Disclaimer: Still not mine, despite an obsessional, copious amount of wishing, hoping and praying. Everything recognizable belongs to Jerry Bruckheimer and Touchstone Pictures - godsdammit !
Warning: contains slash and strong language.
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Chapter VIII
Dagonet's pov:
Although I love Gawain dearly, I've come to realize that I can never - will never - be in love with him. No matter how badly I wish for it. And deep down ? I know he feels the same. No one will ever be able to replace that stubborn, moody, damn Whelp in his heart. For Galahad owns Gawain's heart completely, as surely as Tristan's the guardian and owner of mine.
Gawain and I may have started our bond to provide each other solace and a distraction. As a means of a diversion from the anguish and pain we were suffering on account of our loved ones. Yet in spite of our kinship and the care we felt for each other, the fact that we'd committed ourselves to others couldn't be denied. Even though they had forsaken us. Left us heartbroken. Devastated.
Yet I'm increasingly aware that Gawain - like myself - in his heart of hearts, still clings to the hope that his obstinate shieldmate will come to his senses and attempt a reconciliation - much in the same vein as I continue to pray daily that my proud, stubborn Aorsi bastard will have an epiphany and fight for me and what we had. Bors always had reservations and doubted the wisdom of my decision in accepting Tristan as my lover, but as I'd often reminded him, you can't help who you fall in love with ... Love is unpredictable. Uncontrollable. All-consuming. And it's something we all crave and wish for. That's human nature. We aren't meant to be alone. We're meant to love and be loved, regardless of what others think of your choice of partner. After all, your loved one is meant to make you happy, to have your best interests at heart. Not your kin's and your friends ...
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We entered the tavern, Van's arm was looped through mine and my eyes immediately drifted to the table where Gawain and I usually sat. On its rough oak surface sat a clay pitcher and two tankards. But of Gawain, there was no sign. Puzzled by his absence, my brow furrowed. Gawain had promised to meet me and it was extremely unlike him not to keep his word. Absently, I ran a weary hand over my cropped scalp as I made my way slowly towards our table. I sat down and poured myself a tankard of ale and began to brood. After a second tankard, I realized that Gawain wasn't going to show. Feeling slightly angry and more than a little disappointed, I rose to my feet. There was no point in staying and if I was being honest, I was tired.
I sighed heavily and began to meander through the crowd back to my quarters. And then it happened.
I wasn't looking where I was going and immediately walked straight into someone, almost knocking that person down. Without thinking, I reached out my hand to steady him and that's when I heard the familiar, husky, faintly-accented growl. The one which always made my toes curl, sent a shiver of longing down my spine and a bolt of desire straight to my loins.
"Why the fuck don't you look where you're goi- ? ..." There was a slight pause then, "Wolf ..."
As soon as I heard my pet name uttered, I noted the growl had softened into a gentle rasp. All trace of impatience and anger gone. I felt the old tingle of desire rush through my body as I felt Tristan's sinewy bicep flex beneath my hand; as I looked up and met his gaze, I was struck by the heat in those striking golden eyes and something else. Something which I hadn't seen for a long time. A flicker of yearning. Of intense longing. It was a look which instantly had my heart racing and my body clenching and tightening with need. It left me in no doubt that I still wanted him. That I needed him.
Feeling myself flush, I reluctantly broke contact and hastily averted my gaze, then mumbled a hasty "Sorry ..." before stumbling away from him. All the while, I was conscious of those enigmatic, heated red-gold eyes full of confusion and hurt as they seared into the back of my head. I'd only made it a couple of yards, when I heard him speak softly.
"No. Dagonet. Please, stay ... Don't go ..."
I froze for a moment, thinking I'd heard a certain note in his voice, then believing I'd imagined it, I slowly shook my head and strode briskly towards the exit.
" Dag ... Please, my Wolf. I'm sorry ... For everything. Can we talk ... ?" I was wrong, I hadn't imagined the soft plea I'd heard in his husky voice. Feeling slightly lightheaded, I turned slowly to face him.
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Tristan's pov:
Flashback
Ever since my Healer left me, I'd become even more withdrawn. A virtual recluse.
