#weepingmonk/you

[everlastingdreams]

The Weeping Monk x Fem!Reader : Forged Of Fire : Chapter 2

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Story Summary: Raised under the tiranny of your own family, and forced to steal to earn your keep, you struggle to survive. Born from a Fey mother, and a Manblood father who wanted only sons, you are forced to hide your Fey side. When you are ordered to steal from Father Carden by your half-brother, Cassian, your life spirals out of control and you find yourself at the mercy of the Weeping Monk. The life you knew changes drastically when Cassian betrays you in the cruelest of ways. A trade is made, a promise is broken, and a debt must be paid.

Chapter Title: The Betrayal

Notes: /

Warnings: Angst. Hurt. Trauma bonding. Intrafamily violence. Depression. Self-harm. Suicidal thoughts. Violence. Torture. Gore. Pining. Trauma. Self-Flagellation. Manipulation. Strong Language. Blood. Misogyny. PTSD. Spicy and smut parts. Slight redemption arc. Lima/Stockholm syndrom-ish. Childhood trauma.

Other warnings: Jealousy. Forbidden Love. Romance. Slow-burn Found Familly-ish. Comfort. Fluff. !SMUT and SPICE!

Word count of this fic: +250K

Chapter:  2/47

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Ava had returned with the wagon. Cassian briefly told the others what was going to happen. No one sat down in the presence of the Monk. The tension hanged in the air, and when the Monk began to wake you warned Cassian of it.

“He’s bound to a tree. What harm can he do?” he dismissed your warning and fear, making a mockery of it.

You hadn’t stopped staring at the Monk, at his markings that betrayed his secret. The others seemed to be unaware, or maybe they did not even care.

“Wake up, mutt.” Cassian nudged his head roughly. “Not so frightening now, eh?” he mocked him.

The Monk’s eyes opened and fixed on Cassian right away, then slowly he took in the situation he found himself in. Your blood ran ice cold at witnessing it, as if your body tried to warn you of the danger present. The Monk was far too calm to your liking, he looked even bored by the whole ordeal, as if it was an ordinary night for him.

Cassian walked to the black stallion and led it closer by the reins. “Looks like a strong animal. I wonder how long it would last if I cut off one of it’s legs.”

There was a slight change in the Monk’s eyes, they were sharper and focused on him.

The threat shocked you, “Cassian!”

The fury burned in Cassian’s eyes when he looked your way.

“We can use a horse.” you quickly blurted out to avoid his rage.

He held the reins out in your direction a little aggressively and you tried to keep a distance while fishing them out of his hands. Never would you admit it out loud that you might fear your own brother more than the Weeping Monk.

You led the horse away from Cassian and tied the reins to a tree, as you were petting the horse’s neck soothingly you became aware of the Monk’s eyes on you. It wasn’t hard to guess that the Monk was attached to the stallion.

Cassian continued to mock his captive, “Maybe I should cut your leg off and see how you’d fare.”

The Monk stayed eerily quiet, doing nothing more than study every single person present. Cassian pulled out his knife, dangling it in front of the Monk, then threatened to pierce it through his boot. The Monk didn’t even flinch, his icy stare far more intimidating than that simple knife. It bothered Cassian that his actions went without response, it was why he decided to punch the Monk in the jaw, who took it without a sound. Ava chuckled amused, part of her must have loved that twisted personality Cassian had.

“You’re a quiet one.” Cassian laughed and hit him again.

You hated to see the joy on his face when he was injuring someone who couldn’t defend themselves, just as you hated to see that same joy when he’d often hurt you. It felt so, so wrong.

“Stop it.” you said, all eyes turned to you. “It’s cowardly to attack someone who is bound.”

Your whole body tensed right after realizing what you had done.

Cassian scoffed insulted, “Are you calling me a coward?”

He stepped away from the Monk and stopped right in front of you. The backhanded slap you received was no surprise, but it didn’t hurt any less because of it.

Cassian sneered the words at you. “The only coward here is you. That bastard would kill you first of all, you can’t even defend yourself. That’s why you’re here aren’t you? Too weak and scared to survive on your own.”

Ava cruelly chuckled. Your eyes fell to the grass. Cassian looked so pleased to see you upset.

“Enough, Cassian. We need to focus on our plan.” Bertram was trying to draw the attention away from you.

Cassian looked at you like you were nothing more than the dirt beneath his boots, then walked away. “Just because you keep defending her, doesn’t mean she’ll pull you into the bushes with her.”

It was mortifying to hear the insinuation and the laughter that followed from Cassian and Ava. Bertram on the other hand looked away from everyone.

Cassian beckoned for Bertram. “Let’s get him on the wagon.”

You stayed with the horse, the only company you felt comfortable with in that moment. They got him loose from the tree but kept his wrists bound together in front of him whilst they moved him to the wagon. Ava kept her distance, she had bound a rag around her arm to cover the wound there.

Cassian held his sword ready but looked your way just for one blink and chaos erupted instantly. The Monk took the moment of distraction to cut loose the ropes on his wrists by moving them across the blade of the sword, he kicked Cassian to the ground immediately after. Ava was running towards Cassian to help, but you ran to Bertram when you saw the Monk turn on him next. He had already managed to disarm and steal Bertram’s sword, the poor Sky Folk barely stood a chance against him. It was reckless, but you had to try and help. You ran up to them and grabbed the cloak of the Monk, giving it a strong pull so Bertram could get to a safer distance. What you didn’t anticipate was that the Monk would switch targets so fast. You barely registered the hand wrapping around your lower arm, nor how the Monk had turned and caught you in his grasp. The fight fell to a sudden stop when the sword was against your throat, the Monk was holding you against his chest like a shield.

For the first time, the Monk let his voice be heard, “Stand down.”

He caught a whift of your scent by standing so close, there was an oddity in it that he could not place.

Cassian cursed under his breath, as did Bertram. The group kept their distance.

Next, the Monk demanded, “My swords.”

None of them moved to fetch the swords they had put on the wagon, they weren’t willing to offer him any more weapons than he already had. The Monk moved just a little and a whimper escaped you.

“Shhh…” he hushed. “Quiet.”

“Let her go.” Bertram said, eyes going back and forth between you and the Monk. “Just let her go.”

The Monk held on. “What is her life worth to you?”

“What?” Cassian asked incredulous.

“Is it worth yours?” The Monk tilted his chin in their direction. No answer came and he pushed them for one, “She risks her life to protect you, and you will not even consider doing the same for her?”

Ava kept quiet, gulping down the undeniable fear she felt. For a second, Bertram looked at you apologetic and your stomach turned.

“You can try to run. Or you can die with her. What will it be?” The Monk watched the group, waiting for their decision.

You saw all of them looking at each other and then they began to retreat. Slow at first, but then they ran. Bertram, the only friend you thought you had, abandoned you… leaving you to die at the hands of the Weeping Monk. Inside you were crumbling apart, broken by the betrayal, by how truly easy it was for them to give up on you. You were blinking fast, fighting the tears from showing. The group was gone, they had fled into the darkness of the forest, abandoning you in the grasp of the monster. The Monk stood still for a moment longer, undoubtedly noticing the response you had to the group forsaking you. Then he slowly walked with you to his horse where he retrieved a rope and used it to bind your wrists together in front of you. After taking another rope, he led you to a tree and forced you to sit down against it, he bound you to it.

You barely dared to stare up at him, and even when you did you only saw how his face was cloaked in the shadow of his hood. It reminded you of how some would describe a creature who came to collect the souls of the deceased. The Monk picked up his swords from the wagon, sheathed the shorter one but keeping the longsword in hand. He inspected the ropes binding you one more time before walking away, leaving you there at the mercy of the forest and possibly even wolves.

“No! Please, let me go!” You panicked when you saw him walk off.

He ignored the plea and soon he was out of sight and into the darkness of the forest. Fear engulfed your being. How long before you would starve, or perish from thirst? Or perhaps a wolf would find itself a tasty meal tied to a tree…

“You bastard!” your scream followed in his tracks.

But the Monk did not return.

    ~~~♤~~~♤~~~◇~~~♤~~~♤~~~

  Hours must have passed, it was dawn when you opened your eyes after having fallen asleep waiting for help that never came. You were still tied to the tree, but no longer alone. A frightened gasp escaped you when you saw the Monk stand near his horse, his back was turned to you, he was cleaning blood off of his sword with a rag he then discarded. Your eyes quickly scanned your body for signs of injuries but found nothing. But then where had that blood came from? He noticed that you were awake and walked over to you, sheathing the sword before stopping a few paces away.

“You are not Fey.” he stated.

Your eyes forced themselves away before they could betray the truth, your body shaking violently in fear of what he would do. You were defenseless like this, he could do anything he wished and you feared the worst.

The Monk spoke in a calm and even civil manner, “I found the Sky Folks. They have been cleansed.”

Ava and Bertram were dead? Your eyes fell on the bloodied rag.

“The man, Cassian, do you know where I will find him?” he asked.

You were quick to shake your head and kept your eyes fixed on the grass.

The Monk was determined to find the one who had acted so distasteful towards him. “I will find him.”

Could he sense that you were lying? You hoped he couldn’t. He came closer and stood near your boots quietly for a while, you worried he was trying to determine whether or not to kill you.

“You stole from us.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Are you?” He arched a brow, questioning your sincerity.

You nodded shallowly. “Are you going to kill me?”

The Monk was quiet for the longest time, then he reached down and from reflex you flinched. Always prepared for a hand to strike. He was only inspecting to see if the ropes were still fixed.

He stated the facts. “The ring. I know you have it, Father told me he saw you take it. Where is it?”

“In my pocket.” you quietly said.

Right away he inspected your jacket for it. Well… it wasn’t in those pockets…

“Uhm…” You were wincing at the uncomfortable situation you were in.

He looked at your face expectantly.

It came out very quiet. “The pocket of my trousers.”

His hands were off of you instantly, he swallowed and was clearly trying to think of what he would do. You didn’t think he would look as uncomfortable as you were. A deep breath. “Which pocket?”

By nodding to your right, you gave him the answer.

He brushed his hand over his chin, then slowly reached over to try and search for the ring. But the moment you flinched again, he halted. “If you cooperate, I will show you mercy.”

To show that he meant it, the Monk loosened the ropes, freeing you. He must have been confident that you wouldn’t try to attack him, and you knew better than to try. You didn’t even dare to get up from the ground, it felt like your back was stuck to the tree.

“The ring. Hand it over.” He beckoned for it.

With trembling hands you fished it out of your pocket and held it out for him to take.

The Monk took notice of how you were avoiding eye contact and took the ring from your hand. He looked at it whilst interrogating you. “Why did you steal it?”

Because if you didn’t, Cassian or Aldith would either starve or beat you into submission again… Your silence persisted.

“Answer my questions.” his tone was firm.

“To earn a meal.” you hated to say it out loud.

“Poverty?” he asked.

Your father wasn’t poor at all… Yet you nodded, letting him believe his guess was right.

The Monk questioned you further. “Tell me what you know about the man you were with.”

“He was Sky Folk, the woman was his sister.” you said.

He must have known that you were being purposely avoidant. “Not him. The one who struck you. Cassian.”

Your brain tried to think of plausible lies quickly. Because you couldn’t tell him the truth and expect him to let you go after that. No, he would use you to lead him right to Cassian, to your home and neither Aldith or Cassian would be forgiving. “I only know his name and that he is a sellsword. I encountered him with the Sky Folks.”

The Monk was thinking up theories. “Did he force you to steal from our camp?”

You did not appear to be the sort of person who would be willing to take such risks voluntarily. There was not even a weapon on you.

You didn’t know how to answer. He was clearly waiting for one.

“Well?”

“Yes.”

“You fear him.” It was a statement, he sounded so certain of it.

Not a sound came out of you. As if part of you feared Cassian was still around, watching this and waiting to see if you’d betray him.

He knelt down to your level, holding the ring up for you to see. “Stealing is a mortal sin.”

“I’m sorry.” The constant urge to apologize to avoid the violence was ever present.

The Monk dropped the ring into the grass and rose from the ground again, he walked towards his horse. You were still sitting against the tree and he stopped to look at you.

“Go.” he told.

“I’m free?” You couldn’t really believe it.

“Consider this clemency.” He paused. “I will not offer it a second time should we cross paths in a manner such as this again.”

You were starring openly at him now.

“Understood?”

“Yes…”

The Monk mounted his horse and you scrambled to your feet. For just a moment his horse seemed reluctant to follow his command, the animal was looking at you. He spoke to the stallion, drawing the horse’s attention back to him, “Goliath.”

Finally, the horse listened and the Monk slowly rode away. You were still in disbelief about it all when the sunlight reflected on the rubies of the ring he had left behind in the grass. You picked the ring up and were left to wonder why the Monk would even let you keep it. Was it because you had prevented Cassian from cutting a leg off of the horse?Regardless, if he had known of the Feyblood in your veins, he would not have shown you mercy. It took you a moment before you went and climbed into the wagon, maybe you should have waited to see if Cassian would return for it, but he hadn’t bothered to return for you either so you rode back to Ravenwick alone.

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 @rainyv-skies     @stclairesplace   @​​katjusja @isla-bell-blog   @beebeerockknot   @sahvlren @lancedoncrimsonwings @weird123abc @elizabeth-holland24 @kissingandromeda

Please let me know if you want to be added or removed from the taglist of this story. Using this old list from the previous fic.

[lihamsworld]

Okay, so remember when I said I’m writing another part for “I Wish I could Live More than One Lifetime”? yeah, I actually have planed out the whole plot, how the reader came to be, the twists and turns, how many chapters I think it should have, everything! I even wrote every chapter’s title so I won’t forget what would happen within that chapter, I had it all planed out, I’m polishing chapter 1 and 2 and then gone. I accidentally dropped my phone to water and it broke, lost all the data I have, I don’t have backups. It never occurred to me that such accident would happen to me considering how I take good care of it. But anyways, I’m rewriting it, I’m also changing some things for the plot which I think would be better than the initial plot, but I wouldn’t stray far away from it. I promise! 

I also need to re-watch “Cursed” so I could give justice to the characters when I wrote them because right now? I can’t differentiate Geralt of Rivia from The Weeping Monk, I’m sorry 😭.

[captainbucky-yt]

"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.

[astrangeweirdsblog]

//read the caption// It's easy to let go, if you have made up your mind. But its never easy to go on even if you are ready. It takes everything in you to hold on to that single spark of hope. You will never lose anything if you die other than your future. But you will lose many if you fail to actually 'live', not exist but 'live'. That's the difference. Making each day special, fighting hard to achieve something, to smile or make someone smile, to not disappoint the ones who always believed in you, to find answers to all your questions, to find your soul, to make others look up to you... It's hard... You will have to fight each day. But trust me, it's worth it. Anything is worth a lifetime than choosing to lose before you even start fighting.. For god's sake, we are not fans of Justice league, Avengers, X men and all those superheroes because they won't go down without a putting up a good fight. Be the superhero of your life rather than being a coward. Quote from Netflix original series @cursed #cursednetflix #merlincursed #fightforlifeandlive #superhero #beyourhero #cursedimage #netflix #netflixseries #fictionseries #lifestyle #courage #imagination #liveordie #netflixoriginal #danielsharmanedit #danielsharman #merlinthemagician #kingarthur #weepingmonk #percival #thewidow #livingisfocusingeveryday #livingisbeautiful #livingisbetterthanexisting https://www.instagram.com/p/CDawA7OpGj5/?igshid=11aurnzpcuqg3

[overseergirl]

All my life...All I ever wanted was you lot to care about me #danielsharman #imedici #teenwolf #TheOriginals#medicimastersofflorence #mediciseries #medicithemagnificent #medicithebeautyandthepower #weepingmonk #teenwolf #teenwolfcast #kolmikaelson #theoriginals #digitalart #illustration #vector #overseergirl #osg @danielsharman @cursed @netflix @danielsharman.fan @daniel._.sharman @danielsharmanitalianfan @dsharmanews @sharmanpics @archivesharman @wacom https://www.instagram.com/p/CGwiLdkDyw5/?igshid=pp3h9tf4xcu9

[everlastingdreams]

The Weeping Monk x Fem!Reader : Forged Of Fire : Chapter 1

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

Story Summary: Raised under the tiranny of your own family, and forced to steal to earn your keep, you struggle to survive. Born from a Fey mother, and a Manblood father who wanted only sons, you are forced to hide your Fey side. When you are ordered to steal from Father Carden by your half-brother, Cassian, your life spirals out of control and you find yourself at the mercy of the Weeping Monk. The life you knew changes drastically when Cassian betrays you in the cruelest of ways. A trade is made, a promise is broken, and a debt must be paid.

Chapter Title: The Group

Notes: Finally it's here! Tumblr is messing up the way the text is posted so yeah… sorry about that. I write on Reedsy but copying it here always makes it look a little wonky. There will be some tags added on later chapters, this to avoid big spoilers.

Warnings: Angst. Hurt. Trauma bonding. Intrafamily violence. Depression. Self-harm. Suicidal thoughts. Violence. Torture. Gore. Pining. Trauma. Self-Flagellation. Manipulation. Strong Language. Blood. Misogyny. PTSD. Spicy and smut parts. Slight redemption arc. Lima/Stockholm syndrom-ish. Childhood trauma.

Other warnings: Jealousy. Forbidden Love. Romance. Slow-burn Found Familly-ish. Comfort. Fluff. !SMUT and SPICE!

Word count of this fic: +250K

Chapter:  1/47

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The sun had only just risen in the sky when your half-brother, Cassian, slammed his fist against your bedchamber’s door.

His voice thundered through the wood, “Get up! Father wants to see us!”

You had jerked awake violently, hating that tone that he used far too often.

He hammered on your door again. “Did you hear me?! Get up!”

“Yes-,” You swallowed down your awakened fear to say it louder, “Yes! Coming!”

He walked away from your door, leaving you to get dressed in a haste. As always. Rest was not something that was really granted to you and Cassian enjoyed to take away what little joy’s you had in life. Needless to say, there weren’t any actually left. Your father had been married twice, his first marriage ended when Cassian’s mother died young. His second ended when your mother died after childbirth. Cassian was just two years old when you were born. Your father, Lord Aldith of Ravenwick, blamed you for the death of your mother ever since, so much so that he had refused to even tell you her name no matter how many times you had asked. And had he known that you were born with the same Feyblood as your mother after all, instead of Manblood like him, you doubted he would have bothered to keep you alive for as long as you had. He detested the Fey and you had no doubt that he made your mother hide what she was once he had her fully in his control. You had never told a soul of what you were, the only luck you had was that your markings were not visible to the eye. For a while you had believed to be normal, until you were five, then your whole world changed. It also took some time to fully understand what you were, had you not seen a description that matched you perfectly in a book once you would have never known. Secrets and lies, all of it needed to keep yourself alive, to keep yourself safe from your own family… And even then they still treated you ill.

You pulled your shirt on, wincing at the dull pain from the bruise on your arm. Closing up your bodice hurt your still healing wrist. It were common discomforts you had learned to live with. Once you had tried to run away, just once, and Aldith had send his mercenaries to find you. They had dragged you back to the village, into your home, and tossed you at your father’s feet. He didn’t need them to enact the punishment for your actions, he did that all by himself. The bruises had taken weeks to heal, and ever since that day loud noises and shouts tended to make you flinch.

You rushed to the great chamber of the large manor, the place where the Lord of the village always expected to see you when called upon. After taking a deep breath, you entered the room. Cassian was already waiting impatiently for your attendance, as was Aldith.

“What took you so long to arrive here?” Aldith asked annoyed.

Your head tilted down, eyes fixed on the floor, “I was getting dressed, father.”

There was a scoff, but thankfully he seemed to accept the excuse this time. He pointed to a place on the map that was splayed out on the table. “I am sending the both of you on another errand. The paladins have set up camp not far from here and if the rumors I’ve heard are true then there will be gold present in those tents. Go there, take what you can without being noticed. Ava and Bertram will join you on this task.”

It was true, your father had never earned his wealth in an honest way and expected his children to do as he did. No matter the risk.

“We are stealing from the Church?” It slipped from your thoughts.

Aldith glared your way. “Would you rather starve than earn your keep?”

It was a blatant threat, he was wealthy enough to feed the whole village if he wanted to. But this was your life with them, obey or suffer the consequences. Cassian grinned, clearly enjoying how you were being put in place.

“No, father.” you quietly said.

“No more questions from you then. You do what Cassian tells you to do, understood?”

“Yes, father.”

You knew better than to ask for a weapon to aid in this errand, they would never trust you with one. And you knew not to tell them how stupid you thought it was that they would risk the anger of the paladins, they didn’t care for your opinion. At least Bertram would come along, he was perhaps the closest thing to a friend you had, even if he was just being polite it was more than you were used to.

“Any questions, Cassian?” Aldith asked.

If no one had been present to see it, you would have rolled your eyes at the blatant favoritism. Of course your brother had questions about this task, and your father saw no problem in answering them.

After midday, you sat on the wagon next to Ava. Bertram was steering the wagon, following the directions Cassian was feeding him. The plan was to hide the wagon at quite a distance from the paladin camp, then continue the rest on foot and gather at the wagon again later. In case things went wrong, you were to scatter and meet at the wagon when it was safe again.

You were chewing the small piece of bread Bertram had given you before the group had left the village, was it so obvious to others that your body was growing weaker? Meals were something you had to earn according to Aldith, and it was far harder for you to earn them than it was for Cassian. You said not a word during the entire ride. Ava, a Sky Folk woman and Bertram’s sister, tried to flirt with Cassian quite often. But Cassian looked down on the Fey even if he never spoke it out loud outside the walls of your shared home. To him, Ava and Bertram were just pawns to use.

