Title: Pain
Author: Lycanus
Fandom: King Arthur
Character(s): Tristan
Rating: M
Type: angst; slash
Summary: As far as he's concerned, I no longer exist and that grieves me more than any wound I've ever suffered in battle.
Coments & Reviews: positive comments welcomed
Disclaimer: Sadly, Jerry Bruckheimer & Touchstone Pictures still own the KA lads and refuse to take my offer of a good and loving home seriously.

A/N: Epilogue from Tristan's pov, following "The First Cut Is The Deepest ..."

*********

Tristan's pov:

This was a mistake ... I made a grave mistake coming here.

But Gawain and the Pup had been insistent and gave me no choice. Refusal hadn't been an option left to me. The blond Halani had even sworn to hunt me down if I hadn't shown. But now, I wished that I had stayed away and not ventured anywhere near the tavern. Never mind across its threshold. Wished more than anything that I'd risked his wrath, for it could never come close to the pain which I now felt ...

It's been four weeks - four long, agonizing, lonely weeks - since I've fucked up and lost the only person that ever mattered to me. The one person I truly cared about. Desired. Wanted. Needed ... And loved - no, I still love - with my heart, body and soul.
Four gods-awful, heartbreaking weeks since I stupidly betrayed my lover. A month since I'd found Dagonet, drunk and devastated, lying half-dead and bleeding profusely from wounds which he'd inflicted upon himself. And it was all my fault. If my beloved Roxolani healer had died then I would have swiftly followed him and taken my own life.
I've not had any contact with him for a whole month and not for the want of trying on my part. I can safely say that these past four weeks have been the worst in my entire life. Dag's been avoiding me like the plague. And who can blame him ? As far as he's concerned, I no longer exist, and that grieves me more than any wound I've ever suffered in battle. Being deprived of his company, not being able to talk to him, hold him and love him as he truly deserves to be loved, is slowly tearing me apart.
I miss him so badly, that words cannot accurately convey what I'm genuinely feeling. All I can say is that it's fucking killing me and that I feel so lost, so cold and so empty without him ...

Like I said, it's tough trying to gain the attention of someone who clearly wants nothing to do with you. And Dagonet has made that exceptionally clear. A blind man couldn't fail to see it. Dag wants nothing more to do with me. As soon as he sees me, he disappears. Fades into the shadows like an inish ... a spirit. And that hurts. Truly fucking hurts ...
I know what I did was wrong. That I wounded him grievously. But all I want is an opportunity to talk. A chance, however slight or remote, to make things up to him. To try and win him back ... The chance of that happening, is like that of hell freezing over. Non-existent. And the odds that he'll ever forgive me are highly unlikely. But I've got to try - I have to. For both our sakes ...
I'm not prepared to throw away what we had - something so precious, so perfect and wondrous - and I am determined to fight for Dagonet. It's like I have a huge gaping void in my life where Dag used to be, and I feel as if a vital part of me is missing now that he's left me.

I try to keep away from the fort and its garrison as much as I can, because I feel I don't belong there any more. The only enticement I had to stay was Dag ...

Both Gawain and Galahad are severely disappointed in me. The former had been so furious, that I truly believed he would have killed me for what I'd done to Dagonet; the latter, unusually, kept his opinion to himself. But the Pup didn't have to say anything, not when his soft, dark brown eyes constantly gazed at me with gentle reproach.

Lancelot, I steered clear of for obvious reasons, considering he was the one who got me into such strife to begin with and was the root of all of my current misery and Dagonet's pain.

Bors, meanwhile, I intended to avoid at all costs. The only reason I can come up with for still being alive, is that the older Roxolani hasn't got wind of what happened and I'm aware that I'm living on borrowed time ...
Basically, I'm a dead man walking. Once Bors finally hears about how badly I hurt his beloved young cousin - and he inevitably will - he will be after my blood. And I do not fancy my chances of survival, because in Bors' eyes I have committed the worst possible offence. I've betrayed his kinsman, and ultimately, Bors himself by doing so. For it is common knowledge at the fort, that family is everything to the Big Man. Hurt one of his clan and you hurt him ... And there's no denying it, Bors thinks the world of Dagonet, and would do anything for him.

*****

So, here I am, sitting by myself in a dark corner, like a leper, brooding.
After a while, both the Pup and Gawain gave up on me and wandered off to join Bors and Vanora, having finally come to the conclusion that I wasn't going to be good company and just wanted to be left alone to get absolutely rat-arsed. I just wanted to get so drunk, that I would pass out in a stupor and be able to have one decent night's sleep, where I didn't dream of what I'd so foolishly lost.

My Dagonet.

