#the weeping monk x you

[everlastingdreams]

The Weeping Monk x Fem!Reader : Forged Of Fire Chapter 5

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

Chapter Title: The Fall Of Embers

Notes: !!!!!!PLEASE NOTE, THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS A SUICIDE ATTEMPT!!!!!

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:  5/47

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!!!!!!PLEASE NOTE, THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS A SUICIDE ATTEMPT!!!!!

You were in that tent alone for hours, dozing off into sleep when the sun no longer sneaked into the tent. Even when the Monk finally entered his tent late at night, your eyes felt too heavy to look. By the time you opened them, time had clearly past. He was sleeping on his cot. You were glad to have avoided conversation after that encounter earlier. This was no place for you, one hell had traded itself for another. The paladins who had brought you back there had used a rope of poor quality to bind you to the pole, it even smelled rotten. You continued to move the rope against the wood, just as you had done during those hours alone. Finally the last strand of the rope broke and set you free, you sat still for a while, debating on where to go from here. Carefully you got up from the ground and moved towards the sleeping Monk, his hand was resting on the swords he had put down beside him, taking those would surely wake him. So you decided to steal one of the small daggers still resting at his waist. A cold sweat formed on your back during the moment it took to steal the dagger, but you had a lethal weapon in your hand as a reward. Then his hand shot out and grabbed your sleeve, you stumbled back and his hold faltered, he was on his feet fast. You cowered away, he stood between you and the exit. He didn’t even reach for his swords yet, like he was certain he could overpower you without them, it filled you with dread.

“Don’t come any closer!” you warned, pointing at him with the dagger.

His brow arched arrogantly, that dagger was no match for him and you both knew it.

You turned the blade and pointed it at your own heart. “Let me leave.”

His eyes dropped to the dagger, then snapped back up to your face. “I cannot let you leave. Hand over the dagger.”

Despair crashed into you, consuming what little hope that had kept you going. The Monk had gotten closer. The dagger felt like the only thing keeping your thoughts together. You had moved the blade before doubt could set in again.

He had never moved so fast before. His hand was partly on yours, stopping the dagger from going into your chest, when he felt resistance his other came to wrap around the blade. It cut into his palm slightly.

“Stop!” he ordered, standing behind you, arms around to be able to push the dagger forward and away with his strength.

His order gave no resolution, you only grew angrier, desperate…

His breath touched the side of your head, his voice much gentler than it had been. “Stop.”

The tears you had kept contained broke free, your struggle lessened, your voice cracked, “I don’t want to fight anymore.”

He plucked the dagger from your hands and tossed it far out of reach, still his hold on you remained as he could feel you crumble apart.

“Why?” he quietly asked.

“There is no point to it.” You heaved through the sobs.

The Monk was quiet for a while, he held on, refusing to let you flee from his hold. You had grabbed hold on his sleeve, hating how deep down your soul welcomed the touch even from someone like him.

“Is that what the sellsword wants you to believe?” he asked.

You didn’t answer.

His breath went passed your cheek. “I have seen the fight in you, I saw it again just now. You are not surrendering to the fight, you are searching for a reason to keep fighting.”

“I don’t have a reason.” You tried to control your breathing.

“Then have this as one,” He took a breath, “You and I may be the only ones left alive of the Ash Folk. I believe your survival means that you are meant for a greater purpose.”

“To serve the Church?” It came out colder.

“Perhaps.” He made you turn to face him. “I know you desire to belong. Manblood, Feyblood, not belonging to either kind but dangling right in the middle. I believe your place could be here.”

You were still calming down and oddly enough the Monk’s presence now helped, those eerie voices in your ears were noticeably softer. Was it because the blood of the Ash Folk ran through him too that you felt a strange connection to him?

“My place isn’t here.” It was a whisper as you shook your head a little.

He breathed out a sigh and finally let go off you, he looked towards the dagger on the ground then at the small cut on his palm. “You could have killed me as I slept…”

It slipped out of your mouth, “I was trying to escape, not slaughter a monk.”

He pointed out the flaw in that, “I would not have been able to stop you if you had.”

“I regret it.” The bold statement fell out of you.

The Monk appeared surprised to hear you say it, a slight smirk formed on his face. “You are not done fighting.”

It was said with a pinch of admiration and it was enough to help find a little hope within yourself.

“How did you free yourself from those ropes?” he asked.

You pointed at them. “Can’t you smell it? They’re rotten.”

Was the arrogance intentional? He did not know. But he did enjoy how innocent you had looked whilst saying it. Perhaps he could toss some wood onto that fire…

“Those ropes were very close to you.” he said, unblinking.

It took only two counts for you to understand the insult in his excuse. And then you did something you never thought you were brave enough for. You gave him a shove, he hadn’t seen it coming and was almost imbalanced for a second. “If I smell, it is because I’ve been bound and unable to bathe!”

He actually chuckled. The Weeping Monk chuckled. With wide eyes you stared at the one who might have purposely riled you up.

Realization hit. “You said that just to anger me…”

“There is still fire in you.” he stated, not even slightly angry for the shove.

You took a step away from him.

“You do not smell, but perhaps bathing will offer you some comfort?” He saw no threat in it.

Was he really asking? By the way he was waiting for an answer, he must have been.

“How?” you asked.

“There is a river near here.” he suggested.

“But…” You stopped.

He tilted his head, “But what?”

You explained the problem. “You want me to bathe in a river, with my hands bound and without dry clothes to change into afterwards.”

The Monk blinked, then cleared his throat. “I believe I can arrange some clothes. As for your hands, I could make an exception.”

You were wary of it, “What sort of exception?”

He set the terms. “The rope stays on as we travel there, once at the river I will remove them long enough for you to bathe.”

“You trust me not to swim off?” you blurted it out.

His eyes narrowed slightly. “I know your scent now. Wherever you would go, it would only be a matter of time before I find you again. And when I do, I would remember the time you broke the trust I gave you tonight.”

It was a warning. This speck of trust must have been hard for him to give. “I agree with your terms.”

He gave a sharp nod. “Go to the pole.”

With some reluctance, you did as asked. And he tied your hands to the pole, not with a rotten rope this time, while you stood.

“Wait here.” He turned to walk out of the tent, then stopped after two steps when realizing what he had said. When he looked over his shoulder he saw the glare send his way.

Your tone was prickly. “Don’t mind me, I’m not going anywhere.”

There was just the faintest hint of a smile on his mouth, but he turned away before you could be sure.

Not much later he returned with clothes, a spare set, trousers and a shirt… they must have anticipated you needing it.

He held them up for you to see. “Change into these fresh clothes after the river.”

You nodded in agreement.

“We go now.” he said.

Bathing in the dark of night with a stranger nearby was a little unnerving to think of. Still, you let him guide you out of that tent and to his horse. Until then it hadn’t crossed your mind that he would be riding there, probably to make sure to be back soon.

“Mount.” He moved you to the saddle.

It was easier said than done with your wrists bound together and while wearing a dress, thankfully the skirt of it was wide and long enough. You clumsily climbed into the saddle then to the spot a little in front of it. The Monk on the other hand hoisted himself up into the saddle effortlessly and took place behind you. You tensed up completely when his arms came around your form to take the reins. For a Monk, he was not so reserved to be close. And as you rode towards the river, you wondered why he would even allow you to bathe at all, it was known that the paladins would rather see Fey-kind burn than help them.

“Are you hoping the sin will wash off of me?” You kept your eyes on the path ahead.

The Monk’s response took a moment to come, “Are you?”

You were a bit defensive. “No. Because I have none.”

There was a huff of air, “You stole from a priest.”

Alright… he may have had a point there…

“You let me keep the ring…” you mumbled through your teeth.

“Because I believed you to be an innocent person who was forced to steal. Not a thief.” he said.

Was he truly so scorned about that? Anger boiled inside of you. “I wasn’t lying when I said that Cassian forced me to steal!”

The Monk kept quiet, it somehow only made you angrier. That silent judgment…

You spat out the words in fury, “You think I’m just some thief, that I chose to live like this! I never had a chance to choose, I was taught to be quiet and obey!”

“Do you fear the sellsword so much?” He didn’t sound condescending.

You were done with this conversation.

“And your father? You spoke of him. He must disapprove of how his son behaves.” he asked.

Your voice was very quiet, “Where do you think Cassian learned it…”

He had to strain his ears to hear it, but he had heard it.

After a brief silence, he asked, “Who is your father?”

“Lord Aldith of Ravenwick.” you answered.

The small rise in his tone was audible, “Lord?”

With a nod you confirmed it. “He rules over the village.”

He was piecing the puzzle of your life together, piece by piece. “When we met, you said that stealing was necessary to ‘earn your meal’, am I correct to assume that your father expects you to steal even though he is wealthy?”

You nodded.

The Monk was prying the truth out of you. “Is your brother given the same treatment?”

“No. He is his son.”

To him it didn’t seem to make sense. “And you are his daughter.”

You sighed a bit. “My father only wanted sons, so he wishes a daughter was never born.”

What the Monk said next was unexpected. “If he did not want to risk having a daughter, he should have abstained.”

Your eyes widened slightly, then you heard the river’s stream nearby.

He halted his horse. “We walk the rest of the way.”

He dismounted first, then gave some aid to get you to the ground as well. You knew the risk that dress posed and refused the help, seeing him from up at you.

“Dismount.” He grew wary, perhaps he thought you were going to ride off.

You hated having to ask. “I will, but you should step back a bit.”

“Why?”

Hated. Really hated. “Because when I dismount, the odds are high this dress will reveal more than I wish to share. I barely prevented it when I mounted.”

It clicked in his mind right away, he cleared his throat and took a step back, looking off to the side until your feet were on the ground.

“I spared you from the sin.” you said dryly. “You’re welcome.”

He ignored it. With one hand he held the reins, with the other the rope that was attached to the one on your wrists. He retrieved the clothes from the saddle bag, handing them to you to carry, then he began to head towards the river.

The moonlight reflected in the river’s stream, the Monk took the clothes from you again and removed the rope from your wrists.

“Do not flee.” He turned you to the river with your elbow.

You didn’t wait for him to tell you to get into the water, you took the opportunity with open arms and were in the river seconds later. The water was just a bit too cold, but it had been a while since you had the chance to bathe like this. For just a little while your mind was distracted from all the bad things around you, even the Monk. You splashed the water up to your face, pouring it over your head to wash your hair. The dress was completely soaked. The Monk made a small bonfire to keep his hands warm. You looked over at him, quietly wondering why he wasn’t getting irritated that you were taking so long. But he kept his attention on the small fire mostly, only looking your way once or twice to see if you hadn’t swam off yet. The fresh clothes laid close to the fire, warming up for you to wear. A shiver had settled into your bones, the temperature of the water was getting the better of you.

The Monk had probably noticed it, because he beckoned for you to get out of the water. “It is time to head back.”

You walked out of the river, letting the water pass through your fingers as long as they could touch it. It wasn’t until you were close to the fire that you noticed how hard he was trying to keep his attention on the grass. The wet fabric of the dress was stuck to your skin, and your face heated up at the realization. The Monk gestured to the clothes just next to the fire, you moved to take them.

Wind went through the fire, pushed the flames in your direction and caused them to lick the skin of your hand. You don’t know what frightened you more, being burned or seeing the flame turn green upon contact. A loud gasp of fright forced it’s way out of you, then everything happened so fast.

The Monk responded immediately, he grabbed you by the arm and brought you to the river, he forced your hand into the water and held it there.“Does it hurt?”

A frown formed on your forehead, it wasn’t hurting… why wasn’t it hurting?… “I don’t… no.”

Maybe he thought it was the shock that dulled the pain, because he didn’t let you pull your hand from the water to inspect it, “How did you do that?”

Had he not seen the same thing you had? “I just wanted to grab the clothes, but then the wind blew the flames to me.”

“That is not what I meant. You changed the flames, I saw it.”

“I didn’t.”

“Do not lie.” his voice got deeper, a warning.

“I’m not lying!” your voice wavered just a little, hating to be called a liar while speaking the truth.

His eyes scanned your face for a moment, then focused on your hand as he pulled it out of the water. He should have looked more surprised to find no burns on your skin, but he truly wasn’t.

The fire that lived in his dreams, causing comfort instead of fear… had come from your hands.

He turned your hand over, inspecting the unscathed skin of your palm.

“I don’t know what that was…” you whispered, fearing the response yet to come.

The Monk let go of your hand and rose to his feet. “Change your clothes. We return now.”

You looked up at him a little lost but did as he asked. He watched closely when you reached for the clothes on the ground again to change into them, expecting to see it happen again. But you were far more cautious now, the fact that you hadn’t burned your hand yet didn’t mean that it couldn’t happen. The Monk was still looking, as if he was trying to decipher you.

“Could you… uhm…” You lost the courage to ask him to turn around.

He seemed to snap out of his thoughts and gave a shallow nod when he understood what you were asking, he turned around and faced away. You changed rapidly into the dry warm clothes, the trousers fitted well but the shirt was a little too big, you took some of the excess fabric on the side and made a knot in it.

“I’m done.” you informed him.

He turned around and came closer to bind your wrists with the ropes again. He hadn’t asked any more questions about what had happened just moments ago, you didn’t know if you had to be relieved or worried. What would happen if they began to see you as a threat? What if he knew that you heard whispers in your ears almost daily?

The Monk made you mount his horse again and got into the saddle right after as well. The silence between you felt suffocating, you had so many questions running through your head. Why had those flames changed upon touching you? Why hadn’t they burned you? Why was he so quiet?… The answers would have to wait, because he was determined to get back to the paladin camp in as little time as possible and he spurred the horse on to canter.

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Back at the paladin camp he told you to be quiet and not say a word until back in the tent. And the moment you set foot in the tent with him, the questions he must have prepared were fired at you.

He was tying you back to that pole by the waist. “Have you ever seen that kind of fire before?”

You shook your head, sitting on the ground again. “No. And I’ve never put my hands into fire by accident before either.”

“Do you know what it is?” He stood in front of you now, hands folded behind his back and the same look of intrigue in his eyes still.

You shook your head again. “Do you?”

He was of the Ash Folk, there was a possibility he knew more of them than you did.

“I do.” he said. “It is called ‘Fey Fire’.”

“But… what does it mean?” You hoped to learn what it was that had happened.

The Monk was quiet for a moment. “Fey Fire has not been seen in centuries, it is thought to be extinct. It is fire born of magic.”

You knew exactly what happened to those with magic when the paladins found out, you didn’t want to be cleansed in some horrible way. “I have no magic.”

The fear in your voice was clear to hear.

“You must have.” He stepped closer and knelt down to your height, you flinched a little.

You shook your head, denying what he believed to be true. “Please… I never used any magic. I wouldn’t even know how.”

His voice was more gentle now, “I believe you. Do not fear. I believe Father will be pleased to learn of this.”

You frowned at him. “Pleased?”

He gave a small nod. “Yes. Your abilities are a valuable asset to us.”

“I am not your asset.” You didn’t want to hear it.

“Your conscience is stopping you from seeing what must be done.” The Monk said. “Those Fey you defended when we met, refused to do the same for you. They left you to die at my hands, and I spared you.”

Were you supposed to be grateful that he hadn’t murdered you that day? “At least I still have a conscience.”

He stood up from the ground, jaw tense. He went over to his cot and plucked a small book from it which he put right into your hands.

“What is this?” you asked.

“The scriptures.” he answered. “They may offer you the answers you seek.”

Another attempt to corrupt you, your brow arched high, “Do these help you?”

He didn’t answer and went to his cot again, taking seat after removing his cloak and putting his swords down on it.

You put the book down in your lap and looked over at him. “I wasn’t raised with any religion. My brother mocked whoever spoke of a divine power.”

