The Weeping Monk x Fem!Reader : Forged Of Fire Chapter 35
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Story Summary: Raised under the tiranny of your own family, and forced to steal to earn your keep, you struggle to survive. Born from a Fey mother, and a Manblood father who wanted only sons, you are forced to hide your Fey side. When you are ordered to steal from Father Carden by your half-brother, Cassian, your life spirals out of control and you find yourself at the mercy of the Weeping Monk. The life you knew changes drastically when Cassian betrays you in the cruelest of ways. A trade is made, a promise is broken, and a debt must be paid.
Chapter Title: Destined.
Notes: /
Warnings: Angst. Hurt. Trauma bonding. Intrafamily violence. Depression. Self-harm. Suicidal thoughts. Violence. Torture. Gore. Pining. Trauma. Self-Flagellation. Manipulation. Strong Language. Blood. Misogyny. PTSD. Spicy and smut parts. Slight redemption arc. Lima/Stockholm syndrom-ish. Childhood trauma.
Other warnings: Jealousy. Forced Marriage. Forbidden Love. Romance. Slow-burn. Found Familly-ish. Comfort. Fluff. !SMUT and SPICE!
Word count of this fic: +250K
Chapter: 35/47
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Immediately you looked back to where Lancelot had been when you fell asleep the night before. He was nowhere in sight and neither was the Sword of Power.
You grew alarmed. “What do you mean ‘gone’ ?!?”
Gawain tried to bring the news as quietly as he could, “Someone saw him leave in the dark. They are all uneasy with this, do not stray from my side.”
Finally you noticed how a lot of the group was looking at you with great suspicion. Merlin kept himself to the side, but Arthur and Red Spear were vigilant and visibly irritated.
“Did he say anything to her?” Arthur asked Gawain in a rude manner, loud and harsh.
The knight looked at you, you shook your head. Lancelot had not given you any warning and you couldn’t understand why he would have left without saying a word to you.
Arthur almost shouted at the knight, “I told you he would go back to them!”
You sprung to Lancelot’s defense, “He would never do that!”
He turned to you. “One of Red Spear’s crew saw him leave in the night and he is not back yet.”
“I know him.” You tried to be calm. “There is a good explanation for this. He wouldn’t have just left!”
Arthur did not bother to hide his anger. “Or maybe you can’t accept that your husband is a lying bastard who’s on his way back with his paladins to kill us all! You are a fool for trusting him!”
“Stop it, Arthur.” Gawain warned.
Arthur lashed out at him verbally, “Am I wrong to assume this?! You heard what Gareth said, he locked his own wife up and I doubt that was all he did, you know what paladins do to Fey! Someone like that doesn’t just change!”
"You’re right.”
The familiar voice came from behind you, there Lancelot stood with Goliath’s reins in hand, and Bear’s reins tied to them.
“Locking her in a room was the least of my crimes against her.” he said coolly. “When her and I met, I was cruel. She was a threat to my life only because she is of the same clan, if anyone of the Church saw her marks it would have meant my death.”
“Lancelot-” you wanted him to stop before it escalated.
“He wants honesty and he shall have it.” Lancelot said, stepping forward, trusting that Goliath remained on the spot he was at. He faced Arthur, heavily insulted by what he must have overheard. “You want the truth of it all.”
Arthur gave a sharp nod. “It’s about time.”
He rolled his tense jaw. “Father Carden ordered me to gain her trust, to forge her into a weapon as I was forged. And as time passed I indeed gained her trust, but I never expected her to gain mine. I betrayed her, I lied to her, I thought I could have her love and Father Carden’s, and I was wrong. She fled when she found out the truth, I saw her run from me, the hatred in her eyes…”
A pause fell and he reluctantly broke his eyes away from Arthur. Gawain was ready to step in.
“You wanted it all. Greed.” Arthur stated.
Merlin looked upon the scene, as if he had lived through a similar matter once long ago, he did not interrupt and watched it happen with interest.
Lancelot felt the stares on him. “I lost everything, including my faith. I was beaten to my knees and the only thing that made me rise to my feet again was Percival standing against the Trinity Guard to help me. My loyalty lies with him and her, I’d sink my sword into myself before I would be so careless to risk being shunned by them. As to answer your doubts, when we were in Ravenwick I saw-” he pointed at Bear, “the horse I had once given her standing among those of the paladins. Last night I went to retrieve it.”
“You went all the way back there for a horse?” Arthur blurted out.
Pym smacked Arthur’s arm, mumbling, “Shut up, it’s sweet, he got her her horse back…”
Lancelot appeared quite proud of the fact. “They were too drunk to notice they had five horses instead of four. I doubt one of them could count in their state.”
“See.” Gawain said to Arthur.
Arthur was starting to come around. “I guess he wouldn’t tell me about all those bad things if he wanted to trick us… It would be stupid.”
For Lancelot the matter was not fully settled yet. A low warning followed, “Your grievance is with me. You do not cast down your frustrations upon my wife. I accept your hatred for me, but I will not accept it towards her. I advise you not to use that sort of tone with her again.”
Hearing him defend you in that low voice with those sharp darkened eyes had your heart racing.
Arthur swallowed his pride, barely, “I did not mean to offend.”
“You called me a fool.” you reminded him.
