#Lancelot looks really tired

[smokerswifey]

Not Tristan dropping the Lancelot lore in the middle of a fucking battle like baby I know how much you like gushing over your boyfriend but read the room now is not the time 😭😭/jk

[justaz]

pan merlin and gay arthur no one understands you like i do

[lit-in-thy-heart]

i respect one (1) knight in le morte darthur and that knight is sir dinadan

[xviruserrorx]

MerlinRewatch2023 -> "Lancelot" The Canterbury Tales ~ Masterlist [Prev <- • -> Next]

[maddybthorne]

I want a BBC Merlin fanfic where Hunith visits Camelot as a surprise. Merlin doesn't know she's coming, only Gaius knows that she plans to visit. This is set in a time period where all the knights are alive (I'm looking at you Lancelot.) and Arthur is Prince, but running the Kingdom as Uther is unwell.

Hunith pulls up to Camelot and is walking towards the Castle through the citadel, burdened by her bags, when a cheerful voice rings out. "Do you need any help, miss?" It's one of the many Castle servants.

Hunith explains that she is heading to the Castle to visit her son who works there, the servant then offers to carry her bags.

"Oh I don't want to be a bother." Hunith replies

"It's no bother at all! Really, I was heading that way already." The servant insists and they both make their way to the castle, "What's your son's name by the way, I might know him if he works here."

"His name is Merlin." Hunith responds with a smile. The servant stops walking and looks at her. It's not only him that stops at this announcement.

"Y-you're Merlin's Mother?!?" A nearby servant who had been close enough to hear the conversation says in awe.

The courtyard that they're walking through gradually fills with hushed whispers as the news spreads. Everyone knows of Merlin. The Prince's manservant who had managed to not quit in the first week of serving him. Merlin, who changed the Prince from a spoiled brat into a good man whom the Kingdom was proud of and eagerly awaited the day he would be crowned King. Merlin, who had followed the Prince into battle time and time again to save Camelot.

I want a fanfiction where The Entire Of Camelot loves Merlin and is thankful for his role in making Arthur a good person. Where not only the Knights, but the Castle staff meet his mother and collectively decide that she is That Woman and treat her with Respect. Where they treat her like Royalty.

Ofc Gwaine loves her. That's his best friend's mom. Hunith looks at all the knights and adopts them on the Spot.

And Merlin is either really confused by this behavior or knows and just lets it happen.

Arthur has no idea what's going on or why but he treats her with reverence and love because that's his future Mother in Law and he's very much starved for parental affection which she gives him (and the knights) in spades.

But yes, I just want a fic of people meeting Hunith and being like "Thank you for giving birth to your son. I'd die for you both" and her being like "...please don't."

(Bonus if Leon meets her and is just like. "How did you survive being around that little shit (Merlin) for so long?" And she just laughs and gives him advice, which makes him cry because he's just so tired. #LetLeonRest2024 I will push this agenda till I die)

[hyperdramas]

king arthur seokmin headcanons

warnings: small mention of a lack food & water, small nod to adultery, spoilers for xcalibur (its been almost 6 years since it happened but wtv), dk's a badass king, reader is implied to be female (because who wouldn't want to be guinevere), arthurian legend components, lyr gets to geek out about xcalibur & arthurian legend for a while yippee

playlist: somnus, valse di fantastica & sunset waltz (ffxv ost)

━━ king arthur!seokmin who is the only idol his kingdom worships. they know him for his kindness, strength, stability, and honorable disposition, and worship him and the ground he walks on.

━━ king arthur!seokmin who is really really good with a sword. whether it's excalibur or not, seokmin is talented when it comes to welding the sword with ease and performing many techniques and "impossible" feats with little to no struggle.

━━ king arthur!seokmin who knows what to say and when to say it; everyone looks up to him to comfort the kingdom when worry fills the streets, and he doesn't fail to do so. seokmin knows what to say to rile people up or calm them down, and is usually the voice of reason when meeting with other kingdoms or allies.

━━ king arthur!seokmin who fell in love you with you the first time he laid eyes on you. he knew from the first time you smiled at him that he would die for you if you needed him to. seokmin was a very emotional person, and you always knew what to say even if he was worried on edge.

━━ king arthur!seokmin who, with your permission, marries you as quick as possible. he has been daydreaming about the event ever since he developed feelings for you, and had the whole wedding prepared and planned ahead of time. seokmin had the biggest wedding for the two of you, and made you even happier when he crowned you himself.

━━ king arthur!seokmin who asks for your opinion on most decisions he has to make. seokmin trusts his judgement, but always wants your opinion on things before he finalizes his answer. he knows you have a lot to offer, and goes to you often for advice or your thoughts on a certain matter, even if others tell him not to.

━━ king arthur!seokmin who puts a strong divide between "king seokmin" and just "seokmin"—he wants to let his guard down around you, and makes sure that the boundary between him as king and him as your best friend is clear. seokmin never wants to confront you as a king of any kind. he doesn't even want to be adressed as "king seokmin" or "my king' by you—he just wants to be seokmin.

━━ king arthur!seokmin who invites you to his bedchambers after a long night of feasting and dining. he loves letting you take off his heavy, overdecorated clothes after the two of you make your way back to your private quarters. loves it when you peek your head into his bedroom and make your way to his bed just to get comfortable in it and chat with him until you get tired.

━━ king arthur!seokmin who takes his time with you. seokmin always want to spend his waking and sleeping moments with you, even if it means taking an hour in the morning to wake up before you and trace your features with his finger, or taking an hour in the nighttime to stroke your hair softly.

━━ king arthur!seokmin who listened to you and only you when you tried to talk some reason into him. seokmin was so consumed with xcalibur's power that he ignored the advice of all his knights, even threatening to kill his closest confidant, lancelot, with the blade of the magical xcalibur himself. when you finally grabbed his attention and warned him of the dire mistake he was close to making, he considered your words faster than he did anyone elses. you brought out the tiniest bit of the sweeter seokmin the whole kingdom knew once.

━━ king arthur!seokmin who, when finding out about your supposed adultery act with lancelot, his best friend, lost all meaning for a few days. he was so stunned at your apparent betrayal with lancelot that he couldn't even eat for a few days, and refused water as he spent his time locked away in his room, rotting away silently. seokmin had given you the world, and it shattered him thinking that you didn't want it.

━━ king arthur!seokmin who couldn't bring himself to kill you. of course, he was seething with anger at lancelot's newfound confidence to take you away from him, but couldn't hurt him because he knew it would hurt you. he didn't want you to be hurt, even if he wanted to end him where he kneeled for him before.

━━ king arthur!seokmin who realized his mistake and wanted to change for you. seokmin had realized his pridefulness when ocming to xcalibur, and he made it right as quick as he could, taking a step back from everything and everyone to recollect himself and become the better person for you and his kingdom.

[groundzero-v]

Titles tag game

Thank you @roalinda for tagging me! 💕

List the titles of your top 5 priorities for WIP updates (link your fics for new readers)

An upcoming scene, event or detail in each fic that you're looking forward to writing

Bonus: make a poll for your followers to vote on which of the top 5 wips are they are most excited to see an update on!

Then tag 10 writer friends!

Titles

1. Revenge *is* the answer (worktitle, Prongsfoot)

Set in a version of the wizarding world where ghosts work a bit differently, Sirius and James team up to hunt Peter Petigreew down.

Or: James comes back (sort of), breaks Sirius out of Azkaban (finally) and decides whoever betrayed them both doesn't deserve to live on.

2. Marauder's Guide to Saving the Wizarding World (Prongsfoot)

I suppose everyone is tired of me talking about this one, but it's my only published wip 😄 James and Sirius compete as a team in the Triwizard Tournament which sets things that were never supposed to happen in their time in motion. Marauders fight Voldemort AU!

Includes lots of Marauder banter, feels, questionable humour, prongsfoot moments and brand new tasks in the tournament

3. No title yet. Star Wars AU + transmigration* (Prongsfoot)

The Proud Immortal Sith Way was a webnovel with an average rating of 2.5. It was, quite frankly, a piece of shit. The only thing that kept James reading, day after day, was the main character, the Jedi turned Sith, Sirius Black.

Sirius' whole life was filled with misfortune and pain. Upon entering the Order he received nothing but distain and distrust from everyone around him, even from his Master. It was no wonder he turned to the Dark side when everyone was just a useless NPC!

'How is it fair that Sirius had to spend the rest of his life in misery after suffering this whole time?!!’ James wrote at 1AM into the comment section of yet another chapter that had Sirius traveling the galaxy and adding another one-chapter, useless love interest to his harem.

The same night, James died. When he woke up, he was in the novel, the words 'Fine, do better,' apprearing in front of his eyes before they blipped out of existence.

*((A variation of SVSS for those aware, but should be totally alright to read without any knowledge of SW or SVSS^^))

4. Fantasy/Knights of the Round table AU (Prongsfoot)

Fantasy, Arthur & Knights of the Round table AU. James in the place of Arthur, future king, and Sirius as Lancelot, his most loyal knight. Features sword-magic, epic adventures and magical creatures. A very much just a concept for now

An upcoming scene, event or detail in each fic that you're looking forward to writing:

1. Prongsfoot just...being feral for each other, absolute devotion to the max. They have finally reunited again and there's nothing that can stop them. Also just them...trespassing everywhere 😄 Besides that, definitely the confrontation with Peter!!

2. I'm pretty excited about the Second Task of the Tournament (and a bit scared since I had to create it, hopefully it's interesting). But other than that, to be very vague haha, Prongsfoot meeting Voldemort for the first time!🙈 (There is a line that started this whole fic that I have been waiting to use and its coming closer with each day!!)

3. It's so different so I have to say there're so many things I'm really excited about. Figuring out who should be who in the SW universe is a lot of fun, but I think I'm mostly looking forward to James and Sirius being absolutely unstoppable with lightsabers and the Force. The aspect of the transmigration is also something I'm really really looking forward to

4. I love fantasy so puttting Prongsfoot in there is just a dream. A scene I'm most excited about is Sirius getting knighted by James and swearing his loaylty to him 🥹

Tagging (no pressure and sorry if you were already tagged!) @lovelymasks @jmagnabo92 @cassiaratheslytherpuff @gracelesslady23 @prongsfoot4life @solitaire-sol @mycupofrum @siriuslystarbucks @siriuslycomplex

[simpknight]

May i request about Lancelot x Gudako in a whump/hurt comfort situation? 👉👈 (Lancelot was tired and injured after intense battle and Gudako helps him to recover by cleaning and dressing his injuries)

Thank you very much 🥺🙏💜🧡

Thank you so much for requesting (and sorry for taking so long)! You don't know how much I loved writing this prompt. Lancelot deserves so much love, but I also enjoy putting him in angsty scenarios 👀

As always, reader is referred to as “master” since I never use Gudako/Gudao/Ritsuka etc. (even if I use them as the “base” for my reader inserts) but I hope that's ok!

