#weepingmonk/reader

[everlastingdreams]

Weeping Monk x Reader : The Patience Of A Heart    Chapter 19

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

Chapter Title: Caught In The Hands Of Fate

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

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

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

Word count of this fic: +130K

Chapter:  19 / lol Gonna keep the chapter count a secret until the end.

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After going to your room and stuffing the satchel with the socks under your bed and out of sight, you went out to find Lancelot and see how things were going with Neia and Percival.

You weren’t ready to see those socks again, in truth you hoped not to see them again. The one who they were meant for had suffered a horrible faith and they only reminded you of it.

Anne would not have wanted you to think this way, but you couldn’t help it…

You stepped into the stables again and found it void of the Feys you were looking for.

The laughter of children came from nearby and you followed the sound.

There they were, Neia on her horse and Percival was walking beside her and held on to the reins.

Lancelot stood against the wooden fence that surrounded the meadow.

There were goats and cows running through the grass, as well as some other horses.

You stopped next to him on his right and leaned on the fence to watch Neia and Percival in the meadow.

The Ash Man was curious how it had went “Have you spoken to Gawain?”

You gave a nod “Gawain said he’ll talk to the others about it.”

What…

He hummed, took a step backwards and walked slowly to stand on your right instead of your left side.

There was another very quiet hum and then he took you off-guard when he leaned in and blatantly smelled you.

With widened eyes you stared at him utterly confused “Why did you… what was that for?”

A Fey scent he recognized was all over you.

Had Gawain truly found it necessary to do this?

Part of him knew it had been done on purpose to mess with him and his heightened senses, yet part of him severely disliked how another’s scent was over you now.

He held his tongue, knowing how it could come across if he mentioned it.

You saw the slight narrowing of his eyes and the change in them “Alright, spit it out.”

He proceeded with caution, but knew the annoyance was still detectable “You smell different.”

You pushed for an answer “Like what?”

It came out a bit short “Like Gawain.”

The scent was so strong that he had thought it was Gawain approaching him.

And there it was. Did he really think you would not notice the difference in him when he was jealous or insecure?

The truth was nothing to feel guilty or bad about “He told me something personal and I hugged him.”

He leaned forward and rested his elbows on the fence “What did he tell you?”

Did he think Gawain had declared his love for you or something of the sorts?

While sighing, you answered “If you want to know, you will have to ask him yourself. I don’t believe it was meant to be told to others. It was personal, Lancelot.”

The Ash Man was quiet for a second, then looked at you.

It was better to warn him of the tragedy in the knight’s past “It was something that happened in his past. He lost someone.”

Realization washed over him, you two had shared your grieve and he had misinterpreted it “He told you this?”

You nodded “Yes. Just… be considerate if you ask about it.”

He fidgeted with his hands “I will not ask. If he wishes to speak of it, he will do so when he feels comfortable.”

It wasn’t forgotten how quick he was to fear the worst “I wish you weren’t so worried that I would prefer another over you.”

Right away his full attention was on your face “I am not.”

It was not meant to be accusing “Don’t lie. I can tell.”

Lancelot sighted quietly, remorse present in his eyes “I am sorry.” there was a short pause “You could have someone who has no trouble being with you the way you would want them to be. Someone who would not have asked you to wait.”

So that was what bothered him…

You took one of his hands and brought it to the mark on your arm “Lancelot, we spoke of this.”

The gesture held more meaning then you could bring into words.

The mark was still there and the love for him was too.

You saw him struggle to meet your eyes “Look at me…” finally he did “The mark is still there, is it not? I do not want someone else, just you. You’re all I want.”

Now those weeping eyes did not leave yours and you were certain that if you had not been out in the open, he wouldn’t have held back the way he was doing now…

The tease fell from you “If you want me to stop smelling like another, maybe replace it with your own scent again.”

His hand curled around your lower arm and you felt the mark tingling in excitement.

The idea was terribly inviting…

You took his hand off of your arm and moved it around your form while you leaned into his side “This is a nice way to start. I can use the comfort.”

He did not need an explanation and brought it to your shoulder to keep you close.

This was nice…

Especially when he proceeded to start and rub along your back a bit.

Only when the children threatened to look your way did he fold his hands together behind his back. Still, you remained close at his side.

Then with a cheeky smile, you leaned even closer and sniffed him yourself.

It was meant to be an inside joke between the both of you. But he genuinely smelled good, your heart took a leap and the mark’s response was just as strong.

Never did you expect the response it send through your body.

Dammit…was this a Fey ability you were not aware off?

Was it just him? Was it the Ash Folk blood that ran through his veins? Or did the mark connect you to him so strongly that even his scent was enough to fuel you with desire?

Your whole body had warmed up and you dropped your eyes to the grass, too flustered to let it show.

He was aware something was happening and looked at you curiously because he had no idea what exactly it was.

Percival had seen you sniff his tall friend and loudly pointed out your odd behavior “What are you doing?”

Of course the twit next to you turned his head to the side to prevent himself from laughing.

You mumbled through your teeth “Of course he never sees you do it…”

He swayed and bumped into you lightly “Years of experience.”

His attention was pulled away when he saw Neia try to dismount, like he had taught her, but the girl was clearly frightened.

He called out for her to wait and went over to them.

Percival was doing his best to explain to her how she should do it.

Lancelot was quick to reach up and pluck her from the horse, then safely set her down on the ground.

Neia however did not let go off his hand and the poor Ash Man did not have it in him to pluck her hand from his own.

If he didn’t learn to do so, he’d be walking around with the girl for the rest of the day, you were sure of it.

Actually, you wouldn’t mind seeing that happen.

Percival was grinning up at him, oh how amusing must it be for him to see the former fearsome ‘Weeping Monk’ with a little Fey girl attached to his hand.

A look for guidance was send your way and you just grinned back.

Even from this distance you could see him roll his eyes a bit.

He bend down, picked Neia up and carried her out the meadow “Percival, will you lead the horse back to the stable?”

The boy was already pulling the horse along “Sure. I’ll take Spot back.”

Neia went ahead and put her small fingers to those ashen markings again, half expecting them to come off his skin like they haven’t been their since he was born.

The second Lancelot was in front of you, he put her down and she gave the biggest pout “Y/n will take you and Percival to your lessons.”

You glared at him and his way of shoving the responsibility onto you.

There was a twitch at the corner of his mouth as he fought the smirk.

It vanished completely when Neia questioned him “Are you angry? I’m sorry…”

The question came out of nowhere and took both of you off-guard.

He was at her eye-level not a second later, uncaring if he had just knelt down into a bit of mud.

Neia rubbed along her right arm to sooth herself again.

Rarely he heard the whispers of the Hidden, yet now he heard their faint voices.

The way the girl kept rubbing at her arm each time she was nervous or upset…

It just seemed…off…

He was distracted by it “I am not…” instinct led him to reach for her right arm “May I?…”

The girl let him hold her arm and got very quiet when he began to roll up her sleeve.

The sleeve was not even at her elbow and you covered your mouth from sheer shock.

His heart sank at the sight of the old scars.

Her arm was littered with them, the result of leather that had struck her skin countless times.

There were so many… too many.

He needed a moment to collect himself before looking at her face again “Who did this?”

It surprised even himself how calm and quiet he managed his voice to be.

At first she shook her head and fell silent.

You knelt beside her and put an arm around her for comfort “It’s alright. You don’t have to be afraid, they’ll never hurt you again.”

Lancelot gently moved his fingers over the scars “Neia…”

She answered his question “Papa did.”

It dawned on you that you had only ever seen her mother and she had never said a word of her father.

To hear how a father was able to hurt a child like this set his blood to boil “Is your father alive?”

If he was, he would rectify that.

Little Neia shook her head.

It was a relief that the bastard was gone.

If the man had not been gone yet, he would have been soon enough.

You saw Percival walk over and Lancelot rolled down her sleeve again.

The boy had seen it anyway and stopped next to Lancelot “What’s on her arm?”

He did not want the girl to think she had to hide them “Those are scars.”

Percival was clever and stopped himself from asking further.

The boy was often bold and brash, but never when it came to things like this.

The young knight took Neia’s hand and therefore relieved Lancelot of his duty “Come. Let’s go to the lesson.”

The girl looked rather giddy all of a sudden when the boy held her hand.

It did not go unnoticed by you or Lancelot and you shared a look.

Still, rattled by the revaluation, your voice wavered “Good plan, Percival. Come, sweetling.”

Neia was quick to lock her hand with yours and let you walk both her and her young knight to their lessons.

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  In the dinning hall, you stood and watched a Tusk Folk Man and Faun Folk woman entertain the children in their lessons with an animate story.

Seeing Percival and Neia laugh at the story warmed your heart.

How could you not have seen the silent suffering Neia had gone through?

Even now, as she mourned her mother, the girl hid those feelings.

But Lancelot had seen through the facade, perhaps it was because he knew what it was like to mask true emotions so those around him would never know.

A light tap on your shoulder broke your attention away.

Arthur stood beside you now “Keeping an eye on Percival, eh?”

It wasn’t a real question, mostly a jest “Why should I?”

He kept his voice low “Anything that shines like steel isn’t safe around him. I have to say, the boy has an eye for treasure and weapons.”

“Are you accusing him of something?” You arched a brow.

Arthur squinted his eyes, smile breaking out “Not at all.” then nodded at the group of children “That girl, Neia?”

You gave a nod.

He crossed his arms in front of him “Do you know that she doesn’t talk to anyone? Just Percival, Lancelot and you. But no one else.”

What?

At that, you paid some attention to the group and saw that she indeed did not interact with anyone else but Percival. Neia even looked down when another child tried to speak to her. And when the Faun Woman tried to get her to interact, the girl scurried back.

“Did you see that?” Arthur blurted out at the sight of it.

“Maybe she is just shy.” You found yourself not truly believing the words yourself.

The violence she had suffered made her wary and you held yourself back from going over there and taking a seat next to her.

Arthur’s smile had faded and you didn’t have to say a word, he knew something was wrong.

You did not make him ask “She has scars on her arm. When her father was alive, he hurt her.”

He discreetly pointed at her “He hurt her?!? But she’s… she’s so small. What sort of bastard would do that?”

It wasn’t a real question, it just sounded so surreal that a person could hurt a child “Like you said, a bastard. Did Gawain ever tell you about her mother?”

Arthur gave a nod, recalling the tragic information “I can’t imagine what it must have been like for her to live with her mother, while her mother was…”

Dead… the woman had passed on and Neia had been looking after her mother who would never wake again.

You blinked faster, struggling with the memory of the day you had stepped foot in Neia’s home “I can’t begin to imagine how many children are out there who are living through such horrific things. And it must be worse with this war going on.”

He sighed, agreeing with that “Speaking of war. Gawain told me that you want the Abbot to be dealt with.”

You guessed he would share his dismay regarding it “I know you are against it.”

Arthur debunked that idea “I was against Lancelot acting reckless. But he went off and tried it anyway. He and Red are lucky to be alive.”

“So, you’re not against it?” You asked.

He shook his head “Not if it’s safe. We have lost enough people, but I agree that the Abbot needs to be dealt with.”

You told Arthur what you did not dare tell Lancelot “There is a way that does not involve other people. I could do it alone.”

As a result, his voice went a little louder “Absolutely not!”

Reasoning with him would be easier than with the stubborn Ash Man “When the Trinity Guards found us in the forest last night, they said that the Abbot wanted me alive. I could use that to our advantage.”

He took hold of your elbow and led you out of the room “I wasn’t aware you had run into them. Neither of you looked wounded, so I guess they have been dealt with?”

You nodded “Yes. It’s where we got the new horses from.”

“Of course Lancelot would fail to mention it to Gawain and I.” Arthur rolled his eyes a bit in frustration “But why would Wicklow want you alive?”

“I’ve been told I can be quite charming.” You deadpanned and saw him slide his eyes to you “Alright, it’s because Wicklow wants Lancelot. Either to kill him for betraying the Church or because he wants to force him to hunt the Fey again.”

Arthur was pensive “Handing yourself over to the Abbot isn’t safe, y/n.”

You walked beside him “I think Gawain wants me to infiltrate the church in Helgenstone dressed in my tunic I still have from the abbey.”

He readjusted his jerkin “How would you even manage to get Wicklow away from his guards? They follow him around all the time.”

It was a valid concern “Perhaps Gawain will have an idea.”

He turned to face you again “Well, whatever Gawain decides, you can count on my help.”

It was a relief to hear it “Thank you, Arthur.”

Lancelot entered the hallway and approached you and Arthur on sight.

“Did you speak to Gawain?” Arthur questioned him immediately.

The Ash Man nodded “I did. He is still deciding over it. Red caught wind of the idea and is hounding him over it now.”

Arthur sighed and walked past him “I’ll go and see if I can help.”

While passing him by, Arthur amicably patted Lancelot on the arm. The look of sheer surprise by the Ash Man was missed by Arthur.

You looked down the hallway, at the door of the dining hall where the children were still laughing at the story told. An idea had popped in your head, but you would need some items for it.

Lancelot touched your arm to draw your attention “What has you distracted?”

You made a request “I would like to go into the forest and I was wondering if you wanted to come along. It won’t take long, I just want to pick some flowers.”

It had piqued his curiosity, he had never seen you walking around looking for flowers before “Flowers?”

You hummed “To braid in Neia’s hair. It’s fine if you don’t want to come along.”

It was almost amusing to him “The last time you touched a flower in the forest, it nearly burned your skin.”

Well, it was no lie… “So, you’ll come?”

He tilted his head a bit “Of course. Shall we walk?”

After agreeing to walk, together you walked towards the forest.

  No horse was needed because you didn’t have to go deep into the forest to find pretty flowers.

And he even helped, that heightened sense of smell of his was coming into handy to find flowers that were safe.

Most of the foraging was you pointing at a flower and him giving a ‘yes’ or ‘no’.

“How did you know about Neia?” You asked while plucking a flower from a fallen branch it was growing on.

The explanation was simple for him, having had the same experience “I also feel my scars when I think back of my upbringing. That is what happens with her. If she is reminded of her father’s anger, she can’t help but sooth the scars.”

It was heartbreaking to hear it “I really didn’t know she had them…or that she was treated that way.”

He did not put any sort of blame on you for that “Neither did I. What baffled me most was that she was not afraid of me anymore so quickly.”

You frowned “Because you are being kind to her.”

It was the example he hoped to use “Exactly. We reached out to her and she has not strayed away from us nor Percival.”

The girl had sprung to form an attachment to the first who had been kind to her, but she remained withdrawn to others…

You began to understand what he tried to explain “I never see her talk to others beside us, not even with those she has lessons with.”

He gave a nod “It will get better for her in time. She will not grow up at the mercy of a whip. Not anymore.”

Not like him he meant…

The words were dipped in admiration “You’ve always been protective of the little ones.”

There was only determination in his tone “I could not save my younger brother and I will be dead long before I do not try what I can to save other children from the same fate.”

A silence fell and when he did look at your face, he must have seen the affection in your eyes.

It made you drop your gaze to the ground.

Upon seeing it, he did the same.

After collecting enough flowers, you stored them in the small basket you had brought along.

The walk back was pleasant and you often walked against his side “Have you ever considered becoming a father?”

He kept the close distance, the sword at his side bumped into you “I do not know if it is even possible, if there has ever been a child from Ash Folk and Manblood…”

It was information he would never come to know as long as no other Ash Folk were there to speak of it.

Unless…

You pulled him out off his wandering thoughts “And between different Fey species?”

He considered it possible “That is more likely.” then muttered more to himself “But you are not Fey.”

It had been said so quiet that you had not heard it well “What?”

He said it a little louder “You are not Fey.”

You couldn’t resist to act a little cheeky now “Oh, so you would pick me to be mother of your children? Interesting.”

His throat bopped at what it also meant.

Children were the result of physical intimacy.

The Ash Man shut down, like he had crossed a line and been too forward.

So brave, but when it came to the topic he shied away.

By suppressing your own shyness, you hoped to ease his a little “Let me know if you ever wish to begin with finding out if Ash Folk can reproduce with Manbloods.”

You bit your tongue and directed your eyes at the sky after that bold statement.

His momentarily blank expression changed into a smirk, then he took hold of the hilt of your sword and pulled you closer by it.

It had you giggling softly before a laugh slipped out.

By doing so, he also left himself vulnerable to your shenanigans.

You’d stolen his sword quick as a whip and placed the basket down.

Taking a few paces backwards, you saw the blue of his eyes darken.

Slightly his head tilted and you knew he was willing to indulge you in this foolery.

It was a dare leaving his lips “Go on then, see if you can handle such a sword.”

Your brow arched high “I can.”

In truth you struggled to keep the sword still instead of swaying it round and about.

He drew his short sword, the look of a wolf on it’s hunt was present in his eyes.

To your own amazement, you blocked his first strike.

Well… that was what you though at least.

Somehow he had managed to grab hold of the crossguard on the longsword where your grip on the hilt was far less firm.

The sword was out of your hands with a single tug at the crossguard, he sank both swords into the soil, freeing his hands.

He would collect them later.

Lancelot stalked closer, sly smirk only getting stronger “At least your confidence is not lacking. Your swordsmanship on the other hand…”

You took a step back for every step he took to close the distance and you drew the sword that rested at your side.

It went so fast…

Almost like he knew you would be drawing your own sword as well.

He took one large step closer, sank down and grabbed the sword by the flat of the blade, his hands slid across the steel while he moved forward.

The sword was stolen from your grasp before you even knew what was happening.

The last thing you felt before losing your balance was him grabbing the back of your knee.

You sank to the ground.

It had been his intention.

He had discarded your sword right away “Careful.”

By holding on to his shoulders, you avoided a fall.

Now you sat on your knees in the grass and he was sitting the same way in front of you.

“Are you bloody mad?!?” You squeaked out.

He brought his hands to your waist and held on “You started this. Did you consider it wise to challenge me with the sword?”

The kneading on your waist chased the wit right out of you.

He hummed knowingly at the lack of an answer, seeing the effect he had on you now.

Was he able to sense the way the mark was tingling all over your arm?

You tapped on his shoulders playfully, then sneaked your hands beneath the hood to lace your fingers in his locks “You didn’t have to bring me to my knees-” and fired another tease at him “If you wanted that to happen, you only had to ask.”

The momentarily confusion as to why he would want you to kneel lasted only three seconds, then he leaned a little back.

You felt a little guilty for teasing him with it, but it was also meant to show him that he did not have to be uncomfortable about the topic with you.

He had heard of these… things happening.

But to hear you speak so boldly of it was unexpected.

A hand left your waist and went to hold the back of your neck.

He studied your expression, letting his gaze roll down from your eyes to your mouth a few times “You have been acting quite promiscuous to me.”

Your eyes dropped down from his gaze, shy smile growing “I can’t help it. Sorry.”

His thumb traced below your bottom lip “Do not be sorry.”

When he leaned in, you leaned back “People could see us.”

It halted him “Still worried what others might think if they knew?”

You feared they would become far more vigilante towards him “I see how difficult it is for you to be accepted among your people. I don’t want to make it even harder. They know Father Carden was my uncle, they don’t think much of me either because of that.”

Lancelot lowered his hands to your waist again and did not bother to pretend it was not with lecherous intend “I would not be here now if it were not for you. I would have bled out in the forest. I will not let the opinions of others keep me from you.”

You heard the way his voice had lowered and felt the greedy hold he had on you.

He wasn’t just holding on… he was feeling.

There was a moment where you could sense something was about to happen, it occurred only seconds before he moved and had you with your back on the grass beneath him.

Still kneeling beside you, it was clear that he felt quite comfortable in this mystical forest.

You were looking around to see if anyone else was near, half scolding him for his impulsiveness “Goodness! Lancelot!”

He was leaning over you, gaze roaming over your form, hand brushing your stomach “Fear not, there is no one.”

Your eyes squinted up at him “What do you think you are you doing?”

His gaze caressed your features and body like a gentle wave, while he rubbed along your stomach “I am…curious…I think.”

The way he could not stop staring was enough to make one nervous.

“Curious about what?” You asked, genuinely curious what he was curious about.

Those weeping eyes searched yours while he traced a finger over the lacing of your dress, they stayed on yours when he undid the knot that tied the laces together.

Your chest heaved for air and you fidgeted with some strands of grass beside you.

The lacing was undone for a little more than an inch.

It was enough to offer him a view, the same one he had caught a glimpse of in the inn.

This was not the time or place, but he was slowly losing the fight against the desire that continued to fuel.

As if he meant to thank you for allowing it, he tenderly pressed his lips your temple.

He touched nothing more, the titillating view was already more than he’d dare to ask of you “If I wanted you to stop having another’s scent, I would have to replace it with mine.”

You gawked at him “So you just decided to handle that here in the forest?”

Wickedly he grinned “Yes.”

He brought his nose down to the crook of your neck to inhale your scent.

Breathing normally became a challenge “And opening my dress helps this how?”

His hand slid under your back, warm breath ghosted over your neck “Forgive me for not having a proper excuse.”

You wouldn’t let him off the hook just yet “I’ll forgive it if you tell me what the improper excuse is.”

Instead of answering, the stubble of his beard moved along your skin and passed your collarbone.

With his bottom lip he felt the warmth of your bosom and the quick rise and fall of your chest.

This was not the time or place…

He pressed his aching lips to what was uncovered.

That warm alluring scent, which covered your skin, awoke a hunger in him.

In return you curled your fingers in his hair and kept him close.

He saw at as encouragement to keep going.

It were his thoughts that he let out while coming up to touch his lips to the shell of your ear “If I die in Helgenstone, I will have this to keep in my thoughts in my last moments on this world.”