The wagon came to a halt in the forest on the spot that Cassian had chosen. The four of you got off the wagon and gathered together to walk the remaining distance. It wouldn’t take much longer than an hour and the paladin camp should be reached by the time it got dark. During the walk it became painfully obvious again how little Cassian cared to talk to you, but you didn’t mind, talking to him always ended in being affronted or threatened.

Just before the sun went down, the group reached the paladin camp. The four of you were hiding in the bushes, trying to detect weaknesses in their camp to use to your advantage. Cassian was quick to figure out which tent belonged to Father Carden. And of course, considering the risk of getting caught was the highest, he ordered you to go and steal what was there for the taking. The others picked tents that were closer to the edge of the camp. It always went like this, you were always the one having to take the most risks, because you were expendable. Often it had crossed your mind to just walk up to a paladin and tell them of what you were, to let them end your life and suffering. The only thing offering some consolation were the faint whispers in your ears whenever you thought of it, if you could even call it consolation. It was something you had never spoken a word about, these barely decipherable voices talking to you… people would learn that there was something wrong with you and treat you even worse than they already did.

“Did you hear me?” Cassian’s irritated tone pulled you from your darkening thoughts.

The flash of panic in your eyes betrayed you.

He gave your arm a rough pull. “Get over there and earn your keep!”

With a slight shove, he pushed you towards the camp. You hurried away from him, keeping yourself low and hidden behind the bushes whilst moving towards your target. You had enough experience to stay undetected on your way towards Father Carden’s tent. After waiting for a moment to see if there was anyone inside, you hurriedly made an opening in one of the tent’s walls to crawl under. Crawling over the ground wasn’t your favorite past time, it ruined your already worn down clothing further.

Father Carden’s tent wasn’t as modest as you had believed it to be, there was a large carpet inside that looked like it must have been worth quite some coin. But a carpet was too large to sneak out of the paladin camp undetected. What you were looking for was found inside a large wooden trunk. Hidden between a lot of red robes, you found a heavy ring made of gold and encrusted with red gemstones that you believed to be rubies, this would sure earn you your keep for a while. Just when you wanted to slip the ring into your pocket, the owner of it walked into the tent. Father Carden looked absolutely shocked to see you there and you used that moment to bolt out of the tent. The priest was shouting something that were undoubtedly commands to his paladins. You even ran into one of them and the paladin ended up falling as a result of the collision. It didn’t make you slow down at all, you needed to get out of there. You reached the trees by the time the whole camp seemed aware of intruders. From the corner of your eyes you saw Ava dart into the woods as well. It wasn’t the first time you were caught on one of these errands, but Father Carden and the paladins were not afraid to enact severe punishments. Fey or not, death was an acceptable measure for them. You kept running as the darkness fell over the lands, the advantage of working in a group was that it was far harder for them to catch you if there was more than one target to capture.

The noise from the shouting paladins did not reach your ears anymore after running for quite some time. You began to walk to let your legs rest but still in a fast pace, and not much later Ava found you. Together you walked in the direction of the wagon, whilst she asked you if you were able to find anything worth the trouble, you had shown her the ring in response. The wagon couldn’t be far off anymore, running would have brought you closer to it quicker than walking.

“Stop!” Ava suddenly grabbed your arm, she hushed you when you tried to ask why. She gestured to let you know she had heard something.

You held your breath. She drew her sword. You envied that she had a weapon to defend herself. Another sound came and she spun around, it had come out of the other direction.

“It’s an animal?” She whispered doubtful.

A branch snapped and made you turn to the sound. The voices in your head were growing louder the more you panicked, something in you told you to run but what direction was safe?

It was Ava who made the decision. “We need to run. NOW!”

She followed her own advice right away and you followed her without questioning it. You could tell that she was running in the direction where the wagon was waiting, was she hoping to find the others there to help? That hope was cut short when the sound of a galloping horse gave chase not far behind you. Like a shadow chasing the two of you, the horse closed in, it was terrifying.

“Ava! Look out!” you tried to warn her.

She barely had enough time to throw herself out of the way of the horse’s path. Both of you hit the ground hard. The horse’s rider swiftly dismounted, the sound of steel being drawn made Ava get to her feet immediately. She barely had enough time to ward off the sword lashing out at her. Fear engulfed you both when you realized who the enemy was that you were facing. Father Carden’s most loyal soldier, the Weeping Monk.

Ava did her best to stand her ground but she ended up falling. You prevented him from being able to deliver the killing blow to her by running up to him and grabbing his arm, halting his movements.

“Leave her alone!” It was a rare thing to hear your voice be so loud.

He had thrown you on the ground so fast you didn’t even understand how he’d done it. And still it didn’t stop you from trying to stop him long enough for Ava to get on her feet again. You grabbed hold on his leg, he pulled free just as Ava attacked him. And then she was bleeding, his sword had cut through her sleeve and wounded her. The voice of Bertram rang from close-by, he ran to come to his sister’s aid.

You crawled backwards, away from the fight that ensued. In the darkness it was hard to focus your eyes on the Monk, his dark attire worked to his advantage. It all happened so ridiculously fast. The Monk fought brutally elegant, as if he was the personification of death itself. Bertram hit the ground after being struck by the Monk’s elbow. Ava barely kept her footing against him. You tried to help Bertram back to his feet. And then from the corner of your eyes you saw Cassian, with a rock in his hand.

Cassian struck the Monk just once against the back of the head and neutralized the threat you had been fighting. The Monk was unconscious by the time he hit the ground hard. Everyone was shaking at the sight of him, even then they still feared him as if he was a vengeful spirit that would come to haunt them for this. Cassian cursed and dropped the rock. Bertram was still holding your shoulder for support. Ava held her wounded arm.

“How the hell did he find us?!” Ava questioned out loud, voice shaking.

“The bastard is know for tracking down Fey.” Cassian said irritated, glancing at both of the Sky Folks.

Questions were fired back and forward between them, but their voices faded out in your ears. You were transfixed on the Monk’s face, on the marks he bore beneath his eyes, and understood why they called him the ‘Weeping’ Monk. You couldn’t believe the terrible truth it revealed to you. He was Fey. Cassian was saying something about tying the Monk up, it brought your attention back to the group.

“He’s too dangerous.” Bertram protested.

Cassian would not hear any reasoning. “He’s worth a lot of coin to the many he has crossed. This is the chance of a lifetime, we are doing this. Ava, fetch the wagon. My father will reward us all royally for this.”

Ava was angry with the decision but did as he asked, she was far too eager to win his affection, it would be a while before she would reach the wagon and return with it.

“Get that rope from his horse’s saddle!” Cassian barked the command to you.

This plan was insane. The Monk was far too dangerous to be kept as a captive, but Cassian saw no risks, he only saw the mountain of coins he’d get for the Monk. You approached the horse and the stallion turned his head to you right away, you patted the beautiful creature’s neck and took the rope from the saddle. Bertram met you halfway, so you wouldn’t have to get too close to Cassian, and took the rope. He used it to help Cassian tie the Monk up and to a tree. Your hands were sweating from anxiousness. This was perhaps the worst idea Cassian had ever had and you could only pray that it wouldn’t backfire on everyone involved.

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[everlastingdreams]

Little snippet of Forged Of Fire. A dream sequence that delves into the mindset of the Weeping Monk/ Lancelot at a certain time in the story.

Under the night’s sky, surrounded by the forest, he found himself standing in wait. Awaiting something, no, someone’s presence, willing them to come. The soft melody that was their voice called upon his name.

~“Lancelot?”~

He turned towards the sound, eyes setting on your face. A dress nearly translucent swayed around your body with every taken step that closed the distance. A set of eyes that provided him endless transfixation. You came closer and closer, invading all his senses, and he let himself drown in the dream that was you. A touch to his chest, those gentle eyes pleading for his own. Your name fled his lips, a prayer, a plea.

~“My Lancelot…”~

His head tilted into the touch of your hand to his cheek. He could not touch, could not let himself be tempted to force everything he had worked for into ruins.

~“Lancelot?”~

Your touch trailed over his neck, he was drawn in closer, leaning in to receive what could damn his soul. He could not do this, he couldn’t, no matter how much he wanted to.

~“You want me…”~

Your lips were so close, taunting his, he did not dare say a word. They were a siren’s call and his soul was willing to drown for them.

~“I will never want you the way you want me.”~

[everlastingdreams]

Little angsty snippet from Forged In Fire. To keep people fed with crumbs.

He wasn’t going to give it back… he stole it… You shot forward. “You filthy thief!”

The Monk was barely in time to stop you from attacking the priest, still you tried to break free from his hands.

“Hold her.” Father Carden commanded the Monk.

He looked at the priest. “Father-”

He knew why Father was asking this of him, and he did not want to be a part of it.

The priest approached with a glare, the Monk moved you one step behind him instantly. A grave mistake in the eyes of the priest, who directed his silent fury to the one who dared to defy him in front of others.

He knew what was coming, what this would cost him. No one defied Father without suffering the consequences.

Father Carden struck the Monk with the back of his hand. Hard. It left a red mark across the Monk’s cheek. You couldn’t believe what you had just witnessed, and they all acted like this was normal behavior of the priest.

“You will bleed for her. Do you understand?” The priest warned him coldly.

The Monk said not a word, he only gave a nod.

He was burdened with his own further punishment for this defiance. The scourge would meet his skin again.

[everlastingdreams]

Gonna drop a snippet considering I passed the 100k mark on my wip of Forged of Fire a while ago. (yeah, it's kinda gotten out of control.)

No one sat down in the presence of the Monk. The tension hanged in the air, and when the Monk began to wake you warned Cassian of it.

“He’s bound to a tree. What harm can he do?” He dismissed your warning and fear, making a mockery of it.

You hadn’t stopped staring at the Monk, at his markings that betrayed his secret. The others seemed to be unaware, or maybe they did not even care.

“Wake up, mutt.” Cassian nudged his head roughly. “Not so frightening now, eh?” He mocked him.

The Monk’s eyes opened and fixed on Cassian right away, then slowly he took in the situation he found himself in. Your blood ran ice cold at witnessing it, as if your body tried to warn you of the danger present. The Monk was far too calm to your liking, he looked even bored by the whole ordeal, as if it was an ordinary night for him.

[everlastingdreams]

Weeping Monk x Reader : The Patience Of A Heart    Chapter 19

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Story Summary: After fire claimed the lives of your family, the monastery of your Uncle Carden becomes your new home. As the niece of a priest you are expected to behave prim and proper, but not even the watchful eyes of the Weeping Monk can see all. An ancient magic returns to life when love and duty begin to blur.

Chapter Title: Caught In The Hands Of Fate

Notes: I just realized I have to proofread three chapters again soon ;_;

Warnings: There’s a list of warnings for this story: Murder. Violence. Death. Angst. Sexism. Strong Language. Trauma. Childhood trauma. Survivor’s guilt. Mentions of child maltreatment. Threat of Sexual assault. PTSD. Misogyny, Self-flagellation. Gore.

Other warnings: Jealousy. Forbidden Love. Romance. Pining. Smut. Spicy content. Little Slow-burn.

Word count of this fic: +130K

Chapter:  19 / lol Gonna keep the chapter count a secret until the end.

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

After going to your room and stuffing the satchel with the socks under your bed and out of sight, you went out to find Lancelot and see how things were going with Neia and Percival.

You weren’t ready to see those socks again, in truth you hoped not to see them again. The one who they were meant for had suffered a horrible faith and they only reminded you of it.

Anne would not have wanted you to think this way, but you couldn’t help it…

You stepped into the stables again and found it void of the Feys you were looking for.

The laughter of children came from nearby and you followed the sound.

There they were, Neia on her horse and Percival was walking beside her and held on to the reins.

Lancelot stood against the wooden fence that surrounded the meadow.

There were goats and cows running through the grass, as well as some other horses.

You stopped next to him on his right and leaned on the fence to watch Neia and Percival in the meadow.

The Ash Man was curious how it had went “Have you spoken to Gawain?”

You gave a nod “Gawain said he’ll talk to the others about it.”

What…

He hummed, took a step backwards and walked slowly to stand on your right instead of your left side.

There was another very quiet hum and then he took you off-guard when he leaned in and blatantly smelled you.

With widened eyes you stared at him utterly confused “Why did you… what was that for?”

A Fey scent he recognized was all over you.

Had Gawain truly found it necessary to do this?

Part of him knew it had been done on purpose to mess with him and his heightened senses, yet part of him severely disliked how another’s scent was over you now.

He held his tongue, knowing how it could come across if he mentioned it.

You saw the slight narrowing of his eyes and the change in them “Alright, spit it out.”

He proceeded with caution, but knew the annoyance was still detectable “You smell different.”

You pushed for an answer “Like what?”

It came out a bit short “Like Gawain.”

The scent was so strong that he had thought it was Gawain approaching him.

And there it was. Did he really think you would not notice the difference in him when he was jealous or insecure?

The truth was nothing to feel guilty or bad about “He told me something personal and I hugged him.”

He leaned forward and rested his elbows on the fence “What did he tell you?”

Did he think Gawain had declared his love for you or something of the sorts?

While sighing, you answered “If you want to know, you will have to ask him yourself. I don’t believe it was meant to be told to others. It was personal, Lancelot.”

The Ash Man was quiet for a second, then looked at you.

It was better to warn him of the tragedy in the knight’s past “It was something that happened in his past. He lost someone.”

Realization washed over him, you two had shared your grieve and he had misinterpreted it “He told you this?”

You nodded “Yes. Just… be considerate if you ask about it.”

He fidgeted with his hands “I will not ask. If he wishes to speak of it, he will do so when he feels comfortable.”

It wasn’t forgotten how quick he was to fear the worst “I wish you weren’t so worried that I would prefer another over you.”

Right away his full attention was on your face “I am not.”

It was not meant to be accusing “Don’t lie. I can tell.”

Lancelot sighted quietly, remorse present in his eyes “I am sorry.” there was a short pause “You could have someone who has no trouble being with you the way you would want them to be. Someone who would not have asked you to wait.”

So that was what bothered him…

You took one of his hands and brought it to the mark on your arm “Lancelot, we spoke of this.”

The gesture held more meaning then you could bring into words.

The mark was still there and the love for him was too.

You saw him struggle to meet your eyes “Look at me…” finally he did “The mark is still there, is it not? I do not want someone else, just you. You’re all I want.”

Now those weeping eyes did not leave yours and you were certain that if you had not been out in the open, he wouldn’t have held back the way he was doing now…

The tease fell from you “If you want me to stop smelling like another, maybe replace it with your own scent again.”

His hand curled around your lower arm and you felt the mark tingling in excitement.

The idea was terribly inviting…

You took his hand off of your arm and moved it around your form while you leaned into his side “This is a nice way to start. I can use the comfort.”

He did not need an explanation and brought it to your shoulder to keep you close.

This was nice…

Especially when he proceeded to start and rub along your back a bit.

Only when the children threatened to look your way did he fold his hands together behind his back. Still, you remained close at his side.

Then with a cheeky smile, you leaned even closer and sniffed him yourself.

It was meant to be an inside joke between the both of you. But he genuinely smelled good, your heart took a leap and the mark’s response was just as strong.

Never did you expect the response it send through your body.

Dammit…was this a Fey ability you were not aware off?

Was it just him? Was it the Ash Folk blood that ran through his veins? Or did the mark connect you to him so strongly that even his scent was enough to fuel you with desire?

Your whole body had warmed up and you dropped your eyes to the grass, too flustered to let it show.

He was aware something was happening and looked at you curiously because he had no idea what exactly it was.

Percival had seen you sniff his tall friend and loudly pointed out your odd behavior “What are you doing?”

Of course the twit next to you turned his head to the side to prevent himself from laughing.

You mumbled through your teeth “Of course he never sees you do it…”

He swayed and bumped into you lightly “Years of experience.”

His attention was pulled away when he saw Neia try to dismount, like he had taught her, but the girl was clearly frightened.

He called out for her to wait and went over to them.

Percival was doing his best to explain to her how she should do it.

Lancelot was quick to reach up and pluck her from the horse, then safely set her down on the ground.

Neia however did not let go off his hand and the poor Ash Man did not have it in him to pluck her hand from his own.

If he didn’t learn to do so, he’d be walking around with the girl for the rest of the day, you were sure of it.

Actually, you wouldn’t mind seeing that happen.

Percival was grinning up at him, oh how amusing must it be for him to see the former fearsome ‘Weeping Monk’ with a little Fey girl attached to his hand.

A look for guidance was send your way and you just grinned back.

Even from this distance you could see him roll his eyes a bit.

He bend down, picked Neia up and carried her out the meadow “Percival, will you lead the horse back to the stable?”

The boy was already pulling the horse along “Sure. I’ll take Spot back.”

Neia went ahead and put her small fingers to those ashen markings again, half expecting them to come off his skin like they haven’t been their since he was born.

The second Lancelot was in front of you, he put her down and she gave the biggest pout “Y/n will take you and Percival to your lessons.”

You glared at him and his way of shoving the responsibility onto you.

There was a twitch at the corner of his mouth as he fought the smirk.

It vanished completely when Neia questioned him “Are you angry? I’m sorry…”

The question came out of nowhere and took both of you off-guard.

He was at her eye-level not a second later, uncaring if he had just knelt down into a bit of mud.

Neia rubbed along her right arm to sooth herself again.

Rarely he heard the whispers of the Hidden, yet now he heard their faint voices.

The way the girl kept rubbing at her arm each time she was nervous or upset…

It just seemed…off…

He was distracted by it “I am not…” instinct led him to reach for her right arm “May I?…”

The girl let him hold her arm and got very quiet when he began to roll up her sleeve.

The sleeve was not even at her elbow and you covered your mouth from sheer shock.

His heart sank at the sight of the old scars.

Her arm was littered with them, the result of leather that had struck her skin countless times.

There were so many… too many.

He needed a moment to collect himself before looking at her face again “Who did this?”

It surprised even himself how calm and quiet he managed his voice to be.

At first she shook her head and fell silent.

You knelt beside her and put an arm around her for comfort “It’s alright. You don’t have to be afraid, they’ll never hurt you again.”

Lancelot gently moved his fingers over the scars “Neia…”

She answered his question “Papa did.”

It dawned on you that you had only ever seen her mother and she had never said a word of her father.

To hear how a father was able to hurt a child like this set his blood to boil “Is your father alive?”

If he was, he would rectify that.

Little Neia shook her head.

It was a relief that the bastard was gone.

If the man had not been gone yet, he would have been soon enough.

You saw Percival walk over and Lancelot rolled down her sleeve again.

The boy had seen it anyway and stopped next to Lancelot “What’s on her arm?”

He did not want the girl to think she had to hide them “Those are scars.”

Percival was clever and stopped himself from asking further.

The boy was often bold and brash, but never when it came to things like this.

The young knight took Neia’s hand and therefore relieved Lancelot of his duty “Come. Let’s go to the lesson.”

The girl looked rather giddy all of a sudden when the boy held her hand.

It did not go unnoticed by you or Lancelot and you shared a look.

Still, rattled by the revaluation, your voice wavered “Good plan, Percival. Come, sweetling.”

Neia was quick to lock her hand with yours and let you walk both her and her young knight to their lessons.

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  In the dinning hall, you stood and watched a Tusk Folk Man and Faun Folk woman entertain the children in their lessons with an animate story.

Seeing Percival and Neia laugh at the story warmed your heart.

How could you not have seen the silent suffering Neia had gone through?

Even now, as she mourned her mother, the girl hid those feelings.

But Lancelot had seen through the facade, perhaps it was because he knew what it was like to mask true emotions so those around him would never know.

A light tap on your shoulder broke your attention away.

Arthur stood beside you now “Keeping an eye on Percival, eh?”

It wasn’t a real question, mostly a jest “Why should I?”

He kept his voice low “Anything that shines like steel isn’t safe around him. I have to say, the boy has an eye for treasure and weapons.”

“Are you accusing him of something?” You arched a brow.

Arthur squinted his eyes, smile breaking out “Not at all.” then nodded at the group of children “That girl, Neia?”

You gave a nod.

He crossed his arms in front of him “Do you know that she doesn’t talk to anyone? Just Percival, Lancelot and you. But no one else.”

What?

At that, you paid some attention to the group and saw that she indeed did not interact with anyone else but Percival. Neia even looked down when another child tried to speak to her. And when the Faun Woman tried to get her to interact, the girl scurried back.

“Did you see that?” Arthur blurted out at the sight of it.

“Maybe she is just shy.” You found yourself not truly believing the words yourself.

The violence she had suffered made her wary and you held yourself back from going over there and taking a seat next to her.

Arthur’s smile had faded and you didn’t have to say a word, he knew something was wrong.

You did not make him ask “She has scars on her arm. When her father was alive, he hurt her.”

He discreetly pointed at her “He hurt her?!? But she’s… she’s so small. What sort of bastard would do that?”

It wasn’t a real question, it just sounded so surreal that a person could hurt a child “Like you said, a bastard. Did Gawain ever tell you about her mother?”

Arthur gave a nod, recalling the tragic information “I can’t imagine what it must have been like for her to live with her mother, while her mother was…”

Dead… the woman had passed on and Neia had been looking after her mother who would never wake again.

You blinked faster, struggling with the memory of the day you had stepped foot in Neia’s home “I can’t begin to imagine how many children are out there who are living through such horrific things. And it must be worse with this war going on.”

He sighed, agreeing with that “Speaking of war. Gawain told me that you want the Abbot to be dealt with.”

You guessed he would share his dismay regarding it “I know you are against it.”

Arthur debunked that idea “I was against Lancelot acting reckless. But he went off and tried it anyway. He and Red are lucky to be alive.”

“So, you’re not against it?” You asked.

