It had been years since I saw the assassin I had fallen in love with. And then the Lord staying at the inn I was working at, dropped dead. No one was sure why and his men were scrambling to come up with who to declare war on. I looked around the tavern room. He should have left after hitting his target, but I could not imagine he would leave without saying hello. Perhaps it was another man who killed him. But then I spotted him, wearing the plain face of a man about my age and he had deep red hair. I brought an ale over to his table. "Valar Morghulis," I said as I placed it in front of him.
"Valar Dohaeris," he grinned back.
When I retired to bed, I found him waiting for me in my embarrassingly small servant quarters. He didn't give me a chance to explain this embarrassment; his lips were on mine and his hand was up my skirt.
"You know this man cannot stay," he said as I snuggled closer to him, our naked bodies intertwined.
"I miss traveling with you," I mumbled.
He kissed my forehead. "I cannot in good conscious put you in harm's way."