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everlastingdreams · 2 years ago

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Weeping Monk x Reader : Cloaked Beauty One-shot

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

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

Warnings: Possible ED symptoms/signals (?)

Word Count: 3K+

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

As it had been the plan of Lancelot too.

One night.

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

A broken window, a door that barely closed.

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

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

To him, you were the perfect balance for Percival.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Summer or winter, the cloak remained.

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

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

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

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

Percival came to your side “Are you alright?”

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

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

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

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

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

Were you so afraid of people seeing you?

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

The answer was a resolute “No.”

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

Always the cloak.

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

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

Always the cloak.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was honest work and you earned your living.

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

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

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

After that, he did accept them.

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

Lancelot always said ‘No.’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

With a nudge he silenced the boy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

After the meal, the three of you returned home.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But not today. Not now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Did you truly believe others perceived you so wrongly?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He could not voice his opinion on the matter.

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

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

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

Your eyes remained on the floor “Everyone.”

That could not be correct.

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

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

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

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

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

Oh?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The number had you frown at him “What?”

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

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

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

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

You stood up from the bed, still feeling somewhat lightheaded

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I do.” You admitted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Perhaps actions spoke louder than words.

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

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

Your thoughts were slowly catching up “Why?”

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

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

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

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

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#weeping monk #cursed the weeping monk #theweepingmonk #weepingmonk #lancelot #lancelot cursed #weeping monk x you #the weeping monk x reader #lancelot x reader #lancelot fic #Cursed Netflix #cursed #cursed fic #netflix cursed #fluff #Daniel Sharman #daniel sharman character #reader x lancelot

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theweepingwitch · 4 years ago

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Road to Avalon - Ch1 Caught

This is a quick boring ch, the first couple are episode rewrites essentially, it feels a bit rushed, but gotta get through this to get to the good stuff. i saw a few people liked the prologue, so if you’re reading, I'm sorry it took so long lol

*This is a reader insert, but you’re referred to as Lianna because of the healers oath. The name just means healer*

Rating: M, but this ch not really

Warnings: fighting, violence, death

Chapter 1 - Caught

“THE GREEN KNIGHT!” You looked up from your table. Out the window you saw a Tusk teen running through the paths as he did whenever Gawain returned to Nemos. Your friend and fellow Lianna came up beside you to see what was going on.

“I wonder if we are needed.” She asked. You sighed.

“We usually are.” You wiped your hands on your apron, turning to the room. It was large for the space Nemos had. It served as both your home and a hospital of sorts for the refugees fleeing the Red Paladins. Cots lined the walls, though thankfully few were occupied. A small hearth lay in a pit in the middle of the room, a small pot of healing potion on the boil.

“Lianna!” you heard a voice call from outside. It was the Moonwing Elder. You rushed to the door, surprised to see her, but the now panicked muttering of the people told you something was wrong.

“What is it?” you asked.

“Paladins.” She said, slightly out of breath. Your heart dropped.

“They found us?” the elder nodded.

“Gather the sick, we’re going to the ships.” she said. You nodded, rushing back to the other Lianna. She had a worried look on her face.

“We’re leaving, grab what you can. I’ll get some help to move those who can’t walk.” you said. She nodded, and you put a comforting hand on her arm.

“Fear not, the Hidden will protect us.” you said, trying to sound more confident than you were. She nodded again and rushed off to pack. You went back to your work table, and grabbed the bag you had packed beneath it. Hurriedly, you shoved some last minute things inside, and you rushed out the door.

Fear had taken hold now, people were running, children clung to their guardians, and warriors readied for battle. You made your way through the crowd until you reached the Tusks, strongest of the fey. They nodded briefly in acknowledgement, but continued to ready themselves.

“I need four strong of you to help with the sick.” you said over the din. The Tusks looked among themselves and soon four volunteers came forward, three men and a woman. You nodded in appreciation.

“Come, quickly now!” They rushed off to their destination. Being a Lianna did come with some small role of authority among the fey, no matter the race. Task complete, you wove your way back to the healing room.

---

The next hours passed in a blur, but everyone had managed to get out in time. As you walked along the caravan of fey, whispers began to go around.

“They want to take Gramaire.” the other Lianna said. You looked at her, surprised.

“Are you sure? That’s a well guarded town.” you said. She shrugged.

“With the Red Spear on our side who knows what can happen.”

---

To your surprise, and overall relief, the fey did manage to take Gramaire. You hadn’t thought much of Nimue as a leader, but she had surprised you. Her use of the Sword of Power was clumsy, her abilities not strong enough to wield its power. But you knew she meant to take it to Merlin, so you said nothing.

You had only heard of the fighting, as you remained hidden deep in the woods with the injured. Gawain assured you he would be back to get you, and he had.

There was an infirmary in the town, which you and the other Lianna now occupied. There were two nuns in the back room, but they cowered in the corner as you entered. You raised your hands, showing you meant no harm.

“Sisters, I am a healer, like you. We only wish for a brief sanctuary while we wait to leave this land.” you said. The nuns looked at eachother.

“You are a witch!” one managed to get out. You sighed.

“You may believe what you wish. But know that I and the other fey will not harm you.” you said. Your words seemed to have little effect, not that you were surprised. You pointed to the empty cots in the room.

“We have wounded, we will tend to them here.” You didn’t give them any choice. It half-pained, half-annoyed you to have to be forceful but it was necessary. As if on cue, the Tusks came barreling through the door with wounded in tow. They placed them on the cots, and you got to work. The nuns watched as you pulled bottles and supplies from your bag. One simply couldn’t stand the sight of such “EVIL!” and fled. The other stood frozen in place. You turned to her.

“Your saviour sat with the whores and lepers, and fed them and healed them. Are you not a follower of your god? Will you stand by and watch as people suffer?” you asked her. She stared at you, slowly shaking her head. You motioned for her to join you.

“Then come and I shall show you.” the nun stepped forward cautiously, and knelt down beside you. You turned your attention to the blond raider. You gently put two fingers on his forehead, and prayed.

“Hidden, show what is broken, torn, and bruised. Show me disease, and guide me to health.” You closed your eyes and felt the bands on your arms pulse with power. Slowly, whispers filled your ears, telling you what needed to be done. But then the whispers were quiet, and the voice of the widow came to you.

“I am for him, go tend to others that are not past saving.” You opened your eyes, pulling your hand away. A commotion at the door caught your attention, and Pym came crying into the room.

“Dof! Oh no, no, no.” she cried, falling to the man’s side. You put a hand on hers, shaking your head. Pym’s face contorted in sobs, laying over her lovers dying form. You looked at the nun and nodded to the door. The two of you rose, and left quietly. In the corner of the room, the black veiled Widow watched. You nodded briefly to her, and moved to tend another patient.

---

Gramaire had been under fey control for several days now. The wounded were healing quickly, and the nun had become an enthusiastic student. Nimue had taken the throne from Sir Ector, even if only for a few days. Despite this, the people of the town and the fey came to an uneasy truce. The Red Paladins had been vicious occupiers, while the Fey were peaceful, even helpful, but more importantly, you were leaving.

You were sitting outside the infirmary drinking tea on the 3rd day when you saw Gawain approaching. He came to a stop before you and bowed slightly. You nodded back in greeting.

“What can I do for you, Green Knight?” you asked. He shifted slightly, looking concerned.

“There are caravans of fey missing in the woods. Smugglers bringing fey up to the ships have not arrived as they should. I’m going to investigate, and I think having a healer along may be beneficial.” he said. You took a deep breath. While the council had sent you here, it was to do your work, not going out on scouting missions. Gawain seemed to sense your hesitancy.

“The boy Squirrel is coming along if that makes you feel better.” he said. You smiled, looking behind Gawain to see young Percival practically jumping with excitement.

“He idolizes you.” you observed. Gawain looked back at the boy, smiling.

“I can only hope to be worthy of it.”

“Of course you are, Green Knight.” you said with a wink. You stood and went inside to grab your bag, and your short sword, just in case. The other Lianna was seated by a patient, explaining something to the nun. You went over to her and put a hand on her shoulder. She looked up at you, eyeing the weapon on your back.

“Lianna, I’m going with the Green Knight. I will return by tonight.” you said to your fellow oath taker. She nodded, but looked concerned.

“Be safe.”

---

You knelt beside the body of a fey woman, putting a hand on her wrist.

“They’re gone, Lianna.” Gawain’s voice came up from behind you. You sighed, and got to your feet.

“We will pray for them.” you said. You looked around at the surrounding trees.

“Do you think any made it into the woods?” you asked. Gawain drew his sword, but shook his head.

“Unlikely, but we should check to be sure.” he said. You drew your weapon as well.

“We can split up, cover more ground. But do not stray too far, the paladins may still be here.” you said. Gawain bowed, and set off to the north, and Squirrel to the east. You headed west, using your senses to find life. Only a few minutes had passed when you heard Gawain shout. You spun your head in the direction of his voice, and heard the clash of swords. Your hunch had been right, someone had stayed behind. You ran towards the fighting, and gasped as you saw the Weeping Monk attacking Gawain. You stood frozen, watching the two spin around each other at high speeds. For a moment, the monk was knocked down, and you saw Gawain hesitate. To your horror, the monk took the moment to plunge his blade deep into Gawain’s side. You watched as he fell to the ground.

“No!” You shouted. The Monk’s head snapped to you, surprise on his face. You brandished your sword, and charged at him. He deflected you easily, tripping you so you hit the ground hard. Your sword tumbled away from you, and his heavy boot landed on your back. You felt the wind get knocked out of you.

“Leave her! She is of no use to you!” Gawain tried to yell, but the stab wound made his voice crack. The monk took his foot from your back and pulled you to your feet by the hair. He put his sword up to your neck as you gasped for air.

“Then tell me, why would you bow to her? This isn’t the Wolf Blood Witch.” he said quietly. You realized that this must have been a trap all along, the monk had been watching the whole time. The monk pointed his blade down to Gawain.

“They want you alive, Green Knight. And you,” he looked at the Lianna bands on your arms.

“are an extra gift for Father.”

#roadtoavalon #cursed #theweepingmonk #theweepingmonk x reader #lancelot x reader #weeping monk x reader #the weeping monk x oc

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euphoniumpets · 5 years ago

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Fire Meets Fate (1/10)

Prompt: Fire or Water. Where to begin? The weeping monk was the skilled warrior where the people feared him. He was a complicated man. Until he met the sister of the Fey Queen who had lived under the shadows for so long.

A/N: This is the rewrite version of this fanfic! So, this may not appear the same story that my followers read them at the beginning. I had changed the storyline (slightly) but it is still the same. I hope you liked this version and please give me feedback!

Send me a little comment in the ask section or leave it below on what you thought of this chapter. As usual, I hope you all enjoyed!

Please don’t plagiarize my work - I spend a lot of my time writing, copying and pasting destroys that. If you want to repost my work. please ask first - but even then I might say no.

Warnings: violence, blood & gore , torture.

Pairing: The Weeping Monk x reader

Tag List: @purerepelsdirt @parabatai-winchester @linkpk88 @fear-of-the-guardians @lancelotapricot

Based Off: Cursed 01x01

Warnings: blood & gore, violence, dead bodies, torture.

THIS IS A SERIES: one - two - three - four - five - six - seven - eight - nine - epilogue

The sound of fast speed footsteps was all you could hear, and the tall green trees that surrounded you was all you could see. It seemed distant, but you could overhear the steps of the horses and men who were shouting. You guessed that someone was chasing the mysterious figure who was holding you.

Looking up with your small eyes, it was a woman. You guessed it that it was your mother, but it was so vague that you couldn't figure it out. She held the baby tightly before she turned around to see that the men were far away from her.

The woman placed the baby somewhere into the deep woods so that the Red Paladins couldn't see it. The baby left out a small cry when she saw her distraught expression. The only thought she had in her mind was that she hoped that the baby would be safe.

''There she is!'' She heard one of the men roars as she gasped in fear before the woman took a final look at her daughter before she sprinted away. On the other side of the forest, father Carden looked towards the woman who was running away from them. He turned next to his loyal warrior.

He wore dark clothing as he had his hood on where it covered his crying face. ''Catch her, and after that, you will force her to tell us where the child is, but if she doesn't, kill her, we will find the damn child without her,'' He informed him as he nodded.

The weeping monk did what Father Carden exactly told him. The woman was stubborn, and she would not tell them. He knew that Father Carden had a plan. He always had when things won't go to his plan. The woman screamed and pleaded while he drove the sword into her heart as she fell to the ground dead.

''Y/n!'' You woke up with a start as your mind was foggy, and a minute, it seemed that you forgot where you were. That changed when you saw the worry on Nimue's expression in front of you, and it reminded you that you were in the village.

''Nimue,'' You replied as your realization came to alive.

''Another nightmare?'' She asked as she was sitting on the edge of the bed.

''Yes, strange enough, it's always the same,'' You muttered before you sighed tiredly.

''Come on, I think Squirrel can cheer you up,'' She told you as you chuckled towards the thief boy. You got up from your bed while you freshened up your entire body as picked up a simple dress for the day.

While you got out of your hut, you could see the hatred and the disgusted expressions that the Fey folk would give you. Ever since you were a child, the two of you had trouble fitting into the Fey folk. While Nimue was being bullied and harassed that she was different, you, however, got to deal with the loneliness.

People believed that Nimue was cursed by what had happened when she was a child. And it was even worse than the children would bully you because that you didn't even get to know your biological parents.

You knew that your mother had hidden something from you. It was even worse that you got to know by the children in the village that they weren't even your biological parents.

Lenora had found you, storming inside the hut with raging and betrayed eyes when you found out that you were not their child by blood. You ran away before she could even explain, but Nimue was heartbroken and found you by the lake where she would go when she felt sad and lonely.

She told you that she didn't care that you weren't her sister by blood. You were her sister, no matter what. And ever since that day, the two of you had promised each other that you would protect each other.

''Come on, ignore those looks,'' You whispered to her as you dragged her arm away from the people. The two of you were picking some flowers for the ceremony. ''Shoot, I forgot to pick an offer for the ceremony today,'' Nimue told you.

''I will meet you and Squirrel later, Ok?'' She asked you as you nodded with a smile. The two of you hugged before saying goodbye as you looked after Squirrel. You figured out that he is somewhere and looking for something to steal.

You never went to the ceremony because your mother wouldn't let you. You didn't know why but you seemed that she had requested you to be with them on the beach, but the elders didn't take a liking to you. Probably because they're afraid of you and that you were different than Nimue.

''Y/n!'' Upon as you heard your name from the familiar voice, you turned around as you saw Squirrel coming towards you with a grin.

''Squirrel!'' You exclaimed happily. You had met the child and quickly bonded with him when you and Nimue caught him stealing one day. He pleaded both of you that you guys wouldn't tell his father, and ever since that day, the three of you became friends.

''Look what I found,'' He replied as he showed you a leather flask. You frowned towards the item before you rolled your eyes as you bent the knee to his level.

''Let me guess, you stole this?''

''No...'' Squirrel sheepishly answered as he lowered his gaze on the ground as he kept glancing at you. You raised an eyebrow.

''Alright, fine,'' He whined as you smiled in victory.

''Besides, how many times have Nimue and I told you not to steal?'' You scolded him as he shrugged his shoulders. He took a sip from the flask before he visibly winced towards the strong liquid. You chuckled towards the expression he gave towards you.

''Bit strong,'' He replied.

''Squirrel, where did you get that?'' You heard your sister exclaim when she saw the flask in his hand. ''Well, he's been roaming around the village like a thief,'' You gave him a look.

''Found it, it's a bit strong but not bad,'' You left out a giggle as you shook your head towards the small boy. You knew that he was only trying to survive, but sometimes you couldn't help feeling worried that he might steal something bad.

''Witch,'' Someone sneered past the three of you as you turned your expression towards the villagers. You could feel that your stomach turned uneasy, and you knew that Nimue wasn't the same when the people were using that word.

''Piss off, you old wag,'' You snapped.

''Yeah, piss off!'' Squirrel repeated as you watched the woman roll her eyes. You turned around as you saw your sister with a dreadful expression. ''Anyway, are you heading to the pyre?'' He asked Nimue before he continued.

''I wish I could go,'' He spoke sadly.

''Someday, little knight,'' She spoke.

''Besides, you have y/n over here so she can keep you company,'' Nimue informed him.

Turning your gaze towards the solar eclipse before it disappeared, you felt that something was wrong. Call it a gut feeling, but you knew that something was wrong with Nimue. The two of you were sisters, and you knew her very well.

As you told Squirrel that you were going home, you ran towards the village where you saw her arguing with your mother. ''What is going on? I saw the eclipse,'' You made your presence known as they both snapped their attention towards you.

''Nimue is the next chosen,'' Lenora responded. You widened your eyes as you looked towards your sister. ''Well, not anymore,'' She snapped before she ran towards the hut. ''Nimue! Come back here!'' You heard your mother yell next to you.

You followed after Nimue as you heard your mother calling after your name, but you ignored it. ''Nimue!'' You called her as you saw Pym following after the three of you. Pym was another friend that the two of you had.

''Nimue! What happened?'' You questioned with worry as you walked into the cottage. You watched Nimue pack her belongings into her bag.

''Nimue, please, talk to me,'' You pleaded. Your heart was beating so fast as you watched her with fear. ''I'm a summoner,'' She replied.

''You're a what?'' ''Yeah, I know that,''

You and Pym said at the same time. ''How?'' You asked her with confusion. ''You know-how, the hidden chose me,'' She informed as you watched her hurry.

''Besides, it doesn't matter, I'm going,'' She told you. You couldn't believe this. You understood that she doesn't want to be a summoner. Because she was afraid of what the people will say about her. But that doesn't mean that she would leave without you, you were her sister for god sake.

''How can you even go?'' Pym asked.

''I'm getting on that ship today, it's still on Hawksbridge,'' Nimue said.

''Then take me with you,'' You replied as she stopped and turned around.

''No,'' You rolled your eyes.

''That wasn't a question, we promised each other,'' You told her.

''Besides, they don't want me here, and I don't want them,'' Nimue said as she flickered her gaze between you and Pym.

''Who? The elders? What cares what do these shriveled onions think?'' Pym replied. Nimue sighed before she walked past you as you looked towards Pym before the two of you followed after her.

''Oh, My Gods, You're acting mad, we're following you,''

After hours of riding, you began to grow tired. It seemed that Nimue wasn't going to change her mind. ''I can't believe both of you dragged me here,'' Pym complained as you chuckled.

''I've got Iye smell all over me,''

''You know, no one asked you two come,'' You replied as Pym shrugged her shoulders. ''Well, both of you don't know what you're doing,'' She responded as you left out an offended gasp.

''That is an insult, besides, I do know, it's just Nimue doesn't know,'' You replied as you glanced towards Nimue, who rolled her eyes towards your sentence.

''I do know, sister, Gawain took the Brass Shield, the only ship that crosses the sea to the desert kingdoms,'' She explained while Pym gave her a look from behind. ''Because nobody wants to go to the desert kingdoms, which should tell you something,''

''She's right,'' You responded.

''I'm getting on it,'' Nimue responded sourly as you could see the town in front of you. The two of you began to ride faster as you were closer to the town.

''At least your mother wants you home, mine wants out,'' Pym told you two. ''And this will be her excuse, she'll say, Nimue's gone, get on with it,'' Nimue and you began to chuckle.

''And she wants to sell me to the fishmonker,'' Pym whined.

''Stinky Aaron,'' Nimue said with humor in her voice.

''It's not funny!'' She complained as you turned next to her with a teasing smirk. ''It's kind of funny,''

As you got off from your horse, you watched the crowded marketplace. ''What if they found out you're a girl?'' Pym questioned after they had given their horses to a loyal boy.

You followed next to them as the three of you speedily walked towards the docks. ''I'm cutting my hair,'' Nimue answered simply as you rolled your eyes towards Pym.

''But what if they found out if you're a fey kind?''

''They won't,'' Nimue brushed off the comment. ''You'll look after the old boy?'' Nimue asked her as she turned to face her.

''No, I'll let him starve,'' Pym answered sarcastically as you let out a small smile. ''She's joking,'' You assured her when you saw the shocked face on your sister.

''What about the money?'' Pym asked again.

''I have twenty silvers,'' Nimue responded as she looked towards Pym.

''What if they rob you?'' You sighed. You knew that Pym was worried for her friend, but you knew that your sister could take care of herself. She always had.

''Pym, that's enough questions,'' You told her off. Pym sighed as she knew that you were right. The three of you continued to look after the Brass Shield, but it was nowhere to be found.

''I don't see the ship,'' Nimue muttered next to you. You felt bad for her since she tried to escape her destiny. ''Alright, you've made your point,'' Pym spoke up after the long silence. The three of you kept staring towards the sea.

''No,'' Nimue said in despair as she ran faster as she tried to find someone to ask why the ship wasn't there. ''Brass left yesterday,'' She heard the man in front of Nimue respond to her question.

You panted heavily after you had tried to catch up with Nimue. ''But...it's not supposed to leave for another week,'' Nimue muttered to herself. ''When does it return?'' You spoke up as the man flickered his gaze towards you.

''Six months, now do you mind?'' He replied as he pushed himself to the other side and walked away. ''At least we can keep you a little longer?'' She asked hesitantly. ''Six months,'' Nimue told her as you stood next to her and placed your arm around her.

''I know,'' Pym replied. ''Come on,'' Pym told you as she dragged both of you back towards the marketplace.

#theweepingmonk #the weeping monk x reader #cursed x reader #merlin x reader #nimue x sister reader #squirrel x reader

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everlastingdreams · 2 years ago

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Weeping Monk x Reader : The Patience Of A Heart Chapter 20

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

Chapter Title: Helgenstone

Notes: I just realized I have to proofread three chapters again soon ;_;

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: +130K

Chapter: 20 / lol Gonna keep the chapter count a secret until the end.

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It was warm in the night’s embrace, the forest surrounding the city did not sleep, magic hanged in the air.

Through the mark you could feel it, it was in the wind that caused the leaves to sway gently. It was in Llamrai’s energetic step and the grass that flattened beneath her hooves.

This forest felt safe, even if it was born from a power most did not understand.

It was only when you were reaching the end of it that the weather changed, it got colder and the further you went the more drastic the changes were.

As if it sensed your intent and wished to discourage you from leaving the safety it had to offer you.

Snow fell until you were out of the forest that had tried to make you stay.

You looked back to see not a single snowflake fall beyond the trees.

The forest, Brécilien, had wished to protect a Manblood like it protected it’s magical people…

It had you thinking about the origin of Fey. What if they had once been Manbloods too? Had they become connected body and soul to the soul and earth of the world?

What could have caused such a change to take place?

Maybe the world brought forth the Fey to save itself, for the Fey protected nature and the lands from the fires of those who sought to burn it all away.

The Church feared change and nature never ceased to change and evolve.

The Fey were necessary to ensure the survival of the world.

In a way, Fey were mystical people and guardians to the earth.

If the Church ever succeeded in eradicating the Fey, nature will cease to thrive.

Harvests would fail, animal species would cease to exist, the lands would suffer the lose of their protectors.

The children of the future would be born into a world robbed from it’s beauty by those who feared it.

While riding towards Helgenstone, it dawned on you that the amount of Fey children at the fortress was rather small. Were most still out there wandering? Or was there another issue?

Had Fey children become rare due to the war?

It would not be unlikely, how many Feys who were with child had been burned during these ‘cleansings’?

The thoughts never stopped, even as you left the city behind, the Feys were still in your mind.

By the moon’s position, you estimated that two hours had passed.

You’d already reached the forest you had once fled into while running from the Trinity Guard after your escape from their imprisonment.

Here you were more careful, this forest would not protect you.

All off a sudden the satchel’s leather band snapped loose from Llamrai’s saddle and the satchel dropped to the ground.

Ugh, fantastic.

You dismounted and picked the satchel up, after tying a knot to fix the band, you proceeded to attach it back to the saddle.

The sound of a horse in gallop approaching took you completely off-guard.

There was no time to mount before the person riding came into view.

“Arthur?!?” You blurted out at the sight of him.

He looked very relieved to see you, then loudly whistled and called out “She’s here!”

Oh, no…

More horses approached the spot and soon you were faced by not one but four familiar faces.

And one of them was boring his eyes into yours to the point where you dropped them to your feet.

Gawain was visibly disappointed by your impatience on this matter. Arthur send a sympathetic look, knowing the trouble you found yourself in.

And Red Spear? She seemed a bit impressed with the fact that you had already made it this far.

But Lancelot was quiet when dismounting, boots hitting the ground with a loud dull thud.

The others dismounted as well, sensing that the Ash Man was not in a haste to get anywhere anymore.

Your confidence faded the closer he got and by the time he was only a couple of steps away, your voice lost it’s confidence too “Lancelot-”

He had taken you by the elbow and was whisking you away from the group, he made it only a few steps further before confronting you “How could you?!?”

It sounded accusing, but anyone could hear that there was genuine hurt beneath his words.

The Green Knight had called all together to explain the plan not long ago, but you failed to be present.

And then he had found the bangle hanging at his door when walking to your room to fetch you.

Needless to say, he was more than a little upset.

Your voice was unsteady “This could be the only chance to outsmart Wicklow.”

Lancelot’s words lashed at you, it was a miracle he could keep his voice down so the others did not hear “Is your hunger for vengeance stronger than your love for me?”

It hurt to hear the question, you could barely bring out the answer “Of course not-”

He was too upset by the distress he was forced through these past few hours “You knew I would have never let you do this alone. What if you had died?! How could you care so little?!”

You tried to reason with him but it was like facing a hurricane “I would have been alright!”

At that, he took the silver bangle from where he’d kept it at his side and held it right in front of your nose “Is that why you left this at my door?”

You didn’t know how to respond.

He was no fool and knew what it had meant and sickened by the thought that you were prepared to die for a chance on revenge “To have as a keepsake after the Abbot has his Trinity murder you?”

This time the others had heard, Gawain interfered “Lancelot, she-”

The Ash Man snapped at him “This is not off your concern, Green Knight!”

It shocked everyone to hear the often reserved man bite the words in his fury.

“You are acting as vengeful as-” He stopped himself from speaking the name.

But you knew who he was going to refer to and it felt like a blow to the stomach.

As vengeful as your uncle had been…

Filled with hate towards Wicklow, like Uncle Carden had been to the Fey…

It was the quiver of your mouth that caused him to quiet himself.

How could he draw the comparison?…

Fool…

The regret was instant.

It was Red Spear who marched over and shoved him back away from you, her voice thundered “Enough!”

The rustling of feathers was heard and white wings brought one familiar down to the earth, the strength of Yeva’s wings offered a silent landing.

“Lover’s quarrel?” She taunted.

Thankfully it had been a taunt, apart from the others, only Gawain was aware of how deep the bond between Lancelot and you was.

The unfamiliar scent was enough for Lancelot to believe an enemy was behind him.

The sword at his side was drawn while he spun around and if she had not been further away, it would have struck her.

You gasped at the sight of it happening.

Yeva held no fear upon facing the Ash Man “Have you come to kill me as you have killed the others?”

The Moon Wing needed no weapons to attack or hurt him.

She continued “Son of Ban.”

Red Spear stepped back at the sight of the rare elder Moon Wing.

Yeva walked past Lancelot, looking him up and down, then circled you and took a sniff “His scent is all over you.” she gave him a look “Typical Ash Man, marking their possessions so others would not dare to take it.”

It was mortifying. All were there to hear it.

Gawain wasn’t surprised, but Red Spear and Arthur were visibly confused by it.

The Elder Moon Wing looked you up and down.

You felt slightly uncomfortable to be studied like this “What is it?”

Yeva commented, seemingly curious and intrigued “Not bearing his heir yet.” as if that was not blunt enough, she proceeded with “The seed of the Ash Folk is strong, won’t be long.”

Your feet felt rooted to the ground, your face burned from the way Yeva spoke so openly of it.

Like she was waiting for it to happen…

There he had his answer to whether or not a Manblood and Ash Folk could conceive together.

If only he would have gotten the answer without the others there to hear it.

Arthur and Red Spear looked at Lancelot for an explanation and received none.

It was Gawain who decided to share the news “Lancelot is the son of Ban. And y/n…”

Arthur was quick to understand what the knight was about to say “Wha- What? He…” he gestured at Lancelot, then at you “-she… they’re…”

“Yes.” Gawain deadpanned.

“I knew it.” Red Spear lied poorly, disappointed in herself for not realizing that it had not just been friendship sooner.

You felt like all eyes were on you now and the cloak did little to shield you from them.

“Heir?” Arthur broke the awkward silence that had fallen in the group.

Yeva barely acknowledged him “Son of Ban, the Ashen Prince, now king among the Fey. An heir is preferred.”

“Prince?” Arthur repeated in disbelief.

“KING?!” Red Spear did not hide her shock.

Gawain knew part of the legend that surrounded the Ash Folk “Elder Yeva is right. Ban was the Ashen King. Some of the Ash Folk had the power to create Fey fire, the very same fire that forged the Sword Of Power. Our friend here inherited this magic. Ban became king because the power he had over Fey Fire was beyond anything the Fey had ever seen before.”

Arthur stepped closer to Lancelot “You are a king?”

Yeva took the liberty, as always, to answer “He is. The fire of the Fey runs in his veins. The legacy of Ban rests on him now.”

Lancelot would not hear of it “I am not a king!”

Arthur openly disagreed and made him face the truth “You were born to be a king. Your people need you. Isn’t salvation what you wanted? That magic you were born with was meant to keep the Fey safe. USE IT.”

The Ash Man did not yield “I have no desire for kingship!”

The elder Moon Wing spoke to him “King or not, the fire burns in you. Embrace it or let it burn all else away from you.”

He did not understand what Yeva was trying to say, until she let her eyes glide towards you…

His grip on the sword tightened while demanding for Yeva to be forward about it “What are you saying?”

And Yeva did speak her mind, letting it be known how strong her clairvoyance was “She dreams of fire, does she not?”

A cold shiver ran through you at the mention of them.

Gawain knew of the abilities of the elder Moon Wing and urged her to explain herself “Elder Yeva, did you see something?”

She turned to the knight “Flames burned in her past. And they will burn in her future.”

You did not want to hear any more of this, the thought alone that you would meet your end the same way your parents had…

By stepping away from the Moon Wing and walking over to stand with Llamrai, you distanced yourself from the conversation.

Was the elder warning him? Or was it an unavoidable fact that fire would cause you harm?

It had only angered him further.

Yeva sensed his despair and anger “We need the Fey Fire, Ash Man. Or this world will burn by the flames of those who seek our extinction. Let fire meet fire.”

Now the Moon Wing stood before him, to her this Ash Man was a youngling and he was yet to learn what sort of magic and power the Fey truly possessed.

He hated to admit “I do not understand.”

Finally Yeva seemed to appreciate his honesty “You will. Kneel to the ground Ashen Prince, I will call upon the Hidden to show you.”

There was the longest moment of hesitation from him, his eyes darted to the group and ultimately settled on you.

If there was a chance to spare you from the fire…

“What are you going to do to him? Why does he need to kneel?” You found yourself getting closer again and taking on a defensive stance.

Yeva tilted her head a bit “Would you rather he fell over?”

He was touched by the display of concern and protectiveness and reassured you “It is alright.”

He put aside his pride and knelt down, both knees on the grass for he did not know what to expect.

She placed a hand to the side of his head a bit rough “Memories will come. Maybe good, maybe bad. Concentrate.”

It was nothing new to him.

You stood aside and anxiously watched how Yeva began to chant in a language you did not understand.

Gawain came to stand beside you for support.

Lancelot closed his eyes and tried to empty his mind as the Moon Wing had asked.

The voices of the Hidden grew closer and louder, they drew him into a state between dream and reality.

Past and present became intertwined.

His life as a growing boy flashed before his eyes.

Red from the paladin robes, red from blood…

The lashing of the whip and the sensation of the blood running from the wounds.

The blood of his younger brother Hector stained his hands, the sword that had struck the infant down was lifted to his chin too.

In that moment he had wished the sword would have ended his sorrow.

The pale child had died in his arms, red robes moved around the village slaughtering his people.

The sword fell away and he met the eyes of the man who’d saved him from the blade.

Ashen markings burned beneath the man’s eyes, a green so bright they shone glorious in the dark of night.

Tears ran down over them, dimming the light upon the sight of the fallen child.

The man reached for him “Come, my boy.”

His father… his real father had picked him up from the ground and carried him away.

A woman came running to him “Where is Hector?”

Ban could not stand the sorrow his wife would experience if she knew “My love…”

The rest was a blur, he found himself in his mother’s arms as she cried out in agony.

She had lost one child and would not let go off the other.

Ban had tried to lead them to safety, he truly had…

His mother held on to him, shielding him from the sight of his fallen father and the group that had surrounded them.

She refused to let him be pulled from her arms, no matter how hard they pulled at her hair or how many times they struck her.

The thing that seperated him from his mother was a sword piercing her body.

And still, she held on to his small hand as she sank to the ground.

Ripped away from his family, a stolen child…

He was carried away, they torched his village…

The flames touched the roof of his house, it was then he that had felt the agony fully take hold and pull him from his shocked state.

All he saw as the feeling increased inside of him were the flames turning green and extinguishing themselves.

Not his home, not that too…

Not the crib he had slept in until he was too big and it was passed on to Hector.

Not the books his mother would read to him every night.

No. They would not take it from him too.

The marks beneath his eyes burned as bright as his father’s had for only an instant.

And only one had seen the green that matched the magical fire, the priest he had called ‘Father’.

A name not fit for a monster.

Lancelot returned from the world between worlds gasping for air.

You were on your knees before him instantly “Are you alright? Please, say something!”

He took hold of your shoulders to steady himself and realized he was trembling all over.

You were holding his hand just like she had done…

Out of fear of seeing him like this, you snapped at Yeva “What did you do to him?!”

The Moon Wing watched the Ash Man process the druid dream “The Hidden showed him what he was forced to forget.”

That could not have been good…

There and then you cared little if others saw the way you cared for him “Lancelot, please-”

He squeezed your shoulders, cupped your cheek and then dropped his hands from you.

His Fey markings were restless under his skin, trying to force their way to the surface while he fought them off.

Lancelot breathed in deeply, nodding to himself “I am alright.” he placed his hands on his legs to keep himself steady and catch his breath.

Physically he seemed fine, but you worried most about his mental state after this.

Red Spear asked him “What did you see?”

The answer was carried by his haunted tone of voice “My family.”

Even she knew how delicate these matters could be and did not pressure him into speaking of it further.

Yeva stepped away from him “The Hidden showed you what you saw for a reason. Remember it.”

You saw her begin to leave and called out for her “Wait, Yeva!”

Lancelot stopped you “Let her leave, she has shown me what I needed to see.”

The elder Moon Wing looked at Gawain who bowed his head in respect, than she retreated back into the trees.

Arthur came closer and held a hand out for Lancelot to take.

