Title: Written on Your Heart
Author: Stacee Phelps
Disclaimer: I do not own 'King Arthur' and I am not getting paid for writing this.
Author's Note: This is a story for the story challenge on kingarthurfanfiction on Yahoo! Groups.
Summary: Greatest fears…
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Arthur
What people can fear astonishes me. Spiders, snakes, woads, earthquakes, storms, battles…All of it depending on the person involved.
I have been asked, "What do I fear?" but by the most unexpected people-my knights. They ask only because in the past three years they have served me, half their number is gone. They seek to understand me-I who led them and their comrades to certain death. Now, one they deeply care for is hurt. Galahad, the youngest of my men, has suffered a critical injury-a deep sword wound to the left side. He has already lost so much blood, and his friends worry for him.
They lash out at me in their anguish, seeking to blame someone for the injury one of their own has endured: I who led them into this in the first place. They ask in their fear-not wanting to lose another, especially one they all favor such as Galahad.
At sixteen summers, he is still so much a boy, looking at the world so curiously. He has been made a killer, but that does not stop him from having a caring heart. He looks up to all his friends, but none so much as the strong five.
Lancelot, with his quick tongue and even quicker swords, does not treat Galahad like the boy he is, but a fellow warrior. Tristan, the tracker, one who is becoming as stoic as a rock as more time passes but still manages to retain his youth, only deep down. Gawain as the older brother, always protective but never admitting it, and Dagonet as the voice of reason, the acting father figure as the oldest of the group, and then there is Bors; the man who, in the three years under me, already has three children with his lover, Vanora. A man, who even though acts as if he doesn't give a damn, worries the most.
These are the men blaming me, senselessly asking me questions to anger and hurt me. They are the ones asking me the impossible. They do not know what they are asking of me.
My greatest fear is something that surprisingly is common. One experienced by every man in this camp. The fear of caring. Except, instead of letting it hold them back, my men push on, which is what I should be able to do, but my fear stems from something I will never forget. The only person I ever cared about was violently taken from me and I never let myself grow close to another being. That is why I do not get close to the men-for I fear losing them.
But, as I sit here, away from the fire, I come to realize something. I have failed. For I have gotten to know my men, and consequently, come to care for them. That is why I fear for Galahad's life. As I sit here watching my men tend to the wounded teen, I know what their reactions are and I know what they're feeling because of the trials I have been through with them.
Lancelot is commanding everyone, letting his pretend anger hide his concern. Tristan is calm and seemingly unemotionally sitting by a tree close to Galahad's head, hovering in a silent vigil. Gawain sits by Galahad, holding the boy's hand and whispering words into his ear. By the look on the blonde's face, he was giving the younger man reasons to stay alive. Dagonet and Bors were sparring as quietly as possible nearby, the older man lending support and release for Bors as they fought.
All these men caring so much for one of their own Sarmatians almost makes me envious, for I know I will never be cared for like these men.
I may be a fair commander but I am still Roman.
And as I sit here away from the fire, my life-blood running down my side, I realize that that is my only failing.
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