Hail the Son of Morgause!

Arthur gaped as he looked out over the log his team was hiding behind. Most were pushing against it as tightly as they could. Fake arrows were flying over their heads, hitting the ground centimeters in front of them. "We need a plan," Gawain swiftly said.

"Great, anyone have an idea?" Bors asked.

"Weaknesses. They must have weaknesses," Lucan muttered, thinking.

"Yeah. Family and friends," Arthur shot. "We send Gawain after Mordred, Lucan can go after Degore, Dagonet can go after Alymere, Hector goes after Lance, Yvain goes after Ywain, I'll go after Kay. Pelleas can go after Bedivere, since he's hurt and Bedivere's sympathetic enough to go easy on him. Lamorak can go for Tristan because if he's as good as he claims, he should be able to hold his own. Lionel goes after Bleoberis, Bors goes after Breunor, Safir goes after Loholt, Palamedes goes after Gareth."

"How is that going to work?" Hector demanded.

"It's brilliant!" Lucan exclaimed at the same time.

"It is?" Arthur asked.

"It definitely is," Gawain said. "Brother against brother, cousin against cousin, best friend against best friend with only a few exceptions… That's among the easiest match ups we could hope to ever have," Gawain stated.

"How so?" Pelleas questioned.

"Because family will be concerned for family, friends will go easy on friends and pity them. The only ones with a real fight will be Lamorak, Palamides, and Safir, and Safir's on the list just because he won't want to hurt Loholt," Dagonet said.

"Breunor isn't related to Bohort," Alymere pointed out.

"No, but Breunor and Bleoberis buddy up a lot. Because of that, Breunor might go easy on his friend's cousin," Arthur said. Sure it was a stretch, but at least it was something.

"I suppose that plan is the safest one for us all," Safir hesitantly agreed.

"I don't want to hurt Lancelot, though," Hector nervously said.

"And I don't want to hurt Ywain!" Yvain agreed.

"Alak, the children speak troth. This arrangement is destined to be a two-edged sword," Palamedes lamented.

"We have to win, though," Lionel muttered.

"Then it's a battle of wills. Whoever caves first loses. Don't be the one to give up. Remember, this is just a test," Gawain stated.

"Then to battle? I guess?" Safir said.

"The sounding of the drums of war, the thrill of our team's mighty roar," Lamorak sang.

"Mighty my foot," Arthur said with a groan.

"To battle, men!" Palamedes suddenly ordered, leaping nimbly over the log.

"Palamedes, you're insane!" Lamorak called, startled Palamedes had just thrown himself into it like that. Quickly he went after his friend. Safir snapped into action next, worried for his brother, and followed after Lamorak.

"Teamwork! Use it!" Gawain warned them, quickly scrambling out of hiding, followed by the rest. Arthur groaned, following last.

KAK

Lancelot paraded behind his team as they pelted their rivals with fake arrows. "Good job guys, keep the arrows flying. As long as they're pinned down, they can't do anything," he said.

"I feel like we're going to need more of a plan than this, Lancelot. What about when we face them hand-to-hand?" Tristan said in warning.

"Don't get in my zone!" Lancelot snapped. Calming down, he said, "Still, you have a point."

"We goes out dere and smash'em inta paste," Bleoberis said.

"How, Bleoberis? They'll be fighting back, and you know how they can be," Brunor said.

"Yeah, really. They have the smartest one of us all, Lucan, plus Gawain, Safir, and most importantly, Palamedes and Lamorak," Astomar remarked.

"They also have Arthur," Gareth said, smirking. "I'm pretty sure we've got this in the bag. They don't stand a chance."

"Blitz them," Mordred suggested.

"And that would work how?" Loholt bit. Mordred frowned at him.

"We're only little, Mordred, we won't be able to do much," Ywain ageed in concern.

"If we rush out with swords drawn and swinging, we might grab an advantage. Pelleas won't be a problem. He's hurt, remember? One solid blow to his side and he's out for the count," Breunor pointed out.

"And if we're met by Palamedes, Lamorak, Gawain, and Safir?" Bedivere asked.

"Them? Really? What can they do?" Kay said with a scoff. He'd totally agreed with Arthur's 'weak team' remark.

"Sir, squires Palamedes, Lamorak, Safir, and Gawain are all stronger than you think, sir. Lamorak is the best of us, after Lancelot and Tristan. Following him is Palamedes, then Safir is not one to be underestimated, and Gawain is potent when motivated," Degore militaristically said. Turning to Lancelot he added, "Lancelot, permission to take on Lucan, sir!"

"You just doesn't wants no one ta break his head," Bleoberis stated. "If de wimp can't take his lumps, he ain't worth de trouble."

"Shut it, Bleobeis!" Lancelot ordered.

"They're coming," Mordred said, peering out.

Lancelot turn quickly, eyes wide. Dammit, led by Palamedes, Lamorak, and Safir no less. Because luck just wasn't on his side today, apparently. "No time to come up with a plan now. Blitz them, and if you lose so help me I'll skin you all alive!" Lancelot shot. He wasn't coming in second place to Arthur. With that he leapt over, the others quickly following.

KAK

The two groups raced at each other, eyes filled with determination. "Just beat it," Lamorak sang, instantly leaping at Tristan.

"Whoa!" Tristan exclaimed, barely getting his sword up in time.

The enemies clashed, according to Arthur's plan. Lancelot and Bleoberis, attacking together as a team, barely processed that Hector and Lionel were targeting them and that it was a mind trick before they had to fight back. They knew it was a trick, all right, but how could they hurt their relatives?! Lionel and Hector were young compared to them! They went to attack, but each time either of the boys cried out or squealed, they pulled back and the duo struck hard and fierce. The cousins were forced onto the defensive and they weren't happy about it.

"Stand down, soldier, and surrender," Degore ordered Lucan, but he was obviously worried about his best friend.

"A highly improbable outcome, old chum," Lucan retorted, smirking and attacking Degore. "Arthur, your plan is working!"

"Arthur's plan!?" Lancelot exclaimed in shock. He gasped as Hector almost got him, but Bleoberis covered for him and gave him glare.

"Yeah, Arthur's plan," Gawain stated, swinging at Mordred. "Back off, Mordred. You don't want to hurt me."

