Tristhad week

Galahad stepped out of his car and closed the door as he put on his shoulder bag, and walked to the old man that was sitting by the door of what looked like the main building. The sign above the door read ‘Tristan’s Stable’, so when Galahad stood by the man he blocked the sun with a hand over his eyes and flashed a big smile.

“Hi there! Are you Mr. Tristan?”

The man looked up and grinned.

“No, sir. I don’t know any Mr. Tristan, but you can find the owner of this stable is behind that building over there.”

The man pointed at one of the buildings, which looked like a riding arena, and behind it, Galahad discerned the fence of a round pen.

Galahad thanked the man and walked over there. As he approached it, he saw other buildings to his right side, where he could see the wide individual stalls, an entire shed with equipment, another with food for the horses…

When Galahad turned again to his front, he stopped in his tracks. There was a striking grey gelding trotting around the pen, but what made him freeze and stare was the man on top of the horse; he was a bit older than Galahad, his skin tanned and decorated with a couple of black tattoos on his arms, a thick beard covering his jaw, and his hair… it framed his face in messy, long strands, a few of them braided, brown streaked with gray. He was so handsome and peculiar.

Bondless: A Modern Tristhad AU

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Galahad runs an Omega club with the best security on the eastern seaboard. Tuesday nights are Alpha Night, where alphas can pay dearly for the privilege of buying an omega a drink. Tristan is willing to pay just to look on Galahad from behind the glass security wall. Galahad is pretty sure he wants more.

Rating: Explicit

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Category: M/M

Fandom: King Arthur (2004), Hannibal (TV)

Relationship: Galahad/Tristan (Arthurian)

Characters: Galahad (Arthurian), Tristan (Arthurian)

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, POV Tristan, Top Galahad, Bottom Tristan, Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, Kissing, Frottage, Frotting, Biting, Come Play, Come Eating, Partially Clothed Sex, Scar Porn, Fluff And Angst

Language: English

Word Count: 3459

Summary: Based on this prompt:

OK… so everyone pretty much headcanons Tristan not dying at the end. So how about he doesn’t die but is injured and has to recover. Meanwhile Galahad is sent off on some random scouting exercise or something as he is still fit and well and it needs doing. Turns out all this time they have been skirting around being interested in each other.  Maybe Galahad doesn’t even know Tristan pulled through. But he gets back and Tristan is recovered and neither of them can hold back the relief of being back together and then SMUT!

Notes: This was written for @desperatelyseekingcannibals, winner of my 200 follower giveaway.  They wanted Tristhad, and suggested that I participate in @hannibalcreative‘s #TristhadFest.  I enjoyed the challenge of a new pairing. :3

Embrace.

Something quick & unpolished for TristhadFest. 

My Redbubble shop

TristhadFest 2017 Contribution [3/?]

Chapters: 1/3 Fandom: King Arthur (2004), Hannibal (TV) Rating: Mature Relationships: Galahad/Tristan (Arthurian), Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter Additional Tags: Post-Canon, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Reincarnation, Time Travel, Dreams, Fae & Fairies, Hurt/Comfort, Hypothermia, Caretaking, Naked Cuddling, First Kiss, Inadvisable Trips Up Mountainsides

Galahad travels aimlessly. He had a destination once—Tristan had spoken some of the lands that lay against the horizon, at the edge of the world and the rising of the sun. They weren’t his home, but Tristan loved them like they were. Galahad thought for a while that it might be nice to visit there, to follow in Tristan’s footsteps. Eventually, though, he’d given it up; like Tristan, they weren’t his to have. Best to leave them in memory.

But when Galahad sleeps, pelts wrapped tightly around him, he dreams of blood and stars and a black sea, just as he has each night since Tristan’s death. He stands on the edge of a great bluff, tracking the path of the moon with his eyes. Galahad knows that he’s waiting; he simply isn’t sure what for.

Tristhad fanmix

TristhadFest 2017 Contribution [4/?]

