Chapter Text
It was written all over Galahad’s face - his stupidly beautiful, infuriating face - that he actually believed he would come back from this thrice-damned suicide quest of his. From the hope and faith in his huge, brown eyes to the love that stretched his too-broad mouth even broader, there wasn’t a trace of doubt that he meant those words: This isn’t goodbye.
Gods above, if only he knew.
If only he knew about the countless dreams Mordred had woken from in the dead of night, awash in a cold sweat, ears ringing with the echoes of cries that hadn’t yet been uttered. But for all that he could be cruel and dismissive towards Galahad’s religious convictions, he wasn’t so cruel as to open that box of demons. This quest was what Galahad believed to be his purpose in life, his destiny. It wasn’t Mordred’s place to steal it away from him, even if he did know the truth of it.
"I’ll wait for you, then," he said, and tried his hardest to sound like he meant it. "Don’t go falling for some maiden as pure as the driven snow and forget me, or whatever such nonsense happens on these kinds of quests."
Galahad had the good grace to look suitably offended by the mere prospect of such a thing, and even touched one sun-brown hand to his chest in demonstration of how scandalized he felt.
"Have you so little faith in me? Perhaps this is blasphemous to say, but… If I didn’t have to do this - if the command had come from anyone less than God - I might not have done it at all. But it’s what I was made for, and I can’t betray my purpose now. I know you understand."
It was said with such innocence that Mordred knew it hadn’t been meant to cut as deeply as it had done, but all the same, he felt something within him flinch. Nevertheless, he didn’t - couldn’t - resist when Galahad pulled him into a tight embrace. Warm wetness soaked into the crook of his neck, and it was all he could do not to break down and beg Galahad to stay.
"Don’t be away too long," is what he murmured instead. "I can’t do without you."
The first few nights after Galahad’s departure, Mordred refused to sleep for fear of the dreams that waited to remind him of what he had failed to prevent.