With a last thrust the knight finished with the peasant girl. She had tried her hardest to satisfy him, and since he wasn't completely heartless he would let her live for that. Even when he had violently ripped her dirty excuse for a dress off had she screamed or cried. And she was even quite fair-looking, to be a peasant girl that is – you didn't shudder at the sight of her face.
"Count yourself lucky girl", he said, a tad out of breath. He slapped her scrawny ass and pulled his cock out of her wet cunt. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you enjoyed it!"
Not surprisingly, the girl didn't respond. He got out of the simple peasant bed and started to put on his breeches. If she produced him a bastard, he might even come to see the child once in a while, just to get to fuck this girl again. Maybe he could even bring her back with him to King's Landing, have some fun with her there. That would—
Blood poured out of the stab wound in his stomach. The sudden shock made him paralyzed, and he stared at the girl, a smile slowly creeping over her face. "Don't flatter yourself, you were by far the worst man I've ever bedded", she said sweetly.
The words aggravated him, and the knight shook of the initial shock of being stabbed. He growled and with one hand still on his stomach, he threw himself over the bed to get to the girl. She simply stepped swiftly to the side and laughed when he fell hard on the floor. "My! Is the big, bad knight having difficulties catching a small, defenseless peasant girl?", she mocked. As she spoke she circled around the bed, and the knight rose with difficulty from the floor, the wound bleeding more every second, making his head dizzy. He growled once more, and made a movement as he was to reach for his sword at the end of the bed. How dared she mock him, a knight of Kings Landing!
"Now, maybe I'm being unfair, you are wounded quite badly. I'd say you have about ten minutes before you pass out… if you're lucky." By the time she had finished speaking the knight had reached his sword and now he proceeded to draw it. "Stupid whore", he said, his voice lacking the usual intimidation.
She made a pouty face and acted hurt, mocking him even more. "Aww, you are not gonna hurt me with the big sword of yours, are you? Not the one in your pants I mean – you won't be able to hurt no one with that! – but the one in your hand right now." He roared (but it came out more as a squeal) and charged her. The girl simply laughed a very lovely laugh and stepped aside as easily as before. He came crashing into the wall next to the door, and once more he laid on the floor. The energy was draining from him more quickly now – what exactly had she done to him? No stab wound would make a fit and big man this weak and feeble. Had she used some sort of poision?
"What… exactly are… you?", he managed to say as his vision slowly failed him. The girl came and stood before him. She drew out the dagger she had used to stab him the first time. It was a beautiful, yet simple, dark coloured dagger, above the hilt an intricate dragon held on to the blade - nothing a mere peasant girl would ever have the money to buy in a hundred lifetimes. She bent down and wiped the blood off it on his breeches. "You're no… no ordinary… peasant girl…", he said, his tongue as clumsy as if he had had too much wine.
The girl raised her head and looked him deep in the eyes. "Correct, sweet knight. I'm not." Then she smiled and with the swiftness of a diving falcon, she ended his life.