Galin woke slowly, blinking at the face of the man that shook him awake.  He was a particularly ugly man, with a thick, black beard still flecked with the remains of his last meal and yellowing teeth.  His breath stank of sour ale and his eyes had a malevolent glee as he woke the Northman from his slumber.  "What in the Maker's name are you on about, Osbert?  I'm damn well tired and would like some rest.  So if the hall isn't burning, leave me the hell alone!"  

The other man recoiled at Galin's annoyance and growled, a deep rumbling in his throat.  "I was jus' telling you that the lads are off to the Mermaid and if you ain't coming, you're on watch."

Galin groaned and swung his feet off the side of his bed and felt the floor rushes under his feet.  "Just give me a minute, will you?  I guess I am coming."  Osbert nodded and walked down the length of the hall's long central room and ducked out under the tanned hide that served as a door.  Still wiping the sleep from his eyes, Galin padded over to the fire that sputtered on the hall's central hearth and added another log.  As the wood sparked and spat, he sat back on his bed to pull on his boots, tucking his trews into them.  His tunic had been holding up well, but one of the seams was starting to wear to the point he would have to get it mended.  It was an annoyance but the women who lived with the men of the Company would take care of it in their washing for an extra copper or two.  He pulled it on over his head and felt the his shield amulet shift under it.  Pressing against its outline, he felt the miniature shield that was the Maker's symbol, the symbol of the Northmen's god. 

Almost as an afterthought, he wrapped his belt around his waist with its ever-present fighting knife.  The dagger, a thick, broad bladed weapon with a single edge, hung horizontally on his belt, making it faster to draw in the press of wood, steel, and flesh that is a battle of shield walls.  Unlike most men in the South, he preferred the heavy blade with its sloping back and acute point to longer swords.  When a man's spear was lost or shattered and shields slammed against each other, the dagger could lunge under the rim of an opponent's shield while a longer blade would hammer against it.  He half drew the blade, watching the firelight dance over the swirling patterns hammered into the metal.  It had belonged to the man he killed in the North, an expensive piece befitting a close relative of a chief, and Galin carried it always as a trophy and a reminder.

Pulling his cloak off a peg by the hall's leather door, he tied it around his shoulders and headed off to catch the throng of men heading to the tavern.  He had still not grown accustomed to the strangely bitter ales, preferring the sweetly malted ones of the North, but he was not about to complain.  It was good to be in the company of warriors again, even if he had to swear his oath to the captain.  For a year and a day, he was the captain's man in peace and war, and the idea rankled.  Galin did not want to serve any man, not again, not after the slaughter in their service that he witnessed in the Valley.  But killing the chief's nephew could not be undone and the Maker had cast him to the four winds again for his amusement.  Spitting into the side of the street, a charm against the malevolent evil of the chief, Galin jogged the last few steps to the tavern to join the press of Northmen who made their way into the inn with the same singleminded purpose that made them deadly killers in the shield wall.

"First round is on me, lads," the captain called out, slamming coin down on one of the tables.  It was right that he provide, Galin thought, as a leader was expected to.  He only hoped that it would be more than guard duty in the camp that the captain would offer before long.  A raid, a fight, some way to make some coin and win a reputation, anything would be better than sharpening spears against an enemy that never came.  "Thank you, lord," he said as the captain passed him a drinking horn, and the captain inclined his head in response.  They all raised their horns, looking from one man to the next.  "To the Valley!"

The toast was more a roar as the men bellowed out the fight that had snatched so many of their brothers to the Maker's hall, and then they drank, sloshing out some ale as a remembrance of those who were no longer with them.  Galin leaned back, drinking quickly, and, setting aside his half empty horn, he smiled and clapped Osbert on the back.  What did an oath matter when he was among brothers again?  "Osbert, you ugly bastard, if you ever wake me again, I'll slit you from crotch to gullet and leave you for the wolves.  But tonight, I'm glad you did."  The ugly old warrior laughed, clapping the younger one on the back in reply.  And as the fire crackled merrily in the tavern's hearth to ward off the first chill in the air, the men of the North drank like kings.

