[Grips the dagger tightly and ducks his head, and this time he can't hold back the soft, broken sob before he's throwing the dagger down hard onto the ground, away from them]
Fuck you. I might not be now but-- but how fucking long until I am? You think I've forgotten what you told Arthur? And, now, here she is. Here she is, in a world that isn't France, away from the Cardinal and the King, her husband, and anyone else from Paris and it's just the two of you and -- and why the fuck would you waste this opportunity?
[He almost stops there, but then he just fucking starts ranting, cutting him off from anything he might have to say and just letting it all out in a shaky, angry, hurt mess of words.]
Every day you were gone without a goddamn word I thought, eventually he'll come back. But then, eventually, he won't want to. Why would he, when she's waiting? You weren't even looking at your goddamn journals, it was just the two of you. A perfect situation.
I worried you'd see what the journal posted. That I'd have to have a goddamn conversation with you over the journals and I don't know what would have been worse... you wanting to find me, or you not wanting to leave.
But then you never said anything. And then I thought... no, he'll be gone for at least another week. My injuries will heal by the time he gets back. He won't even realize because there's only one thing in the world he cares about right now. Only one thing in the world he should care about. And it's not me.