I Wish I could Live More than One Lifetime: Weeping Monk x Reader
Multiverse, incorrect use of bible verses, incorrect use of language, and a lot of plot holes. I will add warnings along the way (and edit.)
Sneak peak, I guess? This one would probably be one sided because we all know who Lancelot has an affair with in the original story, idk, might change my mind later on. This is my first time posting one of my stories, specially writing a fanfic, so I am sorry if I'm still adjusting...and the story sucks. Let me know what I needed to change in my writing, it would be very much appreciated. Also, English is my second language and I'm still learning so I'm sorry if I also suck at it. I would drop some more fanfic too as I add more for this chapter because I can't stay on one task at hand.
Happy reading!
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A loud groan escaped Y/N mouth as she rolled to her side, dirt and stone cling and dig to her dress and exposed skin leaving marks in their wake. Although confused, she couldn't find the power to open her eyes and find out if she really is lying on the side of the road as the effects of the alcohol is still present in her body.
She really should stop drinking if she doesn't want to end up sleeping on the street and having one of her friends carry her home or the police to take her to the station until someone claim her...again. A sigh escaped her glossy lips as fragments of memories starts replaying in her mind, one where she was at her friend's house watching yet another netflix series, as pieces of popcorns littered the small coffee table in front of them and the couch, the three of them laughing as they throw popcorns at each other and drank some alcohol she didn't remember the name of. Then it suddenly jumped to her and one of her friends driving home after that same night, both laughing at something the other said, clearly drunk. If she think hard enough, she could still feel the steering wheel in the palm of her hands and the cold wind as it pass through the open window of the car and to her cheeks. Her friend on the passenger side leaned on the car window and screamed into the night and she risked a quick look at her and laugh before a blinding light and horn took her attention back on the road, she panicked and she swerve the car away from the truck.
She immediately opened her eyes at the memory, not caring if the rays of the bright sun attack her eyes or the headache that she suddenly feel coming after or even the nausea that came after she rose from her position.
"NO! No, no, no," The unfamiliarity of her surrounding and the last of her memory was the last thread that held her sanity together making her stomach churn and empty her stomach's content. The sound of something coming—not a car, unfamiliar from behind her made her stop and she turned to look at the sound, or rather, the black horse. She doesn't remember travelling to the countryside, she and her friends lives in the middle of the city for god sake! Her eyes snapped to the two person riding the said horse and she wonders if her eyes would pop out of their socket any time soon by how wide they are now, she immediately recognized the two of them. How couldn't she? It is the last show they've watched before she and her other friend went home. The three of them loves Percival and also gushing at how hot the weeping monk is, specially when fighting.
But no, this is not happening. This couldn't be happening. Are they really infront of her? How? They're--not real.
"Oh my god! Oh my god, oh my god. This can't be happening! I'm still drunk aren't I? No, oh my god where is my phone, I need to call someone, the police! Before I loose my mind." Lancelot visibly winced at excessive use of the Lord's name in vain, though he didn't say anything as he is too weak to do so as he avoided looking past the woman's face. All the while Percival watch the crazy woman standing in front of them now with confusion and concern. Mainly concern, for himself and Lancelot who is still very much injured.
The woman looks...different. The crazy kind. She wears something that isn't approriate for a woman to wear, a dress that looks like it is made of expensive fabric, but it is too short, tight, and leaves nothing to the imagination. The dress stops at exactly her mid-thigh and then her shoes, they have never seen something like it before, it doesn't look like it is made for a walk in the woods and they both wonder how in the hell did this woman managed to stand in those.
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I will end it here for the meantime so I could finish the whole chapter, lemme know if you want me to continue this one and please drop some advice so I could learn. Thank you!
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."
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"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.
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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.
It has come to my attention that I am in love with yet another fictional character and I have decided to write for them. Starting with the weeping monk.
Story Summary: The Huntsman, that is what they called your brother. A name he had earned by hunting down the fey for coin. Coin that is given by Father Carden for his services. You refuse to stand aside and watch how your brother hunts down those who are fey. When you start to warn the fey camps your brother wishes to attack, you find yourself behind enemy lines. But when the Weeping Monk becomes suspicious of you, you realise you are playing with fire.
Chapter Summary: You are still in a state of shock after what happened and Lancelot questions why you had wished to show mercy to the Huntsman.
Notes: Maybe I’ll post 20 in a bit as well, I don’t know. Took me 2 hours to proofread this one yikes. At least I made a new gif so there.
Warnings: None, I think.
Word count: 2038 words in this chapter.
Chapter: 19/ 33+ something (buckle up, it’s a wild ride.)
After riding like that for hours, you felt yourself grow more relaxed holding onto Lancelot. You didn't hate him like you had once done, you didn't know how to feel about him now. Could you trust him ? It felt so confusing. Still, you felt yourself grow tired after all this time without proper sleep and rested your head against his back. You hated to admit that feeling him breath calmly like this almost made you doze off. The thought that you might fall off the horse was what kept you awake. He had felt you lean closer against him, felt your head resting against his back and how you seemed more comfortable with holding on to him like this. Lancelot worried you would fall asleep and end up plummeting off of Goliath. It was time to halt somewhere and offer Goliath some rest as well. The last thing he wanted was to exhaust the loyal horse. He finally halted the horse near a river bank. He helped the boy off of the horse first before helping you, and he noticed you were having some difficulty dismounting. The Huntsman had not been merciful to you, and neither had his henchmen. When one of them had pushed you back to the ground with his boot, it had been in the spot where the boy had spotted the large bruise. And before that, the Huntsman had brutally kicked you in the stomach.