Title: The Virgin’s Beast

Rating: Explicit

Archive Warning: Archive Warnings Not Specified

Category: M/M

Fandom: King Arthur (2004), Hannibal (TV)

Relationship: Galahad/Tristan (Arthurian)

Characters: Galahad (Arthurian), Tristan (Arthurian)

Additional Tags: sexual descriptions of bodies, UNICORN!!!, birds and the bees talk, Tags will change later, #TristhadFest

Language: English

Summary: It was said that only pure-hearted virgins could tame unicorns. At an abbey such as Galahad’s, virgins were in no short supply, but the bright, white beast approached Galahad and rested the soft flesh of its muzzle in the palm of his hand.

His eyes raced up to the gleaming tip of its single horn, which shone in the sun like a prism, casting bands of colored light. When the creature dipped its head, Galahad took the invitation to feel it, certain of its sharpness. He ran his palm over its great, strong neck, and then threaded his fingers into the silk of its mane.

“I do not know how to ride,” Galahad confessed, but the unicorn insisted with a few tosses of its head.

Notes: You might notice that some of this seems AU for King Arthur. It is, but only in the sense that it blends more traditional aspects of Arthurian legend in with the 2004 adaptation.

Also, there’s a unicorn and that’s all you need to know.

Chapters: 2/3 Fandom: King Arthur (2004), Hannibal (TV) Rating: Mature Relationships: Galahad/Tristan (Arthurian), Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter Additional Tags: Post-Canon, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Reincarnation, Time Travel, Dreams, Fae & Fairies, Hurt/Comfort, Hypothermia, Caretaking, Naked Cuddling, First Kiss, Inadvisable Trips Up Mountainsides, Trope Subversion

Galahad travels aimlessly. He had a destination once—Tristan had spoken some of the lands that lay against the horizon, at the edge of the world and the rising of the sun. They weren’t his home, but Tristan loved them like they were. Galahad thought for a while that it might be nice to visit there, to follow in Tristan’s footsteps. Eventually, though, he’d given it up; like Tristan, they weren’t his to have. Best to leave them in memory.

But when Galahad sleeps, pelts wrapped tightly around him, he dreams of blood and stars and a black sea, just as he has each night since Tristan’s death. He stands on the edge of a great bluff, tracking the path of the moon with his eyes. Galahad knows that he’s waiting; he simply isn’t sure what for.

My contribution to #TristhadFest. I’ve never written the pair before, but it was a ton of fun. Thanks to @victorineb for making me write this and @wrathofthestag for kindly reading through this nonsense. 

         Tristan didn’t even have the courtesy to look up when he caught the mug Galahad flung at his head. Instead, he placed it on Vanora’s tray with his own.

         “Careful, pup, you could have hit the lady.”

         “I WANT IT BACK!” Galahad fumed , marching toward the small gathering of Sarmatian knights still mulling over their breakfast s. His glower was enough to cause Gawain to scoot out of his path and Bors to tuck Vanora behind him. Tristan, however, remained annoyingly calm in the face of Galahad’s rage.

         “Then you shouldn’t have thrown it.” Tristan took the mug from Vanora and offered it back to Galahad. The younger knight slapped it out of Tristan’s hand.

         “I want my bracer back, Tristan.” Galahad held out his hand. Tristan raised an eyebrow.

         “What use would I have with your bracer, pup?” Tristan snatched at Galahad’s arm, dragging the knight into his lap. He forced the younger man’s wrist up. “I couldn’t fit into anything made for these dainty wrists.”    

         Galahad shoved at Tristan, righting himself. He could hear the snickers of Bors and Lancelot behind him. Gawain had stood, poised to break up the oncoming fight.

         “Your damn bird took my bracer.”

         “What?”

         “That ridiculous chicken that follows you everywhere, she dove down as I was changing this morning and stole my bracer.” Galahad could feel his face redden. Tristan merely blinked.

         “Sounds like your quarrel isn’t with me, boy.” Tristan took an apple from his pack and began to cut it. “I can point you to the tree she favors if you’d like to ask her about your bracelet. Be careful with your tone though, she’s not as kind as I am.”

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.