Lancelot never spoke of his family to Arthur, but he could tell that the Manblood knew now that their lose of family was something they had in common.

He let Arthur help him up off the ground and the Manblood patted him on the arm twice, an amicable gesture.

Arthur tilted his head, an unspoken inquiry to the Ash Man’s state.

Lancelot did answer it with a nod.

He would be alright, maybe not now, but he would be.

You saw his attention lock on you for a blink, then it drifted to the others again.

Gawain spoke to him “If you are alright, do we continue to Helgenstone? Or return home? It’s your decision.”

The Ash Man was still rattled by the druid dream and needed a moment to think.

The others, including you, waited for his answer.

Blue orbs met your eyes, then dropped to the ground at your feet.

“We are continuing to Helgenstone.” He announced.

Red Spear seemed happy with the prospect of putting some enemies on her sharp spear again.

Gawain and Arthur stood by his decision.

“We should get going then, are you good to ride again or do you need a moment?” Arthur asked Lancelot.

He considered waiting longer unwise, this should not be done in a haste “We need to arrive before noon. It will give us an advantage.”

At that, you and the others went to your horses. While the others mounted, you still had to reattach the satchel to Llamrai’s saddle.

While doing this, Lancelot came to speak to you, you didn’t expect him to show up beside you and so close all off a sudden.

And certainly not after the argument you’d had before Yeva showed up.

In silence you tied the satchel’s band to the saddle.

What he had said to you in anger before Yeva had interfered…

The accusation that you wanted vengeance more… the comparison with Father Carden…

You felt his stare and turned your head to look at him.

The uncertainty was blatantly clear in your eyes.

He took hold of Llamrai’s reins and went to stand even closer at your side “Y/n…”

You shook your head.

But he would not let this argument nest itself into your heart and risk it growing thorns “I was worried. And I was wrong.”

Your eyes risked meeting his and in return his pleaded with yours

“No, I was wrong to do this. I never should have left like that. Ever since I saw what they did with the abbey, what they did to Anne, I kept thinking of ways to make Wicklow pay for what he did. What was I thinking…” You were close to tears, the fury was dampened down by despair and regret.

It was not hard for him to relate to what you were going through “I know what it is like to crave for justice even if it comes at the cost of your own life.” his fingers caught your chin and made you fix your eyes on him “Before I met you, that cost meant nothing to me. Now I remind myself of what I could lose if I let hatred blind me.”

It was a warning at what lied ahead if you would let your hatred win.

Your hand touched his arm “I never wanted you to think that I would choose vengeance over you. I will always choose you.” your eyes dropped to the grass “I just wasn’t thinking clear.”

He knew it was the truth, especially after having seen you become so protective of him “And neither of us have slept in almost two days.”

The hand you had on his arm was claimed by him, he took the liberty of gently placing the bangle back around your wrist.

“Marking your property again?” The sarcasm dripped from your words.

His brow arched, mouth curving in a sly smirk “I have to. You keep running off.”

You pressed your lips shut like a scolded child and to prevent laughing at the fact.

And perhaps part of him enjoyed the chase…

Arthur cleared his throat “When you’re done. May I suggest we head to Helgenstone?”

Lancelot’s mood had improved “No.”

You smacked his chest playfully and called out to Arthur “Yes.”

It wasn’t until you gave him a slight push that he stepped away and went to mount his horse.

You got on Llamrai as well and as usual she danced back and forth a bit.

Gawain was the one to lead the group to Helgenstone as he was more familiar with the city.

Red Spear came to ride beside you at seeing the rather odd way your horse was walking.

“Follow.” She commanded Llamrai in that intimidating tone.

For the first time, Llamrai obeyed the order straight away and followed Red Spear’s horse.

To be honest, you’d probably follow her as well if she used that tone on you.

━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━

It was an hour past dawn when you arrived at Helgenstone with the group.

Red Spear suggested to go to the local inn to have a drink while discussing the plan again but this time with you present.

Gawain openly objected to the idea and she accused him of thinking that she could not hold her liquor.

The stern knight and hot-tempered captain where two stones bumping into each other, neither could truly damage the other.

Lancelot stayed out of it and you followed his example.

It was Arthur who was able to calm the captain’s beginning fury.

A tankard of ale, not a bottle, at the inn for Red Spear it was. And a meal for all to enjoy before the mission would begin.

The innkeeper would not say a word of this meeting to others, The Green Knight had helped him once a few years back when the innkeeper’s Fey sister in law and her husband were forced to flee.

Gawain had drawn out some of the plan on a piece of parchment to make it easier to explain it to you too “You’re our most important ally for this. Wicklow is expected to arrive in this city’s church at noon, which gives us a small period of time to let you infiltrate the church.”

Lancelot added “You know the customs of a nun, it will allow you to go to places inside the church where we cannot go. This Church is administered to by mostly nuns and the local priest.”

Arthur pointed to a place on the map “There is the main entrance, were you will enter.” he pointed to another spot “Gawain and I will handle any Trinity guards present in these hallways. Lancelot and Red Spear will handle the hallways on the east side.”

It sounded like you were going to be on your own “Wait… why am I entering through the main doors?”

Gawain informed “You’ll do that before Wicklow arrives. You need to be inside the church beforehand, when he arrives, no one will be let inside by the Trinity out of precaution.”

Lancelot pointed to the map “By going through the main entrance, you distract them from us.”

You weren’t sure of it “I don’t think me walking in will distract them that much…”

Red Spear disagreed “It will.” she put a flask down on the table right in front of your nose “Sheep’s blood.”

Twice you blinked, then understood what was being said “You want me to dress up as a nun and pretend to be wounded?”

The Ash Man was being cheeky about it “You are the perfect choice for this.”

It earned him a look “How wounded are we talking?”

Red Spear deadpanned “As wounded as you need to be to distract them.”

With growing confidence in their plan, you asked “And then what do I do?”

“Play the part.” Arthur chimed in “I you need a reason to make them believe you’re suddenly well enough to walk around, just make them think you’re mad.”

Your eyes narrowed “So, I have to play an insane nun?”

Lancelot snorted a laugh and hid it under a cough, muttering under his breath “She’s experienced…”

You send a glare at the twit.

He talked himself out off trouble by explaining further “We have the numbers against us, but the element of surprise is ours. We work our way to Wicklow, maybe we can even get information out of him. I believe he could share secrets of the Church with the priest. And what better way to learn of these if not by an eavesdropping nun?”

You were still glaring “You’re really enjoying this aren’t you?”

The Ash Man made no effort to hide it, but continued “I know you will want to act when you see Wicklow, I ask you not to do so. Not unless he is alone and you can flee the place afterwards. Do not take risks.” he addressed the others “None of us should take risks today. If this fails, there will come another chance.”

“Ay.” Gawain agreed “Maybe we can even ambush him on the roads if we fail to do so in the church.”

Lancelot looked at you “Indeed. No risks.”

All agreed, although Red Spear was visibly in disappointed over the ‘no risks’ part.

He gestured to the sword at your side “You will not be able to take along your sword. But you have the knife.”

Walking into a church dressed as a nun while carrying a sword would certainly draw attention “Alright. So where do I change into my tunic?”

There were shared looks and you realized that that part of the plan had been looked over.

“Here?” Red Spear suggested.

It earned her a bewildered look from everyone.

Arthur reminded her that not everyone was as comfortable or brave with these things as her “Maybe we could pay for a room? She can change there.”

Gawain got up and went to handle the matter with the innkeeper “Don’t worry, y/n. I’ll handle this.”

While the knight did that, you questioned the others “So, you will make your way inside the church while I pose as a distraction?”

Lancelot and Arthur gave a nod.

You continued “And if I can overhear the conversation between Wicklow and the priest, I should try to do so?”

“Yes.” Red Spear was quick to the point.

Arthur added “It would be nice if Wicklow could find himself out off the sight of his guards.”

It would indeed be nice “I’ll try.”

Gawain returned and handed you a key “The room is settled. Up the stairs, second door to your right. Need any help?”

You couldn’t help but seize the opportunity to joke “Help with getting dressed?”

The knight cleared his throat and was a bit flustered “I meant…”

Lancelot helped him out “To find the room?”

Of course you would take the chance to mess with Gawain when it arose.

Poor Gawain was thankful “Yes.”

You were the example of innocence now and stood up from the chair “Nah, I’ll find it.”

Alright, perhaps you struggled to find the stairs but you did find them.

With each step, the wood creaked under your feet and you held on to the railing for dear life.

Once safely upstairs, you unlocked the door of the second room on the right.

It was modest, the bed had seen quite some wear and there was a layer of dust on the shoddy chair in the corner. Still, it was enough for those who sought a warm place to sleep and the innkeeper seemed nice.

You dropped the satchel on the bed and fetched the tunic and veil from it.

After removing your cloak and upper clothing, along with the sword and knife, you dressed yourself in the tunic.

It took some very precise folding for your other clothes to fit in the satchel, the cloak would have to be left behind with one of the others.

Strange to wear the tunic again, perhaps it was the only one that had survived the fire.

A knock on the door proceeded the familiar voice “May I come in?”

It didn’t surprise you that he’d show up here “Yes.”

Lancelot did not enter right away and asked “Are you decent?”

After snorting a laugh, you teased “Never.”

The door went open right away at the jest, he was smiling as well “You know what I meant.”

It had you snickering “Nothing to see that you haven’t seen before, it’s safe to come in.”

At that he shut the door behind him and you saw the long piece of cloth he carried in his hand.

Your brow arched at the sight of it “What’s the cloth for?”

He went over to fetch the knife you had put down beside your sword “To bind the knife to your ankle. It will be easiest to hide it there.”

There was a look of uncertainty and hesitation from him and it took you a couple of seconds to understand why.

“Oh. Uhm, will you help me with that?” You relieved him from asking it himself.

While walking over to you, you saw him fidget with the cloth as if he had forgotten how to tie a simple knot altogether. Oh, his shyness often made him forget the skills he had acquired in life.

He knelt down in front of you and was kind enough not to bind the knife to the ankle that had seen enough torment already.

With a hand on his shoulder, you supported yourself until it was done.

Was it necessary to brush his hand along your calf? You doubted it.

In return, your fingers brushed his cheek.

The gesture caused him to look up at you briefly before rising to his feet again.

He copied the gesture with you and cupped your face, cradling it while letting his gaze travel over it.

Could he tell that what Yeva had said was still running through your mind? That fire was not only in your past, but future as well?

“What is it?” He could see your mind wander.

Your gaze dropped from his face “Yeva knew of my nightmares. She could be right about my future too…”

His thumbs began to draw circles over your temples, soothing those frightening thoughts “I am not losing you too.”

There was only determination in his tone, as if he would protect you from all the dangers in the world. And in that moment, you believed he would.

A previous lose was causing this protectiveness “That dream she gave, you saw your family?”

He gave a nod, eyes never straying away from you “I saw what happened the night I was stolen from my family. What they did to them…how my mother held me in her arms until the steel of a sword forced her to her knees.”

You felt his hold on you intensify “I am so sorry you had to see that…”

His fingertips were pampering the back of your scalp “Yeva showed me only what I was forced to forget. I needed to know. Back then, I could not save those I loved. I will not let that happen again.”

To have someone care so deeply and know that their heart would be broken again by a fate you perhaps could not prevent…

He closed the distance upon seeing your somberness and quietly spoke “Your future is with me, not with fire.”

Rarely was he so confident to make such claims, it sounded like he wouldn’t let anything in the world take you from him. And you remembered what had happened to the previous people who had tried. Those bastards, Finch and Avo had suffered the consequences. And the Trinity guards who decided to torment you in the forest all fell to the merciless steel.

You cupped the side of his neck, thumb brushing just under his jaw.

His gaze drifted over your features and landed on your lips.

He leaned in.

You leaned back “You can’t kiss me.”

He leaned back at that “Why?…”

Your eyes looked down, signaling for his to do the same “I am wearing my tunic.”

First he looked confused, then he smirked and his brow arched at the shenanigans.

His eyes rolled over you swiftly “I can see that.”

That couldn’t have sounded more filled with sinful intend then it did.

You smacked the back of your hand against his chest and scolded “My goodness, Lancelot!”

It was beyond his own control that his thoughts wandered off on their own.

Clothes of virtue worn by one who broke rule after rule of the Church.

Of course he enjoyed this.

His hands flowed over your shoulders, then back up to cup your neck and he actually dared to plant a kiss on your lips.

You lightly pushed him back, feigning shock “I can’t believe you just did that!”

The amused chuckling filled the room, there was not an ounce of regret in him.

He even tried to draw you closer again but you swiftly moved out of reach.

You pointed at him and warned “Behave.”

If only you knew how that command only ever made him want to do the opposite.

With your sight still on him, you walked to the satchel again to grab the veil and put it on “Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like that.”

Not even he knew how many times his eyes had flowed over you now “I cannot help it.”

It was the honest truth.

You gestured to yourself “Do you think Wicklow could recognize me like this?”

“Once Red Spear is done with that blood, I doubt anyone will recognize you.” He dryly said.

There was no reason to doubt that Red Spear would coat you in the blood…

You hummed “I hope she spares my face.”

He looked at you with compassion “I fear not.” he went over to the bed and closed the satchel, taking it upon himself to carry it “Are you ready?”

You nodded and headed to the door, opening it “I bet the people downstairs will find it strange to see a nun there.”

He cocked his head “Are you saying that in your time at the abbey, none of them ever went to an inn?”

It was possible… “They never spoke of it.”

He let you walk out the door first, then closed the door again once you were both outside “Neither would a paladin or monk. Do not worry, an inn sees many sorts of people.”

Once downstairs again, the group bit back a smile and perhaps even laughter at the sight of you in the attire.

“The knife?” Gawain asked Lancelot.

“On her ankle.” He replied.

The Green Knight stood up and the others did so too “We should head to the church, the earlier we are, the more time we have to set this thing to our benefit.”

Red Spear grabbed the sheep’s blood and shoved it into Arthur’s hands to hold on to.

Lancelot saw how the Manblood had no idea how to approach her behavior even though he was trying his best.

“Alright, let’s go.” You said.

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everlastingdreams · 2 years ago

Text

Weeping Monk x Reader : The Patience Of A Heart Chapter 25

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Chapter Title: An Alluring Proposition

Notes: /

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

Word count of this fic: +130K

Chapter: 25 / 27

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Around midday, you went to see where that Ash Man had vanished off to and found him, along with Gawain, in the small field behind the fort.

They were sparring and both were very focused on it as well. Gawain fought like a warrior but tried to always keep a distance. Lancelot on the other hand showed no fear for getting close and personal.

Where Lancelot was distant in day to day life towards others, his true nature shined through in battle.

Gawain, much like his heart, remained wary at all times.

It was interesting to watch it happen.

In a way, the two opposites fitted well together, no wonder they got along quite well.

The knight would block an attack and the Ash Man would throw himself into the spar with more vigour.

The way Lancelot fought, like his feet rarely touched the ground, was much like a dancer.

There was an elegance in his fighting that you’d never seen before.

What had once been a task forced upon him since childhood had now become an activity to have some entertainment with a friend.

You couldn’t tear your eyes away from him, the way he moved and the confidence…

It wasn’t until you became aware of your staring that you forced your attention to the grass for a little while. Your face felt hot and it wasn’t the only response your body had to seeing him like this.

Your gaze had glided over him more than once and left your legs a little unstable.

Once they noticed your presence, the sparring stopped and Lancelot said something to Gawain before walking over.

He touched your arm and led you a couple of steps further away “I have something to show you.”

Off in the shadow, against a tree, were a couple of swords made from wood.

He picked one up and presented it to you “The woodworker is making more. They are excellent for practice. See how similar they are to the real ones?”

While he presented you the sword, he noticed you seemed rather…flustered?

The swords were indeed impressive, they were made to look and act as a weapon, but the blade wasn’t sharp.

Lancelot appeared excited, he must have wished he had these during his upbringing instead of having to dodge the steel.

You plucked the sword from his hands to examine it, not even a splinter was on it “Do you plan on teaching the children here?”

He sounded quite pensive about the idea “They would fear me less.”

It sounded like a good plan to you “I think you should. You’re already teaching Percival and planning to teach Neia. If other children see, they will approach you too.”

He gave a witty comment “As you approached me all those years ago.”

That was true…

You handed him back the sword “See. A child’s curiosity is often stronger than their fear. And once they know of your magic, they’ll be coming at you like flies.”

The possibility brought a shy smile to his face “You believe so?”

With a hum, you confirmed it “I do.”

His eyes fell on the sword, clearly considering the idea “I will teach anyone who wishes to learn. The children are the future of the Fey, but we have to build a world that is safe for them.”

“Well said.” You admired the wisdom.

There was the slightest twitch at the corner of his mouth.

You noticed it and how he was trying not to smirk “What?”

He was not going to speak of it, but now that you had asked…

Lancelot watched your reaction like a hawk “You were staring while I was sparring with Gawain just now.”

This was just an attempt to tease you.

You didn’t let it happen and were forward with the truth “You move well. Graceful.”

He hadn’t expected the truth to be spoken so openly “Thank you.”

It clicked not a second later that that must have been the reason why you had appeared so flustered.

The compliment had meant more than flattery about his skill with the sword.

Should he reciprocate this polite flirtation?

Even now, you often had to look aside or risk staring again. Since living here, he looked healthier.

A healthy color. More calm and yet more energetic.

The confidence grew in him, especially when it came to being around others.

And physically he had gotten much better too, he wasn’t dehydrated like he often would be from all the work he did for the Church.

No, he was taking better care of his health and it was visible to the eye.

His skin, his eyes and even his hair, it all carried a healthy glow.

Your eyes had fixed on him again.

This time he did not hide the smirk “You keep looking at me like that.”

“Like what?” You asked, mentally scolding yourself for how your voice had wavered.

There had been a change in your scent, faint but enough to set his mind into a spin.

Lancelot lowered his voice and leaned a bit closer “You do not have to pretend, I know what is on your mind.”

Any hint of doubt on that disappeared when he, not so subtly, let his gaze roam over you.

You didn’t know where to look anymore after that.

That sudden shyness was quite alluring to witness.

After regaining your confidence, you casually asked “How do you know?”

That curve in the corner of his lips now warned you.

The knowing look in his eyes said it all “The mark is not the only thing responding to me, your body is too.”

It took a moment for it to dawn on you what he had meant and when it did, you resisted the urge to flee from the spot.

His sense of smell couldn’t possibly…

You had crossed your arms in front of your chest, it made you feel quite exposed to know that he could sense something as personal as that.

He saw the instant flicker of self-consciousness in your eyes.

Should he have kept quiet? It was not his intention to cause embarrassment.

When you took one small step away, alarm flashed through his expression.

Lancelot closed the distance at once “Forgive me-”

You shook your head “I know you can’t help it.”

He opened his mouth to speak but the chance was stolen from him when Gawain came to stand between you.

“Mind if I spar with y/n?” Gawain suddenly asked.

You were surprised at the request and willing to jump into action now that the chance was offered.

The Ash Man was slow to reply, betraying his reluctance to approve of it “I do not.” he put the wooden sword in Gawain’s hands “Use these.”

Then another was put into yours.

The knight looked at him incredulous “Lancelot-”

He would not yield on this “She has yet to learn, Gawain. Be careful.”

You wished he would have just let you use your sword instead of letting it sit at your side like decoration.

You gave a quiet sigh at your intended “I will be fine.”

Lancelot dryly answered “Yes, you will be. Because you will not use steel.”

The sword was stolen from your side and planted into the ground a little further away by him.

Then he gave Gawain an expecting look and the knight drew his sword before sticking it into the soil as well.

Of course Gawain did not do it without remarking “I will ignore your lack of trust. Rest assured I would never hurt the future queen of the Ash Folk.”

With wide eyes you stared at them both, Lancelot let the comment slide.

An Ashen Queen…

“Come on, don’t fall asleep on me.” Gawain taunted when you were lost in thought for a blink.

You held the wooden sword just like Lancelot had taught you and surprised Gawain by being the first to step forward and try to strike.

Of course he dodged the wood with ease, it had been a purposely slow hit.

And so the sparring commenced.

Gawain was cautious and couldn’t resist giving some advice here and there.

At one point it turned more into a lesson than a spar, with slow movements that he helped you with.

All of it happened under a pair of watchful eyes.

The knight called out to the Ash Man “I won’t cut off her limbs with this sword.”

Lancelot dropped his attention to the ground.

Had it been so obvious that he was worried and ready to step in if anything went wrong?

Gawain was skilled in battle just like him, surely he had enough control too.

As a sign of faith and trust in Gawain, he tore his attention away from the sparring and noticed Arthur walking over to him.

Arthur came to stand beside Lancelot, after a moment of talking, they walked off together. There must have been something Arthur needed help with or something he wished to show.

Gawain continued to teach you some basics, how to block an attack and what not to do.

After a little while of this, you voiced your grievance “I wish I could just use my own sword. These wooden ones aren’t bad, but Lancelot gave me a sword and now it feels like he is afraid of me using it.”

The knight heard your concern “He’s afraid you might get hurt.”

You pointed out the flaw in this “I will get hurt if I don’t learn how to fight with my own weapon.” your voice betrayed the sadness it was causing “He promised he would teach me…”

And now it felt like he was growing reluctant…

Gawain took pity on you and went over to where your sword stuck out of the ground, he pulled it free and came to hand it to you “I understand his concern. And I understand yours as well. You’re right, it is best to learn with steel but it is dangerous.”

You looked down as he placed your sword in your hands “Then let’s not spar. Maybe just show me some things?”

Gawain approved of the idea and went to collect his sword as well “Alright. But do as I say and move slow. Understood?”

You nodded and agreed to the terms.

The tricks he showed were easy to learn for a beginner, the swords collided slowly.

After some practice on a certain trick, he allowed the pace to quicken.

Again and again it was the same trick, repeating it over and over until you got the hang of it and were able to do it in normal speed.

And let that be the unfortunate time when Lancelot returned to the spot. Gawain was fast enough to stop.

But you were disarmed, grabbed and then pulled along by a furious Ash Man.

He didn’t manage to get you far before you tore yourself from his grasp.

“Don’t drag me off!” You snapped at him.

His reply carried the fury “It is the only way to stop you from getting yourself killed!”

Did he really believe you were so incompetent? “I am not a child, Lancelot! Don’t treat me as one.”

It slipped from him “Stop behaving as one.”

By walking away, you showed how done you were with listening to him after that.

He did not let it go and intended to follow, it was Gawain that stopped him from doing so.

The knight did not approve of the way he had reacted “Calm down! She was never in any danger. You know I wouldn’t cause her harm!”

Lancelot bit the words at him “Then why go behind my back with this?!”

Gawain kept a calm head “Can’t you see that you are hurting her with this? She just wants to do what we do, you can’t keep excluding her just because you fear she might get hurt. I know you want to protect her. But remember what you said to me once, she is not as helpless as she pretends to be to some.”

He stepped away from Gawain, not acknowledging that he had in fact listened to the advice.

You were already walking past the stables by the time Lancelot caught up with you “I can’t believe you did that.” you spun around to face him “It’s humiliating! If you had stopped for one second, then you would have seen that we were being very careful!”

His own fury had not simmered down fully “Not long ago, you were struck down by a rock! It is unwise to be doing this! One moment of vertigo and you could have been struck by the blade!”

Why did he always have to be so overprotective? Why couldn’t he just have let you ‘spar’ with Gawain?

Your frustration matched his “No. I trust in Gawain’s ability! Besides, have you forgotten how you vanished in the middle of the night with Red Spear to try and kill Wicklow? How come you can take these great risks, but when I take a little one you act like this?!? I am starting to get the feeling that you just don’t want me near a weapon at all! I can’t rely on you being there to protect me all the time, I need to learn to protect myself!”

He met it with silence, mostly because this was drawing the attention of people who were passing by.

“Forget this.” You quietly muttered, hating to argue with someone.

When you proceed to walk away, he caught up with you.

His hand on your arm stopped you, he appeared calmer “Come.”

You saw him gesture to the stables and he let go.

By your own free will, you choose to follow him inside.

He closed the large wooden door with some difficulty and put his attention back on you “I will not keep you from the sword.”

You were surprised to hear it “You’re saying-”

Lancelot paced around a bit “I cannot always be there to keep you safe, you were right about that. I want you to learn how to wield a sword so well that enemies will fear you at the sight of it.”

There was an issue for him, you could tell “But?”

The confession took a while to come “Your bravery in the face of danger worries me. I fear one day I will lose you to it.”

The sliver of anger still rang in your words “I fear the same for you. But I will not take your weapons or forbid you to spar with a friend.”

He crossed the small distance and stood before you “I am not treating you fairly.”

He came to the conclusion on his own.

You nodded “Please, believe me when I say that I won’t deliberately put myself in mortal danger. I care for you far too much to put you through such a thing. I haven’t forgotten how upset you were when I wanted to go after Wicklow myself.”

Your sword was offered back to you by him.

The apology came along with it “I am sorry for behaving the way that I have.”

You sheathed your sword back in it’s holster “You were concerned for me.”

He wouldn’t hear how it would be brushed off “That does not excuse it. Protecting you is one thing, I should not be shielding you from everything in life out of fear that something could go wrong.”

Finally he understood…because he had listened.

You brought your arms around him and nested yourself into his chest when he closed his arms around you.

He said it so matter-of-factually “I do enjoy to see you stand your ground against me. Your eyes spit fire when you are angry.”

Your eyes narrowed at that audible change in tone, his voice had deepened, his hands were low on your back “Those hands are getting quite low there, Ash Man.”

His breath touched your temple “Too low?”

You teased without shame “Too high.”

The invite could not have been more blatantly obvious.

You hooked your finger into the collar of his shirt, damning the aketon he wore to protect himself, the only thing you could touch was some of his collarbone.

He caught your hand and stated “You are trembling.”

You weren’t even aware until he mentioned it “At nightfall, will I be welcome to visit your room?”

Lancelot offered an excuse for you to use “You fear it will be cold tonight?”

Your honesty took him off-guard “No. I want some time alone with my intended.”

He loved to hear that “I see.”

You scrambled all your courage together and lightly tugged at the aketon “And without this.”

His brow arched, eyes fixed on your face with great interest “Anything else?”

The smugness was dripping from his expression and increased your boldness.

Your gaze traveled over him, slow and in appreciation of what it saw “Yes.”

The next breath was forced into his lungs, his head tilted to the side.

Curiosity was flooding him.

When you released him from the embrace, one hand left your back and cupped your neck, his thumb trailed from your chin down your throat.

He played with words “What is my intended intending to do?”

You thought about it for a moment and got an idea “How is your back, does it still hurt sometimes?”

Where were you going with this?

“Sometimes.” He admitted, finding the truth slip out of him under your enchanting gaze.

The offer glided of your tongue like silk lathered in honey “I will get some salve from the infirmary and make sure it feels better by tomorrow morning.”

You’d never seen his pupils enlarge so much before.

The smug look was replaced with one so innocent that you could hardly wait until tonight.

He cast his attention to the ground for a moment to collect his thoughts and to wait for his voice to return.

Those weeping eyes returned to yours, he traced his thumb under your bottom lip “That is very kind of you to offer.”

You broke free from his touch, wishing to save that building tension for tonight “I think I will go and see if Gawain is still willing to spar with me for a while…”

His thoughts were rather preoccupied now and he slowly nodded “Be careful?”

You smiled “I swear it.”

Now that he seemed more at peace with it, you went to walk past him and out of the stables.

You made it to the door and opened it a few inches before it was pushed shut again by him.

You could feel his presence right behind you and a second later you felt him against your back.

With an arm around your form he held you close.

He nosed your hair and you heard him inhale quietly.

“You smell so good.” He had let his voice drop into that husk.

The shiver that ran down your spin had you turning on your feet and softly pushing him back again “I’d better not hear you tell anyone else that you can sense what is going on with my body.”

His eyes betrayed where his mind was going “It will be our secret.”

It was noticeably affecting him to know what was happening and why…

Still your face burned at thought of it “Swear it!”

The smug smirk curved his lips again “You have my word.”

He’d better keep to his word…

You tapped against your cheek with the tip of your index finger “Now, before I go…”

Had you ever seen him so puzzled before?

When it took too long for him to understand the hint, you playfully reached out and tapped against his lips before tapping against your cheek again.

He chuckled at his slow response and gave what you had asked of him.

It was a miracle he had enough self-restraint to end it with the polite kiss to the cheek, because you got the sense that he wished to do more.

Again you opened the door, with some difficulty from the rusted hinges, and this time he let you walk out of the stables.

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This time he had let you spar with Gawain in peace.

Afterwards he did mention that he would correct any faults that the knight had taught you later, while Gawain was there to hear it.

It had led to the following conversation.

~“And exactly what faults would that be?”~

Lancelot had failed to detect the sarcasm in the knight’s question.

~“Mostly your footing.”~

Of course that had led to a spar between them again. They could bicker like brothers and Gawain hated how smug Lancelot could be about his skill with the sword, so he always tried to teach the Ash Man a lesson in modesty.

But from experience, you knew those lessons would be forgotten quite soon again.

You left them to their foolishness and headed into the fort.

How odd, you had not seen Percival or Neia since breakfast, usually they would search for you or Lancelot a couple of times during the day. How suspicious…

You made a beeline to Percival’s room, finding it empty.

On your way to Neia’s room, you ran into Arthur and asked “Arthur, have you seen Neia or Percival? I haven’t seen them since this morning.”

Arthur did not recall seeing them either “I haven’t. Have you been to Percival’s room?”

“I have. No one was there.” You were getting worried “I was on my way to see if they were in Neia’s room.”

He touched your elbow “Come on, we’ll go together.”

In a haste, you made your way towards Neia’s room.

The screams of children rang from beyond the door and you feared they were injured.

Neither you nor Arthur moved after you had barged into the room.

Chicken feathers rained down from the air to the floor, hay covered the carpet in the room. Inside where Percival and Neia, who had ruined their pillows in a battle between them.

Arthur quietly blurted out to you “Gawain will lose his mind if he sees this.”

“Uhuh.” You nodded.

The two children looked as caught and guilty as could be, the linen in their hands that had once been pillows were now almost completely empty.

You looked at Arthur, Arthur looked at you, clearly neither of you knew how to respond to this situation appropriately.

Neia jumped down from her bed she was standing on and rubbed her arm.

Percival stood frozen in place and swallowed audibly.

“There’s four of us.” You looked at Arthur pleadingly.

He understood what was being asked “Double the hands, lessen the work.”

You clapped your hands together “Alright everyone, let’s start collecting feathers and hay. Just put them back in the fabric.”

To your surprise, the children did not protest and got to work right away.

The task was actually far less tedious than first expected, it was quite pleasant to spent time with Percival and Neia like this, working together to reach a common goal.

Of course you did mention that you’d prefer this not to happen again, but didn’t jump to a harsh response when they seemed willing to fix the situation.

Once it was done, you took the children out of the room and suggested they played the pebble game instead until it was time for dinner.

They took the idea to heart and went outside to play.

“Thanks for helping.” You told Arthur.

“You’re welcome.” Arthur made a slight bow of the head “Speaking of help, would you mind helping me out with carrying the new wooden swords that the woodworker has finished to the fort? I think Gawain asked for a lot to be made, I got word some were finished.”

It wasn’t a long walk from the woodworker’s shop to the fort so that didn’t sound bad “Not a problem, I will help. Do we go and fetch them now or?”

Arthur was glad to hear it “Oh, now would be perfect. I’ve got some time.”

“Great. Let’s go.” You began to walk with him to the exit of the fort.

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After three trips back and forth from the woodworker, you had to agree that Gawain had indeed asked for A LOT of these wooden swords. After seeing the quantities, Arthur and you decided to store them in the shed next to the stables.

With all that work done, you were done for the day. Thankfully, the children had worn themselves out enough to have gone to bed on their own.

You had grabbed some soup for dinner and decided to slurp that up in your room while letting your legs rest.

It was a risky situation to drink soup while just having changed into your nightgown, if it spilled you’d have your work cut out for you to get the stains out of the white fabric.

Afterwards, you spend some time washing up and erasing the signs of the days work.

You intended to honor what you had offered Lancelot today.

Like a thief in the night, you sneaked towards the door at the end of the hallway. The bowl of salve was in your hands thanks to Pym, you had kept it close to a candle to make sure it wasn’t too cold.

Quietly you knocked on the door and prayed it woke no other.

The door creaked open and made you wince and look around in a slight panic.

Lancelot held it open for you, with a slight head tilt he welcomed you into his room.

Right away you walked in like the place was your own and placed the bowl of salve on the small bedside table, then you took the candle from the dresser it was one and placed it beside the bowl.

“I am trying to keep the salve warm, so it won’t be uncomfortable for you.” You explained.

He arched a brow, smile growing on his lips “How very thoughtful. I assume you were serious with your offer today then?”

Had he thought you’d forget the offer?

Oh, no, you had planned everything to make this as pleasant as it could be.

“I am.” You gestured to the shirt he was wearing “If you are still interested, you may remove your shirt and settle into bed.”

An audible breath of air escaped him, visibly overtaken by nervousness.

You warmed your hands near the flame, and without looking back at him, you patted a hand on the bed playfully “I won’t bite.”

Had you forgotten how you had once bitten him when he had wanted to help you up from the ground back at the monastery?

After fighting back most of his nerves, he pulled the shirt over his head and draped it over the foot of the bed.

There he stood with great uncertainty.

You turned around upon sensing it “Lay stomach down and make yourself comfortable. I’ll do the rest.”

With some directions, it went smoother for him.

For him, laying stomach down wasn’t something he was much fond of, he could never fall asleep in this position.

It was too easy for an enemy to overpower him in his sleep.

Once the salve felt decently warm, you approached the bed and warned him “Don’t be frightened. And if you want me to stop, tell me and I will.”

He gave a nod and dug his fingers in the sheet below him where you could not see.

He had believed you would just sit beside him while doing this. To his grant surprise you straddled his hips instead, placing one knee at either side of him.

Needless to say, he was taken aback and also reminded of how much more comfortable and open you were with matter such as these.

You let one drop of the warm salve drip down on his back and he jolted a bit “Warm enough?”

“Yes.” He sounded quite approving.

It pleased you to hear it “Perfect.”

With caution you began to put the salve where it was needed most first.

There was no haste in you, each scar was giving a first layer of the thin substance until it was absorbed fully into his skin.

He did mention that the scars became less sensitive once the salve was on them. Still you worked with feather light touches of your fingers.

Only after all of them had received their first layer of salve and not a trace of it was left visible to the eye, you poured some in your hands.

You warned him again before continuing “I will be careful. But if it hurts-”

He already felt himself relax significantly “I would tell you.”

The playful praise fell out of your mouth “Very good.”

Down you brought your hands, palms coated in the aromatic salve to relieve the pain and stress from his back.

Of course you couldn’t resist giving a playful pat here and there, he underwent it all without a single complaint.