"Don't I?" Mordred shot. With that he swung, hitting Gawain's leg with his blade and making his brother cry out in pain. It was exaggerated, Mordred knew—a dull practice blade couldn't hurt that much—but the sound flustered the child and he lost his timing for barely a moment. It was enough, though, and Gawain was on him in a second making him squeal.

Bedivere backed away from Pelleas worriedly. "Man, are you sure you should be fighting? Maybe you should sit this out," Bedivere insisted.

"Fat chance, Bedivere. I'm ready for this," Pelleas replied confidently. The theory that Bedivere would take it easy on him had been spot on, and it was going to cost his opponent now.

"Really Arthur?" Kay questioned, seeing Arthur facing off with him determinedly.

"What, I'm not good enough for you?" Arthur sneered. "You're as bad as the jocks."

"I am a jock," Kay retorted angrily. "Besides, that's not true, and you know it!"

"Then fight me!" Arthur ordered.

"If you insist," Kay replied. He met Arthur head on. He looked impressed as Arthur blocked the blow and struck, prompting him to dodge. Had Arthur gotten better? He kicked, sending Arthur into the ground painfully. Arthur grunted. Kay looked slightly worried for a second, guard going down, and Arthur attacked once more.

Tristan blocked Lamorak's attack. "You're good," he said. Exceedingly so, he inwardly added.

"Surrender and this will be so much easier," Lamorak replied in singing speech.

"You know I won't," Tristan replied.

"We'll see," Lamorak said, smirking. He suddenly pulled off a move so complex and swift and graceful it was almost like he was dancing! It was enough to quickly turn the tables on Tristan, and now Lamorak had the upper hand.

"Really? You against me? Arthur's lost his mind if this is his plan," Astomar said, laughing at Dagonet's attacks.

"You sure you should be talking, Alymere? After all, I've beat you before. With you trying every dirty trick in the book," Dagonet retorted with a wink. Alymere's smile fell and Dagonet lunged. For a jester, Dagonet was really, really good, apparently.

"Man, where'd you learn to fight?" Alymere asked in disbelief.

"Trained with Arthur at the palace then at school. He insisted," Dagonet replied with a wink. Arthur to this day had no idea how much that honor had meant to him. Nor would he ever probably.

Palamedes danced around Gareth smoothly. Gareth scowled furiously, trying to keep up. "Hold still, coward!" he finally ordered.

"Dost thou cry, enough?" Palamedes questioned.

"Thou shalt be digging thine own grave if you're not careful," Gareth threatened. He threw out his foot, tripping Palamedes. Palamedes, however, managed to roll. He shot up and faced Gareth, instantly ceasing to focus on footwork. Now was time to fight. Gareth was dead serious.

"If thou dost insist," Palamedes replied. With that, he lunged, and Gareth was so taken aback that he instantly fell off, backing away and trying to defend. Palamedes was fast, he knew, and while so was he, Palamedes was quicker. And more skilled. And that meant trouble for him. Trouble he doubted he could weather this round.

"No fair, you're older than me!" Loholt insisted to Safir.

"You're right. And I'm going easy on you," Safir replied, smirking. Loholt started then frowned, unimpressed. He attacked with renewed vigor, which briefly threw Safir off, but quickly he recovered again. "Hey, did you know I can fight Palamedes to a standstill if I'm in the mood?" he said, smirking. Loholt gasped, paling and freezing. Uh oh… Oh he was so dead.

"This is cheating! You're my brother!" Ywain whined at Yvain.

"So? Sorry, brother, but this is war," Yvain sang innocently.

"Fine! Then I won't go easy on you either," Ywain, indignant, replied before all but leaping on his brother and wrestling with him viciously. Yvain squealed but fought back valiantly. And unlike Ywain, he'd held onto his little sword…

"Putting up a good fight there, kiddo," Breunor said to Bors.

"I learned from Lancelot," Bohort boasted.

"Yeah? Well guess what?" Breunor said.

"What?" Bors asked guardedly.

"Lancelot doesn't know this trick," Breunor said, grinning wickedly and whipping off his shield, bashing Bors with it light enough that he wouldn't be hurt badly, but hard enough he'd be staggered. His working with sword and shield in tandem threw Bors completely off. Lancelot never used shields, so he had no idea how to fight against Breunor's syle.

"Hey!" Bohort protested as Brunor slashed, almost getting him. Bohort lunged at him again in the hopes of landing a hit. "Shield's are cheap!" he said when he struck only said shield.

"Big deal. They're allowed," Brunor replied, cutting at him quickly. Bors leapt back with a gasp. Oh, this was not going to go well.

KAK

Within moments, Lancelot's team was beaten. Arthur was amazed. Palamedes had been right. He hadn't left off unimpressed. If nothing else, he now fully understood, albeit reluctantly, why most of the underdogs hadn't been as underdog as he had been. "Whoa. That was amazing. We won!" Arthur exclaimed.

"You won't be so lucky in round two," Lancelot ominously warned.

"Bring it," Pelleas replied, smirking.

As the groups separated, Lancelot muttered to his team, "If I know them, they'll stick to what works. That leaves us to change it up. Keep it matched up or unfair, stay away from best friends and families. The only even match there was Lamorak and Tristan."

"Pray for your sake this works, Lancelot," Mordred growled.

"It will," Lancelot replied, eyes narrowing coldly at Mordred.

"What matchups do you plan on?" Tristan questioned.

Lancelot looked back, pursing his lips. After a moment he replied, "Bleoberis against Yvain, and Loholt again Bors, Brunor against Lucan, Ywain against Lionel, me against Lamorak, Gareth against Safir, Tristan against Palamedes, Kay against Pelleas since he's not in the mood to show mercy it seems, Bedivere against Hector, Degore versus Dagonet, Astomar against Gawain, and Mordred will take Arthur."

"What?!" Mordred freaked, one of the rare times he so outwardly lost his cool. "I'm little and so is Ywain! If I was older my skills would probably be more than Arthur's, 'cause he's a loser and a sorry excuse for a thinking being, let alone a warrior king, but I'm not older!"

"That's enough, Mordred! You're facing him and that's final!" Lancelot yelled, losing his temper with Mordred. The remark had surprised him a bit, it had sounded like he was semi-parroting something someone had said to him about the dork king, but Lance couldn't say he disagreed, so whatever.

