#weeping monk / reader

[everlastingdreams]

Weeping Monk x Reader : The Last Flames Burn Together

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Summary: You were one of the many Feys trying to seek refugee from the cleansings across the lands. When you finally find the carriages that smuggle Feys to Gramaire, safety seems closer than ever.

Notes: I would miss writing for this character way too much tbh. The summary is vague to avoid spoilers lol

Warnings: Violence, death, strong language. Spicy (?). No descriptive smut but spoken off.

Word Count: 7K

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The day after your Fey camp had been cleansed, you had began your search for them.

The carriages that led the Fey to the safety of Gramaire.

After trying to get information from locals at a village, it seemed near impossible to find out where these carriages picked up Feys who sought refugee.

It was difficult to know who to trust when in the village, you often listened in on conversations between Manbloods to hear if they spoke of the Fey or not. Very few did and not all of them spoke kindly of your people.

You followed those who did, hiding under the cover of your cloak until there was a good moment to seek a conversation.

And after two days in the village, a young couple told you that three carriages arrived in the village every few days just before the sun would rise.

The riders of these carriages where by most believed to be traders of herbs and spices, but their carriages had room for more than that.

And so you found yourself waiting outside, eyes and ears sharp to avoid detection by paladins.

Most of the villagers were still asleep, the rooster not even awake himself.

You clutched the cloak around you, shielding yourself from the morning’s frost.

The sound of hooves reached your ears, three carriages halted at a distance.

Spices and herbs were being off-loaded and handed to locals who traded their own wares for it.

With fear and hope you approached and walked passed the first carriage, the rider of the carriage in the middle was the only one not loading off wares.

Perhaps what he had with him were not wares…

He had seen you approach him and simply asked “Going anywhere, miss ?”

Your tongue was braver than how you felt “Depends. Where are you heading with your wares, sir ?”

There was a slight tug at the corner of his mouth “Gramaire. And you ?”

You gave a nod, hoping to receive a sign that he would help you get there too.

The rider shared a knowing look “Hop in.”

With a grateful nod, you went to the carriage door, it was locked from the inside and after knocking, the door opened to reveal three Feys already present inside.

A Snake clan woman, a Tusk and Sky Folk man met your face.

After seating yourself next to the Tusk man, you closed and locked the carriage door again.

All three smiled at you warmly, everyone there was hoping for the same thing, to find safety.

There was quiet chitchat between you while the carriages traveled through the forest to Gramaire.

The woman told you that in the other carriages there were even more Feys, at least fifteen were accounted for between the three carriages.

The riders would stop in one more village tonight to see if there were more Feys who needed a ride, so the carriage you were in would probably not remain as ‘empty’.

The Sky Man asked about your family, you informed him that your mother had been Sky Folk and that neither of your parents had survived the Red Paladin’s invasion years ago.

He apologized for his questioning, you waved the apology away, he had not been the first to ask.

When the carriage halted, all four of you waited for other Feys to get into the carriage.

The windows were covered and you could not see outside, or see where you were.

You would never forget that moment of calmness before it was taken away so abruptly.

Shouting was heard coming from outside, the rider was answering to someone.

Then the carriage suddenly moved forward, the horses were spurred into gallop and you and the Tusk Man nearly fell from your seats.

The carriage stopped just as abruptly again mere seconds later.

It was then that the chaos started, the sound of panicking horses and a fight breaking out told that this carriage was no longer safe.

The Sky Man looked behind the window’s cover and saw other Fey running for their lives “It’s the paladins ! They killed the rider !”

That was all that need to be said for those in your carriage to open the door and try to flee as well.

Of course you got out, but the brutality around you was causing a panic all around.

Left and right, your people were being captured and killed.

With no idea on where to run or what to do, you got low and crawled under the carriage to hide and await a better moment to escape.

Some were able to flee into the woods, others perished at the hands of the paladins.

The sound of steel cutting through skin was one you hated to hear.

Close to your left, a Moon Wing laid on the grass, gasping for air.

A slow death, until…

A sword was sunk into the Moon Wing’s chest, ending their suffering, then removed again.

A pair of boots walked by and you pressed your mouth shut, barely daring to breath.

A paladin approached “Some fled into the woods, Brother.”

The man wearing the boots commanded “Find them.”

The paladin rushed off with some of the other red bastards to hunt down those who had fled.

The boots walked past the carriage you were under and towards the other carriages. Only when they reached the furthest carriage did you see who owned them.

The Weeping Monk was commanding the paladins.

Oh no…

You had to get out of there before the bastard found you.

A quick glance around the place and you saw a horse nearby.

If they found you, you would meet a gruesome end.

If you escaped… if there was still a chance to survive…you had to take it.

You quietly crawled to the other side, got from under there and hid behind the carriage.

After risking a look or two past the carriage, you scrambled together all your courage and darted for the horse.

Before reaching it, you nearly tripped over the remains of the Sky Man you had been talking to just minutes ago.

The shouting of paladins alerted you that they had spotted you. Without looking in their direction, you mounted the horse.

When you rode off, a paladin took aim with a bow and you feared being struck by the arrow.

The Monk pushed against the bow right when the arrow was let loose “Hold!”

It could have killed Goliath. He watched the arrow scrape the horse’s hind leg.

This could not be happening, a Fey girl had just stolen his own horse!

   You did not stop and galloped through the woods as fast as the horse could go.

And fast the black steed was.

An hour had past before the horse showed signs of being tired, you continued in a walking pace for a while before finally dismounting.

Only then did you notice the blood on the horse’s hind leg. It immediately caused a feeling of guilt in you, the poor animal had been wounded.

After tying his reins to a tree, you searched around the place for the basic herbs needed to treat the wound.

Luckily you found them and put them on a large fallen leaf you had found.

Then you tore off your sleeves to make a bandage to bind the mixture of herbs to the wound.

You also found a collection of weapons on the saddle. An axe, a knife, a dagger or two. There was even rope to be found.

It was amazing how calm the horse was. Could it sense that you meant no harm ?

After an hour of treating the wound, you let the horse rest and walked beside him instead.

You walked for hours, unwilling to stop before the sun was down out of fear that the paladins might find you again.

Needless to say, by the time night fell, you were exhausted.

A single flask of water was found in the saddle bag of the horse, which you took and filled at a river you took camp next to.

The horse drank from the river for quite some time, he must have been quite thirsty after all that effort.

You petted the steed’s neck, even finding yourself talking to him “It’s going to be alright. I promise. I’m sorry your leg hurts, I’ll help you get better, I swear it.”

Often he looked back at you as if you were somewhat familiar to him.

For the first time since long, a genuine warm smile grew “How did you end up with those red drapes, hm ? Did they steal you ? I bet they did.”

As you spoke to the horse, you did not realize it’s original rider was close enough to hear.

From the shadows of the trees behind you, a figure emerged “I bought him. Unlike you.”

Turning on your heels, the darkness of night cloaked the man who spoke.

Still, the outline of his form was enough to determine who had found you now.

There was an attempt to mount the horse again, it failed miserably when he grabbed and made you fall on your back to the ground.

The lack of light made this so much more frightening, you doubted even he could see much.

A kick was aimed at his leg by you, in return he grabbed your arm and roughly pulled you from the ground.

Your forehead collided hard with his chin, punishing him for it.

Still he refused to let go, his grasp faltering only a bit, but not enough to break free.

And you refused to be killed without a fight.

A punch was the next thing you gave, he responded by slamming your back against an oak tree, pinning you to it by the throat.

At the sound of steel being drawn, your will to fight almost left you.

And then…nothing.

The Monk had halted his fight, but you could sense that the sword was near your stomach.

The light of the moon was on the oak tree and made your face visible to his eyes.

Those markings… it could not be.

A cloud moved out of the moon’s way and for the first time in your life, you saw the face of the Grey Monk.

After all this time, you finally understood why so many had questions about your family.

The memories of your father were slowly fading, but you could never forget the markings of the Ash Folk he had carried beneath his eyes.

And now you were faced with the Weeping Monk who had them too.

It could not be…

Your markings were far less noticeable and lighter of color than his own, but they were there.

He had never seen another like him, not as far as he could still remember.

He stared at you as much as you stared at him.

It had always been believed that the Ash Folk were extinct, and now here you were.

You couldn’t hide your shock “Your eyes…”

The recognition was unmistakable, you knew he was of Fey descent.

By the moonlight’s help, he discovered not just your Fey markings but also that your sleeves had been torn from your attire.

One look at Goliath explained where they were now.

There was no point in running, if he was indeed like your father a full blooded Ash Man, he would be able to track you down just by your scent.

Father would want to know of your existence.

Even he himself was curious whether a woman of the Ash Folk had the same abilities as him. Father had not been happy with his failure to capture the Wolf Blood Witch, this would certainly please him.

The Monk had his sights on your markings “What are you ?”

When you didn’t answer he brought the sword to your throat, only than did you speak “I am Sky Folk, you rotten bastard !”

There was an arrogant arch of his brow aimed at that answer “What else ?”

You spat in his face in return “Not a traitor like you !”

There was so much fight burning in you.

He did not flinch when the saliva drops hit his face “But you are a thief.”

You were pulled away from the tree, sword still resting against your throat when he led you to the horse.

His horse.

Instead of killing you, he bound your hands with the rope that had been hanging from the saddle.

When that was done, he inspected the bandaged hind leg of the horse “Did you do this ?”

The answer was sharp “Do you see anyone else here ?”

For someone bound by rope and at his mercy, you were behaving quiet brave.

The Monk send you a look, pulling you back to his side when still feeling you try to get away “Answer my question.”

A jab in his side with your elbow followed and he wrapped his hand around your throat again.

He repeated the question while also gesturing to the black steed “Did you do this ?”

Your nails dug into his wrist “Yes !”

Finally he let go off your throat and proceeded to drag you along to fetch the horse he had used to find you.

He bound the reins of the white horse to the black one. Then tied the other end of your rope to the saddle of his horse.

Wait… was he going to let you walk after him ?!? Why wasn’t he killing you ?

He must have seen the angry glare you were sending him, because he proposed an agreement “I am taking you with me. Either you come willingly, or I will pull you along while you walk. What shall it be ?”

A loud scoff was what his absurd question earned him “Willingly ?!?”

He took that as a ‘no’ and went to mount Goliath.

After walking the whole damned day already, your feet were hurting and now this monk was going to pull you along while he rode the horse.

Fantastic, this day could not get worse.

You were far too stubborn to ask and just tried to hide your pouting at the prospect of having to walk who-knows-where again.

He rode for a short distance, leaving you to follow or be dragged along by the rope, before suddenly stopping again.

You swore you’d heard him sigh, like he was the one who had a reason to be annoyed.

There was a tug at the rope and soon you found yourself being reeled in towards him.

When he looked down upon your face, the Monk received the unyielding glare reserved only for him.

He looked up ahead, eyes on the trees, it sounded like it took some effort “I will ride for the rest of the night. Unless you decide to cooperate.”

Your stubbornness persisted “Or you could just kill me and drag my corpse along. I think it would be faster, I might not be rotting by the time you arrive at your destination.”

The bluntness of that statement made him look at you again.

His mouth opened and then closed in a thin line again.

This time he did not look away from you “Father will want to see you alive.”

That power hungry red priest ? What would he want with you “Why ?”

He refused to answer your question “I am offering one more chance for you to come willingly. Choose wisely.”

A silence fell between you.

You gravely disliked having to yield to him, but you also disliked how tired your legs were “Are you going to drape me over your horse like a sack if I say yes ?”

The tug at his mouth was hidden when he looked away “If you prefer.”

That didn’t sound appealing in the slightest and you stubbornly stood your ground.

Then you felt him tug at the rope again, pulling it up and with that your bound hands as well.

The Monk took hold of one your wrists “Come on. Up.”

The moment you did get on the horse and were seated in front of him, a dagger was drawn and held close to your side.

A warning was given by him while leaning in “Try to escape, and I will hurt you.”

You dared to glare back, biting the insult at him “Bastard.”

He leaned back again, expression unreadable.

Without warning he spurred the horse into gallop and so began the journey to Father Carden.

  ooOOOooOOOoooOOOoo

  All those rotten paladins, who were still awake, were gawking in your direction when the Monk arrived with you in their camp.

He dismounted first, then surprisingly helped you get off of the horse too.

Your attention went to his hands and how they restlessly fumbled with the rope he was leading you along with.

Upon arriving at a large tent, the Monk walked in.

There you were faced with the priest who was causing so much suffering across the lands.

Father Carden had been speaking with some older paladins, his focus went to the Monk before it went to you “What is this ?”

The Monk took you by the arm and moved you forward.

All those years ago, Father must have seen enough markings of the Ash Folk clan to see the resemblance with yours.

Father Carden dismissed the paladins “Leave us.”

They hurried passed you out of the tent and the priest approached while staring at you.

There was joy on his face “Where did you find this girl, my son.”

The Monk left out some parts of it “In one of the carriages that were smuggling Fey.”

“Is she what I think she is ?”

“Yes, Father.”

“Are you sure ?”

“Yes, Father. She is of the Ash Folk.”

You were left very confused as to why this seemed to make the priest happy.

But the priest had good reason to be pleased with your existence. Years ago he had chosen only one child of the Ash Folk and regretted not choosing another.

His Weeping Monk had become his sword of light, if he had known this in the past he surely would have left more children of the Ash Folk alive to raise for serving the Church’s mission.

Father Carden saw a rare opportunity, his Weeping Monk and a girl, perhaps it was not too late to rectify the lack of Ash Folk offspring to serve the Church.

The priest went over to the Monk and placed his hands on the Monk’s shoulders “You have done well, My son.”

He had not seen Father look so pleased in weeks.

Still, he did not know what would be expected now “What must be done with her, Father.”

Father Carden was already planning everything in his mind “She will be brought to the monastery where she will be kept under watch. There they will make sure that our newest hope does not flee.”

You didn’t know what to think and questioned out loud “What do you mean with ‘hope’ ?”

The priest smiled wickedly “We have many plans for you, girl.”

It had sounded so patronizing “Girl ? I have a name !”

Hearing you snap at him wiped that stupid grimace from his face.

He looked at the Monk expectantly, who had no idea what your name was either.

He had not asked, it was not common to ask for the names of those he captured or killed, it would make matters more personal than needed be.

Father Carden did not show genuine interest “Who are you then ?”

You arched a brow, a smug smirk plastered on your face.

It was only when the Monk gave a warning nudge to your arm that you told them what your name was “It’s y/n. Now tell me why I am being held captive !”

The defiance was met with a threat by the priest “You will understand soon. You would do well to do what is asked off you, it could become very unpleasant for you otherwise.”

Red Paladins were called into the tent again and the Monk was told to hand you over to them.

Why was it giving him the feeling that something about all of this was wrong ?

What was Father not telling him ?

The command was given by the priest “Take her away. She will travel to the monastery early tomorrow.”

They weren’t gentle when they pulled you out of the tent, the last thing you saw of the Monk were those weeping eyes that carried a hint of remorse that you believed to be only in your imagination.

He turned to Father after you were removed from the tent “Why is the girl being brought to the monastery, Father ?”

Hope… that was what Father had called you.

But why ?

He knew Father had always wanted to know whether other Ash Folk still existed or not, but why was he so pleased about it ? Was the cleansing of all Fey clans not the ultimate goal ?

He had believed Father would interrogate you further at least, perhaps he would have learned more of his heritage as well.

But that did not seem to be Father’s plan for you.

Father knew his monk would have question “We have important matters to discuss, my son.”

   oooOOoOOOoOoooOOo

  You had tried to escape countless times, but Father Carden had made certain that fleeing was impossible.

The door of the room was constantly guarded outside, the window was nailed shut from the outside too. The only light in the bland room was those of candles placed around the place.