He shook his head “Not if it’s safe. We have lost enough people, but I agree that the Abbot needs to be dealt with.”

You told Arthur what you did not dare tell Lancelot “There is a way that does not involve other people. I could do it alone.”

As a result, his voice went a little louder “Absolutely not!”

Reasoning with him would be easier than with the stubborn Ash Man “When the Trinity Guards found us in the forest last night, they said that the Abbot wanted me alive. I could use that to our advantage.”

He took hold of your elbow and led you out of the room “I wasn’t aware you had run into them. Neither of you looked wounded, so I guess they have been dealt with?”

You nodded “Yes. It’s where we got the new horses from.”

“Of course Lancelot would fail to mention it to Gawain and I.” Arthur rolled his eyes a bit in frustration “But why would Wicklow want you alive?”

“I’ve been told I can be quite charming.” You deadpanned and saw him slide his eyes to you “Alright, it’s because Wicklow wants Lancelot. Either to kill him for betraying the Church or because he wants to force him to hunt the Fey again.”

Arthur was pensive “Handing yourself over to the Abbot isn’t safe, y/n.”

You walked beside him “I think Gawain wants me to infiltrate the church in Helgenstone dressed in my tunic I still have from the abbey.”

He readjusted his jerkin “How would you even manage to get Wicklow away from his guards? They follow him around all the time.”

It was a valid concern “Perhaps Gawain will have an idea.”

He turned to face you again “Well, whatever Gawain decides, you can count on my help.”

It was a relief to hear it “Thank you, Arthur.”

Lancelot entered the hallway and approached you and Arthur on sight.

“Did you speak to Gawain?” Arthur questioned him immediately.

The Ash Man nodded “I did. He is still deciding over it. Red caught wind of the idea and is hounding him over it now.”

Arthur sighed and walked past him “I’ll go and see if I can help.”

While passing him by, Arthur amicably patted Lancelot on the arm. The look of sheer surprise by the Ash Man was missed by Arthur.

You looked down the hallway, at the door of the dining hall where the children were still laughing at the story told. An idea had popped in your head, but you would need some items for it.

Lancelot touched your arm to draw your attention “What has you distracted?”

You made a request “I would like to go into the forest and I was wondering if you wanted to come along. It won’t take long, I just want to pick some flowers.”

It had piqued his curiosity, he had never seen you walking around looking for flowers before “Flowers?”

You hummed “To braid in Neia’s hair. It’s fine if you don’t want to come along.”

It was almost amusing to him “The last time you touched a flower in the forest, it nearly burned your skin.”

Well, it was no lie… “So, you’ll come?”

He tilted his head a bit “Of course. Shall we walk?”

After agreeing to walk, together you walked towards the forest.

  No horse was needed because you didn’t have to go deep into the forest to find pretty flowers.

And he even helped, that heightened sense of smell of his was coming into handy to find flowers that were safe.

Most of the foraging was you pointing at a flower and him giving a ‘yes’ or ‘no’.

“How did you know about Neia?” You asked while plucking a flower from a fallen branch it was growing on.

The explanation was simple for him, having had the same experience “I also feel my scars when I think back of my upbringing. That is what happens with her. If she is reminded of her father’s anger, she can’t help but sooth the scars.”

It was heartbreaking to hear it “I really didn’t know she had them…or that she was treated that way.”

He did not put any sort of blame on you for that “Neither did I. What baffled me most was that she was not afraid of me anymore so quickly.”

You frowned “Because you are being kind to her.”

It was the example he hoped to use “Exactly. We reached out to her and she has not strayed away from us nor Percival.”

The girl had sprung to form an attachment to the first who had been kind to her, but she remained withdrawn to others…

You began to understand what he tried to explain “I never see her talk to others beside us, not even with those she has lessons with.”

He gave a nod “It will get better for her in time. She will not grow up at the mercy of a whip. Not anymore.”

Not like him he meant…

The words were dipped in admiration “You’ve always been protective of the little ones.”

There was only determination in his tone “I could not save my younger brother and I will be dead long before I do not try what I can to save other children from the same fate.”

A silence fell and when he did look at your face, he must have seen the affection in your eyes.

It made you drop your gaze to the ground.

Upon seeing it, he did the same.

After collecting enough flowers, you stored them in the small basket you had brought along.

The walk back was pleasant and you often walked against his side “Have you ever considered becoming a father?”

He kept the close distance, the sword at his side bumped into you “I do not know if it is even possible, if there has ever been a child from Ash Folk and Manblood…”

It was information he would never come to know as long as no other Ash Folk were there to speak of it.

Unless…

You pulled him out off his wandering thoughts “And between different Fey species?”

He considered it possible “That is more likely.” then muttered more to himself “But you are not Fey.”

It had been said so quiet that you had not heard it well “What?”

He said it a little louder “You are not Fey.”

You couldn’t resist to act a little cheeky now “Oh, so you would pick me to be mother of your children? Interesting.”

His throat bopped at what it also meant.

Children were the result of physical intimacy.

The Ash Man shut down, like he had crossed a line and been too forward.

So brave, but when it came to the topic he shied away.

By suppressing your own shyness, you hoped to ease his a little “Let me know if you ever wish to begin with finding out if Ash Folk can reproduce with Manbloods.”

You bit your tongue and directed your eyes at the sky after that bold statement.

His momentarily blank expression changed into a smirk, then he took hold of the hilt of your sword and pulled you closer by it.

It had you giggling softly before a laugh slipped out.

By doing so, he also left himself vulnerable to your shenanigans.

You’d stolen his sword quick as a whip and placed the basket down.

Taking a few paces backwards, you saw the blue of his eyes darken.

Slightly his head tilted and you knew he was willing to indulge you in this foolery.

It was a dare leaving his lips “Go on then, see if you can handle such a sword.”

Your brow arched high “I can.”

In truth you struggled to keep the sword still instead of swaying it round and about.

He drew his short sword, the look of a wolf on it’s hunt was present in his eyes.

To your own amazement, you blocked his first strike.

Well… that was what you though at least.

Somehow he had managed to grab hold of the crossguard on the longsword where your grip on the hilt was far less firm.

The sword was out of your hands with a single tug at the crossguard, he sank both swords into the soil, freeing his hands.

He would collect them later.

Lancelot stalked closer, sly smirk only getting stronger “At least your confidence is not lacking. Your swordsmanship on the other hand…”

You took a step back for every step he took to close the distance and you drew the sword that rested at your side.

It went so fast…

Almost like he knew you would be drawing your own sword as well.

He took one large step closer, sank down and grabbed the sword by the flat of the blade, his hands slid across the steel while he moved forward.

The sword was stolen from your grasp before you even knew what was happening.

The last thing you felt before losing your balance was him grabbing the back of your knee.

You sank to the ground.

It had been his intention.

He had discarded your sword right away “Careful.”

By holding on to his shoulders, you avoided a fall.

Now you sat on your knees in the grass and he was sitting the same way in front of you.

“Are you bloody mad?!?” You squeaked out.

He brought his hands to your waist and held on “You started this. Did you consider it wise to challenge me with the sword?”

The kneading on your waist chased the wit right out of you.

He hummed knowingly at the lack of an answer, seeing the effect he had on you now.

Was he able to sense the way the mark was tingling all over your arm?

You tapped on his shoulders playfully, then sneaked your hands beneath the hood to lace your fingers in his locks “You didn’t have to bring me to my knees-” and fired another tease at him “If you wanted that to happen, you only had to ask.”

The momentarily confusion as to why he would want you to kneel lasted only three seconds, then he leaned a little back.

You felt a little guilty for teasing him with it, but it was also meant to show him that he did not have to be uncomfortable about the topic with you.

He had heard of these… things happening.

But to hear you speak so boldly of it was unexpected.

A hand left your waist and went to hold the back of your neck.

He studied your expression, letting his gaze roll down from your eyes to your mouth a few times “You have been acting quite promiscuous to me.”

Your eyes dropped down from his gaze, shy smile growing “I can’t help it. Sorry.”

His thumb traced below your bottom lip “Do not be sorry.”

When he leaned in, you leaned back “People could see us.”

It halted him “Still worried what others might think if they knew?”

You feared they would become far more vigilante towards him “I see how difficult it is for you to be accepted among your people. I don’t want to make it even harder. They know Father Carden was my uncle, they don’t think much of me either because of that.”

Lancelot lowered his hands to your waist again and did not bother to pretend it was not with lecherous intend “I would not be here now if it were not for you. I would have bled out in the forest. I will not let the opinions of others keep me from you.”

You heard the way his voice had lowered and felt the greedy hold he had on you.

He wasn’t just holding on… he was feeling.

There was a moment where you could sense something was about to happen, it occurred only seconds before he moved and had you with your back on the grass beneath him.

Still kneeling beside you, it was clear that he felt quite comfortable in this mystical forest.

You were looking around to see if anyone else was near, half scolding him for his impulsiveness “Goodness! Lancelot!”

He was leaning over you, gaze roaming over your form, hand brushing your stomach “Fear not, there is no one.”

Your eyes squinted up at him “What do you think you are you doing?”

His gaze caressed your features and body like a gentle wave, while he rubbed along your stomach “I am…curious…I think.”

The way he could not stop staring was enough to make one nervous.

“Curious about what?” You asked, genuinely curious what he was curious about.

Those weeping eyes searched yours while he traced a finger over the lacing of your dress, they stayed on yours when he undid the knot that tied the laces together.

Your chest heaved for air and you fidgeted with some strands of grass beside you.

The lacing was undone for a little more than an inch.

It was enough to offer him a view, the same one he had caught a glimpse of in the inn.

This was not the time or place, but he was slowly losing the fight against the desire that continued to fuel.

As if he meant to thank you for allowing it, he tenderly pressed his lips your temple.

He touched nothing more, the titillating view was already more than he’d dare to ask of you “If I wanted you to stop having another’s scent, I would have to replace it with mine.”

You gawked at him “So you just decided to handle that here in the forest?”

Wickedly he grinned “Yes.”

He brought his nose down to the crook of your neck to inhale your scent.

Breathing normally became a challenge “And opening my dress helps this how?”

His hand slid under your back, warm breath ghosted over your neck “Forgive me for not having a proper excuse.”

You wouldn’t let him off the hook just yet “I’ll forgive it if you tell me what the improper excuse is.”

Instead of answering, the stubble of his beard moved along your skin and passed your collarbone.

With his bottom lip he felt the warmth of your bosom and the quick rise and fall of your chest.

This was not the time or place…

He pressed his aching lips to what was uncovered.

That warm alluring scent, which covered your skin, awoke a hunger in him.

In return you curled your fingers in his hair and kept him close.

He saw at as encouragement to keep going.

It were his thoughts that he let out while coming up to touch his lips to the shell of your ear “If I die in Helgenstone, I will have this to keep in my thoughts in my last moments on this world.”

Did he truly consider it a possibility??

It had sounded so normal for him… as if he did not fear the prospect of death anymore.

But it wasn’t normal to you, you were not raised in battle and the possibility to die in one.

You found yourself holding on to his shoulder, petrified at the thought that it might cost him his life “If I do it alone, no one else will have to sacrifice themselves.”

He stopped and locked eyes with you “What?”

He had heard it and was giving you the chance to reconsider.

But you didn’t “Gawain was right. Enough have suffered, especially the Fey. I could do it, I can deal with the Abbot alone.”

Lancelot was out of your hold and on his feet right away, not believing his ears, he faced away from you.

You inelegantly got up from the grass as well, your clothes a mess “Lance-”

“I do not want to hear it!” His voice was sharp and he turned to look at you “Do you believe I would stand aside and let you risk your life? Never.”

There was a long pause and he drew a couple of breaths to calm himself.

The question came out much softer “Where is this coming from, y/n?”

“My kin did this to the Fey, I-…” You fell quiet.

Lancelot was able to guess what was causing this “The faults of your uncle are not yours to bear.”

The words were forced out of you “And yet I bear them.”

Who was he to makes these claims while he himself had caused so much suffering?

Perhaps… it had made him the person who was able to see the difference.

The difference between kindness and hate.

He sought your presence once more and took your hands in his “You’re nothing like he was. He felt no guilt over what he did. And here you are, among my kind, helping.”

Your shoulders shrugged, throat closing up from emotion “Helping with what? I haven’t done a thing to earn my place here-”

He cradled your head and silenced you “Tell that to Neia, the child who lives because you saw her in a crowd of people and choose to help while others ignored her existence.” his face was close to yours “Tell it to Percival who would have watched me die if you had not found us.”

His forehead rested against yours, noses touching and the intimacy of it had the love for him flourish further inside of you.

Others could see…

Heaven you wanted him…

He showed more restraint than you, well… maybe his eyes did not.

They dropped from yours down to your chest and it reminded you that he had unlaced some of your dress.

You brought a finger under his chin and tilted it up a little until he met your eyes again “Rude.”

His face flushed a bit and for a second he had the look of a guilty young boy “I-”

You didn’t let him apologize for it “You were the one to open it, be a dear and close it for me again.”

He matched your playful politeness “Can it wait?”

The smack against his arm made a laugh fly out of him

Out of actual politeness, he did do as ask asked and closed the laces “You are not the only one with a personal vendetta against the Abbot. The man tried to have me killed the night I left with Percival. I have not forgotten his arrogance and the desire I had to erase it from his face.”

Preferably by bloodying it up.

The knot in the laces was tied again “You are not alone in this, y/n.”

You did not want to argue over this, not when this had been such a lovely walk mere moments ago.

So you nodded and tried to draw him closer just when he took a step back.

He tsked you right away “We are not alone anymore.”

With a discreet head tilt, he pointed out the other Feys foraging the woods too.

Fine then.

You picked up the basket again that you had filled with flowers and grabbed the sword from where it had fallen while he collected his own from where he had planted them.

While doing so, you noticed the way the group of Feys where looking at you.

Not a friendly look, no, it was one of disgust.

It came as another reminder that even you could not erase your connection to Father Carden, to them you were an invader, a trespasser…

Lancelot was Fey, in time he would find his place. He was Ash Folk, a kind born to protect the Fey with their magic.

But you… you would always be Manblood. No mark would ever change that.

He was more distant now that others were there to see it, but not distant enough to not walk closely beside you when returning to the city.

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  Upon the sun’s departure and the moon’s slow arrival there had been no news from Gawain. The Green Knight must have decided not to act on the opportunity in Helgenstone, or perhaps one of the others had talked him out of the idea.

Now you sat in Neia’s room, braiding the flowers you had picked into her hair as best as you could. Percival was even helping by sorting out the, according to him, disgusting flowers from the pretty ones.

Yes, the boy was strong of opinion and you tried not to take it personal.

“This one stinks.” He held one up.

Lancelot would have disagreed…

“That one then?” You pointed at another flower.

Percival handed you the other one, approving of the idea.

Neia couldn’t stop touching her hair in excitement and multiple times she ‘commanded’ Percival to hand her the small hand mirror.

Of course the boy sighed and rolled his eyes, still he indulged her wish every time.

At some point her eyes had caught sight of the bangle on your arm and you handed it to her for a bit so you could work on her hair without her constantly fidgeting with it.

To your silently amazement, the flowers you had picked kept their beauty, as if their health remained the same when in connection with Fey kind.

You’d never seen her so happy and all it took were some flowers in her hair. All the flowers where white, like she had in her hair the day you met her.

She held up the bangle and asked “Where did you find it?”

Percival answered it “Lancelot gave it to her.”

You confirmed it was true “Percival is right. Lancelot gave me that bangle.”

Neia was pensive “Like you gave me your necklace?”

You hummed agreeing and added the last flower to her hair, you almost asked her if she had indeed sold the necklace, but her situation had been so dire that it was a given.

After fidgeting with the bangle a little more, she handed it back to you.

Well, actually she took it upon herself to put it over your hand and around your wrist again.

Then she noticed the mark on your arm “Fey marks?”

It had her so very confused to see those marks on a Manblood.

Percival, the cheeky rascal, chimed in “Lancelot gave her those too.”

This time you squinted your eyes at him but his grin did not falter “I wonder, does the Ash Man tell you secrets, Percival?”

The shit-eating grin on his face should have been a warning.

Percival thought he would surprise you with the news “He fancies you.”

Neia’s mouth dropped open at the claim and then she looked at you for your reaction as well.

You saw a chance and feigned to be surprised by the admission “Really? What makes you think that?”

The boy believed he had a chest filled with knowledge no one else knew off.

But nothing could have prepared you for the secret he so bluntly decided to share.

Percival casually answered “He stares at you a lot. And at your bottom.”

Right away you covered Neia’s ears “Percival…”

A big grin was plastered on his face “What? It’s true. And he gave you a mark and jewelry.”

Your face was burning from his bluntness “Just…I…”

Without knocking, the door creaked open and Pym tripled into the room.

“Oh, here you are.” Her attention fell from you to the flowers in Neia’s hair “Ooh, that looks nice.”

Neia beamed with pride over her freshly styled hair.

Pym struggled a little to walk into the room with the food she had wrapped up in linen.

Of course Percival was quick to help her.

“One for each of you.” She quickly told the boy.

He handed Neia one and Pym handed you the other.

She plopped down on Neia’s bed “I thought you might be hungry and brought you some bread and fruit.”

It had been a good guess, you were indeed quite hungry “Thank you, Pym. I haven’t really eaten anything today.”

Neia took a bite from her pear and pleaded “Can you read us a story before we have to sleep?”

You were about to agree to it, but Pym made the sacrifice instead.

“I’ll ready you a story.” She told Neia, then said to you “You can go and rest if you want to. I know you weren’t able to sleep last night.”

You asked “Are you sure?”

Pym had no problem entertaining the children “I’m sure. Go on, off you pop.”

Before doing so, you gave Neia a hug. Doing the same with Percival was a bit of a challenge and the boy rolled his eyes, as if it was just to indulge you that he’d allowed it.

Heaven forbid one might know that he loved it…

“Goodnight.” You told them, telling Pym “And thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” She smiled, then pointed at the food in your hands “Eat your food.”

Your smile matched hers “I will.”

By the time you reached the door, Neia had already pulled a book from under her pillow and put it in Pym’s hand.

You went over to your room and snatched the satchel from under your bed to get the socks out of them. Anne would not have wanted them to go to waste…

Then you returned to Neia’s room, finding Pym busy reading the story Neia had requested and clearly adding some commentary to it when she disagreed with the actions of the characters in said book.

You went over to Pym and placed the sock next to her on the bed “Maybe you can use these?”

She glanced down for a moment and back up at you “Oh, wow. Thank you!”

“You’re welcome.” You were glad to hear that she seemed happy to have them “I’ll leave you to it now. If you need me, I will be in my room.”

Neia waved at you as you left. Percival laid draped over the foot of the bed, eyes up at the ceiling while listening to the story.

  The moment you were back in your room, you put the food Pym had given you into the now empty satchel along with a flask of water.

There wouldn’t be much you would need, the most important thing was the sword and knife at your side.

You did change into something more suitable for what you were about to do. Trousers and a shirt would be more comfortable than a dress for this. Luckily you found those in the old closet as well, the trousers had a stain or two at the legs. The shirt had a tear at the elbow.

Under the clothes, you discovered a long sleeveless leather vest, it fitted well over the shirt you had on now. And it would keep you warm along with the cloak.

Lastly, you pulled the tunic you had worn at the abbey from the closet.

It was strange to see it now, strange to know that the place and people you had called ‘home’ for a while was now gone.

The veil and coif were neatly folded between it, a sign of the respect you had for the women you had met there.

You would wear it one last time, one last service for the ones who had lost their lives.

After packing up the satchel, you put on your cloak and sat on your bed until all sounds in the hallway and outside dimmed down.

The dark of night cloaked the halls of the fortress in it’s shadows, while passing Lancelot’s room you removed your bangle and hanged it on the brass doorknob. If you were not to return, he would know that you had understood and accepted the risk of your actions.

As discreetly as one could, you made your way through the castle.

Once at the stables, you attached your satchel to Llamrai’s saddle and mounted the horse.

You hoped to reach Helgenstone in time, Wicklow would be there at noon.

Tomorrow the lands would be rid of a monster, or the kin of one.

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[everlastingdreams]

Weeping Monk x Reader : The Patience Of A Heart    Chapter 18

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Story Summary: After fire claimed the lives of your family, the monastery of your Uncle Carden becomes your new home. As the niece of a priest you are expected to behave prim and proper, but not even the watchful eyes of the Weeping Monk can see all. An ancient magic returns to life when love and duty begin to blur.

Chapter Title: The Heavenly Fire

Notes: You may notice the word count increase. It may or may not go higher again. Also, I think I put more lore into these chapters.

Warnings: There’s a list of warnings for this story: Murder. Violence. Death. Angst. Sexism. Strong Language. Trauma. Childhood trauma. Survivor’s guilt. Mentions of child maltreatment. Threat of Sexual assault. PTSD. Misogyny, Self-flagellation. Gore.

Other warnings: Jealousy. Forbidden Love. Romance. Pining. Smut. Spicy content. Little Slow-burn.

Word count of this fic: +130K

Chapter:  18 / lol Gonna keep the chapter count a secret until the end.

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Lancelot tried to speak of it in a calm manner, but you could still hear the change in him “There is something wrong. The scent..” he pulled you closer “Stay close to me. Do not go out of my arm’s reach.”

The look in his eyes was unsettling and you followed the advice.

His sword was drawn now and you had placed a hand to his arm to make it easy for him to know you were walking close.

Together you proceeded on the path to the abbey until he came to a sudden halt and had you bumping into him.

He turned around and took you by the arms to move you back again, he was very adamant in doing so.

But you saw no reason for his strange behavior and didn’t move much “Lance-”

He locked eyes with you and pleaded “Don’t go there.”

