Does it worry you to be alone? (Mordred)

[Mordred Le Fey]

Mordred couldn't meet his friend's eye as he turned. He stared at the floor, feeling ashamed and guilty as he heard Tristian try and process what he'd said. He looked up sharply as Tristian spoke - even though he didn't finish his sentence Mordred knew what he was thinking, and it was the last thing he wanted Tristian to think or feel.

"This is NOT your fault, Tris." He said firmly, but before he could say anymore Tristian was enveloping him in a hug. Mordred hesitated for a moment, unused to this kind of affection from anyone, but he put his arms around his best friend and hugged him back, tears stinging his eyes.   "This is my fault.  You had to be with your sister.  I should never have put you in that position, but you absolutely did the right thing, ok?"  He tried to blink the tears away as Tristian pulled away.

"I know." His voice was quiet, but he met Tristian's eye. "I'm sorry. I thought... I thought I'd killed her, Tris. All that blood - I never meant to hurt her, and when I thought I'd killed her, I didn't know what to do. I thought I'd lost everyone, I just..." He sighed, taking another drag on his cigarette. "I didn't think I had anything left to stay for. But I know I was being stupid." He gave Tristian a small smile. "Thank the Gods for Aiden, right?"

He sat down in the chair Tristian pointed at, and scoffed slightly. "The hardest thing to say is everything." He said, smoking quietly as he watched Tristian. His mind drifted back to the tea with his mother, and the things she had said to each of them. He had barely taken notice of her words to anyone else that day, he had been so wrapped up in his own pain and anguish, but they came back to him now. The mask. He finished his cigarette, stubbing it out in a mug on the table, and looking up at Tristian thoughtfully.

He thought he knew his friend better than anyone, but he was starting to wonder. This whole thing with hiding this girl Emma, the way Tristian always turned away at certain moments in a conversation... Mordred wondered if perhaps he didn't know his friend as well as he thought. He had decided, after Gwen's words to him, to make more effort, to try and let people in more - and it scared the hell out of him, but who better to start with than his oldest friend, the friend who was more like a brother than anything else?

"Tris, what your mum said, about that mask... you know you don't have to have it on around me, right?"

[Tristian]

He didn’t agree with Mordred, if Tristian has been here then there was no way he would have let Mordred do anything to himself, if he had just swallowed his anger and come sooner. However saying that now wouldn’t help either of them, and besides, he was just happy that Mordred hadn’t pushed him away. “It’s done with now,” said Tristian, “we’ll make it right again.”

Tristian smiled a little weakly and said, “yeah, remind me to buy her a tea sometime, she’s earned it.”

Buying someone tea was the highest honour for anyone with Tristian.

Turning back to the breakfast he continued to work away on th bacon, reaching over to add in the eggs, “then tell her everything. Start with the hardest and then work your way down from there, you’ll find the rest of it comes a lot easier after that.”

He was so glad he had his back to Mordred when he said what he did, although reflexively his muscles tensed. “Of course,” he said, his voice tighter than he really wanted it to be, he cleared his throat and continued on more relaxed, “although I think she was just giving me a beauty tip, I always leave my face masks on for too long.”

[Mordred Le Fey]

He let out a small laugh. "I'm not sure tea is really Aiden's thing, but sure, I'll remind you." He smiled. His hands had begun to shake again, and he desperately wanted a drink. His eyes kept flitting to the cupboard just behind Tristian's head, where he knew he had a bottle of scotch, and where he knew Aiden had half-heartedly hidden her booze. Just one glass couldn't hurt, right?

He lit another cigarette to distract himself and keep his hands busy.

He wished it was as simple as Tristian was making it sound. But when everything was as hard as it was, how did you identify the worst thing? And what if she ran at the worst, not staying the hear the rest? He sighed, tapping his cigarette packet on the table. "You and Lorelei are way too alike." He muttered, shaking his head slightly. "You make it all sound so simple."

Raising an eyebrow at Tristian's back, Mordred leant forward on the table. "Bullshit, Tris." He said quietly. "I know your mum better than that. What are you hiding?" He frowned, resuming the tapping. "Come on - a secret for a secret. I told you mine, now it's your turn."

[Tristian]

Tristian was focusing on keeping his back to Mordred, but glanced round at him briefly and saw the small shakes in his hand as he lit another cigarette. Without a word about it he put down a mug in front of Mordred and dropped in a tea bag, flicking on the kettle on the way.

“She might not like it now, but she will after she tries some of that, it’s not loose leaf but it’s the best I’ve ever had in a bag,” said Tristian, “very strong.”