For the tenth day after being brought to their musty monastery, you sat on the floor next to the bed and played with the fire of one of the candles.

Many years ago you had done the same with green flames, Fey Fire.

After the slaughter of your clan, the Fey Fire had vanished alongside it, like one could not existed without the other. Tales spoke of one remaining green flame, but no one knew where to find it.

It would burn as long as there is hope.

If it truly was just a rumor, than hope was long lost for the Fey.

But that did not mean that they would not continue their fight until the bitter end.

If the Church wanted to control these lands, they would have to bring everything to the war they had started.

Perhaps that one flame would fade when the last of the Ash Folk did too.

You let the candle fire lick your fingertips, feeling only a tingling sensation as the flame turned into tiny ashes before it could even touch your skin.

Fire had no power over your clan, you turned the flames into ashes.

The place was boring and you still did not understand what they wanted with you.

Every morning you were brought a bucket of water to clean yourself with and during the day you received meals.

It was odd.

Why did they bother keeping you alive ? Why were you important ?

The sound of the door unlocking no longer fazed you, your attention never left the flame.

Boots hit the wooden floorboards, only taking a few steps into the room before the door was closed again.

Little by little, you lifted your eyes from the flame and met those of the Monk “Are you finally here to kill me or are they waiting for me to be bored to death ?”

Ten days had past since he last saw you, ten full days and you had remained just as angry at him.

It was impressive.

It had taken him so long to collect the courage to come here. He had tried to avoid it, but Father would no longer listen to excuses.

He stepped closer, dropping his sights to the flame that always threatened but never burned your skin “You are too valuable to kill, y/n.”

Your attention left the flame and you rose from the ground “Valuable ? To whom ?”

The Monk stated the truth “To your clan.”

A bitter laugh escaped you “The Ash Folk are gone, Monk. We’re the only ones left.”

Again he took a step closer “And that is what makes you so valuable.”

You could just sense that he was dancing around the truth “Why the hell are you here ?”

He began with confidence “Father has decided…” and lost it when finishing the sentence “…that to ensure the continuation of the Ash Folk, we shall be wed.”

Did…

Did he just…

With a large step, you backed away from him “What did you just say ?!?”

This was as shocking and difficult to him as it was to you. He did not even know you.

But Father was demanding this and refusing would cost him everything he had fought for, including the respect of Father.

He need to do what was necessary and serve the Church.

The Monk tried to step closer again but you looked seconds away from trying to flee “We are a chance to prevent your clan from going extinct.”

For a moment you just felt rooted to the floor, this was why they were keeping you here…

You were so shocked to hear it that you didn’t fully register him getting closer again.

He actually took the risk and placed a hand tentatively on your shoulder.

You recoiled from the touch and pushed him away roughly, then bolted for the door in the hope that it was unlocked.

It was not, the door did not budge.

For the first time since long, tears streamed down your face at the prospect of being forced to marry this monk.

You kept pulling at the door with all your strength, desperate to flee, screaming for those outside to let you out off there.

Suddenly two arms locked you in their hold, ending your attempts.

Of course you tried to break free of the Monk’s hold on you “Let go off me !!! LET GO !”

His grip did not loosen and it was terribly unexpected when he proceeded to hush you “Do not be afraid. I will not harm you.”

The jab you gave him in the side with your elbow made him groan in pain.

Was this the woman who was to be his wife ?

After struggling against him for more than a minute, you started to lose the energy.

He gave it another try to calm you down, voice close to your ear “You do not have to fight, not with me.”

How could he sound so calming to you ?

You were more than a little bitter “The vow of celibacy is forgotten quickly, it seems. The Church bends the rules when they do not fit their purpose. You’re just going to use me like a brood mare.”

He hated the description “That is what Father wishes. Not I.”

You were trying to piece together the truth about it all “What do you want then ?”

Again he risked to caress your shoulder “I cannot refuse to wed you. But I can promise not to share your bed, as long as you do not tell anyone, no one will know.”

You tried to convince him, calmer this time “Please, let go off me.”

This time he did, he even took a small step back to give you space.

Turning quickly, you faced him again “I don’t even know your name. All I know is that they call you the ‘Weeping Monk’. And that you are like me, my clan…”

It took a while for him to speak “A long time ago, my name was Lancelot. I was brought to Father, when I was a child. I was spared from the cleansing and in return I serve those who have granted me a chance to earn salvation.”

He had been stolen from your clan when he was a child ?

You weren’t going to make it sound like this was not a terrible thing “They stole you from our people. And now they are doing the same with me.” there was a bitter scoff “Are they going to twist my mind about the Fey too ?”

The Monk remained quiet and began to walk around the room a bit.

It was obvious that he was not very willing to speak of the matter. So you decided to ask him another question “Why does Father Carden want more Ash Folk ?”

He parroted the words Father had told him “Their abilities would help the Church’s mission.”

It came out sharp “Our children would be weapons, like you !”

It silenced him like a knife to the heart.

‘Like you’…

It was the cold hard truth.

All he prayed for was the chance to raise any children he might have with the love of a Father that he had not received himself.

This was his duty, the personal task Father had bestowed on him, there was no escaping it.

Not unless he lost everything in return.

But that did not mean that his children would be treated as he had been.

He leaned against the wall “You are the first Ash Folk I have seen since the cleansing that brought me to Father. A child of Sky and Ash…” carefully he breached the subject “If we were to indeed have children, we would no longer be the last of our kind. Is that not something you would want ?”

You gave a jab to his ego and confidence “You believe your seed is strong enough to ensure any children would be Ash Folk and not Sky Folk ?”

Right away, he averted his eyes.

Such manner of speaking was not something he was used to.

His voice was quieter “My parents were full blooded.”

Alright…if that was indeed the case then any children he produced would be born with the Ash Folk markings and abilities.

The blood of the Ash Folk ran stronger than any other clan.

With arms crossed over your chest, you spoke “If this wedding is unavoidable, so be it. But I won’t let you anywhere near my bed. Find someone else to carry your children.”

There was a shallow nod “Can I expect you to be discreet with this ? I cannot stop this union, but I can ignore to tell Father that a consummation will not take place. You will be safe and I will have nothing to answer for.”

An agreement that benefited both. You had your life and he would not be bothered by the Red Priest.

In time, if patient, a chance to flee would arise again.

Smugly you promised “You have my word. If anyone asks, I’ll tell them we are very eagerly trying to conceive.”

Again the Monk looked quite stunned by your brash way of speaking.

He cleared his throat and headed for the door “The ceremony takes place tomorrow evening. I shall be here again.”

You saw him look at you as if he expected a goodbye, instead you turned around and ignored him.

The door quietly closed and you heard it be locked again.

Tomorrow everything would change, but if you played along, things could be turned to your advantage.

   oOOoOOOoOooOOooOOo

   The hasty wedding ceremony could not be called ‘romantic’ at all. You were made to wear a dress that was too long and dragged over the floor. Gods, you missed your comfortable trousers fit for running when needed. There was the usual vows that they just forced you to repeat after them.

Then, when they required the ceremony to be sealed with a kiss, the two paladins holding you by the arms shoved you right in front of the Monk.

Your neutral expression changed and became one of anxiousness.

And when you finally looked at his face, you saw the same.

This had to be done…

The wait felt long, the Monk appeared far more anxious about this than you.

It made you feel pity for him, it was starting to become clear that he was forced into this too.

He was the Weeping Monk, but he was also Fey and one of the last two of your clan…

Perhaps there could be a way to bond with him over this whole ordeal.

He was still hesitating to seal the ceremony and you asked the paladins, politely for once, to let go off your arms.

Of course they refused, but the Monk gave it a moment of thought and then commanded them to let go.

For the first time in days you were not being restraint by paladins or a locked room.

And by The Hidden, the pity you felt for the man in front of you was what stopped you from running.

When you took another step closer to him, the paladins got ready to grab you again, which he prevented with one simple look.

You placed your hands on the Monk’s shoulders, pulling at them somewhat to steer him.

It was meant to be a quick peck to seal the ordeal, but when your lips touched his…

What was it that made him give in to it ?…

Was it when your breath warmed his lips ?

Or when you held on to his shoulders more ?

He only came back to his senses when he could feel his markings threaten to respond to the kiss that he did not expect to want.

With a hand on your elbow, he moved you backwards.

The seal was given.

Your gaze did not leave the floor again until the ceremony was completely over.

Again the paladins took hold of you and made certain you would not run.

Father Carden showed himself only to speak to the Monk, briefly telling him again what was expected of him no doubt.

The talking paladins around you made it impossible to overhear them, all you saw was that the Monk avoided looking at the priest.

Shame… there was shame.

You were walked back to the room you had spend days in already, only when almost at the room did the Monk catch up with the paladins escorting you.

At the sight of him and his signal, they handed you over to him.

With a nod from the Monk, they opened the door for you and he let you walk into the room first.

Only when the door was shut behind you again did he let go off your arm.

Creating a distance between you and him was the first thing you did.

There was a reason why he was with you in the room now.

You confronted him “He expects you to bed me. Doesn’t he ?”

It was what Father had indeed told him to do.

The Monk sounded honest “He does. I do not.”

You moved one of the candles in the room “If I tell you to leave. They’ll know nothing happened or think that you are just…quick.”

For the first time, there was a scoff that sounded like a chuckle “It would be best for both of us if we act the part. Allow me to stay for a while ?”

With a gesture around you, you told him “Make yourself at home, oh wait… this is your home, is it not ?”

Again he ignored the sarcasm.

You sat down on your bed, barely hiding the pout “I’d always thought that my wedding would be something very different.”

He shared that opinion “What would it have been like, if you could have chosen ?”

With a shrug of the shoulders, you admitted “I don’t know… I had hoped it would be romantic at least. Not this.”

Romantic ? It was a fair expectation to have.

The Monk picked a candle up from the floor, the one you had been playing with yesterday.

He stopped in front of you, then with caution, took place next to you.

You didn’t move away and he turned a bit to face you.

The candle was held out for you, the flame offered.

The Monk shared a look with you and you brought your fingertips to the flame while he held the candle still.

The small ashes, that were born from the flame touching your skin, twirled down unto his hand.

It fascinated him to see another, an Ash Woman, play with the flame.

His expression had softened, tone lighter “The Ash Folk and fire, one could never separate them.”

You pulled your hand back abruptly, this was giving you the feeling that he was trying to gain your favor “Unlike you, I don’t use it to burn the world to the ground.

He rose to his feet and placed the candle on the bedside table.

It had hit a nerve in him, the bitter response fell “I never would have chosen someone like you as a wife.”

With equal disdain, you stood up and threw the words in his face “You can’t handle a woman like me, you arrogant bastard !”

You found yourself pulled against his chest, grabbed by the throat and kissed like he intended to prove you wrong.

He never would have chosen someone like you, but now that he had a fiery wife who was not afraid to speak her mind…

It was exciting and so different than he was used to.

You felt drawn into the kiss, drawn to this arrogant bastard who continued to get on your nerves.

As a last attempt to spare yourself from the trouble it could bring, you broke free and slapped him across the face.

For a second his attention was fixed on the ground, then slowly it rose to your face again.

Even after that slap, you could detect a certain look in his eyes that you undoubtedly had in yours too.

Expectation…

Who were you trying to fool ?

You were back against him not a blink of an eye later, hands grasping at his shoulders and neck to hold him close.

Never before had you kissed someone with such demand, it was his fault you were here and you wished for something in return.

The blood of the Ash Folk ran through both of you, you had not expected someone like him to still grow and have the characteristics of them.

Arrogant, clever, stubborn and…passionate.

That heightened sense of smell was known to have lead many Ash Men to their significant other.

‘They’re hard to resist’ is what your mother had told you about meeting your father. Gods, she had been right.

When you began to try and undress him, it startled him greatly.

You boldly took his hands and gave him a clear signal that he could do the same with you.

Only when you kissed him again and pleadingly called him by his name did he start to do so.

Not much later you ended up back on the bed with him hovering above you.

Your wedding had been boring, your wedding night would not be.

  oOoOoOOOooOoOoOoOOOoOoo

  By morning you were awake and dressed in your own attire again. In the heat of the moment, this Ash Man had confessed to be inexperienced, something you had barely noticed.

You stood beside the bed, he was still vast asleep. For a moment you knelt down and placed a hand over his.

He had been tender and caring, it had been mixed with a burning passion that left you a moaning mess in his hands.

It was lovely.

If only the circumstances had been different…

You rose to your feet and took the sword from the ground that had been hastily taken off and tossed aside the night before.

After a look over your shoulder at him, you walked back over to your sleeping spouse and placed a soft kiss to his temple.

You would miss those eyes…

  ooOOooOoOooOoOoOOo

  When Lancelot woke up that morning, he woke up to the fading of your scent.

His sword was gone and the two paladins guarding the door had been killed, it was not hard to understand what had happened.

Of course he was disappointed, had last night meant nothing to you ?

He refused to believe that it had all been part of a plan of yours to be able to flee.

The way you had embraced him, kissed him and moaned his name into his mouth…

And he was alive, it would have been easy for you to kill him if you had wanted to do so.

A paladin approached him the moment he set foot outside the monastery, he barely dared to look at him “Brother…your horse is gone.”

Why did it not surprise him ?

The paladin was dismissed and looked rather relieved by it.

He could not be angry, not after last night.

Maybe he was even a little impressed by your will to fight and reclaim your freedom.

Father had heard the news and came to speak to him “The girl has fled.”

Those weeping eyes were fixed on the grass “She did so while I still slept. Forgive me, Father.”

Father did not look pleased in the slightest “Did you at least fulfill your task with her ?”

He felt his cheeks burn when understanding what was asked “Yes, Father.”

Though, he had not done it to fulfill a task.

But now there was a chance that you were with child, his child, and he might never see you again.

Father was not as disappointed, there was still hope “We’ll find the girl.”

The Monk risked asking “Let me search for her, Father.”

The priest agreed “Very well. Find her and bring her back. She belongs to the Church now.”

After he gave a respectful inclination of the head, Father walked away from him.

He had lost and gained so much in a single evening and night.

He went to bed with his wife and woke up without her, without his sword and without his horse.

An actual chuckle left him, at least you would keep him entertained.

It made him all the more eager to pursue the girl who became his wife and who had stolen not just his horse and sword but also a piece of his heart.

Taglist:

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

[salliesimpkins]

“I like you a lot”

Isaac lahey x fem!Reader

TW: Smut, oral (fem receiving), use of pet names, claws, nipple play

+16 read at your own risk. I’m not your mommy A/N: first smut to write + english isn’t my first lang word count: 2.5K

You were at school, leaning against your locker. smiling at and laughing with Stiles, until you caught Isaac glaring at you across the hall, visibly upset.

"alright Stiles I've got to go now, I'll see ya" you walked away after Stiles nodded and walked to Scott, and you made your way to Isaac.

"hey" you flashed him a smile and he blushed. How could he not? he thought you were the most beautiful thing ever.

The beta glanced over Stiles before turning back to you. "hey.." he spoke softly.

"Just tired... I uhh, I’ve got a lot on my mind lately" he said slowly and softly, not wanting to ruin this moment between you two.

You nodded slowly, feeling bad for him. "well you know, you can always talk to me" you said softly, reassuring him that he's got someone by his side.

You watched him closely as he looked at you quietly, and you didn't want to rush him to speak, you knew how sensitive Isaac is. It made him feel pathetic when he opened up to anyone or asked for help, that's what his dad has taught him. That a man is a man, boys don't cry, but Isaac knew you, he loved you, trusted you, and he knew your listen and get him anytime.

"I've just been going back.. thinking about my family" He looked down as his expression softened.

"oh" you whispered softly and placed your hand on the boy's back, rubbing it gently. "I know you've suffered from your dad your whole life, but his death Isn’t your fault".