You did not understand why he was acting like this and tried to move past him, it was futile to attempt it, he only held on to your arms more firmly “Why not?!?”

He had caught a glimpse of what lied ahead, this was not how you would want to remember it.

Lancelot barely knew how to say it “The enemy was here…”

It took a second for the news to sink in and when it did, you broke free from his hold.

He did try to stop you again but you needed to see for yourself why he did not want you to go further.

Past the last tree and bushes, the view of the abbey came into your sight.

What had once been a beautiful infrastructure, was now nothing more than stone scorched by fire. Ashes were still all over the place.

Not long ago you had been sleeping in the room you could now look into from the ground, the roof was destroyed.

Quietly he stopped a little behind you and watched the tragedy sink into your very being.

The scent of death hanged around the area like a mist.

It felt like it wasn’t real… it couldn’t be…

You wandered off to the side of the abbey with a hope to find that the back of the structure was still standing and untouched.

The garden where flowers had grown that you had tended to and then cut to sell yourself had been turned to ashes. There was a spot where the soil had been overturned and your stomach did the same when you realized what you were looking at.

You stumbled back at the sight of it “No no no…” arms were wrapped around you after you’d walked into him “It’s not…”

It was.

They had burned all there was to the abbey and had buried the inhabitants in a shallow mass grave. The way the Abbot had let them be buried added insult to injury.

In the garden, the abbey’s greatest pride and joy.

Laid to rest in the ashes of their hard work.

You didn’t remember how you had landed on your knees to the ground, the shock of the horror overwhelmed your being.

The shaking of your limbs didn’t stop “I need to know if she survived.”

He did not take his eyes from you, fearing you might even faint “There was an inn nearby. They must know more of this.”

It was a while before you found the strength in your legs again, all the while he was knelt beside you.

Your whole body was shaking and it was a nightmare to walk back towards the barn, the pair of socks in the satchel heavy at your shoulders now.

Lancelot kept you within arm’s reach, guiding you for your mind was anywhere but on the path.

Together you walked along the row of trees until the sound of hooves hitting the ground made him pull you behind one of them.

Three golden masked conscienceless killers dismounted their horses.

They were still patrolling the area, no doubt to gloat at what they had done.

One went to a tree nearby to relief himself, the others began to mock the sight of the abbey now.

The anger inside reach the surface, the sword that rested at your side was suddenly in your hands.

The next thing you knew, Lancelot had you pinned to a tree.

He held your arm down, the sword pointed at the ground, his voice was hushed “Don’t.”

It was almost too late for him to see the sword in your hands and the intent behind it.

The mocking of the Trinity continued even after the third was done and joined them again.

They spoke of creating their own ‘Holy Fire’ by burning the nuns of the abbey.

To them, it had been a joyous event…

The mixture of rage and sorrow had you fighting back against the grasp he had on you, it was a miracle that it was still a whisper “Let go!”.

It must have been heard by them anyway, they were already looking in the direction you found yourselves in.

He understood the anger and the desire for vengeance but all too well.

But there was not a single chance that he would let you go near them..

He firmly forced your back against the tree and leaned in to whisper “Stay here. Do not follow.”

The sword was out off your hands within the second as he left you alone against the tree.

First he lured them away from coming closer by throwing a branch to another spot, the sound of it drew them away, then he sneaked up to the nearest guard and cut his throat while dragging him out of sight.

It did not take long before the other two noticed the absence of their comrade, the sound of steel being drawn scared off a hare that would have been the meal for an owl that had patiently waited to strike.

One of them spoke up “He’s here. It’s the Weeping Monk.”

The other was agitated by it “Quiet!”

That voice… it belonged to Brother Albert. The former paladin had risen in ranks…

You saw Lancelot hide behind a tree nearby, the darkness had cloaked him perfectly and not even you could see the signals he was sending you.

If you got closer to him, perhaps you could see.

Carefully you moved away from the oak you had been hiding behind, on hands and knees you crawled behind the bushes shielding you from the Trinity’s sight.

It wasn’t until it was too late that you understood that he had been trying to signal ‘Don’t move.’

You froze, then slowly moved your torso up, getting ready to run for it.

The outsole of a boot hit your back and send you falling to the grass again.

Your leg was grabbed and you were pulled from the bushes by force.

The former paladin, Brother Albert, spoke from behind his mask “Bloody hell, it’s Father Carden’s niece!”

The other brutally locked your arm behind your back “Fetch the rope. The Abbot will want her alive.”

Of course you tried to fight it, the result of your defiance was that he placed a knee on your back.

It felt like your arm was going to break and you could barely breathe.

Brother Albert followed the command of his superior and went to fetch the rope from his horse.

Upon turning around, Brother Albert faced a hooded shadow, the steel entering his chest registered only when it was removed again.

The one in command had seen his Brother fall defeated and considered you the lesser threat in that moment.

The guard rose to his feet, you kicked him in the back of his leg and caused him to stumble forward.

It sure had pissed him off…

Lancelot seized the opportunity to launch himself into the guard.

Once upon a time, a certain knight had showed him how throwing yourself into an enemy was a rather successful tactic to overpower them.

The guard kept his balance and footing, but the sword did fall from his hand.

Lancelot wasted no time attacking again, it was mildly irritating that this guard was agile enough to avoid being struck by his sword.

Not only did he avoid being struck, he blocked and caught the Ash Man’s arm, forcing him to drop his sword too.

And he did, but the guard paid for it by getting struck in the face by his elbow.

Everything happened so fast, Lancelot was using your sword and you were left unarmed.

You feared for his life upon seeing the guard match his skills.

While looking around for anything that could be a substitute for a weapon, you found a rock and picked it up.

The guard fought with the same fervor and was not afraid to fight dirty.

When he had the Ash Man close enough, he delivered a kick to his groin.

It send Lancelot stumbling backwards.

You had seen it happen and proceeded to smack a rock against the back of the guard’s head.

Once he was sure the guard was out cold, Lancelot sank to his knees, placing a hand on the grass while his other covered his groin.

Those rotten bastards and their cowardly way of fighting…

Dammit.

You couldn’t help but wince at seeing him in pain, never before had you seen him brought to his knees.

You knelt beside him and rubbed over his back “Lancelot?”

He focused on breathing through the pain until it would pass “A moment…please…”

Ouch.

When the pain slowly subsided, all that remained was his slightly dented pride.

He took a seat on the grass and kept his eyes on the unconscious guard.

You were still rubbing his back “That must have hurt quite a bit.”

The tilt of his brows answered that “It has been a while since I faced an opponent that resorted to that.”

There was no time to fully recover from the blow before he rose back to his feet, waiting for the guard to regain consciousness would be foolish.

He moved to stand, picking up the sword in the meantime and you quickly held on to him to make sure he would not fall.

It surprised him a bit “Thank you.”

Quick as a whip, when you were still close enough, he stole a kiss from your cheek.

That adrenaline mixed with adoration made for an interesting blend.

Then he moved you a couple of steps back, away from the guard, so he could handle the situation.

With the sword ready in hand, he stood beside the guard and rose the steel to sink it into the chest of his opponent.

Your words made him pause “You could have asked me to do so. Why haven’t you?”

The answer was a bitter truth “I will not have you bear the guilt that comes with it, not if I can prevent it.”

Even when it was an enemy, it still gnawed at his conscious…

And it had made you think of the weight that came with such decisions, even if they were necessary.

You averted your eyes when the sword moved, it was over so quickly.

It was oddly considerate that he cleaned the blood from the sword with a piece of fabric, that he had torn from a guard’s tunic, before handing it back to you.

He looked at the horses “We should take them with us. We can use them.”.

You nodded.

He walked over to the horses and began to remove all the attire they had that bore the symbols of the Church.

At the sight of it, you sprung in action and did the same with one of the other horses.

After that, you each mounted one and he tied the reins of the third to the horse he mounted on.

Lancelot did not sit as comfortable, that was clear.

You knew the reason “Are you alright?”

He still held a hand, in which he had the reins, close to his groin “I will be. And you?”

You shrugged your shoulders “It hurt, but I’m fine now.”

His brow arched “You know I was not just asking about your physical suffering.”

Your eyes dropped to your hands “I just found out that they have perhaps killed my friend and all the nice people I have lived with.”

He did not know what to say to sooth the suffering “I am sorry.”

Quietly he rode beside you and you reached the barn again.

Goliath and Llamrai were patiently waiting, well…Goliath was. Llamrai looked at you like you had personally insulted her by leaving her there, who could blame her?

Lancelot tied the reins of the other horses together, two would be led by Goliath, one by Llamrai “We shall stop at the inn. I believe they will be able to tell us more about the circumstances and reasons for this atrocity.”

You mounted Llamrai, who glared at the other horses “I’m guessing I will have to be the one to ask around?”

The notorious marks beneath his eyes would only draw unwanted attention “Are you up to it?”

No…

You swallowed the lump that was forming in your throat “I am. I have to know what happened. If she is alive…I have to know.”

He was the first to leave the barn, the other horses followed in tow “And you will.”

There would be no rest before he got to the bottom of this. Deep down, he did not dare to voice his fear that this was a personal attack by the Abbot to cause you suffering.

Those few times he had heard the Abbot speak were enough to determine what sort of monster hid behind the man, spiteful and consumed by hatred.

A threat to all who defied him.

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  Through the darkness of the night, together you traveled to the inn. The place seemed unbothered by the night passing it by, the patrons were so cheerful from the ale that you could hear them from outside.

After tying the horses reins to the hitching post beside the inn, you made your way inside.

Suddenly you stopped just before walking in the door “Dammit…I have no coin with me.”

It would be difficult to get information out of the innkeeper if you weren’t even buying a drink.

He went in unbothered “You have something better.”

You awkwardly followed him inside “What would that be?”

There was a little push against your back as he steered you towards the innkeeper that was serving those at the bar their drinks “Your charm. Go. I will wait in the corner over there.”

He pointed discreetly in the direction he would head to.

You sighed and began to open your dress a little more in the front.

His thoughts shattered and bubbled out of his mouth “What…what are you…”

Your eyes met his, he looked absolutely rattled “You… you told me to use my ‘charms’.”

The throat of the Ash Man bopped “I-…” it still took him a second to form a coherent sentence “Not that sort of charm.”

At that you failed to remain serious and snorted a laugh “I was just messing with you.”

The relief was visible, he should have known you would do something like this.

You closed your dress up again and flinched a little when the twit tried to tickle your side while walking past you towards the place he would be waiting.

The patrons drinking their beverages barely acknowledged your presence, perhaps they were too drunk to be wary of strangers in these uncertain times.

Once at the bar, you hopped on one of the stools and patiently waited until the innkeeper noticed.

The man had a short beard, scars along his lower arms and looked like he could break a log into two without much difficulty. Besides his appearance, he sounded friendly and cheerful to those around.

There was eye contact and the innkeeper made his way over “What can I get you, miss? Some ale to wash away that sadness I can see in your eyes?”

Was it that noticeable to others?

It had you distracted for a moment but you regained your composure “I need information on what happened to the abbey.”

The innkeeper’s cheery demeanor vanished and he poured himself a drink instead “Shame what happened there. I saw the flames some nights ago and went over there with a couple of other folks to help. We were stopped by the Trinity Guard.”

So there had been an attempt to save the abbey “You saw what happened?

He downed the tankard of ale in one go “Yes.”

The way he had drank all of that ale so fast made you afraid of asking “Did anyone survive?”

The man shook his head “No one was seen fleeing the place, the fire must have caught them in their sleep.”

Subconsciously you moved your hand to the satchel that hanged at your side, you bit back the tears.

A voice rang from behind you, coin was put down at the bar “Good sir, an ale for the lady and one for me as well, please.”

Recognizing the voice was what almost made you fall from the bar stool “Tristan?!?”

The man you had once known so well stood beside you now, his golden hair had gotten a bit darker by the looks of it “Long time since I last saw you. What are you doing here in this humble establishment?”

The innkeeper went to fetch two tankards and poured the ale.

You couldn’t believe he was actually here “I was just asking about the abbey-… what are you doing here? How are you?”

Tristan thanked the innkeeper when he was handed the tankards and handed one to you “Just getting a drink before I head home. You heard about the abbey too, huh? I never thought an Abbot would have nuns be murdered. So what if they didn’t follow their scriptures perfectly? It doesn’t excuse what he did.”

You thanked him for the ale, then forgot all about it when you questioned “Abbot Wicklow?”

Tristan took another sip of ale “That’s the one. From what I’ve heard, he demanded that the Abbess followed his orders, she refused. That same night those masked bastards came and set the place on fire.”

There was still a speck of hope in you “The innkeeper said no one survived.”

He only confirmed it “No one survived that sea of flames, if they had, I doubt those bastards would not have hunted them down.”

You placed the tankard on the bar, the hope was taken from you.

It must have been visible to him “Hey, are you alright, y/n?”

There was no point in hiding it “My friend, Anne, lived there.”

His own tankard was abandoned on the bar now “I am so sorry. Oh god, I shouldn’t have said anything.”

You fumbled with the full tankard “No. I needed to know what happened and now I do.” the tears were too hard to fight and you stood up to leave “It was good seeing you again, Tristan. I wish you the very best.”

A couple of steps was all you could take before Tristan stopped you by taking a hold on your wrist “I made you cry. God, I’m such a fool-”

Suddenly Tristan himself found his own wrist in the grasp of the Ash Man who had been watching the conversation from a distance.

Lancelot made him break the hold Tristan had on you and the force of it send Tristan a step backwards.

The place had gotten so crowded that you almost saw it too late “Lancelot, don’t!”

Never in your life did you expect to stand between your first love and your current and heavens was it nerve-wracking.

Tristan gestured to the, to him unknown, overprotective man “Who the hell is this?!? Do you know him?”

You quickly explained the situation before weapons would be drawn “I am very sorry, Tristan. This is Lancelot, he can be a little quick to jump into action.”

Tristan? You knew this man?

A bow and arrows rested on the man’s back, muscular and with an expression that said he was not afraid of the person facing him now.

He had misread the situation and now sized this man up.

This man was looking at him in a similar way…

How did you know him?…

Was it…no…

There was Isaiah once, was this the first?

Lancelot still wasn’t comfortable with you standing close to Tristan and questioned you directly “Who is this?”

If jealousy had a sound, it would have been his tone in that moment.

The sharpness of the question had not gone ignored by Tristan, who replied “A friend.”

To calm his jealousy a little, you touched the back of your fingers against Lancelot’s hand “Lancelot, this is Tristan. He is indeed a friend.”

He gave you a look.

And?

It should not have been so flattering to see him jealous like this, so you continued “Once upon a time, he was more than that. But that is long since past.”

The Ash Man was not subtle when he moved to stand closer to you, your arm touched his chest.

Long since past, but was it the same for him?

Tristan was unbothered by the shenanigans and pointed at him “I know who you are. I heard rumors about what happened but I never thought it could actually be true. The Weeping Monk and my y/n, so the rumors are true then? I heard a couple of paladins talking about it right here in this inn a couple of days ago.”

Had he heard this ‘Tristan’ right?

‘My y/n’ ?!?

You felt Lancelot wrap a hand around your lower arm, ready to pull you away and out of the inn.

Again, he was sharp “None of it is your concern.”

The glare never left those weeping eyes, if looks could kill…

You scolded him for it “Lancelot, he’s not an enemy.”

Tristan was very forward about it “Like you, I fell for a woman I wasn’t supposed to. And I married her.”

Right away the glare vanished from Lancelot’s face.

Married?

Tristan added “It nearly cost me my neck. I was supposed to accompany my wife and bring her to the man she was forced to marry. Things went a little different.”

You asked “Still on the run?”

He remained joyful “Always. But I’d rather live my life on the run, than live it without her.” Tristan turned to Lancelot “Sound familiar?”

Lancelot gave a very shallow nod and saw the man reach out his hand for him to shake, after an encouraging look from you, he shook it “It does. And then you will understand that we are trying not to draw attention to ourselves.”

Tristan hummed, then gave a piece of information he knew the former monk and you would wish to hear “Did you hear that the Abbot is planning on visiting Helgenstone overmorrow? Yes, he’s expected at the church there around noon to meet with the local priest.”

The Ash Man was quick to catch up and understood why this information was being given, and by the look in your eyes, you understood too.

Tristan acted like he wasn’t just hinting that it would be the perfect time to deal with the Abbot once and for all “It was lovely seeing you again, y/n. I’ll be heading back before my missus starts to worry.”

The fearless man proceeded to give you a light embrace.

From the corner of your eyes, you saw a couple of blue eyes grow darker “Goodbye, Tristan. Stay safe.”

Tristan let go of you “You too. Luckily you still have your ‘sworn protector’ to ensure your safety.”

Lancelot made sure that that fact was known by all by not straying from your side.

And you appreciated the protective gesture “I am indeed blessed.”

Hearing it had those weeping eyes scan your face, it had not been to jest.

With a slight bow of his head, Tristan bid you farewell and walked out of the inn.

You turned your head to face Lancelot “Are you hungry? Maybe I can plead with the innkeeper for something to eat?”

He shook his head, declining the offer.

You arched a brow at the close proximity he still kept until he noticed and took a step back.

Was he truly that intimidated by Tristan?

It was quite the compliment that he was so fond of you that he’d respond like this and heaven did that darker look in his eyes stir something in you.

You touched his arm “Shall we head home?

His features softened visibly at the small gesture “Yes.”

Upon turning around and walking to the exit of the inn you often felt him place a hand to the low of your back.

In case others might get it into their heads that you were unspoken for.

And still he was not confident enough to keep it there…

Once outside, you informed him of what you had learned “The Abbot is indeed responsible, he wanted to take control over the abbey and the Abbess refused. He murdered them all because they wouldn’t be pushed around.”

It was what he had feared would happen.

Either the people followed the Church, or they would be made an example to strike fear into the hearts of all.

He gently asked “And Sister Anne?”

You shook your head “No one survived.” it felt surreal “She was so kind and always there to help. I can’t believe she’s gone…”

By the time you’d stopped next to Llamrai, he was at your side “They did not deserve this. The abbey stood up against a tyrant. We should too.”

With a knowing look you nodded “Helgenstone, he said.”

He nodded too “We will have to convince Gawain.”

“And Arthur.” You added.

It sounded like a child being forced to play with someone they disliked “And Arthur.”

The reins of the horses were recovered from the hitching post.

You were about to mount Llamrai when his question came.

“He was the first?” It sounded like he had to force the question out of him.

It made you turn towards him again “He was. Tristan and I grew apart, he met his wife not long afterwards.”

Two had known you intimately and now he had met both.

Isaiah had been downright arrogant, but Tristan could have easily still been a proper suitor had he not been married.

It had eaten at the buried fear that someday another could come along and earn your affections…

The reins were folded again and again in his hands, it would wear out the leather quickly if he kept it up “Were you saddened by it?”

It was a little confusing “That we grew apart?” you saw him nod “Of course I was. He didn’t do anything wrong or something. We just grew up and changed.”

When it looked like he had no further questions, you mounted Llamrai.

He looked up at you, moonlight touched his face “I hope that will not happen to us.”

Even you could hear the sliver of fear in his voice “It better not. I’ve put all my hope on you being my last love.”

His head tilted a little, the boyish smile reached his eyes and gave them that spark “Have you now?”

Your horse was getting impatient and fed up, still you kept her still while teasing the Ash Man “It’s all or nothing.”

“All it is.” He said and went to mount Goliath.

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  Dawn was breaking by the time you arrived back in the city.

Percival and Neia were sitting outside the stables and ran up to Lancelot at the first sight they caught of him.

Of course the boy questioned “Where did you get all those horses?”

After having left with two and returning with five, it was a good question.

Lancelot handed Percival the reins of a brown steed “The Trinity Guard.”

Percival held the reins in his hand, looking down at them and then up at the Ash Man.

He confirmed what the boy was hoping for “Now, this one is yours.”

The boy couldn’t believe his ears, he had flung his arms around his tall friend before he could even stop himself “Really?!?”

The Ash Man’s voice shook a little “Yes.”

Percival composed himself and let go, he was quick to lead his horse into the stables.

Neia stood aside quietly, looking as if she wished no one could see her there.

Lancelot took the reins of the horse that Llamrai had been guiding along, he knelt down to Neia’s eye-level and beckoned for the girl to come closer.

She slowly stepped closer to him but stopped at a small distance.

He held out the reins of the smaller steed, it’s white coat was sprinkled with an array of small brown spots “And this is for you.”

Neia stared at the reins offered to her, her brown eyes widened.

You could tell that she was cautious and you went over to her, you took her hand in yours and guided her closer “Go on. Don’t be shy.”

With a sheepish look, Neia stepped closer to the Ash Man and took the reins offered to her.

A promise was made to her by him “I will teach you how to ride.”

She outstretched her arm, the tip of her index finger touched the mark that ran down his right eye.

He stilled completely, surprised by the action.

With a little tilt of her head she studied his face and withdrew her hand “Thank you, Lancelot.”

Neia wasn’t strong enough yet to truly lead the horse into the stable, but the spotted steed followed her regardless, clearly enamored with the little girl.

There the Ash Man still knelt on the ground, processing the way the child had reached out to him without fear.

You placed a hand on his shoulder and gave it a squeeze “Go and teach them how to care for their horses, I’ll go and speak to Gawain.”

The morning sun made those weeping eyes appear ethereal as they gazed up at your face.

It only further confirmed your believe that he cherished these small physical touches.

He rose from the ground “It will not be simple to speak of this to Gawain again. Are you certain you wish to do this alone?”

You were sure of it “I know, but I will do my best. And this way you won’t get into trouble for it again.”

He saw the children bond with their horses inside the stables “Just… do try to be subtle about it. Back out of the conversation if he remains against the idea of killing the Abbot.”

Subtly?

