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everlastingdreams · 4 months ago

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The Weeping Monk x Fem!Reader : Forged Of Fire Chapter 4

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

Chapter Title: A Shared Secret.

Notes: Re-reading these first chapters makes me realize how deep this story truly grew.

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

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

Word count of this fic: +250K

Chapter: 4/47

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You had wiped the blood from your nose with your sleeve, the dull pain remained. You sat motionless on the wagon, wrists bound together, mind withdrawn inside itself and blocking out all else. There was not a person around who cared about what happened to you and now even Cassian considered you fully expendable. They brought you to their camp and the whole journey you could see Father Carden ride beside the Monk, they were conversing with each other. How could he have kept his Fey nature a secret for so long, or did they perhaps know? The sun had gone down by the time the wagon came to a halt at the camp, the Monk dismounted his horse and came to the wagon. He had beckoned for you to climb off, you had failed to notice it. One of the paladins had wanted to grab your arm, the unexpected action caused you to flinch.

“No.” The Monk told the paladin.

The paladin got off of the wagon and out of the Monk’s cross hair. The Monk beckoned for you again, this time you saw it and got down from the wagon. The one thing distracting you from the tormenting emptiness that was suffocating your mind was the fact that the Monk wasn’t dragging you along like Cassian had done. He did have a firm hold on your arm, but he wasn’t trying to intentionally bruise your skin. He brought you to Father Carden.

The priest spoke to him first, “She will reside in your tent. No one else can learn of what she is. No one. Do what I have asked of you, my son.”

“Yes, Father.” The Monk obeyed the order and led you away from the priest. He ordered two paladins to follow and made them wait outside his tent when he walked inside with you.

“You are to stay here,” he said, whilst tying another rope to the one around your wrists. Then he led you to one of the two poles in the midst of the tent and forced you to sit down against it. “Your fate is yet to be decided by Father. For now, do as you are told and you will not be harmed. Ignore my warning and suffer the consequences. Understood?”

You weren’t paying much attention, even looking off to the side as you nodded. He knelt down next to you, and it took you a while before you realized he was waiting for you to look at him. Your blank expression never changed as you faced him.

Eyes that were elsewhere. A look he had seen in those who had abandoned all hope.

The Monk looked down at his hands and laid out the terms, “You are not to wear clothes of the Church. Not these and not until you would earn them. You will be given others, and when I return I will ask you questions you need to answer. Think wisely.”

No response came from you. Everything felt so far away past the thick mist that had taken over your thoughts. He sensed that you were in no state to reply, he stood up and left the tent. You faintly heard him command the paladins to guard the tent while he was gone for a moment. It did not take long for him to return, in his hands he carried what looked like clothing, he put it down next to you. You slowly blinked, your mind started to return to the present.

“What is your name?” he asked his first question.

You told him without protest, “Y/n.”

The Monk folded his hands together behind his back. “You knew what I was, you could have told others. Have you?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

You didn’t bother to lie, there was no point to it anymore. “You would have killed me if I did tell someone.”

He was quiet for a moment, then said, “Tell me about Cassian.”

“He’s my brother.”

“Half-brother, yes?”

“Yes.” You nodded. “He is the son of my father and his first wife. My father married my mother after Cassian’s mother died. Mine died very shortly after she gave birth to me.”

The Monk was clearly trying to piece the puzzle that was you together. “Your half-brother is Manblood.”

You leaned your head back against the pole. “Yes. It was my mother who was Fey. Our father is Manblood.”

“Are there others like you still alive?” he asked.

You frowned a little. “I don’t know. You are the only one that I have met.”

The Monk stopped his questions and a heavy silence fell between you.

You broke it, “What’s going to happen to me?”

He was bluntly honest about it. “Father will need to know that you were worth letting the sellsword escape for.”

“I’m not.” It just fell out of your mouth.

He looked at you for the longest time, as if he were trying to see if it was a jest.

It was not.

“You are born of a Fey mother.” he said. “Are there any uncommon abilities you possess?”

“I try to ignore the Feyblood in me.” you told him. “You must know what that is like.”

Maybe he could relate to that, because he sure was not walking around announcing it to everyone either.

His tone grew cold right away. “I am not your people.”

It was said so condescendingly… your own voice did not change from the neutral tone it currently had. “No. You’re the monster keeping their children awake at night.”

The Monk directed his eyes away from you. He turned away without granting you one more look and left the tent.

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An hour must have passed before he returned to the tent. The air grew uncomfortable right away. Neither of you said a word to each other. The Monk took of the belts that held his weapons and placed them against the cot in the far corner of the tent. His eyes fell on the clothes that still laid untouched next to you, he must have forgotten all about them after storming out earlier.

The Monk sighed at the unavoidable obstacle. “I will remove your ropes just long enough for you to change your clothing. Do not try to attack me or escape, I will not be forgiving.”

Your thoughts cleared a little bit more. Did he expect you to change while he was in the tent with you?!? He came closer and started to loosen the ropes, when that was done he pulled you up to your feet and gestured to the clothes on the ground.

“No.” you breathed out.

There was a brief moment of irritation to be spotted in his eyes, until he appeared to understand what had caused the protest. He turned around, facing away. “Father ordered for those clothes to be taken away from you. Change out of them.”

Was it your imagination or did he sound uncomfortable? When he kept his attention away, you surrendered to the request. First you inspected the new clothes. It was a simple dress, nothing special. You kept looking at the Monk as you changed into the clothes, he never turned to look. The ring still hanged on a cord around your neck, you doubted it could buy your freedom here, so you hid it under the dress.

“Why am I to stay in your tent?” You rolled the sleeves down neatly.

“Father has told the paladins that you are Sky Folk.” Slowly he turned, eyes rising from the ground. “But you are a risk. If anyone else sees your markings-”

You blurted out your conclusion, interrupting him, “They would know that you are Fey too…”

That was why Father Carden only trusted the Monk to be in your presence, if the paladins saw your markings and how they resembled the Monk’s…

He stepped closer, not afraid to stand only one step away. “No one can know.”

“The paladins don’t know?” You frowned.

“They do not.” His eyes fell lower. “What do you have around your neck?”

By reflex you looked down, then realized he must have noticed the cord peeking out from under the dress. You reluctantly pulled it out from under it to show him. He recognized it instantly.

“No weapons?” he asked, probably realizing that you were never even inspected for them.

You shook your head. “No.”

Either he would search you for them, or trust your word. He was determining whether or not you were telling the truth, then he gave a nod.

The Monk began to circle you. “Do you have children?”

“None.” You wondered why he had so many questions.

“A spouse?”

“No.”

“Other family?”

“Only my father and Cassian.”

“Do you believe in the faith of the Fey, or the Church?”

“Neither. I think.”

His questions were sometimes tricky, you feared what a wrong answer could result into.

He took hold of your arm and brought you back to the pole, making you sit against it to tie you to it again. “If you must relieve yourself, warn me or my Brothers and you will be given the chance for it.”