Due to my stupidity - thanks to one drunken, meaningless kiss - I'd lost someone who meant everything to me. Dagonet. The man I loved. The one I'm still in love with. And worst of all, I was the indirect cause that led him to attempt to take his own life. And for that alone, I can never forget what I did nor forgive myself. Nor do I wish or want to ... I don't deserve to forget what I unwittingly caused, nor to be forgiven for the pain, hurt and anguish Dag suffered on my account. The memory of him lying unconscious in that copse, with all that blood running freely from his forearms has been imprinted in my memory and will remain there until the day I die. And the fact that I was the one responsible for making him choose death over life, continues to break my heart even to this day.
Like I said. I've become a recluse. A lone wolf. I rarely spend time with other people, prefering my own company and that of my destrier, Storm and my hawk. I've banished myself from my brethren because I don't deserve to be in their company, that they'd be better off without mine. That I'd only end up hurting them and causing myself pain. I've taken to avoiding the tavern when the others are there and if I'm forced to stay at the fort, I keep strictly to myself; exiled in my quarters so that I may lick my wounds in solitude, or haunting the archery range or the stables, which has become my haven and the only place at the fort where I can find some semblance of peace. Where I can be alone and brood over the fact that I monumentally fucked up when I lost Dagonet. That my so-called life is now completely meaningless without him. He's constantly in my thoughts and my dreams and I'm unable to function properly without him.
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I was sat at my usual table at the tavern, avoiding everyone and hoping for solitude, when I heard my name being called. I chose to ignore it, hoping that whoever it was would fuck off and leave me in peace.
"Tristan - c'mon, you stubborn git ... I need a word ..."
Shit ! It was the Whelp. One of the few in this godsdamned shit-hole who actually still bothered to talk to me and not treat me like a bloody leper. I can't say we were close in any way, but right now, Galahad was the only person, excluding Vanora, I could remotely call a friend ... albeit a distant one.
"Tristan !"
Gods-fucking-dammit ! I thought. Why couldn't he, just for once, take a fucking hint and leave me be ? But I could tell by the tone of his voice that he'd no intention of leaving until we'd spoken and that was the last thing I wanted to do.
"Aye. Heard you the first time, you daft Halani." I growled softly, reluctantly dragging my gaze away from my tankard of ale and skewering the hunting knife I'd been idly toying with into the table's knotted surface, absently watching its hilt quiver at the force I'd used. My sudden reply must've unnerved him somewhat, as he stood before me, silent and ill at ease. "Well ... ? Cat got your tongue, Gal ? I mean, y'did blather something about wanting a word ..."
Suddenly, Galahad began to speak and it was like watching a dam bursting. "D'ya know how much he loves you ? How heartbroken he is ? How he craves for you ? That he longs for you as badly as you yearn for him."
Seething, I was in his face before he could finish his rant. How dare he presume ... Trembling with barely contained fury, I snarled softly, "Do not ..."
"Do not what, Tristan ? Tell you the bloody truth ? Open your eyes to the fact that you're the one who hurt him and only you can truly heal him ?"
Galahad only got as far as the word "truth" when I reached across the table, grabbed him by the tunic and dragged him forward. The sudden movement caused him to expel air from his lungs with a loud "whoosh."
"Well, what you gonna do, Scout ? Use me for target practice ? Kick my arse ? Gut me ? Make me bleed ?"
"Trust me, I'm considering it ..." I growled low and deep. I briefly loosened my grip on his black leather tunic before suddenly dragging him towards me once more.
"Then do it," he whispered softly as he dared to meet my eyes. "Do it !"
Velvety dark orbs recklessly held my gaze unflinchingly. And I was so tempted to hurt him. So very tempted ... To hear him cry out with pain. To make him bleed. Because he'd dared to do what many had failed. He'd spoken the truth. Had called me out. Had seen me for the coward I truly was. That I feared to pursue what I desperately craved. What I longed for. Dag's company and undivided attention. And I hated him for it. Truly hated him. Yet his response to my reply bewildered me. I hadn't expected him to react that way. I'd pushed him and surprizingly, he was daft enough to push back.
"What d'ya want, Gal ? Spit it out 'n' leave me be," I spoke softly, not quietly with deadly intent and I was dismayed that I was unable to conceal the underlying pain in the tone of my voice.
"Already told you, you bloody-minded fool. What I want is for you to listen ... To man up and make make things up to Dag, as I plan to do with Gawain ..."
I released his tunic and half-heartedly shoved him back away from the table, quashing the brief feeling of guilt I felt as he stumbled whilst trying to regain his balance, before withdrawing and running a weary hand down my face.
