#the weeping monk fanfiction | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

everlastingdreams · 2 years

Text

Weeping Monk x Reader : The Last Flames Burn Together

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Summary: You were one of the many Feys trying to seek refugee from the cleansings across the lands. When you finally find the carriages that smuggle Feys to Gramaire, safety seems closer than ever.

Notes: I would miss writing for this character way too much tbh. The summary is vague to avoid spoilers lol

Warnings: Violence, death, strong language. Spicy (?). No descriptive smut but spoken off.

Word Count: 7K

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The day after your Fey camp had been cleansed, you had began your search for them.

The carriages that led the Fey to the safety of Gramaire.

After trying to get information from locals at a village, it seemed near impossible to find out where these carriages picked up Feys who sought refugee.

It was difficult to know who to trust when in the village, you often listened in on conversations between Manbloods to hear if they spoke of the Fey or not. Very few did and not all of them spoke kindly of your people.

You followed those who did, hiding under the cover of your cloak until there was a good moment to seek a conversation.

And after two days in the village, a young couple told you that three carriages arrived in the village every few days just before the sun would rise.

The riders of these carriages where by most believed to be traders of herbs and spices, but their carriages had room for more than that.

And so you found yourself waiting outside, eyes and ears sharp to avoid detection by paladins.

Most of the villagers were still asleep, the rooster not even awake himself.

You clutched the cloak around you, shielding yourself from the morning’s frost.

The sound of hooves reached your ears, three carriages halted at a distance.

Spices and herbs were being off-loaded and handed to locals who traded their own wares for it.

With fear and hope you approached and walked passed the first carriage, the rider of the carriage in the middle was the only one not loading off wares.

Perhaps what he had with him were not wares…

He had seen you approach him and simply asked “Going anywhere, miss ?”

Your tongue was braver than how you felt “Depends. Where are you heading with your wares, sir ?”

There was a slight tug at the corner of his mouth “Gramaire. And you ?”

You gave a nod, hoping to receive a sign that he would help you get there too.

The rider shared a knowing look “Hop in.”

With a grateful nod, you went to the carriage door, it was locked from the inside and after knocking, the door opened to reveal three Feys already present inside.

A Snake clan woman, a Tusk and Sky Folk man met your face.

After seating yourself next to the Tusk man, you closed and locked the carriage door again.

All three smiled at you warmly, everyone there was hoping for the same thing, to find safety.

There was quiet chitchat between you while the carriages traveled through the forest to Gramaire.

The woman told you that in the other carriages there were even more Feys, at least fifteen were accounted for between the three carriages.

The riders would stop in one more village tonight to see if there were more Feys who needed a ride, so the carriage you were in would probably not remain as ‘empty’.

The Sky Man asked about your family, you informed him that your mother had been Sky Folk and that neither of your parents had survived the Red Paladin’s invasion years ago.

He apologized for his questioning, you waved the apology away, he had not been the first to ask.

When the carriage halted, all four of you waited for other Feys to get into the carriage.

The windows were covered and you could not see outside, or see where you were.

You would never forget that moment of calmness before it was taken away so abruptly.

Shouting was heard coming from outside, the rider was answering to someone.

Then the carriage suddenly moved forward, the horses were spurred into gallop and you and the Tusk Man nearly fell from your seats.

The carriage stopped just as abruptly again mere seconds later.

It was then that the chaos started, the sound of panicking horses and a fight breaking out told that this carriage was no longer safe.

The Sky Man looked behind the window’s cover and saw other Fey running for their lives “It’s the paladins ! They killed the rider !”

That was all that need to be said for those in your carriage to open the door and try to flee as well.

Of course you got out, but the brutality around you was causing a panic all around.

Left and right, your people were being captured and killed.

With no idea on where to run or what to do, you got low and crawled under the carriage to hide and await a better moment to escape.

Some were able to flee into the woods, others perished at the hands of the paladins.

The sound of steel cutting through skin was one you hated to hear.

Close to your left, a Moon Wing laid on the grass, gasping for air.

A slow death, until…

A sword was sunk into the Moon Wing’s chest, ending their suffering, then removed again.

A pair of boots walked by and you pressed your mouth shut, barely daring to breath.

A paladin approached “Some fled into the woods, Brother.”

The man wearing the boots commanded “Find them.”

The paladin rushed off with some of the other red bastards to hunt down those who had fled.

The boots walked past the carriage you were under and towards the other carriages. Only when they reached the furthest carriage did you see who owned them.

The Weeping Monk was commanding the paladins.

Oh no…

You had to get out of there before the bastard found you.

A quick glance around the place and you saw a horse nearby.

If they found you, you would meet a gruesome end.

If you escaped… if there was still a chance to survive…you had to take it.

You quietly crawled to the other side, got from under there and hid behind the carriage.

After risking a look or two past the carriage, you scrambled together all your courage and darted for the horse.

Before reaching it, you nearly tripped over the remains of the Sky Man you had been talking to just minutes ago.

The shouting of paladins alerted you that they had spotted you. Without looking in their direction, you mounted the horse.

When you rode off, a paladin took aim with a bow and you feared being struck by the arrow.

The Monk pushed against the bow right when the arrow was let loose “Hold!”

It could have killed Goliath. He watched the arrow scrape the horse’s hind leg.

This could not be happening, a Fey girl had just stolen his own horse!

You did not stop and galloped through the woods as fast as the horse could go.

And fast the black steed was.

An hour had past before the horse showed signs of being tired, you continued in a walking pace for a while before finally dismounting.

Only then did you notice the blood on the horse’s hind leg. It immediately caused a feeling of guilt in you, the poor animal had been wounded.

After tying his reins to a tree, you searched around the place for the basic herbs needed to treat the wound.

Luckily you found them and put them on a large fallen leaf you had found.

Then you tore off your sleeves to make a bandage to bind the mixture of herbs to the wound.

You also found a collection of weapons on the saddle. An axe, a knife, a dagger or two. There was even rope to be found.

It was amazing how calm the horse was. Could it sense that you meant no harm ?

After an hour of treating the wound, you let the horse rest and walked beside him instead.

You walked for hours, unwilling to stop before the sun was down out of fear that the paladins might find you again.

Needless to say, by the time night fell, you were exhausted.

A single flask of water was found in the saddle bag of the horse, which you took and filled at a river you took camp next to.

The horse drank from the river for quite some time, he must have been quite thirsty after all that effort.

You petted the steed’s neck, even finding yourself talking to him “It’s going to be alright. I promise. I’m sorry your leg hurts, I’ll help you get better, I swear it.”

Often he looked back at you as if you were somewhat familiar to him.

For the first time since long, a genuine warm smile grew “How did you end up with those red drapes, hm ? Did they steal you ? I bet they did.”

As you spoke to the horse, you did not realize it’s original rider was close enough to hear.

From the shadows of the trees behind you, a figure emerged “I bought him. Unlike you.”

Turning on your heels, the darkness of night cloaked the man who spoke.

Still, the outline of his form was enough to determine who had found you now.

There was an attempt to mount the horse again, it failed miserably when he grabbed and made you fall on your back to the ground.

The lack of light made this so much more frightening, you doubted even he could see much.

A kick was aimed at his leg by you, in return he grabbed your arm and roughly pulled you from the ground.

Your forehead collided hard with his chin, punishing him for it.

Still he refused to let go, his grasp faltering only a bit, but not enough to break free.

And you refused to be killed without a fight.

A punch was the next thing you gave, he responded by slamming your back against an oak tree, pinning you to it by the throat.

At the sound of steel being drawn, your will to fight almost left you.

And then…nothing.

The Monk had halted his fight, but you could sense that the sword was near your stomach.

The light of the moon was on the oak tree and made your face visible to his eyes.

Those markings… it could not be.

A cloud moved out of the moon’s way and for the first time in your life, you saw the face of the Grey Monk.

After all this time, you finally understood why so many had questions about your family.

The memories of your father were slowly fading, but you could never forget the markings of the Ash Folk he had carried beneath his eyes.

And now you were faced with the Weeping Monk who had them too.

It could not be…

Your markings were far less noticeable and lighter of color than his own, but they were there.

He had never seen another like him, not as far as he could still remember.

He stared at you as much as you stared at him.

It had always been believed that the Ash Folk were extinct, and now here you were.

You couldn’t hide your shock “Your eyes…”

The recognition was unmistakable, you knew he was of Fey descent.

By the moonlight’s help, he discovered not just your Fey markings but also that your sleeves had been torn from your attire.

One look at Goliath explained where they were now.

There was no point in running, if he was indeed like your father a full blooded Ash Man, he would be able to track you down just by your scent.

Father would want to know of your existence.

Even he himself was curious whether a woman of the Ash Folk had the same abilities as him. Father had not been happy with his failure to capture the Wolf Blood Witch, this would certainly please him.

The Monk had his sights on your markings “What are you ?”

When you didn’t answer he brought the sword to your throat, only than did you speak “I am Sky Folk, you rotten bastard !”

There was an arrogant arch of his brow aimed at that answer “What else ?”

You spat in his face in return “Not a traitor like you !”

There was so much fight burning in you.

He did not flinch when the saliva drops hit his face “But you are a thief.”

You were pulled away from the tree, sword still resting against your throat when he led you to the horse.

His horse.

Instead of killing you, he bound your hands with the rope that had been hanging from the saddle.

When that was done, he inspected the bandaged hind leg of the horse “Did you do this ?”

The answer was sharp “Do you see anyone else here ?”

For someone bound by rope and at his mercy, you were behaving quiet brave.

The Monk send you a look, pulling you back to his side when still feeling you try to get away “Answer my question.”

A jab in his side with your elbow followed and he wrapped his hand around your throat again.

He repeated the question while also gesturing to the black steed “Did you do this ?”

Your nails dug into his wrist “Yes !”

Finally he let go off your throat and proceeded to drag you along to fetch the horse he had used to find you.

He bound the reins of the white horse to the black one. Then tied the other end of your rope to the saddle of his horse.

Wait… was he going to let you walk after him ?!? Why wasn’t he killing you ?

He must have seen the angry glare you were sending him, because he proposed an agreement “I am taking you with me. Either you come willingly, or I will pull you along while you walk. What shall it be ?”

A loud scoff was what his absurd question earned him “Willingly ?!?”

He took that as a ‘no’ and went to mount Goliath.

After walking the whole damned day already, your feet were hurting and now this monk was going to pull you along while he rode the horse.

Fantastic, this day could not get worse.

You were far too stubborn to ask and just tried to hide your pouting at the prospect of having to walk who-knows-where again.

He rode for a short distance, leaving you to follow or be dragged along by the rope, before suddenly stopping again.

You swore you’d heard him sigh, like he was the one who had a reason to be annoyed.

There was a tug at the rope and soon you found yourself being reeled in towards him.

When he looked down upon your face, the Monk received the unyielding glare reserved only for him.

He looked up ahead, eyes on the trees, it sounded like it took some effort “I will ride for the rest of the night. Unless you decide to cooperate.”

Your stubbornness persisted “Or you could just kill me and drag my corpse along. I think it would be faster, I might not be rotting by the time you arrive at your destination.”

The bluntness of that statement made him look at you again.

His mouth opened and then closed in a thin line again.

This time he did not look away from you “Father will want to see you alive.”

That power hungry red priest ? What would he want with you “Why ?”

He refused to answer your question “I am offering one more chance for you to come willingly. Choose wisely.”

A silence fell between you.

You gravely disliked having to yield to him, but you also disliked how tired your legs were “Are you going to drape me over your horse like a sack if I say yes ?”

The tug at his mouth was hidden when he looked away “If you prefer.”

That didn’t sound appealing in the slightest and you stubbornly stood your ground.

Then you felt him tug at the rope again, pulling it up and with that your bound hands as well.

The Monk took hold of one your wrists “Come on. Up.”

The moment you did get on the horse and were seated in front of him, a dagger was drawn and held close to your side.

A warning was given by him while leaning in “Try to escape, and I will hurt you.”

You dared to glare back, biting the insult at him “Bastard.”

He leaned back again, expression unreadable.

Without warning he spurred the horse into gallop and so began the journey to Father Carden.

ooOOOooOOOoooOOOoo

All those rotten paladins, who were still awake, were gawking in your direction when the Monk arrived with you in their camp.

He dismounted first, then surprisingly helped you get off of the horse too.

Your attention went to his hands and how they restlessly fumbled with the rope he was leading you along with.

Upon arriving at a large tent, the Monk walked in.

There you were faced with the priest who was causing so much suffering across the lands.

Father Carden had been speaking with some older paladins, his focus went to the Monk before it went to you “What is this ?”

The Monk took you by the arm and moved you forward.

All those years ago, Father must have seen enough markings of the Ash Folk clan to see the resemblance with yours.

Father Carden dismissed the paladins “Leave us.”

They hurried passed you out of the tent and the priest approached while staring at you.

There was joy on his face “Where did you find this girl, my son.”

The Monk left out some parts of it “In one of the carriages that were smuggling Fey.”

“Is she what I think she is ?”

“Yes, Father.”

“Are you sure ?”

“Yes, Father. She is of the Ash Folk.”

You were left very confused as to why this seemed to make the priest happy.

But the priest had good reason to be pleased with your existence. Years ago he had chosen only one child of the Ash Folk and regretted not choosing another.

His Weeping Monk had become his sword of light, if he had known this in the past he surely would have left more children of the Ash Folk alive to raise for serving the Church’s mission.

Father Carden saw a rare opportunity, his Weeping Monk and a girl, perhaps it was not too late to rectify the lack of Ash Folk offspring to serve the Church.

The priest went over to the Monk and placed his hands on the Monk’s shoulders “You have done well, My son.”

He had not seen Father look so pleased in weeks.

Still, he did not know what would be expected now “What must be done with her, Father.”

Father Carden was already planning everything in his mind “She will be brought to the monastery where she will be kept under watch. There they will make sure that our newest hope does not flee.”

You didn’t know what to think and questioned out loud “What do you mean with ‘hope’ ?”

The priest smiled wickedly “We have many plans for you, girl.”

It had sounded so patronizing “Girl ? I have a name !”

Hearing you snap at him wiped that stupid grimace from his face.

He looked at the Monk expectantly, who had no idea what your name was either.

He had not asked, it was not common to ask for the names of those he captured or killed, it would make matters more personal than needed be.

Father Carden did not show genuine interest “Who are you then ?”

You arched a brow, a smug smirk plastered on your face.

It was only when the Monk gave a warning nudge to your arm that you told them what your name was “It’s y/n. Now tell me why I am being held captive !”

The defiance was met with a threat by the priest “You will understand soon. You would do well to do what is asked off you, it could become very unpleasant for you otherwise.”

Red Paladins were called into the tent again and the Monk was told to hand you over to them.

Why was it giving him the feeling that something about all of this was wrong ?

What was Father not telling him ?

The command was given by the priest “Take her away. She will travel to the monastery early tomorrow.”

They weren’t gentle when they pulled you out of the tent, the last thing you saw of the Monk were those weeping eyes that carried a hint of remorse that you believed to be only in your imagination.

He turned to Father after you were removed from the tent “Why is the girl being brought to the monastery, Father ?”

Hope… that was what Father had called you.

But why ?

He knew Father had always wanted to know whether other Ash Folk still existed or not, but why was he so pleased about it ? Was the cleansing of all Fey clans not the ultimate goal ?

He had believed Father would interrogate you further at least, perhaps he would have learned more of his heritage as well.

But that did not seem to be Father’s plan for you.

Father knew his monk would have question “We have important matters to discuss, my son.”

oooOOoOOOoOoooOOo

You had tried to escape countless times, but Father Carden had made certain that fleeing was impossible.

The door of the room was constantly guarded outside, the window was nailed shut from the outside too. The only light in the bland room was those of candles placed around the place.

For the tenth day after being brought to their musty monastery, you sat on the floor next to the bed and played with the fire of one of the candles.

Many years ago you had done the same with green flames, Fey Fire.

After the slaughter of your clan, the Fey Fire had vanished alongside it, like one could not existed without the other. Tales spoke of one remaining green flame, but no one knew where to find it.

It would burn as long as there is hope.

If it truly was just a rumor, than hope was long lost for the Fey.

But that did not mean that they would not continue their fight until the bitter end.

If the Church wanted to control these lands, they would have to bring everything to the war they had started.

Perhaps that one flame would fade when the last of the Ash Folk did too.

You let the candle fire lick your fingertips, feeling only a tingling sensation as the flame turned into tiny ashes before it could even touch your skin.

Fire had no power over your clan, you turned the flames into ashes.

The place was boring and you still did not understand what they wanted with you.

Every morning you were brought a bucket of water to clean yourself with and during the day you received meals.

It was odd.

Why did they bother keeping you alive ? Why were you important ?

The sound of the door unlocking no longer fazed you, your attention never left the flame.

Boots hit the wooden floorboards, only taking a few steps into the room before the door was closed again.

Little by little, you lifted your eyes from the flame and met those of the Monk “Are you finally here to kill me or are they waiting for me to be bored to death ?”

Ten days had past since he last saw you, ten full days and you had remained just as angry at him.

It was impressive.

It had taken him so long to collect the courage to come here. He had tried to avoid it, but Father would no longer listen to excuses.

He stepped closer, dropping his sights to the flame that always threatened but never burned your skin “You are too valuable to kill, y/n.”

Your attention left the flame and you rose from the ground “Valuable ? To whom ?”

The Monk stated the truth “To your clan.”

A bitter laugh escaped you “The Ash Folk are gone, Monk. We’re the only ones left.”

Again he took a step closer “And that is what makes you so valuable.”

You could just sense that he was dancing around the truth “Why the hell are you here ?”

He began with confidence “Father has decided…” and lost it when finishing the sentence “…that to ensure the continuation of the Ash Folk, we shall be wed.”

