The squalling did not bother her as it may have long ago; instead, she watched with a vague hint of curiosity as Irma fed the hatchling. Mauja looked to her, nothing in his gaze besides recognition. She wondered if she should be offended; after all, they had been something like lovers once, and something like friends after. Should he not be happy to see her, alive? Or perhaps he, like so many others, thought her weak and stupid for abandoning their kind. She fights the wry twist of her mouth, taking a deep breath and smoothing over the tumultuous thoughts raging beneath the surface. She didn't belong with them anymore - and perhaps she didn't belong beside her King anymore, either. In any case, he greeted her by name, as she had somehow known he would; it is not warm, but it is not cold - it simply is. And then he returned his attention to his companions. Well, that's something at least - to turn from her implied that he trusted her enough that he did not fear her. Of course, she doubted that he ever had.

The moment of small talk made her throat grow tight, for at this precarious moment in her life, in which she found herself growing further and further from her upbringing, she could admit that she had missed him. She didn't want him, not in the way that she once had, more as her property than as her lover or her King; but she found herself needing his friendship, his acceptance, his advice. Above all, she did not want him to walk forth from these caves and leave her behind (again), forget her memory and all that they had shared. For better or for worse, she wanted to know that she did not have to fear reunions such as that at the Threshold, where he had largely ignored her; she wanted to know that should she need a place to rest, she could find him; she wanted to know that she was still someone to him, unlike all the others to whom she was nothing at all. She lowered her gaze to the floor, steeling herself for whatever emotions chose to rise to the surface, and then returned her amber gaze to his icy blue. There was something indescribable in his eyes, and for a moment she felt that their pure, gentle hues were piercing her to her very soul, searching her dark corners, waiting to pass judgment. She swallowed, hard.

"How have you been?"

The question he asked was simple, polite - and yet it brought so many memories and feelings to the forefront of the shade's mind. She remembered his silent promise, his disappearance, the battlefield, her shame, her disgrace, her hatred, her love, her freedom, her abandonment, her illness, her light, her darkness, and all the grey areas in between. She remembered, and she was overcome with it all, flooded with the desire to tell it all, to simply open her mouth and let it all spill out, to lay it all out in the open and wait to see if he would flee her presence, disgusted, or stay and assure her that it was quite all right, she wasn't mad, he understood, he forgave her. And perhaps, one day, she would do just that. But today, she opened her maw to offer some form of an answer, and all that came out was an odd, broken laugh. It surprised her, and she choked it back, but not before the harsh sound had broken the space between then, echoed off the glowing walls surrounding them. She closed her eyes, as though gathering her patience, and then replied, the insanity that grew from being alone in the world held once more at bay. "I have been... happy," she told him, because it was the most honest answer she could give, because under all the good and all the bad and all the crazy that she had been through, she had been granted a freedom that she had never wanted, and it had changed her. She hoped it was a good change.

She took a step closer, gestured to the ground beside him. "May I?" she asked, wanting nothing more than to lay beside him and talk, because when had they ever taken the time to just do that? When had they ever taken time from their plotting and scheming to simply get to know one another? If anyone was going to see into the depths of her soul (she thought, for a moment, of the stallion in the Marsh, who had seen her at her worst and pulled her back into the light), she wanted it to be the Ice King, the stallion that had been at her side since the beginning. He had changed, too, hadn't he? Maybe they were more alike than they even knew. "What about you? How are you?" It was an open door, an invitation to divulge his secrets, or at the very least it was a friendly way to start a conversation. If he asked, she would go, of course - but she rather hoped he would allow her to stay.

"Talk talk talk."