The muscles near his shoulder and neck were the most tense and were given more attention to sooth them.

He was barely able to muffle the satisfied groan that tumbled out of him.

The kneading of your hands had him silent, you continued to do so long after the salve had run out.

Seeing him so comfortable like this felt like a victory.

Still, you did not expect him to fall asleep and yet he did.

“Lancelot?” You leaned down to whisper and upon seeing him well asleep it took some effort not to giggle and accidentally wake him.

It was a small challenge to crawl off of him carefully and place yourself next to him on the bed.

You moved the sheets over him to keep him warm.

Well, either it had bored him to sleep or he enjoyed it so much that this was the result, you preferred to believe it was the latter.

Whilst laying on your side to watch him sleep, it crossed your mind that this could likely become a common occurrence.

The face of the one you loved to be the first thing you saw when waking up, and the last thing before falling asleep.

You scooted closer, paused, and got even closer.

Finally you were where you belonged, at his side.

It was a string of tiny movements to get close enough to nest yourself against him without waking him. Minutes passed before you were comfortable and let your eyes fall shut.

When they opened again, time had passed and he was still sleeping peacefully.

Thirst had woken you from your slumber, you were parched for some water and none was available in the room.

Just as it had been a challenge to get closer to him, it was a challenge to get out of the bed without waking him.

With weary eyes you trippled out of the room and did your best to prevent the door from making a noise.

It was a small distance to get to your own room, once inside you filled a tankard of water and drank it in one go. After some thought, you decided to just take the jug of water and the tankard with you.

After tiptoeing through the hallway, you were back at his door that you had left open an inch.

With your back against it you opened it more and intended to do the same to close it.

In the darkness of the room it took you a blink too long to notice the shadow figure standing near.

The unforeseen presence startled you enough to spill nearly half the water in the jug over your nightgown.

When you had left he’d been vast asleep, how could you have known that he’d be up now?

“Shit.” You cursed crudely.

His eyes were better adjusted to darkness and saw the accident happen, one touch on your nightgown and he felt how soaked it was.

You pouted at the state you were in now “I thought you were still asleep.”

He sheepishly explained “I woke up and found you gone…” then he offered “There is a towel in there.”

What he gestured to was a small room just large enough for one person to clean themselves.

He lighted a candle and led you to the small space, then placed the candle holder on the tiny table were a bowl of water was and a towel.

Now in the light and near the small mirror, the mess the water had made became visible.

“Oh…” The drenched white of the fabric was exposing what it was meant to shield from sight.

The dim light of the candle offered some modesty.

Quickly you grabbed the towel and tried to dry the gown as best as you could.

With the distraction, you failed to notice the way his eyes were drifting over you.

You scolded yourself “I’m such a klutz.”

It was the absence if a witty remark that pulled your attention to him.

He was leaning against the door frame, eye fixed on a place where the fabric was undoubtedly betraying you.

Had he even heard you speak?

You squinted your eyes at him “I am starting to think you won’t offer to fetch me a dry gown.”

Well, in truth it had indeed not crossed his mind.

It looked like wanted to look apologetic but it was clearly feigned.

You dunked your hand in the bowl with water and proceeded to wave the countless drops in his direction “Go pray. You seem to need it.”

Lancelot did not let the water scare him away “I rather enjoy you like this. Wet and arrogant.”

The ambiguity of his words hit him right after and he visibly felt some regret over his choice of words.

You send him a knowing look, your brow arched “Wow.”

He could feel his nose start to get warmer.

Thank the darkness of the night for letting him keep some of his confidence.

You had expected him to take it back or apologize, but he did neither. That was new…

When you carried on drying the gown off, his eyes lifted from the floor again.

The gown was sticking to your skin on various places “I won’t be able to get this dry. It’s too soaked.”

What a delight to his eyes.

He hummed and stepped into the small space, again he touched the fabric and noted that the towel indeed would not be able to fix this “It is.”

To hear and see him so distracted, made you laugh quietly “You’re not much help right now.”

And he was well aware of it.

The linen towel was plucked from your hands and placed aside on the small table again by him.

With a firm but gentle hold on your arm, he turned you to face him.

His fingers were lacing themselves into the wet fabric over your stomach, his forehead came down to rest against yours “Don’t leave my room.”

The plea was carried in that warm timbre that had your heart vibrate in tune with it.

With the little clarity your brain still offered, you stammered “But my clothes…”

One hand brought you closer, the other caused you to shiver when he brushed it over your jaw and neck up and behind your ear.

His voice deepened as those blue orbs dropped to the curve of your mouth “Do not worry.”

Your eyes drifted between the heavens present in his eyes and the alluring lips he was blessed with.

Lancelot pulled you into him and caught your mouth with his, trapping your lips in the searing kiss.

He rained down on them and every drop nourished the planted seeds of affection that had waited for him, you let it drown out all else until all that flowed between you was the passion it bared.

His hand had wandered so low that it was almost on your rear.

He was used to taking charge, but this?

No.

It would not surprise him if he was told to remove his hand from where it had so brazenly journeyed to.

You paused only to lock eyes with him.

Feeling him brush a hand over your back like that had you purring playfully “Searching me for Fey signs?”

Even now, you would tease him, two could play this game.

Instantly both hands glided up past your waist until they reached your ribs “If I was, I would search here…”

Your breath caught when they followed the curve and felt along and between your shoulder blades.

You had to tilt your head to the side, he was close enough that it was almost an embrace.

It continued, far slower than he had ever done during this procedure.

He lifted your arm and felt along the back of it “And here.”

It was sending shivers down your spine.

Then the tip of his nose followed the curve of your neck up to your ear “I would capture your scent.”

His hand came up to the back of your neck, thumb drawing circles behind your ear “The ears are the easiest to spot signs near.”

Truly, such inspections had not been so slow and intimate, or had they?

It fell out off your scrambled thoughts “Is that what you did with the women at the abbey?”

Was that a pinch of jealousy he heard?

He would not deny it “I did this with all who needed to be inspected.”

But not with enthusiasm, unlike now.

And never this close and personal. Back then, he just wanted it to be over and done with as fast as possible.

You couldn’t resist asking everything that crossed your mind “You could feel it through clothes?”

Where were you going with this?

“Yes.”

“Even through mine?”

“Yes.”

Your coy smile was suggestive “Are you sure?”

When you saw the innocence in his eyes, you almost felt bad for teasing him like this.

Sometimes you needed to remind yourself that he was raised a monk.

You reeled yourself back in and ‘apologized’ by giving him a sweet kiss on the cheek “Forgive me, Lancelot. I wish I had a quarter of the self-restraint you have.”

That ‘self-restraint’ had gotten much weaker the second you walked into his room tonight.

His mind was still catching up “Did you just proposition me again?”

It made your cheeks burn to admit it, especially because it was asked so politely “Sorry.”

His hand left your neck and fidgeted with the sleeve of your nightgown a little.

You could just feel the atmosphere take a palpable shift “I will just go and fetch something dry to wear and return here afterwards.”

Slipping from his touch and out of the small space felt a little awkward.

But you would not have him think that you expected something else to happen other than sleep. Why did you have to tease him with this…

What if it had made him uncomfortable and he feared to say it?

Once you reached the door, the other candle that still stood on the dresser grew a bright green flame the second you reached for the doorknob.

You halted and stared at the candle in disbelief, that candle had not been lighted, the flame had grown from nothing.

“I have been practicing.” The Ash Man stated with pride.

In awe, you stared at the Fey Fire “I can tell.” through the wet sleeve, the mark showed it’s silver glow again “My mark…”

His eyes were drawn to the glow passing through the sleeve “Please, stay.”

Something in his voice sounded quite vulnerable and made you turn to face him fully.

The will to point out that you needed to go and fetch dry clothes left you upon seeing the look in his eyes.

There was something he was trying to say…

“Lancelot?” You quietly spoke.

The floorboards barely creaked under his calculated slow steps.

He took your hand and led you away from the door slowly, and when you did not protest he cupped your face and closed the distance.

Your noses were touching and you tilted your head pleadingly for his affection.

He resisted, barely.

It was a whispered prayer that caressed your cheek “I want to share this night together.” he left no room for misinterpretation “I want you.”

You leaned back at once, speechless by what it implied.

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everlastingdreams · 2 years ago

Text

Weeping Monk x Reader : The Patience Of A Heart Chapter 26

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Chapter Title: The Seas Of Love

Notes: This one is smutty.

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

Word count of this fic: +130K

Chapter: 26 / 27

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Something inside you had fled at the confidence in him, while leaving you helplessly behind to fend for yourself “Like a man not raised as a monk?”

“No.” His voice dropped down into that husk, as if he knew what it did to you “As a former monk who wants to bed his woman.”

How could one’s eyes be so alert and intense, while also clouded by a daze of pure carnal lust?

You let him bring you in closer.

His jaw graced along yours until his breath was in your ear. He quietly stated what he so desired “Will you have me?”

“I think I did a little too well on your back.” You quipped, feeling the nerves crash into you.

He flashed that charming smile “You did very well.”

You barely avoided the kiss he was trying to start “Are you sure about this?”

By tilting your chin, he made you look into his eyes “I am.”

It was surprising to see how calm he was, apart from the barely visible pinch of nervousness, he seemed comfortable.

You were glad to see that he trusted you enough to be open about what he wanted.

You cupped his face fondly “I would love to have you.”

The corner of his brow lifted a little, as if it still stunned him to hear it.

Your nose touched his, a playful encouragement.

He gave the most tender peck to your lips, voice down to a husk “I love you.”

You weren’t given the chance to say something back, that sweet peck had only been the introduction to what came next.

The declaration was also the explanation as to why he let some self-control slip.

With your face cradled in his hands, you were at the mercy of his lips.

He threw caution to the wind, his lips trapped yours while selfishly stealing the breaths of air that you were so desperate for.

There were times when he thought he was hurting you, especially when he pressed himself into you more or when his teeth grazed those soft lips of yours, heaven forbid he would ever cause them to bleed. But you never recoiled or flinched, you met his actions with an equal passion and he believed he found everything that was missing from his life by it.

The content deep groan that went up from his chest and passed into your mouth had your heart leaping for the hills.

It had sounded almost primal, a wolf finally catching it’s prey and enjoying the reward.

You began to steer him backwards, toward the bed, and pushed him down by his shoulders to sit.

A look of innocence flickered in his eyes as they looked up to you.

By moving the nightgown up a little, it made it easier to straddle him, the wet fabric fell over his trousers and cursed them to the same faith.

No complaints came from him and you made yourself comfortable on his lap.

His arm moved around your back to hold you in place.

Like this, there was no denying that the view of you in your soaked nightgown had indeed quite an effect on him.

The desire to tend to his need grew, his eyes were constantly searching your face and you loved to see how they searched for guidance with you.

Over and over again did he replace his hands, never knowing what was correct and what was not.

You quietly hushed him “We’ll go as fast or as slow as you are comfortable with. Don’t worry, you’re in good hands.”

He moved his hand up your back and brought you closer to kiss down your neck.

You reached down between your bodies and hooked a finger into the waistband of his trousers.

“I can offer you a guiding hand.” You sweetly purred into his ear.

There was no room for misinterpretation when you slid your hand down to rub him through his trousers.

“I-” His breath caught in his throat.

You hummed, nudging his temple with your nose lovingly while slipping your hand past the fabric.

Without using any pressure, he grew harder by the light hold around him.

Well, there was nothing for him to be insecure about regarding his manhood, on the contrary.

Of course you were nervous too, but by taking your time and pretending that you weren’t you hoped to give him something he would remember fondly, he was untouched and you wouldn’t rush him through this.

Two slow light strokes and he emitted a groan that vibrated from his chest against yours.

“Good?” You continued the action.

His fingers pressed into your back more.

There was no doubt in his mind that you knew exactly how to bring him to his release, something he had not experienced yet.

The guilt he felt over just trying to stimulate himself once had been enough to make him banish the thought all together.

It was one of the sins that warranted judgment by the lashes of a whip.

Suddenly you felt him tense up and halted your actions “Are you alright?”

He did not meet your eyes, but appreciated that you had stopped to see if all was well “I uhm…”

Patiently you waited for him to speak, or a signal that would tell if he was alright or not.

His eyes darted between yours and the wall at the other side of the room “I have never let myself experience any of this.”

He hoped you would understand what it meant.

You waited until his eyes were on yours before slowly letting them travel down.

He understood the quiet conversation and gave a slow nod to answer it.

Oh…

Were you going too fast? Was it hurting him? Was he scared?

In a calm manner you spoke about it “Are you uncomfortable?”

“No, only…” He couldn’t describe it well.

“Sensitive?” You guessed.

That was indeed a good way to describe it “Yes.”

It would not come as a surprise if he was quick to have his release and you sensed that he would want to delay that from happening.

With one little flick of your thumb over the tip of him, causing him to take a sharp breath, you withdrew your hand “I can tell.”

That little smirk you had was what eventually caused him to grab hold of your hip and flip you over, your back hit the sheets.

He cupped your neck and kissed you, slow and preserving, but with a restrained hunger of a hunt that had lasted days.

The hand on your neck wandered down, touching every inch of you that was in it’s path, it was the first time he’d ever touched your bosom and he did it so light that you wondered if it was accidental or not.

It came to a halt to rest on your stomach, where his fingers scratched playfully until it had you squirming under him.

He was merciful and stopped doing it, his palm rubbed softly over your abdomen.

He did not touch more than what was deemed allowed.

And it was that that was driving you desperate for it “Lancelot…”

He never heard that tone in your voice before and a hot flare went up his back and neck at the sound.

In return he kissed you like he wished to taste it on your lips.

What he got was a quiet wistful gasp when your bottom lip became center of attention.

Your lips chased his when they threatened to flee even if it was just to draw a breath.

Still they broke free, like the man himself had done, and fled to the curve between your ear and jaw.

You took hold of his shoulders, he was moving over your body, covering it with all that he had and was.

The mark he had given you was warming up and it’s silver pattern became visible. The warmth was spreading from your arm to all over your body, it was hearing his call…

Your skin burned for him, you took his hand and placed it over the curve of a breast, letting him decide whether or not it would remain there.

A change in his breathing and pace…

Digits ghosting over what had been so kindly offered…

No wonder many succumbed to carnal desire. A fever had overcome him, it was burning him up inside and all it needed was you to save him from it.

It was hard to speak when your mind was so clouded “You may touch me… if you want…”

How could he hold back when his lover was so encouraging?

Those heavenly seas fixed on your face, his hand closed around your breast.

Pulling him into a searing kiss led to the fondling that ensued.

Considering he would only touch what was undeniably offered, you guided his hand until it found it’s own path.

He had hooked his arm under your knee and made room for himself between your legs, letting the wet nightgown slip to your thighs.

No one had ever been so thorough when exploring your skin and his fingers glided smoothly over it. He tended to your neck and collar bone with the same thoroughness using his mouth instead, his hand now busy with undoing the knot in the cords of his trousers.

The edges of his scars were smooth under your fingers, the salve had soothed them. And you began to believe that touching them was only surging his desire.

Eager to help, you aided him in removing his trousers and it earned you a love bite near your ear.

Once he was freed, you resumed your guiding role and pushed until he was under you again.

Your lips slowly traveled a path down from his neck to his abdomen. Inch by inch, your warm breath teased his skin.

You would take your time with him, offering him the chance to be guided along step by step, like one untouched deserved to be.

Under your palm, his abdomen rose and fell in a quick manner. You didn’t have to look up at his face to know he was enjoying it, your mouth and hands moved over him with unyielding fascination and wonderment.

He was art that spoke to all your senses.

It was no use to try and fight the response his body gave. Those affections had heated him whole and the fever it brought was never so inviting.

He burned for you.

Even with no experience, he knew what sort of urges sprinted through his thoughts.

He wanted to grab hold of you, to be between those warm thighs he could feel against his legs and return what you were doing to him.

And yet it thrilled him to feel you push him down under you again every time he tried to even slightly move.

His hand skimmed over your thigh, wandered under your nightgown, higher and higher.

You gave a coy tease upon feeling it and sensing his intention “Curious are we?”

It did not discourage him, on the contrary, your playful response put him more at ease and fueled his confidence.

The response you got was receiving his other hand on your behind, where he fondly began to brush over it along with a cautious squeeze that had you jolt up in surprise a little.

That little jolt had only brought his other hand higher and closer to where it was wandering off to.

When it finally cupped your heat, you swallowed thickly.

His touch was careful, but no less curious and the evidence of your arousal was clear for him to feel.

There was a pensive hum from him and it was an innocent action to him when he moved a digit against your warmth to feel it.

You hadn’t expected it yet and gasped, hand flying down to catch his wrist.

When he locked eyes with you, you knew he thought he had made a mistake.

Quickly you explained “I’m really sensitive there.”

He had halted all his actions “Did it hurt?”

You quipped “Very much the opposite.”

The signal for him to continue was when you brought his hand back to where you had so abruptly interrupted it.

He was forward about it “I love the scent of you.” then carefully he slid two fingers into the wetness.

You were shaking on top of him, it only got worse when he discovered the sensitive bud.

You used his shoulders to keep yourself steady “Fuck… that feels good.”

Never before had he heard such foul language from you and gave the lighthearted scolding.

“Such foul language.” He tsked and proceeded to put attention where it clearly pleased you.

Your face contorted in pleasure, eyes falling shut, all you could do was place your hands on his chest to keep your balance.

You bit back every curse that threatened to spill while he enjoyed himself by doing this to you.

Moans flowed out instead and you felt his hard length twitch against your inner thigh.

If he did not stop soon…

It was a struggle to warn him “I…wait…I am…”

He needed no explanation to understand what would happen if he continued pleasing you with this, he had heard stories “Unraveling?”

With the way he was winding you up, there was no doubt about it.

You nodded and grabbed his hand from where it was trying to achieve the goal “I want you.”

The scent of you, the feeling of your wetness, and now this.

He did not know exactly what to do, but his body knew precisely what it wanted.

With a nod, he brought his hands to your hips and encouraged you to have him as you pleased.

You nodded back, reached down and palmed him again “Are you ready?”

The arching of his brow was comedic “Can you not tell?”

It broke some of the tension and settled down the nerves.

You leaned in to whisper “You’re such a twit…” and gave him no time to find a smug reply.

With a teasing stroke along his length you positioned yourself and aligned him.

Could he tell that you were trembling just like him?

Slowly you guided him inside, drawing a deep groan out of him.

He let you settle yourself on top of him, the slickness eased the way and a surge of heat went through him. The hold on him was nothing he could have imagined.

You hadn’t often given in to carnal desires as these, so a moment to get used to him was taken.

He felt good.

Especially after how generous he had been towards you before.

He trailed a hand up your waist and cupped your jaw “Alright?”

You detected the hint of worry in his tone and hummed “Very.”

To prove it, you moved a bit until a comfortable method was found.

Lancelot barely swallowed a curse at the sensation that shot through him.

You slowly began to slide along his length.

After only a few times, he sat upright, took the hem of your nightgown and moved it over your head to free you from it.

The burning in your cheeks was to be expected from being exposed so sudden, you never thought he would take the initiative to undress you.

He looked a little apologetic, until his eyes wandered over you, they lifted up to yours for a second.

Then he leaned in to trace his mouth over a breast while fondling the other.

Your fingers curled into his locks and held him close. This time he was the one to tug at your hips and cause you to move.

Thankfully so, because his fingers had worked you well and left you aching.

You rolled your hips, determined to ride him until he experienced what life outside celibacy had to offer.

“Don’t stop.” He grunted into your ear and kneaded at your behind.

To hear him so overtaken by lust had the knot tighten in your abdomen.

You quietly moaned while holding on to him for dear life.

And when one of those moans rang loud into his ears, your back met the mattress again.

He never disconnected and was quick to make himself at home between your legs.

Your hands traveled like a gentle wave from his neck down his chest, to hold his waist.

His lips locked on yours, a breath shared for every thrust.

Like this, it soon became clear that he did not use all of him.

And you needed all of him “Don’t hold back. Please.”

He did bury himself inside fully after the plea, kissing your temple and jaw as if he wished to show his gratitude for allowing it.

His pace began to increase along with your moans.

“Fuck…” He fell to the same crude curse upon feeling his impending release.

When you brought a hand down between your legs to help yourself to your unraveling, you felt his fingers around your wrist to move away your hand and replace it with his own, his thumb circling over you matched the rhythm of his thrusts.

The pressure in your lower abdomen grew beyond control.

“I’m going to-” You couldn’t think anymore.

His next thrust send you over the edge and you clawed at his arms as the feeling crashed over you.

Lancelot slowed his pace, feeling you experience your unraveling was bringing on his own.

A few more thrusts was all he needed to spill himself, leaving him twitching and panting for air while his body trembled uncontrollably.

You pulled him down to your chest, allowing him to come down from it without straining his arms so.

He much preferred this, it made it all the more easier to brush his lips to your skin.

The side of your face received the most affection, his hasty breaths had slowed down by the time he was at your jaw.

Your head fell to the side, letting him gain easier access to it “How are you feeling?”

The slightest movement of him still had your body responding to it.

His thumb traced your mouth “Impressed.”

That was nice to hear, it was your intention to leave a lasting impression.

You brushed a stubborn stray hair away from his eyes “Yes?”

“Uhuh.” He gave that rare boyish smile and stole a kiss “And you?”

Like him, you too were impressed “I did not expect to feel this kind of ecstasy tonight.”

He met your eyes, the question visible in his own would not roll from his tongue.

You answered what he must have been curious about “In the past, I did not feel this way unless I helped myself.”

The cheeky remark accompanied his smirk “You offered me a guiding hand, it is only fair if I offer the same.”

You shook your head at his foolery, quietly giggling.

With a polite peck to your cheek, he carefully withdrew himself but remained in the comfortable position.

Your fingertips traced his jaw “Thank you for trusting me. I hope you will remember this experience fondly.”

He was forward about it and sounded fearful of rejection “It can become more than only one memory.”

You pretend to think about it, doing so well that he ended up looking away from your face.

“So eager…” You ran your fingers through his hair.

Mischief sparked in his eyes and he proved you right by bringing his lips down to nip at the valleys of your breasts.

His hand skimmed over you, fingers tracing every inch of your skin “I will know when you will be eager.”

It took you a second to understand, then you closed your legs, forcing him to move away. He didn’t hide the smirk on his face now and laid down beside you.

Almost had you banished that fact to the back of your mind “Good heaven, don’t start again.” you laughed “I still can’t believe you can sense that.”

His palm brushed over your stomach “That way I will know when my beloved wife needs my attention.”

You hid your face in your hands “Ugh.”

The quiet chuckling filled the room, he continued to softly stroke along your body.

When you moved away and got out off the bed, he looked at you with a slight panic.

“I am just going to clean myself up a little. I’ll be right back.” You eased his worry.

He gave a respectful nod, cheeks turning a slight pink.

The space you had in your own room for cleaning yourself was bigger than this one, but at least he had a door to separate it from the rest of the room instead of a curtain.

Minutes later you returned to the bed, offering him a clean wet cloth and a dry one as well.

He accepted the offer knowing that if you were to help, his manhood would waken again.

To protect some of his modesty, you looked away when he freshened himself up and afterwards he discarded the cloth under the bed to handle those later.

You had picked up your nightgown from where it had landed on the floor, the fabric was still wet.

“Leave it to dry.” He beckoned for you to return to his side.

You draped it over the foot of the bed and hoped the night would be enough to dry it completely, then you climbed back into the bed and nestled into his side.

“There is a promise I made you.” Lancelot whispered against your hair.

That single burning candle on the dresser still kept the room in it’s mystical green glow. Ashes broke free and broke into the same flames they were born from, soon they traveled around the room like stars in the night.

The sight of it felt like a dream, their soft glow was stunningly beautiful.

You watched them dance around the room until you fell asleep.

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everlastingdreams · 2 years ago

Text

Weeping Monk x Reader : The Patience Of A Heart Chapter 27

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Chapter Title: Bright Skies.

Notes: The last chapter ;_;

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

Word count of this fic: +130K

Chapter: 27 / 27

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Just before dawn, Lancelot let you return to your room after sharing what was meant to be a hasty kiss but turned out lasting quite a bit longer.

Percival had a tendency to barge into his room at the crack of dawn to ask for anything the boy had thought of the night before and Lancelot would not risk the boy walking in on something he was too young to know about.

The nightgown was almost dry, but it didn’t matter now as you changed into the trousers and leather sleeveless jacket you had come to love.

At breakfast you felt like the whole dining hall knew what had happened that night, which was ridiculous. It was just your self-consciousness trying to strike fear into you.

Lancelot had tried to get a piece of potato on his fork and missed for more than four times because he couldn’t stop stealing glances from you.

Gawain said nothing of it, Pym scrunched her nose at the sight of it.

It was Arthur who pointed it out for all to hear “Lancelot, I’m glad your aim with the sword is better than your aim with a fork.”

“Are you drunk?” Pym blurted out.

The poor Ash Man felt the eyes of the room on him and answered the question aimed at him “No.” he looked at Arthur as well “I have not slept well.”

Well, he had not slept much. It was close enough to the truth.

You kept your eyes on the plate under your nose, chewing the food to avoid smiling at the situation he found himself in.

Arthur showed concern “How come? Are you unwell?”

He had hoped the Manblood would not ask further.

Finally he managed to spear the piece of potato on his fork “No, there was an owl outside my window that kept me awake.”

You barely kept it together, he was truly fishing for a believable lie.

While the rest of the table believed the lie, it was Red Spear and Gawain who seemed more than a little skeptical.

Arthur went on to use it to get on the Ash Man’s nerves “Aren’t you skilled enough with the bow to take care of that?”

He’d show him how skilled he was if the Manblood kept challenging him…

With a glare, he answered “I will not waste an arrow on an owl. We need our weapons for more important matters.”

Gawain stood by him “A wise choice. And we should not let food go to waste either.”

It was meant for both the men who were forgetting about the plate in front of them.

Your own plate was empty by now and you rose from your seat “Gawain is right. Eat, gentlemen.”

Arthur send a charming smile your way upon hearing it, that smile faded quite quickly when he looked at Lancelot again.

He knew Arthur well enough now to know that he would not betray him like this, but that did not mean that Arthur would not try to rile him up.

The Manblood and the Green Knight had become like brothers to him, and he knew brothers could be terribly irritating amongst one another. Still, he rather enjoyed their spirited characters.

You walked past the children at the end of the table, ruffling Percival’s hair and correcting a flower in Neia’s that looked like it would fall out otherwise.

“No fighting during your lessons today.” You reminded them.

“So, afterwards?” Percival quipped.

You struggled to hide the smile “No.”

The boy was just joking, you could tell. Mostly it was to get more attention from Neia who never strayed from the side of her young and brave knight.

You walked past the empty chair where Kaze always sat and asked Gawain “Does Kaze not want breakfast?”

“She left to head into the city earlier.” Gawain explained her absence.

You had feared something bad had happened “Oh, alright. Glad to hear she is not sick or anything.”

He eased your mind “Kaze will be back tonight. She’s one tough woman that one.”

“She is.” You agreed.

After walking past Gawain, you leaned down and stole a piece of potato from Lancelot’s plate.

You popped it into your mouth, chewed and swallowed before licking some remnants of it from your index finger.

He could not believe you would act so ill-mannered.

He could not believe how impossible it felt to look away from you when you brought your finger to your mouth like that.

It was too late, most of the table had seen him stare by the time he regained control over his wandering thoughts.

You were innocence itself “Don’t let it go cold. It tastes really good.”

It earned you quite the look from him, if you had been alone with him you’d be in trouble.

The smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth “Clearly.”

In the time he spend looking up at you, Pym was leaning over and reaching with her fork for the unguarded food on his plate.

Part of you wanted to help your intended, part of you wanted your friend to be successful.

You had placed your hand on the back of his chair, fingers brushing against his shoulder.

While his eyes were on you, he still sensed that something was off.

Without looking, he caught Pym’s wrist and she let out a very started yelp.

Slowly he turned to her “So many ill-manners so early in the day.”

Pym tried to defend her actions “You’re just letting it get cold…”

He released her wrist and the sneaky Pym still managed to have pinned some food on her fork and popped it into her mouth immediately.

While he was busying looking at Pym, you stole another piece from his plate and ate it.

“Gawain.” Lancelot looked to the knight for back-up.

Gawain offered no such thing “They’re right. You’re letting it go cold.”

Neia was giggling at the shenanigans and managed to steal something of Percival’s plate too, to the utter shock of the boy.

Lancelot send you a look again and saw you shrug your shoulders before walking away.

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Just before midday, you went to find Lancelot again and found him busy teaching Neia and Percival how to wield a sword in the field. Three other children stood at a small distance to watch and the Ash Man beckoned for them to come closer.

They did so with caution, until he offered them a wooden sword.

You kept at a distance, they had not seen you.

The children joined in on the training, which often turned more playful than proper for a lesson and poor Lancelot did not have the heart to tell them.

Maybe he even enjoyed to see them have fun while learning, unlike the way he had learned.

You left them to their fun and went back into the fort and to your room.

It had been a while since you had picked up a knitting needle and you retrieved them from under your bed. The last thing you had made were socks for Anne.

When winter came, many would not have the proper clothing for the weather, it was time to pick the needles up again. Maybe you could even teach others with the little skill you had.

You checked how much yarn there still was, enough for a scarf for Neia and a couple pair of socks for others. A trip to the local market would be necessary soon.

After starting on the scarf, you had made some small mistakes that took longer than usual to rectify and you swore you wouldn’t go more than two days without working with the needles again.

Once it finally began to go smoothly, a knock at your door pulled you out of your concentration.

“Yes?” You called out.

Lancelot opened the door and walked into your room without closing it “Here you are. The children are off to their lessons.”

You could sense he was here to try and distract you “I’m knitting.”

Lancelot stole the knitting needles from your hands and placed them down on the small nightstand “I have something else for you to play with.”

The jest fell from you “I would have preferred some loving words and perhaps a kiss before hearing that.”

It took him three seconds to understand, he looked off to the side smiling “Not what I meant. Come with me.”

You stood up to follow him “What are we going to do?”

He grabbed your sword from where you had placed it against your dresser and handed it to you “It is time I dedicate more time to your training.”

You got excited at the prospect “With the sword?”

He gave a nod “Yes. We can try the bow later.”

The excitement grew even stronger when he took you to where you had been sparing with Gawain yesterday. Without being prompted to, you went to retrieve the two wooden swords that still rested against the nearest tree.

“Leave them.” Lancelot called out.

He had not been happy to see you spar with steel, so you just assumed the wooden ones would be used.

“But-” You started.

“We train with steel. Like you did with Gawain.” He beckoned for you and drew his sword.

As long as Percival was not around to see it, for only heaven knew how he would be able to end the boy’s angry ranting over it.

It worried you “I don’t want to hurt you.”

There was a chuckle, he stopped when he realized how arrogant it might appear “You will not.”

Had he truly just laughed at the idea that you could possibly harm him this way?

You were not amused by his blatant believe “Wow, you really believe I can’t hurt you.”

He ill-worded it “You do not have the skill.” then added “Yet.”

Alright, maybe that was true. But he didn’t have to rub your nose in it.

You did not let it slip “Just so we are clear, you’re not coming anywhere near me tonight.”

He, not so subtly, inhaled deeply.

With a shit-eating grin, he said “We shall see.”

You didn’t know what made your face burn more, him trying to catch your scent or the irritation you felt at his smug demeanor “You unbelievable-”

It took a lot to hold back the words you’d spew at him and instead you let out a loud agitated groan.

“That’s it. You’re asking for it.” You pointed at him accusingly.

It was time to show him that you weren’t afraid to prove him wrong.

Perhaps you lacked the skill of sword fighting, but not the skill to fight dirty.

Your sword was already in your hand and you ran up to him.

As anticipated he easily evaded you, a chuckle escaping him.

Good. That was what you wanted, for him to think you would continue to run around him like a headless chicken.

This time you approached slower, using your sword as a distraction to try and steal the short sword from his side.

It made little sense to him why you would do so and therefore he was almost too late to prevent it. He grabbed a hold on your elbow, you tugged at his cloak and pulled it over his arm.

Like this, you were making it hard for him to actually use his sword to block your shenanigans.

More than once you got really close on purpose to the point where he was both amused and annoyed by it.

It was when you pulled his hood down that he finally took a couple of steps back.

“You-…” He swallowed what he was about to say.

“What?” You grinned at him wickedly.

“Continue this and I will-” Lancelot started.

You interrupted him arrogantly “You’ll what?”

The annoyance was audible in his tone “Just spar with me.”

It was glorious to see him so riled up by your fighting strategy “I am. It’s not my fault that you can’t handle the way I fight.”

For a moment he said nothing, then he tossed his sword to the grass and drew the short one instead “I can handle you well.”

Honestly, it was quite intimidating when he stalked closer.

Your mind was scrambling for ways to defend yourself against whatever he had planned.

Slower than he would normally have, he aimed with the sword and was pleasantly surprised that you did know how to block an attack well.

The knight must have taught you some things indeed.

When you lunged at him with your sword as well, that was when the spar truly began.

He let you experience what it was like to be in close combat and how quick it could be even if he held back.

Steel collided with steel and your arms began to ache after a while even if your sword was light, the movements was not something you were used to.

His aim was to disarm you, you could tell.

And you’d be damned if you let him accomplish that without a fight.

You copied what you had seen from Gawain and him to the best of your abilities.

Your balance wasn’t the best, but the spirit to fight made up for it.

He watched you defend yourself like a feral cat. It lacked grace, but so far he had not managed to steal your weapon from you.

Like Gawain had once taught you, you played it dirty and got your crossguard caught on his on purpose.

With one firm pull at the crossguard that costed all your strength, and your leg strategically placed, you caused him to trip over your lower leg.

There he was, down on his knees, resisting the strong urge to curse.

Not often was he faced with someone who fought dirty like he often had.

You felt quite proud “Gawain taught me that.”

He sat up on his knees, slightly glaring “Did he now?”

To see him like this sure send your mind to wander.

Instead of seizing the moment to gloat, you stepped in front of him and caressed along his jaw.

The change in his eyes was evident, your shadow falling over him took the sun’s bright light out of his eyes.

“Did I do well?” You softly asked.

He had forgotten the pain in his knees quite quickly and held you by the hips to get you closer “Very well.”

You let him move you closer to him.

The corner of his mouth curved up and he looked around himself, when no one was there to see it, he rested his forehead to your abdomen and pressed his lips to it.

The memory of last night rose to the front of your mind, a hot flush coursed through your veins and you shyly looked around you to see if no one was looking “Lancelot…”

He stood up from the ground, not releasing you “What happened between us last night, it means a lot to me. Have I told you that?”

You leaned back a little, shaking your head “Not with many words, but I know you are not a man of many words.”

He placed his hands a bit higher when others walked by “You trusted me with your body.”

You gave his arm a gentle squeeze “I trust you with all that I am, as you trust me.”

