Title: Unrequited
Author: Lycanus
Fandom: King Arthur
Character(s): Raven ( ofc ); Dagonet
Rating: M
Type: angst; friendship
Summary: I am aware that he is fond of me, but that - to my intense sorrow - is as far as it goes. I cannot hold that against nor blame him, as it is not his fault that he continues to feel hurt and is reluctant to allow anyone close to him.
Comments & Reviews: positive comments welcomed.
Disclaimer: Dagonet, unfortunately, still belongs to Jerry Bruckheimer & Touchstone Pictures and they still refuse to relinquish him to my tender mercies ! Raven, though, belongs to me.

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Unrequited

Raven's pov:

I swear upon my life that I never meant for this to happen ... but despite my good intentions, it did.

I fell for him. Deeply. Passionately. Completely ... and irrevocably in love with him.
At first, I only sought his friendship. Nothing more, nothing less. There was something about him which drew me. Like a moth to a flame ...

I clearly remember the first time I saw him.
Vanora'd just taken me on at the tavern and I was struggling to find my bearings, when he turned up. The first impression I got was of a very imposing, hard looking man that towered over me. Although, that was nothing new for me, being so short I was dwarfed by almost everyone. But I was daunted by him. In awe of his sheer physical presence and masculinity. He moved silently, kept to the shadows and avoided everyone's curious gaze, his actions wolf-like. Wary. Reserved. Untrusting.
Compared to the other Sarmatian knights, he was striking in appearance rather than handsome. Tall and strappingly built, with closely cropped dark hair and stubble, his ruggedly attractive face was marred by a long, brutal looking scar which fell from his temple narrowly missing his left eye.
But it was his eyes which I found mesmerizing. They were an arresting shade of silver. Limpid and stunningly beautiful. And full of tremendous pain and suffering. The sorrow in those pale, gentle orbs wrenched my heart and all I wished to do was ease the constant agony he was enduring. And that is why I felt a burning need to offer him my friendship.

I soon learnt that he was a Roxolani healer. A kinsman to Vanora's lover, Bors. His younger cousin in fact, and although they both had their hair shorn, had tattooed, muscular arms and wore the black and silver ring of their tribe, that was where their resemblance ended.
Where Bors was loud, gregarious, fun-loving and enjoyed a good fight, Dagonet was quiet, shy, gentle of nature and kind hearted. The young healer was a formidable, yet reluctant warrior who hated suffering and bloodshed.

Somehow, I found the nerve to start talking to him, and gradually a tentative alliance grew between us. Over the following couple of weeks, he'd call at the tavern for a skin of ale or a flagon of mead or wine, and he slowly began to feel more at ease in my company.
I began to look forward to his nightly visits. I lived for his wistful, shy smiles and longed to hear him laugh. I yearned to see him happy. I wished for that more than anything. Before I was aware of it, the fondness I'd felt for him had evolved into something deeper. Stronger. Liking had turned to caring. Caring had turned to love and it had been something Vanora had realized all too quickly.
The fiesty redhead had also become a good friend and concern had prompted her to speak to me. Fearing that I was becoming attached to Bors' cousin and would end up hurt, she took me aside and revealed the cause of Dagonet's anguish. I realized she did it because she cared, but with the folly and recklessness of youth I paid no heed. I continued to fall for a man who was over ten years older than myself, plummeting headlong like a falcon after its prey.

*****

I love watching him sleep. It's the only time he seems at peace. The lines of pain and torment and that haunted look - which I hate to see - finally leave his face and he appears serene. Vulnerable and almost youthful ...

He has not said anything, yet I am aware that he is fond of me, but that - to my intense sorrow - is as far as it goes. I cannot hold that against nor blame him, as it is not his fault that he continues to feel hurt and is reluctant to allow anyone close to him. That he cannot bring himself to trust or permit himself to care. I am fortunate that he now feels comfortable in my presence and is willing to lie with me. And for that concession alone, I am grateful.

Dagonet may be here sharing my bed, yet I am not so young and naive that I'm blinded to the fact that his mind is elsewhere. That his heart still belongs to another and will continue to do so until he draws his very last breath. I know that he belongs body and soul to another - he always will. But I do not care. I will gladly take what little piece of his heart he feels able to bestow upon me. All I want is for him to be happy and I would rather have a small part of him in my life than nothing at all.

I can't deny that I don't feel any pain when I see the wistful longing in his silver eyes and the desperate hunger on his attractive face when I catch him watching his former lover. It pierces me as surely as a knife blade through the heart, especially when I know that I am not the true object of his affections. The tenderness that he feels towards me is nothing compared to the depth of feeling, the passion, the desire and the absolute unconditional love he still feels for his soulmate. It pales into insignificance, as does the moon when it's eclipsed by the brightness of the sun.
The terrible thing is that the exact emotions are mirrored in his lover's eyes and face as well. It is obvious that they both want each other, yet are either too proud or stubborn to admit it. And because of it, the pair of them are clearly suffering. Despite knowing all of this, I've hardened my heart to the acute pain in my rival's golden eyes. I cannot bring myself to feel compassion for the one person that caused such anguish and suffering to the man I adore with all of my being.

The only solace I have - and I know that this makes me a selfish bitch - is that the bed that Dagonet now shares is mine. The arms that cradle him as he silently slumbers are mine. I'm the one that keeps him warm at night. I'm the one who comforts and soothes him when he finds sleep elusive or when his nightmares become too great. I realize that I'm not his first choice as a bedmate but I will do anything in my power to make him happy, even if it means I will have to sacrifice my love for him and set him free. Free to return to his heart's only desire.

But right now, as he drowsily pulls me into his embrace and draws my head to rest upon the broad expanse of his bare chest, I'm exactly where I want to be. I can't help but smile wistfully, as I feel his firm lips gently brush my temple and his forearm rests warmly against the curve of my waist.
Yet somehow, at the back of my mind, I've a sense of foreboding that my happiness will be shortlived. Dagonet will inevitably leave me and return to his love. And I will not stand in his way ... Deep down, I know I will end up heartbroken and that is why I intend to make the most of my time with him. To revel in the feel of his lean, powerful body and its warmth as his Scout - his Tristan - is left out in the cold ...

Finis