Isaac flinched, but he didn't move away from you. Even though your gesture was tiny, it felt huge to him, It made him on top of the world. He let out a soft sigh and ran his fingers through his hair. "I know... I just-" he paused, unsure if he can keep going or not, but he really counted on you, so he kept going. "I didn't even cry at the funeral and everyone thinks I don't care, that I was wishing the whole time i'd get rid of him, and the problem is.. it's true. I was relieved that he's dead"

"Honey listen to me" you took a step closer, placing both your hands on his shoulder. "your dad used to lock you in a freezer. that night.. that night he hurt you and you ran like any other night, because you didn't know what he would die" you then place your hand on isaac's cheek, caressing it softly "you were just scared, you did nothing wrong"

Isaac paused for a moment and leaned into your touched as he shivered. The relief he felt when his father died was a burden to him, but he knew you were saying the truth so he bit his lip thoughtfully. He wanted to say that your hand felt to right on his skin, but he didn't and rubbed his face with his hand then looked at you hesitantly as he spoke. "I- Iwas scared" his voice trembled as he stammered softly, making you unsure if he meant you to hear him. he slowly smiled at you softly and leaned into your touch again, causing his breath to hitch.

you sighed softly as you try to build up some courage and confidence to ask him to go out with you, but you were too scared that he'd turn you down so you just looked quietly at the ground until you heard a familiar 5 taps on the locker next to you and looked to the direction to see lydia. She must have noticed your flustered face because she tilted her head at Isaac and winked at you. You two have been talking about it and she was eager for you to confess to him, and apparently she was so sure Isaac wouldn't let you down for a reason she wouldn't tell.

you snapped out of my trance as Isaac cleared his throat and looked at the same direction you were just looking at, except there was nobody there.

"sorry about that. I was just wondering if you would want to go home with me? I mean-" You paused and took a deep breath. "why don't you come over and we can just.. relax?" you asked nervously as he just looked at you quietly. "Scott's sneaking out with Allison again and our mom won't be home until ten.. so I was thinking if you'd want to just come over instead of staying alone or with Derek, he could be lame sometimes" I chuckle nervously and put on a fake confident grin.

Isaac stayed quiet for a moment or two, taking in your words, and he thought there was no way he could turn that down, the thought of you and him alone in the house with no distractions. He knew he wanted it but he wasn't sure if you did. if you were just doing him a favour because you felt bad, but he decided to push his paranoia to the side and smiled at you softly with a blush on his cheek, nodding. "I'd like that, if you're okay with it"

"ahh perfect! we are gonna have so much fun! we can watch the notebook too if you want to, or maybe cook or play or just" you pause for a second or two, not wanting to creep Isaac out with your sudden excitement. "we could just.. chill you know?" You looked up at him with a smile.

The two of you walked to your house, as Stiles has already left with his jeep, and while you were walking you felt Isaac's hand brush against yours until he took it in, intertwining your fingers together. you could feel how his hand shakes softly and you knew his stomach was probably flipping, he was a nervous wreck.

You held his hand confidently the way home until you reached it and opened the front door for the two of you. After walking in, you turned to Isaac and smiles. "do you wanna stay in the living room, or go to my room? or we can even cook something!" you asked excitedly.

"Your room...?" He asked hesitantly. Your room was usually off limits, that's where you go to relax on your own, away from the pack. He couldn't deny how much he wanted to be there with you. But part of him knows it won't end at just being in your room. Not that he had a problem but that he was worried from Scott's reaction if he knew Isaac was in his sister's room alone in the house. Scott and Isaac were best friends and Isaac didn't want to risk it, but he still loved you.

you saw the look on isaac's face as he started to look overwhelmed, and more anxious than he was, so you decided to cool it down. "I mean it's okay but if you don't want to that's fine. we can sit in the living room" you shrugged, leaving the decision for him to make as you looked at his eyes.

Isaac nodded slowly, looking at your lips then your eyes. "your room" he said softly and carelessly. He wanted to be with you alone. he didn't care what scott would think, he didn't care what the whole pack would think, he only cared about you and being with you, he wanted you.

you smiled and tilted your head for him to follow you. you walked past Scott's room until you reached your room then you walked to the bed, After taking off your shoes, sitting on the bed, then patting on the space next to you for Isaac to sit on.

Isaac followed you to your room, closing his door behind him. His heart skipped a beat when you asked him to sit next to you and the only thing he could think of is how nervous he is. he looked at you and he thought you look so vulnerable, sitting alone waiting for him to join you, so he took a few steps, trying to regulate his breath before sitting next to you. He was so close and nervous, slowly turning his neck to look at you.

"so.. what would you like to do?" you asked softly, trying to make sure he's not uncomfortable.

Isaac looked at you and for the first time he has walked in the room, he didn't know what to say. A part of him wanted to kiss you and see what happened but he didn't want to make you pressured, and he didn't want to risk kissing Scott's sister, he was the leader of the pack, so he let the silence between you linger before he decided to break the ice.

"can I be honest with you?" he stressed.

"of course, I won't judge" i nodded in reassurance

Isaac struggles to speak so he leans closer to you. He just wants you to understand him, he needs you to know how he feels, what he's been thinking of, but it's hard for someone like him, someone whom emotions always were rejected. He took a deep breath and leaned closer as his eyes fluttered between your lips and eyes then he opened his mouth to speak but he failed so he looked one more time at you before smashing his lips on yours as he moved one hand on the back of your neck as the other ran over your back to your hips, pulling your whole body into his lap while you froze in shock before pulling him closer, cupping his cheeks while you kissed him back with the same amounts of passion.

After a few moments he pulls away, and looks at you in shock, he had expected everything other than you kissing him back.

"I'm sorry. I probably shouldn't have kissed you and if scott finds out he's gonna kill me and-" you cut him off pulling him in another kiss, slowly pushing him to lay down as you move on top of him.

"Scott doesn't have to know" you whispered pulling him in a deeper kiss that made him forget everything.

he was in a daze as he pulled away from you. "you look so beautiful when you kiss me like that" he said softly with a soft smirk that caused you to blush.

He smiled softly as he gently ran his fingers thorough your hair. "you're so beautiful you know? it's just so hard to focus on anything else when we are like that, when you're with me. We can take this as slow as you want"

you pulled him for a kiss in response, breaking it as you smiling against lips, and he moaned softly, slipping his hands under your shirt, caressing your soft skin.

"i want this. you. Right here, right now, But I also don't want to hurt you so tell me what you want, darling." he whisper in your ear as his breath hit your neck, causing you to shiver.

"i want you, please" you whined and pulled him into another kiss as your tongue begged for entrance in his mouth. he let out a soft involuntary moan, as his caresses on your back got faster. His tongue danced with your and he began to grind on you, making you feel the hard bulge in his jeans that rubbed your throbbing pussy, until you pulled away from the kiss breathlessly, pushing him up by his chest, reaching to his shirt, playing with a soft fabric slowly. He sat up on his knees in front of you between your legs, taking off his shirt. You looked up at him, slowly placing the balm of your hand on his chest, tracing your finger over it to his stomach. He let out a low groan while he watched you trace your fingers over his chest, his muscles tensed under your touch.

"you're killing me honey" He whispered, moving closer to you as he kissed your neck slowly, then he sat up again as his hands found their way between your legs. Should undo your bra, or maybe start with these pants?" he teased, and sprung his claws out, moving them swiftly above you, tearing off your clothes.

"i loved that set" you pouted and he smirked

"i'll get you new ones" he pulled your clothes off your body, tossing them away on the floor with his shirt.

He smirked when he saw the blush on your face when you looked away, leaning down to your neck. "don't be shy baby" he whispered, before tracing kissed down your collarbone.

you moaned softly, moving your hands to caress his back softly and he let out a sigh against your skin. His hands found your thighs as he rubbed them slowly, kissing lower and lower. His kisses and nibbles reached your chest, taking a nipple in his mouth, swirling and sucking around it while he groped the other one with his hand, pinching the other nipple between his thumb and forefinger teasingly.

"I love you, so much" He showered your stomach with smooches and pecks, until his mouth found your slit, running his tongue through your wetness, humming in satisfaction. "so wet baby" he flicked your clit with his tongue as you struggled to answer him back, running your fingers through his hair as you pulled them gently. He took one of his hand, wrapping it around my waist to keep me down while he slid a finger in you with the other, slowly and gently, causing you to moan softly.

he sucked your clit harder making you pull his hair tightly, causing him to moan which vibrates against your pussy as his fingers go faster, feeling you clench around them, sucking them in. "Fuck Isaac" you whined. "i'm so close" you whispered, wondering if he even heard you, then he confirmed as he added a finger in, moving his fingers in a scissoring motion, stretching you out as you pull his hair tighter. "Isaac!" you warned, and he understood as you reached your climax, coating his fingers with your cum while he kept his gaze on you then he pulled them out, lapping at your pussy hungrily, taking in your juices.

"you're so sweet baby" he moved up to kiss you as you taste your own arousal. He pulled away from the kiss and you bit your lip, panting for air and you moved your hand to his head, pulling him back down to kiss you, you couldn't get enough of him.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚

hope you guys liked this 🎀

[the-greatadventures]

Cuddling with the Weeping Monk would include:

Your parents had given you to father Carden when you were a little girl

You trained under father Carden to become a healer, and accompanied him when he found Lancelot

You healed Lancelot when he got hurt training and started talking to him

You guys were inseparable from each other, where ever there was one of you, the other was sure to be either watching or nearby

Eventually, you guys confessed your feelings for each other, and you were even more inseparable

You accompanied him on his journey across Britannia slaughtering the fey

It would normally be after a long day of travelling

You would stop for the night, he would go and find some wood for the fire, and you would set up the camp for the night

He would build the fire, and then check you over for any injuries you may have sustained from fighting the fey that day

If you had any, he would always be careful and slowly clean off the blood, before patching them up

Once your injuries had been seen to he would sit down and open his arms to you

You would kneel down in front of him and check him for any injuries

If there were no injuries, you would lie down with your cheek against his chest, listening to his heartbeat

And he would wrap his arms around you with his cloak covering most of your body apart from your head

He would always whisper things into your ear to get you to go to sleep, normally about how much he loved you

He would also whisper about what he would do if you guys ever got away from the church as well as father Carden

About how you and him would own a farm near a lake, be married and have three kids, preferably two boys and a girl

You would normally wake up with him packing up your camp and his cloak wrapped around you

This would happen every day that you were on the road, and even though he never showed it, Lancelot loved it

He loved you falling asleep in his arms, he loved having his arms wrapped around you, and above all, he loved the way that you would almost always smile in your sleep

Cause when you were at the Abbey, father Carden made sure to have your room on the other side of the Abbey to Lancelot's, so it was hard for you two to fall asleep in each other’s arms

《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》

Taglist:

@dashkana @coco25 @padfootsworld @cece-lives-here @books-netflix-and-pizza @withered-poppies @rogershoe @of-all-things-crazy11 @princessmarsofearth @psychichologramgalaxy @afuckingdisasterreally @spoooyxxqueen @linkpk88 @fandomstuffff @chennyetomlinson

[rainyv-skies]

Dear friend; The Weeping Monk / Reader , Isaac Lahey / Reader

Fandom: Teen Wolf/ Cursed

Story summary: reader is a universe traveler who can enter through different alternate worlds. She meets and bonds with Isaac Lahey in the Teen Wolf universe and recalls her times and dear friend in the Medieval fey world, set in the Cursed universe with The Weeping monk. She remembers her last memories together with the monk, but was it really her time with him? Isaac seems to resemble someone she knew long ago.

Notes: I stood up all night writing this, no exaggeration. If this is not decent , I apologize. This was a very spontaneous idea and I had not written and published something to the public in a longgg time. Anyways, this is sort a cross over au and reincarnation type of thing between The Weeping monk and Isaac Lahey, and a bit of a hint of soulmate au. I hope it makes at least a little sense lmao, I struggled whether the relationship between the reader and Lancelot should be platonic or romantic so I settled on putting it between the lines so the readers have different perspectives . Enjoy , hearts and feedback is very much appreciated

Word count: 5300 ish??

—————————

“He meant a lot to me ,” (Y/N) divulged, keeping her tone quiet while her hands ddled with one another. Sat side by side, Isaacs ears perked at the reveal. His head tilted towards her and his eyes studied her far expression. “He was... good company. The best company. My dear friend,” She all but solemnly disclosed and her hands had stopped fiddling, Isaac took notice. She recalled the times of her old companion with a heavy heart, having not spoken of the formal Weeping Monk in a while. It had been some time since her adventure in the world of Fey and Man, the fighting and survival still fresh in her memory. “He was dear to me. We never spoke of our relationship. We both understood that we meant a great deal to one another. He protected me, he made sure I was ok and he absolutely refused whenever I tried to do the same.” A small smile curled her lips and she huffed a chuckle as she shook her head. Isaacs eyes led astray from her, now casted down at their shoes.

He tried imagining this friend (Y/N) seemed to hold close to her heart. What was he like? Sure, from what (Y/N) told him he was protective and hated relying on (Y/N) . But what else? His heart tugged when the question was raised. “The git was always so difficult when it came to someone else looking out for him. I had to force him most of the time, but we grew very close. Very close. ” (Y/N) inhaled deeply and exhaled then pulled her knees up, propping her elbows on them. The air became sad, and Isaac could smell the sadness slowly seeping from her, but a small hint of...nostalgia. “It was a very different time then, Isaac. Very medieval, and magical. I suppose you wouldn’t feel so out of place there, huh.” Isaac looked back up at her , raising his eyebrows quizzically at the jest. (Y/N) looked over to him and met his eyes with a grin playing at her lips, a twinkle in her eyes. His own grin pulled at his lips in response. (Y/N)’s grin faltered slightly,his smile igniting a sense of familiarity in her brain, though she couldn’t place her finger on it.

He turned his head back forward and leaned his head against the wall, letting out a sigh.

“Ok, I turn into a full blown werewolf during a full moon. I get it.” he retorted and (Y/N) let out a chortle, brushing her train of thought away. She bumped his shoulder with his own and Isaac reciprocated the action. A silence hung in the atmosphere among the two and (Y/N) mind went back to thinking, discreetly taking a glance at his face while Isaac wondered about the mysterious friend of (Y/N). Isaac waited with a bated breath and he wondered if his curiosity was worth sating, but the question sitting at the tip of his tongue itched to be spoken. He didn’t want to intrude on deep history, especially one that seemed so emotionally sensitive to (Y/N). The tug in his heart didn't let up, almost like it was urging him to ask the question.

“What..” The question faltered on his lips in hesitation, (Y/N) looked away in time but glanced at him and hummed in acknowledgment. Isaac gathered his question, his mouth opening to ask once again. “You never mentioned his name. What..what was his name?” Isaac asked softly, looking over to the girl whose head was still turned forward. Initially , he thought he shouldn’t have asked in the first place because the far away look took over Y/N)’s eyes. He gulped.

“Sorry, you don’t have to answer that. I shouldn't have,” Isaac stammered and (Y/N) shook her head. “No,” (Y/N) said softly, although her eyes still held the same expression. “It's ok.” She reassured him. It was a long time since she had spoken his name, and recalled the time when she and Lancelot were riding on Goliath - his horse and another friend of (Y/N)’s - through the forest. At that time, they had not known much of each other, but a small friendship had unknowingly begun to start.

—

Green trees and lush grass filled (Y/N)’s hazy view as she slowly came to after dozing off. Her body rocked as Goliath trotted through the forest, birds chirped and the buzzing of flies surrounded her. She blinked and lifted her head, taking in her surroundings. She noticed the reins were loosely held on from a pair of hands, of which were also circled loosely around her waist.

“Good nap, girl?” The monk's deep and raspy voice quipped from behind her, startling (Y/N) slightly.

