[we'll all love you just the way you are if you're perfect] [open]

[lesser_son]

Melou, wearing his usual look of utter woe, is picking huckleberries on the edge of the woods. He remembered a basket this time, and is working steadily, his fingers a little sticky from accidentally squashed berries

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[rebel_son]

"Brother," Melehan says quietly. For once, he is feeling equally confused and lost and like he's done everything wrong, which is probably the only thing keeping him from remembering he's supposed to be mad at Melou.

[lesser_son]

Melou looks up quickly, and does the thing he wants to do the most--he holds out his arms so Melehan will hug him.

[rebel_son]

He kneels down beside him pulls him into a stiff, awkward hug.

[lesser_son]

GOOD. Melou hugs back tight.

[rebel_son]

Melehan eases into it more after a moment or two.

[lesser_son]

"Brother," softly.

[rebel_son]

"Ay?"

[lesser_son]

Another squeeze. "I am glad thou'rt here."

[rebel_son]

He just nods, unable to entirely agree.

[lesser_son]

"Art thou not?" softly. Perceptive boy.

[rebel_son]

"No," he says quietly. "I know not what to do or be here."

[lesser_son]

"I will keep thee," Melou says, without even stopping to think about it.

[rebel_son]

He smiles, his father's harsh, wry smile. "Ay? Shall I be as a hound, or lady, brother?"

[lesser_son]

Stammering, "I--I mean--nay, thou'rt--nay, I--"

[rebel_son]

"Nay, nay, brother. 'tis well."

[lesser_son]

Melou looks at his feet. "I love thee. I only meant--oh, Mother of God, Melehan, I'm sorry."