Dalanesca was almost certain that researching her target was the part of the job that she enjoyed the least.  It always involved going incognito, and for her, that meant getting outside of her comfort zone.  She was not a fan of much clothing other than what she wore regularly.  Unfortunately for her, wearing the garb of an assassin in a public place was a bit of giveaway.  A lot of targets knew that someone was after them and were constantly on the lookout for someone out of place or unusual - thus, the need for blending in arose.

She had found herself in that situation once again.  While enjoying a flagon of ale at the Winking Mermaid a few days back, Dalanesca had been approached by a man who looked like he belonged in the north.  ”What do you want?” she had asked the man, abruptly.  He had approached her in a manner that was quite unlike those usually seeking her services, so she addressed him with annoyance.  

”I come with an offer of employment,” the man said, seemingly unphased by her inhospitable response.  At this mention, Dalanesca’s features softened and her demeanor perked up.  Employment meant a contract, and a contract meant silver crescents.  She cleared her throat, and looked the man straight in the eye.

”You didn’t approach in the proper manner,” she said, her voice chiding.  ”Who is the target?” she asked, and the man smiled rather strangely and set a sheet of paper down in front of her on the table. 

 ”This will hold all the information you need.  And this,” he said, placing a small leather satchel clearly filled with silver on the table in front of her.  ”This is too entice you to take the job.”  She stared at the man for a moment, and nodded.

”Alright, I’ll take the job,” she said, immediately taking the satchel of silver and placing it within her own larger pouch.  ”Where will the meet take place after the contract has been fulfilled?” she asked.  The man merely smiled and began to make his way toward the exit.  

”We will find you,” he said, a threatening tone to his voice.  With that, he exited the establishment, and left Dalanesca with a raised sense of caution.

-

She had spent hours pouring over the single sheet of information that had been offered to her along with the job.  It didn’t give much away.  The target was male, his name was Galin, he was a  Northman.  Within the next few days, he would be at the Winking Mermaid with fellow warriors.  The document offered absolutely no information on why the victim was being targeted, or his appearance - which was going to be a challenge.  Usually clients offered some sort of idea as to what the target looked like - hair color, eye color, height… but none of these had been given to her.  She was going to have to use her own observational skills to find him on her own.

She found herself at the Winking Mermaid for the fourth night in a row, watching as patrons arrived and left with various different counterparts.  She had chosen quite the outfit this evening - a loose white tunic complete with leather lacing, and a tight black leather corset worn over the tunic.  Her legs were adorned in darkly dyed hide leggings, and thigh high boots covered her feet.  From the viewpoint of anyone else, she was merely a woman at an inn - though she had numerous daggers hidden throughout various points of her wardrobe.  Her black, flowing hair covered the very tip of the hilt of a dagger in a sheath on her back, a last minute choice before she had departed her room to the tavern.

On this evening, it seemed as though luck had been on her side - she heard the name spoken for the first time out of the consecutive nights that she had spent at the place.  A group of warriors from the North had come in, and that had drawn her attention immediately.  She made no eye contact with any of the group, for she had absolutely no idea if this ‘Galin’ knew if a hit had been put out on his life or not.  

After a while, she heard his name come up in conversation, and realized that one of the men had in fact been speaking to someone with that very name.  Assuming that this was him, as it had fit the small amount of intel she had been given, her attention had been fixed.  Fortunately for her, the group had been there long enough where her attentions would not be unusual.  After all, she was a woman, alone, in a tavern.  What would she possibly be looking for other than companionship?  It had worked for her in the past, and she was hoping it would work for her now.  Lure the poor unsuspecting fool back to your room, bed them, and as they sleep, slit their throat.  Clean it up, rid the room of any evidence, and dispose of the body (after dismemberment, of course).  It wouldn’t be the first, and it wouldn’t be the last.

She turned her body to face towards the direction of the man she assumed was her target, and began to act as the typical woman.  Her outfit offered ample cleavage, so she made an attempt to tilt her body slightly forward.  If he looked at her, she would smile coyly, invite him over with her eyes.  She just hoped he was the type of man who would be content with an immediate departure, rather than one who wished for conversation.  She hated conversation, especially when she had to act as one other than herself.

