theweepingwitch

[theweepingwitch]

The Road to Avalon - Chapter 2, The Paladin Camp

Notes: The Weeping Monk x f!reader

Been a bad time, but here you go..

Warnings: non descriptive torture, violence.

Chapter 2 - The Paladin Camp

The monk had thrown Gawain over the back of his horse. As you were not injured, he tied your hands behind you, and put another rope around your neck. As he tightened the rope, you were able to get a close look at his face. You froze in shock, and stared at him. His eyes. Not just his eyes, but your fey senses confirmed his identity. He met your eye only briefly, but long enough to see the look on your face. You knew. He turned away quickly, and led the horse out of the woods. It was bad enough the knight had seen his hand change in the leaves, now he had you to worry about.

You watched Gawain bounce on the horse, and you prayed that he would survive long enough for you to get to him.

It didn’t take long to reach your destination.

Your heart pounded as you saw the white tents of the paladin camp. Since you left Avalon, you had only seen the occasional Red Paladin, having spent most of your time in Nemos, and always well protected. This place was crawling with them. As the monk walked through the camp, paladins began to take notice of the scene. Several of them spat in your direction, curses of “Witch!” being thrown at you. Their words didn’t bother you, but you knew all too well the damage their glinting weapons could do.

The monk brought the horse to a stop before a large tent. Paladins had begun to surround the area, curious what was happening. Two men emerged from within, one in red with a white beard, the second; younger, clad in black robes. The bearded man approached the monk, raising his hands in welcome.

“You had us worried, my son.” he said. Son? You frowned at the two in confusion.

The man in black stepped forward.

“Is this him? Is this the famous Weeping Monk?” he asked, a note of admiration in his voice. The bearded man looked annoyed, but turned toward the man slightly.

“His Holiness has sent Abbot Wicklow to observe us in our campaign against the Fey.” He composed himself, and walked toward the horse.

“So... what have you brought us?”. The hooded man stepped aside to allow the red man to inspect his haul.

“The Green Knight, and someone he takes orders from.” he said. The red man clapped his hands together, then motioned for two paladins to take Gawain off the horse. Two others grabbed your arms and untied the rope.

“God smiles on us today. Oh yes.” The man you guessed now to be Father Carden stood before Gawain, a nasty look in his eye. He addressed Abbott Wicklow.

“This one...This one likes to hide up trees and shoot my men. One of them died in my arms

on a ride through the Minotaur. His name was Peter, if I recall. Fourteen. Butcher boy.

Got a barbed arrow in the neck. Died swallowing his own blood. Are you proud of that, Green Knight? No? No answer? We like that. We have Brother Salt and his kitchens for the quiet ones.” Father Carden smiled. Abbott Wicklow approached Gawain, studying his face.

“Uncanny. He almost passes for human.” he hummed. Father Carden pulled at the rope that held you, pulling your head up.

“Some can, yes. And that's how they spread.” He bent to look you in the eye now.

“By fire...or by steel, you will sing to us. And you will tell us all we need to know

about you, and your witch.” he said, looking down at your chest, his face betraying lecherous thoughts. Gawain noticed and fought against the men holding him.

“You want my words, priest?” he spat. Father Carden stood to tower over Gawain.

“Oh, I do. I do.” he said, almost sweetly. Gawain looked him in the eye.

“Are you sure? I know many things. Many secrets.” Gawain looked behind Father Carden. Towards the Monk. He shifted his weight but didn’t look at either of you. The Abbot's eyes also flicked to the monk, clearly having his suspicions. Father Carden’s voice dropped dangerously low.

“Take them to Brother Salt.”

---

Inside the tent, you and Gawain were tied to chairs. You could do nothing to help him, but it seemed that the monk had hit him to maim but save his vital organs.

“Gawain, I can pray to the Hidden for you, but I don’t know how much they can do.” you said. He nodded, groaning.

“The pain I can handle, I will not talk.” he said, defiant. You knew it was true. He was stronger than anyone you had met to date. Still, you called on the Hidden to be with him. The tent was dark, but you could clearly see the blood-crusted devices hung around the place. It was cluttered, and everything seemed to be specially designed to inflict terrible injuries.

“You, Lianna, you must be strong. They will hurt you but we cannot give into this.” he said, looking up to meet your eye. You held each other's gaze, a solemn knowing of what was to come.

“The monk,” he said suddenly. You frowned.

“What about him?” you asked

“You saw, you would know a fey if you saw one.” Gawain said. You nodded.

