She thinks it might never stop being strange; his lips on hers, casual, fleeting kisses he doesn't even have to steal for they are given freely. Strange kisses for he is a strange man; all child-soft skin and rock-solid determination, simple-minded strength she doesn't think twice about leaning on. Non-threatening strength. Good strength. Her bubble and rose-colored glasses, always there.
He's not king, not just yet, but she's already his queen. The crown, she's willing to wait for.
(But when he does get her one, it better be pure gold.)