FIC: "Freedom Is A Construct" 1/1 (Tristan)
Title: "Freedom Is A Construct" 1/1
Author: Brenda (azewewish)
Fandom: King Arthur
Featuring: Tristan
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Never happened.
Summary: There were times when Tristan thought about living a different life.
Notes: Written for the seventeenth day of the The Lazy Hazy Summer Daze Writing Challenge for idiosyncratic, who asked for Tristan-centric, "ride the wind."
Wishing that his life had taken a different path than the one laid out before him was a pointless task, Tristan knew this. Wishes were nothing more than fairy tales for children, told to them late at night to keep the all too real monsters at bay, offering scant protection from a cruel, unyielding world that had little use for flights of fancy. Reality was a harsh, unforgiving mistress, and the best one could hope for was to live honorably and die well. And, in truth, this life he'd been forced into wasn't so terrible - he still had all of his limbs and teeth, he'd never had to spend a winter without food or shelter, and he had a leader worth following into battle, and men beside him who'd proven their worth time and time again. Even the land itself offered a cold sort of beauty if one knew where to look.
Still, there were times when his longing for a different life all but consumed him. When he wanted nothing more than to roam free and unencumbered by responsibility, when he wished he could shed his skin and become someone else. When it seemed as if his days of indentured servitude would never end, it was easy to wonder what might have been, the life he might have led, the woman he might have loved, children he might have raised. If he would have been like his own father, stern, yet fair, or more like Bors, benign, yet neglectful. If he would have tended the land like his ancestors before him, or if he would have taken his vows or become a blacksmith or taken a different path altogether. Would he have still met the men he considered his brothers, or would they have all led separate lives, perhaps destined to be enemies instead of comrades at arms?
On those cold, long nights when sleep seemed elusive and spring just another myth, it was easy to think upon the path not taken. To lie awake by the fire and gaze upon the stars and wonder what might have been. Tristan was too practical to voice aloud such flights of fancy, but while the Romans owned his body and his time, they would never own his heart or his thoughts. Those would always be his alone, and there he would always be free.
***
Author: Brenda (azewewish)
Fandom: King Arthur
Featuring: Tristan
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Never happened.
Summary: There were times when Tristan thought about living a different life.
Notes: Written for the seventeenth day of the The Lazy Hazy Summer Daze Writing Challenge for idiosyncratic, who asked for Tristan-centric, "ride the wind."
Wishing that his life had taken a different path than the one laid out before him was a pointless task, Tristan knew this. Wishes were nothing more than fairy tales for children, told to them late at night to keep the all too real monsters at bay, offering scant protection from a cruel, unyielding world that had little use for flights of fancy. Reality was a harsh, unforgiving mistress, and the best one could hope for was to live honorably and die well. And, in truth, this life he'd been forced into wasn't so terrible - he still had all of his limbs and teeth, he'd never had to spend a winter without food or shelter, and he had a leader worth following into battle, and men beside him who'd proven their worth time and time again. Even the land itself offered a cold sort of beauty if one knew where to look.
Still, there were times when his longing for a different life all but consumed him. When he wanted nothing more than to roam free and unencumbered by responsibility, when he wished he could shed his skin and become someone else. When it seemed as if his days of indentured servitude would never end, it was easy to wonder what might have been, the life he might have led, the woman he might have loved, children he might have raised. If he would have been like his own father, stern, yet fair, or more like Bors, benign, yet neglectful. If he would have tended the land like his ancestors before him, or if he would have taken his vows or become a blacksmith or taken a different path altogether. Would he have still met the men he considered his brothers, or would they have all led separate lives, perhaps destined to be enemies instead of comrades at arms?
On those cold, long nights when sleep seemed elusive and spring just another myth, it was easy to think upon the path not taken. To lie awake by the fire and gaze upon the stars and wonder what might have been. Tristan was too practical to voice aloud such flights of fancy, but while the Romans owned his body and his time, they would never own his heart or his thoughts. Those would always be his alone, and there he would always be free.
***