Celidon was already waiting for him, his ears perked in concern.

"What is it?" the cu-sith asked, their minds connecting. "What happened?

Tristan tried to ignore the pounding of his heart and the growing tightness of his chest.

"Where's Mace?" he demanded.

Celidon's tail dropped, his ears flattened back against his head.

"Not here," he thought sadly, "He took a group out on a training expedition this morning."

Tristan swore.

"Would you be able to track someone if you'd never met them?"

Celidon dropped his head in a nod.

"I could try. What can you tell me?"

Tristan opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off by the sudden appearance of Mace's alliance friend. The young lieutenant frowned at him in concern.

"Your Grace?" he ventured, "is something the matter?"

Understatement of the year. Tristan wracked his brain for the man's name. Greg? No, Guy.

"I don't have time to explain right now," Tristan said, "but there's a child lost in these woods somewhere, and I need you to help me find him."

To Guy's credit, he didn't hesitate. He set his jaw and nodded, apparently accepting the request as an order. Tristan felt the knot in his chest ease a little.

"Celidon's going to try and track him," he explained. Guy nodded.

"My familiar can help," he said, "that way we can cover more ground."

"I'll grab my things," Tristan replied, nodding, "let's go."

He ducked back inside the tent, Celidon on his heels. His familiar remained silent as he rummaged through his things for his pack. Straightening up, Tristan threw it over his back and began to strap on his sword belt. Excalibur was gone, thrown God knows where by Merlin, so Tristan scrabbled around for his own make-shift blade. He tried to ignore the searching green eyes watching him intently. When he couldn't justify keeping his head down any longer, he sighed and lifted his gaze.

"A boy, very young, he'll probably smell like the castle, and dog, and..."

He broke off, biting his lip.

"And?" Celidon pressed gently.

"And dragon," Tristan conceded.

He didn't wait to hear the whine, or watch the ears twitch. Tristan pushed his way back through the tent flap and found Guy waiting for him on the other side.

"Nice sword," he said, nodding down at the falchion blade at Guy's hip.

"Thanks," Guy said, the corner of his mouth twitching into a small smile. Arthur's ghost stared back at him. Tristan shook his head to banish him and strode off towards the trees. With hurried steps, Guy closed the space between them.

"What's the boy's name, Your Grace?" he ventured.

Tristan hesitated, sighed again.

"Loholt," he replied. The name felt strange on his tongue, as much a stranger as the blue-eyed boy had been. "Never get sucked into the Omniety, Guy," he continued, "it fucks you over."

"Omni-what?" Guy blinked. Ahead of them, a large black cat slipped from the branches of a tree and landed neatly on the ground. Altair stopped, fixed his fairy with a long hard stare, and disappeared into the undergrowth. "Look," Guy resumed, shaking his head, "whatever it is, whatever's going on here, we'll fix it, Tristan."

"Thanks," Tristan grunted, "I appreciate your help, but I'm honestly not sure that any of this mess can be fixed." He sighed and kicked at a stone. "I seem to be stumbling from one mess to another."

Guy laughed bitterly beside him. "Trust me," he said, setting a hand to Tristan's shoulder, "I know exactly how that feels."

Tristan couldn't think of a reply, he just nodded and glanced down at the floor. He thought about what Merlin would have said, and all the names he'd have called him, if he could only see the predicament he'd got himself into now. Guy seemed unperturbed by the silence.

"Let's try this the old fashioned way," he said. Raising his hands to his mouth he took a deep breath and shouted. "Loholt!" "Loholt, we're here to help you!"

It was worth a shot.

"I think I'm going to be more use in a different shape," Tristan muttered. "Keep looking, I'll have Celidon find you if we lose each other."

As soon as Guy nodded, Tristan transformed himself from boy to dog, and set off at a run into the trees.

---

The sun was getting low, bathing the forest floor in a soft red light. The knot in Tristan's stomach tightened with each step and panic fluttered in his throat. Anything could have happened to the boy by now. And he wasn't just any boy, was he? Whatever Mordred had done, he was still family, Loholt was his cousin, his blood, and he could very well have killed him.
Tristan lapsed into a prayer to his father's God, but, as usual, there was no reply.

He froze, lifting his dog-nose from the leaf litter as an all too familiar howl echoed through the woodland.

"I've got the scent," Celidon's voice whispered into the back of Tristan's mind, "I've found him."

His heart leapt.

"Show me," he thought back urgently, "help me find you.

Celidon obliged, sending Tristan flashing pictures of the route he had taken through the trees. Tristan waited until the images stopped, and then turned on his tail and ran west.