His hand curled around your wrist, thumb feeling the bangle that you always wore now “Did you mean it, when you said you did not want me near you tonight?”

To answer that, you removed his hand from your waist “I’ll have to think about it.”

The teasing was unmistakable, there was hope.

As if to persuade and woo, he took your hand and brought your knuckles to his lips, letting them brush over it briefly “Look favourably upon it.”

It was indeed quite persuasive, especially when those eyes glanced at you with such intensity.

He let go off your hand upon seeing Tristan approach.

The archer greeted you both and asked Lancelot “I was wondering if you would like to go hunting with me? We won’t go far into the forest, my wife has cravings for certain kinds of food that I cannot easily find in the city.”

You nudged Lancelot’s arm “Go on then, before Iseult takes a bite out of Tristan instead.”

The Ash Man agreed to help Tristan “Alright, I shall join you.”

Tristan gestured between the two of you “I’ve heard the news about your betrothal, congratulations. Will it be a joining like the ones Fey have?”

Lancelot looked to you for the answer.

You shyly admitted “I hope for a joining.”

It seemed to please the Ash Man to hear it.

“I hope I will be invited. And my wife too of course. ” Tristan not so subtly alerted you to his interest.

You looked at Lancelot curiously.

He saw no reason to not invite the man “You are welcome to come.”

At that, Tristan held out his hand and Lancelot shook it amicably.

“We’d better be off then. If I’m not back before dark, Iseult will throw a fit.” Tristan send him a look.

You voiced your opinion “And rightfully so.”

Tristan regretted speaking now and awkwardly stepped away, Lancelot followed him and threw you a smirk.

Anyone expecting a child had the right to be upset if their partner chose to remain absent and cause them unnecessary worry.

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You were there to wait outside the door to the dining hall for when the children would finish their lessons. The door swung upon and children ran out the room to their other daily activities. Percival and Neia ran right past you, not even noticing your presence.

You had to call out their names to pull their attention, upon hearing it they stopped and quickly hurried over “I’m going to the market to get yarn. Do you want to come with me?”

It surprised them both and they eagerly exclaimed ‘yes’.

Before heading to the market, you urged them to put on a cloak in case it would rain and came to the realization that Percival’s cloak was torn in many places.

The few coins you had would not suffice for both yarn and a cloak. If needed be, the yarn would need to wait and you’d just get Percival the cloak instead.

If the children questioned you on why you weren’t purchasing the yarn, you would have to lie and say that they didn’t have what you were looking for.

Together you walked to the exit of the fort, you let the children walk in front of you to keep an eye on them.

Gawain came from the opposite direction, letting the little ones pass by “Heading into the city?”

You nodded “To the market. There are some things I need.”

“Such as?” He wasn’t afraid to be curious.

“Some yarn and a cloak.” You gestured to Percival discreetly.

The knight scanned the boy and girl briefly “It’s not easy for Feys to earn coin these days. Most of us trade.”

Did he know?…

“What sort of things would the merchants trade for?” You questioned.

He gave a sympathetic smile and reached into his pockets, pulling out some coins and handing them to you “It will be easiest with these.”

You protested “But-”

Gawain waved the protest away “It is worth investing in a useful craft. Look after the children, do not worry about other things. We all help each other here.”

The appreciation you felt was great “Thank you, Gawain.”

He hinted “I could use a warm pair of socks for the winter.”

It didn’t even need asking “Consider it done.”

Gawain turned to Percival “Stay close to y/n.”

The cheeky boy grinned and nodded.

Oh, you would definitely need to keep your eyes on them.

“Good luck.” The knight said to you, before correcting himself “I mean, enjoy yourselves.”

After sharing a knowing look with him, you left the fort with the children.

Once at the market, it all started out so well and calm. Neia held your hand, Percival remained close to your side. And then, the stall which sold wares they were interested in came into their sights.

You did remind them to stay close and they impatiently stood beside you while you chose the yarn you needed. Then you went to a stall that sold clothing and picked a cloak with Percival. After that, there was still enough coin and you let Neia choose something for herself from the market.

It took some encouragement from Percival for her to do so, she almost returned into her shell of shyness.

The boy led her to some stall, but you doubted the girl would want to purchase some fish to eat…

Percival’s intention was good, but he needed a little help, which became evident when he looked at you.

You pointed at a stall that sold a variety of items. Trinkets, jewelry, flowers…

There a small necklace caught her attention, she took it in her hands and that was when you recognized the piece of silver.

Neia looked up at you with wide eyes as she held it up for you to see “It’s the one you gave me…”

A brief inspection later and you could only confirm that it was indeed the same necklace “It is… do you want it?”

She quickly nodded and you paid the merchant for the item.

Someone must have traded or sold it again.

Neia struggled to put it on and you knelt down to her height to help.

It didn’t take you long to close the clasp, she was happy to have it back and you were glad to see that she loved it too.

Once you had everything you needed from the market, you walked back towards the fortress with the children.

At the meadow behind the fortress, you went ahead and let the children play with the wooden swords that others had used for practice earlier that day.

Multiple flowers grew on the meadow and you sat down on the grass between them.

Soon the area filled itself with laughter as they chased each other with the swords.

The setting sun caused a magical atmosphere on the meadow.

Never before had you felt more at peace than this, just watching the sun set while the children played in the grass.

When you placed your palm on the grass, you felt the mark tingle pleasantly.

There was some fey magic inside of you and it allowed you to experience some of what they experienced. The close connection to nature, to their kind and the magic that lived in the lands.

Your heart had found it’s home.

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After the sun went down, you brought the children to the dinning hall where dinner was being handed out.

Kaze had returned from the city as well and was using a knife to stab her food and put it in her mouth.

Red Spear and Arthur were quietly talking to each other, which was rather surprising. Had the Manblood managed to charm the raider’s Captain after all? It appeared so.

You sat down next to Pym, noticing the amount of blood she had on her clothes “Hard day at the infirmary?”

Pym was eager to speak of the idiocy from the raiders she had to deal with all day, she did so quietly to make sure Red Spear would not hear of it.

The door of the dining hall opened again and your betrothed walked in with Tristan.

Blood stained both their clothing, but not as much as Pym’s.

From their joyful entrance, you concluded that at least it was not their own blood.

Tristan went to sit with his wife a couple of tables further away.

Lancelot passed by the back of your chair, leaned over and greeted you “Good evening.”

You arched a brow with a smile “Well, well, you look like you had fun.”

He confirmed it with a nod “I have. Tristan’s archery skill is impressive.”

You touched his aketon “There is blood on you.”

The poor Ash Man seemed unaware of it until you pointed it out “Iseult will spare her husband. I will change after the meal.”

So the hunt had been successful, no wonder he looked so content tonight.

His eyes flickered from yours to your cheek and you saw him resist the desire to kiss it.

He stepped away and walked to his chair to sit beside Gawain.

This time he did not let his food turn cold.

The mood at the table was amicable, everyone was chatting with everyone.

It was like you had gained a new family, one far stranger than you could have imagined and it made it only better.

A new life had begun, one where you did not have to pretend to be something you were not to be accepted.

Life was dangerous, but it was good. You were not alone, you were home.

After the meal, you took it upon yourself to guide the two tired children to their rooms.

And once one asked for some water, the other did too. Like they suddenly became parched at the sight of their beds.

Two trips back and forth between the kitchen and the rooms was the result. But Percival and Neia were happy, and you were glad that they were not afraid to ask you for what they needed.

You retreated to your room and by the time you had changed into your nightgown, you felt thirsty too…

And so began the short walk to the kitchen under the cover of your cloak to shield yourself from the sights of others still awake.

A jug of water and a tankard was your prize and you returned to your room, now more understanding of how the children had felt parched too.

Behind the curtain, you quickly scanned your appearance in the mirror. The cut to your head was healing well, it only stung when you touched it. And your ankle hadn’t hurt in a while either. You were healing in more than one way.

You discarded the cloak on your bed and wandered into the night again.

Once upon a time, you would have had to sneak out off a window to do this, now you could walk through the night with a heart at peace.

It wasn’t long before midnight when you presented yourself at his door.

The door was unlocked, as if he was already expecting a late night visitor.

You followed the candle light coming from the small room and came upon the sight of him cleaning off the day’s build on sweat.

His torso glistened from the water and he messily splashed some on his face too.

It was quite amusing to witness and you bit your cheek to prevent a laugh.

While drying off his face with the towel and without even looking at you, he asked “Will you keep staring, or will you help?”

Never did you think this man could still find a way to get you flustered.

But it had sounded more genuine than a jest and it set your mind to spin.

“This is the hardest choice I’ve ever been burdened with.” You admitted.

He looked over his shoulder at the floor just in front of your feet, a lopsided smirk plastered on his face.

How could you not be appreciative of the sight granted to you now?

It came out in a breath “You are quite something…”

This time he did look at your face, curious what that meant “Something?”

Oh, how you could feel your cheeks just start to burn at your own thoughts.

Surely he noticed how shamelessly your gaze was traveling over him?

You got closer, stealing the towel from his hands to ‘aid’ him.

You took your sweet time dabbing the towel to his chest “Strikingly handsome…”

A very quiet curse spilled from your lips, that was how much of an effect he had.

Dammit, how could one be so handsome?

Why was one look from him enough to stir something inside of you?

It took some effort to remain focused on the task and you did dab the skin of his back dry carefully.

When you put the towel down on the small table, he caught you by the waist before you could step away.

With one swift movement, he trapped you between himself and the table.

If that bowl of water spilled, you’d need more than that one towel…

He nosed your hair, then dipped his head into your neck.

The quiet inhales and exhales betrayed what he was doing and it only got you more flustered.

You almost scolded him for it “Lancelot. Why are you sniffing me?”

He smiled against your neck “I think you know.”

If his ears had been as sensitive as his nose, he would have heard how your heart was trying to beat it’s way out of your rib cage.

Without him noticing, you dipped your hand in the bowl of water and then proceeded to rub the water across his face.

He barely recoiled, slowly getting used to your antics.

“Missed a spot.” You bit your lip.

His eyes narrowed “A lifetime of this…”

You caught a drip of water that was gliding down his mouth “Having seconds thoughts on us joining?”

“Never.” He breathed against your thumb.

You imagined how it would go “In the forest, surrounded by our friends. Percival and Neia causing havoc around us.”

He hummed approvingly, bringing you in closer to kiss along your jaw.

The wet state of his face made you slip out of his hold and out of the small room.

He picked up the towel, walked towards you while drying his face again and tossed the towel back to it’s place “I do hope my bride will behave at our joining.”

You scoffed lightly “Never.”

The answer he expected.

You used it against him “If you want a woman who behaves and acts proper, than I should leave instead of sharing your bed.”

He grinned wickedly “So you did come here with certain intentions.”

Without answering you pulled the sheet back from his bed, got in, and made yourself comfortable under it.

It silenced him to see you huddled up on the bed with a couple of lovestruck eyes aimed at him.

He approached the bed and sat down on the edge of it, on the sheets, by your side “I never thought I would be where I am now, or with whom I am now. You stood by me and I vow to do the same.”

You curled your hand around his “Our lives are just beginning and I can’t wait to spend all of it with you.”

Lancelot lifted your entwined hands and kissed your knuckles “May time have mercy upon us and let us live long.”

He never thought he would wish for a long life, not until he met you.

“Brave of you to wish for a long life with me as your wife.” You joked.

He deadpanned “I always enjoyed a challenge.”

You feigned a glare, then leaned over to steal a kiss from him.

“Twit.” You said, after successfully stealing one.

That rare boyish smile curved his mouth, heavenly eyes cast their gaze on your lips.

It was the only warning you received before his lips connected with your own.

He laid you down and hovered above, his mouth only parting with yours to kiss your forehead “I waited my whole life for you, for someone to reach into the darkness to guide me out. And now that I have you, I will spend the rest of my days loving you with all that I am.”

You gazed up into his eyes, then smiled “I love you too.”

Lancelot took a deep breath before diving into your lips with his, fully intending to claim your mouth all for himself before he’d need to breath in again.

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The day of your joining began so peaceful, you had chosen to hold it in the evening.

It had been raining heavily, but once foot was set in the magical forest, the rain ceased to be.

What the forest gave was a cloudless night sky littered with stars.

Lancelot had gone to the forest with Arthur and Red Spear first, leaving you in the hands of Gawain and Pym. Kaze came along as well, not willing to miss a joining considering how rare they were becoming these days.

There had been flowers for a bouquet, but those had vanished the night before. Oddly enough, Neia was wearing an array of colorful flowers mixed with the usual white ones in her hair tonight. You didn’t mind, those flowers suited her well and you suspected that Percival had something to do with the disappearance of the bouquet. And now the children walked ahead of you, both excited to witness a joining.

It was one of the few things that made the joining memorable.

For the Fey, the forest was their home. For you, the forest in the dark was more tricky.

Your pretty gown got stuck on a branch and it delayed the whole ceremony for a while.

After Pym had tried to help, you asked Gawain to “Just cut the piece off that’s stuck.”

After some hesitation, the knight cut the fabric of the skirt and freed you.

Your poor intended had waited patiently for you in the forest.

Arthur was beside him, trying to get him to relax while also getting on his nerves.

Gawain placed you before Lancelot, and then went over to speak to the Fey elder who was asked to bless this joining.

Lancelot dropped his attention to the skirt of the stunning gown you wore “Your skirt is missing a piece.

“The forest stole it from me.” You deadpanned.

Gawain overheard it and offered an explanation “She got stuck on a bush.”

Part of him had feared his bride had run off into the night. But no, it was just the forest stalling you.

“Let’s hope it’s not a bad omen.” Arthur jested.

Lancelot paid him no mind, his gaze was moving over your form “It is not. Not even a magical forest will stop my wife from returning to me.”

He had sounded so certain and proud of the matter.

The Manblood did not stop his pestering just yet “She’s not your wife yet. She has to say ‘I do’ first.”

Both you and your soon-to-be husband gave him a side-eye.

Tristan and Iseult had arrived to the ceremony as well and Iseult scolded Arthur for teasing an already nervous Lancelot.

The Ash Man took you by the arm and steered you towards the knight and the Fey elder.

“If you have any doubts, now is your chance to speak.” He was quite nervous for what was to come.

You leaned into his side “I have none. And you?”

He was relieved to hear it “None.”

His fingers laced through yours, both now standing before the Fey elder.

The Tusk Elder’s hair had long since lost all colour and was now a bright white “Are you ready to proceed?”

The attention of all present turned to the elder and you.

Lancelot looked at you expectantly.

“We are ready.” You answered.

The elder politely asked “You may hand me the piece of rope or cloth for the handfasting.”

Panic washed over Lancelot’s face and soon it became apparent that the needed item was forgotten.

“Oh no…” Little Neia uttered.

Percival winced at the display, then the idea struck him. The boy rushed towards the Green Knight and pulled the piece the knight had cut off from your gown from where he had wrapped it around the pommel of his sword.

Hastily, Percival ran up to you and Lancelot “Will this work?”

The Ash Man took the piece of fabric and placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder “Well done, my boy.”

Lancelot ripped the piece in the middle and made it longer that way.

“Do you think the forest knew we forgot to bring something along?” You questioned out loud.

He gave a shallow nod “I believe so.”

The Elder was handed the piece of your gown, he looked at it curiously but snapped himself out of it “Take her hand, Ash Man.”

You held it up for him to take not a blink later and saw a couple of people try and hold back a chuckle.

Lancelot did as asked and took your hand in his.

The piece of linen was used to bind your hands together, uniting them.

The elder spoke “With the Hidden as our witnesses, I bind thee together by body and soul. Do you vow to respect this promise of love?”

You locked your eyes on those heavenly ones “I do.”

That boyish smile spread on his face “I swear it.”

The elder took a step back and concluded “You may now seal your promise of love.”

Gawain went ahead and tried to shield Percival’s eyes with his hand, using the other he tried to shield Neia’s, then chuckled when both children pried their eyes free from it.

They witnessed the sealing kiss between you and this time no ‘yucks’ were heard.

Under the starry night sky your joined life together began.

Many a night later, when Red Spear became the rightful queen of Camelot and took Arthur as her king, Lancelot was lifted to the status of king among the Fey.

Kaze, Tristan and Pym were all knighted by Gawain and Percival.

A new era for the Fey had begun, one where Manblood and Fey lived together in peace for the first time in centuries. Nature thrived, villages were rebuild and the economy flourished.

The removal of the Church’s power over the land and it’s people allowed them to grow far beyond the possibilities they had under the Church.

And you?

You became known as the Ashen Queen, carrying the legacy of the Ash Folk not only on your skin but also in the growing life in your womb.

A new era for the Fey and for the Ash Folk.

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everlastingdreams · 2 years ago

Text

Weeping Monk x Reader : The Patience Of A Heart Chapter 19

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Chapter Title: Caught In The Hands Of Fate

Notes: I just realized I have to proofread three chapters again soon ;_;

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

Word count of this fic: +130K

Chapter: 19 / lol Gonna keep the chapter count a secret until the end.

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After going to your room and stuffing the satchel with the socks under your bed and out of sight, you went out to find Lancelot and see how things were going with Neia and Percival.

You weren’t ready to see those socks again, in truth you hoped not to see them again. The one who they were meant for had suffered a horrible faith and they only reminded you of it.

Anne would not have wanted you to think this way, but you couldn’t help it…

You stepped into the stables again and found it void of the Feys you were looking for.

The laughter of children came from nearby and you followed the sound.

There they were, Neia on her horse and Percival was walking beside her and held on to the reins.

Lancelot stood against the wooden fence that surrounded the meadow.

There were goats and cows running through the grass, as well as some other horses.

You stopped next to him on his right and leaned on the fence to watch Neia and Percival in the meadow.

The Ash Man was curious how it had went “Have you spoken to Gawain?”

You gave a nod “Gawain said he’ll talk to the others about it.”

What…

He hummed, took a step backwards and walked slowly to stand on your right instead of your left side.

There was another very quiet hum and then he took you off-guard when he leaned in and blatantly smelled you.

With widened eyes you stared at him utterly confused “Why did you… what was that for?”

A Fey scent he recognized was all over you.

Had Gawain truly found it necessary to do this?

Part of him knew it had been done on purpose to mess with him and his heightened senses, yet part of him severely disliked how another’s scent was over you now.

He held his tongue, knowing how it could come across if he mentioned it.

You saw the slight narrowing of his eyes and the change in them “Alright, spit it out.”

He proceeded with caution, but knew the annoyance was still detectable “You smell different.”

You pushed for an answer “Like what?”

It came out a bit short “Like Gawain.”

The scent was so strong that he had thought it was Gawain approaching him.

And there it was. Did he really think you would not notice the difference in him when he was jealous or insecure?

The truth was nothing to feel guilty or bad about “He told me something personal and I hugged him.”

He leaned forward and rested his elbows on the fence “What did he tell you?”

Did he think Gawain had declared his love for you or something of the sorts?

While sighing, you answered “If you want to know, you will have to ask him yourself. I don’t believe it was meant to be told to others. It was personal, Lancelot.”

The Ash Man was quiet for a second, then looked at you.

It was better to warn him of the tragedy in the knight’s past “It was something that happened in his past. He lost someone.”

Realization washed over him, you two had shared your grieve and he had misinterpreted it “He told you this?”

You nodded “Yes. Just… be considerate if you ask about it.”

He fidgeted with his hands “I will not ask. If he wishes to speak of it, he will do so when he feels comfortable.”

It wasn’t forgotten how quick he was to fear the worst “I wish you weren’t so worried that I would prefer another over you.”

Right away his full attention was on your face “I am not.”

It was not meant to be accusing “Don’t lie. I can tell.”

Lancelot sighted quietly, remorse present in his eyes “I am sorry.” there was a short pause “You could have someone who has no trouble being with you the way you would want them to be. Someone who would not have asked you to wait.”

So that was what bothered him…

You took one of his hands and brought it to the mark on your arm “Lancelot, we spoke of this.”

The gesture held more meaning then you could bring into words.

The mark was still there and the love for him was too.

You saw him struggle to meet your eyes “Look at me…” finally he did “The mark is still there, is it not? I do not want someone else, just you. You’re all I want.”

Now those weeping eyes did not leave yours and you were certain that if you had not been out in the open, he wouldn’t have held back the way he was doing now…

The tease fell from you “If you want me to stop smelling like another, maybe replace it with your own scent again.”

His hand curled around your lower arm and you felt the mark tingling in excitement.

The idea was terribly inviting…

You took his hand off of your arm and moved it around your form while you leaned into his side “This is a nice way to start. I can use the comfort.”

He did not need an explanation and brought it to your shoulder to keep you close.

This was nice…

Especially when he proceeded to start and rub along your back a bit.

Only when the children threatened to look your way did he fold his hands together behind his back. Still, you remained close at his side.

Then with a cheeky smile, you leaned even closer and sniffed him yourself.

It was meant to be an inside joke between the both of you. But he genuinely smelled good, your heart took a leap and the mark’s response was just as strong.

Never did you expect the response it send through your body.

Dammit…was this a Fey ability you were not aware off?

Was it just him? Was it the Ash Folk blood that ran through his veins? Or did the mark connect you to him so strongly that even his scent was enough to fuel you with desire?

Your whole body had warmed up and you dropped your eyes to the grass, too flustered to let it show.

He was aware something was happening and looked at you curiously because he had no idea what exactly it was.

Percival had seen you sniff his tall friend and loudly pointed out your odd behavior “What are you doing?”

Of course the twit next to you turned his head to the side to prevent himself from laughing.

You mumbled through your teeth “Of course he never sees you do it…”

He swayed and bumped into you lightly “Years of experience.”

His attention was pulled away when he saw Neia try to dismount, like he had taught her, but the girl was clearly frightened.

He called out for her to wait and went over to them.

Percival was doing his best to explain to her how she should do it.

Lancelot was quick to reach up and pluck her from the horse, then safely set her down on the ground.

Neia however did not let go off his hand and the poor Ash Man did not have it in him to pluck her hand from his own.

If he didn’t learn to do so, he’d be walking around with the girl for the rest of the day, you were sure of it.

Actually, you wouldn’t mind seeing that happen.

Percival was grinning up at him, oh how amusing must it be for him to see the former fearsome ‘Weeping Monk’ with a little Fey girl attached to his hand.

A look for guidance was send your way and you just grinned back.

Even from this distance you could see him roll his eyes a bit.

He bend down, picked Neia up and carried her out the meadow “Percival, will you lead the horse back to the stable?”

The boy was already pulling the horse along “Sure. I’ll take Spot back.”

Neia went ahead and put her small fingers to those ashen markings again, half expecting them to come off his skin like they haven’t been their since he was born.

The second Lancelot was in front of you, he put her down and she gave the biggest pout “Y/n will take you and Percival to your lessons.”

You glared at him and his way of shoving the responsibility onto you.

There was a twitch at the corner of his mouth as he fought the smirk.

It vanished completely when Neia questioned him “Are you angry? I’m sorry…”

The question came out of nowhere and took both of you off-guard.

He was at her eye-level not a second later, uncaring if he had just knelt down into a bit of mud.

Neia rubbed along her right arm to sooth herself again.

Rarely he heard the whispers of the Hidden, yet now he heard their faint voices.

The way the girl kept rubbing at her arm each time she was nervous or upset…

It just seemed…off…

He was distracted by it “I am not…” instinct led him to reach for her right arm “May I?…”

The girl let him hold her arm and got very quiet when he began to roll up her sleeve.

The sleeve was not even at her elbow and you covered your mouth from sheer shock.

His heart sank at the sight of the old scars.

Her arm was littered with them, the result of leather that had struck her skin countless times.

There were so many… too many.

He needed a moment to collect himself before looking at her face again “Who did this?”

It surprised even himself how calm and quiet he managed his voice to be.

At first she shook her head and fell silent.

You knelt beside her and put an arm around her for comfort “It’s alright. You don’t have to be afraid, they’ll never hurt you again.”

Lancelot gently moved his fingers over the scars “Neia…”

She answered his question “Papa did.”

It dawned on you that you had only ever seen her mother and she had never said a word of her father.

To hear how a father was able to hurt a child like this set his blood to boil “Is your father alive?”

If he was, he would rectify that.

Little Neia shook her head.

It was a relief that the bastard was gone.

If the man had not been gone yet, he would have been soon enough.

You saw Percival walk over and Lancelot rolled down her sleeve again.

The boy had seen it anyway and stopped next to Lancelot “What’s on her arm?”

He did not want the girl to think she had to hide them “Those are scars.”

Percival was clever and stopped himself from asking further.

The boy was often bold and brash, but never when it came to things like this.

The young knight took Neia’s hand and therefore relieved Lancelot of his duty “Come. Let’s go to the lesson.”

The girl looked rather giddy all of a sudden when the boy held her hand.

It did not go unnoticed by you or Lancelot and you shared a look.

Still, rattled by the revaluation, your voice wavered “Good plan, Percival. Come, sweetling.”

Neia was quick to lock her hand with yours and let you walk both her and her young knight to their lessons.

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In the dinning hall, you stood and watched a Tusk Folk Man and Faun Folk woman entertain the children in their lessons with an animate story.

Seeing Percival and Neia laugh at the story warmed your heart.

How could you not have seen the silent suffering Neia had gone through?

Even now, as she mourned her mother, the girl hid those feelings.

But Lancelot had seen through the facade, perhaps it was because he knew what it was like to mask true emotions so those around him would never know.

A light tap on your shoulder broke your attention away.

Arthur stood beside you now “Keeping an eye on Percival, eh?”

It wasn’t a real question, mostly a jest “Why should I?”

He kept his voice low “Anything that shines like steel isn’t safe around him. I have to say, the boy has an eye for treasure and weapons.”

“Are you accusing him of something?” You arched a brow.

Arthur squinted his eyes, smile breaking out “Not at all.” then nodded at the group of children “That girl, Neia?”

You gave a nod.

He crossed his arms in front of him “Do you know that she doesn’t talk to anyone? Just Percival, Lancelot and you. But no one else.”

What?

At that, you paid some attention to the group and saw that she indeed did not interact with anyone else but Percival. Neia even looked down when another child tried to speak to her. And when the Faun Woman tried to get her to interact, the girl scurried back.

“Did you see that?” Arthur blurted out at the sight of it.

“Maybe she is just shy.” You found yourself not truly believing the words yourself.

The violence she had suffered made her wary and you held yourself back from going over there and taking a seat next to her.

Arthur’s smile had faded and you didn’t have to say a word, he knew something was wrong.

You did not make him ask “She has scars on her arm. When her father was alive, he hurt her.”

He discreetly pointed at her “He hurt her?!? But she’s… she’s so small. What sort of bastard would do that?”

It wasn’t a real question, it just sounded so surreal that a person could hurt a child “Like you said, a bastard. Did Gawain ever tell you about her mother?”

Arthur gave a nod, recalling the tragic information “I can’t imagine what it must have been like for her to live with her mother, while her mother was…”

Dead… the woman had passed on and Neia had been looking after her mother who would never wake again.

You blinked faster, struggling with the memory of the day you had stepped foot in Neia’s home “I can’t begin to imagine how many children are out there who are living through such horrific things. And it must be worse with this war going on.”

He sighed, agreeing with that “Speaking of war. Gawain told me that you want the Abbot to be dealt with.”

You guessed he would share his dismay regarding it “I know you are against it.”

Arthur debunked that idea “I was against Lancelot acting reckless. But he went off and tried it anyway. He and Red are lucky to be alive.”

“So, you’re not against it?” You asked.

He shook his head “Not if it’s safe. We have lost enough people, but I agree that the Abbot needs to be dealt with.”

You told Arthur what you did not dare tell Lancelot “There is a way that does not involve other people. I could do it alone.”

As a result, his voice went a little louder “Absolutely not!”

Reasoning with him would be easier than with the stubborn Ash Man “When the Trinity Guards found us in the forest last night, they said that the Abbot wanted me alive. I could use that to our advantage.”

He took hold of your elbow and led you out of the room “I wasn’t aware you had run into them. Neither of you looked wounded, so I guess they have been dealt with?”

You nodded “Yes. It’s where we got the new horses from.”

“Of course Lancelot would fail to mention it to Gawain and I.” Arthur rolled his eyes a bit in frustration “But why would Wicklow want you alive?”

“I’ve been told I can be quite charming.” You deadpanned and saw him slide his eyes to you “Alright, it’s because Wicklow wants Lancelot. Either to kill him for betraying the Church or because he wants to force him to hunt the Fey again.”

Arthur was pensive “Handing yourself over to the Abbot isn’t safe, y/n.”

You walked beside him “I think Gawain wants me to infiltrate the church in Helgenstone dressed in my tunic I still have from the abbey.”

He readjusted his jerkin “How would you even manage to get Wicklow away from his guards? They follow him around all the time.”

It was a valid concern “Perhaps Gawain will have an idea.”

He turned to face you again “Well, whatever Gawain decides, you can count on my help.”

It was a relief to hear it “Thank you, Arthur.”

Lancelot entered the hallway and approached you and Arthur on sight.

“Did you speak to Gawain?” Arthur questioned him immediately.

The Ash Man nodded “I did. He is still deciding over it. Red caught wind of the idea and is hounding him over it now.”

Arthur sighed and walked past him “I’ll go and see if I can help.”

While passing him by, Arthur amicably patted Lancelot on the arm. The look of sheer surprise by the Ash Man was missed by Arthur.

You looked down the hallway, at the door of the dining hall where the children were still laughing at the story told. An idea had popped in your head, but you would need some items for it.

Lancelot touched your arm to draw your attention “What has you distracted?”

You made a request “I would like to go into the forest and I was wondering if you wanted to come along. It won’t take long, I just want to pick some flowers.”

It had piqued his curiosity, he had never seen you walking around looking for flowers before “Flowers?”

You hummed “To braid in Neia’s hair. It’s fine if you don’t want to come along.”

It was almost amusing to him “The last time you touched a flower in the forest, it nearly burned your skin.”

Well, it was no lie… “So, you’ll come?”

He tilted his head a bit “Of course. Shall we walk?”

After agreeing to walk, together you walked towards the forest.

No horse was needed because you didn’t have to go deep into the forest to find pretty flowers.

And he even helped, that heightened sense of smell of his was coming into handy to find flowers that were safe.

Most of the foraging was you pointing at a flower and him giving a ‘yes’ or ‘no’.

“How did you know about Neia?” You asked while plucking a flower from a fallen branch it was growing on.

The explanation was simple for him, having had the same experience “I also feel my scars when I think back of my upbringing. That is what happens with her. If she is reminded of her father’s anger, she can’t help but sooth the scars.”

It was heartbreaking to hear it “I really didn’t know she had them…or that she was treated that way.”

He did not put any sort of blame on you for that “Neither did I. What baffled me most was that she was not afraid of me anymore so quickly.”

You frowned “Because you are being kind to her.”

It was the example he hoped to use “Exactly. We reached out to her and she has not strayed away from us nor Percival.”

The girl had sprung to form an attachment to the first who had been kind to her, but she remained withdrawn to others…

You began to understand what he tried to explain “I never see her talk to others beside us, not even with those she has lessons with.”

He gave a nod “It will get better for her in time. She will not grow up at the mercy of a whip. Not anymore.”

Not like him he meant…

The words were dipped in admiration “You’ve always been protective of the little ones.”

There was only determination in his tone “I could not save my younger brother and I will be dead long before I do not try what I can to save other children from the same fate.”

A silence fell and when he did look at your face, he must have seen the affection in your eyes.

It made you drop your gaze to the ground.

Upon seeing it, he did the same.

After collecting enough flowers, you stored them in the small basket you had brought along.

The walk back was pleasant and you often walked against his side “Have you ever considered becoming a father?”

He kept the close distance, the sword at his side bumped into you “I do not know if it is even possible, if there has ever been a child from Ash Folk and Manblood…”

It was information he would never come to know as long as no other Ash Folk were there to speak of it.

Unless…

You pulled him out off his wandering thoughts “And between different Fey species?”

He considered it possible “That is more likely.” then muttered more to himself “But you are not Fey.”

It had been said so quiet that you had not heard it well “What?”

He said it a little louder “You are not Fey.”

You couldn’t resist to act a little cheeky now “Oh, so you would pick me to be mother of your children? Interesting.”

His throat bopped at what it also meant.

Children were the result of physical intimacy.

The Ash Man shut down, like he had crossed a line and been too forward.

So brave, but when it came to the topic he shied away.

By suppressing your own shyness, you hoped to ease his a little “Let me know if you ever wish to begin with finding out if Ash Folk can reproduce with Manbloods.”

You bit your tongue and directed your eyes at the sky after that bold statement.

His momentarily blank expression changed into a smirk, then he took hold of the hilt of your sword and pulled you closer by it.

It had you giggling softly before a laugh slipped out.

By doing so, he also left himself vulnerable to your shenanigans.

You’d stolen his sword quick as a whip and placed the basket down.

Taking a few paces backwards, you saw the blue of his eyes darken.

Slightly his head tilted and you knew he was willing to indulge you in this foolery.

It was a dare leaving his lips “Go on then, see if you can handle such a sword.”

Your brow arched high “I can.”

In truth you struggled to keep the sword still instead of swaying it round and about.

He drew his short sword, the look of a wolf on it’s hunt was present in his eyes.

To your own amazement, you blocked his first strike.

Well… that was what you though at least.

Somehow he had managed to grab hold of the crossguard on the longsword where your grip on the hilt was far less firm.

The sword was out of your hands with a single tug at the crossguard, he sank both swords into the soil, freeing his hands.

He would collect them later.

Lancelot stalked closer, sly smirk only getting stronger “At least your confidence is not lacking. Your swordsmanship on the other hand…”

You took a step back for every step he took to close the distance and you drew the sword that rested at your side.

It went so fast…

Almost like he knew you would be drawing your own sword as well.

He took one large step closer, sank down and grabbed the sword by the flat of the blade, his hands slid across the steel while he moved forward.

The sword was stolen from your grasp before you even knew what was happening.

The last thing you felt before losing your balance was him grabbing the back of your knee.

You sank to the ground.

It had been his intention.

He had discarded your sword right away “Careful.”

By holding on to his shoulders, you avoided a fall.

Now you sat on your knees in the grass and he was sitting the same way in front of you.

“Are you bloody mad?!?” You squeaked out.

He brought his hands to your waist and held on “You started this. Did you consider it wise to challenge me with the sword?”

The kneading on your waist chased the wit right out of you.

He hummed knowingly at the lack of an answer, seeing the effect he had on you now.

Was he able to sense the way the mark was tingling all over your arm?

You tapped on his shoulders playfully, then sneaked your hands beneath the hood to lace your fingers in his locks “You didn’t have to bring me to my knees-” and fired another tease at him “If you wanted that to happen, you only had to ask.”

The momentarily confusion as to why he would want you to kneel lasted only three seconds, then he leaned a little back.

You felt a little guilty for teasing him with it, but it was also meant to show him that he did not have to be uncomfortable about the topic with you.

