"Under the circumstances, more than fair," the King says in relief. "Thank you, Alice." Turning to Victor, he adds, "And thank you. For letting me stay, for -- for not holding my hatred of you against me."

Victor half-smiles. "It's my own hatred of me," he says. "I can't exactly hold that against you."

The King nods, looking more serious. "You shouldn't hate yourself. Others will do that for you."

Victor bites back a laugh. The King has an odd way of comforting people. "Others already have."

"There you are then. Don't waste your hatred on yourself, Victor. There are far more deserving targets."

Victor nods. "I'll try to remember that."

"Don't try. Just remember it." The King turns to his wife. "Ready, my love?"

"Always, my dearest." She glances around. "Thank you," she whispers, in a way that suggests the words are strange to her, but also very heartfelt. Then both monarchs disappear back into the woods, hand in hand.