He wanted to tell him to switch to his vape but...one thing at a time. He hasn’t seen him pop any pills since he arrived and there was a lack of the ‘alcohol’ smell that usually hung about. One thing at a time. No point going cold turkey all at once.

He smiled a little when he said that he and Lorelei were alike, he looked round at him and said, “oh now that’s definitely not true, my fan fiction is far superior.”

Turning serious though he said, “it’s not that simple, it’s not easy. But if it means something to you...if...she means that much to you...you’ll do it.”

This time he was facing Mordred when he winced. He looked around the room, as if he might find inspiration there as to how to reply. The hardest truth. That’s what he had said to Mordred right? Right.

“Ok. A secret, then we go back to you, ok?” said Tristian, “the last thing you need right now is having to support anyone else so, just...I’m fine ok. You don’t need to worry. Ok?”

He was panicking, his hands wringing the towel in his hand that he had picked up. “I...I’m In love with someone that is never going to love me back the way I want them too.”

He let the words hand in the air and then added a quiet, “so...there. That’s it. Nothing to be done, I’ll get over it. Back to you.”

He turned and went back to making the breakfast.

[Mordred Le Fey]

"Summers and bloody tea..." he muttered under his breath, unable to hide an indulgent smile. "Still, unless it's got two shots of rum in it, I don't think it'll be strong enough for Aiden."

He couldn't help but cringe at the mention of fan fiction. "Oh Gods, did you see that thing she wrote about Costin and Aiden? And you, the big bad?" He laughed, looking at Tristian with a shake of his head. "Pretty sure that Norwana character is supposed to be my mother. I'd love to see her face if she ever read it."

He took a long drag on his cigarette, and didn't respond to Tristian's assurances that he'd do it. Mordred didn't feel like he could trust himself to do anything these days, especially not to do anything right. Sure, Lorelei had said similar things yesterday, and she seemed pretty certain that things were going to work out, but so much of that depended on Mordred changing some of the most fundamental parts of himself. And he didn't know if he would ever be able to successfully make those changes, or if he'd just end up resorting back to old habits and hurting those he'd let in.

Which he knew was something he wouldn't be able to bear.

He saw the wince, and his eyes narrowed slightly, ready to argue if Tristian denied his secrets again, or if he refused to open up. Hell, if Mordred had to start making these changes, then he was going to take Tristian along with him.

He sat back in his chair as Tristian agreed to open up to him, and he nodded with Tristian's conditions. "Fine. I mean, you're like my brother, I'm fully allowed to worry about you, but go ahead."

He waited quietly, noting the nervous actions and the un-Tristian-like behaviour. He was normally so cool and collected, and Mordred realised he might be seeing past the mask for the first time. He sat in silence as Tristian made his revelation and turned away, and took a couple more drags of his cigarette before he spoke.

"Ok, we're still on you, I never promised anything." He leaned back forward again. "Does this person know how you feel? Because... well, Tris, you're a prince and you might not be as good looking as me but you're not far off. How could this girl not love you back? Unless..." Mordred sat back again as he had a sudden thought. "Unless... it's not a girl?"

[Tristian]

He had to concede that Mordred had a point, Aiden did seem like the two shots of rum sort of girl. Well in that case he had a few Irish Coffees that he owed her. In all honesty, he was not sure how he was going to make it up to the girl for what she had done here, he really would have to have a proper talk with her about it. Maybe they could work together to help Morderd.

Tristian would definitely not love Morgana to see Lorelei’s latest fan fiction. In general, Tristian did what he could to avoid his Auntie Morgana, he got the impression she did not like him very much so generally stayed out of her way. Not to mention she was often the main character in many of his nightmares as a child.

Then they were back to talking about him and he tried not to wince at the ‘brother’ comment. He should be happy about that; it should make him feel good to be considered that way. However, it was just one more nail in an already locked tight coffin that never really had any chance of opening in the first place.

And of course, because it was Mordred, he just couldn’t let it lie.

Tristian was about to argue that really this ought to be a like for like thing, wherein they go back to Mordred and then go back to Tristian if they were trading secrets (whereupon Tristian planned to ensure the conversation stayed firmly on Mordred) when he came out with his questions and then…that…

‘He knows’, went the panicked voice within, ‘He knows’.

Turning back to the breakfast he said, “No they don’t know, and I have no intention of telling them and yes, as perfect and wonderful as I am, I am also completely positive that they are entirely uninterested in me.”

As for the other question…he ignored it as he pushed the bacon and eggs around the frying pan…which…in its own way…was answering it.