He had heard of these… things happening.

But to hear you speak so boldly of it was unexpected.

A hand left your waist and went to hold the back of your neck.

He studied your expression, letting his gaze roll down from your eyes to your mouth a few times “You have been acting quite promiscuous to me.”

Your eyes dropped down from his gaze, shy smile growing “I can’t help it. Sorry.”

His thumb traced below your bottom lip “Do not be sorry.”

When he leaned in, you leaned back “People could see us.”

It halted him “Still worried what others might think if they knew?”

You feared they would become far more vigilante towards him “I see how difficult it is for you to be accepted among your people. I don’t want to make it even harder. They know Father Carden was my uncle, they don’t think much of me either because of that.”

Lancelot lowered his hands to your waist again and did not bother to pretend it was not with lecherous intend “I would not be here now if it were not for you. I would have bled out in the forest. I will not let the opinions of others keep me from you.”

You heard the way his voice had lowered and felt the greedy hold he had on you.

He wasn’t just holding on… he was feeling.

There was a moment where you could sense something was about to happen, it occurred only seconds before he moved and had you with your back on the grass beneath him.

Still kneeling beside you, it was clear that he felt quite comfortable in this mystical forest.

You were looking around to see if anyone else was near, half scolding him for his impulsiveness “Goodness! Lancelot!”

He was leaning over you, gaze roaming over your form, hand brushing your stomach “Fear not, there is no one.”

Your eyes squinted up at him “What do you think you are you doing?”

His gaze caressed your features and body like a gentle wave, while he rubbed along your stomach “I am…curious…I think.”

The way he could not stop staring was enough to make one nervous.

“Curious about what?” You asked, genuinely curious what he was curious about.

Those weeping eyes searched yours while he traced a finger over the lacing of your dress, they stayed on yours when he undid the knot that tied the laces together.

Your chest heaved for air and you fidgeted with some strands of grass beside you.

The lacing was undone for a little more than an inch.

It was enough to offer him a view, the same one he had caught a glimpse of in the inn.

This was not the time or place, but he was slowly losing the fight against the desire that continued to fuel.

As if he meant to thank you for allowing it, he tenderly pressed his lips your temple.

He touched nothing more, the titillating view was already more than he’d dare to ask of you “If I wanted you to stop having another’s scent, I would have to replace it with mine.”

You gawked at him “So you just decided to handle that here in the forest?”

Wickedly he grinned “Yes.”

He brought his nose down to the crook of your neck to inhale your scent.

Breathing normally became a challenge “And opening my dress helps this how?”

His hand slid under your back, warm breath ghosted over your neck “Forgive me for not having a proper excuse.”

You wouldn’t let him off the hook just yet “I’ll forgive it if you tell me what the improper excuse is.”

Instead of answering, the stubble of his beard moved along your skin and passed your collarbone.

With his bottom lip he felt the warmth of your bosom and the quick rise and fall of your chest.

This was not the time or place…

He pressed his aching lips to what was uncovered.

That warm alluring scent, which covered your skin, awoke a hunger in him.

In return you curled your fingers in his hair and kept him close.

He saw at as encouragement to keep going.

It were his thoughts that he let out while coming up to touch his lips to the shell of your ear “If I die in Helgenstone, I will have this to keep in my thoughts in my last moments on this world.”

Did he truly consider it a possibility??

It had sounded so normal for him… as if he did not fear the prospect of death anymore.

But it wasn’t normal to you, you were not raised in battle and the possibility to die in one.

You found yourself holding on to his shoulder, petrified at the thought that it might cost him his life “If I do it alone, no one else will have to sacrifice themselves.”

He stopped and locked eyes with you “What?”

He had heard it and was giving you the chance to reconsider.

But you didn’t “Gawain was right. Enough have suffered, especially the Fey. I could do it, I can deal with the Abbot alone.”

Lancelot was out of your hold and on his feet right away, not believing his ears, he faced away from you.

You inelegantly got up from the grass as well, your clothes a mess “Lance-”

“I do not want to hear it!” His voice was sharp and he turned to look at you “Do you believe I would stand aside and let you risk your life? Never.”

There was a long pause and he drew a couple of breaths to calm himself.

The question came out much softer “Where is this coming from, y/n?”

“My kin did this to the Fey, I-…” You fell quiet.

Lancelot was able to guess what was causing this “The faults of your uncle are not yours to bear.”

The words were forced out of you “And yet I bear them.”

Who was he to makes these claims while he himself had caused so much suffering?

Perhaps… it had made him the person who was able to see the difference.

The difference between kindness and hate.

He sought your presence once more and took your hands in his “You’re nothing like he was. He felt no guilt over what he did. And here you are, among my kind, helping.”

Your shoulders shrugged, throat closing up from emotion “Helping with what? I haven’t done a thing to earn my place here-”

He cradled your head and silenced you “Tell that to Neia, the child who lives because you saw her in a crowd of people and choose to help while others ignored her existence.” his face was close to yours “Tell it to Percival who would have watched me die if you had not found us.”

His forehead rested against yours, noses touching and the intimacy of it had the love for him flourish further inside of you.

Others could see…

Heaven you wanted him…

He showed more restraint than you, well… maybe his eyes did not.

They dropped from yours down to your chest and it reminded you that he had unlaced some of your dress.

You brought a finger under his chin and tilted it up a little until he met your eyes again “Rude.”

His face flushed a bit and for a second he had the look of a guilty young boy “I-”

You didn’t let him apologize for it “You were the one to open it, be a dear and close it for me again.”

He matched your playful politeness “Can it wait?”

The smack against his arm made a laugh fly out of him

Out of actual politeness, he did do as ask asked and closed the laces “You are not the only one with a personal vendetta against the Abbot. The man tried to have me killed the night I left with Percival. I have not forgotten his arrogance and the desire I had to erase it from his face.”

Preferably by bloodying it up.

The knot in the laces was tied again “You are not alone in this, y/n.”

You did not want to argue over this, not when this had been such a lovely walk mere moments ago.

So you nodded and tried to draw him closer just when he took a step back.

He tsked you right away “We are not alone anymore.”

With a discreet head tilt, he pointed out the other Feys foraging the woods too.

Fine then.

You picked up the basket again that you had filled with flowers and grabbed the sword from where it had fallen while he collected his own from where he had planted them.

While doing so, you noticed the way the group of Feys where looking at you.

Not a friendly look, no, it was one of disgust.

It came as another reminder that even you could not erase your connection to Father Carden, to them you were an invader, a trespasser…

Lancelot was Fey, in time he would find his place. He was Ash Folk, a kind born to protect the Fey with their magic.

But you… you would always be Manblood. No mark would ever change that.

He was more distant now that others were there to see it, but not distant enough to not walk closely beside you when returning to the city.

━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━

Upon the sun’s departure and the moon’s slow arrival there had been no news from Gawain. The Green Knight must have decided not to act on the opportunity in Helgenstone, or perhaps one of the others had talked him out of the idea.

Now you sat in Neia’s room, braiding the flowers you had picked into her hair as best as you could. Percival was even helping by sorting out the, according to him, disgusting flowers from the pretty ones.

Yes, the boy was strong of opinion and you tried not to take it personal.

“This one stinks.” He held one up.

Lancelot would have disagreed…

“That one then?” You pointed at another flower.

Percival handed you the other one, approving of the idea.

Neia couldn’t stop touching her hair in excitement and multiple times she ‘commanded’ Percival to hand her the small hand mirror.

Of course the boy sighed and rolled his eyes, still he indulged her wish every time.

At some point her eyes had caught sight of the bangle on your arm and you handed it to her for a bit so you could work on her hair without her constantly fidgeting with it.

To your silently amazement, the flowers you had picked kept their beauty, as if their health remained the same when in connection with Fey kind.

You’d never seen her so happy and all it took were some flowers in her hair. All the flowers where white, like she had in her hair the day you met her.

She held up the bangle and asked “Where did you find it?”

Percival answered it “Lancelot gave it to her.”

You confirmed it was true “Percival is right. Lancelot gave me that bangle.”

Neia was pensive “Like you gave me your necklace?”

You hummed agreeing and added the last flower to her hair, you almost asked her if she had indeed sold the necklace, but her situation had been so dire that it was a given.

After fidgeting with the bangle a little more, she handed it back to you.

Well, actually she took it upon herself to put it over your hand and around your wrist again.

Then she noticed the mark on your arm “Fey marks?”

It had her so very confused to see those marks on a Manblood.

Percival, the cheeky rascal, chimed in “Lancelot gave her those too.”

This time you squinted your eyes at him but his grin did not falter “I wonder, does the Ash Man tell you secrets, Percival?”

The shit-eating grin on his face should have been a warning.

Percival thought he would surprise you with the news “He fancies you.”

Neia’s mouth dropped open at the claim and then she looked at you for your reaction as well.

You saw a chance and feigned to be surprised by the admission “Really? What makes you think that?”

The boy believed he had a chest filled with knowledge no one else knew off.

But nothing could have prepared you for the secret he so bluntly decided to share.

Percival casually answered “He stares at you a lot. And at your bottom.”

Right away you covered Neia’s ears “Percival…”

A big grin was plastered on his face “What? It’s true. And he gave you a mark and jewelry.”

Your face was burning from his bluntness “Just…I…”

Without knocking, the door creaked open and Pym tripled into the room.

“Oh, here you are.” Her attention fell from you to the flowers in Neia’s hair “Ooh, that looks nice.”

Neia beamed with pride over her freshly styled hair.

Pym struggled a little to walk into the room with the food she had wrapped up in linen.

Of course Percival was quick to help her.

“One for each of you.” She quickly told the boy.

He handed Neia one and Pym handed you the other.

She plopped down on Neia’s bed “I thought you might be hungry and brought you some bread and fruit.”

It had been a good guess, you were indeed quite hungry “Thank you, Pym. I haven’t really eaten anything today.”

Neia took a bite from her pear and pleaded “Can you read us a story before we have to sleep?”

You were about to agree to it, but Pym made the sacrifice instead.

“I’ll ready you a story.” She told Neia, then said to you “You can go and rest if you want to. I know you weren’t able to sleep last night.”

You asked “Are you sure?”

Pym had no problem entertaining the children “I’m sure. Go on, off you pop.”

Before doing so, you gave Neia a hug. Doing the same with Percival was a bit of a challenge and the boy rolled his eyes, as if it was just to indulge you that he’d allowed it.

Heaven forbid one might know that he loved it…

“Goodnight.” You told them, telling Pym “And thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” She smiled, then pointed at the food in your hands “Eat your food.”

Your smile matched hers “I will.”

By the time you reached the door, Neia had already pulled a book from under her pillow and put it in Pym’s hand.

You went over to your room and snatched the satchel from under your bed to get the socks out of them. Anne would not have wanted them to go to waste…

Then you returned to Neia’s room, finding Pym busy reading the story Neia had requested and clearly adding some commentary to it when she disagreed with the actions of the characters in said book.

You went over to Pym and placed the sock next to her on the bed “Maybe you can use these?”

She glanced down for a moment and back up at you “Oh, wow. Thank you!”

“You’re welcome.” You were glad to hear that she seemed happy to have them “I’ll leave you to it now. If you need me, I will be in my room.”

Neia waved at you as you left. Percival laid draped over the foot of the bed, eyes up at the ceiling while listening to the story.

The moment you were back in your room, you put the food Pym had given you into the now empty satchel along with a flask of water.

There wouldn’t be much you would need, the most important thing was the sword and knife at your side.

You did change into something more suitable for what you were about to do. Trousers and a shirt would be more comfortable than a dress for this. Luckily you found those in the old closet as well, the trousers had a stain or two at the legs. The shirt had a tear at the elbow.

Under the clothes, you discovered a long sleeveless leather vest, it fitted well over the shirt you had on now. And it would keep you warm along with the cloak.

Lastly, you pulled the tunic you had worn at the abbey from the closet.

It was strange to see it now, strange to know that the place and people you had called ‘home’ for a while was now gone.

The veil and coif were neatly folded between it, a sign of the respect you had for the women you had met there.

You would wear it one last time, one last service for the ones who had lost their lives.

After packing up the satchel, you put on your cloak and sat on your bed until all sounds in the hallway and outside dimmed down.

The dark of night cloaked the halls of the fortress in it’s shadows, while passing Lancelot’s room you removed your bangle and hanged it on the brass doorknob. If you were not to return, he would know that you had understood and accepted the risk of your actions.

As discreetly as one could, you made your way through the castle.

Once at the stables, you attached your satchel to Llamrai’s saddle and mounted the horse.

You hoped to reach Helgenstone in time, Wicklow would be there at noon.

Tomorrow the lands would be rid of a monster, or the kin of one.

Taglist:

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

#weeping monk #theweepingmonk #weeping monk x you #the weeping monk x reader #weepingmonk #lancelot #lancelot x reader #reader x lancelot #lancelot fic #you/weepingmonk #reader/weepingmonk #weepingmonk/you #weepingmonk/reader #Daniel Sharman #daniel sharman character

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everlastingdreams · 2 years ago

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Isaac Lahey x Reader : Theft Of The Heart one-shot is nearly completed (gimme an hour or so.)

Weeping Monk x Reader : Patience Of A Heart has completed writing.

Weeping Monk x Reader : Cloaked Beauty one-shot had completed writing.

#Writing Ramblings #isaac lahey #isaac lahey x reader #isaac lahey fic #teen wolf #theweepingmonk #weeping monk #Cursed Netflix

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everlastingdreams · 2 years ago

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Weeping Monk x Reader : The Patience Of A Heart Chapter 23

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

Chapter Title: A Patient Passion.

Notes: Finally proofread this one. Also, some spice.

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

Word count of this fic: +130K

Chapter: 23 / 27

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All of it was a blur as you faded in and out of consciousness.

There was shouting, there was fire…

The loud voice of Arthur rang over all else “Keep them at a distance!”

Gawain said something about shielding you from ‘them’.

Green light blinded you when you tried to open your eyes to see.

Lancelot’s voice felt far away even if it was so close.

“Breathe.”

Breathing hurt, your head was thumping painfully.

Trinity Guards on patrol had run into you and the others, they had seen how you were ready to strike their Abbot down

A rock had been thrown hard against your head and send you to the ground.

You regained consciousness in the middle of a fight that had broken out.

Nauseous and with very blurry vision, you tried to get up.

Lancelot was there to help you to your feet, the ashen markings burning green once more.

The fire of the torch, that one guard had carried, proved to be an ally in this fight.

The Fey Fire kept most of the guards away and burned those who tried to cross the barrier it formed.

When your vision began to improve, you realized Lancelot was using his Fey magic to surround those who were attacking.

Wicklow realized this too late. Who could predict that Fey could control and command fire itself?

Gawain, Arthur and Red Spear witnessed the power that ran through the veins of the uncrowned Ashen King with their own eyes.

Blood was on his hands. Yours.

When he saw you bleeding from your head, he had feared the worst. Now he doubted he could even stop the flames if he’d wanted to.

The night he had saved Percival, he had challenged the Abbot and saw the coward flee.

This time he did not grand him the chance to do so again.

The flames trapped Wicklow and his surviving guards in their deathly embrace.

No one wished to stay behind to hear the screams.

You found yourself being guided away by Lancelot, every step only made your head feel worse and the nausea increased.

Arriving at the horses, you were barely able to take Llamrai’s reins in your hands.

“No.” He was firm and leaded you to Goliath.

Red Spear tied Llamrai’s reins to her own horse.

Arthur and Gawain were there to help you get on Goliath.

You were slouched over, even sitting upright was causing vertigo.

Lancelot tried to make you sit properly in front of him but gave up when it only made your condition worse “We are going home.” he brushed his fingers along your neck soothingly “Everything will be alright.”

No matter how hard you fought it, darkness fell over you again.

When your eyes dared to open again, the headache had not vanished yet.

And when your vision finally cleared, you found out that you were in your room.

There was a bandage tied across your head in Pym-style.

Two sleeping children had put their heads to rest on the edge of the mattress.

Percival and Neia, one at each side of you.

They had watched over you while you slept, until they fell asleep themselves.

Instantly, you let the idea to get up from the bed fade away.

The brown curls covered Neia’s face almost completely, Percival’s untameable locks were pointing at all directions.

It was such an endearing sight, how could anyone disturb them when they looked this angelic?

Pym was unaware of the angelic sight and opened the door with bravado.

You gestured for her to be quiet, while she was excited to see you conscious again.

She tiptoed closer and quietly took of the bandage to exchange it for a clean one, it had some blood on it “How long have you been awake? Does your head hurt?”

You whispered back to her “Just woke up. And yes.”

Pym checked the cut on the side of your head “I think it stopped bleeding. They really threw that rock hard…”

The fresh linen cloth was wrapped around it to protect the cut, she used some herbs to speed up the healing.

“They?” You couldn’t recall much.

“Those twats with their scary looking masks.” Pym informed.

Trinity Guards??? Slowly your memory returned.

Almost did your voice go louder, but then you remembered there were children sleeping on your bed “What about Wicklow? Is he dead?”

She sounded pretty happy to share the news “Oh, yes. He’s very dead.”

That cheery smile she had was just a tiny bit unsettling, but it was a relief for all that the Abbot was dealt with.

Pym could barely contain her excitement “Arthur said that Lancelot made Fey Fire and that’s how they won the fight.”

You rubbed your temple “Pym, are the others alright?”

She was quick to reassure you of it “Oh, they’re alright. Arthur’s just having a stuffed nose for a while and Gawain bled only a little. I’ll go tell them that you’re awake.”

You pointed at the sleeping children “I don’t want to wake them…”

Pym looked at Percival and Neia, smiling in endearment “They’re adorable when they sleep. I’ll tell them to wait until morning to come see you?”

“Good plan.” You smiled up at her.

Quietly she sneaked out of the room and just before the door almost closed, you could hear her whisper something to someone.

A quiet answer followed and the door creaked open again.

Lancelot’s eyes fell on you first, then on the sleeping children.

It reminded him of a painting he had once seen. One where two cherubs were in silent prayer with an angel in the midst of them.

His boots did not even make the floorboards creak as he neared and knelt at your side.

He collected your hand in his, thumb stroking from your knuckles along your fingers “We did it.” then he brought your knuckles to his lips “The Abbot is no more.”

Your voice was a whisper “I wasn’t any help, I am only alive now because you saved me.”

Hearing it was reason for him to make you see the other side of things “You did everything we asked of you and risked your life to give us the advantage on Wicklow. If you had not asked us to go to Helgenstone, the people in the church would have all been killed, none of us would have been there to save them.”

It still bothered you how it had gone tonight “I don’t know why I hesitated to kill him when I had the chance.”

He spoke in a calm and gentle manner “Many years ago, when I began, I hesitated many times. Your conscience stopped you, there is nothing wrong with that.”

Disagreeing with him would be foolish, he was right, having a conscience is what seperated one from monsters.

Your eyes were glued on the way he proceeded to brush his lips to your knuckles again.

He stroked a hand over your hair and examined the bandage “I put the satchel with your clothes under the bed.”

It made you look down and notice that you were still wearing the clean tunic you had gotten from the Sisters at the church in Helgenstone.

Lancelot stood up again, his attention on the sleeping children.

You smiled up at him, well… you tried as best as you could with the headache.

He curled a finger under your chin, tilting it up while leaning down slowly.

Surely he could steal a kiss? It would not wake the children.

Your lips found one another and made you forget the pain.

The bliss lasted for only a count or three before giggling was heard.

And then a big, loud, fully meant “Yuck.”

Neia’s giggling at the sight had woken Percival, who gave another sort of reaction.

Lancelot’s expression switched between a guilty one and an embarrassed one at the boy’s response.

Neia on the other hand encouraged it “Kiss!”

Your face heated up, his flushed.

“You should be in bed.” Lancelot barely managed to sound stern.

Percival muttered something under his breath that only the Ash Man heard.

Whatever it was that the boy had commented on it, it was enough to rattle the poor Ash Man “Percival, will you guide Neia to her room?”

The boy knew he was being dismissed and this time spoke louder to taunt “Someone should guide you to your room.”

You had to turn your head to the side or risked having them see how hard it was not to laugh.

One certain look of warning from the Ash Man was enough for Percival to do as asked.

The young knight told Neia “Come on, let’s go.”

The little girl was at his side in a matter of seconds, hooking her arm with his and locking the young knight to her.

Of course Percival ignored the grin from the tall Ash Man aimed at him for it.

For one so little, Neia could be quite strong and not even Percival could get out of her hold, the boy gave up and just walked with her out the door.

Lancelot even held the door open, attention on the ceiling to avoid Percival seeing just how wide the grin was growing.

Once the pair was outside, he closed the door and immediately looked over at you “I believe Percival has found himself quite an admirer.”

There was no doubt about it and you agreed “That smile she has whenever she looks at him-”

He chimed in with a smirk “Looks quite familiar.”

Right away, your eyes fixed on your fidgeting hands and away from that cheeky twit who was out to get you flustered it seems.

He went to sit on the edge of the bed “How is your head?”

You deadpanned “Still attached.”

It earned you a near scolding look, but he couldn’t keep a straight face “I believe your head will be fine if you are able to jest about it already.”

More wit was send his way “Because I think crying would hurt. They really got me good with that rock.”

With compassion he looked at you and confessed “When I saw you fall, I feared the worst. I struggled to keep control over my power when I felt it rise in me again.”

You took his hand in yours “I am so proud of you and the way you are overcoming the fear of your true self. I know you will learn to control it, you saved many with it already.”

He took the opportunity and turned your hand, your inner wrist facing him, then he moved your sleeve up to view the mark gifted to you “I could feel your fear in the church, the fear of the fire. And I felt the mark’s reaction to the Fey fire.”

You couldn’t hide your awe “I can’t deny that seeing those flames turn green was one of the most incredible things I have seen in my life. I’m certain others will feel the same once they see it for themselves. You saw the way those at the church were looking at it them.”

Hearing you sound so excited over it nearly got him blushing.

It sounded as if he struggled to handle the attention it had drawn to him “Word is spreading about it. Some have even spoken to me now, people that avoided me before this.”

Was he finally being accepted by the Fey?

You carefully breached the subject “Do you think they know about your…uhm…title?”

He misunderstood “I am quite certain everyone here knows what I was called before coming here.”

Gently you smiled “Not that one. Your royal one.”

Lancelot mouthed an ‘Oh’.

He was uncertain of it “Maybe there are rumors. Some must have heard of the Ash Folk and their lineage.”You jested “Once word gets out that you are in fact a king among the Fey, you will be one of the most eligible people in the lands.”

“Are you worried?” The tease fell from him so naturally.

“Should I be?” You fired back.

His eyes dropped to the mark again “I know who I want. Now and always.”

You watched him rub his thumb over the mark and saw the pattern glow again, a silver now mixed with green that resembled Fey Fire.

“We could wed.” He said it very quickly.

The many times he had thought of it…

Even when he was still with the paladins, he had once hoped to earn enough of Father Carden’s trust and respect to be able to request a union.

It would never have been possible or allowed.

But now all paths could be chosen and the only one he wished to take was the one that would always lead him back to you.

Did you truly just hear him say it or was that rock damage making you hear things?

After collecting some air in your lungs, you matched his vague suggestive tone “We could.”

He regretted not being more forward about it, he should have known you would have him spell it out or meet him with wit.

When he remained quiet for a little while, you blurted out shyly “Do you want to marry me?”

His eyes went up to yours.

Was that an inquiry…or were you asking???

By the look on your face, it could easily be either.

It sounded far more brave than you actually felt “Well?”

At that, he arched a brow and smirked “If you wish.”

And that was how he pushed the decision back to you again, both tugging to get a clear answer to the question out of the other.

You sighed at the ridiculousness “Dammit, Lancelot. Are you going to make me your wife or not?”

That was very forward.

His answer was nothing short of determined “I will.”

It felt like your heart was making loops inside your chest “Well, that’s settled then.”

He swiftly cupped your face and poured all his love from his lips unto yours.

You could feel how he held back to avoid hurting you and you relaxed into his hold easily.

Every kiss was always filled with the devotion to please and worship.

Every touch gentle for he still feared his hands were too rough to hold someone so dear to him without hurting them.

You leaned back a little “Wait…maybe it’s this-” pointing at the bandage on your head “-talking.”

He was not falling for it at all “You are terrible.”

It made him lose some of his restraint and left you at the mercy of his scolding kiss.

Lancelot broke away, leaving just enough space to speak “I believe you should know that someone came to this city while we where in Helgenstone. He will join us in our fight against the Church.”

You squinted your eyes at him “Who?”

The cheeky twit let his hold on you fall away and stood up from the bed “I will tell you tomorrow.”

Really?

“Tell me now.”

“No.”

He really enjoyed having a secret to tease you with.

“Is it the Holy Father?” You took a wild guess.

His brow arched to match the smile “You have high hopes for who this person could be.”

You sighed “Don’t keep me in suspense.”

Lancelot was determined to make you wait “Tomorrow.”

This person had asked for this to remain a surprise and he would honor the request.

“Fine.” You grumbled.

The bed sheet was draped neatly over you by him “Sleep. There is still quite some time left before dawn. Pym will come into the room a couple of times as you sleep to make certain everything is alright.”

You couldn’t resist trying “Or you could just stay here with me and save her the trouble.”

Shyness came over him instantly “I couldn’t…”

Sweetly you tried to persuade him “I promise I will behave myself.”

Lancelot send you a look “And I know that would be a lie.”

Opening up about what you wished for wasn’t simple, but you tried and hoped it would not scare him off “After today, I doubt my dreams will be sweet. I wish you were here with me tonight, because I do miss your presence at night-” after a pause, you admitted “…a lot.”

The hesitation and anxiousness you detected in his expression said it all.

The last thing you wanted was to make him think you would rush things or that it would upset you if he said ‘No’.

He sounded quite rattled by the confession, like he was battling against what he wanted and what he was ready for “I uhm… I…”

You eased his worry immediately “I understand. It’s alright. I’ll let you go.”

The anxiousness left his eyes, yet he remained quiet for a moment, eyes lowering to the floor.

And it was that that made you feel guilty for asking it, his hand landed on the doorknob and when his eyes found yours all he did was nod.

A polite unspoken ‘goodnight’…

Words had left you there all alone, so you just nodded back.

When he closed the door after leaving the room, it sounded so much louder than it was and the room was uncomfortable silent afterwards.

He wanted to marry you…

What if he started to think that you wouldn’t want him if he wouldn’t bed you?

Minutes past and you felt more and more regret that you had asked him to stay without making it clear that nothing had to happen, that you would be happy just to have his company and not be alone.

Carefully you sat up on your bed, feeling how the slightest movement was enough for your headache to flare up. There was a tankard of water on the little side table next to the bed and you drank some of it.

It helped a bit and with a couple of steady breaths, you pushed yourself up from the bed.

Vertigo hit you, but you stubbornly stood your ground against it and walked…well stumbled to the door.

Reaching it felt like a huge relief, at least you were stable enough to walk again.

If only you had been stable enough to step aside when the door opened and bumped against your chest.

You stumbled and fell backwards, your bottom took most of the impact, not that it wasn’t painless…

A flaming curse escaped you, the one guilty of surprising you by entering the room was beside you instantly.

The pain was forgotten right away when you saw those orbs that matched the sky the day you had first seen them “Lancelot?”

He was filled with remorse “Are you alright?” upon seeing you nod, he apologized “I’m sorry, I did not know you were near the door. Forgive me.”

The apology wasn’t necessary, you were happy to just see him again “You came back…”

While he helped you to your feet again, his voice was so quiet that you’d barely heard him “I spoke to Pym, told her that I would watch over you tonight.”

It rekindled your hope “You’ll stay?”

It still didn’t sound louder than a whisper “If you allow it?”

It slipped from your thoughts right out of your mouth “Always.”

With caution, as if he was handling a potentially feral cat ready to claw at him, he placed a hand on your upper arm and shut the door with the other.

Goodness, anyone could see how nervous he still was and you feared to make a sudden move that would send him running.

You waited for him to say something, instead he cupped your face and tenderly kissed your forehead.

Your eyes fluttered shut, as did his, and you wallowed in the feeling of being loved in such a way that nothing had to be said and all could be felt.

The brush of his mouth against your skin as he whispered felt like a prayer “I will wed you, care for you and love you.” he opened up about his fear “My hesitation for us to become intimate is not your fault. I fear I will do wrong.”

You joined this prayer with him, whispering back “There is no shame in worrying. I could tell you to not be afraid, that all would go well, but no one could know this beforehand. I can tell you that I will not rush you. And that I will care for you, love you and wed you with or without us coupling. All I beg for is your presence.”

He tilted your chin to lock eyes with you “Only my presence?”

Your mouth curved into a grin “I could ask to leave the arrogance at the door and that wit of yours, but I won’t.”

The smirk he had now only made him look even more dashingly handsome “Because you cannot leave it at the door either.”

It earned him a playful smack against his chest and quick as a whip he had grabbed your wrist and pulled you close.

When he swiftly tilted his head, you evaded his kiss by turning your head to the side.

Right away he could tell that you were messing with him “What?”

Your grin only grew wider “I did say just your presence. Nothing else.”

He could detect the teasing from a mile away and still tried to catch something of you to kiss.

While squeaking in delight, you pried yourself from his arms.

Dammit, it sure had caused the mark on your arm to respond to him, pleasant shivers ran across your skin.

After backing away a bit, you swayed your finger in a scolding manner “You are unbelievable. Worse than any man who tried to climb through my window.”

The smugness dripped from him “I never had to climb. You always let me in.”

You rolled your eyes, but he was right “I can’t believe you were once responsible for making sure I behaved virtuous and proper.”

It got a chuckle out of him, then his attention fell on the way you were a little unsteady on your feet “Either I made your head spin, or that rock did.”

It had sounded like a question “The rock did, you just made it worse.”

You looked down at your clothing, there was blood on the tunic from the cut on your head and wearing it through a burning building had not made it look any better.

You asked only to make certain he would not be uncomfortable “Would you mind if I take of this tunic and sleep in my undergown?”

The time it took for him to answer and the dilating of his pupils would have been enough of an answer.

Finally he snapped out of it “Not at all.”

When you walked away to take off the tunic, you did notice how his flushed cheeks only made his ashen markings stand out more.

But he had seen you in an undergown more than once and shown no problem against it.

To distract from it while taking it off, you asked “Do you remember the first time we were in my room alone together, back at the monastery?”

His head tilted, the question prompted that lovely boyish smile to appear “Yes.”

How could one forget how you had straddled his leg while kissing him with a fiery passion?

“I’m still impressed you were able to leave my room without being seen or waking me.” You remarked while folding the tunic and putting it in the closet.

“So was I…” He said more to himself.

You approached him again and placed a hand along his arm while going to stand behind him.

Your intention became clear to him, he loosened the cords that kept the cloak secured to him and let you take the cloak from his shoulders.

It felt nicely warm in your hands and the wish to put it on yourself crossed your mind.

He saw you hug his cloak to your chest, while taking of his aketon as well, and smiled “Cold?”

“A little bit.” You admitted.

Seeing him without the cloak, that he used to shield himself from the world, always felt like a special occasion. To see him just in his shirt felt serene.

Of course you were, that undergown’s fabric was far less heavy than the tunic’s.

“It will be warmer under those sheets.” He even steered you towards the bed.

You sensed he would not join “And you?…”

He nodded and pointed out the space just beside the bed “I will be here.”

It made up your mind “Then I will be too.”

His protests fell to deaf ears with you and you gathered the sheets and pillows from the bed, just like that first night and brought them to the place he had gestured to.

If he wasn’t ready to share a bed, you would accommodate him.

You knelt on the floor and held up a pillow “I know sleeping with me in a bed is a step you’re not ready for, so I will join you here.”

The speechless Ash Man witnessed how you build a comfortable sleeping spot for both on the floor and without a single hesitation.

Seeing you fluff the pillows and try your best to make it comfortable for him…

To see you trouble yourself and go the extra mile…

For him…

The kindness and love that went into such a simple act was beyond anything he had ever known.

Your attention snapped to him when he dropped to his knees as well in front of you.

In one swift action, he cradled your head and crashed his lips to yours.

It almost had you lose your balance and you had to steady yourself by grabbing a hold on his shoulder.

The fiery passion and his determination to continue this send a hot flush through your body and made you forget all about the cold.

His hot breath touched your cheek, then your jaw, slowly he went further into the exploration.

The confession was a whisper leaving his deepest thoughts “You smell so good.”

The scent of you was enough to never let go again.

You didn’t know what to say after hearing that warm deep timbre in his tone that had carried out the confession.

To try and control your breathing and thoughts, you turned your head a bit and gain some air for your lungs.

It wasn’t enough to keep your thoughts together when he brought his lips to your neck and pulled you closer by the waist.

You knew he’d stop before it could lead to coupling and welcomed all he gave with open arms. Every kiss, every touch and especially every single shuddering breath that he took.

You brought your hands behind his neck and laced your fingers together, locking him into you for a little longer to kiss him back tenderly.

He wrapped you into his embrace, one hand lightly scratching on your back while the other found it’s way to the back of your neck.

When he broke away, it was with a quick breath of air.

He caressed your cheek, the seas of his eyes were overtaken by the darkness of his pupils.

You managed to bring out “I smell good?”

He didn’t regret to admitting it “Very.”

Was he drawn to it? Was this something that just occurred with those of the Ash Folk?

“How very?” You asked, grinning at him.

He brought your palm to his chest, where his heart was beating “Enough to cause this.”

The beat of his heart matched your own and you curled your fingers in the fabric that covered his chest “If we continue like this, we won’t get any sleep.”

Both your attention drifted to the sheets and pillows between you.

With that said, you moved away and crawled under the sheets to make yourself comfortable for the night.

And you had to readjust the bandage on your head a little after it was disrupted by him.

You had wrapped yourself in the bed sheet like a caterpillar ready to sleep and wake up a butterfly.

He found it quite amusing to see but also wished to unwrap you from the thing because it stole away the warmth and some of your scent that he craved for.

He was beside you not a moment later, his shoulder touching yours.

Instead of accepting your cocooned state, he began to free you from it.

“But I’m cold…” You objected.

His solution to that was pulling you against him while hushing you.

The last time you saw such a look aimed at you, was back in the village near the monastery and you remembered how that night had gone.

It was a night you regretted, but this time you were not with someone who would betray you.

By supporting himself on his elbow, he could gaze down on your face.

You touched his cheek with the back of your finger “I know that look.”

He would have asked what you meant, but deep down he knew.

Not ready…but that did not mean that he not thought of it.

Or wanted it…

He would not deny it “Forgive me, I do not want to confuse you.”

It was a step forward that he was speaking of it “I know. It’s alright. I do enjoy that look, it suits your eyes.”

His charming smile was there to approve of the jest and to share it “It suits yours too.”

Right away your gaze dropped down from his face, it was proof of how well he could read you now “Forgive me, I can’t help it…”

Hearing how you ‘can’t help it’ came as an unexpected compliment to him.