"Where do you get off putting down my little brother, huh?!" Kay shot, suddenly stepping in and grabbing Mordred by the shirt, lifting him into the air as Mordred squealed. "Arthur's improved in his skills, trust me I know. We always used to fight. He has improved in leaps and bounds! I've fought you before, and I'm willing to say flat out that even if you were his age, he would be more than adept at giving you a run for your money! You'll see soon enough what Arthur can do."

Mordred squirmed defiantly. "Put me down! Gareth, help!" he cried.

"Shut up, Mordred! You're making it worse for yourself!" Kay snapped.

"Kay, let my baby brother go now or so help me!" Gareth cut in, stepping quickly up to defend his brother from Kay. Things were about to get heated.

"Enough! Stop chewing on each other and start chewing on the enemy!" Lancelot snapped at them. Kay and Mordred glared at one another. Kay's eyes darted to the scowling Gareth, who was ready to have at him at the drop of a hat.

"Fine," Kay finally growled through gritted teeth. "We'll see if you behave, brat." He put Mordred down. Ywain and Loholt worriedly looked at Mordred then glared at Kay, their eyes narrowed.

KAK

The whistle blew and the groups charged out, eyes set determinedly. Arthur's team was going for the weaknesses again, as Lancelot had predicted. "Now! Break formation!" Lancelot ordered. Immediately his team divided, heading towards the matchups Lancelot had given them. Yvain slid to a halt with a terrified gasp on seeing Bleoberis barrelling down on him. He screamed in terror and pain as the giant tackled him. Desperately Yvain tried to utilize his blade, but no dice. It was like a mouse fighting off a lion. Yvain struggled, trying to bite and scratch and tear, losing his sword. Of course he stood no chance. Yvain was only small, Bleoberis was ginormous. Soon enough the little boy retreated in terror, beaten. Oh, this wasn't good. Bleoberis laughed cruelly.

Bedivere ran at Hector, teeth gritted. Lancelot's half-brother would be one heck of a pain in the neck to finish off, but he could manage. All he had to do was pin the guy's arms and Hector would be done for. He was a good bit older and way bigger than Hector, after all. He was about Bleoberis's size in fact, but less muscular. Hector was ready, teeth gritted, and with a battle cry he lunged, drawing the blade. Bedivere gasped. The boy was good. He hardly had time to get up his own sword. In fact, Hector was fighting so quickly and desperately that Bedivere was having trouble keeping up. All at once, though, Hector made a desperate lunge. Bedivere dodged and grabbed him by the arms. Hector cried out as Bedivere tore the sword from his hand and tossed it away. "You lose, Hector," he declared, locking him. Hector growled lowly but accepted the defeat.

Brunor and Ywain tag teamed viciously against Lucan and Lionel, who were both ganging up on them in turn. Neither side planned to lose, of course. Brunor knew they had to attack weaknesses. If he had had just Lucan to worry about he could have tackled him, but as it was he didn't have just Lucan to worry about, and Ywain wasn't going to stand a chance tackling either of their opponents. He thought out his strategy. If he could grab either Lucan or Lionel, the other would yield, refusing to hurt their teammate. But he also had to watch Ywain and ensure he wasn't doing too badly against Lionel at the same time. Damn, babysitting sucked. He glanced over at Ywain, trying to figure it out. Ywain met his eyes and nodded, tossing his head at their opponents. Brunor started. Had Ywain been thinking along the same lines, he wondered? Whoa. The kid was more advanced than he'd thought if that was the case. Probably had to do with Uriens. Regardless, if Ywain was giving the go ahead, he'd go ahead and trust the kid could keep himself out of trouble long enough for this to be pulled off. Brunor and Ywain attacked viciously, herding Lucan and Lionel backwards. All at once Lucan tripped over a root, crying out in alarm! Brunor smirked. Herding had worked. He'd expected Lionel to end up the human shield, not Lucan, but this was fine too. Viciously he dragged Lucan up and held him in front of himself, shouting, "Come on Lionel, come at me!" Ywain leapt away from Lionel and returned to Breunor's side, grinning excitedly and victoriously.

Lionel gasped and stopped, staring wide-eyed at his partner. "Accost him, Lionel, forget about me!" Lucan furiously ordered, hating himself for being caught that easily.

Lionel desperately pondered his choices. Soon, however, he lowered his blade. "I… I won't," he answered, looking down and dropping the short sword. If this were a real battle they would both be dead or prisoners, he realized with a grimace. Although between the two options he'd rather be dead than a prisoner. He'd… he'd been there and done that… He had nightmares of that time to this day…

Gareth confronted Safir with a cold smirk. "Oh no, it's the safety boy! I'm so scared. Oh, please don't hurt me," Gareth sarcastically pled. Safir growled lowly and attacked with a battle cry. Eyes widening, Gareth became serious. Safir wasn't one to be trifled with, apparently. Desperately he went to work blocking the blows.

"You're going down, Gareth!" Safir furiously yelled.

Gareth viciously pushed him back. "Not this time! This time you guys are all ours!" he retorted. He lunged, tackling Safir, and viciously the two scrapped on the ground. Safir should have, in theory, been a match for Gareth physically, but instead he found himself distracted with all the ways in which wrestling could go horribly wrong and get him and Gareth both killed. He stopped focusing, attention shifting to not getting his head cracked open on a rock or some other such thing, and soon enough Gareth had him pinned and beaten. Safir, shocked, pulled away scowling, dropping from the fight. Gareth smirked victoriously.

Degore and Dagonet faced off icily. "No mercy!" Degore militaristically yelled.

"Too bad," Dagonet replied with an excited and playful glint in his eyes. "I would have spared your life."

Degore blinked blankly. After a stunned second he replied, "Doing so would be your death in a real battle." Immediately he lunged. Dagonet gritted his teeth and fought back. Degore knew that Dagonet was the less skilled fighter, but he wasn't ready to show the jester mercy on that basis. He'd seen how herding worked for Brunor and Ywain against Lucan and Lionel. Why not for him? He backed Dagonet slowly towards a small hill nearby. Dagonet was none the wiser. All at once Dagonet stabbed at him. Degore pulled back then lunged with his shoulder, checking Dagonet. Dagonet cried out in terror, toppling down the hill he hadn't even known was there. He got onto hands and knees gasping, and looked up at Degore in shock. "Strategy, soldier, is key, and victory will be ours!" Degore called down to him before turning his back and walking off.