He would offer to check on them to see the severity of your bruises or injuries but he feared you would not appreciate the offer. Lancelot could feel that you did not trust him yet, you were not afraid but it did not mean you were comfortable around him. Lastly he dismounted and winced when he felt the thread on one of his sewed up wounds pull at his skin. The fey medicine you had given him had blocked out most of the pain, now he regretted not taking that chest with him. He could have made you drink the rest of that fey medicine instead of watching you be in pain now. You were glad he had picked this place to stop, so close to a river. You held a hand tightly against your abdomen. You felt the familiar burning pain that you had felt many times before, but it was worse this time. Draegan had kicked you before but never this brutally. You looked down at your hands, blood was stuck to them. And then you remembered that drops of his blood were also on your face.
Lancelot had noticed the shift in your behaviour and watched as you walked a small distance away from them before you knelled besides the river.
“Is she going to be alright ?” The boy looked up at him with a look of doubt.
A look that he shared with the boy “I'll go and see.”
“What should I do then ?” Percival was starting to sound bored.
“Do you know how to make a fire ?” He looked down at the boy, already guessing the answer when the boy looked at him as if he had insulted him.
“Do I look stupid to you ?” The boy shook his head, visibly irritated “You're not the only one who can set things on fire, you know ?”
The boy had a way to mentally slap him with his words, it was definitely one of Percival's talents. He elected to ignore that last sentence “Collect some firewood, and...set it on fire. It will be dark soon.”
“And you will talk to y/n while I do that ?” The boy seemed interested in that, there was a hidden undertone in his question.
He narrowed his eyes for a moment when he detected the undertone “Yes...what else would I do ?”
Even though the boy was nowhere near his height he stared him down for a moment before shrugging his shoulders “Alright then.”
He was perplexed by the boy's reaction, Percival seemed rather protective over you. But then again, you had always been kind to the boy so it should not come as a suprise. Lancelot turned to look in your direction and watched as you washed your hands in the river, one look at you and the memory of his own reaction to killing someone for the first time came back to him.
You were shaking when the water from the river streamed through your hands and watched as the water turned pink. The memory of you stabbing Draegan and watching as he collapsed to the ground flooded your mind. It happened so fast and you still couldn't believe that was your instinctive reaction. You swallowed the lump in your throat and started to rub your hands roughly, wanting to wash away the results of your unspeakable actions. Only when the skin of your hands started to hurt, did you stop. The blood was gone, but you could still feel it's phantom lingering, as if it had sunken into your skin. You wanted that feeling to go away, to be erased. But no matter how long you would try and wash it off, you knew it would taint you forever.
You were indeed the Huntsman's sister. A killer just like he was. You closed your eyes and felt the tears stream down your face. Your parents would never have forgiven you if they had still been alive. All of your kin was gone now, your brother had murdered your sister and now you had murdered your brother. When you heard quiet footsteps approach you quickly washed the blood and tears from your face. You didn't bother looking behind you when you heard him get closer, there was only one person you knew that was able to walk this quietly. He had always caught you off-guard because of it.
Lancelot had tried to think of something to say while he was walking over to you, but they had vanished from his mind when he noticed the tears staining your cheeks before you had washed them away. After a moment of silence he could only state what he believed was true “You did the right thing, y/n.”
“The right thing ?” You scoffed in disbelieve, it was audible how upset you were “I killed someone, I killed my own brother !”
He looked down at you, watching how you fought back the tears that were so evidently forming in your eyes “You had no other choice. He was not going to stop ! Had you not pushed me away when you did, I doubt we would both be here now.”
Deep down you knew Lancelot was right, but the guilt was clouding your mind.
“Why did you stop me then ? His blood would have been on my hands, not yours.” He still questioned why you had asked him to show mercy to the Huntsman.
You looked up at him and let out a sigh "Violence should never be the norm. Maybe he could have changed his ways.”
He found the mercy you had shown towards your brother both odd and admirable “Would he have shown you the same compassion ?” He knew the answer, but he was curious if you realised that the Huntsman wouldn't have blinked twice if you died.
You shook your head and let out a bitter laugh “He would have sold me off like cattle if I stopped serving his purpose. You heard what he said, what he would have let his men do...”
Lancelot had heard the threat, he had heard it loud and clear, and he had wanted to have the satisfaction of killing the Huntsman himself because of it.
“He has hurt you before...has he not ?” He gingerly reached down to touch your arm with the tips of his fingers, the one that he knew was covered in the bruises he had seen that day in the forest. You looked at his hand lightly touching your lower arm, the sleeve of your jacket covered the evidence he was referring to.
You nodded in silence, and then you felt him lightly touching your jaw, making you tilt your head so your neck was more exposed. You looked up at him and saw how he was looking at the bruises in your neck now.
“Many times ?” His fingers were almost touching your neck now.
You moved a little out of his reach and he moved his hand away “Many enough. It was worse when I was defiant, as you have seen.”
He was eerily quiet, ever since he met you he had known you to be defiant. You had shown him almost nothing else but defiance for so long, and it dawned on him that even with his reputation you always had been less afraid of him then you were of the Huntsman. Otherwise you had not shown him such defiance all this time.
Lancelot suspected what the answer to his question would be, but he wanted to hear the truth from you “Why didn't you leave ? If he hurt you... why not leave ?”
You shrugged your shoulders, a sad smile on your lips as you looked at the water “He was my kin and he did terrible things. If I stayed I could help those he wished to harm. I couldn't just turn away knowing that I could make a difference. As long as I stayed close I could help the fey.”
He swallowed thickly, he felt horrible thinking back to all the times he had threatened your life. You were suffering all this time and him hounding you had only added to that. He saw pieces of himself in you, both withstanding the silent suffering beside the ones who sought to 'cleanse' the fey.
A bitter chuckle escaped you “Besides, I have no one else. He murdered my sister, he practically raised me. Well...raised...”