Did he truly consider it a possibility??

It had sounded so normal for him… as if he did not fear the prospect of death anymore.

But it wasn’t normal to you, you were not raised in battle and the possibility to die in one.

You found yourself holding on to his shoulder, petrified at the thought that it might cost him his life “If I do it alone, no one else will have to sacrifice themselves.”

He stopped and locked eyes with you “What?”

He had heard it and was giving you the chance to reconsider.

But you didn’t “Gawain was right. Enough have suffered, especially the Fey. I could do it, I can deal with the Abbot alone.”

Lancelot was out of your hold and on his feet right away, not believing his ears, he faced away from you.

You inelegantly got up from the grass as well, your clothes a mess “Lance-”

“I do not want to hear it!” His voice was sharp and he turned to look at you “Do you believe I would stand aside and let you risk your life? Never.”

There was a long pause and he drew a couple of breaths to calm himself.

The question came out much softer “Where is this coming from, y/n?”

“My kin did this to the Fey, I-…” You fell quiet.

Lancelot was able to guess what was causing this “The faults of your uncle are not yours to bear.”

The words were forced out of you “And yet I bear them.”

Who was he to makes these claims while he himself had caused so much suffering?

Perhaps… it had made him the person who was able to see the difference.

The difference between kindness and hate.

He sought your presence once more and took your hands in his “You’re nothing like he was. He felt no guilt over what he did. And here you are, among my kind, helping.”

Your shoulders shrugged, throat closing up from emotion “Helping with what? I haven’t done a thing to earn my place here-”

He cradled your head and silenced you “Tell that to Neia, the child who lives because you saw her in a crowd of people and choose to help while others ignored her existence.” his face was close to yours “Tell it to Percival who would have watched me die if you had not found us.”

His forehead rested against yours, noses touching and the intimacy of it had the love for him flourish further inside of you.

Others could see…

Heaven you wanted him…

He showed more restraint than you, well… maybe his eyes did not.

They dropped from yours down to your chest and it reminded you that he had unlaced some of your dress.

You brought a finger under his chin and tilted it up a little until he met your eyes again “Rude.”

His face flushed a bit and for a second he had the look of a guilty young boy “I-”

You didn’t let him apologize for it “You were the one to open it, be a dear and close it for me again.”

He matched your playful politeness “Can it wait?”

The smack against his arm made a laugh fly out of him

Out of actual politeness, he did do as ask asked and closed the laces “You are not the only one with a personal vendetta against the Abbot. The man tried to have me killed the night I left with Percival. I have not forgotten his arrogance and the desire I had to erase it from his face.”

Preferably by bloodying it up.

The knot in the laces was tied again “You are not alone in this, y/n.”

You did not want to argue over this, not when this had been such a lovely walk mere moments ago.

So you nodded and tried to draw him closer just when he took a step back.

He tsked you right away “We are not alone anymore.”

With a discreet head tilt, he pointed out the other Feys foraging the woods too.

Fine then.

You picked up the basket again that you had filled with flowers and grabbed the sword from where it had fallen while he collected his own from where he had planted them.

While doing so, you noticed the way the group of Feys where looking at you.

Not a friendly look, no, it was one of disgust.

It came as another reminder that even you could not erase your connection to Father Carden, to them you were an invader, a trespasser…

Lancelot was Fey, in time he would find his place. He was Ash Folk, a kind born to protect the Fey with their magic.

But you… you would always be Manblood. No mark would ever change that.

He was more distant now that others were there to see it, but not distant enough to not walk closely beside you when returning to the city.

                                          ━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━

  Upon the sun’s departure and the moon’s slow arrival there had been no news from Gawain. The Green Knight must have decided not to act on the opportunity in Helgenstone, or perhaps one of the others had talked him out of the idea.

Now you sat in Neia’s room, braiding the flowers you had picked into her hair as best as you could. Percival was even helping by sorting out the, according to him, disgusting flowers from the pretty ones.

Yes, the boy was strong of opinion and you tried not to take it personal.

“This one stinks.” He held one up.

Lancelot would have disagreed…

“That one then?” You pointed at another flower.

Percival handed you the other one, approving of the idea.

Neia couldn’t stop touching her hair in excitement and multiple times she ‘commanded’ Percival to hand her the small hand mirror.

Of course the boy sighed and rolled his eyes, still he indulged her wish every time.

At some point her eyes had caught sight of the bangle on your arm and you handed it to her for a bit so you could work on her hair without her constantly fidgeting with it.

To your silently amazement, the flowers you had picked kept their beauty, as if their health remained the same when in connection with Fey kind.

You’d never seen her so happy and all it took were some flowers in her hair. All the flowers where white, like she had in her hair the day you met her.

She held up the bangle and asked “Where did you find it?”

Percival answered it “Lancelot gave it to her.”

You confirmed it was true “Percival is right. Lancelot gave me that bangle.”

Neia was pensive “Like you gave me your necklace?”

You hummed agreeing and added the last flower to her hair, you almost asked her if she had indeed sold the necklace, but her situation had been so dire that it was a given.

After fidgeting with the bangle a little more, she handed it back to you.

Well, actually she took it upon herself to put it over your hand and around your wrist again.

Then she noticed the mark on your arm “Fey marks?”

It had her so very confused to see those marks on a Manblood.

Percival, the cheeky rascal, chimed in “Lancelot gave her those too.”

This time you squinted your eyes at him but his grin did not falter “I wonder, does the Ash Man tell you secrets, Percival?”

The shit-eating grin on his face should have been a warning.

Percival thought he would surprise you with the news “He fancies you.”

Neia’s mouth dropped open at the claim and then she looked at you for your reaction as well.

You saw a chance and feigned to be surprised by the admission “Really? What makes you think that?”

The boy believed he had a chest filled with knowledge no one else knew off.

But nothing could have prepared you for the secret he so bluntly decided to share.

Percival casually answered “He stares at you a lot. And at your bottom.”

Right away you covered Neia’s ears “Percival…”

A big grin was plastered on his face “What? It’s true. And he gave you a mark and jewelry.”

Your face was burning from his bluntness “Just…I…”

Without knocking, the door creaked open and Pym tripled into the room.

“Oh, here you are.” Her attention fell from you to the flowers in Neia’s hair “Ooh, that looks nice.”

Neia beamed with pride over her freshly styled hair.

Pym struggled a little to walk into the room with the food she had wrapped up in linen.

Of course Percival was quick to help her.

“One for each of you.” She quickly told the boy.

He handed Neia one and Pym handed you the other.

She plopped down on Neia’s bed “I thought you might be hungry and brought you some bread and fruit.”

It had been a good guess, you were indeed quite hungry “Thank you, Pym. I haven’t really eaten anything today.”

Neia took a bite from her pear and pleaded “Can you read us a story before we have to sleep?”

You were about to agree to it, but Pym made the sacrifice instead.

“I’ll ready you a story.” She told Neia, then said to you “You can go and rest if you want to. I know you weren’t able to sleep last night.”

You asked “Are you sure?”

Pym had no problem entertaining the children “I’m sure. Go on, off you pop.”

Before doing so, you gave Neia a hug. Doing the same with Percival was a bit of a challenge and the boy rolled his eyes, as if it was just to indulge you that he’d allowed it.

Heaven forbid one might know that he loved it…

“Goodnight.” You told them, telling Pym “And thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” She smiled, then pointed at the food in your hands “Eat your food.”

Your smile matched hers “I will.”

By the time you reached the door, Neia had already pulled a book from under her pillow and put it in Pym’s hand.

You went over to your room and snatched the satchel from under your bed to get the socks out of them. Anne would not have wanted them to go to waste…

Then you returned to Neia’s room, finding Pym busy reading the story Neia had requested and clearly adding some commentary to it when she disagreed with the actions of the characters in said book.

You went over to Pym and placed the sock next to her on the bed “Maybe you can use these?”

She glanced down for a moment and back up at you “Oh, wow. Thank you!”

“You’re welcome.” You were glad to hear that she seemed happy to have them “I’ll leave you to it now. If you need me, I will be in my room.”

Neia waved at you as you left. Percival laid draped over the foot of the bed, eyes up at the ceiling while listening to the story.

  The moment you were back in your room, you put the food Pym had given you into the now empty satchel along with a flask of water.

There wouldn’t be much you would need, the most important thing was the sword and knife at your side.

You did change into something more suitable for what you were about to do. Trousers and a shirt would be more comfortable than a dress for this. Luckily you found those in the old closet as well, the trousers had a stain or two at the legs. The shirt had a tear at the elbow.

Under the clothes, you discovered a long sleeveless leather vest, it fitted well over the shirt you had on now. And it would keep you warm along with the cloak.

Lastly, you pulled the tunic you had worn at the abbey from the closet.

It was strange to see it now, strange to know that the place and people you had called ‘home’ for a while was now gone.

The veil and coif were neatly folded between it, a sign of the respect you had for the women you had met there.

You would wear it one last time, one last service for the ones who had lost their lives.

After packing up the satchel, you put on your cloak and sat on your bed until all sounds in the hallway and outside dimmed down.

The dark of night cloaked the halls of the fortress in it’s shadows, while passing Lancelot’s room you removed your bangle and hanged it on the brass doorknob. If you were not to return, he would know that you had understood and accepted the risk of your actions.

As discreetly as one could, you made your way through the castle.

Once at the stables, you attached your satchel to Llamrai’s saddle and mounted the horse.

You hoped to reach Helgenstone in time, Wicklow would be there at noon.

Tomorrow the lands would be rid of a monster, or the kin of one.

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

[lihamsworld]

Okay so, I've been thinking about this li'l scene for a while now but I have no idea how am I gonna put it in the story so here it is.

This small scene is from my story, "I Wish I could Live More that One Lifetime."

~•~•~•~

"What do you think you would be doing if you are in your world, Y/N?"

"Okay...Do you want the honest answer or the-"

"What do you think?" He interrupted you and rolled his eyes, you look from across the fire to the monk for help but he was already looking at you, a hint of curiosity dancing around his eyes, waiting for an answer.

You also rolled your eyes. "Fine. If you really want to know. I'll probably be clubbing or getting laid. Happy?"

A minute passed and no one dared to say anything as they both contemplate your answer. You didn't say anything either as you were busy eating your dinner and enjoying a moment of peace without Percival asking you questions. He had been asking you questions upon questions since you've told them both that you are not from their world and as much as you love his enthusiasm, you were quite getting tired of answering them, you just never have the heart to tell him to stop. You would ask Lancelot to help you but the man barely said a word to you. He's still wary of you.

Though you did not expect the next question that you hear from the boy that it made you choke on the wild berries you were currently chewing on and you had to take a moment to cough and breath properly, "What does getting laid means?"

Ah, to be young and innocent.

You glance at the monk before answering, "It's...the act of...uhm...So when a man loves a woman-"

Lancelot interrupted you, having caught up with what you were trying to explain, surprising but helpful. "It's getting late. We need to wake before dawn and leave so they wouldn't catch up to us." Percival grunts in annoyance but complied, but not without cursing and mumbling something under his breath. You gesture for him to come to you and you gave him something to keep him warm, all the while looking at Lancelot with a knowing smile, he found you already looking at him and he avoided your gaze, masking it by acting like he was getting ready to sleep as well.

Oh, what you would give just to see his genuine reaction when he realized what 'getting laid' means.

~•~•~•~

I saw the notification that someone commented on my story and I would like to thank you for your comment and to be honest, I blushed while reading it. I'm happy to know that you've enjoyed reading it, thank you so much. I'd reply directly on the comments but this is a sideblog so...I'll find a way to make this my main so I could reply directly.

Happy reading!

[theweepingwitch]

we’re back to that old obsession lads

[everlastingdreams]

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

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

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

Chapter Title: The Many Faces Of Evil

Notes: Nearly done proofreading the other chapters. Pfew.

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

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

Word count of this fic: +110K

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Could it even be called such?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Father would not appreciate the response to your attitude.

Someone was behaving feisty today…

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

You looked so smug…

He looked quite entertained.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fey?

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

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

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

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

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

After that, all went dark.

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

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

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

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

Finch brushed it off “We’ll see.”

 ━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━

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

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

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

Father was alerted and so were his red brothers.

The search began outside the monastery.

Tracks… three sets of them…

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

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

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

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

“Found anything?” Father demanded to know.

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

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

The Monk feared it was indeed so “Yes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 ━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The shock of it was fast to silence you.

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

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

The younger one inquired innocently “Alive?”

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

Avo sounded uncertain “We would kill her?”

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

The implied threat made it difficult to stay calm.

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

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

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

Avo tried “Finch-”

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

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

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

This felt like he was out to humiliate you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A curse escaped him as he buckled over in pain.

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

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

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

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

And so began your aimless escape into the forest.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Shit.

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

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

The rustling of leaves alerted to the presence of others.

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

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

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

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

It had nearly cut you…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shook your head.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You landed on your side “Bastard!”

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

You spat in his face and saw him recoil.

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

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

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

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

And still he refused to help…

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

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

It was odd.

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

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

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

The Monk stood not far away, sword drawn.

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

The cold steel of a knife was against your throat.

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

It slipped from the Monk “Yes. Yours.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He would have stayed and watched the bastard burn.

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

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

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

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

You nodded but could see him scan your features.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And you sounded quite worried about it…

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

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

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

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

Was it swollen?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He did not dare answer that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You mimicked his voice quietly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A laugh fell out of you “The caring!”

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

The cheekiness was greatly amusing “How dare you!”

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

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

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

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

It brought him great delight to hear it.

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

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

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

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

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

[everlastingdreams]

The Weeping Monk x Fem!Reader : Forged Of Fire : Chapter 1

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

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

Chapter Title: The Group

Notes: Finally it's here! Tumblr is messing up the way the text is posted so yeah… sorry about that. I write on Reedsy but copying it here always makes it look a little wonky. There will be some tags added on later chapters, this to avoid big spoilers.

Warnings: Angst. Hurt. Trauma bonding. Intrafamily violence. Depression. Self-harm. Suicidal thoughts. Violence. Torture. Gore. Pining. Trauma. Self-Flagellation. Manipulation. Strong Language. Blood. Misogyny. PTSD. Spicy and smut parts. Slight redemption arc. Lima/Stockholm syndrom-ish. Childhood trauma.

Other warnings: Jealousy. Forbidden Love. Romance. Slow-burn Found Familly-ish. Comfort. Fluff. !SMUT and SPICE!

Word count of this fic: +250K

Chapter:  1/47

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

The sun had only just risen in the sky when your half-brother, Cassian, slammed his fist against your bedchamber’s door.

His voice thundered through the wood, “Get up! Father wants to see us!”

You had jerked awake violently, hating that tone that he used far too often.

He hammered on your door again. “Did you hear me?! Get up!”

“Yes-,” You swallowed down your awakened fear to say it louder, “Yes! Coming!”

He walked away from your door, leaving you to get dressed in a haste. As always. Rest was not something that was really granted to you and Cassian enjoyed to take away what little joy’s you had in life. Needless to say, there weren’t any actually left. Your father had been married twice, his first marriage ended when Cassian’s mother died young. His second ended when your mother died after childbirth. Cassian was just two years old when you were born. Your father, Lord Aldith of Ravenwick, blamed you for the death of your mother ever since, so much so that he had refused to even tell you her name no matter how many times you had asked. And had he known that you were born with the same Feyblood as your mother after all, instead of Manblood like him, you doubted he would have bothered to keep you alive for as long as you had. He detested the Fey and you had no doubt that he made your mother hide what she was once he had her fully in his control. You had never told a soul of what you were, the only luck you had was that your markings were not visible to the eye. For a while you had believed to be normal, until you were five, then your whole world changed. It also took some time to fully understand what you were, had you not seen a description that matched you perfectly in a book once you would have never known. Secrets and lies, all of it needed to keep yourself alive, to keep yourself safe from your own family… And even then they still treated you ill.

You pulled your shirt on, wincing at the dull pain from the bruise on your arm. Closing up your bodice hurt your still healing wrist. It were common discomforts you had learned to live with. Once you had tried to run away, just once, and Aldith had send his mercenaries to find you. They had dragged you back to the village, into your home, and tossed you at your father’s feet. He didn’t need them to enact the punishment for your actions, he did that all by himself. The bruises had taken weeks to heal, and ever since that day loud noises and shouts tended to make you flinch.

You rushed to the great chamber of the large manor, the place where the Lord of the village always expected to see you when called upon. After taking a deep breath, you entered the room. Cassian was already waiting impatiently for your attendance, as was Aldith.

“What took you so long to arrive here?” Aldith asked annoyed.

Your head tilted down, eyes fixed on the floor, “I was getting dressed, father.”

There was a scoff, but thankfully he seemed to accept the excuse this time. He pointed to a place on the map that was splayed out on the table. “I am sending the both of you on another errand. The paladins have set up camp not far from here and if the rumors I’ve heard are true then there will be gold present in those tents. Go there, take what you can without being noticed. Ava and Bertram will join you on this task.”

It was true, your father had never earned his wealth in an honest way and expected his children to do as he did. No matter the risk.

“We are stealing from the Church?” It slipped from your thoughts.

Aldith glared your way. “Would you rather starve than earn your keep?”

It was a blatant threat, he was wealthy enough to feed the whole village if he wanted to. But this was your life with them, obey or suffer the consequences. Cassian grinned, clearly enjoying how you were being put in place.

“No, father.” you quietly said.

“No more questions from you then. You do what Cassian tells you to do, understood?”

“Yes, father.”

You knew better than to ask for a weapon to aid in this errand, they would never trust you with one. And you knew not to tell them how stupid you thought it was that they would risk the anger of the paladins, they didn’t care for your opinion. At least Bertram would come along, he was perhaps the closest thing to a friend you had, even if he was just being polite it was more than you were used to.

“Any questions, Cassian?” Aldith asked.

If no one had been present to see it, you would have rolled your eyes at the blatant favoritism. Of course your brother had questions about this task, and your father saw no problem in answering them.

After midday, you sat on the wagon next to Ava. Bertram was steering the wagon, following the directions Cassian was feeding him. The plan was to hide the wagon at quite a distance from the paladin camp, then continue the rest on foot and gather at the wagon again later. In case things went wrong, you were to scatter and meet at the wagon when it was safe again.

You were chewing the small piece of bread Bertram had given you before the group had left the village, was it so obvious to others that your body was growing weaker? Meals were something you had to earn according to Aldith, and it was far harder for you to earn them than it was for Cassian. You said not a word during the entire ride. Ava, a Sky Folk woman and Bertram’s sister, tried to flirt with Cassian quite often. But Cassian looked down on the Fey even if he never spoke it out loud outside the walls of your shared home. To him, Ava and Bertram were just pawns to use.

The wagon came to a halt in the forest on the spot that Cassian had chosen. The four of you got off the wagon and gathered together to walk the remaining distance. It wouldn’t take much longer than an hour and the paladin camp should be reached by the time it got dark. During the walk it became painfully obvious again how little Cassian cared to talk to you, but you didn’t mind, talking to him always ended in being affronted or threatened.

Just before the sun went down, the group reached the paladin camp. The four of you were hiding in the bushes, trying to detect weaknesses in their camp to use to your advantage. Cassian was quick to figure out which tent belonged to Father Carden. And of course, considering the risk of getting caught was the highest, he ordered you to go and steal what was there for the taking. The others picked tents that were closer to the edge of the camp. It always went like this, you were always the one having to take the most risks, because you were expendable. Often it had crossed your mind to just walk up to a paladin and tell them of what you were, to let them end your life and suffering. The only thing offering some consolation were the faint whispers in your ears whenever you thought of it, if you could even call it consolation. It was something you had never spoken a word about, these barely decipherable voices talking to you… people would learn that there was something wrong with you and treat you even worse than they already did.

“Did you hear me?” Cassian’s irritated tone pulled you from your darkening thoughts.

The flash of panic in your eyes betrayed you.

He gave your arm a rough pull. “Get over there and earn your keep!”

With a slight shove, he pushed you towards the camp. You hurried away from him, keeping yourself low and hidden behind the bushes whilst moving towards your target. You had enough experience to stay undetected on your way towards Father Carden’s tent. After waiting for a moment to see if there was anyone inside, you hurriedly made an opening in one of the tent’s walls to crawl under. Crawling over the ground wasn’t your favorite past time, it ruined your already worn down clothing further.

Father Carden’s tent wasn’t as modest as you had believed it to be, there was a large carpet inside that looked like it must have been worth quite some coin. But a carpet was too large to sneak out of the paladin camp undetected. What you were looking for was found inside a large wooden trunk. Hidden between a lot of red robes, you found a heavy ring made of gold and encrusted with red gemstones that you believed to be rubies, this would sure earn you your keep for a while. Just when you wanted to slip the ring into your pocket, the owner of it walked into the tent. Father Carden looked absolutely shocked to see you there and you used that moment to bolt out of the tent. The priest was shouting something that were undoubtedly commands to his paladins. You even ran into one of them and the paladin ended up falling as a result of the collision. It didn’t make you slow down at all, you needed to get out of there. You reached the trees by the time the whole camp seemed aware of intruders. From the corner of your eyes you saw Ava dart into the woods as well. It wasn’t the first time you were caught on one of these errands, but Father Carden and the paladins were not afraid to enact severe punishments. Fey or not, death was an acceptable measure for them. You kept running as the darkness fell over the lands, the advantage of working in a group was that it was far harder for them to catch you if there was more than one target to capture.

The noise from the shouting paladins did not reach your ears anymore after running for quite some time. You began to walk to let your legs rest but still in a fast pace, and not much later Ava found you. Together you walked in the direction of the wagon, whilst she asked you if you were able to find anything worth the trouble, you had shown her the ring in response. The wagon couldn’t be far off anymore, running would have brought you closer to it quicker than walking.