(Y/N) grumbled in annoyance and rolled her eyes, although embarrassed of dozing off. She hoped she hadn’t almost fallen off the horse during her short nap, the monk probably would have had to make sure she didn’t. Although, she secretly knew he wouldn’t have minded letting her fall off.

“Shut it. Who wakes someone up before the sun even rises.” She shot at him, shuffling in her spot. God, her ass was numb. The monk smirked, amusement filling him.

“Did you know you snore in your sleep?” The monk took everything in him not to chuckle at (Y/N)’s stiffened posture, his eyes set on the path ahead of them.

“I do not snore!” She growled and felt her ears heat up. She knew she snored in her sleep. Dear god, why had she fallen asleep?! The monk let out a small sarcastic hum with a smile on his lips.

(Y/N) let out an exasperated huff, her head falling forward slightly.

“Ok, so I snored in my sleep. What about it Monk ?” (Y/N) said sharply , rolling her eyes once again. The monk chuckled, deciding that he was amused enough from the interaction. All that was heard now was the annoying buzzing of the flies and Goliaths hoofs pounding on the ground beneath them, and the occasional bird. (Y/N) grew restless and the numbness had not disappeared from her ass. She shuffled once again, jostling the Monk's forearms in the act. The monk glanced at her but continued to let Goliath trot forward. (Y/N) huffed and shuffled again hoping to ease the painful ache that was now spreading to her thighs, the monk sighing as she did so.

“Stop moving.” The monk said and (Y/N) grunted.

“Can we take a break? My ass is numb.” She murmured the last part, trying to shift some feeling back into her bottom. The monk snorted, debating whether he should stop. The next stop wasn't going to be for another day and the sun was beginning to set, so he decided to just set up a fire and camp for the night. Goliath needed a break anyways. He pulled on the reins, bringing Goliath to a stop and setting his foot on the stirrup , swinging his leg and dismounting off of Goliath. (Y/N) let out a sigh of relief but came to a realization she’d have to get off as well. She looked down at the ground on both sides, obviously seeming unsure of how she should get off. She supposed she could just slide off of the beast of a horse, but the numbness had made her legs stiff. This was going to be a bit awkward. The monk took notice, his blue eyes gazing up at her with an eyebrow raised.

She glanced at him and back at the ground.

“Um..” She started and the monk could’ve snickered, but held off.

“Take your time, girl.” The monk smirked. (Y/N) ignored him, figuring out how she should go about it without falling on her ass in front of him. Frankly, she could’ve asked for help, but she knew the monk would see it as a satisfaction. So no. She wasn’t going to ask for help. Awkwardy, she scooted back on the seat and gripped onto the saddle, carefully bringing her leg to the same side the Monk was. She leaned on the saddle, preparing to slide off. Problem was, when she looked down there was no way she was going to jump off, not at how far the ground seemed to be. She was now leaning on the seat with her legs dangling on the side, gripping on for dear life. She grunted, her foot trying to find the stirrup in panic as her weight slowly started to pull her down. The monk had crossed his arms, watching silently in amusement as she struggled to find the stirrup.

“Do you need assistance?” He asked as she continued to struggle.

“No. I'm fine. Just..just,” (Y/N) trailed off as she had finally found the stirrup. She let out a small grunt and started to descend to the ground. The monk took a step towards her for if she were to fall, he would be able to catch her. Thankfully , she landed on the ground on both feet with a ‘hup’. She turned towards him with a triumphant smile. The monk looked at her and held his breath, trying to keep his composure intact. He nodded his head and cleared his throat, sidestepping from (Y/N) to adjust the saddle.

“We’ll set up camp. Stay for the night and start riding at dawn.” He grabbed the pack from the saddle and led Goliath towards the camping area he had spotted a little deeper into the forest. (Y/N) replied with an ‘ok’ and followed closely behind.

Shortly after, a fire was started and frogs croaked into the night. The sun had set and stars twinkled in the dark sky, (Y/N) was eating the packed bread and some rabbit meat the monk had hunted. He was quite skilled at hunting, she had to give him that. The monk leaned on a log opposite from (Y/N) across the fire, maintaining the steel sword he owned. The sword he used that claimed many fey lives. (Y/N) swallowed down her food and looked up at the weeping monk, studying the way his eyes focused on his sword, the cloth held in his hand gliding down across the steel. (Y/N) licked at her lips and cleared her throat. The monk glanced up at her but returned his gaze to his sword.

“Are you going to eat something?” (Y/N) asked, furrowing her eyebrows. The monk gave no immediate answer but continued to wipe his blade. (Y/N) waited for a reply, staring at him.

“No. You eat, and then sleep. I will keep watch.” The monk replied a moment after, putting his sword back into the sheath. (Y/N)’s frown deepened. “Keep watch? You need to sleep and eat. We’re traveling early.” (Y/N) shook her head in disagreement and set the food aside the cloth that laid in her lap. The monk looked up at her, his hood slightly concealing his face.

“Do not worry. It will be fine.” The monk replied, staring right at (Y/N). (Y/N) sighed. Of course he was going to be stubborn about it. Gathering the food in the cloth, she stood up. The monk watched her closely, his eyebrows pinching together slightly in question. His eyes continued to follow until she stood in front of him, now holding out the cloth of food. He glanced at the food and back up at her in confusion. (Y/N) raised her eyebrows and shook the food in her hand.

“Take it.” (Y/N) said, shaking her hand once again when the monk didn't react. The monk pulled a face at her and she rolled her eyes. She gave him a deadpanned look.

“I'm not offering, I’m commanding. I'm not gonna catch you if you faint on the horse from lack of sleep and food. Now, take it. Or else.” She threatened. In truth, she had no idea what she was gonna do. Shoving the food down his throat was not an option. He would probably throw her into the fire.

Much to (Y/N)’s surprise (and relief) the monk reluctantly grabbed the food from her hand and glanced at her. The whole time, he was silent, not expecting the kind action. It stirred something unfamiliar and warm in his chest at the action. He had never once in his life had someone be so kind to him, having spent most of his time massacring fey, he felt like he didn’t deserve such kindness at all.(Y/N) knew what kind of things he did, and still does for that matter. He set the food down and cleared his throat.

“Thank you.” he quietly said, setting his sights down on the ground. (Y/N) smiled in success.

“You're welcome, Monk.” She turned around and made her way back to her spot across from his. She sat down on the blanket and stared at the fire, letting the sound of crackling fire and frogs take over. She was comfortably sitting in the silence, the warmth of the fire giving her some contentment in the cold night. The monk looked at her over the fire and stared intently. The question still hung in his mind and for a while he wondered. For a good five minutes he wondered while (Y/N) sat in silence.

(Y/N) and he had been traveling together for a while, it was his responsibility that had fallen on him after Father commanded to ‘keep the odd woman under his watch’ after she had appeared seemingly from nowhere dressed in odd clothes for a woman, immensely confused and in shock. It was an odd relation, if he could call it that. But she had helped him in many ways. Stitching his wounds that he gained when protecting her and even that one incident when the lashes on his back had grown infected causing him to fall ill. (Y/N) watched over him during his fever. After the horrifying near death incident, (Y/N) had made it her mission she would take care of him when he took care of her. It felt wrong at first; her taking care of him. It often made it difficult to complete his missions, the bond was risky. Father would most certainly banish her from his life would he figure out that his most trusted warrior was becoming soft for a random woman, he was a monk. The Weeping Monk. But, he decided to keep it a secret. Deception was a sin and every day he feared for the girl. But never for himself. Though they often spited each other, she lightened the days and made them less dull, always finding a way to make him laugh every once in a while. He stuck around and made sure she was ok when she became confused again until she wasn’t. It was like clockwork, it became their nature. He cared for the girl. She meant a great deal to him. It was apparent she cared for him too. Their bond was completely natural. Maybe one day she would be his biggest regret, but he didn’t seem to think so cautiously about it anymore.

Suddenly, he spoke, causing (Y/N) to switch her gaze at him in surprise, most certainly caught of guard.

“Lancelot.” He said. And for a while (Y/N) was silent, still staring at him with a caught off guard expression. A moment later, (Y/N) responded.

“What.” (Y/N) finally said . The monk looked at the fire, avoiding the stare (Y/N) gave him, growing slightly nervous at the attention.

“Lancelot,” He repeated himself but firmly this time. He continued, adding more description to his words.

“ A long time ago, my name was Lancelot.” He said, crossing his cloak covered arms over his midsection. (Y/N)’s eyes widened slightly , stunned from the reveal. She slowly recovered from the shock and soaked in the new information.

She said his name in her head, testing it out. It was quite nice. Medieval, of course, but nice.

Huh. I like it. She thought.

“Lancelot.” She echoed, and the name felt foreign on her tongue. The newly learned name gave her a new perspective of the Monk, but it was growing on her already. The monk returned his gaze to her upon hearing his name, and it did sound strange - having not heard his own name being spoken from another person in a very long time, it would take time to adjust to hearing it once again. Now, to think of it, he didn’t mind hearing it from her. It felt like a breath of fresh air and a small weight was lifted from him. Who knew telling someone his true name would’ve given him some sort of relief in his damned life. Although, it unsettled him slightly. (Y/N)s eyes swiftly shifted over to him smirking. At this, his eyes narrowed at her, waiting for whatever would spill out of her mouth.

“Have you gone soft on me, Lancy?”

The monk let out an elongated sigh.

-

Shouts of men were heard from a far distance and the sound of multiple feet pounding on the ground pushed Lancelot further and further, stumbling in his path as he urged (Y/N) forward. They both rushed to find his horse, away from the paladin camp. His arm clutched at his side which bled and burned profusely, but the grip pulling at his sleeve kept him from passing out from pain and the concussion he had gained from the fight with the trinity guards. He barely made it out alive, had it not been for the distraction (Y/N) gave of which worked to his advantage.

“Come on, Lancelot! Keep going!” (Y/N) cried, her voice wavering as she tugged his arm. His chest fell up and down, heaving out breaths. His footing lost balance, tipping over an uneven muddy spot on the ground and fell down on one knee. His grip ripped from (Y/N) to catch himself before he fell completely on the wet ground. (Y/N) let out a small yelp and fell down on her knees, his fall taking her down with him. Bent over with his hand braced on the ground, he gasped from the pain and the utter exhaustion he felt. (Y/N) crawled over to Lancelot and grasped at his shoulders.

“Here, give me your arm.” (Y/N) grabbed the arm that held Lancelot up and put it over and around her shoulders. He grunted as he was pulled up, (Y/N) grunting in the process too from the sheer weight of him. “Christ, how much do you weigh?” She quipped through clenched teeth.

“Leave me.” Lancelot rasped, leaning on (Y/N). The voice of men grew closer, even their torches they carried seemed to be getting closer from the looks of it. Soon they would reach them and Lancelot was in no shape to ride a horse. He would most likely fall off. He would be dead weight.

“What? No! Are you crazy?! You're coming with me!” (Y/N) protested and pulled him along towards the horse. Lancelot let out a pained moan as his deep wound continued to bleed and ache terribly. He was sure he was seeing black spots from blood loss and the concussion.

“Over there!” A red robed monk shouted far from behind them. (Y/N) gasped and looked behind. They were getting closer. She turned back around, fastening their pace even more than last time.

“Hurry, Lancelot! The horse is right there!” Lancelot could hear the men coming closer and closer, their torches more visible and their stomps became louder.

“(Y/N).” he pleaded her name, although (Y/N) kept going, ignoring his plea.

Through (Y/N)s struggling and Lancelot’s wheezing, they had finally made it to Goliath who waited for their arrival. (Y/N) adjusted the saddle and with shaking hands she untied the rope from the tree. Lancelot fell to the ground on his knees a few feet away from (Y/N), beside Goliath when she had gone to untie the rope. He panted, his head hanging down. From behind them , Lancelot could hear the groan of a string being pulled back. He turned quickly at that, and his eyes widened at the archer that stood further away had begun to draw an arrow towards (Y/N) which would no doubt hit her, though she hadn’t the slightest clue. With the remaining strength he had, Lancelot swiftly stood up and ignored the sharp burn and pain in his side. It did nothing to stop him from grabbing a dagger from the pouch that Goliath carried on his saddle and hurling it towards the archer, using his whole body to throw the dagger with a yell. The dagger flew in the air and embedded itself in the stomach of the archer. He fell to the ground in shock and fell to the floor moments later.

(Y/N) gasped and had spun around to see what had happened, her eyes landing on the fallen body and Lancelot who was completely hunched over the ground, moaning in pain. (Y/N) rushed over to him and pulled him up to his knees. She fell to her knees, grabbing his face when his head lolled back while in a daze. She forced him to look at her, using her hands to hold his face upright.

“Lancelot! Hey!” She slapped his face hard enough to bring his attention to her. His eyes were half lidded and his forehead dripped blood down to his chin and over (Y/N)’s hands, but she couldn’t care about the blood. She scanned his body for new wounds that he could’ve possibly got from the encounter but found none. Good. She needed him to stay awake and alive.

“Listen to me, you need to get on the horse.” She commanded him, and she wasn't too sure if he could even comprehend what she was saying by the dazed look in his eyes. She wiped away the blood that dripped down his eyebrow.

“You hear me? Get on the horse, I’ll help you.” She spoke in a rush and tugged him up to his feet roughly, jerking him forward and onto Goliath. He yelped in pain , clutching his wounded side and found purchase on the saddle, barely holding himself up with (Y/N)’s help. There was no way he’d be able to get on the horse if he couldn’t even hold himself up.

“(Y/N)-” Lancelot weakly spoke, but (Y/N) shouted and cut him off, sending him a sharp glare.

“NO Lancelot! Get on the fucking horse!”

He stared at her, the weakening becoming apparent in his eyes. She searched his eyes with rage, but it slowly shifted to a sorrow filled expression. Her lip starting to quiver as tears pooled in her eyes and a lump formed in her throat.

“Please,” her voice cracked as she choked out. “Don’t do this.” She begged. Lancelot's heart squeezed painfully in his chest at the plea, his eyes squeezed shut and hung his head towards the ground. He shook his head.

“No, petal. I cannot go further.” He rasped.

A small sob from (Y/N)’s throat.

“I'm not leaving without you!.” (Y/N) declared, gripping his shoulder. Lancelot shook his head once again and grasped her hand that gripped his cloak , looking up at her through his lashes.

“I'm going to die, (Y/N). One way or another. But I'm not going to get you killed in the process. I'm too weak. You have to leave me, flower.” he pleaded, looking earnestly into (Y/N)s teary eyes. Her nose was red, her eyes were red and her lip couldn’t stop quivering. She whined and shook her head, tears falling down her cheeks.

“No, we can run away! We can! W-we can leave right now Lancelot, just get on the horse!” She cried out in desperation. Lancelot growled lowly in frustration, shouting out to (Y/N).

“No, (Y/N)!” He shouted. His eyes were furious as he stared (Y/N) down. She cried as she looked right back at him, her shoulders shaking from her sobs. He couldn’t leave with her, not even if he tried. He would die anyway, from his wounds or the men that are certainly making their way to them. He couldn’t get on the horse, let alone to keep himself standing up. He was too weak and too heavy for (Y/N) to carry. They would kill him first if he were to escape, knowing he was already mortally injured. He would slow down (Y/N), and then kill they would kill her. He could not let that happen.

“I am too injured, too heavy. Too weak. And even if I were to get on the horse, I would lose consciousness and slow you down. They will kill me and then you. I cannot go.” He firmly explained to her, his bloody hand gently caressing her neck and trailing up to her cheek, smearing blood along her skin. He was losing time, he noticed. His gaze softened, his throat closing too. He pulled (Y/N) into his chest who immediately drew her arms around him and hugged him tightly, crying into his gray surcoat. He stifled a groan that threatened to escape him from the impact of the tight embrace, but regardless of the pain, he wrapped an arm across her back and cradled her head. He pressed his lips firmly to the crown of her head while (Y/N) continued to cry in his chest.

