Disclaimer: I do NOT own Arthur or his pretty knights.
Title: Frozen
Author: Shibbie
Reviews: Yes, encourage me to stray from my studying and once I fail I shall come hunting you down! But until then... Yes, yes please. :)
A/N: This is what you get for listening to Frozen by Madonna on repeat while you're studying...STUDYING! Ah, well. Yeah so this is inspired my Madonna's song "Frozen" ...Madonna, out of all people...
I dedicate this to:
- Trinchardin
-bakachan17
Because it is all about the TRISTAN/LANCELOT LOVE! Why do I not see more of this pairing? -eyes Trinchardin and bakachan17-
Bold and Italic is song lyric.
Italic is like...flashbacky, I guess.
"What will you do, once we've been freed?"
"I've always been free. I need no scroll to tell me otherwise."
"Then why have you stayed?"
"I have no where else to go."
You only see what your eyes want to see
He hesitates, you see it. His blade slows a fraction and in consequence he too, is wounded.
How can life be what you want it to be?
When the battle is over and the field is nothing but an endless sea of bodies and broken spirits you see him looking at his hand, where the wound is still open and weeping. And for a moment you stare, to see the red contrast so sharply with his tanned hand seemed so unnatural. To see Tristan bleed reminds you that he is mortal and as you watch him stare unflinchingly you think, he's reminded too.
You're frozen...
"He has no family to go back to." Arthur had said. "He has nothing left."
"What happened?"
"Slain," he pauses, "by Woads"
And you know Arthur can understand, could understand but Tristan let's no one in and all Arthur can do is stand and watch.
...when your heart's not open
You find it strange that two men could react so differently to similar situations. Arthur blamed himself for his mother's death, he suppresses his grief and lets it out on the battlefield, and every time he is one step closer to his redemption.
Tristan spares no more emotion in battle then he does when he stands alone under the stars.
You do not know who handles it better.
You're so consumed with how much you get
"He doesn't feel." Galahad had said.
From a quiet corner Gawain raises his head slightly, "he use to."
And Galahad had fallen silently.
You waste your time with hate and regret
"They come to me," he says his voice a husky whisper that lingers only for a moment in the crisp, night air. "Every time I close my eyes... they come to me."
"Who does?" You ask, coming up from behind him, the snap of a twig had given away your position.
"All of them" He turns around and you see a flicker of...something but just like that it's gone.
If I could melt your heart...
You think you can help him. You want to help him. You need to help him. You hope there isn't a difference.
Give yourself to me...
You go to him on the night you all received your scrolls - your freedom.
The door is ajar and you see him standing shirtless beside an opened window.
"Tristan," you say not wanting to alarm him though you are sure he has already sensed you.
When you enter you notice the markings covering his arms and back. "What are these?" You ask, lightly running your fingers over a design that runs across his left shoulder blade to his right.
"Reminders"
"Of what?"
He closes his eyes briefly, "my sins."
There's no point in placing the blame
Your eyes drop down to a lone inking on the left side of his chest, 'Lancelot'.
You should know I suffer the same
Tristan is much gentler then you would have ever thought. You have to urge him, convince him you will not break. You arch into all his touches all his kisses, all that he will share with you – you take.
If I lose you...
Tristan had fallen. You were too far; you could do nothing but watch.
...My heart will be broken
From the corner or your eye you see Cynric pick up the cross bow and you turn to face him because you refuse to go down like a coward.
Love is a bird, she needs to fly
Before you hit the ground you hear the steady beating of your own heart, echoing in your ears and drowning out everything else.
Let all the hurt inside of you die
His sweat glistens under the moonlight and as he looks down at you, panting slightly he looks almost ethereal... You run your hand down his neck, smoothing it open over your name.
And you feel it.
"Your heart is beating..." You whisper, like it's a secret.
You're frozen...
Your heart beat slows.
...When you're heart is not open
Then you hear no more.
If I could melt your heart...
-Attempts to go back to studying-