‘Not now, please not now, he doesn’t need this, he’s still healing, he does not need this, get your selfish head out of your ass Tristian Pendragon and focus on your friend’ said the thoughts.

“Unlike Meredith who almost certainly loves you back,” he said firmly, “and I would point out that the person she fell in love with is the same person that is sitting at that table now. Faults and all. We all have them. If she could see past them then, then you can damn well be certain she’s going to see past them now…she might even help you with them.”

[Mordred Le Fey]

Mordred watched Tristian carefully, and with interest. The more he thought about it, despite all their times playing wingman for each other, he didn't really seem to remember all that many times when Tristian sealed the deal with a girl - Mordred always took them home, and there had been more than a few times when he took Tristian's home too, but not all that many times when he had seen Tristian leave with the girl. The more he thought about it, the more he wondered...

And was this Emma even real? Mordred had never met her, Tristian was clearly not bringing her over any time soon - did she exist or had Tristian invented her to avoid too many questions?

He continued to tap on the table, his eyes not leaving Tristian. "Well, without you telling this person you're in love with them, I can only see two reasons why they wouldn't at least give it a shot. Number one: they're a straight guy, or number two: they're related to you. Which isn't that crazy an idea given that half this school is made up of people related to you."

He dropped his eyes as Tristian brought the conversation back to him and Meredith, the tapping continuing a little more vigorously. "I just... I don't want to end up hurting her again, Tris." He sighed. "I can't seem to help hurting the people who care about me, and I couldn't bear to do it to her again. Isn't it better for her to be protected from me?"

[Tristian]

The kettle clicked and Tristian headed over to it, picking it up and carefully pouring the liquid into the mug in front of Mordred. He tried to keep his face expressionless as he did so. “Or, perhaps I just know them well enough to know that they could never love me,” he said, it was a plausible suggestion.

Mordred of course has hit the nail right on the head with his first theory but...was he ready for that? Was he ready for Mordred to know that part of him. Every part of him was screaming ‘no’ at him, but he was saying it all so casually, so matter of fact, maybe...if he knew that at the very least...maybe that would be ok...it would maybe stop him prying at least. Definitely not the being in love with him part, never that, but...perhaps...he could come clean about that.

Mordred had been honest about himself after all, didn’t he owe him the same?

“Related,” he said scrunching up his nose in disgust when he had finished pouring the tea, “that’s it, no more Game of Thrones for you.”

He went to the cupboard and started pulling out a couple of plates and said, “Mordred, you have to learn that eventually one of you is going to hurt the other again, or upset them, or argue or whatever. It’s how you work through that which matters. It’s about learning to manage it, deal with it. Don’t let the fear of failing stop you from going after what you want.”

Hypocrite his brain unhelpfully said.

[Mordred Le Fey]

Raising an eyebrow, Mordred kept his eyes on Tristian's face as he poured the water. He tried to think who Tristian was close to, who he knew well enough that he'd be able to make that assumption about their feelings, but he realised with a stab of guilt that he hadn't made much time for Tristian recently; even before the duel he'd been a pretty poor friend. So there was every chance that there was someone Tristian was that close to, that Mordred knew nothing about.

And yet...

He couldn't help but laugh at Tristian's disgust. "What, you've got enough sisters... and brothers come to that." He teased with a smirk. "And I refuse to stop watching. That Daenerys..." He gave a low whistle.

He sighed at Tristian's next words. He knew he was right, but even so. "Difference is most couples argue about, I don't know, trivial crap. Not stabbing their best friends." He raised an eyebrow at Tristian. "And you realise, with all this wisdom you're currently spouting, you're a massive hypocrite?" He watched Tristian carefully, pulling the mug of tea towards him and taking a sip. "Don't let the fear of failing stop you from going after what you want? So come on then, Prince Tristian, what do you want? Or rather, who?" He raised an eyebrow at Tristian, wondering how to word the next question, whether to even ask it at all. But what was the use in pretending he hadn't worked it out now? The more Mordred thought about it, the clearer it was becoming.

"Who is... he?"

[Tristian]

He had just been about to respond to his Game of Thrones statement when he managed to catch himself just in time. It was built in, almost automatic, was it really any wonder that it had ended up that way? It was such a simple discussion to anyone else and yet these were the kind of topics that had always had him worried he was going to trip up and say something that he would regret. These were the discussions that in the past held the most danger. Sometimes he lied, most of them time he tried to change the topic, on this occasion he decided to just smile and roll his eyes when the boy indicated that the Dragon Queen was one of the main reasons he watched. Of course she was. He supposed Mordred must just have a ‘thing’ for Dragon girls.

