#weeping monk reader insert

[everlastingdreams]

Weeping Monk x Reader : The Forbidden Apple       Chapter 15

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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: Wild Hearts.

Notes: Sorry it took so long again.

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:  15 / 27

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After what felt like hours, and probably were, the cold rain was starting to soak through your cloak.

After feeling like you had lost your way in the forest, finally you regained some hope. The willow tree that had been struck by lightning marked that the village was not far off anymore.

Continuing your path ahead, you tried to remember the path the Monk had taken with you that night. It wasn’t simple, admittedly you had been somewhat distracted by him sitting behind you that night.

Part of you still hoped that he would come to the village, but you knew things had changed and that it was no longer safe. Father Carden had given the order, not even he could protect you now.

Still…

Leaving behind one of your people, someone who clearly cared for you, broke your heart.

Where would you even go now ? And alone…

It would be safer to find a place in the village until dawn, strolling around in the forest without someone who knew how to not get lost or eaten by wolves wasn’t the best idea.

You tied the reins of the horse to the same hitching post from last time, not a moment later you had to find cover.

Paladins were walking around and you hid in alleyways, behind low walls and wagons.

During one of those moments, as you navigated through the village, you bumped into someone.

The woman from the shop…

Both of you were quite startled to see each other again, especially with how you were sneaking around the place.

Two paladins walked by and you saw it dawn on her, until now she had not realized that you were Fey…

You pleaded with her, knowing that Manbloods were expected to report any Fey sightings “Please, don’t call for them…”

This woman took hold of your arm, seeing the shaken state you were in “Come with me. They’ll find you out here, love.”

She led you through the village with ease, as if she herself had often sneaked around the place avoiding people. And she had. Thelma, the butcher’s wife, was a terribly nosy person…

She led you into her shop, ushering you through a door in the back which led into the rest of her house.

The woman took hold of your cloak briefly, feeling how the rain had drenched it “Poor thing, your clothes are soaked. Hold on, I’ll get you something to dress into while they dry by the fire.”

“Wait !” You called out to her before she could walk into her shop again “I don’t even know your name yet…”

With a motion of her hand, she blamed it on her often distracted memory “It’s Suzanne.”

You introduced yourself as well “I’m Y/n.”

Suzanne smiled warmly “Wait there, I’ll be right back.”

  You did as told, moments later she had brought you a dress to change into until your own clothes were dry again. Then she offered to let you stay at her house for the night, something you tried to refuse but the woman was far more stubborn and perhaps she did not get many visitors.

When she started cooking dinner, you helped her.

As you helped her cut the vegetables, she held up a couple of carrots for you to see “That fellow you were with, the uh… monk ?” she saw you nod “Generous one. Made me able to get some more diversity in my soups. Have you worn the dresses yet ?”

Truthfully you replied “I was saving them for when I would need them most.”

The room filled itself with the incredible smell of what she was cooking and you handed her the potatoes you had cut.

She put them in the pot as well “The man had good taste.”

A rather big bowl of soup was placed in front of your nose a while later.

Suzanne sat opposite you at the table, reminiscing about how things had changed “Before the Red Paladins came, all those years ago, our village traded with Fey kind. Vegetables, fruits, herbs… The Faun Folk were incredible hunters. We had no trouble getting a meal on the table during those days.”

Taking a sip of the warm soup, it tasted even better than it smelled “Thank you, this is delicious.”

Suzanne smiled and began to drink her soup as well “I will prepare some necessities that you can take with you when you leave again tomorrow. I fear I cannot offer more, too many of those paladins are walking around the place these days.”

This woman was far too kind to a stranger “You have done more than enough, Suzanne. I doubt many people would let a Fey, let alone a stranger, stay in their house.”

Just as you said that, you recalled that it was exactly what the Monk had done. You were a stranger to him, an enemy of the Church and he had let you stay…

Your attention wandered away from her.

How will he have responded to the news that you were sentenced to death and had fled after attacking his red brothers ?

She pulled your attention back to the present when placing a hand on your own across the table “Fey or not, a person in need should be helped.”

This woman was giving you shelter and a meal while having barely enough for herself…

The Church’s mission and Uther’s negligence towards it were pushing more and more people into poverty.

Taking her hands in yours, you expressed your gratitude for the help she was giving “I will not forget what you have done for me, if I can ever repay you, I will.”

Suzanne drew her hands back and waved that away “Nonsense, I do not expect anything in return. You have enough to worry about as is. Come on, I’ll show you were you can sleep.”

After you finished your soup, she led you to were a fireplace was situated and handed you a blanket and a pillow.

She helped you make an improvised bed on the floor, it wasn’t much but you were used to worse conditions to sleep in.

When she tucked you in, you couldn’t help but wonder why she was alone in this rather large house “Are you married ? Do you have children ?”

Her expression changed immediately, sorrow filled her eyes “I was. And I had. A son, he would have been your age.”

It was clear that her child was no longer among the living “May I ask what happened ?”

She threw a block of wood into the heart of the fireplace so it would continue to burn throughout the night “When the paladins first started their mission all those years ago, he was playing with his friends, Fey kind. There used to be houses of the Fey not far from here, they made no exceptions for children back then.”

Gods…

The silence went on for a while after that, her son had died because he was friends with the Fey who had lived there…

But something she had said had caught your interest “The Church doesn’t make exceptions for children now either…”

Suzanne turned to you, stepping closer “I heard stories, the last decade or more the Fey children are being spared, often one stumbles upon this village. If the Church doesn’t make exceptions, then how come these children are alive ?”

Again you fell silent.

A decade or more… he would have been old enough…

His impact had already started years ago, sparing and protecting the Fey children from suffering the same fate as the adults.

A whole generation of your people spared because he took the risk.

When you answered, you avoided looking at her “Maybe somebody is having mercy on the children.”

Suzanne was quiet for a brief moment.

“That man you were here with previously, he was a man of the Church but he did not look like one of the Red Paladins. He had a rather distinct appearance.”

It was impossible to miss how she was fishing for the story on how the notorious Weeping Monk ended up in her shop with a Fey girl.

And she was right about his appearance, not even you had seen one of the Ash Folk before.

You kept silent, not wishing to share his secret with Manbloods.

She got the hint and did not press on “Those drapes they wear would not have suited him, I know, it is my work to know.”

For the first time in a while you laughed “I believe I told him something of the likes once. Grey suited him.”

The curious old woman did not miss how your tone changed on that last part, along with that quiet sigh coming from you, she put some pieces together “A dark blue would too. Then again, it is hard to make something beautiful ugly.” she added begrudgingly “It’s always the handsome ones that end up being married or monks or-”

You were looking at her with interest and she shook the memory away of all the times she had misjudged a situation before she found her late husband.

She patted you on the shoulder and picked up the lantern she had placed down to light her way “Anyhow. I should let you rest, try to sleep. I will wake you in the morning.”

While sending her a small smile, you thanked her again “Thank you, Suzanne. And good night.”

She strolled out of the room, lantern held out in front of her “Goodnight, y/n. Don’t worry too much.”

As she walked away, the only light now came from the small fireplace.

There you were, laying down in the darkness alone for the first time again in weeks.

Soon tears started to brim in your eyes, it was starting to sink in…

Now that you did not have to worry about not having shelter for the night, all the others emotions you had buried reached the surface.

Left alone with your thoughts in the darkness, perhaps one of the most dangerous things there was…

Would he be punished for your escape ? Would he be send to find you ? Would you ever even see him again ?

You turned on your side, facing the flames of the fire, this time no one was there to hold or comfort you if a nightmare would haunt your dreams.

It felt like a part of you had been ripped away, for someone to be that important to you…and then gone.

Shutting your eyes, you hoped you’d fall asleep soon.

Tonight he had wanted to take you to the village, you would have been here together…

There was something he had not wished to tell you. Why was he so persistent to come here again ?

Why had that conversation felt like a ‘goodbye’ ?

So many questions did not stop troubling you until you eventually fell asleep.

   The next morning you said your goodbyes to Suzanne, giving her a hug of gratitude when she handed you some food and useful items for your journey. At least you would not starve for the next few days, all you could do was hope to find a safe place soon.

She put some final things in the saddlebag of your horse “Be careful, dear. Stick to the forest, avoid the roads. The butcher’s wife said that a group of Trinity Guards was seen traveling our direction.”

Great, your journey was off to a good start. The Church’s most fearsome murderers were getting close.

You mounted your horse “I will be. Thank you, Suzanne, for everything you have done for me.”

Again she waved it away, like it was a normal thing to be so kind to a stranger “Aw, don’t be silly. I enjoyed having some company over. The house has been too quiet for so long.”

That was something you could relate to.

You requested only one more thing “The man I was with the last time. If you see him again, could you tell him I was here ? Only him.”

Suzanne smiled up at you “I shall. Good luck, y/n.”

You spurred the horse on into a walking pace “Thank you. Stay safe and healthy, Suzanne.”

She watched you ride out off the village and head into the forest, taking her advice to heart to avoid the roads.

  oOoOoOOoOoOoOoOoO

  Miles from where you were, the Ash Man was still riding at a calm pace with the Fey child sitting in front.

He had learned the boy’s name after some gentle pushing.

Percival. Not ‘Squirrel’ as the boy had first claimed.

“Where are we going ?” The child in front of him asked for the fifth time.

Both breathing and speaking hurt, still he would not ignore the boy, the last time he did that it ended with the child cussing him out for close to an hour before he ran out of breath WHILE WALKING “To the forest up ahead.”

Percival was growing grumpy fast, not used to sitting still for so long “You said we were going to the river and we’ve passed that. Then you said we were going past the rocks and we passed that as well. Make up your mind.”

He winced, both at the boy’s rude way of speaking and how the child was calling him out on his own failure to think of where to go.

And let that be what the boy pointed out next “You don’t know where you are going, don’t you ?”

He held his tongue or risked alarming the boy.

Percival rolled his eyes and decided to take charge considering that the man steering the horse had taken enough hits to the head to make them circle the world two times aimlessly “Go left past that big tree over there.”

His eyes slid to the boy’s face, noting a slightly frustrated tone of voice “What is left ?”

The boy held up his left hand and looked at him as if he was thick in the head “Did you forget what left and right is ?”

How was this boy so bold and brash ?

Slowly he spoke and explained what he had meant “I meant, why are we going left ? What is there to find if we head left ?”

Percival wasn’t very keen on sharing that information yet “You’ll see when we head left.”

Was there even a point in trying to get the boy to share where he would ride to ? This child could tell him to ride straight into hell and he was left but no other option then to actually do so.

And currently it felt like one way or another, he would end up there with these injuries “If I lose consciousness. Take my horse, his name is Goliath, leave me and find your people. Take my short sword, you will wield it better than the long one.”

The boy turned his head to face him “You’re not dying are you ?”

That sudden concerned look on the otherwise brave young boy’s face surprised him, he had not expected his health to be the subject of the child’s concern.

His chances on survival were slim to none if he did not find a place to receive treatment. And the villages nearby would be being searched by members of the Church soon enough. Abbot Wicklow would not let this humiliation pass by unpunished. He was a wanted man, if his wounds did not kill him in a few days, the Church would. A traitor would be shown no mercy.

His only concern now was to bring the boy to a safe place far away from the camp.

And maybe find a place to die in peace, alone.

Would he lie to keep him calm ? Or tell the truth and hope the boy would continue to act brave ?

Without mentioning the state he was in, he explained why he had told him this “They will be looking for me, Percival. Do not risk your life for me again.”

Percival was having none of that “You risked yours for me. And a knight of the Fey helps people.”

He frowned at that “Knight ?”

The boy got quiet “The Green Knight… he made me a knight…I saw soldiers take him away from the camp.”

It was not until he was faced by the boy’s impending torture that Father had commanded, that he had fully decided to turn against those who had taught him everything. And so much of it had been lies…

If he had been stronger of will, perhaps he could have saved the Green Knight from the hands of his red brothers…

He bowed his head in shame “My words might mean nothing to you, Percival. But I want you to know that I regret ever bringing the Green Knight to Father.”

Of course the boy still held a grudge for it, but he knew that if the Weeping Monk had not turned against the paladins, he would not be alive to see this day “Do you think he is alive ?”

There was no point in lying “I fear not, but we cannot be certain until we hear news of it. I am sorry, Percival.”

The boy pouted, then spoke somewhere between pleading and demanding, a rather impressive thing not many people were capable of “You have to stay alive, alright ? We need people who can fight.”

Currently, all he was capable off now was fighting to stay alive. If he had to fight in this condition, he would surely perish.

He reached over and wiped some blood from the boy’s temple “Do not worry about me. Tell me where I need to ride to next.”

Percival was baffled by the tall Fey’s caring nature, but went ahead and pointed him to the next direction.

When they took a brief stop to give Goliath some rest and for him to wash off some of the blood, the boy had rummaged through the saddlebag in search for food.

And he had found some, the food he had packed for you for when he would have brought you to the inn in the village…

The boy chewed on some bread, offering some of it to the weakened Ash Man too “Why do you have dresses with you ?”

His appetite left him right away, feeling how his throat tightened again “They were from a friend.”

Percival continued his questioning, unaware of the sorrow inside his new friend “Where is your friend ? Maybe they will helps us.”

His voice cracked, eyes dropping to the grass “They’re gone.”

Obliviously the child asked “Gone where ?” the look in the Ash Man’s eyes gave the answer “Oh, I’m sorry.”

With a sigh he placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder and steered him back towards the horse “It is alright. You remind me of her with all your questions. Come on, we should head out again. Find a place far enough to build a fire before it gets dark again.”

  oooOOooOoOOOooOooo

  You had just started to set up camp in a spot you considered appropriate when footsteps sounded from nearby.

A group…

Rising from the ground, you had just enough time to grab your bag as they stepped into view. Three women and three men, dressed in raider attire, stared in your direction. One of them had freckles spread all over her face. It was she that shouted after you when you started to run for the horse “Wait ! Why are you running ?”

What halted you was how it had sounded like she found it absolutely ridiculous that you would be running from them.

That was…odd.

The girl stepped forward when she saw you stop near your horse “Are you hurt ?”

When you saw that the others stayed at a distance, you replied “No. I’m not.”