That sure was embarrassing, but you doubted he hadn’t encountered worse. At least you wouldn’t have to ruin your clothes if your bladder ran full, but you doubted that would happen soon, you hadn’t drank a drop in almost a day. He had already walked towards the cot when you spoke up.

“Could I have some water?” It wasn’t like you to ask for a favor, but the dry throat was bothersome.

He looked at you, giving a shallow nod. He was at your side with a flask of water not much later, at least he was helping you drink because you would have died from thirst due to being bound to a pole.

“Thank you.” you said.

His brow quirked up somewhat, he stayed next to you for a moment, knelt down in silence. You could tell that he was thinking of saying something.

He finally did. “As you see, I am not held a prisoner here. This could be your future as well.” The comfort he tried to give was unexpected. “Grant us your cooperation and I shall make certain you will be treated well here.”

Why did it sound like an alluring offer? You looked away, feeling the guilt start to gnaw at your being deep down for wanting to belong somewhere.

“Think of it tonight.” The Monk must have seen the conflict in you.

You kept your eyes away from his, he stood up and walked to the cot.

He took his cloak off to sleep. “You were fortunate to not be influenced by the Fey. Your soul is at a crossroad and you have yet to decide what path you take.”

When he took off his surcoat, you shut your eyes.

“Tomorrow we shall see if there is a place for you here.”

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It was hard to fall asleep in such a strange place, and it was uncomfortable to do so while bound. Still, at dawn you woke up at the sound of the Monk picking up his weapons and putting the belts on again.

“We are heading into the forest today.” he said upon seeing you awake.

“Why?” You feared the answer.

He cloaked the reason in mystery. “I will tell you when we are there.”

The Monk freed you from the pole but kept your wrists bound in the rope, he used the excess of it to keep you near and within his sight. Together you walked out of the tent and he grabbed some things to eat from a table in the midst of the camp. Some bread, an apple… Once you were out of the camp he handed you the bread to eat. He just kept walking, never saying where you were going whilst entering the forest. You chewed the bread and your stomach was grateful for it. It took nearly an hour before he came to a halt. The bread was long since eaten.

“There are Fey in these woods. My brothers have captured two.” he said. “Find them.”

Your brows drew together. “What?”

The Monk turned to you. “Prove your usefulness to the mission and earn your place among us.”

“You want me to search this whole forest for them?” you asked incredulous.

He gave a suggestion, “Let your Fey heritage aid you in this task.”

How could that be helpful? “What do you mean?”

The Monk spoke with caution, “Can you not smell them?”

“What?” You stared at him. “Am I supposed to find them by their scent?”

He looked like it was exactly what he had anticipated. “Yes.”

This was ridiculous, you didn’t understand why he would think you had such an ability. “I can’t smell them. All I smell is leaves and grass!”

“You can’t?” He looked at you curiously.

“No.” you told him. “And even if I could, why would I lead you to them?”

Then he gave the motivation that was necessary, “Because I will free them from their bounds if you do.”

You weren’t keen on believing it. “Why would I trust your word on that?”

He fired back, “Would you prefer them to be cleansed?”

That sure made you hold your tongue.

“Find them.” he said again after a moment.

The chances of finding two Fey in these woods were slim, but if he insisted on wasting his own time on this as well… Fine.

You began to walk again, he held the other end of the rope firm in his hands. By using what little tracking skill you had picked up during your life, you still struggled severely to find any trace. Time was passing quickly and you were growing discouraged. If you didn’t find those Fey…

“I can smell them from here.” he suddenly said as he saw you struggle.

You had been kneeling on the ground to find tracks, your attention snapped to him. “What?”

“The scent of Fey kind. Have you never noticed it yourself?” He was still looking at you with curiosity.

“No. Can you really smell them?” You frowned and stood up from the ground.

He gave a nod. “Your Fey scent is so faint I did not know at first that it was there, not until I noticed it at the abbey.”

It must be because you were only a half-blooded Fey, or because you had grown weaker lately. Maybe the day spend at the abbey with a proper meal had made your scent stronger again. Still, it was a surprise that the Monk possessed this ability, was it the Ash Folk-blood in him?

“You thought I could smell it too?” you realized.

Another nod.

“I can’t!” It felt so terribly unfair that you were expected to find the Fey without the advantage he thought you had.

“Stop.” He had taken hold of your arm. “Concentrate on your senses.”

Guilt over being unable to save the Fey was taking over. “I can’t do this! I’m not like you.”

He turned you around, back facing him, his hands on your upper arms. “You cannot know this until you try.”

Those haunting whispers sounded almost delighted in your ears, it greatly confused you as to why that was.

The Monk held on to your arms and used a gentler tone. “Concentrate.”

You closed your eyes and tried, it wasn’t simple to ignore his presence to focus on the scents around you. It took a while, and then it happened. A vague strange scent that prickled deep inside your nose, your head turned in it’s direction by instinct. Your eyes opened and you could see in those of the Monk that he knew you had noticed the scent. You began to walk again, letting your nose lead you to the origin of it. Suddenly the scent was harder to detect.

“The wind has changed it’s course.” The Monk said when he saw you struggle.

Left without the scent to follow, you searched the ground for tracks again and this time found a bunch of them. You followed the tracks and hoped they would lead you to the Fey. And then you saw them, gagged and bound, their eyes were covered by a blindfold. You wanted to hurry over to them but the rope between you and the Monk tightened as he did not budge.

“You promised you were going to let them free!” You pulled at the rope.

He reeled you in with the rope, drawing you closer until he could grab your bound wrists. “On one more condition.”

You glared at him for adding another requirement, snapping at him, “What?”

He made certain that the terms were clear. “I will let them live, now and every time I encounter them, in exchange for your loyalty to the mission.”

You were stunned by it, and worried.

“They can live their life and you will be given another one. A fair trade.” he reasoned.

“I don’t want to kill Fey…” you uttered.

The Monk pondered on it for a blink. “I am certain that Father will see your value as a tracker alone. The paladins will handle the rest.”

You were quiet for quite some time.

He was persuasive. “A meal every day, a place to sleep, the help of others. All these things will be yours. You will not be expected to fulfill a task right away, there are still matters that need to be taught to you.”

“No…” you barely dared to say it.

The Monk was disappointed, tone turning cold, “Some more time to think will aid you in this decision.”

Suddenly he began to walk and pulled you along, he stopped next to the bound Feys and drew his sword.

You panicked. “No! Please don’t hurt them!”

He ignored you and cut loose their ropes, they moved the blindfolds down from their eyes so they could see.

“Run.” he told them.

They scrambled to their feet and bolted away from the threat. You stared at the Monk.

“They will be fortunate if I do not cross paths with them in the future.” he said coolly, then pulled at the rope to make you follow as he walked away.

Minutes of silence passed. It felt highly uncomfortable and you didn’t know what your future held now that you had refused to aid the mission.

You tried to distract yourself from worrying by asking him a question, “How did you end up with the paladins?”

