As the night erupted with good cheer and the display of many perfected skills by the hands of the beautiful ladies of court, Jane remained hidden behind the cousins of her Dudley kin. In lappings of ivory, her eyelashes flush against the veil that seemed woven into her butter blonde hair, Jane cradled her patience with modesty, the gentle hazel of her gaze flickering from the ground to the passing monument of the King, who presented himself as the grand Sun God of Apollo — his look alone leaving all to stare with gaping mouths, as if history itself was taking place before them beneath the roof of Hampton Court. Jane, who had never seen someone so grand, could not help but steal glances towards the crown in the same way a sinful man could not avoid the temptation of something desired. Piercing the soft skin of her hands with crescent moons from her nails, Jane tried to look away, as if to tear herself from the King in order to look instead to her cousins who all seemed so decadent as Amphitrite, Poseidon and Selene.
The other men, who were lounging with glee to be entertained by the ladies of Grecian luxury, had remarked upon the lady woven in white — whispering then to the King, that she seemed to look at no one else but he. @boleynsrex
