What do I call you?

The question had been sitting at the tip of her tongue for weeks; What do I call you?

Theo-sama? But they were no longer Mage and Lord, rather husband and wife. He had scrunched his nose in distaste slightly when she had continued to address him so on their wedding night.

"Siluca, not that I ever regarded you as my servant, but please… I am not longer your master."

She had hesitated, wrapped within the safety of his warm arms, to address him by anything else.

Siluca wasn't much of a rule-abiding individual. Her escapades involving her possible execution at the Mage Academy, proved exactly that. Her victory by Theo-sama's side hadn't been achieved by bending to the laws of this world. However, it was a different story concerning her beloved Lord…

At first it was simply for appearance-sake. This wandering warrior bursting at the seams with ideals of justice and salvation, would simply be the figure head and face of her strategies to restore peace. But the need to address him respectfully soon turned from a necessity to a desire, for this passionate, awe-inspiring man was worthy of her respect and servitude. As her love for him steadily grew, so did her admiration and the honorific she so readily attached to his name, felt like just as much a part of him as did his destiny to become their saviour. He was Theo-sama, her Lord and love. And now husband - she still had to remind herself of that even weeks after they had spoken their vows.

So then what were her options? She thought of the nicknames and sweet callings that she had heard from the couples in the village; "Honey", "Darling", "Baby", "Sweetheart". She shuddered at the thought. Growing up as her father's daughter, simply hearing her name from his mouth was considered a blessing and certainly a rare event. Therefore declaring Theo-sama as her 'baby' or 'honey' in public definitely caused goosebumps to erupt across her flesh. Then what would be suitable to call her husband for the rest of their lives if she were not to use honorifics?

In her reverie, the man in question had arrived back to their humble home. Having removed his worn leather boots, he padded bare foot through the house towards her. His dark hair was wet with sweat and pushed back from a sun-tanned forehead, a sign of a day spent toiling in the orchards behind the village.

"Siluca," he said quietly as he stood beside her position at the dining table. She had been calculating the village's income from exports whilst juggling her naming dilemma, but now her attention had been stolen, as it always was by her emerald-haired love. And that's when the answer became clear to her. Her husband was a lot of things; a warrior, a hero, a farmer, a village chief. But one thing he was to her and most likely had been since the day they met in that forest grove, was her love. The one person who filled her to the brim with affection and a loss she would rather depart this world, than to endure life without.

So with only a moment's hesitation, she looked up at the man beside her and answered.

"Yes, my love?"

She did not need to ask his opinion on his new nickname as a blinding smile bloomed across his face. That was enough of an answer.