“Stop!” Ava suddenly grabbed your arm, she hushed you when you tried to ask why. She gestured to let you know she had heard something.

You held your breath. She drew her sword. You envied that she had a weapon to defend herself. Another sound came and she spun around, it had come out of the other direction.

“It’s an animal?” She whispered doubtful.

A branch snapped and made you turn to the sound. The voices in your head were growing louder the more you panicked, something in you told you to run but what direction was safe?

It was Ava who made the decision. “We need to run. NOW!”

She followed her own advice right away and you followed her without questioning it. You could tell that she was running in the direction where the wagon was waiting, was she hoping to find the others there to help? That hope was cut short when the sound of a galloping horse gave chase not far behind you. Like a shadow chasing the two of you, the horse closed in, it was terrifying.

“Ava! Look out!” you tried to warn her.

She barely had enough time to throw herself out of the way of the horse’s path. Both of you hit the ground hard. The horse’s rider swiftly dismounted, the sound of steel being drawn made Ava get to her feet immediately. She barely had enough time to ward off the sword lashing out at her. Fear engulfed you both when you realized who the enemy was that you were facing. Father Carden’s most loyal soldier, the Weeping Monk.

Ava did her best to stand her ground but she ended up falling. You prevented him from being able to deliver the killing blow to her by running up to him and grabbing his arm, halting his movements.

“Leave her alone!” It was a rare thing to hear your voice be so loud.

He had thrown you on the ground so fast you didn’t even understand how he’d done it. And still it didn’t stop you from trying to stop him long enough for Ava to get on her feet again. You grabbed hold on his leg, he pulled free just as Ava attacked him. And then she was bleeding, his sword had cut through her sleeve and wounded her. The voice of Bertram rang from close-by, he ran to come to his sister’s aid.

You crawled backwards, away from the fight that ensued. In the darkness it was hard to focus your eyes on the Monk, his dark attire worked to his advantage. It all happened so ridiculously fast. The Monk fought brutally elegant, as if he was the personification of death itself. Bertram hit the ground after being struck by the Monk’s elbow. Ava barely kept her footing against him. You tried to help Bertram back to his feet. And then from the corner of your eyes you saw Cassian, with a rock in his hand.

Cassian struck the Monk just once against the back of the head and neutralized the threat you had been fighting. The Monk was unconscious by the time he hit the ground hard. Everyone was shaking at the sight of him, even then they still feared him as if he was a vengeful spirit that would come to haunt them for this. Cassian cursed and dropped the rock. Bertram was still holding your shoulder for support. Ava held her wounded arm.

“How the hell did he find us?!” Ava questioned out loud, voice shaking.

“The bastard is know for tracking down Fey.” Cassian said irritated, glancing at both of the Sky Folks.

Questions were fired back and forward between them, but their voices faded out in your ears. You were transfixed on the Monk’s face, on the marks he bore beneath his eyes, and understood why they called him the ‘Weeping’ Monk. You couldn’t believe the terrible truth it revealed to you. He was Fey. Cassian was saying something about tying the Monk up, it brought your attention back to the group.

“He’s too dangerous.” Bertram protested.

Cassian would not hear any reasoning. “He’s worth a lot of coin to the many he has crossed. This is the chance of a lifetime, we are doing this. Ava, fetch the wagon. My father will reward us all royally for this.”

Ava was angry with the decision but did as he asked, she was far too eager to win his affection, it would be a while before she would reach the wagon and return with it.

“Get that rope from his horse’s saddle!” Cassian barked the command to you.

This plan was insane. The Monk was far too dangerous to be kept as a captive, but Cassian saw no risks, he only saw the mountain of coins he’d get for the Monk. You approached the horse and the stallion turned his head to you right away, you patted the beautiful creature’s neck and took the rope from the saddle. Bertram met you halfway, so you wouldn’t have to get too close to Cassian, and took the rope. He used it to help Cassian tie the Monk up and to a tree. Your hands were sweating from anxiousness. This was perhaps the worst idea Cassian had ever had and you could only pray that it wouldn’t backfire on everyone involved.

Taglist:

@ourlazydetectivekitten​​ @the-great-adventures-of-me​ @linkpk88​​  @fxrchxldws​​  @elenaoftheturks​​ @slytherlight​​ @beananacake​​    @crystallizedtime​​  @moonlightaura03​​  @angrygardendeer​​  @have-aheart​​   @5am-cigarette​​ @arcanenature​​  @thewinterskywalker​​ @notyourwildestdream​​ @coloursforyourportrait​​ @koressecretidentity​​ @nike90​​ @n1ghtlux​​ @rachlovesactors​​ @luckyzipperscissorsbat​​ @morena-doing-stuff​​  @the-fangirl-diaries​​ @gipsydanger17​​ @heavenly1927​​  @phantasmalbeiing  @labyrinthonmymind  @asarcastic-thiamstan​​  @rainyv-skies @kissingandromeda @stclairesplace @​​katjusja @isla-bell-blog @beebeerockknot @sahvlren

Please let me know if you want to be added or removed from the taglist of this story. Using this old list from the previous fic.

[everlastingdreams]

The Weeping Monk x Fem!Reader : Forged Of Fire : Chapter 2

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

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

Chapter Title: The Betrayal

Notes: /

Warnings: Angst. Hurt. Trauma bonding. Intrafamily violence. Depression. Self-harm. Suicidal thoughts. Violence. Torture. Gore. Pining. Trauma. Self-Flagellation. Manipulation. Strong Language. Blood. Misogyny. PTSD. Spicy and smut parts. Slight redemption arc. Lima/Stockholm syndrom-ish. Childhood trauma.

Other warnings: Jealousy. Forbidden Love. Romance. Slow-burn Found Familly-ish. Comfort. Fluff. !SMUT and SPICE!

Word count of this fic: +250K

Chapter:  2/47

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

Ava had returned with the wagon. Cassian briefly told the others what was going to happen. No one sat down in the presence of the Monk. The tension hanged in the air, and when the Monk began to wake you warned Cassian of it.

“He’s bound to a tree. What harm can he do?” he dismissed your warning and fear, making a mockery of it.

You hadn’t stopped staring at the Monk, at his markings that betrayed his secret. The others seemed to be unaware, or maybe they did not even care.

“Wake up, mutt.” Cassian nudged his head roughly. “Not so frightening now, eh?” he mocked him.

The Monk’s eyes opened and fixed on Cassian right away, then slowly he took in the situation he found himself in. Your blood ran ice cold at witnessing it, as if your body tried to warn you of the danger present. The Monk was far too calm to your liking, he looked even bored by the whole ordeal, as if it was an ordinary night for him.

Cassian walked to the black stallion and led it closer by the reins. “Looks like a strong animal. I wonder how long it would last if I cut off one of it’s legs.”

There was a slight change in the Monk’s eyes, they were sharper and focused on him.

The threat shocked you, “Cassian!”

The fury burned in Cassian’s eyes when he looked your way.

“We can use a horse.” you quickly blurted out to avoid his rage.

He held the reins out in your direction a little aggressively and you tried to keep a distance while fishing them out of his hands. Never would you admit it out loud that you might fear your own brother more than the Weeping Monk.

You led the horse away from Cassian and tied the reins to a tree, as you were petting the horse’s neck soothingly you became aware of the Monk’s eyes on you. It wasn’t hard to guess that the Monk was attached to the stallion.

Cassian continued to mock his captive, “Maybe I should cut your leg off and see how you’d fare.”

The Monk stayed eerily quiet, doing nothing more than study every single person present. Cassian pulled out his knife, dangling it in front of the Monk, then threatened to pierce it through his boot. The Monk didn’t even flinch, his icy stare far more intimidating than that simple knife. It bothered Cassian that his actions went without response, it was why he decided to punch the Monk in the jaw, who took it without a sound. Ava chuckled amused, part of her must have loved that twisted personality Cassian had.

“You’re a quiet one.” Cassian laughed and hit him again.

You hated to see the joy on his face when he was injuring someone who couldn’t defend themselves, just as you hated to see that same joy when he’d often hurt you. It felt so, so wrong.

“Stop it.” you said, all eyes turned to you. “It’s cowardly to attack someone who is bound.”

Your whole body tensed right after realizing what you had done.

Cassian scoffed insulted, “Are you calling me a coward?”

He stepped away from the Monk and stopped right in front of you. The backhanded slap you received was no surprise, but it didn’t hurt any less because of it.

Cassian sneered the words at you. “The only coward here is you. That bastard would kill you first of all, you can’t even defend yourself. That’s why you’re here aren’t you? Too weak and scared to survive on your own.”

Ava cruelly chuckled. Your eyes fell to the grass. Cassian looked so pleased to see you upset.

“Enough, Cassian. We need to focus on our plan.” Bertram was trying to draw the attention away from you.

Cassian looked at you like you were nothing more than the dirt beneath his boots, then walked away. “Just because you keep defending her, doesn’t mean she’ll pull you into the bushes with her.”

It was mortifying to hear the insinuation and the laughter that followed from Cassian and Ava. Bertram on the other hand looked away from everyone.

Cassian beckoned for Bertram. “Let’s get him on the wagon.”

You stayed with the horse, the only company you felt comfortable with in that moment. They got him loose from the tree but kept his wrists bound together in front of him whilst they moved him to the wagon. Ava kept her distance, she had bound a rag around her arm to cover the wound there.

Cassian held his sword ready but looked your way just for one blink and chaos erupted instantly. The Monk took the moment of distraction to cut loose the ropes on his wrists by moving them across the blade of the sword, he kicked Cassian to the ground immediately after. Ava was running towards Cassian to help, but you ran to Bertram when you saw the Monk turn on him next. He had already managed to disarm and steal Bertram’s sword, the poor Sky Folk barely stood a chance against him. It was reckless, but you had to try and help. You ran up to them and grabbed the cloak of the Monk, giving it a strong pull so Bertram could get to a safer distance. What you didn’t anticipate was that the Monk would switch targets so fast. You barely registered the hand wrapping around your lower arm, nor how the Monk had turned and caught you in his grasp. The fight fell to a sudden stop when the sword was against your throat, the Monk was holding you against his chest like a shield.

For the first time, the Monk let his voice be heard, “Stand down.”

He caught a whift of your scent by standing so close, there was an oddity in it that he could not place.

Cassian cursed under his breath, as did Bertram. The group kept their distance.

Next, the Monk demanded, “My swords.”

None of them moved to fetch the swords they had put on the wagon, they weren’t willing to offer him any more weapons than he already had. The Monk moved just a little and a whimper escaped you.

“Shhh…” he hushed. “Quiet.”

“Let her go.” Bertram said, eyes going back and forth between you and the Monk. “Just let her go.”

The Monk held on. “What is her life worth to you?”

“What?” Cassian asked incredulous.

“Is it worth yours?” The Monk tilted his chin in their direction. No answer came and he pushed them for one, “She risks her life to protect you, and you will not even consider doing the same for her?”

Ava kept quiet, gulping down the undeniable fear she felt. For a second, Bertram looked at you apologetic and your stomach turned.

“You can try to run. Or you can die with her. What will it be?” The Monk watched the group, waiting for their decision.

You saw all of them looking at each other and then they began to retreat. Slow at first, but then they ran. Bertram, the only friend you thought you had, abandoned you… leaving you to die at the hands of the Weeping Monk. Inside you were crumbling apart, broken by the betrayal, by how truly easy it was for them to give up on you. You were blinking fast, fighting the tears from showing. The group was gone, they had fled into the darkness of the forest, abandoning you in the grasp of the monster. The Monk stood still for a moment longer, undoubtedly noticing the response you had to the group forsaking you. Then he slowly walked with you to his horse where he retrieved a rope and used it to bind your wrists together in front of you. After taking another rope, he led you to a tree and forced you to sit down against it, he bound you to it.

You barely dared to stare up at him, and even when you did you only saw how his face was cloaked in the shadow of his hood. It reminded you of how some would describe a creature who came to collect the souls of the deceased. The Monk picked up his swords from the wagon, sheathed the shorter one but keeping the longsword in hand. He inspected the ropes binding you one more time before walking away, leaving you there at the mercy of the forest and possibly even wolves.

“No! Please, let me go!” You panicked when you saw him walk off.

He ignored the plea and soon he was out of sight and into the darkness of the forest. Fear engulfed your being. How long before you would starve, or perish from thirst? Or perhaps a wolf would find itself a tasty meal tied to a tree…

“You bastard!” your scream followed in his tracks.

But the Monk did not return.

    ~~~♤~~~♤~~~◇~~~♤~~~♤~~~

  Hours must have passed, it was dawn when you opened your eyes after having fallen asleep waiting for help that never came. You were still tied to the tree, but no longer alone. A frightened gasp escaped you when you saw the Monk stand near his horse, his back was turned to you, he was cleaning blood off of his sword with a rag he then discarded. Your eyes quickly scanned your body for signs of injuries but found nothing. But then where had that blood came from? He noticed that you were awake and walked over to you, sheathing the sword before stopping a few paces away.

“You are not Fey.” he stated.

Your eyes forced themselves away before they could betray the truth, your body shaking violently in fear of what he would do. You were defenseless like this, he could do anything he wished and you feared the worst.

The Monk spoke in a calm and even civil manner, “I found the Sky Folks. They have been cleansed.”

Ava and Bertram were dead? Your eyes fell on the bloodied rag.

“The man, Cassian, do you know where I will find him?” he asked.

You were quick to shake your head and kept your eyes fixed on the grass.

The Monk was determined to find the one who had acted so distasteful towards him. “I will find him.”

Could he sense that you were lying? You hoped he couldn’t. He came closer and stood near your boots quietly for a while, you worried he was trying to determine whether or not to kill you.

“You stole from us.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Are you?” He arched a brow, questioning your sincerity.

You nodded shallowly. “Are you going to kill me?”

The Monk was quiet for the longest time, then he reached down and from reflex you flinched. Always prepared for a hand to strike. He was only inspecting to see if the ropes were still fixed.

He stated the facts. “The ring. I know you have it, Father told me he saw you take it. Where is it?”

“In my pocket.” you quietly said.

Right away he inspected your jacket for it. Well… it wasn’t in those pockets…

“Uhm…” You were wincing at the uncomfortable situation you were in.

He looked at your face expectantly.

It came out very quiet. “The pocket of my trousers.”

His hands were off of you instantly, he swallowed and was clearly trying to think of what he would do. You didn’t think he would look as uncomfortable as you were. A deep breath. “Which pocket?”

By nodding to your right, you gave him the answer.

He brushed his hand over his chin, then slowly reached over to try and search for the ring. But the moment you flinched again, he halted. “If you cooperate, I will show you mercy.”

To show that he meant it, the Monk loosened the ropes, freeing you. He must have been confident that you wouldn’t try to attack him, and you knew better than to try. You didn’t even dare to get up from the ground, it felt like your back was stuck to the tree.

“The ring. Hand it over.” He beckoned for it.

With trembling hands you fished it out of your pocket and held it out for him to take.

The Monk took notice of how you were avoiding eye contact and took the ring from your hand. He looked at it whilst interrogating you. “Why did you steal it?”

Because if you didn’t, Cassian or Aldith would either starve or beat you into submission again… Your silence persisted.

“Answer my questions.” his tone was firm.

“To earn a meal.” you hated to say it out loud.

“Poverty?” he asked.

Your father wasn’t poor at all… Yet you nodded, letting him believe his guess was right.

The Monk questioned you further. “Tell me what you know about the man you were with.”

“He was Sky Folk, the woman was his sister.” you said.

He must have known that you were being purposely avoidant. “Not him. The one who struck you. Cassian.”

Your brain tried to think of plausible lies quickly. Because you couldn’t tell him the truth and expect him to let you go after that. No, he would use you to lead him right to Cassian, to your home and neither Aldith or Cassian would be forgiving. “I only know his name and that he is a sellsword. I encountered him with the Sky Folks.”

The Monk was thinking up theories. “Did he force you to steal from our camp?”

You did not appear to be the sort of person who would be willing to take such risks voluntarily. There was not even a weapon on you.

You didn’t know how to answer. He was clearly waiting for one.

“Well?”

“Yes.”

“You fear him.” It was a statement, he sounded so certain of it.

Not a sound came out of you. As if part of you feared Cassian was still around, watching this and waiting to see if you’d betray him.

He knelt down to your level, holding the ring up for you to see. “Stealing is a mortal sin.”

“I’m sorry.” The constant urge to apologize to avoid the violence was ever present.

The Monk dropped the ring into the grass and rose from the ground again, he walked towards his horse. You were still sitting against the tree and he stopped to look at you.

“Go.” he told.

“I’m free?” You couldn’t really believe it.

“Consider this clemency.” He paused. “I will not offer it a second time should we cross paths in a manner such as this again.”

You were starring openly at him now.

“Understood?”

“Yes…”

The Monk mounted his horse and you scrambled to your feet. For just a moment his horse seemed reluctant to follow his command, the animal was looking at you. He spoke to the stallion, drawing the horse’s attention back to him, “Goliath.”

Finally, the horse listened and the Monk slowly rode away. You were still in disbelief about it all when the sunlight reflected on the rubies of the ring he had left behind in the grass. You picked the ring up and were left to wonder why the Monk would even let you keep it. Was it because you had prevented Cassian from cutting a leg off of the horse?Regardless, if he had known of the Feyblood in your veins, he would not have shown you mercy. It took you a moment before you went and climbed into the wagon, maybe you should have waited to see if Cassian would return for it, but he hadn’t bothered to return for you either so you rode back to Ravenwick alone.

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[everlastingdreams]

Little snippet of Forged Of Fire. A dream sequence that delves into the mindset of the Weeping Monk/ Lancelot at a certain time in the story.

Under the night’s sky, surrounded by the forest, he found himself standing in wait. Awaiting something, no, someone’s presence, willing them to come. The soft melody that was their voice called upon his name.

~“Lancelot?”~

He turned towards the sound, eyes setting on your face. A dress nearly translucent swayed around your body with every taken step that closed the distance. A set of eyes that provided him endless transfixation. You came closer and closer, invading all his senses, and he let himself drown in the dream that was you. A touch to his chest, those gentle eyes pleading for his own. Your name fled his lips, a prayer, a plea.

~“My Lancelot…”~

His head tilted into the touch of your hand to his cheek. He could not touch, could not let himself be tempted to force everything he had worked for into ruins.

~“Lancelot?”~

Your touch trailed over his neck, he was drawn in closer, leaning in to receive what could damn his soul. He could not do this, he couldn’t, no matter how much he wanted to.

~“You want me…”~

Your lips were so close, taunting his, he did not dare say a word. They were a siren’s call and his soul was willing to drown for them.

~“I will never want you the way you want me.”~

[everlastingdreams]

Little angsty snippet from Forged In Fire. To keep people fed with crumbs.

He wasn’t going to give it back… he stole it… You shot forward. “You filthy thief!”

The Monk was barely in time to stop you from attacking the priest, still you tried to break free from his hands.

“Hold her.” Father Carden commanded the Monk.

He looked at the priest. “Father-”

He knew why Father was asking this of him, and he did not want to be a part of it.

The priest approached with a glare, the Monk moved you one step behind him instantly. A grave mistake in the eyes of the priest, who directed his silent fury to the one who dared to defy him in front of others.

He knew what was coming, what this would cost him. No one defied Father without suffering the consequences.

Father Carden struck the Monk with the back of his hand. Hard. It left a red mark across the Monk’s cheek. You couldn’t believe what you had just witnessed, and they all acted like this was normal behavior of the priest.

“You will bleed for her. Do you understand?” The priest warned him coldly.

The Monk said not a word, he only gave a nod.

He was burdened with his own further punishment for this defiance. The scourge would meet his skin again.

[everlastingdreams]

Gonna drop a snippet considering I passed the 100k mark on my wip of Forged of Fire a while ago. (yeah, it's kinda gotten out of control.)

No one sat down in the presence of the Monk. The tension hanged in the air, and when the Monk began to wake you warned Cassian of it.

“He’s bound to a tree. What harm can he do?” He dismissed your warning and fear, making a mockery of it.

You hadn’t stopped staring at the Monk, at his markings that betrayed his secret. The others seemed to be unaware, or maybe they did not even care.

“Wake up, mutt.” Cassian nudged his head roughly. “Not so frightening now, eh?” He mocked him.

The Monk’s eyes opened and fixed on Cassian right away, then slowly he took in the situation he found himself in. Your blood ran ice cold at witnessing it, as if your body tried to warn you of the danger present. The Monk was far too calm to your liking, he looked even bored by the whole ordeal, as if it was an ordinary night for him.

[everlastingdreams]

Weeping Monk x Reader : The Patience Of A Heart    Chapter 1

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

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

Chapter Title: The One Who Cries

Notes: Wow, proofreading this first chapter makes me realise how far these characters have come. I hope someone likes it. 

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

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

Word count of this fic: +110K

Chapter:  1 / lol Gonna keep the chapter count a secret until the end.

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

During your childhood, you never thought you would see the color red so much, that was until you visited your Uncle with your father.

It was so dull and boring that you pleaded with your father more than once to go home.

Of course your Uncle Carden tried to find ways to distract you, but the man had no real clue what was needed to keep a child from getting bored and annoyed.

So that ended in both of them allowing you to walk around the place a bit, there were enough people around to come to your aid should something happen.

Walking between the build up tents was no less dull and on top of that people were staring at you. In retrospect, seeing a child wandering around the paladin camp must have been an odd sight.

Everyone was dressed in red robes, everyone apart from the boy who was practicing with the sword for the entire duration of your visit.

