The slight noise from the foot of the bed drew my attention as I crept silently across the wooden floor. My eyes locked upon the source of the noise, the merchant's fat little poodle had awakened. I had not spent four hours clinging to a beam in the ceiling, waiting for the merchant and his wife to fall into a deep slumber, only to have a dumb dog ruin this job. It raised its head, nose twitching as it caught my scent, and turned a quizical eye in my direction. I could not afford to have it bark out a warning...Bad luck for the dog. My hand lashed out like a striking snake, fingers encircling the little poodle's throat, pulling the struggling form to me. Using my body to muffle the noise, I wrenched its head up and around, snapping its neck. Noiselessly, I lowered the still body to the floor. It was time for the real job.

I froze as the merchant stirred in his sleep. Maybe he had heard something. My body tensed in anticipation, hand moving slowly to the hilt of my dagger. Groggily, he swung his legs around and blindly shuffled his feet looking  for his slippers. I became less than a shadow at the foot of the bed, my breathing stilled. He rose upon unsteady, sleepladen legs, and made his was towards the chamber pot in the corner. He had not heard me. I gave a quick glance towards the soon-to-be widow still slumbering in the bed. Her breathing was slow and even. She still was deeply asleep, which was good since I was only being paid for one death.

I hate giving out freebies.

More quietly than even a cat could dream of moving, I stalked my prey. My right hand moved with graceful confidence to the hilt of the dagger at my belt. It was my favorite blade, so thin and sharp that it could slice through flesh with only the slightest pressure. Three steps away, then two, then one. I could see the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. His body could sense that I was there, behind him, waiting.

"Arryn Ironhand," I whispered as quietly as a spring breeze into his ear.

He tensed, his muscles twitching beneath his night shirt. Slowly he turned towards the source of the noise. The dagger slid easily through the skin at the base of his sternum, angled sharply upwards. I continued the upward motion until I felt the point grate against bone. I could feel his failing heart beat pulsing against the blade that transfixed it, getting ever slower. His mouth fell open in a look of suprise which quickly turned into a grimace of pain. He started to try and speak, but I placed a finger against his lips silencing him. I would not have this moment marred by his babbling. I looked deeply into his eyes, seeing the pain, then the fear, then the acceptance, and finally the emotion I had been waiting for.

"Thank you for freeing me from my overbearing wife, my money hungry children, my hours of toil at my business. Thank you for freeing me from life. Thank you. Thank you," his eyes said to me in those last few moments.

In that brief second, I knew him more intimatly than his wife ever could. We shared his last bit of life together, locked together in some sick parody of an embrace. I removed the dagger from his body and lowered him to the the floor. As his last breath gurgled out, and his eyes began to glaze, I leaned over and kissed him gently on the lips, as a lover would.

"Thank you," I whispered into his ear, my voice being the last thing he ever heard.

By the time the newly made widow's screams awoke the neighbors, I was long gone, slipping through the shadows in search of my next love.

"I am the reason that people fear the darkness of night"