"Until this evening, then," he said with a slight bow.

"Yes. Be careful out there. Sword play isn't for sissies."

He laughed. "I know naught what a sissy is, but I can wel imagine."

They were both smiling as he swung the latch and opened the door.

Their smiles fizzled instantly.

"Mordred," Arthur said.

The smug little bastard shoved off from the wal across from Isabel's door. "Father. Countess. I feared that you would not emerge the entire day."

ARTHUR knew that Isabel's first desire was to lunge at his son and claw his eyes out. So he quickly blocked her path to thwart disaster. "Did you have issues to discuss, Mordred?" he asked. "You had but to knock."

"Oh, issues aplenty," he said. "And another to add to my list."

"Then let us do so, at some other-"

"You smug little stalking, animal-abusing, ungrateful creep," Isabel hissed, attempting to break through Arthur's barrier. With no luck, thank the gods.

"Please, Isabel," Arthur said, "al ow me to handle this situation."

Her breaths were coming fast. "How do you think he knew where you were if he didn't fol ow you?"

Mordred's grin widened. "The countess is very astute. And lovely. You have chosen a lover wel . Should you care to share her services with your son, I would not object."

Arthur felt a rage like no other. He leapt forward and grabbed Mordred's tunic with both hands, shoving him back against the wal . "You wil apologize to the lady. This very moment, Mordred."

Mordred's smile had gone missing, yet the malice in his eyes stil gleamed bright. 'Twas such a sad sight for Arthur. He shook his son.

"Apologize. Afore I have you escorted from Camelot and ban your presence for al time."

"If what I have said is untrue-"

"'Tis untrue. Isabel and I are not lovers. I say again, Mordred. Apologize to the lady."

"Forget it," Isabel said, coming up beside them. "This kid is incapable of an honest apology."

And then she performed an act that was remarkable and shocking al at once. She twirled once and then with one leg raised, rammed it into Mordred's knee.

Mordred yelped in pain and might have col apsed, were it not for Arthur's hold on him.

"And that is for Samara. How does it feel? Should you ever come near my horse again, you wil receive worse. Understand, you little shit?"

Arthur then witnessed something in his son's eyes directed at Isabel that had never been directed at his own father. A spark of respect.

Mordred winced as he tried to regain his footing on his own. "My apologies, Countess, if I spoke out of turn."

"I don't give a good damn about your meaningless words, Mordred," she said. "Your actions are what define you. Just shows that nurture won out over nature in this little genetic pool battle, you creep."

Even though Arthur had Mordred at least five inches above the ground, Mordred managed to ground out, "You are al owing a mere whore to berate your only son and the heir to your crown?"

"Oooh, you had me at mere whore," Isabel said, and wound up once again to attack.

"Isabel, no!" Arthur said. "Al ow me to finish this."

He dropped his son back to the ground, knowing the pain it would inflict on his leg.

Mordred yelped.

The pain to his son was hurtful, but the words against Isabel hurt as much. "You wil accord the countess the respect and courtesy she so rightly deserves," Arthur prompted. "She has never wronged you. It is you who appears to have wronged her, with words and deeds. Make this right, Mordred, or I shal drop you on that leg many more times. Or worse, I wil al ow the countess to have at you."

"I wil ."

"You wil what?"

"I wil attempt to set things right."

"Not good enough," Isabel said, the heat of her anger in her eyes stil so strong, it could manage to warm the entire castle.

Arthur nearly groaned. "He has apologized, Isabel."

"To me, not to you." She glared daggers at Mordred. "Your father loves you. He has been doing his best to make up for the years he didn't even know that you were his son. And you have repaid him with nothing but hatred and retaliation in mean, evil ways."

"Isabel," Arthur began, but was apparently not al owed to finish, since she was ...

On a tear.

Once again he knew not where that voice in his head was coming from, but it seemed appropriate, as Isabel appeared to be able to tear Mordred limb from limb.

She stepped even closer, right in Mordred's face. "He loves you, you little brute. He would have gladly taken you and cared for you had he known.

But he did not know! He is paying penance for something that was not his fault. And you are adding to it, forcing guilt upon him. A burden he doesn't deserve to carry. So you either straighten up and treat your own father with the respect he deserves, or I wil be certain to make your life as much of a living hel as you are making his.

