«Cursed». Nimue/Weeping Monk. Scars (#1)
I write in Russian and use a translator. If you find any errors, please let me know about it.
Soulmate!AU, in which a person feels the pain of a soulmate if he causes it to himself. In the same way, a person feels the pain of his soulmate if he himself causes him pain.
AU, in which Nimue does not have a scar on his back from a demonic bear.
Nimue glanced at her back, which was covered with bleeding scars. The girl gritted her teeth, feeling a new blow and continued to count:
"Thirteen... Fourteen… Fifteen…"
"You are not worthy of a soul mate, my son," Father Carden said importantly, watching the Weeping Monk kneeling in front of the table with a whip in his hands.
"I am not worthy of a soul mate," the man echoed after him, striking himself with the whip again.
"Pain will cleanse you, my son," the father smiled, approaching the Monk. He watched him torture himself for a few moments, then nodded to the man.
When the Crying wounded the girl, he felt a sharp pain in his arm, in the same place where Nimue was wounded. The man did not attach any importance to this and wounded the girl in the other hand. She dropped the sword, and the Weeping Monk froze in surprise. His eyes widened.
He doesn't have a soul mate...
Nimue groped for the sword and clutched it with trembling hands. She looked like a cornered animal, however, that was how it was: they met by chance, in a clearing, when Nimue was hurrying to the shelter, and the Weeping One was on his way to meet Father Carden. Nimue's horse was frightened by the sword and reared up, throwing off its rider. She galloped away, and Nimue, falling to the ground, almost immediately jumped to her feet and drew her sword,notready for battle.
"Will you kill me?" Holding the sword out in front of her like a shield, she asked.
The Weeping Monk shook his head, but Nimue did not believe him, because she personally saw how he killed the inhabitants of her village, hung them and burned them, how he killed her friends and those who helped her, how he killed innocent people. After all, they are not responsible for their origin! It's not their fault they're faeries!
"I won't kill you, Nimue," her name didn't sound like a threat from his mouth, more like music.
She wanted to ask something, but did not have time: several people from the row of Red Paladins appeared in the clearing. They stopped when they saw the scene unfolding in front of them.
"The Weeping Monk found the Nimue girl!" whispered loudly in the ranks of the Paladins.
Feeling that he was being watched, the Weeping Monk gritted his teeth, calculating the options for the development of events. If he takes the side of the Brothers now, he will doom the girl to certain death, and if he takes the side of Nimue, they will die together.
The decision was formed in a split second. The brothers didn't expect him to turn his sword against them, not against the fae. Nimue raised her sword and also joined the Weeping Monk, defending herself from the Paladins. It took about a minute and the corpses of some members of the Brotherhood of Red Paladins were already lying on the ground.
Nimue was fighting with a couple of Paladins and the Weeping Monk covered her with himself from the swords of his brothers, directing weapons against them, he managed to mortally wound one, and the second, before he was hit, managed to hook him with a sword.
Nimue looked around, but everything was quiet. The girl looked at the cut on her arm next to the wound that came from Crying and frowned. She was sure that she had not been caught in the heat of battle, but she was not sure about the Weeping Monk.
Nimue looked at the Weeping Monk with surprise, from shock, it seems, forgetting that he was her enemy in general, although he protected her from his brethren. She lowered her sword and came closer, so that she could see his face.
"What's your name?" She narrowed her eyes.
"Lancelot," he said, looking into her eyes.
"Nimue," the girl echoed, looking at his face.
"The Fairy Queen," he didn't ask, he claimed. Nimue instantly tensed, but nodded, no longer feeling the hostility that had previously emanated from him. Weird…
"It is," she said shortly.
Nimue lowered her gaze lower.
"You're hurt," she said. Indeed, there was a deep scarlet cut on his arm, which was not hidden by the wide sleeves of his cloak, from which blood was oozing.
Lancelot shrugged his shoulders, looking at the wound.
"It always happens," he said quietly, not seeing anything wrong with it.
The girl silently rolled up her sleeve and showed a cut on her arm. Exactly the same and in the same place.
"I've already figured it out," the Weeping Monk pointed to the wound on Nimue's other hand with a movement of his fingers, and then showed the same wound on his own hand.
They were both silent for a couple of minutes. Nimue didn't know how to ask him about the scars, and was it worth it? But Lancelot understood her confusion and, as soon as the girl opened her mouth, interrupted her:
"Scars are for sins before the Church."
"And what is considered a sin in this case?" Nimue asked frowningly.
"The Church considers it the main sin that you are a fairy," said the Weeping Monk.
"Is killing faeries also a sin? You kill your own kind."
"Father Carden does not consider it a sin," the Weeping Monk blurted out faster than he had time to think.
"So are you listening to the Church or Father Carden?"
"I..." he hesitated and fell silent. Nimue frowned.
"Now you have nothing else to do in the brotherhood, right?"
"Do you want to join me?" Unexpectedly, even for herself, the young fairy suggested. She offered and immediately bit her tongue, scolding herself for her haste: Arthur, Gwen and Squirrel probably wouldn't be happy to see Crying in their ranks.
Lancelot studied her face for a moment in silence, noticing such a rapid change of emotions, and replied:
"If your friends don't mind, I would like to join you," he immediately corrected himself, "to you," the Weeping Monk bowed in front of the girl.
"Get up, Lancelot," when he stood up and looked at her, she continued, "I accept you into my..." she faltered, "squad. But I warn you, if you try to do something to my friends…"
Without letting the girl finish, the Weeping Monk closed his eyes and concentrated. He imagined that the pain was leaving the wounded arm and the wound was healing, that there was no trace of it.
Nimue gasped in amazement when she saw her wound heal right before her eyes. She continued to stare at her hand in amazement from all sides, but the cut was no longer there.
She looked up at the Weeping Monk.
"I will not harm you or your friends again," Lancelot said firmly, "I give you my word."
It was difficult to believe, incredibly difficult, because throughout his life, the Weeping Monk was the one who terrified the fae, was the one who parents frightened their naughty children. But Nimue was kind and merciful.
"Okay," she nodded, looking at him carefully, "I believe you ".
