Truths and Lies

(A/N: Last chapter in Book 1. Hope you all enjoyed it. Suggestions are always welcome. Book 2 is in the working and I hope to have it ready sooner than later.)

Agravaine was eerily quiet on the ride back to the school, leaning against the carriage doors with eyes tightly shut, curled up and wrapping his arms around himself tightly. Gareth, eyes fixed on him, was seething. Mordred was watching his brother uncertainly. Gaheris turned to Mordred. "You were brave, baby brother, to run and get daddy instead of letting mommy order Agravaine to be hurt worse," he gently said. Mordred was quiet. He'd also been the one to get the guards for mommy in the first place.

"Mordred, fetch the guards. Now."

"But…"

"Go."

"Mordred, please, don't!"

"Go, Mordred. Oh darling, why are you hesitating? Go… I said go!"

"Brother, don't! Please!"

"Don't blame yourself. You were scared," Agravaine said. It never failed. Every time one of them started to make some progress with Mordred, they'd watch it slip away like water when Anna got her hooks into the situation… They'd watch their baby brother slip away like water…

"He was Anna's puppet," Loholt bitterly corrected. Mordred sharply glared at him, eyes narrowed.

"If he was totally mom's puppet, he wouldn't have run for help," Gaheris pointed out to Loholt.

"Dad was majorly ticked, wasn't he?" Gareth asked with a cold smirk. He loved it when dad stepped up. It never failed to be sickly satisfying seeing Anna quail.

"For now he keeps her in check, at least," Gawain said. More or less. Usually she was the one pulling the strings, but only as far as Lot allowed himself to be pulled. The carriage pulled into the school as Brian of the Isles and his men were riding out. Gawain frowned. "Who are they and why were they here?" he wondered.

"I can find out," Agravaine offered, smirking and chuckling. He winced. Ouch. Chuckling hurt. No more of that.

"No. You're getting to your room and you're resting. I'm going to check you out and rewrap your injuries. Maybe give you another pain suppressor potion," Gawain said.

"I prefer the herbal salves you make," Agravaine replied. "They don't have a taste. And generally they smell nice."

"Alright," Gawain agreed, nodding. "You might be in discomfort a bit longer, though."

"I've taken it so far," Agravaine replied. Gawain nodded then looked out the window again solemnly. Gods he hated when mom pulled stuff like this.

Maybe you hate her…

He winced at that thought, willing it away. She was his mother… She was his mother… Gods knew how little she acted like it sometimes, though…

KAK

"A butler and a marshal just like that. If I'd known the hiring thing would have been so easy I would have done it long ago," Arthur sarcastically said to his aunt.

"You're building up your court at least, making it your own," Lillian replied.

"Because that makes me feel better," Arthur bit. He looked up. "This is where he is. Petipace," he said, tone becoming a little more solemn.

Lillian looked up at it. "So be it," she finally replied.

"Aunty, if you want to…" Arthur began.

"Stand by your orders, Arthur," she said.

"I never specified whether you could have someone go with you or not," he defended.

"I know. But I need to do this alone. Don't worry for me," she reassured. Arthur nodded reluctantly and stepped back. Lillian smiled then entered the house, drawing a breath as she went.

KAK

She walked to the room where she knew he was lain and entered quietly. He was awake, sitting up in the bed with head bowed low. He couldn't be much older than Fiona even was… Perhaps Charming's age or Shrek's. The curtains were drawn. "Dare I open them to see you?" she questioned.

"That isn't mine to answer," he replied. He looked up at her. "Queen Lillian," he greeted.

"Sir Petipace," she answered. He bowed his head again. She was quiet. "I still feel only disgust when I hear you speak or look at you… But if all this time I was wrong… It is easier to feel disgust than regret, I think…"

"If my lady wishes, she may leave it at that and go her own way while I go mine," he answered.

"No… I want to know… I need to know…" she replied. "Why would he massacre the whole of his own hometown, his family even, to spite one rebel?"