She stopped only a few steps away “Sky Folk ? Like me.”

There was a nod from you that confirmed her guess.

“There’s blood on your clothes.” She pointed out while physically pointing at your skirt.

Your eyes widened and flickered down to see that she was right, little specks of dried blood were staining it. You had not noticed them when putting your own dress on again at Suzanne’s house. It’s a miracle that no one else had commented on it yet.

“It’s not my blood.” You blurted out before realizing how bad that would sound to her.

The girl took a large step back but kept facing you “Alright…”

Oh dear gods…

You tried to reassure her that you were not some homicidal maniac wandering around in the woods “Oh, no ! Listen, I… I just escaped a paladin camp. This is paladin blood.”

“I like her !” One of the raiders shouted.

The girl seized you up for a moment, then held out her hand “I’m Pym.”

Well, she was a rather interesting character…

You shook her hand, introducing yourself “Nice to meet you. I’m y/n.”

With a shrug of her shoulders she casually asked “Well then, y/n. Want to tag along ?”

You couldn’t believe someone would let you travel along so easily “Tag along ?”

She frowned before talking really slow “Yes. Do. You. Want. To. Come. With. Me ?” after a long pause without an answer she grew impatient “Well ?”

It was your instinct replying, it told you to trust her “Yes.”

Another shrug of her shoulders “Alright well, take your horse along, we’ll be riding back once I find the last plants I need.”

One of the raiders walked up to you, taking his helmet off and putting it on your head “For protection.”

Pym didn’t look impressed with it, shrugged her shoulders and started to walk to where they had been heading again.

  oooOOoooOoOoOOooOOOoOOoOo

  As this group seemingly strolled around the forest for over an hour, Pym picked many different herbs and flowers that she found.

She told you that she was the healer on a ship from Red Spear, a well known captain. Well known because every other captain on the seas feared crossing her path.

Some of these raiders went ahead and showed you the work Pym had done on them.

You heard the most bizarre stories from them, how they had obtained the kind of injuries one jokes about but never actually thinks is possible to get.

Finally they brought you back to a city still protected by a high wall and Faun archers.

There you saw a familiar face, the man you had met in the forest…

You caught his attention as well and he walked over to you “We’ve met before.”

He looked pleasantly surprised “That we have. Wow, I didn’t think I’d see you again.”

Pym hadn’t expected that you would know the same Manblood “You know her ?”

The man started to explain it “This is the girl I talked about. The one I met in the forest. I was worried about you.”

“Oh.” Pym recalled that he had mentioned it once.

Thanks to his kind gesture, you were here now “Thank you for the knife you gave me, sir. I wouldn’t be alive today without it.”

With a slight tilt of his head he acknowledged it “You’re very welcome. And please, don’t call me sir.”

You smiled at him friendly “What should I call you then ?”

He held out his hand for you to shake “Call me Arthur.”

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[throped]

The Weeping Queen // Weeping Monk x OC // Chapter 1

.~ PROLOUGE ~. I'm not sure how many chapters there are gonna be but I'll let you know after the story is finished! This is an OC one but I'm also going to make a reader insert the same, but just the names changed.

Also, you're about 13 in this part, it is the part where you become involved with the Fey.

This world is messed up. Every little bit of it. People don’t listen, people don’t talk, people are mean while some people are too nice. I just don’t get it. My school doesn’t get much better though, not when there are little twats running around like they own the place. I have but merely two friends and one whom I never even asked to be friends with. Stupid people running this stupid world. This place would literally be in shambles if my anger could be expressed physically. But sometimes I find it amusing, people going about in their daily lives while having arguments over little things. I’m working on a plot, a plot to make everyone’s lives miserable. I enjoy their twisted eyes staring into my soul, almost like they could kill me. But they can’t. Nobody is capable of killing without being angered enough. They all think they’re above one another, but they just don’t realise that they are all exactly the same.

My part-time job also sucks, the fact that the person who runs the place makes me feel like I’m dumb also annoys me. Intelligence can come in many forms, whether it be academically or just survival skills and logical thinking. I prefer the one where I don’t have to waste my time studying, I simply don’t get the logic in that, study your WHOLE life just to get a paper and a handshake from a person who just went through the same thing? That just doesn’t sit right with me.

PRESENT

My parents and I decided to go to a cash converters store where we could buy things given by other people for a downgraded price. As I made my way into the store, my breath was immediately contaminated with the stench of bicycles rotting so I put up my hand to cover my nose from that foul odour. “Don’t exaggerate so much, Dae! Let’s be in a good mood today, shall we?” My mother encouraged, the words flowing into one ear and out the other.  “Huh, oh yes, good mood. Got it,” I replied with. As I walked deeper into the store, leaving my parents and little brother, I made my way to the paintings area. My eyes floated around, clearly mesmerised at the sight in front. How could one sell such an exquisite painting for FOUR DOLLARS? That’s literally nothing compared to what stood right in front of my eyes. The waterfall and garden looked extremely captivating but there was something else that caught my attention… There on a stand, laid a sword, a majestical sword one would say, it was simply magnificent. My fingers carefully brushed through the blade of the smooth sword. There was also writing, writing that looked quite ancient. I was wondering why a sword like this would be in a painting isle. But my thoughts were short-lived as my parents called me for suggestions on the quilts they had seen. I sighed and made my way over.

That night I went home and ate dinner, which was rice, my favourite! I put my laptop in my laptop bag while grabbing the keys from the back pocket and putting it into the front which would ultimately be easier for me. My body thumped against the bed because of the sudden pressure added. I yawned as my body melted into the soft bed. The relief of the night washing in on me.

***

My head felt like it was getting pierced by branches while the whole of my lower body felt like it was resting against a stone. The only problem was that when I woke up, a whole forest surrounded me. “What? Where am I, is anyone there!?” My restless voice yelled out. My body jerked into action, and I quickly stood up at the sound of sticks breaking and leaves rustling around me. I don’t know where I am. Is this a dream or what? Some kind of unexplained reverie? I’m not sure but all this seems pretty real to me. The rusting only continued to come nearer and nearer as my breath suddenly quickened. What a morning, is this even a morning? I’m not sure about anything anymore. Tall green trees and traces of flowers growing on the soft garden bed of the woods. Now that I think of it, it wasn’t the best idea to yell out in the woods where literally anything could pounce at you and supposedly end you. As the rustling still continued, I pressed myself against a tree to make myself less visible. But to my surprise, a feminine voice suddenly rang out, “who’s there!? Show yourself!” Seemed to be a girl, probably young, her voice didn’t sound as developed as adults. But the real question was, what was this girl doing in the woods alone? She was likely alone as an adult wouldn’t let her out here herself. Although, for all I know, this could be a fantasy world where pigs fly. I’m not really sure.

I relaxed a little as I saw the face of the voice. She was young, probably as old as me, if not, younger. Her brunette hair contradicted with her icy blue eyes as her attire looked quite different from mine. I stared at her for a solid five seconds and finally broke out of my trance, “who are you, where am I?” I questioned. “Uh, I’m Nimue, and this is the path to our village, do you not know where you are?” she looked puzzled to say the least. “To be honest, I was sleeping in my world, and I suddenly woke up and ended up… here?” I spoke as my panic seemed to arise. Was this the past, another world, another universe!? “Also, why are you dressed like that?” The girl or should I say Nimue asked. “I’m dressed perfectly fine thank you very much. But the real question is, why are you dressed like that,” I said as I compared our clothes. She had braids and it seemed as if she was wearing a black and white outlines cloak, probably with a knee length dress inside as her legs were visible. I looked down at myself and my white fur puffer jacket which always kept me warm, I was wearing long cargo black pants that were of good quality and a simple t-shirt inside. I’m happy that I didn’t change into my nightdress. “I always wear this, everyone wears this. And why are you wearing white? It looks stuffed,” Nimue said. “Well, this may sound crazy, but I think I’ve been transported from my world to yours because of something I’ve done… Also, my jacket is stuffed with something called jute, it’s meant to keep us warm in our world,” I replied to her questions. “I’m sorry for annoying you with my stupid questions but I can take you back to the village if you wish?” Nimue asked. It hadn’t even been a split second before I answered, “of course, I desperately need a place to seek refugee until I can get back to my home.”

It was prohibited to follow a stranger in my world, but this time it felt fine, I need somewhere to stay and this girl doesn’t seem like the kind to kill me in cold blood. Also, I want to get to know more information about this place so I just wanna ask her some questions to know my way around this place. As we were walking, I didn’t have the courage to utter a word, but I was awe-struck at the beauty of the forest as we were walking down the trail. Considering Nimue is using the term ‘village’, I determine that this place must not be as well developed and is probably not modern at all. Even looking at her clothes, in my world, they’d be considered shabby. “So, do you think the village will like me?”. “Maybe, I don’t really know, those old shriveled up onions that are considered elders may like or hate you,” she shrugged. But she suddenly changed her demeanor, “are you a human?” she quickly asked. Wondering why she asked me such a weird question; I nodded my head instead of answering. She gasped, “I’ve never met a human before and I’m pretty sure they may not accept you.” “Aren’t you a human too, Nimue?” I replied with clear confusion. “Well, no. I’m Fey, we have powers, and we can connect with the Hidden!” She said. This was too much for me, I didn’t understand anything. What is the ‘Hidden’? And what is ‘Fey’? All I can hope now is that the village will be welcoming since I’m a human. Or maybe… I just tell them I’m Fey.

[golden-pickaxe]

it is so weird that I write most reader insert stories in fandoms that I am absolutely not engaged in... and idk why the inspiration hits me for these fandoms/characters so intensely

[justanotherwriter-fangirl]

The Opportunity (T. W. M.)

Warnings: Nop.

Word Count: 300 words.

A/N: I watched Cursed and I LOVED the Weeping Monk so of course I had to try to write something about him, I’m still reading and learning about him to get him right but nevertheless I hope you like it 😅 This belongs to Day 2 of my 300 Followers Celebration and my 5 Years Celebration!  Thanks so much for reading 💕

Gif obtained from Google. All credits to its owner.

Thanks for reading <3

________________________

You almost fell from the tree you were on when you saw the black horse down the road, a cold shiver running down your spine.

This was your opportunity, you thought, as the rider seemed to be just enjoying the ride down the woods, all by himself and unarmed. 

You knew exactly who was riding that black horse, the memory of him burned in your brain since the day he, along with the Red Paladins, slaughter your village for the second time. 

Many years ago the people of Dewdenn had took you in after the Red Paladins burned the place you once called home and now it had happened all over again but this time they weren’t alone, a hooded man with them making sure no one escaped.

You weren’t really sure how but you had ended up in a cave deep in the woods after hours of running away but as days passed by living in the woods got slightly easier as you could get your hands on a bow and some arrows you stole from a human village.

Now, back on the ground and standing in the middle of the road you were waiting for the black horse to reach you, your bow ready to shoot an arrow as you tried to breathe steadily to assure you hit your target.

A few more minutes passed when the sound of voices quickly reached you and almost made you drop the bow, he wasn’t alone.

You were about to start running when you recognized one of the voices, Squirrel, he had him and now it was up to you to save him but when their faces came into view, a memory suddenly hit you with force making you drop the bow instantly, it was impossible, wasn’t it? 

“Lancelot…?” you whispered.

_______________________

Masterlist

[ellewritesathing]

Faith and Forgiveness    I

Summary: Faith was tricky, fickle. When you've been trained your whole life to do awful things, you have to have faith that your misdeeds will be worth it in the end and trust that your faith hasn't been misplaced. The Weeping Monk wasn’t so sure that he was capable of that trust.

Masterlist   Part 1

Word-count: 4.6k+

A/N: hey so originally this was supposed to be a single part fic but it was like 10k words and i needed validation so i split it up!! hope you like it anyway💕

War was a tricky business. The business of making rich men richer and starving the rest, burning the rest. Not the business of honest men; war was the business of liars and thieves, and you had to leave pieces of yourself behind if you wanted to survive. 

You had to survive because you were one of the last ones, even if you were just a watered-down version of the original. The Moon Wings were one of the first clans to be burned, but you were one of the lucky ones to only be taken prisoner, blessed enough to be chosen to be saved from damnation. 

Stubborn enough to escape from the bastards and vow to rescue anyone else who was unlucky enough to be forced into your position. 

But saving people was a tricky business. The business of making righteous men into enemies and prolonging the tragic lives of the rest. Not the business of honorable men; salvation was the business of the broken and the damned, and you had to leave pieces of yourself behind if you wanted to survive. 

Salvation was also very costly, which is why you left Squirrel in the trees and promised to take him to Nemos when you had the money to get him there. The knights of Pendragon were ridiculously oblivious targets, just like their king, so it was supposed to be a quick beating and stealing. 

Unfortunately, a few stray fey folk here and a couple of Red Paladins there had ruined your perfectly good plan. Perhaps none ruined it more so than the Weeping Monk. 

He was good, you had to admit. A truly skilled fighter, even though he was a pain in the ass. Most of the fey had gotten away while you fought with him, but so did your knights and their gold. You didn’t have time to dwell on your loss, though, because the Weeping Monk threw you against a tree and pressed a knife to your throat. 

“Stop talking or I’ll cut out your tongue,” he said under his breath. His words were tinged with danger and mint, and it was the first time he’d spoken during your one-sided verbal and double-edged physical sparring match. 

Ignoring the few drops of blood that trickled down your throat, you moved a few centimeters closer to his face. “If it made you smile, I’d bite it off myself.” He pushed you back into the tree, bits of bark digging into your back as you laughed. 

The knife dug into your throat but not enough to aggravate the wound, but it was enough to cut your laugh into an amused smile. You were about to ask if you’d struck a nerve when the first arrow flew through the air. 

Ordinarily, the Weeping Monk never would have been hit by an arrow like that, but his attention was on you and not the assailant in the dark. The arrow landed in his lower back and was met with an annoyed groan rather than a cry of pain. 

He spun around, pulling the knife off your throat to knock away the next arrow. He stalked further into the woods and your eyes caught on something shiny to the right of him. The knights had circled back and they were hungry. 

Sure, the Weeping Monk could take out an entire banner of knights by himself, but that was when he didn’t have an arrow between one of his kidneys and his liver. 