And your father would never have allowed another to influence you instead of him…

“The sellsword…” he spoke under his breath, sighing. “I do have a personal dislike for your brother. He threatened my horse. No one has done so before and lived.”

“He traded me for his life, will you uphold that agreement?” You wondered, because the Monk sounded like he hated Cassian.

“Father will uphold the agreement.” he said, then added casually, “But I made no such trade with him.”

Your frowned at him. “But-”

The Monk explained himself. “He traded with Father. You, in exchange for clemency for his past sins. However, should he commit new ones, which I am certain he will, I will not be obligated to offer him clemency.”

“Cassian just bought himself time…”

“Yes.”

You looked down at the book in your lap.

He noticed. “You may keep it.”

“Don’t you need it?” You weren’t interested in the scriptures.

The Monk, laid down on the cot, swords neatly beside him. “They are in my head.”

“You memorized them?” you asked.

He shut his eyes. “If you read something enough, it tends to happen.”

The blatant attempt to convert you to a follower of the Church didn’t sit well with you at all. “Is that what Father Carden did all those years ago, give you this book and hope you would believe in what it said?”

He took in a deep breath, having heard the sneer to the faith. “You would do well to rest now. Dawn is not far off anymore.”

You rolled your eyes, he couldn’t see it anyway. But you followed his advice and tried to get some sleep before that chance would be taken from you again.

  ~~~♡~~~♡~~~♧~~~♡~~~♡~~~

At dawn, the Monk was summoned by Father Carden. He knew others would have noticed him leave the camp with you at night and reported this to Father.

“How is the Fey girl?” Father asked him.

He knew Father was not asking about your health.

“She is conflicted.” The Monk told him truthfully.

Father was glad to hear it, this opened up opportunities. “That means there is doubt in her. Use it to show her that our path is the only one to salvation, my son. Has she been given the scriptures?”

He gave a nod. “Yes, Father.”

Then the Monk gave him a brief explanation why he had taken you out of the camp last night. To earn your trust and convince you of the benefits to joining them.

“Fey Fire…” Father breathed in quiet shock. “Are you sure?”

He could see the interest in his mentor’s eyes. “Yes, Father.”

The priest placed a hand on his shoulder. “Do what is necessary to gain her trust, show her why her place is here. Become her redeemer.”

The Monk gave a nod.

Father was asking to let an attachment form that would benefit the mission. If this was what was necessary to make Father believe in him again, then this needed to be done.

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[lancedoncrimsonwings]

Oh no help he's hot

Why is this look so damn slutty though like fUCK

Sir I can see your entire boob

... We are all ok with this especially Lancelot

[ask-forbidden-peach]

Peach pit - Oc X Wukong fanfic

Warning: Brief mention of kidnapping. Brief mention of breeding. No nsfw

——-

Ài was in her garden, softly holding some baskets of peaches as she walked through the garden, she happily waved at the passing monkeys who bowed. She smiled only to feel a certain breeze.

“Ah. Ah. Peaches. Nothing heavy. Remember?”

A Cheeky voice came as Wukong jumped from his cloud, taking her basket from her hands.

“Dear. It's fine. It is not that heavy.” She said as she rubbed her round belly.

Ài was about 5 months pregnant, her belly was round and her feet were a bit swollen but she wouldn’t have it any other way.

Honestly the pregnancy was a surprise. Wukong was joking about being able to breed her but here they were. Honestly she remembered when she first found out. How she gotten nauseous and sweaty. She went to see a doctor from the monkey clan and well…we already know. Honestly the way everyone reacted when she told was priceless.

Her father? Overjoyed and weeped tears of pure joy and pride as he hugged his daughter

Xiù? Immediately started to cuddle her stomach and lay on her softly, holding her like an egg in a nest

Yìng? Weep and quickly have her sit down. She later learned he ‘accidentally’ hit Wukong in the head with a shovel

Wukong? Laugh at first until he realized she was serious. Then…he immediately grabbed her and cuddled her stomach

It was so nice to see that Wukong had a good reaction to the news. She worried if he didn’t want kids with her. They never really talked about it. They joked about it but still.

“Hey peaches. Here you go.” Wukong voice came, interrupting her thoughts as he held out some sliced peaches to her.

“Thank you Sun.” She was softly as she took the peach slices and ate them.

Well she will enjoy meeting this little peach pit in her.

Wukong smiled but seemed to saddened. “Ài…do you think I would be the best father to our cub?” He asked her softly, rubbing his neck a bit.

“Wukong? Of course you will. Why do you ask that?” Ài asked, looking surprised as she finished her slices, looking surprised and confused.

“It just…I ain’t really the best guy there is. The amount of trouble I caused, my selfish behavior, my well…tendencies.” Wukong chuckled nervously as he remembered some of his not so good moments.

“Wukong love.” Ài said as she softly leaned his head in her chest, holding his head softly. “You aren’t the best person that is for sure. You changed, you learned. You remember every single one of your monkeys names, their birthday. You are basically everyone father or grandfather. You cherish your monkeys so much that you actually planned to go to war on heaven for burning it and killing half of your subjects.” She said softly as she rubbed his ears, hearing him purr.

“You also cared for the monk and your brothers on the journey for the scriptures even when you got kicked out, angry or had that headache spell on you activated. You still saved them and made sure they were safe. You even rejected the title of the victorious fighting Buddha just to stay with your monkeys.” She said as she scratched his chin and felt him thump his tail softly on her leg.

She smiled as she kissed his head. “Remembered when you saved me from that demon when he kidnapped me? We weren’t even mates and you still came to save me, letting your hand burn from removing the talisman that bonded my powers and you…held me as I cried.” Ài voice seemed to waver a bit at the memory, the dread and terror coming back temporarily before she pushed it aside.

“You aren’t perfect but you are a gold heart monkey. You may be made of stone but under that is gold that shines through the cracks at time.” She said as gently made him look up at her. “You will be the best father for our cub. The best. You will cherish our cub. You will be the best father cause you will love, protect and guide this cub in life.” Ài said softly.

Wukong burnt ginger fur turned a bit red due to the blush as he nuzzled in her, purring a bit as he cradled her stomach. “Thank you Ài.” He said softly as he rubbed her stomach.

“Thank you Wukong.” She said softly as she kissed his head, holding him closer as the baby kicked, making Wukong nuzzle in her more.

The king and queen smiled, softly content in there growing family as the peach pits grew in the queen.

[window-view-orion]

Identifying the Legendary Spirits

From the Kayla X "Legendary Spirits" blind box figure collection:

This figure's name is "Blizzard".

She's the rare of the set, so I don't own her. But she's an obvious one! Clearly she's a Yuki onna, a Japanese yokai.

OR IS SHE

Unbeknownst to me, the idiot trying to figure out who all these figures are on my own, and naively believing the product description that claimed these spirits come from "all over the world" - there is actual documentation on who each and every one of them is, and surprise! they're all Chinese.

A few days ago while doing more research into this set, I found a 'Kikagoods Collections' youtube channel, and a video where a pair of hands and an AI voice open the full set of these Legendary Spirits, and there, in the pinned comment - a link to three blog posts on Kikagoods.com

Did you know Kikagoods has a blog section? Because I didn't! Do you know how many of these eight figures I identified correctly? Four! Well, three. Well, two and two halves.

First, the unambiguously correct.

'Forgotten', with her conspicuous bowl of soup, lantern walking stick, and spider lilies in her hair, is indeed the Chinese goddess Meng Po, who stands at Naihe bridge in the afterlife, giving her soup to the dead to drink so they forget their past life and can be reincarnated.

'Bleeding', with her red bridal gown and veil, dowry box, and rakshasa bird companions, is in fact the rakshasa who disguised herself as a bride and blinded a bride and groom on their wedding night, before escaping into the night.

Secondly, the half correct.

'Painted' is not the yokai ungaikyo, because yokai are in fact, not Chinese. But I did mention in that post the Chinese folktale of the Painted Skin, the demon who wore the painted skin suit of a beautiful woman in order to get close to a man and enter his home, ultimately being defeated by a Taoist priest. This is the true identity of Painted, who is using a bronze mirror to put the finishing touches on her lovely painted skin, and the wound on the back of her head is the seam of her suit. So I knew the inspiration, but didn't identify her correctly.

'Fatality' is indeed a nine-tailed fox spirit, but her inspiration was a little more specific. I did find the story that inspired her, but I didn't mention it in the post, so I'll only count myself as being half right about her. She is specifically the nine-tailed fox who possessed the concubine Su Daji of King Zhou of Shang, the last king of the Shang Dynasty. The fox spirit who possessed Daji was instrumental in the story of Zhou's tyrannical reign and eventual deposing, this story being notably adapted into the 16th century Ming Dynasty novel Fengshen Yanyi.

Thirdly, the incorrect.

'Mirage', the pearl-holding, weeping mermaid figure, is not a generic representation of mermaid's tears. She is in fact a Chinese mermaid, or jiaoren, who fell in love with a Buddhist monk, Bai Gongzi, though they ultimately could not be together because of the fundamental differences between them. The jiaoren's tears become pearls. This story is from a collection of folktales, Soushen Ji. Without the clue that all of these spirits are Chinese, there was no real chance for me to find this specifically, as I can't even find a full version of it online, just summaries.

'Withered' is playing a pipa like I thought, but she was the only one I fully gave up on finding. Turns out she is based on Yang Yuhuan, or Yang Guifei, or Consort Yang, the favorite concubine of Emperor Xuanzong of the Tang Dynasty, and one of the 'four beauties of ancient China'. Despite being loved by the Emperor, during an insurrection which forced him to flee from his palace, Yang was used as a scapegoat for the rebellion, and was forced to commit suicide at age 37. Her story was a partial inspiration for the Tale of Genji! I'm so glad to finally know who she is.

'Revenge' cannot be an onryo as I stated because, again, onryo are Japanese. She is in fact the White Bone Demon from Journey to the West! Like so many demons in that story she wants to make Tripitaka into a snack, so she disguises herself as a young girl, then an old woman, then an old man to try to get close, but gets killed by Sun Wukong each time, though this results in his temporary banishment from the group because the disguises were very good and it looked like the Monkey King kept killing random people just coming up for a chat. I've been meaning to get around to reading my copy of Journey to the West for ages, though I'm at least somewhat familiar with the highlights from some of Overly Sarcastic Productions videos on it, as well as some reading in college. I'm very pleased to know her identity, it makes me like her even more!

'Requite' is in fact a cat spirit, good job to me for figuring that out. She's not a thief of any kind, which I was hung up on, and she's not just a generic cat demon either. She is specifically a reference to one moment from the amazing history of the rise of Emperor Wu Zetian, the only female emperor of China. When Wu Zetian got the former Empress as well as the Emperor's previous favorite concubine demoted, then executed, the once-favored Consort Xiao Shufei cursed her before her death, declaring that she would be reborn as a cat, and Wu Zetian as a mouse, and Xiao would scratch her to death. If you're not familiar with her, Xiran Jay Zhao has two incredible videos on Wu Zetian's life and rise to the position of Emperor which I highly recommend.

And that's everyone...isn't it?

Lastly, the one they forgot.

'Blizzard' is not covered by those three blog posts. But with some new confidence from all this new information and some more googling, I believe I have her. Not a yuki onna, not Japanese, but instead I believe this figure to be the Chinese goddess of snow, Tengliu. She's a pretty obscure goddess, with some places calling her the wife of the wind god Fengbo, and that the snowflake is a symbol of hers. That would explain the jade snowflake on Blizzard's belt!

Aaaand that's it! All eight (nine) of the Legendary Spirits figures identified. I wanted to do all this for me, but if you're a fan of these figures and wanted to know who they are, I hope this was helpful for you too.

Sources below the cut:

[throped]

The Weeping Queen // Weeping Monk x OC // Chapter 3

This place isn’t so bad. I’ve made friends but also some twats who love to annoy different people. Nimue is going to wield the Sword of Power; I just know it. But other than that stuff, I know everything from how to shoot someone directly in the eye to all the knowledge one could possibly hold. Although I’m a human, every adult in the village accepted me, I was given to them by The Hidden. Apparently I was a gift. I’m a lot older now, 21. I still reminisce about my old world, Earth. I hope that all of this will pay off. The hours and hours I struggled to grasp the knowledge and the hours and hours I sat with the healer because I couldn’t mount a horse back then. Now that I mentioned it, Lenore gave me a horse, he was swift and not to mention a gorgeous grey with black hooves. He is wonderful. I still remember the first day I met him, I was 14, it was exactly a year after I had arrived. I had been walking near around my hut when Nimue arrived, pulling on the horse’s reins as she tried to pull the horse towards me.

“This is a horse mother asked me to give you. She said you deserved it after all the work you’ve been doing,” Nimue spoke as she heaved harder to try and pull him towards me. But to Nimue’s disdain, the horse just wouldn’t move. I just laughed at Nimue’s angered face as she kept on trying to pull on the reins. I carefully made my way to the horse as to not startle him. I told Nimue to give me the reins and to my surprise, the horse licked my left pocket of my long black coat. I got confused until I reached inside and found a little baby carrot in it. I chuckled and handed it to the horse who gobbled it up in mere seconds. Then I pulled on the reins once more and he moved to my desired place. He would listen to all of my commands. I ended up naming the him Raven. He was intelligent for sure, and I was stunned when he always found his way back to me after running around in the woods.        

***

Squirrel came running into the gate as I and Nimue stood talking about her wanting to escape this village. I knew that they didn’t treat her right. Everyone called her a witch when she was just like them but had her share of scars. “Look what I have!” Squirrel jumped. “Where’d you get that from Squirrel, you’re not meant to be stealing!” I scolded him. I shook my head and motioned him to try it if he wanted, I couldn’t care less, as long as he didn’t get hurt. He took a sip and made an awfully good acting face, “little too much,” Squirrel said. I laughed it off as some person came walking and called Nimue a witch. “Piss off you old hag!” Squirrel shouted back. He sure had the guts. I muttered a small, ‘I need to go find Raven,” and smiled.

“There you are, boy,” you called out to Raven, he neighed in response, or just naturally? I don’t know. Well, I sat there feeding him his favourite apples, green apples. He loved green apples and that caused me to like them too. They are sour but they taste amazing. Just as I was about to get another piece to eat myself, Nimue came out of no where with Pym following her behind. “I was chosen by the Hidden,” Nimue mumbled, “and I’m leaving for good, I’m going to board the ship that sails in Gramaire, I never wanted to be chosen anyway,” she added. I suddenly stood up, “Nimue wait-.”

“No Dae, you cannot stop me, I’m going either way,” she said. Pym and I looked at each other. “It’s not that you idiot, we’re coming with you,” I stated. Nimue smiled and quickly packed her things. She’s always wanted to leave this place. I knew that the boat in Gramaire had already left a week ago and wasn’t going to come back for another 6 months but I knew I couldn’t convince Nimue since she would say I’m lying to keep her here. The least I can do is be there when she’s disappointed that the boat has left already.

We set out on our horses. Well, Nimue didn’t have a horse, so she borrowed one from the stables and Pym sat along with her. I took Raven of course, couldn’t leave that horse behind even for a second. As we galloped through the path, Pym kept asking Nimue questions on how we’ll survive. “Do we even have money?” Pym asked. “I have 20 silver, Pym. That’ll be enough to last us a week if we’re lucky,” Nimue replied. I sat on Raven for hours and hours and I probably fell asleep at one point, but I knew Raven wouldn’t drop me. When we finally reached Gramaire, I tied Raven to a stand nearby as well as the other horse Pym and Nimue picked up and ran up to Pym and Nimue who were already at the dock. Nimue asked a guy near us, “Do you know when the ship is mean to arrive?”

“It already left. The next one is going to come six months later,” he said. I knew it. She was sad. “Well, guess I’ll get to keep you for six more months,” Pym tried to lighten the mood. Nimue sighed and motioned for us to follow her back to the horses. I felt bad for Nimue, everyone insulted her and called her a witch when she wasn’t. Just because she’s more connected to this world doesn’t mean you shame her! It’s unfair. I cant even imagine the pain Nimue has to go through.