You gave a nod and gestured to the stables “Don’t worry. I’ve got this. Now go on, you told Neia you would teach her. Try to see if she can get on the horse or not.”

There was a look of suspicion aimed at you, but he elected to ignore the strong possibility that you would be rather blunt about the situation to the Green Knight.

At least he would not get into trouble over it…

Lancelot walked into the stables with the remaining horses and Llamrai showed her disapproval by walking back and forth, the protests did not change the mind of the Ash Man.

  You walked to the fort, the satchel with the knitted socks weighed heavy on your shoulder now. Anne’s death could not have been for nothing. The nuns had welcomed you into their home like a sister. The Abbess had fought for their independence.

They did not deserve to be burned and murdered like this.

You passed Arthur and Red Spear “Arthur, where is Gawain?”

Arthur had to think for a moment “He’s in the war room with Kaze.”

You thanked him and began to walk away.

Red Spear called out for you and approached, the conversation felt practiced by her “You have a sword now…”

It confused you a bit “I have…”

She slowly took a knife from where it rested on her hip and held it out for you “Here. Put this on your belt too.”

That…was unexpected, you took the knife from her and began to attach it to your belt “Uhm… Thank you. Why are you giving me a knife?”

Red Spear had sensed there had been something off before “The Ash Man told me that our excursion had upset you.”

You felt your face burn “It was a misunderstanding.”

She was very forward “I do not wish for a feud between us and certainly not over a man.”

Did she suspect that there was something between you and Lancelot?

The way she had said it was quite comical, like the mere thought was unthinkable to her “I believe you. I will not fight with another over a man either, I learned that a while ago.”

Red Spear guessed what that meant “Someone betrayed you.”

You hummed.

She responded like it was personal “Men are pigs.”

Arthur had heard that statement and didn’t know where to look for a moment, Red was not the sort of person to hold her tongue.

She pointed at the knife “I was right to give you the knife.”

You gawked at her speechless, then nervously smiled “Thank you, Red Spear.”

Red Spear gave a sharp nod, then returned to Arthur who looked like he had lost some of the confidence in his charm.

Oh? Was the swordsman trying to gain the favor of the raider’s captain?

By the looks of the nervous Arthur, it seemed to be the case.

You continued on your way to the war room, Kaze walked out right when you went to knock on the door.

She sized you up, then passed you by without saying a word. Kaze still held distrust against most, you did not take it personal and doubted she meant harm.

Upon entering the room, you found the Green Knight standing in deep thought while looking at a crumpled map.

Subtle, Lancelot had said…

And your way of subtle was quite straightforward “Gawain. We need to talk about the Abbot.”

Gawain let out a quiet curse upon hearing it “I have told Lancelot my opinion.”

You weren’t there to get ‘no’ for an answer “It’s time you changed it.”

The knight was incredulous “I beg your pardon?”

The door was slammed shut by you “Abbot Wicklow had his Trinity Guards burn the abbey and murder my friend. He murdered them all!”

It came as a shock to Gawain as well, it explained your behavior now “I am truly sorry, y/n. But we cannot be irrational now.”

“Irrational?!?” You couldn’t stand to hear it “How much longer must we wait to act? How many more must die before we stop this beast from murdering all who oppose him?!”

Killing the Abbot would be a victory in this war and spare everyone from the cruelties he was perpetrating, Gawain knew this, but caution was necessary “Killing him will make room for another to rise in power.”

You understood this “Correct, but it will decrease the popularity of the position. Not many will wish to rise in power if their predecessors were murdered for it.”

He saw the reason in it too, still…“It’s too dangerous-”

Many things were dangerous, but waiting for danger to come knocking on the door would not benefit anyone either “And he knows we believe it to be. He knows we are afraid. If we strike now, he won’t expect it. Wicklow is expecting us to cower away and hide.”

The voice of reason outmatched the desire for justice in Gawain “I know that you want vengeance for what has been done. But we do not have enough skilled fighters to face the group of Trinity Guards that follow the Abbot everywhere! Is that what you want? To risk our people’s lives for revenge?”

When entering the room, you had felt confident, but his words made that confidence disappear.

“I don’t.” You quietly said.

Gawain regretted his harshness and approached “Y/n. We don’t even know where Wicklow is now. There is barely any news of his whereabouts because most of our Fey scouts have to hide.”

It was the gentle touch to your shoulder that made you lift your eyes from the floor again “What if we knew when and where to find him?”

He was a bit more receptive of the idea “Then we would be able to plan something and see if it is safe.”

You offered the information and hoped he would see the opportunity it brought “Wicklow will be at Helgenstone overmorrow to visit the church there.”

Gawain was surprised by the knowledge “And how exactly do you know this?”

With a shrug of your shoulders the answer fell “I bumped into my first love whilst we returned here.”

He snorted a laugh and gave your shoulder a squeeze “I see.”

The knight knew a certain person must not have been so excited by the encounter…

You gave it one last shot and pleaded “Please, Gawain. I know that it is dangerous. But what happened to the abbey was just the start. We can’t just stand aside and wait for Wicklow to take over the lands. He is not like my uncle, Wicklow won’t stop until everyone bows to the rules. This isn’t just about the Fey anymore, he is coming for everyone. The freedom of all is at stake.”

He drew back his hand and placed it on his hip, something he always did when he was thinking “Listen, maybe there is a way to kill Wicklow. But we will have to make a plan. I’ll talk to Arthur and Red Spear, maybe Kaze will help us too. I am not making any promises.”

You smiled and ignored how he proceeded to rub along your arm a bit oddly “Thank you. Let me know if I can be of help.”

If only you knew why he was doing it…

Gawain was already planning something “I might have a plan for you. Do you still have your tunic from the abbey?”

You gave a nod “I do.”

“Perfect.” He said, seeing the perfect way to infiltrate the enemies grounds “Go on and rest for today. Find something to clear your mind and if you ever need to talk, I’m here to listen.”

There was something he still wished to say and you could see him struggle to do so “There’s something else. I can tell.”

He crossed his arms in front of his chest, creating a barrier while speaking of the past “Forgive me for being so cautious. I… I saw my brother be murdered by the paladins when I was just a boy. I knew I couldn’t save him and I hid.”

How many knew the tragedy the knight had lived through?

It made you understand why he was so cautious compared to the others who were quick to run into battle.

While they ran into battle, he was there to prevent them from getting hurt.

You found yourself placing your hands on his shoulders “You care for your people and don’t want to see them hurt.”

There was a shallow nod “I’ve seen it too many times. I am a knight of the Fey, I will give my life before I’d let another die to save me again.”

There was buried misplaced guilt…

At a loss for words, you put your arms around him and embraced the knight who’s heart had suffered too much already.

He did not recoil or question it, physical touch was not a strange occurrence for him.

You reassured him of his worth “You’re a good knight and a good man, Gawain.”

He leaned back to look at your face, both his hands on your arms “I’d like to believe that.”

You smacked his chest “You’d better.”

It brought out a rare smile in him “I can see why our Ash Man has his eyes set on you.”

Gawain let go and took a step back “Now then, off you go. No need for you to stay here and stare at the maps with me. Go on.”

You made a respectful little bow, one you’d often done as a little girl, then left the room.

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[everlastingdreams]

Weeping Monk x Reader : The Patience Of A Heart    Chapter 6

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Story Summary: After fire claimed the lives of your family, the monastery of your Uncle Carden becomes your new home. As the niece of a priest you are expected to behave prim and proper, but not even the watchful eyes of the Weeping Monk can see all. An ancient magic returns to life when love and duty begin to blur.

Chapter Title: The Many Faces Of Evil

Notes: Nearly done proofreading the other chapters. Pfew.

Warnings: There's a list of warnings for this story: Murder. Violence. Death. Angst. Sexism. Strong Language. Trauma. Childhood trauma. Survivor's guilt. Mentions of child maltreatment. Threat of Sexual assault. PTSD. Misogyny, Self-flagellation. Gore.

Other warnings: Jealousy. Forbidden Love. Romance. Pining. Smut. Spicy content. Little Slow-burn.

Word count of this fic: +110K

Chapter:  6 / lol Gonna keep the chapter count a secret until the end.

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The next time you saw the Monk was in the dinning hall that evening.

The soup in front of your nose was slowly getting colder, uncle Carden’s violent response was far from forgotten.

And the fluttering sensation in your stomach had chased away all hunger.

Intense blue orbs were stealing glances at you from across the room, you could feel it…

Taken a sip of water did nothing to calm the nerves that had taken hold, it had never felt like this after a kiss before… not this strong.

Could it even be called such?

Perhaps it was best not to speak of it, what if all it brought was more heartache and the end of a friendship?

Brother Albert, who sat beside you, had no problem drinking his soup, the slurping mixed with those of the other paladins.

You twirled the spoon in your bowl of soup, making it at least look like you were busy with it.

Father Carden took notice and loudly questioned “Dear y/n, I see you have not tasted the soup. Are you ill?”

You barely made eye-contact, feeling stares aimed at you “No, uncle.”

The priest waited for an explanation and saw you stubbornly ignore him “Wh-”

You were quicker “I think I’ll just retreat to my chamber for the night.”

He must have sensed that you were still just as bitter and angry as he was about what happened earlier “Very well.”

It was perhaps petty, but when you moved your chair back, you let the feet of the chair drag sharply over the tile floor.

If they could stand the sound of slurping, they could stand the sharp pitch of the chair too.

The Monk’s hand hid the smirk that was present on his face.

Father would not appreciate the response to your attitude.

Someone was behaving feisty today…

There was a very quick moment of eye-contact between you and the Monk when you loudly put the chair back under the table.

You looked so smug…

He looked quite entertained.

With your head held high, you walked to the door “Goodnight, Brothers?”

It set off a choir of their responses to it, some of the paladins earned a glare from your uncle when they sounded a bit too eager to wish you a good night.

The Monk bit his tongue until you walked past him to the door, he did not lift his eyes from the table and tried to sound almost bored “Rest well, Lady y/n.”

You gave a shallow nod in response and left the room without saying a word to your uncle.

But you did not retreat to your room right away as you had claimed, instead you went outside.

Even though any trips outside the monastery were currently forbidden, a small walk around the building was permitted. With the slap the Monk had received in your stead in mind, you did your best to not agitate uncle Carden further.

With your fingertips dragging along the wall, you continued the walk and enjoyed the seeing the sun going down.

You’d reached the back of the monastery, it didn’t take long to reach another corner but footsteps behind you alerted you to another person’s presence.

A smile grew “Did my uncle order you to keep an eye on me here too?”

It was when the answer did not come that you realized something wasn’t right…

A look over your shoulder confirmed your fear…this was not the Monk but a stranger armed with a sword.

His hand was quick to muffle the scream for help you emitted.

With your nails, you clawed at your assailant’s face. The Fey markings of the Sky Folk rose to the surface of his skin in return.

Fey?

His grasp on you wasn’t strong enough and you broke free.

“HELP!” You screamed and tried to flee, but he grabbed your wrist painfully hard.

“Avo, come help!” The man called for the reinforcement and when he pulled at your wrist, the bangle slipped from it. The silver cut into your skin before it dropped to the grass.

The bastard was trying his best to keep your mouth covered.

You struggled and fought until something struck the side of your head.

After that, all went dark.

“Dammit, Avo! Where were you? That almost went wrong!” Finch quietly snapped at his accomplice.

“I’m sorry, I was getting the wagon closer.” He gave the poor explanation.

Finch ordered the younger one to help drag you off to the wagon “We did it. We’ve got that red priest’s niece. He’ll pay fine coin for her.”

The younger one simple followed the agreed upon plan “And when he does, we’ll let her go?”

Finch brushed it off “We’ll see.”

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 The absence of Father’s niece came to light when a paladin had went to bring a message and found your room abandoned.

The news reached the Monk first, who had believed you must have been somewhere else in the monastery.

But when he caught the Fey scent nearby, he suspected foul play.

Father was alerted and so were his red brothers.

The search began outside the monastery.

Tracks… three sets of them…

And minutes later, he found the bangle he had gifted you.

Fresh dried blood stained the inside of it, it must have been yours.

He brought it up to his nose when no one saw, detecting the faint scent of the Sky Folk.

The Monk hid the bangle in his pocket and was still kneeling on the grass when Father stopped next to him.

“Found anything?” Father demanded to know.

He pointed at the flattened grass “Tracks. And the scent of Fey kind.”

The priest was not happy to hear it “You believe Fey have taken her?”

The Monk feared it was indeed so “Yes.”

The command came “Find her! And slaughter anyone who has partaken in this!”

It was not necessary to ask, he was already thinking of it “Yes. Father.”

All of a sudden a child approached the monastery, the young boy was stopped by a paladin. A letter was given to the paladin by the boy.

Father Carden had seen it happen and called out to the paladin “What is it?”

The paladin took a quick look at the parchment “A letter Father! It is about Lady y/n!”

He had risen to his feet quickly, but he was still forced to wait until Father had read the letter before the parchment was angrily tossed into his hands.

After reading the vile letter, he swore to find and kill whoever was responsible for this.

 ━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━

 You had regained consciousness when they had dragged you into a cave and feared the worst.

With bound hands, the one who had attacked you first had purposely made you trip and fall to the ground.

Torches in the stone lighted the place, it looked like they had been living here for a while.

There was another man, young looking with hair so light it was more white than golden, who looked at you almost apologetically.

The other was far from remorseful, he brushed a hand through his raven hair which betrayed his vanity “Now we wait for an answer.”

Avo thought back to the moment they’d first spoken to the child “You think that boy will come back to us, Finch?”

Finch had forced a Manblood child to deliver the letter with his demands to the priest, he had threatened the child until the boy had bursted into tears.

The situation had seemingly no impact on him, his calm demeanor was unsettling to behold “He’d better. I know where his home is.”

A coldblooded criminal if you’d ever seen one… the other merely an accomplice.

Their attention fell on you again and you demanded answers “Why have you done this? Why am I here?”

Finch’s slender fingers touched your cheek and he found enjoyment in how you recoiled from it “Be still, girl.”

The other chimed in “Your dear old uncle is going to give us what we want if he wants to get you back.”

Finch gave a shallow nod while continuously trying to touch your shoulder or face “You must be worth something to that old bastard. Even if it is just to save his honor, he’ll do what we ask or lose his niece at the hands of the enemy.”

If his demands included stopping the mission, this man would be very disappointed soon “My uncle will not stop what he is doing.”

He cared little for your information “Oh, I know. But we will certainly get the coin we asked.”

Avo tried to keep you calm “It isn’t personal, Miss.”

Finch disagreed on that “It isn’t personal?” he pointed at you rudely “It is personal, Avo! This bitch is Father Carden’s kin! The blood of the Fey is on her hands too!”

You defended yourself against the accusation “I’ve never hurt a Fey!”

The defiance was met by the back of Finch’s hand striking you across the face.

The shock of it was fast to silence you.

Finch lowered himself in front of you “Listen, Manblood. Your uncle has burned our homes and murdered our people. If you weren’t worth something alive, I’d set you aflame right now and leave your burned corpse at Carden’s doorstep. Count your blessings for these final hours, they’ll be over soon.”

He stood abruptly, turning to Avo “Once our demands are met, we’ll return her.”

The younger one inquired innocently “Alive?”

Finch mocked him for thinking it “I didn’t say that.”

Avo sounded uncertain “We would kill her?”

Finch tilted his head and stared at you “Maybe I’ll keep her.” he gripped your chin, forcing you to look at him “Or maybe I’ll send her back after all. With a Fey child growing in her, I bet the priest would go mad.”

The implied threat made it difficult to stay calm.

The younger one quietly uttered his believe “He’d cast her out.”

Finch let go off your chin “Good. Then she’ll know how it feels like.” he snapped his fingers “Stand up, Manblood.”

Your legs were shaking when you rose to your feet, feeling the bruises from the fall.

Avo tried “Finch-”

Finch paid him no mind “Shut it, Avo.”

He came to stand behind you and when his arms moved to your front you felt like shrinking.

The cords of your cloak were untied and he removed it, tossing it across the space.

This felt like he was out to humiliate you.

Right away you crossed your arms over your chest and hugged yourself “Leave me alone.”

He tsked you arrogantly, tapping on the sword at his side to remind you why cooperation was wiser “Don’t be cold. Maybe if you show me that you can be sweet to a Fey, I might change my mind on killing you after this.”

From the corner of your eyes, you saw that Avo was not moving, only watching the bastard bother you.

When no response came, Finch put a hand on your back and let it glide lower.

You kept your composure as good as one could, a plan formed inside your mind.

“Good girl. See that Avo? I think she can play nice if she wants to.” He praised, looking over at Avo who still did not agree with the situation.

Finch circled around to face you and was gentler than expected when cupping your face “No wonder that the Weeping Monk is always near when you are. The priest knew how valuable you would be in the hands of his enemies, of course he ordered his mutt to keep guard.”

But you, you were more aggressive than he expected in response to his words.

Your hands were bound but your knee was free to jerk up and hit him in the groin.

A curse escaped him as he buckled over in pain.

With a simple push, you made him fall into Avo who had gotten closer to help his accomplice.

With the two of them busy, you bolted out of there.

The tunnels of the cave were sometimes narrow and terribly dark, it was a miracle you choose the right ones to find the exit.

A wagon stood outside, the horse’s reins were tied to a tree. Releasing those reins would take too much time, you had to run before they caught up with you.

And so began your aimless escape into the forest.

Dammit, it was cold at night and you could barely see, the moon was mostly hidden behind the clouds.

The sound of their voices was reaching you as they began their chase.

Arriving at a small river stream, you were forced to find away around it or follow it.

Time was not your friend and following it was the option chosen.

In your hurry, you did not spot the animal trap on the ground and the moment you stepped on the hidden rope, it went off.

The rope caught you by the ankle and pulled your leg from under you, you hit the ground hard, leg dangling from the branch of a tree.

Shit.

It had been meant for an animal to be caught with, luckily it wasn’t build to pull you higher.

Still it proved a pain to untie the knot in the rope, the bound hands only made it worse.

The rustling of leaves alerted to the presence of others.

Finch mocked you right away “Well, well, looks like you got yourself into some trouble.” he knelt down beside you while Avo approached the scene “You haven’t been very nice to me. If you weren’t worth coin, I’d leave you for the wolves.”

You were stuck sitting on the ground “I’d prefer them over your company!”

The short laugh that escaped the youngest only made Finch glare back at him.

Finch drew his sword, swung and cut through the rope close to your ankle.

It had nearly cut you…

Roughly he pulled you from the ground “Get up! We aren’t done with you, Manblood.”

You were shoved into Avo’s hands by him, who kept a firm hold but not as rough as his comrade.

Not much later, you were back in that cave. Finch had bound your ankles together too before he left you alone with Avo to see if that child had returned to their meeting place yet.

Avo used his sword to sharpen a branch to pass the time.

Minutes passed before you dared to try and reason with him “Your friend is making a grave mistake. My uncle knows no mercy, if he knows that you have taken me, they will burn you for it.”

His attention did not lift from the steel “That priest won’t spare us either way. When we have the coin, we can leave these lands.”

The fact that he was calmer made you more confident “Please, you’re friend will kill me. I never believed that the Fey were evil and I don’t believe you to be either. Let me go, I will not tell anyone what has happened.”

Avo turned his attention to you “You don’t believe me to be evil?”

You shook your head.

His eyes dropped to the sword again “You’re wrong. Ever since the war began, I have killed to survive, I have killed for coin. There is evil to be found all around us, remember that. And if Finch kills you, I’ll stand beside him still.”

The hope that he was a better person went and left you, the only difference between them was the patience the younger one showed.

Finch returned looking displeased while informing the younger one “No sign of the boy.”

Avo began to worry “Surely the priest will pay for her?”

It came out like he had already thought it through “He will. Or she’ll pay for wasting our time. We wait ‘till tomorrow at noon, then we’ll decide.”

Like a scorned child, Finch walked up to you while you were sitting and pushed you over.

You landed on your side “Bastard!”

For a second it looked like he wanted to hit you again, instead he knelt down and pulled you upright by the rope at your wrists “You had your chance to play nice, remain quiet. Do as you’re told.”

You spat in his face and saw him recoil.

He immediately stood up and wiped his face clean, bitterly exclaiming “So be it.”

Finch reached down to grab you but this time Avo let his disapproval be known “Enough, Finch. She’s not worth the hassle.”

It halted him, after a second of thought he agreed and let you be “I’m going to get some sleep. Keep watch, Avo.”

Avo simply gave a nod, growing visibly agitated with this behavior.

And still he refused to help…

  It had not been your intention to fall asleep, you just wanted to shut your eyes for a moment. And still you had gone into a shallow slumber.

The dream you had was strange, you had dreamed of incomprehensible whispers…

It was odd.

Where your sleep had been peaceful, your awakening was not.

One moment you were sleeping on the ground, the next the ropes at your ankles were cut loose and you were pulled roughly to your feet.

When you blinked to focus your eyes, you thought it had all been a nightmare.

The Monk stood not far away, sword drawn.

It was the fresh blood staining the steel that made you aware that all of it had been real, it took another second to understand why he wasn’t coming closer.

The cold steel of a knife was against your throat.

Finch held you in his grasp, using you as a shield between himself and the Monk “Come any closer and you’ll be returning a corpse to the priest.”

It slipped from the Monk “Yes. Yours.”

Your abductor was not amused by it in the slightest “I hope you have brought the coin I asked for. By the looks of that sword, I take it that you have made me the sole recipient of the payment?”

He had lured the man out of the cave before dealing with him, now there was only one left and this bastard did not look shocked to learn that his accomplice was dead.

His voice dropped significantly “There will be no payment, the Church does not negotiate with the enemy.”