Mordred did have a point, normally that was not the kind of discussion couples had, however he said, “Our lives aren’t normal Mordred, it makes sense that our arguments with each other would follow suit.”

He cursed himself internally as Mordred picked up on the hypocrisy, he had been hoping that he had been too preoccupied with discussing Meredith to pick up on it and once again the conversation swung back round to him. This was torture. He was so used to being in control of the flow of conversation, it had worked in the past. Mordred barely noticed what he had been up too in recent years and that had been fine by Tristian, the less he knew the better, but now he was turning a spotlight on him and as much as he usually enjoyed being the centre of attention, this was not one of those times.

Why was he taking such an interest anyway? Probably to distract himself from dealing with Meredith, that was it. A hopeful part of him thought that maybe he was interested because he did actually care however it was somewhat drowned out by the ‘If he finds out he’s going to hate me’.

Then he said. ‘Who is he?’

Tristian hovered over the frying pan in silence, staring down at the bacon and eggs.

The one question he could not answer. He had to get out of this, he had to change the subject, distract him, anything to stop himself from actually answering that damned question. Then again…perhaps it was time to get rid of some of the pressure. Mordred really had been honest with him…maybe…maybe he could tell the truth about this one thing…whilst also changing the subject…

He turned around. He owed him that, to confess face to face rather than with his back to him. His mind searched for the right words, and finally finding them, leaning back against the counter and folding his arms in front of him he said quietly, “I’ve always been a Robb Stark fan myself…”

[Mordred Le Fey]

"Oh to have a normal life. Where I don't lose my mind and stab by best friend's sister." He said with an eye roll. "I wonder what that would be like." He picked up the mug to take a drink, but found that his hands were shaking too much to keep it steady. He put it back down on the table quickly, spilling a few drops and hoping Tristian hadn't noticed. He knew what was happening - he had never experienced withdrawal before - he had never gone long enough without a drink to experience withdrawal before, but he knew full well that that was what was going on. And it sucked. His eyes drifted back to the cupboard that held his hidden scotch - surely one drink wouldn't hurt?

He was distracted by Tristian turning back and facing him. He looked at him with an eyebrow raised, waiting for the response to his question. He didn't know what the answer would be, but he had the sense that Tristian wasn't going to deny it completely. Things were starting to make more sense, and Mordred had suddenly become pretty certain that he had been a pretty poor wingman in the past, that he had been helping Tristian pick up the entirely wrong sort of person.

He smiled at Tristian as he confirmed his suspicions. "Makes sense." He said with a raised eyebrow. "Not sure why I didn't see that before.  You know, that long lost Locksley kid has a bit of resemblance to the King in the North." He leaned back in his chair, folding his arms over his chest. "Tris - why didn't you tell me?"

[Tristian]

His hands were shaking. There had been a rattle on the table as Mordred had put the mug back down and when he looked around he saw little tiny splashes of tea. Suspicions confirmed. As horrible as this was, this was also good. He was trying. Something must have finally broke through to him, whether it was seeing Lorelei so hurt or what his mother said to him, something had finally broke through to Mordred.

This was bad, but it was also good.

Still frozen in his own state of fear he finally relaxed when Mordred spoke again. He was smiling. That was also good. That wasn’t disgust or hatred, smiling was good. He said it made sense, he wasn’t sure what to make of that, he did everything he could not to be too obvious. Then he was making a joke. That was also good.

Tristian let out a laugh despite the fear that was still there and said, “I guess he does a bit. I’ll be sure to tell him that when I get back to the flat.”

He crossed over to the fridge, picking up a glass on the way when Mordred asked his question. As he opened the door he looked back at him. How to answer that particular minefield.

Because I’m in love with you and I thought telling you I’m gay would make that even more obvious. Because I’m scared of what people will think of me. Because there are so many things that make me like my father that I didn’t want anyone to know this as well.

He shrugged as he pulled out the carton of orange juice, and as casually as he could manage he said, “because it didn’t seem important. We’ve always had a lot going on, I figured it could wait...and...well, it just reached a point that it was easier to say nothing than to tell you.”

Opening one of the drawers he found a straw and put it in the cup. Without another word he placed the cup of orange juice with the straw in front of Mordred and scooped up the mug tea into his own hands, taking a sip. He could drink the orange juice without having to lift it and he figured that the natural sugars of the orange juice should help.