This time I wrote it in third person.

Warnings: Blood and injury, nothing too graphic tho

Words: 1100

When correcting minute singularities one must always stay on guard, the most insignificant mistake can be fatal.

Everyone is aware of that, and still they couldn’t help but to be overconfident about that mission. They only realized their mistake when they encountered a bunch of enemies that turned out to be stronger than they seemed. And when things go bad they can become much worse. 

In the middle of a fight, while Mash was desperately trying to block the enemies’ attacks the best she could, a simple miscalculation left her exposed to one of the creatures. She couldn’t react on time, but Lancelot rushed to her aid, being hurt in the process. 

His master, aware of the gravity of the wound, ordered him to fall back, a decision which the knight wasn’t too pleased with. He kept insisting he should be the one battling the enemies, that Mash needed to retreat and protect their master. Both, master and shielder, refused his request, Mash had enough stamina to keep fighting a while longer, that way Lancelot could take their master to a safe place. If the saber kept fighting, his death was certain, that wound would be his downfall. 

Swallowing his pride, the saber obeyed. He picked his master into his arms and fled to a secured zone, a cave well-hidden deep into the forest. Just as they entered, Lancelot collapsed in the ground, his master hurried to his aid, trying her best to sit him, back against the rocky walls of the cave. Part of his armor was shattered to pieces, it would not regenerate before returning to Chaldea. 

The servant tried to stay awake, being guided by his master’s voice. His sight was becoming clouded little by little; noises began to distort. Last he remembered before losing consciousness was the blurred image of Mash rushing into the cave.

He didn’t know how much time had passed since he collapsed, he opened his eyes slowly so they could gradually readjust. He could feel something pressing gently on his side, just where the injury was. Lancelot quickly recognized the feeling of his master’s delicate hands, she was probably doing her best to stop the hemorrhage. It was weak, but he could perceive a faint wave of healing magic. His master probably had to use a lot of mana to close the wound. It was hard to believe that he was still alive (or as alive as a servant can be), he was very lucky.

“Finally awake, huh?”

They glanced at each other, Lancelot noticed the bags under her eyes, her tired face seemed a bit pale. No wonder why her magic seemed so weak, who knows how long she had been casting that spell.

“You really scared us when you fainted, your wound was so deep I thought you wouldn’t make it… But I finally managed to heal it completely.” She talked fast, almost stumbling with her words, clearly she was still nervous from the shock. “Mash went to search for food, there were some fruit trees nearby so she shouldn’t take too long.”

“As I knight it is my duty to rescue damsels in distress, I wasn’t expecting it to be the other way round. I guess that as long as it’s you I could get used to it.” 

Lancelot chuckled at the sight of his master smiling faintly, yet he soon felt a sharp pain on his side. Noticing the worried look on his master's face he reassured her.

“It’s ok, I’m fine… I’ve been through worse so don’t panic.”

Lancelot took one of her hands to give her a gentle kiss. Seeing how it was covered in his dried blood he couldn’t help but think that a lady such as her shouldn’t be forced to stain her hands like that.

“You shouldn’t waste your magical power to save just one servant, you know that right?”

“Why would you say that so suddenly?” She frowned.

“I just want to remind you that you can always summon another heroic spirit to help you. This time everything came out good in the end, but you could have compromised the mission.”

“I know but…” She stopped, carefully thinking what to say “I know if something happened to you Mash wouldn’t forgive herself, not after you almost sacrificed yourself to save her.”

In the end, Lancelot was Galahad’s father, and that meant he was also a father figure for Mash, just as doctor Romani was.

“I know you worry about her, you are her best friend and you care about her deeply. However, I also know you didn’t do this just for her.”

The two of them stayed silent. Just for a moment, the only audible sound was the wind echoing in the cave’s walls. As much as she tried to hid it, Lancelot was certain that his master was taking decisions based on her own feelings instead of thinking rationally. A part of him was happy about that, after all that was one of the things he loved about her. However, he was also worried that it may cause problems in the long run for her.

“If you risk your life for a servant-”

“I know!” She screamed, fighting back the tears “I know my life is more important as a master… But you can’t ask me to stand still and do nothing when I can help. If anything happened to you I…”

She stopped mid-sentence to take a deep breath, trying to calm down. 

“As long as it's possible I will do anything to protect you, you have my word.”

He would be lying if he said it didn’t make him happy to hear that, shocking as that statement may be. Lancelot wiped her tears with a sad smile.

“You should stop stealing my lines, it’s a bit embarrassing. Please, don’t cry anymore, I can't bear to see your beautiful face like this.”

He leaned a bit to kiss her, stopping himself midway as he heard Mash’s rushed steps as she entered the cave. The shielder was happy to see him recovered, and encouraged him and the master of Chaldea to take some rest, insisting that she will keep watch for the night. The master refused at first, yet she soon felt all the exhaustion hit her like a train. She curled up next to the saber, letting her head rest on his shoulder, but she had a hard time falling asleep, opening her eyes from time to time to check on Lancelot. It wasn’t until she could hear him breathe deeply in his sleep that she could relax as well.

[purgatory-is-life]

Mechtober day 6/prompt 6-Songs

@mechtober-2024 and posted on ao3 as well > Songs of Past Prophecies - Reality666Rift999 - The Mechanisms (Band) [Archive of Our Own]

sorry this is a bit later than the others i had some life stuff that meant i couldn't finish this yesterday ahead of time kalfjkldf

tw just i think?? lack of control/references to lacking control, typical Prophecy shenanigans are mentioned, not being listened to in the past, dissociation/implied dissociation, mentioned sleep walking (sleep-playing the violin?), let me know if you need me to tag something else too!

Brian wandered around Aurora’s many corridors, twisting and turning and warping as time passed. It was cold. He didn’t think he’d ever like the cold again, after being pulled from the freezing emptiness of the Void. And yet here he was, relishing the cold against his metal face, walking around barefoot to feel the cold, steel floor against his cold, brass skin. Brian couldn’t–didn’t want to–sleep. Whatever sleeping technically looked like for him. It’s not like he was tired, anyway.

And if he went to sleep, he’d just be subjected either to that horrible, overwhelming heat, an overwhelming warmth so strong he could barely register anything besides it and pain and then-nothing, before the cycle restarted again, and if not that dream it would be something else. Mordred walking into Camelot from Annwn, Galahad sitting on the Siege Seat and being overwhelmed by the visions it showed, Mordred launching his father into Camelot, Arthur refusing to heed his warning because he couldn’t tell Arthur that Mordred was once his daughter and now his son. Gawain and Mordred and that final slaughter of everyone in Camelot and everyone from Annwn. That frightening image from Arthur’s perspective, of holding a gun to Lancelot and Gwen’s head (sometimes, if he was really unlucky, he’d see one or two of the crew in Lancelot and Guenivere’s spots, and the drumbot didn’t want to admit how much that scared him. It happened all the time on the Aurora, after all.) There were just too many things churning and churning around in his head to sleep, too many images burned in his brain from his spot as a helpless observer.

He’d done everything he could to prevent what he Saw in his dreams, he’s always done so. But no one ever seems to listen, no one ever actually wants to listen to his warnings. Not even his crew, and they should know that he doesn’t Lie. The fate he’d Seen for the station was grim, and so he naturally did everything he could to prevent it, anything that his setting had allowed. (That dreaded Switch had been on the fritz a bit, since they pulled him from the sun, but he wouldn’t complain. It finally allowed him some moniker of control, even if it kind of hurt sometimes.)

He’d done everything he could, and yet he wished he could’ve done more. He should’ve done more. He should’ve tried harder, if he’d been able to do anything maybe the station could have been saved. Maybe–

Brian stopped as he ran into- something, something that was loud. The sound–violin music, now that he registered it–stopped abruptly as something crashed onto the ground. Marius blinked up at him, eyes hazy and almost empty, before suddenly clearing. Marius grinned widely at Brian, jumping up and disregarding his violin that now lay on the floor. Brian blinked, and it disappeared. Probably to that same hammerspace that the rest of the ‘doctor’s violins lived in.

“Good morning–or, well, night– my dear Drumbot!” Marius declared. “What do I owe the pleasure of seeing you around at this late hour?”

Brian did not feel like talking about it today. Ends Justify Means, he decided not to answer. “Were you playing in your sleep again, Marius?” He responded instead. Marius, every once in a while, would fall asleep like normal, only to start wandering around the ship playing a variety of haunting melodies on his violin. That particular… ‘habit’, of his, typically didn’t disturb anyone else, so they usually let it happen. There were a few times where his music would get so frantic and loud it’d wake up Aurora, or someone else in the crew, but that usually just ended with Marius getting killed in one way or another.

“Oh, who knows,” the not-a-baron responded, shrugging. His flesh hand had steadily healing blisters that answered for him, though. Marius grinned up at him, raising an eyebrow. “You dodged the question! Is something the matter? You’re clearly on Ends Justify Means, because you only ever dodge questions on that mode, so something is likely bothering you. So-”

“Marius, I’m really not in the mood right now,” Brian interrupted.

Marius paused, a brief moment of confusion and hurt on his face, before he shrugged and nodded. “Well, what are you doing up? Normally at this hour, should you still be awake and not in the midst of being used as a weighted blanket or pillow, you’re on the bridge.”

“I couldn’t sleep,” Brian explained, “so I decided to take a walk.” He left out that he decided to take a walk after realizing that Aurora had locked the bridge off from him. But that wasn’t something Marius would need to know. It would get him on another tangent.

“Ah! Yes, that’ll happen. You were in a star for a while, I personally would imagine that would just leave you more tired, but I don’t know how your circuitry works. Would you like some company? It can get so lonely at night when no ones up, and I know you don’t like being lonely. Though I suppose you’re never truly alone on Aurora? With the spiders and the stowaways and the octokittens–though I personally just don’t like the octokittens that much–they’re just so off putting to me. Maybe it’s the fact that they have beaks and teeth? Or maybe their purrs, because their purrs are just off…”

And he was off on another tangent. Naturally, Brian should’ve realized that he could get started on anything and everything with very little prompting. At least he wasn’t asking about him anymore, poking and prodding and prying into what he’d experienced on the Station. His woes over not being able to do more to help, his pain at never being listened to.

(Arthur, my sheriff, I’ve news to cheer you, You’re son yet lives he’s drawing near you!

Faulty old thing, I’ve never had son)

Suddenly, just as quickly as he started talking, Marius stopped. Mid sentence, he just… Stopped. Brian was pretty sure he stopped breathing.