Finch made you lean more against him by moving the knife closer, his breath was so close to your ear that you wanted to squirm away from it “Unfortunately, I do not either. I am walking out of here with her, if you try to stop me I’ll cut her throat.”

This scum was behaving far too familiar with you and he hated the sight of it, hated to see how desperate you were to get away from it.

The Monk locked eyes with you, discreetly he let his gaze flick to the stone wall where the torch was.

Oh?

Finch moved a step back with you, his back facing the wall while his attention remained fixed on the Monk.

It dawned on you that the Monk was moving the way that he was with a purpose, it was a form of manipulating the direction that Finch was moving in.

Soon Finch had nearly gotten past him completely, then the Monk locked eyes with you again and gave a quick nod.

It was the signal for you to step back into Finch’s chest, it forced him back and the flame of the torch on the wall spread to his vest, the flames rose to his face almost instantly.

You were pulled to safety not a blink of an eye later by the Monk, he moved you to get behind him.

He was vigilant until he saw the flames overtake the bastard.

To him this was nothing new, but you did not want to hear the screams or see the result.

You pulled at the Monk’s sleeve “Lancelot…”

He would have stayed and watched the bastard burn.

Instead he found himself cutting the rope loose that bound your wrists. Then he took your hand in his and leaded you out of the place.

On your way out, you had to step over the body of Avo who had met his end by the Monk’s sword “You found me…”

It had not been easy, he had to ask the child who had brought the letter where they were to meet with your abductors again. The boy had not been there on the meeting spot, but he was. He had followed the man, who now burned, to the cave.

He wrapped an arm around you, placing a hand on your shoulder to keep you walking beside him, concern filled him “Are you alright?”

You nodded but could see him scan your features.

Dawn was still to come, but even in the dark he could see a bruise forming on your cheek “They hit you.”

The hidden fury in his voice was undeniable and maybe he could even feel how much you were shivering “He did.”

He was quiet for a couple of steps while leading you to Goliath “Did anything else happen?”

The sight of that man acting indecent with you was gnawing at him. They had been alone with you for hours…

You were halted by him and he inspected you for any other visible injuries.

The bruise was visible, he took the liberty of touching your neck to inspect it. Next were your hands, the cut the bangle had caused had long since stopped bleeding.

“May I?” He inquired and let his fingers touch your sleeve.

After nodding, he moved your sleeves up one at a time, finding numerous bruises.

Some were clearly caused by a rough grasp, others perhaps a fall?

It surprised even yourself to see the amount of fresh bruising “The one who threatened to kill me was rough. I tried to escape not long ago, I fell after my ankle got stuck in an animal trap and they caught me again.”

That pulled his eyes up to yours again, having heard of such traps “If it was one of those traps I know of, you are lucky to still have your foot.”

Well, the force of it had caused a nasty fall “It does hurt.”

Without thinking, you bent and reached down to move your dress up a little to inspect your ankle.

He did a sharp inhale of air, not knowing where to look.

Then came your question “Does it look bruised? Maybe it’s broken.”

He could not see if it was if he kept looking at the trees…

And you sounded quite worried about it…

When he knelt down, you were taken aback by it.

Not once did he touch your bare lower leg, he did reach with the tips of his fingers but waited until you turned your foot yourself “It does not look broken. I can see the marks the rope left, I would expect it to show a bruise tomorrow. Does it burn?”

You pointed at the spot that burned “A bit, yes. Here.”

Cautiously his fingers touched the spot on your calf, the rope must have given a firm pull.

Was it swollen?

Concern made him bolder, he was trying to feel if there was swelling.

Your hand landed on his shoulder for balance “Uhm…Lancelot.”

Immediately he removed his hand from you and rose from the ground, having heard the pitch in your voice.

The apology was stammered “I am sorry. Forgive me, Lady y/n. It was not my intention to-”

You interrupted him “It’s alright. You did nothing wrong, I asked to look. I just…” there was a pause “…did not expect for you to be brave enough, usually you’re more reserved.”

Again he folded his hands behind his back to hide the fidgeting.

It was the slow blinking that accompanied your sweet smile that kept his gaze in your power.

That sweet smile made your mouth curve so alluringly, his thoughts went back to what had happened in the stables.

He avoided thinking of it too much, believing it had been an impulse you now regretted.

He reached into his pocket and pulled the silver bangle out, of course the blood was wiped off from it “I believe you lost this?”

You saw an opportunity and replied “No. I got bored of it and tossed it.”

It was no use, he saw right through the jest and handed it back to you.

You slipped the bangle on “Back there, you said the Church would not negotiate with the enemy. My uncle would have let me die?”

He did not dare answer that.

It was evasive “Father send me to find you.”

You understood it was difficult for him to speak ill of your uncle “But without the coin, they were going to kill me.”

He hoped his words would ease your mind “Coin or not, I will always come for you. No threat can stop me from doing so.”

It felt good to hear that someone still cared enough to just at least try to save you.

You pretended to question it “Even if my uncle tells you to just let me die in the future?”

Never had you seen a man move his hand so slowly to your arm, cautious fingers curled around it.

That slow nod meant more than any answer he could have verbally given. He would go against orders to keep you safe…

The hand moved to your back, a light push had you walking next to him again.

His palm hovered over your back until it was withdrawn completely again.

You came to a halt beside his horse and looked uncertain.

Without thinking he commented “Forgotten how to ride a horse?”

It earned him quite the look “Were you too distracted by my leg to notice my swollen ankle?”

He chewed his words while looking off into the trees again “If you need help getting up. Ask.”

Sarcasm dripped from your voice “Nah, I’ll just risk breaking my neck.”

When you actually went to mount alone, he was quick to be at your side to scold you for it “If you break your neck, I will lose mine.”

You mimicked his voice quietly.

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes and held on to your elbow “Come here.”

With a little help, you did manage to crawl up the horse, although it had not been very graceful.

You combed your fingers through the horse’s mane “I’m sorry about that.”

The Monk got up on the horse as well to sit behind you “It is alright.”

You withheld a laugh “I was talking to your horse, Lancelot.”

He did not let it shake him and quipped back “Unfortunately, Goliath cannot share with us his opinion on the dreadful way you just crawled on.”

The mumbled retort came fast “Or his opinion on his dreadful owner.”

A shit-eating grin grew on his face, he should be heading back to the monastery faster but he let Goliath keep a normal walking pace “Pardon?”

You simply looked back at him and arrogantly arched a brow, then proceeded to ignore him to pet Goliath again.

Not a second later, the Monk’s hand was on yours to replace it on the withers of the horse and he let you in on a little secret “He enjoys to be scratched there.”

Following the instruction, you scratched the spot “So that’s the secret?”

He wasn’t even aware that there was a charming smile playing on his lips “That and caring for him for years.”

You looked back at him again, matching the smile with your own “Is that what you intend to do with me too?”

Even though it sounded like it sounded partly sincere, he chose to continue jesting “The scratching or the caring?”

A laugh fell out of you “The caring!”

The Monk kept his composure “Well, when we get back, I will leave you in the stables and come to care for you in the morning like I do with Goliath.”

The cheekiness was greatly amusing “How dare you!”

When he leaned forward, it was to bump his chest into you on purpose “Is that not what you wanted?”

You scoffed, fighting the smile “I wonder what is stopping me from pushing you off this horse and ride off alone.”

There was the smuggest smirk and his voice deepened audibly “I am.”

Without looking back, you replied honest “No. It’s my attachment to you that is saving you.”

It brought him great delight to hear it.

He leaned back, straightening himself in the saddle, still jesting “So… I am?”

It still meant he himself was the reason you weren’t shoving him off the horse.

You rolled your eyes and shook your head “Shut up…”

Together you rode back to the monastery, arriving along with the dawn.

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[everlastingdreams]

Weeping Monk x Reader : Reign Of The Heart            Chapter 20

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Story Summary:  As the first in line to the throne of Riviel, your Father King Cador requests that you go to Uther's Castle to convince Uther to support the church's mission to extinguish the fey. You do not share the same views as your father when it comes to the fey, but still you do what he asks of you.On your journey to Uther's castle you were asked to go and visit Father Carden to see for yourself how the mission is going. As you and your company prepare to continue your journey to the castle, Father Carden insists on sending some of his men along to ensure you arrive at the castle safely.What you did not expect was that he not only send some of his Red Paladins, but also his Weeping Monk along.

Chapter Summary: At an inn Lancelot overhears two Vracan knights speak about you and the king. You ride into the night to try and find Lancelot.

Notes: Made the gif to give you an idea of what that thing looks like that happens in this chapter. Have to keep the summary vague on this one. If you read this until the end, then you will understand why next chapter will have warnings. Let me know what you think. Comments are the reason I still write tbh

Warnings: Feels, angst and sexual intimidation. 

Word count: 6899  words

Chapter: 20/??? A bunch ?

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Lancelot rode out of Riviel, through the forest until he reached a small village. He guided Goliath towards an inn he had once stayed at when he was still with the Red Paladins. He had lived a life of solitude, but after spending all this time in your castle he found himself searching for a place where he could be alone without truly being alone. The sound of others speaking to each other in the inn a welcome white noise for him.

He cared little for the drunken conversations around him as he sat in the corner of the dimly lit place. The innkeeper had recognised him and without speaking a word to him he had brought him a bowl of soup. The innkeeper had never asked any questions, a wise choice.

He had thanked the man for the soup, it was the first and only thing he had ever said to him.

Lancelot stared down at the soup in front of him, his fingers restlessly moving over the others until he forced himself to close his hand. Hunger was the last thing he felt, the thought of eating unthinkable to him now.

He felt empty and void of any physical sensation, he had felt like this before for years until he had met you.

And just as he had gained it by being near you, he had lost it by leaving.

Shutting his eyes, he repressed the memory of your tears, the ones he had caused.

The soup turned cold as his thoughts carried him away from the present.

You had begged him to stay, he had heard your voice break in your desperate plea and almost had he acted on the desire that had grown inside of him with each passing moment he had spend with you.

He burried his face in his hands as he steadied his breathing.

Part of him wished he could go back to blocking out everything he felt, part of him wished for nothing more then to feel it all again. As strong and as true as it had felt.

Every second of joy.

Every touch.

Everything.

Nothing had ever felt so real to him before. All his senses responded so strongly to you that it awoke everything inside of him that he had once believed to be lost.

And you had managed to deliver a crushing blow to his soul when you had asked him if he would just abandon the boy as well, only to tell him that the boy adored him.

Percival...

The words of the boy were engraved in his memories forever. The boy believed that the both of them would one day be known across the lands as knights.

Only now did he believe your words, the boy had nearly spelled it out to him in the gardens and he had been too angered and distracted by the king's actions to realise it.

The king had made him give up the only people he had cared for and who had cared for him.

Anger and despair boiled together inside of him a dangerous mixture he had always struggled with.

He flexed his fingers, restlessly seeking a way to dispose of what he was feeling. Once he would have sought salvation of this with the leather of the whip.

Never again.

Never again would he use the ways of the Church to handle his struggles. Not after you had embraced him so carefully like you feared you would break him and told him you did not want him to be in pain. He knew what you had left unspoken, you had seen his scars and knew where they came from.

You had reacted without judgement and even though he never spoke of the self-flagellation he felt heard by you.

Again he closed his hand and brushed his other over his face. His thoughts were maddening now, he had thought he would be able to clear his head of you once he had left but the opposite appeared to be happening.

Then he heard a name being spoken by two men at a table not far from him, a name he wished he had never heard of.

Virion.

He looked over at the table and saw two men drink their ale, his eyes fell on the crest on their armor. Sir Ekon and Sir Ihon wore the same armor, these were knights of the king...

He had not seen them before, yet he still kept out of their sights. They could recognise him, he still had his reputation. And now that he was no longer in Riviel, he knew he was no longer under it's protection . His attention was pulled to their conversation when they started to talk about you. "I've heard our king is having trouble wooing the queen. Rumor has it she acts more enamored with one of her knights then she does with the king." The knight with the thick beard made little effort to keep his voice down. The other one laughed in response, the large scar below his eye became even more prominent. One of your knights ? Lancelot's thoughts were racing. Had such rumors truly spread inside of the castle ? Did people really suspect such a thing ? The conversation pulled his attention again.

The scarred knight snorted a laugh “Virion must feel insulted. His queen preferring a knight over him.”  

The bearded knight leaned over the table as if he wished to tell a secret “Not just a knight. The queen prefers the bloody Weeping Monk.”

The other leaned closer in disbelief “Father Carden's monk ???”

“The same one. Apparently he butchered a bunch of Trinity Guards before escaping with a Fey child.” The bearded knight let out a chuckle, as if it was highly amusing to him “Even the folk in the castle believe he came to Riviel for her.”

“Our king against one of the most notorious fighters of the land. Do you truly believe she prefers the knight over the king ?” The question came quickly.

“Where there is smoke, there is fire.” The knight voiced his opinion, then shrugged his shoulders "But it doesn't matter if she fancies the knight or the king. When the king marries her, he will officially become a ruler of Riviel. And we both know that our king will not bow to a queen. Not even queen y/n." The other knight thought for a moment before asking "You think he'll rid himself of the queen if she does not fall to his feet ?"

The bearded knight lowered his voice, knowing it was dangerous to speak of this so close to Riviel "Ay. Either she falls for him or he will see no use in her. Well...perhaps he'll still use her for an heir to please the kingdoms. But you know what happens when the king feels threatened. It's a miracle that weeping knight is still alive. Virion must truly want her to choose him. That pride of his..." Lancelot had heard enough, these knights were talking about you as if you were not even a person. As if you were disposable to the king.

He stood from his table and made his way out of he inn.

What if the king did not truly love you ? What if he only wanted to possess you and once you were married he would be as cruel to you as he was to everyone else ?

In time he would have accepted that the king was your husband if he treated you well and loved you, but not if this was all a facade to gain power over you and your kingdom.

Now he had left you to face this possibility alone. The king had brought Sir Giorgio to his knees in a sparring match, not even the younger knight stood a chance against the king's skill should it be necessary. He was doubtful that the old knight stood a chance against him.

He fumbled with Goliath's reins as he made his decission.

If he returned he would have some explaining to do.

If he did not, he would live the rest of his life fearing for your future.

His eyes trailed to the two horses that stood at the hitching post not far from Goliath, it wasn't hard to see that they belonged to the Vracan knights inside. The Vracan crest was carved into the leather of the saddles.

He drew his sword as he approached the horses, letting the steel cut through the reins attached to the post in one quick motion. Then he caused them to run off, leaving the knights inside without the means to travel. If those bastards wanted to get to Riviel, they could do it by foot.

Then he mounted Goliath, his mind was made.

He could not prevent this marriage, he could not stop you from falling for the king.

But he could and would stop the king if he proved a threat to your life.

Perhaps the boy had been right and he would be know across the lands, but not as a knight, but as a kingslayer.

The Weeping Monk.

Notorious Fey killer.

What would one more title be ?

OOOoooOOOOOooOooOOOooOOo

The wind was cold and constant as you sat inside the stables.

He was gone...

So quick and so painfully sudden.

Like a storm had past by, leaving you in ruins while everything else had withstood it.

How could you go back inside the castle when every vein inside your body was calling for him.

It was foolish to think that he might return, foolish to wait so long in the cold stable as the night only darkened. It was still hours before the sun would rise and every second felt like an eternity.

When you heard quick and light footsteps you wiped the tears away that had fallen before someone could see.

Your youngest knight entered the stables looking confused when his eyes fell on your face.

Percival said nothing but you knew the boy had figured out that you had cried.

“Y/n... I can't find Lancelot.” The boy stopped not far from you, his voice soft as if he could tell that you were not doing well.

“He...he...uhm...” You sputtered the words, how could you tell him that the man he adored had left ?

Percival was not slow, he saw the pain in your eyes and how you failed to speak now.

It was not the first time the boy had seen someone like this, the last time had been when his father had to tell him that his mother had died.

The young knight kept a brave face as he spoke “He must be busy with something.”

You gave a weak nod, trying to control your emotions in front of him. You hid how your lip quivered by wiping your hand over your mouth as you spoke “I think so.”

The boy was much more perceptive then you or Lancelot could ever know and he stepped to stand in front of you “It's going to be alright. We put out the fires and the people are safe. Lancelot defeated most of the people attacking the castle when he came to save us.”

You removed your hand from your mouth and looked at the boy “We are lucky to have him.”

Percival nodded and blinked fast a couple of times when he felt his own eyes start to betray him, he knew Lancelot was no longer in or near the castle. It was all over your face that his friend had left. The young knight knew his queen was suffering and he acted braver and stronger then he felt in that moment.

“Did you know that fire can't touch Lancelot ?” Percival was still processing the news, he knew little about the Ash Folk and any information Lancelot had wished to share was exciting to him.

“What ?” He had never told you this before.

“He's Ash Folk.” The boy stated it as if you were slow and as if he had not learned this fact himself only an hour or two ago.

You began to wonder how Virion had faced the flames to save you and gotten out unscathed. And then you recalled how Lancelot had reacted when you had told him... Surely Virion would not lie about such a thing ? But then again, there was a strange feud between him and Lancelot.

“Percival...do you know how I was able to survive the fire ?” You danced around it, hoping to find the truth in all of this.

The boy looked at you as if you were an idiot “Lancelot told me that he saved you.”

“Lancelot ?...” You breathed in disbelief, had Virion truly lied ?

“Where do you think he went ?” The boy finally faltered at keeping a brave exterior.

You knelt before the boy, grasping his shoulders “I don't know. But I am going to find him. I need you to do something for me.”

“What do you need me to do ?” Percival was willing to plot with you.

“Go to Gwen, tell her what I am telling you now. Tell her I need her to go to my chambers. She has done this before. And if anyone asks where I am, tell them I am in my chambers with Gwen. Should someone enter my room and not find me there...” You fished for a plausible excuse.

“I'll keep them busy.” The boy suggested with a grin.

You cupped the boy's cheek “Clever knight.”

He made another one of his overely dramatic bows, drawing a smile from you.

“Now, go ! Gwen will understand, she has made excuses for me before when I wanted a moment away from court.” You confessed to the boy.

Percival gave a nod and hurried out of the stables.

You walked to one of the horses in the stable. Never had you rode alone and never in the dark. But the thought that you might never see him again was far worse then your fear of breaking your neck. It was foolish but you mounted your horse without taking something like a weapon with you. All you had was the dagger that rested close to your heart. You rode in the darkness of the night, not even knowing where to start searching for him. The air was cold and passed through your clothing with ease, you were not dressed for a nightly ride in the forest. You gripped the reins in your hands tightly as you rode through the forest, hating how the place made you paranoid. It made you remember the old tales about monsters hiding in the dark. For a moment you halted your horse and swallowed hard. You were cold and scared, and none of it was as bad as the thought that you might never see him again. You wondered why you bothered to try and stop yourself from crying now, no one was there to see it. Some tears rolled down from your eyes, you wiped them away with your hand. This was not the time to give up, crying costed time you could afford to lose.

An hour had passed and then you heard it, the steady pace of hooves hitting the ground coming from the opposite direction.

The darkness made it near impossible to see him or his black horse. He rode through the dark forest with ease as if the sun lighted his path ahead only for him to see. He had caught your scent only seconds ago as the wind carried it to him, guiding him to you. He couldn't believe his eyes when he saw you riding alone in the dark, had you truly defeated your fear just to search for him ? "Lancelot..." You spoke his name as if he was standing next to you. Silent yet loud enough for him to still hear. He slowed Goliath's pace, coming to a halt not far from you. Then he dismounted, showing that he was not going to ride off again. And you dismounted when you saw him walk towards you, he stopped at a distance for a second.

He had rode into many battles, but nothing could prepare him for this moment. He expected to face your anger, he did disobey you. You started to walk over to him, a mixture of emotions coursing through you.

Disbelief, sadness, anger... He stopped in his tracks when he saw the look in your eyes. It was only when you were almost where he was that one emotion got the upper hand and washed away all others. Relief. Lancelot was about to take a step back when he noticed that you showed no intention to stop walking. He flinched when he saw your hand move towards him, a reflex he had obtained from being struck by Father so many times when he had faced his anger and disappointment.

But your hand landed on his upper arm and you pulled him to you. Your arms wrapped around him, no longer caring if it was appropriate to do so or not. No one was here to see it anyway. You were willing to risk it all to convince him to return with you to Riviel. Even if it meant clinging to him like he was the only steady thing in an earthquake. He had expected your anger, not this.

Anger he could handle, he was used to it. But you showing this reaction upon seeing him again made him feel terrible. He would have preferred your anger over your sorrow any day. He wrapped his arms around your form, pulling you in even closer then you already were. Lancelot felt how cold you were, making him believe that you must have been in this cold since he had left.

You were afraid to allow the hope that this embrace brought you, fearing it was false hope once more. At least he was not pushing you away or rejecting your touch this time.

You had searched for him in the darkness of the cold night, alone... It both warmed his heart and tore at it that you had done so. He quietly rubbed a hand over your back, hoping to pass some of his warmth on to you. The king had no intention to play fair, by tormenting those close to you he was indirectly hurting you as well. You wouldn't be in his arms, feeling cold as winter if the king had not been such a rotten person. Now that Lancelot had returned to you, he would not be pushed away again. Not out of Riviel. Not out of the castle and not away from you. "I feared I would never see you again..." You whispered against his chest, voice breaking. His hand went to the back of your head, craddling it as the words threatened to spill from his lips.

Forgive me. Forgive me. Forgive me.

The words coursed through his being as he felt your heaving breaths, felt how you quietly began to cry in his arms. You remained like that for a while, letting the night envelop the both of you in it's darkness.

Your sobs lessened when you felt his fingers make their way into the back of your hair, moving against your scalp in such a gentle way that it soothed you.

