Young Griff first kisses Alayne Stone in one of the tall, dark forests of the Eyrie, where the world is grays and whites and the brown of her hair and wind shrieks through the trees and the air is bitterly cold – but neither of them seem to feel it; Alayne seems at home in the frigid air, and his skin is as warm as they come - fire in his blood, fire and blood .
It is a warm kiss, soft and sweet and for the first time in a long string of kisses Alayne does not feel the urge to flinch or to turn away. He lowers his eyes to meet hers, a furious purple to match her wintery ones, and smiles. Griff is beautiful and kind and genial, everything she’s ever wanted – but no, he is not; he is everything a silly little girl in another lifetime wanted, a silly little girl who was everything Alayne wasn’t. Perhaps.
She pushes him away.
An odd look passes over his eyes, then, and she turns, her dark hair flying in the wind. He touches the tips of the strands with her fingers - "Alayne, Alayne" - (he says it like a prayer but it is a false one, meaningless, oh - )
"I am betrothed." Her voice is hard. "I cannot be seen spending time with you."
"Is that all?"
She peers up at him through thick lashes, and meets those famous eyes again - they are purple, Targaryen-fire-and-blood purple, sunset purple, the shade of everything that is royal and beautiful. Perhaps the silly little girl from lifetimes ago would have liked them, would have loved them - but child you are not that silly little girl, you are the mockingbird's daughter - she would have loved them because they were beautiful.
But Alayne knows better, Alayne knows , because there were beautiful terrible people in -
"You could have any maid you wanted." Her voice cracks a little. "Any woman in the Seven Kingdoms."
He leans close to her (oh he is comely). "But you are worth more than any woman." There is a half-smile playing around his lips, but his eyes do not move.
You think your eyes are beautiful, you know it. Alayne knows this is the first time his heart has quickened for a lady, she has seen it in many a lowborn lordling. She smiles, and her teeth are sharp. "I am but a bastard girl, and you are not the sellsword you say you are."
He looks delighted, and his eyes light up with a million lovely shades. Alayne is sure, now, that Sa - that some other girl would have been swooning at his feet.
but his eyes are not as warm as ro - (there is no basis for comparison, for alayne stone has known but her father)
his eyes are not as sharp as br - (no brothers, baseborn or otherwise)
not as playful as ri - (dead, dead, dead and gone like the girl she was - )
"Have I done you wrong?" His voice cracks just a little, too, and Alayne's eyes snap open, because he sounded so like her f -
"No." She almost smiles. "Forgive me. I am sorry."
Griff brings his forehead to meet hers and his blue hair mixes with her dark locks - ( it is a wash, she knows, she'd know it anywhere, we are not so different after all, you and i ) - and cradles her cheek almost reverently. My winter queen, he calls her, and it hits so close to home it makes her heart stir.
They both have much to learn. She leans up and kisses him.
Alayne smiles and curls her fingers into his, and his eyes light up with love and truth and a million beautiful things and there is red bleeding into the brown of her hair, and it is a beautiful thing.