Tensions and Confessions

(A/N: This is the final chapter of this story. Another is in the workings, but it needs to be almost completely gutted and redone from what it originally was, and I'm seriously lacking motivation for anything right now, so it might take a while to start posting. Apologies in advance for that. Anyway, thank you all for taking the time to read this story. I hope you liked it. Reviews are always welcome and thanks in advance to those who continue to review my stories diligently. And to new reviewers who may review it in future. WARNING: Heavy and triggering subject matter.)

"Brian of the Isles has made himself Worcestershire's enemy," Lot stated to his fellow kings. Minus Arthur and Alexander. Lillian was there in Arthur's place, so he guessed it was 'fellow kings and queen'. Alisander didn't really need a representative given the Byzantine Empire was so far from this one. Oh yes, and the rest of the staff who'd been in the Game of Houses was present as well.

"You should have declared him as such long ago," Lillian chastised Pellinore, frowning at him.

"I wasn't the one who decided to play it like he was a neutral or our friend," Pellinore defended. "Forgive me for not having finished fixing all of Pynchley's screw-ups yet." He turned to Lot. "I'm in whole-hearted agreement."

"And if he's Worcestershire's enemy, it means we're no longer required to give Brandelis up to him," Bors said, sounding relieved for that.

"Speaking of... how dare you keep that secret from us!" Meliot snapped viciously. The teachers who'd known but never spoken winced.

"As far as I'm concerned, that boy was an orphan long ago," Lot grimly said. "Which brings me to the next order of business. Bran. He has no father now. He never did."

"Another orphan added to the ranks," Pellinore ruefully said, shaking his head.

"He doesn't have to be," Lot said. "That boy needs someone to be there for him. He has no one else. Bors helps, yes, but that boy needs someone all his own. He wants to feel safe and loved again. Being reduced to the status of waif isn't going to help him get better or start to repair."

"A parental figure. You're suggesting he be fostered and or adopted," Ector said, nodding in understanding.

"Yes," Lot said. "And if no one else takes him I will, but he would be better off being with someone who's whole attention can be on him. Someone who'll always be there near at hand."

"You're suggesting one of us foster him," Carados said. "One of the staff." Lot nodded.

There was silence all around. "I…" Sir Meliot began. He trailed off, hesitating. "I can try," he finally finished. "I all but live on campus as it is, and so does Brandelis, so the change wouldn't be utterly jarring for him like it would be if he were to be shipped off to another kingdom entirely. I… can build up to it. Slowly. It won't be as direct or sudden as telling him I'm going to take him in. It can't be. He needs to develop that sort of bond with me for himself, before he'll be open to something like that I feel."

"You plan to handle him as Petipace is handing Selices," Morholt said, nodding in understanding. "It would be the wisest course for handling Bran."

"Are you quite certain you're up for that sort of challenge and responsibility, good Sir Meliot? Taking in a teenager is no easy task, much less one as… emotionally and mentally scarred as Brandelis must be," Lillian said in concern. She would know.

"I'm not certain I'm up for it," Meliot replied. "But I am certain I won't give up on him, and I am certain I'm the one who'll be able to devote to him the time he'll need, and I am certain that I'm already a favourite teacher of his—I'm fond of him as well—and I am certain that that will be the foundation we'll both need to make this work."

"What if it gets harder for you to handle than you were expecting?" Pellinore asked seriously.

"I signed up for this, and I won't let go," Meliot replied. "I'm not going to turn him out or hand him to another because things become difficult or dangerous. I'm not afraid of what he can do or what he thinks he can do, because I can do better. And I've always liked a challenge anyway." To be plopped into a foster setting might be too much for the boy to handle, but this gradually building up to it plan of his could very well be workable. Yes… Yes, he was ready to handle Brandelis. "I know I won't be alone, if things get hard. I'm quite sure I'm not the only one who's had to deal with troubled children, be they foster or adopted or blood."

"No. You most definitely aren't," Bors said, smiling approvingly. Meliot could do it, he felt. Meliot could actually do it. If anyone could it would be him. He knew that look in the man's eyes. Meliot didn't express much in words or body language, but if you knew where to look to read his eyes and his face, you could see the true depths of his emotion on the matters being discussed… And gods was this man emotional and indignant over this… "I know you can make this work, Meliot. If you ever need help, we'll be there."

