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The World of Man	By : psychocatblah Category: A through F > Dark is Rising Views: 1791 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Dark is Rising, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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The morning light shot through the strange lace curtains, left over from Pritchard's wife. It wasn't the sort of thing a farmer would think to install or remove. They served their function. Will was in the room alone and pulled back the quilted covers to slide his stocking feet to the floor to pad around in the hopes that Bran was about. But of course he wasn't, because the sun was up and he was out overseeing the hands and calling out orders to the dogs.
On the simple oak table in the center of the tiled, cramped dining nook was a note accompanying a hunk of bread and cheese and a pot of tea with a cozy on, likely knitted by his aunt. The note next to the plate of bread read, "Welcome to the world, sleepyhead." It was left unsigned.
Will grinned and broke the bread and poured the tepid tea, finding it was warm enough that daylight must not have broken too long before this. He stood at the kitchen sink, peering out of the windows to see the bright shining hair flashing white in the morning light, but Bran was sitting on the stone wall next to Mordred. His shoulders were slumped forward while Mordred's arm was around him, and his body leaned in as Bran's appeared to lean away slightly, but only slightly. It was as if his head kept him there but his torso curved away.
Leaving the bread half eaten and the tea to cool further, Will dashed back to his room to pull on day clothes, skipping the shower. He needed to find out what this conversation was about and how to stop it. He wasn't two steps out the back door of the small cottage when he heard a drawling voice that had now been relegated to nightmares.
The chestnut hair was unmistakable, even though his face showed a few new lines that a decade could bring-- and a long decade it must have been. For a moment, Will almost felt sorry for the Black Rider, knowing what he probably had to endure for his failure, but all men are what they're born to and what their choosing is, and he had followed his path.
"You arrived quickly, Old One. Seems the last of you has little to do but watch an ordinary, but unfortunate farm boy," said the Black Rider
"He is no ordinary farm boy, and we both know it," said Will.

The Black Rider's horse snorted and stamped its feet impatiently at Will's pronouncement.
"I see that living in the world of man has not diminished your insolence," said the Black Rider as he looked past him to Mordred and Bran.
Bran had evidently heard Will's voice and was attempting to make his way over to him, but Mordred had him in his grasp, his arms wrapped around him in a way that appeared more like a possessive lover than a brother. Will felt something cold and angry flare up in his chest at the sight.
"Oh yes, Old One, Mordred is quite willing and able to use any means necessary to get what he wants from young Bran Davies. He will not only take Bran's place and thus take his power, but he will have his fun," the Black Rider said, the sneer in his voice evident in spite of the fact that Will couldn't take his eyes off of the strange coupling.
"That's his brother," Will spat back. He couldn't believe that the Dark would go so far, but then, it was the Dark. Usurping Bran's power was ominous enough, but having his fun made the hair on the back of Will's neck stand on end.
The Black Rider laughed. "Mordred was born of the union of brother and sister, Old One. He has no more morality about family relations than Arthur did. If a seduction is what it takes to convince Bran to release his position to his older brother, then that is what he shall do."
Will looked to his feet for a moment, knowing what he'd read of Arthur and the different interpretations of his life. He had taken them for lies or embellishments, but if Mordred was here, then what could it mean? It could mean anything. There was nothing that said the Dark had to tell the truth, or that Mordred wasn't the child of Morgause and King Lot of Orkney.
"Arthur could have ten bastard sons and none of the others would be the Pendragon, as they were not born in wedlock as Bran was."
"Ah, but does Bran know he was born in wedlock?" asked the Black Rider. "Mordred can argue that he was the first."
Frozen to the spot, Will watched resentfully as Mordred whispered whatever it was he wished to say into Bran's ear and debated what that meant. "It doesn't change who Bran is."
"But to be in his power, he must know who he is, and invoke his right to the title, otherwise he is but a mere mortal. This was how the Light left him; this was his choice. The Dark argues that the Pendragon is therefore lost to time, and is living in a time not his own and in ignorance. We will take Mordred before the new council of High Magic to protest," he said, leering down at Will, who had finally torn his eyes away to glare up at him.
"Then go before your council and leave Bran alone. He does not need to be dragged into this. He chose a life without it." Will paused then, a thought finally occurring to him, breaking through the layers of deceit. "But you can't. You can't, or you would have. Mordred needs something from Bran, doesn't he?"
The Black Rider sat up, his eyes widened for a moment in his shock before he shook his head. "Mordred merely wishes to corrupt his little brother. To have some fun with him before the trial occurs."
Will knew he'd hit on something there, given the reaction. The Black Rider wasn't the best of liars. The phrase "corrupt his little brother" sent his mind into a flurry of fear and rage. "You lot will stay away from Bran. He is of no use to you now."
The Rider laughed. "He could be of immense use to us, especially when he finds out how the Light tricked him, left him to decide his fate on the spot at eleven years old and left him wide open to be taken advantage of."