As the night wore on, the men drank and ate, celebrating nothing in particular aside from the joy of their lives.  It was a good life, they reckoned, when all was said and done.  Ale, food, some coin, and a chance to make a name for themselves in the shield wall.  With reputation came even more coin, and with victory, the plunder of their enemies.  For men like them, it was better to live by their swords and wits rather than scratch a living from the soil of the North.  Each man at that table was a fighter and many were seasoned men, selling their swords to whatever lord promised them the best rewards. Galin, as he drank, found that it was freeing, more so than his life as a drover had been in the North.  The Maker moved men about as though they were pieces on a throwboard, but for Galin, the last throw had turned bad luck into good.

He looked up over the shoulder of one of his shield-brothers when he felt someone looking at him.  It took half a second to focus, as the ale seemed to have dulled his senses some, but across the room was a woman, and she seemed to be looking right at him.  He smiled and bowed his head a little to recognize her but went back to his pint.  Most days, he would have charged across the tavern without a question, but tonight was about his comrades, not his cock.  So instead, he finished the rest of his ale in a long swallow and held out his horn to have it refilled.  And then, horn in hand, he began to stamp on the floor, setting a beat for one of the war songs of the North, and soon the whole table was singing along, roaring out a chorus that spoke of blood and slaughter, glory and death.  It was a song they would sing in the shield wall, calling on the Maker and his warrior companions to favor them with strength and courage to fight like heroes.  As the last howled note subsided, Galin drank again, laughing and smiling with the rest of them until Osbert jabbed him in the ribs.

"Eyes up, laddie.  That one over there's been eyeing you since before your wee turn as a bard, so if you don't get off your arse, we'll all know you've got nothing but a wee twig in those trews," he said, loud enough for the men next to them to hear.  They immediately joined in the ribbing, questioning everything from his manhood to his progeny until Galin stood up and slammed his hands on the table. 

"All right you miserable bastards, I'll show you how this is done.  And it may be strange for some of you, since it's not your cousin up in a croft, you inbred sons of whores, but it'll be a lesson all the same."  The men laughed at the insults and clapped sardonically as he picked his way across the tavern to her table.  "Well, it's a fine evening isn't it," he said, filling time as his ale addled brain began to work.  "I saw you from over there and I just had to meet you.  You'll have a drink, of course."  He nodded at one of the barmaids to bring them drinks and she shot him a dirty look, then went about her work.  It never was a good idea to sleep with someone who could poison his ale, but, in his defense, he had been drunk.  "So, what do I call you?  Despite what you likely heard from my screaming shield-brothers, I am not actually called 'Shit-for-brains, gutless sack of wind,' if you'd believe it.  Just simply Galin."

For a split second, the assassin thought she had been successful.  Her target had made eye contact with her from across the bar, finally seeming to recognize that she had been attempting to get his attention.  Unfortunately, he only offered her a bit of a nod in acknowledgment, before going back to his previous activities.  Soon, he and his comrades had broken out into song and he paid no more attention to her.  With a hint of annoyance, she turned her back towards the bar, getting yet another round for herself.

She was not much of a drinker to begin with, and she had made the mistake this evening of choosing spirits over ale.  She was nearly positive that what she had chosen to drink was whisky, but there was a slight doubt that it might have been something more potent.  It was quite unlike her to allow herself to become impaired while working a job, but it happened on occasion and this just happened to be one of those nights.  She blamed her absentminded-ness on the fact that she was disappointed that her first attempt at catching her target’s attention had failed. [

She downed about half of the glass that was given to her within seconds of the barkeep setting it down, to which he immediately topped it off.  She snickered and threw a few crescents onto the bar.  She tottered momentarily, contemplating on whether or not she should continue this evening or if she should try another time - but her clouded mind shot straight back to the fact that he had already acknowledged her, and though she was not dressed in her usual attire, he would probably recognize her face if she continued to stalk him.  Thus, she declared to herself that tonight was the night, and she would get the job done, even if she had to sneak into his quarters while he slept and kill him that way.

She turned back, assuming her previous position, but this time slightly less balanced on her stool - she kept telling herself that it was helping the charade.  Within a few minutes, she could see that one of her target’s companions had brought her back to his attention.  She could see his gaze fall upon her, and back to his companions.  She could not quite make out what they were saying to him, but it seemed as though they were making fun of him.  She couldn’t help but smile - if she was going to do something she disliked generally for a job, she may as well do what she could to enjoy it.  She downed the majority of whatever it had been that she was drinking just as he approached, and turned coyly back to the bar, her back mostly to him.