You knew that if you left him to be killed in the woods that you would probably be saving countless fey lives, but a very annoying voice in your head reminded you of a promise you made to the ashes of your village - a promise to save anyone from an unjust killing. 

To be fair, you hadn’t known you’d be saving the Weeping Monk when you’d made the promise, but Moon Wings weren’t ones to break promises and neither were you. So, against your better judgment, you followed him into the woods. 

He seemed to be doing fine on his own, though you’d expect nothing less from the Weeping Monk. He did, however, have a knight that was about to stab him in the back. The Weeping Monk turned just in time to see you knock the knight out with the hilt of your blade. 

He was about to say something, most probably not thank you, when blood spilled from his lips and he collapsed.

After your brief shock, you dove to check that he was still alive. His pulse was fading but it was, frustratingly, still there. You took your hand off his neck and grabbed a fistful of his cloak to pull him up. Looping your arms underneath his shoulders, you started dragging him somewhere safe. 

The Weeping Monk was heavier than he looked, proper deadweight in his unconscious state, but you managed to get him to the caves in one piece. He was a quick healer, too, considering that he woke up before you’d even applied the salve. 

Feeling venomously playful, you wiped the salve off your knife and moved the blade to his throat. “Don’t talk or I’ll cut out your tongue,” you warned in a rushed whisper. 

Surprisingly, the Weeping Monk didn’t fight you. He looked at you as best as he could from the position on his stomach, and asked in a voice far more venomous than playful, “What are you doing to me?” 

You took your knife off his throat and sat back down with a sigh. “I’m trying to save your life,” you said. “You’ve got a nasty wound on your back but I’ve got something to fix it. It’s going to hurt when I take the arrow out and burn after.” 

He dropped his gaze to the floor. “Just leave me in the woods to bleed out.”

“I didn’t just drag you all the way in here to drag you out there again.” As you spoke, you wrapped one hand around the arrow and grabbed hold of his shirt with your other. “Just lie still and-” 

He moved so quickly that you thought the Weeping Monk was going to kill you, but all he did was catch your wrist. Not rough enough to leave a bruise, but enough to shock you to let go of his shirt. “Don’t.”

“You’ll die if I don’t,” you said. Your voice wasn't necessarily confrontational, but it told whoever was listening that you weren't willing to back down. “You’re one hell of a fighter but it looks like that’s what made it worse.” 

“I don’t care.” Maybe it was the way sound echoed in these caves, but he sounded so resigned to his fate that it tugged at your heartstrings. 

“Well, I care,” you told him. You repositioned your hold on the arrow. “Now hold still.” You tore the arrow out of his back before he could argue.

His screams echoed off the walls. It was painful to hear and even more so to watch his entire body writhe the way it did, but soon it was over and you were pressing a wad of his cloak to stop the bleeding. 

“There,” you murmured, lifting a hand to move some hair off his sweat-soaked forehead. Seeing him covered in sweat and blood did a funny thing to your chest; you’d been stabbed in your chest before but this was something else. “There. The hard part is over.”

“Maybe for you,” the Weeping Monk said quietly. He met your eyes and suddenly you realized what that feeling was: heartbreak. At that moment, all you wanted to do was fix how broken he seemed. 

Slowly, before you could do something stupid like befriending him, you pulled your hand away from his face and let it fall away from him. In a voice small enough to fit how small the cave had become, you said, “This next part will sting.” 

The Weeping Monk clenched his jaw and looked away from you again. If he noticed the sudden lack of air in the cave and space between you, he didn’t mention it. “Just get it over with,” he said. 

You flexed the hand that had touched his face and took a deep breath. Blood seeped through his cloak and onto your other hand, so you moved to focus on the wound instead of the Weeping Monk’s frustratingly imperceptible face. 

The salve was on the edge of your knife and you set the wadded up and bloodied cloak to the side to apply it. You lifted the edge of his shirt with one and hand and folded it up to assess the damage to the Weeping Monk’s lower back. For a moment, the cave lost all its air again as you took in the constellation of scars. New and old crossed over one another, marred by bruises and scabbed over lashes. 

You took a breath and reminded yourself that at least some of these scars had to come from fey that he’d killed. With new-found resolve, you glided your knife over the wound to apply the salve and watched the black smoke rise from the wound. You rubbed the salve into and around the wound as you whispered an old prayer that hadn’t escaped your lips in years and ignored the Weeping Monk’s quiet curses. 

All this work to save a man that you weren’t sure could even be saved. Ironic.

It was quiet for a long time as the two of you sat in the cave, him too busy trying to heal and you too focused on your an internal crisis. You knew he had eventually passed out again when the whimpering stopped. His back still rose and fell with his breathing, so you decided it was safe enough to leave him alone and find something to eat before both of you starved. 

The woods were quiet and dark, but nighttime was when the Moon Wings thrived. After a few careful words to the night birds, you had a small but decent-sized assortment of berries and nuts. One of the birds even stole some roast off someone’s fire. Plenty enough to see you through the night. 

Though you weren't gone for very long, you found the Weeping Monk awake, leaning heavily on the cold stone walls of the cave, and holding a knife in your direction. 

You muttered a curse and tilted your head at him. “This is how you thank the person who saved your life?” 

“Where did you go?” he asked. He looked frantic, still covered in the same cold sweat but his eyes were wild. No, his eyes were determined. The Weeping Monk didn’t drop the knife, but at least he didn’t try to stab you. 

“Getting food.” You lifted your bag and shook it around so he could hear the food bouncing around inside. “If you lower the knife, I might even share.” You moved closer but he waved the knife slightly. You came to a stop and your final footstep echoed. 

“Why are you helping me?” he asked. “It’s not going to help you find salvation.” 

Truth be told, you didn't have a very good reason for saving him, but he didn't need to know that. “I don’t need salvation," you told him instead. "I know I’m damned.” 

You lowered your bag of food and closed the distance between you after you reminded yourself that you could open his wound in a single kick if he tried to stab you. 

“I could kill you.” The Weeping Monk watched your every move, but he lowered the knife. Oddly enough, his eyes were filled with more curiosity than suspicion - only a small trace of the determination to kill you remained.

“Like in the woods?” You set the bag of food down and sat across from him. “I was doing pretty well for myself out there.”

“I had you pinned against a tree with a knife to your throat.” 

“I had a knife under your ribcage. One move and I could have torn open your heart, assuming you have one of those.”

The Weeping Monk gave you the ghost of a bitter smile but he didn’t say anything. Instead of looking at him, you opened your bag and did a quick inventory of the food. Water was dripping somewhere in the cave system and it was the only sound as you divvied up the food, very aware of the Weeping Monk’s eyes on you as you did.

You slid his portion over to him without a word and leaned back against your side of the tunnel wall. After a brief staring contest, you started eating. He ate in silence. You did, too, mostly. Or at least, you did until he cracked a nut under the hilt of his blade and the sound felt too similar to the sound of a snapping bone. 

You took your eyes off the knife to look at his face. “Do you have a name?” 

He looked up for a moment. “No.” 

“Do you have something else I can call you?” 

“No.” 

“Well, the Weeping Monk is a bit of a mouthful so-” you let out a breath and broke up the nut in your hand “-Sunshine it is. Since you’ve got such a chipper personality and stellar conversation skills.”

The Weeping Monk watched you carefully, probably wondering if it was too late to cut your tongue. He chose to return his attention to his share of the food instead of dignifying your taunt with a response. For some reason, his silence bothered you.

Since asking for his name had gone over so well, you decided to try an even heavier topic. “Why do you kill people?” You were careful to keep your voice level as you popped a berry into your mouth in an effort to seem disinterested. 

The Weeping Monk looked up at you again, eyes catching yours over the small fire he’d managed to get going while you were gone. “I don’t kill people,” he said. “I kill fey.” 

“Do you truly think that’s any better?” Your voice betrayed you by sounding too concerned; his face betrayed him by looking too vulnerable. His walls dropped for only a moment, but it was enough for you to see the pain behind them. “Oh, you do, don’t you?”

“I don’t need pity from a fey mercenary.” His words were laced with venom and blood. He threw the mixed nuts he’d been crushing to the side and they clattered against the uneven cave floor. 

“Well, you need it from someone,” you said, determined not to take his jab personally. Still, your hands clenched tightened into fists in your lap. “I don’t see any of your Red Paladins giving a damn about you.” 

“They are my brothers.” 

“Only in name.”

“Don’t,” he said, voice cautionary. It was dangerously soft and full of emotion, but you couldn’t figure out exactly which emotion. Fear? Apprehension? Determination?

You put your hands to the side and leaned in closer to him. “If you’re their brother, then why haven’t they come for you?” 

For a moment, all the two of you did was stare at each other and wait for the other to break. His breath was shaky where yours was calm. Both of you were calculating, you how difficult it would be to subdue him and him how easy it would be to slit your throat in your sleep. 

When minutes passed without either of you breaking, you sighed and leaned back against your wall. “It’s going to take some time for that to heal. Since we both know I’m not going to kill you, you should sleep first. We can go our separate ways in the morning.” 

“I’d like nothing more,” he said bitterly. 

Though he laid down, his hand still clutched his sword and his breathing never deepened. You didn’t speak to him again. It was clear that every word he spoke to you was against his will. Pretending to sleep was easier, and he was probably hoping it would lull you into a false sense of security. 

When he passed out earlier, he looked so full of pain. That pain wasn’t visible now and, even if it was just pretend, he looked peaceful like that. His face was expressionless, his muscles were relaxed. You wondered if he was always pretending or if he actually slept in the camps. Those Paladins might not care about him, but they would never dare harm their precious soldier. 

He didn't sleep around you because you were a threat. Even though you’d probably shown the Weeping Monk more kindness in an evening than the Paladins had in his lifetime, judging by those scars on his back, you were still fey. Still a threat. If Paladins weren’t a threat, did he sleep around them?

“What kind are you?” he asked, snapping you out of your musings. You hadn’t realized that he’d opened his eyes until he spoke. His voice was less angry now, but that didn't mean he wasn't still planning on slitting your throat the first chance he got.

“Moon Wing,” you said, looking up from the blade in your hand. “We were among the first to burn.” 

He watched you carefully as you put the sword to the side. “How did you survive?” 

“It was before the Paladins had a taste for blood. Instead of killing us all, they took a few of us who passed for humans to sell,” you said. His face remained cold and expressionless. “I was the most human-looking, so they kept me as their trophy, their symbol. Their warning.” 

The water punctuated your words. Each drop made your words more sinister. 

“They said terrible things when they cut off my wings and transferred them to some other group of Paladins. I think Father Carden still has them on display somewhere but I’m not sure.” You looked over to your sword again, just to get away from those unflinching hazel eyes of his. You shook your head and finished your story. “That night, I waited until they were asleep and cut out their tongues. Then I ran.” 

Drop. Drop. Drop. 

“They call you the Angel of Mercy,” he said. He’d been watching your sword before but now his eyes were fixed on yours. 

“I didn’t choose the name.” 

“Father Carden says mercy is a virtue we can’t afford.” 

“Father Carden says a lot of things.” You were determined not to look away. “I wonder what he’ll say to God for all his sins.”

“And to which of your gods are you referring?” he asked, angling his face up slightly. Confrontational, but he seemed more curious than venomous.

“Whichever one you’d like, Sunshine,” you said with a smile. His mouth turned up slightly, not in agreement but out of amusement. “It’s not about knowing which one exists, is it? It’s about doing good and trusting that it’ll be worth it later on. That’s faith, isn’t it?” 

He was quiet. He looked away first this time. “I suppose it depends on your definition of doing good.”

Even if he wasn’t looking at you, you were looking at him. “My definition is pretty basic. Good is not killing people when you can help it.” 

The Weeping Monk set his jaw. He was doing his best not to snap at you again - that was progress, at least. Maybe he wasn’t defending them because he knew he could never win you over, but you liked to think that it was because you were getting through to him. 

Converts were a dirty breed, or so you’d been told. Always more righteous than the born-believer. But what did the Weeping Monk believe? Was he born believing it or just trained to? 

You knew you would regret it before you even knew what you were doing, your hands moving on their own as they unclasped a small pouch on your belt. You rolled the quill back and forth between your thumb and forefinger, admiring how bright the feather was even in this darkness. The white reflected in the Weeping Monk’s eyes. 

You leaned forward and placed the feather on his sword, the edge barely touching his hand. It was the closest you’d gotten to him since you touched his face and saw his scars. 

“What’s this?” he asked. 

Your voice was devoid of all confrontation when you spoke again, softness taking the place of anger. “All that’s left of my wings.”

“I don’t want it.” He lost his softness and the venomous defense returned, but his hand still twitched to hold the feather. Progress.

“Then burn it,” you said. You shook your head and leaned back to your side of the cave tunnel. “I can’t keep carrying it around.”

“Why give it to me?” he asked. “You could sell it - you might even get some silver for it.”

You shrugged. “You’re the only one that knows where it comes from.” You watched each other for a second, neither of you saying anything. Then the silence became suffocating and you glanced to the mouth of the cave. “Dawn will break soon. I’m going to sleep, but know that if you kill me then I will come back to haunt you.” 

Without another word, you slid down the wall and curled up. You used your arm as an uncomfortable pillow, more used to sleeping in trees than pretending to sleep in caves, and held onto your knife. 

The Weeping Monk was quiet for a long time after that. He must have thought you were sleeping because his hand curled around the feather and you heard him move. Instinctively, you gripped your knife in your hand and waited. 

More movement muffled with the burning-out fire and dripping cave water, and then something covered you. His bloody cloak, you realized. 

“I get the feeling you’ll be haunting me either way,” he said softly. 

With considerable effort, he made his way back to his side of the cave and winced as he lowered himself back down to the ground. He might have gotten some real sleep after that for all you knew, but you didn’t. You weren’t sure if people like you ever got real sleep anymore. 

You counted down every water droplet until the sunlight started filtering through the cracks in the rock. The Weeping Monk hadn’t moved since he covered you and you stole a look at him with the sunlight on his face. He was pretty like this, not the same way that people were attractive but in the way a like a painting that was alluring as long as it didn't burn. 

