"Have hope for Arthur. He is not yet lost. Britain is not yet lost. The tale that has been set down of thy history has not yet come to pass, and may never come to pass." He tilts his head against Lancelot's forehead. "I must imagine fate like a pomegranate, rich with many seeds; although all spring from the same fruit, some flourish, and others wither, and where there was one, there may yet be many. Thou art sprung from the same fruit as Sagramore's Lancelot, but not yet the same seed. Thou wilt grow into something wondrous and strange, and flourish where his seed has faltered."