Author's Note: It's been a while, eh? My darling Newsies and Peter Panfans are going to be angry at me for writing a oneshot when I should be writing their chapters... forgive me! This is the first Jane and the Dragon fanfic that I have written. I'm not sure if it is a lute that Jester plays, since all the lutes that I have seen are bent at the stemmy-thing (am I not eloquent?) where the tuning pegs are. Enjoy my wee little oneshot!
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Jane knew a lot of things for a girl her age. Over her time as a squire, she had learned how to parry, the proper pressure with which to grip Dragon's sides with her thighs so that she stayed on but did not tickle him, and just how to try Gunther's patience. Though she would never admit to being accomplished at such feminine tasks, she knew how to bake a rather enjoyable blackberry scone and - to her mother's great triumph and Jane's embarrassment - she did possess the skills necessary to embroider the occasional handkerchief.
Having the friends she did gave her the opportunity to observe them all. She saw the way Rake's cheeks grew rosy when he saw Pepper (redder than his tomatoes!). She observed the way Gunther reacted to his father's hidden insults and the gentle way Smithy gazed at a sword in need of repair. It was a look she saw often in Jester's eyes when he was playing his lute or looking at her.
Yes, she knew. She knew what those gazes and mournful songs of unrequited love (played at midnight when she was attempting to sleep, thank you very much) meant. She just didn't know what she felt, which scared her to no small extent. Should I not be more aware of my own feelings that his? she thought to herself. Why do I not know!? But Jane had never made her feelings known as well as the emotional court fool did. Certainly her temper had the (un)occasional flare-up, and her thoughts of friends or foes were well known, but certain things she kept to herself. Except this time she did not have any knowledge of... well, any of this. How can a a person keep something to herself when she does not know what it is she is hiding, or if there is anything to hide other than simple curiosity?
Jane had an old soul, one that understood more things than those she knew gave her credit for. And as she practiced stave work with Gunther, she discovered something about herself that her soul had known before she had even seen a sword: Jane Turnkey wanted a knight's shield more than anything else in the world - more than to once again wear a dress without being called out on it, more than a warm strawberry tart and a mug of hot cider on a chilly winter evening after a bruising hand-combat practice.
More than to know what it would be like to hold the slender hand, calloused from plucking at lute strings, of a certain young fool.
So, for the sake of that shield, Jane Turnkey would pretend to not know what those glances and ballads meant. She would not wear a dress or sing prettily or bake scones or let on that she inwardly sighed with Pepper's more vocal ones during a tale of romance. To gain her title and her shield, she would not hold that hand.
At least for now.
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Author's Note:Aw, I love Jane. She's the best book character ever, right up there with Princess Elizabeth (the one who wears the paper bag, y'know?)
