Everything is Okay

(A/N: Last chapter in Act 2. Act 3 will probably start being posted tomorrow or the next day. It may push M territory, though. Pretty dark subject matter, but then this has had pretty dark subject matter too, but Act 3 might be a bit more descriptive, so I'm warning you now about it.)

They got about half way back to the kingdom before Selices seemed to come out of his shock. He wordlessly adjusted himself on the horse, closing his eyes tightly and letting Bors lead it back to Far Far Away. There was silence. The elf was uninclined to talk, Arthur didn't know what to say, and Bors didn't even try to find words right now. "You… you didn't… You shouldn't have…" Arthur began before trailing off.

"You're right. I walked right into their hands. They never planned to attack your kingdom… It was all a lie to make us think they wanted Agravaine. They wanted me. They knew I would come and because I am foolish and stupid I…" Selices began.

"You aren't foolish or stupid," Bors said. "You couldn't have suspected. No one did. All of us were convinced they would come. You tried to save lives and that is never a stupid thing." Selices was quiet, frustrated tears threatening his eyes. "Will you… consent to having your injuries tended by our physician, when we return?" Selices shifted uncomfortably. "If you don't want to be alone with him, you don't need to be. You can choose whoever you want to be with you." Selices nodded quietly.

"Hey, you're-you're going to be okay now, alright? You're going to be okay. We'll keep you safe. You're never going back there again if we have anything to say about it," Arthur said, visibly distressed at all of this.

Selices tensed up a bit before relaxing once more. "Safe?" he finally asked after a while, like the word was completely foreign to him.

"Yes. Safe. We'll protect you," Arthur said. Selices was quiet, unsure what to make of this or how to respond. He simply rode in silence, taking the words in and mulling them over.

KAK

The elf was overwhelmed at the relief and concern and support that greeted his arrival, the Worcestershire students and teachers all expressing their relief and worry for him. Some kind of harshly or accusatorily, but they were quickly told off by Bors for their careless remarks and fast to apologize and try and explain what they meant by their words. Selices fought back threatening tears desperately. He had been starved for comfort and tender, caring words for too long, Bors knew. Starved of reassurances and gentle touches that didn't bring harm with them. The elf probably couldn't even remember the last time he'd felt safe, or the last time he hadn't had to rely on only himself, or the last time he had been soothed instead of forced to self-soothe. He hungered to touch without fear of being hurt, hungered to be touched kindly and tenderly rather than in some perverse or painful or sexual way. He was on the verge of breaking down when Petipace managed to steer him away, finally, from the crowds and into Caradoc's company.

The moment he was out of sight of the others, he broke down and all but buried himself against Petipace and Caradoc - not the evil one - both, trembling and letting himself just cry for the first time in gods knew how long. Petipace held him gently back while he wept against him, the man combing his fingers carefully through the elf's hair. Carados set to work tending the elfling's injuries as best he could, every so often giving him a soothing gestue or a soothing word if the elf seemed to start to get uncomfortable. Caradoc was visibly appalled and thoroughly sickened at the damage he was observing that had been done to the youth's body. The elfling seemed to be drawn to Petipace, which was good. It meant he'd imprinted on the man, and that would be a crucial step to recovering; his being able to hold onto something solid and tangible and firm and constant. He suspected the elf was drawn to the man because Petipace too was 'imperfect', like Selices believed he was. The scars marring the man's body, the burns that covered his face… it wasn't hard to tell that Petipace also had been subject to horrible, horrible abuse. The elf had probably realized as much immediately. Petipace seemed good with the elf, and appeared quite taken by him, so that was even more a bonus if Petipace started nurturing some sort of protective or fatherly instinct or complex regarding Selices. Goodness knew the elfling would need the confidant in days to come. Petipace would not be the only one either, if Bors had his way and got that group he'd been talking about forming up and running.

When Carados finished up with Selices, he said, "You should get some rest, boy. Let yourself recover. There are many rooms in the palace. Arthur will give you whichever one you desire."

"Will he let me sleep in the garden?" Selices asked timidly.

"There's no reason why he shouldn't," Petipace replied. "Come. I will bring you to him to ask." Selices nodded, rising. He gave a grateful look to Carados, nodding at him, then left with Petipace. Arthur, of course, didn't even hesitate to grant the elf's request. The question hadn't even left his mouth before it had been answered in the affirmative. Petipace brought Selices out to the gardens and kept a quiet vigil over him as the elfling curled up among the flowers, beneath a weeping willow, and fell soundly asleep.