There had been a bit of a commotion earlier on. Lancelot had been trying it on with Vanora's newest wench, Raven. From what I'd gathered from the Pup, the dark knight had been trying to get her into his bed for the past week, but to no avail. And when I saw her, I could hardly blame him for wanting her.
The girl was young, couldn't have been older than nineteen, but she was of age or Vanora would not have employed her. She was short, slender and curvaceous and moved with a silent, cat-like grace. Long, black hair fell almost to her waist, and her oval face was stunningly beautiful with its high cheekbones, full pouting lips which tilted upwards with a ready smile and a pair of impish, striking, amber-hued eyes.
She'd endured his advances in silence, for longer than any of the other wenches, then without warning, she turned on him. It was difficult to say who had been more shocked when she'd swiftly pulled Lancelot's own knife on him and threatened to castrate him on the spot if he did not leave her alone. And judging by the look of pure loathing she gave him, all of us who were witness to the ruckus were left in no doubt that she would quite happily carry out her threat. Fearing for the welfare of what he considered to be the most important part of his anatomy, Lancelot beat a hasty retreat and went in search of another victim.

Then suddenly, I saw him.

Like most of the tavern's inhabitants, I'd been engrossed by the spectacle of Lancelot being thoroughly put in his place by a mere slip of a girl, that I'd failed to notice him. He stood in his usual spot, leaning against an old, oak post, a large, wooden goblet of mead tightly grasped in his right hand.
Despite the fact that he looked like hell, my heart began to race madly at the sight of him. I'd never seen him so unkempt. Dagonet was extremely pale, had dark shadows beneath his eyes and was unshaven. Yet in spite of his gaunt, dishevelled appearance, I still wanted him badly. He continued to be the most strikingly beautiful sight I'd ever seen. I hated myself and couldn't help feeling guilty for being responsible for Dag's current state. I deeply regretted what I'd done to him more than anything in my life. The fault was mine and mine alone ... No one else was to blame.

He slowly drew himself away from the post, and began to leisurely walk in my direction. There was a ghost of a smile on his lips, which didn't quite reach the icy depths of his arresting, silver eyes. And for a brief moment, I dared to hope that he wanted to talk. Wanted to be with me. Wanted me back ...

But he stopped just short of me and began to talk quietly with Raven. She smiled tenderly at him and laughed softly, before gently taking his big hand and lacing her slim fingers with his.
I could only watch in stunned disbelief and felt as if I'd been kicked hard and repeatedly in the gut. Jealousy swiftly flared and took hold of me. And at that moment, I felt a cold anger and intense hatred towards the girl who had succeeded in bringing a smile to my Dagonet's ruggedly handsome countenance. She had no place - no right - to make him smile, to hold his hand and lean into his strong, powerful body. That was my place ... My right ...

I saw Dagonet reach out and gently sweep a long swathe of thick, blue-black hair back over her shoulder, and felt myself go cold. Despair enveloped me as I realized that I was witnessing one of my greatest fears. I was losing him. I was losing my beloved Dagonet to this raven-haired bint and there was nothing I could do about it. I could only watch and lose all hope. I found it hard to breathe and felt an overwhelming pain in my chest. My stumoch lurched uneasily and my hand somehow came to rest upon the hilt of the dagger sheathed at my waist.
I felt consumed by an intense need, a desire, to kill the girl who was unwittingly breaking my heart and stealing my lover from me.

The terrible thing was that I wanted to walk away. I didn't want to see what was happening in front of me, yet I couldn't move. My traitorous body refused to obey my wishes and I couldn't look away, no matter how badly I wanted to.
I began to frantically hope that Dag would notice me. That he'd push her roughly away from him. Leave her and walk up to me. Take my hand and lead me away from the tavern to his quarters, before throwing me onto his large, fur-covered bed. Then he'd punish me without mercy. Take me any and every way imaginable until I couldn't see straight and my poor, ravished, sated body would be so drained and aching so badly that I would never be able to leave him ... Not that I ever wanted to be parted from him. All I desired, yearned for, was to be always at his side. For eternity ...

But that did not happen.

I suddenly felt Dagonet's eyes upon me and trembled beneath the intensity of his gaze. The tavern seemed to have become extremely warm in a short space of time, and I flushed before realizing that Dag was not looking at me. Rather, he was looking through me. He did not see me ...
He then calmly followed Raven towards the stairs which led to her quarters.

Devastated, I left not long after that. My hopes crushed. Dreams shattered. And my heart broken into tiny pieces ... Any aspirations I had of being reconciled with Dagonet had been truly laid to waste, the moment he'd willingly followed Raven to her bed. And I knew then, without a shadow of a doubt, that whatever pain I'd suffered in the past was nothing in comparison to the anguish and hurt I felt now.

For the loss of my lover - the only person I ever loved and continued to be in love with - would surely be the bane of my life. And Dag would forever be the thorn within me. A sharp, painful, constant reminder of what I'd lost, thanks to a stupid, meaningless, drunken whim ...

Finis