Dagonet frowned, huffed, and stood, brushing himself off. Just then he heard something rustle in the bushes and gasped, turning. Was this another troll? No such creature appeared, but he heard a scratchy giggle sound from somewhere… The noise made him shiver. Uncertainly he headed back up the hill. Whatever was down there, he wanted no part of it. If it were a siren or a nymph, it could mean a boatload of trouble for them all. "Where are you going, young man?" a voice hissed, gruff and evil and barely audible. Dagonet gasped and spun. In the bush he saw glowing eyes! Immediately he bolted with a yelp, hoping he was just seeing, and hearing, things. Maybe he had a concussion! Yeah, that was it. Just a concussion.

Tristan lunged at Palamedes, but Palamedes was extraordinarily talented. Tristan knew his current opponent was probably among the most balanced of them, which meant among the most flexible when it came to styles. Palamedes parried and thrust, but Tristan blocked with his blade. If he could get the upper hand physically, he would win. The Saracen was too quick with a sword, though, and one heck of an archer too. What was he, part elf? Actually, that was more likely Lamorak. That guy's speed, grace, and agility had 'elf' written all over it, but unless Pellinore had scored with an elfin maid—he guessed it was possible, but seriously?—that probably wasn't the case. Tristan lunged. Palamedes rolled out of the way. Tristan took the opportunity and pounced, catching him when he was on the ground. "Now I have you!" Tristan exclaimed, viciously attacking.

"Releaseth me!" Palamedes indignantly ordered; but he knew he'd lost this round. Sure enough, Tristan had beaten him within a few seconds. Palamedes staggered up, put out, and retreated to the sidelines sulkily.

Lamorak wasn't fooling around, Lancelot knew. He'd almost been taken out multiple times already. The bard was swift and deadly, and one heck of a bladesman. Lancelot blocked another attack with his sword. He couldn't win speed wise, he doubted he'd be able to catch Lamorak to use muscle, but he could use trickery. All at once he ducked low and swung his leg, tripping the would-be troubadour. He tried to pounce, but Lamorak rolled back and hopped nimbly up. What was this nonsense, Lancelot agitatedly wondered? He growled lowly as Lamorak held a blade to his throat, ready to take victory. Quickly, however, Lancelot said, "Okay, I submit!"

Lamorak looked shocked. "Excuse me? Can you repeat that? Lancelot du Lac surrendering? It's unheard of!" he replied.

"Hey, I guess you're right," Lancelot replied, and Lamorak knew he'd walked right into that one. All at once Lancelot had stabbed upwards, blade pressed to the singer's groin. In a war he would be dead, so he was on the sidelines now.

Lamorak blinked in surprise, looked down, then looked back at his opponent. "You can be clever," he remarked admiringly, backing away. Lancelot rose, smirking. A compliment from Lamorak. That was rare. He'd take what he got. He looked around at how the others were doing, proud of how this was all shaping up.

KAK

Alymere viciously stabbed at Gawain over and over. Gawain wasn't even breaking a sweat defending himself. "Why won't you die?" Astomar demanded.

"You know me better than that," Gawain replied, catching Alymere's sword and sending it up into the air. Easily he caught it in his free hand and held both blades crossed over his neck. With one motion, in a real battle, Alymere's head would be gone. All Gawain had to do was make that move and he was out. "Yield," Gawain ordered.

"What?" Alymere asked, shocked. Was Gawain sparing him?

"I've never liked to kill. Yield," Gawain repeated.

Astomar was silent, debating this. Now, many others would choose death; after all, prison and torture weren't the most pleasant things around. But Alymere was the sort that would do anything to keep his life. If it meant torture so be it. He could take it. If you were alive, you still had a chance to escape. Finally, he replied, "Yield."

"You're a brave man, Astomar. Brave but foolish," Gawain said, smirking.

"Tell me you wouldn't do the same," he replied.

"My reasons would be different than yours," Gawain answered.

"Oh yeah, you're the self-punishing type, aren't you?" Alymere said. He had one more trick, though. All at once he drew a dagger and slashed. Gawain could hardly cry out before it had 'crossed' his throat. Gawain gaped at Alymere in shock. Alymere was far from a clever opponent. How had he come up with that?! Then again, Alymere was also opportunistic—he'd picked up tips from Agravaine, Gawain always believed, because this was a typically Agravaine sort of trick to pull—and this time Gawain had paid for it. Taking his sword and handing Alymere's back to him, he walked to the sidelines without a word. Alymere smirked. When Gawain was silent, it usually meant he was admiring someone. He'd never been on the receiving end of his silence before, and it felt good. Man, Agravaine knew where it was at in being sneaky and opportunistic. He should try listening to the guy more often. He wasn't a fan of Agravaine, but Agravaine was a snake, and a serpent's tricks could be useful in a pinch. Trickery and deceit were Agraviane's strong suits.

KAK

Pelleas was pale as Kay played with him. He knew it was playing, like a cat with a mouse, because Kay was a far better fighter than this, and he was wicked powerful. Almost super-human in fact. It was a little freaky. "End it already!" Pelleas shouted finally, sick of the psychological torture. If this was a real war it would be psychological torture.

"Don't think so," Kay replied. Viciously he struck Pelleas' side with the blunt edge of the sword. Pelleas screamed in pain, collapsing to the ground and sobbing, holding his ribs tightly. He wished it had been the sharp end. If it had been, he could have gone to the sidelines. As it was, the face of a blade wasn't lethal. For a moment Kay looked as if he would back down, eyes concerned, but this was a simulated war. No mercy. The others on the sidelines were watching now, though, slightly worried. The teacher's pursed their lips tightly, debating within themselves whether to pull Pelleas.

"Kay, please!" Pelleas exclaimed, seeing Kay's expressionless look. He raised his blade up, blocking Kay from driving his elbow into his chest. It didn't stop it from hurting. "Come on, man, you're going to break my ribs!" he exclaimed desperately. Kay debated once more within himself what to do. He'd made his point, he supposed, and he didn't want to hurt Pelleas more than he already was.

Finally, Kay replied, "If this were a war, you'd be suffering a lot more than that. Yield and this ends. In a real battle, yield isn't even a word to most, and I would be one of them."