“How could he turn on his own kind?” you said, feeling deeply sad for the countless lives lost. Gawain shook his head, looking back towards the tent entrance. Voices were approaching.

“I do not know.” Just then a tall paladin with horrible scarred eyes entered. He was led by another paladin towards a table full of butcher’s tools.

“Do you know me, friends?” the blind man asked.

“Have you heard of Brother Salt and his Kitchen?” the man bent over and splashed water over his head before turning to face Gawain.

“Let me introduce you to some of my friends. God’s fingers, I call them.” He brandished a white hot poker he called Michael in Gawains face.

“Don’t worry, you will meet them all.” He turned his blind eyes to you.

“And you, you will watch what happens to your unholy followers.”

---

You could only watch as Brother Salt did everything in his power to break Gawain. You cried and sobbed, but held your tongue. It would do no good to speak now, they would be killing you both anyway.

Brother salt threw down his latest tool and marched over to his table, wiping the blood from his hands.

“This one breaks slow. Some soup, then we start again, with the woman.” Brother Salt huffed, but was calm as he was led out of the tent. You shuffled your chair over to Gawain, and opened your mouth to speak, but the tent flap flying open again made you stop. It was the Weeping Monk. He walked cautiously around to the tent, stopping several feet away, facing the table. An uncomfortable silence hung in the air.

“Don’t be afraid, Ash Man. We don’t bite.” You stared at Gawain, then at the monk, who had turned to look at the bound man. He had a look of confusion on his face.

“It’s those eyes. The mark of the Ash Folk. There haven’t been any in these lands for centuries. How is it you found your way here?” Indeed, Ash Folk were almost extinct. They had been amongst the first to fall when christians first arrived. You were surprised Gawain knew that identifying mark at all, given how long it had been. The monk was silent.

“Have you just come to watch me die?”

“Why didn’t you tell them, before?” the monk cut him off.

“Because all fey are brothers, even the lost ones.” Gawain said. The monk stood silent, studying Gawain, who groaned in pain.

“This pain, it will cleanse you.” the statement made you scoff. Gawain shook his head.

“You parrot their words, but you know it’s all lies.” he said, “I can feel it in you, my brother.”

“You are not my brother.” the monk snapped. Anger rose in you now.

“They have turned your mind so far inside out that you no longer know the difference between kindness and hate.” you snapped, your words moving the monk to pace around the room. It was only now you noticed the pull deep in your being where your healer's abilities lived. Pain, such unimaginable anguish seeped from the man. You could almost cry from the weight of it.

“Who did this to you?” The monk moved again to stand before Gawain, not looking at you.

“We are saving souls. Your soul.” he said. Gawain glared at the monk.

“Tell that to the little ones that you burn.”

“I don’t harm the children.” Gawain shook with rage.

“You burn their homes, slay their mothers and fathers, and you watch as your red brothers run them down on horses. And you see it all through those weeping eyes. That makes you guilty.” The monk shook his head, and marched toward the tent opening.

“Brother,” Gawain called after him, “You can fight. I’ve never seen anything like it. You could be our strongest warrior. Your people need you.”

“You are not my people!” the monk said again. Gawain gave him a challenging look.

“Then tell them. If this is where you belong, tell them what you are.” The monk stared at him.

“I will pray for you.” he answered. You glared at him.

“And we for you.” The monk gave you a quick glance before rushing from the tent.

You stared at Gawain.

“Are you insane? Bring him to the Fey? After everything he’s done?” you asked. He looked at you, eyes intense.

“You know better than I what we do to bring back our fallen. We don’t know why he is here...but he could be our greatest ally. You have not seen him as I have.” Gawain said. You sighed.

“I doubt we will get the chance. Once the blind man gets back we’re dead.” you said.

No sooner had you said the words, paladins entered the tent. They marched past you and roughly took Gawain away, ignoring your pleas to be gentle. You had never felt so helpless, and you were sure this was the last time you would see Gawain alive. You cried as the sun set, left alone with the dripping butchers tools.

---

You were left alone for so long you had begun to wonder if they had forgotten you were here when the tent flap once again opened.

“Squirrel!” The boy was being dragged by the scruff by an annoyed looking man. The paladin holding him threw him roughly into a chair.

“Don’t hurt him, please he’s just a child.” you begged. The paladin finished tying Squirrel, and turned. He raised his arm and back handed you across the face, leaving blood in your mouth. Your eyes watered as your cheek burned. The paladin grabbed your chin and raised your face to look at him.