Now, that did look like a pleasant way to spend your visit there.

Upon approaching the boy, you halted when seeing the strange tear-like birthmarks under his eyes, they made him look like he was weeping.

Still, you collected your courage and called out to him “Hello!”

The voice of another child broke him out of his concentration.

He looked just as strangely at you as you looked at him.

You mustered up a toothy smile and got even closer “Can I play too?”

Play?

When no answer came, you asked less confident but no less eager “Can I play with you?”

The boy with the weeping eyes remained very quiet.

As a last effort, you stopped only a few steps away from him and held out your hand for him to shake “I’m y/n. And you?”

At this distance you took note of how his eyes were so blue that they matched the sky above your head, and they were fixed on the hand you were offering.

Why was he so quiet?

He wondered why you were smiling at him…

An elder paladin saw it happen and barked rudely “Boy! Did we tell you to stop?”

The boy’s attention went to the elder and he shook his head.

The elder pointed to the sack of straw bound to a pole that was planted into the ground “Then continue! Or you’ll be starving until the next evening! "

That was shocking to hear and you grew angry “Why are you so mean to him?!”

The red cloaked elder barked at you too “Who are you, girl?! And why are you here? Go on, get out of here!”

The boy was slow to return to the straw sack he had been practicing on and those weeping eyes stayed on you, like you were something foreign to him.

That paladin wasn’t going to scare you away “I’m y/n! And you are scum!”

It halted everyone that was around to hear it.

The paladin stalked closer and tried to grab you “What did you just call me, you little-”

Uncle’s voice thundered in the air “Brother Cedric!”

Brother Cedric stepped away from you immediately and your father was at your side now too.

The paladin tried to get out of trouble “Forgive me, Father. But this child-”

Uncle Carden interrupted him “Is my niece.”

Brother Cedric stammered an apology to your uncle and your father, then was send away.

Your question surprised both “Uncle, who is that boy?”

He believed that Father would call for him, that he would be introduced to you, he had hoped he would be.

Uncle Carden placed both hands on your shoulders “He is our Weeping Monk.”

With persisting hope, the request was made again “Can I play with him?”

He laughed a little and explained “He does not play, my girl. He must practice the sword.”

Why did this boy not play?

Like any child, you questioned it “But-”

Your father chimed in, knowing how persistent his daughter could be “Come now, sweetheart. I’m certain Uncle has many things to do. We will return home now.”

With a very deep sigh you followed your father and Uncle.

Even though he had not said a word to you, the boy had intrigued you.

And by the way he kept looking as you walked away at your father’s side, you might have intrigued him too.

  ━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━

 ~ Years later ~

  The last time you rode in a carriage, your mother had sat opposite of you and read a book of poems. During the ride she had recited her favorite ones to you and your father.

She loved the ones that spoke of romance and yearning, and you ignored the looks that were shared between your parents during her recitals.

It was one of the many fond memories you would cherish to overcome the terrible tragedy that had costed them their life.

You had not been home that day, your mother was making the family’s favorite soup. The fire had spread too fast according to witnesses…

By the time you returned from the market with more of the needed vegetables, the house was in ruins.

Your family was gone, your home was gone…

Word was send of it by concerned citizens to your Uncle.

Now you were heading to the last family you had left, Uncle Carden, to all others known as Father Carden.

It had been years since you had seen him, your parents had distanced themselves from him when the Church began to truly rise in power.

Shelter was offered to you in a monastery, it was either that or sleeping outside on the ground with no means to survive.

The trip to the monastery was so long that you wished you still had a book to read but they had all been lost to the fire.

The carriage came to a halt outside of a large monastery, the outside walls had ivy growing all over it and the place was swarming with red paladins who had gathered to see the carriage arrive.

Were you such a novelty? Did this place not get that many visitors?

It made you all the more apprehensive to get out of the carriage and your uncle was nowhere to be seen yet.

One man, tall and dressed in grey, moved towards the carriage and the others made way for him.

The hood of his cloak hid his face, the door of the carriage was opened.

At first he made no effort to make eye-contact, he did not even look in your direction, just held the door open and waited for you to get out.

It was a cold welcome and the will to actually step out left you then and there. Did they not want you here after all?

The uninterested attitude did not stop you from questioning him “Excuse me, where is my uncle? I was told he would be here.”

It was as if he did not even realize you were aiming the question at him, slowly he turned his head to face you.

Those birthmarks…

It were those same weeping eyes you had seen years and years ago.

That boy back then…was him?

He had blinked rapidly and dropped his gaze to the ground again “Father awaits you inside, Lady y/n.”

You leaned forward, not afraid to stare at the man who had grown to be quite handsome “I remember you.”

By reflex he looked again, but quickly forced himself to stop looking.

Did you truly remember that day too?

He had believed you would have long forgotten.

No answer came, clearly he was still not very talkative, just like he had been that day.

After seeing a familiar face, you did start to move but that damned skirt of your dress was a nightmare to get out of the carriage with. It got stuck on a nail that stuck out of the wood in the doorway.

There was a long moment of struggle before the Monk interfered and offered a hand.

You got your skirt loose from the nail and placed a hand on his.

He was quite alert and watched as you got down from the small steps.

The minute your feet hit the ground, he withdrew his hands and clasped them together behind his back.

Awkwardly you stood next to him, not knowing where to actually go.

With a gesture of his hand, he requested for you to follow him.

The Monk tried to ignore the staring while walking with you into the monastery.

It only made you want to ask him questions “I saw you, years ago, when you were just a boy. You were practicing the sword and a paladin was mean to you. Do you remember? Do you remember me?”

Of course he did.

Conversation was limited in his life and now he was faced with a person who was seeking it out “Yes, Lady y/n.”

Without any shyness, you looked him up and down “I assume that that practice paid off. Are you in charge of the paladins now?”

He corrected it “Father leads us, I follow his command and they follow mine. Some of the elders only follow orders directly from Father or those higher of the Church.”

Your attention went to the swords at his side, his went to your face and noticed how intrigued you were with him again.

Just like all those years ago…

There were so many questions you wanted to ask him “What’s your name?”

No answer came.

The Monk held the door open for you and upon looking into the room you saw your uncle “Father. Lady y/n has arrived.”

With arms spread wide open, Uncle Carden greeted you like no time had passed.

When he embraced you it felt awkward after all these years.

With his hands on your arms, he spoke “Look at you, you have grown, my girl.”

You exchanged conversation to avoid an uncomfortable silence “Thank you for offering me shelter, Uncle. I did not know what to do after…” a pause “…the fire took everything from me.”

Uncle Carden offered consolation “Not everything, dear girl. You still have me.”

You nodded, then glanced back to where the Monk obediently stood in silence.

Uncle Carden beckoned for the Monk to come closer “Ah, yes. Our Weeping Monk will be in charge of your guaranteed safety. No threat will get past the Sword Of Light.”

The Monk’s attention snapped to Father.

This was the first he had heard of this…

He informed the Monk of what was expected “You will protect her, my son. The enemy will try to harm her when word spreads about her connection to me. Go now, show my niece her sleeping quarters.”

Was it your imagination or did the Monk look anything but motivated with his task? “Uncle, I really don’t need someone to watch over me-”

Your Uncle would not hear it “Nonsense, y/n. Your safety is of the utmost importance. Go with our Monk.”

And so you followed this Weeping Monk, who’s name was still a mystery to you, to the room you would be sleeping in.

The door was unlocked and the key given to you by him, all of it happened in silence.

Was it because he just did not like to talk, or because he did not like you?

You mentioned it when walking into your room with him standing at the door “You don’t talk much. Are you a quiet person or just not very keen on talking to me?”

That sure got his attention “I did not mean to offend. I was taught to speak when spoken to and to show respect by silence.”

The room was not as small as you had expected it to be, a bed was inside and some furniture.

A room just for you…

You were more open with people “You did not offend, it just worried me. Years ago, you did not speak to me either. I thought you just did not like me.”

It was difficult not to at least appreciate the one person who had stood up against the elder paladin for him back then.

The folded hands behind his back showed signs of nervousness “I was not allowed, Lady y/n. I am expected to serve the Church, nothing else.”

It made sense, he was a monk after all “I understand. Are you allowed if I give you permission to speak to me?”

Truth be told, he was not certain.

Was it proper?

He was a monk.

You were a woman and Father’s niece…

If he was truly tasked to protect you, it would be difficult to avoid starting a conversation at some point.

It took a while for him to answer “I believe so. Unless Father forbids it.”

Ah, finally it felt like there was an effort on his side to make conversation “Then you have my permission.”

He gave a respectful inclination of the head.

You got closer to him again “Will you please tell me your name? Everyone calls you the ‘Weeping Monk’ , but I believe that you have a real name too.”

The smile you had was the same from that day years ago.

Your eyes filled with excitement and anticipation.

It was rare for him to know a person who still reached out to others with such warmth.

The Monk finally answered the question you were so curious about “My name is Lancelot.”

For the second time in your life, you held out a hand for him to shake “It is nice to meet you again, Lancelot.”

Three seconds of thought passed before he tentatively reached out for your hand, knelt down and very briefly brushed his lips to your knuckles.

He rose to his feet again right after with another shallow inclination of his head.

Not what you had expected to happen.

It must have been a difference in customs and upbringing between you.

You giggled amused “I meant a handshake.”

The expression in his eyes changed so fast that you regretted telling him, as if he feared he’d made a grave mistake.

Quickly you tried to ease his mind “But, that was quite nice too.”

His voice wavered a bit “I shall let you rest after your journey. If there is anything you need, tell one of my red brothers, I shall learn of it.”

Before he could walk out completely, you called out his name and he turned again “There is something I could use…”

He acknowledged the request immediately “Speak your wish, Lady y/n.”

And you told him the wish “Could I have a book to read?”

He gave a nod “Of course. I shall see to it that you are brought books.”

As he walked out, you loudly exclaimed “Thank you! "

That was the day you settled into your new home and soon you would learn more of the oddities that happened in a monastery.

  ━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━

  There were so many questions to ask, so many things to learn about the rules of the monastery.

Luckily you had the perfect person to ask it all.

And as you walked next to him in the woods, it was the perfect time to ask them and have a conversation with the otherwise quiet Monk.

The paladin group walked at a slower pace, some were already getting tired.

Where?

What?

When?

How?

He had heard it so many times that first day coming from you and just when he thought you were done asking questions, you popped up behind him to ask more.

After a tour around the monastery, he had thought it would have fed your curiously a little.

On the contrary, more questions came.

Truth be told, some were quite amusing to hear.

Some of his personal favorites included ‘Do monks have to pray again when they drink something while eating?’ and ‘Is mumbling half a prayer good enough?’.

Needles to say, it would take a while for you to learn all there was to know.

And Father had the splendid idea to speed up that progress by sending you along on an routine inspection of the woodlands.

Something you seemed more excited about than he was…

The questions you had started early on in the walk “Don’t we need a map?”

The Monk had little use for a map in these woods he knew so well “I don’t. Watch your footing.”

At that, you looked down and avoided tripping over a larger stone that laid in your path “So, we all just keep following you then?”

With a nod he confirmed it “Yes.”

Another question was fired “What if someone loses sight of the group?”

He answered with the experience he had on the matter “It will not happen if they pay attention. Having them find their own way back to the monastery is a fitting lesson if it does happen.”

That sounded rather harsh “What if I got lost?”

He said “You will not.”

You asked “How can you be sure?”

It sounded both like a reassurance and a warning “Because I will not let you stray from my sight.”

With a jest, you hoped to get him to be a little less tense “Not that I doubt your capabilities. But if it happens, I guess I’ll have to find my way back to the monastery on my own then.”

There was a slight tug at the corner of his mouth as he returned the jest “I will find you long before you reach it.”

The confidence he had on the matter left you curious “So, it is true what they say about your skills. You have an uncanny ability to find those you are searching for.”

He spoke casually, letting his sight fall to where you were walking “Often it is simple. Especially when the one I am looking for has a habit of trampling over everything.”

Right away you looked behind you and…well he wasn’t wrong.

Not a minute ago you had waltzed right through a pile of leaves, some where still stuck to your dress “I am ‘trampling’ over everything because I have my attention on you.”

He suddenly came to a halt and you almost walked into him.

The Monk signaled to the paladins to pay attention to the area they were in.

You asked “Is something wrong?”

He walked a little further and pointed at a bonfire that had been extinguished not long ago.

Then he walked around and kept looking at the grass, after only seconds, he knelt down.

You stopped right in front of him “What are you looking for?”

The Monk kept his eyes fixed on the ground “Tracks.”

You looked down at the grass around you “I don’t see anything.”

He deadpanned “That might be because you are standing on them, Lady y/n.”

Quickly you stepped back, wincing at your mistake “Sorry…”

It would be a very long day if he were to track down those Feys with you following him around like this.

The command followed “Wait here.” when he saw you ready to protest, he repeated more firmly “Wait here.”

You rolled your eyes, not caring if he saw or not “Fine.”

The Monk traveled further into the woods, leaving you with his red brothers.

More tracks became visible to his searching eyes and the scent grew stronger.

Quietly he drew his sword and after searching for a little while longer, he spotted a Tusk Man nearby who was readying his horse.

A dagger would suffice and would not alert the Tusk Man and send him fleeing before he could reach him.

But you had not listened to the order to stay where he had told you to, you had followed him and saw what was about to happen.

Without thinking you had grabbed the Monk’s arm to prevent the dagger from being thrown at the Fey.

The next thing you knew, the Monk was holding you by the throat.

It was a pure reflex to defend himself, it went and passed so quickly.

He released you right away, snapping “I told you to stay with the paladins!”

Stumbling back some steps, you resisted the urge to flee.

But he could still see the fear in your eyes and forced himself to control his frustration and tone.

He would need to let the Tusk Man go.

And the Tusk Man had heard the commotion, seen the Weeping Monk and fled on his horse right away.

The Monk took a step in your direction, but you didn’t want to be near him.

Without saying a word, you headed back to the group alone.

The enemy was too close to let you walk unaccompanied, even if it was not far.

A sigh was heard, followed by “Lady y/n.”

Stubborn as you were, you ignored it, you weren’t one of the paladins he was in charge of.

He had caught up with you quickly and strode beside you.

Bitterly you snarled “If you had not been so keen on murdering, this would not have happened.”

Keen?

He made you halt by taking hold of your arm “This would not have happened if you had done what I had asked of you!”

You pulled yourself loose and continued walking “Oh, so now it is my fault?!? Learn to control yourself!”

After three more steps, he blocked your path and almost had you walking into him “If you had listened-”

That anger flaring in your eyes reminded him of Father’s and he expected to be struck any second now.

Your words where sharp as a wolf’s teeth “People think you are a monster. You’re not, you’re afraid of what you do not understand. All of you are!”

He repeated it, demanding an explanation “All of you?”

You did not directly explain that this was about their treatment of the Fey “The paladins, you, my uncle. You are all so afraid of what you do not know or understand that you brand anything that is different from the scriptures an abomination.”

It got him nervous to hear you speak so openly of your doubt in the faith, it was meant as a warning “Do not let Father hear you say this. It is blasphemous.”

You rolled your eyes and walked away from him “I’ve had enough.”

It sounded like he was sighing “Where are you going?”

Without looking back or stopping, you answered “I am going to ask a paladin to take me back to the monastery.”

He would not trust one of his brothers with his sword and certainly would not trust them with you. Father would never forgive him if something were to happen.

He followed at a small distance and only interfered when you actually went to ask a paladin.

With one stern look from his Weeping Brother, the paladin knew better than to take your request.

You had seen the expression of the paladin change and slowly turned around, crossing your arms to face the culprit who was responsible “What?”

With caution the Monk stepped closer, his voice was hushed “I am sorry...” the change in your eyes gave him more courage “…for what happened.”

It seemed to be hard for him to admit it, mostly due to the presence of his red brothers.

You chewed your inner cheek, deciding whether to stay angry or be forgiving.

Then the Monk tilted his head a little down and to the side, it was an admission to his wrong doing, a plea for your forgiveness.

You shrugged your shoulders “Fine.”

He did not know how to interpret it “Fine?”

It was you who stepped closer now, repeating it once more “Fine.” adding “At least you were quick to let me go again and didn’t kill me by accident.”

His eyes dropped, betraying that it could have indeed happened.

His Mouth opened and closed as he thought back to the moment when he was so focused on killing the fey that he had not noticed you until you were close enough to grab him.

You gave some reassurance when it finally looked like he really did regret it “I won’t tell my uncle. So, you don’t have to worry about getting an earful.”

This would have earned him enough lashes of the whip to leave him bleeding for days again.

when you tried to step away, he spoke “Thank you, Lady y/n.”

With a nod you acknowledged it.

He released your elbow and loudly announced to the paladins “Gather together! We are heading back.”

This excursion was over. He would be too distracted and it would not benefit anyone if he was.

You stood beside the Monk, which gave you the sense that he was surprised by it, like he did not expect you to still want to.

Once everyone had gathered, you walked beside him again to head back to the monastery.

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[everlastingdreams]

Weeping Monk x Reader : Cloaked Beauty   One-shot

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

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

Warnings: Possible ED symptoms/signals (?)

Word Count: 3K+

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

As it had been the plan of Lancelot too.

One night.

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

A broken window, a door that barely closed.

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

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

To him, you were the perfect balance for Percival.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Summer or winter, the cloak remained.

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

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

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

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

Percival came to your side “Are you alright?”

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

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

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

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

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

Were you so afraid of people seeing you?

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

The answer was a resolute “No.”

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

Always the cloak.

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

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

Always the cloak.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was honest work and you earned your living.

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

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

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

After that, he did accept them.

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

Lancelot always said ‘No.’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

With a nudge he silenced the boy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

After the meal, the three of you returned home.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But not today. Not now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Did you truly believe others perceived you so wrongly?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He could not voice his opinion on the matter.

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

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

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

Your eyes remained on the floor “Everyone.”

That could not be correct.

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

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

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

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

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

Oh?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The number had you frown at him “What?”

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

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

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

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

You stood up from the bed, still feeling somewhat lightheaded

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I do.” You admitted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Perhaps actions spoke louder than words.

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

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

Your thoughts were slowly catching up “Why?”

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

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

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

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

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[everlastingdreams]

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

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

Chapter Title: Helgenstone

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

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

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

Word count of this fic: +130K

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What could have caused such a change to take place?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Had Fey children become rare due to the war?

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ugh, fantastic.

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

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

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

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

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

Oh, no…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You didn’t know how to respond.

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

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

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

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

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

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

As vengeful as your uncle had been…

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

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

How could he draw the comparison?…

Fool…

The regret was instant.

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

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

“Lover’s quarrel?” She taunted.

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

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

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

You gasped at the sight of it happening.

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

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

She continued “Son of Ban.”

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

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

It was mortifying. All were there to hear it.

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

The Elder Moon Wing looked you up and down.

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

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

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

Like she was waiting for it to happen…

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes.” Gawain deadpanned.

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

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

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

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

“Prince?” Arthur repeated in disbelief.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It had only angered him further.

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

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

He hated to admit “I do not understand.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was nothing new to him.

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

Gawain came to stand beside you for support.

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

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

Past and present became intertwined.

His life as a growing boy flashed before his eyes.

Red from the paladin robes, red from blood…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ripped away from his family, a stolen child…

He was carried away, they torched his village…

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

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

Not his home, not that too…

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

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

No. They would not take it from him too.

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

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

A name not fit for a monster.

  Lancelot returned from the world between worlds gasping for air.

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

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

You were holding his hand just like she had done…

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

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

That could not have been good…

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

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

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

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

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

Red Spear asked him “What did you see?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lancelot did answer it with a nod.

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

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

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

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

The others, including you, waited for his answer.

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

“We are continuing to Helgenstone.” He announced.

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

Gawain and Arthur stood by his decision.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The uncertainty was blatantly clear in your eyes.

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

You shook your head.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And perhaps part of him enjoyed the chase…

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

Lancelot’s mood had improved “No.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lancelot stayed out of it and you followed his example.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You send a glare at the twit.

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

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

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

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

Lancelot looked at you “Indeed. No risks.”

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

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

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

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

“Here?” Red Spear suggested.

It earned her a bewildered look from everyone.

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

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

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

Lancelot and Arthur gave a nod.

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

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

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

It would indeed be nice “I’ll try.”

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

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

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

Lancelot helped him out “To find the room?”

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

Poor Gawain was thankful “Yes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

After snorting a laugh, you teased “Never.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

In return, your fingers brushed his cheek.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He leaned in.

You leaned back “You can’t kiss me.”

He leaned back at that “Why?…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Of course he enjoyed this.

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

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

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

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

You pointed at him and warned “Behave.”

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

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

 “Like what?”

“Like that.”

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

It was the honest truth.

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

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

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

You hummed “I hope she spares my face.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“The knife?” Gawain asked Lancelot.

“On her ankle.” He replied.

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

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

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

“Alright, let’s go.” You said.

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[everlastingdreams]

Weeping Monk x Reader : The Patience Of A Heart   Chapter 26

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

Chapter Title:  The Seas Of Love

Notes: This one is smutty.

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

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

Word count of this fic: +130K

Chapter:  26 / 27

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Something inside you had fled at the confidence in him, while leaving you helplessly behind to fend for yourself “Like a man not raised as a monk?”

“No.” His voice dropped down into that husk, as if he knew what it did to you “As a former monk who wants to bed his woman.”

How could one’s eyes be so alert and intense, while also clouded by a daze of pure carnal lust?

You let him bring you in closer.

His jaw graced along yours until his breath was in your ear. He quietly stated what he so desired “Will you have me?”