Marius looked at him, a grin slowly spreading across his face while his eyes fogged and lost focus again. Well, to Brian, that always seemed to be a misnomer. It was like he was finding something new and far away to focus on.

“Oh,” he said, in a quiet voice so small and quiet that Brian wasn’t sure he’d said anything at all at first. Suddenly, Marius was holding his violin and his grin grew even larger. “You have a Song,” he said, like Brian should know exactly what he meant.

With his metal hand, Marius grabbed Brian’s and started dragging him along to the music room. Brian decided to let him, curious as to what the pretend-doctor’s plan was.

When they arrived, Marius gently sat Brian at his drumset and put down his violin, before sitting down himself. He stared distantly at Brian, ears twitching like he was listening to something despite the only noises being Marius’s own breathing and the quiet creaks and groans of Aurora. “You have so many Songs, Brian… They’re all so pretty…” Brian wasn’t sure if he even knew that he said something, Marius didn’t seem very present.

Marius jumped up again and ran over to where the paper was kept, stumbling and tripping over one of Gunpowder’s guitar cases. He grabbed a couple sheets of paper, and ran back, tripping again as he ran back. He tossed the papers down haphazardly, and pulled a pen out of thin air and set it down equally haphazardly. He took a few minutes to stare at Brian again, before moving to pick his violin up again.

Marius closed his eyes, and started playing a tune that Brian almost recognized. Did, recognize.

It sounded incomplete, without other instruments, but it would be rude to wake everyone else up for an impromptu music writing session. They can figure the other parts out later.

Brian followed Marius’s lead, closing his eyes and let himself follow the music Marius was playing.

“Gawain I know you fear the underworld, hate the Ghouls that live in it’s thunder,

That hunger for carrion torn asunder, by blades that glint in the dark…”

Jonny would like to hear what they end up writing in the morning, anyway. It’ll probably make a good story.

[rosietrace]

『 “Off kilter” 』

| Lancelot Lucretius and Marina Baleen | 🛡️ + 🐚 |

✎ᝰ. synopsis : “The boys, the girls, they all like Carmen–” “She gives them butterflies, bats her cartoon eyes.”

✎ᝰ. content warnings : descriptions of murder, davis /hj, implied mafia business (?)

✎ᝰ. genre : alternative universe (noir/mafia au), romance, (poorly communicated) mutual pining

( ˚₊· ͟͟͞➳❥) a/n : AUGHHHH THIS TOOK SO LONG TO COMPLETE BUT I'M SO GLAD IT IS 😭 this kinda lacks proper proof-reading so idk chat maybe it sucks balls but </33 Ellis pookie I rlly hope I did Marina justice here so I'm super sorry if she's ooc :'))

✎ᝰ. reblogs > likes

Lance watched Davis sneer at the hard pouring of the rain, an eyebrow raised and his arms crossed. Pure, potent, exasperation was hardly enough to describe how tired Lance was of his brother.

But alas, thought Lance, who drew out a sorry breath. It's better than nothing.

Their plans for the day, generally consisting of Davis spoiling himself rotten while Lance accompanied him with nothing tucked in his behind other than wallowing compliance, came to a screeching halt.

Due in part with the murder of Nyx Leech, beloved songstress of the Monstro Lounge— a restaurant seemingly drawing the attention of individuals from all across the criminal underworld.

Davis harrumphed, walking to the wooden coat rack and draping his coat over his shoulders. “You think going to the lounge is still a good idea?” questioned Davis.

Lance's eyes narrowed. “Why wouldn't it be?” They were supposed to be investigating a murder, entertainment was hardly a priority.

Or, at least, it was for Lance. Davis sent his baby brother a faux pout. “Oh, boo hoo… I've been itching for another try at the serpentine casino..”

With a roll of his eyes, Lance followed, his hands tucked into the pockets of his coat. “If that's the case, then you're not a detective, you're a slot machine.”

“And you'd slit your own throat for six bits plus tax.”

Davis scoffed. “You overestimate how high my confidence is.”

“I reckon your confidence is on a pedestal, readying itself to be renamed arrogance.”

“I’d hardly call it arrogance when one acknowledges their talents.”

“And it's hardly confidence when all you do is boast about your talents,” Lance shot back, opening the door and gesturing for his brother to leave first.

Grumbling whatever chattering complaints he wanted to say below his breath, Davis strode out of the office. Lance lingered at the doorway, however, contemplating.

Right now, they were low on any actual evidence— and even worse, lower in leads to finding the true culprit.

As the nights grew colder, and the rain poured harder, all Lance could think of…

“Hey,” Davis called. He gave Lance a wrinkle-nosed look, and pointedly side-eyed him once he walked out of the office and locked the door shut.

“Anything on your mind, brother?” Davis questioned. Although Lance didn't want to notice it, Davis' sly little smile was hardly subtle.

Lance shook his head, a valiant effort on his part. “Nothing.”

“Are you sure?”

“I'm sure.”

“Are you really sure?”

“Positive.”

“Are you really, really, really—”

“Say really one more time, and I'll make sure you won't have a tongue in your mouth once we get home.”

Frustrated far beyond reason, Lance shoved past Davis, even when he didn't mean to; and all Davis had to respond to that?

A smirk. A hardly subtle, very amused, all-knowing smirk. Damn it.

“This should be fun.”

“Anything?”

Normally it would take a large bribe or two to be given entry into one of the restricted, ‘employees only’ areas of the Monstro Lounge; but with the circumstances that life had dealt for the notorious restaurant, Azul Ashengrotto had reluctantly allowed Davis and Lance to initiate a look-through of the crime scene. No bribes needed, free of charge.

A figure of chalk was drawn on the floor, positioned the same way Nyx had been found.

From how Davis looked, he looked like he wanted to hurl. It still reeked of a rotting corpse, and that fact didn't go unnoticed by Lance, either.

It was just that Lance did a better job at hiding his disgust, in contrast to… Davis being Davis.

“Anything so far?” Lance repeated his question and looked underneath the shelves that lined the room, waiting for Davis to reply whilst inspecting the area to the best of his ability.

“Nope.” Truly, Davis missed his true calling on the stage. With how nonchalant he sounded, Lance would've gone and assumed his brother wasn't taking the case as casually as he should.

But that's a lie. Lance thought, with every fiber of being all unanimously going to that agreement. He does care about this case.

Just not in the way he probably should.

“Found something,” Davis announced, getting to his feet and properly inspecting whatever was in his hand. “Could be something of interest.”

“Could be?” Lance repeated with a hint of skepticism. ‘Could be’s and ‘Maybe��s weren't what they were looking for.

Davis gave him a look, clicking his tongue. “Do you truly think so low of me, baby brother?”

Without even a moment's notice or a hint of hesitation on Davis' part, Lance's eyebrows shot up at the sight before him.

Some kind of seal. Not quite a brooch, but more akin to a cufflink, or a pin. It bore the symbol of two interconnected snakes wrapping around each other— their grasps at each other almost suffocating just by looking at it.

Lance couldn't help but wonder aloud, “What is it?”

Davis' smirk was horribly contagious. Far too proud for his own good as he indulged, “A seal.”

“Particularly to our matter of interest, baby brother of mine, one belonging to a subordinate working under the Eden’s Serpents.”

Not knowing who the Serpents were was the equivalent to living under a rock and not knowing the sky was blue— so of course Lance knew which group of the criminal underworld Davis was referring to.

“Is it a possible lead?”

“Could be.”

“We're not here for that could be bullshit.”

“Don't be such a debbie downer,” with a flick of his fingers, Lance felt a small flash of pain on his forehead. Courtesy of his older brother.

Barely another word in to snap back at Davis, in walked owner of the restaurant himself, Azul Ashengrotto; clad in all black, say for the silk blouse he wore beneath his black and silver coat and vest.

“Novellions,” Azul said in greeting, accenting it with a well-practiced polite shell of a smile.

Davis, ever the charmer, did the talking. “Mr. Ashengrotto.” They shook hands like merchants making a deal in the midst of the exchange.

“I presume progress remains slow as always?” The question sounded polite enough; but Lance didn't miss the way Azul veiled the condescension in his tone.

Davis' charm didn't falter, but his smile took a more sharp turn. “Surprise, surprise, today that isn't the case.”

Azul raised a brow. “Oh? There's progress after all?”

“Certainly. Truly, Mr. Ashengrotto, do you have such little faith in me and my brother?”

“Certainly not,” Azul waved a dismissive hand.

Lance folded his arms across his chest. “Have I not been informed, or have we been given some sort of time limit to how long we can stay here?” Azul had to have sauntered over to them himself, for a reason.

The chuckle that left the ever conspicuous business man's lips made a vein pop up on Lance's forehead.

“I am merely doing my job as the owner of this establishment.” Azul and Davis were silently at odds with each other; projecting humbleness in the way they said every little reply, no matter how miniscule.

“Care for a bit of relaxation, gentlemen? Surely, the act of investigating a murder can entail quite a bit of exhaustion.”

Lance's lips pursed. “That won't be necessa–”

“How generous!” Declared Davis, who not-so-subtly sent a glare directed at Lance once Azul gave them a hearty, performative laugh, and escorted them to the main dining area.

Lance had his qualms about Ashengrotto, and especially his staff, but he could at least admit to himself that he had little qualms about the restaurant Azul owned.

The Monstro Lounge was dimly lit, its only source of light were the bulletproof glass walls made to display all sorts of oceanic creatures for guests to marvel at while they ate— much of the decor made to resemble sea creatures, as well.

Looking up, Lance commented in as polite of a voice as he could manage, “Quite the chandelier.”

It was like Azul didn't even try to hide how perfunctory his responses were to him and Davis. “Thank you. It feels like almost a lifetime ago since I first opened this place… oh, how far we've come, indeed.”

And in that time, Lance couldn't help but think, your establishment is the number one meeting place for a private tussle between rival groups in the criminal underworld.

Hardly a positive evolution, but one nonetheless.

Azul sat the two brothers down in one of the tables closest to the stage. Whether that was deliberate on Azul’s part, it was hard to tell.

“I do hope you two stay for entertainment,” Azul said earnestly, but Lance knew better than to expect fully packaged honesty where Azul Ashengrotto was concerned.

He turned on his heel, that polite smile fading, and giving way for a smirk to grow.

“You'll see that Marina's quite the talent, indeed.”

Marina Baleen wanted to chuckle when she first saw the look on Lance's face once she strode on to the stage, dressed in sparkles, opera gloves, and a fur shawl.

But much to her dismay, that just wasn't an option. Sure, Marina was one of the potential suspects behind the recent murder of Nyx Leech, but that didn't equal to Azul wanting to put her talent to waste.