“Bite your tongue or I will remove it.” he said, smiling darkly. You stayed silent, but your eyes burned with anger. To your relief he left immediately, beckoned away by someone outside. You turned to Squirrel, whose face was red.

“What happened?” you asked, seeing the dried tears. The boy just shook his head, fresh tears in his eyes. Gawain.

“Percival,” you said gently. He wouldn’t look up or meet your eye.

“Percival, he would be proud of your bravery.” the boy sniffed.

“He made me a knight.” That confirmed it then. He must have seen Gawain first, and been caught.

“No matter what happens, you remember how brave you are, alright?”

---

Night had fallen now. The only light in the tent was the few candles that someone had lit a while earlier. Through the fabric of the tent you could see men sitting around fires, winding down for the evening. A rustling pulled your attention, and Brother Salt made his way back in. He was alone this time, and needed no guide as he made his way around with ease. After a few moments, he picked up a gruesome looking tool. Squirrel’s breathing was speeding up, fear coming off him in waves you could sense without trying. Brother Salt stood before the boy, grinning.

“Shall we play now?” he asked.

“You’re the ugliest of them all! Inside and out.” Squirrel’s shout made you jump in surprise.

“Boy shut your mouth!” you said harshly, but the boy kept going.

“Kill me, fine, but you’ll still be you forever. And thats a worse hell than anything I can think of!” Brother Salt turned to his work table, feeling for, and finding a long knife.

“The tongue first, I think.” he said. Squirrels eyes shot between the knife and the paladins face.

“Go on, I’ll still keep talking, I’ll be in your nightmares talking, telling you how ugly you are. When you try and wake up, your eyes won’t open because you sewed them up like a bloody idiot!” You stared at the child. He was either the bravest or the most foolish boy you had ever seen. The Paladin chuckled, apparently amused by this outburst. He suddenly turned his head, as if to look behind him.

“Who's there?” he asked. The dark form of the hooded monk came from behind the blind man, who smiled.

“Come to watch, my weeping brother?” You stared in shock as the blade slid across Brother Salt’s throat. Quickly, the monk bent forward and cut the boy free, then yours.

“What are you doing?” you whispered. He didn’t answer, but grabbed your arm and the boys, rushing you out into the night.

What the hell he was doing he wasn’t sure. All he knew was he wasn’t about to let a child be alone with Brother Salt, no matter the cost. And it dawned on him how high that cost was. This was a betrayal of everything Father Carden had instilled in him. But the Green Knight's words had got to him. It was all lies…

All he had now was this boy, and fey woman. Getting them to safety was all he focused on.

You held Squirrel as close to you as you could, trying to shield him however you could. Your heart pounded with adrenaline.

The camp was still active, but quieter. Under the cover of darkness, the monk managed to lead you almost to the edge of camp. Almost.

“I wouldn’t.” The monk stopped. You turned to see Abbott Wicklow, and several black robed men in golden masks blocking the path. The monk pushed Squirrel and you behind him protectively.

The abbott cocked his head.

“Does he remind you of someone, this, fey orphan?” he asked mockingly.

“You don't need him.” the monk said.

“Why? Can’t he smell out his own kind like some sort of animal? Or is that just your species?”

This is the end Lancelot thought.

“Find cover.” Not needing to be told twice, you grabbed hold of Squirrel and ran. Thankfully none of the paladins followed. You pushed Squirrel down between some barrels, and threw a sac overtop of you. You could hear the fight, and the sounds of flesh being torn apart. Squirrel pushed up to watch.

“Squirrel no!” you tried to pull him back but he pushed your hands away.

“They’re going to kill him!” he cried. You looked through a space in the barrels and saw him. But man after man fell to his sword.

“My gods…” Never had you seen anything like that. But now the monk was on his knees, swords gone. In your distraction, Squirrel ran back towards the monk, picking up a fallen sword.

“Whose first?!” he shouted.

"No!" You screamed as you rushed out to grab the child.

It was the moment Lancelot needed, with all the strength he could gather he swung his blade and killed the remaining assailants. He stumbled towards you and you rushed to grab him, keeping him on his feet.

"Goliath." He managed to get out, you didn't understand but threw his arm around your shoulders and yelled at Squirrell to follow. You ran as well as you could half dragging the monk towards the treeline. As if sent by God the massive horse you had been brought into camp on appeared. No words were needed as the monk reached for the saddle. You helped him up and lifted Squirrel to sit in front of him. Then the monk reached for you, and you gladly took his hand, sitting behind him. You wrapped an arm around so you could reach the boy but the monk grabbed your hand and pressed it firmly against his chest.

