You had scaled the almost impenetrable walls of the Great pyramid, a handsome satchel of coins hung over Daenerys' head which, hopefully at your razors edge would be soon separated from her body. Measly guards and swordsmen had no chance when faced with your prowess, your contract stated to not harm anybody but the so-called queen, not to save lives but to make the message so much more powerful. An arsenal of tips and tricks assisted you, the shadows cradled you, holding you deep into the corners of rooms and alleyways: your allegiance sat with The Sons of the Harpy but no amount of gold could make you don the Harpies visage, instead a simple black bandana sat loosely over your nose and mouth.

Flames licked the air in her bathing room, shards of light flickered around the room but you did not hide. Daenerys lay with her head resting over the plain copper bath, her neck stretched as she took in the bountiful and exotic aromas that swirled and danced through the warm air. You crept forward, unsheathing your Hawksbill blade with your eyes locked on her pale skin.

"Stop." She raised her bare fingers and pushed herself out from the herb infused water, stepping out from the basin and onto a cloth that lay on the floor. "I'm impressed, normally an assassination attempt elicits at least a slight rabble. Tell me, who sent you?" You could not help but stand there in silence, the grip on the hard wood handle loosened until the weapon swayed gently in your hand. "Oh, come on." She pointed towards a robe that sat tightly folded on a table just behind you, your hands brushed as you passed it over. "If you're going to kill me you might as well tell me who signed the contract."

"The Sons of the Harpy." She did not look surprised.

"I should have known, the lack of a gaunt headpiece did throw me though for a moment though." She pointed at your blade as she threw the robe loosely over herself. "Is that all you brought?"

"This is a weapon passed down through generations. Crafted by master smiths before your people even existed."

"It's a bit small isn't it? I know you want to stab me, at least honour me and upgrade from a butter knife." Never before had a contract target made you feel so embarrassed for coming to kill them.

You left that night, your knife and clothes free from scarlet stains.

~*~

Written by Aaron.

Tumblr Request.