As we were walking back, Nimue suddenly stopped for a second and looked towards this man preforming a song. He appeared to look towards Nimue too and I was certain Pym saw it too. I didn’t have time for distractions though. I had sword fighting with some of the locals in a day, so I had to go back to prepare. I thought Nimue would just come back after hearing about the boat, but I was wrong. Seems like she’s found someone she’s interested in, so I’ll let her be. She deserves this. While Nimue was staring at the performer, I took a step towards Pym as my cloak followed behind me. “Pym, I trust you to take care of Nimue, it turns out that since we’re not leaving, I have sword fighting in the span of 14 hours. And I need you to make sure she doesn’t do anything stupid,” I said, concerned whether I’d make it or not. “You’re leaving?” Pym asked. “Yes, I see that Nimue has found someone that she may like, I can see it in her eyes. But I have to attend, or the sword fight will be an automatic defeat if I don’t go. And you know that I’ve never lost a sword fight, Pym,” I said. “Okay, I’ll be here for Nimue. But Dae, seriously, travel safe, red paladins could be anywhere,” Pym said. “You think those dimwits can kill me? I’m here to kill them, Pym,” I stated with full confidence. “I know, I know, but just, be safe. Alright?” She said. “Yes, yes Pym, I’ll be fine,” I replied. I waved her a goodbye and wandered off to Raven.

“Hello Raven, Pym and Nimue aren’t coming so it’s just me and you back,” I smiled as if he knew what I was saying. I placed the saddle more securely on Raven’s back and mounted him. I then rode out of Gramaire’s gates and into the woods. It was cloudy and gloomy today, but I could see traces of the sun trying to shine through the clouds. “I hope Nimue and Pym are safe,” I spoke under my breath. I kept riding on the trail until I found myself at the entrance of the woods, I’ve been here for 8 years so I surely know my way around this place. It was part of my studying in the 8 years I’ve stayed here.

I then realised that Red Paladins were attacking other Fey villages and killing them. I hated the red Paladins, I promised myself that if I’d ever see one, they would be dead before they even knew what hit them. But of course, I feel bad for them too, they think we’re monsters. Wait no, they think the Fey are monsters. “You’re a human Dae, you can and never will be Fey,” I said to myself, sighing. I just need to find a way out of this fantasy world, but I fear it will be too late if I stay here too long. I fear that I will make attachments to others just like I’ve done with Nimue and Pym. I kept on riding into the woods until I saw a little clearing where Raven and I rested for the night. I set up a small fire, as to not catch much attention from Paladins because I know that they may be somewhere near here. My fight with locals is going to be fine and honestly, I didn’t need to practise but I was exhausted today. I really didn’t have a proper reason to leave Nimue and Pym in Gramaire, but I couldn’t help feeling like I needed to sleep. Just as my thoughts dimed down a little, my back resting on Raven gave up and I finally fell asleep.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I post everyday now! I'm not sure if people are gonna read this but who cares, I'm still gonna post.

[thrillofhope]

First Lines

Rules: share the first lines of ten of your most recent fanfics and tag ten people. If you have written less than ten, don’t be shy and share anyway ❤️

I was tagged by @iamstartraveller776 and @myrsinemezzo

Galadriel rushes into the restaurant, cheeks pink from the cold and the lingering rage of finding out her boyfriend—ex-boyfriend—is married. [On the Twelfth Night, or, Epiphany: How Galadriel Seduced a Priest and Discovered the True Meaning of Christmas; Galadriel x Halbrand; Rings of Power]

Halbrand steps away from the grill, the heat of the kitchen causing sweat to form at his hairline. [Half of My Heart; Galadriel x Halbrand; Rings of Power]

He creeps from the void, drawn to the land made in his likeness. [The Lesser of Two Evils; Galadriel x Sauron; Rings of Power]

“There is no such future,” she denies vehemently. [The Music of the Night; Galadriel x Sauron; Rings of Power]

She had come to convince him. [To Follow the Light; Galadriel x Sauron; Rings of Power]

The door opens. [No Light, No Light; Galadriel x Halbrand; Rings of Power]

“Let me find her, Father,” the Weeping Monk volunteers, thrilled at the challenge, at the opportunity it would present. [In Pursuit; Nimue x the Weeping Monk/Lancelot; Cursed]

They had been traveling for what felt like days. [Accursed Salvation; Nimue x the Weeping Monk/Lancelot; Cursed]

“Perhaps here you can find some peace, Galadriel.” [No One's Here to Sleep {coming soon}; Galadriel x Sauron; Rings of Power]

Finrod Felagund was two thousand three hundred and eighty one years old on the day his body was found split open and strewn before the apothecary’s doorstep. [When the Day Met the Night {coming soon-ish}; Galadriel x Halbrand; Rings of Power]

If you see this and you write fic, drop your first lines!

[aceofwhump]

Finally a trailer for Outlander! I'm so excited to get my babies Roger and Bree back, yassss! I missed them. Can't believe there's only one more season after this one :(. P.S unrelated but did Cursed ever get renewed? X

Yes!!!!! And oh my god the trailer gave me chills! It looks so good!! I'm very excited for this new season. Even more so since I haven't read Echo in the Bone all the way through yet so I'm not 100% sure what's gonna happen. I'm excited!

And yay Roger and Bree!!!! I've missed them too!!! And the glimpses of them in the trailer were great!! Roger looks so good with the short hair and beard. Look at them!!!

I am sad there was nothing for Fergus and Marsali in the trailer so I worry we won't see much of them at all this season.

Sadly Cursed did get cancelled and I'm still mourning it. I'm so pissed it got cancelled. I miss it so much. I am posting my Weeping Monk & Gawain fic that starts at the end of the season if you're interested. You can find it here

[beginning-writer]

Cursed X Epic musical

Something that makes sense in my head, but it's also too sad and accurate so i want to share with other people.

I was scrolling through my For You on Tik Tok and a video of a song from the Ithaca saga that wasn't released yet appeared. The song was Penelope's reunion with Odysseus, the last song of the whole musical. And then my Lancewain ass beats me with a: "This is totally Lancelot in every way."

Just listen. (Vídeo belongs to @_kodybread on tik tok)

This is clearly a Weeping Monk having a crisis and questioning his worth, and Gawain is there trying to assure him that despite everything he has value and is worthy of being loved, while hugging him with the greatest amount of force he can without hurting him because Lancelot does not have good mental health and despite the problems, physical contact is important to him when he is in crisis.

Lancelot is clearly crying in Gawain's lap, curled up in a shaking ball in his arms and lap, and questioning every little act of affection he and Squirrel show him cause he is an 'bloody and empty monster'. And then he releases the damned excerpt (obviously adapted from the song's lyrics):

"How could you fall in love whit me, again? If you know all i've done. The things i can not change... How could you love all the same? I know that you've been waiting... Waiting for love..."

And Gawain just hugs him tighter and lists all the reasons he loves him, and every reason he fell in love with Lancelot, the infamous Weeping Monk.

My heart is bleeding so it is my duty to make anyone who reads this post bleed too.

@lancedoncrimsonwings

[everlastingdreams]

Weeping Monk x Reader : The Patience Of A Heart    Chapter 6

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

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

Chapter Title: The Many Faces Of Evil

Notes: Nearly done proofreading the other chapters. Pfew.

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

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

Word count of this fic: +110K

Chapter:  6 / lol Gonna keep the chapter count a secret until the end.

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

The next time you saw the Monk was in the dinning hall that evening.

The soup in front of your nose was slowly getting colder, uncle Carden’s violent response was far from forgotten.

And the fluttering sensation in your stomach had chased away all hunger.

Intense blue orbs were stealing glances at you from across the room, you could feel it…

Taken a sip of water did nothing to calm the nerves that had taken hold, it had never felt like this after a kiss before… not this strong.

Could it even be called such?

Perhaps it was best not to speak of it, what if all it brought was more heartache and the end of a friendship?

Brother Albert, who sat beside you, had no problem drinking his soup, the slurping mixed with those of the other paladins.

You twirled the spoon in your bowl of soup, making it at least look like you were busy with it.

Father Carden took notice and loudly questioned “Dear y/n, I see you have not tasted the soup. Are you ill?”

You barely made eye-contact, feeling stares aimed at you “No, uncle.”

The priest waited for an explanation and saw you stubbornly ignore him “Wh-”

You were quicker “I think I’ll just retreat to my chamber for the night.”

He must have sensed that you were still just as bitter and angry as he was about what happened earlier “Very well.”

It was perhaps petty, but when you moved your chair back, you let the feet of the chair drag sharply over the tile floor.

If they could stand the sound of slurping, they could stand the sharp pitch of the chair too.

The Monk’s hand hid the smirk that was present on his face.

Father would not appreciate the response to your attitude.

Someone was behaving feisty today…

There was a very quick moment of eye-contact between you and the Monk when you loudly put the chair back under the table.

You looked so smug…

He looked quite entertained.

With your head held high, you walked to the door “Goodnight, Brothers?”

It set off a choir of their responses to it, some of the paladins earned a glare from your uncle when they sounded a bit too eager to wish you a good night.

The Monk bit his tongue until you walked past him to the door, he did not lift his eyes from the table and tried to sound almost bored “Rest well, Lady y/n.”

You gave a shallow nod in response and left the room without saying a word to your uncle.

But you did not retreat to your room right away as you had claimed, instead you went outside.

Even though any trips outside the monastery were currently forbidden, a small walk around the building was permitted. With the slap the Monk had received in your stead in mind, you did your best to not agitate uncle Carden further.

With your fingertips dragging along the wall, you continued the walk and enjoyed the seeing the sun going down.

You’d reached the back of the monastery, it didn’t take long to reach another corner but footsteps behind you alerted you to another person’s presence.

A smile grew “Did my uncle order you to keep an eye on me here too?”

It was when the answer did not come that you realized something wasn’t right…

A look over your shoulder confirmed your fear…this was not the Monk but a stranger armed with a sword.

His hand was quick to muffle the scream for help you emitted.

With your nails, you clawed at your assailant’s face. The Fey markings of the Sky Folk rose to the surface of his skin in return.

Fey?

His grasp on you wasn’t strong enough and you broke free.

“HELP!” You screamed and tried to flee, but he grabbed your wrist painfully hard.

“Avo, come help!” The man called for the reinforcement and when he pulled at your wrist, the bangle slipped from it. The silver cut into your skin before it dropped to the grass.

The bastard was trying his best to keep your mouth covered.

You struggled and fought until something struck the side of your head.

After that, all went dark.

“Dammit, Avo! Where were you? That almost went wrong!” Finch quietly snapped at his accomplice.

“I’m sorry, I was getting the wagon closer.” He gave the poor explanation.

Finch ordered the younger one to help drag you off to the wagon “We did it. We’ve got that red priest’s niece. He’ll pay fine coin for her.”

The younger one simple followed the agreed upon plan “And when he does, we’ll let her go?”

Finch brushed it off “We’ll see.”

 ━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━

 The absence of Father’s niece came to light when a paladin had went to bring a message and found your room abandoned.

The news reached the Monk first, who had believed you must have been somewhere else in the monastery.

But when he caught the Fey scent nearby, he suspected foul play.

Father was alerted and so were his red brothers.

The search began outside the monastery.

Tracks… three sets of them…

And minutes later, he found the bangle he had gifted you.

Fresh dried blood stained the inside of it, it must have been yours.

He brought it up to his nose when no one saw, detecting the faint scent of the Sky Folk.

The Monk hid the bangle in his pocket and was still kneeling on the grass when Father stopped next to him.

“Found anything?” Father demanded to know.

He pointed at the flattened grass “Tracks. And the scent of Fey kind.”

The priest was not happy to hear it “You believe Fey have taken her?”

The Monk feared it was indeed so “Yes.”

The command came “Find her! And slaughter anyone who has partaken in this!”

It was not necessary to ask, he was already thinking of it “Yes. Father.”

All of a sudden a child approached the monastery, the young boy was stopped by a paladin. A letter was given to the paladin by the boy.

Father Carden had seen it happen and called out to the paladin “What is it?”

The paladin took a quick look at the parchment “A letter Father! It is about Lady y/n!”

He had risen to his feet quickly, but he was still forced to wait until Father had read the letter before the parchment was angrily tossed into his hands.

After reading the vile letter, he swore to find and kill whoever was responsible for this.

 ━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━

 You had regained consciousness when they had dragged you into a cave and feared the worst.

With bound hands, the one who had attacked you first had purposely made you trip and fall to the ground.

Torches in the stone lighted the place, it looked like they had been living here for a while.

There was another man, young looking with hair so light it was more white than golden, who looked at you almost apologetically.

The other was far from remorseful, he brushed a hand through his raven hair which betrayed his vanity “Now we wait for an answer.”

Avo thought back to the moment they’d first spoken to the child “You think that boy will come back to us, Finch?”

Finch had forced a Manblood child to deliver the letter with his demands to the priest, he had threatened the child until the boy had bursted into tears.

The situation had seemingly no impact on him, his calm demeanor was unsettling to behold “He’d better. I know where his home is.”

A coldblooded criminal if you’d ever seen one… the other merely an accomplice.

Their attention fell on you again and you demanded answers “Why have you done this? Why am I here?”

Finch’s slender fingers touched your cheek and he found enjoyment in how you recoiled from it “Be still, girl.”

The other chimed in “Your dear old uncle is going to give us what we want if he wants to get you back.”

Finch gave a shallow nod while continuously trying to touch your shoulder or face “You must be worth something to that old bastard. Even if it is just to save his honor, he’ll do what we ask or lose his niece at the hands of the enemy.”

If his demands included stopping the mission, this man would be very disappointed soon “My uncle will not stop what he is doing.”

He cared little for your information “Oh, I know. But we will certainly get the coin we asked.”

Avo tried to keep you calm “It isn’t personal, Miss.”

Finch disagreed on that “It isn’t personal?” he pointed at you rudely “It is personal, Avo! This bitch is Father Carden’s kin! The blood of the Fey is on her hands too!”

You defended yourself against the accusation “I’ve never hurt a Fey!”

The defiance was met by the back of Finch’s hand striking you across the face.

The shock of it was fast to silence you.

Finch lowered himself in front of you “Listen, Manblood. Your uncle has burned our homes and murdered our people. If you weren’t worth something alive, I’d set you aflame right now and leave your burned corpse at Carden’s doorstep. Count your blessings for these final hours, they’ll be over soon.”

He stood abruptly, turning to Avo “Once our demands are met, we’ll return her.”

The younger one inquired innocently “Alive?”

Finch mocked him for thinking it “I didn’t say that.”

Avo sounded uncertain “We would kill her?”

Finch tilted his head and stared at you “Maybe I’ll keep her.” he gripped your chin, forcing you to look at him “Or maybe I’ll send her back after all. With a Fey child growing in her, I bet the priest would go mad.”

The implied threat made it difficult to stay calm.

The younger one quietly uttered his believe “He’d cast her out.”

Finch let go off your chin “Good. Then she’ll know how it feels like.” he snapped his fingers “Stand up, Manblood.”

Your legs were shaking when you rose to your feet, feeling the bruises from the fall.

Avo tried “Finch-”

Finch paid him no mind “Shut it, Avo.”

He came to stand behind you and when his arms moved to your front you felt like shrinking.

The cords of your cloak were untied and he removed it, tossing it across the space.

This felt like he was out to humiliate you.

Right away you crossed your arms over your chest and hugged yourself “Leave me alone.”

He tsked you arrogantly, tapping on the sword at his side to remind you why cooperation was wiser “Don’t be cold. Maybe if you show me that you can be sweet to a Fey, I might change my mind on killing you after this.”

From the corner of your eyes, you saw that Avo was not moving, only watching the bastard bother you.

When no response came, Finch put a hand on your back and let it glide lower.

You kept your composure as good as one could, a plan formed inside your mind.

“Good girl. See that Avo? I think she can play nice if she wants to.” He praised, looking over at Avo who still did not agree with the situation.

Finch circled around to face you and was gentler than expected when cupping your face “No wonder that the Weeping Monk is always near when you are. The priest knew how valuable you would be in the hands of his enemies, of course he ordered his mutt to keep guard.”

But you, you were more aggressive than he expected in response to his words.

Your hands were bound but your knee was free to jerk up and hit him in the groin.

A curse escaped him as he buckled over in pain.

With a simple push, you made him fall into Avo who had gotten closer to help his accomplice.

With the two of them busy, you bolted out of there.

