Title: F.I.N.E.
Author: Lycanus
Fandom: King Arthur
Character(s): Dagonet
Rating: M
Type: angst
Summary: He was my world and I'd trusted him implicitly. More fool me ...
Comments & Reviews: positive comments welcomed
Disclaimer: Sadly, Jerry Bruckheimer & Touchstone Pictures still own the lads and refuse to take my offer of a good and loving home seriously ...
Warning: slashy themes and strong language
A/N: i) The title and song "F.I.N.E." belong to Aerosmith and stands for: Fucked-up, Insecure, Neurotic and Emotional
ii) This is an one-shot from Dag's pov and directly follows the events of "The First Cut Is The Deepest ..." and "Blood Ties."
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F.I.N.E.
Dagonet's pov:
In the end I told Bors I was fine, just so that I could be left in peace and to stop him worrying. Whether he believed me or not, I don't care. Somehow, I don't think he did and knowing my cousin as I do, he probably retreated to re-group and to come up with another plan to keep an eye on me so that I don't do anything stupid.
If being "fine" means that I'm feeling fucked-up, insecure, neurotic and emotional, then yes ... I am fine. But - if I'm being honest with myself - I'm not "fine" in the true sense of the word. Far from it ...
I'm an absolute fucking mess.
I can't eat. I can't sleep. I'm unable to function properly anymore. I've become a bloody liability, not just to myself but to everyone around me. I can no longer concentrate on anything, thanks to him ...
He's the one to blame that I'm this way. Tristan meant the world to me. I gave him everything I possessed. My heart, body and soul. I would have laid down my life for him, if he'd asked it of me. With no questions asked and no hesitation. And I would have done it gladly. Willingly. And wholeheartedly.
Because I loved him more than I ever thought possible. And I'd loved him for almost half my lifetime.
I truly believed that he returned my feelings, but that damn Aorsi bastard ended up breaking my heart and I never saw it coming ... He was my world and I'd trusted him implicitly. More fool me ...
I should have known better at my age than to place all of my faith and trust in one person. But he truly made me happy and so I dropped my guard. Lowered my defences and let him in. Now I wish to the gods that I hadn't, for the anguish and pain caused by his betrayal is slowly, but surely, killing me and I haven't the will nor the strength to fight it anymore.
I feel dead inside. Completely numb. And I hate myself for feeling like this. For being so weak. So impotent ... For being such a godsdamn, fucking fool.
Like I said, I'm a bloody mess. I've let myself go and I haven't the will nor the inclination to take care of myself - I just can't be arsed any more. I'm broken. Mentally. Physically. And spiritually ...
I used to be strong, like all Roxolani. As a tribe, we took great pride in our strength, our courage and our will to fight for what was important to us. We were strong and powerful in stature, character and nature. Passionate about what we believed in and who we loved.
And I'd lost everything which made me a Roxolani. I'd lost my strength and my passion.
I can't remember what or when I last ate. Sleep is also a distant memory. Whenever I close my eyes I'm haunted by the image of my lover in another man's arms, and it's something I'm never going to forget. That's probably why I've taken to drinking so heavily recently. It's my ham-fisted way of dealing with the situation I'm in. If I drink myself into a stupor, then I'm unable to think, dream or care about anything and that suits me perfectly.
With hindsight, I honestly don't know why Tristan chose to be with me. I am his elder by three years, crippled by shyness and lacking in self-confidence. People are intimidated by my appearance, for I seem unapproachable. They find my presence daunting and my silence unnerving.
I am not so deluded to think that I am fair like the others. I do not possess Galahad's boyish appeal; Gawain's charm, wit and good humour which is loved by all; nor am I blessed with Tristan's dark, feral beauty. My face is cursed by the long, vicious scar which runs from my left temple down my cheek. I was fortunate not to lose my sight, never mind my life, when I was gifted with a broadsword's kiss ten years ago. Looking back, it would have been a merciful kindness if that blade had claimed my life, at least then I would have been spared all this fucking misery ...
I have tried to forget him, but to no avail. Everywhere I go - everything I see or hear - seems to remind me of him. Of what I've lost. Because of this, I crave solitude more than I used to. I have always been a loner by nature and I am used to my own company. But after what happened, I have become more of a recluse and am perceived as a morose, withdrawn bastard who seeks comfort in a skin of ale or a flagon of mead or wine.
Tristan appears to be spending far less time here at the garrison and according to Bors, seems to be on permanent patrol by his own choice. I am not sure whether that is a blessing or a curse to be honest. It is a double-edged sword; for it is a blessing that he is not here to remind me of what we had, yet it is a curse that I am also reminded of that by his absence.
In fairness, he did make an attempt at a reconciliation a few weeks ago. But I shunned him completely.
I was still licking my wounds, which were still raw and bloody, and I am ashamed to say I felt a great need - a compulsion - to hurt him. To make him suffer as badly, if not worse, than I am. Instead of talking with him, I left the tavern with the newest serving wench - a tiny, raven-haired, golden-eyed, buxom beauty. A kind-hearted, spirited lass who had earlier rebuffed all of Lancelot's advances and had pulled a knife on him when he continued to ignore her wishes to be left alone. I made a point of making sure that Tristan saw us leave together.
Seeing the shock and complete devastation on his normally impassive, handsome face should have satisfied me ... but it left me feeling empty and furious with myself for having stooped so low.
What is really killing me is the fact that although I hate Tristan for what he did to me, and that I've lost my trust in him, I'm unable to stop loving him. Despite my better judgement, I'm still in love with him. I can't help it. The bugger is my weakness and will continue to be so until I draw my very last breath. He has got under my skin, and holds my heart from this life unto the next. He has become part of me and I'm desperately struggling to survive without my Aorsi Scout.
Living without Tris is sheer bloody hell. I still want him. I crave him. I need him - so badly, that I know I will inevitably take him back. I am all too aware of this, because the pain of being without Tristan far outweighs what he has done. My life is meaningless without him and to put it bluntly, I will end up surrendering myself to him ...
Simply because I miss him ...
Finis