In Duloq

Lot rode them all night at a gallop, only slowing to a walk when the horses couldn't be pushed any further. He held Lamorak firmly in front of him looking annoyed but also worried. He'd let loose on Gawain and Gareth for pulling a 'stupid stunt like this' and had demanded in a more-than-a-little-angry tone why they had thought to take the task on themselves instead of getting professionals on the case. To which Gareth had snarkily replied that Lot had been too busy with politics and lecturing to even notice, which resulted in his being grounded until further notice and a silent treatment from his father who really hadn't spoken to anyone since unless it was to give an order. Gareth, needless to say, felt like crap, but too little too late.

He rode them all the way to Duloq, dismounted, got Lamorak promptly to the castle, and called in the best healer in the town. Now they were all sitting there waiting around Lamorak's bed as the healer worked. Gareth had tried to apologize to his father once, but it had resulted in his being threatened to be taken over the man's knee if he 'opened his trap' again. Lot then proceded to fuss over the poisoned boy as if he was one of his own, and gradually everyone left the room to rest except Brandelis.

Brandelis watched, confused as to why Lot was so focused on Lamorak. He was hovering like he had with Agravaine, and that made no sense to Bran because why should he? "Why are you doing that?" he asked the King. "Nursing him, that is. He isn't yours."

"Because if mine and Pellinore's positions were reversed, I would want him to do no less for my own boys," Lot answered. "It's a dad thing." The man paused, blinking and reviewing his wording. He grimaced and turned to Brandelis. "It should be," he corrected. It wasn't like that for everyone, obviously. Bran was looking sadly down. Lot shifted and sighed. "I'm sorry," he said. Brandelis was quiet. Lot watched him. "You never had a father, Bran," he soon said, trying to find a way to make the boy feel better. He felt like he'd just made it worse with those words, but no backing out now. "In no sense of the words was Brian of the Isles a parent."

"Then I'm an orphan… And I'm not sure what's worse…" Bran quietly said, voice wavering a little. Lot was quiet, observing and waiting. It seemed like Brandelis was on the verge of opening up. If he was, Lot didn't want to do anything to jeopardize it. "I mean, people like to say that sometimes having no father is better than having one, but they usually have a mom in the picture at least, or a guardian or a parent figure or something! Someone's there. Someone's-someone's always there… No one's there for me… At least-at least as things are I have somebody…" the boy said, voice breaking. He sniffed and frustratedly wiped at his burning eyes.

Lot listened quietly and loathed Brian all the more. He ground his teeth, half wanting to ride right back there, attack Dolorous Guard, and cut the man's head off to stick on a pike as a trophy. He willed himself to keep an even temper, drew a deep breath, and said, "Someone always was, Brandelis. Men infinite times better than your father with infinite times the honor."

"You mean the teachers, I know, but I can't… This isn't something you just unload on them! And I know it's kind of Bors' job and everything, him and Petipace and Pellinore are like the only ones who even knew until a couple days ago, but-but a listening ear isn't enough! It just, it isn't enough! I want… I don't even know what I want…" Bran said, in tears now.

Lot was quiet. "Someone permanent," he finally said in a murmur. "Someone personal and there just for you…" A parent. He wanted a parent. He wanted a family… But not everyone got that wish now, did they? Lot shifted and bowed his head, closing his eyes and sighing through the nose. He approached Bran and sat next to him. Bran looked meekly over, then down again. "I can help you find that," Lot finally said. He usually never, ever, ever made promises like that, ever, but… but this time… Well what else was he supposed to do? He had two adoptees under his care already. What was a third, if need be? Ideally he'd find someone else who could devote their time to Bran and Bran alone—with Mordred and Loholt and all his other children his own time would be severely limited—but he'd do if no one else would.

"How?" Bran asked.

"Just… trust me, alright?" Lot said with a tired sigh, massaging the bridge of his nose. Brandelis shook his head. He didn't know if he could truly trust anymore. "Hey," Lot said, gently nudging him. He looked over. "You'll be alright. I'll make sure of it." Bran looked down but soon tentatively and uncertainly nodded his head. "Okay… Now you need to go get some rest, alright?" Lot said. Bran nodded again, looked almost like he wanted to hug him, then seemed to be scared away from the concept. Lot couldn't blame him for that, honestly. He would try, then, for a middle ground. He placed a hand on Bran's shoulder and gently rubbed it before patting reassuringly and gently. Bran offered a tiny but existent smile and rose, leaving quickly.

