The Past

(A/N: Agonized a few days about how to present this chapter. Initial plan was to throw in the Lancelot-Grail/Vulgate story with Dolorous Guard, then I couldn't find it so I came up with something else, then I found it and tried to figure out if I could fit it in, but too many problems and inconsistencies kept creeping up though, and I tried to get it to fit but couldn't - might have been able to but didn't have the motivation to strain myself trying, though it may change in later editions of this story - so I kept it as was, more or less. The Story in the Lancelot-Grail/Vulgate story will probably come later. Enjoy.)

Some Years Ago

A preteen Gawain shot at a rabbit with his bow and arrows and easily brought it down. He smirked to himself, dismounted his horse, and went to gather it up. He bled it then tucked it away in the sack he'd brought along for the game he caught. He looked up at the sky. It was still early morning. The roosters from the distant farms had only just begun to crow. He liked the early mornings. They were peaceful. Gawain rose to head back. His parents would start to worry soon. "How fares the hunting, stranger?" a voice questioned just then.

Gawain turned curiously to see a man on a horse smiling pleasantly at him. "It's okay I guess," Gawain answered. He was wary, but the man seemed nice at least.

"Good. This is my first hunt in this area. Are there any particularly good spots to begin?" the man questioned.

"Um, around here is good?" Gawain answered. "Wh-who are you?"

"Forgive me, little one. My name is Brian of the Isles," the man answered, bowing. "I reside in Dolorous Guard."

"Dolorous Guard? You aren't friends with the Dolorous Tower, are you?" Gawain asked, bristling a bit nervously. Everyone knew of the giants—or so it was said—who lived in the Dolorous Tower.

"I'm in the same district, but no. It's a very big district and I have no affiliation with the men who reside in the Dolorous Tower," this 'Brian of the Isles' answered.

"Oh," Gawain said, relaxing a little.

"Where are your parents, boy?" the man questioned.

"They're not here," Gawain answered.

"Really? Are you an orphan?" the man asked.

Gawain shifted. "No. Mama and papa are the crown prince and princess of Orkney, and papa is captain of the Duloq guard too," Gawain answered.

"Lot and Morgause? Really… A young prince, then. Are you alone out here?" Brian asked. "That hardly seems like it would be acceptable for a little prince."

"Well, I guess, but-but I've been out here alone before. I can handle myself," Gawain answered, frowning at the man, slightly insulted at the apparent lack of faith in his abilities.

"I see… Very bad things can happen to little boys all alone in the woods," Brian said.

Gawain stiffened. He blinked at the man and rose guardedly. He had noticed the change in tone immediately, and suddenly the stranger's amiable façade became something much darker. Almost threatening. "I suppose," the young prince answered. "So, I guess I should go then." He picked up his bag of game and cautiously returned to his horse, not taking his eyes off Brian. He hesitated to get on the steed because that would mean looking away from the man, but eventually he would have to look away anyway. Still, he got a bad feeling about this. He turned to his horse and prepared to mount. Suddenly Brian whipped his steed into action! Gawain hardly had time to gasp and go for his sword before the man was there. Brian struck a vicious blow to his head, and Gawain cried out, collapsing unconscious onto the ground…

Brian nimbly leapt off his horse and sent Gawain's running. He rolled the young one over and examined him. He smirked sickly and gently stroked his face. "Such a pretty little boy," he cooed to the unconscious child, rubbing Gawain's inner thigh. "My friends will have their fun with you soon enough," he declared before picking up the preteen and slinging him over his own horse. Mounting behind, he galloped back towards Dolorous Guard…

KAK

Gawain awakened with a soft groan, eyes fluttering open to the sound of birds singing in the trees and a stream running nearby. He frowned in confusion. This-this didn't make sense. Hadn't he just been attacked and kidnapped? He tried to move but heard chains rattling before catching, keeping him down. He gasped, paling, and quickly looked back. his breathing began to speed up as he he started to struggle against the shackles binding him to the base of a tree, keeping him right where he was. He tried to move his legs, and though he could, he realized quickly his ankles had been bound so it would do little good. He bit back the urge to cry out for help, because though the man who'd kidnappd him wasn't here, his horse was. That implied he wasn't far and would soon come back. He'd come back faster if he heard his prisoner crying out for help. Gawain was on his own in this. He needed to save himself because no one else was here to. The more he fought, though, the more he started to realize with a chill that he couldn't. He couldn't escape. He couldn't get away!