"We struck first. We were the ones who killed his family and his friends. I'll admit that freely so you have the consolation you weren't entirely in the wrong," Petipace admitted. "We'd hoped killing them would cripple him… He was almost calm instead… Almost amused… Our rebellion had emboldened more than one king he planned to destroy. They were preparing to fight back. That's why Rience did what he did. To show us all, and all his rival kings, how little it affected him, to show us all how truly powerful and cruel and mad he was, and above all to bait us out. He ordered the massacre and ravaging of the city. The kings who had been preparing to fight against him instead fled, when they heard, and later died in their homes when he found them. We, on the other hand… We fought to try and save the people… We failed… He ordered as many of us captured alive as possible and specified there was no option for me. It was alive, no arguments or excuses on pain of death. He took us and had the very citizens we'd been trying to save executed in front of us before dragging me before you."

Lillian was quiet, head bowed and eyes closed. "I have only your word to go by," she finally answered in a whisper. Half of her tried fervently to deny the truth in his words. The other half heard it painfully clearly…

"Maybe that's kinder," Petipace murmured.

She drew a shaky breath, looking up at him. "Dare I open the curtains, young man?" she questioned again.

"That's your choice, not mine," he answered. "But I will tell you that… that it isn't a pretty sight… What you'll see if you do…"

"What did they do?" Lillian questioned.

"He liked hot iron and molten lead," Petipace dryly said. "But if you mean from the start, then the first thing they did was execute every man of mine that the prison couldn't fit… He burned them alive… The anguished screams and curses and tears of their fathers, sons, brothers, uncles, nephews, cousins… They still echo in my dreams… More than one bereaved loved one ended their own lives shortly thereafter or carried out a suicide assault on our enemies only to be cut down. An archive of tragic tales could be written on the deaths that day and the days following," he answered. "We were dragged into the bowels of the prison. They locked my men away but they kept me out, standing before them in the corridor to be made an example of. They stripped me, they forced me to the ground, and they beat me to unconsciousness, but that was the least of what they did," he said. "Every day I was brought out in front of them to be whipped or beaten or tortured in ways that you couldn't possibly imagine. Among those ways there was the Wooden Horse, Judas Cradle, and the Brazen Bull, though the latter never to death despite the fact more than once I hoped it would be. Branding, mutilation, pressing, broken bones I was forced to walk on, bones that were never allowed to heal, dislocation, starvation, dehydration… Say for torture methods that were certain to result in death with no possibility of only going part way, they didn't hold back on anything… Five times was the least any of those methods was used… The Wooden Horse and Judas Cradle became my only chairs. The floor of the cell I was in was covered in shattered glass and became my bed. Always bound and blindfolded and gagged unless they wanted to hear me scream or wanted me to see something. I had no control over any part of my body for all the years I was their prisoner. I barely retained control of my mind… By the time they abandoned us, I was no more than a hollow shell, and how I found the will to fight to live is a mystery even to me… I just knew that suddenly the pain stopped, and then I knew I couldn't let them win… I knew I wanted to live to see Rience pay…"

Lillian listened quietly, tears slipping out of her eyes. She knew he was holding back, refraining from being descriptive or mentioning everything. She suspected it was more for her sake than the sake of his own mental wellbeing, in some darkly twisted way. "We should have heard you," she whispered softly.

"It might have been best you didn't… Because then he would have come against you, and gods only know the fate that would have been Far Far Away's then. You and Harald couldn't have stood against him alone," Petipace said. "In an abstract sort of way, my freedom and spirit and honor was the price for your safety."

Lillian rose and went to the curtains. She opened them, drew a breath, and turned. Her heart plunged into her stomach. His body was marred with reminders of whippings and of burnings and brandings and of a great many other things… And his face… It was half burned, and scarred wherever the burn wasn't.

"I'm so, so sorry…" she said, voice breaking slightly.

"It's over now," he answered reassuringly, trying to cover the burns with his hand self-consciously. "And I stopped holding it against you long ago. Hating you won't change the fact it happened."

"Sir knight, I…" Lillian began.

"It's alright, your majesty," he cut off insistently. "It's done… I'm just glad to be free again." Lillian sniffed, dabbing at her eyes, then went to him, gently reaching out and touching his shoulder. Turning, she left him to rest.

KAK

Arthur straightened up when she came out. He'd been waiting nervously outside. "Aunt Lillian, how'd it go?" he worriedly asked.

"He was kinder to me than I thought he would be. And much less descriptive… A lesser man would have rubbed in every gruesome detail until I would have been a sobbing mess on the floor, I'm afraid," Lillian answered. "What have you determined with Lucan and Bedivere?"

Arthur was suddenly very quiet, looking down. "I guess… I guess they're part of my household now, aren't they?" he finally said. "I mean like… like they live with us now? Like Dagonet?" he asked.

