#weepingmonk

The sun had only just risen in the sky when your half-brother, Cassian, slammed his fist against your bedchamber’s door.

His voice thundered through the wood, “Get up! Father wants to see us!”

You had jerked awake violently, hating that tone that he used far too often.

He hammered on your door again. “Did you hear me?! Get up!”

“Yes-,” You swallowed down your awakened fear to say it louder, “Yes! Coming!”

He walked away from your door, leaving you to get dressed in a haste. As always. Rest was not something that was really granted to you and Cassian enjoyed to take away what little joy’s you had in life. Needless to say, there weren’t any actually left. Your father had been married twice, his first marriage ended when Cassian’s mother died young. His second ended when your mother died after childbirth. Cassian was just two years old when you were born. Your father, Lord Aldith of Ravenwick, blamed you for the death of your mother ever since, so much so that he had refused to even tell you her name no matter how many times you had asked. And had he known that you were born with the same Feyblood as your mother after all, instead of Manblood like him, you doubted he would have bothered to keep you alive for as long as you had. He detested the Fey and you had no doubt that he made your mother hide what she was once he had her fully in his control. You had never told a soul of what you were, the only luck you had was that your markings were not visible to the eye. For a while you had believed to be normal, until you were five, then your whole world changed. It also took some time to fully understand what you were, had you not seen a description that matched you perfectly in a book once you would have never known. Secrets and lies, all of it needed to keep yourself alive, to keep yourself safe from your own family… And even then they still treated you ill.

You pulled your shirt on, wincing at the dull pain from the bruise on your arm. Closing up your bodice hurt your still healing wrist. It were common discomforts you had learned to live with. Once you had tried to run away, just once, and Aldith had send his mercenaries to find you. They had dragged you back to the village, into your home, and tossed you at your father’s feet. He didn’t need them to enact the punishment for your actions, he did that all by himself. The bruises had taken weeks to heal, and ever since that day loud noises and shouts tended to make you flinch.

You rushed to the great chamber of the large manor, the place where the Lord of the village always expected to see you when called upon. After taking a deep breath, you entered the room. Cassian was already waiting impatiently for your attendance, as was Aldith.

“What took you so long to arrive here?” Aldith asked annoyed.

Your head tilted down, eyes fixed on the floor, “I was getting dressed, father.”

There was a scoff, but thankfully he seemed to accept the excuse this time. He pointed to a place on the map that was splayed out on the table. “I am sending the both of you on another errand. The paladins have set up camp not far from here and if the rumors I’ve heard are true then there will be gold present in those tents. Go there, take what you can without being noticed. Ava and Bertram will join you on this task.”

It was true, your father had never earned his wealth in an honest way and expected his children to do as he did. No matter the risk.

“We are stealing from the Church?” It slipped from your thoughts.

Aldith glared your way. “Would you rather starve than earn your keep?”

It was a blatant threat, he was wealthy enough to feed the whole village if he wanted to. But this was your life with them, obey or suffer the consequences. Cassian grinned, clearly enjoying how you were being put in place.

“No, father.” you quietly said.

“No more questions from you then. You do what Cassian tells you to do, understood?”

“Yes, father.”

You knew better than to ask for a weapon to aid in this errand, they would never trust you with one. And you knew not to tell them how stupid you thought it was that they would risk the anger of the paladins, they didn’t care for your opinion. At least Bertram would come along, he was perhaps the closest thing to a friend you had, even if he was just being polite it was more than you were used to.

“Any questions, Cassian?” Aldith asked.

If no one had been present to see it, you would have rolled your eyes at the blatant favoritism. Of course your brother had questions about this task, and your father saw no problem in answering them.

After midday, you sat on the wagon next to Ava. Bertram was steering the wagon, following the directions Cassian was feeding him. The plan was to hide the wagon at quite a distance from the paladin camp, then continue the rest on foot and gather at the wagon again later. In case things went wrong, you were to scatter and meet at the wagon when it was safe again.