Instead of waiting for him to burn, you reminded yourself that he’d need water when he woke up and that you needed to get off the cave floor before your muscles petrified. 

As quietly as you could, you got up and followed the sound of the water droplets. You ran your hand along the mossy rocks and swallowed big gulps of air to wake up.

The water trickled down the moss and dropped onto the floor, only a tiny pothole where the water dropped over the centuries. Every drop splashed out of the miniature pool. You knelt and held your canteen under the moss until there was enough to grace each of you with a few sips. You capped it and started heading back to the Weeping Monk, wondering if he would be awake and threatening you with a knife. 

Your wonderings were unfounded; the Weeping Monk was gone when you got back. He’d taken his cloak and any trace he’d ever been there with him, even the feather. Wherever he went, you knew he wouldn’t be coming back. 

So, you sat down in front of the remnants of his fire, drank his share of the water, and ate what was left of his share of the food from the night before. When that was finished and you’d caught your breath, you set off to meet Squirrel in the trees. 

You’d told him how to get to Nemos and to leave if you didn’t come back the next night, but Squirrel was a stubborn kid. He’d found you in the woods after his village burned and he escaped, babbling about how he had to find Nimue. His sister, you thought, but he didn’t say. All he said was that he needed to find her. You didn’t have the heart to tell him that she was probably dead, so you told him you’d take him to a place where he might find her. 

Still, Squirrel wouldn’t go there until you came back for him. And he was probably bull-headed enough to come looking for you, too. 

While you were thinking about Squirrel, a twig snapped. You froze, readying yourself for a fight. It might have been an animal, but you doubted it. The only safe animals came out at night while the Red Paladins slept. 

There were more of them than you expected, too many for you to run away from and too many for you to subdue. You were going to start killing them when one of them caught your arms and shoved you into a tree hard enough to crack a few ribs. 

“Stop struggling-” the Weeping Monk pushed you into the tree again when you tried to get out of his hold “-Or I’ll cut out your tongue.” 

“Don’t-” You twisted out of his grip, ignoring the pain in your wrist “-tell me-” you kicked him in the stomach “-what to do.” 

You took a breath in the moment that the two of you stared at one another.

The kick must have hurt, but you both knew that his wound had healed by now so the kick wouldn’t have caused any real damage. The Weeping Monk snapped out of the moment first, and you ducked his blow. You managed to land a few of your own before the other Paladins caught up with you.

They bound your wrists and ankles and threw you in one of their damned carts to rot. The Weeping Monk took your weapons, but he didn’t look at you or speak to you again. You were both thinking the same thing, though: you saved his life only to have him sacrifice you to Father Carden. 

The Paladins may have bound you but they hadn’t gagged you, and you were determined to make it their problem. You cracked inappropriate jokes at their expense and yelled obscenities when that didn’t give you the reaction you wanted while you struggled to undo the binds that held you.

One of the Paladins had a shorter temper than his friends, or perhaps just less afraid of overstepping his boundaries with the Weeping Monk, because he cursed and kicked the bars of your cage. “We didn’t take you for your damned mouth,” he said harshly, “so shut up or I’ll burn you myself.”

“No one is touching the Angel,” the Weeping Monk said over his shoulder. His face was ashen and angry, without a single trace of what happened in the cave - though, for some reason, you still found yourself intrigued by him. He turned to look ahead when the Paladin had drifted from your cage. With his eyes fixed ahead, he added, “Without Father Carden’s consent.”

All the harsh words in the world lay on the tip of your tongue but you couldn’t bring yourself to breathe them to life, not because you weren’t angry enough but because you had to focus on something else instead. Squirrel was stubborn enough to come looking for you, but he wasn’t stupid enough to go straight into the heart of Paladin territory. 

At least, that’s what you hoped. 

Part 2

[natsukitakama]

Masterlist Tv Shows edition

Since I am never satisfied with the way my blog look and I finally learn how to make a masterlist I thought it will be more convenient to make one. So here it’s the masterlist about every Series fandom I'm currently writing for. 

You could find my anime master list here and my video game masterlist here 

for now it’s just a list of headcanon cause I don’t feel confortable about writing an imagine but I will eventually. Request are still open 

i do not own that gif credit to the owner 

DC Comics - Arrowerse 

The flash tv 

Earth 2 Harrison Wells aka Harry 

Headcanon : Being in relationship with Harry

Headcanon : Harry falls in love with you

Headcanon : Being pregnant with Harry’s child Pt 1

Headcanon : Being pregnant with Harry’s child Pt 2

Harrison Sherloque Wells 

Headcanon : Being in love with Sherloque but it’s not mutual 

The wells 

Headcanon : Celebrate Valentin’s day with the Wells 

Legends of tomorrow :

John Constantine

Headcanon : having a crush on John Constantine

Headcanon : Being friends with Benefits with John Constantine but it turns into real relationship 

Headcanon : Being in relationship with John Constantine

Lucifer 

Lucifer Morningstar

Headcanon :  Being friend with Lucifer would include 

Marcus pierce aka Cain

Headcanon  : Being Marcus Pierce’s significant other (AU)

Dan Espinoza Aka détective douch

Headcanon  : Being Dan Espinoza’s partner 

Titans 

Dick Grayson

Headcanon :  Dick Grayson falling in love with you

Headcanon : Dick Grayson being a dad

Knightfall 

William de Nogaret

Headcanon : Being the wife of William de Nogaret 

Headcanon : Yandere!De Nogaret x reader 

Gawain

Headcanon : Being in relationship with Gawain 

Tancrede 

Headcanon : Being in relationship with Tancrede 

Cursed (Netflix) 

The weeping monk aka Lancelot 

Headcanon : Being in relationship with the weeping monk would include 

Multi characters 

What kind of boyfriends are they ? (The weeping monk, Green knight, Merlin) 

Series : (insert a character) falls in love with you 

Headcanon :  Dick Grayson falling in love with you

Headcanon :  Harry falls in love with you

Headcanon : Arno Victor Dorian falls in love with you

Series : Being in relationship with (insert a character) 

Headcanon : Being in relationship with Harry

Headcanon : : Being in relationship with Gawain

Headcanon : Being in relationship with Tancrede 

Headcanon : Being in relationship with John Constantine

[everlastingdreams]

Weeping Monk x Reader : The City Of Fey Chapter 1

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

Notes: ^ my gif. Here it is, the first chapter. I am not truly happy with it and I promise the next chapters are better. This is a slow burn story.

Summary:   As a fey queen you are by now used to it that fey come into your woods seeking refugee or a place to hide. Things get complicated however when your knights have not just brought a fey boy but also the red paladins' fiercest warrior into your city.  

Chapters:   1/ ?

Word count:  3581 (in this chapter)

Warnings: None yet it think. But there will be in other chapters.

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

It had been more then a day since he had saved the boy who was sleeping between his arms as he held the reins. Wanting to create as much distance between him and the camp, he had only stopped when it was necessary.

He knew they would come for him after what he had done, the Trinity guards would not rest until he was dead.

Him as well as the boy.

He felt himself get weaker. His wounds were starting to burn more and soon he stopped and woke the boy.

The boy opened his eyes, still drowsy he asked "Where are we ?"

In truth, he had no idea. At some point he had took a turn and now he was in a forest he didn't recognise.

It was no use to hide the fact from the boy "I am not sure. I don't recognise these woods. Do you ?"

The boy focused his eyes on the trees as he looked around before shaking his head "No."

He helped the boy off of the horse before he descended from Goliath as well.

The moment his feet hit the ground he felt a sharp pain going through the wound on his head. He had to hold on to Goliath to keep his balance.

The boy looked around, touching the trees, looking for signs of other feys nearby but he could find none.

"We'll rest here for now. Keep an eye on our surroundings. We don't know what's in these woods." he told the boy as he tied the reins to a nearby branch.

After gathering some firewood the boy seemed to be quite good at making a fire. They kept it small so it wouldn't be too visible to unwanted visitors.

As they sat by the fire he was aware of his surroundings, he always was, but his mind wandered back to the moment he betrayed those who had raised him.

The realisation hit him that he felt just as lost as he felt when he was with the red paladins, with Father Carden. There was little difference there, the only thing being the boy who was now sleeping on the ground at the other side of the fire. The orphaned fey, a mirror of his own past.

The words of The Green Knight repeating itself in his mind

If this is where you belong, then tell them what you are.

In that moment he knew The Green Knight was right. He would never be accepted for what he was. It became clear as day when Father Carden reminded him of his 'demonic' heritage, and how he told him that his path would only lead to salvation if he would do what was necessary when the time came. The Green Knight could have told them what he was but didn't, because 'All fey are brothers'.

Father Carden on the other hand had reminded him that if he were to burn, so would he.

After all these years of serving him loyally, Father Carden truly only saw him as a weapon to wield.

He was fey. A traitor to not only his own kind but now to where he was raised as well.

But as he watched the boy sleep he felt no regret in his decission to save him. He was prepared to die, accepted his faith if that was what it took to save the boy.

He had refused to stand by and watch a child be tortured.

When the boy, Percival, was prepared to fight against the Trinity guards he almost couldn't believe it.

A child, a fey boy, was risking his own life to save him.

Someone was willing to fight for him.

To die, for him.

The Green Knight's words rang through his head as he had picked up a sword and fought the Trinity guards and escaped the camp with the boy.

He didn't know where to go now, only that he would protect the boy with his life.

As the brave boy had done for him.

After being somewhere between asleep and awake, he heard a branch snap. The sound wasn't loud but he was alert immediately.

He stood up with caution and then he noticed the scent.

Fey.

He felt eyes on him, and he slowly went to wake the boy.

"What-" Percival protested but he quickly covered the boy's mouth and hushed him.

The boy understood what was happening and he stood up from the ground.

He pulled the boy to stand behind him, but he felt eyes on him from every angle.

"Born in the dawn..." he spoke the words and waited for a reply.

The forest remained silent for another moment.

Then archers stepped out from behind the trees, bows drawn and aimed at him.

“We don't say it here anymore. Not when we realised you could use it against us.” a man with blonde hair, clearly one of those in charge approached. His sword wasn't drawn, but with the amount of archers it didn't seem necessarry.

He tried to cover the boy as much as he could while he watched the archers like a hawk “I have no intentions to fight you. Or to harm you.”

“I don't believe you. I wonder why that is ?” the man replied, venom dripping from his words.

He knew they didn't have any reason to believe him, not with his reputation. Not after what he had done.

Another man approached on horse back, wearing impressive armor, he swiftly got off of his horse and came towards him and the boy as well. He guessed this man was a knight and most likely outranked the other one.

He stopped next to the blonde man, his eyes landing on the boy right away as he tried to look past him “Born in the dawn ?”

The Weeping Monk noticed how this man didn't come of as aggressive compared to the other one.

“To pass in the twilight.” Percival replied quietly from behind the Weeping Monk.

The man raised a hand and the archers lowered their bows, earning an angry glare from the blonde man.

“What are you doing ?!” he seethed at him “That's the Weeping Monk !”

The man remained composed as he spoke “And behind him is a fey boy. You shoot arrows at him, you'll hit the boy as well.”

The blonde drew his sword and the Weeping Monk saw the other feys do the same, all except the man in the armor decorated with silver.

He noticed how none of them attacked, they all appeared to wait for a signal from the man in the armor.

Percival now moved from behind him, looking at the man in armor “No ! Wait !”

He tried to grab Percival put his grip faltered and the boy walked up to the man in armor.

The tension increased between him and the men.

“Why are you here with him, boy ?” the man in the armor asked him.

The Weeping Monk wanted nothing more then to grab the boy and pull him away from the men, but any sudden movement would escalate the situation.

“He saved me ! Please don't kill him !” Percival pleaded as he stood between him and the men.

The man in the armor frowned and looked at the Weeping Monk in disbelief “What do you mean ?”

“I was captured, he fought the trinity guard to save me ! Please !” the boy pleaded.

The man now looked at him “Is this true ? Did you save this fey boy ?”

“YES!” Percival shouted in frustration.

The Weeping Monk gave a short nod, still not feeling like he deserved the praise for his act “Yes.”

“He's tricking us, Raphael! He'll kill us the second we turn our backs on him.” the blond one interupted.

The man, Raphael, contemplated his next course of action “Silence, Crillan.” he commanded.

He stepped closer to the boy, examining him before looking at the Weeping Monk.

“It's not our decission. She'll decide his faith.” he nodded for the other fey to come closer “If what you say is true, then you and the boy won't mind coming with us. The boy belongs with his kind.”

He knew the man was right, Percival belonged with his kind, not with the one responsible for killing so many fey. But he wasn't just going to abandon the boy so he agreed and let them bind his hands together with ropes. Percival walked beside Raphael with Goliath.

He tried to remember as much of the path they were taking as he could, all while keeping an eye on the boy. However after a while it got hard to do so as the forest almost felt endless.

There were no fey signs anywhere either.

After a while he spotted tall walls in the distance.

It can't be...

He was leaded right to them and when he got closer he realised the walls held a small city within them. There were archers all over the wall looking out over the forest.

Raphael raised his hand and moments later, the gates were opened.

The Weeping Monk followed the fey inside, but stopped to look around for a second.

Frightful looks were aimed at him from all over. Small fey children who had been playing on the ground closeby now ran away. Percival's eyes went wide, he can't remember the last time he had seen so many of his kind all together like this.

Crillan pushed the Weeping Monk forward, still annoyed that he couldn't just kill him in the woods “Move.”

He glared at him before obliging.

Raphael stopped Percival “Leave the horse here, he'll be taken good care off.”

Percival looked at the Weeping Monk, looking for confirmation and he nodded.

Raphael took the reins from him and tied the reins next to a few others horses.

The man in the armor knocked loudly on the door of a larger building, it was opened right away and he moved aside, gesturing for them to walk inside.

The boy now stayed close to him as they followed the fey soldiers inside.

Raphael walked up to some of the fey soldiers who were inside “Has she returned yet ?”

The fey shook their head, the knight wasn't pleased to hear it.

“She's not here yet ?” Crillan asked him before looking at the Weeping Monk in disgust “Who says this bastard doesn't have anything to do with that ?!”