The tunnels of the cave were sometimes narrow and terribly dark, it was a miracle you choose the right ones to find the exit.

A wagon stood outside, the horse’s reins were tied to a tree. Releasing those reins would take too much time, you had to run before they caught up with you.

And so began your aimless escape into the forest.

Dammit, it was cold at night and you could barely see, the moon was mostly hidden behind the clouds.

The sound of their voices was reaching you as they began their chase.

Arriving at a small river stream, you were forced to find away around it or follow it.

Time was not your friend and following it was the option chosen.

In your hurry, you did not spot the animal trap on the ground and the moment you stepped on the hidden rope, it went off.

The rope caught you by the ankle and pulled your leg from under you, you hit the ground hard, leg dangling from the branch of a tree.

Shit.

It had been meant for an animal to be caught with, luckily it wasn’t build to pull you higher.

Still it proved a pain to untie the knot in the rope, the bound hands only made it worse.

The rustling of leaves alerted to the presence of others.

Finch mocked you right away “Well, well, looks like you got yourself into some trouble.” he knelt down beside you while Avo approached the scene “You haven’t been very nice to me. If you weren’t worth coin, I’d leave you for the wolves.”

You were stuck sitting on the ground “I’d prefer them over your company!”

The short laugh that escaped the youngest only made Finch glare back at him.

Finch drew his sword, swung and cut through the rope close to your ankle.

It had nearly cut you…

Roughly he pulled you from the ground “Get up! We aren’t done with you, Manblood.”

You were shoved into Avo’s hands by him, who kept a firm hold but not as rough as his comrade.

Not much later, you were back in that cave. Finch had bound your ankles together too before he left you alone with Avo to see if that child had returned to their meeting place yet.

Avo used his sword to sharpen a branch to pass the time.

Minutes passed before you dared to try and reason with him “Your friend is making a grave mistake. My uncle knows no mercy, if he knows that you have taken me, they will burn you for it.”

His attention did not lift from the steel “That priest won’t spare us either way. When we have the coin, we can leave these lands.”

The fact that he was calmer made you more confident “Please, you’re friend will kill me. I never believed that the Fey were evil and I don’t believe you to be either. Let me go, I will not tell anyone what has happened.”

Avo turned his attention to you “You don’t believe me to be evil?”

You shook your head.

His eyes dropped to the sword again “You’re wrong. Ever since the war began, I have killed to survive, I have killed for coin. There is evil to be found all around us, remember that. And if Finch kills you, I’ll stand beside him still.”

The hope that he was a better person went and left you, the only difference between them was the patience the younger one showed.

Finch returned looking displeased while informing the younger one “No sign of the boy.”

Avo began to worry “Surely the priest will pay for her?”

It came out like he had already thought it through “He will. Or she’ll pay for wasting our time. We wait ‘till tomorrow at noon, then we’ll decide.”

Like a scorned child, Finch walked up to you while you were sitting and pushed you over.

You landed on your side “Bastard!”

For a second it looked like he wanted to hit you again, instead he knelt down and pulled you upright by the rope at your wrists “You had your chance to play nice, remain quiet. Do as you’re told.”

You spat in his face and saw him recoil.

He immediately stood up and wiped his face clean, bitterly exclaiming “So be it.”

Finch reached down to grab you but this time Avo let his disapproval be known “Enough, Finch. She’s not worth the hassle.”

It halted him, after a second of thought he agreed and let you be “I’m going to get some sleep. Keep watch, Avo.”

Avo simply gave a nod, growing visibly agitated with this behavior.

And still he refused to help…

  It had not been your intention to fall asleep, you just wanted to shut your eyes for a moment. And still you had gone into a shallow slumber.

The dream you had was strange, you had dreamed of incomprehensible whispers…

It was odd.

Where your sleep had been peaceful, your awakening was not.

One moment you were sleeping on the ground, the next the ropes at your ankles were cut loose and you were pulled roughly to your feet.

When you blinked to focus your eyes, you thought it had all been a nightmare.

The Monk stood not far away, sword drawn.

It was the fresh blood staining the steel that made you aware that all of it had been real, it took another second to understand why he wasn’t coming closer.

The cold steel of a knife was against your throat.

Finch held you in his grasp, using you as a shield between himself and the Monk “Come any closer and you’ll be returning a corpse to the priest.”

It slipped from the Monk “Yes. Yours.”

Your abductor was not amused by it in the slightest “I hope you have brought the coin I asked for. By the looks of that sword, I take it that you have made me the sole recipient of the payment?”

He had lured the man out of the cave before dealing with him, now there was only one left and this bastard did not look shocked to learn that his accomplice was dead.

His voice dropped significantly “There will be no payment, the Church does not negotiate with the enemy.”

Finch made you lean more against him by moving the knife closer, his breath was so close to your ear that you wanted to squirm away from it “Unfortunately, I do not either. I am walking out of here with her, if you try to stop me I’ll cut her throat.”

This scum was behaving far too familiar with you and he hated the sight of it, hated to see how desperate you were to get away from it.

The Monk locked eyes with you, discreetly he let his gaze flick to the stone wall where the torch was.

Oh?

Finch moved a step back with you, his back facing the wall while his attention remained fixed on the Monk.

It dawned on you that the Monk was moving the way that he was with a purpose, it was a form of manipulating the direction that Finch was moving in.

Soon Finch had nearly gotten past him completely, then the Monk locked eyes with you again and gave a quick nod.

It was the signal for you to step back into Finch’s chest, it forced him back and the flame of the torch on the wall spread to his vest, the flames rose to his face almost instantly.

You were pulled to safety not a blink of an eye later by the Monk, he moved you to get behind him.

He was vigilant until he saw the flames overtake the bastard.

To him this was nothing new, but you did not want to hear the screams or see the result.

You pulled at the Monk’s sleeve “Lancelot…”

He would have stayed and watched the bastard burn.

Instead he found himself cutting the rope loose that bound your wrists. Then he took your hand in his and leaded you out of the place.

On your way out, you had to step over the body of Avo who had met his end by the Monk’s sword “You found me…”

It had not been easy, he had to ask the child who had brought the letter where they were to meet with your abductors again. The boy had not been there on the meeting spot, but he was. He had followed the man, who now burned, to the cave.

He wrapped an arm around you, placing a hand on your shoulder to keep you walking beside him, concern filled him “Are you alright?”

You nodded but could see him scan your features.

Dawn was still to come, but even in the dark he could see a bruise forming on your cheek “They hit you.”

The hidden fury in his voice was undeniable and maybe he could even feel how much you were shivering “He did.”

He was quiet for a couple of steps while leading you to Goliath “Did anything else happen?”

The sight of that man acting indecent with you was gnawing at him. They had been alone with you for hours…

You were halted by him and he inspected you for any other visible injuries.

The bruise was visible, he took the liberty of touching your neck to inspect it. Next were your hands, the cut the bangle had caused had long since stopped bleeding.

“May I?” He inquired and let his fingers touch your sleeve.

After nodding, he moved your sleeves up one at a time, finding numerous bruises.

Some were clearly caused by a rough grasp, others perhaps a fall?

It surprised even yourself to see the amount of fresh bruising “The one who threatened to kill me was rough. I tried to escape not long ago, I fell after my ankle got stuck in an animal trap and they caught me again.”

That pulled his eyes up to yours again, having heard of such traps “If it was one of those traps I know of, you are lucky to still have your foot.”

Well, the force of it had caused a nasty fall “It does hurt.”

Without thinking, you bent and reached down to move your dress up a little to inspect your ankle.

He did a sharp inhale of air, not knowing where to look.

Then came your question “Does it look bruised? Maybe it’s broken.”

He could not see if it was if he kept looking at the trees…

And you sounded quite worried about it…

When he knelt down, you were taken aback by it.

Not once did he touch your bare lower leg, he did reach with the tips of his fingers but waited until you turned your foot yourself “It does not look broken. I can see the marks the rope left, I would expect it to show a bruise tomorrow. Does it burn?”

You pointed at the spot that burned “A bit, yes. Here.”

Cautiously his fingers touched the spot on your calf, the rope must have given a firm pull.

Was it swollen?

Concern made him bolder, he was trying to feel if there was swelling.

Your hand landed on his shoulder for balance “Uhm…Lancelot.”

Immediately he removed his hand from you and rose from the ground, having heard the pitch in your voice.

The apology was stammered “I am sorry. Forgive me, Lady y/n. It was not my intention to-”

You interrupted him “It’s alright. You did nothing wrong, I asked to look. I just…” there was a pause “…did not expect for you to be brave enough, usually you’re more reserved.”

Again he folded his hands behind his back to hide the fidgeting.

It was the slow blinking that accompanied your sweet smile that kept his gaze in your power.

That sweet smile made your mouth curve so alluringly, his thoughts went back to what had happened in the stables.

He avoided thinking of it too much, believing it had been an impulse you now regretted.

He reached into his pocket and pulled the silver bangle out, of course the blood was wiped off from it “I believe you lost this?”

You saw an opportunity and replied “No. I got bored of it and tossed it.”

It was no use, he saw right through the jest and handed it back to you.

You slipped the bangle on “Back there, you said the Church would not negotiate with the enemy. My uncle would have let me die?”

He did not dare answer that.

It was evasive “Father send me to find you.”

You understood it was difficult for him to speak ill of your uncle “But without the coin, they were going to kill me.”

He hoped his words would ease your mind “Coin or not, I will always come for you. No threat can stop me from doing so.”

It felt good to hear that someone still cared enough to just at least try to save you.

You pretended to question it “Even if my uncle tells you to just let me die in the future?”

Never had you seen a man move his hand so slowly to your arm, cautious fingers curled around it.

That slow nod meant more than any answer he could have verbally given. He would go against orders to keep you safe…

The hand moved to your back, a light push had you walking next to him again.

His palm hovered over your back until it was withdrawn completely again.

You came to a halt beside his horse and looked uncertain.

Without thinking he commented “Forgotten how to ride a horse?”

It earned him quite the look “Were you too distracted by my leg to notice my swollen ankle?”

He chewed his words while looking off into the trees again “If you need help getting up. Ask.”

Sarcasm dripped from your voice “Nah, I’ll just risk breaking my neck.”

When you actually went to mount alone, he was quick to be at your side to scold you for it “If you break your neck, I will lose mine.”

You mimicked his voice quietly.

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes and held on to your elbow “Come here.”

With a little help, you did manage to crawl up the horse, although it had not been very graceful.

You combed your fingers through the horse’s mane “I’m sorry about that.”

The Monk got up on the horse as well to sit behind you “It is alright.”

You withheld a laugh “I was talking to your horse, Lancelot.”

He did not let it shake him and quipped back “Unfortunately, Goliath cannot share with us his opinion on the dreadful way you just crawled on.”

The mumbled retort came fast “Or his opinion on his dreadful owner.”

A shit-eating grin grew on his face, he should be heading back to the monastery faster but he let Goliath keep a normal walking pace “Pardon?”

You simply looked back at him and arrogantly arched a brow, then proceeded to ignore him to pet Goliath again.

Not a second later, the Monk’s hand was on yours to replace it on the withers of the horse and he let you in on a little secret “He enjoys to be scratched there.”

Following the instruction, you scratched the spot “So that’s the secret?”

He wasn’t even aware that there was a charming smile playing on his lips “That and caring for him for years.”

You looked back at him again, matching the smile with your own “Is that what you intend to do with me too?”

Even though it sounded like it sounded partly sincere, he chose to continue jesting “The scratching or the caring?”

A laugh fell out of you “The caring!”

The Monk kept his composure “Well, when we get back, I will leave you in the stables and come to care for you in the morning like I do with Goliath.”

The cheekiness was greatly amusing “How dare you!”

When he leaned forward, it was to bump his chest into you on purpose “Is that not what you wanted?”

You scoffed, fighting the smile “I wonder what is stopping me from pushing you off this horse and ride off alone.”

There was the smuggest smirk and his voice deepened audibly “I am.”

Without looking back, you replied honest “No. It’s my attachment to you that is saving you.”

It brought him great delight to hear it.

He leaned back, straightening himself in the saddle, still jesting “So… I am?”

It still meant he himself was the reason you weren’t shoving him off the horse.

You rolled your eyes and shook your head “Shut up…”

Together you rode back to the monastery, arriving along with the dawn.

   Taglist:

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Please let me know if you want to be added or removed from the taglist of this story.

[lancedoncrimsonwings]

I'm so down bad for Gwayne Hightower yet absolutely cannot allow myself to write a purely Gwayne centric fic until I have at least part one of my Lancewain (Gawain The Green Knight x Lancelot The Weeping Monk) fic that I mayhaps have written him in as an OC... whoops.

You tell me these two wouldn't immediately hate each other.

And Lancelot would probably find that quietly amusing...

[nemofil]

I HAVE A THING TO WORK ON BUT I, GENUINELY CANNOT STOP THINKING OF THIS

within time, an achievement you get for finishing a hunter run by ascending. (i mean, you don't have much routes besides ascension anyway gdhsdhd)

notice the monk glyph here. i think it's like, dubiously confirmed to mean peace/enlightenment at this point.

the little tail/point thing is something you find in the saint's glyph,

and... i'm not entirely sure what it means. like, why is that there.

perhaps it's... a peaceful passing? hm.

the fact that the survival part of the saint's glyph isn't there could also mean something... let me illustrate

okay, i got a little carried away. i also noticed that the ascension glyph has the X pretty neatly contained inside the circle, while within time has it quite out there. i took this as meaning that the ascension wasn't peaceful at all, the thought of it being a bit of a weight on the soul. and fuck man did i ever tell you that i'm such a massive hunter stan

if you take the karma 5 mural into it, the middle part of the survivor glyph could represent a person, the two other lines being symbolism for defending yourself.

the saint's glyph with that context would be something like, defending yourself peacefully? like, in a non-confrontational way. no fighting back. which makes sense, given what you have to do to earn the achievement in the first place.

in short, within time's glyph could be interpreted as "a woeful soul crossed out for peace" or "a pacifistic soul's regretful passing" and that makes me weep like a little bitch. the point here, the sacrifice/ascension is so, so much heavier than the peace. it feels like a burden, something forced because of an unfortunate development.

now i could be entirely wrong and insane, but it plays really nicely for my headcanons for hunter and that means it's 100% canon and intentional in my eyes :3 /lighthearted

okay bye i need to do Duties... but augh man i love hunter so so much

[violetvapours]

@lokiinmediasideblog Whump is always good. That's amazing Loki inspired you to start writing!

My pattern is 4 Lokis and a Squirrel; in medias res, protagonist usually talking, walking, or dying:

'When do we start?'

- Spellbreaker (Insomniac!Loki x Bedwarmer!Sigyn)

Loki sat slyly surveying the band of freaks assembled in the bizarre airship on which he was held hostage.

- Blood Of A God (Scepter!Loki x Vampire!Sigyn)

Loki returned from Muspelheim over his brother's shoulder, his blood darkening Thor's cape to a deeper shade of crimson.

- Sanguine (King!Loki x Bloodwitch!Sigyn)

Loki prowled the crowded decks of the Statesman, his roving gaze narrowed in search of his wife.

- Queen Takes King (Bratty Sub Loki x Switch Sigyn)

Loki strode the length of the great hall at a leisurely stroll, jaw sharp with a determined smirk as he watched the shockwave that rippled along the rows of noble faces to the two stunned gods crowning the dais.

- Infinite Fidelity (Variant!Loki x Villain!Sigyn)

'- He is not a Paladin, they tried to kill him! He's Fey, his name is Lancelot and he saved me! You have to help him!'

- Altar In Ashes (The Weeping Monk x Fey Healer!OC)

Not sure who'd like to be tagged anymore so open tags to writer moots 💜

Rules: List the first line of your last 10 (posted) fics and see if there's a pattern!

Lol. There IS a pattern! My fics usually start with someone experiencing discomfort, either mental or physical. I also typically use short choppy sentences to begin fics.

Thanks for tagging me @your-dark-thor

I only have 5 fics. Lol. Posted from oldest to newest.

