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everlastingdreams · 2 years ago

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Weeping Monk x Reader : The Patience Of A Heart Chapter 1

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

Chapter Title: The One Who Cries

Notes: Wow, proofreading this first chapter makes me realise how far these characters have come. I hope someone likes it.

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

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

Word count of this fic: +110K

Chapter: 1 / lol Gonna keep the chapter count a secret until the end.

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During your childhood, you never thought you would see the color red so much, that was until you visited your Uncle with your father.

It was so dull and boring that you pleaded with your father more than once to go home.

Of course your Uncle Carden tried to find ways to distract you, but the man had no real clue what was needed to keep a child from getting bored and annoyed.

So that ended in both of them allowing you to walk around the place a bit, there were enough people around to come to your aid should something happen.

Walking between the build up tents was no less dull and on top of that people were staring at you. In retrospect, seeing a child wandering around the paladin camp must have been an odd sight.

Everyone was dressed in red robes, everyone apart from the boy who was practicing with the sword for the entire duration of your visit.

Now, that did look like a pleasant way to spend your visit there.

Upon approaching the boy, you halted when seeing the strange tear-like birthmarks under his eyes, they made him look like he was weeping.

Still, you collected your courage and called out to him “Hello!”

The voice of another child broke him out of his concentration.

He looked just as strangely at you as you looked at him.

You mustered up a toothy smile and got even closer “Can I play too?”

Play?

When no answer came, you asked less confident but no less eager “Can I play with you?”

The boy with the weeping eyes remained very quiet.

As a last effort, you stopped only a few steps away from him and held out your hand for him to shake “I’m y/n. And you?”

At this distance you took note of how his eyes were so blue that they matched the sky above your head, and they were fixed on the hand you were offering.

Why was he so quiet?

He wondered why you were smiling at him…

An elder paladin saw it happen and barked rudely “Boy! Did we tell you to stop?”

The boy’s attention went to the elder and he shook his head.

The elder pointed to the sack of straw bound to a pole that was planted into the ground “Then continue! Or you’ll be starving until the next evening! "

That was shocking to hear and you grew angry “Why are you so mean to him?!”

The red cloaked elder barked at you too “Who are you, girl?! And why are you here? Go on, get out of here!”

The boy was slow to return to the straw sack he had been practicing on and those weeping eyes stayed on you, like you were something foreign to him.

That paladin wasn’t going to scare you away “I’m y/n! And you are scum!”

It halted everyone that was around to hear it.

The paladin stalked closer and tried to grab you “What did you just call me, you little-”

Uncle’s voice thundered in the air “Brother Cedric!”

Brother Cedric stepped away from you immediately and your father was at your side now too.

The paladin tried to get out of trouble “Forgive me, Father. But this child-”

Uncle Carden interrupted him “Is my niece.”

Brother Cedric stammered an apology to your uncle and your father, then was send away.

Your question surprised both “Uncle, who is that boy?”

He believed that Father would call for him, that he would be introduced to you, he had hoped he would be.

Uncle Carden placed both hands on your shoulders “He is our Weeping Monk.”

With persisting hope, the request was made again “Can I play with him?”

He laughed a little and explained “He does not play, my girl. He must practice the sword.”

Why did this boy not play?

Like any child, you questioned it “But-”

Your father chimed in, knowing how persistent his daughter could be “Come now, sweetheart. I’m certain Uncle has many things to do. We will return home now.”

With a very deep sigh you followed your father and Uncle.

Even though he had not said a word to you, the boy had intrigued you.

And by the way he kept looking as you walked away at your father’s side, you might have intrigued him too.

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~ Years later ~

The last time you rode in a carriage, your mother had sat opposite of you and read a book of poems. During the ride she had recited her favorite ones to you and your father.

She loved the ones that spoke of romance and yearning, and you ignored the looks that were shared between your parents during her recitals.

It was one of the many fond memories you would cherish to overcome the terrible tragedy that had costed them their life.

You had not been home that day, your mother was making the family’s favorite soup. The fire had spread too fast according to witnesses…

By the time you returned from the market with more of the needed vegetables, the house was in ruins.

Your family was gone, your home was gone…

Word was send of it by concerned citizens to your Uncle.

Now you were heading to the last family you had left, Uncle Carden, to all others known as Father Carden.

It had been years since you had seen him, your parents had distanced themselves from him when the Church began to truly rise in power.

Shelter was offered to you in a monastery, it was either that or sleeping outside on the ground with no means to survive.

