everywhere
Summary: A Tristhad ficlet (4 chapters) in a universe where no one died at the end of King Arthur.
Tristan and Galahad are asked by King Arthur to undertake a special mission to spy on a group of rogue merchants. If only it were as simple a mission as that. If only their feelings weren’t constantly getting in the way.
Chapters: 2/4
Word count: 3,700
Fandom: Hannibal/King Arthur
Rating: Explicit
Relationships: Tristan/Galahad, Tristhad
Tags: Adventure, Romance, Eventual Smut Galore
The last streams of daylight tickled Tristan’s face with warmth as the pair of knights broke through the woods, the looming wall of Hadrian coming into full view. The scout grumbled, pulling slick, tangled strands of hair from his forehead, swiping them from his eyes as the milecastle approached on the horizon. The rhythmic clapping of hooves to his back assured him that Galahad rode only a few strides behind, though both men were so cold and depleted that they hadn’t spoken for at least an hour. Their satchels were empty: the second time this week Tristan (with Galahad at his side) had returned from a hunting endeavor empty-handed. Once was rare enough – twice, positively suspicious.
Tristan whistled a set of trills and a great bird of prey cried shrilly from above, ascending in graceful, spiral waves of air until it could land itself on the scout’s shoulder. He took something from the pocket of his breeches, and the hawk carefully tugged it from Tristan’s fingers and gulped it down, nipping and biting his hands affectionately after.
“Go on, Isolde, hmm?” Tristan cooed mildly, mimicking its own noises. Isolde chewed idly on the end of his braid, biting at the threaded bind. “You’ll need better luck than us, though.” He shooed the creature with a gentle motion of his hand, the hawk dutifully following the cue, her vast wings opening and taking off toward the forest.
Earlier in the day, Tristan had been deep in the heart of the forest, tracking a foul-tempered boar down a stream, pleased at the thought of the roasted swine over an open pit of fire, washing it down with a cold, frothy ale, salivating at the thought.
Just as Tristan loosed his shot, however, Galahad appeared, bursting through the shrubbery, loudly crunching branches and twigs beneath his feet. Tristan’s arrow landed in the boar’s hindquarters, but the beast seemed immune to any pain it caused, instead snorting and stamping its hooves, heading toward them as fast as it could. Galahad retreated and darted back to the bushes from whence he’d sprung, and Tristan grabbed for his sword too late, and was forced to duck out of the way. When he’d come to his feet, the boar was long gone.
Tristan shrugged helplessly at the void, letting his frustration out in a deep sigh.
“I’m sorry,” came the tiny voice, Galahad slowly revealing himself from the cover of the foliage. All was forgotten when the young knight looked up at Tristan innocently, ruddy lips forming a taut line with concern, genuinely disappointed at his folly. Even more formidable, the tunic Galahad wore under his armor had snagged on a bramble, revealing even more of the long, muscled length of his thigh – a constant and menacing distraction. The fire building in his belly reminded him not to linger too long on the sight.
Tristan tried to swallow down the weakness as Galahad untangled himself. “Perhaps we’ll put bells on your toes next time; might be more subtle,” he teased, letting a sharp-toothed smile slip through one side of his mouth.
Galahad’s face flushed with relief, and he proceeded to approach, but with hesitation. “How can I make it up to you?” the young knight asked softly, becoming suddenly demure. He narrowed his eyes slowly on Tristan.
A hint of depravity was visible in his lips. He couldn’t resist Galahad’s pretense of innocence, and it turned his voice husky and warm. “I can think of something, hmm?”
Five minutes later the scout found himself propped up against a rock, breeches at his ankles as the young knight enthusiastically swallowed his length, working it up and down. He’d been nearly finished when a rustling in the bushes caused both men to jump to their feet, each taking up their weapon. The boar had come back, grunting and snorting, but Tristan struggled to get his breeches secured quickly enough to make another shot, and the creature again disappeared into the woods.