She was a spectacle, all eyes on her, like there was nothing more natural than the way her looks — and most especially her voice — captivated the audience like a siren guiding poor unfortunate sailors to a death they wouldn't foresee until it was all too late.

She tried keeping the act of the alluring, sultry songstress, she truly did. But it was just too hard to ignore how comical it was to see Lance's jaw go slack and see how his (quite frankly, rude) older brother closed it shut for him.

Quite cartoonish, that one, thought Marina. When he wants to be.

The stage was set, the lights were on and all were directed at her. Front, back, and everything in-between, Marina was what every aspiring singer wanted to be.

A star. A spectacle, made for the stage and only the stage. The industry was like that, y'know. You're either born with star power, or you aren't.

Marina was just lucky enough to have the looks to get where she was today.

When the song neared its end, the corners of Marina's mouth curled up into a tiny smirk. There was nothing wrong with messing with Lancelot Novellion a little, was there?

She strutted across the stage, heels clicking rhythmically until her steps came to a halt. And she stood directly over Lance and his brothers’ table.

Her hand went beneath his chin, lifting and tilting it at just the right angle so their eyes would meet.

With his parted lips and her thumb brushing against the lower half, Marina engaged with a fermata until her voice slowly faded in what she could only assume was the most natural way it could.

“I…” she could audibly hear the quiet, hard, swallow from Lance.

She was enjoying this far too much. With a cheshire cat grin and a wink, she pulled back from him, taking several steps back and awaiting for a standing ovation that never came.

That was fine. That was natural. Not everyone would want to give her some hurrahs, let alone throw roses at the stage in appreciation.

The silence is better than being thrown porridge, Marina amended. With how prolonged her little smile was, many working under Azul assumed she wasn't capable of doing anything other than smiling.

Azul gave her his praises, Jade following suit; Floyd was the only one not in attendance. Marina wasn't given the specifics, but she knew it had to do with Nyx's sudden murder.

Whatever tightnit, glued-to-the-hip bond the Leech siblings had, it wasn't Marina's prioritized concern. Her current topic warranting caution was trying not to make herself paint an even redder target on her back.

She wasn't the one who killed Nyx. She'd have known if she did, but Marina had no reason to.

Lance intercepted Marina on her way to her dressing room. To which Marina only reacted with a wry smile, brushing past him and not looking back; an obvious, but no less clever way of getting him to follow her.

“I'm not taking autographs right now,” she drawled, her head tilting to one side at a precarious angle once she and Lance made their way into her dressing room.

Lance huffed. He was so cute when he looked painfully constipated with irrigation. “I'm not here for an autograph.”

“I'm not accepting fan meetings.”

“I’m not here for that, either.”

“Then why,” Marina strode closer, her nose briefly brushing against Lance's, “are you here?”

The investigator took one look to the side then focused his gaze on her. “I'm here on business, not to ask for your autograph or a kiss that'll make me refuse to take another shower ever again.”

“You sure about that, Lancie?”

Lance gave her an adorable wrinkle of his nose at the unexpected nickname. He tried covering up by (very unconvincingly) maintaining his business persona.

“Again, Miss Baleen, I'm not here for an autograph.”

The opportunity jumped at Marina as she replied with, “Then is a kiss still on the table?”

“And definitely not that.” Lance sucked in a breath. Marina couldn't tell if the redness of his ears were from being flustered or not, but either way, it looked cute to her.

“Shame…” Marina pouted, slipping off the shawl and tossing it on to the top back of her dressing room chair. “I would've enjoyed making you my personal canvas.”

Lance blinked. Marina counted up to thirteen times before he uttered, his tone gutted and hoarse with disbelief: “What?”

Marina shrugged that off as quickly as the offhand comment came. “Nevermind, that,” said Marina, who tossed her hair over her shoulder and looked back at Lance.

“So, detective, any progress?”

“About clearing your name? Not much.”

“Hmm.” She clucked her tongue. “Shame… am I too memorable to let off the hook?”

“If by memorable you mean conspicuous,” corrected Lance. “Your connections to the victim, as well as your alibi doesn't make you that much of an innocent victim turned suspect.”

“Me and Nyx were never that close, anyway, Lancie.”

“And you think that matters to the press?”

She released a groan. “I already told you what I know.” Her lips pressed together, frustration gleaming in her eyes as she stared back at him.

“What more do I need to do to prove I'm innocent?”

“... I know you're innocent.” Marina could've almost sworn that Lance's eyes flash with an uncharacteristic softness, if only for a moment. “But—”

“But?”

“The press don't believe you are. My brother too, but he isn't important in this conversation.”

“Such a strange way to say that about him,” Marina noted, motion always constant with her pretty head cocked to the side at an angle that bordered on the blurred line of acceptable and concerning. “Though, I can't say I disagree. Your brother is hardly the most agreeable.”

The corners of Lance's mouth ticked upwards, then lowered. “Then I am shocked to say we're in agreement on something for once. However—”

His hands went to her shoulders, the proximity of their bodies hardly registering to Lance as he pushed Marina back and lowered her down to her chair before she could say anything else.

“— I am not here to talk about things we may or may not agree on. I'm here because I was called to investigate with Davis, so I may as well make it worth my while?”

She smirked, leaning into the chair and crossing her legs. “Oh? Well, now you're making little ol’ me blush, Lancie.”

“Don't make an innuendo out of this…” Lance closed his eyes, keeping them that way with a pained twist to his lips.

With a relent, she decided to go along with it. She gestured to a chair from the corner of the room for Lance to sit on, and he did so in quick succession; ready to ask whatever questions he had unprepared for her.

“Where were you on the night of Nyx Leech’s murder?”

“After the duet Nyx and I shared, she told me she was in charge of closing up for the night and told me to leave early.”

“Interesting. Did she go into further elaboration?”

The fact you're acting like you don't already know the answer is cute, Lancie. “From my memory, I don't think so. Whatever she was up to, I merely minded my business and entered my dressing room.”

“And that's…?” Lance arched his brow, waiting for her to continue; anticipating what he already knew but still hoping for a new lead regardless.

Marina's bulletproof pleasantries wavered. “... That's when I heard the screaming.”

Liar or not, Marina was a fantastic actress. Had she not pursued singing, she would've been a household name among Hollywood's finest stars. And she knew that was why Lance kept up the skepticism in her alibi.

He felt something for her. She didn't know what it was, but whatever it was, he wouldn't let it get in the way of him doing his job.

Emotions are kept on the back burner most days, and when they aren't… Marina knew it'd be better for her to not know how Lance would act if he wasn't as patient as he was right now.

But now was not the time for that. She could only keep little Lancie, him and his golden eyes and adorable freckles, in her dressing room for so long. It would only be a matter of time before Davis barges in and drags his brother back to their office by his ankles.

She heaved a sigh. “I tried to ignore the screaming. I thought I just heard things. But then it came again, and it kept coming until it became unbearable and–”

“... And?” She was tense. It didn't take a genius to notice that.

Marina swallowed, hard, forcing down the feeling of bile trying to force its way out of her throat. “I… I opened the door to one of the employee-only sections of the lounge.”

“Nyx tried to crawl to me, tears ruining her mascara. But she could barely move. I ran to her, foolish enough to try and shake the life back into her and–”

“— that's when Azul found you.” Covered in the blood of a fellow performer. The look on Lance's face said it all.

“Yes.” The starlet kept her hands on her lap, her body so still she looked like she belonged in a painting rather than on the stage she stood on prior. “... Not exactly the best alibi, I know you're suspicious of me either way.”

Lance didn't deny that. “I am. However, I'm obligated to believe you until further evidence suggests that you're telling the truth or not.”

“You think I'm lying?”

“I did not say–”

“No, you're implying that I could be lying to you to get off your radar.”

“I've heard your alibi three times now, Miss Baleen. Once when I first interrogated you, second when I was listening in on your interview with my brother— and most recently, right now.”

Marina sputtered, eyebrows knitted together. “What– Just because you heard my alibi thrice now, you think there's cracks in what I'm trying to convey??”

“Ma'am, I'm doing my job.” Lance leaned back — or, at least tried to, he was sitting on a stool without anything supporting his back — as he continued, “your descriptions, while tragic and filled with emotion… don't give too much detail on what had actually happened that night.

“At most, you're one of the only members of the lounge who doesn't go into explicit detail in the same way everyone else has.”

Marina harrumphed. “Why should explicit details matter?”

“It gives investigators better insight and a clearer visual. I'd say it matters more than the monthly salary Mr. Ashengrotto has been more than generous in giving you, despite being a prime suspect.”

But they both knew why that was the case. It stank the atmosphere of the room, sensitizing Lance's senses in ways more than the type of perfume Marina was using.

Azul valued Marina for her talents. It's precisely why she's paid so well, and why she's such a favorite over all of his other patrons serving entertainment for the lounge.

Whether she was a suspect framed, innocent or not, business was business. And nothing could motivate Azul Ashengrotto more than cash.

It wasn't soon enough for Lance to stand, the abruptness nearly knocking over the dusted stool, its bottom still lined with cobwebs.

“Miss Baleen, I swear to you, I will find whoever it is that murdered your colleague and it will take an act of God to stop me from accomplishing that.”

His hands, so calloused but so wrongly delicate, caressed her face, tilting her chin up.

“I won't allow personal feelings get in the way of that. No matter what.”

Lance let go of Marina's face, the silence falling on deaf ears as his eyes found its way to the clock hanging over her mirror.

“... I should go.”

He'd been gracious enough to put the stool back where it'd once been, dusting off any remnants of web or dust and ready to make his way out of her dressing room as soon as—

“Wait–”

Marina's words cut off when Lance looked back at her, eyes seeming so devoid of any emotion left in his system, but filled with plight; like he was asking — begging — her for a reason to stay for longer than he should.

Sadly, her words had cut short. And she shook her head, smiling wryly and turning her attention to her reflection in the mirror. She heard Lance huff, and watched from the mirror as he left— her smile wiped clean.

Lance leaned his back against the door of her dressing room, his head on the ceiling. He cursed himself, disbelief painted harshly on his features.

“What the hell am I doing?...”

【 Taglist / Credits 】

↳ In order of OC appearances/mentions

Lancelot Novellion – Me 😈

Davis Novellion – Also Me 😈

Nyx Leech – Also (2) Me 😈

Marina Baleen ��� @starry-night-rose

@jasdiary | @authoruio | @fumikomiyasaki | @sakuramidnight15 | @hallowed-delights / @terrovaniadorm | @twsted-princess | @mystery-skulls-ghost | @lueerhythm | @valse-a-mille-temps | @absolutelyobsessedkiya / @twistedsongstressofstarz | @geminiiviolets

[smokerswifey]

What your personal headcanons for percy platoon?👀

Would love to hear your headcanons~

Thank you so much for answering I looooove recieving questions !!