Did…

Did he just…

With a large step, you backed away from him “What did you just say ?!?”

This was as shocking and difficult to him as it was to you. He did not even know you.

But Father was demanding this and refusing would cost him everything he had fought for, including the respect of Father.

He need to do what was necessary and serve the Church.

The Monk tried to step closer again but you looked seconds away from trying to flee “We are a chance to prevent your clan from going extinct.”

For a moment you just felt rooted to the floor, this was why they were keeping you here…

You were so shocked to hear it that you didn’t fully register him getting closer again.

He actually took the risk and placed a hand tentatively on your shoulder.

You recoiled from the touch and pushed him away roughly, then bolted for the door in the hope that it was unlocked.

It was not, the door did not budge.

For the first time since long, tears streamed down your face at the prospect of being forced to marry this monk.

You kept pulling at the door with all your strength, desperate to flee, screaming for those outside to let you out off there.

Suddenly two arms locked you in their hold, ending your attempts.

Of course you tried to break free of the Monk’s hold on you “Let go off me !!! LET GO !”

His grip did not loosen and it was terribly unexpected when he proceeded to hush you “Do not be afraid. I will not harm you.”

The jab you gave him in the side with your elbow made him groan in pain.

Was this the woman who was to be his wife ?

After struggling against him for more than a minute, you started to lose the energy.

He gave it another try to calm you down, voice close to your ear “You do not have to fight, not with me.”

How could he sound so calming to you ?

You were more than a little bitter “The vow of celibacy is forgotten quickly, it seems. The Church bends the rules when they do not fit their purpose. You’re just going to use me like a brood mare.”

He hated the description “That is what Father wishes. Not I.”

You were trying to piece together the truth about it all “What do you want then ?”

Again he risked to caress your shoulder “I cannot refuse to wed you. But I can promise not to share your bed, as long as you do not tell anyone, no one will know.”

You tried to convince him, calmer this time “Please, let go off me.”

This time he did, he even took a small step back to give you space.

Turning quickly, you faced him again “I don’t even know your name. All I know is that they call you the ‘Weeping Monk’. And that you are like me, my clan…”

It took a while for him to speak “A long time ago, my name was Lancelot. I was brought to Father, when I was a child. I was spared from the cleansing and in return I serve those who have granted me a chance to earn salvation.”

He had been stolen from your clan when he was a child ?

You weren’t going to make it sound like this was not a terrible thing “They stole you from our people. And now they are doing the same with me.” there was a bitter scoff “Are they going to twist my mind about the Fey too ?”

The Monk remained quiet and began to walk around the room a bit.

It was obvious that he was not very willing to speak of the matter. So you decided to ask him another question “Why does Father Carden want more Ash Folk ?”

He parroted the words Father had told him “Their abilities would help the Church’s mission.”

It came out sharp “Our children would be weapons, like you !”

It silenced him like a knife to the heart.

‘Like you’…

It was the cold hard truth.

All he prayed for was the chance to raise any children he might have with the love of a Father that he had not received himself.

This was his duty, the personal task Father had bestowed on him, there was no escaping it.

Not unless he lost everything in return.

But that did not mean that his children would be treated as he had been.

He leaned against the wall “You are the first Ash Folk I have seen since the cleansing that brought me to Father. A child of Sky and Ash…” carefully he breached the subject “If we were to indeed have children, we would no longer be the last of our kind. Is that not something you would want ?”

You gave a jab to his ego and confidence “You believe your seed is strong enough to ensure any children would be Ash Folk and not Sky Folk ?”

Right away, he averted his eyes.

Such manner of speaking was not something he was used to.

His voice was quieter “My parents were full blooded.”

Alright…if that was indeed the case then any children he produced would be born with the Ash Folk markings and abilities.

The blood of the Ash Folk ran stronger than any other clan.

With arms crossed over your chest, you spoke “If this wedding is unavoidable, so be it. But I won’t let you anywhere near my bed. Find someone else to carry your children.”

There was a shallow nod “Can I expect you to be discreet with this ? I cannot stop this union, but I can ignore to tell Father that a consummation will not take place. You will be safe and I will have nothing to answer for.”

An agreement that benefited both. You had your life and he would not be bothered by the Red Priest.

In time, if patient, a chance to flee would arise again.

Smugly you promised “You have my word. If anyone asks, I’ll tell them we are very eagerly trying to conceive.”

Again the Monk looked quite stunned by your brash way of speaking.

He cleared his throat and headed for the door “The ceremony takes place tomorrow evening. I shall be here again.”

You saw him look at you as if he expected a goodbye, instead you turned around and ignored him.

The door quietly closed and you heard it be locked again.

Tomorrow everything would change, but if you played along, things could be turned to your advantage.

oOOoOOOoOooOOooOOo

The hasty wedding ceremony could not be called ‘romantic’ at all. You were made to wear a dress that was too long and dragged over the floor. Gods, you missed your comfortable trousers fit for running when needed. There was the usual vows that they just forced you to repeat after them.

Then, when they required the ceremony to be sealed with a kiss, the two paladins holding you by the arms shoved you right in front of the Monk.

Your neutral expression changed and became one of anxiousness.

And when you finally looked at his face, you saw the same.

This had to be done…

The wait felt long, the Monk appeared far more anxious about this than you.

It made you feel pity for him, it was starting to become clear that he was forced into this too.

He was the Weeping Monk, but he was also Fey and one of the last two of your clan…

Perhaps there could be a way to bond with him over this whole ordeal.

He was still hesitating to seal the ceremony and you asked the paladins, politely for once, to let go off your arms.

Of course they refused, but the Monk gave it a moment of thought and then commanded them to let go.

For the first time in days you were not being restraint by paladins or a locked room.

And by The Hidden, the pity you felt for the man in front of you was what stopped you from running.

When you took another step closer to him, the paladins got ready to grab you again, which he prevented with one simple look.

You placed your hands on the Monk’s shoulders, pulling at them somewhat to steer him.

It was meant to be a quick peck to seal the ordeal, but when your lips touched his…

What was it that made him give in to it ?…

Was it when your breath warmed his lips ?

Or when you held on to his shoulders more ?

He only came back to his senses when he could feel his markings threaten to respond to the kiss that he did not expect to want.

With a hand on your elbow, he moved you backwards.

The seal was given.

Your gaze did not leave the floor again until the ceremony was completely over.

Again the paladins took hold of you and made certain you would not run.

Father Carden showed himself only to speak to the Monk, briefly telling him again what was expected of him no doubt.

The talking paladins around you made it impossible to overhear them, all you saw was that the Monk avoided looking at the priest.

Shame… there was shame.

You were walked back to the room you had spend days in already, only when almost at the room did the Monk catch up with the paladins escorting you.

At the sight of him and his signal, they handed you over to him.

With a nod from the Monk, they opened the door for you and he let you walk into the room first.

Only when the door was shut behind you again did he let go off your arm.

Creating a distance between you and him was the first thing you did.

There was a reason why he was with you in the room now.

You confronted him “He expects you to bed me. Doesn’t he ?”

It was what Father had indeed told him to do.

The Monk sounded honest “He does. I do not.”

You moved one of the candles in the room “If I tell you to leave. They’ll know nothing happened or think that you are just…quick.”

For the first time, there was a scoff that sounded like a chuckle “It would be best for both of us if we act the part. Allow me to stay for a while ?”

With a gesture around you, you told him “Make yourself at home, oh wait… this is your home, is it not ?”

Again he ignored the sarcasm.

You sat down on your bed, barely hiding the pout “I’d always thought that my wedding would be something very different.”

He shared that opinion “What would it have been like, if you could have chosen ?”

With a shrug of the shoulders, you admitted “I don’t know… I had hoped it would be romantic at least. Not this.”

Romantic ? It was a fair expectation to have.

The Monk picked a candle up from the floor, the one you had been playing with yesterday.

He stopped in front of you, then with caution, took place next to you.

You didn’t move away and he turned a bit to face you.

The candle was held out for you, the flame offered.

The Monk shared a look with you and you brought your fingertips to the flame while he held the candle still.

The small ashes, that were born from the flame touching your skin, twirled down unto his hand.

It fascinated him to see another, an Ash Woman, play with the flame.

His expression had softened, tone lighter “The Ash Folk and fire, one could never separate them.”

You pulled your hand back abruptly, this was giving you the feeling that he was trying to gain your favor “Unlike you, I don’t use it to burn the world to the ground.

He rose to his feet and placed the candle on the bedside table.

It had hit a nerve in him, the bitter response fell “I never would have chosen someone like you as a wife.”

With equal disdain, you stood up and threw the words in his face “You can’t handle a woman like me, you arrogant bastard !”

You found yourself pulled against his chest, grabbed by the throat and kissed like he intended to prove you wrong.

He never would have chosen someone like you, but now that he had a fiery wife who was not afraid to speak her mind…

It was exciting and so different than he was used to.

You felt drawn into the kiss, drawn to this arrogant bastard who continued to get on your nerves.

As a last attempt to spare yourself from the trouble it could bring, you broke free and slapped him across the face.

For a second his attention was fixed on the ground, then slowly it rose to your face again.

Even after that slap, you could detect a certain look in his eyes that you undoubtedly had in yours too.

Expectation…

Who were you trying to fool ?

You were back against him not a blink of an eye later, hands grasping at his shoulders and neck to hold him close.

Never before had you kissed someone with such demand, it was his fault you were here and you wished for something in return.

The blood of the Ash Folk ran through both of you, you had not expected someone like him to still grow and have the characteristics of them.

Arrogant, clever, stubborn and…passionate.

That heightened sense of smell was known to have lead many Ash Men to their significant other.

‘They’re hard to resist’ is what your mother had told you about meeting your father. Gods, she had been right.

When you began to try and undress him, it startled him greatly.

You boldly took his hands and gave him a clear signal that he could do the same with you.

Only when you kissed him again and pleadingly called him by his name did he start to do so.

Not much later you ended up back on the bed with him hovering above you.

Your wedding had been boring, your wedding night would not be.

oOoOoOOOooOoOoOoOOOoOoo

By morning you were awake and dressed in your own attire again. In the heat of the moment, this Ash Man had confessed to be inexperienced, something you had barely noticed.

You stood beside the bed, he was still vast asleep. For a moment you knelt down and placed a hand over his.

He had been tender and caring, it had been mixed with a burning passion that left you a moaning mess in his hands.

It was lovely.

If only the circumstances had been different…

You rose to your feet and took the sword from the ground that had been hastily taken off and tossed aside the night before.

After a look over your shoulder at him, you walked back over to your sleeping spouse and placed a soft kiss to his temple.

You would miss those eyes…

ooOOooOoOooOoOoOOo

When Lancelot woke up that morning, he woke up to the fading of your scent.

His sword was gone and the two paladins guarding the door had been killed, it was not hard to understand what had happened.

Of course he was disappointed, had last night meant nothing to you ?

He refused to believe that it had all been part of a plan of yours to be able to flee.

The way you had embraced him, kissed him and moaned his name into his mouth…

And he was alive, it would have been easy for you to kill him if you had wanted to do so.

A paladin approached him the moment he set foot outside the monastery, he barely dared to look at him “Brother…your horse is gone.”

Why did it not surprise him ?

The paladin was dismissed and looked rather relieved by it.

He could not be angry, not after last night.

Maybe he was even a little impressed by your will to fight and reclaim your freedom.

Father had heard the news and came to speak to him “The girl has fled.”

Those weeping eyes were fixed on the grass “She did so while I still slept. Forgive me, Father.”

Father did not look pleased in the slightest “Did you at least fulfill your task with her ?”

He felt his cheeks burn when understanding what was asked “Yes, Father.”

Though, he had not done it to fulfill a task.

But now there was a chance that you were with child, his child, and he might never see you again.

Father was not as disappointed, there was still hope “We’ll find the girl.”

The Monk risked asking “Let me search for her, Father.”

The priest agreed “Very well. Find her and bring her back. She belongs to the Church now.”

After he gave a respectful inclination of the head, Father walked away from him.

He had lost and gained so much in a single evening and night.

He went to bed with his wife and woke up without her, without his sword and without his horse.

An actual chuckle left him, at least you would keep him entertained.

It made him all the more eager to pursue the girl who became his wife and who had stolen not just his horse and sword but also a piece of his heart.

Taglist:

@ourlazydetectivekitten @the-great-adventures-of-me @linkpk88 @fxrchxldws @elenaoftheturks @slytherlight @beananacake @crystallizedtime @moonlightaura03 @angrygardendeer @have-aheart @5am-cigarette @arcanenature @thewinterskywalker @notyourwildestdream @coloursforyourportrait @koressecretidentity @nike90 @n1ghtlux @rachlovesactors @luckyzipperscissorsbat @morena-doing-stuff @the-fangirl-diaries @gipsydanger17 @heavenly1927 @phantasmalbeiing @labyrinthonmymind @asarcastic-thiamstan

Please let me know if you want to be added or removed from the taglist of this story.

#weeping monk #weeping monk reader #the weeping monk x reader #the weeping monk fic #weeping monk fanfiction #theweepingmonk #the weeping monk #lancelot x reader #lancelot #lancelot/reader #reader x lancelot #Cursed Netflix #cursed #netflix cursed #cursed lancelot #you x lancelot #you x weeping monk #reader x weeping monk #daniel sharman character

56 notes · View notes

rainyv-skies · 1 year

Text

Dear friend; The Weeping Monk / Reader , Isaac Lahey / Reader

Fandom: Teen Wolf/ Cursed

Story summary: reader is a universe traveler who can enter through different alternate worlds. She meets and bonds with Isaac Lahey in the Teen Wolf universe and recalls her times and dear friend in the Medieval fey world, set in the Cursed universe with The Weeping monk. She remembers her last memories together with the monk, but was it really her time with him? Isaac seems to resemble someone she knew long ago.

Notes: I stood up all night writing this, no exaggeration. If this is not decent , I apologize. This was a very spontaneous idea and I had not written and published something to the public in a longgg time. Anyways, this is sort a cross over au and reincarnation type of thing between The Weeping monk and Isaac Lahey, and a bit of a hint of soulmate au. I hope it makes at least a little sense lmao, I struggled whether the relationship between the reader and Lancelot should be platonic or romantic so I settled on putting it between the lines so the readers have different perspectives . Enjoy , hearts and feedback is very much appreciated

Word count: 5300 ish??

—————————

“He meant a lot to me ,” (Y/N) divulged, keeping her tone quiet while her hands ddled with one another. Sat side by side, Isaacs ears perked at the reveal. His head tilted towards her and his eyes studied her far expression. “He was... good company. The best company. My dear friend,” She all but solemnly disclosed and her hands had stopped fiddling, Isaac took notice. She recalled the times of her old companion with a heavy heart, having not spoken of the formal Weeping Monk in a while. It had been some time since her adventure in the world of Fey and Man, the fighting and survival still fresh in her memory. “He was dear to me. We never spoke of our relationship. We both understood that we meant a great deal to one another. He protected me, he made sure I was ok and he absolutely refused whenever I tried to do the same.” A small smile curled her lips and she huffed a chuckle as she shook her head. Isaacs eyes led astray from her, now casted down at their shoes.

He tried imagining this friend (Y/N) seemed to hold close to her heart. What was he like? Sure, from what (Y/N) told him he was protective and hated relying on (Y/N) . But what else? His heart tugged when the question was raised. “The git was always so difficult when it came to someone else looking out for him. I had to force him most of the time, but we grew very close. Very close. ” (Y/N) inhaled deeply and exhaled then pulled her knees up, propping her elbows on them. The air became sad, and Isaac could smell the sadness slowly seeping from her, but a small hint of...nostalgia. “It was a very different time then, Isaac. Very medieval, and magical. I suppose you wouldn’t feel so out of place there, huh.” Isaac looked back up at her , raising his eyebrows quizzically at the jest. (Y/N) looked over to him and met his eyes with a grin playing at her lips, a twinkle in her eyes. His own grin pulled at his lips in response. (Y/N)’s grin faltered slightly,his smile igniting a sense of familiarity in her brain, though she couldn’t place her finger on it.

He turned his head back forward and leaned his head against the wall, letting out a sigh.

“Ok, I turn into a full blown werewolf during a full moon. I get it.” he retorted and (Y/N) let out a chortle, brushing her train of thought away. She bumped his shoulder with his own and Isaac reciprocated the action. A silence hung in the atmosphere among the two and (Y/N) mind went back to thinking, discreetly taking a glance at his face while Isaac wondered about the mysterious friend of (Y/N). Isaac waited with a bated breath and he wondered if his curiosity was worth sating, but the question sitting at the tip of his tongue itched to be spoken. He didn’t want to intrude on deep history, especially one that seemed so emotionally sensitive to (Y/N). The tug in his heart didn't let up, almost like it was urging him to ask the question.

“What..” The question faltered on his lips in hesitation, (Y/N) looked away in time but glanced at him and hummed in acknowledgment. Isaac gathered his question, his mouth opening to ask once again. “You never mentioned his name. What..what was his name?” Isaac asked softly, looking over to the girl whose head was still turned forward. Initially , he thought he shouldn’t have asked in the first place because the far away look took over Y/N)’s eyes. He gulped.

“Sorry, you don’t have to answer that. I shouldn't have,” Isaac stammered and (Y/N) shook her head. “No,” (Y/N) said softly, although her eyes still held the same expression. “It's ok.” She reassured him. It was a long time since she had spoken his name, and recalled the time when she and Lancelot were riding on Goliath - his horse and another friend of (Y/N)’s - through the forest. At that time, they had not known much of each other, but a small friendship had unknowingly begun to start.

