This was written as a challenge fic for the KAfanfic group.
Title: Bad Memory
Challenge fic gasp I wrote one!
Rating: G
Summary: Galahad reflects on a bad memory, but is it really bad? one-shot
Author's Note: So I've had Galahad in a few stories, mostly just to fill in space I hate to say, but I do like him a lot. Actually, there isn't really a knight that I don't like. This little thing sort of popped in my head while waiting for my music theory teacher to get there today. If anything is typoed or ooc, just blame it on me being sick, that usually works, LOL. Anyway, enjoy.
Bad Memory
Mists gather on the empty field, almost like the smoke of the battle years before. It's silent, nothing moves, but the screams and battle cries from that day are engrained in my memory. Just a bad memory.
Was it worth it? Was it worth the lives that it took and those that remain? Gawain says that none of us are the same, a piece of us was burned away by the fires of Badon Hill. We all lost something.
I had doubted before, why were we here. To fight for a cause not of our own; for Rome. And for Rome we sacrificed 15 years. For Rome we sacrificed Dagonet, Tristan and Lancelot. If we hadn't had to be here, than they would still be alive. None of this would have happened. There would be no bad memory.
Not a day passes that I don't think about how much has changed. God knows how much Arthur had changed. He's king now, king of Britain, and we are his knights. But those first few days, it was as if he was lost. I can't fathom what it would be like to loose Gawain, my best friend. That was what Arthur left, that part of his soul.
"My brave knights, I have failed you. I neither took you off this island, nor shared your fate." Arthur's words still ring in my heart, even today, just as I can still hear the battle. It was that moment when it was clear. This bad memory, this fight that wasn't
ours was made our own because we fought for each other.
We all changed. Gawain bares more scars, he is more quiet it seems. Bors doesn't laugh as much anymore - except when he's with his children. Arthur is more solemn, withdrawn, but he still smiles. But me, how did I change? Perhaps I grew up, became a man. Or perhaps I understood. Of course I was sad to lose my friends whom had been my family for 15 years. I remember them, not in a bad memory, but with love for the sacrifice they gave for us. Britain can no longer be a bad memory, that's what I lost in the battle of Badon Hill.