[The communicator clicks on, and it's almost the first of any word from Arthur there has been since the dreams, but there is no sound save for gentle breathing. On the other side, Arthur is holding it in a firm grip, knuckles white. He knows he should say something, that perhaps he should apologize to everyone he'd killed, but what is there to say
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The dreams are cruel and shroud much, your Grace. Do not let them colour you to aught.
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They are more vivid than anything I have ever witnessed.
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But that does not make them true.
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You are not the monster that was in your dream, Arthur. Even if it looked like you, spoke like you... even if you recognise parts of it in yourself, as you are, now...
What that dream showed, your Grace, was a chance.
[Her words catch up with her and she pauses, cautious. She doesn't want to give cause for suspecting that she might be trying to talk him around anything - bewitch him, as it were.]
A chance you can take hold of.
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I have no desire to become that creature, of this I can assure you.
[He pauses, awkward, and finally speaks, stilted. Unsure how to apologize, though he feels it necessary, if only to selfishly clear his own heart.]
I- am deeply sorry, that you had to witness such a nightmare.
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Let it serve you, your Grace, rather than plague you.
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This has been quite the eventful return for you, has it not?
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[A small, rueful smile tones her voice now. If she's aware that he's skirting away to change the subject, she mercifully let's him off with it.]
Being taken from one world and put into another seems to be an eventful thing.
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Yes. But I am rather sure there might be nicer places to arrive than here.
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It was the aftermath of a war, and such was to be expected, but I dreamed less of my adversaries and more of... these streets. This place.
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I find it hard to comprehend this place would become nothing but a dream.
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But this place is not all darkness and evil, your Grace. There is much of worth here too. We are not lost, not yet.
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I find that hard to believe. I am surrounded by everything I have been taught to hate and fear, with creatures that even in myth had never been conceived of.
Each day is only more confusing than the last.
[And he stops speaking very quickly. He's not one to spill his heart, after all, especially not to a sorceress, however good she seems to be, no matter how worried he is about Camelot and his friends and family there.]
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