“I think I did a little too well on your back.” You quipped, feeling the nerves crash into you.

He flashed that charming smile “You did very well.”

You barely avoided the kiss he was trying to start “Are you sure about this?”

By tilting your chin, he made you look into his eyes “I am.”

It was surprising to see how calm he was, apart from the barely visible pinch of nervousness, he seemed comfortable.

You were glad to see that he trusted you enough to be open about what he wanted.

You cupped his face fondly “I would love to have you.”

The corner of his brow lifted a little, as if it still stunned him to hear it.

Your nose touched his, a playful encouragement.

He gave the most tender peck to your lips, voice down to a husk “I love you.”

You weren’t given the chance to say something back, that sweet peck had only been the introduction to what came next.

The declaration was also the explanation as to why he let some self-control slip.

With your face cradled in his hands, you were at the mercy of his lips.

He threw caution to the wind, his lips trapped yours while selfishly stealing the breaths of air that you were so desperate for.

There were times when he thought he was hurting you, especially when he pressed himself into you more or when his teeth grazed those soft lips of yours, heaven forbid he would ever cause them to bleed. But you never recoiled or flinched, you met his actions with an equal passion and he believed he found everything that was missing from his life by it.

The content deep groan that went up from his chest and passed into your mouth had your heart leaping for the hills.

It had sounded almost primal, a wolf finally catching it’s prey and enjoying the reward.

You began to steer him backwards, toward the bed, and pushed him down by his shoulders to sit.

A look of innocence flickered in his eyes as they looked up to you.

By moving the nightgown up a little, it made it easier to straddle him, the wet fabric fell over his trousers and cursed them to the same faith.

No complaints came from him and you made yourself comfortable on his lap.

His arm moved around your back to hold you in place.

Like this, there was no denying that the view of you in your soaked nightgown had indeed quite an effect on him.

The desire to tend to his need grew, his eyes were constantly searching your face and you loved to see how they searched for guidance with you.

Over and over again did he replace his hands, never knowing what was correct and what was not.

You quietly hushed him “We’ll go as fast or as slow as you are comfortable with. Don’t worry, you’re in good hands.”

He moved his hand up your back and brought you closer to kiss down your neck.

You reached down between your bodies and hooked a finger into the waistband of his trousers.

“I can offer you a guiding hand.” You sweetly purred into his ear.

There was no room for misinterpretation when you slid your hand down to rub him through his trousers.

“I-” His breath caught in his throat.

You hummed, nudging his temple with your nose lovingly while slipping your hand past the fabric.

Without using any pressure, he grew harder by the light hold around him.

Well, there was nothing for him to be insecure about regarding his manhood, on the contrary.

Of course you were nervous too, but by taking your time and pretending that you weren’t you hoped to give him something he would remember fondly, he was untouched and you wouldn’t rush him through this.

Two slow light strokes and he emitted a groan that vibrated from his chest against yours.

“Good?” You continued the action.

His fingers pressed into your back more.

There was no doubt in his mind that you knew exactly how to bring him to his release, something he had not experienced yet.

The guilt he felt over just trying to stimulate himself once had been enough to make him banish the thought all together.

It was one of the sins that warranted judgment by the lashes of a whip.

Suddenly you felt him tense up and halted your actions “Are you alright?”

He did not meet your eyes, but appreciated that you had stopped to see if all was well “I uhm…”

Patiently you waited for him to speak, or a signal that would tell if he was alright or not.

His eyes darted between yours and the wall at the other side of the room “I have never let myself experience any of this.”

He hoped you would understand what it meant.

You waited until his eyes were on yours before slowly letting them travel down.

He understood the quiet conversation and gave a slow nod to answer it.

Oh…

Were you going too fast? Was it hurting him? Was he scared?

In a calm manner you spoke about it “Are you uncomfortable?”

“No, only…” He couldn’t describe it well.

“Sensitive?” You guessed.

That was indeed a good way to describe it “Yes.”

It would not come as a surprise if he was quick to have his release and you sensed that he would want to delay that from happening.

With one little flick of your thumb over the tip of him, causing him to take a sharp breath, you withdrew your hand “I can tell.”

That little smirk you had was what eventually caused him to grab hold of your hip and flip you over, your back hit the sheets.

He cupped your neck and kissed you, slow and preserving, but with a restrained hunger of a hunt that had lasted days.

The hand on your neck wandered down, touching every inch of you that was in it’s path, it was the first time he’d ever touched your bosom and he did it so light that you wondered if it was accidental or not.

It came to a halt to rest on your stomach, where his fingers scratched playfully until it had you squirming under him.

He was merciful and stopped doing it, his palm rubbed softly over your abdomen.

He did not touch more than what was deemed allowed.

And it was that that was driving you desperate for it “Lancelot…”

He never heard that tone in your voice before and a hot flare went up his back and neck at the sound.

In return he kissed you like he wished to taste it on your lips.

What he got was a quiet wistful gasp when your bottom lip became center of attention.

Your lips chased his when they threatened to flee even if it was just to draw a breath.

Still they broke free, like the man himself had done, and fled to the curve between your ear and jaw.

You took hold of his shoulders, he was moving over your body, covering it with all that he had and was.

The mark he had given you was warming up and it’s silver pattern became visible. The warmth was spreading from your arm to all over your body, it was hearing his call…

Your skin burned for him, you took his hand and placed it over the curve of a breast, letting him decide whether or not it would remain there.

A change in his breathing and pace…

Digits ghosting over what had been so kindly offered…

No wonder many succumbed to carnal desire. A fever had overcome him, it was burning him up inside and all it needed was you to save him from it.

It was hard to speak when your mind was so clouded “You may touch me… if you want…”

How could he hold back when his lover was so encouraging?

Those heavenly seas fixed on your face, his hand closed around your breast.

Pulling him into a searing kiss led to the fondling that ensued.

Considering he would only touch what was undeniably offered, you guided his hand until it found it’s own path.

He had hooked his arm under your knee and made room for himself between your legs, letting the wet nightgown slip to your thighs.

No one had ever been so thorough when exploring your skin and his fingers glided smoothly over it. He tended to your neck and collar bone with the same thoroughness using his mouth instead, his hand now busy with undoing the knot in the cords of his trousers.

The edges of his scars were smooth under your fingers, the salve had soothed them. And you began to believe that touching them was only surging his desire.

Eager to help, you aided him in removing his trousers and it earned you a love bite near your ear.

Once he was freed, you resumed your guiding role and pushed until he was under you again.

Your lips slowly traveled a path down from his neck to his abdomen. Inch by inch, your warm breath teased his skin.

You would take your time with him, offering him the chance to be guided along step by step, like one untouched deserved to be.

Under your palm, his abdomen rose and fell in a quick manner. You didn’t have to look up at his face to know he was enjoying it, your mouth and hands moved over him with unyielding fascination and wonderment.

He was art that spoke to all your senses.

It was no use to try and fight the response his body gave. Those affections had heated him whole and the fever it brought was never so inviting.

He burned for you.

Even with no experience, he knew what sort of urges sprinted through his thoughts.

He wanted to grab hold of you, to be between those warm thighs he could feel against his legs and return what you were doing to him.

And yet it thrilled him to feel you push him down under you again every time he tried to even slightly move.

His hand skimmed over your thigh, wandered under your nightgown, higher and higher.

You gave a coy tease upon feeling it and sensing his intention “Curious are we?”

It did not discourage him, on the contrary, your playful response put him more at ease and fueled his confidence.

The response you got was receiving his other hand on your behind, where he fondly began to brush over it along with a cautious squeeze that had you jolt up in surprise a little.

That little jolt had only brought his other hand higher and closer to where it was wandering off to.

When it finally cupped your heat, you swallowed thickly.

His touch was careful, but no less curious and the evidence of your arousal was clear for him to feel.

There was a pensive hum from him and it was an innocent action to him when he moved a digit against your warmth to feel it.

You hadn’t expected it yet and gasped, hand flying down to catch his wrist.

When he locked eyes with you, you knew he thought he had made a mistake.

Quickly you explained “I’m really sensitive there.”

He had halted all his actions “Did it hurt?”

You quipped “Very much the opposite.”

The signal for him to continue was when you brought his hand back to where you had so abruptly interrupted it.

He was forward about it “I love the scent of you.” then carefully he slid two fingers into the wetness.

You were shaking on top of him, it only got worse when he discovered the sensitive bud.

You used his shoulders to keep yourself steady “Fuck… that feels good.”

Never before had he heard such foul language from you and gave the lighthearted scolding.

“Such foul language.” He tsked and proceeded to put attention where it clearly pleased you.

Your face contorted in pleasure, eyes falling shut, all you could do was place your hands on his chest to keep your balance.

You bit back every curse that threatened to spill while he enjoyed himself by doing this to you.

Moans flowed out instead and you felt his hard length twitch against your inner thigh.

If he did not stop soon…

It was a struggle to warn him “I…wait…I am…”

He needed no explanation to understand what would happen if he continued pleasing you with this, he had heard stories “Unraveling?”

With the way he was winding you up, there was no doubt about it.

You nodded and grabbed his hand from where it was trying to achieve the goal “I want you.”

The scent of you, the feeling of your wetness, and now this.

He did not know exactly what to do, but his body knew precisely what it wanted.

With a nod, he brought his hands to your hips and encouraged you to have him as you pleased.

You nodded back, reached down and palmed him again “Are you ready?”

The arching of his brow was comedic “Can you not tell?”

It broke some of the tension and settled down the nerves.

You leaned in to whisper “You’re such a twit…” and gave him no time to find a smug reply.

With a teasing stroke along his length you positioned yourself and aligned him.

Could he tell that you were trembling just like him?

Slowly you guided him inside, drawing a deep groan out of him.

He let you settle yourself on top of him, the slickness eased the way and a surge of heat went through him. The hold on him was nothing he could have imagined.

You hadn’t often given in to carnal desires as these, so a moment to get used to him was taken.

He felt good.

Especially after how generous he had been towards you before.

He trailed a hand up your waist and cupped your jaw “Alright?”

You detected the hint of worry in his tone and hummed “Very.”

To prove it, you moved a bit until a comfortable method was found.

Lancelot barely swallowed a curse at the sensation that shot through him.

You slowly began to slide along his length.

After only a few times, he sat upright, took the hem of your nightgown and moved it over your head to free you from it.

The burning in your cheeks was to be expected from being exposed so sudden, you never thought he would take the initiative to undress you.

He looked a little apologetic, until his eyes wandered over you, they lifted up to yours for a second.

Then he leaned in to trace his mouth over a breast while fondling the other.

Your fingers curled into his locks and held him close. This time he was the one to tug at your hips and cause you to move.

Thankfully so, because his fingers had worked you well and left you aching.

You rolled your hips, determined to ride him until he experienced what life outside celibacy had to offer.

“Don’t stop.” He grunted into your ear and kneaded at your behind.

To hear him so overtaken by lust had the knot tighten in your abdomen.

You quietly moaned while holding on to him for dear life.

And when one of those moans rang loud into his ears, your back met the mattress again.

He never disconnected and was quick to make himself at home between your legs.

Your hands traveled like a gentle wave from his neck down his chest, to hold his waist.

His lips locked on yours, a breath shared for every thrust.

Like this, it soon became clear that he did not use all of him.

And you needed all of him “Don’t hold back. Please.”

He did bury himself inside fully after the plea, kissing your temple and jaw as if he wished to show his gratitude for allowing it.

His pace began to increase along with your moans.

“Fuck…” He fell to the same crude curse upon feeling his impending release.

When you brought a hand down between your legs to help yourself to your unraveling, you felt his fingers around your wrist to move away your hand and replace it with his own, his thumb circling over you matched the rhythm of his thrusts.

The pressure in your lower abdomen grew beyond control.

“I’m going to-” You couldn’t think anymore.

His next thrust send you over the edge and you clawed at his arms as the feeling crashed over you.

Lancelot slowed his pace, feeling you experience your unraveling was bringing on his own.

A few more thrusts was all he needed to spill himself, leaving him twitching and panting for air while his body trembled uncontrollably.

You pulled him down to your chest, allowing him to come down from it without straining his arms so.

He much preferred this, it made it all the more easier to brush his lips to your skin.

The side of your face received the most affection, his hasty breaths had slowed down by the time he was at your jaw.

Your head fell to the side, letting him gain easier access to it “How are you feeling?”

The slightest movement of him still had your body responding to it.

His thumb traced your mouth “Impressed.”

That was nice to hear, it was your intention to leave a lasting impression.

You brushed a stubborn stray hair away from his eyes “Yes?”

“Uhuh.” He gave that rare boyish smile and stole a kiss “And you?”

Like him, you too were impressed “I did not expect to feel this kind of ecstasy tonight.”

He met your eyes, the question visible in his own would not roll from his tongue.

You answered what he must have been curious about “In the past, I did not feel this way unless I helped myself.”

The cheeky remark accompanied his smirk “You offered me a guiding hand, it is only fair if I offer the same.”

You shook your head at his foolery, quietly giggling.

With a polite peck to your cheek, he carefully withdrew himself but remained in the comfortable position.

Your fingertips traced his jaw “Thank you for trusting me. I hope you will remember this experience fondly.”

He was forward about it and sounded fearful of rejection “It can become more than only one memory.”

You pretend to think about it, doing so well that he ended up looking away from your face.

“So eager…” You ran your fingers through his hair.

Mischief sparked in his eyes and he proved you right by bringing his lips down to nip at the valleys of your breasts.

His hand skimmed over you, fingers tracing every inch of your skin “I will know when you will be eager.”

It took you a second to understand, then you closed your legs, forcing him to move away. He didn’t hide the smirk on his face now and laid down beside you.

Almost had you banished that fact to the back of your mind “Good heaven, don’t start again.” you laughed “I still can’t believe you can sense that.”

His palm brushed over your stomach “That way I will know when my beloved wife needs my attention.”

You hid your face in your hands “Ugh.”

The quiet chuckling filled the room, he continued to softly stroke along your body.

When you moved away and got out off the bed, he looked at you with a slight panic.

“I am just going to clean myself up a little. I’ll be right back.” You eased his worry.

He gave a respectful nod, cheeks turning a slight pink.

The space you had in your own room for cleaning yourself was bigger than this one, but at least he had a door to separate it from the rest of the room instead of a curtain.

Minutes later you returned to the bed, offering him a clean wet cloth and a dry one as well.

He accepted the offer knowing that if you were to help, his manhood would waken again.

To protect some of his modesty, you looked away when he freshened himself up and afterwards he discarded the cloth under the bed to handle those later.

You had picked up your nightgown from where it had landed on the floor, the fabric was still wet.

“Leave it to dry.” He beckoned for you to return to his side.

You draped it over the foot of the bed and hoped the night would be enough to dry it completely, then you climbed back into the bed and nestled into his side.

“There is a promise I made you.” Lancelot whispered against your hair.

That single burning candle on the dresser still kept the room in it’s mystical green glow. Ashes broke free and broke into the same flames they were born from, soon they traveled around the room like stars in the night.

The sight of it felt like a dream, their soft glow was stunningly beautiful.

You watched them dance around the room until you fell asleep.

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[everlastingdreams]

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

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

Chapter Title:  An Alluring Proposition

Notes: /

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

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

Word count of this fic: +130K

Chapter:  25 / 27

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

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

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

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

It was interesting to watch it happen.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That was true…

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

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

With a hum, you confirmed it “I do.”

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

“Well said.” You admired the wisdom.

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

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

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

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

This was just an attempt to tease you.

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

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

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

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

Should he reciprocate this polite flirtation?

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

A healthy color. More calm and yet more energetic.

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

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

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

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

Your eyes had fixed on him again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

That sudden shyness was quite alluring to witness.

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

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

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

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

His sense of smell couldn’t possibly…

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

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

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

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

Lancelot closed the distance at once “Forgive me-”

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

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

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

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

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

Then another was put into yours.

The knight looked at him incredulous “Lancelot-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

An Ashen Queen…

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

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

Of course he dodged the wood with ease, it had been a purposely slow hit.

And so the sparring commenced.

Gawain was cautious and couldn’t resist giving some advice here and there.

At one point it turned more into a lesson than a spar, with slow movements that he helped you with.

All of it happened under a pair of watchful eyes.

The knight called out to the Ash Man “I won’t cut off her limbs with this sword.”

Lancelot dropped his attention to the ground.

Had it been so obvious that he was worried and ready to step in if anything went wrong?

Gawain was skilled in battle just like him, surely he had enough control too.

As a sign of faith and trust in Gawain, he tore his attention away from the sparring and noticed Arthur walking over to him.

Arthur came to stand beside Lancelot, after a moment of talking, they walked off together. There must have been something Arthur needed help with or something he wished to show.

  Gawain continued to teach you some basics, how to block an attack and what not to do.

After a little while of this, you voiced your grievance “I wish I could just use my own sword. These wooden ones aren’t bad, but Lancelot gave me a sword and now it feels like he is afraid of me using it.”

The knight heard your concern “He’s afraid you might get hurt.”

You pointed out the flaw in this “I will get hurt if I don’t learn how to fight with my own weapon.” your voice betrayed the sadness it was causing “He promised he would teach me…”

And now it felt like he was growing reluctant…

Gawain took pity on you and went over to where your sword stuck out of the ground, he pulled it free and came to hand it to you “I understand his concern. And I understand yours as well. You’re right, it is best to learn with steel but it is dangerous.”

You looked down as he placed your sword in your hands “Then let’s not spar. Maybe just show me some things?”

Gawain approved of the idea and went to collect his sword as well “Alright. But do as I say and move slow. Understood?”

You nodded and agreed to the terms.

The tricks he showed were easy to learn for a beginner, the swords collided slowly.

After some practice on a certain trick, he allowed the pace to quicken.

Again and again it was the same trick, repeating it over and over until you got the hang of it and were able to do it in normal speed.

And let that be the unfortunate time when Lancelot returned to the spot. Gawain was fast enough to stop.

But you were disarmed, grabbed and then pulled along by a furious Ash Man.

He didn’t manage to get you far before you tore yourself from his grasp.

“Don’t drag me off!” You snapped at him.

His reply carried the fury “It is the only way to stop you from getting yourself killed!”

Did he really believe you were so incompetent? “I am not a child, Lancelot! Don’t treat me as one.”

It slipped from him “Stop behaving as one.”

By walking away, you showed how done you were with listening to him after that.

He did not let it go and intended to follow, it was Gawain that stopped him from doing so.

The knight did not approve of the way he had reacted “Calm down! She was never in any danger. You know I wouldn’t cause her harm!”

Lancelot bit the words at him “Then why go behind my back with this?!”

Gawain kept a calm head “Can’t you see that you are hurting her with this? She just wants to do what we do, you can’t keep excluding her just because you fear she might get hurt. I know you want to protect her. But remember what you said to me once, she is not as helpless as she pretends to be to some.”

He stepped away from Gawain, not acknowledging that he had in fact listened to the advice.

  You were already walking past the stables by the time Lancelot caught up with you “I can’t believe you did that.” you spun around to face him “It’s humiliating! If you had stopped for one second, then you would have seen that we were being very careful!”

His own fury had not simmered down fully “Not long ago, you were struck down by a rock! It is unwise to be doing this! One moment of vertigo and you could have been struck by the blade!”

Why did he always have to be so overprotective? Why couldn’t he just have let you ‘spar’ with Gawain?

Your frustration matched his “No. I trust in Gawain’s ability! Besides, have you forgotten how you vanished in the middle of the night with Red Spear to try and kill Wicklow? How come you can take these great risks, but when I take a little one you act like this?!? I am starting to get the feeling that you just don’t want me near a weapon at all! I can’t rely on you being there to protect me all the time, I need to learn to protect myself!”

He met it with silence, mostly because this was drawing the attention of people who were passing by.

“Forget this.” You quietly muttered, hating to argue with someone.

When you proceed to walk away, he caught up with you.

His hand on your arm stopped you, he appeared calmer “Come.”

You saw him gesture to the stables and he let go.

By your own free will, you choose to follow him inside.

He closed the large wooden door with some difficulty and put his attention back on you “I will not keep you from the sword.”

You were surprised to hear it “You’re saying-”

Lancelot paced around a bit “I cannot always be there to keep you safe, you were right about that. I want you to learn how to wield a sword so well that enemies will fear you at the sight of it.”

There was an issue for him, you could tell “But?”

The confession took a while to come “Your bravery in the face of danger worries me. I fear one day I will lose you to it.”

The sliver of anger still rang in your words “I fear the same for you. But I will not take your weapons or forbid you to spar with a friend.”

He crossed the small distance and stood before you “I am not treating you fairly.”

He came to the conclusion on his own.

You nodded “Please, believe me when I say that I won’t deliberately put myself in mortal danger. I care for you far too much to put you through such a thing. I haven’t forgotten how upset you were when I wanted to go after Wicklow myself.”

Your sword was offered back to you by him.

The apology came along with it “I am sorry for behaving the way that I have.”

You sheathed your sword back in it’s holster “You were concerned for me.”

He wouldn’t hear how it would be brushed off “That does not excuse it. Protecting you is one thing, I should not be shielding you from everything in life out of fear that something could go wrong.”

Finally he understood…because he had listened.

You brought your arms around him and nested yourself into his chest when he closed his arms around you.

He said it so matter-of-factually “I do enjoy to see you stand your ground against me. Your eyes spit fire when you are angry.”

Your eyes narrowed at that audible change in tone, his voice had deepened, his hands were low on your back “Those hands are getting quite low there, Ash Man.”

His breath touched your temple “Too low?”

You teased without shame “Too high.”

The invite could not have been more blatantly obvious.

You hooked your finger into the collar of his shirt, damning the aketon he wore to protect himself, the only thing you could touch was some of his collarbone.