By raised you meant he had practically shoved you into the hands of anyone close enough at that moment, to be cared for. Of course the people of Mirstone did not like the responsibility of caring for the little sister of the feared Huntsman, so they shoved some food in your hands out of pity before leaving you to yourself. You often spoke to the other children, but friendship was not an option. The parents would not allow their children to bond with you, it wasn't until you were almost an adult that the people you had grown up with started to treat you like a normal person. But it was not friendship. They feared the Huntsman too much to get close to his sister.
The words escaped him before he could stop them, because to him they were a truth that needed to be voiced “You're not alone anymore, y/n.”
You frowned when you heard him say that and looked up at him questioningly. He shifted on his feet, something he had always done when he was uncomfortable. What had he meant by that ? Did he... ?
Finally he cleared his throat and gestured in the direction of the boy “He needs us.”
It was not how he wanted to tell you this, but he worried how you would respond if he outrightly told you that he wished to remain in your presence. So he had pointed out that the boy needed both him and you and hoped you would understand the unspoken truth.
You looked in the direction of the boy “Oh...”
For a moment you had thought he was talking about himself, you caught yourself feeling silently disappointed that that was not the case. You brushed the strange feeling aside and quirked a brow at him “Well, according to him he doesn't need us.”
Lancelot looked in the direction of the boy again before smirking down at you “Who else will tell him that if he makes that fire any larger they will see us all the way back to Mirstone ?”
You quickly whipped your head around and saw how large the fire already was, and when Percival tossed another piece of firewood in it you jumped to your feet. Lancelot was looking impressed by it, and you groaned in frustration before making your way over to the boy.
Story Summary: The Huntsman, that is what they called your brother. A name he had earned by hunting down the fey for coin. Coin that is given by Father Carden for his services. You refuse to stand aside and watch how your brother hunts down those who are fey. When you start to warn the fey camps your brother wishes to attack, you find yourself behind enemy lines. But when the Weeping Monk becomes suspicious of you, you realise you are playing with fire.
Chapter Summary: You sneak the Monk and Percival into Mirstone. Helping the Monk proves difficult as his stubborness matches your own.
Notes: Let me know what you think, please. ^.^ And sorry for some of the next chapters to come. And yep I am re-using some of the gifs I made. Also this chapter was absolute hell to write, I had like five different versions to piece this together whelp
Warnings: Trauma, mentions of selfharm, mentions of past abusive violence.
Word count: 2841 words in this chapter.
Chapter: 15/ 33+ something (buckle up, it’s a wild ride.)
Night had already fallen when you arrived at Mirstone, both of you had agreed that it would be wise to leave the horses in a safe place nearby just in case. You knew you would have to sneak them into the village, preferably without being spotted, you did have a fey boy with you. Luckily you had lived here long and guided the Monk and Percival past the tents and homes with ease.
The Monk suddenly stopped you in your tracks when he spotted one of your brother's men "Over there."
You looked at where he was pointing at. Your eyes narrowed when you saw him.
Ah. Brogan.
"We will have to wait until he leaves." The Monk let out a pained groan, starting to regret coming here at all.
Brogan was drinking from his flask, filled with ale no doubt. As the Monk lowered to his knees to rest for a moment you took his moment of faltered alertness to move away from him and the boy. Percival noticed, you brought a finger to your lips gesturing for him to remain silent. He gave a short nod but watched with wary eyes as you picked up a shovel that was leaning against a tent.
You sneaked up to Brogan who had his back turned to you, only then did the Monk become aware of your absence. He immediately looked up only to see you slam the metal of the shovel against the back of Brogan's head. Brogan hit the ground as he fell unconcious. You grabbed that stupid ragged hat from his head and shoved it in his mouth before removing his belt and using it to tie his hands behind his back.
It gave you a sick sense of gratification "I should have done that much earlier..."
You beckoned for Percival and the Monk to come your way. The latter looked impressed but not happy with your action.
You supported him again as you helped him to your home.
"That was reckless." He actually scolded you.
"Says the man that tried to free a woman and boy, and ended up having to fight the Trinity Guards." You shot back.
"I won..." He quietly protested and actually smirked at the memory.
"Barely." You quipped nodding to him, to the state he was in.
He rolled his eyes at your comment, knowing it was true. He wouldn't have survived. He didn't plan to survive the fight. He had given you an oppurtunity to run away with the boy. Never had he expected that you would risk your lives to help him. And yet, here you were, dragging him to your home. The last time he was there he had held his sword to your throat and now you were helping him.
With some difficulty you were able to open the door, it's hinges were terribly rusty. It creaked open and you helped him inside, it would be a stupid thing to help him downstairs. The door let into the kitchen immediately, if someone were to look inside through the windows they would discover you instantly.
“We should go to my bedchamber. They could see us through the windows down here.” You looked at the Monk apologetic.
He moved away from you and leaned against the wall, clearly not looking forward to having to climb a set of stairs.
“Percival, you go first. Don't want you to be behind us in case he falls down. Okay ?” There was a possibility it would happen.
“Alright, fine. Do I help ?” The boy looked up at you and the Monk.
You shook your head “No, thank you. This could get dangerous.”
The boy nodded in understanding and hurried up the stairs, looking down at you now “Well, come on then !”
You nodded to the Monk, not able to suppress the chuckle coming from you “You heard him. Do you need my help ?”
The Monk seemed to consider your offer, alerting you that he was indeed not fit to climb the stairs on his own in his state. You didn't wait for his answer and moved his arm over your shoulder and wrapped your arm around his back. He was taken aback by your action but let you help him up the stairs this way. It took a while but you managed to get him upstairs without tumbling down the steps. He leaned against the doorway breathing heavily, as he regained his composure. Now came the awkward part, for you to be able to help him and stitch up his wounds, you would have to see them. And by the uncomfortable silence in the room you knew the Monk was aware of it.
“It is hard to treat wounds you can't see...” You broke the silence and tried to sound casual.
