[ Perhaps there is a comfort to be gleaned there, couched somewhere in the echoes that resonate between one confession and the other. I do not know how to lie to you, she says and he replies with forgive me, I do not know this song. Surely that means only one thing and that one thing is no doubt profound. The hope of it blossoms from the aching well of Alayne's chest but still she does not reach for him, tempered by his vulnerability — the obviousness of it, the rawness. But in this, she believes, they should be without falsity, and in this they should be us, insular and joined and without the need of a them to define themselves against.

It is a frightening thing to see a man so composed be so suddenly stripped down; and it is all the more frightening to be the one responsible for setting such terrible wheels in motion. But unlike others who would look to gain the advantage, who would descend upon Petyr in search of an opportunity to glean favor or control, Alayne wishes only the chance to offer herself in kind. For just as an embrace can be given or taken, it can be equally shared — both sets of arms encircling one another, in it as much sacrifice as there is gain.

Again, Alayne reaches for Petyr but this time she does not hesitate, does not draw back, her knees once again inching her closer so that she may rest the delicate curve of her fingers over the rise of one shoulder and then down the slender length of his arm to rest there at his elbow. ] There is nothing to forgive, my lord, [ she tells him and in her eyes there is no judgment or rejection, just acknowledgment and gratitude (and yes, still a neediness). ] If it please you, I will sing to you instead.

[ (I cannot take it back.) ]

But know that my song is not false.