He caught your hand and stated “You are trembling.”

You weren’t even aware until he mentioned it “At nightfall, will I be welcome to visit your room?”

Lancelot offered an excuse for you to use “You fear it will be cold tonight?”

Your honesty took him off-guard “No. I want some time alone with my intended.”

He loved to hear that “I see.”

You scrambled all your courage together and lightly tugged at the aketon “And without this.”

His brow arched, eyes fixed on your face with great interest “Anything else?”

The smugness was dripping from his expression and increased your boldness.

Your gaze traveled over him, slow and in appreciation of what it saw “Yes.”

The next breath was forced into his lungs, his head tilted to the side.

Curiosity was flooding him.

When you released him from the embrace, one hand left your back and cupped your neck, his thumb trailed from your chin down your throat.

He played with words “What is my intended intending to do?”

You thought about it for a moment and got an idea “How is your back, does it still hurt sometimes?”

Where were you going with this?

“Sometimes.” He admitted, finding the truth slip out of him under your enchanting gaze.

The offer glided of your tongue like silk lathered in honey “I will get some salve from the infirmary and make sure it feels better by tomorrow morning.”

You’d never seen his pupils enlarge so much before.

The smug look was replaced with one so innocent that you could hardly wait until tonight.

He cast his attention to the ground for a moment to collect his thoughts and to wait for his voice to return.

Those weeping eyes returned to yours, he traced his thumb under your bottom lip “That is very kind of you to offer.”

You broke free from his touch, wishing to save that building tension for tonight “I think I will go and see if Gawain is still willing to spar with me for a while…”

His thoughts were rather preoccupied now and he slowly nodded “Be careful?”

You smiled “I swear it.”

Now that he seemed more at peace with it, you went to walk past him and out of the stables.

You made it to the door and opened it a few inches before it was pushed shut again by him.

You could feel his presence right behind you and a second later you felt him against your back.

With an arm around your form he held you close.

He nosed your hair and you heard him inhale quietly.

“You smell so good.” He had let his voice drop into that husk.

The shiver that ran down your spin had you turning on your feet and softly pushing him back again “I’d better not hear you tell anyone else that you can sense what is going on with my body.”

His eyes betrayed where his mind was going “It will be our secret.”

It was noticeably affecting him to know what was happening and why…

Still your face burned at thought of it “Swear it!”

The smug smirk curved his lips again “You have my word.”

He’d better keep to his word…

You tapped against your cheek with the tip of your index finger “Now, before I go…”

Had you ever seen him so puzzled before?

When it took too long for him to understand the hint, you playfully reached out and tapped against his lips before tapping against your cheek again.

He chuckled at his slow response and gave what you had asked of him.

It was a miracle he had enough self-restraint to end it with the polite kiss to the cheek, because you got the sense that he wished to do more.

Again you opened the door, with some difficulty from the rusted hinges, and this time he let you walk out of the stables.

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  This time he had let you spar with Gawain in peace.

Afterwards he did mention that he would correct any faults that the knight had taught you later, while Gawain was there to hear it.

It had led to the following conversation.

 ~“And exactly what faults would that be?”~

Lancelot had failed to detect the sarcasm in the knight’s question.

~“Mostly your footing.”~

 Of course that had led to a spar between them again. They could bicker like brothers and Gawain hated how smug Lancelot could be about his skill with the sword, so he always tried to teach the Ash Man a lesson in modesty.

But from experience, you knew those lessons would be forgotten quite soon again.

You left them to their foolishness and headed into the fort.

How odd, you had not seen Percival or Neia since breakfast, usually they would search for you or Lancelot a couple of times during the day. How suspicious…

You made a beeline to Percival’s room, finding it empty.

On your way to Neia’s room, you ran into Arthur and asked “Arthur, have you seen Neia or Percival? I haven’t seen them since this morning.”

Arthur did not recall seeing them either “I haven’t. Have you been to Percival’s room?”

“I have. No one was there.” You were getting worried “I was on my way to see if they were in Neia’s room.”

He touched your elbow “Come on, we’ll go together.”

In a haste, you made your way towards Neia’s room.

The screams of children rang from beyond the door and you feared they were injured.

Neither you nor Arthur moved after you had barged into the room.

Chicken feathers rained down from the air to the floor, hay covered the carpet in the room. Inside where Percival and Neia, who had ruined their pillows in a battle between them.

Arthur quietly blurted out to you “Gawain will lose his mind if he sees this.”

“Uhuh.” You nodded.

The two children looked as caught and guilty as could be, the linen in their hands that had once been pillows were now almost completely empty.

You looked at Arthur, Arthur looked at you, clearly neither of you knew how to respond to this situation appropriately.

Neia jumped down from her bed she was standing on and rubbed her arm.

Percival stood frozen in place and swallowed audibly.

“There’s four of us.” You looked at Arthur pleadingly.

He understood what was being asked “Double the hands, lessen the work.”

You clapped your hands together “Alright everyone, let’s start collecting feathers and hay. Just put them back in the fabric.”

To your surprise, the children did not protest and got to work right away.

The task was actually far less tedious than first expected, it was quite pleasant to spent time with Percival and Neia like this, working together to reach a common goal.

Of course you did mention that you’d prefer this not to happen again, but didn’t jump to a harsh response when they seemed willing to fix the situation.

Once it was done, you took the children out of the room and suggested they played the pebble game instead until it was time for dinner.

They took the idea to heart and went outside to play.

“Thanks for helping.” You told Arthur.

“You’re welcome.” Arthur made a slight bow of the head “Speaking of help, would you mind helping me out with carrying the new wooden swords that the woodworker has finished to the fort? I think Gawain asked for a lot to be made, I got word some were finished.”

It wasn’t a long walk from the woodworker’s shop to the fort so that didn’t sound bad “Not a problem, I will help. Do we go and fetch them now or?”

Arthur was glad to hear it “Oh, now would be perfect. I’ve got some time.”

“Great. Let’s go.” You began to walk with him to the exit of the fort.

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  After three trips back and forth from the woodworker, you had to agree that Gawain had indeed asked for A LOT of these wooden swords. After seeing the quantities, Arthur and you decided to store them in the shed next to the stables.

With all that work done, you were done for the day. Thankfully, the children had worn themselves out enough to have gone to bed on their own.

You had grabbed some soup for dinner and decided to slurp that up in your room while letting your legs rest.

It was a risky situation to drink soup while just having changed into your nightgown, if it spilled you’d have your work cut out for you to get the stains out of the white fabric.

Afterwards, you spend some time washing up and erasing the signs of the days work.

You intended to honor what you had offered Lancelot today.

Like a thief in the night, you sneaked towards the door at the end of the hallway. The bowl of salve was in your hands thanks to Pym, you had kept it close to a candle to make sure it wasn’t too cold.

Quietly you knocked on the door and prayed it woke no other.

The door creaked open and made you wince and look around in a slight panic.

Lancelot held it open for you, with a slight head tilt he welcomed you into his room.

Right away you walked in like the place was your own and placed the bowl of salve on the small bedside table, then you took the candle from the dresser it was one and placed it beside the bowl.

“I am trying to keep the salve warm, so it won’t be uncomfortable for you.” You explained.

He arched a brow, smile growing on his lips “How very thoughtful. I assume you were serious with your offer today then?”

Had he thought you’d forget the offer?

Oh, no, you had planned everything to make this as pleasant as it could be.

“I am.” You gestured to the shirt he was wearing “If you are still interested, you may remove your shirt and settle into bed.”

An audible breath of air escaped him, visibly overtaken by nervousness.

You warmed your hands near the flame, and without looking back at him, you patted a hand on the bed playfully “I won’t bite.”

Had you forgotten how you had once bitten him when he had wanted to help you up from the ground back at the monastery?

After fighting back most of his nerves, he pulled the shirt over his head and draped it over the foot of the bed.

There he stood with great uncertainty.

You turned around upon sensing it “Lay stomach down and make yourself comfortable. I’ll do the rest.”

With some directions, it went smoother for him.

For him, laying stomach down wasn’t something he was much fond of, he could never fall asleep in this position.

It was too easy for an enemy to overpower him in his sleep.

Once the salve felt decently warm, you approached the bed and warned him “Don’t be frightened. And if you want me to stop, tell me and I will.”

He gave a nod and dug his fingers in the sheet below him where you could not see.

He had believed you would just sit beside him while doing this. To his grant surprise you straddled his hips instead, placing one knee at either side of him.

Needless to say, he was taken aback and also reminded of how much more comfortable and open you were with matter such as these.

You let one drop of the warm salve drip down on his back and he jolted a bit “Warm enough?”

“Yes.” He sounded quite approving.

It pleased you to hear it “Perfect.”

With caution you began to put the salve where it was needed most first.

There was no haste in you, each scar was giving a first layer of the thin substance until it was absorbed fully into his skin.

He did mention that the scars became less sensitive once the salve was on them. Still you worked with feather light touches of your fingers.

Only after all of them had received their first layer of salve and not a trace of it was left visible to the eye, you poured some in your hands.

You warned him again before continuing “I will be careful. But if it hurts-”

He already felt himself relax significantly “I would tell you.”

The playful praise fell out of your mouth “Very good.”

Down you brought your hands, palms coated in the aromatic salve to relieve the pain and stress from his back.

Of course you couldn’t resist giving a playful pat here and there, he underwent it all without a single complaint.

The muscles near his shoulder and neck were the most tense and were given more attention to sooth them.

He was barely able to muffle the satisfied groan that tumbled out of him.

The kneading of your hands had him silent, you continued to do so long after the salve had run out.

Seeing him so comfortable like this felt like a victory.

Still, you did not expect him to fall asleep and yet he did.

“Lancelot?” You leaned down to whisper and upon seeing him well asleep it took some effort not to giggle and accidentally wake him.

It was a small challenge to crawl off of him carefully and place yourself next to him on the bed.

You moved the sheets over him to keep him warm.

Well, either it had bored him to sleep or he enjoyed it so much that this was the result, you preferred to believe it was the latter.

Whilst laying on your side to watch him sleep, it crossed your mind that this could likely become a common occurrence.

The face of the one you loved to be the first thing you saw when waking up, and the last thing before falling asleep.

You scooted closer, paused, and got even closer.

Finally you were where you belonged, at his side.

It was a string of tiny movements to get close enough to nest yourself against him without waking him. Minutes passed before you were comfortable and let your eyes fall shut.

When they opened again, time had passed and he was still sleeping peacefully.

Thirst had woken you from your slumber, you were parched for some water and none was available in the room.

Just as it had been a challenge to get closer to him, it was a challenge to get out of the bed without waking him.

With weary eyes you trippled out of the room and did your best to prevent the door from making a noise.

It was a small distance to get to your own room, once inside you filled a tankard of water and drank it in one go. After some thought, you decided to just take the jug of water and the tankard with you.

After tiptoeing through the hallway, you were back at his door that you had left open an inch.

With your back against it you opened it more and intended to do the same to close it.

In the darkness of the room it took you a blink too long to notice the shadow figure standing near.

The unforeseen presence startled you enough to spill nearly half the water in the jug over your nightgown.

When you had left he’d been vast asleep, how could you have known that he’d be up now?

“Shit.” You cursed crudely.

His eyes were better adjusted to darkness and saw the accident happen, one touch on your nightgown and he felt how soaked it was.

You pouted at the state you were in now “I thought you were still asleep.”

He sheepishly explained “I woke up and found you gone…” then he offered “There is a towel in there.”

What he gestured to was a small room just large enough for one person to clean themselves.

He lighted a candle and led you to the small space, then placed the candle holder on the tiny table were a bowl of water was and a towel.

Now in the light and near the small mirror, the mess the water had made became visible.

“Oh…” The drenched white of the fabric was exposing what it was meant to shield from sight.

The dim light of the candle offered some modesty.

Quickly you grabbed the towel and tried to dry the gown as best as you could.

With the distraction, you failed to notice the way his eyes were drifting over you.

You scolded yourself “I’m such a klutz.”

It was the absence if a witty remark that pulled your attention to him.

He was leaning against the door frame, eye fixed on a place where the fabric was undoubtedly betraying you.

Had he even heard you speak?

You squinted your eyes at him “I am starting to think you won’t offer to fetch me a dry gown.”

Well, in truth it had indeed not crossed his mind.

It looked like wanted to look apologetic but it was clearly feigned.

You dunked your hand in the bowl with water and proceeded to wave the countless drops in his direction “Go pray. You seem to need it.”

Lancelot did not let the water scare him away “I rather enjoy you like this. Wet and arrogant.”

The ambiguity of his words hit him right after and he visibly felt some regret over his choice of words.

You send him a knowing look, your brow arched “Wow.”

He could feel his nose start to get warmer.

Thank the darkness of the night for letting him keep some of his confidence.

You had expected him to take it back or apologize, but he did neither. That was new…

When you carried on drying the gown off, his eyes lifted from the floor again.

The gown was sticking to your skin on various places “I won’t be able to get this dry. It’s too soaked.”

What a delight to his eyes.

He hummed and stepped into the small space, again he touched the fabric and noted that the towel indeed would not be able to fix this “It is.”

To hear and see him so distracted, made you laugh quietly “You’re not much help right now.”

And he was well aware of it.

The linen towel was plucked from your hands and placed aside on the small table again by him.

With a firm but gentle hold on your arm, he turned you to face him.

His fingers were lacing themselves into the wet fabric over your stomach, his forehead came down to rest against yours “Don’t leave my room.”

The plea was carried in that warm timbre that had your heart vibrate in tune with it.

With the little clarity your brain still offered, you stammered “But my clothes…”

One hand brought you closer, the other caused you to shiver when he brushed it over your jaw and neck up and behind your ear.

His voice deepened as those blue orbs dropped to the curve of your mouth “Do not worry.”

Your eyes drifted between the heavens present in his eyes and the alluring lips he was blessed with.

Lancelot pulled you into him and caught your mouth with his, trapping your lips in the searing kiss.

He rained down on them and every drop nourished the planted seeds of affection that had waited for him, you let it drown out all else until all that flowed between you was the passion it bared.

His hand had wandered so low that it was almost on your rear.

He was used to taking charge, but this?

No.

It would not surprise him if he was told to remove his hand from where it had so brazenly journeyed to.

You paused only to lock eyes with him.

Feeling him brush a hand over your back like that had you purring playfully “Searching me for Fey signs?”

Even now, you would tease him, two could play this game.

Instantly both hands glided up past your waist until they reached your ribs “If I was, I would search here…”

Your breath caught when they followed the curve and felt along and between your shoulder blades.

You had to tilt your head to the side, he was close enough that it was almost an embrace.

It continued, far slower than he had ever done during this procedure.

He lifted your arm and felt along the back of it “And here.”

It was sending shivers down your spine.

Then the tip of his nose followed the curve of your neck up to your ear “I would capture your scent.”

His hand came up to the back of your neck, thumb drawing circles behind your ear “The ears are the easiest to spot signs near.”

Truly, such inspections had not been so slow and intimate, or had they?

It fell out off your scrambled thoughts “Is that what you did with the women at the abbey?”

Was that a pinch of jealousy he heard?

He would not deny it “I did this with all who needed to be inspected.”

But not with enthusiasm, unlike now.

And never this close and personal. Back then, he just wanted it to be over and done with as fast as possible.

You couldn’t resist asking everything that crossed your mind “You could feel it through clothes?”

Where were you going with this?

“Yes.”

“Even through mine?”

“Yes.”

Your coy smile was suggestive “Are you sure?”

When you saw the innocence in his eyes, you almost felt bad for teasing him like this.

Sometimes you needed to remind yourself that he was raised a monk.

You reeled yourself back in and ‘apologized’ by giving him a sweet kiss on the cheek “Forgive me, Lancelot. I wish I had a quarter of the self-restraint you have.”

That ‘self-restraint’ had gotten much weaker the second you walked into his room tonight.

His mind was still catching up “Did you just proposition me again?”

It made your cheeks burn to admit it, especially because it was asked so politely “Sorry.”

His hand left your neck and fidgeted with the sleeve of your nightgown a little.

You could just feel the atmosphere take a palpable shift “I will just go and fetch something dry to wear and return here afterwards.”

Slipping from his touch and out of the small space felt a little awkward.

But you would not have him think that you expected something else to happen other than sleep. Why did you have to tease him with this…

What if it had made him uncomfortable and he feared to say it?

Once you reached the door, the other candle that still stood on the dresser grew a bright green flame the second you reached for the doorknob.

You halted and stared at the candle in disbelief, that candle had not been lighted, the flame had grown from nothing.

“I have been practicing.” The Ash Man stated with pride.

In awe, you stared at the Fey Fire “I can tell.” through the wet sleeve, the mark showed it’s silver glow again “My mark…”

His eyes were drawn to the glow passing through the sleeve “Please, stay.”

Something in his voice sounded quite vulnerable and made you turn to face him fully.

The will to point out that you needed to go and fetch dry clothes left you upon seeing the look in his eyes.

There was something he was trying to say…

“Lancelot?” You quietly spoke.

The floorboards barely creaked under his calculated slow steps.

He took your hand and led you away from the door slowly, and when you did not protest he cupped your face and closed the distance.

Your noses were touching and you tilted your head pleadingly for his affection.

He resisted, barely.

It was a whispered prayer that caressed your cheek “I want to share this night together.” he left no room for misinterpretation “I want you.”

You leaned back at once, speechless by what it implied.

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[everlastingdreams]

Weeping Monk x Reader : The Patience Of A Heart   Chapter 27

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Story Summary: After fire claimed the lives of your family, the monastery of your Uncle Carden becomes your new home. As the niece of a priest you are expected to behave prim and proper, but not even the watchful eyes of the Weeping Monk can see all. An ancient magic returns to life when love and duty begin to blur.

Chapter Title:  Bright Skies.

Notes: The last chapter ;_;

Warnings: There’s a list of warnings for this story: Murder. Violence. Death. Angst. Sexism. Strong Language. Trauma. Childhood trauma. Survivor’s guilt. Mentions of child maltreatment. Threat of Sexual assault. PTSD. Misogyny, Self-flagellation. Gore.

Other warnings: Jealousy. Forbidden Love. Romance. Pining. Smut. Spicy content. Little Slow-burn.

Word count of this fic: +130K

Chapter:  27 / 27

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Just before dawn, Lancelot let you return to your room after sharing what was meant to be a hasty kiss but turned out lasting quite a bit longer.

Percival had a tendency to barge into his room at the crack of dawn to ask for anything the boy had thought of the night before and Lancelot would not risk the boy walking in on something he was too young to know about.

The nightgown was almost dry, but it didn’t matter now as you changed into the trousers and leather sleeveless jacket you had come to love.

At breakfast you felt like the whole dining hall knew what had happened that night, which was ridiculous. It was just your self-consciousness trying to strike fear into you.

Lancelot had tried to get a piece of potato on his fork and missed for more than four times because he couldn’t stop stealing glances from you.

Gawain said nothing of it, Pym scrunched her nose at the sight of it.

It was Arthur who pointed it out for all to hear “Lancelot, I’m glad your aim with the sword is better than your aim with a fork.”

“Are you drunk?” Pym blurted out.

The poor Ash Man felt the eyes of the room on him and answered the question aimed at him “No.” he looked at Arthur as well “I have not slept well.”

Well, he had not slept much. It was close enough to the truth.

You kept your eyes on the plate under your nose, chewing the food to avoid smiling at the situation he found himself in.

Arthur showed concern “How come? Are you unwell?”

He had hoped the Manblood would not ask further.

Finally he managed to spear the piece of potato on his fork “No, there was an owl outside my window that kept me awake.”

You barely kept it together, he was truly fishing for a believable lie.

While the rest of the table believed the lie, it was Red Spear and Gawain who seemed more than a little skeptical.

Arthur went on to use it to get on the Ash Man’s nerves “Aren’t you skilled enough with the bow to take care of that?”

He’d show him how skilled he was if the Manblood kept challenging him…

With a glare, he answered “I will not waste an arrow on an owl. We need our weapons for more important matters.”

Gawain stood by him “A wise choice. And we should not let food go to waste either.”

It was meant for both the men who were forgetting about the plate in front of them.

Your own plate was empty by now and you rose from your seat “Gawain is right. Eat, gentlemen.”

Arthur send a charming smile your way upon hearing it, that smile faded quite quickly when he looked at Lancelot again.

He knew Arthur well enough now to know that he would not betray him like this, but that did not mean that Arthur would not try to rile him up.

The Manblood and the Green Knight had become like brothers to him, and he knew brothers could be terribly irritating amongst one another. Still, he rather enjoyed their spirited characters.

You walked past the children at the end of the table, ruffling Percival’s hair and correcting a flower in Neia’s that looked like it would fall out otherwise.

“No fighting during your lessons today.” You reminded them.

“So, afterwards?” Percival quipped.

You struggled to hide the smile “No.”

The boy was just joking, you could tell. Mostly it was to get more attention from Neia who never strayed from the side of her young and brave knight.

You walked past the empty chair where Kaze always sat and asked Gawain “Does Kaze not want breakfast?”

“She left to head into the city earlier.” Gawain explained her absence.

You had feared something bad had happened “Oh, alright. Glad to hear she is not sick or anything.”

He eased your mind “Kaze will be back tonight. She’s one tough woman that one.”

“She is.” You agreed.

After walking past Gawain, you leaned down and stole a piece of potato from Lancelot’s plate.

You popped it into your mouth, chewed and swallowed before licking some remnants of it from your index finger.

He could not believe you would act so ill-mannered.

He could not believe how impossible it felt to look away from you when you brought your finger to your mouth like that.