“I saw no one else in the forest but you.” the Weeping Monk quickly denied the accusation.

“Crillan !” the knight tried to silence him.

Crillan drew his sword and pointed it at the weeping monk, the boy moved to get between him and Crillan but he pulled the boy back to stand behind him.

“Stay.” the tone of his voice leaving no room for protest.

The boy reluctantly listened and stood a few steps behind him.

He didn't know how he should react, his hands were tied but he could easily break free if it was necessary. But then they would undoubtedly attack him, and the last thing he wanted now was to kill another of his kind. Not again, not after the damage he had already caused.

So he showed no intention to move.

The blonde knight scoffed at him “I don't believe a word you say you murdering bastard !” he turned to Raphael “We brought the Red Paladins weapon into our city ! I say we kill him now before he kills us all !”

“No !” the boy shouted at the knight.

Raphael moved but was not fast enough “Stop !”

The fey knight swung his sword, aiming at him.

He found himself unwilling to move out of the way to dodge the sword.

After everything he had done, perhaps this was what he deserved.

They wouldn't harm the boy, why should he continue to fight ?

“STOP !” another voice commanded loudly.

The sword stopped a mere inch away from his neck.

The knight, Raphael, grabbed the sword out of the other's hand angrily “Fool !”

"Is this how we treat our guests now ? And in front of a boy ?!" the voice got closer.

Both Percival and him looked behind them to see a woman approach.

Some of her bloodied (h/c) hair sticking to the side of her head.

The other fey moved aside immediately as she entered the large room.

The blonde bowed his head in shame as she scolded him. It was evident by the reactions of the other fey that whoever this woman was, they respected her.

“Can I not trust you when I leave, Crillan ?” She approached the knight in anger.

He didn't meet her eyes when he answered “Forgive me. But the risk is too high for him to live.”

“That is not for you to decide !” Raphael reminded him once more.

“If you wish to use your sword then go and teach the children how to protect themselves. Get out of my sight.” you walked past him and towards the young fey boy.

The blonde knight was given back his sword and left the room in silence.

You could see the boy was frightened after that display of unnecesarry voilence, only looking at the hooded man for a second before speaking to the boy.

“Don't be frightened, boy. Crillan would not have harmed you.” you tried to comfort him.

The frightened looks in his eyes disappeared “I'm not afraid of that scum !”

As much as he admired the brave side of the boy, the Weeping Monk knew that his use of language would continue to get him into trouble.

A smile played on your lips and you shot a glance at Raphael who looked at the boy in suprise.

It took a lot for you not to laugh at the boy's outburst.

"Even though I find you quite amusing, others might not take kindly to the way you curse them out."

You carefully used your fingers to tilt his chin up to look at the wounds on his face "Looks like you were unfortunated enough to find out." The Weeping Monk watched as you studied the boy's face, he couldn't remember if someone had ever shown such care to him when he was a child. "It's just a scratch." the boy took a small step back as if he didn't want to look weak. You smiled at him before kneeling before him "You're brave, boy. I can see why you were made a knight." The boy looked suprised and wondered how you knew this. Then his gaze fell to his feet at the memory of Gawain. You cupped his cheek with one hand, making him look at you again "And as a queen.." This made the Weeping Monk look at you, he had no idea who or what you were until now. You continued and winked at the boy "..I always command my knights to act carefully." Before the boy could speak you focused on his face and felt your magic glide through your fingers into his skin. Causing the wounds to disappear before everyone's eyes. The Weeping Monk couldn't believe his eyes when he saw it happen, he knew feys could use their skills to make potions and salves to heal others but never saw it being done with nothing but their own magic. He stared at Percival's now healed face, there wasn't a scratch on him anymore. He looked at you, trying to mask how much in awe he truly was of what you had just done. That's when he saw the blood running from your nose and the worried looks of the other feys when they saw it too. The moment the boy's wounds disappeared, your nose had started bleeding. The fight you were in before returning to the city had exhausted you. Using your magic took a toll on you and using healing powers was something that was costly so you used it sparingly. But you didn't want this brave fey boy to be left with scars if you could prevent it. "Welcome home, Percival." you said with a smile before standing up. "How do you know my name ?" The boy asked, shocked. You took a few steps back and wiped the blood from your nose with your sleeve. "My magic allows me to sense certain things." You answered his question with honesty. "He doesn't like his name." The Weeping Monk finally spoke. You looked at him but weren't suprised "Seems like you two have more in common then I initially expected." The way you said it left little doubt that you could sense something about him too. It caught him a little off guard and he narrowed his eyes, curious about just how much you could actually sense.

“My name is y/n.” you told them “There's no need for you to introduce yourself though. Your reputation precedes you.” now directing your attention to him.

His gaze fell to the floor as he remained silent again.

You went to stand opposite of him but kept a safe distance “Tell me, why are you in our woods ? I can make a guess based on that reputation but it doesn't explain why the boy is with you.”

Raphael cleared his throat before coming closer “The boy says he saved his life. Fought the trinity guards to do so.”

You looked at the Weeping Monk, processing the information “Is this true ?”

“YES ! The red paladins were going to torture me !” the boy shouted before he could answer.

“We were trying to get as far away as we could to prevent them from finding us.” the Weeping Monk admits “It wasn't my intention to come here.”

“You ? You saved a fey ?” you stammered the words in disbelief. Your eyes darting between the boy and him.

Why ? Why would he save a fey ? The question repeated itself over and over again in your head.

“I understand now why my knights took a risk bringing you here to see me. You understand that I must protect my people ? I do not know what your intentions are.”

The Weeping Monk nodded in understanding “What happens to me is not important. I only wish for the boy to be safe. Do what you must to protect your people.”

A frow formed on your face at his words, you fell silent upon hearing it. You looked over at Raphael who waited for your instructions.

“You saved the boy's life. And it looks like you barely managed to survive yourself.” gesturing to his bloodied state.

This city was your responsibility and this was no easy decission. But if what you had sensed through the boy was true then you were willing to give the Weeping Monk a chance.

You stepped forward and pulled out your dagger, his eyes were on it immediately and he swallowed but still didn't move.

“Hold out your hands.” you tell him and he looks at you quizzical.

He slowly raised his tied hands.

You held your hand above his for a moment, feeling the magic through your fingers again “Don't move, please.”

What you sensed was what helped you made your decission.

He looked utterly puzzled until you cut the ropes from his wrists in a swift move.

He rubbed his left wrist once the ropes were removed and you took a few steps back again.

"You may stay here as our guest until your wounds are healed. Consider it my way to thank you for protecting the boy."

He noticed how you seemed more determined now. He had seen a hint of fear on your face before but it was gone now, it made him think that you might have used your magic on him just now. “Thank you... I swear I will not bring harm to your people.”

You gave a short nod “Good. Otherwise I'll have to kill you.” then you pointed at the sword he was carrying with him “And I'll take that sword you're carrying and any other weapon for that matter. You will get them back once you leave.”

He blinked a few times but nodded in understanding before he started to throw his weapons on the ground.

“What happened to your head ?” the boy suddenly inquired.

You quirked a brow, shooting a glance at the Weeping Monk who seemed occupied with removing all the hidden daggers he was carrying on him “Ran into some red paladins while retrieving a fey girl.”

“Is she safe ?” he quickly added and you nodded.

“She'll live. Don't worry.” you assured the boy and quickly moved your hand through his hair, rummaging it even more.

He stepped away from you and you let out a soft laugh.

The Weeping Monk threw his last dagger to the ground.

“You however should go to our infirmary with haste, I bet those wounds are burning. Come, I'll show you the way.” your eyes focused on the amount of dried blood that was still sticking to his face.

Raphael picked up the sword and daggers, you stopped him before he walked off with them and took the sword from him. Tucking it behind your back next to your own sword.

The weeping monk watched you curiously.

You shrugged your shoulders “You'll get it back.” tilting your head towards a door at the other end of the room “I'll take you to our healers. Follow me.”

Taglist:

@linkpk88​ @5am-cigarette​ @lancelotapricot​

[everlastingdreams]

Weeping Monk X Reader : The City Of Fey   CHAPTER 2

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Notes: ^ my gif. I hope you’ll like this one. 

Summary:   As a fey queen you are by now used to it that fey come into your woods seeking refugee or a place to hide. Things get complicated however when your knights have not just brought a fey boy but also the red paladins’ fiercest warrior into your city.  

Chapters:   2/ ?

Word count: 3441 (in this chapter)

Warnings: None yet it think. But there will be in other chapters.

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When he stepped through the door his eyes went wide, there were people everywhere. Not just fey but humans as well. All going about their day, tending to flowers, chatting.. Children ran through the streets playing all sorts of games. He saw how Percival looked at it with longing, most likely wishing to join them. The people noticed him as well, whispers reaching his ear as he walked past them. He doubted that they had anything good to say about him and he didn't blame them for it. They stopped for a moment and he saw that the open field a bit below them was being used to train  the children. The knight who had almost killed him was teaching the young ones how to defend themselves. All of them using wooden swords. When he was trained as a child he had to use steel, if he failed to dodge or block a strike then the scar he recieved was his punishment for failing.

A young girl runs up to you, almost bumping into you while doing so. “Look, y/n ! I got a new sword !” the girl beemed with pride as she held out her small wooden sword. You smiled down at the girl “I can see. Please, try not to break this one so quickly, Ayla.” “But Crillan said I should hit him harder and I did !” she shot back while demonstrating how she had used it to hit Crillan in the leg last time. The Weeping Monk looked at her display and observed that she was holding the sword in a way that could easily hurt her hands. Would he overstep a limit if he helped the girl ? It was hard for him to watch and the urge to warn the girl was strong. “You'll hurt your hand if you hold it like that.” he remarked and looked for your reaction. You didn't stop him and he took it as a sign to approach the girl. He knelt down in front of her and showed her how to place her hands in a safer way. Moving her hand with the sword so she would understand how his method worked better before standing up again. She moved her hand a couple of times in the way he had shown her before she smiled widely at him. You didn't interfere and just watched as he taught the girl how to hold the sword. And secretly you hated to admit that you didn't know about the better way to hold a sword either. “Thank you, sir !” she smiled brightly at the Weeping Monk and he didn't know how to react. He was not used to being shown gratitude, especially not from children.   You noticed his struggle and suggested “Ayla, why don't you go on ahead and teach the others what he has taught you ?” She proudly nodded her head, her eyes falling on Percival now “Do you want to come ?” Percival looked up at the Weeping Monk with pleading eyes. “Go on. I'll come find you later.” he gives in. It was all Percival needed to hear before they ran off together. The whole display warmed your heart “Not everyone here knows who you are. Here your actions will speak louder then your past.” He truly doubted it and the doubt grew bigger as he saw a small crowd staring at him “I'm certain word is already spreading about my past in your city, your highness.”   You followed his eyes and noticed the small gathering, you had expected that he would not recieve a warm welcome considering his reputation. “I'm aware.” you sighed. “I doubt there is much I can do to make them feel more at ease with me residing here for a while.” he expressed his concern. You started walking again towards the infirmary and he followed in your footsteps “You seem like a man who likes to defy the odds.” He was looking at Percival dodging the little girl swinging her sword at him. At least he can avoid the sword well he thought.  

He followed you to what seemed to be a worn down small castle. It had seen battle once, that was clear.

Raphael came through the large door to meet you “I took the liberty to inform Dahlia of the situation. She's expecting him.”

You gave him a grateful nod, poor Dahlia would have catched quite a fright if Raphael hadn't told her who was coming. She had seen many things in her long life, but the Weeping Monk was something neither of you were expecting today. You walked past some of the bedrooms before reaching your destination. You stopped suddenly in front of a door and opened it a little “The room next to this one is for the boy. This one's yours for the duration of your stay. It's not much but-” “It's more then enough for me.” he was suprised he would even get his own room. It wouldn't have bothered him if you would have let him sleep in the stables or the pig's pen. He couldn't recall the last time he had slept in an actual bed considering he was always on the road or staying at a camp. This was more then enough, too much even. You closed the door again “Alright.. should you need anything, please ask my soldiers for help. There is always some around. And I suppose it would be better then having to ask the civilians.” He knew it was a nicer way of saying 'so you don't have to scare the people'. He nodded gratefully and you tilted your head towards the end of the hall “Come, Dahlia is waiting. She will treat your wounds.” A smaller door opened and the first thing he noticed was shelves full of flasks and bowls filled with dried herbs. The room was compact, there were just a few cots but none were occupied. Either this city had no sick people or it had been cleared out for his arrival. Probably the latter. A small woman approached, her short black hair showing signs of grey ones neatly tied into a bun. Even though she was informed of his arrival, the look of fear in her eyes didn't pass him by. The woman's eyes darted between him and you nervously “Your highness.” she greeted you. “Dahlia, I've told you a thousand times to please just call me y/n.” you shook your head but gave her a warm smile. She shook her head stubbornly “Ask me a thousand times more and I will still refuse to. It is a title you have earned.” He watched amused as you let out a groan at the woman's stubborn attitude. “Dahlia, I heard Raphael has informed you about our guest ?” your eyes shot between him and her quickly. She swallowed and nodded “Yes, your highness. I will help him just as I would help any other.” You smile at her approvingly, she truly was a gem that woman. “Thank you. I know this is a strange situation we find ourselves in. But I assure you that he will not harm you.” You looked at him and send him a look before nodding discreetly in her direction. He gave a short nod to the woman, a sign that what you had said was true. Dahlia straightened her back before looking at him a bit more confident now “Please take a seat on one of the cots. We'll start with that gash on your head.” The tension in the room seemed to be a lot less now, and the Weeping Monk did as Dahlia ordered. “Feel free to explore the city when you're done here. I'll be at the field you saw the children train at, keeping an eye on the boy.” you turned to walk away but were stopped by Dahlia. “What about your wounds ?” she stopped you from walking out. “Don't worry about me, Dahlia. You know I heal fast, I just need to rest that's all.” you reasurred her. “But-” she went to protest. “He needs you more then I do.” your voice left no room for protest anymore. “As you wish.” She wasn't pleased but she had known you for years now and she knew you could be just as stubborn as her. She turned to her shelves, taking the things she would need to patch him back up. He looked at you one last time before you left him in the room, you looked so calm. He was a stranger to you but for some reason it was as if you trusted him already. When he left the Red Paladins behind he had not expected to find someone, other then the boy, who would ever trust him again. And certainly not a fey. “Thank you.” he exclaimed just as you turned around to leave. You pauzed and shared a look of understanding before you left the infirmary.