It was more than enough to stroke his ego and nurture away the doubts he had about his appearance.

He was bold enough to pull you under him, to get so close that his chest and the floor was what kept you in place “Neither can I.”

You offered him the chance to explore matters further “Is there something you would like to try?”

Lancelot recalled “We spoke once, of other things we could do. Like touching.” then spoke his wish “I want to touch you.”

Staying calm was difficult when you felt yourself start to tremble, this was a learning moment for him and he was asking for guidance, you had to be calm “How?”

His words left nothing to misinterpret “All of you.”

With widened eyes, you nodded “That’s fine.”

After a brief shared look and a silent nod from both, he knew you truly agreed to it.

There was an awful lot of thinking going on behind this wandering eyes of his as they flowed over your form.

The first thing he did was make sure that the sheet was still on you so the cold could not bother you.

And it was an excellent tool to help you remain comfortable and keep some modesty.

Because when he slid his hand under the sheet it had no virtuous intentions.

You felt it on your waist, gliding over your hip to your thigh where his fingertips tentatively memorized the shape.

The shyness in him prevented him from meeting your eyes. As if he feared to see rejection and disapproval in them.

Your comment was meant to pull him away from those doubts born from worry “Warm hands.”

That locked his gaze on your face very fast.

It certainly had sounded approving of the fact.

He was so very quiet…

And then you felt the warmth of his hand on the bare skin of your leg, you didn’t even feel him move your undergown out of it’s way, causing you to jolt.

He whispered for you, your name spoken like an apology for his action.

It had only startled you a little and you explained the cause of your response “I didn’t feel you move under my dress.”

Your quiet giggling was enough to erase the worry from his mind.

“Forgive me.” He said and brought his face in the crook of your neck to nip at the spot below your ear.

His endeavors did not stop, warmth met and fled skin over and over again.

Staying quiet when he was exploring you with perfectionism wasn’t easy. Heat was spreading up your neck like a spell coming over you.

With eyes closed, you let him continue to his heart’s content.

His hand caressed your neck and he brought his lips to yours to taste those quiet gasps he heard escaping.

You clung to his shirt, tugging at it once and wishing it was not part of this.

He broke away, removed the shirt and discarded it aside.

It dawned on you how much he had begun to tremble. Was it nervousness or being overwhelmed by intimacy?

In between a gasp for air, you showed your concern over it “Lancelot, are you alright?”

He gave a shallow nod and stole the air from you again.

The answer had not sufficed for you, you could just sense that there was something he struggled with.

And soon, he noticed your own hesitation and stopped his affections.

You answered his questioning eyes “I can feel your muscles tense up. Talk to me.”

He’d hoped you would not notice, hoped that by going forward the results of his upbringing would be overrun by the experience.

If only he could leave what was taught to him behind, but some things just lingered.

Lancelot moved away somewhat and no longer hovered above you “I fear speaking of it will hurt you.”

You touched a finger to his chin “I prefer the truth, Lancelot. Above all.”

He took a moment to find the best way to explain it all, then began “We were taught to ‘cleanse’ ourselves with the whip if we thought of indulging in desires of the flesh. Desire brought pain.” when you patiently waited for him to continue, he found the courage to do so “I cannot forget the way I felt when I let the whip cleanse me. I was raised to believe that suffering was good and pleasure was wrong. And when I think of pleasure, I still think…”

You guessed what he struggled to say “That it is wrong…”

He gave a nod, ashamed that even now he could not just erase what he was taught all his life “How must I silence this voice inside of me that insists on reminding me of it?…”

If only he could see how well he was doing on that matter already.

You hoped the advice would help “Don’t silence it. Proof it wrong.” with your fingertips you traced his bottom lip “Do not let it steal away the pleasures life has to offer, how wasteful it would be to not enjoy the life given to us.”

He let the words sink in while touching the bandage on your head.

Too much had already been stolen from him.

His life, his family, his free will…

And now it threatened to deny him what he desired.

He reached out for your guidance “Help me do so.”

It was rare to hear him ask for help and you would not deny to assist him “What do you want me to do?”

After taking a deep breath, he made the wish “All that you would with someone who was not raised a monk.”

You worried he was pushing himself “Lancelot, I don’t want to do anything you do not want me to do. What if I go too fast for you?”

He felt safe to say “I trust you.”

You were given time to think of it whilst he stroked along your arm down to your waist.

Then you sat up and took hold of his shoulders, he was visibly curious.

Without words, you straddled him and paused.

The shared look said it all, the hardness of him between your thighs already had him quicken his breaths.

You let your gaze drop down, then lifted it up to his face again “I can feel you.”

The look of shame vanished from his face when you brought your legs closer together and made yourself comfortable on top of his groin.

You collected one of his hands in yours and slowly brought it down between your legs, helping it find the way to where the result of his endeavors was now present.

Innocently he closed the hand, taken aback by how confident you were, but then he felt it…

The slick wetness was undeniable.

He couldn’t resist to concentrated on the scents around him now and he indeed picked up on a change.

And when this foreign scent filled his lungs, he knew he’d never live a day without longing to pick up on it again.

It went into his lungs and lust kicked into him without mercy.

You felt him tentatively stretch his fingers, you felt him shake.

His eyes were present yet a million miles away all at once, ah, always those unyielding thoughts floating through his head and filling it with unnecessary worries.

Your words were sure to return him to the matters at hand “For you.”

A pair of widened eyes looked up to yours and he received a soft peck on his cheek in exchange.

His hand was freed and it latched on to your inner thigh.

He could feel the spread of heat conquer his being, he tried to seize control of his breathing again.

So many things flickered through the restless seas of his eyes and often his eyes fell away…

With a coy seductive shimmer in your eyes, you leaned in to whisper “When you are ready...” you gave his groin a light touch “And I know, that you’re not…”

He was ready to protest “I am-”

You hushed him with a kiss, then continued to explain “I will not ignore your past as a monk, Lancelot, it is part of who you are. Come to me when you are certain and do not push yourself to be someone else for me. I want you, I wanted you when you were a monk and I want you still.”

Your hand left the fabric that did little to shield the form of his aching manhood.

His own was resting motionless between your thighs.

There was much to think about after this, you were right, he could not just ask you to pretend to ignore his past when it made him who he was today.

Although he craved to touch you now that he had the chance, he withdrew his hand.

A gasp left you when he curled the hand around your throat, firm but not painful.

“I will make you my wife or die a fool.” The statement preceded his demanding lips locking on yours.

Had he forgotten who had the advantage like this?

To ‘escape’, you pushed yourself free and up by his shoulders, letting yourself drop to the floor beside him again “Twit.”

It got a sound of disappointment out of him to have you climb off.

With a compassionate look, you teased “I know it’s hard.”

The ambiguous comment did not pass him by “You are indeed a menace.”

You turned your head to the side but couldn’t stop the laugh from escaping, it changed into a fit of giggling quite quickly.

When you felt him grab hold on you, you apologized through the quiet laughter “I’m sorry, I’m sorry-”

He had you leaning into his chest with your back now, whispering the description in your ear “Minx.”

You let yourself be brought closer and soon you were wrapped in the sheets and in his arms “Lancelot?”

“Hm?” He was enjoying this makeshift bed on the floor.

Quietly you sought conversation “I want to earn my place here. I want to learn how to fight so I can be of use in this war.”

He knew what you were trying to ask of him “You have earned your place here. If you still want to learn how to fight, by your wish, I will teach you?”

You snuggled into him “Do you promise?”

It was a promise he made “You have my word.”

Having him hold you like this was doing wonders for bringing sleep closer to you and it took some effort to stay awake.

But surely, it must have been audible when your words came out more like mumbles.

You thought back to something Yeva had said the first time you met “That magic in you, is it possible that by giving the mark some of it got into me as well?”

He hummed pensively “I am not certain. Why?”

You held his arms around you “Yeva once said she could sense something in my blood, I think it comes with the mark.”

It sounded like he was pleased to hear it “There is something Fey in you then.”

The grin was impossible to fight “Yeva was hoping on something more Fey inside of me.”

He bowed his head and touched it to the back of your head, his quiet chuckling was bliss “She hoped for an heir to a people once thought lost.”

“You are the heir.” You stated.

The news of his heritage was still hard to process for him “I cannot be a king, I am not…anything.”

It fell from you in a sleepy mumble “You’re everything to me.”

He caught on to the tired tone and gave a warm hum “Tired?”

You gave a short hum, a bit too stubborn to confess to it.

But he knew the truth when you rested your head against his chest and closed your eyes.

Having you quietly fall asleep in his arms brought him more solace than any prayer ever spoken.

And when sleep came to take him too, he surrendered to it willingly.

━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━

There was a constant nudging against your waist that pulled you from your sleep.

For once you did not dream of fire and now this.

Lancelot was trying to wake you as gently as possible “It is dawn.”

You refused to believe it and mumbled with closed eyes “It’s not.”

There was a chuckle before he regretfully informed you “I heard a rooster twice already.”

To have a chicken dictate your sleep…

It was a grumble “The rooster is wrong.”

To the Ash Man, this disagreement was one he enjoyed “I have faith in his natural instincts.”

You weren’t ready to give up on the warm sheets you were under “And I have faith in mine and they are telling me to sleep.”

He crawled out of the makeshift bed with a little trouble “Mine are not.”

You ignored the hand he reached out for you with.

“Up you go.” He was determined to get you to start your day.

By rolling over on your side, you defied him “Down I stay.”

It wasn’t necessary to look behind you to sense that he was kneeling close.

“I thought you wanted to find out who came to join us?” He piqued your interest.

Dammit…

Begrudgingly you moved out of the warm sheets and felt the colder air hit your legs.

Without prompting, he helped you up to your feet “How is your head?”

The expected sting of pain did not happen “Better. I think.”

He leaded you towards the area with the washbasin “Come.”

The bandage was removed from your head, the ointment from last night washed away by him as he inspected the injury.

“And?” You asked with a speck of fear that it would look terrible.

His observation erased it “Better.”

You hoped to be rid of the silly looking cloth “Just ointment then?”

With a hum and nod, he approved of it “I shall go and ask Pym. Once you are done here, come find me in the dining hall.”

“I will.” You answered.

Lancelot walked over to his discarded attire items and got dressed again.

While you were picking the trousers to wear again for their comfort ability, he announced his departure from your room with a kiss to your cheek.

Not long after you had gotten dressed, Pym entered the room with a different looking ointment, something lighter than the other version.

After putting the ointment on, she showed off the socks you had knitted and Pym was visibly happy with the warm pair.

━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━

While walking towards the dining hall, you resisted the irresistible urge to touch the ointment on your head.

It was just there… and it was sticky…

Thankfully, Pym had said you could go without it tomorrow if it didn’t hurt anymore.

Gawain ran into you whilst heading to the same destination.

The knight was concerned for your health “Good morning. I’m glad to see you up and walking. It was a terrible moment to see you fall back there in the woods, you really gave us quite a fright.”

You touched his arm amicably “I don’t remember much of what happened after. Pym and Lancelot had to tell me about it. I’m grateful that all of you didn’t leave me behind.”

To Gawain, the thought of leaving a friend behind was unspeakable “The Fey leave no one behind. Get over here.”

The knight spread his arms and gestured for you, it was an invitation that you accepted.

He embraced you like a long lost friend, it was very heartwarming.

Then you remembered something and moved out of the embrace “You knew he would catch your scent on me the last time.”

A laugh fell out of him and solidified his guilt “Oh, I am not surprised to hear that he did. It isn’t easy to shake that man’s feathers, I thought I’d keep him on his toes.”

You shook your head at his foolery “Oh, you kept him on his toes, that is certain.”

Gawain placed a hand to your back and guided you along to the dinning hall “Come. There are people here who have asked about you. They arrived while we were at Helgenstone.”

As gallant as he was, the knight held the door open for you and let you in first.

Your eyes scanned over the large room where many were eating breakfast

There was Pym, kaze, Red Spear…

And off to the side Lancelot and Arthur were speaking to a man and woman who looked quite familiar.

Whilst passing by Neia and Percival, you pecked their cheeks and the boy acted like he was under attack and nearly slid under the table, much to Neia’s delight.

You weren’t far away anymore when recognizing the couple “Tristan?!?”

The man turned on his heels upon hearing his name be called, as did his wife who instantly smiled at you.

Iseult’s hair had gotten more of a reddish shine through the golden since you had last spoken, it had also gotten so long that she kept her hair up now.

Tristan said something to her and when you were close enough, it took you by surprise how he came to embrace you “It’s so good to see you again! Iseult and I were searching for a safe place to stay and we ran into Feys who were kind enough to lead us here. I never thought you would be here too.”

Where Tristan was filled with energy, his wife was the epitome of grace and patience.

She came to say ‘hello’ as well “It has been a long time since we last spoke.”

A brief light embrace was her way if greeting you, her upbringing at court still very present in her mannerisms.

You were glad to see they both still looked very happy together “It has. I am glad to see you are doing well.”

Tristan placed a hand over Iseult’s stomach “Very well actually. We’re growing our family and hoped to find a home here.”

Speechless you pointed at her and saw her nod.

“I’m with child.” Iseult announced to you.

You were excited for them “Oh my goodness! Congratulations!” then you turned to Gawain “They can stay in the city right?”

For the knight there was no question to it “Of course.”

Lancelot joined in “Tristan claims to be quite a swordsman as well as an archer.”

Iseult defended her husband “He is.”

Tristan chimed in “Although I prefer the bow, the sword holds little to no secrets from me.”

“Mind if we see that for ourselves?” Arthur was interested to see how skilled the archer was.

Of course Percival and Neia heard that, and the boy was quick to run up “Can I watch?”

Iseult took place next to Neia to chat with the girl for a while.

Tristan looked at Lancelot, who made a gesture with his hand to tell him that the choice was his “Alright. But I get to test your skills as well. Fair is fair.”

Both Arthur and Lancelot agreed to that term and Percival was given permission to watch the men compare their skills.

Iseult did not seem eager to go and watch her husband show off his skill and preferred the calm setting of the dinning hall.

And after not having seen either Tristan or Iseult for so long, you decided to have breakfast where she and Neia were talking to each other.

After two hours had passed, you did went out of the fortress to go and see what the men were up to.

And heaven, it was flabbergasting to see how well they got along.

While Gawain and Percival were asking Tristan for advice on how to use a bow better, Lancelot and Arthur were sparring.

If you could have called it sparring… it was the two of them trying to floor the other as much as possible.

And neither of them were afraid to play dirty.

So far, Lancelot was the quickest to send Arthur to the ground. But Arthur’s determination to win was what got him on his feet again and again. When both stayed on their feet, they were almost a match. Arthur did get some jabs and pushes in.

You watched them for a while, hoping that Lancelot would keep his promise and teach you how to wield a sword properly.

Tristan walked up to you while Gawain and Percival bickered over who got to use the bow for a moment “They spar like children.”

Like two brothers constantly one upping each other.

You hummed in agreement “They are having fun.”

Tristan noticed the sword at your side and pointed at it “And you? I see that you are carrying a sword with you. I never knew that you knew how to wield a sword.”

He met it with enthusiasm.

You sadly had to tell the truth “I uhm… I don’t actually. I still have to learn.”

From the small distance, the Ash Man had heard what was being said.

The vanishing of your smile tore at his heart.

You looked so saddened by the fact that you had yet to learn.

And he recalled having promised to help do so…

Tristan wasn’t blind to your reaction either “Hey, look. Have faith in yourself, y/n. If you’re eager to learn, you’ll learn fast. I know I did.”

Arthur saw the attention of Lancelot be drawn away and said something only the Ash Man could hear.

Two counts later, the nosy Manblood found himself face down on the grass.

Lancelot walked over to you, took the sword from where it was sheathed at your side and handed it to you “Come. You have been patient long enough.”

It earned him quite a few curious looks from the others who witnessed it.

Tristan shared a look with you and nudged your arm “Go on then. Show him what you got.”

What you got was a sword and no experience, and a tutor who mastered the sword like he’d been born with it.

The Ash Man put you on a spot on the grass and signaled for you to stay put whilst he backed away.

It was only a short distance, leaving room enough for both to move safely with the swords.

“Attack me.” He said, like it was nothing.

Of course you were more than a little hesitant and looked to the others.

Arthur shared his opinion “I’d take that offer.”

“He can take it.” Gawain had enough faith in the Ash Man.

Percival and Tristan watched on with interest.

Having the audience of people who all knew how to wield a weapon was enough to have your confidence leave you.

Lancelot drew your attention “Keep your attention on your opponent. Go on, attack.”

If skilled swordsmen had attacked him and he walked away alive… how much damage could you do?

Percival decided to offer some blunt encouragement “Get him, y/n!”

For a second that had the Ash Man looking at the young knight.

He blamed it on the competitive nature of the boy and left it at that.

It was impossible to truly launch yourself at him with your sword, but you tried.

With ease he evaded the sword and the only thing preventing you from losing your balance was him pulling your back against his chest.

This taught him that your balance needed training too.

Aware of the many eyes on him, he released you “Again.”

Surely he must see that this wasn’t easy for you? It was a struggle to force yourself to attack.

Lancelot appeared at ease, the spark in his eyes betraying just how much fun he was actually having with this.

When you hesitated again, he beckoned for you.

“Dammit…” You cursed quietly.

Again you charged at him, aiming for his arms.

There was a strong tug at the crossguard, the sword fell to the grass a little further away and he was blocking your arm behind your back.

With pride, he praised you “That’s my girl.”

You weren’t sure you deserved it “I failed.”

He disagreed “No. That was lesson one. To not let fear stop you and to trust your tutor.”

Arthur was the one who proposed the idea to the others “Anyone else feeling hungry?”

They had gone outside for this instead of eating, so now they went ahead and made their way back inside.

“Are you coming?” Percival called out to the two of you.

Lancelot released you again “In a moment. Go on.”

The boy didn’t need to be told twice to go and get a meal.

They left the two of you alone on the field, this wasn’t over yet, you could tell.

“I know you have it in you. I saw the look in your eyes when you were about to kill the Abbot.” His hands were folded behind his back.

There was only doubt in your eyes now and you slightly shook your head.

You had hesitated in that moment, what if you did so in a matter of life and death?

He expected the reaction “I am going to grab you and you are going to do everything you can think off to escape. Understood?”

Your legs began to tremble at the announcement “Lancelot-”

As stern as they had once been to him, he repeated “Understood?”

To him, this wasn’t a game, this could mean life and death one day.

If you wanted to learn how to fight, you had to pull yourself together “Yes.”

There was something wicked glittering in his eyes “Good. Now run.”

At that, your heart had already run off “What?”

By the looks of it, he was serious.

You suppressed the nervous feeling and ran as fast as you could.

This was practice for a true life and death situation and you took the lesson serious.

He must have given you a head start and you used it to the full advantage.

A hiding spot, but where?

The stables came into sight and you went around them to hide there instead of inside.

Only then did you kick fallen leaves over your tracks in a haste.

You hid behind a shed that stood against the stable, once in a while you looked around the corner.

It felt like minutes had passed and your adrenaline had lowered again.

Was he not able to find you? The thought of reminding him of it for years to come went through your head.

Perhaps the call of victory lead to your wavering focus and yet it made you braver.

You sneaked around the corner of the shed, it’s door was slightly open.

Hiding in there felt a little foolish and you wouldn’t be able to escape if he found you.

So, you banished the idea and passed the door.

When you were thinking of running to a different spot, the decision was stolen from you.

A startled scream flew out of you when suddenly trapped in the arms of the one who had hunted you down.

He must have been hiding in that dammed shed and waiting for you.

Everything you could think of to escape he had said…

You moved backwards and his back hit the wood of the shed, still his grip on you did not falter.

“Try harder.” He swallowed a laugh.

You reached for the sword at your side, he saw it coming and was faster to pull it from it’s holder and toss it away.

An irritated grumble came out of you and you fought against his grasp.

When the idea struck to bend one of his fingers backwards, it seemed to take him off-guard.

You broke free, he recovered and caught your arm.

By the time he had pulled you closer, you had drawn the knife Red Spear had given you and held it to his throat.

If this had been a real battle, his throat would have been cut.

His brow arched, impressed with your quick thinking.

The knife did not leave his throat yet “Did you let me win?”

Lancelot put a finger against the blade and moved it away a little “I did not.”

You lowered the knife and picked up your sword from where it had landed.

“How did it feel?” He asked.

“Real.” You thought for a second “And good.”

The latter surprised him “Good?”

You nodded “I thought I couldn’t win.”

That was what he had wanted you to learn “Everyone can win, I have seen people survive with not an ounce of skill in their bones. When it comes to battle, fear is our true enemy but even that can be overcome. as you have done just now. You have done well.”

It was nice to hear that he believed you had done well “Thank you.”

He put a hand on your back and nudged you to walk beside him “First I will let you learn how to defend yourself, how to move and stay on your feet. After that, we put that sword of yours to work.”

You agreed to the plan “Sounds good.”

He sounded a little hesitant “May I ask something in return?”

It was rare that he would ask for something “Yes.”

Those hands of his fidgeted with the pommel of his sword “I wish to learn how to control my power. I thought of going into the forest tomorrow night, away from the city. Will you be there to help me?”

Your presence would surely keep him calm and prevent him from accidentally setting the whole forest on fire, or even himself…

To be there when he uses his magic? It didn’t even need asking for you “Of course I will.”

The walk continued in silence for a while, until you asked “Were you able to sleep well last night?”

A charming smile settled on his face “Yes.”

You fished for his opinion on the previous night “And you’re not upset that I stopped things from going further?”

He was truthful “No. I understand why you did.” after a short pause to think, he admitted “Physically…I was ready.”

You bit your lip to prevent the coy smile “I know you were.”

The Ash Man looked to the side for a second and prayed his color did not change “I cannot ask you to pretend that I am something I am not. I know you accept my past and who I am because of it, it is I who must accept myself. I need to stop fleeing from who I am.”

And what better way than to start with accepting the power within him?

Your fingers caught his in a light hold while continuing to walk beside him “None of us can grow if we do not acknowledge our roots buried in the soil.”

His index finger hooked around yours “Have you acknowledged yours?”

With a sigh, you answered “I cannot change that I am the niece of the man who caused so much suffering. But I will not let it define me, I am my own actions, not his.”

He stopped to squeeze your hand, a silent gesture that signified the understanding between you.

You looked around you and when spotting no one, you let your chest fall into his, leaning in with a grin to press your lips to the side of his neck.

The truth was a caress of air against his skin “I love how you smell. It makes me think off how good it feels when you have me in your arms.”

He cupped your neck and made you look at him, it was a lighthearted scolding “Do not tempt me to take you with me in that shed over there, I told Percival we would be in the dinning hall.”

Right away you stepped back “Ah, yes. One must keep their promises.”

The Ash Man agreed on that “Indeed.”

After the two of you began walking again, you spoke quietly through your teeth “We can return to the shed at a later time.”

That cheeky comment earned you quite a look.

Perhaps he would take you up on that offer…

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everlastingdreams · 2 years ago

Text

Weeping Monk x Reader : The Patience Of A Heart Chapter 18

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Chapter Title: The Heavenly Fire

Notes: You may notice the word count increase. It may or may not go higher again. Also, I think I put more lore into these chapters.

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

Word count of this fic: +130K

Chapter: 18 / lol Gonna keep the chapter count a secret until the end.

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Lancelot tried to speak of it in a calm manner, but you could still hear the change in him “There is something wrong. The scent..” he pulled you closer “Stay close to me. Do not go out of my arm’s reach.”

The look in his eyes was unsettling and you followed the advice.

His sword was drawn now and you had placed a hand to his arm to make it easy for him to know you were walking close.

Together you proceeded on the path to the abbey until he came to a sudden halt and had you bumping into him.

He turned around and took you by the arms to move you back again, he was very adamant in doing so.

But you saw no reason for his strange behavior and didn’t move much “Lance-”

He locked eyes with you and pleaded “Don’t go there.”

You did not understand why he was acting like this and tried to move past him, it was futile to attempt it, he only held on to your arms more firmly “Why not?!?”

He had caught a glimpse of what lied ahead, this was not how you would want to remember it.

Lancelot barely knew how to say it “The enemy was here…”

It took a second for the news to sink in and when it did, you broke free from his hold.

He did try to stop you again but you needed to see for yourself why he did not want you to go further.

Past the last tree and bushes, the view of the abbey came into your sight.

What had once been a beautiful infrastructure, was now nothing more than stone scorched by fire. Ashes were still all over the place.

Not long ago you had been sleeping in the room you could now look into from the ground, the roof was destroyed.

Quietly he stopped a little behind you and watched the tragedy sink into your very being.

The scent of death hanged around the area like a mist.

It felt like it wasn’t real… it couldn’t be…

You wandered off to the side of the abbey with a hope to find that the back of the structure was still standing and untouched.

The garden where flowers had grown that you had tended to and then cut to sell yourself had been turned to ashes. There was a spot where the soil had been overturned and your stomach did the same when you realized what you were looking at.

You stumbled back at the sight of it “No no no…” arms were wrapped around you after you’d walked into him “It’s not…”

It was.

They had burned all there was to the abbey and had buried the inhabitants in a shallow mass grave. The way the Abbot had let them be buried added insult to injury.

In the garden, the abbey’s greatest pride and joy.

Laid to rest in the ashes of their hard work.

You didn’t remember how you had landed on your knees to the ground, the shock of the horror overwhelmed your being.

The shaking of your limbs didn’t stop “I need to know if she survived.”

He did not take his eyes from you, fearing you might even faint “There was an inn nearby. They must know more of this.”

It was a while before you found the strength in your legs again, all the while he was knelt beside you.

Your whole body was shaking and it was a nightmare to walk back towards the barn, the pair of socks in the satchel heavy at your shoulders now.

Lancelot kept you within arm’s reach, guiding you for your mind was anywhere but on the path.

Together you walked along the row of trees until the sound of hooves hitting the ground made him pull you behind one of them.

Three golden masked conscienceless killers dismounted their horses.

They were still patrolling the area, no doubt to gloat at what they had done.

One went to a tree nearby to relief himself, the others began to mock the sight of the abbey now.

The anger inside reach the surface, the sword that rested at your side was suddenly in your hands.

The next thing you knew, Lancelot had you pinned to a tree.

He held your arm down, the sword pointed at the ground, his voice was hushed “Don’t.”

It was almost too late for him to see the sword in your hands and the intent behind it.

The mocking of the Trinity continued even after the third was done and joined them again.

They spoke of creating their own ‘Holy Fire’ by burning the nuns of the abbey.

To them, it had been a joyous event…

The mixture of rage and sorrow had you fighting back against the grasp he had on you, it was a miracle that it was still a whisper “Let go!”.

It must have been heard by them anyway, they were already looking in the direction you found yourselves in.

He understood the anger and the desire for vengeance but all too well.

But there was not a single chance that he would let you go near them..

He firmly forced your back against the tree and leaned in to whisper “Stay here. Do not follow.”

The sword was out off your hands within the second as he left you alone against the tree.

First he lured them away from coming closer by throwing a branch to another spot, the sound of it drew them away, then he sneaked up to the nearest guard and cut his throat while dragging him out of sight.

It did not take long before the other two noticed the absence of their comrade, the sound of steel being drawn scared off a hare that would have been the meal for an owl that had patiently waited to strike.

One of them spoke up “He’s here. It’s the Weeping Monk.”

The other was agitated by it “Quiet!”

That voice… it belonged to Brother Albert. The former paladin had risen in ranks…

You saw Lancelot hide behind a tree nearby, the darkness had cloaked him perfectly and not even you could see the signals he was sending you.

If you got closer to him, perhaps you could see.

Carefully you moved away from the oak you had been hiding behind, on hands and knees you crawled behind the bushes shielding you from the Trinity’s sight.

It wasn’t until it was too late that you understood that he had been trying to signal ‘Don’t move.’

You froze, then slowly moved your torso up, getting ready to run for it.

The outsole of a boot hit your back and send you falling to the grass again.

Your leg was grabbed and you were pulled from the bushes by force.

The former paladin, Brother Albert, spoke from behind his mask “Bloody hell, it’s Father Carden’s niece!”

The other brutally locked your arm behind your back “Fetch the rope. The Abbot will want her alive.”

Of course you tried to fight it, the result of your defiance was that he placed a knee on your back.

It felt like your arm was going to break and you could barely breathe.

Brother Albert followed the command of his superior and went to fetch the rope from his horse.

Upon turning around, Brother Albert faced a hooded shadow, the steel entering his chest registered only when it was removed again.

The one in command had seen his Brother fall defeated and considered you the lesser threat in that moment.

The guard rose to his feet, you kicked him in the back of his leg and caused him to stumble forward.

It sure had pissed him off…

Lancelot seized the opportunity to launch himself into the guard.

Once upon a time, a certain knight had showed him how throwing yourself into an enemy was a rather successful tactic to overpower them.

The guard kept his balance and footing, but the sword did fall from his hand.

Lancelot wasted no time attacking again, it was mildly irritating that this guard was agile enough to avoid being struck by his sword.

Not only did he avoid being struck, he blocked and caught the Ash Man’s arm, forcing him to drop his sword too.

And he did, but the guard paid for it by getting struck in the face by his elbow.

Everything happened so fast, Lancelot was using your sword and you were left unarmed.

You feared for his life upon seeing the guard match his skills.

While looking around for anything that could be a substitute for a weapon, you found a rock and picked it up.

The guard fought with the same fervor and was not afraid to fight dirty.

When he had the Ash Man close enough, he delivered a kick to his groin.

It send Lancelot stumbling backwards.

You had seen it happen and proceeded to smack a rock against the back of the guard’s head.

Once he was sure the guard was out cold, Lancelot sank to his knees, placing a hand on the grass while his other covered his groin.

Those rotten bastards and their cowardly way of fighting…

Dammit.

You couldn’t help but wince at seeing him in pain, never before had you seen him brought to his knees.

You knelt beside him and rubbed over his back “Lancelot?”

He focused on breathing through the pain until it would pass “A moment…please…”

Ouch.

When the pain slowly subsided, all that remained was his slightly dented pride.

He took a seat on the grass and kept his eyes on the unconscious guard.

You were still rubbing his back “That must have hurt quite a bit.”

The tilt of his brows answered that “It has been a while since I faced an opponent that resorted to that.”

There was no time to fully recover from the blow before he rose back to his feet, waiting for the guard to regain consciousness would be foolish.

He moved to stand, picking up the sword in the meantime and you quickly held on to him to make sure he would not fall.

It surprised him a bit “Thank you.”

Quick as a whip, when you were still close enough, he stole a kiss from your cheek.

That adrenaline mixed with adoration made for an interesting blend.

Then he moved you a couple of steps back, away from the guard, so he could handle the situation.

With the sword ready in hand, he stood beside the guard and rose the steel to sink it into the chest of his opponent.

Your words made him pause “You could have asked me to do so. Why haven’t you?”

The answer was a bitter truth “I will not have you bear the guilt that comes with it, not if I can prevent it.”

Even when it was an enemy, it still gnawed at his conscious…

And it had made you think of the weight that came with such decisions, even if they were necessary.

You averted your eyes when the sword moved, it was over so quickly.

It was oddly considerate that he cleaned the blood from the sword with a piece of fabric, that he had torn from a guard’s tunic, before handing it back to you.

He looked at the horses “We should take them with us. We can use them.”.

You nodded.

He walked over to the horses and began to remove all the attire they had that bore the symbols of the Church.

At the sight of it, you sprung in action and did the same with one of the other horses.

After that, you each mounted one and he tied the reins of the third to the horse he mounted on.

Lancelot did not sit as comfortable, that was clear.

You knew the reason “Are you alright?”

He still held a hand, in which he had the reins, close to his groin “I will be. And you?”

You shrugged your shoulders “It hurt, but I’m fine now.”

His brow arched “You know I was not just asking about your physical suffering.”

Your eyes dropped to your hands “I just found out that they have perhaps killed my friend and all the nice people I have lived with.”

He did not know what to say to sooth the suffering “I am sorry.”

Quietly he rode beside you and you reached the barn again.

Goliath and Llamrai were patiently waiting, well…Goliath was. Llamrai looked at you like you had personally insulted her by leaving her there, who could blame her?

Lancelot tied the reins of the other horses together, two would be led by Goliath, one by Llamrai “We shall stop at the inn. I believe they will be able to tell us more about the circumstances and reasons for this atrocity.”

You mounted Llamrai, who glared at the other horses “I’m guessing I will have to be the one to ask around?”

The notorious marks beneath his eyes would only draw unwanted attention “Are you up to it?”

No…

You swallowed the lump that was forming in your throat “I am. I have to know what happened. If she is alive…I have to know.”

He was the first to leave the barn, the other horses followed in tow “And you will.”

There would be no rest before he got to the bottom of this. Deep down, he did not dare to voice his fear that this was a personal attack by the Abbot to cause you suffering.

Those few times he had heard the Abbot speak were enough to determine what sort of monster hid behind the man, spiteful and consumed by hatred.

A threat to all who defied him.

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Through the darkness of the night, together you traveled to the inn. The place seemed unbothered by the night passing it by, the patrons were so cheerful from the ale that you could hear them from outside.

After tying the horses reins to the hitching post beside the inn, you made your way inside.

Suddenly you stopped just before walking in the door “Dammit…I have no coin with me.”

It would be difficult to get information out of the innkeeper if you weren’t even buying a drink.

He went in unbothered “You have something better.”

You awkwardly followed him inside “What would that be?”

There was a little push against your back as he steered you towards the innkeeper that was serving those at the bar their drinks “Your charm. Go. I will wait in the corner over there.”

He pointed discreetly in the direction he would head to.

You sighed and began to open your dress a little more in the front.

His thoughts shattered and bubbled out of his mouth “What…what are you…”

Your eyes met his, he looked absolutely rattled “You… you told me to use my ‘charms’.”

The throat of the Ash Man bopped “I-…” it still took him a second to form a coherent sentence “Not that sort of charm.”

At that you failed to remain serious and snorted a laugh “I was just messing with you.”

The relief was visible, he should have known you would do something like this.

You closed your dress up again and flinched a little when the twit tried to tickle your side while walking past you towards the place he would be waiting.

The patrons drinking their beverages barely acknowledged your presence, perhaps they were too drunk to be wary of strangers in these uncertain times.

Once at the bar, you hopped on one of the stools and patiently waited until the innkeeper noticed.

The man had a short beard, scars along his lower arms and looked like he could break a log into two without much difficulty. Besides his appearance, he sounded friendly and cheerful to those around.

There was eye contact and the innkeeper made his way over “What can I get you, miss? Some ale to wash away that sadness I can see in your eyes?”

Was it that noticeable to others?

It had you distracted for a moment but you regained your composure “I need information on what happened to the abbey.”

The innkeeper’s cheery demeanor vanished and he poured himself a drink instead “Shame what happened there. I saw the flames some nights ago and went over there with a couple of other folks to help. We were stopped by the Trinity Guard.”

