I'm back! Yes, it's been mentioned several times…I have horrible grammar skills. That's what I get for sleeping though English I guess!

Amy- Yes…A minor one soon and then a fairly large one. Not to be morbid but I like writing them.

RedDragon10 - Yeah, if you look at it that way, she is MS-ish. But the way I look at it is: Tristan is god, so Tristan needs an exceptional woman who is all of those things. So the challenge was to make her personality different than the average MS. And as painful as it is, I'm giving her some annoying behavior right now. She's being stubborn and prideful, though slightly dignified.

Lioness1 -I'm blushing…Thank you!

Blue Eyes At Night -That was the inspiration, yes!

Chiefhow- Yayyyyy! Finally, someone who doesn't hate him!

Brandy Labeau - Um…I'd say Geraint's about a year and a halfish. I'll probably have to go back and check the other chapters before I start the other story, but I'm thinking I'm right.

Sorry kids, no Tristan in this chapter. Next chapter will contain plenty though!


We eventually made it to the dinner. It went smoothly, with few tense moments. I observed Galehault and Uriens most of the time. I barely paid attention to Tristan and Yseult. I barely noticed that he was quick to offer her a smile whenever she gave him a special look. Barely. The two possible foes of Arthur were my main concern. Life had become more complicated. Enemies were no longer so easy to pick out. The thought of more potential enemies arriving tomorrow made my head spin.

"Walk with me." Modron said to me as everyone began to retire to their rooms. We made our way to the open courtyard where snow had begun to fall. Our feet crunched in the alabaster powder that covered the ground. Modron stopped and tipped her head up. She gazed at the moon as if deciding what to say. Waiting for whatever would come, I held a hand up and let the snow land on my open palms. Silvery flakes drifted down and then disappeared as if merging with my skin.

"I wanted to thank you for taking my son with you." She said. "I feared…I was concerned that some truths might be discovered soon. I did not wish for him to be forced to witness it."

I waited. She would either tell me or she wouldn't.

"I suppose you've noticed Lancelot's…discomfort when he sees Mordred and me."

It wasn't much of a question, so I didn't bother answering.

"You had not joined the knights when it happened. Near seven years ago. There was a battle. Merlin sent dozens of woads over the wall to another fort some miles away." She said without looking away from the patches of night sky visible through the snow laden clouds. I was suddenly aware that this was not a happy tale. It was a tale I was no longer sure I wanted to hear. "My father and mother lead our warriors in. It was the first battle I had been allowed to join the front lines. I was different then…Rash, impassioned. It was s stalemate for sometime, until the hated Arthur and his knights arrived. We had not known they were nearby, and we began to lose rapidly. I saw Arthur and my father pair off and I knew my father would win. I knew. How could he not? I had never seen my father fail at anything-"

Her voice broke and I waited until she composed herself. I knew what was coming. I was surprised by this emotion she was displaying.

"Arthur killed him." And this time her voice was stoney. "I hated him for it. As the retreat sounded, all I could think of was driving a sword through his heart. That night while the others mourned, I crept over the wall again. I followed the knights to a village where they stayed for a few nights. One of their number had been injured badly."

I heard a name whispered in my head. Balin.

"I had meant to kill him the moment I saw him. I didn't care who saw or what became of me. I wanted to avenge my father." She said and paused again. She opened her eyes and looked at the domus where Arthur was no doubt in his chamber with Guinevere. "I told myself I was just waiting for the right moment. I let three days pass. Then the wounded knight died and they all nearly drank themselves to death. I had let the villagers and knights think I was some breed of a camp follower. That night I placed myself near their rooms so I could have access to Arthur. I had realized that I would need to kill him before my resolve failed. Watching him for those three days while his friend died made me see more than just my father's killer. He was a man capable of love and honor. Merlin was going to be angry I knew. Most wished Arthur dead, but my family knew that Merlin felt differently sometimes."

"Did you know he was your kin?" I asked when she stopped for another pause. I wanted to know if the fact that he was her half uncle mattered to her when she was bent on killing him.

"I knew that Artorius Castus was the son of a Roman and the woman who had abandoned my mother." Mordred said simply. "I had never thought of him as family. I still do not view him has an uncle in the true sense."

I nodded, acknowledging the fairness of it.

"Late in the night I snuck into his room, ready to kill him. I was expecting…I do not know what I was expecting, but it wasn't to find Arthur weeping with his head in his hands."

Perhaps it was shocking a to a woad girl of sixteen or seventeen to find the Roman commander mourning over the death of a knight, but I could picture it without difficulty. I found it more than easy to think my commander, who had jumped into an icy pond and held me when Branwain was killed, was capable of it.

"I knew I couldn't do it immediately. I could not kill a man who was weeping like a child…It was if I was watching myself… It was what I had put off for days; mourning for my father. I put my arms around him and then…"

She gave a bitter smile that was illuminated by the moon. The shadows made her face look like it was carved from marble.

"I left in the morning before first light. Your friend, Lancelot saw me leaving Arthur's room and I think he knew that I wasn't some village whore. I don't know if he recognized me from the battle or if it was something in my face. He looked as if he was recovering from too much wine, but he still through open the door and ran in. I ran out of the village as fast as I could and returned to my family. When the baby started to show, no one asked. They assumed it was my business with some woad that I didn't wish to marry."

I felt my blood run cold. Her story was something that struck a chord deep within me, but that wasn't it. I was looking at the future. A future in which the high king of Britain had two children. One who was his child with his wife and queen. One who was his firstborn with a woad queen and the daughter of his half sister. Countless wars had been fought over succession to a throne.

"Who knows?" I asked in a hoarse voice. Modron, normally so withdrawn and collected, was colorless with the knowledge of what it all meant.