Lot watched after him, sighed again, and turned attention back to Lamorak. His thoughts drifted to Gareth and he winced a bit. Maybe he was being unfair to his boy. Come morning, he would try and remedy that. What if by morning Gareth was lying awake still worrying about whether his father still loved him, though? It wasn't like that fear wasn't founded in anything. It had happened with their mother, they rationed… He hated Anna for her neglect of her children… It hadn't always been that way… Glimpses came through of the old her every so often, like her asking Arthur to help with saving Gawain, but it was hard to tell what was real with her and what wasn't these days. He clenched his jaw then sighed, rising to find his boy.

KAK

Of course Gareth wasn't in the room he was sharing with Gawain, which resulted in a near heart-attack for Lot who immediately began to question every soul he saw about whether they'd seen his son slipping away or something. Finally, he got results from the castle cook who said they'd spotted him slipping out the kitchen door into the courtyard. Lot followed up on the lead immediately, walking out of the castle and scanning said courtyard for his son. He saw him not far, perched on a wall looking out over the town. Lot approached quietly. "Gareth," he said firmly. Gareth winced but didn't turn. "Why aren't you in bed?" Lot pressed, coming up alongside him. Gareth looked at him seeming confused; like he wondered why his father was talking to him or bothering with him again like nothing had happened. He seemed almost unsure whether he should answer or not. Lot tilted his head but didn't push, just leaned on the wall and followed his son's eyes out over the town.

Gareth sat there, still and feeling an uncomfortable burning sensation in his eyes that he hated with a passion. He felt vulnerable. He felt like he was a little child again. Like he wanted his mother's love and attention so badly but couldn't get it, no matter what he tried… One day she was there and the next she was gone it had seemed… It had been building a long time he knew now, but back then he hadn't realized it. Every 'mom' ignored, every 'I love you' met with a 'that's sweet' or an 'I know'. He wasn't even a very affectionate guy, but come on! I mean… could it have killed her to say it back just once…? She used to… Before they'd lost her… And now he was losing dad too… Was it his fault, he wondered? For not talking or not trying or not letting his parents know what he wanted or needed at any given time? He'd stopped because he'd thought that had been what drove mom away, and then it was just hard to get back into it again even when dad tried so hard to get him to… Or used to try… He wouldn't try anymore, probably…

Lot hated not knowing what to say to his son. He hated not knowing how to communicate with him. It had become unfairly difficult when they'd hit their teens… Even before it had been becoming so… Maybe it was because of him as much as it was because of Morgause… He was always busy with the kingdom, holding court or dealing with politics or judging crimes or making political allies and everything else that came with the job. He'd kind of shoved them off on their mother more often than not, and he hadn't even noticed when they began to change or when she'd gotten cold, and he hadn't seen it or even recognized it for goodness knew how long… When he finally clued in and started to press, it felt like he was too late… What was he supposed to do now? Well, if his son wouldn't open up to him, then maybe he should talk to his son. Try and draw him out. But what even could be said? Maybe… maybe just the simplest of things. The most basic of reassurances…

"I still love you, Gareth," he managed to make himself say finally, which wasn't easy because his own parents had never been overly affectionate, so such sentiments, while easy to respond to for him, weren't easy to initiate and say out loud. It came easier with Mordred and Loholt because they were so little and they needed it so much, but with his older children it got harder. Gareth closed in on himself a bit more like he didn't know whether to believe it or not. "Your remark hurt my feelings and I got angry. That's what people do. But just because you offended me doesn't mean I stopped loving you." He looked up at his son. "You and your brothers and sister mean everything to me. And no matter how angry I seem to get, or how upset I am with you, I will still love you. I'll always love you." Gareth sniffed, looking at him, then bent down quickly, hugging him tightly. Lot held his son back and pulled him off the wall. Gareth clung on, refusing to let go. Lot gently combed his fingers through the boy's hair. "You need to get some sleep, son. Tomorrow, if Lamorak is stable, we're going to head back to Far Far Away. You'll need your strength and energy for that," Lot murmured gently.

Shouting was heard suddenly from the watchtowers. Lot frowned and looked over. Gareth looked over too, puzzled. "What's happening?" the boy asked.

"I don't know," Lot replied. He marched towards the high defensive walls and hurried up the stairs to stand on the parapet and see. Looking out towards the fields, his lips slowly parted in disbelief. Gareth raced up, joining him, and gasped. A bonfire lit up the sky. In the shadows he saw a large number of men, and at the forefront one in particular. Brian of the Isles! Lot glared at him darkly, eyes reflecting the blazing fire and somehow becoming even more intense than the flames that shone in them. "Give me a reason to come down there and kill you!" he roared out to Brian.