He heard footsteps approaching and gasped in fear, quickly looking over. He started, though, on seeing whose footsteps they were. Approaching, carrying four waterskins, was a little boy about his own age who looked defeated and weak. The boy looked at him woefully and gasped on seeing he was awake, almost dropping the skins but managing to catch them before they fell. "Hey, hey you need to go! You need to run away. A bad man is here, and he took me and if he comes back he's going to take you too and you need to run right now, hurry! Go back to your family or run to Duloq or find a way to get there and tell the Captain of the Guard you found his son Gawain. Tell him that son was taken by Brian of the Isles, please! Get out of here before he comes back and hurts you too!"

The boy was silent, suddenly looking exhausted. "He's hurt you?" he asked quietly after a moment.

"He knocked me out and took me captive. Yeah, he's hurt me," Gawain replied like it was obvious.

"But no other way? He hasn't introduced you to his friends?" the boy asked.

"Huh? Wh-what do you mean?" Gawain asked, looking a bit nervous now.

The other boy was quiet. After a moment he put down the skins and approached, kneeling next to Gawain and examining him quietly. "Brian of the Isles is my father… I'm sorry he took you away, but… but I can't help you. I just can't," he said.

Gawain was quiet, staring at the boy in disbelief. "Y-yes you can," he replied fearfully. "You can! You have to! I don't wanna go, I don't wanna be hurt or taken away! Just-just cut the ropes on my ankles and-and find the key to the chains or something and I can go! I can escape and then-then you can pretend you didn't do it by hiding then coming out after your papa comes back. Please! P-please…" The boy was quiet, head hung sadly and ashamedly. Gawain felt tears of despair burning his eyes, his lips parted. Soon he shut them and swallowed. "Wh-what's going to happen to me?" he asked, voice breaking a bit as he began to shiver a little. The other boy winced, clenching his teeth, but was quiet. "Please!" No answer. "Wh-what's your name?" Gawain asked, trying a different approach.

The boy was quiet, shifting uncomfortably, but soon turned to him. "Papa's going to be mad at me if I talk to you… I have to go now."

"I just want your name," Gawain pled.

The boy was quiet. "Bran," he finally answered. "Bran de Lis." He rose to leave.

"Bran, please… Just-just tell me what he's going to do to me…" Gawain begged in as pathetic a voice as he could muster. It wasn't hard to do, because he felt pretty pathetic right now.

Bran tensed up. After a moment he turned back with tears threatening his eyes. "I'm sorry," he said, shaking his head. "I can't."

"No! No, don't leave me, please! Help me! Help!" Gawain pled as Bran began to walk away.

"Tell him, son. Answer his questions," a voice said. Bran gasped, turning quickly looking pale. Gawain looked over as well in fear. There stood Brian of the Isles, tall and menacing and looking disturbingly amused at what he was seeing.

"Da," Bran said, pale. "I-I wasn't… I was just…"

"Answer his question, Bran," the man ordered again.

Bran looked back at Gawain appearing distraught. Gawain looked like he was drowning in despair as he stared at Brian. Their captive turned to Bran once more, eyes pleading with him to help him. Bran swallowed thickly. "I… He… We're bringing you to-to Dolorous Guard."

"That isn't the right answer, Bran," the man said.

Bran looked frantically at his father. "He-he's the son of the crown prince of Orkney, father," he said quietly, voice breaking. "The-the crown prince who's captain of the guard in Duloq."

"And that means something to me?" Brian asked.

"W-well this one's a prince. You-you can't do that to a prince. His father will cut you to pieces!" Bran insisted. "Then… then I'll be all alone…" Which would be a dream come true, he inwardly added, but that wasn't the card he needed to play, if he had a hope of getting his father to let this fish go.

Brian seemed to be taken aback but flattered by the remark. He chuckled and approached his son, gently cupping one side of his face. Bran leaned into the touch even though it was the last thing he wanted to do. His father stroked his cheek, and Bran wished desperately that the gesture could make him feel safe and alright again. It would if his father was any other father but this one… This sort of gentle touch shouldn't hurt so much… It should feel loving, but instead all it felt like was… was something far from love… "You don't need to worry about Lot of Orkney, pet. He's a weak man with a pathetic force at his back. I'll take care of you well. And of his little son too… Now, shall I find my friends and have them teach you what to do when your prisoner is in this vulnerable position?"

"Why… why must I share, father?" Bran asked with head hung low, voice sounding like it was about to break but by some miracle remaining steady. Brian darkly chuckled, tilting his son's face up approvingly. The look in his eyes… Bran knew it well enough. "Hold off until tomorrow, da," Bran pushed once more as Gawain watched in horror and discomfort, not sure what it was he was seeing but hating it with his every fiber. Suddenly he felt like he wasn't the one who needed the rescuing… Given he was the one chained to the ground utterly helpless, that fact was speaking volumes. Brian chuckled and wrapped an arm around his son, leading him off into the woods muttering something about discussing the matter in private with his friends.