—

Green trees and lush grass filled (Y/N)’s hazy view as she slowly came to after dozing off. Her body rocked as Goliath trotted through the forest, birds chirped and the buzzing of flies surrounded her. She blinked and lifted her head, taking in her surroundings. She noticed the reins were loosely held on from a pair of hands, of which were also circled loosely around her waist.

“Good nap, girl?” The monk's deep and raspy voice quipped from behind her, startling (Y/N) slightly.

(Y/N) grumbled in annoyance and rolled her eyes, although embarrassed of dozing off. She hoped she hadn’t almost fallen off the horse during her short nap, the monk probably would have had to make sure she didn’t. Although, she secretly knew he wouldn’t have minded letting her fall off.

“Shut it. Who wakes someone up before the sun even rises.” She shot at him, shuffling in her spot. God, her ass was numb. The monk smirked, amusement filling him.

“Did you know you snore in your sleep?” The monk took everything in him not to chuckle at (Y/N)’s stiffened posture, his eyes set on the path ahead of them.

“I do not snore!” She growled and felt her ears heat up. She knew she snored in her sleep. Dear god, why had she fallen asleep?! The monk let out a small sarcastic hum with a smile on his lips.

(Y/N) let out an exasperated huff, her head falling forward slightly.

“Ok, so I snored in my sleep. What about it Monk ?” (Y/N) said sharply , rolling her eyes once again. The monk chuckled, deciding that he was amused enough from the interaction. All that was heard now was the annoying buzzing of the flies and Goliaths hoofs pounding on the ground beneath them, and the occasional bird. (Y/N) grew restless and the numbness had not disappeared from her ass. She shuffled once again, jostling the Monk's forearms in the act. The monk glanced at her but continued to let Goliath trot forward. (Y/N) huffed and shuffled again hoping to ease the painful ache that was now spreading to her thighs, the monk sighing as she did so.

“Stop moving.” The monk said and (Y/N) grunted.

“Can we take a break? My ass is numb.” She murmured the last part, trying to shift some feeling back into her bottom. The monk snorted, debating whether he should stop. The next stop wasn't going to be for another day and the sun was beginning to set, so he decided to just set up a fire and camp for the night. Goliath needed a break anyways. He pulled on the reins, bringing Goliath to a stop and setting his foot on the stirrup , swinging his leg and dismounting off of Goliath. (Y/N) let out a sigh of relief but came to a realization she’d have to get off as well. She looked down at the ground on both sides, obviously seeming unsure of how she should get off. She supposed she could just slide off of the beast of a horse, but the numbness had made her legs stiff. This was going to be a bit awkward. The monk took notice, his blue eyes gazing up at her with an eyebrow raised.

She glanced at him and back at the ground.

“Um..” She started and the monk could’ve snickered, but held off.

“Take your time, girl.” The monk smirked. (Y/N) ignored him, figuring out how she should go about it without falling on her ass in front of him. Frankly, she could’ve asked for help, but she knew the monk would see it as a satisfaction. So no. She wasn’t going to ask for help. Awkwardy, she scooted back on the seat and gripped onto the saddle, carefully bringing her leg to the same side the Monk was. She leaned on the saddle, preparing to slide off. Problem was, when she looked down there was no way she was going to jump off, not at how far the ground seemed to be. She was now leaning on the seat with her legs dangling on the side, gripping on for dear life. She grunted, her foot trying to find the stirrup in panic as her weight slowly started to pull her down. The monk had crossed his arms, watching silently in amusement as she struggled to find the stirrup.

“Do you need assistance?” He asked as she continued to struggle.

“No. I'm fine. Just..just,” (Y/N) trailed off as she had finally found the stirrup. She let out a small grunt and started to descend to the ground. The monk took a step towards her for if she were to fall, he would be able to catch her. Thankfully , she landed on the ground on both feet with a ‘hup’. She turned towards him with a triumphant smile. The monk looked at her and held his breath, trying to keep his composure intact. He nodded his head and cleared his throat, sidestepping from (Y/N) to adjust the saddle.

“We’ll set up camp. Stay for the night and start riding at dawn.” He grabbed the pack from the saddle and led Goliath towards the camping area he had spotted a little deeper into the forest. (Y/N) replied with an ‘ok’ and followed closely behind.

Shortly after, a fire was started and frogs croaked into the night. The sun had set and stars twinkled in the dark sky, (Y/N) was eating the packed bread and some rabbit meat the monk had hunted. He was quite skilled at hunting, she had to give him that. The monk leaned on a log opposite from (Y/N) across the fire, maintaining the steel sword he owned. The sword he used that claimed many fey lives. (Y/N) swallowed down her food and looked up at the weeping monk, studying the way his eyes focused on his sword, the cloth held in his hand gliding down across the steel. (Y/N) licked at her lips and cleared her throat. The monk glanced up at her but returned his gaze to his sword.

“Are you going to eat something?” (Y/N) asked, furrowing her eyebrows. The monk gave no immediate answer but continued to wipe his blade. (Y/N) waited for a reply, staring at him.

“No. You eat, and then sleep. I will keep watch.” The monk replied a moment after, putting his sword back into the sheath. (Y/N)’s frown deepened. “Keep watch? You need to sleep and eat. We’re traveling early.” (Y/N) shook her head in disagreement and set the food aside the cloth that laid in her lap. The monk looked up at her, his hood slightly concealing his face.

“Do not worry. It will be fine.” The monk replied, staring right at (Y/N). (Y/N) sighed. Of course he was going to be stubborn about it. Gathering the food in the cloth, she stood up. The monk watched her closely, his eyebrows pinching together slightly in question. His eyes continued to follow until she stood in front of him, now holding out the cloth of food. He glanced at the food and back up at her in confusion. (Y/N) raised her eyebrows and shook the food in her hand.

“Take it.” (Y/N) said, shaking her hand once again when the monk didn't react. The monk pulled a face at her and she rolled her eyes. She gave him a deadpanned look.

“I'm not offering, I’m commanding. I'm not gonna catch you if you faint on the horse from lack of sleep and food. Now, take it. Or else.” She threatened. In truth, she had no idea what she was gonna do. Shoving the food down his throat was not an option. He would probably throw her into the fire.

Much to (Y/N)’s surprise (and relief) the monk reluctantly grabbed the food from her hand and glanced at her. The whole time, he was silent, not expecting the kind action. It stirred something unfamiliar and warm in his chest at the action. He had never once in his life had someone be so kind to him, having spent most of his time massacring fey, he felt like he didn’t deserve such kindness at all.(Y/N) knew what kind of things he did, and still does for that matter. He set the food down and cleared his throat.

“Thank you.” he quietly said, setting his sights down on the ground. (Y/N) smiled in success.

“You're welcome, Monk.” She turned around and made her way back to her spot across from his. She sat down on the blanket and stared at the fire, letting the sound of crackling fire and frogs take over. She was comfortably sitting in the silence, the warmth of the fire giving her some contentment in the cold night. The monk looked at her over the fire and stared intently. The question still hung in his mind and for a while he wondered. For a good five minutes he wondered while (Y/N) sat in silence.

(Y/N) and he had been traveling together for a while, it was his responsibility that had fallen on him after Father commanded to ‘keep the odd woman under his watch’ after she had appeared seemingly from nowhere dressed in odd clothes for a woman, immensely confused and in shock. It was an odd relation, if he could call it that. But she had helped him in many ways. Stitching his wounds that he gained when protecting her and even that one incident when the lashes on his back had grown infected causing him to fall ill. (Y/N) watched over him during his fever. After the horrifying near death incident, (Y/N) had made it her mission she would take care of him when he took care of her. It felt wrong at first; her taking care of him. It often made it difficult to complete his missions, the bond was risky. Father would most certainly banish her from his life would he figure out that his most trusted warrior was becoming soft for a random woman, he was a monk. The Weeping Monk. But, he decided to keep it a secret. Deception was a sin and every day he feared for the girl. But never for himself. Though they often spited each other, she lightened the days and made them less dull, always finding a way to make him laugh every once in a while. He stuck around and made sure she was ok when she became confused again until she wasn’t. It was like clockwork, it became their nature. He cared for the girl. She meant a great deal to him. It was apparent she cared for him too. Their bond was completely natural. Maybe one day she would be his biggest regret, but he didn’t seem to think so cautiously about it anymore.

Suddenly, he spoke, causing (Y/N) to switch her gaze at him in surprise, most certainly caught of guard.

“Lancelot.” He said. And for a while (Y/N) was silent, still staring at him with a caught off guard expression. A moment later, (Y/N) responded.

“What.” (Y/N) finally said . The monk looked at the fire, avoiding the stare (Y/N) gave him, growing slightly nervous at the attention.

“Lancelot,” He repeated himself but firmly this time. He continued, adding more description to his words.

“ A long time ago, my name was Lancelot.” He said, crossing his cloak covered arms over his midsection. (Y/N)’s eyes widened slightly , stunned from the reveal. She slowly recovered from the shock and soaked in the new information.

She said his name in her head, testing it out. It was quite nice. Medieval, of course, but nice.

Huh. I like it. She thought.

“Lancelot.” She echoed, and the name felt foreign on her tongue. The newly learned name gave her a new perspective of the Monk, but it was growing on her already. The monk returned his gaze to her upon hearing his name, and it did sound strange - having not heard his own name being spoken from another person in a very long time, it would take time to adjust to hearing it once again. Now, to think of it, he didn’t mind hearing it from her. It felt like a breath of fresh air and a small weight was lifted from him. Who knew telling someone his true name would’ve given him some sort of relief in his damned life. Although, it unsettled him slightly. (Y/N)s eyes swiftly shifted over to him smirking. At this, his eyes narrowed at her, waiting for whatever would spill out of her mouth.

“Have you gone soft on me, Lancy?”

The monk let out an elongated sigh.

Shouts of men were heard from a far distance and the sound of multiple feet pounding on the ground pushed Lancelot further and further, stumbling in his path as he urged (Y/N) forward. They both rushed to find his horse, away from the paladin camp. His arm clutched at his side which bled and burned profusely, but the grip pulling at his sleeve kept him from passing out from pain and the concussion he had gained from the fight with the trinity guards. He barely made it out alive, had it not been for the distraction (Y/N) gave of which worked to his advantage.

“Come on, Lancelot! Keep going!” (Y/N) cried, her voice wavering as she tugged his arm. His chest fell up and down, heaving out breaths. His footing lost balance, tipping over an uneven muddy spot on the ground and fell down on one knee. His grip ripped from (Y/N) to catch himself before he fell completely on the wet ground. (Y/N) let out a small yelp and fell down on her knees, his fall taking her down with him. Bent over with his hand braced on the ground, he gasped from the pain and the utter exhaustion he felt. (Y/N) crawled over to Lancelot and grasped at his shoulders.

“Here, give me your arm.” (Y/N) grabbed the arm that held Lancelot up and put it over and around her shoulders. He grunted as he was pulled up, (Y/N) grunting in the process too from the sheer weight of him. “Christ, how much do you weigh?” She quipped through clenched teeth.

“Leave me.” Lancelot rasped, leaning on (Y/N). The voice of men grew closer, even their torches they carried seemed to be getting closer from the looks of it. Soon they would reach them and Lancelot was in no shape to ride a horse. He would most likely fall off. He would be dead weight.

“What? No! Are you crazy?! You're coming with me!” (Y/N) protested and pulled him along towards the horse. Lancelot let out a pained moan as his deep wound continued to bleed and ache terribly. He was sure he was seeing black spots from blood loss and the concussion.

“Over there!” A red robed monk shouted far from behind them. (Y/N) gasped and looked behind. They were getting closer. She turned back around, fastening their pace even more than last time.

“Hurry, Lancelot! The horse is right there!” Lancelot could hear the men coming closer and closer, their torches more visible and their stomps became louder.

“(Y/N).” he pleaded her name, although (Y/N) kept going, ignoring his plea.

Through (Y/N)s struggling and Lancelot’s wheezing, they had finally made it to Goliath who waited for their arrival. (Y/N) adjusted the saddle and with shaking hands she untied the rope from the tree. Lancelot fell to the ground on his knees a few feet away from (Y/N), beside Goliath when she had gone to untie the rope. He panted, his head hanging down. From behind them , Lancelot could hear the groan of a string being pulled back. He turned quickly at that, and his eyes widened at the archer that stood further away had begun to draw an arrow towards (Y/N) which would no doubt hit her, though she hadn’t the slightest clue. With the remaining strength he had, Lancelot swiftly stood up and ignored the sharp burn and pain in his side. It did nothing to stop him from grabbing a dagger from the pouch that Goliath carried on his saddle and hurling it towards the archer, using his whole body to throw the dagger with a yell. The dagger flew in the air and embedded itself in the stomach of the archer. He fell to the ground in shock and fell to the floor moments later.

(Y/N) gasped and had spun around to see what had happened, her eyes landing on the fallen body and Lancelot who was completely hunched over the ground, moaning in pain. (Y/N) rushed over to him and pulled him up to his knees. She fell to her knees, grabbing his face when his head lolled back while in a daze. She forced him to look at her, using her hands to hold his face upright.

“Lancelot! Hey!” She slapped his face hard enough to bring his attention to her. His eyes were half lidded and his forehead dripped blood down to his chin and over (Y/N)’s hands, but she couldn’t care about the blood. She scanned his body for new wounds that he could’ve possibly got from the encounter but found none. Good. She needed him to stay awake and alive.

“Listen to me, you need to get on the horse.” She commanded him, and she wasn't too sure if he could even comprehend what she was saying by the dazed look in his eyes. She wiped away the blood that dripped down his eyebrow.

“You hear me? Get on the horse, I’ll help you.” She spoke in a rush and tugged him up to his feet roughly, jerking him forward and onto Goliath. He yelped in pain , clutching his wounded side and found purchase on the saddle, barely holding himself up with (Y/N)’s help. There was no way he’d be able to get on the horse if he couldn’t even hold himself up.

“(Y/N)-” Lancelot weakly spoke, but (Y/N) shouted and cut him off, sending him a sharp glare.

“NO Lancelot! Get on the fucking horse!”

He stared at her, the weakening becoming apparent in his eyes. She searched his eyes with rage, but it slowly shifted to a sorrow filled expression. Her lip starting to quiver as tears pooled in her eyes and a lump formed in her throat.

“Please,” her voice cracked as she choked out. “Don’t do this.” She begged. Lancelot's heart squeezed painfully in his chest at the plea, his eyes squeezed shut and hung his head towards the ground. He shook his head.

“No, petal. I cannot go further.” He rasped.

A small sob from (Y/N)’s throat.

“I'm not leaving without you!.” (Y/N) declared, gripping his shoulder. Lancelot shook his head once again and grasped her hand that gripped his cloak , looking up at her through his lashes.

“I'm going to die, (Y/N). One way or another. But I'm not going to get you killed in the process. I'm too weak. You have to leave me, flower.” he pleaded, looking earnestly into (Y/N)s teary eyes. Her nose was red, her eyes were red and her lip couldn’t stop quivering. She whined and shook her head, tears falling down her cheeks.

“No, we can run away! We can! W-we can leave right now Lancelot, just get on the horse!” She cried out in desperation. Lancelot growled lowly in frustration, shouting out to (Y/N).

“No, (Y/N)!” He shouted. His eyes were furious as he stared (Y/N) down. She cried as she looked right back at him, her shoulders shaking from her sobs. He couldn’t leave with her, not even if he tried. He would die anyway, from his wounds or the men that are certainly making their way to them. He couldn’t get on the horse, let alone to keep himself standing up. He was too weak and too heavy for (Y/N) to carry. They would kill him first if he were to escape, knowing he was already mortally injured. He would slow down (Y/N), and then kill they would kill her. He could not let that happen.

“I am too injured, too heavy. Too weak. And even if I were to get on the horse, I would lose consciousness and slow you down. They will kill me and then you. I cannot go.” He firmly explained to her, his bloody hand gently caressing her neck and trailing up to her cheek, smearing blood along her skin. He was losing time, he noticed. His gaze softened, his throat closing too. He pulled (Y/N) into his chest who immediately drew her arms around him and hugged him tightly, crying into his gray surcoat. He stifled a groan that threatened to escape him from the impact of the tight embrace, but regardless of the pain, he wrapped an arm across her back and cradled her head. He pressed his lips firmly to the crown of her head while (Y/N) continued to cry in his chest.

“It’s ok, girl. You will be ok.” Lancelot whispered. At that , (Y/N)s cried harder and buried her face deeper into his chest and gripped onto his back. He cherished the precious moment, knowing it would be the last. After some time had passed, he pulled her apart from him and pushed (Y/N) toward Goliath. She almost protested, after having been pushed away from his embrace but He jerked his head toward Goliath, hunching over as he held his side and urging (Y/N) to mount the black horse.

“Go. Quickly. They are coming.’’ He pushed her back towards the horse, forcing her to mount Goliath who brayed and shook his head. He fastened the saddle once (Y/N) had pulled herself up the horse with his help, tugging at the straps and grabbing the reins. (Y/N) sniffled and wiped at her eyes roughly, though the tears kept coming. Lancelot had grabbed her hands with his hand, still holding onto the saddle to support himself and put the reins within her hands, closing them around the leather. He looked up at her with his cold hand covering her own, gripping them.

(Y/N) looked down to him from the horse, and her eyes locked onto his blue ones. Once again, she couldn’t help the tears falling and her lower lip curling, knowing this too, was going to be the last time she saw him. She hiccuped and Lancelot brought her hand towards his chapped lips, kissing her knuckles while he kept his eyes locked on hers.

“I am not afraid, so do not fear for me, petal. Death does not scare me. Be brave. Be strong. I will always watch over you. And if I cannot, I will find a way.” He promised to (Y/N), and she nodded her head slightly. “You are my salvation, (Y/N). ” He declared, holding a meaningful gaze with her. They held eye contact for a few seconds and (Y/N) quickly leant down to his face and pressed her lips to his cheek. She broke apart from him and stared down at him, speaking the best she could with her shaking voice.