These headcannons are for the Percy Platoon so :

• Percival

• Nasiens

• Anne

• Donny

• Lancelot, honorary member

▪︎ Percival cooks for the Platoon every day just like his grandpa did for him . Seeing his friends faces light up when they try his food makes his day .

▪︎ Anne loves tending to Donny's hair . Whenever it gets to long or too tangled for Donny to handle, Anne will huff, grab his hand and pull him to sit down so that she can take care of his hair . Sometimes she combs it or trims it or pulls it into cute hairstyles . Donny complains and groans loudly when his hair ends up being covered in little bows and ribbons but deep down he still appreciates it .

▪︎ The Platoon goes on daily jogs or do little exercices to help Nasiens build up his stamina .

▪︎ Sometimes Percival gets nightmares about his grandpa's death and wakes up in sweat and tears . Despite being sleepy, the Platoon always rushes to his side to comfort him . Donny throws his arm around Percy's. Anne uses her hands to wipe the tears tracks of his cheeks and push his hair out of his face, Nasiens squeezes his hands until they stop shaking and Lancelot curls up to Percy's side in his fox form. Even after Percy eventually falls asleep they still stay close to him, looking out for him .

▪︎ Everyone carries Lancelot around in his fox form . Donny keep him on his shoulder, Anne carries him under his armpits, Nasiens cradles him like a baby ( he only does this when Lance is asleep tho, cause he would never let him do that if he was awake ) and Percy hugs him to his chest .

Fuck these are really short, I wish I could continue but I'm really tired lol,I'll do a part two .

Thanks @mertylmylove for this I looooove answering questions like these !!

[justaz]

*merlins magic gets exposed in front of the knights*

merlin, magic user: oh fuck

arthur, finally taking this opportunity to pretend as if he just found out merlin has magic after agonizing for the past month on how to bring it up: you have magic?

lancelot, merlin defender, already knew of merlin’s magic: no! i have magic

gwaine, merlin defender, already knew of merlin’s magic, lover of chaos, ride or die: no, i have magic!

mordred, desperate for his hero’s approval bc no matter what he’s done emrys just stares at him with distrust and the poor boy is tired and so close to tears: no…i have magic.

percival, raised by druids and bonded strongly with mordred over that and does Not agree with the persecution of magic in camelot, had an inkling that merlin had magic but no proof: no. i have magic.

*leon and elyan exchange a look, elyan, amused and leon, exhausted, elyan shrugs*

elyan, knows how much gwen adores merlin and completely understands her stance bc merlin…is merlin, down to clown and put on a show, really playing up the dramatics: no! i have magic.

leon, exhausted, has known of merlin’s magic since he stepped foot in camelot, knows of his feelings for arthur and arthur’s feelings for him, knows arthur knows of merlin’s magic and wouldn’t harm him, thinks everyone is being absolutely ridiculous:

*the knights stare hard at leon and even merlin looks slightly offended at leon not jumping to his defense with the rest of the knights, arthur hasn’t said anything and is staring at leon expectantly*

leon, sighing: …no. i have magic.

[coeluvr]

I think my memory's playing with me or something but if I may ask , you did say that MCs family were not great rulers right? Idk why but ig studying politics in uni really changed my worldview because that complicates a lot of things and I love how the direction of the story is actually finding out what happens and what happened and how everything is tying itself together (my money is that The fam of MCs mother are also part of the cult that wishes ko kill the royal blood lines).

Anyways a lil segue honestly my MC atm doesn't want to take revenge not because he's too tired but he doesn't want to go to Luceris' level where MC will take a parent away from Helios and a not-so-lover from Lancelot, and I think it's better this way for my gameplay because in all honesty life has already given him shit and justice and vengeance in my personal experience can only do so much.

But I'll still emphasize that no, what Luceris did wasn't alright and yes, he deserves to suffer but in my MCs case it's not by his hand.

Ooh last question, what happened to all of Clarence's study, books and research? Will we ever get a chance to look for them? And will we ever get another moment with our favorite tree?

You're right, I did say they weren't the best rulers hence the public wasn't all that devastated to have them die lol. I never studied politics but I'm glad it made such an impact on you!

Clarence's room was burned down so sadly MC will never be able to see it again, same with MC and Alistair's room. The tree however... we'll see! 🥰

[everlastingdreams]

The Weeping Monk x Reader : Born In The Dawn Chapter 18

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

Story Summary: Locked inside a dark room in a dungeon, kept alive only for your power, you believed you’d never see the daylight again. That is until the Weeping Monk finds his way down and steals you from your captors. It is the beginning of a journey that leads you through hardship and newfound hope, but nothing is assured in a world that is changing for the Fey. The magic that runs in your veins is drawing out the worst the world has to offer, does it include the man who pulled you from the dark?

Chapter Title: All For One, One For All

Notes: I kept going over and over a certain part in this chapter. I've given up lol

Warnings: Grief. Violence. Torture. Sexual Assault. Rape Threat. Gore. Enemies To Lovers. Pining. Trauma. Flagellation. Manipulation. Strong Language. Blood. Gore?. Misogyny. PTSD. Spicy and smut parts. Slight redemption arc.

Other warnings: Jealousy. Forbidden Love. Romance. Slow-burn…

Word count of this fic: +190K

Chapter:  18/ It’s a secret.

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

Lancelot pushed against your arm. “They are here for me.”

He was trying to say that it was best if not all off you fled into the same direction.

“Squirrel, with me!” You tugged at the boy’s cloak and thanked the heavens that for once Squirrel did as told.

When you began to run, Lancelot choose to flee in the other direction.

The shouting began and the group of Trinity Guards followed.

Fleeing together would have given them the advantage to surrounded you, this was your only way to split up the group that was pursuing you.

You tried to hide multiple times but they always got too close to were you were hiding, forcing you and the boy to flee before you’d end up in their hands again. Needless to say, after minutes of this, you were growing tired.

After turning corner after corner, you saw a wagon. “Squirrel, hide under that wagon!”

You helped him get under there as fast as he could. “I’ll come back for you, I swear it.”

The sound of boots hitting the puddles of rain got closer and you ran to find a place to hide too.

A strong pull at your arm had you draw your sword while stumbling.

Next thing you knew, you were in a shadow covered narrow space between two houses, your arm was forced pointing downwards and an arm was across your stomach.

“Quiet.” The Monk said into your ear.

After handling the three Trinity Guards that had ran after him. He had ran to find you and Percival.

The narrow space was used to store two barrels and there was little room left.

You felt his chest rise and fall quickly against your back. The woven sack of vegetables he had carried were on the ground next to your feet.

Without making a noise, you tapped against his arm and he removed his hand from you.

The voices of the Trinity Guards were close now.

The tips of your boots were still outside the shadow and you had to step further back or risk it being seen.

Still, you struggled with the idea of how close to the Monk you would be if you did.

That hesitation lasted until a Trinity Guard was in sight.

You stepped back and into him, hearing how he took a sharp breath. Now you noticed the blood staining his sword, and hoped it meant the other guards had been dealt with.

The guard was walking around, searching the area.

The evening sun peaked out from behind the clouds, and the shadow to hide in grew smaller.

You were looking down at your feet to see where the light already was.

The Monk must have been doing the same, because he moved his arm around you again and pulled you as close to him as he was able to, right into the safety of the shadows.

Your hand flew to his arm and you didn’t really know how to respond to his action, especially since you could feel his breath against the side of your head. It felt intimate and made you want to flee, still…

He was not being rough, as he once had been when you were still imprisoned.

No, his hand was spread open over your stomach, fingers touching the inside of your arm a little.

This was not him being dominant and controlling, this was him trying to keep you safe.

That realization scrambled your thoughts for a second.

The Trinity Guard left the area and you could finally sigh in relief.

Lancelot waited a moment longer to let go. “Where is the boy?”

“I made him hide under a wagon.” You said.

Thankfully so, because there would not have been room enough for three where you were hiding.

He let go and pushed you a little, nodding for you to step out of the shadows.

You carefully did so and he followed you out, but not until after he had picked up the sack of groceries.

“Follow me.” He said and headed in the direction you had ran out off.

With caution you moved through the village until you spotted the wagon and ran over to it.

“Squirrel?” You knelt down and looked under the wagon.

Wide eyes and a mouth full of crumbs was what you saw

Squirrel had taken a few bites from the pie and you couldn’t even be mad about it after that.

The boy crawled from under the wagon and you immediately pulled him into a hug.

The last time you had to run away in a village, you had been seperated from Squirrel.

Lancelot stopped right beside the two of you and touched your shoulder, “Y/n…”

You forced yourself to let go off Squirrel who was a little surprised by the response you had given, he probably expected a scolding for eating from the pie.

“Sorry.” You stood up again, reminding yourself that you were not safe yet.

The Monk leaded you all back to the stables, where the stable boys had looked after the horses well. He quickly took the pie from Squirrel and put it into the saddle bag, then he helped the boy mount Goliath before doing so himself.