You were chewing the small piece of bread Bertram had given you before the group had left the village, was it so obvious to others that your body was growing weaker? Meals were something you had to earn according to Aldith, and it was far harder for you to earn them than it was for Cassian. You said not a word during the entire ride. Ava, a Sky Folk woman and Bertram’s sister, tried to flirt with Cassian quite often. But Cassian looked down on the Fey even if he never spoke it out loud outside the walls of your shared home. To him, Ava and Bertram were just pawns to use.

The wagon came to a halt in the forest on the spot that Cassian had chosen. The four of you got off the wagon and gathered together to walk the remaining distance. It wouldn’t take much longer than an hour and the paladin camp should be reached by the time it got dark. During the walk it became painfully obvious again how little Cassian cared to talk to you, but you didn’t mind, talking to him always ended in being affronted or threatened.

Just before the sun went down, the group reached the paladin camp. The four of you were hiding in the bushes, trying to detect weaknesses in their camp to use to your advantage. Cassian was quick to figure out which tent belonged to Father Carden. And of course, considering the risk of getting caught was the highest, he ordered you to go and steal what was there for the taking. The others picked tents that were closer to the edge of the camp. It always went like this, you were always the one having to take the most risks, because you were expendable. Often it had crossed your mind to just walk up to a paladin and tell them of what you were, to let them end your life and suffering. The only thing offering some consolation were the faint whispers in your ears whenever you thought of it, if you could even call it consolation. It was something you had never spoken a word about, these barely decipherable voices talking to you… people would learn that there was something wrong with you and treat you even worse than they already did.

“Did you hear me?” Cassian’s irritated tone pulled you from your darkening thoughts.

The flash of panic in your eyes betrayed you.

He gave your arm a rough pull. “Get over there and earn your keep!”

With a slight shove, he pushed you towards the camp. You hurried away from him, keeping yourself low and hidden behind the bushes whilst moving towards your target. You had enough experience to stay undetected on your way towards Father Carden’s tent. After waiting for a moment to see if there was anyone inside, you hurriedly made an opening in one of the tent’s walls to crawl under. Crawling over the ground wasn’t your favorite past time, it ruined your already worn down clothing further.

Father Carden’s tent wasn’t as modest as you had believed it to be, there was a large carpet inside that looked like it must have been worth quite some coin. But a carpet was too large to sneak out of the paladin camp undetected. What you were looking for was found inside a large wooden trunk. Hidden between a lot of red robes, you found a heavy ring made of gold and encrusted with red gemstones that you believed to be rubies, this would sure earn you your keep for a while. Just when you wanted to slip the ring into your pocket, the owner of it walked into the tent. Father Carden looked absolutely shocked to see you there and you used that moment to bolt out of the tent. The priest was shouting something that were undoubtedly commands to his paladins. You even ran into one of them and the paladin ended up falling as a result of the collision. It didn’t make you slow down at all, you needed to get out of there. You reached the trees by the time the whole camp seemed aware of intruders. From the corner of your eyes you saw Ava dart into the woods as well. It wasn’t the first time you were caught on one of these errands, but Father Carden and the paladins were not afraid to enact severe punishments. Fey or not, death was an acceptable measure for them. You kept running as the darkness fell over the lands, the advantage of working in a group was that it was far harder for them to catch you if there was more than one target to capture.

The noise from the shouting paladins did not reach your ears anymore after running for quite some time. You began to walk to let your legs rest but still in a fast pace, and not much later Ava found you. Together you walked in the direction of the wagon, whilst she asked you if you were able to find anything worth the trouble, you had shown her the ring in response. The wagon couldn’t be far off anymore, running would have brought you closer to it quicker than walking.

“Stop!” Ava suddenly grabbed your arm, she hushed you when you tried to ask why. She gestured to let you know she had heard something.

You held your breath. She drew her sword. You envied that she had a weapon to defend herself. Another sound came and she spun around, it had come out of the other direction.

“It’s an animal?” She whispered doubtful.

A branch snapped and made you turn to the sound. The voices in your head were growing louder the more you panicked, something in you told you to run but what direction was safe?

