winter is coming /ky+asher GOT

"Wake up," he mutters softly to himself and pinches the skin on his wrist hard.

The wagon sways beneath him and Ky tips his head back against the side of it, eyes on the grey, joyless sky above. Snowflakes fall ponderously, catching in his hair and settling on the heavy wool cloak that he had to buy specifically for this job. It's fine, he added ten silver stags onto his fee to make up for it.

Even as he thinks the words, he's not entirely certain what that means but an image of silver coin flickers through his mind then evaporates again.

"Cover yourself, m'lord" whispers Erik, the driver Ky hitched a ride from on the road, "We'll be passing through the gate soon."

The wagon comes to a stop and he hunkers down beneath the wall of the wagon's side and pulls his cloak over him, heart beating quickly. He's not sure what this will actually accomplish, the Capitol doesn't rely on eyesight alone to catch runaways, they've got all kinds of sensors and escape is impos-

"Welcome to Winterfell," comes a voice and the cart rattles onwards.

Ky lies still and gazes up at the sky, now framed by heavy brick and campfire smoke. He can hear the sound of animals and people moving about the yard.

What is this?

This morning, he was siting on the couch, legs slung over Asher's lap, writing a grocery list and now he's hiding in the back of a wagon, a blade strapped to his leg that he's going to use to kill a stranger. The more he thinks about it, the more this morning feels like a dream and this here, feels like reality.

He can taste mead on his tongue still from the night before and the gamy texture of the rabbit stew he made by firelight in the mouth of a cave.

And he has a job to do.

Ky shuts his eyes briefly and he can see Asher's face in perfect detail in the darkness, his mess of hair and those eyes, cold for everyone but him. He knows what his voice sounds like, the feel of his skin against his, his lips-

No.

Carefully, he reaches into the pocket of his cloak and pulls out the letter from his patron, along with the sketch of his target. The curve of his mouth, downwards, the furrow between his brow. Ky runs a thumb over it out of habit, as if he can smooth it. He's just gotten too entwined with a target again, that's all.

He slips over the side of the wagon and retreats into the shadows to find Asher Stark of Winterfell.