"He has the resources to make it happen, but you are counting on his love to keep you cozy and safe. I also have the resources to make that happen, Mordred, but I do not give a rat's ass what happens to you, so hiding behind your father's love in my world is just not going to happen. Do not underestimate me. Capisce? "

"Capisce?" Mordred and Arthur said at the same time.

"Understand?" she enlightened.

Mordred nodded. "I ... Capisce."

"Apologize."

"He needs not-"

"He absolutely does."

Mordred swal owed hard, and for the first time since e'er Arthur laid eyes upon the lad, there seemed to be no menace in his eyes. "I ...

apologize, Father."

"For?" Isabel persisted.

"For believing you had abandoned me. That you cared naught what had become of me."

"Not true, my son. Had I known ..."

Arthur couldn't go on because he felt choked by unshed tears.

Isabel pushed off from the wal . "Then I suppose it's time that you take him to your healer. He probably needs a brace on that knee."

Arthur took Mordred's waist, then hoisted him up into his arms.

"Father! I cannot be seen carried this way."

"Do you think you wil be able to navigate those long steps on your own? I assure you that I wil set you down should I hear another coming along.

To keep up appearances, of course, that father and son are just upon a walk, discussing father and son things."

He swiveled, his son cradled close, as he so wished he had been able to do since Mordred was a babe. "Isabel?"

She turned, just as she was about to reenter her quarters. "Yes?"

"Do you know the whereabouts of your healer, Dick? I know that mine is far off this day, visiting the outlying huts of our farmers."

"Last I heard, he was cracking the necks and backs of many of your men. He is in what I believe you cal the healing quarters."

"Thank you," he said, and it held meaning much beyond just directing him to her own healer. He had high hopes that she understood just how much.

"You are welcome. And again, sorry, Mordred, though you had it coming." Then she looked again at Arthur. "Yes, I do understand."

She stared at Mordred, cradled in his father's arms. "And you, you little jackass, try to figure out who is caring for you right now. He loves you, more than you know. Without his love for you, there would be a ton of his loyal men and women who would have demolished you by now. Including me."

As they navigated the steps that would take them to the healing rooms, Mordred looked up at Arthur. "She is a fierce warrior, Countess Isabel."

Arthur nodded, trying not to show strain. After al , Mordred was no babe at this time. "That she is, most when those she holds dear are threatened or hurt. Did you harm her horse, Mordred?"

"I ne'er meant it to be a lasting injury."

"'Twas a nasty, horrid thing to do."

"Yes, I understand now." He laid his head against Arthur's face, which was such a feeling unlike any Arthur had ever felt afore with his own son.

"Are you going to banish her for attacking your son?"

Arthur stopped for a moment, then kept taking the steps. "Yes. The same day I charge you with attacking her horse."

"So you would choose her horse over me?"

"No, Mordred, I choose good over evil."

"Do you cal my actions evil?"

"I am sad to say that, yes, I do. You attacked an innocent animal. To what purpose, Mordred? To what gain?"

Arthur needed to shift Mordred in his arms. "Please, son, help me understand your purpose."

"The countess threatened us, Father."

"How? She is nothing but kind."

"You are carrying me to the healer, my father."

"You provoked, harming her animal."

Mordred said nothing for moments. "I feel she is a threat to our dynasty."

"'Twas the closest Arthur had ever come to wanting to toss someone down a staircase. And his son, no less. But he held on and kept moving.

"Why the countess? She comes in peace. She comes to make treaties that wil benefit us al . Why, Mordred, is she such a threat?"

"Because you are clouded by your feelings for her."

Arthur stopped again, this time considering stomping his own son. "You know this how?"

"By the way you reacted when I made a pass at her."

Arthur laughed. "Son, if that is your belief of a pass to a woman, I have much to teach you."

"She means more to you than Gwen."

Again, Arthur was stopped, but only in his head. "I have known her but awhile. I know not what I feel about anything. 'Tis very dangerous to judge afore an assessment has been made. It is the fatal flaw of any losing battle."

Again, silence as they descended, and Arthur felt his arms might wel give up the fight al too soon. He strained to keep his son secure.

"Is al she said true?" Mordred asked, breaking the silence.

"Who? Countess Isabel?"

"Yes, is what she said the truth?"

"It is."

"Why did you never just explain this afore?"

"Son, I have told you this many times over the years. Yet you refused to believe me. How is it that hearing it from the countess final y got through to you?"