Title: Howl at the Moon
Fandom: King Arthur (2004)
Pairing: Tristan/Galahad
Rating: PG
Length: 386
Challenge: 'paper'
Content Note: canonical character death
Summary: Everyone may be celebrating but Galahad can't.
Authors Note: Title comes from the song 'Whistle Down the Wind'


~*~

Galahad sighed as a gust of wind carried the sounds and smells of the ongoing celebrations over to him. Just over the rise, Woads, Britons, Romans and a few Sarmatians alike revelled in the union between Arthur Castus and Guinevere, a match that had been approved and performed by Merlin himself. Despite his pleasure at Arthur’s newfound and well-deserved happiness, how could Galahad celebrate another man’s happy future when Galahad’s had been ripped from him.

I have something to live for. Those had been the words that he had snarled at his lover, the night they had been told about the final mission that they were required to undertake. Galahad, the youngest of the Sarmatian knights, had always been the quickest to anger – perhaps with the exception of Lancelot – but he had been particularly riled by Tristan’s blasé attitude, particularly when he was Galahad’s reason to live for. Of course, Tristan had later calmed Galahad’s anger, stating that his words had not been spoken as intended, that he wanted a future with Galahad when they were both free and that Galahad should not question that. Wrung out with bliss and drained from the emotional upheaval, Galahad had clung to Tristan and done his best to believe him, slipping into sleep and dreams of a future together.

A future that would now never happen.

Instead of returning to Sarmatia, to their home, with Tristan at his side, Galahad was alone. He may still have Gawain, Bors and his family and Arthur, but he no longer had his lover. All that he had left was a host of memories and a scroll that proclaimed Tristan was free in the eyes of Rome. It wasn’t enough and it was so unfair, so bitterly unfair. Still, Galahad knew that, in the days to come, he would take a small measure of comfort in the fact that Tristan was truly free now, his ashes blown in the wind and scattered over the land that he had given his life for. Those days were not yet though.

As the noise of the celebrations swelled, Galahad dropped to his knees and screamed his grief to the skies, Tristan’s scroll clutched tightly in his hand. He was simply going to have to live his life and savour his freedom for the both of them.