The trip to the monastery was so long that you wished you still had a book to read but they had all been lost to the fire.

The carriage came to a halt outside of a large monastery, the outside walls had ivy growing all over it and the place was swarming with red paladins who had gathered to see the carriage arrive.

Were you such a novelty? Did this place not get that many visitors?

It made you all the more apprehensive to get out of the carriage and your uncle was nowhere to be seen yet.

One man, tall and dressed in grey, moved towards the carriage and the others made way for him.

The hood of his cloak hid his face, the door of the carriage was opened.

At first he made no effort to make eye-contact, he did not even look in your direction, just held the door open and waited for you to get out.

It was a cold welcome and the will to actually step out left you then and there. Did they not want you here after all?

The uninterested attitude did not stop you from questioning him “Excuse me, where is my uncle? I was told he would be here.”

It was as if he did not even realize you were aiming the question at him, slowly he turned his head to face you.

Those birthmarks…

It were those same weeping eyes you had seen years and years ago.

That boy back then…was him?

He had blinked rapidly and dropped his gaze to the ground again “Father awaits you inside, Lady y/n.”

You leaned forward, not afraid to stare at the man who had grown to be quite handsome “I remember you.”

By reflex he looked again, but quickly forced himself to stop looking.

Did you truly remember that day too?

He had believed you would have long forgotten.

No answer came, clearly he was still not very talkative, just like he had been that day.

After seeing a familiar face, you did start to move but that damned skirt of your dress was a nightmare to get out of the carriage with. It got stuck on a nail that stuck out of the wood in the doorway.

There was a long moment of struggle before the Monk interfered and offered a hand.

You got your skirt loose from the nail and placed a hand on his.

He was quite alert and watched as you got down from the small steps.

The minute your feet hit the ground, he withdrew his hands and clasped them together behind his back.

Awkwardly you stood next to him, not knowing where to actually go.

With a gesture of his hand, he requested for you to follow him.

The Monk tried to ignore the staring while walking with you into the monastery.

It only made you want to ask him questions “I saw you, years ago, when you were just a boy. You were practicing the sword and a paladin was mean to you. Do you remember? Do you remember me?”

Of course he did.

Conversation was limited in his life and now he was faced with a person who was seeking it out “Yes, Lady y/n.”

Without any shyness, you looked him up and down “I assume that that practice paid off. Are you in charge of the paladins now?”

He corrected it “Father leads us, I follow his command and they follow mine. Some of the elders only follow orders directly from Father or those higher of the Church.”

Your attention went to the swords at his side, his went to your face and noticed how intrigued you were with him again.

Just like all those years ago…

There were so many questions you wanted to ask him “What’s your name?”

No answer came.

The Monk held the door open for you and upon looking into the room you saw your uncle “Father. Lady y/n has arrived.”

With arms spread wide open, Uncle Carden greeted you like no time had passed.

When he embraced you it felt awkward after all these years.

With his hands on your arms, he spoke “Look at you, you have grown, my girl.”

You exchanged conversation to avoid an uncomfortable silence “Thank you for offering me shelter, Uncle. I did not know what to do after…” a pause “…the fire took everything from me.”

Uncle Carden offered consolation “Not everything, dear girl. You still have me.”

You nodded, then glanced back to where the Monk obediently stood in silence.

Uncle Carden beckoned for the Monk to come closer “Ah, yes. Our Weeping Monk will be in charge of your guaranteed safety. No threat will get past the Sword Of Light.”

The Monk’s attention snapped to Father.

This was the first he had heard of this…

He informed the Monk of what was expected “You will protect her, my son. The enemy will try to harm her when word spreads about her connection to me. Go now, show my niece her sleeping quarters.”

Was it your imagination or did the Monk look anything but motivated with his task? “Uncle, I really don’t need someone to watch over me-”

Your Uncle would not hear it “Nonsense, y/n. Your safety is of the utmost importance. Go with our Monk.”

And so you followed this Weeping Monk, who’s name was still a mystery to you, to the room you would be sleeping in.

The door was unlocked and the key given to you by him, all of it happened in silence.

Was it because he just did not like to talk, or because he did not like you?

You mentioned it when walking into your room with him standing at the door “You don’t talk much. Are you a quiet person or just not very keen on talking to me?”

That sure got his attention “I did not mean to offend. I was taught to speak when spoken to and to show respect by silence.”

The room was not as small as you had expected it to be, a bed was inside and some furniture.

