[ Mordred goes quiet for a moment, staring Magilou up and down, but in a less confrontational way than before. It's like she's appraising her fully as a Master for the first time, rather than looking for any flaw to seize upon.

Their conversation here puts a few things in perspective. Saber's attempts at humour, lame as they were. Her tolerance of Mordred (to an extent), as if she felt less bound by her duties as a king. Magilou says she's not the best at happiness, but she's better than she thinks. ]

You know... the other day, I actually saw father smile for a moment. It was 'cause of some shitty joke she made, but... it reminded me that I never saw her smile in all those years as king. There's no way in hell she'd joke around back then, either. ... Well, it's more like she couldn't, even if she wanted to.

To be human was to be weak. The people cried out for such a flawless king, but condemned her for it in the very next breath. Father's rule was beautiful, elegant, and pure... but I always thought the burden she carried was unfair.

[ If things had been different, maybe the people could have seen the humanity buried deep within the king — that she killed her own emotions for the sake of everyone around her being able to smile instead. If the king had been able to smile along with them, then maybe... maybe they would never have turned against her. Maybe Britain would have met its end quietly, instead of within a bloody nightmare brought about by Mordred herself.

Maybe she's already happier here than she knows. Mordred feels something vaguely like satisfaction in her chest, but turns around before her face can reflect it. ]

Anyway, I'm going before she shows up again. See ya, witch. [ Then: ] No... Magilou.