The Monk gave a nod, not looking at you. You looked at the boy who quirked a brow and shrugged. You cleared your throat and awkwardly held out a hand towards the Monk. The situation was uncomfortable for both of you but this was not speeding things up at all. His eyes focused on you now, he send you an inquiring look. You straightened your back, not wanting to show how nervous you were “Shall I take your cloak ?”
Being straightforward proved fruitful as he finally started to take off his cloak, he handed it to you and you put it aside while he started to peel off the other layers that covered his torso.
You averted your eyes and looked to the boy instead “Are you hungry ?”
His eyes widened and he nodded, you quickly went downstairs to grab some bread and leftovers you could find before going back to your room. You gave the food to the boy who uttered a 'thank you' as he shoved some bread in his mouth. You had also brought something to eat for the Monk, and put it aside. You finally looked at the Monk and felt your breath hitch in your throat. Sure, you had seen a man's torso before but none of the people in your village looked like this. The Monk was far more muscular then you could have guessed. Of course he would be, with all that fighting he did. You hated to admit that even with the dark bruises and the bleeding wounds he looked good. If he had been anyone else you would have complimented him, but this was the person who had threatened your life not long ago in the room downstairs. The Monk had not noticed you staring at him, he was busy examining the wounds on his abdomen. When he turned a little to examine one on the side of his body right below his rib cage your gaze fell on his back and you swallowed back a gasp. Scars were scattered all over his back, recent wounds were mixed between them. Your brother often 'joked' how the Red Paladins were Father Carden's whipped hounds. That was his way of saying some of them engaged in self-flagellation to cleanse themselves. The amount of scars shocked you, you doubted the other paladins would have this many of them. Deep down you knew this was because the Monk felt he needed to cleanse himself over something he could not control, his fey heritage.
Most were healed but there were recent ones that looked no longer then a day old. Had he done this to himself the day he saved you and the boy ? Had he felt so much inner turmoil that he felt he needed to suffer for it ?
He turned to look at you, having picked up on the uncomfortable silence. You averted your eyes, trying not to show that you had been staring but he had caught you doing it.
"I can see if I have something for those..." You quietly spoke and gestured to his back.
The Monk quietly shook his head even though the wounds on his back were burning "There is not enough time. It will be dawn soon."
He went to sit down on the edge of your bed.
You gave a nod in understanding, you knew it would be dawn soon but something told you that that wasn't the real reason why he had refused your help.
You grabbed the bowl of water you had on the table next to your bed and wetted the piece of cloth, preparing to clean the wounds so you could treat them.
“How did you get those ?” The boy suddenly asked and you saw the Monk's expression change. He swallowed thickly not acknowledging the question. How could he even start to explain it to the boy ?
You picked up on his reluctance to answer and turned to the boy "Percival, will you help me ?" He quickly nodded and you started to give him instructions. "Thank you, listen well. Go downstairs, crawl under the table. One of the floorboards is loose, under there you will find a small chest with some bottles with fey medicine and herbs. Will you bring me that chest, please ?" The boy had left the room to fetch the items without replying.
"He's eager to help..." You let out a chuckle unaware the Monk was staring at you.
When you looked at him, you shrugged your shoulders "What ?"
He scoffed and shook his head, not believing how reckless you had been "You keep fey items in your home ? If they had known they would have killed you just for that."
You rinsed the extra water out of the cloth and he held his hand out to take the cloth from you, he wasn't looking at you, his attention was on one of the wounds on his torso now.
"That's why they were hidden." You casually said before reaching out with your hand to his bare arm, close to the deep gash he had there. He had removed your scarf to examine it. You had just wanted to clean away the blood to look at the wound but he flinched when he felt the damp cloth touch his arm, never expecting you to take it upon yourself to help him like this.
"I...can do it." So few words and yet he stumbled over them.
You raised a brow looking at him in doubt “Don't take this the wrong way, but you already hit the ground not long ago and I almost had to carry you up those few steps. If you insist on doing this alone you will still be here when the sun rises.”
The Monk scoffed at your comment and shook his head muttering “...carry me..”
You ignored him and tried to touch his arm so you could help him.
He moved so he stayed out of your reach, some of the blood running down his arm landed on your sheets.
"Stop moving and stop bleeding !" You said in frustration.
It made him look at you, eyes slightly widened. It made you realise how strange that probably sounded to him. "You're ruining my sheets, blood isn't easy to wash out you know ?" You almost pouted at the red now staining your white sheets.
"I'm aware." He stated the obvious as he looked at the sheets now.
Finally you sighed and spoke, your voice dripping with sarcasm "Would you be more at ease if you had your sword in your hands ? You weren't this uncomfortable when you visited my home the last time."
He stared at you for a moment and then he understood what you were talking about. The night he had warned you to stop warning the fey. He had felt strange when he had to hold you into place back then too, it had felt almost intimate then as well. But now you were trying to touch his bare skin and he didn't know why it made him so nervous, as if it was almost sinful. Which was ridiculous because you were just trying to help. It was his upbringing that caused him to react like this, he knew it was.
"You were not trying to help me that night if I recall." He deadpanned.
You frowned at that "You are more comfortable with me hitting you with a pan, then me helping you ?"
In truth, he was used to violence. He was not used to soft hands carefully touching him. So you were not far from the truth when you had asked that.
He answered with a hint of sarcasm "People don't usually touch me to help me."
"I wonder why." You shot back.
He looked up at you at that, noting the smirk that disappeared a second later.
"I mean... you are not making it easy for me here..." You gestured to him, damp cloth still in your hands "Did you never see a healer ?"
He had, even though he always tried to avoid getting an injury bad enough that he would need a healer "I have."
"Well, think of me as a healer then...it's the same thing." You tried your best to convince him.
He scoffed at that, knowing it was not the same at all. He never spoke to the healers, he didn't know anything about them and none of them were women.
"It's not the same." He replied, sounding a bit shorter then he had intented.