You got on your horse swiftly and immediately followed them when he spurred Goliath in gallop right away.

~~~♡~~~♡~~~◇~~~♡~~~♡~~~

There was little moonlight to help you see the road ahead, and on top of that, the Monk decided to travel through the woods to make sure that anyone following would be discouraged from doing so. You rode beside them as much as you could, which meant dodging a lot of low hanging branches and leaves.

The Monk was unable to avoid one of those branches, it brushed against his side while Goliath continued to walk forward unbothered by it.

The groan Lancelot emitted had all heads turning to him.

“What’s wrong?” Squirrel was alarmed.

“It’s alright.” He quickly reassured. “A branch just got caught on my aketon. It pulled itself free.”

The boy was content with that answer.

You had your doubts, “A branch? It sounded like it had struck you instead of getting caught on your clothes.”

He gave an explanation, “It was near a scar.”

Oh…

The regret for being doubtful settled inside of you, “You alright?”

Lancelot gave a nod. “I am. We should find a place to rest for the night, there was an inn not far from Oldmore on that map.”

You made a guess, “Is it in the woods?”

He confirmed it. “It is. We will encounter it by taking this route. We sleep at the inn and travel to Madrock village tomorrow.”

Sleeping in a bed sure sounded nice, but if it was safe to stay at an inn remained to be seen. “What makes this inn safe for us?”

The Monk explained it, “The inn in the forest is known for it’s… sinful services. Those of the clergy cannot enter or they face punishment of the Church. It is best they do not show their faces around the place.”

You frowned, “Sinful services?”

He send you a look, hoping he would not have to explain it in front of a child.

It dawned on you that there were other things offered in that inn. “Oh.”

Squirrel send a curious look at the both of you, like he could already tell that neither of you would tell him what it meant.

The clergy… did that still include Lancelot?

You asked about it, “So, you will not enter the inn?”

He arched a brow. “I already face punishment from the Church, entering an inn will not change anything.”

Good point.

After riding a little longer, you indeed encountered an inn. A couple of drunks exited the place, singing a merry song while constantly falling over their own two feet.

You tied the reins of the horses to the hitching post and went inside.

You kept Squirrel close to you and found that the inn was filled with people singing along with a bard.

There were multiple barmaids serving drinks, and one came up to you and Squirrel.

“What a precious one he is. We don’t see many young ones around these days.” The woman smiled down at Squirrel.

The lands were not safe to play in anymore for the children, not for Manbloods and not for Fey.

The boy turned a little red with the attention the woman put on him.

You proudly put a hand on Squirrel’s shoulder, “He is. And he is always very polite too. Right, Squirrel?”

Squirrel squinted his eyes and looked up to see you grinning at him. “Right…”

Her attention went to Lancelot next. “Well… we don’t see many of your kind here either.”

Could this woman tell that he was Fey?!?

“My kind?” He asked with caution.

“The handsome sort.” She explained herself.

You looked between the woman and Lancelot, then steered Squirrel away. “We’ll just go and talk to the innkeeper.”

The Monk seemed a little bothered by the fact that you were leaving him there to escape the conversation on his own.

By the time you had found the innkeeper, the Monk was behind you again and was visibly nervous. You found it rather winsome that he felt more at ease when closer to you and Squirrel, this place must make him nervous considering his background.

You approached the innkeeper who was filling a tankard up for another patron.

“Good evening, we are seeking a room for the night.” You explained your presence to the man.

The innkeeper was apologetic. “Sorry, lass. We’re all full for the night.”

That was very disappointing. “Oh…”

But then the innkeeper offered something else. “The only place empty is the basement.”

The Monk quickly took that offer. “We’ll take it.”

The innkeeper got right to payment. “That will be two silvers.”

You countered it, “One. I doubt there’s a bed down there.”

The man agreed, knowing that one silver coin was already a fair price. “Aye, one it is.”

You fished the coin out of your satchel and handed it to the man.

He pointed at a door behind him. “Through there. The stairs down to the basement are on your left, can’t miss ‘em. Outhouse is just behind the inn if you need it.”

You thanked the man and with the help of the others, you brought the two sacks of things inside and put them in the basement before others would try to steal them.

Whilst outside Squirrel did make use of the outhouse, and when he was back you went to the basement.

The place was far larger than a room and included two storage rooms as well that were almost completely empty, it must not have been the first time that guests had slept here.

Three places to sleep were made with the linen you’d brought from the abbey.

You used Squirrel’s knife to cut the pie you had bought in three equal pieces, not counting in the parts that were missing from it already, neither you or Lancelot cared that the boy had taken some bites out of it already.

The Monk ate his piece while retrieving the map from a sack, when he went to sit down on the sleeping spot he had created he suddenly buckled down and landed on his knee.

It was like a reflex when you hurried to help him, you were holding his arm to support him. “Whoa, careful there…”

He was holding his side and let you help him sit down. It was written all over his face that there was something wrong.

You confronted him, “You were lying when we were riding here, weren’t you?”

Immediately he took your hand off of his arm, and by doing so he confirmed your believe that he was indeed hurt.

The Trinity Guards that had chased him…

It upset you to know that he lied about being wounded, “Why didn’t you say something? You know I can heal you!”

His tone was sharp. “You shouldn’t have to!”

You scoffed and tried to put your hand on him to do so anyway.

He caught your wrist and held it away from him. “Don’t. It will weaken you!”

Almost no one had ever refused to be healed, and he had done it twice now

Your stubbornness refused to let you give up. “If it is indeed just a small injury, it won’t drain me!”

At that, the Monk moved his cloak aside and showed the tear in his aketon and shirt, blood was staining them. “I can treat this wound on my own, a needle and thread is all I need.”

Why had he hidden this? Was it truly because he did not want you to use your magic on him?

It surprised even yourself how demanding you were now. “Use that needle and thread to sew your mouth shut instead, and let me help you!”

His head moved backwards, as if the words delivered a physical push to it.

Squirrel was up on his feet and tried to convince him too. “Let her help you!”

Even to the boy he was headstrong about it. “It drains her, Percival.”

You protested, “I am healthier now, not weakened. My ankle is a lot better. I know I can do this.”

That stubborn oaf was still not letting your hand go near him

By letting the frustration leave your tone, you hoped to convince him, it was almost a plea. “I want to help you…”

There was a change in his eyes.

You realized that he responded better to a gentle voice. “If you treat it yourself, it will take you days to heal. It will only take me a night of rest.”

He released your wrist. “I cannot ask this off you.”

You shook your head a little, softly answering. “Then don’t.”

This time you leaned a little closer and let your hand hover over his side, waiting for a sign that he would allow it.

With reluctance, he allowed it. “Stop when it is taking too much off you.”

You nodded a little, then placed your hand on his side, you saw him wince a bit.

The green glow overtook your eyes, you let your magic drain your body to ensure it would heal his.

His markings responded to the touch, he could not control it as he had often done.

The green leaf-like pattern had spread up to his neck by the time you were done.

The burst of energy it gave to him had his whole body in a pleasantly warm state.

But he saw the toll it had taken on your body, and the way you tried to hide it.

Even Percival saw.

“Better?” You asked, feeling the phantom pain of his injury in your own side.

“Much.” He quietly answered.

You moved to stand and took a step away from him. “Good.”

Your arm was pressing into your side to try and numb some of that pain. Magic came at a cost, and this was the debt it asked of you now.

The Monk got up from the floor.

Squirrel came to stand against your side. “You don’t look so well…”

You admitted to it. “I don’t feel so well either, but it’s nothing I haven’t experienced before.”

The worried boy did not stray from your side.

By looking down at Squirrel, you did not register how close Lancelot was to you now until you felt his hand land on your back, the caution with which it did was very clear.

“Rest. You deserve to.” He proceeded to walk with you until you sat down on the sleeping spot you had made.

Squirrel dragged his own closer to yours and sat down right next to you.

With exhaustion taking over, you looked up at the Monk who knelt down when he noticed it.

His eyes darted between you and Squirrel, as if there was something he wished to say but could not with the boy’s presence.

He finally settled on. “Rest.”

Then he stood up and returned to the spot he had made for himself.

It was Squirrel who put a sheet over your legs, before tucking himself in as well.

A bundle of linen and your cloaks were used as a substitute for a pillow.

It was a fortunate thing that you were offered the basement instead of a room, here you were safe from the weather and any sounds that the walls in an inn would share with the rest of the rooms.

From the looks of it, the Monk would not fall asleep so soon after being on the receiving end of your healing, it often gave others a spurge of energy. Squirrel seemed determined to stay awake until you indeed got some rest.

To please them both, you let your eyes fall shut and hoped the exhaustion would win over the pain your magic had absorbed.

You must have fallen asleep before them because you woke up before dawn. While they still slept, you made use of the outhouse, and on your way back inside you stopped by the horses.

The moonlight reflected on their coat, only Goliath seemed to be awake already.

The steed turned his head in your direction and if the reins had not stopped him he would have walked towards you.

It was unexpected to see him try and you slowly walked towards him yourself.

Goliath lowered his head and you placed your palm on his forehead with caution, he did not reject the touch and you gently petted him.

The silent joy you felt was incredible. “I thought you didn’t like me.”

The horse clearly liked the attention you were giving him.

Almost didn’t you hear the quiet footsteps approaching and when you looked to the side, you saw the Monk.

“Did the sins of the inn wake you?” You jested.

He stopped beside Goliath. “The scent of it did. This place reeks of ale so strong that one would become drunk just by the smell of it.”

That heightened sense of smell came with it’s own burdens too it seems.

You send a compassionate look, then put your attention back on the horse.

Again, you felt like he wanted to say something, it hanged in the air between you.

You would not ask, something in you told you not to ask.

The Monk stepped closer to where you were and almost did his hand touch yours when reaching for Goliath as well. It was a strange thing to feel that he was growing quite comfortable around you, whilst you still struggled. Of course it was not just him or what had happened between you at blame, it was also the ill experiences of the past that made you wary and withdrawn towards others, the Dawn Folk knew little true allies.

It was like he could tell that you wanted to step back but forced yourself to stay as you were.

He moved purposely slower now, as if he was letting you adjust to standing in close proximity.

Lancelot was not wary at all when it came to Goliath, he stroked along the horse’s cheek like he knew all the secrets the steed had.

One thing was for certain, the Monk was not heartless, the love for his horse was proof of it.

You were quietly watching him interact with Goliath, seeing how calm and comfortable they both were.

The Monk diverted his attention to you, feeling that you were looking, “Feeling better?”

“Yes.” You simply said and continued to watch him as he pampered the horse.

He was quiet for a moment, then asked, “This friend of yours, how well do you know them?”

It was the truth you gave. “Very well.”

“Fey?” He guessed.

“Yes.” You sensed that it was just the start of him asking questions.

He thought he was being oh so clever, “So, Matthew is Fey?”

You rolled your eyes. “I never said it’s him. You’ll find that out when we’re there.”

He was chasing the truth, “Why not now?”

It wasn’t meant to hurt him when you said, “I need to know for certain that it is safe…”

For them… around him…

That was what you were trying to say.

When he got quiet, you apologized for it. “I’m sorry.”

Slightly, his head shook. “You want to protect someone you care about, I understand why you are worried. They are Fey, and I…”

He was the Weeping Monk. The murderer who had done nothing but cause harm to his own kind.

You felt awful for voicing your inner concerns to him and didn’t know what to say to make it better.

But it had been the truth, and you considered it better to just be honest to him rather than lie and pretend all was well.

You had stopped petting Goliath, he seemed to continue absentmindedly.

He was the one to reach out again. “You have my gratitude for healing me last night.”

You acknowledged it. “You’re welcome.”

The Monk knew that a trust was beginning to form, “I know you would not have done so if you did not think I was worth to be saved.”

The urge to turn it into a jest was replaced with honesty. “I do think you’re worth to be saved, I’m not the Church.”

The sneer towards the Church did have him close to smirking.

Goliath nudged you against your chin, like he was wondering why you had stopped petting him.

The Monk scolded him for it a bit, “Careful, Goliath.”

You did not mind being reprimanded by the horse. “It’s fine.”

A short silence fell between you, and you caught yourself trying not to make eye-contact with the Monk when he stood so near.

A man and woman left the inn, visibly drunk and still enjoying what must have happened during the night between them.

You watched them walk by and leave. “I am glad we were able to sleep in the basement and avoid having to explain certain things to Squirrel.”

It took Lancelot a brief second to understand what you were speaking off, then his attention landed on Goliath’s reins.

He cleared his throat. “Indeed.”

You were planning the day, “Should we have breakfast in the inn, or make something ourselves?”

To him the decision was easy. “Let’s eat in the inn. We should not make a fire in that basement.”

You stepped back from Goliath. “Alright. Well, I’m heading back inside to wake Squirrel, the sun is rising.”

He waited until you were a couple of steps away before asking, “Are you wed?”

It was something he had not taken into consideration until the encounter with the merchant and his wife.

This Matthew you had named could potentially be your spouse.

It made you spin on your heels. “That’s an oddly personal thing to ask.”

The last thing you expected to be asked was this.

He explained himself, or tried to. “I know little of your family, and those close to you.”

“Good.” You deadpanned and headed back to the inn, you were at a small distance when speaking over your shoulders, “And I am not married.”

And you weren’t planning on it either.

