Another tiny, reflexive head shake, but tears had too strong a grip on Rory for him to summon words to go with it. His arms tightened around Pippa, though, and his lips pressed against her temple. For minutes he just held her, soaking up her scent and feel, her very presence. Her warmth seemed to seep into him, easing tightened muscles in his chest and stomach, and her hand on his neck soothed the tension working its way into his scalp.

He at last opened his eyes to find the fiery glow of Pippa's creation wavering in his tears. She'd known so much about his imperfections when he left, and yet still felt inspired to cast the King in his image. Whether or not he felt worthy of it was entirely beside the point.

"It is amazing, sweet," he husked. "And I'm honored, truly." Suddenly he lifted his head to look into her blue eyes. "I love you, a muirnín. You do know that, don't you?"