KAK

It was late at night when Bran and Brian reappeared, Bran with head hung low and in shame, Brian looking self-satisfied. Gawain stared at them quietly. Brian laid down to sleep and so did Bran… Gawain heard Bran begin to cry when Brian began to snore… The captive prince swallowed. He got the bad feeling he was beginning to get an idea of what the 'hurt' was going to be that Brian inflicted on him. "Bran?" he found himself saying, voice breaking to hear the other boy weeping. He felt like crying too. There was a soft gasp and the crying stopped; or rather was held back. "You-you didn't… I didn't want you to do that for me… You didn't have to do that for me." Silence. The other was probably ignoring him. "Just… just let it happen next time, okay?" Gawain quietly said, voice breaking again. He'd rather be the one suffering than letting someone else suffer for him.

Suddenly there was movement nearby. He gasped on feeling the ropes around his ankles being cut. He looked quickly over, eyes wide, and saw Bran there, sawing at them swiftly with a dagger, expression determined despite the tears streaking his face, which he furiously wiped away. The ropes snapped, and Gawain didn't even have time to register it before he heard Bran insert a key into the shackles around his wrists, quickly unlocking them. Gawain sat bolt upright, rubbing his wrists. He scrambled to his feet and wavered a bit unsteadily. Bran stood and balanced him. "Run. Run as fast as you can," Bran whispered.

"Come on. We can take your father's horse," Gawain said, grabbing the other's wrist and trying to pull him, but Bran didn't move. Gawain turned. "Bran, come on!" he insisted.

"I-I… But I can't!" Bran said, looking confused and unsure as to why this was happening.

"Yes, you can. If I can so can you. The horse is right there. We can ride together and go back to Duloq and my father and we can be safe!" Gawain insisted. "He'll protect us."

"But-but Brian is my father and-and… I can't! He'll find me again and take me and kill me or worse and I just…" Bran began. He heard Brian snort and quickly looked over, staring.

"My father will protect you. Us," Gawain insisted. "I'm not leaving you here with him. You… you saved my life, probably, and definitely my honor. Now let me save yours." Bran stared at Gawain uncertainly but also hopefully, shifting. Finally, he nodded in agreement. Gawain smiled and pulled him quickly to the horse. The two boys mounted it and Gawain moved it into action, starting at a walk so as not to wake Brian. The moment they were far enough away, though, he whipped it up into a gallop. Bran gasped, clinging tightly to him obviously not used to riding in the back. "Just keep your balance and don't let go! We're free, Bran, we're free!" Gawain cheered. Bran was quiet, obviously not believing a word of it, but Gawain heard him let out a shaking and relieved breath so at least for now he felt like he could dare to believe it was over. That was all Gawain could have hoped for.

But it wasn't over… Not for Bran…

KAK

The horse galloped into Duloq's courtyard where Lot was in a frenzy, ordering men to ride out and find his son. "Daddy!" Gawain called out, riding into the lot and reigning the steed in, leaping off it and running straight to his father.

Lot whipped around. "Gawain!" he exclaimed, racing to the boy and grabbing him into his arms, lifting him off the ground and holding him tightly, rocking him and entwining his fingers in the child's hair. "Where were you?! You had me scared to death!"

"I-I went out hunting, papa, but I got lost," Gawain said. He wasn't going to tell Lot what had actually happened just yet. Not in front of all these people. "But that boy there, he found me. His name is Bran and he saved me and helped me get back," Gawain said, pointing Bran out. Bran sat uncertainly on the horse, looking conflicted as to what to think. Gestures and touches such as the ones Lot was giving his son, as well as the term 'daddy', had probably all been corrupted to Bran, Gawain realized, and that wasn't fair, it wasn't! They shouldn't ever be corrupted. They were innocent and pure and good, and it wasn't okay!

Lot looked over at Bran with a curious frown. "You there, boy!" he called. Bran seemed to close rapidly in on himself, looking terrified. "Where do you hail from?"

"D-Dolorous Guard," Bran replied. The knights with Lot all gasped in horror, staggering away from Bran quickly and drawig their weapons. Lot looked stunned, staring at the now mortified child in disbelief. After a long moment, he turned to Gawain with eyes narrowed. "How about you tell me the truth of what happened?" he darkly said.

Gawain looked confused. "Dolorous Guard isn't affiliated with the Dolorous Tower, papa. He said so," he said.

"The boy?" Lot asked quickly.