You made your way back to the training area, Crillan stood aside as he kept a watchful eye on the children. Some of the parents had joined in to help their children, and some children were teaching their parents what they had learned. Crillan looked at you from the corner of his eyes, never really taking his attention away from the children. "So he's staying, huh ?" "For now. Until he's healed." You knew he hated it. "Did you sense something then ? About him ? I don't know why else you would let that bastard stay here." He expressed his disdain. You sighed, frustrated but understanding "I did." You grabbed his arm to pull his attention to you "Crillan, I know you are worried. All I ask is that you trust me. Would I ever put any of you in danger ?" Crillan answered without hesitation "No, you wouldn't." His attention was pulled back to the field when Ayla was swinging her sword at the boy the way the Weeping Monk had shown her. The boy dodged every attack but Crillan still called out to her and told her to be more careful. "What exactly did you sense about him ?" He asks quietly so no one else would hear. You remained silent as you tried to find a way to describe what you had sensed. Why you had faith that the Weeping Monk would not cause harm. "Remorse." you finally answered and he looks at you, almost shocked to hear it "He feels so much guilt.. it's tearing him apart inside." Crillan blinked a few times, he was still looking at the field but his attention was faltering "The Weeping Monk feels guilty ?" "Terribly so." You nodded. "And because of that you believe you can trust him ?" He was still skeptical. "Trust is a strong word. But I believe there is hope for him still." Your eyes followed the boy on the field. "I guess I could try to be civil towards him." The reluctance in his voice made a smile tug at your lips. "I would appreciate it." "Be carefull, y/n." He warns. "I will.”

After about an hour or two, you left the field for a few minutes to finally clean the blood off of your face and out of your hair. The wound was starting to heal now, it was easier to use your magic to heal others than yourself. There were limits however, and it was often better to just let the wounds heal than to exhaust yourself with your magic. Healing the boy's face was enough to make your own nose bleed. This kind of magic came at a cost and if you weren't careful, healing someone while you were weak yourself could kill you.

To the Weeping Monk's suprise, Dahlia treated him just like any other patient. She had said she would, but he hadn't counted on it actually happening. She had removed the blood and cleaned the wounds, before applying a salve that soothed the burning almost instantly. The fey's healing methods worked wonders. He had thanked her for her help, and she told him to return in time so she could apply fresh bandages. Well.. more like commanded him. She took her work serious, there was no doubt about it. He was given a small flask to take with him, something to drink in case the pain he still felt became worse. He left the room grateful for it all, and as you had told him earlier, there were indeed soldiers walking down the hallway almost constantly. Civilians as well but most of them took another route when they noticed him. He remembered the path to the training area and that was the first thing he did, to check up on the boy. The Weeping Monk approached the field, but slowed his pace when he didn't see you anywhere, only the knight who had been eager to kill him earlier. He kept a rather large space between him. The knight didn't even turn around but he figured out he was there anyway. "Fear not. The queen has reminded me that you are a guest here." There was no hint of anger in the knight's voice, only a pinch of disdain. His stepped closer but left enough space between him and the knight, his eyes scanning the field for the boy. He spotted him training with someone only a little older. Crillan looked at the Weeping Monk and followed his eyes “I paired him up with him. That little girl, Ayla, over there has a nasty swing for one so small. Your boy is lucky he is faster then her.” He picked up on how the knight refered to the boy as if he was his own kin. He looked at the knight for a second before paying attention to how the boy was using the sword. “He's a brave one.” he stated to the knight. The knight nodded “That he is. Last time Ayla hit me in the leg, put me in the infirmary for the rest of the day.” The knight raises the wooden sword he was holding to show the Weeping Monk “They're not steel, but anything is a weapon in the wrong hands.” The Weeping Monk noticed the ambiguity in his wording and now he looked him in the eye. It was definitely said on purpose, but the knight did not say it with malicious intent, that he could tell. What the knight asked next confirmed it. “What will you do now that you're a traitor to the Red Paladins ?” he watched him with interest. The Weeping Monk hadn't planned ahead and that's exactly what he told the knight “I didn't plan that far ahead. It all happened very quick.” He thought back to the night he had freed the boy from the tent, it had all happened so fast. The knight nodded “Do you regret it ?” He watched as the boy managed to strike the shoulder of the other and how a smile appeared on the boy's face. “No.”

You walked towards the field again and were flabbergasted to see Crillan having a seemingly normal conversation with the Weeping Monk. “Glad to see that I can trust you when I'm absent.” you say as you approach them. They both looked behind themselves when they heard your voice. That's when you realised you could have said it to both of them. You gestured to Crillan to clear the confussion up. The corner of the Weeping Monk's mouth turned up ever so slightly in amusement “It helps that he's holding a wooden sword.” “And that he is unarmed.” Crillan countered. The weeping monk looked at him, knowing damn well that he could probably best him in a fight even if he was unarmed. You pinched the bridge of your nose noticing the competitive atmosphere it was creating. A yelp coming from the field broke the tension and Crillan walked on the field to tend to a boy that had fallen to the ground. You observed how even the Weeping Monk looked concerned in the direction of the child. Crillan picked the boy up, and told the others to rest for a while as he carried the boy to the infirmary. “Crillan ?” you called out to him worried. “It's a cut !” he answered your unspoken question. Letting out a breath of relief, you turned to the Weeping Monk “That reminds me, how are your wounds ? I can see no blood on you anymore so I hope Dahlia has treated you well ?” “They no longer burn. Her skill in healing is impressive, she has given me something in case the pain returns.” his hand absentmindedly brushing over the now healing wound on his chest. He watched as the little girl, Ayla, went to talk to Percival on the field. He turns to you now, it was hard for him to express the sincere gratitude he felt “You have been very gracious towards me, your highness. There must be something I can do to repay you ?” The inquiry came unexpected to you, you brushed it off, shaking your head “You do not owe me anything. You are my guest here.” He knew you meant it but it didn't sit right with him, it was too much. He wasn't used to kindness like this. He would have accepted it if you had only taken the boy in, if you had decided to kill him. He felt like he was in your debt even if you assured him he was not.

“Your highness !” you turned to see Raphael approach. You walked up to meet him halfway “Raphael, is there news ?” The Weeping Monk kept his distance and did not approach but he was close enough to still hear the conversation. “Our scouts have found recent tracks in the forest.” he informed you. It was his way of saying there were refugees in the forest again. “I'll go find them.” you smiled “Take care of my city while i'm gone.” “Try not to return bloodied this time, y/n. Perhaps you should take some soldiers along.” Raphael suggested. You quickly shook your head “Better not, more people means more tracks. It shouldn't take me long to find them." Just when you had uttered the words, rain started to fall. You bit your tongue to prevent yourself from cursing. This would make it harder, the tracks would be washed away by the rain soon. The Weeping Monk had overheard the conversation and he spoke up "Let me join you, your highness. If there are fey in the woods, I will find them." This earned him a suspicious look from Raphael. In retrospect, perhaps he could have used a better choice of words. You were actually considering to take him up on his offer. He was known to be good at tracking down fey. "Y/n. I don't think this is wise." Raphael turned to you and tried to keep his voice low so the Weeping Monk wouldn't hear. Part of you knew Raphael was right, you knew the Weeping Monk felt guilt. But would it be enough to prevent him from going back to his old ways ? Would it be safe, as a fey, to be alone in the woods with him ? The fact that you were a fey queen, with healing magic, also meant that you could easily be traded to the trinity guards or even Uther in exchance for his life. Uther himself would love to get his hands on someone like you. He noticed your hesitation and gave a suggestion "Bind my hands if it puts your mind at ease." A look was shared between you and Raphael. You gave a confirmative nod and looked at Raphael, tilting your head in the Weeping Monk's direction. Raphael didn't like the idea but did as you asked. He tied the Weeping Monk's hands together in front of him. Checking the ropes before stepping back but not before looking him dead in the eyes and leaving him with a warning. “Hurt her and there won't be a place in this world where I won't find you.” Raphael said it so quietly you didn't even hear it. But the message was recieved loud and clear by the Weeping Monk, the knight always kept a calm demeanor but there was a reason he was ranked higher then Crillan. And he had no intention to find out what that reason was. He dipped his head discreetly at the knight. “Let's get going.” you tell the Weeping Monk as you eyed Raphael suspiciously.

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[everlastingdreams]

Weeping Monk X Reader : The City Of Fey Chapter 6

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Notes: ^ my gif. It is here, the chapter were the rollercoaster of tension starts. 

Summary:  As a fey queen you are by now used to it that fey come into your woods seeking refugee or a place to hide. Things get complicated however when your knights have not just brought a fey boy but also the Red Paladins’ fiercest warrior into your city.  

Chapter Summary:  At dawn Lancelot takes Percival to the field to train. It appears they are not the only early birds at the field. What started as something innocent soon leaves him with mixed feelings.

Chapters:   6/ ?

Word Count: 2899 (in this chapter)

Warnings: Feels.  Otherwise none, I think ?

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You had went to inform Raphael about your decission concerning Lancelot. It wasn't an easy conversation but he trusted your judgement in the matter. To your suprise you ran into Percival when you were on your way to your chamber, it was already late and you weren't expecting to see the boy still awake. And when you saw the expression on his face, it was obvious that the boy wasn't expecting to run into someone as well. Even though you were quite certain the boy was just sneaking around the castle you didn't show it. You walked up to the boy "Up so late ? Are you not exhausted after this long day ?" His eyes darted at his surroundings and you knew that what would come next would probably be a lie. "I got lost." His eyes betrayed him. You let out a soft chuckle "Lost, huh? I get it." He knew you had seen trough the lie but relaxed when he saw you weren't mad at him. "You can ask the guards for directions if it happens again, they don't bite." You winked and smiled at him "But then you can't sneak past them.." Something told you that he just doesn't like to ask for help. Why did that sound familiar? Oh yeah. "Sorry.." His apology made you look at him and you shook your head a smile still tugging at your lips. You put a hand on his shoulder as you turned with him to walk towards his room "Don't worry. I understand that it must be irresistible not to explore a new place. I used to do the same." The boy walked next to you. "I couldn't sleep." You figured that was the reason. When you had first met the boy you had sensed many things. One of them was the fear he repressed. No one is brave all the time, and what is supressed during the day often comes to haunt one during the night. You walk past Lancelot's room to Percival's room and opened the door for him. "Thank you." He said and you followed him inside. He flopped down on the bed, folding his hands on his chest. Focusing on his fingers. You walked up to him and sat down on the edge of the bed "Sleeping in a new place is always a bit strange isn't it ?" He nodded his head. You grabbed the blanket and tucked him in before taking one of his hands in yours. "You're safe here." You wanted to ease his mind. Percival didn't look like he believed it much and you didn't blame the boy for being traumatised after everything that had happened to him. "Lancelot is in the room next to yours. He's very protective of you, you know?" This made the boy look at you "But why ? Why me?" You thought about that one for a long minute "Because you.." you tipped a finger on his nose "..never stop fighting for the good. He admires that bravery, but I believe it also worries him."

"Why would he be worried when I'm doing a good thing?" He sounded a bit defensive. You sighed "Because that bravery comes with risks. When you helped him with the Trinity guards.. they could have killed you. Lancelot has not forgotten how you were willing to fight for him, you're important to him." Percival thought about it quietly "Can't you let him stay ?" His eyes pleading. "I asked him to." You confessed. The boy looked expectantly "And ? What did he say?" You quirked a brow "I was able to convince him." The boy now smiled and sat up excited "He's teaching me how to fight like him tomorrow !" "That's lovely ! Just.. be carefull. I've seen him fight as well." You warned. The boy piped up "I'm not afraid of him!" Of course he wasn't, he didn't seem to fear many things and it worried you. "I'm not either. I believe he truly wants to help us." Percival nodded "I think so too." You sighed softly "If you want to be rested at dawn you should get some sleep." At that his smile fell, it broke your heart seeing him like this. You knew but all to well what it was like when bad memories kept you awake. Then you thought of something, how your parents would often sing you to sleep. They didn't have the best singing voices but it was the sound of their voice that was enough for you to fall asleep. It made you feel safe. "Close your eyes." You patted your hand on the pillow and he turned to lay on his side. Then he reluctantly closed his eyes. After a moment you started to softly sing the old fey song your parents used to sing to you. He opened his eyes to look up at you before closing them again. You continued and soon he drifted off into sleep.

Lancelot had heard you and Percival walk past his room. He had believed that the boy had been asleep by now, looks like the boy was stealthier then he had expected. He heard you enter the room next to his. He didn't mean to eavesdrop and just tried to get some sleep. Something he often found hard to accomplish, especially now. But after a few minutes the soft sound of singing reached his ears. And he found himself listening to the sound. The sound of your voice, singing softly to the boy. A song he'd sworn he had heard before, a long time ago. It was what made him finally drift off into a peaceful sleep.

At dawn Lancelot went to retrieve the boy as he had promised him. As excited as the boy had been at the idea of being trained at dawn, it seemed that it was not enough to cause him to jump out of bed and ready to go. The boy had cursed under his breath and pulled the covers over his head when Lancelot entered the room. “It's time.” he announced and watched as the boy muttered something under his breath. He waited until he saw that the boy had no intent to wake up. Then he grabbed the covers and pulled them away in one swift movement. The boy sat up instantly, ready to protest. “Percival.” Lancelot's voice was stern. “Fine !” Percival exclaims angrily before he finally swung his feet out of his bed and got ready.