You were getting frustrated, this was going nowhere "Why ? What's the difference between me helping you or another stranger ?"
"You are." The words spilled out of him and he wished he had kept his mouth shut.
You were silent now as you thought about that statement.
He really did not wish to elaborate further on that, what would he even say ? That you touching his skin made him feel...strange ? A foreign feeling, something he had not felt before. Something he could not place. Only that it did not feel bad. That was perhaps the problem, it felt pleasant. It was something he believed he shouldn't feel.
Then you came to your own conclusion "You don't trust me to help you..."
He looked up at you right away, one thing he did know for certain was that he trusted you. Sure, you had lied to him about having stopped with warning the fey, but otherwise you had always been honest. Blatantly and recklessly honest sometimes. And you could have left him to die alone in the forest, instead you had brought him into your home to help him.
"I trust you." It was a statement that he needed you to hear.
You were not expecting to hear that coming from the Monk.
You were a bit taken aback "If you do, then please let me help you before you bleed to death on my bed."
He avoided looking at you, the conflict inside of him was clawing at him.
You took his silence as refusal “An infection could kill you ! Don't you care if you live or die ?!"
"Not really. No." The truth came from his mouth faster then he could prevent it.
"I care ! So stop moving and let me help you !" You were exasperated at this point. It appears that the more frustrated you became, the more stubborn he got so you tried a different approach.
You let out a deep sigh “Please, let me help you... Lancelot.” It was strange saying his name out loud for the first time.
And unbeknownst to you, hearing you call him by his actual name for the first time was why he finally gave in. He had only ever heard you call him 'Monk' until now. Finally he caved in, he looked at you and slowly nodded.
You cautiously took his arm in your hand and started to clean away the blood. You couldn't help but feel nervous, you couldn't push the thought away that you were washing blood off of someone who could easily kill you if he wanted to.
You tried to push the thought away, so far he had not threatened you anymore. You tried to be gentle but time was of the essence, this had to be finished before dawn. And in your haste you accidentally rubbed against the wound too roughly. He actually let out a short pained yell and you jumped and flinched as if he had hit you even though he had not laid a hand on you. You had sewn up your brother before, before you knew how he got his wounds. After you found out the truth about the origin of his wounds you had sewed him up one last time and did such a terrible job that he no longer demanded you to do so. But you were so used to your brother hitting you when you accidentally hurt him while sewing him up that it caused you to panic now. And you did what you had always done in that situation, you apologized.
“I'm sorry..I...I didn't mean to...” Your voice shook and your hands trembled.
Notes: ^ my gif. Glad to see people are liking this story. Can’t wait to see your reactions on the next chapter :0)
Summary: As a fey queen you are by now used to it that fey come into your woods seeking refugee or a place to hide. Things get complicated however when your knights have not just brought a fey boy but also the red paladins’ fiercest warrior into your city.
Chapter Summary: After dinner you went to the library to see if you could find out what kind of fey Lancelot actually is. You go to the infirmary to have a personal conversation with him about what you saw in the forest.
You had ordered Raphael to inform everyone that Lancelot was permitted to carry his weapons freely again. As well as informing them that he would be training Percival himself.
When you met them you had sensed many things through the boy.
But him.. the Weeping Monk... Lancelot..
Even though you were skeptical, you could sense something coming from him.
But you never expected that he was fey. It had made you wonder what kind he was ?
After dinner you had went to the small library where the fey books were kept. Not many were left, most showing visible signs of burning. You had searched until one particular description sounded more then familiar to you.
The weeping eyes.
“Ash Folk..” you whispered to yourself as your fingers traced the page. Most of the other text had become unreadable.
You carefully closed the book and placed it back. You could only imagine how he ended up with the Red Paladins. There had not been any Ash Folk around for a long time. He was the first you had met.
Perhaps he was the last ?
There had been doubt about him in your mind, doubt that you could trust him. But what you had sensed through the boy was what made you give him a chance in the first place.
And as you had held your hand above his you had sensed the guilt he felt.
He didn't belong with the Red Paladins, he never really did. He belonged here.
With the boy, with his fey brethren.
You had to speak with him and you made your way towards the infirmary.
You knocked on the door and were greeted by Dahlia, who only held the door open a little. Which alerted you that there was definitely someone present in the room with her. It was her way of protecting the privacy of her patients.
“Your highness. Do you need my help ?” She sounded worried as she studied you.
You quickly shook your head before asking quietly “Is he here ?”
Dahlia gave a nod before she opened the door a bit more, revealing Lancelot who was laying on one of the cots. You had clearly interupted Dahlia's work as his torso was unclad, his wounds now visible to you. You swallowed because of how painful they looked, had you known, you would have never allowed him to come with you to rescue the fey group.
His eyes fell on you still standing in the doorway.
“Can I come in ? I wish to speak with you..” you blurted out a little nervous before realising this might not be appropriate “..or I could return another time..?”
He shook his head and sat up on the cot “It's fine.” he looked at Dahlia, seeking confirmation that she wouldn't kill him for interupting her work “Please, come in.”
You stepped inside a little uncertain.
Dahlia excused herself before she left the room so you could speak to him in private.
When you walked around the room to sit on a small stool nearby, your breath caught in your throat when you saw the scars on his back. They looked self-inflicted, you knew about self-flagellation but you never expected it from him. They were recent, you figured they must have been from around the time he had decided to save the boy.
“You saw.” he stated, keeping his eyes focused on the ground.
He already figured out why you were here now. He had seen the shock in your eyes in the forest when you saw he was fey.
You fidgeted with your clothes “I did. I know what you are. I found a description in one of our books. I never met anyone like you though.” you gestured to your own eyes.
“I'm a traitor to you.” it was something that haunted him.
“Perhaps to the Red Paladins. But not to me.” you corrected him “You know what they say 'A traitor to an enemy is my friend.” you tried to lighten the conversation.