A room just for you…

You were more open with people “You did not offend, it just worried me. Years ago, you did not speak to me either. I thought you just did not like me.”

It was difficult not to at least appreciate the one person who had stood up against the elder paladin for him back then.

The folded hands behind his back showed signs of nervousness “I was not allowed, Lady y/n. I am expected to serve the Church, nothing else.”

It made sense, he was a monk after all “I understand. Are you allowed if I give you permission to speak to me?”

Truth be told, he was not certain.

Was it proper?

He was a monk.

You were a woman and Father’s niece…

If he was truly tasked to protect you, it would be difficult to avoid starting a conversation at some point.

It took a while for him to answer “I believe so. Unless Father forbids it.”

Ah, finally it felt like there was an effort on his side to make conversation “Then you have my permission.”

He gave a respectful inclination of the head.

You got closer to him again “Will you please tell me your name? Everyone calls you the ‘Weeping Monk’ , but I believe that you have a real name too.”

The smile you had was the same from that day years ago.

Your eyes filled with excitement and anticipation.

It was rare for him to know a person who still reached out to others with such warmth.

The Monk finally answered the question you were so curious about “My name is Lancelot.”

For the second time in your life, you held out a hand for him to shake “It is nice to meet you again, Lancelot.”

Three seconds of thought passed before he tentatively reached out for your hand, knelt down and very briefly brushed his lips to your knuckles.

He rose to his feet again right after with another shallow inclination of his head.

Not what you had expected to happen.

It must have been a difference in customs and upbringing between you.

You giggled amused “I meant a handshake.”

The expression in his eyes changed so fast that you regretted telling him, as if he feared he’d made a grave mistake.

Quickly you tried to ease his mind “But, that was quite nice too.”

His voice wavered a bit “I shall let you rest after your journey. If there is anything you need, tell one of my red brothers, I shall learn of it.”

Before he could walk out completely, you called out his name and he turned again “There is something I could use…”

He acknowledged the request immediately “Speak your wish, Lady y/n.”

And you told him the wish “Could I have a book to read?”

He gave a nod “Of course. I shall see to it that you are brought books.”

As he walked out, you loudly exclaimed “Thank you! "

That was the day you settled into your new home and soon you would learn more of the oddities that happened in a monastery.

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There were so many questions to ask, so many things to learn about the rules of the monastery.

Luckily you had the perfect person to ask it all.

And as you walked next to him in the woods, it was the perfect time to ask them and have a conversation with the otherwise quiet Monk.

The paladin group walked at a slower pace, some were already getting tired.

Where?

What?

When?

How?

He had heard it so many times that first day coming from you and just when he thought you were done asking questions, you popped up behind him to ask more.

After a tour around the monastery, he had thought it would have fed your curiously a little.

On the contrary, more questions came.

Truth be told, some were quite amusing to hear.

Some of his personal favorites included ‘Do monks have to pray again when they drink something while eating?’ and ‘Is mumbling half a prayer good enough?’.

Needles to say, it would take a while for you to learn all there was to know.

And Father had the splendid idea to speed up that progress by sending you along on an routine inspection of the woodlands.

Something you seemed more excited about than he was…

The questions you had started early on in the walk “Don’t we need a map?”

The Monk had little use for a map in these woods he knew so well “I don’t. Watch your footing.”

At that, you looked down and avoided tripping over a larger stone that laid in your path “So, we all just keep following you then?”

With a nod he confirmed it “Yes.”

Another question was fired “What if someone loses sight of the group?”

He answered with the experience he had on the matter “It will not happen if they pay attention. Having them find their own way back to the monastery is a fitting lesson if it does happen.”

That sounded rather harsh “What if I got lost?”

He said “You will not.”

You asked “How can you be sure?”

It sounded both like a reassurance and a warning “Because I will not let you stray from my sight.”

With a jest, you hoped to get him to be a little less tense “Not that I doubt your capabilities. But if it happens, I guess I’ll have to find my way back to the monastery on my own then.”

There was a slight tug at the corner of his mouth as he returned the jest “I will find you long before you reach it.”

The confidence he had on the matter left you curious “So, it is true what they say about your skills. You have an uncanny ability to find those you are searching for.”

He spoke casually, letting his sight fall to where you were walking “Often it is simple. Especially when the one I am looking for has a habit of trampling over everything.”

Right away you looked behind you and…well he wasn’t wrong.

Not a minute ago you had waltzed right through a pile of leaves, some where still stuck to your dress “I am ‘trampling’ over everything because I have my attention on you.”

