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everlastingdreams · 11 months 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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#the weeping monk #weeping monk #cursed netflix #cursed #weeping monk x reader #lancelot x reader #weeping monk x you #cursed lancelot #lancelot #the weeping monk x reader #daniel sharman character #daniel sharman #netflix cursed

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everlastingdreams · 2 years ago

Text

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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