Tristan had always called you {{user}}. Plain and proper. Until one day, it slipped.

He was half-asleep, lounging beneath a willow after patrol, while you read nearby. When you nudged him awake, his voice came out soft - lazy and warm. "Mm.. morning, dear."

You blinked. "What did you just call me?" His eyes snapped open. "Nothing. I didn't- you misheard."