, they inherit the memories of the dead.
Jaqen placed the mask against his face. The moment he felt it take hold , the same effect as anything produced by the House of Black and White , the shock he'd been suppressing finally broke the surface.
This was not an ordinary mask.
This was the supreme inheritance of the Faceless Men.
He stared at Lynn, and a thought surfaced , bold enough to feel almost dangerous.
Could it be... he...
The thought dissolved what remained of his hostility without a trace.
"All my life," Jaqen said, "I have hunted Valyrian dragon eggs, Necromancy, and Blood Magic , to find them and destroy them."
"If you are right... I would not mind persuading the House of Black and White to hand those things over to you. In your hands, they might become something entirely different."
He paused.
"Consider it a contribution — toward that Great Unity you spoke of."
Jaqen held Lynn's gaze for one long moment.
Then his figure dissolved like a drop of water into the sea, and the shadows outside the door swallowed him whole without a sound.
"Necromancy. Blood Magic." Lynn smiled to himself. "Interesting."
He turned to face the empty room.
"Alright, Lord Varys. Come out. How much longer are you planning to eavesdrop?"
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