"I yield!" Pelleas exclaimed desperately. Kay rose off him, waiting for him to rise. Pelleas tried but quickly collapsed again, gasping in pain and clutching his ribs. Kay sighed and bent down, helping him up and to the sidelines.

"Sorry. Didn't mean to get that rough," he remarked quietly.

"N-no problem, all good," Pelleas replied, though it was obvious it hurt him to speak.

"Look Pelleas, take a break and don't do anything. Don't talk, don't walk, just rest. Those need to recover. The forest is dangerous," Kay said. Pelleas nodded weakly. Kay retuned him to the sidelines to Safir's furious, glowering scowl. "What?" Kay challenged him with a sneer. Mistake. Immediately Safir launched into a lecture that had him thoroughly shamed in seconds, eyes fantically darting around looking for a way to escape it. Wow the guy had a serious protective complex going on over Pelleas. Probably stemmed from big-brother instinct, with Kay's luck.

KAK

Loholt and Bors scrambled after each other. Well, Bohort scrambled after Loholt, who was fleeing and trying to avoid him. The kid wasn't stupid. He knew he had the short end of the stick here, because Bors was a lot bigger than him. He just had to stay 'alive' until he figured out how to handle this. Bohort was all on a pious spiel, Agavaine said, which meant he was big on mercy and forgiveness? But Loholt didn't like to exploit that trait because he thought it was very noble, personally. There were other weaknesses Bors was bound to have, though. Like his family. But his family were all not on the field anymore. They'd finished their battles. Hmm… What he could do was get Bohort to think he was predictable. Bohort would then try to catch him off guard, but Loholt would be ready. Bors wouldn't even know what hit him! Yeah, that's what he would do.

Loholt kept running in a predictable fashion to avoid Bohort. Bors broke pattern only moments later to try and cut Loholt off. Loholt acted, ready for him to pull a stunt like this. He dropped to the ground, sliding, and slashed at his opponent, making Bohort yelp and stumble away in alarm. Too close to sentitive bits! Way too close! Loholt rolled quick and leapt onto Bohort's back, stabbing over his shoulder at the heart. In real battle, he would have killed him, and judging by Bohort's stunned stillness, he realized that too. "That was… surprisingly advanced," Bohort said after a minute.

"Arthur and Charming taught me!" Loholt cheerily said.

"Really?" Bors asked, surprised. Loholt nodded and dropped off him, trotting happily to the sidelines quite proud of himself. His family smiled at him and praised him, ruffling his hair. Bors followed him there, still a bit surprised that Loholt had sought lessons from Arthur even over his own brothers.

KAK

"You've lost, Mordred. Give up," Arthur ordered viciously, blocking Mordred's attacks which were growing steadily in fury. He was toying with the kid, honestly. He absolutely hated to admit it, but he was highly impressed. As a small child Mordred was this good? Arthur had no doubt that if he didn't have the size advantage, and experience, this would be a much more serious fight.

"Never!" Mordred vehemently yelled back. Viciously he tackled Arthur's legs, knocking the young king to the ground. Arthur gasped and rolled out of the way of Mordred's attack, the blade plunging into the ground.

"We're not trying to kill each other for real here!" Arthur shot. Mordred pounced on him like a little gremlin, viciously trying to tear into him. Arthur, now slightly concerned at the vehemence of the attacks from the kid, dropped his sword and tried to pry Mordred off his face. "Get off!" he screamed, shoving Mordred over his head and sending him rolling down the same bank Dagonet had gone down. Arthur gasped, turning quickly to make sure he hadn't hurt his small nephew.

Mordred was staggering up. Arthur's eyes narrowed and he leapt down the hill, charging Mordred. With a war cry he grabbed him, knocking them both into the stream. Slipping and sliding, the two tore at each other. They heard a commotion up above. The other students were getting worried, and the teachers were getting agitated. This was escalating fast. Mordred was suddenly above Arthur, shoving him under water and holding him there with his entire body weight, using a stone as a way to push down and not be easily thrown off. Desperately Arthur reacted, kneeing upwards and knocking Mordred off, winding him. Arthur came to the surface, gasping for air. "Seriously kid?! Drowning?" he demanded in anger and a measure of unease and agitation.

"You don't go down easily, do you? Kay was right. You've gotten better," Mordred said, gasping. This kid was far too serious, dark, and jaded for his age. It concerned Arthur greatly. It was almost like Morgause had been especially vehement with Mordred, when whispering hatred and poisonous words about Arthur to her children.

Arthur drew his sword and held it to Mordred's throat. "Yield. Yield or I swear to god I'll end this," he threatened in a growl.

"With a blunt blade?" Mordred bit back, but he knew he was on the verge of losing to the older boy. Arthur was also much bigger. Age and size were his uncle's advantage. Mordred was the youngest of them all. Well, he, Loholt, Yvain, and Ywain.

"What? I meant end it like end the duel, not like kill you!" Arthur said. "Where even did you come up with that idea?!"

"I'm not going down, 'Uncle' Arthur. Not without you!" Mordred shouted. Alarmed, Arthur gasped and slashed viciously. Not soon enough, though, because before he could even move, Mordred's blade was jabbing right in the groin area, an almost certain death. Arthur felt it break skin and was for a second terrified, but it seemed like last minute Mordred stopped himself from inflicting actual serious damage. The two blinked blankly at each other. Finally, Arthur rose, silent and a bit shaken by what had just happened. And uneasy. Mordred rose tentatively as well. "Mercy is for the weak. That's what killed you," the child said.

"How would you know? You haven't lived long enough to try it," Arthur replied coldly. And goodness knew Morgause wasn't an advocate of pity. They glared at one another a long moment before Arthur scoffed and turned, making his way up the bank towards the others. Mordred didn't follow immediately, but eventually pursued. Every one of the others was shocked silent, including the teachers. There was no way Arthur would have fought that desperately against anyone else. That he'd had to battle like that against one so much younger and smaller than him worried them all.

"Alright then," Galehaut said, visibly stunned as he looked at Mordred. He was the first to recover from the shock well enough to speak, though, so he had to take the lead here. "Well done. All of you. Now we will return to the campsite." The boys followed wordlessly, still a bit unnerved by the battle they'd witnessed between the young high king and his little nephew...