It was Ava who made the decision. “We need to run. NOW!”

She followed her own advice right away and you followed her without questioning it. You could tell that she was running in the direction where the wagon was waiting, was she hoping to find the others there to help? That hope was cut short when the sound of a galloping horse gave chase not far behind you. Like a shadow chasing the two of you, the horse closed in, it was terrifying.

“Ava! Look out!” you tried to warn her.

She barely had enough time to throw herself out of the way of the horse’s path. Both of you hit the ground hard. The horse’s rider swiftly dismounted, the sound of steel being drawn made Ava get to her feet immediately. She barely had enough time to ward off the sword lashing out at her. Fear engulfed you both when you realized who the enemy was that you were facing. Father Carden’s most loyal soldier, the Weeping Monk.

Ava did her best to stand her ground but she ended up falling. You prevented him from being able to deliver the killing blow to her by running up to him and grabbing his arm, halting his movements.

“Leave her alone!” It was a rare thing to hear your voice be so loud.

He had thrown you on the ground so fast you didn’t even understand how he’d done it. And still it didn’t stop you from trying to stop him long enough for Ava to get on her feet again. You grabbed hold on his leg, he pulled free just as Ava attacked him. And then she was bleeding, his sword had cut through her sleeve and wounded her. The voice of Bertram rang from close-by, he ran to come to his sister’s aid.

You crawled backwards, away from the fight that ensued. In the darkness it was hard to focus your eyes on the Monk, his dark attire worked to his advantage. It all happened so ridiculously fast. The Monk fought brutally elegant, as if he was the personification of death itself. Bertram hit the ground after being struck by the Monk’s elbow. Ava barely kept her footing against him. You tried to help Bertram back to his feet. And then from the corner of your eyes you saw Cassian, with a rock in his hand.

Cassian struck the Monk just once against the back of the head and neutralized the threat you had been fighting. The Monk was unconscious by the time he hit the ground hard. Everyone was shaking at the sight of him, even then they still feared him as if he was a vengeful spirit that would come to haunt them for this. Cassian cursed and dropped the rock. Bertram was still holding your shoulder for support. Ava held her wounded arm.

“How the hell did he find us?!” Ava questioned out loud, voice shaking.

“The bastard is know for tracking down Fey.” Cassian said irritated, glancing at both of the Sky Folks.

Questions were fired back and forward between them, but their voices faded out in your ears. You were transfixed on the Monk’s face, on the marks he bore beneath his eyes, and understood why they called him the ‘Weeping’ Monk. You couldn’t believe the terrible truth it revealed to you. He was Fey. Cassian was saying something about tying the Monk up, it brought your attention back to the group.

“He’s too dangerous.” Bertram protested.

Cassian would not hear any reasoning. “He’s worth a lot of coin to the many he has crossed. This is the chance of a lifetime, we are doing this. Ava, fetch the wagon. My father will reward us all royally for this.”

Ava was angry with the decision but did as he asked, she was far too eager to win his affection, it would be a while before she would reach the wagon and return with it.

“Get that rope from his horse’s saddle!” Cassian barked the command to you.

This plan was insane. The Monk was far too dangerous to be kept as a captive, but Cassian saw no risks, he only saw the mountain of coins he’d get for the Monk. You approached the horse and the stallion turned his head to you right away, you patted the beautiful creature’s neck and took the rope from the saddle. Bertram met you halfway, so you wouldn’t have to get too close to Cassian, and took the rope. He used it to help Cassian tie the Monk up and to a tree. Your hands were sweating from anxiousness. This was perhaps the worst idea Cassian had ever had and you could only pray that it wouldn’t backfire on everyone involved.

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Ava had returned with the wagon. Cassian briefly told the others what was going to happen. No one sat down in the presence of the Monk. The tension hanged in the air, and when the Monk began to wake you warned Cassian of it.

“He’s bound to a tree. What harm can he do?” he dismissed your warning and fear, making a mockery of it.