After a few minutes they made their way to the training area. When they went to turn the corner in the long hallway, he spotted the knight, Raphael. Raphael beckoned to him. He acknowledged the knight but turned to the boy first “Go, I'll meet you at the field.” The boy went ahead and Lancelot approached the knight. “I believe you will need this.” Raphael held out a long wooden sword “Unless you believe the boy should train with steel ?” “Wood will do for now.” Lancelot remembered his own training but all to well. He took the sword from Raphael and thanked him. “Y/n has informed me you will stay with us.” the knights sounded somewhat bitter. He gave a short nod “She was adamant in her request for me to stay.” “She always is.” the knight breathed out “I owe you an apology..” “You don't.” the reply came quick. He didn't need Raphael to apologize for looking out for you. Raphael had threatened him before he had went to find the fey in the forest with you, and he understood why “You wanted to protect her. There is no need for an apology.” The knight tilted his head gratefully "News is spreading quickly about how you helped save the fey in the forest. How you protected her from the Red Paladins.." It sounded almost as if the knight had a helping hand in that and Lancelot expected that this was indeed the case. “Thank you.” the knight said before leaving.

He approached the field and saw Percival sitting on the grass just next to it. He looked at what had caught the boy's attention and saw you. You were practicing by using a sack of straw tied to a stick as the 'enemy'. Unbeknownst to you, Lancelot was watching you train. He noted that you were quick on your feet but your way of training against an invisible enemy would prove a disadvantage in a real fight. "In my experience they usually don't just stand there as you contemplate where to strike them." He spoke up. You looked and saw him standing there, having picked up on the sarcastic tone in his voice. You quirked a brow "I used to spar with my knights, but I always have to hold myself back. I don't consider it helpfull either but the last thing I want is to accidentally wound one of them...again.." you thought back to a particular moment where you had accidentally struck Crillan while he was teaching you something. He walked up to the enemy made from straw, smirking at the thing. You crossed your arms "What ? You got a better idea ? Should I go and ask a red paladin if he wants to practice with me ?" "A Trinity guard is more skilled." His voice deadpan as he pulled out the dagger you had thrown in the sack. "Spoken from experience, huh." You quipped. He let out a soft scoff as he walked to you while studying the dagger before handing it back to you. "At least I can say that I actually killed some of them and lived to tell the tale." He looks back over his shoulder at the straw enemy "Put a golden mask on there and they might resemble them." He turns his attention back to you "I can spar with you if you fear you knights can't keep up with you." You raised a brow at him in suprise at his offer "Who says you can ? " He narrowed his eyes and takes a few steps back before dropping the wooden sword he was about to use and pulling his steel sword out. "You're serious ?" You got nervous now. He tilted his head and smirked "Don't hold back." You took a deep breath and gave a nod. Your grip on your sword thightened as you charged at him. He dodged your attack with ease. Even making you almost trip as well. You turned around to look at him and the look on his face made it very clear to you that he was enjoying this. He was definitely competitive. This pissed you off a bit and you went to strike again, he used his sword to block yours and pushed it away. Nearly making it fly it out of your hand. "Stop holding back. They won't hold back either." he sounded bored. "I have no intention to kill you !" You bit back. He remained composed "You won't." You sighed but charged at him again, in an attempt to disarm him your swords clashed and for a second you thought you were winning. Until he moved and disarmed you in one swift move, you ended up with your back against his chest and his sword under your chin. "Stop. Holding. Back. They will not play fair." His voice was hoarse and his breath brushed against your ear. That's when you finally did what he asked, in your defence he did say he could keep up. You used your elbow to jab him in the ribs. His grip on you faltered making you break free and grab your sword off the ground. He recovered quickly, and you went to strike his left, which he blocked again but what he didn't expect was you pulling the dagger out with your other hand. You had used the sword as a distraction, leaving him unable to block the dagger that was now pointing against his throat. His breath left him when he realised that you could have killed him then and there. He never even saw you reach for the dagger. He remained still as a statue as you held the dagger in place before a smirk played on your lips. It dawned on him that this was the closest you had ever stood face to face when he could see the sunlight reflect in your eyes. It captivated him for a moment and he didn't find the will to try and disarm you. His eyes now fully studying your features, from the color of your eyes to shape of your lips that were now curved into a daring smirk. He felt nervous, but it wasn't because of the dagger at his throat. No, it was you looking at him in a similar way that made him nervous along with a feeling he couldn't quite place.

The fact that you just bested the man who previously had been the red paladins' fiercest warrior was exhilarating to say the least. Even if it was just sparring, you found it thrilling how sparring with him was nothing like sparring with one of your knights. Not even Raphael, your second in command would dare to spar like this. You always had to hold back. But not with him. Not with Lancelot. The close proximity gave you a chance to study this man. You knew he wasn't ugly, you weren't blind. But standing this close you were taken aback by just how handsome he truly was. It felt like his eyes were piercing through your soul. You moved your dagger away from his throat. "I wonder how many have spared your life upon seeing those eyes." The words tumbled from your lips. So fast he had to repeat them in his mind to understand what you were saying. And yet he still wasn't sure "What?" A soft laugh coming from you filled his ears. "Gods, for someone who is so quick in a fight, you are quite slow in communication." You smiled at him while you brushed past him. He brows drew together as he watched you walk away. Percival came to his side and looked up at him "I think she likes you." The shock in his eyes was hard to hide when he looked at the boy, who was looking at you. No, you must have been joking and the boy was misunderstanding the whole situation. "Or she thinks you're an idiot. She did call you slow." The boy blurted out. His eyes fell on the boy again. Yup, he was going to have to talk about his use of language soon. Even if it often amused him. He lightly shoved the boy towards the practice area "Alright, let's see you if your sword is as sharp as your wit."

He had spend the day training and the boy was suprisingly fast. The boy's temper however was another thing. He had thrown his sword in frustration a couple of times during the day. He had remained calm every time and waited until the boy had picked up the sword again. Had it been a Red Paladin teaching him, the boy would surely have regretted his temper quickly. Lancelot remembered his training, how they hit him, starved him or both if he failed to learn quick enough. He hated the memory and it had only fueled his own temper at the time. So he waited patiently for the boy to calm himself down every time. He had to learn to control himself, and now was the right time to do so. While he was still young. While his skill was still developing.

When night fell Crillan, who had been teaching the others, came to him. Percival was busy showing the others on the field what he had learned. “He's a feisty one. Almost thought he would land a hit on you here and there.” the knight joked. In truth, Lancelot had thought that as well during the day. “He is learning quickly.” “Do you plan to teach him how to use a bow ?” he inquires. “He claims he can kill three paladins at once with one.” he quirked a brow at the knight. The knight let out a chuckle “Does he now ? Don't tell the queen. I tried teaching her archery and she elbowed me in the face. The dagger is more her thing. As you have experienced." The knight quirked a brow at Lancelot. There was a pauze before he spoke again. “I saw you spar with the queen. You could have disarmed her when she held the dagger at your throat. Why didn't you ?” the question seemed innocent but both knew it meant more. Lancelot couldn't answer the question with a sensable answer because he had none. He still couldn't explain why you being so close to him had made him unwilling to disarm you. The knight didn't look at him but smiled knowingly at his silence. At that moment you walked on the training field, a group of children quickly crowded around you. You gave attention to every single one of them. He had almost forgotten all about the knight next to him as his eyes were glued on you. Feeling how that nervous feeling rose inside of him again. The knight went to walk back to the children leaving him with his thoughts.

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[everlastingdreams]

Weeping Monk X Reader : The City Of Fey Chapter 8

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Notes: ^ my gif.

Summary:  As a fey queen you are by now used to it that fey come into your woods seeking refugee or a place to hide. Things get complicated however when your knights have not just brought a fey boy but also the Red Paladins’ fiercest warrior into your city.  

Chapter Summary:  You go to the training area to practice your archery and Lancelot finally understands how you had managed to elbow one of your knights in the face.

Chapters:   8/ ?

Word Count: 1680  (in this chapter)

Warnings: None in this chapter. 

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You were up bright and early as you had decided to finally spend some time training in archery. Crillan seemed to avoid you as you did and you felt a pang of guilt when you remembered how you had accidentally struck him with your elbow when he had tried to teach you once.

You saw somebody familiar approach you and you cursed under your breath. Not sure what his intentions were this time. Isich approached you but kept a distance. You finally looked at him. "Your highness.." he looked incredibly uncomfortabe, especially when he looked in the direction of your knight Crillan. "Isich." Your greeting was short. You saw Crillan stepping closer in your direction from the corner of your eyes and you realised he must have heard about what had happened. As you were trying to figure out how he knew, you saw Lancelot approach the field with Percival, his attention was on Isich immediately. Oh. Isich stammered the next words "I wish to apologize for my behaviour from last night. I went too far. Forgive me." "Yes. You did." You answered coldly "I may seem forgiving, but I have my limits. I forgive those who work towards forgiveness." Isich nodded his head and then he took a step closer, Crillan cleared his throat and his hand landed on his sword. A signal for Isich to take a few steps back again. "I will not disappoint you again, your highness." Isich actually sounded remorseful or perhaps it was.. frightened ? You sighed before giving a nod and waving him away. He understood and backed away, as he turned he almost fell over when he saw Lancelot standing close to him. Lancelot watched him like a hawk as Isich left the field, then he gestured for Percival to prepare for training.

He saw you practising with the bow and he didn't have to study you long before he saw that you indeed had little to no experience in archery. The placement of your hands, your posture.. it was all wrong. No wonder Crillan ended up catching your elbow like that.

"She's terrible at that.." Percival was looking at you as well "What's she trying to do ? Cut her ear off with the string?" The boy had a point, you were pulling the bow string too far back. It was a miracle it hadn't cut your face yet. Lancelot couldn't bare the sight of you struggling like this any longer and he approached you while Crillan came to speak to Percival. "I wouldn't." He quickly said when he saw you pull back the bow string again. You looked at him in suprise "What? Why ?" "You're holding it wrong." He stopped next to you. You were a little insulted of course "Oh really ? How should I hold the bow then, please do explain?" He noted the sarcasm in that, he scoffed before taking the bow from you. He aimed and a second later the arrow landed in the enemy made of straw. You saw how pleased he looked with himself. You rolled your eyes and held out your hand, gesturing for him to give you back the bow. He did it reluctantly and took a step back. Silently wondering if he would be able to dodge the arrow at this distance. You again aimed the bow and he let out a breath that sounded more like a deep sigh. You ignored him and tried to focus, but then you hear him step closer again. You could sense that he was standing right behind you. He put his hand over yours, adjusting how you held the bow. Before he placed his other hand on your elbow to adjust it's postition as well. Then you could feel his breath on the side of your neck as he helped you aim. His hands were steady compared to yours. The shiver that went down your spine was not helping your aim at all. "Loose." His voice was close to your ear. You released the arrow and it landed right into the straw enemy. It suprised you to say the least, you had never actually managed to hit the target before. He stepped back instantly, trying his hardest not to think about how close he had been standing. It had cost him all of his concentration to keep his hands steady and not shaking like they were now. He clasped them together behind his back to hide it. An idea crossed your mind, and you mentally scolded yourself for it.

But the words still fell from your mouth. "Can you show me again ? I just want to make sure I got it right." You kept your voice innocent as you looked at him over your shoulder. You saw a flash of panic in his eyes but it was gone so fast that you could have easily missed it. He cleared his throat to hide how flustered he was by the request. Still, he nodded before he showed you again. And you hid the smirk on your face as he did.

The rest of the day you had spend most of your time on the training field and the sun was setting.

Not just to practice your archery or to watch Lancelot train Percival. But also to see how the others were doing. You were pleased to see that it was not only young ones learning how to defend themselves, but also adults and even elders. You did notice some competition between Crillan and Lancelot when it came to training. It was evident that Lancelot couldn't resist correcting errors in the people's way of fighting as well. You knew it was because he had been second in command with the Red Paladins.

It was a healthy competition however and it proved to be effective.

The people were getting quite good at the basics, making you believe that they would be able to stand their ground if it would be necessarry.

But you hoped it would never come to it.

Your eyes fell on Lancelot, who was focused on dodging Percival's attacks.

The boy was fast and you could see that it was slowly getting harder for Lancelot to evade him.

You sat in the grass as you watched the boy grow more confident with the sword.

“That boy is giving him a hard time.” Crillan approached you.

“It looks like it.” you smiled up at him.

“AIM FOR THE KNEES, BOY !” Crillan suddenly shouted, and spurred the boy on.

“CRILLAN !” you scolded him instantly but a laugh still fell from your lips.

Lancelot turned to glare at Crillan, and then his eyes fell on you.

It was enough to distract him and Percival did exactly what Crillan had suggested.

Lancelot didn't expect the strike and he lost his footing.

A gasp left you and you glared at Crillan before you hurried to Lancelot's side.

He was already getting off of the ground and back on his feet.

“Are you hurt ?” The memory of his wounds still fresh in your mind.

“I'm not.” It was only his pride that was wounded this time and he glared at Crillan.

Crillan approached with his hands up in surrender. He burst out into laughter a moment later until he saw your disapproving expression.

“Have you forgotten that Ayla put you in the infirmary for a day not long ago ? You can't just distract him.”

“I wasn't the one distracting him.” Crillan murmured but it was still loud enough for all of you to hear it.

Lancelot's glare vanished, his eyes darted to see your reaction before they settled on the ground.

“Oh really ?” You crossed your arms and were ready to scold Crillan.

Crillan had a self-satisfied smirk plastered on his face.

Then it dawned on you what Crillan had meant by that.

Especially when you looked at Percival who caught your eyes and tilted his head discreetly in Lancelot's direction.

The boy was no fool, he had noticed that Lancelot's attention during training would often lessen when you were around.

You looked at Lancelot who was doing his best to avoid looking in your direction.

“Your highness !” a fey soldier approached you.

You stepped away, grateful for the opportunity to escape the uncomfortable situation.

When you did, Lancelot again glared at the still smirking Crillan before he looked to Percival.

He'd seen the boy tilt his head to notify you of the true reason as to what had distracted him.

The boy gulped, knowing he knew.

“Let's see if your footwork is better then mine then.” he gave Percival a knowing look before he returned to training the boy.

"Your highness, our scouts have reported intruders in the woods. They are believed to be armed.” The soldier kept her voice low.

You looked over your shoulder to see Lancelot on the field with Percival again.

You thanked the soldier before you walked over to Crillan and put a hand on his shoulder as you whispered “Armed intruders were spotted in the forest. Gather some soldiers, we're going to inspect if they are a threat or not.”