KAK

The boys sat around the fire pit silently as their teachers gave them feedback. "The plans on both sides were solid, but Arthur, more often than not the same plan doesn't work twice in a row. And Lancelot, never ever blitz the enemy with no plan whatsoever," Galehaut stated.

"Your combat skills appear to be coming along very well. When used against each other," Ector said. "Try putting those abilities to work against the actual enemy instead of tearing yourselves to shreds, and you'll really see improvement."

"Dagonet, why are you looking around like that?" Pellinore suddenly asked, noting Dagonet's distracted gaze. The others looked to Dagonet curiously.

Dagonet blinked then blushed. Uncertainly he replied, "When I rolled down that hill… I thought I heard a woman giggling in the bushes across from the stream. It sounded so scratchy, like sandpaper, and at first I thought I was hearing a bird or had gotten too close to some animal's creek, but as I began to climb back up she spoke in a creepy voice to me. I looked back and saw glowing eyes watching us. I ran."

"Why didn't you tell us this earlier?" Ector demanded, now looking concerned.

"I didn't think it was a big deal!" he replied. "I thought I might have just been seeing or hearing things. I hit my head going down that hill and figured it might be a result of that."

"Harpy, maybe," Lancelot remarked, looking guardedly around.

"Or a witch," Gawain remarked, ponderously holding his chin between two fingers.

"Whatever it was, we'd better be on our guard," Meliot declared. "It's time to take some extra precautions."

"The fool that would be king will protect us," Mordred sarcastically said, referencing Arthur.

"Would be? I am King," Arthur shot.

"And you're a great one, uncle. I'm in awe," Mordred faux praised.

"Must you two consistently jabber and taunt?" Lucan asked in exasperation.

"Here we go," Breunor groaned, holding his head.

"Hey, I don't have a father to teach me this stuff, Mordred. I actually had to learn on the job!" Arthur barked.

"Oh yeah. Your daddy took off on little baby Artie, didn't he?" Mordred asked with a sneer. "He knew exactly what his son would become. A failure!"

"You're one to talk!" Arthur furiously yelled, instantly defensive and hurt.

"I didn't end up an abandoned, orphaned brat passed to Merlin then forced on Ector!" Mordred shot.

"No, you didn't. You ended up the outcast bastard that nobody ever wanted instead! I mean at least with Loholt Lot had the choice of whether to adopt him or not. You were just the baggage that came with your psycho mom's infidelity! I'm not the only one who didn't know his father, am I kiddo?!"" Arthur snapped sharply back.

Mordred started, looking stung. He didn't move and said nothing a moment, breathing heavy and quick now like he was trying not to break down. He failed. "I hate you!" he let loose and screamed, tears in his eyes.

"You would. Hatred's all you know! Your own brothers can't stand you half the time!" Arthur shot back.

"Well your daddy couldn't stand you!" Mordred shrieked furiously. All at once he leapt up and ran into the woods before anyone could move.

"Mordred, wait!" Loholt called after him, instantly worried.

"Mordred!" Gawain fearfully called after his brother, running to try and catch him.

"If he goes out there alone, he's a dead man!" Bohort exclaimed. Well, dead boy, though sometimes you could be fooled given the way he spoke. The kid was… jaded for his age. Too jaded.

"You bastard!" Gareth shouted at Arthur, attacking him. Gawain slid to a stop. Dammit, now he had to help the other brother! Immediately he lunged, seizing Gareth and pulling him off Arthur. "Where do you get off telling a child that?! How dare you speak for us, 'uncle'! Well now guess what! If our brother gets hurt, his blood is on your hands, Arthur, yours! Damn you to hell!"

Arthur was too stunned at the attack to react. "Someone should go after Mordred," Astomar uncertainly declared, uneasy at the tension in the air now.

Immediately all eyes fell on Arthur. He blinked. "No, oh no. No way!" he shot.

"You'll go, and you won't argue," Lancelot growled lowly, voice quaking.

"Come on! Someone please back me up," he begged. "Kay?"

"Not this time bro," Kay replied. "You were out of line and I recognized it, which should tell you something."

"Reap what you sow, Arthur," Dagonet answered, frowning. Arthur looked guiltily after Mordred, then sighed and walked away.

KAK

"I hate him, I hate him!" Mordered screamed out loud, kicking a tree. But what if Arthur was right…? He stared at the tree, mouth quivering, then sniffed and leaned his head against the bark. "Who's Uncle Arthur to talk anyway? He doesn't even know his mommy and daddy hardly, only Grandma Igraine. I haven't even heard his daddy's name yet from him," he said to himself quietly. "He thinks he's so hard done by… You're not the only one who suffers, Arthur, you're not! The world doesn't revolve around you and your woes!" he furiously yelled, walking a little further. Of course, there was no response. Mordred stopped walking. His mouth quivered again and he looked up at the sky. He was done with this. He needed to go home… Or to the school. Whichever he reached first. "Arthur should just go back to Far Far Away and spare everybody grief. No one wants him here anyway… And why doesn't he change his Kingdom's name? Far Far Away is a stupid name," Mordred complained out loud. Worst of all it was probably where he needed to go before he could even get home or back to school. He should probably start heading there now. Before it was too late in the day to.

Mordred tried to take another step. Nothing happened, though. He gasped and looked down. What he saw made his eyes widen in horror. He was knee deep in sand! Wait… Quick sand! "Oh no!" he cried out in alarm and terror. Viciously he tried to pull free, struggling. That only served to sink him lower into the pit. "Help!" he cried desperately as it reached his waist. Mordred desperately clawed at the ground; roots, vines, grass, anything, vehemently trying to pull himself out of the pit. "Help! Help me! Help, please!" he screamed again, starting to cry and fearing no one would find him. He cursed himself a thousand times for storming off when Arthur had finally gotten a backbone and hit too personal. Uncle had just had to push it. The sand was pulling him under. Even Bleoberis would look good now. "Help!" Mordred cried once more, in a desperate last attempt at salvation. A chilling thought pricked at him. No one would ever find his body or know what happened to him…

KAK

Arthur, meanwhile, walked sulkily through the forest, kicking things and grumbling, "Stupid Mordred, stupid teachers. Oh Arthur, you hurt poor wittle morbid Mordred and made him wun away. Go after him and apowogize and hold his hand and tell him everything will be okay. Well guess what, Mordred, it's not! Life's unfair and cruel! Get used to it!" All he heard was an echo. After a moment he sighed. "Mordred can take care of himself. I shouldn't have to babysit. Heck, he's probably halfway to Far Far Away by now," Arthur complained. The kid was pretty decent at fighting after all, and he knew how to navigate the woods for sure.