Pym chimed in, telling Arthur a very snotty sounding, “You did.”
Gawain was thoroughly amused by Pym involving herself, especially because he could see the Manblood start to falter.
Arthur finally apologized to you. “I’m sorry. I was too quick to judge.”
“You promised Lancelot a chance, and we have done nothing to make you doubt our intentions. I led you to that coin because I did not want anyone here to starve.” you said. “We are here to help.”
Arthur yielded, giving a nod in Lancelot’s direction.
“I trust them.” Merlin suddenly spoke. “He rode off with the sword both Uther and the Church desire. Instead of giving it to one of them for clemency, wealth or power, he returned with it. Not many would not be tempted.”
Lancelot was appreciative of the support that the magician showed him, it was what made the others of the group leave him alone. All returned to their own tasks, some started a bonfire to prepare a meal and of course Percival went to see if he could be of help with that. Gawain had a short firm word with Lancelot about taking this sort of risk and why it was foolish. You were petting Bear, telling him how much you had missed him. One of Red Spear’s crew was quick to offer looking after the other horse you had been riding before Bear’s return, which you agreed to.
After undergoing Gawain’s scolding, Lancelot walked over to you. “Are you happy with Bear?”
“Of course I am.” You arched a brow in suspicion, “Was that all you did last night, steal Bear back?”
That small flicker of his gaze spoke volumes. “What?”
Your stance changed as you confronted him. “You were gone for quite some time. I love having Bear back. What I don’t love is waking up to find out that my husband left in the middle of the night without so much as a word to me.”
Was he being reprimanded? Your stern tone made his gaze drop to your lips to view the slight pout. That ribbon of irritation that had laced itself through your voice somehow captured and drew him in. He felt warm, somehow bothered, and it was a mixture he recognized from the night in Gramaire. But now that feeling presented itself in him at the wrong time and place, and still he loved how it felt. It was quite confusing.
You noticed how distracted he looked, “Are you listening?”
He hummed, blinking twice before lifting his gaze up to your eyes and seeing the building irritation in them.
“Lancelot.” you said his name in a scolding manner. “Did anything else happen last night?”
“No.” he said.
Your expression fell, he was lying, you could just feel it. “No?”
Again, he stayed with his answer. “Nothing else.”
You could not hide your disappointment. Why couldn’t he just say it? Had he done something that he knew would upset you, is that why?
Your tone was coolly. “I’m going to the river to freshen up.”
Instantly his expression changed, he knew his answer had upset you.
“I believe we will have a meal soon.” he tried to call you back.
“I’m not hungry.” you walked away, through the trees and towards the river. It was necessary to calm down before it could lead to an argument all would witness, it would make matters worse if they saw you angry at him after last night.
There was little time to spend alone, you caught his scent before even hearing him approach. You splashed water in your face, hoping it would cool your rising temper. He stopped right beside you, watching how you remained on your knees by the river.
This time he was quick to confess. “Last night I have stopped by the manor again. It was not my intent, my only wish was to take Bear back, but I acted impulsive.”
“Why?” You frowned up at him.
There was a hint of shame in his features while he spoke of it. “After seeing how you were, how that place affected you, I wished to see it burn.”
There was no anger in your tone, “That was not your decision to make.”
He agreed. “I realized that when I was there and did not follow through with my plan.” For a second it appeared that he wanted to reach down and touch you, but he decided against it. “While I was there, I could not stop thinking about how I was serving the Church while you lived that torment.”
Your hand grazed his own. “We both suffered, Lancelot. You shouldn’t diminish your own experience by comparing it to mine.”
He exhaled a deep quiet breath. “I found some matters there that I had wanted to discuss with you in private, not in front of others.”
“That’s why you didn’t tell me?” you realized.
He gave a nod. “In the wall where Red Spear found the chest, two letters were hidden. One your mother wrote but Aldith must have intercepted it, my father was meant to be the recipient.”
Your interest was piqued. “Your father? You mean Ban?”
“Yes.” he said. “And the other letter was one that my parents wrote to your mother.” He took two small rolled up pieces of parchment from where he had stored them near a dagger, handing them over for you to read. “As my parents were of royal blood, they intended to seek others of higher standing to be a match for their future children. Your mother became a Lady by marrying Aldith and therefore she was requested to notify Ban should she come to be with child. I like to believe that we were betrothed before either of us were even born.”
In the letters, you could find all he was telling you about. His parents had wished to plan ahead for the future. It was common within royal families to arrange and discuss such manners long before the child was even born, a promise of marriage to strengthen claims to land and power.
You couldn’t believe it, what were the odds that they would have picked you as a match? “Our parents were going to arrange for a joining between us… Well, maybe they would have chosen someone else for you.”
He reached down, letting his index finger caress your cheek whilst you looked up at him. “They would have chosen you, I have no doubt on the matter.”
“Why the flattery?” you playfully pushed his hand away and rose to your feet. “What else did you find?”
His small smile fell and he took back the letters to keep as they involved his parents. “I also found a letter addressed to Father Carden, written by Aldith but he must not have been able to send it before having to flee Ravenwick. I left the letter there.”
By the change in his tone, you could already guess nothing good was in that letter. “What was in that letter?”
He was visibly uncomfortable with the topic. “Aldith wished to attempt to try and ruin your reputation in the hope that Father would bend to his will.”
