Indeed, it wasn’t much comfort, but for Tarron this news was met more with sheer confusion than real panic or concern. He did not know Aileen well, that was true; her side of the family was not one he had been particularly involved in even before he’d been officially burned off the family trees for marrying Aisling. But what he did know of her stated rather unequivocally that Trishna was not her type.

But Aisling was as good a distraction as ever, and so it was easy to turn his mind to far more pleasant topics. He half-closed his eyes as her fingers stroked his shoulder, the touch gentle through the thick layers of dress robes he still wore. Predictable, perhaps, but not by any means uncalled for.

“There are some things I find it worth waking up for,” he said, as he stood from the table and offered her his arm. “It would be a shame for you to have gone to this much effort for very little, would it not?”

These were the best moments, the ones Aisling had found herself missing with children about. They made her feel, if not young, then a little less old. She took Tarron's arm and smiled up at him, watching every little tic and shift in his movements with affection.

"I could not consider any time with you to be 'very little'. But I am glad to hear that you are not too tired." She leaned against him, eyes blinking closed then open again. Her necklace felt so icy against that swath of exposed skin, and she shivered as well.

"And I really should make you cake more often." So many small gestures, repeated over so many years. She would not have had it any other way. Quiet nights together.

Though she was rather going to have to sleep in.

End