"I do not need, I want..." She looks down him, concerned for a moment to what he's speaking of as her hand curls around his face. Realising what he means. How he means. She looked back up and there is really - only one response to that. To the impossible, impossible question that is what she wants. Because she is not good with words. She says what she means, as she means to say it. Much to her courtier's horror at times. It won her loyal servants from the highest to the lowest.

Less, the adoration of poets.

So she kisses him. Simple, like it was the easiest no more than to lean forward and down the rest of the way. Her head tilts into the angle. Her mouth parting against his with a thready sigh. Her eyes lowering with the contentment of touch. The wine on her tongue that makes this easy, that makes her spine curve. Her fingers slide around the curve of his cheek, into his hair. Adoring how it feels against her touch. Adoring the little thing that is a kiss where the world cannot see. He is slight, different, yes. But that makes him so easily her own in his mind. Not made a mess in memories. Not stained with blood. He could pull away and say that he had changed his mind, and that would be water to the desert.

When she pulls back, it is not to go far. "Only, I do not know how such a thing is meant to be. I have been a Queen alone, a very long time. Will you show me?"