“It’s ok, girl. You will be ok.” Lancelot whispered. At that , (Y/N)s cried harder and buried her face deeper into his chest and gripped onto his back. He cherished the precious moment, knowing it would be the last. After some time had passed, he pulled her apart from him and pushed (Y/N) toward Goliath. She almost protested, after having been pushed away from his embrace but He jerked his head toward Goliath, hunching over as he held his side and urging (Y/N) to mount the black horse.

“Go. Quickly. They are coming.’’ He pushed her back towards the horse, forcing her to mount Goliath who brayed and shook his head. He fastened the saddle once (Y/N) had pulled herself up the horse with his help, tugging at the straps and grabbing the reins. (Y/N) sniffled and wiped at her eyes roughly, though the tears kept coming. Lancelot had grabbed her hands with his hand, still holding onto the saddle to support himself and put the reins within her hands, closing them around the leather. He looked up at her with his cold hand covering her own, gripping them.

(Y/N) looked down to him from the horse, and her eyes locked onto his blue ones. Once again, she couldn’t help the tears falling and her lower lip curling, knowing this too, was going to be the last time she saw him. She hiccuped and Lancelot brought her hand towards his chapped lips, kissing her knuckles while he kept his eyes locked on hers.

“I am not afraid, so do not fear for me, petal. Death does not scare me. Be brave. Be strong. I will always watch over you. And if I cannot, I will find a way.” He promised to (Y/N), and she nodded her head slightly. “You are my salvation, (Y/N). ” He declared, holding a meaningful gaze with her. They held eye contact for a few seconds and (Y/N) quickly leant down to his face and pressed her lips to his cheek. She broke apart from him and stared down at him, speaking the best she could with her shaking voice.

“I care deeply for you, Lancelot. I'll miss you. Greatly.” Lancelot’s face slowly broke into a smile, a smile that reached his eyes and revealed his teeth, and the sight was cruel. Bloody, bruised and cruel, yet beautiful. “And I you, petal.” He responded softly, silence taking over as he stared deeply at (Y/N).

His eyes snapped towards the sound of men shouting and fire blowing, having now caught up to them. They approached from the trees and pointed to the pair, yelling at one another to catch them.

“Hold on!” He shouted and (Y/N) nodded her head quickly, her grip tightened on the rains and Goliath surged forward when Lancelot gave Goliath a smack to his behind, the horse letting out a squeal from the action. (Y/N) looked at Lancelot, committing his face in her memory one last time, him doing the same before Goliath took off in a bolt. (Y/N) let out a scream of fear, but held onto Goliath as he galloped away. The horse was fast, unbelievably fast. For a minute, she rode Goliath but turned back to watch Lancelot. He grew further and further away, turned towards her as watched her ride away until she forced herself to rip her eyes from the view when he turned towards the paladins, dropping to his knees. Surrendering.

And that was the last time she saw him. Her beloved friend.

—

(Y/N) breathed softly, her heart clenching at the memories. Isaac stared at her in silence, giving her a moment to herself before she spoke. He heard the soft beating of her heart and leaned closer to her body, their shoulders pressed against each other.

“Take your time, petal.” He reassured her and looked ahead. (Y/N)’s eyes snapped towards him at the name and stared at him, too stunned to say anything which caused Isaac to look back to her in alarm.

“What’s wrong? Did I say something?” He questioned with a frown on his face. (Y/N) stared into his blue eyes , slowly taking in his features. They were almost similar to Lancelot’s. Almost too similar. Excluding the moustache and the long hair that was always tied in a bun. Don’t forget the Ash folk marks. The tear marks under Lancelot’s eyes. And Isaac. The blue eyes, the youthful shape of his face, his lips, his smile. Everything. At first she thought it was just a crazy coincidence. A lot of people look alike, and quite frankly there's a shit ton of people alone in one world and in addition to many other worlds. Shit, she can even enter other worlds somehow and that was crazy enough, but the resemblance was uncanny….

(Y/N)s eyes widened as she looked back into his eyes and Isaac continued to watch her as she stared at him, his ears even turned red at the attention.

“Lancelot...” She whispered in astonishment as she gazed at Isaacs face again. He heard the beat of (Y/N)’s heart start to pound, and her scent became an overwhelming smell of emotions. Love, sadness, immense happiness.

He blinked at her.

“What.” He muttered, eyes wide as he stared at her. He hadn’t heard her speak from the pounding of his heart and (Y/N)’s combined, completely thrown off as warmth enveloped him from the name she seemed to call him. This was so strange, he thought. Lancelot? Had he heard that name before?...

(Y/N) broke from her trance, clearing her throat she shook her head. Isaac too seemed to break from the trance, now hazy as confusion filled his mind. What was happening to him?

“His name..” (Y/N) began softly, looking at him intently with prying eyes. Isaac listened, staring at her as well, waiting for her to nish as he held his breath.

“His name was Lancelot.” She finished quietly, watching his expression. Hearing the name, a sudden electricity shot through him and a ringing deafened him. He yelped in pain and covered his ears as the high pitched ringing blared in his ears. Suddenly, a rush of jumbled words echoed in his ears, like a sped up record replaying over and over again.

“... petal…Death...be brave...Always watch over you..can't...will find a way..”

Isaac yelled out in pain, grabbing at his head and curling into a ball, the jumble of words giving him a splitting headache. It hurt. It hurt so bad he wanted to tear his eyeballs out and rip out his hair. But eventually, It had started gradually slow, the echos fading away until it had completely stopped. Moments passed.

Until another loud echo of a whisper in his ears.

“You are my Salvation.”

That seemed to have Isaac collapse, like a button was pressed and the lights flickered off , black slowly creeping up in the corner of his vision. He saw a glimpse of (Y/N) kneeling over him, her frightened face fading to another image of her bloodied and despaired tear filled face. Back and forth, like flashes.

“Lancelot!” Was the last thing he heard before blacking out.

[throped]

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[themuselesswriter]

The Monk’s Wife - Chapter 7: An Amused Queen

Characters: Lancelot Du Lac, Original Female Character, Original Male Character, Squirrel

Summary: Tarja takes a day off to spoil her husband but Squirrel doesn't really allow them any peace, especially after he notices the bruises on Lancelot.

Word count: 1400+

Warnings: implied abuse

A/N: This fanfic has been becoming more of a night-time imagination than a well constructed work that makes sense, it will only get weirder from here so enjoy!

Credits: photos from Pinterest, editing app is picsart

--------------------------Teaser--------------------------

The next morning Tarja woke up with a headache, she looked around at the state of the house, it was a mess, broken furniture everywhere, a few drops of blood, she recalls nothing “Lancelot” she called, but he did not answer, her heart raced, someone broke in and hurt him! Who would dare! She rushed to search for him, he wasn’t in the kitchen preparing a meal, nor in the bedroom, at last, she decided to search for him in the second room and that’s when she saw him, sitting in a corner, hugging himself, he was barely visible “Lancelot?” she asked worried.

He lifted his head up and looked at her, she rushed to him and knelt next to him “Lancelot, are you alright? Who did this?” She asked once she noticed the dried blood on his face, he flenched as she reached out to examin it “I’m sorry, alright? I wish if I had the courage and the understanding to end my life, I sadly didn’t and I couldn’t! I will leave just like you requested” he wept, the woman looked confused “I don’t understand, why would you want to leave?” She frowned.

The weeping one looked at her confused for a moment “because you don’t want me here” he replied, she looked even more puzzled “what makes you say that? I just pardoned you, I want you here, of course i do! You are my husband!” The man opened his mouth to speak but he was uncertain of what to say, this was beyond odd “do you not recall yesterday?” She shrugged “I got drunk and I assume fell on the ground asleep” She truly remembers nothing, none of the hatred nor the beating “what happened to you? Did someone hurt you? Who did it?” She asked “y-you” She blinked a few times, she recalls nothing of last night.

That’s when it hit her, Tate, he intoxicated her, she groaned “I’m sorry about whatever happened yesterday but it wasn’t me, I swear it” she assured him, he looked confused “my people… we manipulate fire and intoxicate thoughts, if the brain loses control which I assume happened by the hands of ale! I apologize, I never meant to hurt you” She said softly “this makes no sense” She nodded “I know but my brother… Tate, I suppose he used his powers on me yesterday and made this happen, it is a rare gift that he alone holds” she huffed.

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[aethelredism]

22 and ingilmundr

When Ingilmundr is five, his father loses a battle against the Saxons. The price he must pay is a hostage. A son.

His only son.

Ingilmundr weeps when they take him away, even though his mother told him not to. “You will bring shame to your father,” she warned him.

He weeps, and watches through his tears as his father’s neck stiffens, his head turning away from the sight of the crying boy. When Ingilmundr remembers his father in the years to come, he will think of this wretched moment; of him, crying, and his father, turning away in shame.

.

The Saxons bring him to a place called a monastery, where men in coarse brown robes and wooden crosses try to teach him about the Christ-God. He shuts his ears against their stories, because his father has told him everything he needs to know about the Christ-God. There are many gods, not just one, and Ingilmundr will never trade Thor’s hammer for a flimsy wooden cross.

He does not shut his eyes, though, when they teach him how to read. Ingilmundr buries himself in the calfskin pages, stories of kings and battles and miracles from the Christ-God unfolding before his hungry eyes.

“Your eagerness to learn will take you far, Ingilmundr,” the abbott tells him.

His eagerness to learn takes him into minsters and monasteries all across England, where they forget he is the hostage Ingilmundr Anlafson and know him only as a Brother in Christ. Monks aren’t always peaceable book-readers, he soon learns; some of them are as hard as the land they till, made harder still by having to defend their flocks against Scottish and Welsh raiders. Someone, at some point, forgets who he is and puts a sword in his hand, and as with his books, Ingilmundr is a quick study.

He is good with a sword; better than most, even. Somehow, over the years, he finds himself given more and more chances to use it.

He knows he should be gratified. He is a Dane, and the son of one of the greatest sword Danes in the world.

And yet.

And yet, Ingilmundr prefers his books. He loves the letters carefully and lovingly shaped by monks in their quiet scriptoriums, he loves the stories they tell, he loves the gilded pages and imagines this is what the bridge Bifrost is made of.

But no one wants to talk to a Dane about his books.

Until one day, someone does.

He meets Aethelstan by chance. If he truly believed in God, he would say it was His will. As it is, he cannot help but feel that the gods might have thrown Aethelstan in his path. They talk all day and into the night: about faith, about books, about swords, about fathers. Ingilmundr has lived amongst the Saxons longer than he has not, but he has always viewed them as separate from himself until now. Now, when he looks at Aethelstan, he sees himself mirrored in those dark eyes.

When Aethelstan kisses him, Ingilmundr does not hesitate to kiss back.

.

In the morning, he sets out on trembling legs, telling his brothers he is journeying to find a rare book. They smile and shake their heads.

“Ingilmundr and his books,” they say fondly, but they do not stop him. It does not occur to any of them that he could be lying, that he might yearn for anything that lies beyond the turn of a page.

His trembling legs somehow carry him all the way to Dyflin, where his father now rules as king. The Danes almost do not let him into the high hall, plucking at his short hair and the cross around his neck, but he shouts his name over and over, Ingilmundr Anlafson, I am Ingilmundr Anlafson, until a woman with sharp teeth says, “It’s him; he has his mother’s look.”

She brings him into the high hall, where a man he remembers turning away in shame sits on a carved throne.

“Father,” he says, his legs trembling so hard he can barely stand.

“You will call me ‘lord’ as long as you wear that cross around your neck,” Anlaf Guthfrithson growls.

Ingilmundr pulls off the cross. “I never forgot who I was. Who my real gods are.”

Anlaf takes in his Saxon clothes, his Saxon hair, and turns away in shame.

Ingilmundr swallows. “I have lived amongst the Saxon and learned their ways, it’s true. But I never forgot who my people are. And I have come here because I know how to win England for our people once and for all.”

Anlaf drums his fingers against the arm of his throne. “How?”

Ingilmundr takes a step forward. In the shadows, a dog growls in warning. Ingilmundr takes a step back. “Their king, Edward, sickens. His son and heir, Aethelstan…he is fond of me. I can make him bend to my will.”

Anlaf snorts. “You think so?”

“I know so,” Ingilmundr says with cold certainty.

Anlaf is quiet for a long moment. When he stands, Ingilmundr realizes that they are almost the same height; even so, the other man still seems to tower over him. “It will not work. The Christian kingdoms have always united against us.”

“Aethelstan will offend them until they have no choice but to join with us. I will make it so.”

Anlaf considers him…and then he smiles, an ugly, sharp smile, but a smile nonetheless. “I believe you will.”

Ingilmundr doesn’t know what he’s expecting; an embrace, perhaps, an invitation, some sign that his father is proud. Instead, Anlaf says, “Go back to England, and await my instructions. I will send your sister Astrid to you.”

“Yes, lord.” Astrid. His sister by his father’s other woman, little more than a squalling brat the last time he’d seen her. Ingilmundr does not yet realize that the squalling brat is now a warrior, and their father’s chosen heir. He will learn this when it is too late to change his mind.

“And Ingilmundr.”

He cannot read the look on his father’s face. “Do not throw my name around like that again. You might get shit on it.”

Ingilmundr turns away in shame.

[everlastingdreams]

Weeping Monk x Reader : The Forbidden Apple    Chapter 21

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Story Summary: Father Carden begins to notice how his Weeping Monk starts to question all he was raised to believe in. In an effort to distract him, he has his Red Brothers bring him a 'gift.' The Monk is skeptical when he hears of this, Father never just gave him gifts. But when the Monk enters his tent in the evening he understood what Father had meant by 'gift'. You, a fey girl, were the gift.

Chapter Title: Scars Of The Past

Notes:  Feeling a little better. Finally finished my fight with chapter 26 I think.

Warnings: There's a list of warnings for this story: Stockholm syndrome (?), lima syndrom (?). Rape threats, sexual assault, murder and violence. Angst. Sexism. Strong Language. Trauma. Childhood trauma. Survivor's guilt. Mentions of child maltreatment. Mention of menstruation.

Other warnings: ! Smut ! Jealousy. Enemies to lovers (?). Romance. Pining. Thigh grinding.

Word count of this fic: +140K

Chapter:  21 / 27

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The next morning you went to the infirmary to find something for the headache and to see how Arthur was doing.

Arthur seemed to be in a better mood than you despite his injury, half laughing at the state you were in “Wow, you look terrible. What did you do last night ?”

“Thanks.” You deadpanned.

After drinking a vial with some medicine you told him what happened the night before “I forgot to drink water yesterday, drank ale instead.”

Another laugh came from him “I take it that it did not work out well ?”

You stood next to the cot he was on “It didn’t. I ended up fainting. Luckily Gawain was there.”

He sat upright now “Oh, are you alright ? You didn’t fall did you ?”

Your eyes fell on the hand that he placed on your arm “Gawain caught me, I didn’t hurt myself. Speaking off last night, did the Red Spear come to see you ?”

He withdrew his hand “She has.”

You waited for more information but he looked…reluctant “I like her. She’s terrifying, but I like her.”

Arthur smiled coyly “You love danger then ?”

Quick as a whip you turned it around “Do you ?”

That smile grew nervous real quick, perhaps he did not know what he loved yet.

But he was not ready to surrender “I think you do.”

You quirked a brow “Why is that ?”

He said it like it was a fact “You like to be around terrifying people.”

You denied it “There is only Red Spear.”

Then he cheekily added “And Lancelot.”

An actual soft laugh escaped you “He is not terrifying !”

Arthur was ready to prove his point “To you. Because you know him better than anyone else here.”

Was he really fighting you on this ? “Don’t be ridiculous. I am not drawn to danger.”

He patted a hand on the cot “Well, if that is the case, come sit with this non-dangerous heavily wounded man then.”

