"Looking back, I have this to regret, that too often when I loved, I did not say so." - David Grayson
Title: Desiderium
Author: trinchardin
Fandom: King Arthur
Pairing: Arthur/Tristan
Category: Angst/Romance
Rating: PG
Summary: [Regret] Arthur muses on chances lost.
Disclaimer: The myth owns itself, Touchstone Pictures owns the movie.
Standing over their graves, Arthur had to wonder if it had been worth it. After years of conscript, they'd chosen to stay, fight for a cause and land that was not their own. It had been their choice and they'd help win a victory, but that fortunate news fell on the deaf ears of the dead.
No eulogies had been spoken. The remaining knights already knew what went unspoken. So, one was buried, another burned, their swords finding new sheaths in freshly turned earth. Though one grave was empty, it remained marked, that of he who had known Arthur best.
Yet, even Lancelot had not known the truth about the one buried at his side. If one had been friend and insistent confidant, the other... He could be called by many names: brother-in-arms, warrior, knight, scout...also friend, but never more than that. That last, Arthur considered with remorse.
This knight had been the only one to swear whole-hearted fealty from the start, starting from duty and building to true respect. Although his disapproval at some decisions would be apparent between them, his support never wavered in front of the others - not even when it involved a suicide mission that trapped them between Woad and Saxon.
There were also the countless times the knight had gone ahead to make sure the trail was clear, unflinching in face of the uncertainty ahead. Each time he returned safely, if not unscarred, was a quiet relief, and Arthur whispered another prayer of thanks to God. The man would creep into camp just before daybreak and rouse Arthur to make his report. As all but the hour's watch slept, Arthur's hands would lightly examine the other for any injuries, caring for what he could until Dagonet woke. Those moments were theirs alone.
Always silent, often unnoticed - perhaps, it was Arthur who'd known him best, even above the man's own compatriots. Time had taught him to read the other as easily as the man read a trail's signs. If the earth spoke quietly to the scout, he also spoke in a wordless tongue to Arthur. Whether it was a darkening of those unfathomable eyes or an almost imperceptible upturn of the lips, each slight action Arthur caught and understood. It had been years of speaking in silence, the others ignorant in their insistence of speaking aloud.
Yet, the man had voiced himself that last night, saying he would stay. Arthur had not allowed it though, not when freedom had already been granted. He knew what that meant to the other. Having the Roman yoke lifted left the man free to wander where he wished. Words spoken were harsh, sharp with the ability to hurt; the peace of silence shattered. When the door opened once more, he allowed himself to hope. But, when he saw her there, he knew he'd lost his chance. He took her to bed and told himself it was what his principles dictated.
Arthur watched the other ride away the next morning, never speaking except to cry out a battle cry in response to Bors. He really wanted to say 'stay', but he did not know how. When the man returned with the others, he remained unspeaking at the edges of their small group. But, Arthur read the meaning in the small smile, saw the understanding in eyes that even seemed to laugh. You can't chase me away so easily, they said. The man had come to see past the words to what was truly meant, returning to unspoken signs that could not speak false. And so, Arthur started to pick up the broken pieces of what beat within him.
He was one who believed in equality and justice, and as such, held onto hope and the anticipation of true happiness. That is why he was left numb when he watched the other fall. The man had chosen to fight the enemy that was Arthur's to face. Even until the very end, he had tried to protect Arthur. Yet, the loss did not hit Arthur until he saw Lancelot lying on the ground, only then did he remember - this was what death looked like.
There had been no need to give a eulogy for Tristan because Arthur knew the truth in his heart, and the last look of peace in the other's eyes said he'd known as well. But, even that was cold comfort.