“I care deeply for you, Lancelot. I'll miss you. Greatly.” Lancelot’s face slowly broke into a smile, a smile that reached his eyes and revealed his teeth, and the sight was cruel. Bloody, bruised and cruel, yet beautiful. “And I you, petal.” He responded softly, silence taking over as he stared deeply at (Y/N).

His eyes snapped towards the sound of men shouting and fire blowing, having now caught up to them. They approached from the trees and pointed to the pair, yelling at one another to catch them.

“Hold on!” He shouted and (Y/N) nodded her head quickly, her grip tightened on the rains and Goliath surged forward when Lancelot gave Goliath a smack to his behind, the horse letting out a squeal from the action. (Y/N) looked at Lancelot, committing his face in her memory one last time, him doing the same before Goliath took off in a bolt. (Y/N) let out a scream of fear, but held onto Goliath as he galloped away. The horse was fast, unbelievably fast. For a minute, she rode Goliath but turned back to watch Lancelot. He grew further and further away, turned towards her as watched her ride away until she forced herself to rip her eyes from the view when he turned towards the paladins, dropping to his knees. Surrendering.

And that was the last time she saw him. Her beloved friend.

—

(Y/N) breathed softly, her heart clenching at the memories. Isaac stared at her in silence, giving her a moment to herself before she spoke. He heard the soft beating of her heart and leaned closer to her body, their shoulders pressed against each other.

“Take your time, petal.” He reassured her and looked ahead. (Y/N)’s eyes snapped towards him at the name and stared at him, too stunned to say anything which caused Isaac to look back to her in alarm.

“What’s wrong? Did I say something?” He questioned with a frown on his face. (Y/N) stared into his blue eyes , slowly taking in his features. They were almost similar to Lancelot’s. Almost too similar. Excluding the moustache and the long hair that was always tied in a bun. Don’t forget the Ash folk marks. The tear marks under Lancelot’s eyes. And Isaac. The blue eyes, the youthful shape of his face, his lips, his smile. Everything. At first she thought it was just a crazy coincidence. A lot of people look alike, and quite frankly there's a shit ton of people alone in one world and in addition to many other worlds. Shit, she can even enter other worlds somehow and that was crazy enough, but the resemblance was uncanny….

(Y/N)s eyes widened as she looked back into his eyes and Isaac continued to watch her as she stared at him, his ears even turned red at the attention.

“Lancelot...” She whispered in astonishment as she gazed at Isaacs face again. He heard the beat of (Y/N)’s heart start to pound, and her scent became an overwhelming smell of emotions. Love, sadness, immense happiness.

He blinked at her.

“What.” He muttered, eyes wide as he stared at her. He hadn’t heard her speak from the pounding of his heart and (Y/N)’s combined, completely thrown off as warmth enveloped him from the name she seemed to call him. This was so strange, he thought. Lancelot? Had he heard that name before?...

(Y/N) broke from her trance, clearing her throat she shook her head. Isaac too seemed to break from the trance, now hazy as confusion filled his mind. What was happening to him?

“His name..” (Y/N) began softly, looking at him intently with prying eyes. Isaac listened, staring at her as well, waiting for her to nish as he held his breath.

“His name was Lancelot.” She finished quietly, watching his expression. Hearing the name, a sudden electricity shot through him and a ringing deafened him. He yelped in pain and covered his ears as the high pitched ringing blared in his ears. Suddenly, a rush of jumbled words echoed in his ears, like a sped up record replaying over and over again.

“... petal…Death...be brave...Always watch over you..can't...will find a way..”

Isaac yelled out in pain, grabbing at his head and curling into a ball, the jumble of words giving him a splitting headache. It hurt. It hurt so bad he wanted to tear his eyeballs out and rip out his hair. But eventually, It had started gradually slow, the echos fading away until it had completely stopped. Moments passed.

Until another loud echo of a whisper in his ears.

“You are my Salvation.”

That seemed to have Isaac collapse, like a button was pressed and the lights flickered off , black slowly creeping up in the corner of his vision. He saw a glimpse of (Y/N) kneeling over him, her frightened face fading to another image of her bloodied and despaired tear filled face. Back and forth, like flashes.

“Lancelot!” Was the last thing he heard before blacking out.

#the weeping monk #the weeping monk x reader #Lancelot #cursed #Isaac Lahey #Isaac lahey x reader #teen wolf #fanfiction #angst

34 notes · View notes

allgirlsareprincesses · 2 years

Text

A Song of Ash and Sky - A Cursed Fanfic

Chapter 21 - Betrothal and Betrayal

Nimue shares her plan to marry Arthur in a desperate gamble to take the crown and save the Fey. But her true desires are not so easily dismissed.

“Tell me that kiss meant nothing” he whispered across her lips. “Tell me, and I will go.”

Nimue heard her breath coming in short gasps.

