lanselos_du_lac

Susan's breath catches, due mainly to the look on his face, but his words certainly don't hurt. She loves him so terribly fiercely, so all-consumingly, that it catches her by sometimes. When he's so plainly delighted, her heart leaps, joyous in tandem. "Oh, because I'm a woman and wisdom was thought to be the provenance of my brother," she says, her tone dismissive and largely unconcerned - to her, this is old news, and she cares mostly that Edmund disagreed with their people that he should have full ownership of the epithet. She's more focused on the light in Lancelot's eyes.