You persisted. “What was in the letter, Lancelot?”
He was deliberately vague. “It spoke of your past in regards to your… chastity.”
Your brow arched. “You mean he called me a whore. How many people did he claim I shared my bed with?”
He had not expected the blunt response, he was far more stressed to speak of it than you were. “One.”
“Oh? I did not expect him to be honest about that.” you scoffed. “Does it bother you to know?”
“No.” He was fidgeting with his fingers.
You saw right through him. “You can tell me.”
He breached the subject carefully. “You never told me about that part of your past.”
That was true. You got up from the ground. “It was a man I met, someone who was known to be experienced and I was curious.”
Lancelot tried not to think too much of it, but you could see him struggle with it.
But the truth was what he deserved and you did not want to keep it from him. “I slept with him. He taught me things. But I didn’t like how it meant nothing. I meant nothing to him, and he meant nothing to me.”
He couldn’t manage to look at your face, you prayed it wasn’t because of how the scriptures forbade such behavior.
You tried to be open about it, even though your different upbringings made it difficult. “I prefer to sleep with someone that I actually love and care about.”
His upbringing came to light again when he readjusted his stance because the word had made him uncomfortable. “He was… ‘experienced’?”
You never wanted him to think he could not match a past experience. “Don’t do that, Lancelot. It is not the same.”
He looked away, a pensive look in his eyes.
You put those fears in him to rest before they could grow. “He was. But he wasn’t so good that I craved him everyday like I do you.” His eyes snapped to you. “You big oaf. I’d rather argue with you for the rest of my life than spend one more second in that man’s bed.”
“You crave me?” Was what he chose to put his attention on.
It was something you had wanted to keep for yourself, but by trying to build up the self-esteem he deserved to have you had spilled the secret.
“Uhm…” your voice wavered. “Ugh. I wasn’t going to say that, I do not want you to think that I’m not happy with the way things are between us now. It is enough for me, I am content.”
He saw no insult or fault in it. “But you would be open to more.”
It was a statement, and you found comfort in how calm and collected he was while saying it. “Only when you’re ready.”
He took a step to the side, nodding to himself. For a moment he watched the river’s stream, the topics of conversation must have been flying through his head.
You got closer, standing at his side, and wrapped a hand around his arm. “Whenever you get quiet I believe your thoughts are the loudest.”
The small curve at the corner of his mouth confirmed it. “It would calm them if I knew that you were not upset with me for going back there.”
Your forehead brushed against his arm affectionately. “I’m not. And I love that you brought Bear back to me.”
He turned, moving an arm around your waist and suddenly pulling you against him. “I gave him to you. I always told myself that I would retrieve him when I could.” His forehead rested to yours, his hands came up to knead at your upper arms.
“Just don’t risk your life to do these things.” you said.
He breathed out, “It is worth it.”
You leaned back, warning him with your eyes. “Don’t you dare.”
That stubborn man was holding back on arguing over this.
Your hand came to his chest and slowly made it’s way up. “I should remember to reward you for being so thoughtful. You forfeited your sleep to bring back Bear.”
He declined. “I need no reward.”
You caressed his jaw, then brushed your thumb over the corner of his mouth and teased it over his bottom lip. “Oh, I can think of a reward you will not wish to refuse.”
He swallowed hard. His gaze dropped. Not a second later he tried to kiss you, you leaned back further and broke away. With a cheeky smile you took a couple of steps back and saw how he was quick to go from confusion to understanding your intent to tease him.
After a moment of thought to find something to distract, you held up your wrist with the bangle. “We could use this time to help me learn how to read it’s inscription instead of filling it with sin.”
A chuckle tumbled out of him. “Very well.”
He picked up a thin branch from the ground, knelt down and began to draw symbols in the soil with it. “Come closer.”
That mischievous smile he gave did not make you reluctant to do so, you stepped closer to see what he was drawing.
He was detailed in the drawings. “To learn the language of the Ash Folk, it is best to start with that of the Fey. The Ash Folk had knowledge of older symbols and their meaning, knowledge that apparently was not passed down to many others.”
A small circle shape with swirls on the inside, a hexagon with lines connecting each of it’s corners on the inside.
“Little.” he pointed to the circle shaped one, then to the hexagon, “Ember.”
You looked into the bangle, seeing how the engraving matched the symbols on the soil. He proceeded to draw more symbols, the basis of the Fey language, to show what they meant. After some minutes, he asked you to draw one of the symbols to test if you were paying attention. You began, a circle and some line inside of it. He clicked his tongue, looking dawn and seeing a flaw that you then managed to correct.
“Well done.” The praise fell. “Symbols that are used for directions are made in such a way that the Fey can simply make them with rope and branches and hide them in the forest for other Fey to find. This is one of them.”
“This means ‘South’, right?” you hoped it was correct.
It made him smile. “Yes.”
“You were truthful when you said you would help me learn this.” You rose from the ground, he did as well. “You also promised me that you would teach me to wield a sword as well as you.”
There was a hint of a smirk on his lips. “That may have been too confident of me to say.”
“Do you doubt your skill as a tutor?” you inquired.
With a wicked grin he fired the jest. “I doubt your skill as an apprentice.”
You gawked at him. “You arrogant twit!”