Lillian was quiet. "Yes," she finally confirmed.

Arthur drew a shaky breath. Great… "What about the house their father went into debt for?" he dryly questioned.

"I suppose that when their debt is paid off, they're free to return to it when they will," Lillian answered. "I'm sure their cousin Griflet and his parents will keep it up for them in the meantime."

"For the rest of their lives you mean," Arthur dryly stated. Because that was what it would take even if the two worked to the bone from dawn until dusk every day for the rest of their existence. He had to find some way to fix that. "Sixty-thousand pounds of silver? Really? Who even…?" He trailed off, stopping and tensing up.

"Arthur?" Lillian questioned.

Arthur was quiet. "Tormentors incoming," he grumbled, hunching his shoulders and glaring. Hector was coming towards him cautiously with Bors and Lionel.

Lillian turned. "They seem more nervous than malicious, dear," she remarked.

"Yeah right. They don't do anything without Lancelot leading them along," Arthur said.

"Lancelot may be their relative and the one they look up to most, but they are still their own people," Lillian assured gently. "I think that perhaps it would do you well to try and not immediately assume every action towards you is a negative one." It might even help him make more friends that way, she inwardly added.

KAK

Arthur glared at them as they came near. Glared so intently they started to falter and hesitate. Lillian didn't give her nephew a warning look. She wanted to see Arthur handle it himself. "What do you want? Lancelot send you to scout me out?" Arthur bit.

"Um, n-no?" Hector replied.

"Because the question is so reassuring," Arthur replied, rolling his eyes.

"You sound like Gareth. Back off. We're just here to talk," Lionel said, frowning at Arthur.

"We didn't come because of Lancelot, we came because of Lucan and what you did for him," Bohort added. "We just… wanted to say that was really cool. What you did."

"And gutsy," Hector added, loosening up a little. "I mean, you were practically all alone when you stood up to them!"

"Well, Bedivere and Griflet were armed," Arthur said in slight confusion, cautiously loosening up. This seemed surprisingly not malicious or cruel, which meant he was kind of suspicious but also a little hopeful.

"Lucan would have called them off. They were as bound to that contract as him," Hector said. "So yeah, you were basically alone."

"A good thing Tristan and Degore were there," Lionel said. "Degore is Lucan's best friend, and Tristan hates slavery in any form."

"Really?" Arthur asked. "How did Degore and Lucan connect? The school geek and the militaristic, duty-first, grunt boy?"

"One of the great mysteries of the school," Bohort dryly said, grimacing. "Kind of like how you connected with the hotboxing twins."

"Because they treated me like a person instead of a punching bag?" Arthur bit.

"Or because they were chill enough to ride out your hostile exterior until they found something a bit more than the self-centered, self-pitying, loner freak who couldn't be bothered with people as a collective and seemed to care only for himself and his own company?" Hector bit sharply.

"Oh, don't act like you know crap about me," Arthur sharply defended. "Not like anyone tried to see beyond that or reach out anyway!"

"Because if they did you brushed them off or pushed them away," Bors bluntly answered.

"Go back to the chapel, Bors!" Arthur shot. "None of you know anything. None of you cared to try and reach out so you can't talk!"

"Fine! We're going. See you later Arthur," Hector shot, turning angrily and storming away. Lionel sneered at Arthur and followed.

Bors didn't follow right away. Instead he looked back to Arthur. "We tried to reach out just now," he said slightly sadly. "And you didn't see it. So maybe it was you after all, huh Arthur?" Turning, he left, leaving Arthur looking slightly stunned. Lillian sighed, bowing her head and shaking it hopelessly. Arthur stayed staring and shifted uncomfortably, looking slightly guilty.

"Oh Arthur…" Lillian said.

"How was I supposed to know?!" he defended.

"As I said before, perhaps you should try not assuming that every action taken towards you is a hostile one," she answered. Arthur looked after Hector, Bors, and Lionel uneasily. "Come dear, let's go." Arthur nodded solemnly and started to follow her.

"Arthur," a voice suddenly said. Arthur froze, tensing up, and turned nervously. Galehaut. Oh no. The letter! He'd forgotten about it. "Where's your response to my letter?"

"I-I haven't gotten around to reading it, sir," Arthur answered. Lillian curiously summed Galehaut up with a measure of caution.