"Help!" he heard a voice cry out just then.

He gasped, sharply looking up with eyes worried. That was… that was Mordred's voice! "Mordred!" he called, breaking into a run without even thinking about it or wondering why. "Hold on, I'm coming!"

Mordred heard the voice and gasped, looking up. No way. It couldn't be him. As if it mattered now anyway. He was neck deep and going down fast. No way would Arthur make it. Mordred did the last thing he could. He stuck up a free hand and cried out for help one last time as he disappeared in the sand. Just as Mordred's head disappeared, Arthur burst onto the scene and gasped. Quicksand! Dammit, he forgot Mordred was too young to have taken that class! He'd probably tried to struggle. A surge of desperate protection from god knew where washed over Arthur. He'd never experienced such a surge before. Kind of unnerved him and made him wonder why suddenly his protective instinct was going haywire, jumping way beyond overdrive for a nephew he despised. Instantly Arthur looked around for a vine and grabbed the first one he saw that looked relatively strong, tying it around his waist just in case. He then ran for Mordred.

He slid to a stop as close to the sand as he dared get, flattened himself out, and reached for the boy's disappearing hand, stretching as far as he was able to. "Hang on," Arthur said through gritted teeth. "Gotcha!" he exclaimed, finally reaching the child and firmly grasping him. He grunted, trying to pull Mordred out. He was making progress, but barely. He knew he only had moments left before he would be pulling out a body. He wasn't going to make it alone! In fact, he felt himself starting to go under as well! Finally, just as all seemed lost, something happened. Arms reached out, wrapping around Arthur, and began to pull him back from the quicksand. Arthur gasped and looked back. His eyes widened. "Balin!" he exclaimed. Oh he'd never, ever been happier to see his friend than he was right now! But if he was here, did that mean IAK wasn't far? Balin smirked worriedly, not answering. Just then Mordred's head broke the surface, coughing and gasping for air. Slowly, steadily, Arthur and Balin pulled him out. The three boys collapsed onto the ground panting, Arthur tightly holding Mordred in his arms as the child wept and clung to him, gradually calming down. "Hey, it's okay, it's okay," Arthur soothed softly, rocking Mordred as comfortingly as he could manage, petting and smoothing his hair gently. It felt awkward to be doing so for someone he'd just lashed out at, but hey, the kid was still practically a baby! A baby who'd just almost died. Who wouldn't protect and soothe him after a trauma like that?

"Oh wow dude, is he okay?" Balin asked.

"I don't know," Arthur replied.

"Man, what happened?" Balin asked.

"We got into a fight and things got ugly and hurtful," Arthur replied. "I… kind of sent him running and crying?"

"Bro, seriously? He's like… four. Or five," Balin said, raising an eyebrow at Arthur.

"He brought up my dad, okay?!" Arthur replied.

"Oh… That makes sense. I guess," Balin said.

"Thank you!" Arthur said. "Finally someone gets it!"

"Uh huh. What did you bring up that sent a baby running into the forest crying?" Balin said.

Arthur narrowed his eyes at him, unimpressed. Balin grinned cheekily. "Bite me," Arthur bit. Mordred continued sniffling and Arthur looked down at the child in concern. "Ugh, I've got to be the unluckiest bastard ever." He was so going to eat it for this.

"Hey man, I sympathize with you. I'm like the poster boy for unlucky. Heck, they call me Balin the Ill-Fated!" Balin said.

"You're probably not even in the same league as me," Arthur said.

"Don't bank on it," Balin answered. He turned, looking at Mordred who was calming down finally and watching him. "Hey kiddie, you're fine now," Balin said.

Finally, Mordred stopped crying and clinging to Arthur. He looked up at his uncle with big, tearful, wide eyes. "You saved me?" he said in disbelief and awe.

"Of course I did!" Arthur replied vehemently.

"But-but why uncle?" Mordred asked. "You said you hated me."

"Uncle? Oh yeah, forgot about that. Ooh, ouch. Sent your toddler nephew running and crying into the woods? Harsh enough, Arthur?" Balin incredulously asked.

"Don't go there," Arthur warned, scowling at him. He turned back to Mordred. "Come on, Mordred. Cut me a break. Look, I may not be the best uncle around, or the best person, and Anna probably has made me sound even worse, but you're still my nephew! We're family. Family sticks together. Or they should. I guess it doesn't always pan out like that, though…" Mordred suddenly hugged him tightly. "Uh, am I forgiven?" Arthur uncertainly asked, wrapping his arms tentatively around his nephew in return.

"No," Mordred replied, muffled against the fabric of Arthur's clothes.

There was silence. After a moment Arthur said, "Look, I'm sorry. I went too far, okay? I said some stupid things."

"You weren't the only one," Mordred replied as he crawled off Arthur's lap, sat cross-legged, and began to try and get the mud off himself. Arthur shrugged, saying nothing, and reached out to help clean the little one up a bit. "It's okay," Mordred finally remarked.

"Thanks kiddo. Let's just get back to the other guys and forget this happened, agreed?" Arthur asked, standing and offering a hand to Mordred. Mordred looked warily at it but then took it. Smiling, Arthur helped him up.

Mordred blinked then smirked a little cautiously, but also with a hint of hope. "Follow me, I know the way back," the child said.

"This time don't walk into the quicksand," Arthur replied. "Lead on, kiddo." Playfully he ruffled Mordred's hair.

Mordred shoved his hand off. Okay, he could loosen up a bit maybe. For now. He guessed he didn't need to be a jerk twenty-four seven. Wait… He looked over at the third boy, who had been listening quietly, and blinked. "Why are you even here, Balin? You make Arthur look like a four-leaf clover," Mordred asked.

Arthur looked back too. Balin blinked blankly then grinned innocently and awkwardly. "Ah, but I was lucky this time!" he immediately said, standing up and dusting himself off.

"Oh yeah?" Mordred bit at Balin.

"Arthur was about to fall in with you before I came along," Balin said.

"Watch where you're standing," Mordred deadpanned, pointing.

