Larksong Grotto I don't want to be king, I just want to sing a love song

How strange that the thing they have said to each other the most is their names -- the way Mirabelle weaves the syllables feels more intimate than any confession could. This is what they have, their names in each other's mouths. He could be content with that, as he could be content with a great many things. 

"You did," the titan confirms, like a private joke. It would be rude to own that he does not trust it, for that means he does not trust her and it is not so simple as that -- he does not trust Fate, for she seems intent on keeping them at distance, slowly circling but never touching. To her observation he smiles and shrugs. "The children are getting older," he says, as if without context that is an explanation, "and I am not so useful in times of peace." It sounds self deprecating but the crinkles at the corners of his eyes suggest this is a good thing -- he knows he's got it easy, and he wants to embrace that.

More pressingly, he can smell unfamiliarity on her fur. "Where are you staying?" He asks, unsure if it's pack-scent or just picked up from travels -- and also wanting to know if -- and where -- he will be able to find her, should she let him.