“If it’s amusing they want, I’ll build them a nightmare,” she hissed. “Is that what you want, Mordred? A nightmare to distract you from the nightmare that is Avalon? Or do you still believe you will escape somehow?”
Mordred swallows, staring intently across the room, wishing the woman away, already. “It does not matter what I want,” he tells her, his tone holding anger, there was never a time where it did not. “There is no need for a nightmare, you fool, we are already in one,” he says, “but unlike you, I know that everything can be undone. This is merely another part of a world, where there is a way in, there is a way out. I will get to Arthur if it’s the last thing I ever do.”
“You think your will is stronger than anyone else’s.” She laughed. “Even if you did find a way out, the others would kill you before you escaped. There is no freedom here save what is forced from others, and no one here is going to let /you/ have what we can’t.” She stepped right into his face to murmur, sweetly, “I’ll kill you myself before I let you escape where I cannot.”
Then she was gone, halfway across the room to stroke the pale face of one of the frightened children huddled there.