He answered without stopping. “I’ve been with them all my life.”

That was odd. “Were your parents of the Church then?”

“No.” Was the short answer he gave.

It had gotten you curious. “Then how can you have been with them all your life?”

He reeled the rope in a little more, making you walk closer to him. “Father chose me when I was just a boy, not yet six years of age.”

The priest had chosen a young child years ago, to turn the boy into a weapon against his own kind? It was shocking. “He chose you? What happened to your family?”

“Gone.” he said.

“Gone where- …oh.” You wished you could take it back. There had been a hope in you to learn that more of the Ash Folk were still alive, but if the priest did not even spare the parents of the child he took from them…

“I’m sorry, I -”

He ignored the apology. “You are the first Ash Folk I have seen since that day. As far as I know, there are no others left.”

“And that is why Father Carden has shown an interest in me?” you asked.

“Yes.”

Now that he was willing to answer questions, you fired them off one after the other. “Because he saw how good your work is, and hopes that another of the Ash Folk will be just as efficient?”

There was a short pause before he answered with a nod. Then he asked a question of his own, “How come your brother did not know of your Feyblood? Or was that another lie?”

You shrugged your shoulders. “You saw what happened once he knew.”

The Monk had reeled the rope in so much that you had to walk next to him. “Your nose was bleeding when he brought you to us.”

Your voice quietened, “He hit me when I tried to pull free from him.”

“He is quite a coward, for a sellsword.” it slipped from his thoughts.

You went silent for a bit, the betrayal was still so raw. The paladin camp came into sight again. “I wonder if my father knows where I am now.”

The Monk actually scoffed, then looked at you incredulous, “Are you saying the sellsword would lie to his father about what he has done?”

Your shoulder shrugged again.

“Do not concern yourself over him anymore. You are under my charge as long as Father commands it.” he told.

“Like property.” It came out coolly.

He saw it differently. “As one valuable enough not to harm.”

You didn’t believe that, not one bit, not when the world had taught you otherwise. “I am only valuable if I serve the Church, if I serve you. Don’t tell me it’s not true, I know it is. If I had not been of the Ash Folk you would have killed me just like you killed Bertram and Ava.”

He heard that hidden anger present in you and stopped before he’d get too close to the camp. “Who?”

“How many have you killed who’s name you don’t even know?” You frowned heavily.

The Monk tried to speak, but was interrupted by you.

Your voice lifted, “The Fey who were with me and Cassian that night. You murdered them!”

“They were thieves.” he sounded not even a little remorseful.

“So was I!” you snapped. “But you kept me alive because I happened to smell like Manblood! And they didn’t deserve to die just because they stole something! You and your paladins lay waste to whole Fey villages and then ransack what’s left of it! You’re worse than any thief I’ve ever met!”

Your fury turned to fear instantly when he grabbed you by the throat. His hold was firm but not painful, you still feared to move.

His voice got lower. “They were Fey. They needed to be cleansed for their souls to be allowed to enter God’s garden.”

“Who says they even wanted to enter it at all?” you asked viciously. “Does telling yourself these lies help you sleep at night?”

Was he truly so blind to the wrongs he and the Church were committing all across the lands? Something flashed through his eyes, until they spotted the two paladins approaching him.

“Sir?” one of them called out.

The Monk grabbed you by the arm and pulled you along, he practically shoved you into their hands. “Bring her to my tent!”

“Yes… s-s- Sir.” The other stammered in visible fear.

The Monk stormed off, leaving you in the hands of his Brothers.

Taglist:

@ourlazydetectivekitten @the-great-adventures-of-me @linkpk88 @fxrchxldws @elenaoftheturks @slytherlight @beananacake @crystallizedtime @moonlightaura03 @angrygardendeer @have-aheart @5am-cigarette @arcanenature @thewinterskywalker @notyourwildestdream @coloursforyourportrait @koressecretidentity @nike90 @n1ghtlux @rachlovesactors @luckyzipperscissorsbat @morena-doing-stuff @the-fangirl-diaries @gipsydanger17 @heavenly1927 @phantasmalbeiing @labyrinthonmymind @asarcastic-thiamstan @rainyv-skies @stclairesplace @katjusja @isla-bell-blog @beebeerockknot @sahvlren @lancedoncrimsonwings @weird123abc @elizabeth-holland24 @kissingandromeda

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#weeping monk x reader #weeping monk #cursed netflix #lancelot x reader #weeping monk x you #the weeping monk #cursed lancelot #the weeping monk x reader #lancelot #cursed weeping monk #lancelot reader #reader x lancelot #netflix cursed #arthurian legend #arthurian retelling #daniel sharman fanfic #daniel sharman character #daniel sharman

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everlastingdreams · 1 year ago

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The Weeping Monk x Reader : Born In The Dawn Chapter 24

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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: Warm As Fire

Notes: I'm so glad people like this story so far. I always post every chapter with a small fragile heart, ngl.

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: 24/ It’s a secret.

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The Ash Man had been quite determined to get away from the fort of the Brotherhood as fast as possible. Even if the wagon swayed from left to right a bit in the beginning, the horse seemed to show mercy to the inexperienced wagon rider.

But you had seen the nervous grimace on Lancelot’s face when he was trying to keep the wagon under control and found it quite amusing. The difference between the confident Weeping Monk in battle, and the fumbling Ash Man trying his best, was nice to see.

The rain had stopped an hour ago, thankfully so, it made it easier to see the roads in the night.

There was a bag of items and a chest present on the wagon, and your curiosity led you to search through it.

“Do you know where we are?” You asked while doing so.

“Near the sea.” He decided to jest.

You rolled your eyes and turned to look at him over your shoulder. “Please, tell me we aren’t lost in these woods.”

He looked back at you with a slight smile. “We are not. These are the roads I was hoping to avoid when we traveled to your home. Consider ourselves fortunate that we do not have to pass Uther’s castle anymore to reach your family. We are about a day away.”

“They must think I have left them without saying a word again…” You felt awful and sighed. “And Squirrel… gods.”

Lancelot gave some words of comfort, “You will be able to tell them what happened soon. I am certain they will be glad to have their daughter with them again.”

You picked up on the way he spoke of your parents. “You sound like you appreciate my parents.”

He admitted to it, “They seem like good people.”

You continued to snoop through the bag. “They are. I was glad to see that my cousin was doing so well with them, and he was impressed with our young Fey knight.”

‘Our?’… interesting choice of words.

In the bag were two ropes and some dirty linen, you had went through the whole bag of it in the hope of finding something more useful.

You wiped your hands on your trousers and went over to open the chest.

It was locked…

“What do you think is in here?” You asked and knocked on the chest.

He stopped the wagon and climbed into the back where you were.

It wasn’t what you had expected him to do, “Letting the horse rest?”

He gave a nod and knelt beside you in front of the chest. “I believe it has been pulling this wagon for a few hours before we took it, it is best we grant the horse rest.”

There was an attempt to break the lock with his sword, it did not budge.