"N-no, I just, um, he… Someone told me it wasn't," Gawain said.

Lot looked darkly over at Bran, who looked terrified now. "Who have you led here?" he darkly asked.

"He led me here!" Gawain protested immediately, squirming out of his father's arms and returning to the horse. "He saved me and he's my friend so stop scaring him!"

"Guards, get to your posts and prepare for a potential attack!" Lot ordered his men. Bran gasped, looking ready to flee.

"What attack?!" Gawain insisted.

"Bran!" a voice shouted, sounding concerned and worried and genuine. Bran, though, went as white as a ghost, whipping around with eyes wide. Galloping towards them, through the lot, was a man on a horse that wasn't his own. Gawain didn't want to know where he'd gotten it from. Brian of the Isles.

"Daddy, that's…" Gawain began in alarm.

"I'm Bran's father," the man cut off. "Thank goodness you found him, sir." He rode up to Lot, who warily watched him while raising an eyebrow.

"He's yours, then?" Lot said.

"Yes. My only child. He ran off last night, when we were camping in the woods on the way home," the man said.

"To Dolorous Guard," Lot remarked.

"Did he claim that? No. We're from the region around it, a nameless little hovel that we've tried to disassociate from that horrible place and its owner," the man said.

"I've heard of no town around there," Lot said.

"Because your sort can't be bothered rescuing the oppressed from a force you're terrified out of your skulls over," the man answered. Lot started, looking offended. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'll be taking my son home."

"Father, you can't let him, you can't! That's…" Gawain began. He cut off, catching his breath when he saw the concealed knife Brian of the Isles subtly flashed as a dark, quiet threat. His father didn't see it, focused on Gawain, but it was there, and it was ready to be used fatally on his father. "Why would you let them go back to that bad place after Bran saved me?" he covered smoothly.

"It's not bad, where we live," the man said. "It's just associated with a bad place, little one. How about you come along and see for yourself? You can visit with your new friend for a little while. Do say you will." The words were a command, Gawain knew. He stared, pale, at the knife brandished and at the ready to strike a killing blow to his dad.

"I-I… okay," Gawain relented, bowing his head.

"Not okay," Lot said firmly. He wasn't a fool. Something was off about this whole thing. The terror in the child's eyes and Bran's, and the wide-eyed stare of his son fixed on what seemed like him at first glance, but Lot realized was on something behind him or next to him, proved as much. He stepped quickly and pointedly away from the unknown man who had come. The man tried to follow and tried to stay close. Within striking range close. Lot shot him an ugly and warning scowl, moving farther away from him and going to his son, plucking Gawain off the ground. "He's not going anywhere," Lot firmly said, glaring darkly at the unknown man.

"Very well. Then I'll take my son and we'll be on our way. It's well to know yours is alright," the man said, riding up next to the horse the other boy was on. Gawain was shivering in Lot's arms looking like he wanted to blurt something out but was too afraid to. Bran whimpered slightly when the man seized the reigns of the horse. The child gave a dismayed sound, clinging to it tightly, when the man galloped off, leading it along.

"No, Bran!" Gawain cried out. Lot's eyes snapped to his son. "Father, you can't let him take Bran away, you can't! It's his father, yes, but his father is Brian of the Isles!" the boy exclaimed. Lot had all but dropped him on the ground before the words fully left Gawain's mouth, leaping onto a horse and charging after the two scowling. Brian pulled Bran's horse close, snatching his son from it as the child screamed, letting the extra go. The gallop sped up and Gawain watched helplessly on as Lot tried to ride the two down, murder in his eyes. The boy held his arms tightly, eyes wide, hoping and praying his father caught them before it was too late…

KAK

Lot charged after Brian of the Isles and the boy in his clutches. Brian scowled back at him, drawing his sword as Lot began closing the distance. Lot drew his own in response as the horses tore across the fields. He ran right at Brian, driving his horse to tackle Brian's own. Brian's horse whinnied in protest, almost falling but managing to stay up. Brian struck at Lot, whose armor deflected the blow. Lot stabbed at Brian's side, but his sword glanced off the armor as well. Brian was now off balance, though. Lot drove his horse to tackle Brian's once again. This time it screeched and began to fall. The child screamed in fear. Lot reached out, seizing his shirt and yanking him from the horse, placing him on his own and riding onward as Brian's horse kicked and flailed and staggered up before bolting. Brian got to his feet quickly as Lot charged at him again, sword brandished and ready to deliver a killing blow. Bran screamed, burying his face in his hands so he wouldn't see. Brian threw himself out of the way of the sword and noticed the other horse, the one Bran had taken to help Gawain escape, approaching. He grabbed it as it was going by, mounting up and charging away shouting a curse back at Lot.