---

Celidon dropped onto his belly, and set his large head on the floor. The little boy had been crying. Dirt had attached itself to his cheeks where the tears had dampened them. And he was scared; scared of the forest, scared of the man who had taken him there, and scared of the giant green dog whose approach had jolted him from his exhausted sleep.

Celidon stayed still, whining softly. He wagged his tail to show that he was friendly, and kept his eyes on the boy. Loholt stared back at him with large blue eyes. He was Mordred in miniature; from the eyes, to the nose and the gentle cupid's bow mouth. Even his expression was reminiscent of his father.

But Celidon had never seen Mordred look afraid. The dog in him ached to jump forwards, to offer the boy every comfort he had in his power to give, but the part of him that was familiar, that was a guardian, held him back with a greater level of understanding. Slow and steady.

He rolled slowly onto his side, trying to look as relaxed as possible, and then started to lick his paws. He could feel the boy watching him. Celidon finished with his paws and opened his mouth in a yawn. Setting his head back on his front legs he sighed deeply and closed his eyes.

The boy took his first step closer. Cel opened his right eye and met Loholt's wide-eyed stare. He wagged his tail again. It seemed to give the boy confidence. He closed the last of the gap between them and knelt down on the floor. Slowly, he extended his hand, palm-up, and waited for Celidon to sniff it. He obliged, wagging his tail again, and licked gently at the boy's finger tips. Loholt giggled, gaining more confidence with each passing minute. He crawled closer and started to stroke Celidon's great head.

"Good doggy," the boy smiled. He edged a little further forwards and curled up against the cu-sith's shoulder. Slowly, he drifted back into fretful sleep.

---

Tristan sighed with relief as he stepped into the clearing. Celidon raised his head from his paws to look at him, and his tail wagged hopefully.

"Have I told you I love you, lately? Tristan asked, keeping his voice soft so as not to wake the boy.
"You don't need to, Celidon replied, "but you're welcome."

Keeping his footsteps light, Tristan closed the space between them and crouched down beside his familiar and the sleeping prince. He rested a hand gently on the cu-sith's head and closed his eyes. Perhaps his prayers had been answered after all. He muttered a quick thank you to whichever god had been listening.

"Can you find Guy?" Tristan asked quietly, opening his eyes again.

Celidon nodded. "He smells like mother used to," he thought, "It must be the cat."

He rose to his feet slowly so as not to rouse the boy, and with a final glance back over his shoulder at Tristan, disappeared into the trees.

"At least he still trusts me not to do anything else to the poor kid," Tristan muttered to himself. He settled himself in the leaf litters, his ankles crossed and his knees tucked under his chin. Loholt slept peacefully, his little chest rising and falling beneath his shirt.

"I'm sorry," Tristan told him as guilt stirred yet again in the pit of his stomach. "You didn't deserve this. I wouldn't have done it if I'd been in my right mind. I walk myself to the edges of these cliffs sometimes, and I think I'm going to go through with it, but I never do."

A flock of birds broke cover nearby, drowning his words in the flapping of wings. Tristan watched them go, and sighed softly.

"You'll never get to meet my father, cousin," he resumed, "but he was a good man, and he did everything he could to make sure I knew how to be a good man too. I have no idea what your father's teaching you, or what's going to happen to him, or me..." He stifled a laugh, the corner of his mouth perking in a smile. "Probably me, let's face it. But it's my father who stops me doing things like this stupid thing I did to you. And I know you won't remember any of this, because you're what? five? And, you know, asleep, but I just need to say this, okay? Whatever happens, whatever the future has in store for you and me, I promise, you'll never have to be afraid for your safety because of me and what your father did to mine."

He tipped his head back slowly to survey the stars peeking down at them through the canopy.

"But I've been doing a lot of thinking, cousin. Too much, maybe. But your old man gave me a masterful verbal kicking I don't think I'll be forgetting in a hurry, and something an old man said to me recently really struck home. I'm done being scared, I'm done hiding. There's going to be a reckoning. If there's one thing I'd have you remember to tell your father, it'd be that. But when I take back what is mine, I will do right by you, because that's what my father would have done."

He glanced down to find the boy staring up at him with big blue eyes. They sent a chill creeping down his spine. He knew those eyes. It took everything he had not to shudder, or recoil.

"Please, don't scream," Tristan told him, as the blue eyes filled with tears. He shuffled backwards and held up his hands, palms facing Loholt. "Your big green friend, he's my familiar, and he asked me to watch over you whilst he went to find our other friends. We're going to help get you home."

He smiled, hoping to God it was a reassuring one.