[Mordred Le Fey]

Mordred raised his eyebrows in surprise, a smirk playing about his lips. "Wait - he's living with you? Wow, I really am out of the loop." He shook his head and grinned. "Well, well, well, the Robb Stark fan is living with the Robb Stark lookalike... you know it's dangerous to get involved with your room-mate." He warned with a raised eyebrow. "Not that I'd let it stop me." He winked at Tristian with a grin.

"You can say that again." He muttered in response to Tristian pointing out they'd always had a lot going on. "It's like living in a bloody soap opera sometimes. Still, I wish you'd felt you could tell me. You can tell me anything, you know that right? I know I can be an arsehole, and I've got this reputation as the Gaston of our generation, but you're my best friend Tris, and I've got your back. No matter what."

He gave Tristian a grateful look as he provided him with juice and a straw. It was embarrassing, firstly that Tris had even noticed, and secondly that he was having to drink through a straw like a child, but he was getting to the point where he was pretty sure he was going to drop something or break something. He felt utterly pathetic, and he really wanted a drink.

"Well, this is pathetic." He muttered, grabbing the straw and putting it in his mouth to take a drink.

[Tristian]

“We’re not involved,” said Tristian with a roll of his eyes, “and Robb Stark lookalike or not, the only reason he’s there is because I was getting tired of doing all the food shopping myself and you’d already moved in with someone. Not that I blame you, she seems like one of the good ones. Besides, I didn’t realise how much he looked like Robb Stark until just there…so…thanks for that.”

He found he had meant what he said about Aiden, their interactions to this point had been brief, but anyone that was willing to help Mordred out was good by his standards, and Aiden had ticked all the boxes. He also did not feel like had lied to Mordred, it was a grey area of course, but there was still enough truth in it that he did not feel bad. Richard and him were not involved, oh they occasionally took a tumble in the bedsheets every now and then, but that was it. Richard wasn’t looking for anything more, Tristian was still very much in love with his best friend and both of them were still quite firmly in their respective closets when it came to other people. So no…they were not involved.

Tristian went back to the cooker, and started dishing out the eggs and bacon on to the plates, he paused to look back at Mordred and smiling a little said, “Thanks…I know, it’s just…I don’t like burdening other people…you know? And likewise by the way, anything you need to talk about even…even Meredith…I’m here for you.”

When he had finished he picked up the plates and crossed over to the dining table, placing one in front of Mordred before sitting down at the table himself.

“It’s not pathetic,” said Tristian firmly, “what you’re doing is a difficult thing, but you’ll get through it…I promise…I’ll help. Now come on, eat your bacon.”

[Mordred Le Fey]

He smiled at Tristian's comments about Aiden, a real, genuine smile that betrayed how much he cared about his roommate. "Yeah, Aiden's pretty cool." Granted, he hadn't thought that when she had organised the disposal of all his alcohol - including the pouring of an incredibly expensive vintage scotch down the drain, but now he was in a better place he was grateful to her. He knew that she and Costin had done what they did out of concern for him, and at a time when he'd felt painfully alone she had stood by him, taking care of him and helping him turn a corner. He knew he wouldn't be here now if it wasn't for her, and that was a debt he could never repay. They shared a bond, something he couldn't put into words or explain to anyone; it was more than just gratitude or feeling indebted. It was stronger than that, deeper than that. They were so alike - arguably in some of the worst ways - but those similarities had forged a connection that Mordred knew would be difficult to break. And he didn't want to break it. He couldn't describe the feelings he had for Aiden - they weren't the same as the feelings he had for Meredith, or even how he felt about Tristian - but he knew that he wanted to care for her, protect her - and help her. She had stood by him, and he was starting to see the same cracks forming in her, and he knew it was his turn to stand by her. He wanted to be there for her.

He turned his attention back to Tristian, to the other best friend that needed him right now. Who he needed too. "Aren't friends here to help you bear the load?" He asked quietly, an eyebrow raised. "That's what I keep hearing, anyway." He watched Tristian as he placed the plates on the table and sat down. "You can't expect to deal with everything yourself, Tris. Especially when you're taking on half your family's issues too. I know you're the big brother and the heir, that's your role blah blah blah, but sometimes you've got to put yourself first." He shrugged, playing with the straw. "You just don't have to be the shining example all the time. Behind these doors, trust me, no one holds it together. So you don't have to either."

He rolled his eyes at Tristian's orders, picking up a knife and fork. "Yes, Mum." He mocked his friend with a smirk. "Still feels pretty pathetic though. You know Aiden poured all my booze away? So this is kind of forced withdrawal."