He let his head rest against the side of yours as he waited for you to calm down enough to talk.

When you came close to letting out an appreciative sound aimed at his soothing touch, you knew it was time to break away.

Your rose your gaze to meet his own, the look shared between you a conversation in itself.

But you needed to have a spoken one, that much was clear.

"I know you are a man of actions rather than words, but I need you to talk to me. What went through your mind when you decided to leave ? Why ? Why did this happen ?" You pleaded with him. You were trying so hard to understand... You searched his eyes trying to understand why this had happened, all you saw was the remnants of a storm that had passed within his. The pain you had felt when he had left you there in the stables was crippling and you could not tell him, not without him eventually figuring out why the bond between you was so different.

Lancelot needed you to understand that he would never bow to a man like the king, he wanted you to accept that. Only then could he go back. And somehow being here in the forest alone with you almost made him feel like he could speak with you more openly. "You know the king and I have not been friendly." He carefully breached the subject. You gave a nod and waited for him to speak again. He wasted no time to get straight to the point "I will not follow his commands. Not now and not when he is your husband." You stared at him, mouth slightly agape "I understand...I think..." He tilted his head, his voice solid and unwavering "He might be king, but I will only serve you." "I do not expect you to 'serve' me Lancelot, I wanted you to stay in Riviel so you would be-" You sighed and fell silent. He urged you to continue "Y/n?" "I wanted you to be safe. And knighting you was one way to have an excuse to ensure that." Your eyes did not meet his when you spoke the truth. "You needed someone to lead your knights..." He recalled the reason you had given him. You began to fumble with your fingers as you spoke the complete truth to him "I did. But that wasn't the only reason for me to ask you to stay in Riviel. I saw something of myself in you. Both of us having to live a life that our fathers have chosen for us." Lancelot fell silent at the comparison, were you telling him that you had always wanted to save him from the life he was forced to lead since childhood ? "You gave me a chance in your kingdom to start anew. While you yourself are still..." He stopped before he would speak perhaps a false truth. Were you trapped ? Were you stuck in this bethrotal to the king or had your opinion changed and was this a choice you made willingly ? "While I am what ?" You frowned, waiting for him to elaborate. He looked you in the eyes as he spoke his mind "If I had the chance to start a different path, than so should you. I know you will do what you must to keep your kingdom safe, I just hope..." he struggled for a beat "I hope it does not come at the cost of your own happiness. You deserve to be happy." For a moment you were speechless, you knew he was protective of you but not how deeply he cared for your happiness. Even in the dark of the night, the blue of his eyes sparkled like the water of the fountains in the moonlight. But there was a reason he was telling you this after his abrupt departure from the stables, and you believed it had to do with your impending marriage to Virion. "You don't believe my marriage will be a happy one..." You finally began to understand why he had left. He did not want to see you live an unhappy life. Lancelot had not expected you to figure out his train of thought "I understand why you have to marry him. You must keep your kingdom safe. But I cannot pretend that I approve of this union. I do not trust him." You nodded in understanding, you could not force him to like Virion "I can't force you to like him.”

Lancelot gave a short nod, it was perhaps the only thing you couldn't ask of him.

You had noticed how his eyes had hardened the second you mentioned your marriage “Do you truly dislike Virion so much that you would forsake me ?" Something flashed in his eyes at your question, something akin of remorse. He had truly let the king get under his skin to the point where he left you and the boy. "I regret what I have done. I never truly wanted to leave the boy or you. I just..." A heavy breath fell from him. You reached out a hand and placed it on his own "You reacted impulsively ?" He turned his hand until he held your fingers lightly with his own “Yes." There was a sheepish remorseful look in his eyes. "Do you want to come back home with me ?" You dared to ask the question that you had wanted to ask the second you found him again. Home. Lancelot tilted his head down, letting his hood hide his expression and the relieved smile that threatened to show.

He had found a home and almost abandoned it all because of that king.

You were impatient for the answer, anxiety rising in you with each passing second without an answer. "Do you want to see me beg ? Queens don't beg." You hid your fear under your pride. "I recall different." His reply came quick as a whip.

He dared it.

He dared to jest about how you had begged him to stay when you were in the stables. Your eyes widened slightly, mouth agape. Then you slapped his chest with the back of your hand. "Are you seriously trying to jest about that ?! You're unbelievable !" You tried to be angry but he looked at you like a guilt-ridden child and after a second a soft laugh escaped you. "I won't beg again." You said with a pinch of broken pride and arrogance. "You are the queen. Command me then." He said it without thinking, a daring look in his eyes. Your eyes narrowed, was he truly challenging you to use your authority as a queen on him ? Not long ago he had said he did not even see you as his queen.

You felt strangely nervous, you had not really used your authority on him since you had travelled through the forest together to get to Uther's castle. But you refused to let it show, you were the queen, you should know how to do this even with Lancelot. "Get on your horse and come back to Riviel, Sir Lancelot." Your voice dripped with authority But the authority in your voice sounded more seductive then commanding. It was not intentional, and you weren't truly aware of it. But he certainly heard the difference. A strange sensation passed through his body, a tingling feeling that krept up to his neck. One that made his heart run off with him and his breath quicken. It took him almost too long to scramble his thoughts back together and answer "As you wish, Your Highness." You gave an acknowledging nod, his voice was audibly deeper then it had been moments ago. And for the slightest second it sounded so alluring that you would let his voice lead you through the darkest forest if it would lead you to him and only him. You forbade yourself to think of it like this again, allowing these sorts of thoughts would only make things more difficult for you. You turned a little in your horses direction, signalling for him that it was time to head back to the castle. He blinked once slowly, a silent answer to you before he stepped back to go to Goliath. A few moments later you rode beside him back to the castle, relieved that you had not lost him tonight

OooooOooOOooOOooOooOo

Sir Ihon stood at a distance, the king had asked to keep an eye on your Weeping Knight. And he had done exactly that when he saw the knight ride off in the night. But not even Ihon had anticipated to see you try and find your knight in the dark of the night.

He had seen how you had embraced your Knight Commander, giving him the perfect leverage to use to his advantage.

If Virion knew of this nightly embrace...

He returned to his horse when he saw the two of you leave again together.

He knew enough.

OOooOooOOOOooOOOoOOo

Back in the stables, Lancelot removed Goliath's saddle. Allowing his horse to walk freely in the stables without it. An unspoken signal to you that he did not intend to be 'impulsive' again.

You watched him put the saddle on a stack of hay, an unanswered question still going through your mind.

And he had known you long enough to realise you were holding back to speak.

He turned to you, not letting you leave this stable without sharing what was bothering you “There is something you wish to speak of. I can feel it.”

The conversation with the boy was still fresh in your mind.

“Percival told me that it was you who saved me from the flames...” You felt horrible not knowing the truth.

Was it Virion or was the boy right and had it been Lancelot ?

“You believe it to be the king ?” There was no judgement in his voice.

“I don't know what to believe anymore...” You sounded guilt-ridden.

Lancelot knew you had not been spared from the king's mind games, you were doubting your own thoughts as well now.

He said nothing as he rolled up his sleeve, he stepped away from you and headed to the torch that rested in the iron sconce on the wall.

You followed him and saw him reach for the torch. No. Not the torch...he reached for the flame.

“No, don't !” You stepped forward instantly, reaching out to stop him before he could hurt himself.

But his reflexes were quick and he took hold of your wrist with his other hand, stopping your attempt.

You tried to pry your wrist from his hold, your eyes on the flame of the torch that threatened to lick his skin “Lancelot !”

Then you were rooted to the spot when you saw the flame disintegrate into small burning flakes of ash that seemed to dance around his skin before it could touch him.

In mere seconds the markings beneath his eyes began to change, where they had once resembled the color of ashes they now resembled a living fire. As if a red flame burned inside his markings, highlighting the seas of his eyes further.

“Oh my–....” The words died in your throat as you saw it happen, the sight of it caught your breath.

His attention shifted from the flame to your face, never had he let anyone see this part of him. Not since the day Father had stolen him from his kind all those years ago.

Your attention was on his markings, on the fire that burned within them so beautifully.

He waited for a reaction, for you to say something, anything as he showed this part of himself to you.

Without thinking your raised the hand he did not hold up to his face and let your fingertips touch the skin near the fire beneath his eye “Beautiful...”

Not what he had expected you to say.

Not at all.

It fell from your lips before you could stop and think, unable to stop the truth from being spoken.

He looked breathtakingly beautiful in the dimly lit stable now as he shared this with you.

Lancelot struggled to breath normally to the point where he took a sharp breath through his mouth to get it under control.

When you moved your fingers away from his face you felt him release his grip on your wrist, slowly you moved your freed hand along his lower arm towards the hand he held in the flame. Testing if he was going to stop you before you would reach the flame. Lancelot understood your intention and moved his hand away from the flame, he took the hand you had been moving along his arm in his, lacing his fingers with yours before going near the flame of the torch again.

Just before the flame could touch your intertwined hands he stopped to see if you were afraid or if you trusted him with this.

You looked him in the eyes and squeezed his hand with yours.

You trusted him.

His eyes went back to your entangled hands and he raised them into the flame, hearing how you let out the slightest gasp.

The burning ashes moved around your entangled hands, never once burning you. The flame's warmth was not burning hot, it was a comfortable warm feeling.

A glorious smile formed on your lips as you watched it happen, never had you thought that fire could be so alluring.

“You saved me...you saved me from the fire.” It was a whisper falling from you, the truth finally showing itself.

His eyes settled on yours, seeing how you kept looking at the flame “I did.”

“What happens if I let go off your hand ?” Your voice was filled with sweet delight.

He tightened his grip on your hands upon hearing the curiousity in your voice “Don't.”

“Because the flame will burn me ?” It sounded like you had figured out the answer on your own.

He nodded once, blinking slowly again to answer your question.

It crossed his mind that he could hold your hands in the flame together like this for hours, it was not exhausting him, on the contrary.

You stretched some of your fingers as he held on to your hand, watching the burning ashes move with each movement of your fingers.

He watched it happen, his eyes softening at the sight of you finding a form of joy in what he had been taught to hide since childhood.

“Do you intend to hold my hand in the flame for the rest of the night ?” A cheeky smile danced on your lips.

“It has crossed my mind.” He dared to confess it.

Your eyes flickered to his in response and he let his own meet yours.

You almost shied away at his confession.

"Your hands... they were cold." He stammered the false excuse, seeing your eyes avoid his own.

He fought of the anxiety that rose inside his chest, refusing to let it stop him.

His eyes went to the flame “You once told me that it was not a weakness to care for another being." You hummed in response, recalling how you had told him this the day you had embraced him in the stables. "I care about you." He drew a quiet breath, eyes on the flame "I always will."

What was he saying ? Did he mean he cared for you as a friend or was there more to this confession ?

You closed your eyes, mentally scolding yourself for allowing this hope to live inside of you knowing that your destiny was to be married to Virion.

Even if your heart lay in the hands of the one who's fingers where laced with yours now.

“I don't deserve you...” Your voice wavered as you opened your eyes and kept your focus on your hand.

With a frown he looked at you, he wasted not a second to ask “Why do you believe that ?”

You shook your head lightly, feeling guilty for everything he had gone through because of you “I have done nothing but lead you into danger. The attack on my carriage, the trinity guard, the fire... I couldn't live with myself if you got hurt.”

Lancelot could tell that you believed that you were a burden to him, a thought that was absolutely ridiculous to him “I lead myself into danger. I chose to. Is that not what you always wanted me to do back when we met ? For me to make my own decissions ? To walk my own path.”

“I didn't mean for you to risk your life for me constantly, Lancelot.” You clarified.

Absentmindedly he brushed his thumb over your hand in slow circles “I knew what I chose when I accepted the position as a knight. I chose this, y/n.”

He chose you.

“I still thank the heavens for bringing you into my life.” You made your own confession “And I want you to know that I am grateful for everything you have ever done for me.”

He acknowledged it with a tilt of his head and you saw how he tried and failed to fight the smile that tugged on his lips.

Silence fell between you and for a moment all you did was watch the burning ashes dance around your entangled hands like tiny sparks. Your eyes often wandering to the glowing Fey markings beneath his eyes.

“I think Percival knows you did not intend to return.” You gently informed him.

He had expected as such, the boy was far smarter then he gave him credit for “I will speak to him.”

You nodded, then jested “You might find chickens in your room.”

He scoffed at the jest “I suppose I cannot blame him.”

A yawn escaped you, the attempted siege on your castle and the emotional shockwave had made you terribly tired.

Lancelot moved your intertwined hands away from the flame, knowing he could not truly keep you here for hours. It was still night and even he felt exhausted. He had fought enemies, fire and his heart all in one night.

Yet, he did not let go of your hand just yet. He turned it in his own, then rose your knuckles to his lips, placing just the lightest kiss on them.

A touch so feather light that if you had not witnessed him do it, you would have barely felt it.

Still it was enough to make your mind go haywire and you forced yourself to remember this was just a sign of respect.

A touch so light and quick, but still long enough for him to catch your scent once more. Long enough for him to experience what it was like to touch his lips to your skin.

“We should get some rest. I believe they expect you to decide what happens to those who attacked the castle tomorrow ?” He guessed, succesfully hiding the tremble in his voice.

You could only nod, fearing how your voice would sound now.

He let go of your hand and you walked next to him back inside the castle in deafening silence.

He found no chickens in his room. What he did find was one very angry young fey boy that demanded an explanation. Which he gave, although he left some parts out.

OoooOOoOooooOOOOOOoOOoo

You had explained to Gwen what had happened upon your return, luckily she had no trouble keeping people out of your room and therefore no one else knew that you had been absent.

Tomorrow you would have to deal with those who had attacked your castle and survived. You needed the rest to make sure you had a clear head to make the right decision. Just as you had finished changing in your nightgown you heard a knock on your door. You called out, asking who it was. One of the guards answered and entered, followed by Sir Ihon who promptly send the guard away again with a flick of his wrist.

Your eyes widened in confussion, why was he here ?

“Sir Ihon.” You greeted him politely.

“Your highness.” He gave an inclination of the head as he greeted you.

“Did Virion send you ?” You crossed your arms in front of your chest and watched how the knight came closer to you.

The knight shook his head slightly as he casually began to walk around you, circling you like a shark did it's prey “No. The king does not know I am here. There are many things the king does not know...”

For a second you could have sworn that you felt him touch your hair and you took a step away from him in response “What are you talking about ?”

The knight came to a halt in front of you “I saw you tonight. Saw how eager you were to let Sir Lancelot hold you in his arms.”

Your eyes widened, not expecting someone to have seen you in the forest tonight “Were you following me ?!?”

“Don't worry, Your Highness. The king does not have to know...” He took a step closer to you as he spoke slowly.

You narrowed your eyes at the knight, not liking where this was going.

Your tone was cold, sensing the knight did not come here to warn you out of the goodness of his heart “And you have come here only to tell me this ?

The knight stepped closer once more, his eyes never leaving your form “One would want such a thing to remain a secret from their future husband, the king is...a very jealous man. The king will not hear of this...” he let his fingers touch the thin cords of your nightgown that rested on your chest “...If you show me the same eagernesss… that you undoubtly show your beloved knight.”

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[lihamsworld]

Okay so, I've been thinking about this li'l scene for a while now but I have no idea how am I gonna put it in the story so here it is.

This small scene is from my story, "I Wish I could Live More that One Lifetime."

~•~•~•~

"What do you think you would be doing if you are in your world, Y/N?"

"Okay...Do you want the honest answer or the-"

"What do you think?" He interrupted you and rolled his eyes, you look from across the fire to the monk for help but he was already looking at you, a hint of curiosity dancing around his eyes, waiting for an answer.

You also rolled your eyes. "Fine. If you really want to know. I'll probably be clubbing or getting laid. Happy?"

A minute passed and no one dared to say anything as they both contemplate your answer. You didn't say anything either as you were busy eating your dinner and enjoying a moment of peace without Percival asking you questions. He had been asking you questions upon questions since you've told them both that you are not from their world and as much as you love his enthusiasm, you were quite getting tired of answering them, you just never have the heart to tell him to stop. You would ask Lancelot to help you but the man barely said a word to you. He's still wary of you.

Though you did not expect the next question that you hear from the boy that it made you choke on the wild berries you were currently chewing on and you had to take a moment to cough and breath properly, "What does getting laid means?"

Ah, to be young and innocent.

You glance at the monk before answering, "It's...the act of...uhm...So when a man loves a woman-"

Lancelot interrupted you, having caught up with what you were trying to explain, surprising but helpful. "It's getting late. We need to wake before dawn and leave so they wouldn't catch up to us." Percival grunts in annoyance but complied, but not without cursing and mumbling something under his breath. You gesture for him to come to you and you gave him something to keep him warm, all the while looking at Lancelot with a knowing smile, he found you already looking at him and he avoided your gaze, masking it by acting like he was getting ready to sleep as well.

Oh, what you would give just to see his genuine reaction when he realized what 'getting laid' means.

~•~•~•~

I saw the notification that someone commented on my story and I would like to thank you for your comment and to be honest, I blushed while reading it. I'm happy to know that you've enjoyed reading it, thank you so much. I'd reply directly on the comments but this is a sideblog so...I'll find a way to make this my main so I could reply directly.

Happy reading!

[everlastingdreams]

Weeping Monk x Reader : Playing With Fire     chapter 15

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Story Summary:  The Huntsman, that is what they called your brother. A name he had earned by hunting down the fey for coin. Coin that is given by Father Carden for his services. You refuse to stand aside and watch how your brother hunts down those who are fey. When you start to warn the fey camps your brother wishes to attack, you find yourself behind enemy lines. But when the Weeping Monk becomes suspicious of you, you realise you are playing with fire.

Chapter Summary: You sneak the Monk and Percival into Mirstone. Helping the Monk proves difficult as his stubborness matches your own.

Notes: Let me know what you think, please. ^.^ And sorry for some of the next chapters to come. And yep I am re-using some of the gifs I made. Also this chapter was absolute hell to write, I had like five different versions to piece this together whelp

Warnings:  Trauma, mentions of selfharm, mentions of past abusive violence.

Word count: 2841 words in this chapter.

Chapter:  15/ 33+ something (buckle up, it’s a wild ride.)

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Night had already fallen when you arrived at Mirstone, both of you had agreed that it would be wise to leave the horses in a safe place nearby just in case. You knew you would have to sneak them into the village, preferably without being spotted, you did have a fey boy with you. Luckily you had lived here long and guided the Monk and Percival past the tents and homes with ease. The Monk suddenly stopped you in your tracks when he spotted one of your brother's men "Over there." You looked at where he was pointing at. Your eyes narrowed when you saw him. Ah. Brogan. "We will have to wait until he leaves." The Monk let out a pained groan, starting to regret coming here at all. Brogan was drinking from his flask, filled with ale no doubt. As the Monk lowered to his knees to rest for a moment you took his moment of faltered alertness to move away from him and the boy. Percival noticed, you brought a finger to your lips gesturing for him to remain silent. He gave a short nod but watched with wary eyes as you picked up a shovel that was leaning against a tent. You sneaked up to Brogan who had his back turned to you, only then did the Monk become aware of your absence. He immediately looked up only to see you slam the metal of the shovel against the back of Brogan's head. Brogan hit the ground as he fell unconcious. You grabbed that stupid ragged hat from his head and shoved it in his mouth before removing his belt and using it to tie his hands behind his back. It gave you a sick sense of gratification "I should have done that much earlier..." You beckoned for Percival and the Monk to come your way. The latter looked impressed but not happy with your action. You supported him again as you helped him to your home. "That was reckless." He actually scolded you. "Says the man that tried to free a woman and boy, and ended up having to fight the Trinity Guards." You shot back. "I won..." He quietly protested and actually smirked at the memory. "Barely." You quipped nodding to him, to the state he was in. He rolled his eyes at your comment, knowing it was true. He wouldn't have survived. He didn't plan to survive the fight. He had given you an oppurtunity to run away with the boy. Never had he expected that you would risk your lives to help him. And yet, here you were, dragging him to your home. The last time he was there he had held his sword to your throat and now you were helping him. With some difficulty you were able to open the door, it's hinges were terribly rusty. It creaked open and you helped him inside, it would be a stupid thing to help him downstairs. The door let into the kitchen immediately, if someone were to look inside through the windows they would discover you instantly.

“We should go to my bedchamber. They could see us through the windows down here.” You looked at the Monk apologetic.

He moved away from you and leaned against the wall, clearly not looking forward to having to climb a set of stairs.

“Percival, you go first. Don't want you to be behind us in case he falls down. Okay ?” There was a possibility it would happen.

“Alright, fine. Do I help ?” The boy looked up at you and the Monk.

You shook your head “No, thank you. This could get dangerous.”

The boy nodded in understanding and hurried up the stairs, looking down at you now “Well, come on then !”

You nodded to the Monk, not able to suppress the chuckle coming from you “You heard him. Do you need my help ?”

The Monk seemed to consider your offer, alerting you that he was indeed not fit to climb the stairs on his own in his state. You didn't wait for his answer and moved his arm over your shoulder and wrapped your arm around his back. He was taken aback by your action but let you help him up the stairs this way. It took a while but you managed to get him upstairs without tumbling down the steps. He leaned against the doorway breathing heavily, as he regained his composure. Now came the awkward part, for you to be able to help him and stitch up his wounds, you would have to see them. And by the uncomfortable silence in the room you knew the Monk was aware of it.

“It is hard to treat wounds you can't see...” You broke the silence and tried to sound casual.

The Monk gave a nod, not looking at you. You looked at the boy who quirked a brow and shrugged. You cleared your throat and awkwardly held out a hand towards the Monk. The situation was uncomfortable for both of you but this was not speeding things up at all. His eyes focused on you now, he send you an inquiring look. You straightened your back, not wanting to show how nervous you were “Shall I take your cloak ?”