It was too late, most of the table had seen him stare by the time he regained control over his wandering thoughts.

You were innocence itself “Don’t let it go cold. It tastes really good.”

It earned you quite the look from him, if you had been alone with him you’d be in trouble.

The smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth “Clearly.”

In the time he spend looking up at you, Pym was leaning over and reaching with her fork for the unguarded food on his plate.

Part of you wanted to help your intended, part of you wanted your friend to be successful.

You had placed your hand on the back of his chair, fingers brushing against his shoulder.

While his eyes were on you, he still sensed that something was off.

Without looking, he caught Pym’s wrist and she let out a very started yelp.

Slowly he turned to her “So many ill-manners so early in the day.”

Pym tried to defend her actions “You’re just letting it get cold…”

He released her wrist and the sneaky Pym still managed to have pinned some food on her fork and popped it into her mouth immediately.

While he was busying looking at Pym, you stole another piece from his plate and ate it.

“Gawain.” Lancelot looked to the knight for back-up.

Gawain offered no such thing “They’re right. You’re letting it go cold.”

Neia was giggling at the shenanigans and managed to steal something of Percival’s plate too, to the utter shock of the boy.

Lancelot send you a look again and saw you shrug your shoulders before walking away.

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  Just before midday, you went to find Lancelot again and found him busy teaching Neia and Percival how to wield a sword in the field. Three other children stood at a small distance to watch and the Ash Man beckoned for them to come closer.

They did so with caution, until he offered them a wooden sword.

You kept at a distance, they had not seen you.

The children joined in on the training, which often turned more playful than proper for a lesson and poor Lancelot did not have the heart to tell them.

Maybe he even enjoyed to see them have fun while learning, unlike the way he had learned.

You left them to their fun and went back into the fort and to your room.

It had been a while since you had picked up a knitting needle and you retrieved them from under your bed. The last thing you had made were socks for Anne.

When winter came, many would not have the proper clothing for the weather, it was time to pick the needles up again. Maybe you could even teach others with the little skill you had.

You checked how much yarn there still was, enough for a scarf for Neia and a couple pair of socks for others. A trip to the local market would be necessary soon.

After starting on the scarf, you had made some small mistakes that took longer than usual to rectify and you swore you wouldn’t go more than two days without working with the needles again.

Once it finally began to go smoothly, a knock at your door pulled you out of your concentration.

“Yes?” You called out.

Lancelot opened the door and walked into your room without closing it “Here you are. The children are off to their lessons.”

You could sense he was here to try and distract you “I’m knitting.”

Lancelot stole the knitting needles from your hands and placed them down on the small nightstand “I have something else for you to play with.”

The jest fell from you “I would have preferred some loving words and perhaps a kiss before hearing that.”

It took him three seconds to understand, he looked off to the side smiling “Not what I meant. Come with me.”

You stood up to follow him “What are we going to do?”

He grabbed your sword from where you had placed it against your dresser and handed it to you “It is time I dedicate more time to your training.”

You got excited at the prospect “With the sword?”

He gave a nod “Yes. We can try the bow later.”

The excitement grew even stronger when he took you to where you had been sparing with Gawain yesterday. Without being prompted to, you went to retrieve the two wooden swords that still rested against the nearest tree.

“Leave them.” Lancelot called out.

He had not been happy to see you spar with steel, so you just assumed the wooden ones would be used.

“But-” You started.

“We train with steel. Like you did with Gawain.” He beckoned for you and drew his sword.

As long as Percival was not around to see it, for only heaven knew how he would be able to end the boy’s angry ranting over it.

It worried you “I don’t want to hurt you.”

There was a chuckle, he stopped when he realized how arrogant it might appear “You will not.”

Had he truly just laughed at the idea that you could possibly harm him this way?

You were not amused by his blatant believe “Wow, you really believe I can’t hurt you.”

He ill-worded it “You do not have the skill.” then added “Yet.”

Alright, maybe that was true. But he didn’t have to rub your nose in it.

You did not let it slip “Just so we are clear, you’re not coming anywhere near me tonight.”

He, not so subtly, inhaled deeply.

With a shit-eating grin, he said “We shall see.”

You didn’t know what made your face burn more, him trying to catch your scent or the irritation you felt at his smug demeanor “You unbelievable-”

It took a lot to hold back the words you’d spew at him and instead you let out a loud agitated groan.

“That’s it. You’re asking for it.” You pointed at him accusingly.

It was time to show him that you weren’t afraid to prove him wrong.

Perhaps you lacked the skill of sword fighting, but not the skill to fight dirty.

Your sword was already in your hand and you ran up to him.

As anticipated he easily evaded you, a chuckle escaping him.

Good. That was what you wanted, for him to think you would continue to run around him like a headless chicken.

This time you approached slower, using your sword as a distraction to try and steal the short sword from his side.

It made little sense to him why you would do so and therefore he was almost too late to prevent it. He grabbed a hold on your elbow, you tugged at his cloak and pulled it over his arm.

Like this, you were making it hard for him to actually use his sword to block your shenanigans.

More than once you got really close on purpose to the point where he was both amused and annoyed by it.

It was when you pulled his hood down that he finally took a couple of steps back.

“You-…” He swallowed what he was about to say.

“What?” You grinned at him wickedly.

“Continue this and I will-” Lancelot started.

You interrupted him arrogantly “You’ll what?”

The annoyance was audible in his tone “Just spar with me.”

It was glorious to see him so riled up by your fighting strategy “I am. It’s not my fault that you can’t handle the way I fight.”

For a moment he said nothing, then he tossed his sword to the grass and drew the short one instead “I can handle you well.”

Honestly, it was quite intimidating when he stalked closer.

Your mind was scrambling for ways to defend yourself against whatever he had planned.

Slower than he would normally have, he aimed with the sword and was pleasantly surprised that you did know how to block an attack well.

The knight must have taught you some things indeed.

When you lunged at him with your sword as well, that was when the spar truly began.

He let you experience what it was like to be in close combat and how quick it could be even if he held back.

Steel collided with steel and your arms began to ache after a while even if your sword was light, the movements was not something you were used to.

His aim was to disarm you, you could tell.

And you’d be damned if you let him accomplish that without a fight.

You copied what you had seen from Gawain and him to the best of your abilities.

Your balance wasn’t the best, but the spirit to fight made up for it.

He watched you defend yourself like a feral cat. It lacked grace, but so far he had not managed to steal your weapon from you.

Like Gawain had once taught you, you played it dirty and got your crossguard caught on his on purpose.

With one firm pull at the crossguard that costed all your strength, and your leg strategically placed, you caused him to trip over your lower leg.

There he was, down on his knees, resisting the strong urge to curse.

Not often was he faced with someone who fought dirty like he often had.

You felt quite proud “Gawain taught me that.”

He sat up on his knees, slightly glaring “Did he now?”

To see him like this sure send your mind to wander.

Instead of seizing the moment to gloat, you stepped in front of him and caressed along his jaw.

The change in his eyes was evident, your shadow falling over him took the sun’s bright light out of his eyes.

“Did I do well?” You softly asked.

He had forgotten the pain in his knees quite quickly and held you by the hips to get you closer “Very well.”

You let him move you closer to him.

The corner of his mouth curved up and he looked around himself, when no one was there to see it, he rested his forehead to your abdomen and pressed his lips to it.

The memory of last night rose to the front of your mind, a hot flush coursed through your veins and you shyly looked around you to see if no one was looking “Lancelot…”

He stood up from the ground, not releasing you “What happened between us last night, it means a lot to me. Have I told you that?”

You leaned back a little, shaking your head “Not with many words, but I know you are not a man of many words.”

He placed his hands a bit higher when others walked by “You trusted me with your body.”

You gave his arm a gentle squeeze “I trust you with all that I am, as you trust me.”

His hand curled around your wrist, thumb feeling the bangle that you always wore now “Did you mean it, when you said you did not want me near you tonight?”

To answer that, you removed his hand from your waist “I’ll have to think about it.”

The teasing was unmistakable, there was hope.

As if to persuade and woo, he took your hand and brought your knuckles to his lips, letting them brush over it briefly “Look favourably upon it.”

It was indeed quite persuasive, especially when those eyes glanced at you with such intensity.

He let go off your hand upon seeing Tristan approach.

The archer greeted you both and asked Lancelot “I was wondering if you would like to go hunting with me? We won’t go far into the forest, my wife has cravings for certain kinds of food that I cannot easily find in the city.”

You nudged Lancelot’s arm “Go on then, before Iseult takes a bite out of Tristan instead.”

The Ash Man agreed to help Tristan “Alright, I shall join you.”

Tristan gestured between the two of you “I’ve heard the news about your betrothal, congratulations. Will it be a joining like the ones Fey have?”

Lancelot looked to you for the answer.

You shyly admitted “I hope for a joining.”

It seemed to please the Ash Man to hear it.

“I hope I will be invited. And my wife too of course. ” Tristan not so subtly alerted you to his interest.

You looked at Lancelot curiously.

He saw no reason to not invite the man “You are welcome to come.”

At that, Tristan held out his hand and Lancelot shook it amicably.

“We’d better be off then. If I’m not back before dark, Iseult will throw a fit.” Tristan send him a look.

You voiced your opinion “And rightfully so.”

Tristan regretted speaking now and awkwardly stepped away, Lancelot followed him and threw you a smirk.

Anyone expecting a child had the right to be upset if their partner chose to remain absent and cause them unnecessary worry.

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  You were there to wait outside the door to the dining hall for when the children would finish their lessons. The door swung upon and children ran out the room to their other daily activities. Percival and Neia ran right past you, not even noticing your presence.

You had to call out their names to pull their attention, upon hearing it they stopped and quickly hurried over “I’m going to the market to get yarn. Do you want to come with me?”

It surprised them both and they eagerly exclaimed ‘yes’.

Before heading to the market, you urged them to put on a cloak in case it would rain and came to the realization that Percival’s cloak was torn in many places.

The few coins you had would not suffice for both yarn and a cloak. If needed be, the yarn would need to wait and you’d just get Percival the cloak instead.

If the children questioned you on why you weren’t purchasing the yarn, you would have to lie and say that they didn’t have what you were looking for.

Together you walked to the exit of the fort, you let the children walk in front of you to keep an eye on them.

Gawain came from the opposite direction, letting the little ones pass by “Heading into the city?”

You nodded “To the market. There are some things I need.”

“Such as?” He wasn’t afraid to be curious.

“Some yarn and a cloak.” You gestured to Percival discreetly.

The knight scanned the boy and girl briefly “It’s not easy for Feys to earn coin these days. Most of us trade.”

Did he know?…

“What sort of things would the merchants trade for?” You questioned.

He gave a sympathetic smile and reached into his pockets, pulling out some coins and handing them to you “It will be easiest with these.”

You protested “But-”

Gawain waved the protest away “It is worth investing in a useful craft. Look after the children, do not worry about other things. We all help each other here.”

The appreciation you felt was great “Thank you, Gawain.”

He hinted “I could use a warm pair of socks for the winter.”

It didn’t even need asking “Consider it done.”

Gawain turned to Percival “Stay close to y/n.”

The cheeky boy grinned and nodded.

Oh, you would definitely need to keep your eyes on them.

“Good luck.” The knight said to you, before correcting himself “I mean, enjoy yourselves.”

After sharing a knowing look with him, you left the fort with the children.

  Once at the market, it all started out so well and calm. Neia held your hand, Percival remained close to your side. And then, the stall which sold wares they were interested in came into their sights.

You did remind them to stay close and they impatiently stood beside you while you chose the yarn you needed. Then you went to a stall that sold clothing and picked a cloak with Percival. After that, there was still enough coin and you let Neia choose something for herself from the market.

It took some encouragement from Percival for her to do so, she almost returned into her shell of shyness.

The boy led her to some stall, but you doubted the girl would want to purchase some fish to eat…

Percival’s intention was good, but he needed a little help, which became evident when he looked at you.

You pointed at a stall that sold a variety of items. Trinkets, jewelry, flowers…

There a small necklace caught her attention, she took it in her hands and that was when you recognized the piece of silver.

Neia looked up at you with wide eyes as she held it up for you to see “It’s the one you gave me…”

A brief inspection later and you could only confirm that it was indeed the same necklace “It is… do you want it?”

She quickly nodded and you paid the merchant for the item.

Someone must have traded or sold it again.

Neia struggled to put it on and you knelt down to her height to help.

It didn’t take you long to close the clasp, she was happy to have it back and you were glad to see that she loved it too.

Once you had everything you needed from the market, you walked back towards the fortress with the children.

At the meadow behind the fortress, you went ahead and let the children play with the wooden swords that others had used for practice earlier that day.

Multiple flowers grew on the meadow and you sat down on the grass between them.

Soon the area filled itself with laughter as they chased each other with the swords.

The setting sun caused a magical atmosphere on the meadow.

Never before had you felt more at peace than this, just watching the sun set while the children played in the grass.

When you placed your palm on the grass, you felt the mark tingle pleasantly.

There was some fey magic inside of you and it allowed you to experience some of what they experienced. The close connection to nature, to their kind and the magic that lived in the lands.

Your heart had found it’s home.

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  After the sun went down, you brought the children to the dinning hall where dinner was being handed out.

Kaze had returned from the city as well and was using a knife to stab her food and put it in her mouth.

Red Spear and Arthur were quietly talking to each other, which was rather surprising. Had the Manblood managed to charm the raider’s Captain after all? It appeared so.

You sat down next to Pym, noticing the amount of blood she had on her clothes “Hard day at the infirmary?”

Pym was eager to speak of the idiocy from the raiders she had to deal with all day, she did so quietly to make sure Red Spear would not hear of it.

The door of the dining hall opened again and your betrothed walked in with Tristan.

Blood stained both their clothing, but not as much as Pym’s.

From their joyful entrance, you concluded that at least it was not their own blood.

Tristan went to sit with his wife a couple of tables further away.

Lancelot passed by the back of your chair, leaned over and greeted you “Good evening.”

You arched a brow with a smile “Well, well, you look like you had fun.”

He confirmed it with a nod “I have. Tristan’s archery skill is impressive.”

You touched his aketon “There is blood on you.”

The poor Ash Man seemed unaware of it until you pointed it out “Iseult will spare her husband. I will change after the meal.”

So the hunt had been successful, no wonder he looked so content tonight.

His eyes flickered from yours to your cheek and you saw him resist the desire to kiss it.

He stepped away and walked to his chair to sit beside Gawain.

This time he did not let his food turn cold.

The mood at the table was amicable, everyone was chatting with everyone.

It was like you had gained a new family, one far stranger than you could have imagined and it made it only better.

A new life had begun, one where you did not have to pretend to be something you were not to be accepted.

Life was dangerous, but it was good. You were not alone, you were home.

After the meal, you took it upon yourself to guide the two tired children to their rooms.

And once one asked for some water, the other did too. Like they suddenly became parched at the sight of their beds.

Two trips back and forth between the kitchen and the rooms was the result. But Percival and Neia were happy, and you were glad that they were not afraid to ask you for what they needed.

You retreated to your room and by the time you had changed into your nightgown, you felt thirsty too…

And so began the short walk to the kitchen under the cover of your cloak to shield yourself from the sights of others still awake.

A jug of water and a tankard was your prize and you returned to your room, now more understanding of how the children had felt parched too.

Behind the curtain, you quickly scanned your appearance in the mirror. The cut to your head was healing well, it only stung when you touched it. And your ankle hadn’t hurt in a while either. You were healing in more than one way.

You discarded the cloak on your bed and wandered into the night again.

Once upon a time, you would have had to sneak out off a window to do this, now you could walk through the night with a heart at peace.

It wasn’t long before midnight when you presented yourself at his door.

The door was unlocked, as if he was already expecting a late night visitor.

You followed the candle light coming from the small room and came upon the sight of him cleaning off the day’s build on sweat.

His torso glistened from the water and he messily splashed some on his face too.

It was quite amusing to witness and you bit your cheek to prevent a laugh.

While drying off his face with the towel and without even looking at you, he asked “Will you keep staring, or will you help?”

Never did you think this man could still find a way to get you flustered.

But it had sounded more genuine than a jest and it set your mind to spin.

“This is the hardest choice I’ve ever been burdened with.” You admitted.

He looked over his shoulder at the floor just in front of your feet, a lopsided smirk plastered on his face.

How could you not be appreciative of the sight granted to you now?

It came out in a breath “You are quite something…”

This time he did look at your face, curious what that meant “Something?”

Oh, how you could feel your cheeks just start to burn at your own thoughts.

Surely he noticed how shamelessly your gaze was traveling over him?

You got closer, stealing the towel from his hands to ‘aid’ him.

You took your sweet time dabbing the towel to his chest “Strikingly handsome…”

A very quiet curse spilled from your lips, that was how much of an effect he had.

Dammit, how could one be so handsome?

Why was one look from him enough to stir something inside of you?

It took some effort to remain focused on the task and you did dab the skin of his back dry carefully.

When you put the towel down on the small table, he caught you by the waist before you could step away.

With one swift movement, he trapped you between himself and the table.

If that bowl of water spilled, you’d need more than that one towel…

He nosed your hair, then dipped his head into your neck.

The quiet inhales and exhales betrayed what he was doing and it only got you more flustered.

You almost scolded him for it “Lancelot. Why are you sniffing me?”

He smiled against your neck “I think you know.”

If his ears had been as sensitive as his nose, he would have heard how your heart was trying to beat it’s way out of your rib cage.

Without him noticing, you dipped your hand in the bowl of water and then proceeded to rub the water across his face.

He barely recoiled, slowly getting used to your antics.

“Missed a spot.” You bit your lip.

His eyes narrowed “A lifetime of this…”

You caught a drip of water that was gliding down his mouth “Having seconds thoughts on us joining?”

“Never.” He breathed against your thumb.

You imagined how it would go “In the forest, surrounded by our friends. Percival and Neia causing havoc around us.”

He hummed approvingly, bringing you in closer to kiss along your jaw.

The wet state of his face made you slip out of his hold and out of the small room.

He picked up the towel, walked towards you while drying his face again and tossed the towel back to it’s place “I do hope my bride will behave at our joining.”

You scoffed lightly “Never.”

The answer he expected.

You used it against him “If you want a woman who behaves and acts proper, than I should leave instead of sharing your bed.”

He grinned wickedly “So you did come here with certain intentions.”

Without answering you pulled the sheet back from his bed, got in, and made yourself comfortable under it.

It silenced him to see you huddled up on the bed with a couple of lovestruck eyes aimed at him.

He approached the bed and sat down on the edge of it, on the sheets, by your side “I never thought I would be where I am now, or with whom I am now. You stood by me and I vow to do the same.”

You curled your hand around his “Our lives are just beginning and I can’t wait to spend all of it with you.”

Lancelot lifted your entwined hands and kissed your knuckles “May time have mercy upon us and let us live long.”

He never thought he would wish for a long life, not until he met you.

“Brave of you to wish for a long life with me as your wife.” You joked.

He deadpanned “I always enjoyed a challenge.”

You feigned a glare, then leaned over to steal a kiss from him.

“Twit.” You said, after successfully stealing one.

That rare boyish smile curved his mouth, heavenly eyes cast their gaze on your lips.

It was the only warning you received before his lips connected with your own.

He laid you down and hovered above, his mouth only parting with yours to kiss your forehead “I waited my whole life for you, for someone to reach into the darkness to guide me out. And now that I have you, I will spend the rest of my days loving you with all that I am.”

You gazed up into his eyes, then smiled “I love you too.”

Lancelot took a deep breath before diving into your lips with his, fully intending to claim your mouth all for himself before he’d need to breath in again.

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  The day of your joining began so peaceful, you had chosen to hold it in the evening.

It had been raining heavily, but once foot was set in the magical forest, the rain ceased to be.

What the forest gave was a cloudless night sky littered with stars.

Lancelot had gone to the forest with Arthur and Red Spear first, leaving you in the hands of Gawain and Pym. Kaze came along as well, not willing to miss a joining considering how rare they were becoming these days.

There had been flowers for a bouquet, but those had vanished the night before. Oddly enough, Neia was wearing an array of colorful flowers mixed with the usual white ones in her hair tonight. You didn’t mind, those flowers suited her well and you suspected that Percival had something to do with the disappearance of the bouquet. And now the children walked ahead of you, both excited to witness a joining.

It was one of the few things that made the joining memorable.

For the Fey, the forest was their home. For you, the forest in the dark was more tricky.

Your pretty gown got stuck on a branch and it delayed the whole ceremony for a while.

After Pym had tried to help, you asked Gawain to “Just cut the piece off that’s stuck.”

After some hesitation, the knight cut the fabric of the skirt and freed you.

Your poor intended had waited patiently for you in the forest.

Arthur was beside him, trying to get him to relax while also getting on his nerves.

Gawain placed you before Lancelot, and then went over to speak to the Fey elder who was asked to bless this joining.

Lancelot dropped his attention to the skirt of the stunning gown you wore “Your skirt is missing a piece.

“The forest stole it from me.” You deadpanned.

Gawain overheard it and offered an explanation “She got stuck on a bush.”

Part of him had feared his bride had run off into the night. But no, it was just the forest stalling you.

“Let’s hope it’s not a bad omen.” Arthur jested.

Lancelot paid him no mind, his gaze was moving over your form “It is not. Not even a magical forest will stop my wife from returning to me.”

He had sounded so certain and proud of the matter.

The Manblood did not stop his pestering just yet “She’s not your wife yet. She has to say ‘I do’ first.”

Both you and your soon-to-be husband gave him a side-eye.

Tristan and Iseult had arrived to the ceremony as well and Iseult scolded Arthur for teasing an already nervous Lancelot.

