Title: Demoralization
Summary: Gawain is there for Galahad...
Rating: PG (possible dark themes)
AN: Set on the night before their final mission for Rome; Written for a challenge; Word count-443; One-shot
For fifteen years they had been fighting for a cause and a country not their own. For fifteen years they had risked their lives seemingly without a purpose. Now, as they were to be liberated, a promised mission of death instead governed his thoughts. Galahad shook his head and slammed his cup down, quickly rising from the table the knights were gathered around. The room, which had been full of premature laughter and banter silenced in congruence with his swift exit. When Galahad had vanished from sight, all eyes turned to Gawain in silent question. Gawain could only shrug before quietly following Galahad.
He found the young knight seated at the top of Badon Hill, arms crossed over his knees, head on his elbows. They sat together in silence for a while, Gawain knowing that the impulsive Galahad would only speak when he decided to. It was only when he realized the slight tremor that wracked Galahad's form, that he placed his arm about the others shoulders, silently coaxing him to reveal the anguish he was clearly striving to guard. Galahad waved an arm, indicating the hill below them.
"All we have left are the scars." Gawain's brow furrowed. Galahad remained silent for a few moments before continuing. "We have been fighting for fifteen years, and all that we have left are the scars of this land to show for it. We have been fighting for fifteen years, and our reward was death. We buried our fellow comrades, our brothers here, and they are the scars that taint this land. They are the scars that taint my memory of this place. All we have left are the scars."
"Galahad, does this have anything to do with tomorrow?"
"THIS HAS EVERYTHING TO DO WITH TOMORROW!" Gawain started at the outburst and pulled his arm away quickly. Galahad buried his face in his arms, his calm composure rapidly dissipating with every wracking sob of his body. And for the first time, Gawain saw through Galahad's tough composure, to the demoralized, scared man beneath. Gawain's heart went out to him, and he realized just how much the enormity of this mission hit Galahad. Galahad didn't look up when he next spoke.
"I don't want the scars anymore Gawain. I don't want them." His entreaty came out like a quiet whimper, so tiny, and helpless. To Gawain, Galahad suddenly seemed so small, so young. Gawain pulled Galahad to him, and Galahad buried his face in Gawain's shoulder, once more dissolving into the heaving breaths of a man who had lost his will. Gawain gently ran his finger over a small scar visible on Galahad's neck.
"I'm sorry."
Hope you all enjoyed. Just hopefully a small little insight into how Galahad might have been feeling that night.