"You, Kaherdin, Merlin." She half whispered.

"And Lancelot." I finished. If he hadn't already, he would soon put two and two together. "What of Mordred?"

Another bitter smile.

"I don't think he would tell me if he knew." She said. I felt some comfort knowing that Merlin knew. Surely he would not have allowed his daughter to marry Arthur if he thought this would escalate into warfare? Uneasy, I contemplated on what we should do. Somehow I did not think Modron had told me that story just to pass the time. She needed help.

"Do you have any designs that Mordred should come to the throne?" I asked turning towards her. I needed to know.

"He has my place to take when the time comes. Arthur becoming king never occurred to me before Badon." She said in a voice as guarded as my own. "It shouldn't matter now anyways. Uriens will treat him like his own son. That should be enough for him."

"So you will marry Uriens?" I asked looking at her. I did not think she loved Uriens. Not in the way that March told me Uriens loved her. I wondered what it was like to look at your own marriage as a political move.

"It will be a good move. For all of us." She said. I nodded. It was her own decision.

"And will you tell Arthur that he has a son?" I asked. I did not know if would be more merciful to leave him in the dark, or to tell him.

"Not now. Not until my son is ready." She said and this time her voice was strong and sure.

Lancelot was something to be worried about in that case. His loyalty was to Arthur, not Modron. But did it really concern loyalty? If it could all be handled the right way, would there be any reason to worry? Modron seemed to know that I was struggling with this new knowledge.

"We will have other days to discuss it. It does not have to be dealt with right now." She said standing tall once again. I wondered if it had been hard for her to watch Arthur wed Guinevere. If it was the same type of agony Lancelot felt when he had watched it…Was that the nature of her feelings for him though? What was done was done however. Her own feelings for Arthur did not concern me.

"What of your own dilemma? It seems my sister has moved in for the kill." She asked with a one sided smile. I actually laughed at that. The words put an image into my head of Yseult sneaking up on a befuddled Tristan with a nice thick rope to subdue him with. It felt good to be able to laugh about it. I finished my gales of laughter and shrugged.

"Ohhh!" Modron half laughed. "Don't tell me that the fierce Isolde is going to let the scout go without a good fight?"

At the thought, my pride felt wounded in several ways. I wasn't necessarily giving up without a fight. I was…just…not fighting? The idea of fighting over a man made me feel low. I hated the idea of throwing myself at a man's feet as if I was not worthy. It was not arrogance, it was pride.

"We made it very clear we were not in love." I said plainly.

"Ah. But that was in the beginning…Can you honestly say you feel the same?" She asked with a knowing look, Her shimmering, coarse hair falling around her face. I could looked away. I could have changed the subject.

"No." I said. "But if he loves your sister, then what purpose would it serve for me to interfere?"

"None at all. Assuming that is that he loves her…"

"Well, I don't know why a man would let a girl cosset him like that if he-"

"You said it. Girl. Not a woman. Not Tristan's equal."

I snorted.

"Since when do men want equals? Modron, Yseult is your sister." I protested.

"Yes. And I know her too well to believe for one moment that the two of them love each other. Perhaps Yseult thinks she loves him. Maybe Tristan even thinks he loves her. But that does not mean it is love!"

"Then what is it?" I asked crossly.

"Something that fades. What was it when you gave up Tristan for March?" Modron asked. I was thoroughly sick of people seeming to know more about my own damn feelings than me. But her words made sense in a strange way. And in a horrible moment, I felt some flicker of hope. That hopeful flare that shot up my body brought me very close to walking away and leaving Modron standing in the snow. Snow that had now piled slightly on my shoulders and melted into my hair.

"If he loved me, he would have come to me." I said, sure that at last I had won. Not so.

"The same way you have come to him? Tell me Isolde, since you have returned, have you let him know you love him?" Modron asked pointedly.

"No." She wasn't talking to me like a child, but somehow, I felt like one.

"You're afraid he will not want you." She said rubbing the bridge of her nose. Me, shying away because im frightened of rejection? Absolutely not! Ha!

"Yes."

We stood there looking at each other. I could not tell her how to tell Arthur, and she could not tell me how to tell Tristan. She gave me a look that seemed to say I cannot know you if he loves you.

She returned her gaze to the sky.

"There is going to be a hunt tomorrow. You and Mordred are welcome to come." I said and set off to my room.


Later, I laid in bed staring at the wall. I thought of all the reasons I loved Tristan. I somehow doubted that Yseult knew him well enough to appreciate everything about him. I took a deep breath. I had…abandoned Tristan in a way. After the battle on the frozen lake, Tristan had been left thinking I was dead. Then I had reappeared, but I had taken up with another man. Then I had left for Sarmatia for the better part of a year. Had I expected him to go all the time without a woman? No. Honestly, I hadn't. But I had expected him to stick to the loose women that hung around bars. Not take just one woman and fall in love with her. He had every right too I admitted. But if I loved him and I had gone this long without sharing my bed, why couldn't he? The most obvious answer was that my love was unrequited. Or maybe I had left him vulnerable, and Yseult had seemed like a angel of mercy. She was warm and loving and doting…Things I supposed I was not. Perhaps Tristan had thought that what she offered was what women were supposed to do when they loved you… A thought crossed my mind. A thought that made me feel physically ill. If this courtship continued, would he- gods, I didn't want to think it- marry her? That would end any hope. I would never, ever destroy a marriage. Not even for Tristan. Unless that happened, would it be merciful to help him realize that he and Yseult weren't for one another? To keep him from trapping himself? I realized how easy it was to convince oneself that it would be the right thing to do… I groaned and closed my eyes, feeling oddly out of control of my life for the first time in a long while.


Review!