Repeat Offender (dark!Lokius)-First fic I've ever written. It's "ID: L-1130" because I start with a pretend intake form. After the "intake form" it's : "After his brief attempt to elope with the other variant, L-1130 remained uncooperative and provided no information regarding the rogue variant’s whereabouts despite multiple rounds of kicks to the groin, courtesy of the Lady Sif."

Electric Eye (Gen)-"Heimdall closed his eyes and pressed his fingers against his ear ducts."

Ambrosia (Lokius (mostly), minor Sylki)-"His thoughts were too noisy. "

Would You Still Love Me, Anyway? (Sylki AU)-"For as long as he could remember, Loki coveted."

Scorchmarks (Gen)-"Loki’s skull throbbed and his eyes felt dry no matter how much he closed them. "

No pressure tags @nostalgia-tblr @queen-of-meows @pennie-dreadful @sylvies-kablooie @bisexual-panic @theneonghosts @tyrannuspitch @violetvapours

[natsukitakama]

Being in relationship with the weeping monk would include :

Author note : alright I know I promised to write about Merlin and the green knight and I will. I just couldn’t stop thinking about this . Also it’s been like three months since my last writing I hope I won’t disappoint you. I expect to work on my request as soon as possible ♡ Love u guys

 I'll definetly write a Merlin and Green knights’ part 

i do not own the gif credit to the owner 

Warning : some mention of smut but nothing too serious / mention of trauma / Spoiler 

A lot of patience, I cannot imagine how much trauma this man went through. Apparently he is the only survivor (or at least Ash are barely here anymore) from his species and believe during his whole life that he was damned, he should be ashamed about his true being. In addition he grew up into a fanatical church, so it might be difficult to get to know him especially if you are a fey 

Unlike his « father » he doesn’t hate fey but believe they need to expel their darkness such as him and that’s why he is working hard for the church so he could earn his freedom and soul. But then he realized they were barely followed their own rule, monk aren’t supposed to kill children but his father does. 

He felt betrayed and had no longer a place and a purpose to follow. I’m pretty sure he’ll follow squirrel since he does seem to like him. It will take time for him to trust you enough to even talk with you and it won’t help if you’re fey cause he won’t understand why you’re trying to be nice to him especially because of the killing he’s done for the church 

If you want to get close to him just take your time, the man can be harsh and he’ll be on the defensive since his background with the church. It will take time but he will be nicer with you eventually 

He tends to go nicer if you’re caring with him, always asking him how he is doing, if he is feeling well, proposing yourself to patch him or anything. He is a touch-starved adult man, and I believe he doesn’t have much love in his life neither from the church nor from his family (or barely since he was raised by Father) 

When he will finally feel confortable enough around you, he’ll talk a lot about you from specific things such as what are you working on, how’s your training doing, to banality : anything to make you talk honestly. He just loves your voice it just calm him down everytime. He loves your voice, he really loves it. 

He loves your smile too and would be jealous anytime he saw you smiling to anyone who isn’t him 

Cause here’s the thing, he is a monk, he shouldn’t be materialist or anything but he can’t help : if there is something to know about Lancelot is that he does not share. Not even you. 

Even if you’re not in relationship, he believes no one has the right to be next to you, he is working hard to earn that right so he’ll threaten ( sending death glare) anyone who’ll be too comfortable around you. I’m not joking about it this is man is possessive fight me on this. 

At this point you would ask me, how does he fall in love with us ? Easy one : One night after a huge fight he was sitting near of a camp fire, everyone was already asleep too sore to bother extinguish the flames, everyone but you and him. As you were walking into your bed for the night you catch him staring at the fire, he looked focused and lost at the same time as if he were asking  himself « what the hell i’m doing here ». You were wondering if he didn’t have a second thought, after all he joined you and squirrel not that long ago he might be still into the church’s philosophy. So you walked into his direction, determined to know what’s going on Lancelot’s mind. When you sat close to him he barely moves as if he was expecting you to do something like this. 

At first you said nothing not knowing what to say to hurt him. But seeing him focused, looking as lost as a  child, gave you strength to face him and his insecurities. So you asked him what’s wrong and if you could help in any way. 

He didn’t say anything, but judging by his expression you knew he was looking at his word carefully. 

« Do you think I am monster ? » 

« What ? »

« Y/N do you think i’m monster ? » 

« No of course not why would you say that ? » 

He didn’t answer back instead he just stared at the fire and then you realized what was behind his question 

« Lance’ look I can’t say that I know what you’re experiencing right know as much as I can’t say that I understand what you’re going through. But I know something Lance’ no matter what people would say about you, remember that me, Y/N do not see you as a monster quite contrary all I see right now is a broken man trying to find his path. » 

« How can you say that ? I-I murdered a lot of us » 

« But you’re trying to change, you did once to save squirrel and you’re trying again » 

« How can you be so sure about it ? I still believe on the power of the church » 

« Lance… Do you think I am monster ? Do I deserve to die ? » 

« What ? No ! Of course not » 

« See ? You’re changing and if you want another argument you never be so talkative before » 

Hearing him chuckled told you you were successful for now at least. You knew he needed to take time because of everything he’s been through. You never noticed, but that day he realized by his quick answer that you mean something to him. He knew by his reaction that he would never be able to hurt you. You put faith on him while he couldn’t even believe in him, you were genuine with him and he knew that you meant everything you told him that. 

That day the weeping monk decided that he’ll do everything in his power to make you happy even if he would need to stay away. 

I believe he’ll still follow his moral and would still respect most of the rule he learnt from the church. But the moment he realized that you were his everything and that you might feel the same, well let’s say he forgot couple of rules (especially the one who prohibited marriage) 

He is into marriage fight me on this 

Being in relationship with him implies helping him when he feels down especially when is questioning is whole being as a person. Cause he is truly fucked up, he believes he doesn’t deserve to live, the church was supposed to be the only way to save him from damnation. Now all he can do is to rely on you. 

He will need a tone of times 

He also needs attention, but be careful cause the man got reputation and is pretty awkward with all those things since I believe no one was very careful and kind with him. 

He is touch-starved meaning he would crave for attention, but he isn’t comfortable enough so there things he will tolerate in private while some things would be okay in public. 

For example he doesn’t mind holding you hand (he loves it your hand is so small and feel so sweet against his calloused one) even in public especially if notices someone starring at you 

He likes hug but don’t do frequently though. He was raised to become a monk, I believe he never received any mark of affection or barely so he is still a bit tense about you being physical with him. 

He is a monk but he is still a man and well he got urges and he can’t focus on stopping those kind of thought when you’re holding him tightly, pressing your chest against him. But there is time when he just can’t help but needing to have you against him. 

Same thing for kiss, it’s so intimate, so intoxicating it’s like you were the one in charge of his own body and mind. He is overwhelmed by way too many feelings at once, so kiss are only tolerated when you two are alone. 

At this point, you’ll understand that this man is a virgin baby 

And if we’re talking about sex well, he is a monk. Safe to say you would be his first and probably he is last. It will take a long time before he would even consider being intimate with you, it was one thing to betray the church but breaking his vows was quite another. 

Kissing you or hugging you doesn’t make him feel bad in the meaning it wasn’t for him as if he was breaking one of his vows. I’m not saying that he is asexual but I’m sure he can live without having sex with someone (even if sometimes he feels the need to have you right here and then, he can control it he does it all the time). 

If he feels like he could dedicate his whole life to you, well you feel it when you two would be intimate. 

Let’s say he counterbalances his lack of experience by skills and a tone of worship, I can’t explain how he could do that, but the man is a worshiper (no punt intended). 

He kisses and caresses a lot 

When you two are linked, he expects you to be on the top in every way (especially because he is aware of his lack of experience and also because he turned him on to see you being in charge, more than he would like to admit) 

During your first time he didn’t last as long as he expects to last, especially because he was overwhelmed by all the feelings and the love he could feel through you. 

He tends to last longer after that 

I didn’t underline it enough, but I think the man is pretty sensitive in all way. He may look like a cold soldier but he is doing a good job at internalize his feelings. Which could be a huge obstacle for a relationship cause he tends to not talk about his feeling hence the difficulty for you sometimes cause you don’t know what to do to make him feel comfortable enough to talk to you. 

Don’t worry just give him time, remind him that you’re here to help him, that he is not alone. Let him go to you when he feels like it. 

It will take time but it’ll be worth it : he is very carrying, he would love you in a way you would never expect someone to love you like this. He would be your friends, your lover, your protector. 

Yeah because he is overprotecting don’t ever try to protest that’s a battle you won’t win : you’re too precious. 

[throped]

The Weeping Queen // Weeping Monk x OC // Chapter 2

Nimue and I were walking down the trail to her village. My head was swirling, and I felt like I was going to faint. “Wait, I haven’t asked you for your name yet, what are you called?” Nimue asked. My voice was hoarse, but I still answered, “Dae.” She smiled at me but realised that I looked paler than the first time she met me. Cold ran through me and I shivered while feeling nauseous too. “Dae, are you okay?” Nimue worriedly asked. “I feel cold. Too cold,” I mumbled before my legs gave up and I dropped to the ground.

Great, I fainted.

***

A paining ache arose when I woke up. I quickly took in my surroundings. I was on a much softer surface this time, maybe a proper bed. The height of the room was quite low, reaching probably 1.5 metres. And when I looked below me, the ground wasn’t much of a pleasure. It was covered with stone as well as some specks of dirt. Just as I was looking around, I could hear the sound of people walking in, they were blurred as my vision still hadn’t adjusted to the amount of light. But as they came closer, I could recognise one as Nimue. At least there’s one familiar face. The other person was a lot older than Nimue, probably Nimue’s mother, I hope she didn’t mind me staying in her house. “Dae, you’re alright! You had me worried,” Nimue spoke up. I mustered up some strength and sat up in the bed and replied, “thank you for staying with me, I thought you’d leave me there,” I thanked her. The woman next to her rushed to ask me. “Dae, listen to me carefully, is it true, you just woke up in the forest? Nimue told me that you said you got transported from your world to ours,” the seemingly older woman asked. “Yes that’s true, I did wake up randomly in a forest. I’m not sure how though,” I replied with. “Thank the Hidden it is her. The one who was sent to us,” the older woman mumbled under her breath. “Listen Dae, I’m Lenore, Nimue’s mother and you’ve arrived, just as they said. Please reply honestly to this, have you touched anything ancient recently?” she asked. I stayed silent, I could only think of one time and that was when I touched the sword at the cash converters, but that obviously didn’t matter. Well, I guess I’ve got to say something and that is what I will say. “Uhm, yes I think. I may have touched a sword at a shop I went to in my world,” I said. “Did it have writing on it, some sort of ancient language I would say, that glowed when you touched it?” Lenore once again asked. “Yes, it glowed a bright orange and there was this writing on it… I feel like I could understand it somehow, I can’t make out the words, but it was something like ‘Whosoever wields the Sword of Power shall be the one true king’ in English,” I stated.

“Dae, you are powerful, just like Nimue, you both have been cursed. The Hidden sent you here so that you could fight back, you’re our fighter. The Fey’s fighter. From now on, you’ll stay with us, you’ll get accustomed to our culture and lifestyle, I know that where you are from, things are different, but you’ve got to stay with us if you want a way out of here. There is only one thing that will help you. The Sword of Power. The one you touched,” Lenore explained. I couldn’t wrap my head over this. I’m only thirteen! Yes, I may look or be smart, but that doesn’t mean you drag a child into a completely different universe! “Lenore, I’m too young, I cannot fight. I don’t have the slightest idea as to how to hold a sword,” I ranted out. What was I doing here? “Dae, if you do not know, I will teach you, people may live today but die tomorrow in war, it is going to be your job to prevent that in the future. Promise me Dae, that you will protect the Fey, you will do everything in your power to save them,” Lenore spoke. I don’t know about anything but as long as I will have to stay here, I will owe them, what’s better than preventing lives from being taken as a token of gratitude? “I promise, Lenore and Nimue, I will be by your side, and I will protect the Fey to my highest ability,” I took my oath.

After that day, everything changed, my lifestyle, the people I was surrounded by, my clothes and literally everything in my other life had been altered. I looked different than everyone else though, while Nimue and Pym got to wear normal clothes like the village, I had to wear black attire, great for camouflaging in the dark. While Pym, Squirrel and Nimue had their own responsibilities, I had to learn the culture of the Fey, the history and how to wield all sorts of different weapons. I learned how to fight….. just like how Lenore said I would.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Anddd, that's a wrap, these past 2 chapters were how you settled in and where you came from so no more cheesy promises or stuff like that. This is my first series and I'm not sure how it'll go though... so yeah. But I'll continue until it's finished.

[dramatic-aspirant-writer]

L'APPEL DU VIDE

In a time when the flames of the Catholic Church feast on the flesh of an uncountable number of innocents, salvation is a weapon. Fire purifies everything he tells himself surrounded by his red brothers, red like the Fey blood they spill everyday. But water can wash away everything, even an entire civilization. He is driven by a fear he calls faith. She kills for revenge and calls it justice

So I was really bored and maybe a little drunk when I started writing this thing. This is the prologue, I plan to make this "story" a slow (really slow) burn. By the way my English is shit so please don't roast me too much.

Prologue: The ghost

The ocean was calm when they came. The infinite expance of water was silent as if any sound could be an insult for the dozens of people burning on wooden crosses planted on the hills.

The witch stod motionless watching the carnage that the Red Paladins perpetreded on the last Fey village of the coast. She knew about their arrival, mortal life was a circle and she had lived long enough to understand that most humans were blinded by power.

There was a time when she lived as a human. A normal young girl on an island, a simple creature.

In her mortal life she took care of her parents and younger siblings and even prayed a group of gods, until the day she died. No one knew if the fisherman's daughter jumped or slipped off the cliff, she wasn't completely sure about it either. But she remembered the cracking sound of her bones against the submerged rocks and the dark red color of her blood in contrast with the cold blue water. She woke up feeling the cold hands of the nynphs dragging her to a dark mossy rock near the shore and for the first time in her short life she felt completely awake. That day the spirits of the water decided to return her to the mortal world. She left her home not long after her short death; a primordial fear spread quickly in the village, the simple people felt that something not of this world was walking among them. She knew that her little village, forgotten on a small island in the Mediterranean sea, disappered not long after her departure.

And then for nearly two hundred years she traveled learning everything that she could, craving new informations like the ones lost in the desert crave a drop of water.

She decided to become an assassin at some point; killing the rich and powerful and stealing their fortunes just to leave the gold to the ones who had nothing gave her a purpose for a certain amount of time. At the end she accepted the fact that life had nothing more to offer and for a decade the ruins of a forgotten castle had become the place that she dared to call home. Until the Paladins. As the wind started to rise, the optical illusion that was hiding her began to fade. The ocean was furious again.