~~~♡~~~♡~~~◇~~~♡~~~♡~~~

After trying to wake up Squirrel, him turning over and pulling the sheet over his head again, you gave up and went up to the inn alone to wait a while. Lancelot remained in the basement to attempt to wake the boy too.

You ordered a bowl of soup that you hoped to drink in peace at a table in the corner, while waiting for the others.

You could feel the stare from afar and sighed when the man who was aiming it finally mustered up the courage to walk over to you.

Your expression as he stopped right in front of you said it all, it was too early in the day to be bothered, especially by a man who had only one thing on his mind now.

“How much for you?” The man asked.

Your mood sank to it’s lowest point. “I’m not offering what you are looking for.”

This slimy bastard dared to say. “All of you are, for the right amount of coin.”

Brave of him to speak like this while a sword was resting on your hip.

You stood up from the chair and challenged him to say what he meant by that, “All of us?”

The man clearly did not expect you to stand up to him.“I… uh…”

Your hand wrapped around the pommel of your sword, a signal for him to leave you alone.

Awkwardly, the man made the wise choice to walk away.

You glared after him until you saw Squirrel and Lancelot approach, you beckoned for them to come to the table and they did.

Squirrel plopped down on a chair.

“Was there a problem?” Lancelot looked at the man, then back at you.

You shrugged your shoulders and sat back down. “Just a misunderstanding.”

It took him a few seconds to accept that answer and he sat down as well, placing the rolled up map he had with him on the table.

You ordered two more bowls of soup so they could eat too.

“Why is that man staring at us?” Squirrel asked all off a sudden.

You had been trying to ignore the man’s gawking.

But the boy was not the only one who had noticed. Lancelot must have thought there was indeed a problem going on.

“Don’t worry, Squirrel, eat your soup.” You didn’t want him to worry, it was nothing.

The Monk was not as easily persuaded to ignore it, he arched a brow at you.

You kept it vague so only he would understand the ambiguity. “That man thought I had something I wished to sell, like few others in this inn. I told him this was not the case.”

His eyes widened and then narrowed right after.

Here you were, drinking your soup and ignoring the man who had asked if you sold your body.

How could you remain so calm and unbothered by it?

You frowned in Lancelot’s direction when he seemed distracted. “Your soup is getting cold, Lancelot.”

His eyes snapped to yours, then dropped to the soup which must have felt underappreciated.

It still took another few seconds for him to decide to indeed drink the soup instead of letting other things distract him from it.

Once the three of you had finished the soup, the Monk rolled open the map to show the routes he had chosen to be most simple to travel on.

Squirrel was half leaning on the table, using his elbows for support to look at the map too.

Lancelot pointed at the village you would travel to next. “We should arrive at Madrock by nightfall, find a place to rest there and leave early the next morning.”

So far you agreed to that plan, he must have spend some time studying the best routes last night while you slept.

“To reach the coast, where your friend is, we go through the forest here.” He swiftly pointed at the area on the map. “No wolves were ever spotted in those woods.”

It sounded to good to be true. “Makes me wonder what else is hiding there.”

Something worse than wolves?

Even he knew that there was a possibility that other dangers lurked in those woods “It is the forest, or the roads that are constantly guarded by Uther’s army.”

It was an easy choice for you to make. “I’d rather be eaten than imprisoned again.”

Squirrel scrunched his nose and looked at you like you were completely mad.

An empty tankard slammed down on top of the map you were trying to study.

All eyes of the table fixed themselves on the culprit.

A man build like a wardrobe, with only a beard as facial hair, was standing right next to the table.

“If it ain’t Carden’s sworn sword.” The man directed it to Lancelot, “What brought you here to an inn like this?”

You coldly answered before the Monk could. “Not your concern.”

With a discreet gesture of his hand, Lancelot told you not to indulge the rude man. And with a single look at the man, he had asked him why he was bothering him now.

This man was eager to explain his presence, he put down a pouch of coins right on top of the empty tankard. “Twenty silver coins if you can best me with the sword.”

He would not even ask what this man would want if he won. He was confident in his skill with the sword.

You did not like the look in the Monk’s eyes. “Don’t. It will draw attention!”

He whispered back to you, “We need the coin.”

Coin meant nothing to the dead. “Don’t!”

Then the man taunted him, “Is the Grey Monk afraid to have his notorious skill tested?”

Lancelot opened his mouth, probably to accept the challenge.

You were sick and tired of being bothered so early in the day, you got up from the chair and got threateningly close to the man.

Your patience had run out and your voice rose. “Listen here you arrogant boor! We don’t have time to indulge your selfish wits! So leave us be, or I’ll give you something to be scared off!”

Squirrel and Lancelot had the same stunned expression on their faces now.

Should he shield you from this man, or was the man the one in need of a shield?

The man picked up the pouch of coin, “If he’s not up for it, maybe you are. What do you say, lass?”

This fool was truly just looking for some entertainment. You would draw a lot less attention than Lancelot would, he would not be able to do a friendly spar without showing off the skill he was known for. In a fight, that hood would do little to hide his fey markings.

The man was trying to push your buttons to get you into agreeing to this comparison of sword skills, “Or maybe you want to earn these coins another way?”

You could tell it was just him trying to manipulate you.

Then you heard a chair move behind you and it almost clicked too late why that was.

By the time you had turned to face him, Lancelot was close enough for you to bump into his chest with your forearm.

“I can handle it.” You tried to diffuse the situation and whispered to him, “Our things are still in the basement, I don’t want to leave them behind in a hurry.”

That hotheaded Monk acknowledged your concern, but to your dismay still gave your arm a tug that made you end up behind him instead of between him and this man. The only thing stopping you from giving him a piece of your mind was the situation at hand. He was too focused on the man to see the burning fury in your eyes.

“Keep your coin!” Lancelot’s tone had turned to ice. “You may seek a spar, but I will not stop my blade when it wishes to strike.”

There was something about his demeanor now that could send the bravest warriors running. He was not lying, this had been a pure threat and the man was aware of it.

Sure, this fool was somewhat drunk, but not drunk enough to risk being gutted alive.

With the pouch of coin in his hand, the man backed away from the fury that spewed out of the Monk’s eyes.

Lancelot watched the man like a hawk, until he was at a safer distance and already trying to convince another with the same challenge.

You were angry for the way he had moved you aside, like you couldn’t look after yourself.

Did the Monk think of you as property to defend?

You had been treated like property too many times already.

Never again.

“Come, Squirrel. Let’s go and pack our things so we can leave.” You couldn’t hide the irritation in your tone.

Squirrel could sense the change in your mood and knew that Lancelot’s interference was at blame. The boy followed you back to the basement, Lancelot took a moment longer before doing so.

Whilst you folded the linen, Squirrel made sure that all was back in the sacks.

The Monk stopped a step behind you, and you folded a little more aggressively while refusing to turn around.

“Must I ask?” He said.

You held back on the urge to throw the folded sheet to his head and counted to three before answering him, “I told you I could handle it! Then why did you pull me away?!?”

Clearly, this had hit a nerve…

He explained his reasoning. “The man was drunk, there was no certainty that he would not resort to violence regardless if we took his offer or not.”

You kept folding the linen and handed them to Squirrel, who gave Lancelot a sympathetic look.

He was waiting for a response, anything that would explain this reaction.

What had happened upstairs had set it’s claws in you, the way he responded and acted…

It did not feel like he had done it just to avoid you getting hurt. “You acted like I belonged to you. I belong to no one! Never again!”

Did you believe he had done it to claim some sort of ownership over you?

Was this caused by your past as a prisoner in that dungeon?

A deep frown creased his forehead and he came to your side, making sure not to let his voice raise, “Are you upset that I care enough to keep you safe?”

That… never did you think he would admit to it so openly.

Your eyes dared to seek his. “I can protect myself.”

He was patient, as if he could see that you were as confused about your response as he was. “I know you can. It does not mean that you should have to face everything alone. I never intended to upset you.”

You were calming down and starting to understand where the reaction had come from.

Having been kept in a dungeon for weeks had left it’s scars on you, Hutch and Ives had often behaved possessive towards you, as if you were not even a person. “I know… I just didn’t like how you disregarded what I said. I just got out of places where people did that to me all the time. Do you understand?”

He gave a nod and took the last sheet you had folded from your hands. “I do. I disregarded it because I was concerned for what could happen if I did not move you away from that drunken fool. Just like you disregarded me when the fool challenged me.”

There was truth in that… you had done the same thing.

There was no ill-intend behind him pulling you away, no other motives or reasons other than him actually caring to keep you safe. It was difficult to get used to, the Dawn Folk had mostly kept to their own, trust was something all of them struggled with.

He added with a slight smile, “And I know you don’t belong to anyone but yourself.”

You felt a bit embarrassed for having blurted that out. “Look, ugh… I’m still trying to wrap my head around the idea that you actually care about what happens to me. You did what you thought was necessary to keep me safe. I guess it just made me feel weak in front of those in the inn.”

Squirrel offered another view on it. “You shouldn’t. We’ve got the Weeping Monk on our side now.”

You failed to hold back the smile and let out a chuckle. “I know. You’re both right.”

With a sigh, you explained your ill reaction to Lancelot further, “I am not used to people wanting to protect me the way that you do. It’s strange to me, and it confuses me. I often fear that people have their own hidden reasons for being kind, that they aren’t genuine. But you are, aren’t you?…”

He did not answer that question, letting you decide that for yourself. “I hope in time that your faith in me will answer that for you. My word means nothing if not proven to be true.”

There was not a speck of insult to be found in his eyes, he was so calm about it.