"Why the fu- ? Gods ! Nah, don't tell me ... Van's had a go at you as well. Am I right ?" Before I could stop myself, my eyes darted to his. But as soon as he met my gaze, I hastily averted mine. I didn't want him to see the yearning and love I still felt for Dag in my eyes. I couldn't allow it. I sank back wearily in my chair, dimly aware of the dark Halani shifting uncomfortably before me, confirming my suspicions that the feisty, extremely bossy, yet well-meaning tavern owner had indeed been meddling in both of our affairs.
"Aye, well ... maybe she has been trying to help me see sense ..." Galahad sheepishly confessed, whilst rubbing his nape agitatedly. "Listen, I may be the youngest, but I'm not blind, nor stupid. I can see that Dag's not the same without you, Tris, that he isn't happy ... just as you are without him." He gave a slight, rueful smile.
Gazing up at the tavern rafters to where my hawk was silently perched, I closed my eyes and exhaled slowly, pinching the bridge of my nose as I did so, before asking the one question I was unsure that I wanted replied. "How d'ya know ... ?"
"For mercy's sake, Tris, does it really matter ?" Galahad hedged. My eyes narrowed contemplatively. Maybe the youngling wasn't as daft as I believed him to be after all. That under all that rashness and fiery behaviour, he actually paid attention to what went on around him. "Fine ... I know 'cause unlike some, when I look I actually see - and, if our supposedly keen Scout had been paying attention, he'd've noticed it too. Y'know, Tris, for someone so intelligent, you can be rather blinkered at times. Why d'ya think Dag gave us a choice not to patrol when Arthur temporarily placed him in charge of the fort ? 'Cause he wanted you near him, you daft sod ... He wanted you safe. Whenever you're around, he watches you like a besotted wench pining for her man. It's sickening, Tris ... and you're too fucking proud or blind to see it ..."
"I saw ... I hardly dared to believe ... after what I'd done, I-I lost all hope ..." I breathed deeply and tightly closed my eyes. "And since he had Gawain ... I truly thought he didn't care. That he no longer needed or wanted me." One brief glance at the Whelp's unhappy face immediately led me to believe that Galahad was under the similar impression that Gawain felt the same way about him and that thought felt like a broadsword blade piercing my gut. The pain was intense and unbearable. I swallowed hard, hoping - huh, praying - that I'd misunderstood yet knowing, deep down in my heart, that I hadn't. "Did you ... ? Did Gawain ... ?"
"Tris ... All I know is that 'cause we've both acted like fools, my lion and your wolf have bonded with each other. They've become close. Like brothers. They turned to each other for company 'cause they both needed it. But it'll never be anything more as Dag loves you, Tristan. He always has and he always will. The two of you need to talk and you ? You need to listen and heed what he says. Be patient with him."
I leant back in my chair and half-closed my eyes as I took in his words. Although I knew he'd spoken the truth, it didn't lessen my pain, even though I knew I'd no right to feel this way. Yet I also felt the need to know where my beloved Healer was.
"Where ... ?"
"Probably on his way here as like as not, to meet my Gawain."
I felt torn. I longed for Dagonet. I craved to be at his side once more, yet I was unsure if I'd ever be welcome. If he'd tolerate my presence. Dag probably hated me, yet being a gentle, kindly soul he'd never tell me to fuck off, even though he was well within his right to do so.
"And what will you be doing, pray tell ?" I drawled, barely able to keep the sarcasm from my voice.
The Whelp fidgetted uneasily and ducked his head to avoid my steady gaze. "Me ? Nowt much ... just ... just doing something I should've done in the first place, instead of being a stubborn arse," he muttered hurriedly as he uneasily shifted his weight from one leg to another.
"And that'd be ?" I raised an enquiring eyebrow as I mildly enjoyed his discomfort.
"Making damn sure Gawain doesn't meet up with your Dag, so I can start grovelling for his forgiveness."
Snorting with barely concealed amusement, I glanced down at his short, leather kilt and idly remarked, "Well, considering the amount of grovelling you have to do and the time you'll be spending on your knees before him, maybe you'd be better dragging him off to somewhere private with plenty of rugs for padding ..."
Noting the grimace of distaste on the attractive youngster's face and the sudden, shocked gasp from him was enough to bring a smirk to mine.
"You filthy bastard !" he spat, causing my smirk to widen further.