You hadn’t stopped staring at the Monk, at his markings that betrayed his secret. The others seemed to be unaware, or maybe they did not even care.

“Wake up, mutt.” Cassian nudged his head roughly. “Not so frightening now, eh?” he mocked him.

The Monk’s eyes opened and fixed on Cassian right away, then slowly he took in the situation he found himself in. Your blood ran ice cold at witnessing it, as if your body tried to warn you of the danger present. The Monk was far too calm to your liking, he looked even bored by the whole ordeal, as if it was an ordinary night for him.

Cassian walked to the black stallion and led it closer by the reins. “Looks like a strong animal. I wonder how long it would last if I cut off one of it’s legs.”

There was a slight change in the Monk’s eyes, they were sharper and focused on him.

The threat shocked you, “Cassian!”

The fury burned in Cassian’s eyes when he looked your way.

“We can use a horse.” you quickly blurted out to avoid his rage.

He held the reins out in your direction a little aggressively and you tried to keep a distance while fishing them out of his hands. Never would you admit it out loud that you might fear your own brother more than the Weeping Monk.

You led the horse away from Cassian and tied the reins to a tree, as you were petting the horse’s neck soothingly you became aware of the Monk’s eyes on you. It wasn’t hard to guess that the Monk was attached to the stallion.

Cassian continued to mock his captive, “Maybe I should cut your leg off and see how you’d fare.”

The Monk stayed eerily quiet, doing nothing more than study every single person present. Cassian pulled out his knife, dangling it in front of the Monk, then threatened to pierce it through his boot. The Monk didn’t even flinch, his icy stare far more intimidating than that simple knife. It bothered Cassian that his actions went without response, it was why he decided to punch the Monk in the jaw, who took it without a sound. Ava chuckled amused, part of her must have loved that twisted personality Cassian had.

“You’re a quiet one.” Cassian laughed and hit him again.

You hated to see the joy on his face when he was injuring someone who couldn’t defend themselves, just as you hated to see that same joy when he’d often hurt you. It felt so, so wrong.

“Stop it.” you said, all eyes turned to you. “It’s cowardly to attack someone who is bound.”

Your whole body tensed right after realizing what you had done.

Cassian scoffed insulted, “Are you calling me a coward?”

He stepped away from the Monk and stopped right in front of you. The backhanded slap you received was no surprise, but it didn’t hurt any less because of it.

Cassian sneered the words at you. “The only coward here is you. That bastard would kill you first of all, you can’t even defend yourself. That’s why you’re here aren’t you? Too weak and scared to survive on your own.”

Ava cruelly chuckled. Your eyes fell to the grass. Cassian looked so pleased to see you upset.

“Enough, Cassian. We need to focus on our plan.” Bertram was trying to draw the attention away from you.

Cassian looked at you like you were nothing more than the dirt beneath his boots, then walked away. “Just because you keep defending her, doesn’t mean she’ll pull you into the bushes with her.”

It was mortifying to hear the insinuation and the laughter that followed from Cassian and Ava. Bertram on the other hand looked away from everyone.

Cassian beckoned for Bertram. “Let’s get him on the wagon.”

You stayed with the horse, the only company you felt comfortable with in that moment. They got him loose from the tree but kept his wrists bound together in front of him whilst they moved him to the wagon. Ava kept her distance, she had bound a rag around her arm to cover the wound there.

Cassian held his sword ready but looked your way just for one blink and chaos erupted instantly. The Monk took the moment of distraction to cut loose the ropes on his wrists by moving them across the blade of the sword, he kicked Cassian to the ground immediately after. Ava was running towards Cassian to help, but you ran to Bertram when you saw the Monk turn on him next. He had already managed to disarm and steal Bertram’s sword, the poor Sky Folk barely stood a chance against him. It was reckless, but you had to try and help. You ran up to them and grabbed the cloak of the Monk, giving it a strong pull so Bertram could get to a safer distance. What you didn’t anticipate was that the Monk would switch targets so fast. You barely registered the hand wrapping around your lower arm, nor how the Monk had turned and caught you in his grasp. The fight fell to a sudden stop when the sword was against your throat, the Monk was holding you against his chest like a shield.