The Weeping Monk was standing between the village and the ruins when suddenly an unpleasant sensation made him shiver, he was almost sure that someone was watching them. The air felt heavy, barely breathable, especially for him. The smell of the burning flesh was making him feel nauseated. The Fey village was slowly growing silent as the last fires began to fade. That small group of huts lost somewhere on the northern shore costed them a week of searching; as he moved to cut the throat of an half burned Fey man that was screaming on the ground he felt drops of blood spilling from the open wounds on his back, he had punished himself at the end of every unsuccessful day of hunting. The pain conforted him making that disgusting smell of death almost bearable. He observed the ruins of the castle, some stones were falling from the top of the ancient tower. He could see the ocean waves hitting the shore with a brutal force, the water changed quickly after their arrival. And then he noticed the woman. She was standing by one of the windows, for a moment he thought that she was a ghost but the wind carried her scent to the hills, her human smell was mixed with something else, some kind of magic. It reminded him of the fresh wind that sometimes precedes a storm. He knew that he had to kill her, they never left survivors but as he started to walk towards the tower she disappeared in thin air.

[golden-pickaxe]

Wrong Side (Part 1)

Fandom: Cursed

Paring: Weeping Monk x F!Reader

Type: post season 1 (aka I do what I want, this show has been cancelled)

Wordcount: 10.177

Warnings: Violence, eventual Smut (18+), canon typical themes, christians are not talked nicely about

A/N: I actually wanted to post this as just one part, but as it is getting close to 20k words, I thought I would split it up. The second part is almost done, so yea. A few things are, that this story contains OCs, it contains made up lore because the source did not give much, and I based most of the lore on Celtic stuff, thought I am not an expert and it is also not super detailed. Idk where this came from tbh. Mostly because as someone who does longsword and types of short sword fencing (HEMA) in my free-time, every time I see or read bad fighting descriptions I want to cry. Anyways, I hope you all enjoy this! Not a fandom I ever thought I would write about, but apparently my brain was searching for a new fixation in these trying times! It is basically a sweet romance with sword fighting, angst and hope, with a happy ending :) because we need happy endings!

Title of the story is from Wrong Side by Abney Park, a quote of which you will also find in this story!

Edit: This story is finished! [Part 2] , [Part 3]

Summary: You and your friends are the last of the Fire folk, making your way south to flee the red paladins that have destroyed your village. One night, a man and a boy stumble upon your camp, who had once stood on the wrong side of history. 

Even though the days were still quite warm, the nights had already started to grow bitter cold. The leaves of the forest had started to turn orange, yellow, red and brown, the beautiful turn of the seasons, as fall was slowly creeping over England.

You usually loved the fall, always excited for the many colours and harvest celebrations, the rituals that usually marked this time of year. The fall equinox was just a few days away now, if you read the heavens correctly, but where you usually would be busy with helping bring in the harvest and preparing the feasts and bonfires to end the season, you were now sitting on the cold ground, a blanket wrapped around your shoulders, staring into a small, smouldering campfire. It was dark, the sky covered in clouds, to that not even moonlight could reach you, as you kept the first night watch over the camp, over the few remaining friends you still had in this world. They were huddled up in their own cloaks and blankets, finding a bit of restless sleep before you would travel on again.

You chewed on your lower lip, staring into the flames, your fingers idly moving, causing sparks of the fire in front of you to for figures and dancing shapes in the night.

It had been a long and horrible summer. The red paladins had ravaged the land, storming over the Pendragon kingdom from the north, where all this terror had started so long ago. Their kind had killed the fey for over two decades now, but this year was the first time that they bolstered such numbers, raged a war with so much strategy and determination. And surly with more funds from their overlords in Rome. Where years ago a fey village here and there was burned, with even some people surviving to tell the tale, now one after the other fell, so quickly that it was almost impossible to know where they would go next. Even larger strongholds, that had until now withstood the terror the Christians brought with them, had fallen like a house of cards.

 You pulled your blanket tighter around your body. You felt so trapped, as if the paladins were closing in on you and your friends with every passing minute. Part of you was just about to give up, to accept that this was the end of your people, as the places where you could hide dwindled every day. You and your friends had initially been on your way to Nemos, after you had heard other fey you had met talk about it, but when you had arrived, all you had found were burned remains of an abandoned camp.

 So now, you travelled on a bit aimlessly, planning to go south, towards Cornwall, a place where there were still enough woods, still enough unpopulated land, so that it could maybe be a new starting point. As far as you knew, the paladins had not made their way this far to the south yet, and if you remembered the stories of your mother correctly, it was still mostly inhabited by fey, with many clans of Piskies, Browneys and Spriggans scattered over the forests, fields and cliffsides.

Old stories were of course not much to go by, but it was at least something to give you and your four friends some hope.

 A sigh left your lips, your breathing forming a cloud of mist in the cool air. Cold, howling wind was rushing through the trees, pulling at your blanket and biting through your clothes, a constant wall of noise around you, making it even more vital for you to pay attention to your surroundings. But it was hard to make anything out besides the sound of the branches in the wind or see anything beyond the small light of the fire.

You were quite tempted to make the fire burn a bit brighter, not only to see more, but also to feel more of its warmth on your cold skin. But you knew, that just having that small fire in the first place, was risky enough, so you kept it low, only shimmied a bit closer to the flames, stretching out your hands to warm your clam fingers a bit, which were clad in fingerless gloves.

 A sudden noise, that managed to reach your ears even through the howling wind and rustling branches, made your head turn to the right, your hands automatically reaching for the longsword lying next to you. It had distinctively sounded like the crack of a branch. A branch that was stepped on.

 You got up in a swift move, your still fingers wrapped around the hilt of your sword, the metal reflecting the orange light of the low fire.

 “Born in the dawn..” a small voice called out from the shadows beyond the light of the fire, the voice of a small boy. Your heart was beating in your throat, the confirmation that there indeed were people in the woods around you. That a child had spoken was no reason for you to let down your guard, who knew what new tactics the red paladins had thought up now. Using a child as bait was not beyond them.

 “To pass in the twilight.” You answered nevertheless, your foot kicking on of your friends that was lying closest to you in the ribs, Calder instantly waking up. “Who are you?” you then added, shooting Calder a quick, intense look, as soon as the man had opened his eyes.

 “I’m Squirrel!” the voice said, and stepping out of the shadows of the trees and into the light of the fire was indeed a small boy, bruises on his face.

 “Are you alone out here?” you asked, while Calder had gotten up as well, gripping his own sword and waking up the rest of you.

 The boy looked uncertain for a moment, shooting a glance back into the shadows.

“No..” he finally said.

 “Who is with you?” his behaviour alarmed you immensely, as apparently your gut feeling had been right. He was bait. You immediately raised your sword, your body tensing up, ready for a fight.

 “He.. he is one of us!” the boy quickly said, noticing your demeanour. “Please, don’t hurt him! He saved me!”

 You frowned at the words of the boy, confused why, if the person was fey like all of you, he hid in the shadows instead of approaching together with the boy. You friends seemed just as confused as you were, as none of them lowered their weapons.

 “If you are fey, you have nothing to fear here. Step out, or we will be forced to attack!” Calder spoke up, his reddish eyes trying to spot any movement in the dark forests. You felt increasingly uncomfortable.

 Even through the constant howling of the wind, steps now became audible to you, the sounds of a horse, and a person walking closer to the camp. Then, with raised hands, though one hand was holding onto the reigns of a black horse, was a hooded man. Even though you had never seen him before, you had heard enough horror stories to immediately recognise who had just stepped into your camp. It was the one who cried, the weeping monk.

 Panic ran through you, blood rushing through your ears. You took a step back, though the grip around your sword grew even tighter.

 “I knew this was a trap!” you brought out between gritted teeth, and your friends around you looks as if they were ready to attack. “The boy is bait!”

 “No, please wait!” the child cried out, jumping in front of the monk, raising a small hunting knife defensively.

 You stopped yourself, as you had already taken a few steps towards them, shooting one short look at your companions. You had absolutely no idea what was going on, why this fey boy was defending your most dangerous enemy like that, and why.. why he had called him ‘one of us’. You mustered the monk more closely now, and noticed that he had no sword around his hip, was unarmed. His face was covered in dried blood, almost covering the weird tears on his face, that made the man so recognisable. Seeing those tears sent a shiver down your spine, a shiver you could not quite place.

 “Explain.” You said, earning a confused look from Calder.

 “He-.. he saved me from the paladin torturer! And he killed those guys in the golden masks! We just escaped the red paladin camp yesterday, and have been riding ever since!” the boy stumbled over his words, still protectively standing in front of the tall monk behind him.

 “And what did you mean, when you said he was ‘one of us’? As far as I know, none of us here is a murdering Christian!” your words were biting, accompanied by unfiltered hatred. You had seen too many of your brothers and sisters killed to have any kindness in your heart for this bastard. The monk clenched his jaw, his eyes dropping to the ground. He almost looked ashamed, if you didn’t know better.

 “He is fey! I saw it!” the boy exclaimed, looking around himself. You could almost see the gears running in his mind. “Look!” he then suddenly said, bending down and picking up a leaf from the ground. Without hesitating, he pressed it against one of the raised hands on the monk, who immediately flinched back, as if the boy had not pressed a leaf, but hot coal against his skin.

But it had been too late, you all had seen it. You all had witnessed his skin turning green, mimicking the colour and texture of the leaf it had touched.

 “How.. how could you?” the small voice from one of your friends, Leofyn, broke the tense silence, laced with pain and disbelief. “Your own people..”

 Your mind was racing as you stared in the man’s face, suddenly realising what the shiver down your spine had meant.

 “Ash folk.” Another one of your friends, Edwyn spoke up, wording what you had just realised. “The face markings.. weeping monk, what a joke.” He shook his head in disgust.  

 You closed your eyes for a moment, frustration flooding your mind. You lowered your weapon before opening your eyes again.

 “If he is Ash folk, we can’t hurt him.” You spoke up. Calder gritted his teeth, before spitting on the floor, although he knew better than to argue. He knew it as well as you all did.

 Squirrel looked shocked and confused, his eyes darting from one of you to the next, before relief overcame his features when he noticed all you reluctantly lowering your weapons.

 “Wh- why?” he asked carefully. The monk behind him looked just as confused.

 “We are Fire folk. Our clans.. back, before the Ash folk were murdered, our clans had a pact, a friendship dating back for centuries. We can’t hurt them, no matter how much we would like to.” Edwyn explained, wiping a hand over his face. “After the massacre of the Ash folk up in Scotland, our clan moved south, until the paladins reached us here too. We’ve not been this far south in a few hundred years.”

 “I am certain that this monster won’t abide by our ancient treaty! I bet my life, he has already killed more of our clan than he can count!” the last one of your friends, Morrigan, raised her axe again. “He may be born fey, but he is fey no longer!”

 “Do you really want to anger the gods, Morrigan!” Leofyn sounded scared.

 “What do you want?” you interrupted, as Morrigan opened her mouth to probably say something blasphemous. Your eyes studied the child and the monk, who still had his hands raised defensively.

 “We.. we..” the boy started, but with his eyes darting over to Morrigan’s threatening, tall figure, he seemed to stressed and confused to articulate himself.

 “We were trying to find refuge, to flee the paladins.” The monk spoke up for the first time, and all of you instantly raised your weapons again. His voice was smooth and low, reminding you of smoke and ash in your lunges. “For the boy.” The monk then added.

 “And you? What do you want?” Calder asked, his voice biting.

 “Nothing. I just want to see the boy safe.” The monk said, and you could sense no deceit in his words or expression.

 Morrigan laughed.

“Yes, sure. And I am the queen of England.” She shook her head, her short black hair slightly falling into her face. “So, you wouldn’t mind if we killed you right here, right now?”

 “Morrigan!” Leofyn exclaimed, but to the surprise of everyone, the monk just nodded.

 “It would be what I deserve. I know that.”

 His words surprised you, you had not expected him to say that. You were not sure what you had expected, though it certainly was not him being so willing to throw his life away like that. And recognising that this would be what he deserved after all he had done.

 “You want to die..” it came out of your mouth, before you could stop yourself, and it was not a question. The monk just looked at you in silence, not confirming, but also not denying your suspicion.

 “Whatever he wants, or does not want..” Edwyn spoke up again. “As Y/N said, we cannot harm him. But we can take the boy with us. Though, you must know, we are just as lost as you are, Squirrel.”

 “I will only come with you, if Lancelot can come too!” the boy seemed serious, his face a grimace.

 Lancelot.. you frowned hearing his name. It made the whole thing more real to you, that the phantom haunting so many fey dreams now had a name.

 Edwyn pursed his lips. It was obvious that he was not ready to just let this boy leave again with the murderous monk, not wanting to leave a fey child behind. He stepped towards the child, kneeling down before him, to be face to face. His hazel eyes mustered the young fey intently, before he spoke up again.

 “I think that I am correct, when I say that you have seen great terror, my boy. Terror and pain and death. We all have. So, you must understand why your request is impossible. Even if he is fey, we cannot take him with us, he who has murdered more of our kind than any other of the paladins.” His voice was soft, his words slow, to make sure that the boy understood him and his reasoning.

 Squirrel opened his mouth, but closed it again, turning for a moment to look at the tall man behind him.

“I know.” He finally said. “But.. but he can change! Why else would he have saved me? Why else would he have killed the Christian knights?”

 Edwyn frowned at the words of the child, but then looked up at the weeping monk too.

“That is a good question. Why did you kill them?”

 “What does it matter?” Morrigan asked, before the monk could even open his mouth. “He is a murderer, of course he is going to kill his own people! He is ready to wipe out his own kind, why would he stop at his brothers?”

 “Silence, Morrigan!” Calder let out a frustrated sigh, massaging the bridge of his nose. “We.. we should consider this.”

 The black-haired man chewed his lower lips for a moment, before he knelt down, rummaging through the bag at his feet, which he had used as a pillow when he slept. A moment later he pulled out a rope, stepping over to the child and the monk.

 Squirrel positioned himself defensively in front of the tall man behind him once more, his eyes staring daggers at Calder, who raised his hands for a moment.

 “I will not harm him, I will just bind his hands.” He started, before looking from the boy to the monk. “And then he can sit down with us, and explain his motivations. Then we will decide.”

 There was a long moment of silence, while the boy thought it over. It was weird that the monk said nothing for himself, just stood there, unmoving.

 “Alright.” the boy finally spoke up again.

 The monk clenched his jaw again, not looking happy at all, but he still stretched his arms out, to let Calder bind them together. Leofyn in the meantime took the reigns of the monk’s horse, leading it to where your own horses were standing, trying the animal to the same tree.

 Calder led the monk closer to the fire, pushing his shoulders so he sat down, the boy taking a seat right next to him. The rest of you sat down as well, apart from Morrigan who was still standing, her axe still in her hands.

 “So, tell us then. Why did you decide to save the boy and kill your brothers? What caused this change of mind?” you asked, and you felt the monk’s piercing eyes on you. He held eye contact for a moment longer, before looking down at his bound hands in defeat. It was obvious that he would rather not talk about it, would probably prefer to leave the boy with you and ride away on his own, but he knew that there was no other way out of this situation now.

 “I.. there was a fey knight, that.. that I captured.” He started, closing his eyes for a moment. “He had seen what you had seen, seen my hand mimic the leaves. He recognised what I am, but he didn’t tell anyone about it, did not expose me. When I asked him why, he just said that all fey were brothers, even.. even the lost ones.” The monk was silent for a moment, but you all felt that he was not done. Squirrel watched him intently as he spoke. “This knight, he said many things. Things that seemed to ring true, things that made me.. question. Question, like I had never before, I..” he let out a shaking breath. “I realised that he was right.”

 “And where is this knight now?” Morrigan asked, tilting her head. “Who is he?”

 “I don’t know.” The monk answered. “They called him the green knight.”

 Morrigan huffed, shaking her head in disbelief.

 “His name is Gwain! He is our greatest warrior, and he saved many fey, bringing them to Nemos! He made me a knight too!” Squirrel suddenly spoke up, causing Morrigan to look over to him, her stance less defensive now.

