Disclaimer: I don't own NBC's "Hannibal" or Jerry Bruckheimer's "King Arthur," wishful thinking aside.

Authors Note #1: This is an AU/reincarnation fiction involving "Hannibal" and the movie "King Arthur," specially revolving around a romantic relationship between Hannibal (who is the reincarnation of Tristan) and Will Graham (who is the reincarnation of Galahad). This story was made possible by a prompt on the Hannibal kinkmeme. Please see original chapter for complete information regarding the specifics of this prompt.

Warnings: Contains spoilers for the movie, and just to be safe, all of Hannibal, season one, adult language, canon appropriate violence, sexytimes, gore, murder, emotional manipulation, implied cannibalism and mature content.

Rinascere

Chapter Twenty-Five

"Someday you're going to have to tell me how you do that," the man complained, his good humor evident as he closed the door and followed him into the foyer. His detective badge and holster glittered in the low light as they embraced - their handshake warm as they came together once again as brothers.

Gawain, known as Gareth Kalish in this life, had kept his signature long locks, yet like himself, generally abstained from facial hair. Otherwise that was the only visible difference between the man he'd grown up with and the version standing before him today.

Gawain set a bottle of wine on the kitchen counter, making a circuit around the island as he noted the changes. He'd had the kitchen renovated since the man's last visit. He paused as he read the label, a pleased smile lighting up his features as he opened a cupboard.

"If you continue to insist on bringing me Barbaresco when you visit, I might just have to," he replied, bringing out two wineglasses with a flourish as he tested the temperature and popped the cork.

"I have a bottle of Bruenello di Montalcino in the car, couldn't figure out which one you'd prefer so I figured I'd stay on the safe side and bring you both," Gawain hummed, his smile only growing larger when the man noticed his sudden interest.

"You spoil me."

"Perhaps I have ulterior motives," the man admitted, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned back against the china cabinet, his black sports coat straining around his shoulders as he stretched.

"I would have expected nothing less. And let me assure you, the bribery is fully appreciated," he interjected, thumbing the label appreciatively. The man knew him well.

"I thought it would be," Gawain said with a smirk, firming his shoulders against the wall before he continued. "After all, there is something to be said for expensive taste," the man added, watching pointedly as he filled his glass, swirling a small amount in the bottom, sampling the bouquet with a reverent sigh as he took the first sip.

"…Though, what I wouldn't give for a cup of Vanora's honeyed ale any day. Christ, that woman could brew," Gawain related, taking a small sip from his glass before he set it down on the counter, gaze internal as he smacked his lips appreciatively.

"I attempted to recreate it a few years after you discovered me. But I'm afraid I never quite managed to recreate its likeness," he remarked conversationally, raising his glass for a toast as the Gawain's attention remained elsewhere. Perhaps back in the memories of nights spent under the warm glow of lanterns, the scent of salted pork and spilled ale rising around them as they toasted to their latest victory, their latest brush with death. Galahad's shoulders brushing against his, companionable but flushed before they eventually made their excuses and tackled one another into their bed, wrestling playfully for the upper hand as the sound of the celebration filtered through the warm fall air.

"Shame," Gawain replied, shaking himself out of his reverie and hurrying to mirror the action. His wine sloshed dangerously close to the rim as he rose to his feet and raised his glass.

"To Vanora's ale then."

"That's not all of Vanora I would toast to," Gawain chuckled as their glasses clinked together. "They just don't make hips like that anymore," the man hummed, shaking his head as his hand flicked back and forth in front of them like a pendulum, making appreciative sounds until he couldn't help but join the man in his good humor.

Privately, he couldn't help but agree. Vanora had been a force to be reckoned with, as beautiful as a summer's day and twice as deadly. People had often said that her and Bors had been made for one another. The gods had seen fit to grace the man with the one woman who was his match in both wit and temper. At the end of the day, a man couldn't ask for much more than that. Their marriage had come as no surprise to those closest to them, but was certainly not popular when the scores of men, both young and old who'd wanted her for their own, realized she'd been stolen from right under their noses, married to a foreigner no less.

They finished their wine in relative silence, each caught up in their respective thoughts as the hour grew late. But soon enough he was up and moving again, his body reminding him how long it had been since he'd last ate as he moved seamlessly through the kitchen, collecting everything he needed for a meal for two.

He gave the man a collection of vegetables to chop, more to keep his hands busy than anything else as he collected the two packages of lean thigh from the fridge that he'd left to thaw overnight. Their supper this evening was courtesy of a particularly supple receptionist he'd had the misfortune of meeting nearly a month before. He'd been meaning to use up the last of her, and the man's arrival, while not completely surprising, provided him with the perfect opportunity.

"You knew I was coming," Gawain observed, eying the meat speculatively as he minced a pair of radishes into tidy piles near the edge of the cutting board.

"I had my suspicions," he returned, deftly slicing the lips on the packages and sliding the meat onto the cutting board with a practiced flick. "After all Atlanta isn't an unreasonable distance to travel, especially considering the circumstances," he replied, gesturing vaguely with the meat tenderizer before he made to continue.

"In fact, I'm surprised Dagonet didn't accompany you," he posed, calculating travel times as he sprinkled each cut with a measure of flour and proceeded to flatten both pieces with the tenderizer.