He suddenly came to a halt and you almost walked into him.

The Monk signaled to the paladins to pay attention to the area they were in.

You asked “Is something wrong?”

He walked a little further and pointed at a bonfire that had been extinguished not long ago.

Then he walked around and kept looking at the grass, after only seconds, he knelt down.

You stopped right in front of him “What are you looking for?”

The Monk kept his eyes fixed on the ground “Tracks.”

You looked down at the grass around you “I don’t see anything.”

He deadpanned “That might be because you are standing on them, Lady y/n.”

Quickly you stepped back, wincing at your mistake “Sorry…”

It would be a very long day if he were to track down those Feys with you following him around like this.

The command followed “Wait here.” when he saw you ready to protest, he repeated more firmly “Wait here.”

You rolled your eyes, not caring if he saw or not “Fine.”

The Monk traveled further into the woods, leaving you with his red brothers.

More tracks became visible to his searching eyes and the scent grew stronger.

Quietly he drew his sword and after searching for a little while longer, he spotted a Tusk Man nearby who was readying his horse.

A dagger would suffice and would not alert the Tusk Man and send him fleeing before he could reach him.

But you had not listened to the order to stay where he had told you to, you had followed him and saw what was about to happen.

Without thinking you had grabbed the Monk’s arm to prevent the dagger from being thrown at the Fey.

The next thing you knew, the Monk was holding you by the throat.

It was a pure reflex to defend himself, it went and passed so quickly.

He released you right away, snapping “I told you to stay with the paladins!”

Stumbling back some steps, you resisted the urge to flee.

But he could still see the fear in your eyes and forced himself to control his frustration and tone.

He would need to let the Tusk Man go.

And the Tusk Man had heard the commotion, seen the Weeping Monk and fled on his horse right away.

The Monk took a step in your direction, but you didn’t want to be near him.

Without saying a word, you headed back to the group alone.

The enemy was too close to let you walk unaccompanied, even if it was not far.

A sigh was heard, followed by “Lady y/n.”

Stubborn as you were, you ignored it, you weren’t one of the paladins he was in charge of.

He had caught up with you quickly and strode beside you.

Bitterly you snarled “If you had not been so keen on murdering, this would not have happened.”

Keen?

He made you halt by taking hold of your arm “This would not have happened if you had done what I had asked of you!”

You pulled yourself loose and continued walking “Oh, so now it is my fault?!? Learn to control yourself!”

After three more steps, he blocked your path and almost had you walking into him “If you had listened-”

That anger flaring in your eyes reminded him of Father’s and he expected to be struck any second now.

Your words where sharp as a wolf’s teeth “People think you are a monster. You’re not, you’re afraid of what you do not understand. All of you are!”

He repeated it, demanding an explanation “All of you?”

You did not directly explain that this was about their treatment of the Fey “The paladins, you, my uncle. You are all so afraid of what you do not know or understand that you brand anything that is different from the scriptures an abomination.”

It got him nervous to hear you speak so openly of your doubt in the faith, it was meant as a warning “Do not let Father hear you say this. It is blasphemous.”

You rolled your eyes and walked away from him “I’ve had enough.”

It sounded like he was sighing “Where are you going?”

Without looking back or stopping, you answered “I am going to ask a paladin to take me back to the monastery.”

He would not trust one of his brothers with his sword and certainly would not trust them with you. Father would never forgive him if something were to happen.

He followed at a small distance and only interfered when you actually went to ask a paladin.

With one stern look from his Weeping Brother, the paladin knew better than to take your request.

You had seen the expression of the paladin change and slowly turned around, crossing your arms to face the culprit who was responsible “What?”

With caution the Monk stepped closer, his voice was hushed “I am sorry...” the change in your eyes gave him more courage “…for what happened.”

It seemed to be hard for him to admit it, mostly due to the presence of his red brothers.

You chewed your inner cheek, deciding whether to stay angry or be forgiving.

Then the Monk tilted his head a little down and to the side, it was an admission to his wrong doing, a plea for your forgiveness.

You shrugged your shoulders “Fine.”

He did not know how to interpret it “Fine?”

It was you who stepped closer now, repeating it once more “Fine.” adding “At least you were quick to let me go again and didn’t kill me by accident.”

His eyes dropped, betraying that it could have indeed happened.

His Mouth opened and closed as he thought back to the moment when he was so focused on killing the fey that he had not noticed you until you were close enough to grab him.

