[He smiles. The truth is that living in Mayfield keeps stretching his understanding of the world. Having a place of his own, for example: in Sturmhalten he had rooms in the palace, but the palace wasn't "his," and never would have been in many ways: it belonged to the family for posterity. A job? He would have had position, and rank, and hard work that needed doing, but he would never have had the fascinating luxury of going to a day job, coming home in the evening, and just...being free. No duties, no life-long oblications, no plots, no schemes, no way to "take over the world." Not even a clear way to "show them all."]

[He slips his arm around Ilsa, and smiles.]

You'll have to help me plan it, schatzi.

[Suddenly he shivers, not in fear or stress, but with blinding contentment. The best of both worlds is possible.]

Oh. I can decorate it like the palace back home. Roi d'Orage era furniture, tapestries, paneling... I'll get a poster bed with brocade curtains.

You're going to like this, love. I'll drown you in luxury...