“Are we not taking our new friend along ?” he was still smirking.

You slapped his shoulder “His wounds have not completely healed yet.”

He picked up on the fact that you didn't want Lancelot to know “What do I tell him ?”

“We're going to gather some plants for Dahlia. Tell Raphael to keep an eye on the city while we are gone, as always.” you shared a look with him.

He gave a nod “Understood.”

You went to ready your horse, hoping it was just fey who were carrying weapons. Something that was not uncommon.

You kept a discreet eye on Crillan who approached Lancelot and briefly informed him about the 'hunt for plants'.

Lancelot gave Crillan a nod, looking in your direction for a moment before his attention turned back to Percival.

Minutes later you were outside the gates along with Crillan and some soldiers, going in the direction that the scout had given you.

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[everlastingdreams]

The writing for this series is going well. Even if no one else likes this story, I'm still glad to write it.

Because I like it..

I think I needed to write something I genuinely enjoy to write to get out of my writers' block and this story is doing just that.

I intend to post it here when it's completely finished. Probably one chapter per day 🙂.

I keep adding stuff because my inspiration keeps hitting me with it.

I've written down stuff for all the chapters and where I want the to story to go, and those unfinished chapters are already around 20 pages.

I switch between perspectives in this series often to describe what the characters are thinking and how it fits in with their actions.

The first chapter will be from the perspective of the Weeping Monk. And it's set right after he escapes the camp with Squirrel.

I hope y'all will like it 😬

I don't want to spoil too much but I can say that there will be:

- Protective weeping monk (nobody touches that little boy lol)

- Squirrel roasting him at some point.

- A path to redemption.

I don't want to spoil the reader interactions though.

[everlastingdreams]

Weeping Monk x Reader : Playing With Fire     chapter 15

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Story Summary:  The Huntsman, that is what they called your brother. A name he had earned by hunting down the fey for coin. Coin that is given by Father Carden for his services. You refuse to stand aside and watch how your brother hunts down those who are fey. When you start to warn the fey camps your brother wishes to attack, you find yourself behind enemy lines. But when the Weeping Monk becomes suspicious of you, you realise you are playing with fire.

Chapter Summary: You sneak the Monk and Percival into Mirstone. Helping the Monk proves difficult as his stubborness matches your own.

Notes: Let me know what you think, please. ^.^ And sorry for some of the next chapters to come. And yep I am re-using some of the gifs I made. Also this chapter was absolute hell to write, I had like five different versions to piece this together whelp

Warnings:  Trauma, mentions of selfharm, mentions of past abusive violence.

Word count: 2841 words in this chapter.

Chapter:  15/ 33+ something (buckle up, it’s a wild ride.)

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Night had already fallen when you arrived at Mirstone, both of you had agreed that it would be wise to leave the horses in a safe place nearby just in case. You knew you would have to sneak them into the village, preferably without being spotted, you did have a fey boy with you. Luckily you had lived here long and guided the Monk and Percival past the tents and homes with ease. The Monk suddenly stopped you in your tracks when he spotted one of your brother's men "Over there." You looked at where he was pointing at. Your eyes narrowed when you saw him. Ah. Brogan. "We will have to wait until he leaves." The Monk let out a pained groan, starting to regret coming here at all. Brogan was drinking from his flask, filled with ale no doubt. As the Monk lowered to his knees to rest for a moment you took his moment of faltered alertness to move away from him and the boy. Percival noticed, you brought a finger to your lips gesturing for him to remain silent. He gave a short nod but watched with wary eyes as you picked up a shovel that was leaning against a tent. You sneaked up to Brogan who had his back turned to you, only then did the Monk become aware of your absence. He immediately looked up only to see you slam the metal of the shovel against the back of Brogan's head. Brogan hit the ground as he fell unconcious. You grabbed that stupid ragged hat from his head and shoved it in his mouth before removing his belt and using it to tie his hands behind his back. It gave you a sick sense of gratification "I should have done that much earlier..." You beckoned for Percival and the Monk to come your way. The latter looked impressed but not happy with your action. You supported him again as you helped him to your home. "That was reckless." He actually scolded you. "Says the man that tried to free a woman and boy, and ended up having to fight the Trinity Guards." You shot back. "I won..." He quietly protested and actually smirked at the memory. "Barely." You quipped nodding to him, to the state he was in. He rolled his eyes at your comment, knowing it was true. He wouldn't have survived. He didn't plan to survive the fight. He had given you an oppurtunity to run away with the boy. Never had he expected that you would risk your lives to help him. And yet, here you were, dragging him to your home. The last time he was there he had held his sword to your throat and now you were helping him. With some difficulty you were able to open the door, it's hinges were terribly rusty. It creaked open and you helped him inside, it would be a stupid thing to help him downstairs. The door let into the kitchen immediately, if someone were to look inside through the windows they would discover you instantly.

“We should go to my bedchamber. They could see us through the windows down here.” You looked at the Monk apologetic.

He moved away from you and leaned against the wall, clearly not looking forward to having to climb a set of stairs.

“Percival, you go first. Don't want you to be behind us in case he falls down. Okay ?” There was a possibility it would happen.

“Alright, fine. Do I help ?” The boy looked up at you and the Monk.

You shook your head “No, thank you. This could get dangerous.”

The boy nodded in understanding and hurried up the stairs, looking down at you now “Well, come on then !”

You nodded to the Monk, not able to suppress the chuckle coming from you “You heard him. Do you need my help ?”

The Monk seemed to consider your offer, alerting you that he was indeed not fit to climb the stairs on his own in his state. You didn't wait for his answer and moved his arm over your shoulder and wrapped your arm around his back. He was taken aback by your action but let you help him up the stairs this way. It took a while but you managed to get him upstairs without tumbling down the steps. He leaned against the doorway breathing heavily, as he regained his composure. Now came the awkward part, for you to be able to help him and stitch up his wounds, you would have to see them. And by the uncomfortable silence in the room you knew the Monk was aware of it.

“It is hard to treat wounds you can't see...” You broke the silence and tried to sound casual.

The Monk gave a nod, not looking at you. You looked at the boy who quirked a brow and shrugged. You cleared your throat and awkwardly held out a hand towards the Monk. The situation was uncomfortable for both of you but this was not speeding things up at all. His eyes focused on you now, he send you an inquiring look. You straightened your back, not wanting to show how nervous you were “Shall I take your cloak ?”

Being straightforward proved fruitful as he finally started to take off his cloak, he handed it to you and you put it aside while he started to peel off the other layers that covered his torso.

You averted your eyes and looked to the boy instead “Are you hungry ?”

His eyes widened and he nodded, you quickly went downstairs to grab some bread and leftovers you could find before going back to your room. You gave the food to the boy who uttered a 'thank you' as he shoved some bread in his mouth. You had also brought something to eat for the Monk, and put it aside. You finally looked at the Monk and felt your breath hitch in your throat. Sure, you had seen a man's torso before but none of the people in your village looked like this. The Monk was far more muscular then you could have guessed. Of course he would be, with all that fighting he did. You hated to admit that even with the dark bruises and the bleeding wounds he looked good. If he had been anyone else you would have complimented him, but this was the person who had threatened your life not long ago in the room downstairs. The Monk had not noticed you staring at him, he was busy examining the wounds on his abdomen. When he turned a little to examine one on the side of his body right below his rib cage your gaze fell on his back and you swallowed back a gasp. Scars were scattered all over his back, recent wounds were mixed between them. Your brother often 'joked' how the Red Paladins were Father Carden's whipped hounds. That was his way of saying some of them engaged in self-flagellation to cleanse themselves. The amount of scars shocked you, you doubted the other paladins would have this many of them. Deep down you knew this was because the Monk felt he needed to cleanse himself over something he could not control, his fey heritage.

Most were healed but there were recent ones that looked no longer then a day old. Had he done this to himself the day he saved you and the boy ? Had he felt so much inner turmoil that he felt he needed to suffer for it ? He turned to look at you, having picked up on the uncomfortable silence. You averted your eyes, trying not to show that you had been staring but he had caught you doing it. "I can see if I have something for those..." You quietly spoke and gestured to his back. The Monk quietly shook his head even though the wounds on his back were burning "There is not enough time. It will be dawn soon."

He went to sit down on the edge of your bed. You gave a nod in understanding, you knew it would be dawn soon but something told you that that wasn't the real reason why he had refused your help. You grabbed the bowl of water you had on the table next to your bed and wetted the piece of cloth, preparing to clean the wounds so you could treat them.

“How did you get those ?” The boy suddenly asked and you saw the Monk's expression change. He swallowed thickly not acknowledging the question. How could he even start to explain it to the boy ?

You picked up on his reluctance to answer and turned to the boy "Percival, will you help me ?" He quickly nodded and you started to give him instructions. "Thank you, listen well. Go downstairs, crawl under the table. One of the floorboards is loose, under there you will find a small chest with some bottles with fey medicine and herbs. Will you bring me that chest, please ?" The boy had left the room to fetch the items without replying. 

"He's eager to help..." You let out a chuckle unaware the Monk was staring at you.

When you looked at him, you shrugged your shoulders "What ?"

He scoffed and shook his head, not believing how reckless you had been "You keep fey items in your home ? If they had known they would have killed you just for that."

You rinsed the extra water out of the cloth and he held his hand out to take the cloth from you, he wasn't looking at you, his attention was on one of the wounds on his torso now.

"That's why they were hidden." You casually said before reaching out with your hand to his bare arm, close to the deep gash he had there. He had removed your scarf to examine it. You had just wanted to clean away the blood to look at the wound but he flinched when he felt the damp cloth touch his arm, never expecting you to take it upon yourself to help him like this.

"I...can do it." So few words and yet he stumbled over them.

You raised a brow looking at him in doubt “Don't take this the wrong way, but you already hit the ground not long ago and I almost had to carry you up those few steps. If you insist on doing this alone you will still be here when the sun rises.”

The Monk scoffed at your comment and shook his head muttering “...carry me..”

You ignored him and tried to touch his arm so you could help him.

He moved so he stayed out of your reach, some of the blood running down his arm landed on your sheets.

"Stop moving and stop bleeding !" You said in frustration.

It made him look at you, eyes slightly widened. It made you realise how strange that probably sounded to him. "You're ruining my sheets, blood isn't easy to wash out you know ?" You almost pouted at the red now staining your white sheets.

"I'm aware." He stated the obvious as he looked at the sheets now.

Finally you sighed and spoke, your voice dripping with sarcasm "Would you be more at ease if you had your sword in your hands ? You weren't this uncomfortable when you visited my home the last time."

He stared at you for a moment and then he understood what you were talking about. The night he had warned you to stop warning the fey. He had felt strange when he had to hold you into place back then too, it had felt almost intimate then as well. But now you were trying to touch his bare skin and he didn't know why it made him so nervous, as if it was almost sinful. Which was ridiculous because you were just trying to help. It was his upbringing that caused him to react like this, he knew it was.

"You were not trying to help me that night if I recall." He deadpanned.

You frowned at that "You are more comfortable with me hitting you with a pan, then me helping you ?"

In truth, he was used to violence. He was not used to soft hands carefully touching him. So you were not far from the truth when you had asked that.

He answered with a hint of sarcasm "People don't usually touch me to help me."

"I wonder why." You shot back.

He looked up at you at that, noting the smirk that disappeared a second later.

"I mean... you are not making it easy for me here..." You gestured to him, damp cloth still in your hands "Did you never see a healer ?"

He had, even though he always tried to avoid getting an injury bad enough that he would need a healer "I have."

"Well, think of me as a healer then...it's the same thing." You tried your best to convince him.

He scoffed at that, knowing it was not the same at all. He never spoke to the healers, he didn't know anything about them and none of them were women.

"It's not the same." He replied, sounding a bit shorter then he had intented.

You were getting frustrated, this was going nowhere "Why ? What's the difference between me helping you or another stranger ?"

"You are." The words spilled out of him and he wished he had kept his mouth shut.

You were silent now as you thought about that statement.

He really did not wish to elaborate further on that, what would he even say ? That you touching his skin made him feel...strange ? A foreign feeling, something he had not felt before. Something he could not place. Only that it did not feel bad. That was perhaps the problem, it felt pleasant. It was something he believed he shouldn't feel.

Then you came to your own conclusion "You don't trust me to help you..."

He looked up at you right away, one thing he did know for certain was that he trusted you. Sure, you had lied to him about having stopped with warning the fey, but otherwise you had always been honest. Blatantly and recklessly honest sometimes. And you could have left him to die alone in the forest, instead you had brought him into your home to help him.

"I trust you." It was a statement that he needed you to hear.

You were not expecting to hear that coming from the Monk.

You were a bit taken aback "If you do, then please let me help you before you bleed to death on my bed."

He avoided looking at you, the conflict inside of him was clawing at him.

You took his silence as refusal “An infection could kill you ! Don't you care if you live or die ?!" "Not really. No." The truth came from his mouth faster then he could prevent it. "I care ! So stop moving and let me help you !" You were exasperated at this point. It appears that the more frustrated you became, the more stubborn he got so you tried a different approach.

You let out a deep sigh “Please, let me help you... Lancelot.” It was strange saying his name out loud for the first time.

And unbeknownst to you, hearing you call him by his actual name for the first time was why he finally gave in. He had only ever heard you call him 'Monk' until now. Finally he caved in, he looked at you and slowly nodded.

You cautiously took his arm in your hand and started to clean away the blood. You couldn't help but feel nervous, you couldn't push the thought away that you were washing blood off of someone who could easily kill you if he wanted to.

You tried to push the thought away, so far he had not threatened you anymore. You tried to be gentle but time was of the essence, this had to be finished before dawn. And in your haste you accidentally rubbed against the wound too roughly. He actually let out a short pained yell and you jumped and flinched as if he had hit you even though he had not laid a hand on you. You had sewn up your brother before, before you knew how he got his wounds. After you found out the truth about the origin of his wounds you had sewed him up one last time and did such a terrible job that he no longer demanded you to do so. But you were so used to your brother hitting you when you accidentally hurt him while sewing him up that it caused you to panic now. And you did what you had always done in that situation, you apologized.

“I'm sorry..I...I didn't mean to...” Your voice shook and your hands trembled.

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