You gave some reassurance when it finally looked like he really did regret it “I won’t tell my uncle. So, you don’t have to worry about getting an earful.”

This would have earned him enough lashes of the whip to leave him bleeding for days again.

when you tried to step away, he spoke “Thank you, Lady y/n.”

With a nod you acknowledged it.

He released your elbow and loudly announced to the paladins “Gather together! We are heading back.”

This excursion was over. He would be too distracted and it would not benefit anyone if he was.

You stood beside the Monk, which gave you the sense that he was surprised by it, like he did not expect you to still want to.

Once everyone had gathered, you walked beside him again to head back to the monastery.

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

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#theweepingmonk #Cursed Netflix #lancelot fic #reader x lancelot #weeping monk #weeping monk x you #the weeping monk x reader #weepingmonk #weeping monk x reader #lancelot x reader #lancelot #lancelot cursed #netflix cursed #cursed fic #cursed #reader x weeping monk

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everlastingdreams · 2 years ago

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Weeping Monk x Reader : Cloaked Beauty One-shot

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Summary: The struggles with your body image begin to affect your happiness. Your two recently acquired companions, Lancelot and Percival, notice the changes.

Notes: Insecure plus size y/n. Fluff. Stuff I wrote when I was feeling down.

Warnings: Possible ED symptoms/signals (?)

Word Count: 3K+

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It had been a while since you bumped into the pair on the road.

A Fey child, and a man who accompanied him that turned out to be off the Ash Folk. A Fey kind long believed to be lost to the war.

It was the boy, Percival, who was the first to strike up a conversation with you in an inn while Lancelot had wanted to remain discreet.

You had been sitting in a corner, in the shadows to eat your meal. Shadows had covered you and still you felt eyes staring at you often.

The hood of your cloak had been pulled up as far as it could, it was almost touching the tip of your nose.

Needless to say, when a child plopped down on the chair opposite of you, it gave you quite the fright.

What started with offering Percival a bite to eat, ended with an offer to shelter them for a night.

Just one night, in your humble home that had a spare room after the passing of your parents, that had been the plan.

As it had been the plan of Lancelot too.

One night.

That turned out differently when they saw you struggle with making much needed repairs to the house.

A broken window, a door that barely closed.

No, the place was not safe for a woman alone.

One week. Then two. After that Lancelot had stopped speaking off when he would leave with the boy and you never brought it up again either.

To him, you were the perfect balance for Percival.

A person who was not as afraid to show affection to the boy, compared to a person who did not even know how.

The prospect of journeying further had faded to the background, especially when you were willing to trust him even after you learned the truth about who he was.

At first you had thought Lancelot stayed just to help, but when the repairs were done it baffled you to realize he just stayed to…stay.

Growing up under the scrutiny of others about your appearance had left you with low self-esteem.

Why would anyone want to stay near you? Your parents had asked the question more than once, always pointing out that if you lost weight, you’d gain more attention and friends.

Alas, they had diminished you to nothing more than an appearance that was not up to par according to them.

Therefore your favorite piece of clothing was a cloak two sizes too big. It hid you from the world, for the world would not want to see you.

Summer or winter, the cloak remained.

Even now, in the heat of the sun you wore it to go outside after Lancelot and Percival agreed to visit the market.

It wasn’t a long walk, but gods the cloak under the burning sun was enough to make someone faint.

Asking to stop for a moment, for the third time already, felt humiliating “Can we stop for a moment again? I’m sorry, I just feel so thirsty.”

Lancelot halted along with the boy, seeing you visibly struggle in this weather.

Percival came to your side “Are you alright?”

The kindness of the child always made you feel a little better “I’m alright. I just need a moment.”

To your dismay, your tankard of water was already empty. You weren’t going to speak off it and just hoped you would be fine until you reached the market.

The Ash Man was not blind, he could see the struggle and offered you his tankard “Here, you need to drink.”

Refusing was no use, so you took the tankard and tried not to drink it all “Thank you, Lancelot.”

When he touched the hood of your cloak it made you flinch.

Were you so afraid of people seeing you?

He withdrew his hand “The cloak is causing you to overheat, y/n. Let me carry it for you.”

The answer was a resolute “No.”

He did not need to ask why, you’d never tell him the truth he already knew.

Always the cloak.

Wrapped around you to hide the curves of your body from sight.

Countless of times you had hid in your cloak or behind the two Fey who where far more confident, especially Percival.

Always the cloak.

Your physical shield when your lowered self-esteem won from what was true.