Lot got ready to pursue before realizing the child he had on his own steed was now sobbing wretchedly in terror. He looked quickly down at the boy, silent. Finally, he put the sword away and turned his horse, riding at a trot back towards Duloq and saying absolutely nothing. The child seemed so afraid… Seemed like he was expecting him to do something to him as they rode… Lot felt sick at the thought of it. "You're alright now," he said in a gentle and reassuring tone. "You're alright. I'm not going to hurt you." Bran seemed like he wanted to believe it but didn't dare to. When they made it back to the city and nothing had been done to him, though, he seemed to start to feel a bit more at ease staring warily up at Lot, his big eyes darkened with suspicion and distrust that no child should ever feel… Lot wasn't naïve. He knew why that was so. He knew the sort of 'friends' Brian of he Isles made. "You're safe," he murmured once more.

Present

And Bran had been, Gawain recalled as he went to the stables to prepare a horse to take out hunting. At least he had been for a while. The prince sighed, mounting the steed. A while hadn't lasted long. To be fair, Bran had been kept away from Brian longer than he would have otherwise been if Lot been half the coward Farquaad had been. Gawain mounted his horse as he thought back to the trial that had come when Brian wrote to Farquaad threatening him for the return of Bran.

He watched numbly with his brothers and sister and Bran, clinging to his mother's dress and gazing fearfully down at his father who knelt in the middle of the courtroom surrounded by soldiers whose hands were on the hilts of their swords, ready to draw them and execute the man the second the command to do so was given. Lot's head was bowed low to Farquaad, who sat on a 'throne' looking livid and acting as judge.

"You kidnapped the child of Brian of the Isles! What made you think that was a good idea, you imbecile?!" Farquaad furiously demanded, shaking the letter dramatically in the air. "Because of you the entire kingdom is at risk, and for what? Because you decided to be 'noble'? Decided to save a 'poor, innocent soul' from a 'terrible' fate?" Sarcasm and distain dripped from the man's every word, and Gawain hated him with a passion for it.

"Now you're going to give him that boy back and…" Farquaad began.

"I'm not giving him his boy back," Lot cut off darkly.

Farquaad blinked, shocked at the defiance. "Captain, you will give that boy back or when he rides against us it will be your children I give as gifts to him for his leaving Duloq peacefully! On top of the boy that's rightfully his," Farquaad yelled.

"I'm not giving him his boy back," Lot repeated.

"Captain, this is nothing short of treachery!" Farquaad shot. Lot was silent. Farquaad, scowling, soon sat back in his chair. "You of course know the punishment for treachery?" he said, tone calmer but no less dark.

"Death," Lot answered without hesitation.

"Good. Then what do you have to say for yourself, before I pass that judgement upon you?" Farquaad asked.

"Brian of the Isles is a coward. He won't come, and if he does then rest assured, my lord, I will drive him back into the hole he crawled out from," Lot said, clenching his fists murderously.

Farquaad stared at him silently. "You will give him that boy back or I will take all of your own, and your daughter, and present them to him as replacements," he threatened once more.

"You won't touch them," Lot said darkly.

Farquaad scowled. "And why not?" he asked, teeth gritted.

"Because you'll have no need to. If Brian comes, my lord, I will present you his head on a pike as a gift, I give you my word," Lot said.

Farquaad ground his jaw, fingers drumming on the arm of his chair. "Can you be certain you will be victorious, captain?" Farquaad asked

"More than certain," Lot answered.

"Give me one reason I shouldn't have you quartered," Farquaad said.

"I can give you many, many reasons, but since you ask only for one, very well. You won't stand against him without me. Gifts will not appease an ally of the giants of the Dolorous Tower. I'm all that keeps you from defeat," Lot said.

Farquaad was quiet. "I will consider it," he finally replied. "Tomorrow you will present before me again, so I can pass my judgement. Be on your way, Captain."

"My lord," Lot replied, bowing to Farquaad again then rising and leaving. Mother's hand loosened on his own, Gawain felt.