He sounded overly confident on purpose. “You heard how well those Trinity Guards fared against me.”
You parroted his words childishly in a mocking tone to let him hear how arrogant it was. He snorted a quiet laugh that he could not prevent, covering his mouth a little with his hand.
There was soil on your trousers that you brushed off. “Fine. If you don’t think I can improve to your standard, I will just ask someone else to help me learn.”
It amused him to rile you up a little. “Which unfortunate soul?”
A glare was send his way. “Gawain. I heard Arthur is good with a sword too. And if they refuse, I might ask Gareth when I see him again, I doubt he will refuse. Even one of Red Spear’s crew will be kind enough to help.”
That smug smile faltered, and when you were about to walk past him you heard steel being drawn, the flat of his sword was one step in front of your torso to halt you.
The idea alone that another would be using a sword to tutor you, while you were still in the early stages of learning… the risk it posed chilled him to the bone.
You looked to the side, making eye-contact. “What?”
The icy tone made that smug smirk return to his face. “I do not enjoy the idea of you being at the end of a sword that is not mine.”
Your gaze swept over him. “Are you being metaphorical?”
He clearly had not expected the bawdy tease and swallowed down the surge of nervousness it caused in him. “I mean it. I do not trust another to tutor you, I will not see you hurt.”
You kept teasing, too amused by how his expression changed when he was subjected to it. “Alright. Then I hope you keep your promise. I prefer your ‘sword’, and your skill.”
The flat side of his sword came to rest on your chest as he stepped closer. “Do you hope to shock me with your lascivious speech?”
You bit the inside of your cheek. “Your innocent reaction tempts me to do it. Maybe my desire to corrupt your innocence comes from how attractive I find your responses.”
“Oh?” he said smugly, a tempting smile graced his lips. Then he reached down with his free hand, sliding it over your waist and hip before drawing out your sword from it’s sheath. “Spar with me.”
Your chest shuddered under that tone he had used, his mouth said ‘spar’ but his eyes told different.
He handed you your sword and bumped into you on purpose when taking place a few steps away from you. “Attack.”
It was nothing short of a command, a successful one as you did exactly what he asked. You charged and lunged at him, he did not even lift his sword to block, he just moved aside and gave your shoulder blade a light push when moving just past him. Almost did you lose your balance because of his arrogant way of sparring. It was mildly infuriating to see how long it took for him to actually use his sword to block your attacks, he was fast and every move you made he must have seen a hundred times already in battle with others. It was what made you impatient and reckless, and when you tried to disarm him he simply grabbed you by the waist and with one strong tug he had your back against his chest.
He hushed you, hot breath in your ear, “Do not let frustration cloud your instinct, you can do better than this. I have seen it.”
“You’ve never taught me how to react when someone grabs me like this.” You broke free from him, spun around, and held the tip of your sword at his chest. “You are not playing fair.”
You knew that look, that darkening of his eyes because they could not take enough of you in all at once. The sly smirk, the lick on his lips to wet them, and the flow of his gaze over you.
Another sweep of his eyes over your form. “I made no such promise.”
You lunged at him, he moved his body swiftly to the side and grabbed hold of your arm, allowing him to send you stumbling forward and away from him. But you tripped and landed on all fours on the ground, an array of profanities flew out.
He tried to hide his chuckle under a false cough and came to offer you a hand to stand up. You swatted it away. He tapped the flat of his sword against your thigh, close to your rear and got tossed a handful of fallen leaves up at him. You were on your feet seconds later.
“You… you-” you barely held back.
“What?” He dared you to say it.
His eyes sparked with amusement when you clenched your fists shut to keep yourself from saying it.
“Go on.” he persuaded alluringly. “Let us hear if you have any insult for me that I have not yet heard.”
You swallowed the words down, feeling too prideful to resort to harsh profanity against him.
He tilted his head a little, grinning, “No?”
You rolled your eyes and went to move past him, he stopped you by grabbing your elbow.
“I do enjoy that haughty look in your eyes now.” He did not let you take another step. “The arrogance one would expect from a Lady.”
Was he truly bringing up that title you often forgot you even had? That made you try and pry his hand from your elbow, but his hold didn’t loosen. Instead he took some steps to the left with you, dragging you along whilst ignoring how you were trying to get his grip on you to weaken. With one firm tug, he nearly tossed you with your back against a tree. One could so easily forget that many had tried to fight him off, and many had failed. He held you against the tree, the hold on your arm had only moved not lessened.
“I am not some spoiled noble ‘Lady’ !” you nearly snapped it at him.
“I know.” His gaze dropped to your mouth. “Not yet.”
What?… “I beg your pardon?”
“I assure you, you will be spoiled.” He pinned you against the tree with his body, firm and warm against you. “So spoiled…” He teased your jaw with his lips. You felt him make a rolling movement into you, only once and it was very likely just an innocent move, still your body was tricked into believing more was to be expected. His scent was too close, he was too close, and it was making your head spin. Tempting. But you wanted the lesson you were promised. With a push you made him stop, a second push made him step back. He looked like a whelp being denied attention.
“My lesson?” you reminded him.
He mistook it for rejection, you could see it in his eyes.
You got closer to him, giving him your sweetest smile. “You promised me you’d teach me.” Whispering, “Keep your promise.”