Meliot nodded and drew a slightly shaking breath, which gave away just how effected he was by this whole conversation and story and task he'd laid out for himself. He massaged his temples, shaking his head. "This should have been done years ago," he grimly said. He should have known years ago. The teachers and monarchs were quiet. All of them knew all too well just how very true Meliot's words were…

KAK

Brandelis sat on a parapet of the castle looking down at the ground far below. Part of him wanted to jump off just to be certain he didn't live long enough to inevitably be dragged back to the Dolorous Tower. He knew it was only a matter of time, it always was. He tried to hope, but hope became harder and harder each time it failed him. He heard footsteps approaching him from behind, which meant his window of opportunity to jump was gone. He almost shivered in fear before realizing there was no way it could be his father. He didn't turn to see who it was. The person camed up to him and leaned on the parapet next to him. He glanced briefly over. Sir Meliot, he realized. His heart clenched uncomortably in his chest. The man was probably disgusted at him. He didn't see how anyone couldn't be. Well, he could, every part of him that was rational could at least, but the more emotional part of him couldn't wrap its head around that fact because feelings. Screw feelings.

"You're a hero you know," Meliot said.

Brandelis raised an eyebrow and looked over. That… wasn't expected. He'd imagined some lame attempt at small-talk in an effort to normalize things. Maybe he could have seen the guy asking a stupid question like if he was okay or how he was doing or something. 'You're a hero' came totally out of nowhere for Brandelis. "Huh?" he said in response, confused.

"If not for you, Gawain wouldn't be coming back to us in one piece. Without you, I'd be surprised if his reckless little rescue party would have made it out at all," Meliot said.

"I was one guy in a group. I made no difference," Bran said.

"One person can make all the difference in the world," Meliot replied. "Look at some of the historic knights you've been learning of, who took out sometimes hundres of enemies that otherwise would have killed many, many more in their paths if they hadn't been stopped. Or think of strategists who even if they didn't fight saved hundreds of lives with their planning."

"Sir Meliot, I don't wanna learn in my free time," Bran all but whined.

Meliot chuckled. "I'm just saying. You made a difference. A big one. Gawain will be grateful to you the rest of his life. The others? They're glad you were there to help them fight their way out. You saved lives, Bran," he said.

"At what cost?" Bran quietly said.

Meliot was quiet. "An unacceptable one," he finally said.

Brandelis was quiet, letting the remark sink in. "Am I an unacceptable cost?" he asked finally.

"To me. To Gawain. To them… Yes. You're an unacceptable cost, and if I had my say in it you'd never pay that price ever again for the rest of your existence."

"Better me than anyone else. I'm already damaged, I'm already used to it. Gawain didn't need to suffer it too! Not when I could stop it," Bran said.

"Spoken like a true hero," Meliot wryly said, shaking his head. "I wish you weren't."

Bran was quiet, considering this. "You really think I'm a hero?" he asked finally. "I don't feel like one."

"Many times heroes don't feel like they're heroees," Meliot answered.

"A hero shouldn't be the victim," Brandelis said.

"Sometimes the greatest heroes started out as victims," Meliot said. "It gives them the incentive to fight and try all the harder. Being a hero doesn't mean you're untouchable. It doesn't mean you're never afraid. It's being afraid, knowing what it could cost, and helping anyway."

Bran was quiet, staring towards the woods. "I don't want to go back there," he finally said, voice quiet.

"I won't let him take you again," Meliot replied.

"How… how does someone do that to their own kid…?" Brandelis asked, voice hollow. "How can you find it in you to hurt your son or daughter that bad?"

Meliot was quiet. "Sometimes it's the only behavior you know or learned," he said. "Brandin… Brandin isn't the first generation in his family to do such things to their children… His father did too, and worse… His father would tell him it was how you expressed love, while he was scr... hurting him and his brother. That was how he had learned to express love from his own father, and it was how his children were starting to learn to express love themselves. By the time Brandin was old enough to figure out that wasn't how things really were, it was too late. He didn't care anymore. He himself couldn't bring himself to do it personally, but he would let others do it without even a second thought. He liked it. He liked watching it. He liked the power, he liked not being helpless, he liked harming for the sake of harming, he liked… he liked watching them squirm and hearing them squeal and whimper and beg and cry… He liked not being the victim... I wish I could say he was doomed from the start, but he wasn't because his brother wasn't. His brother chose to be something more. His brother chose another way, another path, and his brother suffered worse than Brandin did because not only did he get it from his father, but from Brandin too, and he still came out of it the opposite of them! He still saw it was wrong and still saved himself from that fate! He chose better. He chose… he chose not to be them. He chose not to be a monster. God, he didn't want to be a monster. He didn't want to hurt. He didn't want… he didn't want to make others suffer like he had! Not ever!"

He suddenly realized he was rambling and clamped his mouth shut, but it was too late. Bran was staring at him in shock, eyes wide. Meliot cursed himself. "No one who was an outsider looking in could know all that detail…" Bran finally, numbly, said. Meliot kept quiet. "S-sir Meliot…?" Meliot remained silent. "You knew. You knew what he was doing… Why didn't you stop him?! You knew, damn you! Why didn't you stop him from hurting me?!"