He leaned closer, his voice now only a growl in his throat. “Tell me.”

~~~~~~

FINALLY some smut for y’all. This is the first time I’ve ever attempted to write it, so I hope I did okay!

Thank you for sticking with me thus far as I drag these angsty babies toward their Happily Ever After!

30 notes · View notes

thecolourblood · 1 year

Note

Happy Whumpmas (•∇•。) 🎅🎄🎁🦌 🍪 🥛!!! You have just been snowballed by a secret whumper. Help to keep the snowball fight going by anonymously sending this to five other whumpers with a whump-related question of your choice: Who are your top three new whumpees/blorbos you have found this year?

Thank you so much for the ask!! 😁 I've only been on Tumblr for a year and a half or so, so I've found so many whumpees!!

1. Lancelot/The Weeping Monk (the show is really good but the fanfiction is beyond incredible @aceofwhump 😘)

2. Morpheus from The Sandman. Literally everything about his character!!!!!! I have adopted him as my favorite sad puppy

3. John/Master Chief from the Halo series. So constantly under pressure, insured, sick, emotionally torn, it's just 🤌

Bonus - Billy Hargrove from Stranger Things. Everybody is obsessed with Eddie, and rightly so, but still, nothing like Billy whump for me.

1 note · View note

maaaddiexo · 4 years

Text

Fugitives (The Weeping Monk)

Mainlist | Serieslist

Warnings: cursing, gore

part 2/4 (4 for now; maybe more after second season release)

[part 3]

Y/N didn’t see or hear anything from the Weeping Monk for three weeks. Two days after their first official meeting, she saw him leave with Carden and a group of Red Paladins. None of them had returned since.

Boredly, Y/N twirled her fingers and the windchimes she hung in the windows sang in the wind she created. Ever since the Monk’s visit, her days had become even more bland and boring than before. Her dinner tray had been abandoned long ago when the sun was still far above the horizon. Now, not even the moon could shine through the thick blanket of clouds.

Y/N huffed and got up from her spot by the window to the round table in the circular room. As well as boring days, Y/N could no longer sleep. Her dreams were plagued with magical worlds beyond her cage, bright blue eyes filled with tears, and hands dripping in blood.

Art and magic were the only things in Y/N’s life that brought her comfort. Unfortunately, magic drained Y/N’s energy so she often resorted to drawing and painting to calm her forever-frayed nerves. After brewing herself a cup of tea, she lit the candles scattered all around her room and picked up a pencil. Instead of drawing the mysterious man – who she really believed to be much younger than he looked – she reached into the depths of her imagination and let her mind wander. When she opened her eyes, the candles were burning low and she had partially drawn a Fey community in a thick forest and disguised by moss and leaves from time.

Bang! Bang!

“Born in the dawn!” An unfamiliar voice whispered from the other side of the door and slammed their hand against the door again, repeating the Fey phrase.

Still bleary, Y/N stumbled to the door, tripping over her own skirts. With a flick of her wrist, the wooden lock on the outside of the door undid and she opened the door. On the other side of the door, a young boy covered in dirt and blood stood on the other side of the door. He had shaggy blonde hair and light eyes, but one was bruised and swollen shut. “Who are you?”

“Are you Y/N?”

“Do you know another girl locked in a tower?” The boy didn’t find any humour in her words, and if he did, he ignored and repeated his question. “I am. Who are you?”

“I’m Squirrel.” He lifted his hand up from his side and gave her the two measly daisies in his hand. Y/N didn’t know how she’d missed them. “I’m supposed to guve you these.”

“The Monk,” Y/N breathed. “Where is he? Is he alright?”

“In the woods. He left the Red Paladins, but he wanted to say goodbye to you first. But he’s hurt real bad. He can’t walk. So, I’m here instead.”

“You’re leaving with him?”

Squirrel nodded. “Somewhere safe. Where the Red Paladins won’t find us.”

Y/N looked back at her table – at the picture she’d fallen asleep drawing. It was the same one from her dreams. She nibbled her lower lip but then nodded firmly. Most of the Fey were dead anyways. “I’m coming with you. Give me ten minutes. Come in.”

Squirrel sat on the bed as Y/N rushed around the room and packed things into a leather sack. She knew one day she’d leave the wretched tower but not so soon. She packed the necessary herbs and items she needed and crammed a shawl into the sack.

“Ready?”

Y/N hesitated, feeling like she was forgetting something before rushing to her wardrobe and unveiled the secret panel. They’d tear the place apart upon realizing she was gone and she didn’t need them seeing the few things she kept private. She folded them up and slid them into the bursting sack before throwing on her cape. “Ready.”

Y/N couldn’t remember when she’d first climbed the tower and was unused to the dark and narrow staircase that seemed to wind down forever. When Squirrel finally pushed open the door, Y/N got her first real breath of fresh air in over a decade.

“This way,” Squirrel whispered. He ran across the open field as fast as a fox but as quiet as a leopard. Not too deep into the woods, Squirrel slowed down and in a tight cluster of trees, they came across the Weeping Monk slumped against a thick tree. He was caked in blood and dirt and sweat, and he pressed a ripped piece of cloth against his thigh, but his pressure slackened when he saw Y/N.

“What is she doing here? I told you to give her my message.”

“I did. And then she decided she wanted to come with us. Who was I to say no to a witch?”

“Are you scared of witches?”

Squirrel bristled. “My best friend’s a witch. She’s always shown she can take care of herself. I figured you could help us.” He turned to watch the Monk struggle to his feet. “Help him.”

Y/N wanted to ask what exactly it was the boy expected her to do but she knew the answer. They were all fugitives now and needed a place to lay low while the boys – mainly the Monk – healed. Y/N looked around the woods they were concealed in even though there wasn’t much to see in the dark. “Okay. I know a place. A day’s walking west of Travern.”

“That’s almost two days from here,” the Monk gasped. A two day’s journey wasn’t long, but time they spent in the open was time they could be caught and killed.

“We’ll only travel at night though. We’ll be able to get further knowing Red Paladins won’t be looking for us.”

“Well, what do we do during the day?” Squirrel wondered.

“Sleep. We’ll take turns keeping watch. And as long as we reach Travern by dawn, I doubt the Red Paladins will be much of an issue.”

“What does that mean?”

The Monk turned his head only slightly to face Squirrel. “It means she plans on leading us into the Dark Wood.”

Squirrel stuttered for a moment, baffled by the Monk’s words. He turned to Y/N. “Are you bloody crazy?”

Y/N’s quick wit hasn’t yet run out. “Depends on who you ask.”

“The Dark Wood is full of demons and dark gods!”

“Lies,” the girl replied boredly and moved to help the Monk to his feet and then onto the large black horse. “It’s all rumours to keep the Red Paladins out of the area so that Fey can live there,”

“I’ve never heard of a village there.”

“It’s not your average village,” Y/N explained. “They don’t let just anybody in. You need to meet certain…criteria to be accepted.”

“What kinds of criteria?”

Y/N didn’t answer Squirrel and instead looked up at the Monk. “What do the Red Paladins say about the Dark Wood?”

The man juts his chin at Squirrel. “The same thing he said. They’ll take days out of their missions to avoid journeying through it. Are you sure we should go there?”

Y/N thought back to her dreams. “I’m sure.” The Dark Wood was the only place Y/N knew they wouldn’t be sought out and the only place they could be safe. “Let’s go.”

The trek was long and uneventful. As the night went on, Y/N found herself tripping over her feet more and more and her eyes became heavy. She was grateful they didn’t run into anybody because she was sure none of them were in good enough shape to fight off Red Paladins – or worse, the Trinity Guard.

The moon and stars are hidden by clouds and the woods were completely quiet until the sky turned from a dark to a pale blue and something snapped in the distance. Squirrel, who had fallen asleep in front of the Monk on the horse, is shaken awake.

Y/N sighed. “I really hope that’s a rabbit.”

“Who’s there?” The deep, masculine voice came from the direction of the snap and Y/N’s head dropped.

“Dammit.”

“I can take him,” the Monk grunted and moved to dismount.

“You’re crazy,” Y/N remarked and instructed them to stay there and told them she’d be back. Having never gone hunting or spent much time in the woods, Y/N was loud as she approached the man, but he continuously called out for her to identify herself and so she knew where he was.

Y/N took a deep breath and steeled herself before stepping into the man’s view. Unsurprisingly, it was a Red Paladin. What was surprising to Y/N was that he was alone.

The man leered at her and showed her a full set of yellow teeth. “It’s dangerous to be alone out in the woods, little girl.”

Y/N’s hands began to tingle and glow. “I could say the same to you.” She focused on the Paladin and whispered, “Rigescunt indutae.”

The Red Paladin froze and Y/N watched his eyes go wide. His hand slackened and the heavy sword dropped to the ground. Y/N felt the energy leave her body as the magic exhausted her but forced herself to hold on a little bit longer. She made two fists and brought them together. As she pulled her fists apart and opened her hands, as if ripping a piece of paper, she yelled, “Scindo!”

Y/N felt the hot blood splatter against her face and neck, but she was falling and couldn’t find the energy to wipe the blood away. Before her eyes rolled to the back of her head, she saw the Red Paladin’s body drop to the ground in two pieces.

He’d been cleaved in half like a piece of wood.

***

The rhythmic bumping of her head against something hard woke Y/N up. She was groggy and her sight was bleary but she could see that she was on the horse.

“Stop.”

“Morning, princess.” The Monk pulled on the reins and the horse came to a halt. Y/N slid off the horse and stumbled, running into Squirrel.

“How long was I out?”

“Thirty minutes or so,” Squirrel replied. “We’re past Travern now. But we can’t stop now. Not after what you did.”

Y/N looked at the woods around them. The trees were tall and looming. Their roots sprawled through the dirt and the branches seemed to reach out, ready to snatch unsuspecting victims. Y/N shook her head. They were just rumours. Still, she didn’t feel safe standing around. She nodded and accepted the Monk’s hand to get back on the horse, this time behind him. “Okay. Let’s go.”

[part 3]

#cursed #the weeping monk #lancelot #the weeping monk x reader #the weeping monk x fem!reader #the weeping monk x y/n #the weeping monk imagine #the weeping monk fanfiction #action #romance #fantasy #magic #camelot #camelot fanfiction

299 notes · View notes

american-satanxx · 4 years

Text

Juggernaut Child//The Weeping Monk Masterpost

Ten thousand souls in your right hand Never lost ground to no cold blooded man Ten thousand souls in your right hand Juggernaut child in a fragile land

The Red Paladins took everything from her. Her family, her friends and her home had gone up in literal flames because of them. She thought she lost everything. And she fears she’s correct; especially when she comes face to face with The Weeping Monk.

Playlist

There’s A Black Mark On Her Soul Make The Devil Your Friend It’s Not Too Late To…Too Late To Save You Everybody Says There's Two Kinds Of Hearts. Where One Loves And One Goes To War

Lyric credit: When God Comes Back by All Them Witches

Want to be tagged in each update? Let me know.

#the weeping monk #lancelot #cursed #cursed netflix #netflix #netflix cursed #daniel sharman #the weeping monk fanfiction #the weeping monk fanfic #the weeping monk imagine.#daniel sharman imagine #daniel sharman fanfiction #daniel sharman fanfic #cursed fanfiction #cursed fanfic

121 notes · View notes

nashibirne · 2 years

Text

From Ashes to Fire - 5

Here we are again! Lance and Oda and Percy facing light and dark in this fifth chapter of my little story. It's going to be funny, fluffy and a bit of a heartbreak... I really hope you like where this is going. If so, please consider leaving me a reblog, comment or like. It's much appreciated 💜

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Pairing: Lancelot x OFC (Oda)

Words: 4.1 k

Summary: Lancelot and Squirrel are in need of help because the boy is very sick. They find shelter at a farm and Oda, the woman who lives there, awakens feelings in the Weeping Monk he hasn't known before. (Okay... this summary sucks... it's basically a slow burn with a lot of mutual pining and angst of two characters who know nothing about love...yet)

You can find the previous parts HERE.

My masterlist.

Warnings: non, just the usual mutual pining

UNBETAED! English is not my mother tongue, so expect bad grammar, wrong spelling, chaotic punctuation and clumsy language. All mistakes are mine…

Disclaimer/Credits: I don't own anything related to Cursed, pics for the moodboard from Pinterest

Taglist: @emelinelovesjc @lunedelorient @legendarywizarddetective @captainbucky-yt

Off we go....

****

"Squirrel!"

Oda's jolly laughter whired through the mild air of the sunny afternoon like a covey of twittering sparrows, causing Lancelot to open his eyes with a fond smile. He was sitting on the bench in front of the house, enjoying the warm rays of sunlight on his face, his hands folded in his lap, his face turned to the ceiling while Oda and the boy were playing with a little, multicoloured ball Oda had crocheted out of yarn rests a few days ago. She had filled it with dried peas and given it to Percy as a toy.

He was much better, but still suffering from fatigue which inevitably led to a good amount of frustration, since the boy usually was a bundle of energy. Being doomed to rest almost all day annoyed him, and Oda's little present helped brighten his mood a lot.

Squirrel was sitting on a plaid in the grass and Oda was standing a few yards away, trying to catch the ball the boy was throwing, which was almost impossible, because he got a lot of pleasure out of throwing it way too high or too far. Oda didn't seem to mind, she ran around laughing and giggling, jumping and throwing herself full-length on the ground to get the ball, entertaining the boy who was all smiles, beaming with fun and joy. He was going to be completely knackered by the end of the day but also really happy, and that was all that counted in the end.

While Lancelot was watching the boisterous game he couldn't help but wonder how this was even possible. How had his life changed from dark and strict to light and easy in such a short span of time? How was it possible that a few weeks with Oda had been enough to replace all the darkness living inside of him, all the negativity, his doubts and fears with light, optimism and joy? How was it possible that for the first time in his life he felt something like happiness?

Lancelot flinched when something hit his arm, tearing him out of his thoughts.

"Sorry," Squirrel grinned and Lancelot laughed, picking up the ball.

"You better not do this again," he scolded the boy playfully with a smile and a wink before throwing the ball high in the air, catching it again with ease.

Oda sat down beside him with an exhausted sigh, a little out of breath, her cheeks rosy, her eyes sparkling with joy, a sweet smile on her pretty lips.

"He's wearing me out," she admitted, flashing him a grin.

"Just wait until he's fully recovered. We're not going to get a minute's peace," Lancelot replied, returning her grin, handing over the ball to her. When Oda took it from his hand their fingers touched and the glance they shared made the butterflies in his belly flutter away.

He took a deep breath. This wouldn't last. All the harmony, the happiness he was feeling, the warmth he was receiving. It would come to an end. He knew it, because he didn't deserve it. It just wasn't possible, it was too good to be true. He should be proven right about this sooner than he'd hoped he'd be.

***

It was only two days later that a knock on the door of Oda's little farmhouse changed everything. It was a rainy day, the sky was dark, heavy grey clouds chasing each other on the ceiling, the storm sweeping through the boughs of the trees. Oda, Lance and Percy were sitting near the fireplace, the boy listening closely to the legends of ghosts and mystical creatures living in the Scottish Highlands, Oda was telling him. Lancelot had a hard time not constantly staring at her, drinking in the sight of her beautiful face, so eventually he just leaned back, resting his head against the wall, closing his eyes. A heavy knock on the door startled him and he shared a worried look with Oda.

"Are you expecting someone?"

"No," Oda said with a frown.

She got up to answer the door, and when she opened it, Lance could tell by the tension in her voice that the unexpected caller wasn't welcome.

"Rory."

"Oda, good day."

The voice that was greeting her so politely, was deep but sharp and it placed Lancelot on alert immediately. Even Squirrel seemed to sense it. He moved his stool closer to the monk to feel secure.

"What brings you here?"

Oda's voice was hard, her body language cold.

"I just wanted to check up on you. You seemed a bit shaken when you left the market the other day."

"I'm fine," Oda replied, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

"May I come in?"

Rory didn't wait for an answer, he just pushed past Oda, entering the room, filling it with his presence. He was a tall man, broad and fleshy, his face red and pockmarked, the thick lips twisted into a lopsided smile. He stopped in his tracks when he spotted Lancelot and Percy, staring at them.

"I didn't know you had visitors."

"You didn't ask," Oda stated before sitting down in her chair again, not offering him a seat. "Meet my guests, Lancelot and Percival. They are staying with me for a while. The boy is sick and I treat him. Lance's father and our father were close friends", she explained without batting an eyelid, the lie slipping smoothly from her lips. "This is Rory Campbell, a former friend of my brother's."

She gestured at the intruder but her eyes were meeting Lancelot's, giving him a worried glance and he gave her a little, soothing smile in return.

Rory kept silent, giving the man and the boy a suspicious look.

"Your family always had a thing for fey kind," he said after a while, addressing Oda, ignoring Squirrel and Lance completely.

"You hardly came here to tell me this," Oda snapped, annoyed by his presence and his rude behavior.

"I came here because I'm worried about you. You left in a rush the other day. I didn't mean to scare you with what I said about the Red Paladins and the Weeping Monk."

Now he looked directly at Lance, his eyes shooting daggers at him, and Oda's heart started racing in her chest.

"That's very kind of you, Rory," she replied softly, trying to exude a warmth she didn't feel to get back his attention and it worked, Rory turned to her again. "I'm fine, really. I was a bit shaken, that's true, but you said Roy's safe and I believe you," Oda continued, getting up to face him and to bow him out as soon as possible.

"Good," Rory nodded with a smile and Oda froze when he took her hand as if they hadn't been avoiding each other since she had rejected him years ago. "You know you can always come to me if something's troubling you. Or someone…"

He shot Lancelot, who was clinging to the armrests of his chair, his eyes narrow, his lips pressed together, another glance before looking at Oda again who pulled away her hand as gently as possible.

"That's good to know but it won't be necessary. Thanks for your visit, Rory." She walked towards the door, but he didn't follow. Instead he stayed put, his arms crossed in front of his chest.

"It's pretty cold outside. I could use a cup of hot ale before I leave."

Oda stared at him, shaking her head slowly.

"Listen, Rory, I appreciate that you came to check up on me, but let's stop pretending we're friends or anything close to it, alright? You better leave now…"

"Why so distant, Oda," he asked with a smug smile. "It doesn't have to be like this. We could be friends again...or even more. Why don't you tell your guests to leave us alone for a moment and we talk things over?"

"I don't think so." Oda replied tight lipped, putting her hands on her hips, her eyes sparkling with anger.

"Why not, we…"

"Because she's not interested. She told you to leave," Lancelot interrupted Rory. He had gotten up and was slowly approaching them, his eyes fixed on the man.

"You better keep out of this," Rory growled, holding Lance's gaze.

"Or what?"

"Or I'll teach you some manners. You and the boy are Oda's guests and this is none of your business. So just sit down again and shut up."

Lancelot gave Rory a derisive laugh.

"Right, we are Oda's guests and you are an unexpected and unwanted visitor. So I suggest you are the one who shuts up and leaves," he said calmly, staring his opponent right in the eyes, his face so close to Rory's, their noses were almost touching.

"Now...," Lance snarled and it was frightening, even to Oda's ears.

She touched Lancelot's arm to calm him down, afraid he might do something imprudent and he turned to her. The smile he gave Oda and the bond between them didn't remain hidden to Rory and it made him furious, Oda could tell by the pinched expression on his puffy face. However, he finally took a step back and straightened his tabard. Oda let out a soft sigh of relief when the tension between the two men started to ease off.

"Good bye, Rory," she said again, forcing a smile on her face to brighten his mood. She knew it was a bad idea to make an enemy of Rory Campbell. He was way too unforgiving and too powerful...a mixture that was as explosive as dangerous.

"Good bye, Oda," he replied with a grin that was hard to read. Bringing his face close to Lancelot's, he added: "That's not the end of it, ash man. We'll meet again and next time I'll be the one in charge. Mark my words."

He turned around and left the house without another word but the shadow of his visit remained, leaving a premonition of danger.

****

"How did he know you're Ash folk? I can't stop thinking about this," Oda spoke into the darkness of the attic.

"Our species is rare but it's still possible that he has met Ash people before or he's just heard about us. Our birthmarks are quite unique," Lance replied, turning his head towards the fabric that was separating his bed from Oda's.

"What if he knows who you are?"

"I don't think he does."

"But you don't know for sure."

"No, I don't."

It wasn't the first time they had this conversation. They never spoke about it in Squirrel's presence, and so they had established the habit of talking about everything that wasn't meant for the ears of the boy at night, when they were lying in their beds, both unable to sleep.

"So it's possible that Rory has recognized you. Maybe he saw you when he was traveling England, possibly when he was visiting my brother in the monastery in the south," Oda thought out loud. "Have you ever been there?"

"There are many monasteries in the region of Dover, Oda. I honestly don't know," Lancelot replied softly, bothered by her despair that grew worse with every day.

"Do you think you've ever seen Rory before?'

"No, I'm sure of that. I'd remember his ugly mug."

Oda couldn't help but giggle but she soon got serious again, taking a deep breath that was followed by a frustrated sigh.

"But how does he know so much about you? Rory told us every detail of your fight with the Trinity Guards at the market the other day. Maybe he was in that camp?"

"What did he say about the fight?"

Oda hesitated. It wasn't a flattering picture, Rory had painted of the Weeping Monk.

"Come on," Lance encouraged her. "Just tell me, I can take it."

"He said you slaughtered them, that you were out of your mind and out of anybody's control, quenching your blood thirst…"

Oda's voice wasn't more than a whisper but Lancelot heard her loud and clear. He laughed softly, although he was a bit hurt that she'd obviously believed this gossip.

"That's proof enough that he wasn't there. I didn't slaughter them and I wasn't out of my mind. I almost got killed. I only survived and beat them with Squirrel's help. That's just gossip. Did he mention Percy?"

"No," Oda replied. "He didn't. So he doesn't know what really happened, but he still looked at you as if he knew exactly who you are, Lance."

She sighed again, sadly this time.

"I know it's been almost three weeks since his visit but I can't help the feeling he's plotting something."

"Do you want us to leave?"

"What? No, of course not!"

Lance could tell by the rustling sounds and her blurred shadow that she was sitting up in her bed now.

"I'd totally understand, Oda. As long as we're here, you're in danger, so if you…"

"No!" Oda cut in. "You don't understand, Lance. I'm not worried about myself. I'm worried about you and Percy."

There was a catch in her voice, indicating that she was on the verge of tears. He hesitated for a moment but then he got up, pulling the make-shift curtain aside. Oda looked at him, her eyes wide and swimming. Without thinking about it, he sat down beside her, taking her hand.

"Oda…"

She couldn't help but sob and instinctively he took her in his arms, holding her close to give her comfort. They sat in silence for a while and when her body stopped shaking and her sobbing subsided, Lancelot realized Oda was asleep.

He stroked her hair tenderly and tried to free himself from her embrace without waking her up, but as soon as he moved his body away from hers she whimpered in her sleep, hugging him even tighter. He finally gave up trying, pulled her close and shifted their position until they were lying in Oda's bed side by side, her head resting on his chest, her arm wrapped around his waist, giving him a feeling of warmth that was beyond the physical aspect and a feeling of closeness that was beyond anything he'd ever felt before. When he eventually managed to drift off to sleep he just had one wish - that this night would last forever.

****

When Oda woke up in the morning, she gasped, when she realized that she was lying in Lancelot's arms. She could tell he was still asleep by his soft snoring, but Oda still didn't dare to move, not willing to give up this inappropriate but oh so wonderful position, her head on his strong chest, her body pressed against his, her arm resting on his torso. She inhaled deeply, enjoying his scent, the notes of leather and wood and a hint of earthy sweat. She moved her fingers carefully to caress the fabric of his nightshirt, and the thought that he was naked underneath made her clench her thighs, desperate to stop the throbbing sensation between her legs, that was radiating through her body, giving her chills and hot flushes at the same time. She couldn't help but stare at his crotch, wondering what he looked like down there, what IT looked like. The mere image of his sex appearing in her mind's eye sent shivers down her spine, her skin going all goose-pimply in an instant.

"Are you cold? You're shaking."

Lancelot's dark, sleepy voice startled Oda. She raised her head to look at him.

"A bit," she said, trying to hide the real reason for her trembling, giving him a sheepish smile, he returned.

Lance tugged at her blanket to cover her shoulders.

"Better?" He wanted to know and Oda nodded, averting her eyes, suddenly feeling a little self-conscious.

"I hope you don't mind we spent the night like this," Lancelot added. "You didn't want to let me go. I tried to get back into my own bed, but you clinged to me like a drowning man to a swimming trunk."

He winked at her and although she tried to hide it, he noticed that she was blushing.

"I'm sorry, Lance. It must have been uncomfortable to lie like this all night."

"No, not at all. It was...I...I liked it."

Making a bold move, he touched her cheek gently before tugging a strand of her hair behind her ear. Oda turned to him with a smile.

"I liked it, too", she said softly, holding his gaze, her heart hammering against her ribcage.