Before he could try to convince you, you handed him back the tankard “Come on, let’s continue before it gets too late.”

“We have time-” He protested, knowing that you often pushed yourself over your limits.

You disagreed “Some things I need, sell out quickly.”

The vendors who offered interesting prices were often out of wares within hours.

At the market, after purchasing what you needed first, your favorite thing to do was see if they had any clothing items that Percival could use.

It had been the first thing you did when the boy tagged along to the market the first time while Lancelot remained at the house.

That evening, Lancelot was baffled to see Percival show off his new clothes and offered to repay you, which you waved away.

You were not rich, you were not poor, you were well.

Your parents made and fixed shoes for a living, successfully so, while you were popular even with those at court for your embroidery skills.

It was honest work and you earned your living.

The next time you had went to the market with Percival, the boy helped pick out something for the tall Ash Man too.

In the hopes that Lancelot would accept the gift, you had been clever enough to let the boy be the one to give it.

And when Lancelot tried to politely decline, you just told him you’d prefer him to have clothes of his own instead of your father’s.

After that, he did accept them.

Today you skimmed along the stalls of clothing, often questioning both of them if they saw something they liked.

Lancelot always said ‘No.’

While Percival said ‘yes’ to everything until the Ash Man reeled the boy in.

He never let the boy out off his sights at the market, especially when walking past the stalls where they sold weapons.

It was quite unexpected when Lancelot was the one to point something out for you in one of the stalls, he’d never done so before.

The soft linen of a dress contrasted against the roughness of his palm “Y/n. Would this not be something you would want?”

Out of all the things he could have pointed out, it had to be the dress you had eyed more than once in the past. It wasn’t the price that bothered you, you just believed it would not fit you. And the dress was one that would draw attention, something you wished to avoid.

“It wouldn’t fit me.” You admitted without much thought.

A frown creased his forehead and he had Percival join in on it “I believe it would suit you well. What do you think, Percival?”

The boy was not one to lie, at least not about things like this, and he told his truth “It goes with her eye color.”

Clearly they had not understood you when you said it would not ‘fit’ you “That is sweet, but it wouldn’t fit me.”

This time you gestured up and down yourself, then proceeded to search the stall for things that would fit one of them.

Lancelot remained with the dress for a moment, swallowing all he wished to say when realizing you truly believed this dress would not fit.

Now he was no expert, but the dress was a match for you.

With reluctance he dropped the topic and hoped his disappointment was not visible to the eye.

And you still looked unwell, if he had not left Goliath at the house he would have insisted that you traveled on the horse.

He caught up with you again “Percival looks hungry. Perhaps we could stop at the inn?”

Percival looked up at him confused “I’m not-”

With a nudge he silenced the boy.

Now that it was necessary, the boy was not hungry…

The child glared up at him before seeing the look the Ash Man shared “Actually, I am.”

You agreed to the plan “Oh? That’s a good idea then.”

Even though Lancelot knew the way, he led you lead them there while trying to discreetly let the boy know that you weren’t feeling so well.

In the inn after some back and forth, you agreed to Lancelot paying for his meal and Percival’s. He had insisted to pay for all, which you declined.

Lancelot often spend time hunting in the woods, it was how he earned his keep now, he hunted so you could sell what was caught at the market.

But you wanted him to save the coin instead of spending it, especially when it came to you, you could look after yourself just fine.

You had picked something small to eat and got a tankard of water along with it.

The water went down just fine, but you didn’t manage to quiet the demons in your mind enough to take a bite of your meal.

People were staring at you again, you couldn’t get a bite down your throat like this.

Lancelot wanted you out of the sun and hoped the later it got, the cooler the weather would become. And now his worry increased when he saw you refuse to eat.

“Are you not hungry?” He knew the answer already.

You lied “I’ve never eaten this before. I’m not sure I like it.”

Percival leaned over the table and stole a piece from your plate, popping it in his mouth “I taste nothing wrong with it.”

For a second Lancelot shut his eyes at the boy’s bad manners.

You began to move your plate towards the boy only to be stopped by the Ash Man.

He made an attempt to fix the situation “If you are going to give this to him, at least let me pay for something else for you.”

Politely you declined again “Thank you, but I will just drink my water. I’m not really hungry anyway and I’d rather give it to Percival than let it go to waste.”

The pleading look on Percival’s face made him yield.

Your stomach would be empty, but a child’s would be filled.

You drank the water slowly, finding yourself avoiding Lancelot’s eyes more than once.