"My name's..." he cast around helplessly, latching onto the first name to come to mind as the boy sat up, rubbing at his eyes. "Hal. What's yours?"

Loholt's bottom lip trembled, but he didn't scream, and he didn't cry.

"My pony's called Hal," he said glumly, prompting a flare of irritation. Tristan endeavoured to smile through it. "I'm Loholt," the boy finished. He bowed his head in the court way, just as Tristan had been taught as a boy. His smile grew a little warmer.

"Are you ready to go home, Loholt?" Tristan asked him, climbing to his feet. He held out his hand. On his right, the undergrowth rustled. He turned his head just in time to see Celidon, Guy and Altair emerge from the trees.

"These are my friends," Tristan explained to the boy. "You've met Celidon," he gestured at his familiar, "that's Guy, and that's his familiar Altair."

"Kitty!" Loholt enthused, glancing at the lynx with a sad little smile.

"That's right, Tristan nodded, wiggling his fingers. "Shall we go?"

Loholt climbed unsteadily to his feet and took a couple of tentative steps towards them.

"Yes please, Hal Sir," he said, carefully forming each word, "I would like to go home."

---

Celidon and Altair led the way through the trees, one either side of Loholt. The boy had one hand on Altair's shoulder, and has curled his fingers into Celidon's rough fur. They made an amusing trio, a strange inelegant shape in the dark, their way illuminated by a light-bird Guy had conjured.

"What I want to know," the officer mused as they trailed after them through the gloom, "is how on earth we get him back into the castle without anyone spotting us."

"We're not going to the castle," Tristan replied, "with the prince missing, Mordred will have emptied the place, and every guard under the sun will be out looking for him. We're going to see an old friend." He glanced at Guy out of the corner of his eye and grinned. "I hope you've got some money on you, 'cos I've been flat broke for months."

"Pay many of your friends?" Guy shot back. Tristan's grin grew.

"These days? A good eighty percent of them. Come on, we need to head west from here."

They didn't have to go far before the trees gave way to open countryside and Murray's cabin loomed into view. A single lantern hung by his door. Apparently alert to their imminent arrival, the smuggler appeared in the entranceway, a crooked smile on his face.

"A pleasure as always, your highness," Murray sneered, "what can old Murray do for you this evening?"

"Wait five minutes before dobbing me in to the guards, would be an excellent start," Tristan replied. "You nearly cost me a finger last time you condescending git."
Murray huffed. "Remember when you used to be squeaky clean and shiny?" he asked, "and now would you look at him!" The smuggler locked eyes with Guy. The Officer's gaze was cool, his mouth tight with ill-concealed distaste.

"I doubt very little stays clean around you for long, Murray."

"Even more charmin'! And you don't even know me." He shook his head. "I urm...didn't catch a name."

"You won't be getting one," Tristan cut-in, "you're just going to hand over the best telepotion you've got, we'll pay you, and then we're going to leave each other in peace."

Murray grinned. "You two look awful similar," he observed, "s'like they make you good-guy types in a factory from the same little mould."

He began to turn back into his cabin. And then froze, his eyes settling on Loholt.

"What have you been up to, your highness?" Murray grinned, his yellow teeth illuminated repulsively by the light of his lantern. "How the mighty fall, eh?"

"The lantern, Murry," Tristan repeated firmly, folding his arms across his chest.

---

Potion in hand, they led Loholt back to the first line of trees and sat him down on an old tree stump. Tristan pulled the cork from the top of the bottle in his hand and crouched down in front of the boy. Their eyes met, and held steady.

"This is going to take you home, Loholt," Tristan explained, holding up the bottle. The glass shimmered in the light from Guy's bird. "What I need you to do is take hold of it, very carefully..." he paused to hand it over, folding Loholt's tiny fingers around the vial.

"Then you need to close your eyes and imagine your bedroom. Think about your bed, and your favourite toys. Think of your Nanny, and your mother, and your familiar. Hold onto those thoughts as tight as you can, letting no other thoughts get in. Then drink the potion. Can you do that for me?"

Slowly, gently, he withdrew his hands, the warmth of Loholt's fingers replaced by the chill of the evening air. The boy nodded slowly, a frown creasing his pale, unlined forehead.

"I think so, Sir."

"You can do it, Loholt," Guy smiled from somewhere at Tristan's back. Tristan nodded encouragingly.

"You'll be home and safe in no time I promise."

Loholt nodded, screwed his eyes tight shut and raised the lip of the bottle slowly to his mouth.

A heartbeat later, he disappeared. The empty vial fell into the mud with a muffled thump.

put all your faults to bed

TristaN

you can be king again