Dinner had been an...interesting affair. The important discussion and symbolism having taken place, Bedivere and his son could afford to relax into the warmth that they normally got from Maelgwn's court. That, at least, had been normal, but all there had noted on Mordred's sons not talking to each other. Sulwyn, gathering the things afterwards, had ( Read more... )

Spring has sprung, the grass has riz, I wonder where the prince is?

Up a tree, as it turns out. And Spring hasn't exactly come, seeing as it's...February. But the lanky, fourteen-year-old heir to the High Kingship is in a tree.

Reading.

Or, as his brother would put it, hiding.

Whatever.