"Hey ... all I'm saying is that we both know you're going to end up on your knees before him, grovelling or otherwise, may as well do it in comfort, aye ?"
"Pig !" And with that scathing retort, the fiery, scarlet-faced Whelp turned on his heel and swiftly left the tavern in search of his former lover, leaving me alone to ponder how I'd regain my beloved Roxolani Healer's trust and win back his heart.
End of flashback
And that's how I found myself standing before the man I loved more than life itself, silently pleading for him to listen to me. To give me another chance. Even though I knew I was asking too much of him. That I'd no right to expect anything from him. Especially mercy. Yet after what Van had revealed, I had to at least try. I owed it to Dag, even if it led him to tell me to bugger off and leave him the hell alone.
I heard myself pleading as he turned to leave, "No. Dagonet, please, stay ... Don't go ..."
He froze. I could see him become tense with uncertainty, then Dag gave a slight shake of his head before continuing to walk toward the door. My heart stopped. I couldn't just let him walk away and leave. Not now. Not after I finally found the courage - the nerve - to talk to him.
"Dag ... Please, my Wolf. I'm sorry ... For everything. Can we talk ... ?" I'd never begged anyone for anything, but this was so damn important. So much so, that I'd willingly fall to my knees and beg, if it meant he'd give me a chance. I'd do anything. Risk everything for it. Fall on my own dao if I had to. For Dagonet. Then, to my intense relief, he slowly and finally, turned to face me.
My first thought was how tired he appeared. And how undeniably good he looked. He'd put on some weight, had finally lost the fragile gauntness which broke my heart, as well as the dark shadows beneath his haunted eyes. Silver orbs finally met mine warily, yet held more life and a hint of what I dared to believe was hope ... He sighed heavily and raised a hand to wearily rub his nape. Something I knew he only did when faced with uncertainty.
"Tristan ... I'm tired. Can't this wait ?" he finally replied. His husky voice sent a lightning bolt of need directly to my nethers.
I took a deep breath and chewed my lower lip anxiously. It was now or never. Knowing my luck, I'd never get another chance. And I couldn't risk that. "No. It can't ... We really need to talk ..."
He eyed me silently, for what seemed like an eternity, then muttered, "Well, go on then ... Talk ..."
His soft-spoken challenge threw me. I never expected him to throw the gauntlet down in the tavern of all places and I wasn't about to discuss our private business in public.
I shook my head, "Not here, Dag ... In private."
"I can't. It's here, or not at all. I'm waiting for Gawain ..."
Hearing how easily Gawain's name fell from his lips and seeing how his face lit up, made me feel as if I'd been struck hard in the gut. It hurt knowing how close they'd become over the past few months ... how fond Dag was of him. And I couldn't help thinking, no matter what Vanora had said to me earlier, what if Dag had found someone else ? What if he'd fallen for Gawain ? What if he no longer loved, wanted or needed me ?
"About that ..." I paused, then met his gaze head on, "that's part of the reason why I'm here ... Gawain probably won't be coming, Dag. Saw the Whelp earlier. Said he planned on seeing Gawain. Wanted to make amends with him. That he wanted Gawain back ... Galahad also said we both need to talk to each other ... So, will you come with me ?"
Dag's silver eyes clouded with confusion. "I don't understand ... Why ? What's he playing at ?"
I shrugged and watched him sadly, hating the bewildered look on his face. "All I know is that Galahad was determined that we talk. Sort things out between us. Insisted that we did. Said it was important ... But if you'd rather not, I understand ..." I added hastily, when I saw him hesitate.
Resignation and determination came into conflict on his handsome face, as he considered his options. Then suddenly, he spoke, "Well, come on then. What are you waiting for ? May as well get this over with ..."
Considering his "overwhelming" enthusiasm about being in my presence, there wasn't much I could say in response. Mutely, I turned on my heel and stalked out into the cool night air, bristling with wounded indignation. Dag had never been so uncaring, or offhand towards me before. I didn't bother to look back, just carried on walking briskly away from the tavern. And from Dagonet. It seemed that Galahad had been mistaken after all. Dagonet no longer cared and didn't give a shit about me. About us. Or wanted anything to do with me.
I found myself upon the ramparts. In a part often neglected by the fort's inhabitants after dark. Yet, it was somewhere I'd taken to visiting recently at night, simply for that reason alone. So I could be left with my thoughts. In peace. I stared at the full moon and sighed, before sitting on the rampart, shoulders slumped and head bowed. A perfect image of rejection and dejection. I began to brood and soon became lost in my thoughts and in doing so, failed to sense another's presence.