The Ash Man took you by the arm and steered you towards the knight and the Fey elder.

“If you have any doubts, now is your chance to speak.” He was quite nervous for what was to come.

You leaned into his side “I have none. And you?”

He was relieved to hear it “None.”

His fingers laced through yours, both now standing before the Fey elder.

The Tusk Elder’s hair had long since lost all colour and was now a bright white “Are you ready to proceed?”

The attention of all present turned to the elder and you.

Lancelot looked at you expectantly.

“We are ready.” You answered.

The elder politely asked “You may hand me the piece of rope or cloth for the handfasting.”

Panic washed over Lancelot’s face and soon it became apparent that the needed item was forgotten.

“Oh no…” Little Neia uttered.

Percival winced at the display, then the idea struck him. The boy rushed towards the Green Knight and pulled the piece the knight had cut off from your gown from where he had wrapped it around the pommel of his sword.

Hastily, Percival ran up to you and Lancelot “Will this work?”

The Ash Man took the piece of fabric and placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder “Well done, my boy.”

Lancelot ripped the piece in the middle and made it longer that way.

“Do you think the forest knew we forgot to bring something along?” You questioned out loud.

He gave a shallow nod “I believe so.”

The Elder was handed the piece of your gown, he looked at it curiously but snapped himself out of it “Take her hand, Ash Man.”

You held it up for him to take not a blink later and saw a couple of people try and hold back a chuckle.

Lancelot did as asked and took your hand in his.

The piece of linen was used to bind your hands together, uniting them.

The elder spoke “With the Hidden as our witnesses, I bind thee together by body and soul. Do you vow to respect this promise of love?”

You locked your eyes on those heavenly ones “I do.”

That boyish smile spread on his face “I swear it.”

The elder took a step back and concluded “You may now seal your promise of love.”

Gawain went ahead and tried to shield Percival’s eyes with his hand, using the other he tried to shield Neia’s, then chuckled when both children pried their eyes free from it.

They witnessed the sealing kiss between you and this time no ‘yucks’ were heard.

Under the starry night sky your joined life together began.

Many a night later, when Red Spear became the rightful queen of Camelot and took Arthur as her king, Lancelot was lifted to the status of king among the Fey.

Kaze, Tristan and Pym were all knighted by Gawain and Percival.

A new era for the Fey had begun, one where Manblood and Fey lived together in peace for the first time in centuries. Nature thrived, villages were rebuild and the economy flourished.

The removal of the Church’s power over the land and it’s people allowed them to grow far beyond the possibilities they had under the Church.

And you?

You became known as the Ashen Queen, carrying the legacy of the Ash Folk not only on your skin but also in the growing life in your womb.

A new era for the Fey and for the Ash Folk.

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[everlastingdreams]

Weeping Monk x Reader : The Patience Of A Heart    Chapter 9

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Story Summary: After fire claimed the lives of your family, the monastery of your Uncle Carden becomes your new home. As the niece of a priest you are expected to behave prim and proper, but not even the watchful eyes of the Weeping Monk can see all. An ancient magic returns to life when love and duty begin to blur.

Chapter Title: Broken Trust

Notes: *sips tea* I love how much I hate a certain character in this part.

Warnings: There’s a list of warnings for this story: Murder. Violence. Death. Angst. Sexism. Strong Language. Trauma. Childhood trauma. Survivor’s guilt. Mentions of child maltreatment. Threat of Sexual assault. PTSD. Misogyny, Self-flagellation. Gore.

Other warnings: Jealousy. Forbidden Love. Romance. Pining. Smut. Spicy content. Little Slow-burn.

Word count of this fic: +110K

Chapter:  9 / lol Gonna keep the chapter count a secret until the end.

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In the morning you woke up alone.

The Monk, Lancelot…had left before you had opened your eyes.

You saw him again at breakfast, in the large room filled with long wooden tables that looked like they would not last for much longer anymore.

All expenses went to the Church’s mission…

As you plucked pieces from the bread to put them in your mouth, he sat not far from your uncle and you could feel his gaze on you.

It made you wonder if he had often just quietly stared at you before in the weeks that had passed. You would have brushed it off as him doing his duty of protecting you, but after last night…

Smoothing out your dress was one way to pretend like you did not notice, you plucked a little faster at the bread to act busy.

It took him a while that morning to pry your fingers from where they had their hold on his attire without waking you.

The next challenge came when he was to leave your room without being seen and he had considered the ivy, but being caught climbing out your window would have been worse.

Father had come to speak to him not long after, he could barely face him after what he had done with Father’s niece…

Ah, yes, this morning had started well.

And now his attention continuously drifted between the tankard of water in his hand and you. The way your fingers touched your parting lips as you ate…

Heaven, he needed to fix his eyes on something else before others would notice.

A paladin entered the room and stopped next to you, he caught your attention “Lady y/n, a letter was brought for you.”

And with those spoken words, the whole room stared in your direction. Who would send you a letter? The only family you had left was looking over at you with suspicion.

Then the way your name was written on the outside of the folded parchment explained where it had come from.

Isaiah…

Dammit.

You tried to just put the letter under your plate and hoped it would be ignored.

Uncle Carden was not willing to just ignore the strange letter “Dear y/n, have you received a letter?”

Like he didn’t know damn well that you had…

Was he testing you now??

You feigned innocence “Yes, Uncle. I will look at it after the meal, it would be rude to do it now.”

He gestured around the room “Oh, come now. We are not so stern on things. Go on, read it.”

This was a test… he wanted to see your reaction to what was written…

Refusing would look bad…

You picked the letter up from under the plate and unfolded it close to your face so the people sitting next to you would not see.

It held a brief apology for the insult aimed at you and a slight jealous toned description of what had happened, according to Isaiah, the night Lancelot had stopped him from trying to climb into your room. Most of it was him just trying to make you feel like you remembered that night wrong, the apology sounded far from sincere.

But what worried you was that he mentioned Lancelot being there too…

How could Isaiah be so stupid to think that it was a smart idea to hand such a personal letter to a paladin??

It must have been visible on your face that the letter had annoyed you terribly.

He kept his attention darting between you and Father. He knew that look Father had, if only he could have warned you.

The priest gestured to you again “Well? Who is it from?”

The letter was quickly folded again “A friend.”

He parroted “A friend?” then commanded “Brother Albert. Take that letter and bring it to me.”

The letter was snatched from where you had tried to put it out of sight under the plate again by the paladin who sat next to you.

Right away you objected “Uncle! That letter is personal!”

Your uncle gave the cold answer “It arrived into my monastery where I have so generously offered you shelter.”

Another threat to toss you out to live on the streets or in the woods…

If there was one thing you hated, it was manipulating games like this.

You watched the letter be carried to him “I never questioned your generosity, uncle, only your trust in your only niece.”

If he could play this game, so could you.

He even appeared hesitant to take the letter from Brother Albert now “Trust is earned, my girl. And we must all prove ourselves worthy for God’s garden.”

Your hands were balled into fists under the table, he was treating you like a child. Worse even.

Lancelot met your eyes, silently questioning in how much trouble you had gotten yourself into now.

Uncle took the letter and folded it open, at first he looked calm and then…

That description must have made it quite easy to understand where that letter had come from, especially when it was signed with the sender’s name at the bottom.

It did not take the priest long to understand what could be happening.

First his Weeping Monk interfered when he had tried to strike you, now this. And his Monk had not spoken a word of it.

Father was glaring daggers at him…

What on earth was written in that letter???

The priest crumpled up the letter “Brother Albert. Escort my niece to her room. The meal is over, all shall leave.”

He stood up with the others, but one look from Father told that ‘all’ did not include him.

You kept calm, it had been years since you had seen your Uncle and these past weeks were not enough to truly know how awful he could even be.

Brother Albert approached your side and waited for you to rise from the chair.

You dared to look past your uncle to Lancelot, who gave a very shallow nod.

Only then did you agree to be escorted to your room.

  The Monk and the priest were left in the room with the many half-empty plates that were abandoned.

He did not know why Father was so angered, only that he was the reason of his wrath.

The back of Father’s hand struck his jaw so hard that he tasted blood in his mouth.

The Monk stood motionless, prepared to let the wave of rage crash down upon his being.

Father threw the crumpled piece of parchment at the Monk’s feet “How dare you?!? After everything I have done for you! I raised you into our sharpest blade and this is what I get in return? You are as weak of mind as all the others who cannot resist to grab and bite the poisoned apple that takes away all hope of reaching God’s garden!”

And with that outburst, he knew Father knew something…

But how much?

Father pointed at the crumpled parchment on the floor, barking his disdain for what had been kept hidden from him “This man, this ‘Isaiah’ describes an encounter! You were there and so was my niece. I tasked you with keeping a close eye on her, then how come I was not aware of this?!?”

He tried to give a truthful answer that would not bring more trouble “That man tried to break into the monastery. I stopped him. Lady y/n heard us talking, matters escalated. I did as you have asked of me, Father. I send the man away and send her back to her room. I protected her and her virtue.”

Father was more angry over something other than that encounter “Protected her virtue… to take it for yourself. Do you think me a fool?”

He felt himself go pale and hoped his hood helped hide it “I do not understand-”

The priest got into his face to demand an answer “Why is it, that when it comes to my niece, that you keep secrets? Hmm. Why did you stop me from striking her when she needed discipline?”

The Monk could not find an excuse in time or look Father in the eyes.

There was another quiet outburst “How dare you even think of tainting her with what you are!”

That had been the most painful to hear, the words set their claws in him, tearing at him inside.

All he could do was try to calm Father down before he became irrational “Forgive me, Father… I try to resist…”

The apology was not accepted “You do not try hard enough. And therefore you will not speak to her again, you will not even look at her! I will find a place to send her away to, until then, do not let me learn of you failing to follow my orders again.”

The priest turned and left, leaving him there alone among the abandoned tables and meals.

If this was how Father reacted to the mere possibility that something could happen, he did not wish to find out what Father’s reaction would be to what happened last night…

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 Not long after you were escorted to your room, paladins came to collect you again. They brought you to a room similar to the one you had been sleeping in, the only difference was that they let you walk inside like nothing was wrong, then they closed and locked the door.

It clicked quickly and you ran to try and get the door open, it did not budge…

There was panic rising in you “What are you doing?!?”

Brother Albert explained the situation only briefly “Father has ordered for you to be kept inside the room until other accommodations are found.”

You screamed through the closed door “You can’t do this!”

Their descending footsteps proved you wrong, how could your uncle be this controlling and cruel?

If this was how he treated family, you feared how he would treat Lancelot after that letter…

Your next action was to go and look out the window, no ivy grew alongside this one.

Dammit.

If you tried to escape that way, a nasty fall in that thorned rose bush you had plucked a rose from would be the result. If you had known, you’d have plucked that whole damn bush out of the ground.

After a quick look around the room you only saw one other option and pulled the linen sheets from the bed.

You ripped them into long pieces to form a makeshift ‘rope’ long enough to climb out the window with, which did not take long thanks to the simmering anger to fuel you.

No, you never liked being treated like this. Even your parents had often seen you do the most insane things when you felt wronged.

When the sun finally went down and no one had unlocked the door, you went through with your plan.

One of the rope’s ends you had tied to the bedpost, the other you tossed out the window. Even in the darkness you could see that it was not long enough to reach the ground, you’d have to make a jump for it when you’d run out of ‘rope’.

Climbing trough the window was difficult, your dress kept getting stuck but it worked. You looked down once before starting your descend, not looking forward to that jump.

With each small movement down the rope, you lost a little faith and courage.

Maybe it had been a bad idea…

That annoying rose bush was right beneath your feet, you kicked it a little, hoping to get it out of the way more.

With your foot against the stone wall, you pushed yourself off to the side and made the jump.

You hit the damp grass with your side, feeling the pain of the fall mostly in your shoulder and lower arm.

For a second you laid on your side to collect yourself.

Suddenly you felt someone trying to grab you, of course you fought back, not willing to let yourself be dragged back to that room again “Let go-”

The words were muffled by the hand covering your mouth.

They got you to your feet and it was then that you bit them.

The hold on you was released and you spun around.

The Monk was flabbergasted, shaking his hand lightly “Did you just bite me?!?”

You murmured an awkward apology “Sorry… but you were grabbing me…”

He send you a look “To help you up from the ground.”

He had a suspicion that you would attempt this, it was only a matter of time and he doubted you were a patient person when it came to this.

He reached out for you, taking your pain-free lower arm to pull you closer, voice dropping to a whisper “Father suspects that I have grown affection for you and has forbidden me from being near you again. He intends to send you to the abbey for some time.”

It sounded like your uncle was determined to keep the two of you apart.

You barely kept your voice down “An abbey?!? I am not a nun!”

His voice wavered while struggling to speak about what he had learned “You would be offered shelter there until Father has found a suitable candidate for you.”

The anger only grew again “Does my uncle think that he can trade me for things that serve his purpose?!? I will not be forced into marriage!”

His hand was on your mouth again, he hushed your fears “Consider this. If you are in the abbey, if you go of your own free will, you will have freedom. Father believes he can control the abbey, he cannot. Every time I am there, I see how Father’s orders are left ignored. Father is only in charge if he is there and the Abbess is too stubborn to listen once he is gone.”

You felt his fingers drag over your lips when he removed his hand “You are saying that I should pretend to be a nun to avoid my uncle’s tyranny?”

Lancelot gave a nod “Father rarely visits the abbey. Perhaps three times a year. I am the one he sends to run errands.”

Oh…

There was indeed a plan, if you pretended to willingly go to the abbey to ‘atone for your sins’, your uncle would not have such power over you. And it would offer the time you needed to find a way to earn a living for yourself.

A coy grin played on your lips “I’m impressed. I never thought you would be so rebellious of nature.”

The smirk he had as a result was something he tried to hide “Go to the abbey. Build a new life, y/n.”

One thing was left unspoken off until now “One with you still in it, if you agree…”

He gently squeezed your lower arm “I will visit often.”

In the darkness, from this distance, you could see the bruise on his cheek “Did my uncle hit you again?”

The answer was in how his gaze dropped to the side for a moment.

You were filled with remorse over it “I made such a mess…”

Father was a difficult person to please, it was not your fault that you nor anyone else could meet Father’s high expectations.

This would earn him an uncountable amount of lashes if anyone saw…

He cupped your cheek as gentle as possible “Do not blame yourself.”

Your fingers touched the bruise “I am so sorry for everything that my uncle has done to you. I know my apology is not enough, but that doesn’t mean that it should not be said. That boy I met years ago, I have never forgotten the way he looked at me when I asked him to play, as if he did not even know what it meant.”

By the sight of his eyes starting to glisten, you knew the pain was there but buried under the burden of having to be strong and loyal to the person who had caused all this.

Even after all these years, he still remembered how it felt. To be so young and act so strong. Act… because that was all it had been back then. An act to be seen as the person Father expected him to be. An act to seem worthy of the god he was being raised to serve.

That day when he first met you, you had been the first other child he had seen in months. And you had spoken to him while others had fled at this sight of him…

His touched his forehead to yours, hands sliding to the back of your head, he could feel you shiver “And that boy has never forgotten the girl who saw him… truly saw him.”

He held you so intimately that you feared being caught together like this “Lancelot, someone could see.”

His attention went to your surroundings, scanning for any unwanted eyes “You are not at blame for what I have become, or how. I only wish for a future that has us both together as we are now.”

With no one in sight, he rolled up the sleeve of your dress, taking hold of your lower arm “Would you want that?”

You frowned at the action “You know I do.”

He kept the sleeve where it was, baring your lower arm to him “Before I was what I am now, in my village, there was a tradition.”

Your eyes darted between his hand and his face “What sort of tradition?”

It was one of the only memories he still had “The Ash Men shared their markings with those they had formed a bond with.”

That didn’t sound like he was telling everything “What sort of bond?”

He could feel the nervousness in his chest “One of lovers.”

With a tilt of the head, he gave a silent warning and let his gaze drop to your arm.

Yours dropped to his hand, when green leaf-like pattern began spreading over the back of it and it startled you.

Now his eyes were on your face to see your reaction, you did not pull your arm free and were fascinated by the sight of these Fey markings appearing before your very eyes.

They spread from his skin upon your own, growing from his hand and fingers unto your arm.

Your eyes were glued to it, with childlike wonder you witnessed it grow up your arm. Soon they began to disappear again, leaving only a faint silver outline of them that glowed on your skin until they faded too.

Invisible to all eyes but his, the mark the Ash Folk would give to one they considered their other half.

His thumb brushed over where they had faded, still feeling their presence “I am yours, as you are mine.”

It sounded like he was claiming you as his, not to be shared for or with anyone else…

The faded marks still tingled lightly “Did you just mark me?”

He hummed content, not yet detecting the sarcasm “Perhaps.”

You arched a brow, smiling “Like a cow?”

Almost did he roll his eyes “As a woman who is the lover of an Ash Man.”

So many questions, so little answers “What are they for?”

There was the faint hint of a smirk and he brushed his hand along the arm again.

The silver markings came back to the surface of your skin, but what was more surprising is how they responded to him.

Your chest felt warm and it even made you a little lightheaded, it was quite pleasant “I feel… strange?”

He inquired gently “Good?”

You nodded, feeling the effects of the markings wear off as they vanished again “Why do they make me feel like that?”

There was a smug smirk on his face while informing “They would not cause anything if there was no connection between us. And that is why, should you one day choose to break our bond, they would vanish from your skin again.”

The look you gave told him that you had no such intentions “I never knew you had Fey magic… does my uncle know?”

If Father knew all, he doubted he would be given so much freedom “He knows of some, not all. I was taught to forsake it. I should not use the powers of evil if I am to earn my salvation and place in God’s garden.”

As he was taught to forsake all he once was…

He explained, part of it sounded like it was merely to teach you of it and part of it sounded like he was trying to make sense of it himself “Any form of magic is deemed evil, it poisons the soul. The Church fears the power the Feys have, fears what it will cause. Some even think that every time magic is used, evil enters our world.”

Was this what the Church spread about the Fey? “And that is why you do not use it.”

He gave a shallow nod, his eyes fixed on the grass “Even with this, I fear that I am tainting you. That this evil within me will spread and put it’s claim on you. I can feel it within me, like a serpent twisting into my stomach.”

What if this was his true self trying to break free from the chains put on him?

What if it was his conscious twisting at what your uncle had taught him to do?

It was a statement “You fear it…”

He confessed “I do.”

Your hand clasped around his “The answers you seek… you will not find them among Manbloods, Lancelot. My kind can only learn, but never fully know what it means to be Fey.”

He was already giving up on it “Then I shall never have answers.”

Carefully, you gave a little push for him to be more open towards his heritage “Not unless you search for them yourself.”

It would be seen as betrayal if he ever were to spend time learning more of his heritage.

His loyalty was to the Church, to Manbloods, not to the enemy in this war “You know I cannot.”

You felt him hook his index finger around yours “That is a decision only you can make. You can spend your whole life searching and fighting for a life in the hope that it will bring you solace and salvation. But to do that, should you not live life through your truest self?”

It looked like his head was spinning with all that concerned him.

You wished to comfort him “If being with you means I will be ‘tainted’’, then I accept it. That is the decision I make. I prefer to be ‘tainted’ over not being with the person who has been there for me and through so much. Damn it all, I could be your solace and salvation if you’d let me be. In this life, long before we ever reach God’s garden.”

With one quick movement, he had your back against the monastery’s wall with a look so intense that it had you at it’s mercy.

His forehead touched yours, hands kneading at your arms “You are indeed a bad influence on me.”

The gentle nudge of his nose against yours was what brought the smile back to your face.

Something passed your thoughts “Wait… how do I get back to my room without them noticing?”

He quipped “Climb back up?”

It was almost a glare “Pardon me?”

It took some effort for him not to laugh at your reaction “How else did you go back when you visited the village at night?”

You pointed at the wall “There’s no ivy here!”

He gave the hint “There is at the window of your old room.”

Your mouth opened, then snapped shut again “Oh…”

Well…

It was a short walk to the old window with the ivy growing next to it.

In the meantime he explained how much safer it was to just climb the ivy and go from room to room, than to try and reach it by sneaking through half the monastery.

It had been a while since you last climbed the ivy. He must have noticed the hesitation, because when you started to climb he stood near just in case.

For a second you stopped climbing and looked down on him, the moonlight reminded you of how striking his eyes could be “Want to climb up too?”

Those striking eyes blinked rapidly, confused for only two counts before he must have realized it had been a proposition to come to your room.

Right away they dropped down to the damp grass, the timidness causing him to rub a hand over his chin.

Finally his chin lifted up, eyes spotting that cheeky smile on your face “Is that a requirement for all those who seek your affection?”

You pulled out some ivy leaves and tossed them down at him “Very funny.”

He flashed a smile “Go on. Climb.”

It took some effort, but you reached the window and climbed into the room.

All he heard was a dull thud…

The curse words escaping were not heard and you got off of the ground you had fallen to after crawling in through the window.

Back in your old room…

You looked out the window, signaling to Lancelot that you were alright.

He signaled for you to go, a good advice before others might find you gone from the other room.

It was nerve wracking to sneak through the hallways, luckily most of the monastery was asleep at this hour.

Finally you reached the room again, the key was on the door.

After unlocking it, you went inside and hurried over to the torn sheets you had made a rope with.

You untied them from the bed and from each other, then hid them under the bed.

When later a paladin came to see if you were still there, you had heard him mumble in a panic and he had opened the door to see you ‘asleep’ in bed. The door was locked again, you had heard him turn the key.

You would need to be patient if you wanted to have a chance to have more of these moments with the monk who had stolen your heart.

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