A/N: In my humble opinion, I was being a lazy bastard when writing this, so it's not that great. Someday, someday, I will flesh it out and write the fic that DiR fandom deserves. That day is not today, unfortunately.

Warnings: Slash if you squint. Could be taken as friendship if you're really in denial. Don't read if you don't like.

Disclaimer: I, sadly, don't own Susan Cooper's Dark is Rising Sequence, but I wish I did. I have all the copies of her books, and I've read them multiple times. I also hate the movie. Hate it so, so much.

Three From The Circle

Return of the King

Will knew exactly when it was that Bran's memory returned. He saw the clarity and power light up the beautiful golden eyes. He saw the almost arrogant quirk of the lips when the young lord finally met his horrified gaze. And his heart was torn in two.

Fit like a glove

Will had never seen Bran so happy, so cheerful, so comfortable in his own skin as he was now. The young man kept smiling superiorly at everything in his sight, not that Will minded, and even Owen Davies asked Will, Just who has replaced my son? But Will knew the man didn't mind either. Both of them wanted the same – or at least, similar – things. Bran's happiness. But then Merriman arrived, and though Bran faced the Oldest of Old Ones bravely, Will himself couldn't help but feel ashamed, as if he'd done something wrong. He had.

And The Fire Shall Fly From The Raven Boy

Merriman was smiling, and that worried Will. After a few seconds, Bran was smiling too, his whole face relaxed. And then, abruptly, the tall man bent down very low before the boy, taking his hand. Welcome back, lord Pendragon. And Bran's eyes lit up. Then Will knew to relax too, and he fell back on the floor like a heavy weight had been taken off his chest. But then the man added something more. Your father awaits. And Will had the sneaking suspicion that this had been planned all along, that he had worried over nothing, but the smile on Bran's face made it so that he couldn't care less. And Will knew he was in trouble again, this time a trouble of a different sort.

Home is where the High Magic is

Bran was nervous as they – meaning Will, Merriman, and the young lord himself – waited outside of the lord King's chambers. More nervous than Will had seen him be since he was a young mortal, not so long ago. But all those nerves evaporated when the door opened and the King stepped in. Bran bowed before him elegantly, a tight smile on his face, but Arthur soon pulled him into an embrace. Welcome to Camelot – no, welcome home, my son. And both of them – all of them – knew everything would be okay.

And they lived Happily Ever After

It had now been a few weeks since the two young men began to live in Camelot, the place where they belonged, and Will had the expression of a wild, caged thing. Bran watched him worriedly, day by day, as something seemed to eat him up from the inside. The young prince hoped it had nothing to do with him. One night he heard his Dewin singing, a lovely, heart-wrenching tune, and he knew what was wrong with Will. Walking up to the brunet, he abruptly pulled him backwards into his own arms, whispering in his ears, Do you know what it is that I most like about being myself again, Cariad? And Will swallowed dryly, slowly shaking his head no, as if Bran would disappear if he moved too fast. Being myself with you. Because it wouldn't mean as much to be King if you weren't here by my side. And Will melted into his arms.

The end...or maybe just the beginning of a new adventure

A/N: And here is the work of a lazy author. I just wanted more WillxBran... Is that so wrong? As I promised, though: someday I'll write better DiR fics, rather than just a bunch of not-quite-drabbles.

R&R: If you feel like reviewing, I'd love to here your thoughts. Please be gentle - I'm aware that I could've done much better on this.