#lancelotxreader

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.

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