[b]Tristan[/b]

Sir Hector gives you a long, thoughtful look. She's very seriously thinking about your question. [i]Isn't that freeing?[/i] Perhaps she hasn't considered it before, being wrapped in a responsibility she believed she had. Perhaps she simply wants to give you the respect of taking in what you're saying and not responding instantly as though your words offered nothing new. 

After a long moment, though, she says "no."

It is a soft, quiet no. The sort of no that is at once tentative and yet utterly certain. 

It then is followed then by a firmer one. "No. It is not freeing, not for me. I can see what you mean. Almost like looking at a distant field." For a moment her face is wistful before it falls. "But no. I wanted greatness of a sort. I wanted to use everything that I learned, everything I trained for. Instead I am not chosen. To wish for responsibility and not to receive it is a special kind of agony."

She goes silent and looks to you to respond. In all the time you've been in the castle, you've never heard her that poetic. You might have called her thoughtful and even insightful, but not poetic. This is an odd glimpse beyond the veil, and she does not know what you'll do with it. You could deny her in this moment, perhaps; judge everything she believes wrong and broken and she would have no rejoinder to offer. You could offer her support and comfort, perhaps more than she has ever received. Or perhaps...perhaps this is a moment for you to decide what you came to this castle to do, Tristan.