The young prince remembered what happened after. That night father had come to them, and he had packed them all into a carriage under the cover of darkness, Bran too, and sent them all away to Worcestershire Academy where they would be safe. Where Farquaad couldn't touch them. It had been the most terrifying few months of Gawain's life, when he didn't know what fate befell his father or what had happened or what was going on. Then Lot had come to Worcestershire once again and told them that grandfather had died and now he was king of Orkney and of Lothian, where Duloq was, both. He had diplomatic immunity now, in fact technically he was Farquaad's ruler at that point though he planned to remain subservient to the man as his Captain of the Guard, because that had been part of the plea deal they'd arranged. All would be well. Gawain had never felt more relieved and grateful…

But Pynchley had been as much a coward as Farquaad, if not more, and when Brian tracked Brandelis down at Worcestershire, Pynchley had handed him over to the man on a silver platter and worked out a bargain and contract that kept him doomed to always be given back… He would never forget the look on Brandelis' face when he was handed over to his father… He would never forget how drastically the other had changed when he finally came back a few years later… Gawain let out a shaking sigh and pushed the horse into a gallop, wishing he could forget… Wishing more that he could save Bran again and this time forever…

KAK

Arthur sat distractedly on his throne, trying to hold court but ending up too preoccupied with the fact he'd failed to protect Bran, and the realization that on top of that he also had Lot and Morgause to contend with. Ector, realizing his foster son's distraction, called a close to the proceedings with a promise they would be resumed either later in the day or tomorrow. Arthur was glad for the respite. He let out a heavy and shaking sigh. The more time that passed with him on the throne, the less significant his being named high king seemed and the more useless he felt. Had he changed a single thing since coming to power? Done anything of note at all? Lot's words plagued him. A boy king so incompetent he couldn't even sit on his own throne… Maybe Lot was right… He couldn't even save Brandelis… He was no high king. This king thing just… maybe it wasn't something he was cut out for… Guilt and shame and worthlessness were tearing him apart from the inside out. He just wanted to shut himself away and cry and wish someone, anyone, else was on the throne…

"Anna?" Arthur heard Ector ask. He looked quickly up. Sure enough, Morgause was there looking worried and stressed. "What's wrong?" Ector questioned, frowning.

"Gawain is missing," Anna answered. Arthur sat up straight quickly, taken aback by the words. "He went off to hunt this morning, he usually does, but he hasn't come back," she said.

"Perhaps he just got lost?" Ector offered.

"No, no, Gareth and Gaheris went to look for him. They found his horse wandering alone and scared. There was blood on its flank. He was taken!" Anna said, genuinely distressed which was totally not something Arthur was used to seeing from his sister. Just then said sister's gaze fell on him, and Arthur stiffened. Uh oh. "Arthur, you have to do something! Someone has to do something, and I can't because I have Mordred and Loholt to look after right now, and Lot's in conference with the faculty at your worthless school, and no one else is here!"

"Morgause, calm yourself. Let's look at this rationally," Ector said.

"My son has been taken!" Morgause shouted. "Forget rationality!" She turned to Arthur again. "Brother, do something!"

Arthur, flustered and pale and tense and worried now, shook his head in denial. No… no, this couldn't be happening. This couldn't be happening! Dammit! He swallowed painfully, feeling a threatening burn in his eyes, and bowed his head. "Anna, I-I can't," he said, voice breaking helplessly. Anna started, looking shocked at this. Ector too looked stunned at the reply. What was going on with his son, he worriedly wondered? This wasn't him. This was such a step back from his facing off with Brian of the Isles not even long ago! What was wrong? "I-I'm not good enough or strong enough or smart enough or anything. I… I can't help you, sis. I just… I can't… I'm physically and mentally incapable of it." According to Lancelot, that was... And probably Lot, though Lot hadn't voiced it quite at blatantly. "But-but there's a classmate of mine here in my halls, dying to become a hero. Lancelot du Lac. He's Gawain's best friend. Get him to come to me and I'll send him after your son, but I can't do anything for my nephew… I'll only fail and end up captured too or getting us both killed…"

"You are so weak!" Morgause freaked. "What kind of king are you that you're this pathetic?! He's your nephew!"

"I'm not a king and I don't care what anyone says! I'm sick of this game!" Arthur yelled. "I'm just an ordinary kid! Lancelot's the guy you need to…"

"You worthless little sh…" Morgause began.

"Leave, Anna, now!" Ector immediately and sharply ordered, rising. "I'll send a search party for Gawain, but for now take Arthur's advice. Lancelot is one of the most promising students I have ever seen. There is nothing he can't do if he puts his mind to it, but don't you stand here and shout curses at my son!"

"Foster son," Anna bit. "And a disappointing one at that."

"Speak another cruel word to him in my presence. I dare you," Ector darkly warned. Morgause glared at the man. After a moment she turned and stormed away. She wouldn't test Ector's limits. Arthur hung his head low, sniffing. Lancelot would save Gawain… Ector turned to him. "Arthur, we will talk about this. I want to know what's going on with you. No more silence." Arthur didn't move or respond, just looked away miserably.