You didn’t know why you hesitated to sit with a friend, but you did…

Arthur noticed this and sounded rather hurt “You sat with him when he was here…”

There was no judgment in his tone, he was stating only facts.

With a look of guilt you apologized to him “I’m sorry…”

Arthur was sure of the matter now “I was right, wasn’t I ? Something did happen between you and him.”

Slowly you walked over and sat at the foot on the cot “I…” what to say “He might have kissed me once. But it doesn’t matter, he explained that the vow forbade it. And it won’t happen again.”

The sheer surprise on Arthur’s face went unnoticed, you were too busy looking down at your fidgeting hands.

Lancelot had done the right thing by admitting that the kiss should not have happened, it was better considering the circumstances the two of you had been in. The thing that you could not forget was how you had not been upset that your first kiss was ‘stolen’ from you by him…

There was doubt in his voice when he parroted “It won’t happen again ?”

It felt too personal to speak further of this “I respect his choice.”

Arthur could tell that you wanted to end this topic “He saved my life, could’ve left me to die out there, but he didn’t. Complicated man that is, one moment he looks like he wants to hit me, the next he’s helping me.”

That sounded familiar “When I was with him in the paladin camp, it took a while to see the real person behind the Weeping Monk.”

Then he admitted “I trust him. Call me mad, but…I trust him.”

It caused you to smile “You’re not mad. And I’m glad to hear that you two are finally becoming friends.”

He sat upright and reached for your hand, placing his on top “I can see why he is so fond of you. You’re lovely, y/n. A great person to be around. Don’t ever let your parents make you believe that you are anything less but incredible.”

The compliments were followed by him swiftly leaning in, catching you off-guard, and kissing your cheek.

If you hadn’t turned your head to the side, he would have gone ahead and put his lips to yours.

He was quick to understand that you were rejecting him.

An awkward silence fell between you. Arthur was sweet, handsome and always there to help, but something more was missing and kissing him wouldn’t have felt right. And then there was the fact that the captain of the raiders had her sights set on him.

It was not often that using his charms did not work, but he had a vague idea why “Sorry. You did not want me to do that ?”

You felt a bit guilty, had you given the wrong impression ? “I’m sorry too, I just don’t think I feel more than friendship.”

It was not his first rejection and he handled it with grace “At least you’re honest.”

You decided to inform him of the captain’s interest in him, doubting she had been brave enough to do so herself last night “Red Spear fancies you, Arthur.”

He seemed rather surprised “Did she tell you that ?”

Well, Arthur sounded rather interested in the news “Not with many words, but it’s quite obvious. Did she say anything to you about it ?”

He recalled what the Red Spear had told him “She told me that she felt sorry and blamed herself for how I got injured, she sort of said it rather quietly. Also said that she was glad I was alive, said a good swordsman would have gone to waste otherwise.”

That was perhaps the closest thing to a confession of love that the raider’s captain would ever get “We both know that Red Spear is more for action than words.”

The Manblood would have to read between the lines quite a lot if he wished to figure the captain out “That’s true. But…” he gestured between the two of you “Are we…alright ?”

Ah, clearly he was wondering whether you took offense to him pursuing another after almost kissing you “We are.”

Arthur, the charming and flirtatious Manblood, would have quite a challenge if he would indeed pursue the Red Spear.

You got up from the cot “I need to go and find Percival, I promised to give him a drawing of a fox today. Will you be alright ?”

He gestured a little hilariously to himself “I’ll be on my feet again in no time.”

You shook your head, laughing “Alright, I guess you’ll be fine. I’ll see you later.”

He nodded and you left the infirmary to find Percival.

   And you did find the spirited boy, he was busy with demanding attention from Lancelot. Pulling out all hidden weapons he could find in the saddle from the Ash Man’s horse.

More than once, Lancelot had to disarm him. It ended with the Ash Man grabbing a dagger from him and holding the boy with an arm around his chest, leaving the child to twist and turn to try and get free. Lancelot only shifted his grasp on the boy each and every time, barely able to contain a loud laugh.

They both looked so happy and playful. The often serious Ash Man had a strong playfulness inside of him, you had experienced this in the forest once when he had indulged you with a game of hide and seek.

That was a nice moment to remember…

“Stop doing that.” A voice came from right next to you.

It made you jump a little and move a step to the side, blurting out “What do you mean ?”

Pym was looking at you with a judging only she could show, she mimicked your voice and parroted “What do you mean ?” then chuckled “Come on, do you think I’m stupid ? I know you’re not staring at nothing.”

You rolled your eyes but felt very caught “Fine, you’re right, I was staring. Can you blame me for looking ? I know that nothing else will ever happen again.”

You had told her about the kiss and how those serving the Church took a vow. It was a one time occurrence. All those touches shared, but there was still a line he would never cross. The desire he had once felt was kept under control. A romantic conjoining was not possible, he had been honest to you about this. And you would not expect him to break his vow, if this was his choice, then you respected it. You had made your peace with it.

The occasional hug and other signs of affection from him were already more than you had ever known.

It was enough, he was enough and you wouldn’t want to miss him for the world.

She then casually mentioned “Hmm. I guess you’re right. I’ve seen others stare at him too.”

It came out sharp “What others ?”

Pym snorted a laugh at the sudden bitterness you spoke with “Gods, y/n. Can you be more obvious ?”

You denied what she was clearly still hinting at “He’s my friend, I’m just worried about him. I don’t want people to bother him.”

She muttered quietly under her breath, yet perfectly loud enough for you to hear “How can they bother him when you are doing it all the time ?”

You scoffed loudly and gave her a light playful push “Are you calling me annoying ?”

Pym put an arm around your shoulder “Nah, but I think you are absolutely mad for staring at a monk.”

You removed her arm from your shoulder “I never tease you for staring at the Green Knight. And you’ve been doing that a lot lately.”

She had never looked so speechless before, her cheeks turning a soft pink color “Have not !”

With a raised brow you looked at a flustered Pym “Shall we talk about something else ?”

She was eager to take that opportunity.

  oOoooOOOoooOOoOOoo

  After handing an ecstatic Percival the drawing, you went to find Lancelot in the stables, he was busy brushing Goliath’s coat with some straw.

While knocking on the wooden walls, you greeted him “Good morning.”

Glancing over at you, he greeted you too “Good morning. How are you feeling today ?”

It would surprise you if he had not noticed the squinting of your eyes from the headache you had “Better.”

There was doubt written all over his expression and he reached into the saddlebag to take out his flask filled with water, offering it to you “Drink.”

You didn’t even protest, he would wave away any excuses you would give him.

“Thanks.” You took the flask and drank some sips.

Just as you were drinking, he reached higher with the straw to brush Goliath’s back with it.

When he lifted his arm something caught your attention.

You held his arm in your hand, moving his cloak to the side “What happened to your shirt ? I could try to sew it back-”

When he shifted, so did the fabric and revealed the wound that had stopped bleeding only hours ago. The bloodstained piece of cloth wrapped around it now visible to your eyes.

Immediately you wanted to know why he had not spoken off this “You’re wounded ?!? Gods, Lancelot ! Why didn’t you say something ??”

He moved your hands away first, then moved you a step back too “It happened at the Mill. It will heal, I have cleaned it. Do not worry.”

How many times had he been wounded before and never said a thing ?

You could tell that he would brush this off and ignore the injury so he could continue his work with the Green Knight “Come with me to the infirmary. I will see if I can help with that.”

He was used to cuts and bruises, a variety of injuries had caused a variety of scars.

Of course the Ash Man politely declined “You fainted last night, y/n. I will not give you more work.”

It seemed like you needed to be a little more persuasive, taking a step closer, your hand curled around one of his “Let me take a look at your arm, Ash Man.”

You held your intertwined hands close to your body.

That different tone in your voice made it very difficult to decline the offer again.

With a hard swallow and timid nod he accepted the help offered.

He did not say a word while following you to the infirmary, you blamed it on him not being used to accepting help from others.

After entering the infirmary with him, you patted a hand on the cot, signaling for him to sit down.

Used to offering patients help, you treated him no different “Need a hand to undress ?”

He mentally scolded himself for almost lying.

Mildly distracted, he took off his, cloak, aketon and then carefully the linen shirt.

You sat next to him to inspect the damage, the wound had indeed been cleaned well but it would not heal properly without stitches “I need to sew it shut. Otherwise it will hurt for months before it heals.”

Pain was no stranger to him, the prolonged healing process of wounds was often a punishment to himself for even getting injured in battle.

Without meaning to question your healing skills, he did feel the need to inquire “Have you ever done so before ?”

Quietly you muttered “Once or twice.”

Perhaps he should have declined the offer and just let the wound heal on his own. But you had his hand resting on your lap while you were focused on his arm and he considered the pain of having his skin sewed back together a fair trade for it.

With a grin, he decided to jest “As long as my ear is not attached to my arm after this.”

You gave him a playful push “I’ll sew your mouth shut if you’re not careful.”

He quirked a brow “Pardon ?”

He heard but wanted to see if you would dare say it again.

You repeated louder “I said, I’ll sew your mouth shut if I hear you question my skills again.”

A look over his shoulder was aimed at you accompanied with a lopsided grin “Is this how you treated all of your patients ? Threatening them ?”

Your eyes must have sparkled from the fun you were having “No. Just you.”

Still grinning, he questioned it “Just me ?” then clicked his tongue “Is this for laughing at your unfortunate encounter with a spider yesterday ?”

You prepared a needle and thread, then got to work “Quiet. Don’t distract me or that needle could end up doing more damage.”

The jest rolled out of his mouth “You are less frightening with a sword.”

It earned a glare from you “I’m going to pretend you did not just say that.”

Stitching the wound on the back of his arm wasn’t so simple, it ran horizontally over it. Still you did your best and even though you had threatened him with the needle you were very careful not to hurt him.

It also caught your attention that there were no fresh scars on his back.

After finishing closing the wound up, you lightly ran a hand across his back “They are better…”

He quietly said “I stopped.”

With a squeeze to his shoulder you showed your support, this was good news, it meant his mental state was improving.

He must have found another way to process difficult matters.

You got up for a moment and grabbed the bowl with ointment while opening the subject on Father Carden “How are you handling the news of his death ?”

It was not necessary to ask who you had meant “I handled it.”

You doubted that it was as easy as he pretended it to be “You never speak of him anymore.”

He countered it with “You do not speak of your parents either unless I ask about them.”

True, neither of you had fond memories with parental figures in your lives.

He had never thought that he would react so numb to the news that Father had died and yet he had. It was only weeks later that mourning began. Anger, hatred, sadness, guilt… he felt all of it and carried it in silence. No one here would like to hear how he mourned the death of someone who had caused such pain to so many.

But you had been with him during his darkest times, maybe you would listen “I gave my whole life to him, to what he believed in. And I will never see a day where I do not carry the guilt on my shoulders for it.”

You put some ointment on your fingertips and gently smeared it on the wound “And still you mourn him.”

You knew…

He fought back the tremble in his voice and the tears that dared to form “What does that make me ?”

Did he expect that you would call him a monster for this ? “Compassionate.”

Your stomach sank when he leaned forward and buried his face in his hands, he was truly struggling with this.

Unexpectedly, he apologized “I am so sorry, y/n.”

It confused you greatly “You don’t have to apologize, Lancelot.”

He forced himself to breath, to stay in control of his emotions “Father did this to our people. To you and even to me. I should hate him-”

The guilt he felt for mourning Father Carden must have been tearing him apart inside, his own empathy causing him to feel this way.

Without thinking, you carefully wrapped your arms around his arm and leaned close to his ear “I want you to know that mourning someone who you have known all your life is normal. It proves that you have empathy, even if it is for someone like Father Carden. It’s admirable even. Someone has to pray for the wicked, for they can’t do it themselves anymore.”

There was truth in that…

His head tilted a little, just enough to feel your forehead against his temple, eyes held shut until his tears would dry “Will this stay between us ?”

You scrambled some courage together and brushed a hand over the back of his neck to sooth him “I won’t tell anyone. I promise.”

God… your fingers moving over his neck made him want to lean back into them more.

The content hum however was not something he wanted to emit.

At the sound of it you drew back your hand and those Ash Folk eyes locked on yours.

There was an intensity in them now that made your heart want to leap up a hill.

With your gaze dropping to your lap, you informed “I’ll bandage your arm now. I fear your shirt is ruined though…”

Blood on white linen for so long would be near impossible to remove.

That innocent, shy expression and reaction you still had to him…

The atmosphere between you had made a palpable shift again.

In the laden silence you covered his wound by tying a fresh clean piece of linen around it.

He waited patiently until you were finished “Thank you.”

A quiet response “You’re welcome.” before rising to your feet and crossing the room to the chest with spare clothing ‘found’ by the raiders “I think there might be a shirt in here that will fit you.”

You sat down on your knees to search through it and heard the sound of his boots moving over the wooden floor as he neared you.

Just when he stopped beside you, you found a shirt.

He held a hand out to you and you believed it was for the shirt so you handed it to him.

He moved it to his other hand and kept holding out his hand.

Staring up at him, you sheepishly placed your hand in his and let him help you rise to your feet.

He held on to your hand “There is something else I wish to tell you.”

You waited for him to do so when the door flung open.

Pym was helping a raider drag another raider into the room “Ugh, bollocks ! Gavin stepped on his own trap again.”

Both your attention dropped to the raider’s leg.

Why on earth had they not removed the metal device from his foot before bringing him here ??? How was this raider so calm ??

Lancelot put the shirt on, rolled his eyes while grabbing his sword and going over to the raider to open the metal device up.

It only took him a few seconds to set the raider free.

“Ha ! Thank you !” The raider gave him a grateful pat on the shoulder and then proceeded to almost fall over.

You were quick to help the idiot and got him to the cot with both Pym and Lancelot’s help.

“Wanna help with this ?” Pym asked, pointing at the gruesome sight.

With a nod you agreed to help “Of course.”

You did take a moment to say something to Lancelot “Is it alright if we talk later ? I know there was still something you wanted to talk to me about.”

With a nod and tilt of his head he acknowledged it and left the infirmary so you could focus on the injured raider.

  oooOoOOoOOOOOoOOoo

  Close to evening, there was something that had reached your ears thanks to the Green Knight.

Percival was cleaning out the stables.

Percival…

Cleaning…

It sounded so unlikely that you had to go and see it for yourself.

Upon arriving at the stables, Lancelot stood outside and kept an eye on the working boy.

It looked so unbelievable and once you got the Ash Man’s attention, you gestured at Percival “Lancelot…is he cleaning these stables ?”

He only gave a nod.

Now that he was here, you brought up your earlier conversation “Earlier, in the infirmary, what was it that you wanted to tell me ?”

This was not the time or place…

His sights darted from you, to Percival who had not yet seen that you were there too “I wanted to tell you that…” the pause almost took too long “-that I appreciate how I can confide in you regarding my past.”

It didn’t go unnoticed that he looked quite nervous all of a sudden “Oh. Alright, I see. Never be afraid to speak of what troubles you, I know how difficult it has been for you. If I can carry half or all of your burdens, I would.”

His restless hands were folded behind his back, sight falling on you from the corner of his eyes “The sentiment is mutual.”

You hummed and smiled “Tell me, why is Percival the one cleaning the stables now ?”

Instantly he straightened his back “If he can steal-…” he corrected “If he can ‘borrow’ Goliath without my permission, then he should know how to care for him.”

This had been a punishment for the boy’s ‘crime’ “He took your horse ?”

He had been upset, yet impressed with the boy’s ability to ride Goliath alone “I could not find Goliath or Percival an hour or two ago. I was not surprised when they returned together.”

Soft laughter fell from you “He wants to be just like you.”

There was a slight frown forming “I could not say by how he often speaks to me. Sometimes I believe he considers me a nuisance.”