So there had been an attempt to save the abbey “You saw what happened?

He downed the tankard of ale in one go “Yes.”

The way he had drank all of that ale so fast made you afraid of asking “Did anyone survive?”

The man shook his head “No one was seen fleeing the place, the fire must have caught them in their sleep.”

Subconsciously you moved your hand to the satchel that hanged at your side, you bit back the tears.

A voice rang from behind you, coin was put down at the bar “Good sir, an ale for the lady and one for me as well, please.”

Recognizing the voice was what almost made you fall from the bar stool “Tristan?!?”

The man you had once known so well stood beside you now, his golden hair had gotten a bit darker by the looks of it “Long time since I last saw you. What are you doing here in this humble establishment?”

The innkeeper went to fetch two tankards and poured the ale.

You couldn’t believe he was actually here “I was just asking about the abbey-… what are you doing here? How are you?”

Tristan thanked the innkeeper when he was handed the tankards and handed one to you “Just getting a drink before I head home. You heard about the abbey too, huh? I never thought an Abbot would have nuns be murdered. So what if they didn’t follow their scriptures perfectly? It doesn’t excuse what he did.”

You thanked him for the ale, then forgot all about it when you questioned “Abbot Wicklow?”

Tristan took another sip of ale “That’s the one. From what I’ve heard, he demanded that the Abbess followed his orders, she refused. That same night those masked bastards came and set the place on fire.”

There was still a speck of hope in you “The innkeeper said no one survived.”

He only confirmed it “No one survived that sea of flames, if they had, I doubt those bastards would not have hunted them down.”

You placed the tankard on the bar, the hope was taken from you.

It must have been visible to him “Hey, are you alright, y/n?”

There was no point in hiding it “My friend, Anne, lived there.”

His own tankard was abandoned on the bar now “I am so sorry. Oh god, I shouldn’t have said anything.”

You fumbled with the full tankard “No. I needed to know what happened and now I do.” the tears were too hard to fight and you stood up to leave “It was good seeing you again, Tristan. I wish you the very best.”

A couple of steps was all you could take before Tristan stopped you by taking a hold on your wrist “I made you cry. God, I’m such a fool-”

Suddenly Tristan himself found his own wrist in the grasp of the Ash Man who had been watching the conversation from a distance.

Lancelot made him break the hold Tristan had on you and the force of it send Tristan a step backwards.

The place had gotten so crowded that you almost saw it too late “Lancelot, don’t!”

Never in your life did you expect to stand between your first love and your current and heavens was it nerve-wracking.

Tristan gestured to the, to him unknown, overprotective man “Who the hell is this?!? Do you know him?”

You quickly explained the situation before weapons would be drawn “I am very sorry, Tristan. This is Lancelot, he can be a little quick to jump into action.”

Tristan? You knew this man?

A bow and arrows rested on the man’s back, muscular and with an expression that said he was not afraid of the person facing him now.

He had misread the situation and now sized this man up.

This man was looking at him in a similar way…

How did you know him?…

Was it…no…

There was Isaiah once, was this the first?

Lancelot still wasn’t comfortable with you standing close to Tristan and questioned you directly “Who is this?”

If jealousy had a sound, it would have been his tone in that moment.

The sharpness of the question had not gone ignored by Tristan, who replied “A friend.”

To calm his jealousy a little, you touched the back of your fingers against Lancelot’s hand “Lancelot, this is Tristan. He is indeed a friend.”

He gave you a look.

And?

It should not have been so flattering to see him jealous like this, so you continued “Once upon a time, he was more than that. But that is long since past.”

The Ash Man was not subtle when he moved to stand closer to you, your arm touched his chest.

Long since past, but was it the same for him?

Tristan was unbothered by the shenanigans and pointed at him “I know who you are. I heard rumors about what happened but I never thought it could actually be true. The Weeping Monk and my y/n, so the rumors are true then? I heard a couple of paladins talking about it right here in this inn a couple of days ago.”

Had he heard this ‘Tristan’ right?

‘My y/n’ ?!?

You felt Lancelot wrap a hand around your lower arm, ready to pull you away and out of the inn.

Again, he was sharp “None of it is your concern.”

The glare never left those weeping eyes, if looks could kill…

You scolded him for it “Lancelot, he’s not an enemy.”

Tristan was very forward about it “Like you, I fell for a woman I wasn’t supposed to. And I married her.”

Right away the glare vanished from Lancelot’s face.

Married?

Tristan added “It nearly cost me my neck. I was supposed to accompany my wife and bring her to the man she was forced to marry. Things went a little different.”

You asked “Still on the run?”

He remained joyful “Always. But I’d rather live my life on the run, than live it without her.” Tristan turned to Lancelot “Sound familiar?”

Lancelot gave a very shallow nod and saw the man reach out his hand for him to shake, after an encouraging look from you, he shook it “It does. And then you will understand that we are trying not to draw attention to ourselves.”

Tristan hummed, then gave a piece of information he knew the former monk and you would wish to hear “Did you hear that the Abbot is planning on visiting Helgenstone overmorrow? Yes, he’s expected at the church there around noon to meet with the local priest.”

The Ash Man was quick to catch up and understood why this information was being given, and by the look in your eyes, you understood too.

Tristan acted like he wasn’t just hinting that it would be the perfect time to deal with the Abbot once and for all “It was lovely seeing you again, y/n. I’ll be heading back before my missus starts to worry.”

The fearless man proceeded to give you a light embrace.

From the corner of your eyes, you saw a couple of blue eyes grow darker “Goodbye, Tristan. Stay safe.”

Tristan let go of you “You too. Luckily you still have your ‘sworn protector’ to ensure your safety.”

Lancelot made sure that that fact was known by all by not straying from your side.

And you appreciated the protective gesture “I am indeed blessed.”

Hearing it had those weeping eyes scan your face, it had not been to jest.

With a slight bow of his head, Tristan bid you farewell and walked out of the inn.

You turned your head to face Lancelot “Are you hungry? Maybe I can plead with the innkeeper for something to eat?”

He shook his head, declining the offer.

You arched a brow at the close proximity he still kept until he noticed and took a step back.

Was he truly that intimidated by Tristan?

It was quite the compliment that he was so fond of you that he’d respond like this and heaven did that darker look in his eyes stir something in you.

You touched his arm “Shall we head home?

His features softened visibly at the small gesture “Yes.”

Upon turning around and walking to the exit of the inn you often felt him place a hand to the low of your back.

In case others might get it into their heads that you were unspoken for.

And still he was not confident enough to keep it there…

Once outside, you informed him of what you had learned “The Abbot is indeed responsible, he wanted to take control over the abbey and the Abbess refused. He murdered them all because they wouldn’t be pushed around.”

It was what he had feared would happen.

Either the people followed the Church, or they would be made an example to strike fear into the hearts of all.

He gently asked “And Sister Anne?”

You shook your head “No one survived.” it felt surreal “She was so kind and always there to help. I can’t believe she’s gone…”

By the time you’d stopped next to Llamrai, he was at your side “They did not deserve this. The abbey stood up against a tyrant. We should too.”

With a knowing look you nodded “Helgenstone, he said.”

He nodded too “We will have to convince Gawain.”

“And Arthur.” You added.

It sounded like a child being forced to play with someone they disliked “And Arthur.”

The reins of the horses were recovered from the hitching post.

You were about to mount Llamrai when his question came.

“He was the first?” It sounded like he had to force the question out of him.

It made you turn towards him again “He was. Tristan and I grew apart, he met his wife not long afterwards.”

Two had known you intimately and now he had met both.

Isaiah had been downright arrogant, but Tristan could have easily still been a proper suitor had he not been married.

It had eaten at the buried fear that someday another could come along and earn your affections…

The reins were folded again and again in his hands, it would wear out the leather quickly if he kept it up “Were you saddened by it?”

It was a little confusing “That we grew apart?” you saw him nod “Of course I was. He didn’t do anything wrong or something. We just grew up and changed.”

When it looked like he had no further questions, you mounted Llamrai.

He looked up at you, moonlight touched his face “I hope that will not happen to us.”

Even you could hear the sliver of fear in his voice “It better not. I’ve put all my hope on you being my last love.”

His head tilted a little, the boyish smile reached his eyes and gave them that spark “Have you now?”

Your horse was getting impatient and fed up, still you kept her still while teasing the Ash Man “It’s all or nothing.”

“All it is.” He said and went to mount Goliath.

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Dawn was breaking by the time you arrived back in the city.

Percival and Neia were sitting outside the stables and ran up to Lancelot at the first sight they caught of him.

Of course the boy questioned “Where did you get all those horses?”

After having left with two and returning with five, it was a good question.

Lancelot handed Percival the reins of a brown steed “The Trinity Guard.”

Percival held the reins in his hand, looking down at them and then up at the Ash Man.

He confirmed what the boy was hoping for “Now, this one is yours.”

The boy couldn’t believe his ears, he had flung his arms around his tall friend before he could even stop himself “Really?!?”

The Ash Man’s voice shook a little “Yes.”

Percival composed himself and let go, he was quick to lead his horse into the stables.

Neia stood aside quietly, looking as if she wished no one could see her there.

Lancelot took the reins of the horse that Llamrai had been guiding along, he knelt down to Neia’s eye-level and beckoned for the girl to come closer.

She slowly stepped closer to him but stopped at a small distance.

He held out the reins of the smaller steed, it’s white coat was sprinkled with an array of small brown spots “And this is for you.”

Neia stared at the reins offered to her, her brown eyes widened.

You could tell that she was cautious and you went over to her, you took her hand in yours and guided her closer “Go on. Don’t be shy.”

With a sheepish look, Neia stepped closer to the Ash Man and took the reins offered to her.

A promise was made to her by him “I will teach you how to ride.”

She outstretched her arm, the tip of her index finger touched the mark that ran down his right eye.

He stilled completely, surprised by the action.

With a little tilt of her head she studied his face and withdrew her hand “Thank you, Lancelot.”

Neia wasn’t strong enough yet to truly lead the horse into the stable, but the spotted steed followed her regardless, clearly enamored with the little girl.

There the Ash Man still knelt on the ground, processing the way the child had reached out to him without fear.

You placed a hand on his shoulder and gave it a squeeze “Go and teach them how to care for their horses, I’ll go and speak to Gawain.”

The morning sun made those weeping eyes appear ethereal as they gazed up at your face.

It only further confirmed your believe that he cherished these small physical touches.

He rose from the ground “It will not be simple to speak of this to Gawain again. Are you certain you wish to do this alone?”

You were sure of it “I know, but I will do my best. And this way you won’t get into trouble for it again.”

He saw the children bond with their horses inside the stables “Just… do try to be subtle about it. Back out of the conversation if he remains against the idea of killing the Abbot.”

Subtly?

You gave a nod and gestured to the stables “Don’t worry. I’ve got this. Now go on, you told Neia you would teach her. Try to see if she can get on the horse or not.”

There was a look of suspicion aimed at you, but he elected to ignore the strong possibility that you would be rather blunt about the situation to the Green Knight.

At least he would not get into trouble over it…

Lancelot walked into the stables with the remaining horses and Llamrai showed her disapproval by walking back and forth, the protests did not change the mind of the Ash Man.

You walked to the fort, the satchel with the knitted socks weighed heavy on your shoulder now. Anne’s death could not have been for nothing. The nuns had welcomed you into their home like a sister. The Abbess had fought for their independence.

They did not deserve to be burned and murdered like this.

You passed Arthur and Red Spear “Arthur, where is Gawain?”

Arthur had to think for a moment “He’s in the war room with Kaze.”

You thanked him and began to walk away.

Red Spear called out for you and approached, the conversation felt practiced by her “You have a sword now…”

It confused you a bit “I have…”

She slowly took a knife from where it rested on her hip and held it out for you “Here. Put this on your belt too.”

That…was unexpected, you took the knife from her and began to attach it to your belt “Uhm… Thank you. Why are you giving me a knife?”

Red Spear had sensed there had been something off before “The Ash Man told me that our excursion had upset you.”

You felt your face burn “It was a misunderstanding.”

She was very forward “I do not wish for a feud between us and certainly not over a man.”

Did she suspect that there was something between you and Lancelot?

The way she had said it was quite comical, like the mere thought was unthinkable to her “I believe you. I will not fight with another over a man either, I learned that a while ago.”

Red Spear guessed what that meant “Someone betrayed you.”

You hummed.

She responded like it was personal “Men are pigs.”

Arthur had heard that statement and didn’t know where to look for a moment, Red was not the sort of person to hold her tongue.

She pointed at the knife “I was right to give you the knife.”

You gawked at her speechless, then nervously smiled “Thank you, Red Spear.”

Red Spear gave a sharp nod, then returned to Arthur who looked like he had lost some of the confidence in his charm.

Oh? Was the swordsman trying to gain the favor of the raider’s captain?

By the looks of the nervous Arthur, it seemed to be the case.

You continued on your way to the war room, Kaze walked out right when you went to knock on the door.

She sized you up, then passed you by without saying a word. Kaze still held distrust against most, you did not take it personal and doubted she meant harm.

Upon entering the room, you found the Green Knight standing in deep thought while looking at a crumpled map.

Subtle, Lancelot had said…

And your way of subtle was quite straightforward “Gawain. We need to talk about the Abbot.”

Gawain let out a quiet curse upon hearing it “I have told Lancelot my opinion.”

You weren’t there to get ‘no’ for an answer “It’s time you changed it.”

The knight was incredulous “I beg your pardon?”

The door was slammed shut by you “Abbot Wicklow had his Trinity Guards burn the abbey and murder my friend. He murdered them all!”

It came as a shock to Gawain as well, it explained your behavior now “I am truly sorry, y/n. But we cannot be irrational now.”

“Irrational?!?” You couldn’t stand to hear it “How much longer must we wait to act? How many more must die before we stop this beast from murdering all who oppose him?!”

Killing the Abbot would be a victory in this war and spare everyone from the cruelties he was perpetrating, Gawain knew this, but caution was necessary “Killing him will make room for another to rise in power.”

You understood this “Correct, but it will decrease the popularity of the position. Not many will wish to rise in power if their predecessors were murdered for it.”

He saw the reason in it too, still…“It’s too dangerous-”

Many things were dangerous, but waiting for danger to come knocking on the door would not benefit anyone either “And he knows we believe it to be. He knows we are afraid. If we strike now, he won’t expect it. Wicklow is expecting us to cower away and hide.”

The voice of reason outmatched the desire for justice in Gawain “I know that you want vengeance for what has been done. But we do not have enough skilled fighters to face the group of Trinity Guards that follow the Abbot everywhere! Is that what you want? To risk our people’s lives for revenge?”

When entering the room, you had felt confident, but his words made that confidence disappear.

“I don’t.” You quietly said.

Gawain regretted his harshness and approached “Y/n. We don’t even know where Wicklow is now. There is barely any news of his whereabouts because most of our Fey scouts have to hide.”

It was the gentle touch to your shoulder that made you lift your eyes from the floor again “What if we knew when and where to find him?”

He was a bit more receptive of the idea “Then we would be able to plan something and see if it is safe.”

You offered the information and hoped he would see the opportunity it brought “Wicklow will be at Helgenstone overmorrow to visit the church there.”

Gawain was surprised by the knowledge “And how exactly do you know this?”

With a shrug of your shoulders the answer fell “I bumped into my first love whilst we returned here.”

He snorted a laugh and gave your shoulder a squeeze “I see.”

The knight knew a certain person must not have been so excited by the encounter…

You gave it one last shot and pleaded “Please, Gawain. I know that it is dangerous. But what happened to the abbey was just the start. We can’t just stand aside and wait for Wicklow to take over the lands. He is not like my uncle, Wicklow won’t stop until everyone bows to the rules. This isn’t just about the Fey anymore, he is coming for everyone. The freedom of all is at stake.”

He drew back his hand and placed it on his hip, something he always did when he was thinking “Listen, maybe there is a way to kill Wicklow. But we will have to make a plan. I’ll talk to Arthur and Red Spear, maybe Kaze will help us too. I am not making any promises.”

You smiled and ignored how he proceeded to rub along your arm a bit oddly “Thank you. Let me know if I can be of help.”

If only you knew why he was doing it…

Gawain was already planning something “I might have a plan for you. Do you still have your tunic from the abbey?”

You gave a nod “I do.”

“Perfect.” He said, seeing the perfect way to infiltrate the enemies grounds “Go on and rest for today. Find something to clear your mind and if you ever need to talk, I’m here to listen.”

There was something he still wished to say and you could see him struggle to do so “There’s something else. I can tell.”

He crossed his arms in front of his chest, creating a barrier while speaking of the past “Forgive me for being so cautious. I… I saw my brother be murdered by the paladins when I was just a boy. I knew I couldn’t save him and I hid.”

How many knew the tragedy the knight had lived through?

It made you understand why he was so cautious compared to the others who were quick to run into battle.

While they ran into battle, he was there to prevent them from getting hurt.

You found yourself placing your hands on his shoulders “You care for your people and don’t want to see them hurt.”

There was a shallow nod “I’ve seen it too many times. I am a knight of the Fey, I will give my life before I’d let another die to save me again.”

There was buried misplaced guilt…

At a loss for words, you put your arms around him and embraced the knight who’s heart had suffered too much already.

He did not recoil or question it, physical touch was not a strange occurrence for him.

You reassured him of his worth “You’re a good knight and a good man, Gawain.”

He leaned back to look at your face, both his hands on your arms “I’d like to believe that.”

You smacked his chest “You’d better.”

It brought out a rare smile in him “I can see why our Ash Man has his eyes set on you.”

Gawain let go and took a step back “Now then, off you go. No need for you to stay here and stare at the maps with me. Go on.”

You made a respectful little bow, one you’d often done as a little girl, then left the room.

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everlastingdreams · 2 years ago

Text

Weeping Monk x Reader : The Patience Of A Heart Chapter 24

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Chapter Title: The Ashen Legacy

Notes: Switching back and forth between proofreading this one and writing something else lol.

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

Word count of this fic: +130K

Chapter: 24 / 27

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What started as a sunny calm day, was overturned by the news that had reached to your ears.

By the time you had arrived in the hallway of the dining hall, Lancelot arrived there as well.

The Faun Woman who taught the children how to read was standing beside Neia and Percival.

Neia had her head tilted down, eyes never leaving the floor until she saw you and Lancelot.

She looked like she was expecting a scolding soon…

But it was Percival who drew most of the attention, he looked very ticked off.

There had been trouble during the lesson, but what sort?

The Faun Woman named ‘Amelyn’ informed Lancelot of the problem “Percival fought with another child and Neia helped him.”

What?!? You couldn’t believe your ears.

The Ash Man was only mildly surprised “May I have a moment to speak to them?”

Amelyn approved and stepped away to give them some space.

He aimed the question at both children “What happened?”

Not a word came out of them…

You sounded somewhat stern “Neia?”

The slight shift in tone was enough to make her look at you with big worried eyes “I’m sorry!”

The child looked one second away from either crying or fleeing…

Lancelot knelt down and consoled her “No one will hurt you. We only wish to know what happened. Tell me?”

The children shared a look and Percival shrugged his shoulders at her.

It prompted Neia to speak the truth “I was sitting down and listening to the story Miss Amelyn was telling us, but then a boy pulled at my hair and took one of the flowers out.”

You had thought the messy hair was from the fight.

The Ash Man looked at Percival for the rest of the information and got an eye-roll instead “Percival, you saw this happen?”

Percival had no remorse over his response “I pushed him away from her, he was the one that started it!”

You saw Lancelot look down to the floor briefly so the children would not see how proud he looked of them. And you prayed he would keep it together until the matter was discussed.

He looked at the girl “Neia?”

Neia sheepishly admitted “He was trying to hurt Percival too, so I jumped on his back to pull that boy away from him.”

So there was fight in the girl after all.

The curiosity took hold on him “Did you hurt that boy?”

Percival was quick to answer that one “Yup.” with the most proud expression he’d ever seen on a child.

Who was he to say that violence was not the right way… the boy would surely think him a jester.

But, these were still children and it should not become the norm.

You went over to Miss Amelyn “Did you know that the other boy was bothering Neia?”

Of course the woman could not have her eyes everywhere, but the boy in question was nowhere to be seen.

Miss Amelyn had clearly not been aware of this, which came as no surprise because the children had refused to break their silence until now.

“No, I did not.” She turned to Neia and asked “Neia, will you come with me to point out who was bothering you?”

The girl wished to refuse, but saw the encouraging looks aimed at her “Yes…”

Miss Amelyn took Neia by the hand and led her into the dinning hall.

This had not been an act of unprovoked violence after all.

Percival was stopped from following them by Lancelot.

The Ash Man said “I know why you have done it, I understand. I do hope this will not occur frequently?”

The boy chewed his words before answering “It won’t.” then quieter “If they leave her alone.”

For keeping the peace, he ignored that last mumbled statement coming from the boy.

With some wise words he steered the boy back towards the dinning hall and opened the door for him “We have enough battles to fight, let’s not add more.”

When Lancelot let Percival in, both of you could see a boy getting a rather fierce scolding from Miss Amelyn.

At least she cared about the truth and with a heart at peace you could leave them to their lessons again.

Lancelot shut the door again.

“Percival is taking his duty as a knight serious.” You commented.

He hummed with a slight smirk “A knight of the Fey, but one girl has most of his attention it seems.”

That was true, you couldn’t hide your own smirk “She fought alongside him.”

He jested about it “Do you think she is old enough to learn how to wield a sword too?”

It was partly a genuine question. At what age was it appropriate? He was taught at a very early age…

You blinked a few times “She just jumped on a boy’s back and you’re willing to hand her a sword?”

The laugh he tried to swallow came out anyway, he dared to joke “I handed you one.”

You pulled a face at him, then said “We should get wooden swords made. Before our children all end up losing limbs.”

He thought about it “A good idea. They can learn while playing with them?”

It would be much safer, if the swords had no sharp edges at least.

“That way, they won’t feel pressured.” You agreed.

Lancelot reminded you of what he had asked yesterday “Are you still willing to join me in the forest tonight?”

You hadn’t forgotten “Of course. Should I bring some buckets of water?”

The jest had him rolling his eyes “So little faith in me?”

You weren’t going to take it back “Just making sure.”

He stroked along the back of your arm “It will not be necessary.”

His eyes swiftly darted between yours and your mouth and it was enough to send a shiver over your skin.

~“Lancelot!”~

The cheery voice of Arthur stole away the moment between you.

With a sigh, Lancelot acknowledged it “Yes?”

Arthur beckoned for him “Gawain is asking for you.”

The Ash Man tried to keep the disappointment out of his tone “Very well.” he turned to you “I will see you tonight.”

You nodded in confirmation and watched him go over to Arthur and they both walked off together.

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Darkness began to fall over the city and Lancelot preferred to only take Goliath and you along. No one knew how Llamrai would react to seeing Fey Fire, it was safer to leave her at the stables.

Together you rode on Goliath into the forest at a snail pace.

A long silence had preceded his question “I have thought about speaking to Percival and Gawain about our plan to wed.”

There was the reason why he had been pretty quiet now “You’re asking me for approval?”

He leaned in close, head almost touching your shoulder “Yes.”

When you took a moment to think about it, you could just feel the anxiousness radiate from him.

You freed him from it by answering “That’s fine. I’m nervous.”

He felt some relief when hearing he was not alone to feel like this “So am I. You are aware that Feys wed in a different manner than Manbloods?”

The tales were known about this different kind of wedding “I am.”

Lancelot asked your opinion on the matter “Is that what you want?”

You were far from opposed to it “It always sounded lovely to hear the stories of these joinings. Where I grew up, the people were not so afraid to speak about the Fey.”

Tonight he was surprisingly open on the subject “If at any time you change your mind about us being wed, I will understand. I only ask that you will not be afraid to tell me.”

You felt his steady breaths pass by your cheek “I have no intention on changing my mind. I’m afraid you’re stuck with me.”

A wandering hand glided over your stomach “I have been since the day you came to the monastery.”

You rolled your eyes when he could not see.

And did he really think you did not notice how he had moved your cloak aside just so he could sneak his hand under?

Prying his fingers off your stomach proved futile and the twit actually dared to tickle you.

The thin leather vest you wore did little to shield you from it.

In a last attempt to ‘escape’ you leaned forward to protect your stomach from him.

Quick as a whip, his hand moved to slowly stroke from your shoulder blades down your spine.

It was the very quiet hum, that sounded as if it had come from deep within his chest, that made your heart roll around in your chest.

It had sounded appreciative…

Slowly you sat upright again, the wit had abandoned you.

And he seemed aware of the shift in atmosphere too, his eyes were aimed at the trees ahead.

You really did try not to mention it, but… “Someone is acting a little lascivious tonight.”

His voice had dropped into a husk “I enjoyed your company last night.”

That had been quite obvious.

“And you are hoping to repeat it?” You guessed with a grin.

It was an open invitation “My door will be open, in case you are still not feeling well.”

Oh. What a very kind, and not at all ambiguous, offer.

In return, you gave him an equal answer “I will remember it is so.”

He could not help but love how disinterested you pretended to be, leaving him to speculate whether or not you would join him tonight.

Lancelot pushed aside a low branch before it could cause you or him harm. The branch obeyed and flowers began to grow from it after the contact.

This forest reacted to the Fey in the most peculiar ways.

The next branch was yours to touch and to your disappointment it gave no response.

He noticed it “What is wrong?”

It felt silly to admit “This forest doesn’t react to me. I guess the mark does not mean that there is magic present in me.”

He was more positive “Or the magic in you has yet to see the light.”

With that said, he took the arm that bore the mark and bared it, then held it out to the side and waited.

Nothing happened until his thumb began to tease the mark and lure it to the surface in it’s silver glow.

His words were like silk near your ear “My magic is in you. If the Moon Wing could sense it, this forest can too.”

The little hope and expectation faded when nothing happened.

But he was patient and that patience paid off.

A very small bird landed on your hand and it nearly gave you a fright.

Lancelot had held your hand still and therefore the bird remained where it was seated.

It looked like a hummingbird, but it’s colors were different, incredibly vibrant.

Purple feathers blended with blue ones, a deep red on the crown of it’s head.

The ends of it’s wings were luminous, like magic lived in them.

Once overcome the initial reaction, you looked at the bird in awe.

It was so tiny…

With it’s beak it pinched at your palm and then it hopped further onto your arm, the bird looked quite curious toward the glowing mark.

Lancelot whispered “You may not be Fey, but as long as I may live I will share what I can with you.”

The tiny toes of the bird were tickling your arm as it hopped around.

Under the moon and stars with your lover and chosen as the place where this beautiful bird took a moment to rest, it was enough to make anyone a little emotional.

Being introduced to his world meant the world to you.

The tiny bird spread it’s wings and fluttered away.

Slowly he let go off your arm and the mark dimmed it’s glow.

The silence coming from you was unusual…

You turned your head just enough to press your lips ardently to his cheek, two counts passed and the whisper fell “I love you.”

If anything could melt a frozen heart, it was the look in your eyes and the declaration that came with it.

Goliath stopped at the command of his rider.

He blessed the night for hiding some of that red hue his face undoubtedly had now “Enough to watch me play with magic that could burn a forest down?”

Your eyes rolled over him “Absolutely.”

Without warning he dismounted “Well then.”

He reached up, an offer to help you dismounted as well.

It was probably just a ruse to have his hands on you some more.

“So…how does this begin?” You gestured around.

He tied the reins to a tree and pointed at a bit of an open spot in the forest “I’ll make a fire. And I hope to transform it into Fey Fire that I can control.”

Now that it was time, he caught himself reconsidering on those buckets of water…

You walked a few steps and then sat down on the grass.

So much fidgeting, the poor Ash Man was visibly tense.

Anyone could see that he was nervous to practice his magic. For one who was quite skilled with making a fire, it took him longer than usual to light the small stack of branches.

Finally a spark touched the dry grass and flames grew from it.

Relief washed over him and away again “Every time I have used this power, it was linked to what I felt in that moment. I do not know if I can transform the flames when I am calm.”

To you, he didn’t look calm, but anxious “Take your time, Lancelot. I know you can do it.”

After pacing back and forth for a moment, he brought a hand closer to the flames.

The heat was felt, the fire could not burn him no matter how hard it tried.

Those flames under his palm brought forth the desire to take hold of them. To feel them dance in his palm and witness their destructive beauty.

Seeing the fire lick his skin but not burn him had your heart in your throat. The urge to run over and drag him away from it was strong and you had to fight it off.

By taking quick deep breaths, you hoped to calm the fear that took hold on you.

Lancelot had seen the change in you, and when he looked he saw a pair of concerned eyes watching him “It does not hurt me.”

It did little to make the pout on your face vanish.

The result of your experiences with nature’s element had burdened you with the fear.

Upon seeing that you remained concerned, he withdrew his hand and walked towards you to show his unscathed palm.

Your concern faded at the sight “I cannot help but worry, I’m sorry.”

He caressed your cheek “I chose the right woman to have as my wife.”

The statement was making you smile no matter how hard you fought it “Were there other options?”

Now that earned you a tap of his hand against your shoulder, he tsked “No.”

After taking a breath, you gave in “I need to let you do what is necessary to embrace your power. So, I offer my help when you need it.”

He jested “If I light this forest on fire, act like I was never here.”

You groaned at his foolery “Let’s see you make that Fey Fire first.”

With a little shove against his arm, you send him back to the task at hand.

He approached the fire and knelt down before it, both knees touching the grass below “I can do this…”

Those weeping eyes fell shut, his breathing slowed down. It almost looked as if he was praying and maybe he was.

To the old gods of the Fey, or the one he was taught to serve, it did not matter as long as it brought him the confidence he needed

You kept very quiet and watched the flames begin to act fickle, but the colors remained the same.

Upon seeing the effort without result, you got up and walked over to him “At the church, what did you think of when your powers came forth?”

His eyes opened and looked up to yours “I thought of you. I saw the flames engulf the church and feared the worst.”

The memory of that moment was one he wished to forget.

He continued to recall what had went through him “I swore to myself that I would meet my end if I stood aside and let it happen. I felt the power burn in me, then it burned in every flame I wished it for.”

He rubbed his palms together, a soothing gesture he often did when his mind ran off with him to darker places.

Quietly, you got closer and took a seat next to him “Once I was safe, it stopped did it not?”

Lancelot nodded, it was as if a storm had passed through him and left him feeling very strange “It did. I felt it fade into me again.”

You thought for a while and gave your opinion on it “Maybe…the key to control this, is thinking of something you care about?”

It silenced him.

Every time he was able to seize control of his magic it was when he thought of you…

When he marked you, the burning church…

Was the love he had for you the key?

And to believe the Church considered this magic evil while it was born from love…

The love between Festa and Moreii.

And now the love between you and him.

It gave him new hope “I believe it to be possible.”

The Ash Man was beginning to see the pieces of the puzzle more clearly.

You placed your hand to his arm “Instead of giving yourself a headache thinking of the fire, think of something nice. Something that motivates you, that calms you and just brings you joy. I think you will find your power in your own happiness, Lancelot.”

He took hold of your hand and brought your wrist up to brush his lips against it, the bangle still sat safely in place.

Your hand was released by him again.

There was more confidence in him now and a fresh spurge of determination “It is time to return what was stolen from the Fey so long ago.”

You pointed out “It has already returned.”

At first he frowned, until realization hit him and it caused a smile.

He had to snap his attention away from you to concentrate again.

This time he didn’t close his eyes and watched the flames dance in the wind.

Quietly you reminiscent about your journey together “When you came to fetch me when I was returning late from the village…I never forgot how nice it felt to have someone care.”

He offered you one of his own fond memories “You were the first person I remember that told me they did not wish to see me hurt.”

A look was shared and the flames began to transform seconds later, it wasn’t long before there was only Fey Fire present.

The Ash Man reached out and brought his hand into the flames, the green leafed Fey markings crawled to the surface of his skin, the tears beneath his eyes turned a burning green again.

This power, he could feel it try to claw it’s way out and preventing it was almost painful.

What if he surrendered to it?

Better now than during an inconvenient time…

He rose to his feet and stopped inches from the fire, it reached for him like a child would reach for their parents…

“Stay where you are.” He made the request to you.

You stayed seated and watched him take the steps to learn to control this magic.

Slowly he reached for the fire again and moved his arm to the side, the flames followed the unspoken command and spread where he motioned to.

Even slower, he lifted his hand and watched the flames rise to meet it.

The longer he practiced to control it, the more the green beneath his eyes changed until it had turned into a red one would only seen in the deepest fire.

His powers were freed, he was one with the flames.

The fire reflected in his eyes, similar to the moon on the dark sea.

You’d never seen the marks on his face turn red before and it was a wonder to behold.

And what was even more amazing to see was how enthralled he was with what he was doing.

Like a child who was given the toy their heart had desired.

There was no fear in him now, only wonderment.

Your mouth had curved into a soft smile “Imagine if Percival saw this.”

He let some flames flutter like butterflies through the night sky “Do you think he will be frightened?”

Some of these fire born butterflies flew around you “Frightened? No. That boy would make you do it every second of the day. And so would Neia. Heaven, even I could watch it happen forever.”

He turned his head to look at you and saw the green specks of fire flutter around you.

You wished you had more eyes so you could keep looking at all of them “It’s beautiful, Lancelot.”

The Ash Man got closer and by the time he knelt next to you, the Fey Fire had created a circle just for the two of you.

You brushed a stray lock from his face and touched your thumb to the red that burned in his markings “I am so proud of you. Look how far you’ve come. You are what the Fey lost, not just your magic, but the man that you are. Having you here brings hope.”

If the rare Ash Folk could return after so long, there was hope for other things to return as well.

He leaned into the tender touch “I pray that I can help my people, I owe it to them.”

From an enemy to an ally, the Ash Man had given up the life he knew to follow what his heart believed was right.

Of course you were proud “I have faith in you. Magic or no magic, I know the Fey have gained a good man. Someone who won’t give up on them.”

The way he brought his hand to the back of your scalp to massage the place felt heavenly.

The pampering didn’t stop when he saw how much you enjoyed it “Let us return home.”

Before you could even object, the green flames were extinguished and with that the red from his marks too.

A disappointed noise slipped from your mouth.

Hearing it made him chuckle “Come on. Up.”

After being helped to your feet you looked around yourself and missed the green sparks that had flown through the air “Can you do that again when we’re together at night?”

You held your index finger up and gestured comically.

For a second he considered pretending not to understand what you were speaking off…

He asked for clarification “Just before we sleep, you mean?”

Thankfully, he understood you “Yes.”

Lancelot slowly started walking “I promise I will do so if I can do it without setting the room we are in on fire.”

You followed him towards Goliath “Preferably. Escaping one burning place was enough.”

Should he have thought the jest through more?

“Forgive me. I should not make light of-” He started.

“It’s alright. You’ve said nothing wrong.” You assured.