KAK

It wasn't long before Ector came back. Lot wasn't with him. Arthur was slightly concerned Lot had been killed, but Ector assured him that wasn't the case. Lot had ridden immediately for Orkney, planning to catch up to his sons and accompany them the rest of the way home. He wanted to be close to Agravaine, Caradoc and Turquine's threat still haunting the man. Arthur, finally finding some alone time with his father, breathed a heavy sigh as he stared down at the garden where Selices was sleeping with Petipace near at hand. "What a week," Arthur said to his foster father with a groan.

"Eventful, to say the least," Ector agreed. "You did well, Arthur; and not only in regards to the Game of Houses."

"Which was a total bust," Arthur said.

"We can arrange for it to happen later in the year," Ector replied. "Or perhaps hold off for next year instead. Goodness knows this adventure we've all had more than makes up for it. You boys all worked spectacularly together. When you stop fighting among yourselves and work for a common goal, it's absolutely amazing what you accomplish. I've never seen anything like it in all my years!"

"Yeah right," Arthur replied.

"Arthur, I'm serious," Ector said.

Arthur looked a bit curious about this before grimacing and looking away once more. "When are we heading back to school?" he asked.

"As soon as you've all recovered," he answered. "And as soon as Selices has the mental and physical strength to." Arthur nodded quietly. Ector shifted and looked down. "King Bors is… thinking about starting a group. For young ones like Selices. Maybe even some older ones." Arthur grimaced, shifting a little uncomfortably. "I… think it would be a good idea." Arthur was quiet. "I need you to think about it, Arthur."

"I don't want to know," the young king said quietly.

"Know what?" Ector asked.

"I don't… I don't want to know who would come… I'm not sure how I'd face it."

Ector nodded. He understood. Arthur couldn't fathom how he'd react if one, or more than one, of his tormentors was there, which they would be. How could you even respond to something like that? "You don't have to decide now," Ector said. "But keep an open mind. Please." Arthur nodded quietly. "Come on. We should get back to the others. I think they deserve a little banquet for their hard work this week, don't you?"

"No," Arthur flatly said. "They'll all end up lobbing onto me for what I can give them then, like they did with Lancelot. No thanks, dad. I'm not into the false friends scene."

"Then set it up through your aunt, Arthur," Ector said with a sigh. "They need to be fed and put up either way."

"The inn," Arthur flatly said.

"Arthur Pendragon," Ector coldly warned.

Arthur grimaced and sighed. "Fine," he relented. They did deserve it for everything they'd done, after all. He couldn't deny that fact as much as he wanted to…

And as the students and faculty of Worcestershire sat together in the dining hall, laughing and animatedly chatting about all that had transpired, and cheering when Selices entered with Petipace, almost driving the elf to tears again, Arthur caught himself grinning and smiling as well, and engaging in excited talk with even people he never thought he would have. It was in that moment he began to realize that slowly he was growing attached to those he had once hated. And perhaps they to him as well…

KAK

It hadn't taken Lot long to catch up with his sons. That wasn't a good thing. Agravaine had taken a turn for the worse, and they'd needed to get him to a healer in a nearby town as quickly as possible. They'd managed to stabilize the boy once more, but the procession had been hesitant to go futher until the prince had had time to recover a little bit. It was in this town that Lot caught up to them. One of his men had been waiting for his arrival and given him the dismal news. He felt like the world had collapsed around him to hear the solemn words. He rode quickly to the inn where Agravain had been put up.

He went into his son's room quietly. The boy looked so small in the bed, huddled in on himself and in agony. He'd developed a high fever and so they had removed most of his clothing. The father saw plainly the deep, ugly wounds marring his child's flesh; the scars from the whips and the poorly healing, angry looking stabs. His heart clenched at the sight. He crossed to his child and sat on the bedside, drawing his fingers through the boy's hair. Agravaine whimpered, opening his eyes exhaustedly. "Papa, am I dying?" he asked, voice tiny and breaking. Lot wanted to deafen himself so he never had to hear a question like that again.

The king let out a shaking breath and crawled into the bed next to his son, pulling him close to comfort him, holding him against his body protectively. "Shh… You're alright," he said softly. He hated that he couldn't give a resounding 'no' in answer to that question. "I'm here now. You're going to get better, okay? I promise. You're not going to die. I won't let you die."