"It's his week with the kids," Gawain replied, raising his voice enough to be heard above the din, shaking his head almost disbelievingly as if something had just occurred to him. "Christ, I'm glad I hadn't gotten around to having kids before all this," he grunted, waving the knife above his head in an emphatic gesture.

"It wouldn't be fair to them, you know, being away all the time. Not knowing if Arthur will call tomorrow or the next night, or if I have to catch a red-eye to the bloody Pope-palace in less time than is humanly feasible. Hell, it was bad enough when Sandra left. Imagine explaining that to a bunch of kids?" Gawain snorted, lopping the ends off a bunch of carrots rather violently, as if to prove his point.

"She said I was a completely different person and, honestly, she wasn't wrong. Finding all this out changed a lot of things. Not that I regret it mind you," he hastened to add, clearly conflicted but firm in his decision.

He understood the feeling, the difficulty that had come part and parcel with the conflicting realities that had fused together to become one. In some cases it didn't work out as smoothly as they'd hoped. He'd been lucky; he had no one who knew him well enough to notice. Perhaps Bedelia had picked up on fragments of it, perhaps she'd even been able to tell the difference in the sessions following his revelation and the subsequent months spent almost solely with Arthur and his brothers. He knew the sudden nature of his leave of absence in the days following their reunion had piqued her interest. He'd called it a holiday, but deep down he knew she had her doubts. It had been a challenge reigning himself in when he'd returned, his dual natures still settling as he forced himself to meet her gaze, session after session, playing a game of cat and mouse, only there were no mice in the room, only predators.

But at the end of the day, despite her gifts, the woman could only speculate. He only allowed her enough of himself to wonder. And quite frankly, that was the way he wanted to keep it.

"At least Dagonet and his ex split before all this, stress of the military life I suppose, never really asked actually. You know how he is, still as talkative as ever," Gawain continued, taking a fortifying sip of his wine before he made to speak again, the pause pregnant and full.

"You know his youngest boy's name is Lucan, right? The boy was born eight years before we found him. Eight. Hard to believe isn't it?" Gawain added, words weighted with experiences and memories he himself had missed.

"Our unconscious minds are often mirrors of our deepest desires," he replied. "Given our histories, it is not surprising that elements from our past, strong emotions and desires had slipped into this one long before we knew our true identities," he finished, his expression thoughtful as he rolled up his sleeves, salting the meat lightly before he crossed to the fridge, retrieving a handful of fresh limes to add a more exotic tang.

"Bors took him in you know, Lucan, raised him as one of his own, the kid was still ticking by the time I passed on. Became a stone mason, married a woad girl, a pretty little blond half his height. He ended up taller than even Dagonet," the man mused, a smile flittering across his features as he shrugged out of his sports coat, leaning over the sink as he took the peeler to a mound of potatoes.

"What about you Tris, I know you weren't fond of the idea of a brood of your own back then, has that changed?" the man asked, more curious than anything as he popped a piece of potato into his mouth and bit down with a satisfied crunch.

He raised a brow, but let the old nickname slide. A lot of things had changed since that night in the clearing, but on the other hand, many things had also stayed the same.

"It wasn't that I disliked the idea," he posed, pausing over the meat as he gave himself time to truly consider the question. "It was more that I couldn't visualize it. At the time I didn't see a future where they would be possible. And in a way, I certainly wasn't wrong."

"And now?" the man asked.

"Up until a few weeks ago my opinions on the matter were the same. But recently, certain events have made me more open to reconsideration," he admitted, selecting a bottle of shallot oil from the counter as he coated one of his pans and tossed the meat in to fry.

The meat hit the pan with a satisfying hiss of oil and natural fats. He breathed in, sampling the aroma, idly wondering if the woman's tearful mother, who'd been featured on national TV as late as last week pleading for her daughter's safe return, would take comfort in knowing that her daughter was host to a most intriguing flavor. There was a certain sweetness about her, something that added an almost natural smokiness he found appealing. Refreshing even.

"Ah, right, the whole Minnesota shrike business, it's been all over the news. People at the department are still talking about it. You're referring to that Hobbs girl, right? She pulled through then?" Gawain remarked, sounding far less surprised than he'd expected as the man finished with the vegetables and dug the tip of the knife into the cutting board.

"So it seems," he replied carefully, pausing for a moment before deciding to share his thoughts. "And it appears we have more in common than even I initially realized," he continued, his long fingers curling around the handle of the bread knife as he took a loaf of soft German rye and cut off half a dozen slices.

Gawain just raised a brow. "That so?" his expression contemplative as he leaned back in his chair, grinning a bit as he made to continue, "I probably don't want to know so I'm not going to ask."

"Wise of you," he offered, smiling as he flipped the meat with a graceful flick of his wrist.

The man laughed. "I've known you a long time Tristan, two lifetimes in fact. So I'd better know when to keep my mouth shut by now," Gawain grinned, a dark little chuckle echoing out into the relative quiet as he raised his glass in response.

"I'll drink to that."

A/N #2: Thank you for reading. I realize this type of a crossover is something of a rarity so please let me know what you think! Reviews and constructive critiquing are love! – The next chapter should be up soon!

"My whole belief system is that our paths are drawn for us. I believe in reincarnation. I believe we're here to learn and grow. We choose how we come into this life based on what it is we have to learn. Some people have harder lessons than others." - Gillian Anderson