Video.

[king]

I've been wondering, Scorched.

[ Arthur has been training since before the sun rose: it's visible in the flush across the bridge of his nose, the way his blond bangs are sticking dark to his temples, the slouch of his usually straight-backed posture. But he needs a break, a distraction from his own mind, from the questions that have been plaguing it without concrete answer. ]

Say that the Door started — temporarily — working the way that all doors should, and we could all trip merrily back to our own worlds.

[ A breath, considering whether he's really going to ask. Despite his slightly laconic tone, he knows how depressing some of the answers he'll get will be. But he still wants to know: ]

Would you stay here in Anatole?

Or would you go home?

Comments

[voice]

[king]

[ Startled by her tone, Arthur briefly presses his lips together. ]

Death, my lady.

[ Despite the intonation, the repetition is a question. Once that concerns him. ]

[voice l private]

[isherarmor]

I cannot say for sure, I don't---

[...dammit. Click.]

---most of my family is dead, it is no secret. I might be, too. And if I'm not, by some miracle of the seven or the old gods or none at all. If I still live, it is a terrible fate that awaits me.

I don't want to face it bravely, or meekly or quietly. I don't want to face it at all.

[voice l private]

[king]

Of course.

[ Arthur's tone is soothing, and a little concerned. He hadn't meant to upset her. ]

You have everyone together here, and a life. But — not all things are set in stone, Sansa. At least, should you even return, you have had this chance to live your life as you would have liked it.

[ And then he changes the subject. ]

How's your rabbit?

[voice l private]

[isherarmor]

[And she'll let him.]

Ser Arya Underfoot is ...well, underfoot. She chews my slippers. [A small, small smile in her voice.] She chews everything.