[she even laughs, a quiet laugh it may be, her dark eyes crinkling at the corners. ]

Who indeed, but her king? [jeyne doesn't tire of learning more of him. in fact each time she discovers something new she smiles quietly when alone and stores it in herself, earnest to please--to have him smile when he would. she wants to make him smile, to hear him laugh--to love him.

it isn't a chore to jeyne to be his wife. learning about him and staying at his side have become treasures to her that she would not trade for warmer weather, or a simpler life, though she is quite certain it would fit her better. jeyne does not feel like much of a queen often, though she does the courtesies, smiles when it is needed and is so gentle she is called soft. warm.

as he laces her fingers through hers she peeks up at him from steady brown eyes, continuing to smile. jeyne pulls him towards the floor with a gentle hand. she pulls back, facing him as she dips into a curtsy, a spark of excitement in her face, her eyes. it is easier now to be open to him as much as it is to notice himself opening up to her.

her voice is light, and almost as if she has read his mind: ]

I confess I do not know all of the proper steps, my lord. So it might be a bit different. [and she looks a little mischievious at that.]