"Should I move against you before you move against me, King of Lothian and Orkney, I will take you and your sons and daughter prisoner and enslave you, and I'll let you watch every time my 'friends' feel the need for your childrens' company," Brian replied, taking the challenge

Lot very nearly leapt off the wall, but Gareth caught his arm. "Dad, don't, he'll kill you!" he pled, pulling his father back. "If we're your one reason to go kill him, then let us also be your one reason to not!" Gareth pled. "We need you alive more than we need you dead! Please!"

Lot scowled murderously at Brian but stopped trying to go at him. He pulled free of Gareth's hands and wrapped his arm firmly and protectively around the boy's shoulders. "Ride against me, Brian. Right now. I dare you!" he called out.

"We came to leave a message, not fight a battle," Brian replied. With that he took a flaming piece of wood from the fire and threw it into the fields of wheat and vegetables and flowers. His men followed suite. Immediately the fields flared up and began to burn brilliantly, quickly spreading. Lot's mouth dropped in disbelief. "You're in the sights of Dolorous Guard and the Dolorous Tower now! Pray you're ready for them!" Brian shouted out. Turning, he rode quickly away with his men as Lot, fuming and shaking in rage, clung tightly to his son. He knew the game. If he ordered men down to fight the fire there would be chaos and Brian and his men would probably take the opportunity to kidnap either some of his soldiers, or make their way into the town and kidnap some of the people. That was a price he wasn't willing to pay. He could forsake the fields, until they came too close to the walls. It would drastically cut their food supply, but Orkney was in relative plenty and so were many lands of his allies. The rest of Lothian wasn't at its best, no, but it was well enough off to give a little aid. Duloq could depend on the kingdom's help, and the help of allied districts, to fend off famine this year.

"Dad, the fields!" Gareth exclaimed, pointing.

"Let them burn," Lot replied. "Fields are replacable. Men aren't." Gareth bristeled and looked uneasily out over the burning fields. Lot looked over at his General. "No one goes out to try and save the fields. If they do, it may be the last taste of freedom they ever have. Make sure not a soul steps outside these walls." The General nodded nervously, saluting. Lot nodded back and quickly guided Gareth back to the palace and inside once again. "Everything's going to be okay," he told his obviously distressed son. "Sleep, darling. I need to tend Lamorak. If you need me, you know where I'll be. I love you."

"I love you too," Gareth quietly said, head bowed. He entered his room without a word more and Lot continued to Lamorak's, expression dark. Brian was making a very, very, very bad enemy in him.

KAK

Come morning Lamorak wasn't dead, which was a good sign. The boy had begun to show signs of improving come early morning, much to his friends' relief. They half expected Lot's first words to him to be ordering him to breathe no word of this to Pellinore, but they were wrong. Lamorak's eyes flickered exhaustedly open and he whimpered a bit, shifing. "Easy, boy. Take it easy. You're alright now," Lot said, reaching out and sqeezing Lamorak's hand groundingly. Lamorak blinked confusedly at him then seemed to remember, becoming concerned. "Everyone's alright," Lot said before Lamorak could ask. "You were the only near-casualty. How are you feeling?"

"Like my back is on fire," Lamorak replied, grimacing.

"You stopped quoting songs as your dialect?" Lot said, raising an eyebrow.

"No!" Lamorak quickly said. "Um, n-not completely."

Lot shrugged it off. "What about pain?" he asked. "Nausea?"

"Dizzy. I'm so dizzy my head is spinning. Like a whirlpool it never ends," Lamorak sang. Lot went immediately back to looking unimpressed, glaring at the boy with arms folded. Lamorak sheepishly grinned at him, shrugging.

"Dare I ask about the pain again?" Lot asked.

Lamorak looked like he was trying to resist answering in song, but he failed. "Pain, pain without love, pain, pain I…"

"Enough!" Lot shot. He heard the other boys snickering and shot them a dirty scowl that shut them immediately up. He turned back to Lamorak.

"How did you guess the next word?" Lamorak asked. Well, kind of next word. It was in the next phrase at least.

"Just. Answer," Lot said.

"Aside from feeling like I'm on fire? I feel cramped, but-but a pain killer should help that your majesty," Lamorak said. Or alcohol, he wryly added to himself. Which he really, really wanted right about now. He sniffed the air and frowned, smelling smoke. He sat carefully up and looked out the window only to gasp, eyes widening as he saw the destroyed fields and the fearful farmers and citizens lamenting them and picking through what remained for anything that was still useable.