It had almost slipped your mind. “Oh! Do you still have the hairpin?”

Lancelot had forgotten about it too it seemed, he searched his pockets. “I do.”

The ring was still in his pocket as well, he would avoid showing it to you. Any reminder of that monster was one too many.

He held up the hairpin for you to take, and you did.

The small rusted lock of the chest was a pain to pick at and some quiet curses flew out of your mouth.

It was unexpected to see him try not to chuckle at hearing them.

His eyes were fixed on your hands and how they worked the stubborn lock. The attention on you did not waver, it only shifted from one thing to another.

A concentrated frown creased your forehead… The way your lips pressed together as you tried not to let another curse get passed them… The scent of the sea mixed with the scent of you…

The lock clicked open and you let out a relieved little laugh. “Got ‘em!”

You handed him back the hairpin to hold.

Lancelot seemed to snap out of some deep thoughts before he helped lift the lid of the chest.

“That’s not food.” You sounded disappointed at the sight of the weapons in the chest.

He reached into the chest and plucked his swords and daggers from it, they had not been on their way to the Abbot yet after all. “I am sorry you are disappointed.”

You had heard that cheeky tone. “Well, you aren’t.”

He shook his head and immediately switched the sword he had been using for his own again. “There are some good swords in here.”

Lancelot searched through them, inspecting a few, and then he found one that was apparently better than the one at your side now.

You took it from his hands at his insistence, and proceed to inspect it for a moment as well. “I guess it does seem like a better sword.”

He had expected to hear it and a grin formed on his face. “It must be difficult to admit I am right about some matters.”

You scoffed at the obvious jest and played along. “Oh, please. You’re making it sound like I am the boastful one.”

The retort came fast. “I am not boastful.”

Your brow arched comically. “Gods, every time you get into a battle, you might as well say ‘look at me’ out loud because I know you’re always thinking it.”

Almost did he roll his eyes, they slid to the side instead.

Still, a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “You read minds?”

You closed the chest again, “Would that frighten you? What little secrets are locked up in yours?”

Even in the darkness of the covered wagon, by the grace of the moon, you could see the spark in his eyes.

There was a change in his voice, a warm timbre took over, “My secrets are mine to keep.”

While you grew curious, he moved further away to the end at the back of the wagon.

“You should get some rest. I will remain awake.” He said.

You weren’t sure about that idea. “Doesn’t sound fair that I get to sleep while you have to stay awake.”

He turned to face you. “You have brought me back from the dead and healed me. I have enough energy in me and it is there because you gave me yours. Sleep.”

“In soaked clothes…” You pouted at the thought.

“Try.” He insisted.

You knew it was out of concern that he wanted you to rest, rightfully so, the only thing that had kept you going was the adrenaline running through your veins.

You took off your vest and began to undo your bodice, seeing the way the former Monk was quick to fix his eyes on the trees you stifled a giggle. “I’ll sleep in my shirt and trousers, and hope the rest dries. Fear not, Ash Man, your eyes are safe from sin.”

This time he did roll his eyes and looked up for a moment.

He wished he could be of help, “We can make a fire tomorrow. If I do so now, it could draw the attention of others.”

It was true. “I’ll use this bag as a pillow. There’s linen in there but believe me, you’ll prefer the soaked clothes over them.”

He agreed on that. “I can smell the dirt on them from here.”

And you were going to use it as a pillow…

“Great.” You mumbled and laid down to sleep. “Guess I’ll wake up reeking of it too.”

His quiet chuckling was the last thing you registered, the lack of energy and cost of your magic caught up with you only a few seconds after you had laid down.

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The nightmare you were trapped in was build from memories that were created in that hellish fort.

The darkness of the dungeons, the murder of Lancelot and then the Reaper putting his hands on you.

The nightmare had enough oil to burn for a while. It felt so real. You were trying to defend yourself against the Brothers. Lashing out at them, hitting and kicking them. Growing more frantic the longer the nightmare lasted.

If only you had been awake to know that the Ash Man was trying to gently wake you…

The nightmare would not have ended with hitting his nose and believing it was a Brother you had struck.

That believe ended when the hold of sleep stopped and you saw Lancelot hold his nose and wincing in pain as he knelt beside you.

You blinked the sleep from your eyes and realized who you had hit upon jolting awake.

A shocked gasp fell from out of your mouth and you reached for him. “Did I… gods… I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to-”

He put a hand on your shoulder, while still holding his nose with the other.

You waited for him say something, sensing that he needed a moment to let that surge of pain pass.

But he did not have to be in pain, not with your ability.

You reached for his arm and he grasped your hand immediately.

He had guessed the intent. “Do not use your magic. I am alright.”

Blood had run from his nose, that didn’t look alright to you.

“But-” You began to protest.

“No.” He spoke sternly. “I know the price it costs you. Do not pay it for me.”

You tried to pull your hand free. “I’m the one who caused your nose to bleed! It’s only fair that I solve the problem I have created.”

Lancelot simply refused to let you help him.

He wiped the blood from his nose with his sleeve. “I have encountered worse. Your hit was not strong enough to cause real injuries.”

Your feeling of guilt faded. “Are you seriously going to jest about it already?! You’re unbelievable.”

He grinned, until he felt it increase the soreness in his nose. “I am merely trying to make you remember that I was raised for battle. A punch to the nose will not kill me. Not even if it is given by a feisty Fey girl.”

Your eyes squinted at him. “Don’t make it so tempting to proof you wrong.”

A chuckle fell from him and he moved to climb out of the wagon.

You called out after him, “You could tell I was having a nightmare, huh?”

He waited for you outside the wagon, beckoning you over.

You were tossing and turning whilst asleep. It were the quiet whimpers that had convinced him to wake you.

Because he could not stand to hear you suffer, even if it was in a dream.

He would not embarrass you by telling you how he could tell. “I could.”

You collected your bodice and vest, then climbed out of the wagon as well and noticed he almost subconsciously folded his hands behind his back, like he wished to avoid the accident of last night happening again.

A small bonfire was burning not far from the wagon.

You realized he had stopped next to a river, a wise choice, because one look at his clothing was enough of a reason to understand why.

The sight of all the blood, his blood, covering him brought back the awful memory of seeing him lifeless.

That plunge in the sea had washed some of it out, still…

He noticed the sudden change in you when looking at the state of his clothing. “I have made a fire to dry our clothes, together with this morning sun it shouldn’t take long.”

The sun was warm indeed, as if it wanted to apologize for the night’s previous weather.

You draped your bodice and vest on the grass near the fire. Some blood was still staining your trousers from having knelt in it, it would have to wait until you were home again, you couldn’t wait to put on some fresh clothes.

Your eyes fell on the amount of blood on Lancelot again, they snapped to the grass when he caught you looking.

This time he commented on it while taking off his cloak, “Can you not stand the sight of blood?”

You kept your eyes away and answered that teasing tone with your own. “Asked the person who made me heal dozens of bloodied paladins.”