Agravaine trembled in his arms. "Arthur vowed to me a burial in Avalon," he remarked quietly.

"There'll be no burial!" Lot replied quickly, trying to keep his voice neutral and calm instead of sharp and afraid.

"Lamorak and Palamedes and Tristan will compose a song and sing… There will be Chrysanthimums, father. They'll be beautiful," Agravaine murmured, delirious. "There will be plumes and lights and music."

Lot fought back a sob desperately and only just barely managed to smother it so Agravaine wouldn't notice. "There'll be no funeral," he said again firmly. "There'll be no funeral…" He hated how his voice broke on that sentence… His child, only fourteen and just a month or so shy of fifteen, had been asked to make his own funeral arrangements…

"Everything's okay now?" Agravaine asked meekly.

"Everything's okay," Lot assured gently, stroking his son's hair. "It's okay," he repeated, pulling Agravaine close, resting the boy's head in the crook of his neck. Agravaine squirmed a little before settling there. Lot hated the feeling of his son going limp in his arms. He hated not knowing if he would ever wake up again…

KAK

"You have six more," was the callous remark of one guest at the inn that night—when he'd gone out to get some air and food and drink—as if children were expendable. The man had been knocked unconscious for it, and Lot was now storming through the inn to go back to his distressed sons who he knew he should be there for. He couldn't get himself blackout drunk like he wanted to, he couldn't pass out and stay unconscious until all this was over, because he had five other boys waiting for him who desperately, desperately needed their father's comfort and reassurance right now, and a promise that their brother would be okay when Lot didn't know if he would be. He didn't want to try and explain death to Mordred and Loholt. He got the feeling Mordred, at least, had a sense of it, but not a complete one. A child that age had trouble, generally, grasping concepts like that.

He went back upstairs to the upper draw room and walked in on Gawain, Gaheris, Gareth, Mordred, and Loholt all curled up together. Gawain cradled Mordred close as Gaheris kept Loholt near, playing a little game with him. He watched them quietly before revealing himself to them. His three oldest looked exhaustedly up at him. He came over, sitting beside Gareth and drawing a comforting hand through the boy's hair as he sat, which Gareth leaned into as he shut his eyes. Gareth... Nine months to the day younger than Agravaine, he knew. "How is your brother?" Lot asked them quietly.

"Uh, alive?" Gareth replied flatly. That was about all that could be said. "Barely."

"Any signs of recovery?" Lot asked.

"No," Gawain answered. "He's sleeping a bit more soundly, so that's a slight improvement, but other than that? No."

"Tell us he's going to be okay," Gaheris quietly said.

Lot was silent, glaring spitefully at the ground like it was to blame for this. Soon, though, he looked up. "He'll be okay," he answered. He had to be.

"Did you kill them?" Mordred asked in a creepy monotone, staring into the fireplace. "You made them suffer, didn't you papa?"

"No. They escaped," Lot answered, frowning at Mordred's morbid word choice. No child that age should speak so casually of such things… Mordred gave him an unimpressed look. "Check your attitude," Lot warned seriously, frowning at the boy. "Caradoc and Turquine are not to be trifled with."

"You should have stalked them to the ends of the earth," Mordred said.

"To stalk someone, you need to know where they are," Loholt bit at Mordred, glaring at him coldly.

"You shouldn't have lost them," Mordred replied, looking back into the fire.

"It was best I did, or you may not have a father returning to you right now," Lot said.

"You're not my daddy," Mordred quickly and slightly snippily said. Lot let the remark wash over him. Mordred on occasion would get into moods such as this. The 'you aren't my father' line was nothing new to him. It still hurt, but he'd learned how to let it roll off him in most cases.

"You might not have had me coming back to you," Lot amended slightly coldly. Mordred's jaw twitched, and he shifted a bit uncomfortably at the thought of that.

"How isn't he our daddy?" Loholt demanded of his brother. Mordred was quiet.

...Because mommy says my daddy must die…

"It's alright, Loholt," Lot said. The boy wasn't one to talk anyway. Every so often he too would have days when he pulled the 'because I'm not your son' line on him, by way of excuse for edging on playing the part of servant more than son.

"Dad? What if… What if Agravaine doesn't get up…?" Gareth asked a bit quietly.

Lot was quiet. "He will," he finally replied.

"But what if?" Gareth pressed.