Lot looked towards the window as well and his sour mood increased. "Don't. Ask," he flatly said. He'd gotten into a blow up as to how to handle the matter with Gawain already. He didn't need further input from know-it-all teenage princes who figured they had the world pegged when they didn't have the faintest clue… Maybe a faint one. That was certainly less faint after this disaster… That wasn't the point!

"Did… did he try to take them back?" Lamorak worriedly asked, sounding deeply concerned as he looked over at Bran and Gawain, both of whom tensed up and looked out the windows nervously as if expecting a return at any moment now.

"No. He didn't," Lot replied. "If he'd taken one step closer to Duloq I would have ordered he and his massacred."

Lamorak shifted, plucking at the blanket. "What if… if they were like Brandelis and Selices too? His men?" he asked.

Lot was quiet. He looked back at the others, whose heads were now bowed, and at Bran who had his eyes shut tightly. He shifted uncomfortably. It seemed that 'faint clue' he'd remarked about was far, far less faint in these boys now than it had any right to be… He didn't even know how he could begin to answer that. The truth was that if once they had been victims, they had become victimizers long ago. It probably wasn't only Brian's 'friends' who hurt Brandelis, just as it probably hadn't been only Caradoc and Turquine who hurt Selices. That wasn't something he was about to explain to the boy at this moment though. "I'll order them captured instead of killed, if they come again," he finally settled on saying, turning back to Lamorak. It was the best he could do. But Brian was beyond that extension of mercy. Lamorak seemed pacified by that and nodded. "Rest a little longer. When you're feeling well enough to travel, we'll head back to your father and Far Far Away." Lamorak again nodded and laid back down. Lot moved out of the way to allow the others to approach their schoolmate or friend or whatever they were at this point.

"Are y' okay?" Stephen asked gently. Lamorak opened an eye and smiled tiredly, nodding. He closed the eye again.

"You… You scared us, Rak," Gawain said. "I'm sorry. That arrow wasn't even meant for you." It had been meant for him.

"Better it struck me than you," Lamorak replied, opening his eyes and frowning at Gawain, hoping the other wasn't going to start beating himself up over this.

"Yeah? I was the one with the armor," Gawain said, looking down a bit guiltily.

"He's the one who might have elven blood in him that kept him alive," Lancelot, still hiding his identity, piped up.

Lamorak started, looking at him a bit surprised at the remark, then seemed a bit uncertain. He guessed given his father's Dinadan-esque reputation it was possible that his mother hadn't actually been his mother, but he'd never honestly seriously thought about that likelihood at all. "Why do you say that? About possible elfin blood?" he asked.

"The grace with which you move isn't exactly common in mortals," Lancelot replied. "And your weight is less than it should be for a pure-blooded human your age and build. Your build itself is a hint to elfin blood somewhere in your blood-line. Almost all your other brothers are much more muscularly built than you too, except Percival." Which could be chalked up to young age. "You have a very slender and lithe look and an unexpected elegance to your step."

"And as awkward and Dinadan-esque as this will sound, you're totally gorgeous," Gawain teased.

Lamorak raised an eyebrow then shrugged. Hey, the guy wasn't wrong. "I'd rather not learn anymore about my father's licentious ways than I have to endure already," he flatly said. He didn't even want to imagine his dad's exploits, thank you very much.

"Alright, time to leave. All of you. Unless you intend to be quiet now and let him sleep a little longer," Lot said. They boys fell silent. Lot nodded. "Very well. I have paperwork to do, letters to write, incident reports to file… When he wakes up, come find me and we'll leave for Far Far Away." They nodded. Lot nodded back then turned, leaving them alone witih Lamorak. Lamorak lay back down again and closed his eyes, soon falling asleep with the others gathered around him and watching over him.

KAK

Upon their return to Far Far Away, in accordance with the unknown knight's wishes 'The Proud Warrior of the Lake' was what Gawain repeated about the mystery knight—seriously, who was Lance kidding? They all knew who 'The Proud Warrior of the Lake' was, or at least the rescue party and the rescuee did if no one else—as he told the story of his rescue and kidnapping to his family and schoolmates, all of which listened in mortification to the tale. Soon he, along with the others, finished telling it. "Needless to say, Duloq is in for a rough winter if help isn't obtained for them," Lot said, adding a bit to the end. This was a serious matter he needed to talk over with fellow kings, neutral or friend.

"Is Lothian not equipped to take care of its own?" Bagdemagus asked.

"To a degree yes, but Lothian hasn't had an overly productive year," Lot replied. "I'm not asking for much. Orkney has been plentiful and much of Lothian's aid will of course come from them given I'm the king of both lands, but a lot of what I can offer will also be needed for other less plentiful parts of Lothian."