He found himself smiling at your comment, he couldn't even remember when the last time was that he genuinely smiled.
It faded quickly but you had seen it.
“Where will you go when your wounds are healed ? When you're back to your full strength ?” you asked him quietly.
He sighed and laid his head back on the pillow, looking at the ceiling. He opened his mouth to speak but couldn't find the words. He hadn't forgotten that you had allowed him to stay here only until he was healed. After spending time here he had thought about letting himself get injured again by the paladins in the forest, only for a chance to stay here just a little longer. If he left this place he would have to leave the boy here. Percival was safe here, a place where there was a chance for him. A place where he would be protected and clearly you cared for the boy.
But it would be selfish to do so, him staying here was a risk you had taken.
Another selfless act that had shown him that fey, his kind, were never the enemy. That it was all lies fed to him as a child. Lies that had molded him into the weapon to do Father Carden's bidding.
Not long ago it was his mission to wipe out all fey and now he wished for nothing more then to join them. He could not erase what he had done, but he could try to protect what was still left.
You watched him in silence, having expected that he would not have a place to go if he was to leave this city. As a queen, you were taking a big risk to allow him to even enter the city. But you couldn't help but feel that his actions truly haunted him. It was clear when he saved the boy, when he helped you save the fey in the forest, it was in the little things he did. Seeing him now, knowing that he had helped you in the forest while being this wounded from fighting the Trinity Guards before..
“I don't know yet.” he finally admitted quietly “I might head west.” he added.
You quirked a brow at him “What's in the West ?”.
He shifted on the cot and swallowed.
You knew the answer.
Nothing. Nothing was left in the West. Nothing for fey at least.
“Stay.”
He thought he had imagined it and he looked to you, scanning your face “What ?”.
You clasped your hands together in your lap and repeated “Stay”.
His mouth was open but he was lost for words. Were you really asking him to stay ?
“Is that a command, your highness ?” he didn't look at you, now he was the one trying to make light of it. Trying to hide the hope that had build inside of him by that one word.
You smirked at his choice of words “No. It's a request. We need people like you.”
“People who can fight.” he concluded.
“No.” you shook your head before correcting him “People who we can trust. Who do the right thing. And you've proven yourself to be that kind of person.”
You weren't even expecting him to fight ?
“They don't trust me. And I have given them little reason to.” he wasn't sure if he would ever gain their trust.
You smiled at him reassuringly “They will. In time. They know I wouldn't just allow you to stay here without a good reason.”
“And what reason would that be ?” he inquired, now looking at you.
“I trust you.”
He fell silent, his gaze now landing on his hands “After everything I did ?”
You stood up from the stool as you replied sincerely “I know you will not betray me or my city. This is where you belong, Lancelot.”
His eyes snapped up to yours at the mention of his name. Still not knowing how you even knew his name if Percival hadn't told you.
“How do you know my name ?” his eyes followed you as you stepped closer.
You reached out your hand, letting it hover above one of his and that's when he felt it.
He could feel a soft tingling sensation on his hand, but there was something different there. Nothing like any fey magic he has experienced.
He looked at your hand above his, and noticed silver fey marks lighting up from your wrist and hand. The feeling grew stronger. It wasn't an unpleasant feeling, just strange..like it wanted to draw something from him.
He always believed there was more to your magic then you let on.
“Like I said, I can sense certain things.” you went to move away your hand.
But he was quick and took hold of your hand with his, and at that moment it felt as if a rush of magic passed through him.
It was enough for him to confirm his theory about your magic “When you use your magic, you pick up on things about them ?”
You didn't move or pull your hand away as you gave a short nod.
“Memories, names and sometimes their true emotions. Percival looks up to you, I learned your name because you saving him left quite the impression on him.”
He let go off your hand, the last thing he wanted was for you to see the memories that haunted him “But you didn't sense I was fey ?”
You shook your head and explained it to him "Children are easiest to sense. The boy, Percival, he hides almost nothing. His boldness is admirable. The older they become, the harder it is to sense something. Adults... only the strongest things slip past their barrier."
His eyes locked on yours “What did you sense about me when we met ?”
His eyes on yours made you nervous, but it was clear to you that he wanted the truth.
“You feel guilty.” you carefully said “It's been tearing you apart. And by touching my hand just now.. I know that you wish you could undo it all. You were just a child and they filled your mind with lies to make you into their weapon.”
Lancelot's eyes moved away from yours, swallowing hard. He feared his voice would break if he spoke. He didn't expect you to get all that from him.
You saw how he was barely keeping his composure now, the pain he felt threatening to reach the surface.
“I..” you fell silent, thinking about your next words “I don't need to use my fey senses to know that you belong here. With us. With the boy.”
He looked at you and you could see in his eyes how broken he was from it all.
“I want you to stay.. please ?” you knew you were almost begging now. But you refused to give up on him. Not after what you had just sensed through him.
He slowly nodded his head. Perhaps it was selfish, but he just couldn't refuse. Not with how you were almost begging him to stay.
After everything, you still didn't turn him away.
A wide smile grew on your face when you saw him nod. It would not be an easy path for him but this was the right thing, you could feel it.
“Welcome home, Lancelot.”
The sadness in his eyes was replaced with hope at your words.
He was able to stay here, with Percival.
It dawned on him that he felt relief when he realised he would not have to leave you. You were one of the only people who had treated him like a person. To you, he was not a weapon to wield, but an actual person.
"How did you become queen ?" he suddenly asked.
A question that had lingered in his mind since he got here.
You thought about your own past now "I was born from a poor family. My parents fell sick when I was a child and passed away not long after. I had to fight to build this place.."
You walked around the room.
"You weren't born here then ?" He guessed.
"When I arrived here this place was but ruins. My father had taught me the basics of fighting, I used it to help fey and humans who searched for a safe place. Away from those who wished them dead."