"If you don't read it, boy, whatever ill I bring upon you unexpectedly is on your head alone," Galehaut warned.

"I don't have time to deal with you right now," Arthur said, looking down frustratedly. "I have six rebel kings to contend with!"

"And if you aren't careful, six will become seven. Or eight. Or nine," Galehaut evenly warned.

"What business do you have with my nephew?" Lillian questioned him, putting her hands on her nephew's shoulders.

Galehaut looked over at her. "Do you know who I am, Queen Lillian? I'm near certain you've heard of me at some point," he said. Lillian's eyes were narrowed. She didn't answer. "My name is Galehaut, King of Sorelais and of the Distant Isles."

Lillian tensed up, hands tightening on Arthur's shoulders protectively. "Galehaut?" she asked in a shocked and slightly frightened whisper.

"You know him?" Arthur asked.

"No… But I know he is a powerful warrior king against whom few can hope to stand," she said to her nephew. Arthur tensed up, eyes widening. "What do you want with Arthur?" Lillian pressed.

"My intention is to challenge him for possession of his entire realm," Galehaut answered. "As he would have read in the letter, had he bothered to."

"Already you have considerable power, loyal followers, and a reputation for nobility of character. King Rience himself won't dare to cross you. Your armies… your armies could have wiped out the whole of the armies of the rebel kings in one fell swoop, let alone Far Far Away's armies."

"Wait, he can what?!" Arthur demanded, now alarmed. He'd known the guy had hated him, but seriously? That much?!"

"Why do you need to rule Arthur's realm too?" Lillian questioned.

"Because he can't," Galehaut answered.

"You haven't given him a chance to try," Lillian protested.

"Nor will I. He'll recognize my overlordship soon enough, but I've determined to hold off for some time yet. This situation with the six rebel kings… amuses me," Galehaut said. "I'm more than a little curious how Arthur will handle it. Or more likely, how they'll handle him."

"You are a piece of work," Arthur bitterly sneered at him in disgust.

"You have time left to you yet to prove me wrong. Make good use of it, boy king," Galehaut said.

"So what, you're going to kill me when the time comes?!" Arthur demanded in outrage.

"Don't think of it as an execution, Arthur. Think of it as a mercy killing. Because what would happen to you while imprisoned would be far worse than mere death. You can't hope to stand to King Rience anyway, and I promise you, child, that it's only a matter of time before he rises up against you himself. You came to the throne with more enemies than you can even imagine already established. Enemies you could never hope to conquer. Their plans for you… They'll be far worse than any I could hope to come up with, so when I say my overthrowing and executing you will be a mercy, I mean it in the sincerest sense. It will be a mercy unlike any mercy you'll ever have again. "Or would you rather live out your life a prisoner or slave or trophy or example?" Galehaut said. Arthur was silent, looking more than a little uneasy. "Think about it," Galehaut finished, turning and leaving.

"Aunty, is he right?" Arthur asked.

Lillian was quiet. "I… Yes…" she finally admitted. "But I believe you can turn it all around. I believe you can fix all of it. I believe that you will prove Galehaut wrong."

"Before he launches attack?" Arthur demanded.

"That I cannot answer, nephew," Lillian seriously replied. "I wish I could."

"What other surprises came with the throne that you neglected to share with Shrek or anyone else?" Arthur questioned bitterly.

"Harald was in the thick of all of this, Arthur, not me. He did his best to keep me out of it, to shelter me from the truth of how truly bad things were… Sometimes I wonder if he had more than one reason for locking our daughter in that tower…" Lillian answered.

"Great! Just flipping great," Arthur said. Pulling away from her he stormed off sulkily. If he'd even known half of what was coming with this job, he would have tried extra hard to run away. Who was he kidding? He didn't know what he was doing. How could he hope to protect his realm if he couldn't even protect himself…? He paused, out of sight, and woefully looked up at the sky. Whoever his father had been, he wished he was here… He felt so lost… "What am I going to do?" he asked the sky in a whisper, sinking down against a wall. Miserably he buried his head in his knees and willed the nightmare to end. Peace was a lie, he determined. Peace was nothing but a lie… He hoped he was wrong about that.

End

(Final A/N: Thank you for reading and thank you to all reviewers. It really helps me improve and helps to motivate me to keep writing. I'm really grateful for it all. Hopefully Book 2 won't disappoint.)