He had hanged his cloak on a branch to dry in the sun and took of his aketon next. “None off them bled this much.”

Well, that was true. The amount of blood in his clothes was there because he had bled out, you couldn’t really compare it to the injuries the paladins had.

“Nor were they dead. And I can stand the sight of blood-” You turned and saw him pull his shirt off over his head. “There’s just…”

Your thoughts took another route so fast that you snapped your eyes away from him again.

The sudden silence made him look over at you, “Just ‘what’?”

A mouse must have been louder than you were. “There is just a little much of it on your clothes.”

Lancelot walked the small distance to the river bank. “I am going to try and wash some of it out.”

You were nodding a bit too long and just decided to go and sit by the fire until he was done.

That was the plan at least, but what he said next pulled your thoughts right back to him.

“Dying felt like suffocating at first.” He said, seeing the water of the river color red with his blood. “I never felt so cold in my life as I did then.”

It was difficult to hear how he had experienced it.

“How were you so calm?” You quietly asked.

He tried to get a stain out of his shirt by rubbing a small rock against it, it took him a moment before he answered. “I did not want your last memory of me to be one of fear.”

The last thing on his mind while dying had been what memories you would have of him?

You approached him and stopped a few steps away. “Everyone is afraid sometimes, and you were dying.”

Another silence passed before he spoke again. “I remember the darkness I was in until your magic pulled me out. God’s garden…” He scoffed.

The struggle with the religion he had served was visible, you worried for him, “Are you disappointed?”

He rinsed the shirt in the water, sounding firm. “No. It has made me understand that I do not want to live my life hoping for a better one after death. When I woke, I was grateful to be given another chance on life, because I realized something.”

You waited for him to continue speaking and watched him squeeze the water out of the shirt.

He stood up and walked past you to hang the shirt on a branch, next to the one that held his cloak. “I cannot run from what I was and I do not want to run from what I am, not anymore. If I do so, I would be doing the Fey a disservice. The Green Knight was right, our people need people who can fight and I cannot fight for the Fey if I hide from them.”

Lancelot came over to you and stopped only a step away. “I will give your parents the ring of the Reaper, and if your father still wishes to see me rot in a dungeon, so be it.”

The last encounter between them was still fresh in your memories. “Lancelot-”

He wouldn’t let you talk the plan out of his head, his mind was set. “I will fight for the Fey, but I will fight for you and the boy first. Always.”

The Ash Man took his aketon to the river next, leaving you stand alone speechless.

Minutes passed and he scrubbed the blood out of his aketon as much as possible, not a word was shared between you.

It worried you that he was so determined of his plan, but so was your father and that was were things would go wrong.

You knew what it was like to be trapped in a dungeon, never truly knowing if you would see freedom again or die in darkness, forgotten.

You stomped over to him as he knelt by the river, then snatched the aketon from his hands. “You will spend the rest of your days in a dungeon if you do not succeed in convincing my father, is that what you want?! I promised you I would meet you with Squirrel in the forest on the second day of winter. There is no reason for you to risk imprisonment!”

He rose, visibly disagreeing, “No reason?” His jaw was tense as he looked at the river’s stream. “You will go home, to your family, to Percival. And I…”

You gripped the aketon in your hand firmer, waiting to hear what he had to say.

His eyes locked on your face, hoping you would understand, “…I leave behind all I have.”

You had thought he would say something accusing, instead what he said caused a lump in your throat.

He would be alone…

When he had made it seem that he was alright with that fact, he had been hiding the truth. It was hurting him in the worst way. Dragging the truth out of the Ash Man was not simple, he always buried the pain.

You knelt down next to the water, the saltwater of the sea had been helpful on getting the worst stains on the aketon to lessen, you put it in the water to let it soak a little.

He stood motionless, watching it happen.

It was to distract yourself before your voice would betray the way his words had affected you.

Your eyes did not leave the river. “I will try to speak to my father. I cannot promise anything but I will fight for you.”

The Ash Man took an audible breath behind you, the rustling of the grass warned of his movement.

He knelt down beside you, letting the silence say what he couldn’t put in words.

There was only one man your father truly hated and that man had met his end at the hands of the Ash Man, that had to count for something.

It was not easy to try and make the world around you see the good in the man beside you, and it had to be even harder for Lancelot himself to deal with that fact.

You saw some of the dried blood lift from the aketon and pushed it down into the shallow river water more. “I hope Squirrel does not think we just left him.”

He knew the boy was certainly upset about the two of you vanishing from his life without a word of warning, “We should be wary, the knife you gave him was very sharp.”

You reminded him who was responsible for that, “You’re the one who sharpened it.”

It seemed like it had broken the tense air that had hanged between you, and he gave a guilty smile.

Lancelot reached into the water and plucked the aketon out of it.

“There’s still blood on there.” You stated.

He stood up and walked away with it. “I’m hanging it up to dry before the sun hides itself again.”

You took a moment by the river to wash your face, cleaning the dried blood of your nose, it had stopped bleeding.

The faint voices of the Hidden danced around your ears.

“Can you hear them now?” You called out to Lancelot while using your sleeves to dry your face.

He had returned with his cloak and let it soak in the water like you had done with the aketon, “What do you think they want?”

You shrugged your shoulders. “I don’t know. I guess they are just glad we get along, we are their summoners after all.”

“Let us keep the gods pleased then.” He picked up a fallen branch and began to sort of stir his cloak in the river.

You barely held a laugh. “What on earth are you doing? You’re not stirring a soup.”

He moved the branch out of the water and poked your arm with it. “Let me wash my cloak in peace.”

You swatted it away and got up from the ground. “Fine. Have fun stirring your blood soup.”

The look of mischief in his eyes made you wonder if he was thinking about tossing you into the river too, you did not wait to find out and walked back to the bonfire where your clothes were almost dry.

You took off your boots to let them dry and air in the sun as well, then laid down in the grass to allow yourself some sunlight too.

The cheerful song of birds sounded through the trees and your heart felt peaceful.

The grass between your fingers smelled fresh from the midnight rain.

A few minutes passed where you just laid there with your eyes closed and listening to the birds.

You heard the sound of water splattering and knew he had gotten his cloak out from the river.

His footsteps moved around the area for a moment, then towards you.

The heat of the sunlight vanished from your skin when the Ash Man’s shadow took it’s place.

“You’re in my light.” You grumbled.

He had done it on purpose. “We can enjoy the sun while searching for something to eat as well.”

You opened your eyes and saw he had put the shirt on again, “Do you use your heightened sense of smell to find things to eat?”

The genuine curiosity in the question was a little unexpected to him.

Father had once asked many similar questions but it had only been to find out what would serve the Church best.

He sounded a bit shy about it. “Sometimes. Uhm… with ripe fruit for example. I can smell apples nearby.”

It was quite interesting to learn details about his ability.

You got up from the grass, teasing him with it a little, “Did the smell of them waken your appetite?”

That was a correct assumption.

He said it so matter-of-factually, “I was dead not long ago, I want to remind my stomach it is still alive.”

