I couldn’t stop looking at him. He was so beautiful. So, so beautiful. So very, very beautiful. I couldn’t understand why he would even deign to talk to me. I was just an ordinary everyday fifteen-year-old queen. My crown was always crooked. I was always tripping over my dragons. Why would Jon be interested in a nobody like me?
He looked at me with his intense eyes, his smouldering gaze seeming to look inside my very soul. His perfectly sculpted features looked like they were carved out of marble. The deep lustrous black of his impeccably tailored black uniform contrasted with the perfect pale marbleness of his sculptured features, making him look even more perfect.
“Do you know why I brought you out here to this weirwood Dany?” he whispered seductively. His lustrous, smooth, perfect voice contained both promise and threat. And intensity. And other things as well.
“You don’t scare me,” I whispered. “I should,” he whispered sensuously. I was filled with chagrin at the thought I had embarrassed myself in front of him. My chagrin knew no bounds. I was fully chagrined. “You need to see me as I truly am,” he whispered sumptuously.
Quick as a flash, before I could even see him move, Jon was standing behind me. His hands clenched on my shoulders possessively. I could feel his ice cold breath on the back of my neck. He smelled of fresh morning snow, frozen blue flowers. And crow feathers. But crow feathers that smelled nice.
“You need to face up to what I am,” he whispered serendipitously. “You’re… you’re…” “Say the word.” I swallowed. My chagrin was rising. “An Other,” I murmured. “Yes Dany,” he whispered silkily. “And now I must show you why we Others must hide ourselves from you humans.” He stepped out from under the shade.
Jon in the sunlight was shocking. His skin glittered as if a thousand slivers of ice were embedded in his skin. As he moved he sparkled and shimmered like a sculpture made of ice, almost breathtaking in his marble-like perfection. He was so impossibly, unbelievably, unfeasibly, irresponsibly beautiful.
He turned his perfect eyes onto me. “This is the skin of a killer,” he whispered sanctimoniously. That was when I realised: about three things I was absolutely positive. First, Jon was an Other. Second, there was a part of him – and I didn’t know how potent that part might be – that wanted to kill me and turn me into a zombie. And third, that I was unconditionally and irrevocably in love with him.
Of course, that would mean I would have to abandon my quest to reclaim my throne. I wouldn’t have time for a career of my own if I wanted to be his wife and have his babies. I guess I would have to sell my dragons to pay for a midwife. But that’s a small price to pay to live forever with someone so utterly, utterly, utterly perfect, with eyes like ice cubes and skin like sparkly sculpted marble…
Etc, etc for another 1000 pages."