A clattering sound, coming from the kitchen, interrupted their little exchange. Oda sat up with a jolt, when she heard Squirrel swear like a trooper downstairs, and Lancelot literally jumped out of bed.

"What the heck are you doing, boy?" he yelled.

"Nothing!" Percy shouted, sounding a little too innocent.

"That's a very loud nothing," Lancelot answered, stripping off his nightshirt to get dressed without thinking of Oda. He froze, when he heard her gasp at the sight of his bare backside and he rushed behind the curtain to put on his clothes.

Oda did the same on her side of the partition, her cheeks burning bright red, the image of Lancelot's naked bottom dancing in front of her eyes. It had been just a short moment, she had just taken a quick glance, but it had been enough to create a memorable impression, that would surely haunt her for the rest of the day and very likely in the night too.

When they came downstairs they found Percy standing by the stove, a large pot in his hands. He grinned at them, scratching his head with a sheepish gesture.

"I wanted to make breakfast, sorry I woke you up, the pot fell down."

Oda gave him a warm smile.

"That's really sweet of you, Squirrel. Why don't we make oatmeal together?"

"And I will milk the cow," Lancelot added.

"Great!"

The boy was all smiles and after lighting the fire he cooked the oatmeal almost without Oda's help, while she set the table. When Lance returned from the stable, they sat down for breakfast and enjoyed their meal in comfortable silence. It didn't last long, though.

Three loud, banging knocks on the door disturbed their peace and before they were even able to react the door flew open and Rory entered the room, followed by Kirkwall's sheriff Ellair MacCaog and one of his men.

"That's him," Rory said to the sheriff, pointing at Lancelot.

"What's going on?" Oda asked, flabbergasted, getting up, approaching the intruders. "What are you doing here, Ellair?"

Lancelot didn't even flinch. He just gave Squirrel, who was squirming in his chair, a soothing smile before he continued eating his oatmeal.

"We are here to arrest your guest, Oda."

"What? Why?"

"He's accused of being a wanted criminal. A highly dangerous assassin called the Weeping Monk," MacCaog explained formally.

"Accused by whom?"

Lancelot got up slowly, staring the Sheriff right in the eyes.

"By me," Rory growled. "I know who you are and I'm willing to testify."

"We've never met before you came here unasked a few weeks ago. You don't know anything," Lance replied cool as a cucumber.

Oda had no idea how he managed to stay so calm, when she was about to panic.

"Listen, Ellair," she pleaded, "this must be a terrible misunderstanding. This is an old friend of mine and his name is Lancelot. He's my guest and so is his boy Percival."

"Maybe he is, maybe he's not, Oda. It's your word against Rory's and it's my duty to inquire into this matter and therefore I'm going to arrest Mr…"

"Du Lac," Lance threw in, his eyes sparkling with a mixture of anger and defiance. "It's Lancelot du Lac."

"Well, well...Mr. du Lac. I arrest you in the name of our king."

Sheriff MacCaog nodded at his deputy who grabbed Lancelot by his arm, dragging him out of the room.

"No!" Oda screamed, feeling desperate and helpless. "You can't do this. Please."

"I'm sorry, Oda, but I have to."

MacCoug gave her a sympathetic smile, and Rory placed his meaty hand on her shoulder.

"It's for the best, Oda. He's a threat to you and to everyone."

"Take your filthy paws off me, you bloody scoundrel," Oda snapped angrily, slapping away his arm. She was crying tears of frustration and fear, her cheeks flushed and wet.

"It's alright, Oda. I will be fine."

Lancelot gave her a soothing smile, reaching out his hand for her. She took it and he pulled her close, freeing himself from the deputy's grip to hug her. Oda wrapped her arms around him, sobbing, her body shaking, unable to utter a single word.

"Don't worry," he whispered softly, "everything will come right in the end."

Oda looked at him with a sad smile and a nod, locking eyes with the man who had become so important to her. The man who made her feel so much. The man who leaned in slowly now. Her eyes grew wide before she closed them expectantly, and the next thing she felt was his lips on hers.

She had fantasized about this moment countless times and none of her fantasies included a life changing situation like this, but it still felt amazing. He kissed her tenderly, almost shy, holding her close in a tight embrace and Oda felt like melting in his arms, her heart racing, her mind going blank for a moment, forgetting about Rory, the Sheriff, the deputy and even Squirrel. She was completely lost in the moment that felt like an eternity, when in fact it was over after just a few seconds.

"Stop this at once," Sheriff MacCoug yelled at them, dragging Lancelot away from her. Lance pressed a last, tender kiss on her forehead before he whispered something in her ear. A single word that made Oda stare at him in confusion but there was no time for further explanations. They disappeared as suddenly as they'd appeared, leaving Oda and Squirrel, who clinged to her like a child to their mother, desperate and confused.

****

"What did he say to you?" Percy asked after they had both calmed down. They were sitting on the bench in front of the house, side by side, recalling the events, discussing the situation.

"What do you mean?"

Oda knew exactly what he was talking about, but she didn't want to bother him with the riddle Lance had posed to her.

"You know what I mean. Lancelot whispered something to you...after your kiss," Squirrel said with a grin. "I knew this was going to happen eventually by the way."

"Oh, shut up," Oda laughed with embarrassment, blushing furiously.

"Was it the first kiss you shared?" Percy kept on teasing her.

"That's really none of your business. It's pretty unseemly to pry like this, you cheeky rascal," Oda scolded him, laughing out loud. "And don't you think we have more important things to talk about?"

"Yes, sorry," Squirrel replied with a remorseful smile. "So what did he say to you?"

Oda sighed, surrendering to his persistence.

"Sword," she said, shrugging. "He just said sword. And I have no idea why. He got rid of his stuff, right?"

"Of his clothes, yes. He burnt them, but he didn't destroy his sword, he just stowed it away."

"I didn't know that."

Oda got up, sudden awakening hitting her.

"He wants me to bring him his sword. He wants to fight them. Where is it, Percy?"

"It's in the trunk by the fireplace."

Oda stormed inside and started to rummage through the chest. She found the sword on the bottom of the trunk, covered by the blankets she stored in it.

"Here it is," she beamed at the boy. "I have to pay him a visit in his cell and find a way to give it to him."

Squirrel cocked his head, looking at her with a frown.

"How's that supposed to work? That sword is huge, how would you hide it?"

"I don't know," she admitted with a helpless shrug.

"I think you got him wrong."

"How so?"

"I don't think he wants you to bring him his weapon. I think he wants you to hide it. From them."

When the scales finally fell from her eyes, Oda pulled him close, kneeling down to hug him. He was right, of course he was.

"You are such a clever little guy," she praised him, "what would I do without you?"

"You're welcome," he replied with a cheeky grin, "love-struck fools like you and Lance need all the help they can get. And now let's work on a battle plan."

****

#weeping monk fanfiction #weeping monk x ofc #the weeping monk #weeping monk #cursed fanfic #cursed netflix #daniel sharman #daniel sharman fanfiction

155 notes · View notes

captainbucky-yt · 1 year

Text

"You're Not What I Was Looking For"

The WeepingMonk x OC (fem)

Chapter 67: the eve of war [x]

Chapter Summary: Ari's army reaches the White Hart fields of Avalon. Lancelot finally makes a bold confession.

Content Warning: threatening language.

Master list: [x]

Taglist: @trenko-heart @nike90 @moonlightaura03 (if you want to be added/removed let me know)

Exert:

Squirrel stood a little distance away, toeing the sandy grout between cobblestones. He raised his tiny chin and worked the courage for what he wanted to say, but the words died on his tongue. His shoulders, too heavy for a child, deflated.

“Try not to die, okay?” Squirrel grumbled.

Lancelot hadn’t expected the most heartfelt of goodbyes— that wasn’t the way that they were with one another. But a part of him had hoped…

Before he could say anything, Squirrel pursed his lips in a thin line and turned on his heels. Leaving Lancelot with the sinking feeling that he had failed the child. If he’d been more— done more for him— then he would deserve the same embrace that Squirrel had thrown Ari within.

He wasn’t the boy’s father. Clearly the boy didn’t want him to be, and that left his chest feeling so empty.

A heavy exhale pushed through his nose. As Squirrel retreated across the courtyard, Lancelot turned back to his horse, but then a little body of someone barrelled into his side.

#weeping monk #the weeping monk #daniel sharman #the weeping monk fanfic #weeping monk fanfic #cursed #cursed netflix #cursed fanfic #the weeping monk x oc #weeping monk x oc #lancelot #lancelot x oc #weeping monk fanfiction #the weeping monk fanfiction #fantasy #romantasy #magic #powers

9 notes · View notes

themuselesswriter · 1 year

Text

The Monk’s Wife - Chapter Four: A Kept Man

Characters: Lancelot Du Lac (The Weeping Monk), Original Characters, Percival (Squirrel)

Summary: Lancelot Spends his first day as a kept man in their household, but naturally, the Monk gets himself into trouble with his wife.

Word count: 1700+

Warnings: There are mentions of self-harm and the causal self-hatred in this chapter, so heads up!

A/N: New Chapter after finally drafting the whole thing 😭

Credits: technopath - polarr filter by demiesgod, photos from Pinterest

———————————Teaser———————————-

Hours had passed, Lancelot busied himself with housework in general, he wanted to prove himself to Tarja, that he could be redeemed, that he could be good, she was the one in charge now, and he was nothing but a mere follower.

He was mid-making dinner for his wife when he scented a presence in the house, he turned the seek the source of it, and a loud squeak came first then a boy tripping in front of him, Percival, who else would it be? “Percival, what brought you here?” The monk asked, the boy frowned “it’s Squirrel and I came here to check on you! I was worried when you didn’t come for breakfast and lunch today!” The boy exclaimed “I’m alright, her Grace had shown me mercy more than I deserve, but she forbade me from leaving the house, or accepting visitors, you shouldn’t be here!” He told him, panicked at the last part.

The boy looked confused, how’s this man the legendary Weeping Monk? The second-best fighter in the realm after the Green Knight, of course “so… is she going to keep you locked in here forever? She can’t do that!” The boy protested but the Monk calmly returned to the task at hand “She can do whatever she wants with me, she’s my wife and in this strange land, women are in charge” he explained, adding some carrots to the gravy “She spared my life and gave me a second chance which I’m planning on using wisely to repent” he added.

The Monk took a spoon of his creation and sipped it, satisfied with how it tasted, he turned and looked at Squirrel “You shouldn’t be here, you should go be with people of your age” squirrel frowned “but I don’t want to leave you alone” he grumbled “I’m accepting my fate, worry not but perhaps you can do me a favour?” The boy eagerly nodded “take care of Goliath for me” he said, the boy frowned, expecting something more dramatic “fine, I’ll take care of your beast”

Hours were spent where Lancelot remained alone, by the time his wife returned, she was lightheaded by ale, she gazed around the clean house and noticed a plate on the table “Monk!” She demanded, Lancelot rushed to her side “welcome back” he said softly, immediately taking the plate and filling it with the cooking of earlier “you’re not eating with me?”, “would you like me to?” She nodded, and he immediately fixed a plate for himself, sitting across from her.

#museless fanfic #renew cursed #netflix cursed #cursed lancelot #cursed netflix #cursed #squirrel #percival #the weeping monk #lancelot du lac #lancelot #original character #ao3 fanfic #fanfictions #Goliath

5 notes · View notes

everlastingdreams · 2 years

Text

Weeping Monk x Reader : The Forbidden Apple Chapter 21

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Story Summary: Father Carden begins to notice how his Weeping Monk starts to question all he was raised to believe in. In an effort to distract him, he has his Red Brothers bring him a 'gift.' The Monk is skeptical when he hears of this, Father never just gave him gifts. But when the Monk enters his tent in the evening he understood what Father had meant by 'gift'. You, a fey girl, were the gift.

Chapter Title: Scars Of The Past

Notes: Feeling a little better. Finally finished my fight with chapter 26 I think.

Warnings: There's a list of warnings for this story: Stockholm syndrome (?), lima syndrom (?). Rape threats, sexual assault, murder and violence. Angst. Sexism. Strong Language. Trauma. Childhood trauma. Survivor's guilt. Mentions of child maltreatment. Mention of menstruation.

Other warnings: ! Smut ! Jealousy. Enemies to lovers (?). Romance. Pining. Thigh grinding.

Word count of this fic: +140K

Chapter: 21 / 27

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The next morning you went to the infirmary to find something for the headache and to see how Arthur was doing.

Arthur seemed to be in a better mood than you despite his injury, half laughing at the state you were in “Wow, you look terrible. What did you do last night ?”

“Thanks.” You deadpanned.

After drinking a vial with some medicine you told him what happened the night before “I forgot to drink water yesterday, drank ale instead.”

Another laugh came from him “I take it that it did not work out well ?”

You stood next to the cot he was on “It didn’t. I ended up fainting. Luckily Gawain was there.”

He sat upright now “Oh, are you alright ? You didn’t fall did you ?”

Your eyes fell on the hand that he placed on your arm “Gawain caught me, I didn’t hurt myself. Speaking off last night, did the Red Spear come to see you ?”

He withdrew his hand “She has.”

You waited for more information but he looked…reluctant “I like her. She’s terrifying, but I like her.”

Arthur smiled coyly “You love danger then ?”

Quick as a whip you turned it around “Do you ?”

That smile grew nervous real quick, perhaps he did not know what he loved yet.

But he was not ready to surrender “I think you do.”

You quirked a brow “Why is that ?”

He said it like it was a fact “You like to be around terrifying people.”

You denied it “There is only Red Spear.”

Then he cheekily added “And Lancelot.”

An actual soft laugh escaped you “He is not terrifying !”

Arthur was ready to prove his point “To you. Because you know him better than anyone else here.”

Was he really fighting you on this ? “Don’t be ridiculous. I am not drawn to danger.”

He patted a hand on the cot “Well, if that is the case, come sit with this non-dangerous heavily wounded man then.”

You didn’t know why you hesitated to sit with a friend, but you did…

Arthur noticed this and sounded rather hurt “You sat with him when he was here…”

There was no judgment in his tone, he was stating only facts.

With a look of guilt you apologized to him “I’m sorry…”

Arthur was sure of the matter now “I was right, wasn’t I ? Something did happen between you and him.”

Slowly you walked over and sat at the foot on the cot “I…” what to say “He might have kissed me once. But it doesn’t matter, he explained that the vow forbade it. And it won’t happen again.”

The sheer surprise on Arthur’s face went unnoticed, you were too busy looking down at your fidgeting hands.

Lancelot had done the right thing by admitting that the kiss should not have happened, it was better considering the circumstances the two of you had been in. The thing that you could not forget was how you had not been upset that your first kiss was ‘stolen’ from you by him…

There was doubt in his voice when he parroted “It won’t happen again ?”

It felt too personal to speak further of this “I respect his choice.”

Arthur could tell that you wanted to end this topic “He saved my life, could’ve left me to die out there, but he didn’t. Complicated man that is, one moment he looks like he wants to hit me, the next he’s helping me.”

That sounded familiar “When I was with him in the paladin camp, it took a while to see the real person behind the Weeping Monk.”

Then he admitted “I trust him. Call me mad, but…I trust him.”

It caused you to smile “You’re not mad. And I’m glad to hear that you two are finally becoming friends.”

He sat upright and reached for your hand, placing his on top “I can see why he is so fond of you. You’re lovely, y/n. A great person to be around. Don’t ever let your parents make you believe that you are anything less but incredible.”

The compliments were followed by him swiftly leaning in, catching you off-guard, and kissing your cheek.

If you hadn’t turned your head to the side, he would have gone ahead and put his lips to yours.

He was quick to understand that you were rejecting him.

An awkward silence fell between you. Arthur was sweet, handsome and always there to help, but something more was missing and kissing him wouldn’t have felt right. And then there was the fact that the captain of the raiders had her sights set on him.

It was not often that using his charms did not work, but he had a vague idea why “Sorry. You did not want me to do that ?”

You felt a bit guilty, had you given the wrong impression ? “I’m sorry too, I just don’t think I feel more than friendship.”

It was not his first rejection and he handled it with grace “At least you’re honest.”

You decided to inform him of the captain’s interest in him, doubting she had been brave enough to do so herself last night “Red Spear fancies you, Arthur.”

He seemed rather surprised “Did she tell you that ?”

Well, Arthur sounded rather interested in the news “Not with many words, but it’s quite obvious. Did she say anything to you about it ?”

He recalled what the Red Spear had told him “She told me that she felt sorry and blamed herself for how I got injured, she sort of said it rather quietly. Also said that she was glad I was alive, said a good swordsman would have gone to waste otherwise.”

That was perhaps the closest thing to a confession of love that the raider’s captain would ever get “We both know that Red Spear is more for action than words.”

The Manblood would have to read between the lines quite a lot if he wished to figure the captain out “That’s true. But…” he gestured between the two of you “Are we…alright ?”

Ah, clearly he was wondering whether you took offense to him pursuing another after almost kissing you “We are.”

Arthur, the charming and flirtatious Manblood, would have quite a challenge if he would indeed pursue the Red Spear.

You got up from the cot “I need to go and find Percival, I promised to give him a drawing of a fox today. Will you be alright ?”

He gestured a little hilariously to himself “I’ll be on my feet again in no time.”

You shook your head, laughing “Alright, I guess you’ll be fine. I’ll see you later.”

He nodded and you left the infirmary to find Percival.

And you did find the spirited boy, he was busy with demanding attention from Lancelot. Pulling out all hidden weapons he could find in the saddle from the Ash Man’s horse.

More than once, Lancelot had to disarm him. It ended with the Ash Man grabbing a dagger from him and holding the boy with an arm around his chest, leaving the child to twist and turn to try and get free. Lancelot only shifted his grasp on the boy each and every time, barely able to contain a loud laugh.

They both looked so happy and playful. The often serious Ash Man had a strong playfulness inside of him, you had experienced this in the forest once when he had indulged you with a game of hide and seek.

That was a nice moment to remember…

“Stop doing that.” A voice came from right next to you.

It made you jump a little and move a step to the side, blurting out “What do you mean ?”

Pym was looking at you with a judging only she could show, she mimicked your voice and parroted “What do you mean ?” then chuckled “Come on, do you think I’m stupid ? I know you’re not staring at nothing.”

You rolled your eyes but felt very caught “Fine, you’re right, I was staring. Can you blame me for looking ? I know that nothing else will ever happen again.”

You had told her about the kiss and how those serving the Church took a vow. It was a one time occurrence. All those touches shared, but there was still a line he would never cross. The desire he had once felt was kept under control. A romantic conjoining was not possible, he had been honest to you about this. And you would not expect him to break his vow, if this was his choice, then you respected it. You had made your peace with it.

The occasional hug and other signs of affection from him were already more than you had ever known.

It was enough, he was enough and you wouldn’t want to miss him for the world.

She then casually mentioned “Hmm. I guess you’re right. I’ve seen others stare at him too.”

It came out sharp “What others ?”

Pym snorted a laugh at the sudden bitterness you spoke with “Gods, y/n. Can you be more obvious ?”

You denied what she was clearly still hinting at “He’s my friend, I’m just worried about him. I don’t want people to bother him.”

She muttered quietly under her breath, yet perfectly loud enough for you to hear “How can they bother him when you are doing it all the time ?”

You scoffed loudly and gave her a light playful push “Are you calling me annoying ?”

Pym put an arm around your shoulder “Nah, but I think you are absolutely mad for staring at a monk.”

You removed her arm from your shoulder “I never tease you for staring at the Green Knight. And you’ve been doing that a lot lately.”

She had never looked so speechless before, her cheeks turning a soft pink color “Have not !”

With a raised brow you looked at a flustered Pym “Shall we talk about something else ?”

She was eager to take that opportunity.

oOoooOOOoooOOoOOoo

After handing an ecstatic Percival the drawing, you went to find Lancelot in the stables, he was busy brushing Goliath’s coat with some straw.

While knocking on the wooden walls, you greeted him “Good morning.”

Glancing over at you, he greeted you too “Good morning. How are you feeling today ?”

It would surprise you if he had not noticed the squinting of your eyes from the headache you had “Better.”

There was doubt written all over his expression and he reached into the saddlebag to take out his flask filled with water, offering it to you “Drink.”

You didn’t even protest, he would wave away any excuses you would give him.

“Thanks.” You took the flask and drank some sips.

Just as you were drinking, he reached higher with the straw to brush Goliath’s back with it.

When he lifted his arm something caught your attention.

You held his arm in your hand, moving his cloak to the side “What happened to your shirt ? I could try to sew it back-”

When he shifted, so did the fabric and revealed the wound that had stopped bleeding only hours ago. The bloodstained piece of cloth wrapped around it now visible to your eyes.

Immediately you wanted to know why he had not spoken off this “You’re wounded ?!? Gods, Lancelot ! Why didn’t you say something ??”

He moved your hands away first, then moved you a step back too “It happened at the Mill. It will heal, I have cleaned it. Do not worry.”

How many times had he been wounded before and never said a thing ?

You could tell that he would brush this off and ignore the injury so he could continue his work with the Green Knight “Come with me to the infirmary. I will see if I can help with that.”

He was used to cuts and bruises, a variety of injuries had caused a variety of scars.

Of course the Ash Man politely declined “You fainted last night, y/n. I will not give you more work.”

It seemed like you needed to be a little more persuasive, taking a step closer, your hand curled around one of his “Let me take a look at your arm, Ash Man.”

You held your intertwined hands close to your body.

That different tone in your voice made it very difficult to decline the offer again.

With a hard swallow and timid nod he accepted the help offered.

He did not say a word while following you to the infirmary, you blamed it on him not being used to accepting help from others.

After entering the infirmary with him, you patted a hand on the cot, signaling for him to sit down.

Used to offering patients help, you treated him no different “Need a hand to undress ?”

He mentally scolded himself for almost lying.

Mildly distracted, he took off his, cloak, aketon and then carefully the linen shirt.

You sat next to him to inspect the damage, the wound had indeed been cleaned well but it would not heal properly without stitches “I need to sew it shut. Otherwise it will hurt for months before it heals.”

Pain was no stranger to him, the prolonged healing process of wounds was often a punishment to himself for even getting injured in battle.

Without meaning to question your healing skills, he did feel the need to inquire “Have you ever done so before ?”

Quietly you muttered “Once or twice.”

Perhaps he should have declined the offer and just let the wound heal on his own. But you had his hand resting on your lap while you were focused on his arm and he considered the pain of having his skin sewed back together a fair trade for it.

With a grin, he decided to jest “As long as my ear is not attached to my arm after this.”

You gave him a playful push “I’ll sew your mouth shut if you’re not careful.”

He quirked a brow “Pardon ?”

He heard but wanted to see if you would dare say it again.

You repeated louder “I said, I’ll sew your mouth shut if I hear you question my skills again.”

A look over his shoulder was aimed at you accompanied with a lopsided grin “Is this how you treated all of your patients ? Threatening them ?”

Your eyes must have sparkled from the fun you were having “No. Just you.”

Still grinning, he questioned it “Just me ?” then clicked his tongue “Is this for laughing at your unfortunate encounter with a spider yesterday ?”

You prepared a needle and thread, then got to work “Quiet. Don’t distract me or that needle could end up doing more damage.”

The jest rolled out of his mouth “You are less frightening with a sword.”

It earned a glare from you “I’m going to pretend you did not just say that.”

Stitching the wound on the back of his arm wasn’t so simple, it ran horizontally over it. Still you did your best and even though you had threatened him with the needle you were very careful not to hurt him.

It also caught your attention that there were no fresh scars on his back.

After finishing closing the wound up, you lightly ran a hand across his back “They are better…”

He quietly said “I stopped.”

With a squeeze to his shoulder you showed your support, this was good news, it meant his mental state was improving.

He must have found another way to process difficult matters.

You got up for a moment and grabbed the bowl with ointment while opening the subject on Father Carden “How are you handling the news of his death ?”

It was not necessary to ask who you had meant “I handled it.”

You doubted that it was as easy as he pretended it to be “You never speak of him anymore.”

He countered it with “You do not speak of your parents either unless I ask about them.”

True, neither of you had fond memories with parental figures in your lives.

He had never thought that he would react so numb to the news that Father had died and yet he had. It was only weeks later that mourning began. Anger, hatred, sadness, guilt… he felt all of it and carried it in silence. No one here would like to hear how he mourned the death of someone who had caused such pain to so many.

But you had been with him during his darkest times, maybe you would listen “I gave my whole life to him, to what he believed in. And I will never see a day where I do not carry the guilt on my shoulders for it.”

