Sir Jonathan

"Sir Jonathan? May I speak with you?" You ask, approaching the former soldier.

"Of course, Your Majesty." The dark-haired man nods.

With Jonathan following close behind, you return to the royal chambers.

"Your Majesty, if you're worried about Count Stephen, have no fear, Count Erwin and I-"

You stop the Marshal with a finger on your lips. You'd have shushed him by touching his mouth, but Jonathan is over a foot taller than you. Reaching up would not have been queenly.

"I'm sure we will handle the old fool. Together."

"If not the Blacktide situation, then why bring me here, Your Majesty?" Jonathan asks, folding his hands behind his back.

"You're sworn to me, correct?" You ask, an impish smile playing on your features.

"My father swore an oath, Your Majesty, House Gambol are your people." Jonathan states.

"And you specifically?" You needle the military man.

"You are my liege-lady. I consider it a matter of honour to serve and obey you." Jonathan says, looking almost apprehensive as he does.

You know why you brought him here. You need comfort and release, need to see Jonathan without his tunic, or see inside those tight breeches of his.

Still, part of you protests this. To do this now, so soon after beginning your working relationship with the man, seems reckless...