Did you see concern in them or were you imagining it?

No, there were too many looks aimed at you to dissect them all correctly.

So, you kept your eyes on the table and watched Percival enjoy the food.

After the meal, the three of you returned home.

Luckily the sun was going down, you had had enough of the heat and weren’t feeling well at all. Your head hurt and you felt like you had walked around the earth without sleep.

The first thing Lancelot did upon returning to the house was going to see if Goliath was alright.

The horse had it’s shelter under a wooden canopy that was build against the side of the house.

Percival yawned loudly and not much later he was climbing the stairs to the bedroom he shared with the Ash Man.

Where you kept your cloak on for a while longer, Lancelot had grown comfortable enough to take his off the second he entered the home.

You put away the vegetables and fruits you had bought at the market, then took his share of coins from the pocket of your dress.

He had refused his share before and knew you were too stubborn to allow it, so he took it “Why did you not eat anything at the inn?”

Your shoulders shrugged “People were staring at me, I hate it when it happens.”

When he breached the topic, you were quick to remove yourself from the room before it could lead to more questions.

But he was clever, it had not been the first time you had tried this.

You went to open the door to your bedroom that was next to the living area, his arm blocked your path inside.

He studied your face “You do not look well. Do you want some water to drink?”

You shook your head to decline and doing so allowed the vertigo to kick in, to avoid a fall you leaned against the wall with your back.

Lancelot took hold of your arm, making sure that if your condition got worse he would be able to help you to the floor without bones breaking “Careful. Take some deep breaths.”

You took the advice to heart and tried not to panic, after a minute of controlling your breathing it did get better.

He pushed open the door of your room and slowly led you to the bed so you could take a seat.

“Slowly.” He warned, fearing that the sudden change in position would cause you to faint after all.

With his help, you were able to sit down safely.

He gestured for you to stay seated, walked out and returned seconds later with a tankard of water and some fruit “Take this. The sun must have taken it’s toll on your body. Drink and eat.”

You took the tankard and it threatened to spill by how strong your hands were trembling.

To him it was only normal to help you with the task of holding the tankard if you could not do so on your own. The shaking decreased after drinking half of the water and he placed the tankard on the ground.

When he saw you refuse the fruit, he offered “Tell me what you want to eat and I will fetch it for you.”

You shook your head, those cursed thoughts were screaming at you. It was not rare for you to have a bad day mentally, but today was awful. No matter how much you wished to hide it, nothing seemed to slip past his watchful eyes. Some days you could not bring yourself to eat around anyone, out of fear that doing so would get you a mean comment.

Your parents had made so many cold remarks and even now they still haunted you.

Today those remarks were heavy on your shoulders. Tomorrow could be better.

But not today. Not now.

He was firm when needed be “You have walked in the blistering heat all day on an empty stomach.”

“I know you’re worried. But I will be fine, I just need some sleep and I’ll be better tomorrow.” It sounded like you were still trying to convince yourself of it as well.

Lancelot was trying his best and reached out to you from his own experience “I lived my whole life believing I was something I was not. It is hard to see the truth when our own demons refuse to let us do so.”

You shook your head slightly, knowing what he was trying to do. He was not a fool, it was only a matter of time before he noticed you almost always had your cloak on.

Was he truly trying to make you think you did not know the truth about your appearance?

It came out colder than you had wished for it to sound “Spare me your pity. I know what I am.”

Did you truly believe others perceived you so wrongly?

The one he had caught staring was a man who kept looking at your rear every chance there was.

And seeing another look at you in such a way had gotten under his skin more than once.

At first he had blamed it on feeling protective over you, until he caught himself doing what he was hating others for.

He did not avoid confrontation “What are you then?”

You scoffed bitterly at how he continued to pretend not to see it “I know why people stare at me, Lancelot. That’s why I wear the cloak all the time. No one wants to see someone like me.”

The thought that you believed that… no, it couldn’t truly be this bad…

He needed to hear it, to hear you say exactly what was haunting you because it stunned him so greatly.

And there was even anger in him, what terrible things had been said and done to you to make you think of yourself like this?

At this point, he was far more stern and chased the truth “Someone like you?”

You gestured to yourself, getting quite short with him “You saw how it was in the inn, I could barely move around!”

He found himself protesting “The place was packed with people-”

“Please, just stop. Please.” You hid your face in your hands “I’ve always been unappealing. I have learned to live with it.”

Silence fell, you no longer wished to speak of this, It hurt too much.