You put some ointment on your fingertips and gently smeared it on the wound “And still you mourn him.”

You knew…

He fought back the tremble in his voice and the tears that dared to form “What does that make me ?”

Did he expect that you would call him a monster for this ? “Compassionate.”

Your stomach sank when he leaned forward and buried his face in his hands, he was truly struggling with this.

Unexpectedly, he apologized “I am so sorry, y/n.”

It confused you greatly “You don’t have to apologize, Lancelot.”

He forced himself to breath, to stay in control of his emotions “Father did this to our people. To you and even to me. I should hate him-”

The guilt he felt for mourning Father Carden must have been tearing him apart inside, his own empathy causing him to feel this way.

Without thinking, you carefully wrapped your arms around his arm and leaned close to his ear “I want you to know that mourning someone who you have known all your life is normal. It proves that you have empathy, even if it is for someone like Father Carden. It’s admirable even. Someone has to pray for the wicked, for they can’t do it themselves anymore.”

There was truth in that…

His head tilted a little, just enough to feel your forehead against his temple, eyes held shut until his tears would dry “Will this stay between us ?”

You scrambled some courage together and brushed a hand over the back of his neck to sooth him “I won’t tell anyone. I promise.”

God… your fingers moving over his neck made him want to lean back into them more.

The content hum however was not something he wanted to emit.

At the sound of it you drew back your hand and those Ash Folk eyes locked on yours.

There was an intensity in them now that made your heart want to leap up a hill.

With your gaze dropping to your lap, you informed “I’ll bandage your arm now. I fear your shirt is ruined though…”

Blood on white linen for so long would be near impossible to remove.

That innocent, shy expression and reaction you still had to him…

The atmosphere between you had made a palpable shift again.

In the laden silence you covered his wound by tying a fresh clean piece of linen around it.

He waited patiently until you were finished “Thank you.”

A quiet response “You’re welcome.” before rising to your feet and crossing the room to the chest with spare clothing ‘found’ by the raiders “I think there might be a shirt in here that will fit you.”

You sat down on your knees to search through it and heard the sound of his boots moving over the wooden floor as he neared you.

Just when he stopped beside you, you found a shirt.

He held a hand out to you and you believed it was for the shirt so you handed it to him.

He moved it to his other hand and kept holding out his hand.

Staring up at him, you sheepishly placed your hand in his and let him help you rise to your feet.

He held on to your hand “There is something else I wish to tell you.”

You waited for him to do so when the door flung open.

Pym was helping a raider drag another raider into the room “Ugh, bollocks ! Gavin stepped on his own trap again.”

Both your attention dropped to the raider’s leg.

Why on earth had they not removed the metal device from his foot before bringing him here ??? How was this raider so calm ??

Lancelot put the shirt on, rolled his eyes while grabbing his sword and going over to the raider to open the metal device up.

It only took him a few seconds to set the raider free.

“Ha ! Thank you !” The raider gave him a grateful pat on the shoulder and then proceeded to almost fall over.

You were quick to help the idiot and got him to the cot with both Pym and Lancelot’s help.

“Wanna help with this ?” Pym asked, pointing at the gruesome sight.

With a nod you agreed to help “Of course.”

You did take a moment to say something to Lancelot “Is it alright if we talk later ? I know there was still something you wanted to talk to me about.”

With a nod and tilt of his head he acknowledged it and left the infirmary so you could focus on the injured raider.

oooOoOOoOOOOOoOOoo

Close to evening, there was something that had reached your ears thanks to the Green Knight.

Percival was cleaning out the stables.

Percival…

Cleaning…

It sounded so unlikely that you had to go and see it for yourself.

Upon arriving at the stables, Lancelot stood outside and kept an eye on the working boy.

It looked so unbelievable and once you got the Ash Man’s attention, you gestured at Percival “Lancelot…is he cleaning these stables ?”

He only gave a nod.

Now that he was here, you brought up your earlier conversation “Earlier, in the infirmary, what was it that you wanted to tell me ?”

This was not the time or place…

His sights darted from you, to Percival who had not yet seen that you were there too “I wanted to tell you that…” the pause almost took too long “-that I appreciate how I can confide in you regarding my past.”

It didn’t go unnoticed that he looked quite nervous all of a sudden “Oh. Alright, I see. Never be afraid to speak of what troubles you, I know how difficult it has been for you. If I can carry half or all of your burdens, I would.”

His restless hands were folded behind his back, sight falling on you from the corner of his eyes “The sentiment is mutual.”

You hummed and smiled “Tell me, why is Percival the one cleaning the stables now ?”

Instantly he straightened his back “If he can steal-…” he corrected “If he can ‘borrow’ Goliath without my permission, then he should know how to care for him.”

This had been a punishment for the boy’s ‘crime’ “He took your horse ?”

He had been upset, yet impressed with the boy’s ability to ride Goliath alone “I could not find Goliath or Percival an hour or two ago. I was not surprised when they returned together.”

Soft laughter fell from you “He wants to be just like you.”

There was a slight frown forming “I could not say by how he often speaks to me. Sometimes I believe he considers me a nuisance.”

You felt sympathy for the fragile heart of the Ash Man that the child could apparently trample over “Aw, don’t think that. If he really didn’t like you then he wouldn’t be running after you all the time.”

It slipped from his tongue “Spoken from experience ?”

You side-eyed him “What are you trying to say ?”

He wasn’t backing down from messing with you a little “We run into each other an awful lot.”

You stated the obvious “We sleep in the same building.”

He cocked his head arrogantly “Still.”

While feigning a sweet tone, you jested “What do you want me to tell you, Ash Man ? That I spend my days finding excuses to run into you.”

With a lopsided grin, he acknowledged your sarcasm “So defensive. I never insinuated that I meant you. Perhaps I was speaking of myself.”

It could have meant he was the one finding excuses to speak to you so much, but you had responded like you were the one guilty of it.

Your eyes narrowed at the trap you had stepped into “Admit it, you arrogant twit, you like spending time with me just as much as I like to spend my time with you.”

He only hummed, like it was not the certain fact that it was.

At that moment a mixture of dirty straw and other things landed a few inches from Lancelot’s boots.

Your focus snapped to the young Fey Knight who was innocently shoveling the dirty stable clean.

He looked down at his boots and then back to the boy.

At least it had not been thrown against him, there was progress being made.

After waiting for a scolding to be given to the boy, you realized none would come from Lancelot “You’re so afraid he won’t like you anymore if you scold him for it. Aren’t you ?”

He held his tongue, it wasn’t far from the truth.

You called over to the boy all of a sudden “Percival.”

The boy stopped shoveling and looked back at you “Y/n ?”

Without shame, you told the boy what Lancelot would never tell him “Lancelot fears you might hate him or grow to hate him.”

He could not believe you had just told the boy like this.

The Ash Man opened his mouth but failed to find the words.

Percival looked at the two of you like you had gone mad and dropped the shovel “What ?” the boy approached the Ash Man as if it had been a grave insult “Why would you think that ?!?”

Both of you were taken rather aback by the defensive stance of the boy.

He looked to you for help, before understanding that it would be best to handle this himself.

After a soft nudge from your elbow, he confessed to the waiting boy “You cursed at me when I told you to clean Goliath’s stable.”

There was some frustration from Percival who had always been used to little or no supervision “You wouldn’t let me ride Goliath ! You’re always bossing me around !”

He expected the reply “I only want what is best for you. I do understand that you will not always be happy with the choices I make to ensure a better future for you. I hope, in time, you will forgive me for the flaws in my attempt.”

Percival was calmer, it had sounded like the Ash Man was determined to stick around and help him through life, quietly uttering “I don’t hate you.”

Slowly Lancelot knelt down in front of Percival “I would understand if you did.”

The boy wasn’t having it “I don’t.”

He explained why he disliked how the boy had rode Goliath beyond his knowledge “You are brave, and you are still quite young and growing. I feared you would fall off Goliath and break your neck. I would never forgive myself for not having been there to help.”

Now Percival understood the reason he had been punished and tasked with cleaning the stable, he quietly risked asking “Can I ride Goliath if you’re with me ?”

Lancelot thought for a moment, then answered “Finish cleaning the stable. I will let you ride Goliath but I will hold the reins and walk beside you. Agreed ?”

There was eager nodding from Percival as he agreed to the terms.

He rose from the ground, ushering the boy to complete the task “Go on then. Off you go.”

This time Percival was more enthusiastic to clean the stable.

It was only when he rose to his feet again that he noticed he had knelt down right in the dirt the boy had tossed at his feet minutes ago.

You were quick to notice and failed to stop yourself from laughing at the sight of it.

With a deep disgruntled sigh, he tried to brush off the dirt from his trousers as much as possible.

You reached out and gave his arm a squeeze, rubbing it a little “Well done, Lancelot.”

It was endearing to see him slowly but surely open up to others, especially towards the feisty child.

There was that boyish smile again and seeing it warmed your chest.

Then he slowly and discreetly moved a hand to your own, fingers hooking around yours loosely.

You were the one who went ahead and clasped your hand around his.

A squeeze from him…

A squeeze from you…

He uttered a heartfelt “Thank you.”

How in heaven’s name could it be that the sparkle you had in your eyes now could cause his heart to jump in joy ?

After you nodded, he let go off your hand before it would draw the boy’s attention.

You didn’t even realize you were staring at him for a moment “How is your arm ?”

He clasped his hands behind his back again, it was the only way to keep them still “It burns less.”

It was a relief to hear “That means the ointment is working.”

With a tilt of the head, he silently asked you to step out off the stables with him, of course you followed.

He walked at a slow pace, remaining near the stables “Have you had any more trouble with your parents ?”

It dawned on you that neither your mother or father had hounded you today “No. It’s odd. Maybe they finally listened to Gawain ?”

He kept a neutral expression, only his brow arched slightly “Perhaps. Let us hope. Will you tell me if anything arises again ?”

With a nod and grateful smile, you responded “I will. Thank you, Lancelot.”

Right then, he had to take a step to the side as a woman walked past him.

The brunette with luscious curling locks send him a look that could not be mistaken by anyone, and a smile that could enamor the coldest of hearts.

You didn’t expect or like the strong gnawing feeling it gave to your self-confidence.

Pym had been right about him catching the attention from others…

It distracted you so badly that you hadn’t even heard him speak just now.

He halted “Y/n ?”

It took you a second to realize he must have said or asked something “Oh… I’m sorry. I didn’t hear what you said.”

Mildly concerned, he repeated what had costed him so much courage to say just even once “I am glad you feel better after last night. You look better.”

There was something else he had muttered half under his breath and you couldn’t decipher it “Excuse me ?”

It took so much to say it louder “You look…” he wanted to scold himself for being so cowardice, then finally voiced openly “Stunning.”

Your foot hit an uneven spot of grass and you lost your balance, thankfully he caught your elbow to prevent a fall.

Had he ever even complimented your appearance before ?

He let go when you regained your balance.

You never saw it coming “Stunning ?”

After weeks in Gramaire, you looked healthier and more lively. You smiled more and radiated a social warmth that drew people to you.

Living here made it possible to have proper meals and a chance to rest. All of it benefited to a healthier life.

And yes, it strengthened the beauty that you already had. He had seen it and knew others noticed too.

That raider had been one of the many that were starting to have attention for you.

And the thought that you were catching the eyes of others…

Even now, while walking beside him, he could see them turn their heads to look again.

If he was to tell you of his affection, what better way to start then by making it known that he was not insensitive to your appearance too ?

If he had once been brave enough to tell you he desired you, this should not be much harder.

Desire, lust…it had grown into what he felt now.

With a tilt of the head, he confirmed his words “Being here has done you well. I can see how your health has improved.”

It was understandable, when first meeting him you had been starving and wore torn clothes.

Now you had better access to water, food and a warm place to sleep with an actual bed “You look healthier too. Not as tired. And some color to your cheeks.”

Not pale and so terribly haunted by what had troubled him when he was with Father Carden.

No, he looked good. Stronger, healthier and calmer. And most importantly, happier.

That color on his cheeks intensified when you returned the compliment with a cheeky smirk “Very handsome. As always.”

Beyond his control, his gaze swiftly moved over your form until it locked on your face.

As always ?

Percival ran out off the stables and found the Ash Man outside with you, shouting excitedly “I am finished !”

You gestured to the waiting Percival “I should let you go and keep your promise to the boy. He looks very happy for someone who was just shoveling through dirt for an hour.”

He gave a nod but ended up catching your arm before you could fully walk away.

You looked back at him, saw him hesitate…

His fingers glided down your arm as they released it, leaving you with some advice “Do not forget to drink enough today. Water, not ale.”

You scoffed “Thanks. I will.”

He send a smug smirk as you walked off.

Taglist:

@ourlazydetectivekitten @the-great-adventures-of-me @linkpk88 @mixedchicaq @fxrchxldws @elenaoftheturks @slytherlight @beananacake @captainbucky-yt @crystallizedtime @moonlightaura03 @gracelongstreth @atani-chan296 @angrygardendeer @have-aheart @oh–its-just-me @5am-cigarette @arcanenature @yeboi-0418 @cheezecrisps @thewinterskywalker @notyourwildestdream @coloursforyourportrait @koressecretidentity @nike90 @n1ghtlux @rachlovesactors @luckyzipperscissorsbat @morena-doing-stuff @the-fangirl-diaries @gipsydanger17 @heavenly1927 @phantasmalbeiing @labyrinthonmymind @asarcastic-thiamstan

Please let me know if you want to be added or removed from the taglist of this story.

45 notes · View notes

captainjaspenor · 4 years

Text

Fire in My Bones

So I haven't written anything in YEARS, especially not fanfiction, but what can I say? I've been inspired. Anway, here is my first stab at fanfiction in neary ten years. This will be a multi-chapter fic. Please read and let me know if you'd like to be on the tag list.

Show: Cursed

Pairing: Weeping Monk x Reader

Warnings: Violence

Summary: I tried to write one and honestly I sucked at it, so here is a little excerpt instead.

"From the trees, shrouded in smoke, he emerges. The Weeping Monk. Around you the terrified screams of the Fey and the pained groans of the dying fade away. You forget the acrid smell and taste of the smoke and ash as it burns your throat and lungs. You forget Nimue, who is hiding behind you, clutching at your cloak, shaking like a leaf."

Chapter 1: I Saw A City Burning

You see the smoke and know it has to be coming from your village.

Nimue.

You dig you heels into your horse’s side and take off at a gallop. You hear the screams and the fighting before you reach the town. As you come to a halt at the top of the last hill to look down at your village, you see the small huts the Sky Folk use as homes are ablaze. The Sky Folk are running around in a panic, pursued by figures robed in red. Red paladins. You heart skips a beat in your chest. Part of you wants to flee into the countryside and leave the Sky Folk to their ruin, but you know you can’t leave Nimue and Lenore behind. You dismount give your horse, Xanthos, a reassuring pat. You hate to go on without him, but you know he is safer in the Iron Wood. And a horse would do you no good in this chaos. You unsheathe your sword and check that your dagger is in place in case you need it. You lift the small pendant hanging from the chain around your neck to your lips and kiss it before tucking it safely into your shirt.

You take off in a swift jog toward the center of town. The smell of smoke overwhelms your senses and your eyes begin to water almost immediately. You drop into a crouch next to one of the huts that isn’t entirely engulfed in flames and survey the scene in front of you. Many of the Sky Folk are fleeing for their lives, but some brave souls have turned to face their enemies head on and are engaged in battles that are often to the death. You look around, hoping to spot Nimue or Lenore, but you don’t see anyone you recognize. You send up a small prayer that they’ve already gotten themselves out of the village, but you won’t leave until you’re sure they’re safe. Your best chance at finding them in in their hut, but that means running headlong into the fighting in front of you. You swipe at the sweat gathering at your brow and readjust your grip on your blade.

You sprint toward the next still standing shelter a dozen yards ahead of you. A red paladin falls to the ground in front of you, with a spear sticking out of his thigh. He screams and clutches at his leg, but before he has too much time to feel the pain from the wound, you deliver a quick thrust to his chest. The man tries to let out a startled yell, but only a small cough comes out and droplets of blood splatter on his chin. You shove your foot against him to free your blade. You don’t stick around to watch as the life leaves his eyes.

You try to move quickly, but your path is often cut off by people locked in duels for their lives or panicked animals trying to escape the fire that is spreading around you. You duck as another arrow flies over your head. This one was closer than the rest. Before the archer can take aim again, you run. You’re almost to the hut you’d planned on hiding behind for cover when a red paladin on a horse spots you and changes course toward you. He brings his sword up to strike but you wait until it starts to come down before you roll to the side. His swing goes wide as he races past. He yanks on the reins and turns the horse around to come for another pass, but you’ve already snagged one of your throwing daggers from your boot. It hits him square in the eye and he falls backward off his horse, dead. You keep moving.

Ahead Lenore and Nimue’s hut still stands, one of the few homes that have not yet been set alight. You push your way past the hides that serve as the door and enter the small dwelling. You are both delighted and dismayed to see that neither woman is here. You don’t have much time; this place could go up in smoke at any moment. You cross to the corner where Lenore keeps a chest with the family’s valuables. Inside you grab the coin purse that holds Lenore’s life savings and tucks it into your pocket for safekeeping. You then go to where your own belongings are stored. You dig beneath your flimsy mattress to pull out your own, much lighter coin purse. In the dresser you share with Nimue, you retrieve three more daggers, which you slide into your boots. You take one last look around at the small hut that had served as your home for the last thirteen years and try to commit it to memory.

You step out of the hut but stayed hidden under the slanted roof. It wasn’t much, but even if it only obscures you a little bit, it is better than standing out in the open. At least this way, you know your back is covered. Beneath a hut not far ahead, a familiar figure is hiding in a similar fashion. Nimue!

You can’t believe it. You’d found her! After checking that no red paladins were looking your way, you run to the hut Nimue is crouched beside. “Nimue!”

“(Y/N)! Oh, thank the gods you’re here. I can’t find Mother! And one of the red paladins grabbed Pym!” Nimue pulls you in for a desperate hug.

“I checked the hut. Your mother isn’t there. Do you think she ran?” you ask.

“I don’t know. Maybe. I don’t know.” Nimue is panicking, you can tell, but now isn’t the time.

“Think, Nimue. You know your mother better than anyone. Where would she go?”

“I guess, she… she’d go to the… I-I don’t know,” Nimue says and begins to cry.

“Okay. It’s okay. We’ll find her. And after we find Lenore, we’ll find Pym.” You reassure her. “It’ll be okay, Nimue.” Nimue doesn’t look sure, but she gives you a weak smile anyway and, honestly, you appreciate the effort.

You check around you and see if any red paladins have spotted you. Fortunately, it seems as though no one is the wiser of two Fey girls hiding almost in plain sight. You try to mentally plot out the best place to search for Lenore without being seen…or without being seen by more red paladins than you can take on in a fair fight. You’re only just coming up with a plan when Nimue begins to violently shake your arm.

“What?” Nimue doesn’t answer, only continues to shake your arm. “What, Nimue?” You look at her, concentration broken. You realize Nimue is terrified. You turn on your heels to look where she is staring, and your heart catches in your throat. This is what you had been afraid of before.

From the trees, shrouded in smoke, he emerges. The Weeping Monk. Around you the terrified screams of the Fey and the pained groans of the dying fade away. You forget the acrid smell and taste of the smoke and ash as it burns your throat and lungs. You forget Nimue, who is hiding behind you, clutching at your cloak, shaking like a leaf.

He is dressed from head to toe in black and gray. Even his horse is as black as pitch. Speaking of his horse, it’s the biggest horse you have ever seen, standing at least two hands taller than your own. Reluctantly you draw your eyes away from the mass of black muscle and take in the monk for the first time. He rides slowly. Confidently. As if he doesn’t have a care in the world. As if Fey aren’t being slaughtered all around him.

He dismounts and immediately two red paladins come up to take the reins from him. It takes the both of them to lead the horse away. You watch as the monk walks up to an older man and drops to one knee. You wonder who this older man is to command such respect from someone as dangerous as the monk. The older man greets his younger compatriot by putting a hand on his shoulder. You realize they must know each other well, with the familiarity the two share. The monk rises as the two converse and you become entranced by the interaction in front of you. The spell is broken when you feel Nimue tug at your arm once more.

“(Y/N)! (Y/N)! It’s Squirrel!” Nimue says. You tear your eyes away from the pair in front of you to look over and see the small boy in question wandering aimlessly and dragging a large sword behind him. You realize if he keeps walking this way he’ll be right in the monk’s line of sight. You glance anxiously back at the older paladin and the monk, but they continue to talk, unaware of the young boy headed straight for them.

You have to move. Fast. “Come on.” You grab Nimue’s hand and drag her behind you as you sprint for Squirrel. You pass mere feet from the monk, but the gods must be on your side today, because he doesn’t seem to notice two stray Fey women.

You reach Squirrel and Nimue tells him to follow the two of you as you lead them around an abandoned wagon into one of the last standing structures. “In here,” you tell them.

The three of you duck beneath the safety of the roof. With your back to them, you keep your eyes on the battle going on outside. You know that you are all that stands between them and a red paladin’s blade. You overhear Nimue tell Squirrel to go hide in Old Man Rock in the Iron Wood and you can’t help but smile, despite all that is going on around you. You’d taught her that when you both were children.

The two talk for a moment more before Squirrel darts out from behind and disappears into the trees. You make sure he isn’t followed, but no one sees the small boy and as quick as he is, he’s out of sight in no time. You’re thankful he’s out of harm’s way. One less person to worry about.

“Squirrel says he saw Mother near the temple.” Nimue tells you.

“Then that’s the first place we’ll look.” You say and go to exit the hut.

“No.” Nimue pulls you back down. “I want you to go with Squirrel and make sure he stays safe.

“If you think I’m leaving you behind, Nimue, then you don’t know me very well. There are dozens of red paladins out there and they’ll kill you if they catch you. They don’t care if you’re girl.” You argue.

“I can handle a few red paladins.” Nimue argues.

“You can handle them better with me.”

“(Y/N), I don’t need you to protect me!” Nimue snaps. “Besides, it doesn’t matter what you want. When Mother isn’t here, you take orders from me.”

“It doesn’t work like that when your life is in danger,” you retort.

Nimue sighs. “Then I’m not ordering you. I’m asking you, as my friend. Please, keep Squirrel safe. He’s like family to me. Please,” Nimue asks.

You clench your teeth and let out a growl of frustration, but give her a curt nod. “I will protect him with my life.”

“Thank you.”

You stand and pull Nimue over to the edge of the hut. You point out a nearly hidden path in the brush a few yards away. “The quickest way to the temple is down that path. It’s not used anymore, so you shouldn’t run to anyone.” You bend down, pull a dagger from your boot, and offer it to her. “For protection.”

Nimue smiles and takes the dagger from your hand. “Go,” she says.

You spare one last glace at the ruined village behind you before turning and sprinting off into the woods after Squirrel.

_____

And that’s a wrap on Chapter 1! The title of the fic and the title of the chapter are lyrics from songs. Let me know if you figure out which song the chapter title is from!

In the next chapter, the Reader will meet the Monk for the first time, and let’s just say, sparks will fly.

Thanks again for reading, and let me know what you think!

#weeping monk x reader #weeping monk #daniel sharman #cursed netflix #cursed #lancelot x reader #lancelot cursed #weeping monk fanfic #weeping monk fanfiction #nimue x reader friendship #fire in my bones

143 notes · View notes

allgirlsareprincesses · 2 years

Text

A Song of Ash and Sky - A Cursed Fanfic

Chapter 20 - A Love in Ashes

Nimue learns that the situation for the Fey is more dire than ever. Morgana tells the full story of her time as the Widow. And Nimue makes a fateful decision that may save the Fey, but put happiness forever out of her reach.

She turned to face the hearth, then knelt. Confused, Nimue craned her neck to see the black-clad figure digging into the ashes at the edge of the fire, barely missing the embers that smoldered there. Rising back to her full height with a fistful of soot, Morgana murmured a few unfamiliar words, then scattered the ashes into the air in a sweeping arc.

The fire vanished and the room was plunged into darkness.

