[It's the same castle now, of course, but this time he's got company with a familiar voice in the dream filtering through, soft but a little giddy at once.
I have stolen him from his governess. The rest in fragments until it's Anne again much more clearly. I wish his father could share these precious moments.
Not the King.
His father. And even more distant, Constance's voice as Anne remembers it. Aramis.
It leaves Anne in the dreamscape a little disconnected between herself and the dream but it's-- She clasps her hands together, certain of one thing.]