"Because I didn't know!" Meliot shot sharply. "I didn't even know he was coming to the school semi-regularly let alone that he had a son! Let alone that the son was you! On top of that the last time I saw him, long ago, he told me he'd gotten better and stopped those things. At first I didn't believe him and monitored him, but as time passed and he didn't do anything, I started to think that maybe… maybe he was telling the truth! I wanted him to be telling the truth. I wanted him to be so badly because he was... he was my brother… And my ignorance to who you were and my foolishness regarding my sibling screwed you over, but it's not going to screw you over ever again. Not on my watch. I'll rip his head off with my bare hands if I have to, to keep you and the others safe. I am beyond done with him."

"You're my uncle," Brandelis numbly said in realization, looking some strange cross between appalled and hopeful.

Meliot was quiet. "So it would seem," he finally said. Bran was pale, shocked and totally unsure what to do with this information, tears threatening his eyes. He-he had an uncle? He-he had a family besides just his father…? He gasped, looking back at Meliot in pain. He didn't know what to do or say… Neither, it seemed, did Sir Meliot. So instead Brandelis let himself break down, curling his knees up in a sitting fetal position and rocking. Meliot was quiet, watching him, but soon moved to his side and took his shoulders gently, closing his eyes tightly and swallowing over a painful lump in his own thoat.

KAK

Mordred watched silently at his mother tended to Agravaine, who seemed to have passed out or fallen asleep to Anna's tending. Anna was humming softly. Mordred shifted. He wanted to ask mommy what the talking tree had meant when it had said 'all hail the son of Morgause'. He didn't understand why it would say that. Maybe mama would. "Mommy?" he said.

"Yes dearest?" Anna said.

"I… We saw a talking tree in the woods," he said.

"My dear, that's nothing unusual. Ents are commonplace in these woods," Morgause said.

"I guess… But this one knew me…" Mordred said. Anna paused, glacing over with a smile, vaguely curious at this remark. "It… it said strange things, mama."

Morgause was quiet. Soon she turned, folding her hands in her lap. "What strange things did it say, my little love?" she asked.

Mordred hesitated again, looking like he might choose to keep quiet. "It… said all hail the son of Morgause," he finally replied.

Anna was quiet, the smile plastered on her face, but her eyes had started to glitter a bit. "Did it now," she finally said.

"But-but why would it hail me?" he asked. "It did that after Arthur told it he was high king, and then it said those words, but I don't understand why. It said 'I think not. All hail Mordred'. Or something like that? Why mama? Why?"

Anna was quiet. "Because your father was a king," she finally replied, choosing a middle ground for now so she could feel this out.

Mordred started, eyes widening. "He was?" he asked.

"Yes. Like Lot is," Morgause said. "Only more powerful still."

"Pellinore?" Mordred asked a little uneasily.

Anna laughed. "Of course not my darling!" she said. "I have higher standards than that."

"Galehaut?!" Mordred exclaimed, looking horrified and a bit terrified of the idea.

Anna laughed again, clapping her hands. "Mordred, I assure you it's none of your teachers or the Worcestershire faculty," she said. "Although Galehaut would have been quite a catch, I'll admit."

"Then who?" Mordred frustratedly demanded, agitated now.

She smiled a pretty little smirk and opened her arms. "Come here my darling," she said softly. He didn't for a minute, but soon moved to her and crawled into her lap. She wrapped her arms around him, sighing through the nose and resting her chin on his head while she started to rock him and hum…

"Hush child, darkness will rise from the deep and carry you down into
Sleep, child, darkness will rise from the deep and carry you down into…
Guileless son I'll shape your belief and you'll always know that your father's a thief,
And you won't understand the cause of your grief,
But you'll always follow the voices beneath…"

Mordred felt himself getting sleepy at the soothing voice. Morgause pressed a soft kiss to his head.

"Guileless son your spirit will hate her,
The flower who'll marry your father the traitor;
And you will expose his puppeteer behavior,
For you are the proof of how he betrayed her loyalty."

Mordred yawned, rubbing his eyes tiredly and leaning against her listening quietly.

"In time, my child. In time you will learn who your father is. Only not today." She sang again. "Sleep child, darkness will rise from the deep and carry you down into sleep…" She began to hum, and Mordred soon fell asleep. She smiled, picking him up and laying him next to his brother, covering them both. "Oh how you will learn," she purred to her young child, running her fingers through his hair before turning and leaving them.

KAK

Morgause moved through the halls, humming to herself. "She came around a corner and paused a second, smile creeping across her lips. Arthur was coming this way reading a letter ponderously. He looked up and saw her. He started and paused. She smiled at him coldly. He blinked at her, shifted, then swallowed and tried to make himself look more regal and poised. How cute. "Sister," he greeted warily.

"Slut," she cooed in response. Arthur started and looked stung before frowning. "Only because you made me one you hypocrite," he bit at her sharply.