"I'll give you my aid," Galehaut said. The other kings, most of which sympathized with Arthur, would probably be much less open to sharing their bounty with a rebel king looking to kill the boy. After all, the weaker Lot's armies were the worse they'd fare against Arthur and his allies. He was about the only one here Lot could turn to for help. Pellinore probably too, his gratitude to Lot for helping save his son blatantly obvious, but still.

"My thanks," Lot said to Galehaut.

"If you need more, my kingdom has a surplus. But only if you certainly need more," Pellinore said, plying for neutral ground in this regard. Lot nodded.

"Yeah, great, Duloq lives on, now what about this 'Proud Warrior of the Lake'?" Arthur said, obviously more entranced with the adventure of the whole thing over the political aspect. The other boys seemed to be of like-mind, for the most part.

"Why the sudden interest?" Kay asked.

"Because I want to meet him? Bonus points if I can convince him to hold audience with me. Far Far Away needs knights that are worth their salt. The handful I have isn't enough to shape the rest of them up, but if this lake warrior is as good as you're all saying, he's definitely going to be an asset if I can convince him to take a high-ranking position in the army."

"What about us?" Lamorak asked, a bit indignant.

"You get to stay in school until you've properly graduated," Pellinore answered for Arthur, frowning warningly at his son. Lamorak looked a bit sheepish, grinning innocently. Right, the others didn't know it was Lancelot. "Maybe then you can set your sights on a knighthood here." Lamorak crossed his arms slightly sulkily, looking away, but then sighed and nodded nonetheless, relenting.

"Whoever this 'Proud Warrior of the Lake' is, it seems he's a better man than Lancelot," Morgause bit. Lancelot who couldn't even be bothered coming to meet Gawain upon his return. Needless to say, Anna deeply begrudged that boy refusing her request to find her son.

"How so?" Gawain asked, confused.

"Lancelot adamantly refused to go for the petty reason it was Arthur who tasked it to him instead of me," Morgause answered.

Gawain raised an eyebrow and was silent. Well, whatever had happened here it didn't ultimately matter, he decided, because Lancelot had come in the end, considering his suspicion was correct. Which it probably was. "I'll find him," he said, looking to Arthur. "Give me the task, and I'll find him for you. At least I'll do my best. I'm eager to know who the unknown rescuer was too. He's the only one I didn't see."

"Yes! Please!" Arthur said. "Do that thing you said!"

"You don't leave Far Far Away," Lot warned seriously. "He'll still be here, no doubt, or not far, but stay behind the walls if it can be helped." He wasn't too alarmed, he'd pieced together who the unknown was by now, but he still wanted it to be very clear to Gawain that he didn't want him putting himself at needless risk again.

"Yes sir," Gawain replied, bowing to his father. He bowed to Arthur as well then left to get ready and make it look like he was seriously questing. Maybe hide his own identity with armor too to give Lance a taste of his own medicine. In not too long, he was off seeking out Lancelot, who hadn't accompanied them inside. Gawain guessed that shame probably played a role in it, now that he knew his friend had initially refused the quest because Arthur's order and all that, which was about as petty as anyone could get. On the other hand, he was kind of glad that Lance at least believed he could handle himself. He could, really! It was just this time that he'd been kidnapped! And the time before… That wasn't the point!

KAK

Gawain did, indeed, find Lancelot still hiding himself in the armor he'd worn for the rescue. Which was fine because Gawain, as established, had disguised himself in armor too, making like he was a generic knight Arthur had sent out to find 'The Proud Warrior of the Lake'. The two of them battled until exhaustion, and upon learning who each other was, or in Gawain's case proving rather than learning, they departed each other's company with their inseparable friendship renewed and their bond repaired once more. Forgiveness given, apologies made, teasing done… It was good to just be able to talk and joke with one another again. Lancelot of course swore Gawain to secrecy, in fact pled, and Gawain agreed to keep the secret for the short while it would probably be kept. Lancelot was grateful, Gawain was relieved, and an hour or two after Gawain returned to the castle with news he'd found the warrior but not learned his identity as of yet—to Arthur's dismay—Lancelot returned, and Arthur forgot about the warrior for the time being, in the wake of the bitter taste Lancelot's presence left in his mouth. Suffice it to say, things went back to normal pretty quick. With exception to a few more students who were highly unimpressed with Lancelot and took to antagonizing him, to Gawain's agony. Seeing Lancelot making himself a 'martyr'? It was the first time Gawain started to realize how truly hard keeping this secret was going to be…