Your smile fell a little but you caught yourself. “Let’s get those apples for you then.”

“For us.” He corrected, and watched as you began to walk next to him.

You were reluctant to stray too far from the wagon, “What if what is left from the Brotherhood is looking for us?”

He brought a hand to the swords at his hip. “We cannot let fear starve us. Come.”

It was the fearless attitude of the Ash Man that put your mind at ease.

While walking him, you got to experience how he used his ability so discreetly that you almost couldn’t tell he was using his sense of smell to guide him.

After so many years, it should not have come as such a surprise that he was good at hiding his Fey abilities from others.

You couldn’t help but look at him curiously.

He didn’t notice at first, but he must have felt your eyes on him after a while.

Lancelot turned his attention to you, “What is it?”

“Nothing.” You shrugged your shoulders.

And you were still looking at him… It was making him strangely nervous.

He walked a bit faster, towards the scent that had gotten much stronger. “They’re over here somewhere.”

It wasn’t necessary to help look, he found the apple trees a moment later and plucked an apple.

You managed to catch it when he carefully threw it in your direction. “Thank you!”

The apple smelled sweet indeed and you couldn’t resist biting it, the juice of it was godly.

Lancelot took five more apples of the tree and returned to your side. “This should help us until we arrive at our destination.”

You took two to carry so he could eat his apple comfortably too. He walked back into the direction of the wagon, and you followed him.

After some bites of the apple, he asked, “What was your nightmare about?”

You gave vague details. “Everything really. The paladins, the Brothers, Soran…”

What bothered you most was how you had woken from it. “I’m sorry, again, for hitting you. I want you to know that I really didn’t know what I was doing, and that I wouldn’t have hit you if I had a choice in the matter.”

He was rather pleased to hear that. “Next time, I will just poke you with my sword from afar until you wake.”

Your mouth fell agape and a half-insulted laugh escaped. “Oh, for goodness sake!” The clock house of your finished apple hit his back after you threw it at him. “If I wanted to kill you, I would have done so already.”

An arrogant smirk tugged at his mouth, “With your sword skill?”

The Ash Man was trying to push your buttons, and successfully so.

You made him eat his words. “My father, a former knight of the Fey, will be interested to hear of your doubt in his ability to teach me how to wield a sword. Besides, remember how I cut your arm?”

Oh, he remembered alright. “I remember. The wound grew infected, I did not expect to be healed by the same person who caused it. And now you can even bring others back from the dead.”

You still couldn’t fully believe it had happened, and part of you wanted to ignore the fact. “I only brought you back, the Hidden probably only allowed it because you’re Fey and because you’re special.”

“I’m special?” He cheekily asked with a charming grin.

You tempered his ego. “To them.”

He shook his head a bit, the grin grew from ear to ear. “I see.”

Was he seriously trying to get you flustered and make you trip over your words?

You turned the tables on him. “You are the Hidden’s special Ash Folk summoner, I bet they waited a long time for you.”

He took a bite from his apple and hoped he wouldn’t choke on it when he’d laugh, “I don’t know what use I am to them.”

You snorted a laugh, looking at him incredulous. “Says the Fey who can’t be burned and has fire as a friend.”

Alright, it might be what had the interest of the Hidden…

He did not want you to think you weren’t special either, “They waited for you as well, finally they have their Dawn Folk summoner.”

You confessed it to him, “I don’t want to be able to bring people back from the dead. I only agreed to be their summoner so they would help me bring you back.”

A promise made to gods, an exchange to save his life…

The sudden change in his eyes made you worry he might think you regretted it.

“Don’t get me wrong. I am happy you are alive, it was worth the deal I made.” You blurted out.

He believed you. “I know. I could tell when I opened that cell door.”

The moment you had seen him alive again, you had shared an embrace that neither of you had talked about since. Just like the kiss you’d given his cheek when saying your ‘goodbyes’ in the forest.

And you just sensed that he was not used to being given this sort of attention. Neither were you. Still, he had reciprocated the embrace in a way that you could not forget.

This was a former monk, and enemy, who had stood between you and peril more than once. It was difficult not to grow fond of the person he truly was.

It was easy to forget he was still getting used to the life outside the clergy.

You hoped your reaction had not been too much and too soon for him. “Hey, uhm, I apologize if I reacted a bit strong when I saw you alive again. I know you were raised with certain rules to follow. I was just so relieved to see you, my friend, alive and well.”

The Ash Man had a gentle look in his eyes, appreciative of the consideration. “There is no need for an apology. If anything, I cherish the reaction.”

Your eyes widened a bit and avoided looking into his. “That’s good…”

He took another bite and filled the silence that fell between you.

The only thing heard until you reached the wagon, was your footsteps.

When you arrived at the wagon again, Lancelot freed the horse from the burden of the wagon and tied the reins to a tree.

You frowned a bit, “Why are you doing that?”

Lancelot inspected the saddle. “We will continue without the wagon, it will be faster and draw less attention. And if they are searching for us, they will be searching for a wagon.”

And it would be easier to escape on horseback than on a wagon in case of a chase too…

“Do you think Goliath is alright?” You asked when he began to stroke a hand along the horse’s neck.

His voice carried worry, “I hope so. He is strong… and clever.”

The change in his expression betrayed him.

You hoped your words would comfort him. “You’ll reunite with him, everything will be alright.”

He nodded, a little lost in thought and went to retrieve the cloak and aketon he had put up to dry. “Put your boots back on, we will be leaving soon. It’s not safe for us to stay here for long.”

You had been able to rest, but he hadn’t done so yet. “Are you sure you don’t want to get some sleep first? I can keep watch.”

Lancelot put the aketon back on. “I will rest tonight. We should arrive at your home by midday come morrow when all goes well.”

With his determination to stay awake, you hoped he was not too tired to continue the journey on horse, “Are you sure?”

He gave a quick nod, then gestured to your boots that stood abandoned at the fire.

After checking to see if they were dry, you put your boots back on.

Meanwhile, he was closing the belts on his aketon.

You kicked soil on the bonfire until it was out.

Lancelot poured out the dirty linen that was in the sack on the wagon, then put two of the moderate looking swords from the chest into it, followed by the apples and some of the rope.

You helped him attach the sack to the back of the horse’s saddle with a piece of rope, holding it up until he secured it there.

He untied the reins from the tree and beckoned for you to come closer. “After you.”

The little comical bow of his head made you smile. “How gallant.”

You put your foot in the stirrup, gripped the gullet, and pulled yourself into the saddle.

He was patting the spot in the front of it

“I know, I know…” You made room for him.

The speed at which he mounted showed that there was still energy burning through him. Had your magic offered him so much?

The horse began to walk in a slow pace right away, eager to stretch it’s legs without having a wagon to pull along.

Now that you sat on the horse with him, Lancelot seemed to see it as an excellent opportunity.

“I have a question.” He began and waited for acknowledgment.

That tone he used warned you that he was going to ask something that might annoy you.