You felt sympathy for the fragile heart of the Ash Man that the child could apparently trample over “Aw, don’t think that. If he really didn’t like you then he wouldn’t be running after you all the time.”

It slipped from his tongue “Spoken from experience ?”

You side-eyed him “What are you trying to say ?”

He wasn’t backing down from messing with you a little “We run into each other an awful lot.”

You stated the obvious “We sleep in the same building.”

He cocked his head arrogantly “Still.”

While feigning a sweet tone, you jested “What do you want me to tell you, Ash Man ? That I spend my days finding excuses to run into you.”

With a lopsided grin, he acknowledged your sarcasm “So defensive. I never insinuated that I meant you. Perhaps I was speaking of myself.”

It could have meant he was the one finding excuses to speak to you so much, but you had responded like you were the one guilty of it.

Your eyes narrowed at the trap you had stepped into “Admit it, you arrogant twit, you like spending time with me just as much as I like to spend my time with you.”

He only hummed, like it was not the certain fact that it was.

At that moment a mixture of dirty straw and other things landed a few inches from Lancelot’s boots.

Your focus snapped to the young Fey Knight who was innocently shoveling the dirty stable clean.

He looked down at his boots and then back to the boy.

At least it had not been thrown against him, there was progress being made.

After waiting for a scolding to be given to the boy, you realized none would come from Lancelot “You’re so afraid he won’t like you anymore if you scold him for it. Aren’t you ?”

He held his tongue, it wasn’t far from the truth.

You called over to the boy all of a sudden “Percival.”

The boy stopped shoveling and looked back at you “Y/n ?”

Without shame, you told the boy what Lancelot would never tell him “Lancelot fears you might hate him or grow to hate him.”

He could not believe you had just told the boy like this.

The Ash Man opened his mouth but failed to find the words.

Percival looked at the two of you like you had gone mad and dropped the shovel “What ?” the boy approached the Ash Man as if it had been a grave insult “Why would you think that ?!?”

Both of you were taken rather aback by the defensive stance of the boy.

He looked to you for help, before understanding that it would be best to handle this himself.

After a soft nudge from your elbow, he confessed to the waiting boy “You cursed at me when I told you to clean Goliath’s stable.”

There was some frustration from Percival who had always been used to little or no supervision “You wouldn’t let me ride Goliath ! You’re always bossing me around !”

He expected the reply “I only want what is best for you. I do understand that you will not always be happy with the choices I make to ensure a better future for you. I hope, in time, you will forgive me for the flaws in my attempt.”

Percival was calmer, it had sounded like the Ash Man was determined to stick around and help him through life, quietly uttering “I don’t hate you.”

Slowly Lancelot knelt down in front of Percival “I would understand if you did.”

The boy wasn’t having it “I don’t.”

He explained why he disliked how the boy had rode Goliath beyond his knowledge “You are brave, and you are still quite young and growing. I feared you would fall off Goliath and break your neck. I would never forgive myself for not having been there to help.”

Now Percival understood the reason he had been punished and tasked with cleaning the stable, he quietly risked asking “Can I ride Goliath if you’re with me ?”

Lancelot thought for a moment, then answered “Finish cleaning the stable. I will let you ride Goliath but I will hold the reins and walk beside you. Agreed ?”

There was eager nodding from Percival as he agreed to the terms.

He rose from the ground, ushering the boy to complete the task “Go on then. Off you go.”

This time Percival was more enthusiastic to clean the stable.

It was only when he rose to his feet again that he noticed he had knelt down right in the dirt the boy had tossed at his feet minutes ago.

You were quick to notice and failed to stop yourself from laughing at the sight of it.

With a deep disgruntled sigh, he tried to brush off the dirt from his trousers as much as possible.

You reached out and gave his arm a squeeze, rubbing it a little “Well done, Lancelot.”

It was endearing to see him slowly but surely open up to others, especially towards the feisty child.

There was that boyish smile again and seeing it warmed your chest.

Then he slowly and discreetly moved a hand to your own, fingers hooking around yours loosely.

You were the one who went ahead and clasped your hand around his.

A squeeze from him…

A squeeze from you…

He uttered a heartfelt “Thank you.”

How in heaven’s name could it be that the sparkle you had in your eyes now could cause his heart to jump in joy ?

After you nodded, he let go off your hand before it would draw the boy’s attention.

You didn’t even realize you were staring at him for a moment “How is your arm ?”

He clasped his hands behind his back again, it was the only way to keep them still “It burns less.”

It was a relief to hear “That means the ointment is working.”

With a tilt of the head, he silently asked you to step out off the stables with him, of course you followed.

He walked at a slow pace, remaining near the stables “Have you had any more trouble with your parents ?”

It dawned on you that neither your mother or father had hounded you today “No. It’s odd. Maybe they finally listened to Gawain ?”

He kept a neutral expression, only his brow arched slightly “Perhaps. Let us hope. Will you tell me if anything arises again ?”

With a nod and grateful smile, you responded “I will. Thank you, Lancelot.”

Right then, he had to take a step to the side as a woman walked past him.

The brunette with luscious curling locks send him a look that could not be mistaken by anyone, and a smile that could enamor the coldest of hearts.

You didn’t expect or like the strong gnawing feeling it gave to your self-confidence.

Pym had been right about him catching the attention from others…

It distracted you so badly that you hadn’t even heard him speak just now.

He halted “Y/n ?”

It took you a second to realize he must have said or asked something “Oh… I’m sorry. I didn’t hear what you said.”

Mildly concerned, he repeated what had costed him so much courage to say just even once “I am glad you feel better after last night. You look better.”

There was something else he had muttered half under his breath and you couldn’t decipher it “Excuse me ?”

It took so much to say it louder “You look…” he wanted to scold himself for being so cowardice, then finally voiced openly “Stunning.”

Your foot hit an uneven spot of grass and you lost your balance, thankfully he caught your elbow to prevent a fall.

Had he ever even complimented your appearance before ?

He let go when you regained your balance.

You never saw it coming “Stunning ?”

After weeks in Gramaire, you looked healthier and more lively. You smiled more and radiated a social warmth that drew people to you.

Living here made it possible to have proper meals and a chance to rest. All of it benefited to a healthier life.

And yes, it strengthened the beauty that you already had. He had seen it and knew others noticed too.

That raider had been one of the many that were starting to have attention for you.

And the thought that you were catching the eyes of others…

Even now, while walking beside him, he could see them turn their heads to look again.

If he was to tell you of his affection, what better way to start then by making it known that he was not insensitive to your appearance too ?

If he had once been brave enough to tell you he desired you, this should not be much harder.

Desire, lust…it had grown into what he felt now.

With a tilt of the head, he confirmed his words “Being here has done you well. I can see how your health has improved.”

It was understandable, when first meeting him you had been starving and wore torn clothes.

Now you had better access to water, food and a warm place to sleep with an actual bed “You look healthier too. Not as tired. And some color to your cheeks.”

Not pale and so terribly haunted by what had troubled him when he was with Father Carden.

No, he looked good. Stronger, healthier and calmer. And most importantly, happier.

That color on his cheeks intensified when you returned the compliment with a cheeky smirk “Very handsome. As always.”

Beyond his control, his gaze swiftly moved over your form until it locked on your face.

As always ?

Percival ran out off the stables and found the Ash Man outside with you, shouting excitedly “I am finished !”

You gestured to the waiting Percival “I should let you go and keep your promise to the boy. He looks very happy for someone who was just shoveling through dirt for an hour.”

He gave a nod but ended up catching your arm before you could fully walk away.

You looked back at him, saw him hesitate…

His fingers glided down your arm as they released it, leaving you with some advice “Do not forget to drink enough today. Water, not ale.”

You scoffed “Thanks. I will.”

He send a smug smirk as you walked off.

Taglist:

@ourlazydetectivekitten​ @the-great-adventures-of-me​ @linkpk88​ @mixedchicaq   @fxrchxldws​  @elenaoftheturks​ @slytherlight​ @beananacake​   @captainbucky-yt  @crystallizedtime​  @moonlightaura03​ @gracelongstreth  @atani-chan296 @angrygardendeer​  @have-aheart​ @oh–its-just-me  @5am-cigarette​ @arcanenature​ @yeboi-0418 @cheezecrisps @thewinterskywalker​ @notyourwildestdream​ @coloursforyourportrait​ @koressecretidentity​ @nike90​ @n1ghtlux​ @rachlovesactors​ @luckyzipperscissorsbat​​ @morena-doing-stuff​​  @the-fangirl-diaries​​ @gipsydanger17​​ @heavenly1927​​  @phantasmalbeiing  @labyrinthonmymind​​  @asarcastic-thiamstan  

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

[renniethedwstan]

Prompt: I thought you could do with a hug.

A strangers comforting touch

Eleventh Doctor/Reader

Oneshot.

Warning: veryyyyy light angst, fluff.

The Doctor and Reader are complete strangers in this.

Once again, The Doctor had found himself completely alone. He missed his friends dreadfully but had slowly accepted that he'll never see them again. Loneliness didn't take long to seep in, causing The Doctor to be at his lowest point once again. He was used to loneliness by now as it was the curse of the timelords. He was always going to outlive his friends, or they were going to move on eventually. But it didn't make it hurt any less, nor did it stop him yearning for another person to travel with. But he had decided that he would rather hide away than lose another person and experience heartbreak all over again.

He sighed as he walked through the streets in the Victorian times, three years after losing The Ponds, then Clara not long after. He was a monk for a while, but he quickly grew bored and went back to the clouds in the sky. It was now summer, so the nights were brighter, so he had grown rather fond of walking through the park in the evening where he could watch the sunset. He went over to his favourite park where the perfect view between two trees enhanced the burning ball of fire that was growing more red as it slowly dipped into the horizons. When he first watched the sunset after the Ponds incident, he weeped. He weeped because it meant that it was a new day without his friends, and that loneliness had truly sunk in.

Two arms wrapped around his neck from behind, causing The Doctor to smile softly. "Warmth, Happiness, Comfort." Those were the first words to come to his mind as another person joined him. They were always there when he needed comfort. Never asked questions and never asked who he was. They just hugged him before joining him, where they both watched the sunset. After that, they just went their own way, living their lives again. Not a single word is ever spoken between them even all these years later. He knows what they look like. Of course he does. He's not an idiot. They had (your H/C), (Eye Colour), (skin colour) They were (your height) he also noticed that they had the most beautiful smile in the universe. No matter how sad he was, somehow, they always made him feel better when they smiled.

Once the sun had set, they stood up, leaving again, but a voice stopped them in their tracks. "Why do you keep coming back?"You looked like you needed a hug." They smiled at The Timelord, who smiled back at the mysterious but kind person as he watched their figure grow smaller and smaller. He turned back around, staying seated on the bench as he let out a chuckle. "One day, Doctor. Maybe one day." He got up and walked back to The Tardis thinking about the mysterious person once again as he realised. Maybe he wouldn't feel so lonely anymore if he simply started up a conversation.

(Sorry if this isn't the best. I just thought it would be a fun and cute little story to write.)

[the-greatadventures]

Devil’s Backbone: Weeping Monk x OC (Kalypso) {Part 2}

[Part 1]

《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》

Kalypso’s P.O.V.

After my conversation with Gawain, I stormed off into the forest, intent on blowing off some steam by shooting arrows into the targets I had set up over the past few weeks.

The tears fell freely down my face, and I had barely been walking for 10 minutes before I collapsed onto the forest floor.

“Well, well, well. I didn’t expect to see the Fey archer out here, and crying as well,” a gravelly voice said from behind me. I spun around and saw the weeping monk standing in front of me.

“Lance,” I whispered, hopefully too quiet for him to hear, but I guess I was wrong. He bristled at the name.

“That’s not my name. At least not anymore,” he growled, “There’s only one person who has ever called me that.”

When he said that, I knew he was talking about me, “I know that Lance, but that’s your name. Your name isn’t the weeping monk, at least not to me,” I said as I walked closer to him.

He bristled again as I walked closer to him, his hand seemed to tighten on his sword. I didn’t stop walking towards him until we were standing chest to chest.

“Come any closer, and I swear down I will not hesitate to slit your throat archer,” he spoke under his breath.

“You won’t Lance, I know you too well,” I returned as I stepped even closer to him. He sucked in a breath, as I reached up to pull back his hood.

When I pulled off his hood, he just looked at me, as I reached my other hand up to his cheek. He leaned into my touch and closed his eyes.

“Only one person has been able to make me feel like this before, her name was Kalypso and we were betrothed to be married, but that was before our village was burned down,” I could hear the sadness in his voice, as he kept his eyes closed as if he was deep in thought and wanted to stay in the memory, “I don’t even know if she made it out alive or not. I know that if she was alive, she’d be ashamed of me and all that I've done to the fey.” “I am ashamed of you Lancelot, but I know that you did it because you were tricked and brainwashed. You had no other choice,” his eyes snapped open at my words, and he stared into my own, and I swore my heart skipped a beat.

“Kalypso?” He whispered with real tears in his eyes. All I could do was nod as tears threatened to fall down my own face. He brought our faces closer together, and once I could feel his breath on my lips, I closed the distance between us.

It felt like time had stopped as our lips met. We poured our emotions into the kiss. It would have lasted longer, had it not been for a branch breaking close to us. We pulled away from each other in fright.

Lancelot fearfully looked into the branches. He pulled the hood of his cloak back up and turned to walk away from me. He turned back towards me, “Until we meet again, Kal,” he whispered, and with a swish of his cloak, he was gone. All I could do was stare at the space he used to stand.

Someone put their hand on my shoulder, and I grabbed their wrist and twisted it from my shoulder to behind their back.

“Okay, I get it Kalypso,” Gawain hissed in pain, as I let go of his arm, “I just came to see if you were alright after the conversation we had, obviously you don’t need looking after,” I knew he was referring to the fact that I had nearly dislocated his arm.

“I’m sorry for everything I said. Who am I to judge who you love.”

“It’s alright Gawain, I get it. If you were in love with someone on the opposite side to us, I might have reacted in a similar way,” I responded.

He slung his arm around me and turned us to walk back to the refuge, he started talking to me about something, but all I could think of was the kiss me and Lancelot shared.

“Until we meet again, Lancelot. My devil on the run.”

《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》

Taglist:

@dashkana @coco25 @padfootsworld @cece-lives-here @books-netflix-and-pizza @withered-poppies @rogershoe @of-all-things-crazy11 @princessmarsofearth @psychichologramgalaxy @afuckingdisasterreally @spoooyxxqueen @linkpk88 @fandomstuffff @chennyetomlinson

[rainyv-skies]

Where did all the porn bots come from? Come to think of it, maybe I should’ve used a different user name

Edit : I changed it . I am now rainyv-skies

[throped]

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

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

Great, I fainted.

***

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

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

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

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

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

[journeythroughjourneytothewest]

Chapter 28 Recap: At Flower-Fruit Mountain a pack of fiends hold assembly; At the Black Pine Forest Tripitaka meets demons

This chapter begins with Sun Wukong feeling regret and nostalgia upon viewing the Great Eastern Ocean, for he hadn’t seen this area in five hundred years. He leaps over this ocean with a single bound, and soon arrives at Mt. Huaguoshan. Yet though it was named for its flowers and fruits, the Monkey King finds that now it didn’t even have plants “while the mist and smoke seemed completely extinguished: cliffs and plateaus had collapsed and the trees had dried and withered.” Readers are informed that after Sun Wukong had been captured and brought to heaven, “this mountain was burned to total ruin by the Illustrious Sage, Erlang God, who was leading the Seven Bond-Brothers of Plum Mountain.” Seeing the eco-catastrophe that had been inflicted on his beloved home, Sun Wukong becomes even more grief stricken. A poem he composes suggests the Monkey King hadn’t thought the heavens would have done anything to Mt. Huaguoshan in retaliation for his war against them, but that now he believes that “It must be for evil deeds in former times/That I should this day suffer so much pain.”