~~~~~~

Sorry for the lack of smut but I do hope you enjoy the angsty set-up for some sexy conflict next chapter! Already working on it!

12 notes · View notes

maaaddiexo · 4 years

Text

The Lost Village (The Weeping Monk)

Mainlist | Serieslist

Warnings: none

part 4/4 (4 for now; maybe more after second season release)

It felt like hours for the group of three as they waited for the tattooed woman’s answer. She stared at all of them individually, sizing them up. Assessing them. Oddly enough, she stared at Y/N the longest.

“Fine. Blye! Get some blindfolds.”

The man who’d complained stepped forward with multiple strips of cloth in his hand. He wore a smug, sinister smile on his face.

“Not happening,” Y/N insisted. “Blindfolded or not, we’ll be able to track where you take us from where we are.”

“And what’s gonna stop us from blindfolding you?” Blye sneered. “You’re outnumbered.”

“And you’re outpowered.” Y/N lifted her hand, stared at Blye, and as she drew a circle in the air, she said, “Ignis.” A circle of fire immediately appeared around Blye and he screeched. He froze in his place and stared at Y/N. “Yes, I’m a witch. No, I don’t want to hurt you nor do I plan on it. I made a promise I wouldn’t hurt you and I don’t want to break it. But the only reason we came to you was because I saw your village in visions. We need help and we would like you to trust us just as we are trusting you not to take us into a trap.”

Alba lifted her head and contemplated again. “Alright. No blindfolds.”

Y/N lowered her hand and the fire around Blye disappeared. “Thank you.”

“But we still have no reason to trust each other. How do we know you guys won’t hurt us?”

“How about a blood pact?” The Monk suggested quietly. He cleared his throat when Y/N stared at him with a raised eyebrow. “Father Carden gave me full access to the reliquary to learn about the Fey. I read all of the books they had. I remember reading a spell book about types of magic. It mentioned a blood pact.”

“Those were my books he gave you.”

Alba looked at Y/N expectantly. “Can you do it.”

Y/N sighed, “I know which spell he’s talking about. I’ve never had any reason to do it before but I can try.”

“Do it.”

The Monk handed Y/N a small knife which she cut her palm with. Alba copied her with her own blade. Blood pooled in both of their hands. Y/N reached forward and clasped Alba’s hand in her own, as if they were going to shake hands. Y/N felt the familiar tingle and watched as a white glow began to emanate from between their palms.

“Alliges duplicia sanguine.” She retracted her hand and saw that her hand was still bleeding. She fisted her hand, saw it glow again, and when she opened her hand, the wound was healed completely.

“How do we know it worked?” Blye asked. Y/N tooked back the blade the Monk had given her and used the tip to prick the pad of her right thumb.

“Shit,” Alba cursed and there, on the pad of her right thumb, was a spot of blood.

“Whatever happens to me, happens to you, and vice versa. I’ll undo it when we leave.”

“Then let’s get this over with,” Alba grumbled. She turned around and walked away from them. “Come on, now.”

The Monk was helped back onto their horse and they were led through the forest, the fireflies still buzzing overhead. Y/N didn’t even know they’d arrived at the Lost Village until Alba said so. The village was so well disguised. The village was not on ground level. A few of the Lost Villagers climbed up the trees and disappeared into the night, but most disappeared between two large boulders covered in moss.

“You live underground.”

Alba nodded as they descended the makeshift set of stairs down into the ground. “Despite being smaller than most Fey villages, our tunnels are extensive. If the Red Paladins ever found our village, they’d never be able to follow us through the tunnels. Only the Scouts are above ground during the day. Even though the Red Paladins don’t come out here, we believe it’s safer to sleep during the day and work during the night.”

“It’s really smart,” the Monk praised. “The dirt makes it harder to smell you out when you’re underground.”

Underneath the ground, the tunnels were high enough where none of them had to crouch. Every few feet, alcoves had been carved to hold torches. Alba informed them that most of the villagers were in what they called the Hive, but they still passed a few people in the tunnels.

“Not all of them are Fey,” the Monk noted.

“Yes, a few are human. Some were kicked out because they were born with the mark of the devil or dark gods while others chose to leave because they sided with the Fey.”

The single tunnel branched out into a web of tunnels and Alba took a hard left. Having had to leave the horse above ground, Y/N and the Monk were a little way behind the group, but Alba walked slowly enough for them to keep sight of her. She stopped and pointed to a long room on the right of the tunnel hallway.

“This is the infirmary. Mary is the nurse working at the moment. Find an empty cot and she’ll come find you in a moment.”

There was an empty cot not too far from the entrance and the Monk collapsed in it. Immediately, Squirrel and Y/n began removing his weapons and cloak. His clothes were stuck to his body with dried blood, and when she pulled his hood back, she saw that the right side of his hair was matted with blood too.

“How do I look?” the Monk asked in a teasing tone.

“Like shit,” Squirrel replied honestly. He didn’t even miss a beat. Y/N laughed loudly and pushed the Monk’s hair out of his face. Beside the bed was a bowl of water and a dry cloth. She wet the cloth before dabbing at his head wound. Squirrel undid the tie at the top of the Monk’s shirt but then shrugged and cut his shirt up to take it off.

“Damn, I liked that shirt.”

“You also once liked the idea of burning a cross into your head. Soon enough, you’ll renege on your appreciation for it.”

“Was that an insult?”

Y/N only smiled. “How’s your side?”

“Something tells me it ain’t pretty.” The voice was new, and in the entrance, a short round lady stood smiling. Her long, braided hair had been pulled up into a tight bun and there was blood on the white apron tied around her neck and waist. “I’m Mary. I’m a healer.”

“I’m not a healer, but I can heal him,” Y/N said. “I just need to make the poultice.”

“You need to rest first,” the lady argued politely. “You’re welcome to sleep on the empty cots, and I’ll take care of him until morning.”

Y/N didn’t feel comfortable leaving the Monk in the hands of strangers – even though it was her idea to come to them – but the Monk’s hand on hers and his weak but sure nod were enough to push Y/N to her feet and over to the empty cot beside his. She was asleep before her head hit the pillow.

***

Y/N had no idea what time it was or how long she’d been asleep when she finally woke up. Squirrel was still asleep in the cot across from hers. Sluggishly, Y/N turned to see the Monk sitting up in bed, picking at a stark white bandage on his wrist.

“Don’t pick at it.”

The Monk dropped his hand and smiled at her. “Mornin’.”

“How long was I asleep?” Y/N rubbed her eyes and sat up.

“A day, I think. I slept for a little bit but the medication Mary gave me wasn’t very strong.”

“Here. Let me help.” Her bag was tucked underneath her cot and on the floor between their cots, she mixed an elixir in her pestle and mortar. She held the Monk’s head as she brought the mortar to his chapped lips. “This will help with the pain. I can apply a paste that will speed up the healing, but I’m not a good enough witch to fully heal them. Sorry.”

“It’s okay, Y/N.”

It didn’t feel okay to Y/N. Silently, she washed the mortar in a bowl of clean water and sorted through her bag for the proper ingredients. Together, they were ground into powder and then a paste when she added honey.

“A binding agent,” the Monk concluded. Y/N could see the pride in his eyes as she unwound the dressing around his wrist. The wound had been cleaned and wasn’t bleeding. With a clean hand, she applied the paste to the cut and then redressed the wound. After she was done applying the paste to his other wounds, she asked,

“You think you can walk?” The Monk nodded and after Y/N helped him up, she went to wake Squirrel, not wanting to leave him behind. “Come on. Let’s explore.”

With the medication and Y/N and Mary’s healing work, the Monk could already put a little more weight on his bad leg, but still clung to Y/N. They turned down a tunnel and felt a flitting breeze. In that short moment, he got a whiff of Y/N and thought she smelt nice.

“Do you hear that?” Squirrel asked, stopping in the tunnel. “Listen.”

Echoing through the tunnel from somewhere a head of them, they heard what sounded like a drum.

“Is that…music?”

“I haven’t heard music in years,” the Monk said longingly.

“Let’s go!” Squirrel exclaimed and ran ahead, following the beat of the drum. The soon found a set of stairs that brought them above ground. Immediately, they knew they were in the Hive. Above them, tree branches had woven to create a full-proof roof, but light still managed to filter in. Around them, people danced and laughed. What they thought was a drumbeat was actually the sound of people stomping their feet.

Alba walked up to them with a wooden cup in her hand. “Glad to see you on your feet again. You’re looking much better,” she said to the Monk.

“Mary was very kind. Thank you for letting us stay.”

“It won’t be forever,” Alba warned. “I won’t put my people in danger.”

“We understand. Still, thank you for offering what you have. It means a lot.”

Alba nodded and turned to walk away, “Enjoy the party.”

Squirrel had gone off to dance and Y/N helped the Monk to an empty spot on a bench. They sat and watched the people dance for a while, and at some point had accepted fruit that had been offered to them.

“The Red Paladins never had events like this,” the Monk said randomly. “I don’t think I’ve even seen the humans this happy during jousting events and such.”

“It’s quite beautiful, isn’t it?” Y/N said and rested her chin on her palm. She watched the different Fey and marked humans dance together in perfect unison and smiled at how quickly they had accepted Squirrel. “I’ve never seen anything like it either.”

“If I wasn’t so injured, I would ask you to dance.” Y/N blushed and admitted she didn’t know how to dance. “Maybe one day I could teach you.”

The girl smiled brightly. “I would like that.”

The Monk stuck out his hand and slipped hers into his to shake and confirm the deal. But it wasn’t a confirmation handshake.

“Hello, I’m Lancelot.”

#cursed #camelot #the weeping monk #the weeping monk x reader #the weeping monk x fem!reader #the weeping monk x y/n #the weeping monk imagine #the weeping monk series #the weeping monk fanfiction #camelot fanfiction #fey #romance #love #magic #adventure #fantasy

291 notes · View notes