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You've never met my sisters...

Three. The mad one, the ambitious one, and the cold one. Suffice it to say there is no love lost between us.

*he shifts in his seat, appraising Luke thoughtfully*

But what I witnessed in the other room was hardly lost love either, now was it?

Women like Kara come and go, and they will ruin you if you let them. The trick is never to let them put you in that position.

*he stops, considers a moment, then adds* There was a girl I knew... Elain...

*Dafyd leans back in the chair and eases into his story*

This was years ago... *he chuckles* years ago in my time, that is. I was younger than you, about fifteen or sixteen. It was at the Castle of King Ectwyr, and I was nothing but a squire myself, although on the verge of manhood.

I admit, there isn't a lot for a squire to do when not attending his knight, and so we did what any boys our age would do. We gambled, we drank, we bedded the kitchen maids. We got into no end of trouble.

Lady Elain was trouble of an entirely different sort, however.

Lady Elain ... pale as snow with ringlets of honey-brown hair, pale blue eyes, and pouty lips you couldn't decide whether you wanted to kiss or slap. All the boys loved her the moment she passed through King Ectwyr's gates.

She was the younger daughter of King Bran of Lyones. Has history remembered Old Bran kindly?

*Dafyd grunts* It makes no matter. He was the last of the Old Dragons... well, save for Hen Gwydion, and he himself once said the title was not his to accept. When King Ris slew Gallius Rex and named himself Chief among the Dragons, Gwydion disappeared, and the other Dragons rose against Ris.

They died. To a man. Except for Bran. *he pauses, conscious of the gravity of his words*

Bran and Ris had ever been fastest friends. Some say Ris could not bear to destroy Bran, and others say Bran tricked his old friend. At the time, I was a babe in swaddling clothes mewling for my mother's teat, and I could not tell you either way. I can tell you that neither man walked off that battlefield. King Bran was carried off in a litter, and King Ris was buried beneath his shield.

Bran never walked on two legs again.

*he clears his throat, wishing he had thought to bring something with him to drink*

There I was, sixteen and headstrong, with swagger enough for two men, and here came this slip of a girl, daughter of the most venerated warrior in Prydn. What do you suppose I did?

*Dafyd doesn't give him three guesses, or even one*

I made an a** of myself, that's what I did.

I was in the kitchens when she arrived... I seem to recall there was a particular kitchen girl who often needed my attention....

When I emerged, I was covered head to toe in flour. Lady Elain took a scant look at me and demanded I fetch her and her guard food and drink.

*he spreads his arms wide* What was I to do? I told my lady I would be happy to comply if only she would think of her steed. Another morsel and she was likely to break the poor thing's back.

I think she would have let her guards gut me on the spot, but Ectwyr's son Cai was in the yard to greet her. He ran up and he cuffed me on the jaw so hard I heard the tolling of Padric's bells in Éire.

He said, "Forgive this little fool, Princess. He's only Gwyndwylo, one of the kitchen boys. I'll have the master of kitchens whip him if it please you."

*He grins* You know what that sweet little girl said? "See that he bleeds, then."