“I am distracted.” He felt somewhat ashamed to admit it. “Forgive me.”
You grew worried, “What is distracting you?”
A quiet confession, “Your presence.”
It got clear what sort of distraction was bothering him, you should have known after noticing the way he had been looking at you. A former monk, one who had only just begun to explore the pleasures freedom outside the clergy had to offer. And with the way he was acting, it was obvious that he struggled to hide and contain the desire he was harboring.
“Do you need me to leave you alone for a while?” you asked.
A tilt of his head. “The opposite.”
Well then. “Then let’s continue sparring.”
He gave a small favor. “I will go slower.”
Your pride was worth denting if it kept you from breaking a limb. “Perhaps for the better.”
This time he attacked first, you parried just in time and he gave you only a second to gain some distance. He proceeded to test your ability to defend yourself and ward off the attacks. Only once did you stumble over a branch on the ground but luckily kept your footing.
“Very good.” he noted. “Be aware of your surroundings.”
A good advice with the many small branches scattered around the place. Slowly you eased into the spar, your movements grew more fluent. He praised your successes and tried to correct your flaws. Your confidence grew and you got faster. He did not move as fast as he normally would, allowing you to be more at ease.
You attacked once, twice… wondering if you had imagined that he had looked surprised when you did. You tried other ways of moving, ways he may not expect and one of those ways took him off-guard. He had to take a step back to parry your attack, his boot hit a larger rock and down to the ground he went.
You had never seen him so inelegant and barely held in a laugh. “You alright?”
With his back on the grass he groaned, having to pick his pride up from where it had crashed down with him.
You moved to his side, put your hands on his shoulders and straddled him on the ground, holding him down with a little effort. “I won.”
There was this stupid arrogant smirk on his face, like he wasn’t intimidated in the slightest. Like you were a pup barking down at a wolf.
“Don’t do that.” you scolded.
The smirk grew. “Do what?”
That smugness shouldn’t have suited him so well. It wasn’t fair. “I can read it off of your face that you are not that impressed.”
“I am impressed.” he countered. “However, you have seated yourself on me and I find it impossible not to have my attention drawn to that instead.”
You chuckled at how matter-of-factually he had sounded, but went quiet when he put his hands on the sides of your waist and slid them down over you until they landed on your hips.
He hummed quietly with a rather timid smile. “You do have a tendency to put yourself in my lap…”
You fired back a risky jest, “I heard no complaints from you the last time. I did hear you sound very relieved when I brought you to your release. I wasn’t sure if you were actually going to let me move on you like that.”
He shifted a little under you, swallowing hard, gaze unmistakably sweeping over you. His voice sounded deeper, warmer, “You made me feel fulfilled.”
You had to have known what it did to him to be reminded of it, whilst sitting in his lap and looking down at him in the way you had done that night. He wanted to touch, to close his hands over the curves you had let him hold and fondle, but the risk of being seen was too high. Still, he could not resist letting this continue and let it build up his need for you.
He sat up all of a sudden, letting a hand go to your thigh to give it a squeeze, then let his thumb dip into your inner thigh. “I keep thinking of you.”
A playful grin. “Of me, or of what we did together?”
“Both.” he gave an honest answer.
Having him touch your inner thigh was awakening your desire for him, but you were very aware that this was too close to where the group was probably eating their breakfast of the day. He kept caressing your thigh, letting his thumb draw circles in your soft flesh.
One look was shared and he got up off the ground with you, taking you by the hand and leading you further away from the river. There were large rocks not far away and the ground descended between them into a narrow path, above your head the roots of a large tree growing over the rock formation covered the place well. There was little time to be in awe over how beautifully the roots had grown over the rocks, he moved you with your back against the rocks and muffled your surprised gasp by kissing you hard. There was a certain urgency in him, as if he wanted to steal all he could before it was too late, it was an urgency you shared. You pulled him close, kissing him back with the same fervor. Your jacket was moved open, he caressed your abdomen before going higher, his intention was clear.
You sped up his slow and careful process by taking his hand and putting it on your chest where he had been making his way up to. “Touch me.”
A sound rumbled through his chest, he took that offer without questions. As he kissed you, he fondled and kneaded to his leisure, your body curled into him, melted into his hands. It was titillating to know that this was all so new to him, that he battled between that timidness and that growing lust. His mouth wandered to your neck, his hand to your thigh. By his own initiative he dared to touch your rear and took hold. You jolted in surprise, made eye-contact, and saw how his eyes had darkened. There was not a speck of regret on his face, on the contrary, he kneaded at your rear after seeing that flustered state it got you in. You began to kiss his neck, feeling free to touch him too, snaking a hand under the hem of his shirt and feeling the tensing of his abdomen. He slid your jacket down from your shoulders, getting it out of the way by letting it drop to the ground. He made a guttural groan and it send your heartbeat up the hills, a gasp fled your lips.
You only noticed that he had begun to undo the cords of your bodice when he was at the fourth loop. “Lancelot…”
He brushed his mouth just below your ear, the palpable urgency was growing in him. His hot breath past by your ear and your knees threatened to buckle. You could feel your markings rise to the surface, as if they came at his beck and call.