 “Gwain? I know him.” She then said, even if a bit reluctantly. “I met him a few years back, on his travels. He needed some of his weapons sharpened. He is a good man.”

 “So finally talking to someone from you own kind made you realise that we are also just people.” You said, raising an eyebrow. The monk returned his attention to you.  

 He shook his head.

“It was more than that. I had.. doubts before, doubts I thought were my failure. His words just.. made it all make sense.”

 “How did you end up like this?” you asked. “How did you end up as the right hand in our destruction.”

 Your choice of words were harsh, you knew that, but you also knew that now was not the time to sweeten your words, that now was the time to ask the tough questions.

 “Father Carden.. he spared me, when they burned my home. I was just a boy, and he.. he knew about my ability to sense other fey.” He started. His eyes went towards the fire, and it was obvious that he was not really looking at the flames, but past them, seeing images of his early life that he would rather like to forget. There was a pained expression on his face. “Father Carden told me that I was damned, devil born. That he would lead me to the road of salvation. He taught me to read, gave me scriptures to learn by heart, taught me how to fight. He made me hate the fey with burning passion, while keeping my own origins a secret. He told me that my suffering would cleanse me of the sin of being born fey.” He pursed his lips.

 “Oh, gods.” Leofyn clasped her hands in front of her mouth, a shocked expression in her green eyes.

 There was silence around the fire for a moment, no one quite wanting to imagine what kind of suffering the monks had made him suffer through. His face told them enough.

 “As much as I hate to admit it, I believe him.” Morrigan was surprisingly the first one to speak up. “The Ash folk were known for their ability to sense other fey, and I certainly don’t think it was beyond them to steal a child, and brainwash it to believe the hogwash they tell it.”

 Everyone looked up at her a bit shocked, but she had a grim expression on her face.

“Nevertheless..” she then added, axe still in her hands. “I am not convinced that a simple conversation with a knight, however noble Gwain was, could truly change him. Not yet at least. And killing a few of his brothers is not enough for me.”

 “Morrigan is right, I’m afraid.” Calder nodded. “Years of teaching are not easily undone. He probably does not even remember much from our own culture, his own culture.”

 “So, what do you suppose we do now?” Leofyn got up, walking over to the horses to run her hands through the mane of her mare, to calm herself down a bit.

 “He is kin, one way of the other. Probably the last of the Ash folk.” You said slowly, your eyes staring into the flames again. You didn’t want to face the monk right now, and also none of your friends. “And he is a good fighter, from what we have heard about him. Having him on our side could increase our chances of survival, as much as I hate to admit it. We could teach him our ways, remind him of what he has forgotten.”

 “The choice is his.” Edwyn looked over to the monk, who just stared at you in surprise. “As much as I would hate it, he can take the boy and leave. Or the two can stay, on our conditions. And we teach him what we know. If he wants that.”

 “I do.” The monk said, so silently it was hard to hear his words over the howling of the wind. This time he looked surprised by his own admission.

 There was a long moment of silence, with only the boy smiling up at the monk, who seemed as if he was not sure how to handle this expression.

You and your friends all shared a look. It was difficult to make a big decision like this, as there was no established leader in your group, no one to take charge. Ever since you had fled the destruction of your village a few weeks ago, you had just decided things together. It had been fine, you and your childhood friends on the run, but now you needed someone to say ‘yes’ or ‘no’. Everyone knew that the one to make the decision, would also be the one who had to take the responsibility for whatever the outcome was.

 “You can come with us, then.” Calder said, throwing a quick glance in your direction. You nodded. “And learn our ways.”

 “But do not think you are just fine to move freely as you like, not yet!” Morrigan glared at him. “Your hands will remain bound, for now, and we will tie you to a tree at night. These are the conditions for now, until you have proven yourself to be trustworthy.”

 Calder nodded at her words, before looking back at the monk.

“You have to understand that we can’t just trust your word. Not after what we’ve been through.”

 The monk kept silent for a while, before he simply nodded.

 -----

The night felt endless, and it was obvious that after what had happened, none of you really managed to find any rest. When you went over to Morrigan, for her to take over the watch, she was still wide awake, a grim expression on her face.

 You also had a hard time falling asleep, images of the slaughter of the Ash folk haunting your mind, images from when you had found had heard the screams, and found the remains of their village hours later, their bodies and homes burned.

The name Lancelot did not sound familiar, but you wondered if you had known him back then, when you had been a child. He seemed around your age, and you and your friends had often played with the Ash folk children in the forest and at the loch that bordered both of your homes.

 Those weeping eyes, you had forgotten them. They looked so different now on the face of the enemy, half hidden underneath a hood, instead of your friends’ laughing faces. You groaned, turning onto your back, as your mind was running, trying to remember a child that had a similar face as the man you had met tonight.

 At dawn, all of you got up quietly, packed up the camp and stomped our the remainders of the small fire. The only one who had seemed to have found any sleep was Squirrel, the child probably exhausted from what he had gone through these past days. He blinked at you through hooded eyes, when Edwyn woke him up.

 Leofyn handed out a bit of food to everyone, a small piece of slightly stale bread and a small apple, which had to be enough until you found a river to fish in, or spotted game to hunt. With two more mouths to feed now, you were afraid that the small rations you had would not last for very long.

 Everyone climbed on horseback, Squirrel, despite his protests at first, riding with Edwyn, and you slowly made your way further south, the sun rising to your left. The wind had gladly died down a bit, but the morning was still quite cold.

 “Do you understand what ‘Born in the Dawn, to pass in the Twilight’ means?” you asked after the group of you had ridden for an hour or two, your horse walking beside the dark animal of the monk. The sooner you would start with teaching him your ways, the better, you thought.

 There was a moment of silence between you, and for a moment you thought that he would not answer at all, until he finally spoke up.

“No.”

 It saddened you, that he wasn’t even aware of the most basic things of your people, the simplest sentence every child could recite.

 “We believe that we were the first, to walk the earth. The very first spirits to be created. This is what we mean, when we say ‘born in the dawn’. We were born in the dawn of the world.” You started, mustering him. His eyes were on the road, his face half hidden behind his large hood. “’To pass in the twilight’ denotes our connection to the hidden.”

 “What is the hidden?” you heard the monk ask, his low voice somewhat shy. He still didn’t look at you.

 “Spirits of nature. The Sky folk say that they are direct decedent from the hidden, which is why they have such a strong connection to them. But all fey are somewhat connected to them, some more and some less. This is what gives us our magic.” You raised your hand, producing a dancing flame between your fingers, catching Lancelot’s eye.

 “How do you know, if you have a connection?” he asked with a frown, looking down at his bound hands. “And do you see the hidden as your gods?”

 You were glad that he asked questions, that he seemed to be interested of his own accord. You would have hated to have to lecture him, not knowing if he took in anything you said.

 “To answer your second question first, no. The hidden are not gods. As I said, they are spirits of nature, to which we fey have a connection to. See them more as.. ancestors, watching over us, and supporting us. We have to go into ourselves, to feel them. It can take time, but it is always possible. We also have our gods, many gods. Good ones, bad ones.. and everything in between. But that is a topic for another day.” You smiled carefully.

 “Father Carden told me that I had to fight the fey, to feel the grace of god.” Lancelot said, and your smile dropped.

 “Well, he was wrong.” You said with a slat voice, causing the man to turn his head towards you. “You didn’t feel his grace, because their god is not real.”

 The monk squinted his eyes at you.

“How do you know I never felt his grace?”

 “Well, have you?” you challengingly raised an eyebrow, mustering his face.

 Lancelot stared at you for a whole with pursed lips, before averting his gaze. You huffed, a smile forming on your lips again.

 “As I said.” You clicked your tongue, a command for your horse to speed up a bit, so you were able to catch up with Leofyn riding in front of you.

 You felt Lancelot’s eyes like daggers in your back, but you also knew that you had helped him take the first step back to who he was supposed to be. It would take time, you knew, and it would not be easy to undo all the years, all the damage the church had done to him. But you believed that it was possible.

 ------

 The days went by, the weather ever changing. It grew colder and the leaves started to fall from the trees, providing less cover from both the elements, and possible prying eyes. You travelled most of the day through the forests, trying to avoid roads and open plains, always going south and only stopping for one or two hours at the time, to hunt and eat. When it grew dark, you made camp to sleep, getting back on horseback as soon as it dawned.

It was not always possible to find shelter from the rain, and being damp and cold was your everyday reality by now.

 Morrigan had started to train the young boy, who had finally admitted that his real name was Percival and not Squirrel, after the boy had begged all of you to make him the knight he ought to be. You guessed, as Morrigan indeed knew the knight who had knighted the boy, that she felt that it was her responsibility to teach him what she knew.

 Morrigan was a good fighter, one of the best you had ever met. She had been the blacksmith of your home, had taken over the profession from her mother, and her grandmother before that. When you had been teenagers, she had forged her first swords, blunt once, so you could practice together safely. Which of course did not mean that you did not suffer many bruises, and two broken fingers over the years from these blunt swords.

 You and Edwyn took turns, telling Lancelot about your culture and history, challenging the believes that the Christians had beaten into him. The evenings the man spent in contemplation, and where you had spotted him praying to the Christian god in the first few nights that he was with your group, you were relieved when he had stopped, instead leaning against the tree he was usually bound to at night, staring up into the orange leaves above him.

 You were sitting at the campfire, after everyone had just finished their meagre meals, as so often staring into the flames and making them dance with your magic, noticing how Lancelot’s blue eyes watched as well, from his spot on the opposite side of the fire. You were not sure if it was a good idea, making him see what you so casually could do, when you were not entirely sure if he had already stopped to think of you as devils and demons. Before you could entertain the thought further, Calder sat down next to you.

 “The nights are getting colder. We need to find a place to stay, if we want to survive the winter.” He said in a low voice, so that only you could hear him. Calder had established himself more and more as the leader of your group, and you supposed it was not different back when you were children. He was just a year older than the rest of you, but when you had played pretend in the forests as children, everyone had always looked at him to be told what to do, or where to go.

 He of course never made decisions all by himself, never had. Just as back in the day when you were children, he asked each of you what you thought about things, sought out your council, never blindly guiding you somewhere you didn’t want to go. He most often came to speak to you, though, which made sense, as you two had grown up together, and were almost like siblings. Your families had been close friends, and you saw each other as family.

 “I know. I don’t think we will reach Cornwall before Samhain, not with the pace we have now.” You sighed, resting your arms on your knees.

 “If we hurry, we might reach it a week or two after, but frankly, I don’t want to risk it, not with the boy. Morrigan and I want to scout out tomorrow, to see if we can find some caves or something similar, to make a more permanent camp for the time being. To wait out the winter and travel on come spring.” He sighed. “Though I am not sure what is more dangerous: you all remaining here, where you could be attacked, or you keep moving further south, risking us not finding you again.” He pursed his lips.

 “Neither sounds appealing, if I am honest. But with all of us, you would be slowed down.” You nodded at the many saddle bags next to the horses, containing everything you had managed to save of salvage from the red paladins.

 “You are a very skilled fighter, and Edwyn is also not half bad. I’d rather know where you are, than go looking for you.” Calder said after a few moments of silence and you nodded.

 “We should still move a bit, away from the camp here and find a more secluded spot. Maybe travel and hour or two together in the morning before we part ways.” You suggested, and now it was Calder who nodded.

 “Good idea.” He said before getting up. He walked over to Morrigan, who was with the horses, to discuss the plan for the next day.

 “What were you talking about?” a voice caused you to turn your head to the other side, where Percival was sitting. You had not noticed him approaching you, let alone sitting down right next to you. The boy was as silent as a mouse, if he wanted to be.

 “Calder and Morrigan will ride out tomorrow, to look for a place to spend the winter.” You explained to him. “We will go with them for a bit, and then make camp, so they will find us again.”

 “Sitting in one place for so long, won’t that be dangerous?” the boy tilted his head at you. You nodded.

 “Yes, but it also means that the others can find us again when we return.” You crossed your legs, turning a bit more towards the boy. “But with a knight like you and a fighter like me, we can best anything that would dare to attack us.” You grinned.

 “You are a fighter?” the boy’s eyes grew big.

 “Oh yes!” you put your hand onto the sword at your side. “My parents were both fey knights, protectors of our village. They taught me from a young age. Morrigan and I used to practice a lot together, and I think you already got a taste of her skill, no?”

 Percival seemed both impressed and relieved that he was at least in good hands, when you had to stay put. He smiled, before his expression got serious again.

 “Was Morrigan named after The Morrigan, because she is a warrior, or did she just become like that because she was named after the war god?” he asked looking over at the tall woman.

 “I’ve asked myself the same thing, you know.” You had to grin. “You should go to bed now.” You than added, glad that the boy just nodded and went over to where a few blankets were waiting for him.

 You were not sure how far from civilisation you already were, how far from the roads, and most importantly, how far from the next red paladin patrol. You were still not southern enough, to escape their influence, and had stumbled over more than a few remains of fey wandering the forests, alarming you that the monks were indeed patrolling this area. They seemed to be everywhere, even in the most remote areas, jumping out of the bushes wherever one went.

But on the other hand, now with their sniffing dog gone, maybe they would not find you so easily.

 You felt a bit bad, comparing the poor man to a dog in your mind, but that was exactly how he had been used by the Christians. To sniff out his own kind and hunt them down. Thinking about it made you both want to rip his throat out, and wrap him into your arms, to tell him that it was all over now. Which was a really weird mix of feelings, you had to admit that.

 -------

 The next morning you got up before dawn, stomped out the fire and got on horseback, riding south. Percival was asleep in Edwyn’s arms, having fallen asleep almost as soon as he had been seated in the saddle. When the sun finally edged over the horizon, Calder and Morrigan said their goodbyes, kicking their horses’ sides and galloping on further, while the rest of you made camp, hidden in a small grove between thick bushes, and a small waterfall.

 The horses went grazing, munching away on what little begetation was still green, while Leofyn and Edwyn started to pull the bags off their backs, to set up camp. You scouted the surroundings, to make sure that there was not already someone close by, and that you were far enough from roads or settlements. You also made your way a bit more upstream, filling everyone’s waterskins in the small creek, after you had made sure the water was more or less clean. You put the waterskins back into the large bag you were carrying them in, before returning to the camp.

  When you arrived, you found Percival awake, in the centre of the camp, a stick in his hand, moving it like a sword, while Lancelot gave him instructions, sitting with his back against some rocks next to the waterfall, his bound hands in his lap. He was still wearing his hood, and you had to admit that you had never seen him without it. You wondered why he never took it off.

 “No, stretch your arms out, or else they can be pushed down easily.” Lancelot said, as the boy held his stick in a lower, defensive guard.

 “Like this.” You came up behind the boy, correcting his position carefully by guiding his arms. You rounded him, pulling your own sword from your sheath, and demonstrated the correct grip and stance. “And from here you can do many things, while the position of the blade covers you. You can thrust like this, or cut, or strike.” You demonstrated a few movements. “Personally, I prefer to thrust.”

