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The House of Black and White

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If his family could see him now, Percy didn’t know what they would think.

He is blind at the moment, thanks to the Faceless Men. There are no glasses in Essos, unfortunately for him. He’s been training; he has to become better. The Many-Faced God needed its assassins, and he would become one. It is his only option to survive in this God-forsaken world.

The girl knocks him down again, and Percy spits out blood. He gets back up. He has to become better; he just has to. The girl tries to strike him, but Percy blocks it this time. “Better,” the girl says. It’s the first she’s spoken since they began training this morning. Percy keeps his face neutral and thrusts his spear at her. A girl dodges. He prepares himself for another blow, but it doesn’t come.

Percy hears breathing from behind him: it’s the Owl. “A boy is getting better.” He comes closer to Percy. Percy knows this because he can hear the Owl’s footsteps. They’re light, almost indetectable, but Percy has been training a month now blind. He’s getting better.


It’s been a few more weeks since he’s heard from the Owl. He’s been training with a girl daily and doing chores around the House of Black and White. The days are becoming tougher, and the tasks are getting harder.

It’s night now. He’s in his bottom bunk, but sleep won’t come to him. He can’t help but think of his Oliver, of his family. He hasn’t seen his family since he graduated Hogwarts, but he lives with Oliver. Or at least, he did. Percy wonders if Oliver has started dating again, or if he is still searching for him.

He feels tears well up in his eyes, but Percy blinks them away. He’s trying to become no one now, and these memories will only get in his way going forward.
Percy isn’t sure who he is praying to, but he prays Oliver is able to move on if he hasn’t already.

He closes his eyes, but sleep never comes.


Morning doesn’t come fast enough in Percy’s opinion. He’s ready to begin training, but a girl never comes. Instead, the Owl does. If Percy could see, he would be looking at the wall of faces that the Faceless Men have collected.

“A boy needs to drink this.” the Owl says from behind him. It doesn’t startle Percy. He grabs the vile from the Owl and swallows it in one gulp. Percy blinks repeatedly, and slowly, he begins to see again. “What?” he stutters, confused.

“A boy has regained his sight,” the Owl says. “A boy has a mission to complete by nightfall.”

Percy, still blinking, nods. The room around him is dark, only illuminated by candles. He is ready.