You heard a voice calling out Lancelot’s name and broke away from him, quickly you grabbed your jacket from the ground and put it back on. It was a difficult task to lace the bodice back up again so fast, even if he only managed to loosen half of it.
Lancelot was not as hasty. “It is Arthur.”
You grew anxious. “He will ask why we are so far away.”
He was nonchalant about it. “Pay him no mind when he asks, I will handle it.”
The lack of haste in him increased your nervousness. “Come on, we shouldn’t wait until he finds us here.”
With a light chuckle he followed you out of the narrow path back towards where the group was at.
Arthur met you half-way. “Where have you gone?”
The suspicion in his tone was obvious, you struggled to reply. Lancelot took you by the elbow and continued his path like nothing was the matter.
“We are wed.” he told him whilst walking by Arthur. “Must we inform you of what we do whenever we are alone?”
Arthur had a look of recognition, suddenly stumbling over his words. “Oh. Well. No. I… that’s…”
You gawked at the bold way Lancelot had silenced that suspicion in Arthur again, this time you were the one who wanted to hide from sight.
Upon arriving back to the group no one else really seemed to have noticed your absence, no one except for Arthur, Red Spear and Gawain. Arthur went right to Gawain, undoubtedly to tell him about it. You walked away from Lancelot’s side to go and see if there was still something left to eat, Percival had kept some bread and roasted potatoes aside for you. As you sat down beside the boy and ate, you kept catching Lancelot look your way and how Gawain rolled his eyes when he noticed him doing it. He had gotten some things to eat from Gawain, clearly in the hope of putting his attention on something else. You tried to focus on your meal, appreciating the fact that Percival was considerate enough to even keep some aside. When Lancelot came over to speak to you and Percival, Merlin walked over to him before he could.
“Those who chase the sword cannot handle it’s power. But those who let the sword come to them…” Merlin told him. “You have the sword that many go to war for, yet you leave it behind to walk the forest with your wife.”
“Yes.” Was all Lancelot replied to that, not bothering to deny the implication under Merlin’s statement.
“It’s corruption seems to have no power over you.” Merlin was pleased. “And between us, your attention is where it should be.” He nodded down to you and Percival. “I made the mistake of letting power consume me, and I lost those I loved.”
Lancelot went to Percival’s side, touching the back of the boy’s head lightly. “I have no desire for power. I have all I need.”
Merlin smiled, seemingly lost in the memory of his past life. He tilted his head, and with a respectful nod he walked away.
Lancelot knelt down beside Percival. “I purchased a scarf in Ravenwick last night for you, and a blanket should we need to sleep in the forest again.”
The boy had not expected a gift, let alone two. “Really?”
“They are in her horse’s saddle bag.” He told him.
Percival was up on his feet and quick as a fox to run to Bear to see his gifts.
“That was sweet.” Your heart warmed at the sight of Percival smiling widely as he put on the scarf.
Lancelot whispered, “He is a clever boy, impatient and disobedient. Brave and kind. A joy to be near.”
That was an accurate description of the boy. You wiped your hands on the grass and stood up. “Be sure to tell him that, he was struggling with everything going on. He lost so much, we need to be there to help him.”
He spoke quietly, while watching the boy show his scarf to Pym, “And we will be. I won’t let him have the past I had, Percival will know that others care about him.”
You suddenly recalled something of the night before, it had happened while you were half-asleep. “Last night, I heard him say ‘Nimue’ in his sleep.”
It visibly pained him to hear it. “He is mourning. I fear he hides his suffering often.”
With a soft smile, you asked, “Spoken from experience?”
He hummed quietly. “I find it difficult to mourn while my conscience reminds me of the wrong Father Carden has done.”
It was something you knew he struggled with. “As long as you know that mourning him is normal, you knew him well.”
Whilst trying to offer some words of comfort, you noticed how his attention had drifted away. His eyes were fixed on the trees behind you, something had caught his eye.
Red, moving slowly at a distance, circling the group who was unaware. Just as he had once taught them.
He spoke, “Go to Percival, walk normal, take him to the rocks where we were earlier.”
“What-… why?”
He took you by the arm and started walking. “We’re under attack. Paladins are here. Remain calm, let them believe that we are not aware they are here.” He let go. “Go. Now. There is not much time.”
You quickly nodded and went to fetch Percival. When you reached him, Lancelot was already informing Gawain and the knight whistled towards Arthur. Gawain gave a discreet signal that told both Arthur and the Red Spear that trouble was coming.
You were walking when Pym passed by and stopped her. “Pym, can you fight?”
She began to ramble, believing you were questioning her bravery. “Of course I can fight. I can fight really well. I’ve fought a lot-”
It caused you to doubt her claims. “Otherwise you need to come with us. There’s paladins about to attack.”
“What?” She was alarmed. “Well… I’ve not really fought yet…”
Just as you’d assumed to be the case. “We’re going to take shelter by the rocks not far from here so we don’t get caught in between Red’s crew and them.”
After saying that, she did not waste time joining you and Percival to get to a safer place. The sound of steel being drawn came from all around you and signaled that it was too late. A rain of arrows descended upon the area, you were just in time to pull Pym out of the way of one. Chaos erupted as paladins charged from between the trees to attack, and to your great dismay they were accompanied by four of the Trinity Guard on horseback who looked to be in charge of them. Within seconds you were in the midst of a battlefield, clutching at Percival’s jacket to not lose track of him.