You let out a little sigh. “Ask.”

He cleared his throat first, “Do you feel safe with me?”

That wasn’t what you thought he’d ask.

Had you done something that made him believe differently?

“I do.” You assured him of it. “I wouldn’t be climbing on a horse with you otherwise. Why do you ask?”

When he stayed quiet, you reached back and tapped his arm a few times playfully. “Spit it out, Ash Man.”

His answer carried a certain gentleness that you didn’t hear often, “I just needed to hear you say it.”

You looked back at him over your shoulder. “To me you are not the Weeping Monk anymore. You’re Lancelot. I see no reason to fear you now that I know you.”

He blinked a couple of times and watched you turn your head away again.

The warmth of him radiated through his sleeve and unto your arms, it had been a while since you had felt so comfortable. “What was life like for you, when you weren’t out doing what Father Carden asked off you?”

He gave the most expected answer, “I practiced the sword.”

If you wanted to learn more, you’d have to pry it out of him. “Besides that.”

Lancelot was not aware until now that you were trying to get to know more about him. “I uh… enjoyed reading.”

You pried further, “What books?”

His answers came quicker. “Anything.”

You fired another question, “What else?”

A light chuckle filled your ears. “I often spend time alone in the forest, it helped me to calm down when matters got difficult.”

“That is the Fey in you.” You deduced.

His own curiosity shined through, “Are you calmer among nature?”

It was an undeniable fact. “I am. I love to see the moon’s light between the trees above my head. The sound of an owl filling the air, a breeze swaying the branches and dancing shadows on the ground below.”

The daydream of your favorite things was softly interrupted by his hand being placed on your upper arm.

But it was the silence of the Ash Man that had your heart change it’s pace.

“Uhm…” You quietly uttered.

He leaned in close to your ear and teased you for your daydreaming. “Fey.”

A shiver went up your neck and you rolled your shoulders to hide it, what you could not hide was the soft giggle at his playfulness.

The hand stayed for a moment longer, and brushed along your arm when it left.

You distracted yourself from it by talking about Squirrel, “I hope Squirrel is doing alright. I know my parents can be stern, but they will look after him well. Maybe he’s playing with Ciro now…”

He kept his hands on the reins now. “Do you worry how your father will react to Percival’s mischief?”

You shook your head. “No. My father raised me, Squirrel’s shenanigans will be nothing new to him.”

A grin tugged at his mouth, “I thought you once told me that you were well-behaved as a child?”

You were biting your lip and mumbled, “Most of the time.”

Lancelot hummed.

Silently guessing that the rest of the time was spend on mischief that had your parents pull the hairs out of their heads at times.

You looked at him and squinted your eyes a little. “I just know you didn’t always do as told either.”

It was true, he had gotten into trouble more than once.

His hands moved closer to your stomach to rest. “If I did, neither of us would be here now.”

You slowly nodded, smiling at him, “What is life without a little mischief?”

He hummed with approval this time.

Your eyes fell on his hands and how close they were now, had he placed them so just because it was more comfortable to hold the reins and ride like this?

It was still strange to share a horse, even when you were little your parents insisted you learned to ride on your own as quickly as possible in case of trouble. The only other person you had shared a horse with was Squirrel.

By riding with the Ash Man, you could easily see the change that had occurred between you.

He was not as timid, one could even say he was comfortable near you.

For you it was something that did not come as natural yet, being close to others was difficult for Dawn Folk.

But for him you had made an exception.