"Don't entertain the thought, Gareth. He will," Lot said, rising and walking away to go to Agravaine's room. That was a conversation he wasn't in the mental place to have, at the moment, and if all went well he wouldn't need to have it with them. Gareth winced, curling in on himself further.

"If he dies, Arthur has given him his word. If father agrees to it, we'll return his body there to be given the burial he was promised," Gawain said softly to his brothers. Lot heard it as he was leaving and flinched. Soon he was in Agravaine's room once more, and climbed into the bed next to his son, keeping him close so he could hear and feel any change at all in the boy's breathing… Or heartbeat…

KAK

It was probably around one in the morning when Lot heard the door to the room open. He opened an eye, warily watching in case it was a potential threat to his son. It wasn't. In slipped a little figure. Mordred, he recognized when the moonlight through the window caught a tuft of black hair. The little one approached the bed uncertainly. He stood beside it, looking up, and shifted. "Sir?" he asked after a moment, voice breaking and sounding watery.

Lot raise his head. "Mordred. What is it, little one?" he asked softly, patting the bed. He already had a guess. Nightmares weren't a rare occurrence for the boy.

Mordred sniffed and crawled on, crawling over to him. "I'm sorry I was so mean to you. I'm sorry I said you weren't my daddy," he said, sniffing and wiping his eyes.

"Shh, it's alright. I know," Lot replied, lifting the covers so Mordred could snuggle between him and Agravaine. The bed was getting crowded now, he dryly noted to himself, but he didn't care. Mordred climbed under them and snuggled tightly against him. Lot reached his arm over both the boys, pulling Agravaine closer again so now Mordred was smushed between them.

"Do you hate me when I say that?" Mordred asked.

"No, darling, no. I could never hate you," Lot gently soothed. "I'll always love you. No matter what you say."

Mordred nodded weepily and nuzzled him. "I dreamed Agravaine was dead… Then I dreamed you would leave me…"

"Agravaine will live, I promise… And I'll never leave you," Lot said.

"Why do you love me if I'm not your baby?" Mordred asked.

"You are my baby," Lot answered. "You'll always be my baby."

"But I'm not yours," Mordred said.

"That doesn't matter one bit," Lot replied. "I love you anyway. Just as much as I love your brothers."

"But if you had to choose between them and me or Loholt…" Mordred began.

"I would give myself before I gave any of you," Lot answered.

"But then how can you always be there then?" Mordred asked.

"Trust me, darling. Maybe I won't be there forever, where you can touch me or hear me, but I'll still be there," Lot said gently.

Mordred nodded. "Papa, do you know who my real father is?" he asked suddenly. Quietly.

Lot was silent. Yes… Yes. He did. "I do," he answered.

"Who?" Mordred asked.

"That isn't something you need to worry about right now, Mordred. Maybe when you're older and you can understand better, but not right now. You deal with too much already, for such a little boy. You don't need that to be added to your burdens. Who your real father is, isn't important right now. You've gone this long without knowing. What's a little longer? The thing that's important is you and your happiness and safety, and I will do everything I can to give you all of that… In time you'll learn who your father was… But right now, it doesn't matter. It doesn't matter."

"It matters to me," Mordred argued.

"I know it does, and I wish it didn't, but you'll learn the truth soon enough. Just not right now. Right now, let's focus on your brother, okay?" Lot said. Mordred shifted at the reminder of Agravaine. He nodded against his adoptive father, snuggling into his chest and getting comfortable between Lot and Agravaine. Soon he was fast asleep, his breathing even and deep and peaceful. Lot gently dropped a kiss on his head then went back to sleep as well.

KAK

"They drove us out, humiliated our armies, and in doing so made a fatal, fatal mistake."

"We come to you now, Brian of the Isles, to call upon the pact we share, to back us in our warring against the boy king and all those who would be loyal to him."

"...My son is among them, is he not?"

"He is."

"Good... I have missed his warm presence next to me... He will be as good a place to start as any. You have the assurance of my antagonistic behavior towards the high king and his little friends. And should antagonising become war, you have my backing then too... In fact I will go there to fetch my son, and I will make it very clear to them just who it is they have offended. Sirs Caradoc and Turquine, return to your Dolorous Tower. Dolorous Guard will be at your back come hell or high water."

Dark laughter filled the halls of the ruined, dilapidated castle that sat situated high above a boiling lake of swirling lava... With a solitary rope bridge crossing it...