Prologue
"There you are little one. Look, its home-for a while, at least," Iseult said to her son. The baby screwed up his ice-blue eyes in what seemed like protest. Perhaps he knew already the history of that place; the way in which both his parents had been attached by force to either the fort or the Romans who had controlled it.
Lancelot smiled from his seat behind her and leant forwards to look at his son's face again. From now on, his child was so mouldable, so new. The future was now a new and exciting place, even if the threat of invasion was now always present. Before, with Vanora, he had been able to take a back seat; watching Bors bring up a child Lancelot knew to be his and treat as his own meant that Lancelot had no reason to form an emotional attachment to the child, or instil in himself the responsibilities of fatherhood. Those responsibilities usually weakened you. Not that they had weakened Bors at all. But he only got into fights he knew he could win. Lancelot had taken huge risks before now, and that had excited him. Lancelot frowned a little as he rode with Iseult and the child in front of him. He knew that this was going to be difficult-being a responsible father but more difficult he knew would be staying faithful to Iseult, which he knew was now an unwritten rule between them. It was in his nature to…mess around. Iseult wasn't a stupid girl by any stretch of the imagination- in fact she was once of the most profound he had met- so she wouldn't be taking any lies or idiocy. He just hoped that she would be able to forgive him if he did stumble off the path and into temptation.
Lancelot sighed. He really would have to rid his head of these Christian notions that nearly 16 years of being around Arthur had put there.