Part of him had expected her to sneer, call him a useless weakling, turn on her heel and leave him alone in the cold, cold darkness. But she was silent, no scathing remark thrown back in his face as he professed his inability to be what he thought she was after — a great duo, two souls bound by a common goal, the fearsome promise to the world they once had sought to speak.. some part of him wasn't comprehending the fact that they were truly past that in that moment. What if she'd only been revealing herself to bait him? But even that notion felt hollow. It was only memory and reflex which made him expect a switch back to the normal, but nothing came. Silence, punctuated by his somewhat ragged breath, his wet, blue eyes on hers. She seemed.. softer, somehow — gentler, but the blood-like marks on her horn would not let him forget, ever, what she was, what she could be. But just as he bore a horn of ice, yet had warmth in his soul.. he blinked, slightly, thinking that if he could be so, then maybe she could be, too.

Nothing had prepared him for her words. Nothing, not even his half-formed thoughts of this all being a game, for if anything, what she said so thoroughly shattered that notion forever. Nor had his straying thoughts, which had touched upon her being a creature capable of warmth and care, prepared him for the depth of what he heard. "I do not want you to be anyone but yourself," she said, and he felt one ear flicked to the sound of it. A moment later, once the surprise washed away, he felt like kicking himself. What on earth had made him think she wanted something perfect, someone who fit the mold of her scheme nicely? Old habits died hard, though, and he'd expected she'd wanted something great back, someone who was strong and charismatic — not this old piece of a wreck. Without taking his eyes off hers, his head craned down a fraction, listening. What she said was true — those who had followed him, when she left, would probably not be too pleased if Psyche trampled all over him or he failed to show strength. Damnit. Why had he had to come back in front of a crowd? Word would spread. No time to rest. Beyond these moments in this dark, cold cave with Psyche, he would have no time to formulate a tale, answers. And the truth? Part of the truth could work, the physical part of it...

Her voice faltered, and the inch his head had drooped was reclaimed in a swift movement of near-surprise. She was searching for words, again? Breathlessly he waited for her to finish, reining in his wild speculations, until she finished with something that, to him, almost sounded lame coming from her, but she said it confidently — it was just the content, the meaning, which nearly had him gaping at her. Who I want to be... But could who he wanted to be, be who he needed to be? Knowing that he was in no fit state to ponder it, he merely said her name, a hushed, half-strangled exhalation: "Psyche...". How come he had never known who she was, how deep she could be, how (much as the notion made him want to frown) understanding? (Maybe because you never cared to get to know her.) What they had had, had almost felt like truthful camaraderie, but now he knew that it had not been that. It had been a game, just like everything else.

And then, she said, one moment, that he was still their King if he wanted to, and the next, not now. It almost made him smile, but he didn't. Instead, he just watched her with mild curiosity, sensing that she was done, yet wondering who she really was. Did she have doubts, too, in her heart, or was she as strong as she seemed? "Perhaps," he began in a cautious voice, feeling his thoughts spin, ordering themselves slowly as he spoke. "It is best for everyone if I am seen neither shunned to the lowest rank, nor given everything I had back in an instant." His eyes flickered to the bright mouth of the cave for a moment, before flitting back to her. "Those who lived under my reign would not feel as if you scorn me, and those who have lived only under you would, hopefully, not feel as if a stranger was allowed in to walk all over them..." His eyes kept blinking, though he barely noticed it anymore — it all needed to come out in some way, so why not as tears when no one but she saw? "It'd also give me time to collect myself," he said quietly, knowing that it would be disastrous if he had a fit like this in public. He almost went on, to ask of the Plague, but stopped himself. Better to take one thing at a time, one step at a time, and instead he let his blue eyes come to rest on hers, a questioning tilt to his head as he wondered what she would have to say.