Being straightforward proved fruitful as he finally started to take off his cloak, he handed it to you and you put it aside while he started to peel off the other layers that covered his torso.

You averted your eyes and looked to the boy instead “Are you hungry ?”

His eyes widened and he nodded, you quickly went downstairs to grab some bread and leftovers you could find before going back to your room. You gave the food to the boy who uttered a 'thank you' as he shoved some bread in his mouth. You had also brought something to eat for the Monk, and put it aside. You finally looked at the Monk and felt your breath hitch in your throat. Sure, you had seen a man's torso before but none of the people in your village looked like this. The Monk was far more muscular then you could have guessed. Of course he would be, with all that fighting he did. You hated to admit that even with the dark bruises and the bleeding wounds he looked good. If he had been anyone else you would have complimented him, but this was the person who had threatened your life not long ago in the room downstairs. The Monk had not noticed you staring at him, he was busy examining the wounds on his abdomen. When he turned a little to examine one on the side of his body right below his rib cage your gaze fell on his back and you swallowed back a gasp. Scars were scattered all over his back, recent wounds were mixed between them. Your brother often 'joked' how the Red Paladins were Father Carden's whipped hounds. That was his way of saying some of them engaged in self-flagellation to cleanse themselves. The amount of scars shocked you, you doubted the other paladins would have this many of them. Deep down you knew this was because the Monk felt he needed to cleanse himself over something he could not control, his fey heritage.

Most were healed but there were recent ones that looked no longer then a day old. Had he done this to himself the day he saved you and the boy ? Had he felt so much inner turmoil that he felt he needed to suffer for it ? He turned to look at you, having picked up on the uncomfortable silence. You averted your eyes, trying not to show that you had been staring but he had caught you doing it. "I can see if I have something for those..." You quietly spoke and gestured to his back. The Monk quietly shook his head even though the wounds on his back were burning "There is not enough time. It will be dawn soon."

He went to sit down on the edge of your bed. You gave a nod in understanding, you knew it would be dawn soon but something told you that that wasn't the real reason why he had refused your help. You grabbed the bowl of water you had on the table next to your bed and wetted the piece of cloth, preparing to clean the wounds so you could treat them.

“How did you get those ?” The boy suddenly asked and you saw the Monk's expression change. He swallowed thickly not acknowledging the question. How could he even start to explain it to the boy ?

You picked up on his reluctance to answer and turned to the boy "Percival, will you help me ?" He quickly nodded and you started to give him instructions. "Thank you, listen well. Go downstairs, crawl under the table. One of the floorboards is loose, under there you will find a small chest with some bottles with fey medicine and herbs. Will you bring me that chest, please ?" The boy had left the room to fetch the items without replying. 

"He's eager to help..." You let out a chuckle unaware the Monk was staring at you.

When you looked at him, you shrugged your shoulders "What ?"

He scoffed and shook his head, not believing how reckless you had been "You keep fey items in your home ? If they had known they would have killed you just for that."

You rinsed the extra water out of the cloth and he held his hand out to take the cloth from you, he wasn't looking at you, his attention was on one of the wounds on his torso now.

"That's why they were hidden." You casually said before reaching out with your hand to his bare arm, close to the deep gash he had there. He had removed your scarf to examine it. You had just wanted to clean away the blood to look at the wound but he flinched when he felt the damp cloth touch his arm, never expecting you to take it upon yourself to help him like this.

"I...can do it." So few words and yet he stumbled over them.

You raised a brow looking at him in doubt “Don't take this the wrong way, but you already hit the ground not long ago and I almost had to carry you up those few steps. If you insist on doing this alone you will still be here when the sun rises.”

The Monk scoffed at your comment and shook his head muttering “...carry me..”

You ignored him and tried to touch his arm so you could help him.

He moved so he stayed out of your reach, some of the blood running down his arm landed on your sheets.

"Stop moving and stop bleeding !" You said in frustration.

It made him look at you, eyes slightly widened. It made you realise how strange that probably sounded to him. "You're ruining my sheets, blood isn't easy to wash out you know ?" You almost pouted at the red now staining your white sheets.

"I'm aware." He stated the obvious as he looked at the sheets now.

Finally you sighed and spoke, your voice dripping with sarcasm "Would you be more at ease if you had your sword in your hands ? You weren't this uncomfortable when you visited my home the last time."

He stared at you for a moment and then he understood what you were talking about. The night he had warned you to stop warning the fey. He had felt strange when he had to hold you into place back then too, it had felt almost intimate then as well. But now you were trying to touch his bare skin and he didn't know why it made him so nervous, as if it was almost sinful. Which was ridiculous because you were just trying to help. It was his upbringing that caused him to react like this, he knew it was.

"You were not trying to help me that night if I recall." He deadpanned.

You frowned at that "You are more comfortable with me hitting you with a pan, then me helping you ?"

In truth, he was used to violence. He was not used to soft hands carefully touching him. So you were not far from the truth when you had asked that.

He answered with a hint of sarcasm "People don't usually touch me to help me."

"I wonder why." You shot back.

He looked up at you at that, noting the smirk that disappeared a second later.

"I mean... you are not making it easy for me here..." You gestured to him, damp cloth still in your hands "Did you never see a healer ?"

He had, even though he always tried to avoid getting an injury bad enough that he would need a healer "I have."

"Well, think of me as a healer then...it's the same thing." You tried your best to convince him.

He scoffed at that, knowing it was not the same at all. He never spoke to the healers, he didn't know anything about them and none of them were women.

"It's not the same." He replied, sounding a bit shorter then he had intented.

You were getting frustrated, this was going nowhere "Why ? What's the difference between me helping you or another stranger ?"

"You are." The words spilled out of him and he wished he had kept his mouth shut.

You were silent now as you thought about that statement.

He really did not wish to elaborate further on that, what would he even say ? That you touching his skin made him feel...strange ? A foreign feeling, something he had not felt before. Something he could not place. Only that it did not feel bad. That was perhaps the problem, it felt pleasant. It was something he believed he shouldn't feel.

Then you came to your own conclusion "You don't trust me to help you..."

He looked up at you right away, one thing he did know for certain was that he trusted you. Sure, you had lied to him about having stopped with warning the fey, but otherwise you had always been honest. Blatantly and recklessly honest sometimes. And you could have left him to die alone in the forest, instead you had brought him into your home to help him.

"I trust you." It was a statement that he needed you to hear.

You were not expecting to hear that coming from the Monk.

You were a bit taken aback "If you do, then please let me help you before you bleed to death on my bed."

He avoided looking at you, the conflict inside of him was clawing at him.

You took his silence as refusal “An infection could kill you ! Don't you care if you live or die ?!" "Not really. No." The truth came from his mouth faster then he could prevent it. "I care ! So stop moving and let me help you !" You were exasperated at this point. It appears that the more frustrated you became, the more stubborn he got so you tried a different approach.

You let out a deep sigh “Please, let me help you... Lancelot.” It was strange saying his name out loud for the first time.

And unbeknownst to you, hearing you call him by his actual name for the first time was why he finally gave in. He had only ever heard you call him 'Monk' until now. Finally he caved in, he looked at you and slowly nodded.

You cautiously took his arm in your hand and started to clean away the blood. You couldn't help but feel nervous, you couldn't push the thought away that you were washing blood off of someone who could easily kill you if he wanted to.

You tried to push the thought away, so far he had not threatened you anymore. You tried to be gentle but time was of the essence, this had to be finished before dawn. And in your haste you accidentally rubbed against the wound too roughly. He actually let out a short pained yell and you jumped and flinched as if he had hit you even though he had not laid a hand on you. You had sewn up your brother before, before you knew how he got his wounds. After you found out the truth about the origin of his wounds you had sewed him up one last time and did such a terrible job that he no longer demanded you to do so. But you were so used to your brother hitting you when you accidentally hurt him while sewing him up that it caused you to panic now. And you did what you had always done in that situation, you apologized.

“I'm sorry..I...I didn't mean to...” Your voice shook and your hands trembled.

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[everlastingdreams]

Weeping Monk X Reader : The City Of Fey Chapter 10

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Notes: ^ my gif. Let me know what you think :). *silent screaming over this chapter*

Summary:  As a fey queen you are by now used to it that fey come into your woods seeking refugee or a place to hide. Things get complicated however when your knights have not just brought a fey boy but also the Red Paladins’ fiercest warrior into your city.  

Chapter Summary:  You return alone, bruised and bloodied. Lancelot can barely contain his anger and tells you he wants to leave to lure the Trinity Guards away before they find the city. 

Chapters:   10/ ?

Word Count: 3092 words (in this chapter)

Warnings: Feels, of many kinds. None other in this chapter I think. 

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You were draped over the horse when you finally reached the city.

Raphael was the first to your side.

"Gods !" He exclaimed as he saw your blood stained clothes. Lancelot approached, Percival quickly following in his footsteps. Raphael helped you down and you held onto the horse and him "Where are the others ?" He asked quietly. You just shook your head, eyes filled with sorrow. Seeing you arrive alone, bruised and bloodied confirmed what Lancelot had feared. "What happened ?!" He was in front of you in just a few quick paces. Grabbing onto your upper arms to keep you from falling over as Percival was guided back inside the city by Raphael. Your abdomen hurt and you bend forward a bit because of it "We were ambushed by the Trinity guards. The others were killed. I barely escaped." It was what he had feared most, they were tracking him, tracking the path he had taken with Percival on his horse. If they had tracked him into the forest, they would find your tracks as well. Another sharp pain went through your body and you almost doubled over. Worry now flooded him and he moved to put your arm around his neck.

For a second you thought he was just going to help you walk to the infirmary but instead he put an arm behind your knees and swiftly lifted you from the ground. He proceeded to carry you into the city. Your other hand grabbed onto his shoulder in suprise. Momentarily forgetting the pain as he looked at you every few paces while walking towards the infirmary. You weren't used to being carried so you just hoped he wouldn't drop you by accident. He must have noticed because he commented "I won't let you fall." "You'd better not." It was supposed to sound a little threatening but it came out more as a plea. He held you a little tighter to him and smirked. You relaxed a little and moved your hands so they clasped together behind his neck instead of probably bruising his shoulder with your grip.

The guards of the castle opened the doors when they saw him approach with you in his arms.

The loud commotion made Dahlia enter the hallway and when she saw what was going on she covered her mouth in shock.

“Gods ! Come, hurry ! Bring her inside !” She held the door open as Lancelot carried you into the infirmary room. He gently set you down on one of the cots before he stepped aside to let Dahlia do her work.

He looked in horror at the amount of blood you had lost, taking note of the bruise forming on your jaw.

Dahlia moved your clothing aside on your shoulder, enough to see the wound.

Lancelot swallowed when he realised you had been hit by an arrow. Guilt flooded him now, he knew the trinity guards had come for him and it had almost cost you your life.

"I will clean the wound ! Are you wounded anywhere else ?" She spoke hastily as she gathered her materials.

“Just took a hit to my stomach. And..” You gestured at your face.

He clenched his fists in anger. Resisting the urge to go to the forest and end the miserable lives of those responsible for this.

“I will call for my assistant, he will come and help the others who were with you. If this is how you look then I imagine Sir Crillan looks even worse with his recklessness.” She said, unaware of what had happened.

Your eyes fell to the floor as they started to sting, you didn't want to cry. You had to be strong, your people needed you. You couldn't break, not now.

Lancelot saw the pain in your eyes at the mention of Crillan's name.

He cleared his throat and Dahlia looked at him, he shook his head silently.

Sorrow was now in Dahlia's eyes. She sniffed, and swallowed. She continued to work on your wound as she shed her tears silently.

A knock was heard before Raphael entered the infirmary. You looked at him guilt ridden over the death of his fellow knight and friend. He walked over to you and knelt before you. "What happened in the woods, y/n ?" You swallowed the pain as you explained what happened. "We were following one set of tracks. We realised too late that it was an ambush. They lured us to an open spot and then attacked us." The knight's eyes never left you "Did they suffer ?" He deserved the truth but you couldn't get it over your lips. You settled for "Not long. Crillan was hit by an arrow... I couldn't save him.. they were targetting me. There was no time." In that moment you felt worthless, powerless. Knowing that there was a chance, however small, that he could have survived if you would have had the chance to use your magic. The knight was silent for a moment as he stayed composed "How did the trinity guard find this forest ?" Guilt washed through Lancelot at the question. He knew the trinity guard had tracked him into the forest. You avoided the question, knowing Raphael blaming Lancelot now was not going to help the situation. You needed to work together to protect the city. "Raphael, send the children to the tunnels along with all those who cannot fight." You commanded. Tension filled the air when you had spoken, all knew it meant that you were expecting the trinity guard to find the city. The knight gave a nod, understanding the gravity of the situation. He stood and left the room.

A moment later Lancelot spoke, clearly having picked up how you left some parts out "How did you survive when they were targetting you ? They are known for their skill in battle." You knew he had figured out that you hadn't told Raphael the full truth. You turned to Dahlia who had just finished covering the wound "Dahlia, will you give us a moment ? Please ?" She understood the situation and excused herself from the room. The door closed and Lancelot stepped closer to you, his eyes unreadable to you.

He reached out his hand, lifting your chin up with his fingers as he looked at the bruise on your jaw. His thumb brushing away the streak of blood on your chin, and it made your heart skip a nervous beat.

“What happened ?” His voice was tense, barely restraining the anger he felt within. "They wanted information." The last thing you wanted was that Lancelot would blame himself for this. "They've come for me." It was not a guess, but a statement “They don't know of this city. I can lure them away from here." He stepped away from you, not able to face you.

It sounded as if he had already made up his mind. And that was exactly the case, they were searching for him and would soon find this city. They would burn it to the ground. Enough had died because of him, he was not going to let it happen. "I will not sacrifice your life to the trinity guards ! You're one of us, this is where you belong ! We will fight for you the same as we would fight for any other fey." "You would be sacrificing this city in my stead !" He turned to you, his voice a mixture of anger and despair. Your stubborn demeanor didn't falter "This is my city, my people. I will protect them until my last breath and that includes you too now." He shook his head and paced around the room "I've seen your people train, they won't stand a chance against them. They'll be slaughtered." "There's more of us. We'll battle strength with numbers." You countered, trying to make him see sense.

“You almost died because of me ! I don't deserve your kindness ! I don't deserve.. ” His voice barely containing his frustration before he stopped.

Your eyes widened when he had not finished his sentence “Deserve what ?”

“Any of this.” He gestured around himself so you would know he meant being here, in your city. It was a half-truth however, he did not just mean the city.

But you.

He didn't deserve you. Your grace, your kindness..you.

“Lancelot..” You shook your head, sensing so much guilt radiating off of him.

"I lost one of my only knights." Your voice thick. He could see that you felt guilty for their deaths "You couldn't have saved them. The trinity guards are some of the best fighters out there and in group they are lethal." You shook your head and wiped away a tear that threatened to fall "I failed him, I failed to protect my people ! And now you expect me to just sacrifice you to them as well ?!" In all his years serving Father Carden, Lancelot had never seen him show real empathy when a paladin was killed. Seeing you here now, a queen, weeping for your fallen soldiers and knight was something he never expected to see. A brave queen that cared so much that it made her shed tears. How often did you have to hide how you truly felt ? Some would consider it a weakness, but not him. It made him respect you even more.

You were lost for words, it felt like everything was falling apart “You were right. You are not my knight or a soldier.. I can't command you and I doubt we would be able to stop you..”

You couldn't believe he was actually leaving.

His eyes softened when he heard your voice break. You went to step past him, wanting to leave the room before the tears you were holding back would spill. He blocked your path, not wanting you to leave in this state. "Get out of the way." Your voice was weak but anger was boiling inside of you.

Anger not aimed at him but at your failure.

He didn't move a damn inch and you tried to push him out of the way. It didn't work at all, both of you knew that you'd never actually hurt the other. You pushed harder and he evaded your hands easily. He finally grabbed hold of your wrists, stopping your attempts. The mixture of anger, grief and pain was too much. You broke down sobbing against his chest.

Wanting nothing else but a bit of comfort as you wrapped your arms around him. He froze but recovered quickly, his arms wrapping around your form as if it was instinctive. He hated to see you like this, he knew what it was like to suffer in silence and to pretend like nothing was wrong. He did what he wished someone would have done for him. Give comfort when it feels like there is nothing left to fight for. Comforting you, holding you felt like it was healing a part of him as well. The physical contact almost overloading his senses. The warmth of you against him, the sound of your breath steadying. The scent of you enveloping him. “Please, don't leave..” It was a whisper falling from your lips. He placed his hand on the back of your hair, a protective gesture. And you found yourself calming down, he held you in such a way that it was hard not to feel safe. You had thought this would get uncomfortable but the opposite was true, this didn't feel strange or uncomfortable. It felt safe and warm and it must have been similar for him considering he showed no intention to let go or push you away.

“Please..stay..”

Your words echoed in his mind, the desire to stay here was tearing him apart. Holding you in his arms just made it so much harder to go.

Gods, he wanted to stay. With you and Percival..

Your plea cut him deeper then any sword had ever done.

He burried his nose in your hair and you raised your hands up to cup his face keeping your eyes closed, just cherishing this moment. Knowing that it could be the last time you saw him, you remembered what Crillan had told you. He then let his forehead rest against yours. Your mere presence soothing all his doubts. You tilted your head ever so slightly and your nose brushed against his. His warm breath ghosting over your skin. So many emotions were coursing through him. Your scent overloading his senses, until it felt as if there was nothing else but you. Your voice was but a whisper and he wasn't sure if he had heard it right. He opened his eyes and they locked on yours. You saw the uncertainty in his eyes and you repeated your words silently to him. "I love you." For a moment you feared you had made a fool of yourself for confessing it. He found himself unable to form words, he again placed his forehead to yours as he let out a shuddering breath. Your words bringing hope to something he was taught he could never recieve from another being. Love. You didn't know what to think, why was he not saying anything ? You just confessed to him that you loved him.. "Lancelot ?" You softly said, daring to look him in the eye. Maybe he really didn't feel the same and he was trying to think of a way to tell you without hurting your feelings. But then, that look. The look in his eyes betrayed him, his eyes captivating you once again. A look of longing was shared between you, and you realise he wasn't going to move unless you did. So you swallowed back your fears and acted boldly. Drawing his face to yours softly, making sure that he could move away if he wanted to. Your lips touched his and lingered briefly before you pulled back to watch his reaction.

He felt frozen to the spot. This was something unfamiliar to him. But one thing he knew. It felt right. And gods could he get addicted to the feeling of your lips on his. Instead of speaking he closed the last space between you and his lips brushed against yours. Uncertain at first, but he grew bold and pulled you closer to him. His hand tangled in your hair, your kiss making him feel like there was liquid fire running through his veins.

How addictively you were invading all his senses, it awokened a hunger inside of him that he never knew was there.

You were the one who broke the kiss when you ran out of air, never expecting him to kiss you like that. I seems he was not just passionate in fighting.

He was out of breath as well, his gaze on you making your knees weak. Your heart was racing like a horse in gallop.

Your hands cupped his face as your thumbs traced over the marks below his eyes.

He couldn't stop looking at you as you traced his marks. His whole life he was taught it was impossible, that he was a monster who needed to be saved from the fire.

Yet you had accepted him for what he was, for who he was.

You loved him.

A loud knock startled the both of you and you stepped back just in time before the door was opened by Raphael.

Raphael looked between you and Lancelot momentarily. You sneaked a glance at Lancelot who did the same. Raphael must have picked up on the tension in the room but he ignored it, the matter that brought him here was more important. "Y/n. Our archers have spotted groups of trinity guards. They are nearing the city." Now Lancelot knew that even if he had gone to lure them away, they were already too close to do so. You had expected that fighting would become unavoidable. "How many ?" Lancelot asked the knight. "Four groups of them." Raphael spoke hastily. You turned to Lancelot "How many of us do you believe to be advanced enough to fight ? You've seen the people train.." He thought about it before he answered with a heavy voice "Not enough. The trinity guards do not fight fair. They'll burn the city to the ground if we can't stop them." Dahlia had entered the room again as well "Your highness.." All of you turned to her and waited for her to say what she had to say. She walked up to you before placing a hand on your cheek. Her eyes still held the sorrow from before but she still smiled at you. "You could not save Crillan.. but there is still time now." She said knowingly. Lancelot send you an inquiring look before noticing that Raphael knew what Dahlia was talking about. "My magic is not strong enough.." You told her. She shook her head, clearly disagreeing with you "How could you know ? You did not have to use your full power in years. I believe in you, y/n." You looked her in the eye when she finally just called you by your name. You gave her a silent nod. Lancelot watched the exchance between you and spoke up "How will your healing magic help us ?" "She doesn't just possess healing magic." Raphael smirked at him before turning to you. You looked at Lancelot sheepishly "I haven't used that kind of magic in years..and it's not very strong." "What kind of magic ?" He quickly asked you. You brushed it off as if it was nothing special "I.. can control the wind. But it is very weak.. I never really used it. It's not a very usefull ability to make a place windy.." A plan was forming in Lancelot's head with the information. "I have an idea." He looked at Raphael "Those who cannot fight are in the tunnels below the castle ?" Raphael nodded "Yes." You could see the wheels in his head turning. "And those who can ?" He asked the knight. "Barricading the homes, why ?" The knight looked at him confused. "Tell them to stay away from the houses, they'll be burned to the ground. Arm those who can fight and tell them to find cover in the streets. Tell them to wait for a signal." You looked at Lancelot with a confused expression "What signal ?" His attention was on you, a confident smirk on his lips "They'll know."

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