She turned slowly to face him as he spoke, a half-smile adorning her lips.  ”A fine evening indeed,” she replied, doing her best to play the part.  The liquor was definitely helping - she was only halfway acting now.  As she looked at him, her mind strayed for a moment.  He wasn’t a bad looking character, if she were to be honest with herself.  Quickly, she mentally chided herself and returned her full attentions back to him.  She genuinely felt color raise to her pale cheeks as he mentioned needing to meet her after seeing her.  Having generally avoided conversation whenever possible, she was not sure how to take a compliment when it was offered, no matter how inebriated the party offering said compliment was.

He had called for the barmaid to get them a round, and she indicated that she would have another of whatever it was she had been having.  She assumed that denying the offered beverage would have seemed mildly suspicious.

When the barmaid brought the drinks, she nodded in appreciation and looked back at her target.  ”Thank you,” she said quietly.  Without a thought, she shot off an answer when he asked her name.  ”Dalanesca,” she answered, and immediately filled with regret.

Shit! she thought, panic arising in her mind.  She had let the liquor get the better of her, and now she had put herself in jeopardy.  Granted, she only went by “D” to her clients - her full name had never been revealed to any of them.  She managed to mask the panic, and offered him a smile.

”Galin is a much nicer name than ‘Shit-for-brains,’” she said, with a bit of a laugh.  She took a sip of the drink that had been brought to her, darting her tongue out to lick the remaining drops off of her lips after the drink.  Of course, she was trying too hard to be seductive, and was hoping that he was intoxicated enough that he may not notice the effort she had to put forth.  ”Where’ve you left your wife this evening?” she asked, her voice mildly suggestive. ”If she’s far, I might be of some assistance,” she said, her voice low.  ”Or, maybe there’s not a wife?”  She felt ridiculous, and needed to convince herself that everything she was doing was completely necessary.

Ask about that and maybe you’ll find out some more information that’ll help the case, she told herself.  Except… how is that going to help me?  Oh no.  Did I just asked him that because I actually wanted to know? She was going to get herself in trouble, or she was going to mess up the hit.  Either way, she had no clue what she was getting herself into - and she found herself praying that it wouldn’t end up biting her in the ass.  Perhaps she would at least get an evening of entertainment out of it, if the hit ended up being a miss - but she had never lost out on payment for a target, and she wasn’t about to give up now - or was she?  Either way, she was stuck now, and had to continue her act.

”So’ve you got the time to entertain a girl this evening?” she asked, attempting her best flirtatious smile, and praying that it would work.

"Well, it is a pleasure to meet you, Dalanesca.  And quite a lovely name, makes me sound a bit dull," he said as he smiled at her and raised his flagon in a toast.  He could feel the eyes of the men from his table boring into his back and he glanced over his shoulder and mouthed a string of obscenities at them, provoking stifled laughter from Osbert.  It was worse than a shield wall, he thought to himself, sitting there with the eyes of the company on him, probably placing wagers and trading barbs at his expense.  At least in battle, the enemy was to the front and a man's friends behind him.  Tonight, he thought with a crooked smile, he was not so sure.  "Though I do agree it has a bit more of a ring to it than 'Shit for brains' so I cannot complain too much."

Wife?  Galin nearly laughed at the thought.  He had come close to that once, when he was living in the south with this warband the first time, before the War.  Time's closest friend and he had been in love, or at least it seemed that way, though as days stretched into months and years, he questioned it altogether.  It had been a whirlwind courtship, with the drums of war playing in the background, but when Time was destroyed, his romance died with her.  After that, things had been a bit more muddled, as men in the North sought to tie his reputation to their clans with offers of daughters and nieces, but the unfortunate business of killing a chief's nephew put and end to that as well.  Shaking his head with a smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes, Galin tried to frame a response.  "Well, no, there isn't a wife, so I can see no reason why I shouldn't enjoy your company," he said, looking at her directly.  "Though I can't believe you don't have some husband or lover whose jealous attention might get me gutted, not someone as lovely as yourself."

