He brushes a hand along Laertes' jaw. "I know-- and I trust thee," a pause as he sifts through what he's thinking. "There was always a risk, before, with Guinever. That I would misstep, or displease, or hurt her feelings in some way I had not meant to. It was like being out on a great sheet of ice and never quite knowing if it might give way. This came, sometimes, into bed with us, this feeling. I do not think, really, it was her fault. But it is not this way with thee, and even though I know myself safe with thee, it comes up now and again. It is easy to mistrust safety, even when I know that I am safe."