After shooting him a cold look, Will turned to see that Bran had managed to disentangle from Mordred and appeared rankled by whatever suggestions had been made to him. "You don't know Bran very well, if that's what you think. I'll just tell him the truth now, and that will end it all."
"The counsel will send him back to his age if you tell him who he is, Old One." The warmth of the Black Rider's breath swirled in Will's ear like a seductive lie, finding its mark in Will's heart. "You'll never see him again."
Will lowered his face, staring at the mud and pavement beneath his feet, realizing that the Black Rider had sussed him out, and his aim was true. When he looked back up again, Bran was practically on him, looking out of sorts enough until he stopped to see the look on Will's face.
"All right, Will?"
Shaking his head, Will tried to think of something to say. Evidently Bran hadn't seen the Black Rider, which was just as well. "Just... cold out here, is all."
"I'll put a kettle on; I think these blokes can get on a bit without me. I usually start the paperwork around now anyway. Mordred's been watching and says he can give a help." Bran slipped a casual arm around Will, a gesture that Will had always enjoyed but not made much of until now. He glared over his shoulder at Mordred, who simply sneered back at him before heading inside.
"You and that man looked awfully close out there, Bran," said Will after Bran had settled the water into the teapot to brew.
Bran appeared disturbed for a moment and then shrugged. "Yeah, he did. I didn't know what to say to him. I mean... I realize loads of blokes are like that, but none come up and claim to be your brother. Unless that's the new thing. There aren't brother shagging parties I'm missing in Oxford, are there?"
For a moment, Will wasn't sure if Bran was simply trying to make light of the whole thing or if there wasn't some part of him fascinated with the idea. His amused expression could've gone either way. "Yeah, well, loads of blokes like other blokes well enough. Some only in school."
"Fagging."
"Yeah," said Will as he poured himself a cup of tea, taking it straight that morning. "But the brother thing is definitely out there, even for Oxford."
"Yeah. Poor bloke is out of his skull. I've heard some shepherds even get lonely and shag sheep." Will's eyes widened up at Bran, who just smiled and went on, "Not that I've seen this, or been tempted, mind. Just heard about it. Guess that's what happens when you can't pull. Keep that one on tap, boyo," said Bran, tapping his finger to Will's forehead.
Will rolled his eyes that Bran had brought it back to teasing about Will's lack of interest in girls. But really, he didn't know how that would work as an Old One, if he was even allowed. The Lady never spoke of lovers and Merriman always appeared alone but for his closeness to Arthur.
At some point, Will had begun to see himself like the dewin to the Pendragon, Will the Merlin to Bran's Arthur, but without Bran knowing who he was, he would never get the relevance beyond thinking that sometimes Will could do very interesting things. Sometimes Will wanted to tell Bran so much that it ached, particularly when Bran seemed to sense something special, and that he could look at Will and know that he was feeling it too. Bran just thought they were really close. He had no idea.
Bran was the first boy his age that he'd met that had any clue what his dual life was like, and beyond the silken skin or even the toned muscles from Fencing, Will knew that his life was destined to be spent in tandem with Bran's. From the moment they met, it had to be.
Up until now, Will had been able to write it off as duty. He'd been able to write off the lingering looks and the appreciation for the way Bran’s pale hair shone against the light and his body filled in and highlighted clothes to appreciation for his unusual friend. He'd reasoned that if he appreciated it enough and in the right ways, then Bran wouldn't feel self-conscious about it. He would see that he was as beautiful and interesting as Will found him.
Except that he wasn't the only one, and he never really had been. There were so many others who appreciated Bran at Oxford that it was a relief to not have to compete against all of the new people he was meeting, all of the new people who found Bran's look attractive, although they weren't prepared for his defensive and often biting wit.
But now he was home again and an even bigger threat was on the horizon, and what Will couldn't get out of his head wasn't just that Mordred was his brother or that the Dark thought they could bring in the question of High Magic to be given the chance to rise again, but that Bran hadn't appeared particularly alarmed that a man was fondling him. Granted, he didn't truly believe that the man was sane, or his brother, but he wasn't brawling like the men at Uni often did when another man touched him in such a solicitous way.
"Sorry, Will. Did you find a bird in Oxford? That was... inconsiderate of me," said Bran, who had helped himself to tea.
For a moment, Will was lost, but then realized he must've been just sitting there dumbly contemplating. "That man was touching you," Will said, trying not to pour any of the malice he felt about that into his tone in order to keep it light.
"Er, yeah. Pretty friendly way to great your brother, yeah? Out of his skull, clearly. Can't blame him, though. Just look at me," said Bran, tilting his head up arrogantly before laughing at himself.
Will hated when he did that. There was no need to be self-effacing when it was true, but he recognized that he was enough in the minority that Bran would feel that way. He just wished he wouldn't. He gave him a small smile, "There's no accounting for other people's taste, Bran."