"Hold on."

You barely had time to cling for your life as Goliath took off into the night.

[theweepingwitch]

I understand the appeal of “vestiges of pagan thought” and the desire to see traditions you’re seeking to reconstruct or revive in your practice as having carried over through conversion and of being purely pagan in origin, trust me, I get it, I used to be one of those people…… but I am begging all of you to please read an actual history book and understand that syncretism and conversion were real things that happened and that not all of these traditions that you find beautiful, magical, holy, etc were of pagan origin. But that doesn’t make them any less beautiful, magical, or holy- and it certainly doesn’t remove them from the culture you’re focusing on. They can still inform you about the culture you’re focusing on and give you inspiration for your own practice without being purely pagan. The real actual history of things is just as fascinating and usually more fascinating than the made up “vestiges of pagan thought” history you’ve been spoon fed and you shouldn’t be afraid to look into it.

[theweepingwitch]

Road to Avalon - Ch1 Caught

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

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

Rating: M, but this ch not really

Warnings: fighting, violence, death

Chapter 1 - Caught

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

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

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

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

“What is it?” you asked.

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

“They found us?” the elder nodded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I can only hope to be worthy of it.”

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

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

“Be safe.”

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“are an extra gift for Father.”

[theweepingwitch]

Road to Avalon - Prologue

This is my first fic in AGES. straight up made a new tumblr account just to do something with it. I only just went and watched Cursed and the angst gods gifted us a trauma ridden sad boy with a man bun oh lord

I mean come on now.

Thats just unfair. 

This fic is going to be a longer one, slow burn and some world building. The show gave us so many little timbits I just had to use them. 

The Weeping Monk x Reader

Rating: M, violence (we stay away from sexual violence here), language, NSFW

Warnings: Violence

Prologue 

Fire.

Fire burned everywhere, the air itself seems to glow with embers and smoke. Panicked screams filled the air, red men on horses thundered through the camp, swinging blades shining with blood. The boy's mother held him close, trying to shield him from the carnage.

“Burn them all! God’s justice will be done!” 

Firm hands grabbed at the boy, others at his mother. She screamed as they were torn apart, the boy watched as the sword cut through her neck, blood spilling everywhere. He was dragged, he screamed but the red man did not care. The man threw the boy to the ground, at the feet of his leader.

“It’s a child, Father Carden.” 

…

You made your way through the halls of the Council. Trees grown into high ceilings, and soft mosses on the ground. To be summoned here was a great honour. Avalon was led by the Council of Fey, the most respected Elders of the Old Clans. They were powerful, and commanded the respect of all. You had been here once before, to take your oath as Lianna, a healer bound to the Hidden. But this time you had no occasion to be there. 

It was with baited breath that you knocked on the Council door. 

“Enter”

You pushed open the door, and the room came into view. For people called the Council of Avalon, they were humble in their surroundings. Six of them sat around a hearth as equals in a semicircle. You approached and knelt in the space where a 7th member would sit. You bowed low to the ground.

“It is an honour to be called before you, Council.” you said to the earth. 

“Rise, Lianna.” the Elder Fawns voice came from your left. You did as you were told. 

“We have a task for you,” She said. You nodded. 

“Anything the Hidden need of me.” The Fawn Elder smiled. Beside her sat one of the last of the Tree Folk, an Oakman. He leaned forward slightly. 

“You are to go to Nemos, and lend your aid to the resistance there.” he said. Your eyes widened. 

“I am no warrior, why do the Hidden need me there?” you asked. To leave the Avalon, and the Black Wood would be deadly. The Moonwing Elder seated to your right spoke.

“The Sword of Power has been found. The future of the Fey is unfolding before us, and we have few chances to secure our survival in the coming Age of Men.” The others nodded in agreement. Your heart beat hard with adrenaline. 

“Still, I am no warrior.” your voice shook.

The Oakman raised his voice a little, stern but not unkind.

“As Lianna you are first and foremost a protector. You have been trained with the sword and bow, and you will use the gifts the Hidden have given you as your Oath demands.” he said. You bowed your head, slightly ashamed.

“I am afraid.” you confessed. The Fawn Elder smiled kindly.

“The Hidden have set this path before you, and on it, you will meet your destiny.”

[theweepingwitch]

we’re back to that old obsession lads

[theweepingwitch]

No one:

Literally No one:

Witches: Shit... I forgot about Imbolc.