He understood why people respected you now "You have build your own kingdom."
This made you smile "I never asked to be queen. They just chose me, they rely on me to keep them safe. To make the rules and the decisions."
He was impressed to say the least, you were but a child and fought your way through it all to be where you were now.
"Your people look to you with much respect." He informed as he looked up at you.
"These are your people too.” you smiled at him, tilting your head at him.
He let out a breath and nodded in silent agreement.
“What is the story of your knights ? Crillan and Raphael ?” He was mostly curious about the latter.
“I met Crillan some years after I met Raphael. I saved him years ago, his overconfidence almost got him killed when he thought he could fight off twenty paladins on his own. I really thought he wasn't going to survive. But Dahlia works wonders, as you can see.” You gestured at him.
And he looked at the wounds on his arm, agreeing with that fact.
“He's impulsive, but he's loyal. He would die to protect anyone in this city in the blink of an eye. I have to remind him often that his own life matters to me as well.” you joked.
To Lancelot it seemed like a good description after having met the knight “And Raphael ? He's your second in command is he not ?”
“Hard to miss isn't it ?” a soft laugh fell from your lips “He's been with me the longest. He's as old as I am. I met him when he was leading a fey group through this forest. Raphael saw his family get killed, his wife..” you fell silent.
He didn't have to ask to know that the red paladins had killed them, no wonder he didn't want him to accompany you in the forest. It explained why the knight was so protective towards you.
You continued quietly “He has an abundance of patience, but in a fight he's fast. I have never seen someone fight like that until I met him.. and you. You and him might be the fiercest fighters. I secretly wonder who would win in a fight.”
He scoffed softly at the thought “I do not wish to find out.”
“A wise thing.” you chuckled.
A knock on the door was heard before it creaked open.
Dahlia sticked her head around the corner “Your highness. It's getting late and he still needs my care.”
“Oh, yes. Of course.” you immediately went to the door as Dahlia came in “Forgive me for interupting. Please, take good care of him ?”
She looked at you as if you had asked her something silly.
“Right..” you realised your dumb mistake. Of course she would.
You turned to him one last time, tapping your fingers against the door “Then all there is left for me is to wish you a good night. So.. goodnight.”
A quick nod coming from him acknowledged you and you were already out the door when he said “Good night, y/n.'”
Summary: As a fey queen you are by now used to it that fey come into your woods seeking refugee or a place to hide. Things get complicated however when your knights have not just brought a fey boy but also the Red Paladins’ fiercest warrior into your city.
Chapter Summary: When night falls and you and your company have not returned, Lancelot realises something must have gone terribly wrong.
Night was falling, yet the forest was never quiet in the dark. The sound of small animals clearly audible.
Crillan rode next to you “He won't admit it, you know ?”
You furrowed your brow and looked at him “What ?”
He looked at you again with a shit-eating grin “Lancelot.”
Your eyes snapped away from him again and focused on the forest.
“Your silence tells me that you know what I am speaking of.” Crillan sounded pleased with himself.
“I don't.” you lied.
He rolled his eyes “Although it was amusing at first, I must say that it has become painful to watch you two ignore what is so blatantly obvious.”
“Can we just focus on the task at hand ?” you tried to keep your voice normal.
Crillan ignored it and chuckled “He won't admit it. Not unless you admit it first.” his voice turned serious “I see how you look at him, y/n. The boy sees it and even Raphael has noticed. People are talking..”
“Let them talk.” your grip on the reins thightened.
“Tell him.” he leaned toward you, and there was no sign of joking in his voice anymore “End his suffering.”
You let his words sink in. You had been so afraid of rejection that you hadn't considered how Lancelot must feel if he indeed shared the same feeling.
Realising it must be worse for him if it was true, you looked at Crillan and nodded.
He smiled and then it looked like he spotted something on the ground.
You raised your hand and the soldiers behind you halted.
Crillan lowered himself off of his horse and kneeled down “Tracks.”
You nod and got off of your horse as well, the soldiers followed your example.
“How many ?” you asked him.
He looked around for more but couldn't spot any “Just the one.”
You followed Crillan through the dark forest as he followed the tracks.
Then he suddenly stopped and looked to the grass confused.
“What is it ?” You were alarmed by his expression.
Crillan's eyes went from confussion to realisation when he saw you had arrived at an open spot in the forest “They've stopped..”
You heard rustling coming and it sure didn't sound like small animals.
Cloaked men with golden masks emerged from the shadows.
You cursed and grabbed your sword "Crillan !".
Crillan had already spotted the trinity guards as well and readied himself for battle along with your soldiers.
A scream was heard as one of your soldiers was struck with a flail. You ran up to help them, blood was gushing from their neck. The trinity guard lashed at you as well, only scrapping the skin on your shoulder. The impact caused you to stumble backwards as you regained your balance.
Your soldier he had struck was on the ground and no longer moving.
The flail was a deadly weapon but it was slower then a sword. You had to move fast. Dodging his next attack before planting your sword in his side, pulling it back out again before you spun around and slashed his back.
The trinity guard fell to the ground.
One of your soldiers came to help and stabbed him through the throat with a dagger, killing him.
You gave a gratefull nod.
Then you felt something move past you and the soldier fell to her knees in front of you.
An arrow had landed in her chest.
You were horrified and turned to see where it had come from.
Crillan and the last soldier were fighting bravely, but when you looked around you saw you were outnumbered.
And the worst part was that there were archers taking aim at you, Crillan and the soldier.
He hadn't spotted the archers yet, the trees not close enough to find cover in time.
"Crillan ! Look out ! ARCHERS !" Your voice desperate as you yelled.
His eyes now landed on the archers, he tried to pull the soldier out of the way as he saw an arrow incoming only for the soldier to be struck by one coming from another direction.
A trinity guard charged him and he defended himself, you ran up to him to help.