“What do we do?!?” Pym was understandably panicking and drew her sword.
You drew your sword as well. “We ward them off as long as we can.”
And that was exactly what you had to do, forming a shield with Pym to ensure no one was able to get close to Percival. Pym’s skill with the sword could be summed up with her swinging it and hoping for the best outcome, not many would be brave enough to even try and most would choose to flee. She acted as a set of eyes to watch your back, letting you know what was behind you. You used all you had been taught and managed to ward off the attacks from paladins long enough for some of Red’s crew to come and help. Two paladins had been badly wounded by your blade, and one of them fatally. But it was hard to fight when your focus was on keeping two other people safe. Red’s crew was the most uncoordinated, reckless group of fighters you’d ever seen and somehow they were winning. Three of the Trinity Guard left alive were fighting against Red Spear, Arthur and Lancelot. And when the paladins came to outnumber them, Arthur was distracted by Red Spear being pushed to the ground. It was a distraction that would have proved him fatal if Lancelot had not gotten in between him and the Trinity Guard about to strike him with a flail. The flail missed Lancelot, but the fist of another struck his jaw, the ring sitting over the guards glove cut through his skin. Arthur had gotten Red Spear up off the ground in mere seconds, and in those mere seconds Lancelot dealt with the guards who had believed him to be an easy victim without the help of the others. Blood stained his face, dripped down his sword and covered the top of his hand. Even from a distance one could see the stunned reaction on Arthur and Red Spear’s faces. They acknowledged his part in their survival, for the first time seeing just how brutally he could fight. This time for them, for the right people, for the Fey.
Red Spear’s crew, along with Gawain and Merlin, stood their ground against the paladins, their skill in battle formed the deciding factor. The few paladins who were still alive tried to flee, apart from one.
A paladin had noticed the sword on the saddle of his former leader, a sword that matched the description him and his red brothers were given. He hastily approached Goliath and started to try and take the sword. The stallion turned, bit down on the paladin’s robe at the shoulder, and proceeded to toss him to the ground. After dragging the paladin for a couple of feet along the ground, you had to shout to Lancelot to make him notice.
He went over to his loyal horse and gave the order. “Goliath. Loose.”
Goliath let the paladin drop to the ground and watched how his rider grabbed the man by the neck of his robe.
“Broth-” The paladin choked on the word at the force of Lancelot lifting him up a little.
“How did you find us?” He pressed his sword against the paladin’s neck. “Speak!”
The paladin struggled to talk. “We were on our way to Ravenwick.”
They had not followed him last night, this happening was mere coincidence. It was fortunate that the others were near to hear it, or they could have blamed him for leading the enemy here by accident.
“Are there more of you coming?” Arthur asked the paladin.
Lancelot pressed the blade just enough against the skin that it drew some blood. “Answer him.”
The paladin winced. “No! We were to replenish our necessities in Ravenwick and travel to the Holy Father.”
A few seconds passed as Lancelot determined whether or not he believed that answer. “He’s telling the truth.”
Without warning, he cut the paladin’s throat and offered his former red brother a quick death. A choice that Arthur met with dismay.
Lancelot noticed the appalled expression aimed at him. “We cannot take the risk that he goes to warn others. Do you wish us to be chased to our graves?”
“We could have discussed this first!” Arthur protested.
“He would have returned with others. I know them.” Lancelot reminded him. “And if Red Spear’s crew does not find the other ones who have fled, they will return with larger numbers. You cannot trust them.”
Gawain spoke up about the situation. “You know that he is right, Arthur.”
Arthur struggled, an understandable reaction to have.
“Look around you.” Lancelot put his attention to those of the crew that had fallen. “Under the command of the Trinity Guard they will not show anyone mercy. Their task is to wipe the Fey, and all who oppose the Church, out of existence. Arthur,-”
“I understand that.” Arthur stopped him. “I just wish we didn’t have to resort to this.”
Lancelot showed his sympathy. “Unfortunately, we do. Let us hope we see the day were this seizes to be necessary.”
The Manblood fixed his eyes on Goliath. “Say, how did you train your horse how to do that?”
He followed Arthur’s gaze. “Do what?”
“What he did…” Arthur gestured to Goliath. “He stopped that paladin from stealing the sword.”
“He just does that.” Was the short answer he gave, as if it was completely normal behavior for a horse.
A drop of blood fell from the cut on Lancelot’s jaw, drawing your attention. You quickly took out a small piece of rag from your satchel to use and gingerly dabbed at his jaw with it. It took you a few seconds to realize his cheeks had tinted and what the reason for it was, Gawain was giving him this smirk that told he would tease the Ash Man about it later. It didn’t make you stop and you went ahead to try and wipe some of the blood from his hands too.
Lancelot cleared his throat to draw your attention. Your eyes snapped up to his and realized he was crumbling under the stares others aimed at him.
“Thank you.” he whispered.
Merlin was visibly entertained to see someone like the former Weeping Monk so self-conscious by the small act. He asked you, “Would you happen to have another one of those?”
You saw Merlin point at the rag, and reached into your satchel for a clean one that you handed to him. “Of course.”
Merlin looked at every single one near him. “Never feel embarrassed to be on the receiving end of your lover’s gentleness in front of others. Take advice from this old man.”