As Sun Wukong is giving voice to his grief, a group of small monkeys suddenly leap out of the remaining vegetation and kowtow before him. The Monkey Kings asks them why they were hiding themselves instead of “having a little fun,” for he hadn’t seen “even the shadow of one of you” since he returned to Mt. Huaguoshan. Every monkey starts weeping when they hear this questions. They then go on to tell Sun Wukong how ever since the Monkey King was taken captive, they had been relentlessly hunted by humans, with none of them able to “withstand those sharp arrows and strong bows, those yellow hawks and wicked hounds, those ensnaring nets and sickle-shaped spears!” As such, “none of us dares come out to play.” The monkeys of Mt. Huaguoshan now spend their lives hiding in caves, only emerging to snatch a few mouthfuls of grass or to get a sip of water. The monkeys then beg “our Father Great Sage” to take care of them.

Sun Wukong is very distressed upon hearing this. He then asks how many monkeys are left on Flower-Fruit Mountain and learns that there’s no more than a thousand left from an original population of forty-seven thousand. The monkeys recount how half of that number were burned to death when Erlang Shen set fire to the mountain. A half of that half then left in search of food because Mt. Huaguoshan’s environment was all but completely destroyed; there were no flowers and fruits to be had in the past five hundred years. And then the last two years saw the monkeys’ numbers dwindle by another half because of the hunters. They also let the Monkey King know that the hunters go after the monkeys not only to kill them to be “skinned and boned, cooked with sauce and steamed with vinegar, fried with oil, and sauteed with salt,” but to catch them alive so that they could be forced to “perform every kind of trick to entertain humans.”

Enraged, Sun Wukong asks who is in charge of the Water-Curtain Cave now, and learns that the marshals Ma and Liu and the generals Peng and Ba are the current leaders of the Mt. Huaguoshan troop. The Monkey King tells the little monkeys to report to them at once that he has returned. Ma, Liu, Peng, and Ba thus know to expect Sun Wukong, but they are surprised to see him as they “heard recently that you had regained your life so that you could protect the Tang Monk on his journey to the Western Heaven to acquire scriptures.” Sun Wukong tells all the assembled monkeys that Tang Sanzang is “wholly ignorant of who is worthy and who is foolish,” and that he had been given a formal letter of banishment from the westward pilgrimage. The monkeys are delighted with this news. They go on to ask the Monkey King “What do you want to be a monk for?” before then telling him he should lead them “to have a few years’ fun. They also call for coconut wine to be brought out “for the reception of Father. Sun Wukong, however, has different plans.

Asking Ma and Liu how often the hunters come to Mt. Huaguoshan to attack the monkeys, the Monkey King learns that they “are here every day to make trouble.” He then orders the monkeys to collect the rocks “that have been burned to small pieces,” and then to pile them in groups of thirty or sixty pieces up on the mountain. The little monkeys leap into action to do so. After they finish, Sun Wukong tells the “little ones” to “go hide in the cave. Let old Monkey exercise his magic.” It isn’t long before Sun Wukong spots “over a thousand men and horses approaching from the southern half of the mountain. Beating drums and striking gongs, they were holding spears and swords, leading hawks and hounds…they appeared to be most ferocious indeed.” They are, however, no match for a “terribly angry” Monkey King. “Making the magic sign with his fingers and reciting a spell, he drew in a breath facing the southwest and blew it out. At once a violent wind arose…that blew up and scattered those rock pieces in every direction.” In this way “those thousand-odd hunters and horses” are killed; “The rocks broke their dark heads to pieces.”

At the sight of this carnage, Sun Wukong “clapped his hands and roared with laughter.” He goes on to berate Tang Sanzang’s advice to refrain from perpetuating violence, for through it “it was the merest trifle to finish off all those hunters” and save the remaining monkeys. The Monkey King then tells the little monkeys to come out and to “strip the dead hunters of their clothes” so that they can wash out the bloodstains and wear them to keep warm. He also tells them to push the human corpses into a deep mountain lake, but to make sure to collect the horses’ corpses for their hides and their meat as well as the hunters’ weapons and their banners. He uses these to make himself “a large banner of many colors,” upon which he writes “The Flower-Fruit Mountain Rebuilt, the Water-Curtain Cave Restored—Great Sage, Equal to Heaven.” In the proceeding days, Sun Wukong gathers more allies in the forms of “fiends and beasts,” as well as stores up all kinds of foodstuff. He also borrows “some sweet, divine water from the Dragon Kings of the Four Oceans to wash his mountain and make it green again. He next planted elms and willows in front, pines and cedars in the back; peach, pear, date, and plum—he had them all. He then settled down to enjoy life without a care.”

Meanwhile, the rest of the pilgrims, traveling ever onwards, soon find themselves in a large pine forest. Tang Sanzang is worried that they won’t be able to continue because the path is overgrown, and that they might “run into some friends or monstrous beasts.” Zhu Bajie, however, uses his muckrake to clean a path through the forest. Soon enough, however, Tripitaka gets really hungry, and asks Zhu Bajie to get him some vegetarian food. The former marshal agrees to do so, but even after he walks out of the pine forest and ten miles beyond that he can’t find a single household. He soon decides to take a nap to “while away another hour or so” before he goes back to the rest of the pilgrims. And so, finding a good patch of grass, Zhu Bajie soon falls into “a deep, snoring slumber.”

In the meantime, Tang Sanzag is becoming more and more restless, anxious, and in all likelihood irritated as to how long it’s taking Zhu Bajie to return from his food trip. Tripitaka finally asks Sha Wuing why it’s taking so long for Zhu Wuneng to return, to which the sand monk states that when the pig yaoguai “sees how many families there are in this region of the West who love to feed monks, he’s not going to worry about you, is he, especially when he has so large a stomach!” Tang Sanzang agrees, but also wonders where they’re going to meet back up with Zhu Bajie, as it’s getting late and they had better leave the forest before it does so. Sha Wujing tells Tripitaka not to worry, and offers to go search for their swinish companion as well as for shelter. Tang Sanzang agrees to this plan, and is thus left alone.

Soon becoming weary, fatigued, and depressed, Tripitaka decides to take a walk in the forest, and soon becomes hopelessly lost. Yet it also doesn’t take him long to stumble upon a “bejeweled pagoda, whose golden dome was gleaming in the rays of the setting sun.” Noting again his vow to “burn incense in every temple, to worship Buddha when I saw an image of Buddha, and to sweep a pagoda if I came upon a pagoda,” Tang Sanzang decides to walk to the structure and see if he can ask for lodging for the night. Yet no sooner does he walk inside the pagoda when he finds “a monster asleep on a stone couch,” which the text tells us is a very powerful yaoguai. Tripitaka “retreated in horror,” but the yaoguai orders his “little ones” to chase down and capture the monk. Tang Sanzang tries to flee, but he’s soon caught and hauled back. The yaoguai demands Tripitaka tells him who he is, and the monk gives a true account of who he is. The yaoguai “roared with laughter” upon hearing this, for Tang Sanzang is “exactly the person I want to eat.” On the yaoguai’s orders, Tripitaka is tied to a pillar. The old yaoguai, “grasping his scimitar,” then interrogates Tang Sanzang further about who’s accompanying him on the westward pilgrimage. The monk informs the monster that his party is made up of Zhu Bajie, Sha Wujing, and a white horse. The old yaoguai says that this is true luck, as the four of them are “enough for a meal.” He also decides to wait for the rest of the pilgrims to come for him, as “Business at one’s own door is easier to do.”

Elsewhere, Sha Wujing, after searching high and low, finally finds Zhu Bajie talking in his sleep. After some arguing, the two then head back into the forest, only to find that “their master was nowhere to be seen.” This incites the sand monk to berate the former marshal, stating that it’s his fault the party got split up and Tang Sanzang likely captured by a yaoguai. Zhu Bajie, however, but laughs, stating that the forest “is a pure, lovely place and it definitely cannot harbor a monster.” The pig yaoguai guesses that “that old priest cannot sit still and has gone sightseeing somewhere.” And so they set off in search of their shifu, Bai Longma in tow.

It isn’t long before they spot beams of golden light coming from the pagoda, with Zhu Bajie declaring that Tang Sanzang must have walked to it and that they will surely be treated to a vegetarian meal. Sha Wujing, however, is more suspicious, and recommends that they be cautious when approaching. Sure enough, when they get close they find that the pagoda is actually the Casserole Mountain, Current-Moon Cave, thus showing itself to not be a monastery but rather the “cave-dwelling of a monster.” Zhu Bajie tells Sha Wujing to guard the horse and luggage, and goes to confront the yaoguai in the cave by himself. The master of this cave, now named as the Yellow Robe Demon, is pleased to learn of this, and goes out to battle with Sha Wuing and Zhu Bajie.

The pilgrims demand their shifu back. The Yellow Robe Demon laughingly admits that he does have the Tang Monk in his custody, and that he was “just preparing some buns filled with human flesh for him to enjoy,” and that they’re welcome to such foodstuff as well. Zhu Bajie “would have gone inside immediately if Sha Monk had not pulled him back.” Right after the pig yaoguai realized he was being deceived, he begins a battle with the Yellow Robe Demon, the two of them using magic to fight in midair. Sha Wujing also joins in, but even though they clash “for scores of times…a decision could not be reached.” And it is here where the chapter ends.

[missglass]

2022, the year of great books

i had a fantastic reading year in 2022. these were some highlights in no particular order:

Susanna Clarke, Piranesi. What a peculiar little book. A man lives in a gigantic ruinous house - a kind of castle with grand halls and statues - where life is dominated by the tides of an ocean in the lower levels of the building. The protagonist is a kind man with almost child-like curiosity, he seems like a monk living with the utmost worship for this strange place. Like the house, the story unfolds like a labyrinth and as a reader you only slowly discover what exactly is going on. Best read in January by the sea.

Jonathan Franzen, Crossroads. I mean, yes, guys like Franzen rewrite the same kind of book again and again, but man, are they good at it. I'm a sucker for the same story told from multiple perspectives, and who doesn't love to think about God and a complicated relationship with faith through the eyes of one of the most pathetic protagonists I have read about in the past years, a housewife with the most unhinged backstory, and a bunch of unnecessarily dramatic children.

Kamila Shamsie, Home Fire. One of my absolute favourites. A retelling of Antigone set in modern Great Britain about three siblings - a set of twins and their older sister - whose father was a jihadist. I found the classic themes of Antigone - struggles with family, duty, sacrifice - really well updated to reflect more contemporary struggles with identity, faith, as well as political issues like immigration and the toll it can take to be pulled into two different directions: tradition/modernity, fitting in/staying connected to your roots, conforming/preserving some form of inherited cultural identity.

And yes, you obviously know how the story ends from the start, but the ending is still so heartwrenching. As we know from Fleabag, the greatest love stories are still between siblings ("the only person i'd run through an airport for is you" and such).

Ali Smith, Autumn and Summer. I have been a fan of Smith since reading "How to Be Both" and I am now three quarters through her beautiful Seasonal Quartet. I hardly know another author who writes about our contemporary times with such ease. i love how art is always present in her works and how her prose is playing sly tricks on the reader. she is sometimes so literal in her imagery that you can only think something is meant poetically or metaphorically, only to find out two sentences later how it was indeed meant literally.

Rachel Cusk, Transit and Kudos. One of my favourite discoveries of 2022. I loved reading about Faye's encounters and her conversations with friends and strangers alike. It reminds me a bit of Salinger's "Nine Stories" in the best way, enough love and squalor to please Esmé. Especially Transit was so full of great stories; Cusk really is able to capture that uncomfortable, liminal space in between two situations, to describe what it means to go through upheaval, to not know how something will turn out. To know something old - a relationship, a flat, a homecountry - was not the right fit, but not knowing at all that what will come will be any better.

Maggie O'Farrell, Hamnet and The Marriage Portrait. "Hamnet" is a fictional account of Shakespeare's youngest (real) children - insightful, inutitive twins Hamnet and Judith - as well as of their mother, Agnes (the secret protagonist). O'Farrell's descriptions of grief and quiet domesticity are very lovely. The scenery is a bit mystic or unsettling at times, especially chapters about Agnes' life, and I found the novel generally beautifully written. (As the Guardian put's it: "read it and weep").

The Marriage Portrait takes place in Renaissance Florence and also features a very insightful, inutitive child, Lucretia de' Medici, the smart and rebellious daughter of the Duke of Florence. This story is about her arranged marriage at 15 to the Duke of Ferrara, and - as stated on the first page of the book - about the rumour that her husband killed her less than a year after their wedding.

I found the book quite suspenseful, but also very tender, poetic and loving. Also, I love books about artists and seeing through their eyes how they approach their art, which was a big part of TMP.

Honorable mentions:

Stine Pilgaard, Meter pro Sekunde - features my personal favourite, most fun protagonist of 2022.

Katja Oskamp, Marzahn Mon Amour - tales of a pedicurist/podiatrist and her clients.

[libidomechanica]

But denied

But denied, “insult but suspects grey of measured the best wakes the inter by thine, and never we want of the tender-ship, and let a sing   could be the might feel said Ida story of Aurora had a husband doesnt hard to wait that which kind, with honours, property, and fail, shunned with one make out for evil; rejoice influence and stiff an arithmetic needs let the treat?

And cheek and ever, you made by bare,   or (as was a Friar,   the times religious   upon earth, euer shadow warm in slumbers, beholders are up an act this pole,” and in muck beat with not to die a judgment.   Me as the worlds name, and waft a strange again, she the flowers over; me no one studde, has been a mouse,   or its mellowing rose, and some quince, with eager nose:   a sudden with a Muezzin undering also are mixd with each eyes o sweet Adeline alone. Or howeer   kindless and weep my oblation,   at fifty love for the gifts its must to lightly hard upon my sire, wave of ice, and wings) and all Cupids dark and potion, and the irregulated but whether sland when the echoes dreams with fireflies.

“Love is no blood bound, on like mine, those never people quick, an” its a fascination;   at which grew still thy Impressing   all out! If you snapdragon, sent clambent makes the limity!   How many thigh and there weight a served the spied into warble, cursing son of life, drains and give? I stay say he must four when plain women, a melon paring—which he hall was just ensure; and veil, thou, being monk is will sighed soul,   had been began:    And can high woods with her self-communion never of court, I

  and gowan lurking in that hearts,—the breeze in your laws brough shall join thy lawns favour! love not keep throat and left me no further senses us though the written away.

The kiss which Baba vanisht with her repose:   a monument will cheer, a name, then he blade.

“The might of thoughts were   a sponge disowned, too much; for a clouds deignd; but what his lately reader. There, would refused all the display, how bragly it be.”

[powerfultenderness]

8 and 12? :)

!! 😄 ty for asking!!

8. Which fic or hc do you feel most proud of?

Hm, I haven't posted many HC's, tho I am starting to now!, but I think the fic I'm most proud of is [The Baker's Daughter, Netflix's Cursed, The Weeping Monk/Reader]. It's just pure fluff that I wrote when I needed some comfort and I like how soft it came out. I still like to go back and read it from time to time (sometimes to just enjoy it, and sometimes to see if it'll inspire me to write the sequel).

12. The funniest comment someone has left on a fic of yours?

Oh! Waay back when I was writing [Forlorn Hope, CA: TWS, Bucky/Reader. Ao3], I had a bit of a writer's block so I wrote a short and silly chapter in which the Reader-character thinks she's been captured by aliens (she hasn't) and she yells at the people trying to help her, "fuckin' aliens!!" and a couple people just wrote that as comments! 🤣

Ty for asking! I nearly went back through my Ao3 inbox to find a few of those comments, but that would take a lot of scrolling as that fic is so old now 😅

[Fanfic writer ask game :)]