They may be in a full hall, but by the way he looks at her, they might as well be the only ones in it. Sweeney offers a small nod of assurance.

"Fittin' fer a princess. You honor Eiru. An' St. Loe."

He wants her to know that he's not cutting her away from all that she has been. Yes, she will have to adapt and learn new customs and practices, but he acknowledges that there will (and should) always be a part of her that is the sea of her homeland.

"Yer strong an' brave, full of grace an' light."

With a squeeze of her hand, he moves to guide her up to her throne beside his. It's clearly been freshly carved, created just for her. It stands in contrast to his, worn with age and the men who've held it before him.

When she sits, she can see that two small shells have been carved into its arms, a note quickly added this morning as she'd prepared. Where they are, they're only visible to them, and they are placed where she might rest her palms over them.

After all seems settled and the other dancers start to take their leave, Sweeney takes the opportunity of the crowd mulling about to lean over to whisper with a mischievous grin.

"When is bath?"