KAK

It wasn't long before Morgause brought Lancelot before Arthur to receive orders. Upon realizing who was going to be handing him the orders, though, the jock shut down immediately. He hardly even heard Arthur's request. He got 'missing' 'I can't go' 'I'll only fail' and 'only you can save him' out of it, which was more than enough fuel for him to belittle and insult Arthur like there was no tomorrow; and in the end Lancelot, of course, refused to go. "Be a man, Arthur, and tackle it yourself. If you don't grow a pair, you'll be stuck the pathetic loser you've always been forever. Of course, that won't be a surprise. Not sure you could advance passed that if you tried," Lancelot insulted before turning on his heel and marching out, leaving Arthur looking devastated. Lancelot, having spotted the look, inwardly cringed before pushing away thoughts of guilt. The guy had it coming, after all… Wow he was a creep…

He paused, looking back at the throne room to see Ector comforting Arthur, holding him in his arms as he wept and pressing for information as to what had happened, which Arthur would inevitably give, which would screw Lancelot over, but Lance knew he'd totally deserve it. The jock winced and looked over at Morgause, who glared at him in outrage. Not for her brother's sake, but for the fact he was refusing to act for Gawain's benefit. Gawain… Gawain was becoming just another nobody too, the closer he got to Arthur and the more he defended him. A skilled nobody, the guy had potential, but a nobody nonetheless. Lancelot shifted uncomfortably, going over the request in his mind again. Gawain was missing... But Gawain had pulled this kind of thing before! He sometimes just lost track of time. It wasn't like it was rare for him to up and disappear for a few hours. The guy was perfectly capable of taking care of himself, Lancelot knew. He didn't need help getting out of trouble! ...Right...?

Lancelot began to pace a bit uneasily, looking slightly troubled. Okay, maybe Gawain didn't generally lose track of time for this long... But it wasn't like he owed the guy anything right now! They weren't exactly getting along these days since Gawain had started buddying up with Arthur. Still... Gawain was his best friend. Sure, they hadn't been getting along wonderfully lately, but the guy still was and would always be his first true and best friend despite all the bumps in the road they hit. What did going out to check on him have to do with his grudge against Arthur anyway? His friend might need help, and damned if he didn't help him! He would be a hero. It's what he wanted most in life anyway. Frowning in determination, he slipped out of the palace, mounted his horse, and set a mental course. He wasn't sure where to start looking, but he guessed he could ask around. Given the fact Brian of the Isles had been here, he had major suspicions he was the culprit, and if he asked about the man he'd get his answers because it wasn't like the creep was easy to miss. Questioning citizens was as good a place to start as any, and if it confirmed his suspicions all the better.

"Lancelot!" a voice called. Lancelot looked back quickly and started. Servause, he saw, watching him solemnly. "Let me come with you," the slave said.

"Uh, yeah no. Bad idea, man," Lancelot replied. The guy probably had too many mental scars going on in his head for that noise.

"He was taken by Brian of the Isles. There's no other explanation. So I'm going t' come with ye," Stephen said. This time it was a statement. "Bran helped save me life and honor, as did Gawain. Now I'm going t' help save theirs."

Lancelot winced, hesitating, then looked a bit ashamed. "Okay," he relented. "Just you and me then?"

"Just you and me," Servause confirmed.

Lancelot gave an exasperated sigh. "Fine," he said. "Let's just round up some gear and get going. Every second we waste is another second Gawain and Bran don't have, if you're right about Brian taking Gawain."

"I am," Stephen stated. He went off to fetch some armor and a horse while Lancelot waited.

"You're going after my brother?" Gareth's voice asked suddenly from nearby.

Lancelot started, turning, and frowned. "What's it to you?" he asked.

"I want in," Gareth said.

"You? What's a prep like you gonna do?" Lancelot asked.

"You saw what I could do during the failed game of houses," Gareth replied, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms. "I'm coming."

"Plan on dragging along any of your other brothers?" Lancelot asked.

"Nope," Gareth replied.

"That's it? Just nope? No elaboration or anything?" Lancelot incredulously asked.

"Nope," Gareth answered.

Lancelot raised an eyebrow and rolled his eyes. "Fine, knock yourself out. See if I care. If you get yourself killed that's not my problem." Gareth shrugged. It wasn't long before Servause returned, ready to go, and saw Gareth. He was a bit surprised it was Gareth volunteering himself to come along and not one of the guys older brothers, but he didn't question it. "We're a day behind them so we have a day to catch up on. Let's get moving," Lance said.