He leaned back and chuckled, a warm, deep rumbled, and ran his fingers through the hair at his temple.  He would not admit it, but he was nervous, not terribly, but enough.  His fingers through his hair always meant that, a habit that harkened back to the nervousness before a battle, when he would comb back his hair with his fingers before jamming his helmet on and joining the shield wall.  But tonight there was no line of swords and spears and men baying for his blood.  So he could not make sense of the nervousness.  So instead of bothering to make sense of it, he drank again, nearly emptying the ale, and feeling the warmth begin to spread through him, a sure sign he was careening toward intoxication.  His cheeks were flushed, though he idly wondered if it were from the attention of the woman or the effects of the stronger southern ale.

"But yes, I have plenty of time to entertain, if you'd be willing to suffer my company," he said and laid his hand on her arm with a warm smile.  "But you will have to excuse me a moment."  Leaving coins on the bar and his drink, he headed back to his shield-brothers and grinned.  Leaning close when he stood behind the captain, he whispered so the woman would not hear him.  "I may not make it back to the camp tonight, lord," he said, provoking a chorus of laughs and whistles.  "And if I do, I will gut the first man to say a thing about it.  And that includes you, Osbert, you miserable old goat.  And now, get on your way, the lot of you!"  Laughing, they began to filter out, draining their cups and cuffing him on the shoulder as they passed.

When the last staggered out the door into the night, Galin turned back and was relieved to see Dalanesca still in her seat.  He brushed against her, blaming the drink and nothing more, and took his seat alongside her.  "Sorry about that.  The lads can be a bit of a distraction and I have more pressing concerns," he said, smiling crookedly and looking at her with directness.  "So where were we, Dalanesca?  Something keeps distracting me," he said and winked, finshing the rest of his ale.  "Another drink… or…?"

She quietly giggled as the man complimented her name, the effects of her drink now becoming quite apparent.  She thought it was quite amusing, almost adorable, as he kept turning back to the men he had come with.  She assumed they were making fun of him, and found it to be amusing when she could most definitely tell that he was telling them off with his back to her.  She tried her best to mask her amusement when he eventually turned back to her.  She knew that she had probably failed miserably at such, but the attempt was made nevertheless.

She noticed the wrinkles near his eyes when he assured her that he did not have a wife.  Hm, he really is quite handsome… maybe it wouldn’t be the worst thing if I were to j- NO.  She had been letting her mind wander away from the task at hand.  Her head was clouded, as was her judgment, and she was allowing her attention to be paid to him rather than the task at hand.  The offer of crescents was wonderful… but when was the last time she had really allowed herself to have any sort of fun?  Maybe she would just put it off, just for the night, and return to devise a better plan in the morning…

Or maybe she should just pass on the hit all together.  She could return the down payment to the client, whenever said client’s ‘person’ decided to find her.  She was silent for a moment as she contemplated her options, and resolved to have a bit of fun for the evening, unless a good opportunity presented itself.  As she had thought to herself, she deserved to have a bit of fun. 

She met his gaze with her own, reddening at the question of how she was not spoken for.  ”I’ve been a bit too… busy, until recently, to be tied to anything,” she answered, as ambiguously as possible.  Being complimented felt good – perhaps it was because she never spoke to anyone long enough for them to compliment her in the first place.  ”So I guess I’m all yours for the night, well, if you’d like,” she said.  She froze for a second.  She was inwardly appalled at how forward she was being with this man (that she was supposed to be killing), but also pleasantly impressed with herself at the same time.  

The laugh he emitted helped solidify her decision even further (although she was quite sure the liquor had something to do with it, as well).  She would wait on the hit.  He seemed interested enough in her, and for some strange reason she seemed to be interested in him as well.  Emotions were not a good thing to have in her line of work, no matter what sense they were held in.  She watched him with interest as he ran his hand across his hair – was he nervous?  She noted that he would in fact be nervous had he known her true reasons for first wanting his attention, but at present time she did not think he need worry.  

She followed suit and took a long drink from the beverage she had been served, already well past the point of being impaired.  She could make out darker colors in her companion’s cheeks – she could tell he was well on par with her, at least – or was he blushing?  Either way, the small amount of pride in herself she had felt earlier swelled to a larger amount – if she could have this affect on a man, perhaps it would be much more fun than she originally thought.