Merlin thanked you and walked away. Percival came to your side, looking a bit shaken by the passed battle and Lancelot quickly placed a hand on his shoulder for comfort.
“My crew is hunting the last two down. We we wait here until they return.” Red Spear came to inform.
“Is that wise?” Arthur asked. It earned him a very nasty glare from her, it had not been a request, he understood that now.
Whilst the others conversed about the next course of action to take, Lancelot came to see if you and Percival were unharmed.
There was a drop of blood on the boy’s cheek that he noticed, he wiped it away with his thumb. “Are you wounded?”
Percival shook his head. “No. Yuck, that had to be from those paladins.”
He wiped the blood on the rag you had given him to use. “You fought?”
The boy pointed at you. “She cut one near his neck and blood went everywhere.”
Percival went ahead and acted out how the blood had sprayed from the paladin’s neck, you could barely make eye-contact with Lancelot as the boy spoke so enthusiastically about your actions. He gently squeezed Percival’s shoulder, it made the boy slow his talking down to a slow halt.
“I am glad you are unharmed.” Lancelot gave his shoulder another squeeze.
He had said it with such warmth that Percival almost couldn’t believe it was meant for his ears. The boy’s eyes were filled with a mixture of emotions, they harbored admiration towards the Ash Man. And maybe, just maybe, Lancelot knew that the boy saw him as the example of the person he would grow up to be like.
Percival had a timid sweet smile, then caught himself and redirected the attention elsewhere. “Your sword’s filthy.”
He looked down at the sword still in his hands, blood was still slowly rolling off of it down to the grass, with the rag he tried to clean most of it off.
Then, the boy let some of that true empathy shine. “Did they hurt… you?”
To hear a child concerned for his well-being surely stunned him. “I’m alright.” A smile. “Just some bruises and small cuts. It will heal.”
You knew that he was still healing from the fight in Morrowstead. “You should see a healer when you can.”
He teased, “Both of you are concerned for my health?”
“Listen to her.” Percival was stern. “She’s clever.”
“And I am not?” he cocked a brow.
The boy blurted out, “Not always.”
He rolled his eyes at the jest and the boy grinned in mischief.
Gawain came to speak to the three of you. “We pass through Onsdell tonight. Red Spear wishes to have her wounded helped by the healers there. We have agreed to pay for a room in the inn there for the night. What say you?”
“Will it be safe?” Was what Lancelot wanted to know.
“Onsdell remains neutral to the Fey. But I suggested being discreet about our kind.” Gawain answered. “We will rent a room in the inn just outside of the city, it is less visited then the ones in the midst of Onsdell. It will be calmer and we can simply travel back into the city tomorrow to visit the market.”
Lancelot gave a nod. “Very well. These healers in Onsdell, I have heard of them. They live in what used to be an abbey, do they not?”
The knight confirmed, “That is correct. But they are not of the Church.”
He crossed his arms. “You believe they will receive us there?”
“All are welcome there.” Gawain said. “As long as we are respectful, they shall be as well.”
“And what with him?” Lancelot discreetly dropped his gaze to Percival. “The city is frowned upon by the Church, it is no place for one so young.”
Percival was quick to voice his demand, “Oi! I’m coming with you!”
Gawain send Lancelot a knowing look. “You are worried to expose him to it.”
“Why does the Church frown upon Onsdell?” you asked.
The knight offered no help to explain, and simply tried not to grin while looking at Lancelot who struggled to find the right way to answer that question.
With a deep sigh, Lancelot explained it to you, “It is considered a place of perversion and degeneracy by them. The scent of ale is seeped into it’s soil. Even Father ignored it’s existence, to him it was nothing more than the place where the lost souls would spend the last of their days in exile. A place to be forgotten about until after the war, it was one of their least concerns.”
Gawain reasoned about it, “But the city’s reputation is highly influenced by those who follow the Church. We will be safe there simply because the inhabitants are used to the presence of strangers like us. And the paladins prefer not to show their faces in such a place.”
“That may be right.” Lancelot concurred.
Gawain reached out and patted Percival on the shoulder. “And our young knight here has seen things much worse than he might see in Onsdell. It will be alright.” He saw the worry in the Ash Man’s eyes. “It will be alright, brother.”
The trust Lancelot had in Gawain was palpable. “Very well then.”
“Can we go visit the market there?” Percival carefully asked.
“What is there you wish to purchase?” Gawain wondered out loud.
“Anything that stills his hunger.” Lancelot blurted out, earning a small glare from the boy, but Percival would not deny that it was true.
Pym approached you, tapping you on the shoulder, “Do you know how to sew a wound shut?”
You turned to her. “Yes, why?”
“Can you help him while I help the others?” she asked.
A young man stopped beside her and she gestured to him, it was one of Red’s crew and blood was dripping down from a gash on his lower arm.
“Gods…” you hastily went to help him, shocked that he was so calm as if it were just a small scratch.
While you helped him, Pym told you about how the crew often got the strangest injuries and walked around with them as if it were nothing. A few tankards of ale and chests of gold were what the crew considered medicine, much to Pym’s utter disbelief. And still, you could tell that she had grown attached to the rowdy bunch. It only proved that kindred spirits could find each other even in the most unexpected ways.
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