“Truce?” Lancelot held out his hand.

You snorted a laugh at the sight of it, “What? You want us to shake hands?”

His brow arched and answered that.

“Fine…” You awkwardly indulged him and shook his hand.

It was the Hidden whispering in your ear that made you let go off his hand again. They were always so persistent when it came to him.

Squirrel was given Lancelot an odd look, like the Monk was a piece of a puzzle he wished to solve.

You pointed at the sacks. “We need to pack our things if we want to arrive at Madrock tonight.”

With a nod, he went to help Squirrel, while you checked to see if all the linen was packed up to go.

After a minute or so, the Ash Man cleared his throat to draw your attention, he held up a familiar looking bowl.

You sighed upon recognizing it and seeing the sheepish look Squirrel had now “We paid for the soup, Squirrel, not for the bowl.”

You shared a look with Lancelot and then put the bowl into the sack again.

“We might need it more…” You mumbled under your breath.

Squirrel packed everything into the sacks except for one thing, the new shirt you had bought him.

“Can I put it on?” The boy asked you and Lancelot.

“Absolutely.” You were curious to see if he liked it.

With the new shirt, Squirrel was very careful, that didn’t count for the vest and shirt he had tossed on the floor to try it on.

The brown suited him well indeed and it was obvious that the boy was happy with something good to wear.

“Does it look good?” Squirrel asked, looking hopeful.

Lancelot walked over to him and readjusted a sleeve somewhat. “It suits you well.”

That helped the boy to feel confident about his choice in color for the shirt. Lancelot picked up the vest and helped Squirrel put it on again, then patted him on the shoulder amicably.

From the looks of it, the Monk was glad to see the boy happy.

You smiled at Squirrel and how enthusiastic he was now.

The Monk picked one of the sacks up to carry and handed you the other. “We should head out.”

Now that the sky looked favorably upon you, it was wise to leave before rain would complicate the journey again.

Whilst leaving the inn, you had to pass both the men who had nearly ruined your breakfast, luckily they just ignored the three of you as you left.

Goliath had not forgotten the attention he had gotten from you and blatantly ignored his rider just to get another stroke over his forehead from you. It made you feel a little proud that the horse was starting to like you.

Once the sacks were safely placed on the horses, you mounted and resumed the journey.

Madrock was not that far away. It’s name originated from the large rock formations that were in the area surrounding it, and it was believed that these rock formations were born from dragon eggs that never hatched.

If that legend was true, no one could tell. Dragons had been extinct for so long that most did not believe they had existed. Would this be how the world would remember the Fey in the centuries to come if the Church succeeded in their mission to extinguish their existence?

A story, a book on a shelf under a layer of dust, that in time would be forgotten by the world.

The Fey deserved better.

~~~♡~~~♡~~~⚔︎~~~♡~~~♡~~~

The news of the Weeping Monk murdering Trinity Guards in the streets of Oldmore spread like wildfire and had reached Soran’s ears.

The leader of the Brotherhood met with those who had survived the encounter.

Now he knew for certain that the Dawn Folk girl was still alive, and still in the hands of this Fey Monk. His former golden brothers had failed to apprehend him again, he would have burned all of Oldmore to the ground if it meant capturing you and being able to put this Fey Monk to the block.

One of the Brotherhood brought him the news. “Sir, they were seen entering the home of a seamstress and merchant before the attack happened.”

Soran praised his brother in arms for finding this information. “Excellent. We will hear what they have to say about this.”

The Brother bowed his head when his leader walked past him to find and interrogate these villagers.

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[sexy-sapphic-sorcerer]

for ask game: i didn’t know you were keeping count

ok so I came up with that title on the spot for that post and I don't really like it but anyway. this fic is a rewrite of The Dark Tower where Morgana uses those visions of Arthur and Merlin to manipulate Gwen into believing that Arthur never loved her and is having an affair with Merlin. So that she will come running into Morgana's arms, of course.

What I had written of this WIP was basically just dialogue and lacked mood, so I've hastily added some more description to this excerpt:

“Gwen, it’s me.” It’s Arthur’s voice. At least, it sounds like his voice. Gwen knows better, “no. It’s not you.” “Look at me, I’m here.” Gwen knows he’s not real. She knows. But she is so tired of fighting, running, screaming. She reluctantly looks up. Arthur’s face. Illuminated by a non-existent light source, as though he is light itself. “Did you miss me?” “Of course,” she responds. “How long have you been here? Two, three days?” the figure paces around her. “Have you thought about me at all?” “You know I have,” she says. Arthur laughs, “I know you haven’t.” Gwen doesn’t know how to respond because deep down, he’s right. Arthur, Merlin, Elyan, Camelot – it is all only a distant glimmer. A beacon of hope, but indistinct. Mostly, she has thought of Morgana, the one person she had spent so long trying to forget. “Why should I rescue you?” Arthur crouches before her, interrogating, “it seems we’re better off without each other.” Gwen looks at him hopelessly. “Good riddance,” he sneers. Gwen shakes her head, blinking away the tears. “You’re not real,” she asserts. “I never should have married you,” Arthur shoots upright and turns away, his cape whips her cheek. “I should have let you run off with Lancelot like the common whore that you are!” “Arthur would never say that.” Gwen clings to reality like fingernails on a cliff edge. “That’s what you wanted, isn’t it? You never loved me, you only went along with it because it was too good an opportunity to pass up,” he accuses. “All that money, all that power, how could you resist?” It’s an accusation that Gwen has often directed at herself. Lancelot was better for her, wasn’t he? She loved him, he loved her, they could have been so happy. It was selfish of her to want more. What was she thinking, pursuing the king, the foolish peasant girl that she is. But she does love Arthur. She loves him. “I love you!” she pleads. It’s the only defence she has. “Don’t lie to me, Gwen. I can’t hold it against you. After all, I never loved you either,” his voice is cold, indifferent. “That’s not true.” It can’t be, not after everything they went through to be together. “I only married you because I knew that I needed a queen to bear my heirs, not that you’ve been very useful for that,” Arthur kicks her empty stomach, winding her. “I chose you as my bride because you were the closest to what I really wanted, to who I really wanted,” he smirks. Gwen’s head burns with molten shame, steaming against the chill of the tower. Like a newly smelted sword submerged in cold water, the blade rusting as soon as it’s forged. Another figure emerges from the shadow. “Oh Gwen, did you really think that I encouraged you to be with Arthur out of the goodness of my heart?” Merlin mocks her, as he saunters towards Arthur. “Surely you know how I feel about him.” She did know, of course. It had been clear since they were two lowly servants, two friends, debating the merits of Arthur versus Lancelot. But any fears about Merlin resenting her relationship with Arthur had been quickly dismissed. Gwen truly thought he was a selfless, supportive friend. Idiot. “I wasn’t going to set aside my own desires so easily. Don’t be so naïve,” Merlin laughs, as Arthur wraps around his back. He kisses Merlin’s neck the same way he did hers. “Now I’ve got my king right where I want him,” Merlin taunts, “and gods, how I want him.” He smiles salaciously at Arthur, before sealing their lips in a kiss. “No!” Gwen wants to scream, wants to tear them apart. Instead, she crumples to the ground. Hands over her eyes. She only wishes the obscene wet noises could be drowned out by her sobs.

[doberbutts]

Okay well I watched the first episode of Blood Origin and honestly my thoughts are:

I just don't understand why people are so resistant to changes/new plotlines/some lore breaking of *recent* franchises but gobble it up when it's older. People telling an untold portion of a common tale is well established in storytelling culture. The first example that springs to mind is Lancelot, who straight up does not exist in original Authorian legend and was a FRENCH invention when the myth spread. Nowadays, most casual enjoyers of King Author stuff don't bat an eye to Lancelot's presence. Lancelot, who comes to mind, because Sapkowski writes said Lancelot to be in love with Ciri, and we're totally cool with *that* but not with changes to Sapkowski's work.

It's really telling that there's such a bigoted negative reaction to this because honestly? The black people so far have been BLACK black, darker than me, darker than even my black family sometimes. I'm enjoying seeing melanin in fantasy don't mind me. And the hair on the sisters is excellent, I'm liking the costuming, and I *really* like Eile.

The accents are kind of all over the place. Both as individual characters but also as the actors themselves. Sometimes Fjall goes from generic American accent to some form of fake Irish to ????european???? and back and it's distracting and weird. HOWEVER I do like the Irish and Welsh accents in high born kingdoms, because too often those accents are for commoners and poverty only, and this sort of turns the trope on its head.

I'm not sure how much I like the pan-Asian vibe I'm getting from some of the props and architecture. Some things look vaguely Chinese while others solidly Arabic while others a weird fusion of Indian and Korean and it's just odd to me. At first I thought it was because of clan structures but then I saw that it's just sort of everywhere. I have 0% Asian in me so I'm not really a good authority to speak on it but it's a weird vibe, a little Orientalist to my eyes. I'll freely admit that I like the aesthetic since I was raised pretty pan-African but I recognize that most continentally grouped cultures don't love that and it's mainly the black diaspora that's embraced it because we don't really have much of a choice.

I STILL feel that doing away with this short-season "but the episodes are an hour long!" nonsense would help pacing so much. Literally every time I thought the episode was going to come to an end, it's been roughly at the 20-25 min mark, which a standard TV episode would have been ANYWAY. So there's not really much point to having this be 4 hour-long episodes when it could be done better as 12-15 20 minute episodes... which would be the eqivilant of a short season while 24-32 is a more "standard" season (instead of 8 hour-long episodes). It gives you more time to flesh the characters and plotlines out while also allowing you the chance to trim some of the long-and-boring content people get tired of watching.

I really do feel bitter that the witcher tags continue to be people making racist and misogynistic memes instead of a fandom happily discussing a pretty strong first episode that introduced a billion fantasy characters of color. It really sucks that black people in fantasy is received so poorly when my inner 10 year old is happy to see people who look more like me having fun with the genre. I long for the day when I can exist in a fandom space and happily discuss my favorite black characters without having to justify their existence every 2 seconds.

Oof that CGI is pretty rough though. Which surprises me because the S2 CGI was not this rough so idk what happened here. That monster in the first episode is, uh, bad. And the background in the weird magicky place is also pretty, uh, bad.

I don't understand why the first witcher being an elf would piss Geralt off except maybe because that means Jaskier knows more about witchers than Geralt does? All of Geralt's iterations- the books, the games, the show, the comics- are pretty chill with elves as long as they're pretty chill with him. He only pursues certain elves and elf-blooded mixed race people when they pose a direct threat to him or his loved ones. Same as humans. So I don't really get that line at all unless, as said, it was more a "wow Geralt's gunna be pissed that I know this story and he doesn't"