He was able to kill the trinity guard and saw you running to him.
You froze in place when an arrow landed in Crillan's chest.
"NO!" you cried out and ran to him as he fell to the ground.
You fell to your knees next to him.
He was drawing shallow breaths and tears fell from your eyes as you took his hand in yours.
"Please, gods..no..please.." You didn't know what to do.
There was no chance for you to use your magic to heal him. They were already aiming for you now.
Crillan looked up at you "Y/n, run.." he could barely form the words. Blood started to flow from the corner of his mouth.
You shook your head, unwilling to leave him behind.
Then, it was you that was struck by an arrow.
+++++++++++++++++
A gush of wind brushed against him, as if something had passed him by.
He looked behind him as an unsettling feeling krept up on him. It was as if the wind had carried something with it, something only he had felt.
His attention faltered because of this and Percival managed to strike him against the leg.
His eyes snapped to the boy in suprise.
"Are you sleeping or what ?" The boy taunted but then noticed the confused look on Lancelot's face.
"Did you feel that ? That.." His instincts were telling him that it wasn't just the wind.
Percival shook his head, looking at him as if he was perhaps going insane.
He pauzed for a moment, waiting to see if it would happen again but it didnt't.
This city was filled with fey, it could have just been someone using their magic.
But why did the boy not feel it as well ?
Percival went to swing his sword again, but this time Lancelot blocked it.
He looked down at the boy who was getting tired of waiting around.
Sighing he took a few steps back before gesturing to the boy to attack.
++++++++++++++++
After the arrow had struck you, you stood up to attack. Two trinity guards perished by your sword and you pulled the arrow from your shoulder before they overpowered you.
There were just too many.
They pulled you by your hair in a kneeling position.
You tried to break free from the guard's grasp and another struck your jaw with his fist.
You could feel blood in your mouth now.
Your eyes landed on Crillan laying lifeless on the ground not far from you.
They pulled your head back to look up.
The Trinity guard in front of you spoke "Are these your woods, fey?"
You refused to answer and were struck again, it caused a cut next to your eyebrow.
"Yes.." You answered reluctantly while thinking of a way to escape.
"A man came through here recently, along with a fey boy. If you tell us where they are or where we can find them, we'll spare your life."
It came as no suprise that the Trinity guard was here for Lancelot. Why else would they be ?
But there was no way in hell that you were going to tell them what you knew.
Instead you looked up at the trinity guard and spat at him.
His golden mask was now covered in blood splatters.
He wasn't happy with that answer, and proceeded to punch you in the stomach. Hard.
You fell over, using your hands to prevent yourself from falling face down on the ground
With your last strength, knowing this could be the end, you pulled out your dagger and cut him above the ankle and he lost his balance and fell over.
You moved back to stab the one behind you in the stomach. Pushing another backwards against others charging at you. You ran knowing your life depended on it.
You hid behind some trees as you heard them looking for you, until you decided to try and reach one of the horses.
And you did. It took your last strength to pull yourself in the saddle.
You had to reach the city to warn the others.
+ + + + + + + + + + + +
Night had fallen when Lancelot walked back to the castle with Percival. His eyes searching for you, for a sign that you had returned.
The unsettling feeling grew inside of him, as if he senses were warning him.
He spotted Raphael and noticed the tension as the knight spoke to one of the fey archers.
With an inclination of his head, the archer stepped away from the knight in a hurry.
Lancelot approached him and the closer he got, the more he noticed how tense the knight appeared.
“The queen has not returned yet ?” It came out as a question but Lancelot knew. He knew something wasn't right.
The knight spoke in a hushed voice “None of them have returned yet.” he shook his head and grimaced “Our archers have not spotted them either. And there are no sightings of the people they were looking for.”
Lancelot's eyes snapped to the knight at the information “What people ?”
Raphael looked at him, realising he had said too much.
He sighed “Our scouts had spotted people in the forest. They were believed to be armed.” Raphael looked at the archers on the wall and how they hurried from one side to the other.
Lancelot followed his eyes, a feeling of dread now settled inside of him. He felt the tense atmosphere all over the place now.
“It is usually just people seeking refugee..” Raphael told him, but it was clear that the knight doubted this was the case now.
He put a hand on Percival's shoulder pulling the boy's attention to him “Go get Goliath.”
The boy understood the situation instantly.
“The queen was adamant that you would not take risks until you are fully healed !” The knight reminded him and Percival stopped.
Lancelot turned back to him, adrenaline already rushing through him “Night has fallen! Your queen and her company have not returned, nor have there been any sightings of them !!! If they are in danger I am your best chance at finding them !”
Anger was spilling over inside of him, he would not stand by and wait.
A commotion pulled his attention towards the city gates.
He heard an archer on the walls shout to Raphael "It's the queen ! She's wounded !"
The archer informed Raphael loud enough for Lancelot to hear it as well.
He looked at Percival, a worried look mimicking his. He hastened to the gates and Percival followed him.
He knew you had been in battle before but what worried him greatly is that the archer didn't speak of the others who had gone with you.
Okay, so remember when I said I’m writing another part for “I Wish I could Live More than One Lifetime”? yeah, I actually have planed out the whole plot, how the reader came to be, the twists and turns, how many chapters I think it should have, everything! I even wrote every chapter’s title so I won’t forget what would happen within that chapter, I had it all planed out, I’m polishing chapter 1 and 2 and then gone. I accidentally dropped my phone to water and it broke, lost all the data I have, I don’t have backups. It never occurred to me that such accident would happen to me considering how I take good care of it. But anyways, I’m rewriting it, I’m also changing some things for the plot which I think would be better than the initial plot, but I wouldn’t stray far away from it. I promise!
I also need to re-watch “Cursed” so I could give justice to the characters when I wrote them because right now? I can’t differentiate Geralt of Rivia from The Weeping Monk, I’m sorry 😭.