Balin looked down and cried out in alarm. He was sinking! "Help!" he cried out.

Arthur began to move. "Leave him to sink. One less rival to deal with from the Irish Accomodations of Knighthood," Mordred said.

"Hey, the guy helped save your life! You don't have to help me help him, Mordred, but I'm doing it anyway," Arthur said. Quickly the king grabbed a stick and held it out to Balin. Balin seized it desperately. Arthur pulled. The stick broke. What the… How did that even happen? Oh, despite its thickness it had rotted. Wow, this guy really was unlucky. Maybe Balin was right in saying he was worse off than him. Arthur looked around then seized a firmer branch, holding it out. Balin, waist deep, seized it. Arthur began to pull. This time it held. Mordred sighed and moved forward, reaching out and grabbing Balin's hand as he drew closer to solid ground, helping Arthur to pull him out. Not that he was doing much in comparison to his uncle and Balin even, but it was something at least.

"Phew, thanks," Balin said in relief.

"I owed you," Arthur replied. "So, what the heck are you doing so near our camp?"

Balin immediately stiffened and shifted, wincing. "You're spying on us, aren't you?!" Mordred demanded. "Who else is with you, Balin?!"

"N-no one!" Balin exclaimed.

"Liar!" Mordred shot.

"No, I'm serious… Okay my twin brother Balan is somewhere around here, but no one else!" Balin insisted.

"Right. Your better looking better half of an identical twin," Mordred sneered. Because that was possible, apparently.

"Something tells me you two didn't just decide to coincidentally begin lurking in the nook of the woods where the Worcestershire group is," Arthur said flatly.

"And I doubt it's only you two!" Mordred added.

"Alright! Your brothers Gaheris and Agravaine are around here somewhere too, but come on Mordred, cut us a break!" Balin insisted.

"Who sent you to spy?" Mordred interrogated.

"Mordred, please…" Balin began.

"Shut up!" Mordred snapped.

"But I…" Balin began.

"I said shut up!" Mordred barked. How the heck was a tot controlling a guy like thrice his age and size, Arthur dryly wondered? Mordred was a little spitfire.

"Easy, Mordred. We'll take him with us and maybe Sir Ector, Sir Meliot, King Galehaut, and King Pellinore will be able to get information. If he's really spying on us, whatever, but the fact is he saved your life, and in a way mine, so he can't have too malicious of intent towards us," Arthur said.

"Exactly! You just happened to be in the area we were scouting. I mean it this time! Even I couldn't come up with a lie that bad," Balin said. "I'll be your prisoner, just cut me some slack."

"I do like the sound of prisoner…" Mordred mused. "Fine, you're coming with us. But try to run and you'll pay." Balin nervously nodded.

"Seriously, dude? He's a pipsqueak," Arthur said.

"Yeah, and he's Agravaine's favorite brother. You don't wanna mess with Agravaine bro. Heck, you don't want to mess with any of Mordred's brothers," Balin defended.

"Oh brother. Lame excuse, friend," Arthur said.

"Don't undermine my influence!" Mordred protested.

"You have no influence!" Arthur sharply shot as the three of them headed off.

KAK

"The camp is just through here," Mordred stated, pushing through some bushes.

"Wow, how far did you run?" Arthur asked, panting. He'd been too busy searching for Mordred to notice the distance before. Mordred smirked.

"What are you doing out here anyway? A little off route, don't you think?" Balin asked.

"We were training for confrontation with the other houses before we actually started actively looking for them," Arthur said.

"What part of rival spy don't you get?" Mordred bit at Arthur.

"Not like he can do anything with the information," Arthur replied. "Even if he brought it back to his dormitory, we'll have switched camps by the time they get there."

Mordred opened his mouth to retort, but all at once he cried out in terror and alarm as something seized his ankle and lifted him into the air! "Mordred!" Arthur and Balin exclaimed together in shock.

"Put me down! Help!" Mordred cried, struggling. Not again. A moving tree!

"Whoa, not cool!" Balin exclaimed, drawing duel weapons. Arthur blinked at him in surprise. Wait, Balin was a duel wielder? Nice! He turned back to the tree, focusing on it instead for now. It was the bigger issue, at the moment.

"You there, unhand him!" Arthur commanded, drawing his blade and shield.

"By whose authority?" the tree asked.

"Mine! Arthur, King of Far Far Away! Man, I've really got to change its name," Arthur replied.

"I'll say," Balin wryly agreed.

"King? You?" the tree asked. Darkly it laughed at Arthur as Mordred stared in fear. "I think not. All hail the son of Morgause! All hail Mordred!"

"Psst, who's Morgause again?" Balin whispered.

"Older half-sister. It's complicated," Arthur answered. "Can we get back on subject please?"

Balin grinned innocently then turned to the tree. "Yo, why hail Mordred?"

"Even if I am Anna's son, Arthur is still King," Mordred agreed, sneering at the talking tree.

"'Twas Morgause's birthright," the tree declared. Arthur and Mordred stiffened. Mordred stayed wisely silent.

"Birthright?!" Arthur finally blurted, after getting over the shock of hearing this. "I'm the only son of Uther Pendragon! She has no birthright! Uther wasn't her dad," he protested. "And even if she had a birthright, Gawain…" Arthur paused. Actually, Gawain would get Lot's throne… That wasn't the point, though! Gaheris would get it after Gawain!

The tree darkly chuckled and dropped Mordred. Balin ran to catch him in his arms only to trip over a root and face plant. He groaned, cursing his luck, then scrambled up and pounced, just barely catching the kid. Mordred blinked blankly. "Thank you," he said, slightly surprised that Balin had bothered to catch him.

"Ugh, no problem," Balin replied, rubbing a sore nose.

"Let's go before anything else happens," Arthur stated as Balin and Mordred returned to him.

"Yeah… Sure," Mordred agreed. But his thoughts were still on the words of the tree, confusing him very much. He didn't understand what it was saying… He didn't like not understanding. Quickly the three hurried off. Arthur, like Mordred, was lost in thought. When did residents of Far Far Away start believing Morgause had a claim to the throne, he uneasily wondered? He didn't like the implications of it…

Sister, what did you do…?

"Hail the son of Morgause. Hail the son of Morgause," the tree eerily repeated again and again from behind them until they were out of earshot.