”I don’t think I could call it suffering, as I’ve been much enjoying it thus far,” she said.  Her voice had taken on a sultry lilt, and she leaned a bit closer to him as he rested his hand upon her arm.  Her skin was cool compared to the warmth she could feel in her face, and his fingers felt warm when they came into contact with her.  She nodded when he asked to be excused, watching him with bated breath as he returned to his friends.  She could not make out what he was saying, but only see the laughter and guffaws of his companions.  One by one, they began to depart – and she was sure that this night was going somewhere else.

She saw something fleeting across his face – he seemed glad that she hadn’t left in his absence.  When she felt his body close to hers as he moved to sit back beside her, she felt heat rise into her stomach and chest, but was thankful for the fact that she could blame the flush that had arisen to her cheeks and not to his closeness.  She let loose a chuckle, and watched him with interest as he finished his drink.  In turn, she finished her own and answered his question by waving the barmaid over.

She looked at Dalanesca with disgust but showed up a moment later with another round for the two of them, muttering something under her breath as she turned to walk away.  Dalanesca stared after her for a moment, a bit of rage coursing through her – but she managed to keep it inside.  After all, would he want to bed her if she lost her cool and threatened the barmaid?  Probably not.  She turned back towards Galin and leaned towards him, close enough where she could feel the heat radiating off of his body.  She reached up a hand, and trailed a finger down the side of his face.  ”What say we finish these drinks, and you can make sure I make it safely back to my room?” she asked, leaning back just enough to take a long pull of her drink, and placing it back upon the bar.  She looked at him quite pointedly, her hand falling to rest on the upper portion of his thigh.  At this point, she had become inebriated enough to the point where she seemed to have forgotten what motivated her to speak to him in the first place, and was more interested in other things.  ”It might not be safe, you know,” she added, which was ridiculous as she had managed to secure one of the rooms that the tavern kept for travelers, but she assumed he would understand.  

“You must have been hellishly busy then, because I can’t think of a man in here that isn’t just a little bit jealous that I am sitting here right now talking to you,” he said, flashing another crooked grin. “And…” he stammered to a halt at her next sentence and simply closed his mouth with an audible click of teeth while he tried to make sense of his luck. “Well, I am clearly the luckiest man in the place, all right,” he said, “and I would most definitely love to share your company tonight.” His grin straighten from crooked to a full one, ear to ear, and he took a drink to try and hide it a little so he looked less like a fool. This was not his sort of luck, usually. He was lucky in a fight, but with women, it was the opposite. His one attempt at commitment had crumbled and more often than not he would end up with whatever woman was left about the tavern at the end of the night, usually the barmaids who he had nearly bought and paid for with his coin through the evening. And here he was, talking with a beauty that had sought him out and planning more than a drink. The Maker was a strange and capricious bastard of a god, but tonight, Galin loved him.

“Well, I am glad you are not suffering, to be sure,” he said, noting the tone of her voice and her closeness to him. He felt his heart’s thumping more pronounced in his chest and the coolness of her skin under his fingers and it was as intoxicating as the ale, though part of him knew that the ale was a help in the situation overall. When he sat back next to her, his companions all sent back to the hall and huts they called home just outside the city’s wall, he settled more comfortably with the woman next to him, looking forward to renewing their conversation. The barmaid, who seemed a bit familiar to Galin, but between his state and his companion, he could not or would not bother to place her, seemed perturbed but their drinks arrived regardless, albeit with some muttering that he could not properly make out. When he turned to comment on the barmaid’s demeanor, he saw that Dalanesca had turned toward him and he stopped short, smiling at her. The touch of her finger along his face was electrifying and his face split into a wide grin again. “I could not agree more,” he said, before taking nearly all his drink at once, only stopping when he felt her hand on his leg. He was proud of himself that he kept from sputtering and drenching her with a mouthful of ale. Instead, he swallowed heavily and leaned closer, putting his hand at the small of her back. “Of course… we wouldn’t want anything to happen to you on the way. I would be delighted.”

