A/N: So this is a bit of a change from my usual HP related stuff. I recently started reading Game of Thrones and was intrigued by the dynamics between these two characters. Apparently this is what comes of it when you can't sleep and just jot something out at 1:30 in the morning. Hope you enjoy! Also DISCLAIMER: Anything, character, or place you may recognize? Yeah, I don't own any of it, it all belongs to the incomparable George RR Martin.
Drowning
He watches her. She doesn't know it though, absorbed as she is in his story. He's captivated by the way her skin catches the light from the dwindling fire in the hearth, giving it a warm glow that was so inviting. She's captivated by his voice as he weaves her a tale of magic and danger, of adventure and betrayal, of romance and heroes. It's the kind of tale that she loves to hear. Her naiveté of the world only endears her more to her. How he wished he could stay in this moment forever, with her, no danger, no war. He wished to keep her safe, but he knew tomorrow was no guarantee even if she didn't think so. So he watches her, drinking her in.
He watches her eyes as they look at him in rapt fascination. Those twin meadows of greens that seem to see into his very soul, which can see something in him no one ever has. Those eyes that at once can say so many different things. Tonight they were saying she was his, even if only for this night. He watches the slow rise and fall of her breathing as she listens to his story. He marvels at the smoothness of her skin and wonders how it would feel to simply trace once callused finger along that graceful collarbone, but that could never be. So he watches her, drinking her in.
He watches her face. That sweet, innocent, expressive face of hers. That face that he longs to hold between his hands. Just to hold that face once would be enough, at least that's what he lets himself think for now. Her full lips were partly open as she hung on his every word. Surely they did not curve so invitingly for him. His need for her was so strong, but he reined it in, content to just watch her. He didn't want to ruin this moment. So he watches her, drinking her in.
He watches her as she leans forward, so intent is she on this story he is telling her. Her every movement is as elegant and graceful as a swan. He feels dirty and ungainly just being in the same room as her. The firelight turns her copper hair into a river of molten fire down her back. She was a fire spirit, he could look, but he could never, ever touch. So he watches her, drinking her in.
He watches her as he ends his story. He sees her final sigh as she releases the breath she's held throughout the final scene. He watches as her eyes focus back on him and sees those full lips turn up in the most beautiful smile he's ever seen. He watches her as she gracefully unfolds herself from the chair. He wants to go to her, to tell her what's on his mind, but instead he stays where he is. So he watches her, drinking her in.
He watches her in surprise as she takes a tentative step closer to him, her bare feet making nary a whisper on the wooden floor. She takes another step closer, watching him now, looking for a sign. He watches her take another step, closing the distance between them until she stands before him. He watches her beautiful face as she slowly leans toward him. He watches her, searching her eyes, looking for a meaning to what may happen. He sees a tenderness there that no one has ever shown him. He watches her as she finally closes the distance between them and brushes her lips against his. He watches her, drinking her in, drowning in the soft firelight.
A/N: So what did you all think? I'm kind of curious to know. Reviews are always much appreciated.