He could not voice his opinion on the matter.

No, not without crossing a boundary that had always been there between you.

A moment passed before he sat down beside you on the bed.

“Who told you this?” He made his voice sound as gentle as he could.

Your eyes remained on the floor “Everyone.”

That could not be correct.

Lancelot hoped to change the opinion you had on yourself “I did not. Percival has not either.”

The past with your parents had never been brought up and you did not wish to do so.

The past was the past, and it was where they belonged.

He changed tactics “You have seen my scars, now those are unappealing to the eye.”

It was kind of sweet that he was trying to lift your spirits, but he was throwing himself to the block to do so, your voice grew softer “It’s not the same. Scars or not, you could never be unappealing to someone.”

Oh?

That was perhaps the first compliment he’d ever received on his appearance and for it to come from you made it all the more meaningful.

It made him more comfortable to speak openly “They do not stare at your body for the reason you believe they do.”

The confusion on your face was genuine “What do you mean?”

He took what he considered the greatest risk in his life and touched the strings that held the cloak around you.

Upon doing so, it was like you shrunk before him.

Still, he undid the knot and let the cloak fall from your shoulders.

It had been too warm today to be wearing it and even now it was not much colder. Part of him wished to take it out of the house and let it disappear, but the cloak was not at fault, it was what gave you a sense of safety.

When you felt him take it from you, you caught his wrist to prevent it “My cloak…”

The times you had touched him he could count them on his one hand. Usually it had been an accident.

So this felt far more intimate than it was intended to be to him.

His wrist was released and he balled the cloak up and put it down between you “This cloak cannot hide your kind heart. Or the curves of your body that you wish to hide.” he used his own experience with hiding beneath a cloak “People always see us.”

It made your heart sink, of course you knew that a cloak could never hide everything but it was your safe haven.

Hearing it only made you want to hide from sight again and by reflex you reached for the cloak.

But he had anticipated it and put his hand over it to prevent it.

Not once did you meet his eyes, your own were getting hazy by the tears that threatened to show “Why are you doing this?”

Subconsciously he was leaning closer “I see how others see you, they do not view you as you do yourself. You were right, at least one man was starring at you in the inn that I could see. Two at the market.”

You refused to believe what it implied “Don’t be ridiculous.”

The scoff he emitted sounded partly like a chuckle, after a quiet second he said “Eleven.”

The number had you frown at him “What?”

His fingers felt the warmth still present on the cloak “Eleven men have looked at you in a way that a monk would be send to the whip for.”

And with two of them, he had to actually interfere when they had the blatant intend to touch you without you noticing. Always at the market, where a crowded place could make it look like an ‘accident’.

Your eyes flickered to his and dropped to the floor again upon seeing the warmth and kindness in them “It’s not true.”

“I would not lie to you.” To hear you reject even the possibility of it was difficult to witness.

You stood up from the bed, still feeling somewhat lightheaded

The house consisted only of the two bedchambers and one living area that also served it’s purpose as a kitchen, there wasn’t much of a chance to retreat to a place to be alone.

You turned to him “I know you’re just trying to cheer me up. But nothing you say changes the truth.”

That stubborn nature in him only made him more determined to get the point across “I will not feed you lies to make you feel better.”

The firm tone he had now was quick to silence you.

He rose to his feet as well, took two steps in the direction of the door and then stopped “Do you trust me?”

Not once had he harmed you and he’d sworn not to, he had always kept to his word.

“I do.” You admitted.

This man was agile, light on his feet and quick to action.

Before you could even guess what he was about to do, it was already happening.

Your arms flailed beside you when he cradled your head and brought his lips down on yours.

What started as a kiss fierce enough that felt like it was meant to scare away all your doubts, faded into a declaration he could have never brought into words.

It felt surreal to be on the receiving end of this man’s attention.

He was a monk, terribly handsome and a good man under a stoic veil.

He broke away to see your response but did not stray far from your lips.

Perhaps actions spoke louder than words.

With widened eyes you stared into his “What are you doing?”

His voice was silk to your ears “Kissing you.”

Your thoughts were slowly catching up “Why?”

Honesty was a virtue he held high, even now “While others stare, I shall be the one to show you why they do so.”

Now he let you decide the course of action and held back on tasting your breaths again.

Your fingertips touched his cheek in wonderment, as if you could not believe he was real and this was actually happening “I think I need to be shown again…”

That was an invite he did not pass up on and he proceeded to show it for many years.

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