He finished his drink, slamming it and some crescents on the bar and stood next to her, offering her his arm as she stood. “Now, though, where might we be going so I can properly protect you,” he said with a wink. She glanced at the stairs to the rooms above the tavern’s main room and smiled at the somewhat inebriated Northman. “Well, lead the way,” he said, his grin back as they walked the stairs to her chambers. Quite the night, he thought. Quite the night.

She could not help but smile to herself when she saw the effect she was having on the man before her.  She had all but abandoned the worry she once had about being unsuccessful with her contract, and her attention was now completely focused on Galin, since it seemed that all of his attention was focused on her.  She was past the point of knowing what repercussions her actions were going to have - for instance, she had completely forgotten about the numerous daggers hidden throughout her wardrobe.  The ankle daggers would easily be explained as a method of self defense, but if they made it to her room and he disrobed her, he was quickly going to find the large blade strapped to her spine - but she was not worried about that at present time.  

She laughed audibly when his smile broadened - she found it to be utterly adorable, as well as empowering.  She had only once fixated her emotions on a target before, and it had not ended well.  She hadn’t the courage to fulfil the hit because she had ended up falling for the man.  Of course, this situation was different, for at present time the only feelings she had for Galin were those of wanting to get him to her room.  The man she had failed to eliminate ended up getting taken out by another assassin right in front of her - and since then, she had been reluctant to relive anything such as that again.  

As she touched his face, she watched him smile once again, and she allowed her fingertip to brush his lips before pulling her hand back to her body.  She was enjoying this, and she could tell that he was as well.  As her hand came to rest on his leg, she let her fingers exert a bit of pressure, leaning ever so slightly closer to him as he in turn leaned closer to her.  She smiled coyly, their faces only inches apart, as he seemed to accept her offer.

When he stood, she gladly accepted his offered arm and slipped her hand through, pulling herself to standing position with a bit of his help.  Upon standing, she could certainly tell that she had imbibed much more than she had originally intended to.  In an attempt to steady herself, her body pressed tightly up against his side.  Within moments, she felt his arm snake around her waist, holding her tight to him.  With an upward glance, she contemplated the situation, before backing off slightly and regaining her footing.  She felt his hand linger at the small of her back, and smirked to herself.  

She leaned up towards his ear, close enough that her lips just barely brushed his earlobe, -vand softly spoke.  ”This way,” she said, allowing her lips to linger a moment longer, before grasping his hand in her own and heading up the stairs.  Her mind began to race with thoughts - it had been so long since she had done anything like this that she was running through the steps in her mind - though the general idea seemed to be pretty simple.

She lead Galin through the second door on the left after they made it up the stairs.  ”This is me,” she said, unlocking the door with the key that the barmaid had given her when she asked for a room.  She stepped inside, and he followed close behind her.  She shut the door behind the two of them, twisting the lock closed once more.  With a knowing glance, she turned back to him and advanced towards them.  She reached up and undid the ties of the corset that covered her tunic, and it fell to the floor just as she reached him.  

Without saying a word, she pressed her body against his and stood up on her toes , tilting her head so as to crash her lips into his. Her hands found their way into the hair that she had watched him run his own hands through earlier, her fingers twisting and intertwining in what they could.  Her other hand trailed down his chest and stomach, coming to rest at the waist of his pants, fingers delicately playing against his skin., She was not entirely sure how forceful to be, so had decided that she would make the first moves, but possibly allow him to take things from there.  Needless to say, she was past the point of remembering all of the hidden weapons about her body - she had completely given herself over to the idea of what was going to happen this night.

As the door to the room closed, Galin smiled wolfishly. He would never admit it but he had a weakness for a pretty woman, a weakness that some of his friends had said would be the death of him one of these days. Little did he know how close they were to being right as Dalanesca locked the door behind them. However, his mind was about as far from that possibility as possible. Instead he focused on working the clasp of his belt and tossing it and its heavy fighting knife toward the side of the bed with a clatter. When he turned back, Dalanesca had turned back toward him and closed the distance between them in as long as it took to unfasten the ties of her corset, letting it fall behind her as she reached him. As soon as she was within arm’s length, he wrapped his arms around her waist, half dragging her closer as she pressed against him and leaned up to kiss him. He did not react initially, letting her set some of the pace, her hand in his hair and running down his chest as he kissed her back, his own hands roaming over her back as the kiss deepened.