 “Why?” Percival asked, trying to copy what you had just shown him.

 “It is quick and deadly, especially if your opponent is unarmoured.” You made a few elegant routines with your sword, swinging it through the air in practiced moves, before taking the same guard as before. “If he tries to strike you, you parry, move your sword and thrust. If done right, it can be very effective, especially against unexperienced or tired opponents.”

 “What else can you do?” the boy stared up at you with big eyes, causing you to laugh.

 “Oh, many things! When we find a place to stay for the winter, Morrigan and I will show you all of them. Then, come spring, you will be a lot closer to being a true knight.” You winked, sheathing your sword again. You pulled out one of the waterskins from the bag around your shoulders, throwing it at Percival, before throwing another one at Lancelot, who caught it with his bound hands. There was an odd expression on his face that you could not really place, so you quickly turned towards Leofyn and Edwyn, who were close to the horses.

 You felt quite bad for the two of them, as they had initially intended to join their lives, right at the time when the paladins had destroyed your village. They had been together since they were teenagers, and finally wanted to start a family of their own.

 “I hope they are safe.” Leofyn said, as you handed her the remaining waterskins. She shook her head slightly. “The thought of losing them.. no, I could not bear it.”

 “They will be alright. Morrigan is a berserker, nothing will cut her down, you know that.” You smiled, putting a hand on your friend’s shoulder.

 “Oh, I know, I know. You are right.” A sad smile was on her lips, and she petted your hand a few times, before sitting down next to Edwyn, resting her head against his shoulder. You nodded, before turning away again, wanting to give them some privacy.

 So back to the kid and the monk it was, then, you thought.

With a sigh you wandered over to them, sitting down with your back to the rocks as well, though in a safe distance from Lancelot. Both of you kept watching Percival, as he spun around, trying his best to follow the instructions the two of you had given him. You hoped that he would tire himself out quickly, so that the rest of you could have a moment of tranquillity to yourselves.

 “Tell me about.. our home.” Lancelot’s voice broke the silence between you, and you head turned towards him. His blue eyes mustered you, his expression one full of sadness. You looked down at your hands for a moment, trying to recollect what you remembered. Your grandmother had never gotten over having to move south, so she always recollected stories and talked about people, so you never quite forgot the few years you spent in Scotland.

 “Be aware, I was quite young myself, when this happened.” You started with a sigh. “Well, our villages were located north, in the glens of Scotland. There was a forest between us, and a lock. There was a lot of trade between the Ash and the Fire folk, and we children met up often, paying in the forests or in the water, were up to all kinds of shenanigans. I wonder if we knew each other back then.” You finally looked up, studying his face, to see if any of this sounded familiar.

 “I remember a lake. I remember the fishermen being angry because we scared away the fish.” Lancelot frowned. You had to grin.

 “Yes! Yes, they would try and hush us away! But we would just steal their ale and run.” You had to laugh, and Lancelot grinned as well.

 “Yes, I.. I remember that.” He looked quite surprised by that.

 “We celebrated our ceremonies together, the Ash and the Fire folk. We met on one of the hills, where our temple was. We celebrated Samhain, which we would celebrate in a few weeks, actually, the beginning of winter. We celebrated Imbolc, the beginning of spring, Beltane, the beginning of summer and Lughnasadh, the beginning of the harvest season. Do you remember?” your voice was full of excitement. It was the first time that the man seemed to remember his past, remember what came before the monks and the Christians, and you wanted to latch onto that. Most of what you and Edwyn had told him until now were general stories about the gods and old heroes, but you realised that starting with simple things, like things you did as children, were maybe better to jock his memory.

 Lancelot pursed his lips, his frown deepening as he stared onto the leaf covered ground. He picked up one of the leaves, his skin starting to turn red and orange, his blue eyes watching the change.

“I remember.. I remember a hill. With tall stones.” He started.

 “The temple.” You said, nodding enthusiastically.

 “I remember holding my mother’s hand.. she told me that there would be a feast after, and that I had to behave.” One of the corners of his mouth raised slightly, as he turned the leaf between his fingers. “I remember being very bored.” He then added, looking up at you.

 You had to laugh at his words, and a real smile also formed on his face. You realised that this was the first time you had seen the man smile. It was a beautiful smile, from a beautiful man.

 “This’ our time, the night’s our day.” You started, mustering his face intently.

 “We’ll dance this fading life away.” He ended the rhyme, part of a song sung during the Samhain festivities, again looking very surprised by himself. Then, his smile grew sad, and he looked down at the ground again, his hood covering his face. “To think.. that I destroyed so many of us.” He said silently, shaking his head. “Thinking that I was doing the right thing.”

 “Isn’t that something the Christians always talk about? Atone for your sins, or something like that?” you said, not knowing if that was even correct. You did not know much about their religion, only that they worshipped a guy, killed in the most painful way possible, and whatever the paladins yelled when they were slaughtering your kind. But Lancelot nodded.

 “I thought that killing fey would wash the sin away.” His voice was pained.

 “Being born fey is not a sin.” You sin, your eyes mustering his slumped form. You hated the whole concept of ‘sin’, it was something that did originally not exist in your culture.

 “I know that.. now.” He let his head drop against the stones behind him. “But it won’t bring any of them back.”

 You could not argue with that.

“It won’t bring them back, no. And it won’t undo the horrors you have created. Assessing how much of that was your fault is not a simple black and white matter, and frankly, I don’t think trying to figure it out would be particularly useful.” You sighed, pulling your legs to your chest. “What is important now for you is to change. To renounce the lies you were fed and to find back to what you are. Who you are.”

 There was silence between you for a moment, both of you simply watching Percival, who was still practicing with his stick, completely oblivious to your conversation.

 “Your magic.. what can it do?” Lancelot suddenly spoke up again, and you had to look over to him once more.

 “Many things. Some people can do more than others. Why?” you frowned a bit. He had told you about the ash storm the Wolf-Blood-Witch had conjured up a few days ago, and considering that he was Ash folk and the rest of you were Fire folk, he wondered if you too would be capable of such things.

 “Can it heal?” he asked instead, catching you a bit off guard, his expression undecipherable.

 “Leofyn can heal with magic. She also used to be the healer of our village.” You said, nodding towards your friend. “Are you injured? Is that why you keep your hood up?” you had not forgotten the blood on his face, that he had since washed off. It had only been two weeks since he and the boy had joined you, and if he had been seriously injured, his wounds would not have healed yet.

 Lancelot took a deep breath, staring at the ground.

“Yes. But that is not why I’m asking.” His words confused you, but before you could ask anything else, he had raised his hand, and pulled his hood from his head.

 His hair was greasy and dishevelled, a look all of you shared after such a long time on the run. It was long, and tied up to a knot in his neck. But there, right on the crown of is scalp, you saw something that made your breath hitch in your throat.

 You had seen it on the heads of the paladins too, but for some reason it had not occurred to you that he would bear the same mark. A bald spot, with a cross deeply cut into his flesh. For some reason it did not look like an old scar, even though you were certain that it must’ve been there fore years. You didn’t even want to think about why it looked so fresh.

 “Can she heal this?” Lancelot asked, facing you, and you could see the pain in his eyes. “I don’t want to have this mark on my boy any longer.”

 You could not supress the utter pity that was written across your face. You nodded quickly and got up, hurrying over to Leofyn, who was silently talking with Edwyn. When they saw you approach, both of the looked up to you.

 “Leo, he needs your help.” Was all you could say, as you stretched our your trembling hand, and pulled the other woman to her feet. She nodded, and followed you, her eyes growing wide as she too spotted the cross on the young man’s head.

 “By all the gods!” she exclaimed, taking a step back. Percival, a frown on his face, lowered his stick in confusion.

 Leofyn took a deep breath, her expression turning from shocked to determined. She knelt down in front of the monk, pushing up the sleeves of her tunic.

“Lower your head. Yes, like that. This will hurt.” She simply said, before putting her hands onto the cross, her eyes closing and her lips starting to move.

 You had seen her like this often, had seen her heal with her magic many times before, but Percival, who stared at her with an open mouth, had definitely not. Leofyn started to glow from the inside, as if there was a fire burning right in her core. One could see the shadows of her bones through her skin, as she emanated a warm, orange light. A pained groan left Lancelot’s lips.

 Percival dropped his stick, wanting to run over to him, but you reacted quickly, managing to grab his shoulders to pull him back. You keeled down beside him, your arms still wrapped around him.

 “She is healing him. But fire burns.” Was all you said, as both of you watched Leofyn glow even brighter, and Lancelot’s breathing turn into a hiss.

 And then, just like that, it was over. The glowing subsided, and Leofyn pulled her hands back, a smile on her face. The cross was gone, not even leaving a scar. The hair would soon grow back, given some time. Leofyn looked exhausted, healing a wound to thoroughly had drained her.

 “It is alright.” Leofyn’s voice was soft, and Lancelot looked up at her, his face red and his breath still ragged.

 “Thank you.” Lancelot finally found his voice again, but Leofyn just smiled.

 “Welcome home.” She simply said.

 The woman sighed, before she got up, leaning on Edwyn who had also come over. He half carried her back to where they were sitting, letting her lean against him, wrapped up in his arms.

 ------

 The sun was high in the sky, and Edwyn had taken Percival to hunt for rabbits, the bounty of their efforts being enough to feed all of them for two days. The boy had also found a few berries and a pear tree, enabling you to stock up on as much fruit as your horses could carry.

 Lancelot had fallen asleep, after the wound on his head had been healed, and you were glad that he could finally find some rest. You had noticed that, at least every time you had held watch at night, he had been wide awake.

 You had wrapped yourself up in your cloak and blanket, the ground and the rock behind you cold, despite the sunshine. The sound of the waterfall was intensely calming, and you felt yourself almost dozing off too, when suddenly you could hear an unnatural rustling of the leaves. Your eyes flew wide open, and you were on your feet a moment later, your cloak falling onto the ground behind you, and your sword in your hand.

 Edwyn and Leofyn startled, when they saw you jump up, but seeing our expressions they too got up and drew their weapons. Edwyn threw his hunting bow and quiver over to a frightened looking Percival. You moved a finger in front of your mouth, a sign for the others to keep quiet, before you slowly moved away from the rocks and the creek, and towards where the bushes and foliage around you opened up, so you could look into the forest.

 You held your breath, when from between the trees you spotted a group of red paladins, two on horseback, riding through the forest, one in the front, looking at the ground, apparently searching for tracks. They were already quite close, and in a minute or so they would probably pass your hiding spot. It was hard to make out how many of them were there, but you guessed around a dozen or so.

 You looked back at the others, nodding once, and gesturing the number of paladins you estimated to the others, before stepping a bit back to get more cover. Percival picked up the bow and the arrows, before shaking Lancelot’s leg to wake him up.

 The steps of the paladins grew louder, and you tried your best to keep your breathing even, raising your sword. As soon as you spotted just an inch of red fabric, your struck with your blade, hitting the monk right in the neck and cutting him open. Shouting immediately followed, as you kicked the gurling man in the stomach, so his body fell back and onto one of his brothers.

 The horses got spooked, and started to kick, and you used it as a distraction to round the group, your sword in front of you, to guard you from any attacks, in exactly the manner you had taught Percival just hours before.

 Edwyn jumped out of the bushes behind the group, thrusting his short sword in the back of one of them, and using his small shield to block an attack. You also parried the attack of a monk charging at you, using his momentum to your advantage by simply side-stepping, letting his sword glide down yours and cutting him right in the shoulder when he moved past you.

 You managed to get your sword up just in time to parry another strike, letting go of the hilt with one hand, to grab your own blade and quickly turning your sword, to pommel the paladin right in the face. A loud crack confirmed that you had just broken his jaw.

 You turned around to attack another of them, who stormed towards you with his sword raised, but suddenly an arrow pierced him right through the neck, and he fell down in front of your feet. Behind him you could see Percival, looking amazed and afeard at the same time, bow in hand.

 You only had a moment to nod at him, before you engaged another red paladin, this one quicker and obviously more experienced. He was able to counter some of your attacks, until you managed to parry, and hinder his stroke by setting aside his blade, and thrusting right into his chest. Sweat was running down your face and you felt a cut that had not seemed so deep on your arm to start to throb. Your left hand also felt slippery, the sword having cut through your fingerless gloves and into your hand. When you had gripped it earlier. You didn’t have time to wipe off your hands on your clothes.

 You struck the sword of a paladin to the side, wanting to go in with a thrust, when a sword cut through his neck from behind, cleanly decapitating the man, who limply fell to the ground now. In front of you was Lancelot, who had apparently picked up one of the other monks’ swords, and had cut his hands free. He nodded at you, before he turned, cutting through another man in red with elegance you had never seen before. The stories of his skill had definitely been true, although your thought his twists and turns were a bit excessive.

 It was over as sudden as it had began, and from one moment to the next, there was silence around you. The last man-blood was dead on the ground, their blood seeping into the earth and the water of the creek.

 You wiped your sweat off your face, only to remember that your hand was still bleeding, and you were just smearing it all over you. Edwyn also seemed to be lightly wounded, but he spit on the corpse of one of the monks, before sheathing his sword.

 Lancelot was looking around himself, and down at his dead brothers, looking a bit as if he was having an existential crisis, that you really did not have the patience to deal with right now.

 “We have to move.” Was all your said. “That blook will be seen by someone eventually.” You nodded at the creek.

 “I agree. We should go north-west. It will bring us away from the stream, but not too far so that we won’t be found.” Edwyn nodded, starting to pack up whatever you had taken off the horses, and making sure the rabbits and the foraged food were safely packed up.

 You went over to the water, washing your face and hand, before wrapping a piece of cloth around your palm, and arm.

 “I will make some markings.” Leofyn said, more to herself than anyone else. “Come Squirrel, help me with it.” She pulled Percival with her, as she started to gather twigs and other flora, to create fey symbols out of them, for the others to find, to tell them where you went.

 You knelt at the at the creek for a moment longer, before you got up and started to pull the arrows out of the paladins’ bodies. You also searched them for anything useful. Gladly their horses had not gone far, and you managed to find some food, some ale, and some parchment with maps and instructions, which you promptly burned in your hand.

Freed of their saddles and bags, you sent the horses off, to run into a different direction than where the paladins had come from.

 When you returned to the others, handing over your findings to Edwyn, you noticed that Lancelot had watched you.

 “Want to say something?” you asked, maybe a bit more challenging than you had intended to. But your heartbeat was still fast, blood still rushing through your ears.

 “No.” he frowned, his face confused, as he stretched out his hand, the pommel of the sword he was holding pointing in your direction. But you just shook your head.

 “No, keep it. I think you have proven yourself today to be trustworthy, and you are a lot more useful with a sword in your hand than tied up, should we be attacked again.” You were not sure if it was a wise decision, but it was the first thing that came to mind. He also seemed to be surprised at your words.

 Lancelot nodded, before walking over to one of the many bodies on the ground, removing a sheath and a belt from one of them, to secure the sword on his waist.

 A few minutes later, everyone was ready, and the markings had been placed where your camp had been just moments ago.

‘Riding north-west’ the markings said.

 “So that is what those symbols mean.” Lancelot said, as you got onto your horses, and a smirk appeared on your face.

 “So much culture, hm? Let’s make sure it’s not forgotten, eh?” with that, you started to ride.