"Ooh, Arthur's growing a spine," Anna sardonically said. Maybe she was where Gareth got it, Arthur dryly said to himself. "I may have been your first, but I wasn't your last. Tell me, brother… how was Lisanor the last time you saw her?" Arthur grew visibly pale, body stiffening up and eyes widening in uncertainty and fear. He looked like he'd been caught with his hand in the sweets. Anna's smirk grew more. Arthur was still and quiet, staring. She chuckled coldly. "So in the meanwhile there came a damsel that was an earl's daughter: his name was Sanam, and her name was Lisanor, a passing fair damosel; and so she came thither for to do homage, as other lords did after the great battle. And King Arthur set his love greatly upon her, and so did she upon him, and the king had ado with her," his sister purred.

Arthur, breathing heavily now with tears threatening his blazing eyes, savagely bit back a sharp and angry retort, clenching and unclenching his fists. He gritted his teeth. "I wanted to feel normal," he hissed dakly to her. "You made me feel worthless! You made me feel like I was a freak! I just… I wanted to feel like it was normal and okay again. And she-she wanted to feel normal too because s-someone she loved hurt her too and-and she just knew what to do and said that maybe it would help us feel okay again like we weren't abnormal or tainted or ruined, and she knew how to do it and it felt good; not like when I was with you. And for the first time since you hurt me I felt like it was going to be alright! I felt like I wasn't bad anymore! You coo over Agravaine and ask him if they hurt him and act all worried when you did it yourself! To your own brother!"

"I didn't know you were my brother!" she shouted.

"I was a child!" he yelled.

"So was I when I first did it!" she snapped. "I never felt bad or defiled. I liked it and obviously I wanted more, otherwise you wouldn't have four nephews and a niece in your age demogaphic."

"Well I'm not you, Morgause! I'm not you!" he yelled.

"You know how I remember it?" she asked almost venomously.

"No doubt twistedly!" Arthur shouted.

"Thither came to him King Lot's wife, of Orkney, in manner of a message… and she came richly beseen, with her four sons, Gawain, Gaheris, Agravaine, and Gareth, with many other knights and ladies. For she was a passing fair lady, therefore the king cast great love unto her, and desired to lie by her; so they were agreed… and she was his sister, on his mother's side, Igraine. So there she rested her a month, and at the last departed… But all this time King Arthur knew not that King Lot's wife was his sister," she said.

"One: I didn't even know I was the birthrighted king then and I had and still have no clue what Lot's huge issue was with me those three years ago! Two: Yes I flirted and 'cast great love unto you'. I was twelve, newly awakened hormones were stating to rage, and you were gorgeous, but I wasn't looking for more than that! Since you were, you know, an adult, I didn't figure you'd act on it anyway. I figured you would think it was cute at most! Three: I was 'agreed' because I was drugged, you cast an illusion on yourself to look like my crush Gwen, and you lured me up into my room where I expected to maybe talk a bit with her or flirt and no more; then you dropped the illusion and pinned me down on my bed and had at it! I didn't fight back because I was, as established, drugged and loopy out of my head!" Arthur retorted.

They were staring to pace around each other now, eyes blazing and looking ready to go on the attack at a moment's notice. "I don't think I like this braver you," she sneered at him.

"I'm not a scared child anymore," Arthur replied in a hiss. "This last week I've learned more and seen more than I ever wanted to, and I'm done hiding from the past and from what you did to me. Especially after seeing what happened when other kids I know hid what was done to them from everyone else. I'm not letting myself end up in a situation like the one Selices or Brandelis was in. I'm done cowering in fear of you."

"You stupid little boy," Morgause hissed viciously.

"Hey Morgause, beat it! This one's mine," Lancelot's agitated voice shouted out. Morgause and Arthur turned in surprise to see Lancelot storming towards them, eyes blazing and fists clenched in anger. "Get your own victim!"

"Why you little…" Morgause began, totally taken aback by the attitude.

"Hit. The road," Lancelot said. "Artie's all mine!"

"Yeah, I'm… that actually sounds kind of wrong, but you get the point!" Arthur shot, backing Lancelot.

"Perhaps you want to see your precious reputation in tatters, Lancelot?" Anna blatantly threatened.

"Screw yourself Anna! Stay away from Lance and the rest of my friends, I mean school mates, or so help me!" Arthur said, forming a united front with Lancelot. Anna, fuming, turned on her heel with a huff and marched away.

They glared after her and soon Lancelot turned to Arthur. "What was that about?" he asked.

"She hates me," Arthur said with a sigh, rolling his eyes. "Uh, thanks… For kind of sticking up for me."

"I got dibs on you and I'm not sharing," Lancelot replied, smirking wryly.

Arthur smirked wryly back. "Wouldn't have it any other way, Lance," he said, folding his arms in vague amusement. Lancelot chuckled and turned to go. Arthur grinned and followed him back to the others.

End