"Tris ... ?"
"What the bloody hell, do you want, Dagonet ? Why are you here, huh ? 'Cause you definitely aren't here for me. I was a fool to dare hope you would be ... So, do us both a favour and fuck off. Go and find your precious Halani and leave me be ..." I snarled, not even bothering to raise my head, for I knew if I did, Dagonet couldn't fail to see the anguish, jealousy and hurt in my eyes. "Just ... just go ! Get the fuck away from me and go to the one you want to be with ..." To my horror, I heard a faint crack in my voice and I prayed he hadn't noticed.
If Dagonet had heard, he didn't show it. He merely sat quietly beside me and stared into the distance, before remarking softly, "Why would I want to, Tris ? Tell me ... Why would I, when I'm exactly where I want to be ?"
I raised my head abruptly, surprized by his response to my tirade. "Don't ... Just ... Just don't, Dag ..."
"Don't what, Tris ?" he asked gently and raised an enquiring eyebrow as he held my gaze steadily. "You were right. We do need to talk. Sort things out between us. Neither of us can go on like this. It's killing both of us- "
"Y'think I don't know that ? There's not a day that goes by, that I haven't regretted what I did ... That I wish to gods I hadn't been so bloody stupid ... That I hadn't hurt you. I seriously fucked up and because of it, I lost you. It's been hell without you, Dagonet ... Hell ! My life's bloody pointless without you. Fucking meaningless ... I can't even call it a life anymore. It's barely an existence ... All I know is that I'm no longer alive since you left ..." I inhaled deeply and managed to break eye contact with him and the fight died within me. "I'm sorry, Dag. Truly sorry ... I love you. I'm still in love with you, but I can't do this anymore. It just hurts too fucking much. I know I deserve everything that's coming to me but ... I just want you to be happy and now I know I'll never be the one to do that. I'll only end up hurting you again and that's the last thing I want. Please ... just go ..."
Then, unexpectedly, I felt his hand firmly, yet gently, tilt my chin, forcing me to meet his mild gaze. " 'M not going anywhere, Tris ... Aye, you hurt me. More than you'll ever know. You broke my heart, you stupid, arrogant bastard. You almost broke me. But when it comes down to it, I bloody miss you and ... Oh, goddess ! Forgive me ... I still want you and I never stopped loving you. I couldn't, no matter how damned hard I tried ... Did everything I could to try and forget you, but nothing worked. You're part of me and when I'm without you, I'm incomplete ..." Dag's palm was warm against my bearded cheek and I revelled in the feel of it. His thumb absently stroked my lower lip and I held my breath. Need coursed like wildfire through my blood and my snug calfskin breeches suddenly felt uncomfortably tight.
Dagonet raised his free hand and carefully swept my hair away from my face, "Gods ! How I've missed you, my Scout ..." he said huskily, his eyes fixed intently upon my face. They flickered briefly to my lips, then held my gaze once more.
"Wh-What about Gawain ... ?" I managed to rasp, then closed my eyes. I bit my lip to stifle the groan of lustful need which was threatening to escape.
"I love Gawain ... He was there for me when I needed someone, Tris. As I was for him. You've nothing to fear, I swear. It's always been you ... It'll always be you ..."
"Who says I'm afraid ?" I snarked shakily, lacking my usual bite. His touch was so distracting, yet so very welcome and happily, I leant into it.
Dagonet grinned. "I do ... I know you only too well, Scout ... I can see it in your eyes." His hand trailed down my shoulder and took hold of mine and our fingers interlaced as his forehead came to rest against mine. His breath gently caressed my face and I felt the tension seep away from my body.
"So ... ?" I began cautiously, resting my hand upon his taut, muscular, leather-clad thigh.
"So ... ?" Dagonet countered lightly. I could tell he was smiling by the sound of his voice.
"What happens now ? Where do we go from here ?"
"Haven't a bloody clue, Scout. All I know is that I'd like to find out ... But I don't want to rush it. I want us to take things slowly ... Day by day ... if that's alright with you ?"
It was more than alright. I lightly traced my fingers over the scar which ran down and marred his handsome profile and not daring to believe my luck, replied huskily, "Whatever you want, Wolf ... Whatever you want ..."