It was safe.

~~~♡~~~♡~~~♧~~~♡~~~♡~~~

After riding for a few hours and walking for another few, it was the Ash Man’s yawn along with the setting sun that alerted you that it was time to find a place to set camp for the night.

“Should we make a fire over there?” You pointed to a spot next to the river you were walking by.

He seemed determined to reach your home early. “There is still time to walk further.”

You knew he was pushing himself too hard. “Lancelot, you need rest. You’ve been yawning my ears off for the past hour.”

What reached your ears now, was a scoff.

Before he could protest again, you made the decision alone. “We are stopping there for the night.”

His stubbornness surrendered. “Very well. But no fire, we should remain discreet if we do not wish to be found.”

You agreed and stole the reins of the horse from his hand. “Alright.”

He glanced at you, aware that you had taken away the reins just to make sure he’d really stop at the place you had chosen.

Setting up camp wasn’t difficult, all you did was tie the reins to a tree near the river and plop your rear down on the grass.

Lancelot took an apple out of the sack and offered one to you as well, you declined it.

You sat and watched how he kept finding things to distract himself from resting.

“Gods! Just sit down already, will you?” You blurted out.

His eyes snapped away from the river and to you. Almost timidly he did as you asked, and sat down against the tree in front of you.

You let out a peaceful breath, “Much better. It’s not a crime to rest, you know?”

“I know.” He sighed a bit. “I can still feel your magic running through me.”

The results of your magic were often enough for someone to think they could climb a mountain. “I believe you, but if you don’t rest and the energy wears off…”

Chances were high he would fall asleep at the worst time.

“You weren’t allowed to rest much, were you?” It was a guess based on how he struggled to do so.

“You will consider me mad.” He warned.

You couldn’t hold in the jest. “I already do. So tell me.”

His brow arched at you, but he choose to let it slide. “Since leaving the Church, even while being hunted, resting is easier for me.”

That was nice to hear, you pried a little, “Your conscience is no longer keeping you awake?”

He leaned his head back against the bark and watched the darkening sky. “Not as much as it once did. It helps to be around someone who forgave me.” His eyes dropped down from the heavens and landed on yours. “You forgave me.”

It was like he still couldn’t fully believe it, he swallowed thickly and lifted his eyes to the sky again.

The whispers of the Hidden sounded in your ears. Just when you looked at him to see if he’d notice their presence too, his eyes fell down to yours with the answer.

Not a word was said, your eyes did not leave each other as you listened to the whispers.

The voices he was taught to forsake, to ignore, he tried to understand them now. Because deep down, he knew they were speaking off you to him. And it made him more than a little curious as to what they wished to tell you about him too.

“It sounds like the Hidden doesn’t want us to get some sleep.” You broke the strange silence that was growing.

His head tilted to the side a little. “I am curious.”

“About what?” You asked.

The Ash Man was open about how he experienced them, “I cannot understand what they say, but I feel what their intention is. Do you feel it?”

You had your suspicion. “I think…”

It felt a bit embarrassing to voice it, what if you were wrong?

“Yes?” He urged you to share your thoughts.

Blurting it out was easier. “They are binding us together.”

To your relief, Lancelot gave a nod. “Do you think it is because we are summoners?”

Why did it feel like he thought there was another reason for it?

You cleared your dry throat, “Probably. What other reason would there be?”

He broke eye-contact by looking at the river and swallowed the answer to the question.

An answer never came…

You saw him try to hide another yawn. “You can sleep. My turn to keep watch.”

With a shallow nod, he let his eyes fall shut and sank back against the tree. That surging energy that had run through him came to a halt. It was common knowledge to the Dawn Folk that so much given energy always came to a sudden stop, not to the Ash Man who fell into a deep sleep seconds after he closed his eyes.

The moon had taken it’s place in the night sky when you decided to stretch your legs by the river a bit. You were tossing some small pebbles and saw them hop on the water, it became a way to entertain yourself and see how far you could get them to hop. It helped to stay focused and awake. While watching one of these rocks travel across the river, you heard Lancelot speak your name.

You looked over at him and saw that he was still vast asleep. Just to be sure, you quietly spoke his name as well and waited to see if he would reply to it.

No, he was definitely asleep.

Your curiosity was growing as you tiptoed closer to him and sat down against the tree next to the one he had chosen as a pillow. Why were you suddenly interested to know what he was dreaming off? It felt irresistible not to listen in to his sleep mumbling, and it was a nice way to keep yourself focused on the task of keeping watch as he slept. A few minutes past before he mumbled your name again.

The smile on your lips grew from the slight pleasant tremble that went through your chest.

Oh, how you wished to wake him and ask what it was he was dreaming about. You’d imagine he would be a bit embarrassed about it. Maybe you were tormenting him in his dream, as you once had done in reality. Or maybe it was a pleasant dream.

You hoped it was the later, he deserved something good.

After listening for a bit longer, you stood up again and returned to the river to watch the moonlight reflect in it. The sound of horses nearing pulled your attention away. Seconds later you were kneeling next to Lancelot and waking him up.

“Lancelot! Someone’s coming!” You shook him carefully.

The interrupted deep sleep made him jolt awake and grab hold of your arm.

“Someone is coming.” You said again.

He got to his feet clumsily and pulled you up with him. “The horse-”

Just as he had said it, a group of Uther’s soldiers emerged from the trees on horseback.

They must have been traveling back to the castle, and they were as surprised to see you there as you were to see them. The group of four came to a halt close to the horse you needed to flee.

One of them assessed the situation they had run into. “By order of the King, state your business in his woods!”

If they saw who Lancelot was… you’d be in far greater trouble than if they knew you were Fey.

The Church hunted your kind, Uther did not care for what happened and elected to ignore the existence of the Fey most of the time. To these soldiers, a Fey wasn’t worth the time, but the former Weeping Monk was.

Lancelot flexed his hand as it moved to the swords at his hip.

You stepped in front of him, whispering, “Stay here. Keep your hood on and your cloak closed.”

They couldn’t get closer to him, or the Ash Man risked his markings to be seen. The shadows offered him some protection from their view. Hopefully they could not see what the vague dark stains on his clothes or yours were.

You removed Lancelot’s hand from your wrist when he tried to keep you at his side, and walked up to the soldiers.

Telling the truth would spare you the time to think of a lie. “We are traveling North to see family, and we are taking some time to rest before continuing our journey.”

The one who had asked dismounted, and walked up to you while gesturing to Lancelot, “Your husband?”

It almost took you too long to answer. “Yes.”

The soldier stopped in front of you while the others kept a watchful eye.

“Newly wed?” He made a guess.

You nodded.

He turned to his comrades with a knowing look. “Just a couple of newly weds ‘resting’ in the forest.”

They chuckled at the allusion.

Your face began to burn at the implication the soldier had made, you could only imagine Lancelot’s response.

“Where did the blood on your trousers come from?” The soldier gestured to it.

Dammit… you hadn’t had the chance to wash them.

“I did not expect to bleed so early this month, and took no precautions.” You said with confidence, hoping it made him believe it was true and he was being rude to even ask about it.

The blood was on your knees mostly, but making this situation uncomfortable would make it harder for the soldier to ask further.

“Oh.” The soldier was visibly regretting it.

The soldier’s expression changed and you felt a hand touch your back.

You were under such stress that you’d almost turned and struck the poor Ash Man who came to play the part. Lancelot’s hood was far over his face when he brought his arm around your waist, his cloak hid the remainder of the large stain across his chest.

He did not look at them, it wasn’t necessary, they understood the message he was silently transmitting. They were not wanted or welcome.

The soldier cleared his throat, feeling the atmosphere grow more uncomfortable, and took a step back because of it. “I wish you safe travels.”

You watched him return to his horse and leave with the group who laughed at the situation. The Ash Man must have played his part quite convincing for them to leave without further questioning.

He withdrew his arm from you. “I-”

Words flew rapidly out of your mouth whilst you walked back to the river. “Go back to sleep. I’ll wake you at dawn.”

Lancelot was a bit stunned by the response, it took him a moment to follow your advice. He sat down by the tree again and watched as you tried to keep your attention on the river. You could feel his eyes burn in your back. You weren’t the kind of person to get flustered easily, but what the soldiers had laughed about and then Lancelot’s response had caused just that. He used to be a monk, for goodness sake…

You pushed the possibility away that there was something changing between you, it was simple ridiculous. Gods, it might even send him running for the hills if he knew that you sometimes thought he saw you as anything other than a friend.

Turning on your heels, you went over to him and sat down against the other side of the tree, your shoulder touching his. “That was uncomfortable.”

He didn’t have to guess what you were speaking off, “What the soldiers assumed?”

You nodded and sank back against the tree.

There was a positive thing for him, “I was impressed with how calm you were. I thought you would strike him.”

“I wanted to.” You admitted.

His mouth curved at the corner. “So did I.”

Lancelot leaned his head against the tree, his nose in your direction.

“Don’t sniff me.” You tried not to grin.

He did not turn his head away, “Concerned that you reek?”

It was too tempting not to use it against him. “Not as concerned as you should be.”

With the back of his hand covering his mouth, he tried to hide how close to laughing it had gotten him. It took a few seconds for him to recover from the false insult.

He defended himself, “My smell must not bother you if you choose to sit with me.”

You turned your head to say something and realized he was close, you turned away quickly again at the close proximity. “I’m just pulling your leg, you don’t reek.”

“Neither do you.” He exclaimed fast, then scratched his neck, realizing that it betrayed that he had been ‘sniffing’ you after all.

You saw him ignore the look you send him for it. “Sleep, Ash Man. Dawn is nearing and I need you-”

The cheeky bastard interrupted, “You need me?”

A half-nervous laugh escaped you. “I… Gods! I will toss you in the river! I wanted to say that I need you to rest!”

The joy he had in hearing you trip over your words was worth the playful slap to his arm. His ears welcomed your soft laughter, and his heart swelled at the sound.

He leaned his head back against the bark, closing his eyes, unable to hide the amusement in his voice, “Then rest I will, if you so insist.”

You resisted the urge to threaten to drag him home by tying him to the horse with rope if he fell asleep whilst riding. “Good.”

A comfortable silence fell between you, and you looked at the river again, doing your best to be quiet so he could fall asleep. You could hear his breathing slowly change, then felt his shoulder lean against yours more.

After a few minutes you knew he had fallen asleep, and by having his shoulder against yours, there was no way for you to leave his side without waking him.

Smart.

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