Chapter 1: Introduction
The night was special: Jon had triumphed against a brigand of twisted, grey-robed men, claiming their fortress in a tide of shiny, new blood. The keep was his, the men within it obeyed him, and— whispers travelled the stairs—a bastard had gained control of part of the North. For a long moment, he stood still before the heavy oaken door, absorbing the news and the thrill that buckled his knees.
Knocking, Ser Davos Seaworth swept inside, boots clicking rhythmically against the cold stone floor.
He beamed when his eyes met Jon's, the friendly twinkle strengthening Jon's nerves.
"Jon," he greeted, "you've met Robert's daughter, haven't you?"
The girl who entered seconds later was a Florian's palace fresco come to life: she had long flowing dark-red hair, blue-green eyes, full lips, and an attractive hourglass figure, dressed in serviceable grey and white linens. Attractive didn't begin to describe her.
Juliet, he recalled.
Jon tried to hide his surprise, but the air shifted. He couldn't quite remember where he'd met the woman, but it likely involved wine and stolen smiles.
"Ah," he replied, tongue briefly heavy. "Juliet. I'm not sure I remember—"
Davos stepped forward, placing a warm hand on Jon's shoulder. "You've been busy, Jon. She's to be your new personal assistant. Lavender tea?"
Before he knew it, Juliet placed a small clay cup in his hand, her lingering smile a secret held in the shadows.
Their fingers brushed, sending an unexpected shiver straight to his soul.
Jon muttered his thanks, took a deep breath. After battle, the silence that followed was often unbearable. But maybe, just maybe, it wouldn’t be too difficult this time.
"Did you serve Stannis long?" he inquired, curious as to how she'd wound up here, now.
"Not as long as many," she admitted, eyes glazing over at the unremembered memory.
"But then again, I am not the type to linger where I'm not wanted."
She eased back against the wall, the glow of the torch flickering across her delicate collarbone. "Tell me, my lord, do you require assistance with your correspondences? I've been told I have a certain knack."
Jon couldn't help but notice the slight tilt of her head, as if anticipating an objection. He surprised himself by giving her an encouraging nod.
"Very well," she continued, a playful smile brightening her expression.
"In that case, my Lord, why don't we retire to the study to begin anew tomorrow?"
Jon scanned the room for an indication of a study, but found only the splendor of the lavish quarters presented to him. He replied, baffled, "I confess, I'm not familiar with the layout of this place. There are so many rooms and corridors and—I apologize, I've lost my way."
Her laughter was aglitter, a melodic contentment that stirred something deep within Jon.
“Well,” she drawled, a mischievousness playing upon her often stoic features. “Let me guide you, then.”
As they walked, Jon observed the mesmerizing sway of her hips. Her eyes were elsewhere, yet her unwavering confidence informed him that she knew exactly what she was doing.
Jon had never been one to leer or languish in the presence of women, but something about this fetching creature challenged his control. The gentle scent of lavender and sweat and determination that trailed her made his head swim dizzily.
Jon mentally shook himself. He shouldn't be allowing such thoughts to invade his mind. Yet, when she abruptly turned to face him, her blue-green eyes vivid in the flickering torchlight, he struggled to focus on what she was saying.
"Ah, here we are, my lord. This will be your study. I assure you, it's well-stocked with all you'll need." She waved her slender hand vaguely towards the tall oak shelves that lined the walls, the fireplace crackling invitingly from the corner.
It was easy to imagine how cozy it would be to curl up here with a good book on a rainy day.
Jon found himself stammering his thanks, wrestling to tear his gaze from her beguiling presence. Juliet just smiled and turned away, crossing the room to light the closest of the candles on the writing desk.
Minutes ticked by, the silence between them thickening with each passing moment. Jon stared at the flames, the heat caressing his face, and wondered what it would feel like to touch her.
Juliet eventually broke the tension.
"Would you prefer to get started right away, my lord, or would you rather rest and we could begin tomorrow?"
Her tone was formal, yet there was that hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. Jon's heart skipped a beat. "No, no," he said, clearing his throat. "Now is fine. I'm not tired."
He knew what he truly wanted, however. But the thought of asking her to stay in his quarters, while not strictly improper, caused his stomach to feel uneasy.
Besides, they had work to do, and it was never wise to mix business with pleasure.
Jon settled into the chair behind his desk and gestured for Juliet to take the seat across from him. The carved wooden furniture creaked as he shifted his weight, eyes wandering over the scattered ledgers and letters that covered the surface like leaves on the forest floor.
As Jon sorted through the mess, he mused, "Where should we start?"
She leaned back, a graceful, flowing motion, and replied, "Well, we first need to go over your current outstanding issues.
That stack there." She pointed to a teetering pile of parchment off to one side. "It consists mostly of correspondences from other noble houses and requests for aid. Most can be addressed with short replies and notes, leaving just a few for altered or in-depth responses."
He nodded, distracted, before raising a single sheet of parchment from the lot. In elegant, flowing script an old friend had written him, asking for Jon's help defeating a neighboring lord's army that threatened to unseat him.
Jon frowned at this.