"Rotters, the lot of them, eh, Will? Anyway, should get back out there. Was a ewe caught my eye, might see if I can get her up on a proper cliff top," said Bran, waggling his brows.
"Let me help you," said Will as he stood.
Bran stopped and then laughed.
"Not with that!" Will laughed too, rolling his eyes, glad that things were back to being easy between them. No matter what was going on, they always had this. "I did spend a few summers helping out."
"And I spent a few autumns fixing Clwyd Farm after your helping," Bran teased over his shoulder as he beckoned Will to follow. "Come on, then. I can always use the help."
**
Will dreamed of the boat again, only this time Bran was at the stern and he could talk to Merriman. Or at least he hoped he was talking to Merriman. The waves rocked the boat and Will held onto the rail as sea spray misted his face. His feet were cold and the thunder all but blocked out what Merriman was saying to him.
"You will have to tell him, Will. It is the only way," Merriman shouted, his white hair whipped by the savaging storm.
"But he asked us not to!" Will protested.
Just Merriman's look was enough to tell him that he was thinking in the ways of man, in the ways of Will Stanton and not as an Old One. "There is too much at stake to rest it all on the choice an eleven-year-old boy made. You do not know it isn't a different one he would make now. He does not have all of the facts."
"Why now?" asked Will, almost afraid to hear the answer.
"Owen Davies has passed on."
Will stared at Merriman for a long time, realizing now that there was nothing really holding Bran to this life but his wish that he would stay with him. Owen had been the reason Bran had remained, and now that was gone and there was the Dark to defeat. "But the Black Rider said they'd take him back to his time, and Bran said to me last night he didn't want to go back."
Merriman started to say something harsh and brisk, his head shaking, but Will could not hear the words. They were obviously very important, but probably an admonition to Will for being so attached. It wasn't the duty of an Old One to grow attached. His loyalty was to the Light.
The dream ended in a crash of thunder and shouts and cries from Bran from the other room. There was a loud crash and Will leapt from the bed into the room where the little table where the phone sat had been pushed over.
"I'm sorry, Bran," Will whispered as he pulled him tightly into his arms.
Bran never asked how Will knew. Bran had long ago stopped asking such questions of Will and just accepted that he Knew Things. He'd never appeared so grateful for not having to say it aloud right now. He tucked his face against Will's throat and sobbed. To Will, the sound echoed the pain he remembered in Bran's voice when he'd lost Cafall. This time, Will would offer no words from the Light, nothing to try and mitigate the pain. He would just be here and hold him, rubbing his back as he guided him to sit on the couch.
Now seemed the most devastating time to tell Bran this, but he wondered if it wasn't also the best time. The pain was so sharp and there were so many arrangements to make and things to deal with, perhaps it would be better if he knew that this wasn't really his father he was mourning.
Will opened his mouth to speak, but Bran seemed to have something to say as well. He pulled back, golden eyes red-rimmed and his face shiny with tears. "I'm so glad you're here. I don't know.... I don't know what I'd do if you weren't."
Bran gazed at him intently for a moment, his eyes searching his face and finally resting on his lips. His chilly, pale fingers wrapped around Will's cheeks and his head tilted as he leaned in. Will had seen this before, he'd done this before, but never with Bran and never when it meant something so important, so monumental. Part of him wanted to flee from it, to make it stop so he could tell him the news, but before he could force himself to speak, their lips met, tracing and kneading one another as Bran's fingers smoothed into his hair.
Those long, cool fingers felt wonderful on the back of his neck. Flushed with shock, he parted his lips, daring a quick dart of his tongue out to test how much of a kiss Bran wanted. He wanted to give Bran anything, everything. He wanted to be the man that Bran came to and the man Bran kissed when he needed to be kissed and mailed when he was scared and called when he needed help. He nestled in, kissing Bran deeply as he wrapped his arms around him, feeling the softness of the flannel shirt beneath his fingers as he fisted the fabric.
It was Bran who broke the kiss, resting his forehead against Will's forehead. "I have to go down there, I have to fill out paperwork and I have to..."
"Do you want me to go with you?"
"Yes, I do," Bran whispered, grabbing the back of Will's neck and sneaking another kiss. "But I need you to watch the farm more. I'll go alone. It will be all right. I will be all right. I made... I knew this was a possibility. I just... no more Oxford. No more...."
Will nodded and swallowed hard as Bran pulled away, watching as he wiped the tears from his peculiar eyes. He pushed back his hair, put on a cap, and straightened his clothes. "Should only be a couple of hours. And I'll be back."
He started for the door and then stopped to look over his shoulder at Will, a little frightened this time. "I'm sorry. I just... always wanted..." Bran's voice trailed off and his expression deadened.
As much as Will wanted to say something comforting, but the right words fell quiet in his throat. "I... I didn't mind... I'll watch over things."
Bran smiled a little shyly and nodded; a little weight had lifted, and Will was glad that much had. "Brilliant. I'll be back."
"I'll be waiting."
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The World of Man