"We have to go to Duloq. Carriage would be the fastest way," Gareth said. "From there it's a day or two's journey to Dolorous Guard, depending on your pace and how long you walk. The carriage drivers know the safest routes and the fastest ones. The fastest ones are usually risky so they'll cost you a pretty penny, but like I said, it's the fastest way."

"Not so. If we take the horses we may move quicker still than if we took a carriage," Stephen argued.

"We don't know the fastest routes," Gareth pointed out. "In Duloq we can rent some horses and go the rest of the way with them, but unless someone here has a magical guide, we're screwed." Lancelot shifted a bit, technically he did have a magical guide, but ultimately he refrained from speaking up.

"We can buy the routes off the drivers," Servause argued. "Then we'll know the fastest ways too. The sooner we're on our way and the faster we can move, the better." The others agreed with this course and the trio rode immediately off to search for their missing friend.

KAK

Gawain should have seen it coming. He should have noticed history repeating, but as he'd been blind back when he was a preteen, he was blind now. He honestly and truly had not expected it. One minute he was taking aim at a deer, the next a crushing blow was delivered to the back of his head and there was blackness.

He woke up in a room in some sort of decrepit palace that smelled of sulphur and brimstone… He woke up, and there was Brandelis, perched on the windowsill looking woefully out. Gawain winced, letting out a whimper. "Bran?" he asked, voice sounding dry and painful like he hadn't had anything to drink for too long.

"You don't learn, do you Gawain?" Bran quietly and tiredly asked, not turning to face him. "You just don't get it."

Gawain looked puzzled, but gradually realization started to dawn on him. Fear filled his expression. He tried to move quickly only to find himself held down by chains shackling him to the bed he was on. He wore only a loincloth, and panic seized him. He cursed loudly, strugging frantically. "Let me out, let me out! Bran, please!" Gawain pled.

"You really don't get it," Bran said, sniffing and closing his eyes, bowing his head and not turning. "There's no escaping from Dolorous Guard, Gawain. Arthur's cousin Fiona not withstanding, and that was pure fluke."

"Then let's fluke it again!" Gawian insisted. "Just-just let me free, man. Please."

"I can't," Brandelis replied. "I don't have the key… Dad won't make the same mistake twice either…"

"That man does not deserve to be called any kind of father!" Gawain shouted.

"Yeah, well ain't reality a bitch?!" Brandelis replied, getting off the windowsill and walking towards Gawain. He grabbed up a waterskin. "You going to drink something, or do I have to force this down your throat?" Gawain stared at him a long moment. He'd do it, he realized with a slight chill. He would do it… Force it, that was.

Finally, Gawain nodded in agreement. Brandelis looked relieved for that and put the waterskin to Gawain's lips, letting him drink from it. "The way you drink it back… Dad's 'friends' will have fun with you," Brandelis said when the skin was empty, and he pulled it away. Gawain looked visibly sickened at the statement, and terrified anew. Bran shook his head. "You shouldn't have gone out there alone, Gawain. Whatever happens to you here? It's on your head and yours alone." Gawian looked devastated at the remark. Bran sighed in frustration, turning to leave.

"So-so what? You're-you're just going to stand by and do nothing?!" Gawain demanded.

"Nah, he'll probably make me watch. Probably his friends will try to get me to join in which I'll, of course, refuse to do, for all the good it'll do us. Sorry Gawain, but I can't overpower the lords of the Dolorous Tower. I've tried it before and ended up a broken mess for it. Neither can you. I mean we drove them out of their tower because luck and because there were so many of us, but now?" Brandelis said. He shrugged by way of finishing that sentence. Gawain was white. Caradoc and Turquine, he realized with a chill. They'd fled here. They must have! And they'd been here before too, if Brandelis was... 'acquainted' with them like he implied.

"Bran, don't leave me! You can't leave!" Gawain pled. "Please, we can figure this out!"

"Yeah? Like we did when we were kids? Because that worked so well," Bran shot, spinning on him with eyes flashing darkly.

"You were free," Gawain hissed through gritted teeth. "For a while you were free!"

"A while wasn't good enough!" Brandelis shouted. The two stared at each other, Gawain pleading with his gaze for mercy and for Bran not to give up, Bran angry and beyond the point of being able to try and fight anymore. After a moment Bran shook his head and turned to leave. "I'll keep them occupied for as long as I can. Maybe someone will be in time to save you at least."

"Let them come," Gawain quickly said. "Don't make that sacrifice for me. Please."

"What sacrifice, Gawain? It was going to happen anyway. Not like it'll be out of the ordinary for me," Brandelis said with a bitter laugh before shutting the door behind him. Gawain's heart plummeted into the pit of his stomach and he grimaced, shutting his eyes tightly and praying this was just a bad dream.