He was visibly relieved and offered to help you mount Goliath.

Of course you could get on without help, but then he wouldn’t have his hands on you again.

The ride back was peaceful, he was noticeably happy with the results reached tonight.

Upon return at the fortress, Lancelot was met with a very grumpy looking young Fey boy.

Percival stood with his arms crossed in the middle of the hall where your rooms were located “Where did you go?”

The question was mainly aimed at the Ash Man who had not informed the boy of this late excursion.

If he told the boy the truth, he was in for trouble…

This child would not like to hear that he was practicing magic in the forest without him, even if it was for safety measurements.

When it was clear that you weren’t in any trouble, you stepped away from them slowly and moved towards your room.

Lancelot knew right away that you were leaving him to undergo the wrath of the boy and send you a look.

You send him a cheeky look back, opened your door and successfully withdrew yourself from the confrontation.

The magic fire would have to wait for another night.

━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━

That morning, you were awoken by the sound of Percival’s shocked voice.

You sat up in bed right away and listened for another sound.

~“WHAT?!?”~

There was a hushed voice, that undoubtedly belonged to Lancelot, answering the inquiry.

~“YOU WHAT?!?”~

Whatever he was telling the boy, it was giving him quiet an attitude in return.

Another hushed reply came and not even when you leaned against the wall could you hear what the Ash Man said to the boy.

Percival’s voice reached a higher pitch.

~“MARRY?!?”~

That was your cue to jump out of bed and start dressing before you’d be interrogated as well.

Never had you put on a pair of trousers and a shirt so fast before, you snatched the sleeveless long leather vest from where you had tossed it aside the night before.

~“What else is there ?!?”~

More incomprehensible mumbling followed…

~“KING?!?”~

Oh goodness…

This time you could hear how Lancelot was trying to calm the boy.

But Percival was having none of it, you heard only parts of what he said.

~“If you’re— marry her— queen.”~

That halted you, it was clear what the boy was speaking of.

If you married Lancelot, who was a king by birthright, it would make you his queen. You plopped down on your bed again, the fact truly settled in.

In time the Fey would recognize his devotion to protect them and if they realized what he was, there was a chance they’d name and accept him as king.

Especially with the power that resided in him, ancient and to protect them, they would not deny him.

Were you ready for when that day would come?

At this time he refused kingship, but once they would grant it to him too, would he still reject it?

Nothing would frighten the Church more than one raised by them, with their secrets, to become a king of the enemy.

Even Lancelot would consider it the perfect insult to them.

An Ashen king with a Manblood queen…would the Fey ever allowed it?

No, you couldn’t let these doubts steal away the joy you felt at the prospect of marrying him. No one knew what the future holds.

You forced yourself to stand and be more confident on the matter. It was time to announce your plans to wed, if Lancelot told it to Percival, it was only a matter of time before the others would hear of it.

A quick announcement would be better than delaying it and if Percival knew, it would become a very quick announcement…

You opened the door, stepped out and were met with a couple of widened brown eyes.

Neia had been eavesdropping at Percival’s door, she looked as if she expected a harsh scolding or worse.

The quiet gasp of the startled child was heartbreaking.

“It’s alright. I’m not upset.” You quickly assured the frightened girl.

She seemed rather ashamed of her eavesdropping.

You stepped over to her and asked “You heard them speak to each other too?”

Neia visibly relaxed once it was clear that she was not the only one who had heard Percival and Lancelot speak “Is it true?”

With a nod, you took her hand in yours and knocked on the door to Percival’s room.

It was opened by Lancelot and once he let the both of you in, all was explained to the children.

Not much later, you sat in the dining hall at the table among friends.

Often you sneaked a glance at Lancelot who seemed just as nervous as you were. On the end of the long table were Neia and Percival, two children asked to keep a secret while it was ready to spill from their mouths.

Pym was shoveling her baked eggs into her mouth with a hunger one would have after a week of starvation.

Arthur was filling his stomach with conversation, especially towards Red Spear.

Kaze was picking up a piece of meat from her plate which she looked at with suspicion and shamelessly dropped it onto Gawain’s plate, the knight looked at it oddly but said not a word.

Lancelot wasn’t eating, he was moving the food on his plate around to make it look like he was.

Gawain noticed the odd behavior of his friend “Is something the matter?”

A moment of silence passed, the Ash Man put his fork down.

He sounded more confident than he felt “I have news I wish to share.”

The knight did not look away from him “I am listening.”

Lancelot drank some water from his tankard first, then shared the news “Y/n and I will wed.”

The silence that fell over the table was so sudden and unexpected.

Had they all heard?!?

They stared at him, then at you to see your response to the claim.

Your voice was quieter than a mouse’s “It’s true.”

Arthur held his tongue for only a few seconds and ended up blurting out “I don’t believe it.”

Lancelot was visibly offended by his statement “Pardon?”

Arthur truly believed it was just a joke “Wed? You? Come on. You were a monk not long ago, Lancelot.”

Pym had stopped chewing her food and watched the scene unfold.

Hearing that made you turn to Arthur and subtly, considering there were nosy children nearby, you made the vague comment “He was. Although it is getting harder for me to tell.”

Lancelot dropped his eyes to his plate and bit back the smirk.

Gawain and Arthur’s eyes had widened by the comment.

Red Spear had little to no reaction to the news, she was more annoyed by being interrupted during her meal.

Kaze rolled her eyes and mumbled “I knew it.”

The Ash Man faced the skeptical Arthur “I cannot change who I was, but I can decide who I am now. I will wed her. You may have doubts, I do not.”

Hearing that he had no doubts to wed warmed your heart and erased any fears you previously had about it.

Arthur apologized to his friend “You’re right. I am not the person who I used to be either and neither are you. I believe in the man you have become, Lancelot. For all it’s worth… you have my blessing.”

“And mine.” Gawain chimed in, patting the Ash Man on the back amicably.

Pym muttered quietly “This is so weird…”

You smiled at her bewildered response.

Kaze shrugged her shoulders, there was not a single person there who did not expect the response, at least her weapons stayed sheathed so it was considered a good reaction.

“I didn’t know you were that close.” Pym was still in a state of processing the news.

Red Spear looked in your direction, then told Pym “Always keep your weapons closer than anyone or anything.”

Poor Arthur drank some ale from his tankard after hearing the advice from the raider’s Captain.

Gawain raised his tankard “Here’s to the joining of our former monk and nun.”

Lancelot rolled his eyes at the jest and shook his head but did raise his tankard too.

Everyone else did as well, even Kaze although she only moved hers an inch up from table and went back to eating her breakfast.

You shared a relieved look with Lancelot.

No more hiding.

And a joining to look forward too.

Life really had fallen back into place, it had been a rocky road, but the journey was worth every second of it.

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#weeping monk #theweepingmonk #weeping monk x you #weepingmonk #the weeping monk x reader #lancelot #lancelot x reader #lancelot fic #reader x lancelot #Cursed Netflix #cursed #cursed fic #netflix cursed #lancelot cursed #daniel sharman character #Daniel Sharman

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everlastingdreams · 2 years ago

Text

Weeping Monk x Reader : The Patience Of A Heart Chapter 22

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Chapter Title: Fire And Gold.

Notes: Again, a short one, sorry.

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

Word count of this fic: +130K

Chapter: 22 / lol Gonna keep the chapter count a secret until the end.

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No.

You refused to let fear kill you before the flames would.

Everyone around you was in a state of panic and the smoke was thickening fast, time was running out.

Escaping by roof would only end up in arrows striking all down, the only way was further down “Father Samael! Does this church have a cellar? Is there a hatch to the outside there?”

The priest wasn’t sure of it “I…there is a cellar were we stock flour and wine. But whether there is a hatch…”

There was a spark of hope in you “We need to head down there, if we stay here the fire will lock us in! If we are lucky, the cellar will protect us.”

Father Samael feared for the worst “The smoke…”

It was a valid concern, but the options were slim “Still better than burning alive, Father.”

On that, all could agree.

“Follow me.” The priest said and repeated it so the others would hear it too.

Sister Mary was holding the frightened young nun by the arm, no one there was not shaking from fear at the dire situation.

You followed the priest through the church, he avoided choosing paths with fire as much as possible.

On the last pathway, all came to a halt, fire had engulfed the place completely.

“The cellar is that way…” The hope left Father Samael’s voice.

Even from a distance, the heat of the flames was too much to bear and you had run out of ideas

A glass bottle filled with oil and a burning cloth to seal it off flew behind the frightened group and shattered upon impact with the wall.

It was like an explosion of fire that set aflame the wooden floor it touched.

Now stuck between two ruthless fires, the fear settled into your bones completely.

Some were crying, some were praying and some were frozen in shock.

Was this how it had been in the abbey?

And now you would meet the same end, it was a bitter realization.

The heat from the fire forced all to huddle together near the wall to try and avoid the inevitable.

You took the hand of a girl who looked to be in absolute shock and hoped to bring some solace to her fear and to yours.

When the flames got closer and the smoke filled your lungs, you shut your eyes and hoped it would be quick…

But then, a nun exclaimed “Heaven…look!”

Your eyes opened, the flames were acting odd.

They got closer and then suddenly abruptly withdrew, as if they tried to fight a force that held them back.

The flames struggled and fought to burn everything in sight.

The battle knew it’s victor when the fire’s color transformed into a bright green that overpowered the flames they were born from.

It could not be…

The mark on your arm responded to them, it ached to be closer to the flames.

Carefully you stepped to the green fire, to the shock of those seeing it happen.

You raised your hand and held your palm near the flames, it felt as if a warm wave of air tickled against it.

Suddenly your hand was grasped and you were pulled forward.

You had not planned to step into the flames, so being pulled into them send you into a panic “No!”

You pushed back, trying to break free. The thick smoke and bright flames an unearthly strange combination that caused terrible vision.

It was the hushing voice and the feeling of being in an embrace that calmed you down.

“I have you. You’re safe.” Lancelot was shaking as much as you were.

His words a comfort for both you and him.

When trying to see his facial features, all you saw were the ashen markings glowing a green that matched the fire “You’re doing this…”

He released you from his embrace and took hold of your hand “Yes.”

History was repeating itself, they were trying to burn what held his heart.

This time, after the druid dream, he knew what had to be done.

Red spear called out to him from behind “Hurry up, Ash Man! Tell them to get over here so we can get the fuck out off here!”

He arched a brow in the direction of the voice “She is right.” then called out to the nuns and priest “The fire is safe to pass! Follow us and stay near!”

Without another warning you were pulled through the Fey Fire by him, the odd sensation of the flames against you made you hold on to his arm as he guided the way.

The nuns and priest had formed a chain, holding hands so no one would get lost in the smoke or fire, and followed the two of you.

Red Spear and him had broken open the cellar door to enter the church upon arriving, it proved convenient now.

“Down the stairs! Hurry up! Fall and get left behind.” Red Spear commanded the group.

The raider’s captain had a strangely effective way to motivate a group to keep going.

Once in the cellar, Red Spear pushed the cellar doors up and open that had been long hidden from sight by weeds overgrowing it.

They had almost overlooked it if they had not actually stepped on it and felt it move when they were on their way to sneak into the church.

Red Spear was the first out and offered a hand to help the others up and out as well.

Lancelot stayed until all others and you were out of the church.

He did not know the limits to his power when it came to distance and would not take a risk.

Once outside, almost everyone was coughing from the smoke and shaken by the horrific ordeal.

You watched the church burn, the Fey Fire began to overpower the flames and the mystical green cloaked the church in it’s glow until the green flames extinguished themselves and spared what was left.

The bystanders witnessing it were speechless.

And you felt Lancelot stand right beside you, arm touching yours “Fey Fire…”

The burning light in his ashen markings was dimming, the magic he was born with eased itself back into it’s slumber “Are you hurt?”

You were no longer shaking from fear, the adrenaline had mixed with admiration for the one who had saved you.

The spark in your eyes accompanied the breathless answer “No.”

That sure caught his attention, especially when he could see the lovestruck look on your face.

You looked around “The guards-”

He responded “Dealt with.”

Those guards outside had been the perfect practice. Once he realized that even the fire on the burning arrows could be transformed and abide his will, they were taken off-guard by the green flames setting them alight.

This is what Yeva had tried to show him in the dream that connected him to his deceased family. This was why.

This is how he would protect the Fey.

“Where are Gawain and Arthur? Are they safe?” You asked, worried about their lives.

He leaned closer to whisper “Catching us an Abbot.”

Wicklow had made one mistake.

By letting his spitefulness cloud his judgment, he had left half of his guards behind at the church of Helgenstone to enact his wrath.

It had left him more vulnerable then he had thought.

You protested “But his guards-”

He put that worry to rest “Half of them are dead. The others will be soon, if they are not already.”

The confidence he had in the others was strong “We should go find them and make sure.”

Lancelot nodded in agreement.

Red Spear was being embraced by a couple of nuns who ignored her objections to it, it was likely due to shock that they did not see the danger that came with touching the raider’s captain.

It was you who went over to help her while he stayed behind and watched with amusement.

It was the priest that came to thank him in the meantime. He had seen the man before once and the priest remembered him, like most did, because of his appearance.

You made your way past the group of thankful nuns and locked your arm around Red Spear’s “We have to go, Sisters. Our work is not done yet.”

Sister Mary said “Be careful, Sister Pym.”

It earned you an odd look from both Red Spear and Lancelot.

Now it was Red Spear that was pulling you away by the sleeve of your tunic.

You quickly acknowledged Sister Mary before you could be dragged off too far for her to hear “I will. Thank you, Sister Mary!”

Lancelot whistled for Goliath, Llamrai’s reins had been tied to Goliath’s because there was no chance that the mare would come when called on her own.

Unlike yours, Red Spear’s horse came running to her when she called out for it.

“Up you go, Sister Pym.” Lancelot handed you Llamrai’s reins.

You took of the veil and tossed it against his chest, he even caught it by reflex too with a smile that could charm all “Twit.”

After mounting Llamrai, you noticed that the satchel with your clothing was attached to the saddle and your cloak laid in front of it. It would be nice to change into them again as soon as you got the chance.

The three of you rode fast, it was beginning to get dark outside.

It wasn’t far or long until you ran into an abandoned carriage and horses that stood around grazing as they waited for their missing riders.

A carriage that clearly belonged to a member of the Church, crosses were embellished on the wood.

Lancelot recognized it “Wicklow’s carriage, we dismount here and follow the tracks.”

“What tracks?” Red Spear questioned out loud.

He dismounted Goliath “The ones I will find of them. Come.”

You pressed your lips together to prevent a smile when seeing the captain roll her eyes at his confidence.

She walked over to Llamrai and pulled your sword from where it sat safely at the side of the saddle, then handed it to you “Keep it close.”

Grateful for the reminder, you took your sword to carry it, there could be trouble up ahead.

Lancelot drew his sword when the scent of blood reached his nostrils.

Too much blood loss for one to have survived.

A little further ahead, you discovered the bodies of two Trinity Guards.

Red Spear glanced over them “One struck by arrow. Another by blade.”

Two different kinds of weapon and attacked at the same time.

The Ash Man stated “Gawain and Arthur. The Abbot will have tried to flee alone if his guards were on the losing side. He is the kind of man to sacrifice others to survive. They will not be far, come on.”

You went to walk a little closer beside him, Red Spear was right behind you.

It felt like she truly had your back, something you didn’t really expect.

“I still have the knife.” You spoke to her.

She knew you weren’t just holding on to it for it’s usefulness, but also because it had been a gift from her that you valued “Good.”

Lancelot arched a brow, curious about the fact that the raider’s captain was not as harsh with you as she often was with others.

Perhaps it had been the compliment you had given her the second you had met her…

He jested “And you still have the sword.”

The one he had given you.

You quipped back “Don’t worry, Ash Man. I value both.”

Red Spear kept her voice low in case enemies were near “The knife is sharper than the sword.”

He looked back over his shoulder at the captain and bit his tongue.

His eyes squinted at you, then focused on the path ahead until he came to a sudden halt again “I can smell more blood from up ahead.”

There was no doubt in his mind that it came from multiple casualties nearby.

The sound of whistling halted all, it had come from nearby.

“That was Arthur.” Red Spear was able to tell.

Together you walked to where the whistle had come from.

And soon, Arthur called out “Over here!”

You hurried over and saw Gawain who was just finished tying together Wicklow’s hands.

“Took you long enough.” Arthur’s sarcasm was strong.

Lancelot matched it with ease “We were occupied by trying not to burn alive.”

The Ash Man saw the corpses of the guards who had been accompanying the Abbot.

As the Abbot fled with three of them, the others were dealt with before Arthur and Gawain caught up with the coward. If the Abbot had not been selfish and kept his guards in group instead, Arthur and Gawain would not have been able to fight them all.

Neither Arthur or Gawain had come out if this fight unscathed, the Manblood had a bloody nose and the knight a cut near his neck.

Their skill was admirable, together they had taken down more than six of those bastards.

One of them was still alive and received Lancelot’s boot to the face when trying to get up from the ground.

He would have left it at that, but Red Spear planted her spear into the heart of the guard.

Wicklow was furious “How dare you?! Unhand me!”

Without any form of warning, the Abbot received the pommel of the Ash Man’s sword against the nose.

The sound of bones breaking made you flinch.

Yuck.

For Lancelot it was easy to do what had to be done “You will answer our questions. The more you lie, the more you bleed. Understood?”

The Abbot glared up at him “I do not take orders from Father Carden’s former bloodhound!”

The result of Wicklow’s defiance was a hard smack to the back of the head by Gawain.

“I’d do as told if I were you. You have angered a lot of us.” The knight warned.

You stepped forward, ignoring Lancelot’s signal against it “The abbey, the Helgenstone church, that was your doing.”

Wicklow send you a look of utter hatred and disgust “I am cleansing these lands of the Fey and their influence. That includes all those who aided them or would aid them, such as yourself.”

That had been an unmistakable threat.

Not even Arthur or Gawain could have stopped the rapid response it got from Lancelot who punched the Abbot across the face for it.

Then he took a couple of steps away to calm himself down.

Wicklow landed on his knees on the ground, blood seeped from his busted lip.

You looked at Lancelot, he made eye-contact briefly and nodded.

It was time to face the monster who had caused such horrors “You had everyone at the abbey murdered because they defied your orders, their bodies buried in the garden…”

There was not an ounce of guilt in Wicklow “Traitors to the Church have no place in God’s garden. I am certain your uncle taught you that too.”

It was clear that he was trying to get under your skin, threatening you and reminding you who your kin was.

It made you snarl at him “I never believed in his lessons.”

The arrogance was dripping from him “I can see that. You even let his Weeping Monk defile your skin. I hoped to have burned you with the rest of them at the abbey.”

From the corner of your eyes, you saw Lancelot get closer.

Stepping in front of him is what stopped him from sinking his sword into the Abbot.

Your hand was on his arm “Lancelot, be calm. Don’t let him get into your head.”

The Ash Man’s fury was evident, he clasped a hand around the one you held your sword in “Let me kill him. Or do you wish to do so yourself?”

At those words, the Abbot did have a fearful expression.

Blue eyes bore into yours, they tried to read behind the veil of bravery you had now.

You had never killed anyone and he knew it.

Then you looked at Wicklow, as long as he lived, he would hunt down those who had defied him.

Percival was not safe.

Lancelot was not safe.

And neither were you.

Wicklow held a grudge that no mercy would spare anyone from.

No bargain could be made with someone who could not be trusted.

It was a necessary evil to end his life “You’ll never stop, not unless someone else stops you. I will not let you hurt anyone else ever again.”

He could feel your hand tremble when you moved away from him.

Lancelot caught your arm and moved you closer again “You do not have to do it. Say the word and it will be done.”

You shook your head “He killed my friend and wanted you and Percival dead. I wanted vengeance, I chose this path.”

The sword felt heavy in your hand when stepping towards the Abbot.

Was this not what you had wanted? To avenge the deaths of Anne and those who had suffered under his tyranny.

The more your hand trembled, the firmer your grip on the sword became.

Where Lancelot let you make the decision for yourself, Gawain stepped in and came over to stop you.

The knight spoke his wisdom “It is never too late to choose a different path. Just like our Ashen friend, you can stop when you want to.”

It made you halt, there was no judgment in his tone. And when you looked at the others, you realized that none of them seemed angry for your hesitation now.

Arthur reassured you “It’s alright, y/n.”

“I’ll do it.” Red Spear would jump at the opportunity.

Gawain rubbed a hand along your arm “Let one of us handle it.”

Lancelot stepped forward “I will do it…” you were about to refuse again until he cupped your cheek, it was a plea from him “Let me.”

Wicklow witnessed the doubt and used it to bargain for his life “She will not kill me because she is still off the Church, she cannot deny her heritage just as you cannot. Let me free, y/n, your path can lead to salvation if you choose it.”

You had nothing to prove to your friends, but the Church was mistaken if they thought you would ever be a part of their tyranny again.

You moved past Gawain and Lancelot, breaking free from their wish to protect you from the burden that taking a life would bring.

Your sword rose, ready to strike.

And then, all went dark.

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

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everlastingdreams · 2 years ago

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Weeping Monk x Reader : The Patience Of A Heart Chapter 21

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Chapter Title: Deliver Us From Evil

Notes: It’s a short one, sorry.

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

Word count of this fic: +130K

Chapter: 21 / lol Gonna keep the chapter count a secret until the end.

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The group was readying themselves near one of the church’s walls, Gawain and Arthur were debating on trying to climb in through a window they spotted but Lancelot considered it a bad idea.

Red Spear took out the sheep’s blood and poured it over the front of your tunic, then she went ahead and tore a hole with a knife in the tunic as well. It had to look real and serious and the raider’s Captain was going all out on it.

She smeared it over your clothes, put a hand-print of it on your stomach and coated your own hand in it.

The others looked stunned by the display.

“Isn’t that a bit much?” Arthur dared to question.

Red Spear shot him a glare “Do you want them to believe it or not?”

It silenced him. Gawain shot Lancelot a look.

When she was finally satisfied, you looked like you had partaken in a massacre.

She looked proud of her work “There. That should do it.”

Gawain placed a hand to your shoulder, then lifted it up when feeling the stickiness on his palm “You will do well. Don’t worry and try to distract them as much as you can. We’re not far away if anything goes awry.”

You nodded and walked away around the corner towards the church’s entrance. The second you were around the corner, was the moment your act began.

You hunched over, clutching your abdomen, and your face distorted in a pained grimace.

Of course you did not call out for help until you were slamming the heavy iron knocker on the door and pleaded for those inside the church to help.

When it took a little too long, your frustration could easily be mistaken for despair and you shouted a little louder and more urgent.

The door was opened by a nun who loudly gasped in shock “Heaven! What happened to you?!”

Dammit, you’d forgotten to think of that.

So you went on to act like you could barely speak “Please…help…”

The nun threw the door open and called out to the other nuns for help, even the priest came to see what the ruckus was about.

You stumbled into the church and grasped a hold on the nun’s arm, the door was closed and locked again.

The priest took one look at you and urged the nuns to help “A sister from an abbey, hurry and bring her to the back.”

The nuns were quick to help you towards one of the infirmary rooms this church had, it seemed like you had not been the only one that had ever stumbled into this place like this.

On your way to this room, you had seen similar rooms to help those who needed it.

This place was build like a sanctuary, no wonder they kept their door locked.

They helped you onto a cot and right then a loud thud came from above.

The nuns looked up at the sound of it.

“That was in the storage room…” A sister commented.

It was obvious that none of them truly went into that room and that’s why they found it strange to hear noises coming from it.

Only an outsider would not know this…

To mask the sound, you began to cough loudly “So much blood…”

A sister began to help you out of the bloodied tunic and found your undergown completely free of blood…

A frown settled on the faces of them very quickly.

Mad nun, it was…

You acted like the removal of the tunic had miraculously healed you “I’m… it’s gone! By the grace of god I am healed!”

It still earned you a lot of strange looks, but who were they to doubt the mysterious ways the god they prayed to worked?

One of them placed a hand on your shoulder, visibly concerned “My name is Sister Mary. Can you tell us what happened?”

You hoped it sounded convincing “I came to Helgenstone to purchase some vegetables our abbey is struggling to find. I was on my way to return when a thief stole my satchel. I tried to fight him off but he had a knife.”

Another nun was looking at the tear in the tunic, she looked like she believed in the miraculous healing.

By appearing thankful and relieved you hoped to convince the others “This place, it’s sacred grounds have saved me.”

Sister Mary asked another to fetch a clean tunic for you to wear “You should remain here for a while, until you are certain you are healed. You lost a lot of blood, Sister…?”

Giving your real name could pose a big problem if Wicklow learned of this.

“Sister Pym.” You lied.

“Welcome to our modest home, Sister Pym. Fear not, you will be safe here. But I must warn, we expect a visit from Abbot Wicklow this afternoon and he always travels with the Trinity Guard. Do not worry, you have nothing to fear from them.”

If only she knew…

The one she had send for a clean tunic returned and helped you dress.

“Would you like some tea or perhaps some soup?” Sister Mary asked.

Well, now that she offered it “Some tea would be nice. Thank you.”

As the nuns cleared out of the room, you stood and hoped to follow Sister Mary and learn your way in this place.

By being polite, you hoped she would allow it “The lord’s grace has filled me with life again. Do you mind if I walk with you a little? I would love to see the place that holds so much of his goodness.”

Sister Mary took you aside and quietly asked “Tell me the truth now. You were never wounded. Are you with child? Is that why you seek shelter here?”

It was a necessary lie to not ruin the plan and she was practically feeding it to you… “I am…I fled from my abbey out of fear of bringing dishonor to them.”

She was compassionate “You have nothing to fear here. Our church helps everyone in need. Come, walk with me. I’ll give you a small tour of the place.”

Walking with her around the church reminded you of your days at the abbey. Sister Mary showed you the kitchens and explained that this was where they made meals for the poorest everyday. It was also where she gave you some tea that you drank while listening to her.

There were indeed multiple infirmary rooms and you could have sworn there was a bowl with what looked like Fey medicine inside…

You said nothing of it.

While walking down a hall, you nearly froze at the sight of two Trinity Guards walking down it as well.

Sister Mary explained “They are here to make certain all is safe for Abbot Wicklow’s arrival, he must be outside waiting with the rest of them. He has acquired many enemies.”

No wonder…

You and Sister Mary moved aside to let them pass, they walked by like neither of you were more than air. By bending your head down, you hoped to stay unrecognized.

Time was ticking…

Getting lost during this tour would not raise many questions, it was a new environment after all.

Waiting for a chance to escape Sister Mary’s sight took a while.

When entering a crowded hall, you blended right in with the veiled crowd and were lost to Sister Mary’s sight.

At least this way you would have an excuse if someone questioned you. Being ‘lost’ offered the opportunity to explore the place in search of Wicklow or the priest who was expected to meet with him.

Where he would be, guards would be.

You came upon a place where eight of the Trinity Guard stood.

Nuns were still walking near the place but kept a distance from the golden masked murderers, one nun almost past you by with a ceramic jug filled with wine and you stopped her.

“Is that for the Abbot, Sister?” You asked the rather young and new looking nun.

She nodded her head shyly “It is.”

It was clear that she wasn’t very keen on the task of bringing it to the Abbot…

You offered her an escape “If you want, I will bring it to the room.”

The young girl was quick to hand you the jug “That would be so kind of you!”

Now that she sounded talkative, you fished for information “Gosh, I wish the Abbot would not bring so many guards. Those masks frighten me.”

The girl sympathized “I agree, he didn’t have to bring along so many… there’s eight of them over there with him just… standing around him. And there’s even more roaming the church.”

Dammit…

She saw the distress on your face and offered “We could go there together. You pour the wine and I serve it?”

It would allow you to be at a distance and lower the risk of getting recognized “Double the hands is half the work.”

Together you walked further down the hall and turned the corner with her into the spacious opening where the Abbot sat opposite the priest.

Neither of you were comfortable walking between the Trinity Guards and you kept your head down and let the veil do it’s work of blocking curious eyes.

The girl went right to the empty tankards that stood on a table nearby at the opposite end of the room.

While watching her accidentally knock over the tankards due to nerves, you could overhear the conversation between Wicklow and the Helgenstone priest.

Wicklow was speaking in that arrogant tone again “As you can deduce, your cooperation will prove valuable for all included parties.”

The priest was not convinced of the Abbot’s ‘preaching’ “Helgenstone has always welcomed everyone regardless of their faith. It is why our city has flourished.”

The Abbot was persistent “It will continue to flourish.”

It was met with a matched stubbornness “Everywhere they-” the priest looked at the golden guard nearest Wicklow “-show their masks, death follows.”

Wicklow wasn’t happy with the defiant priest “Father Samael, Helgenstone is important for the Church’s mission. Many roads lead here, it is crucial that we ensure that the Fey do not seize power here. And we know of your tendency to help all in need without questioning who or what they are.”

Father Samael spoke wise “Is helping those in need not what has been our true mission? The true message the faith has given us all this time. The Church seems to have forgotten what and who we once were.”

Wicklow threatened “Careful, Father Samael, speaking like this is blasphemous.”

The priest rose from the chair abruptly, causing some of the guards to draw their weapons but he did not even flinch “I know the scriptures, Abbot. The real ones that guided us to a better world, not the ones the Church now preaches to the lands.”

The Abbot signaled for the guards to sheath their weapons and stood as well “You will not aid the Church, is that your answer?”

The priest confirmed it “I will not.”

Wicklow threatened him further “This will have consequences, Father Samael. The Holy Father will not support Helgenstone if Helgenstone gives nothing in return.”

You saw Father Samael keep his composure and it only agitated Wicklow further.

After a brief glare, the Abbot tilted his head and signaled to the guards that he was done here.

The girl stood next to you, the tankards of wine now unwanted.

As Wicklow began to walk out the place one guard rudely bumped into you and the jug fell from your hands, shattering on the floor and staining it with red wine.

They were too arrogant to even acknowledge it, even a simple apology was too much.

As you knelt with the girl to collect the shards, you ached for the knife at your ankle.

“I’ll clean it up.” The young nun said.

On another occasion you would have refused to let her do this alone, but Wicklow was leaving…

So you accepted the offer and offered a “Thank you.”

Discreetly you followed the group of guards and Wicklow at a distance, hoping for a chance, one moment where he would be seperated from his guards.

Another came from around the corner and headed straight for Wicklow.

The guard kept his voice low “One of us was found with his throat cut. Others are missing.”

Wicklow realized something was very wrong and still he only responded by giving a simple nod.

He knew now that enemies were near, you needed to get back to the others.

The last thing you knew of their whereabouts was when they were in that storage room, it was the floor above the one you were on.

You headed into the opposite direction from where Wicklow and his guards were heading and searched for a stairwell.

Whilst searching, you did spot a couple of blood drops in a corner near a door opening. Upon opening the door, all you found was an empty sleeping quarter.

And so your search continued, you did find the stairwell and went to the other floor.

It was not as simple to pretend to fit in while also looking odd by going back and forth between hallways and doors…

You tried to locate the storage room and hoped to catch a glimpse of someone soon.

By opening another door and peaking inside, you were caught by Sister Mary.

She sounded very suspicious of you right away “What are you doing? Why did you wander off?”

By keeping up the facade, you hoped to leave the place without a fuss “I’m sorry, I got lost.”

Sister Mary looked disappointed “I don’t believe you. You came into this church by lying and now this.”

It was half a miracle that you were able to stay calm “I can explain.”

Could you?…

She gave a stern look and waited for the explanation.

The same explanation you were struggling to make up on the spot…

Something flew in through the open window nearby and planted itself into the wooden wall behind you.

A burning arrow lighted the wood on fire, the dripping oil from the cloth wrapped around it made it spread even faster.

More burning arrows found their way into the church seconds later and you ducked for cover with Sister Mary.

“Heaven! What is happening?!?” She cried out in fear.

The sound of screaming echoed through the church, alerting you that this floor was not the only one under attack “It’s the Trinity Guard, they are setting this place on fire.”

She could not believe it “Why would they?”

You grabbed hold of her arm and steered her out off the burning hallway “Father Samael refused to hand Abbot Wicklow the reins to Helgenstone’s church, I think the Abbot no longer sees use of it’s existence because of it.”

Fire was blocking path upon path, they were aiming to fire arrows through all windows they could find.

Smoke came from under most closed doors you ran past and you prayed none of the others were in danger.

Sister Mary took the lead and guided the both of you back to the stairwell “We have to get to the doors, quickly!”

Smoke was starting to fill the place and limited your vision.

Once downstairs, the sight of the priest and the other nuns trying to open the large doors made your heart sink.

The Trinity Guard had barricaded the doors from outside, trapping all those present inside of the church.

Your shaking legs did not stop you from going to try and open them yourself.

Pushing past the small crowd, you began to help the Father Samael.

The doors did not budge at all.

Panic rose inside of you “Is there another way out?”

The priest regretted to inform “The fire is blocking it and they are killing those who escape through windows.”

A slaughter had commenced when those trying to escape the flames crawled out the windows and were met with the Trinity Guards who were waiting for them outside.

It was burning alive or getting tortured to death…

The mark’s response on your arm was strong, you could feel it’s pattern.

Was he safe?

Were the others?

Would you ever see him again?

Yeva had seen the fire in your future, had she seen the end?

Taglist:

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

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

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everlastingdreams · 2 years ago

Text

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

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Chapter Title: The One Who Cries

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

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

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

Word count of this fic: +110K

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Play?

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

The boy with the weeping eyes remained very quiet.

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

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

Why was he so quiet?

He wondered why you were smiling at him…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It halted everyone that was around to hear it.

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

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

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

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

Uncle Carden interrupted him “Is my niece.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why did this boy not play?

Like any child, you questioned it “But-”

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

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

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

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

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~ Years later ~

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

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

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

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

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

Your family was gone, your home was gone…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Those birthmarks…

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

That boy back then…was him?

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

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

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

Did you truly remember that day too?

He had believed you would have long forgotten.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Of course he did.

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

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

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

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

Just like all those years ago…

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

No answer came.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Monk’s attention snapped to Father.

This was the first he had heard of this…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A room just for you…

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

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

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

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

Truth be told, he was not certain.

Was it proper?

He was a monk.

You were a woman and Father’s niece…

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

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

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

He gave a respectful inclination of the head.

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

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

Your eyes filled with excitement and anticipation.

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

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

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

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

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

Not what you had expected to happen.

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

You giggled amused “I meant a handshake.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Luckily you had the perfect person to ask it all.

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

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

Where?

What?

When?

How?

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

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

On the contrary, more questions came.

Truth be told, some were quite amusing to hear.

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

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

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

Something you seemed more excited about than he was…

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

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

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

With a nod he confirmed it “Yes.”

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

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

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

He said “You will not.”

You asked “How can you be sure?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You asked “Is something wrong?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He would need to let the Tusk Man go.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Keen?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shrugged your shoulders “Fine.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

With a nod you acknowledged it.

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

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

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

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

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