Without warning, he picked her up and turned, pressing her back against the cool, finished wood of the door, pinning her there as he kissed her, her legs at his waist. He trailed kisses down her neck while one hand tugged the hem of her tunic higher, pulling it off between panting, heated kisses. While he was distracted by the moment, he was confused a moment by the thin straps that ran from her shoulders to her back. As he ran a hand up her spine, he felt something there too, something leather, and the was the last he worried about it because other, more pressing matters were at hand. Spinning her around, he crossed the room toward the bed, kicking his own belt closer to the bed as he carried her and tossed her onto the mattress, following her a second later once he had stripped off his shirt as well. Tangling his fingers in her long, dark tresses, he kissed her forcefully as his hands began to properly explore her body, tracing calloused fingers over her soft skin as he did so. It seemed that every touch elicited a sigh or moan and he felt her hands exploring his body as well, with its handful of scars to remember the raids and wars of his younger years. Leaning back a moment, Galin smiled and winked as he struggled to kick off his well-worn boots, then began the final work of disrobing the pair with an air of hungry anticipation.

The evening seemed to be following the exact path she had found herself hoping it would.  She let out a bit of a gasp as Galin lifted her up, pinning her body between his own and the door.  Instinctively she wrapped her legs around his waist, tipping her head to the side as his lips found their way down her neck.  She was past the point of caring about her hidden weapons, and when Galin seemed to find the one that was on her back, she quickly aided him in slipping the straps off of her shoulders, the leather sheath landing on the floor with a dull thud.  He did not seem to care in the slightest about what he had discovered, so she chose not to as well.

Shortly, he had spun her around and was headed for the bed, gently tossing her down.  She lay on her back as she removed his own shirt, before joining her.  She felt his fingers running through her hair, and his hands roaming her body, to which she responded by her hands tracing the contours of his body, fingertips gliding over each and every scar they came across.  Her hands found the hem of his pants and frantically pushed down at them, at which point he got up off the bed, presumably to remove them.  She giggled quietly as he winked at her while kicking off his boots and jumped back into the bed with her.  Within moments, the two had nothing on their minds save one another.

-

Dalanesca blinked a few times.  She was lying on her side in her bed, her vision was hazy, and her head was pounding.  Water, she thought, but her mind was immediately directed elsewhere when she felt the heat and weight of an arm that was slung over her body, and the feeling of another person’s breath warm on the back of her neck.  She froze, her eyes widening as cloudy memories of the night before washed over her.  She contemplated for a moment, and could feel his body pressed against her back – and she immediately noted that the two of them were most definitely still unclothed.  After a moment of contemplation, she made an attempt to move, at which point the man let out an inaudible  noise.  She froze, giving it a minute to see if he moved again.  While she waited, she attempted to piece two and two together.

Okay.  Let’s recap.” she thought to herself.  Galin?  Is that his name?  Yep, that’s it, she mused to herself.  Galin.  Why did that name sound so familiar?  Suddenly, panic struck her.  Shit.  My target.  He was my fucking target!  Holding as still as possible so as not to wake him, she frantically searched the room with her eyes.  Her knives were literally everywhere, with the big one that had been strapped to her spine lying quite noticeably in the middle of the floor.  Ankle daggers lay by the door, wrist daggers near the foot of the bed… how had he not noticed them?  She counted her blessings and took her time to slowly work her way out from under him, until she found herself standing in the center of the room.

Shivering, she realized she was still completely naked – but that was the least of her concerns at the moment.  She needed to arrange the weapons in an inconspicuous manner, so as he would not question them.  She had well decided that she was not going to carry through with the hit.  She couldn’t – it was too risky, and besides, he had actually been decent company.  She would return the down payment and find another client.  

She leaned  down to pick up the large spine sheath.  As she lifted her head up from bending over, she came into direct eye contact with Galin, who had awoken and was now sitting up on the bed just as naked as she was.  ”Um.  Good morning,” she said, awkwardly, with no attempt to cover her naked body.  She had dropped the large dagger and now stood in the middle of the room, completely surrounded by the weapons she had armed herself with having the intent to murder him with.