For the first time, the Monk let his voice be heard, “Stand down.”

He caught a whift of your scent by standing so close, there was an oddity in it that he could not place.

Cassian cursed under his breath, as did Bertram. The group kept their distance.

Next, the Monk demanded, “My swords.”

None of them moved to fetch the swords they had put on the wagon, they weren’t willing to offer him any more weapons than he already had. The Monk moved just a little and a whimper escaped you.

“Shhh…” he hushed. “Quiet.”

“Let her go.” Bertram said, eyes going back and forth between you and the Monk. “Just let her go.”

The Monk held on. “What is her life worth to you?”

“What?” Cassian asked incredulous.

“Is it worth yours?” The Monk tilted his chin in their direction. No answer came and he pushed them for one, “She risks her life to protect you, and you will not even consider doing the same for her?”

Ava kept quiet, gulping down the undeniable fear she felt. For a second, Bertram looked at you apologetic and your stomach turned.

“You can try to run. Or you can die with her. What will it be?” The Monk watched the group, waiting for their decision.

You saw all of them looking at each other and then they began to retreat. Slow at first, but then they ran. Bertram, the only friend you thought you had, abandoned you… leaving you to die at the hands of the Weeping Monk. Inside you were crumbling apart, broken by the betrayal, by how truly easy it was for them to give up on you. You were blinking fast, fighting the tears from showing. The group was gone, they had fled into the darkness of the forest, abandoning you in the grasp of the monster. The Monk stood still for a moment longer, undoubtedly noticing the response you had to the group forsaking you. Then he slowly walked with you to his horse where he retrieved a rope and used it to bind your wrists together in front of you. After taking another rope, he led you to a tree and forced you to sit down against it, he bound you to it.

You barely dared to stare up at him, and even when you did you only saw how his face was cloaked in the shadow of his hood. It reminded you of how some would describe a creature who came to collect the souls of the deceased. The Monk picked up his swords from the wagon, sheathed the shorter one but keeping the longsword in hand. He inspected the ropes binding you one more time before walking away, leaving you there at the mercy of the forest and possibly even wolves.

“No! Please, let me go!” You panicked when you saw him walk off.

He ignored the plea and soon he was out of sight and into the darkness of the forest. Fear engulfed your being. How long before you would starve, or perish from thirst? Or perhaps a wolf would find itself a tasty meal tied to a tree…

“You bastard!” your scream followed in his tracks.

But the Monk did not return.

    ~~~♤~~~♤~~~◇~~~♤~~~♤~~~

  Hours must have passed, it was dawn when you opened your eyes after having fallen asleep waiting for help that never came. You were still tied to the tree, but no longer alone. A frightened gasp escaped you when you saw the Monk stand near his horse, his back was turned to you, he was cleaning blood off of his sword with a rag he then discarded. Your eyes quickly scanned your body for signs of injuries but found nothing. But then where had that blood came from? He noticed that you were awake and walked over to you, sheathing the sword before stopping a few paces away.

“You are not Fey.” he stated.

Your eyes forced themselves away before they could betray the truth, your body shaking violently in fear of what he would do. You were defenseless like this, he could do anything he wished and you feared the worst.

The Monk spoke in a calm and even civil manner, “I found the Sky Folks. They have been cleansed.”

Ava and Bertram were dead? Your eyes fell on the bloodied rag.

“The man, Cassian, do you know where I will find him?” he asked.

You were quick to shake your head and kept your eyes fixed on the grass.

The Monk was determined to find the one who had acted so distasteful towards him. “I will find him.”

Could he sense that you were lying? You hoped he couldn’t. He came closer and stood near your boots quietly for a while, you worried he was trying to determine whether or not to kill you.

“You stole from us.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Are you?” He arched a brow, questioning your sincerity.

You nodded shallowly. “Are you going to kill me?”

The Monk was quiet for the longest time, then he reached down and from reflex you flinched. Always prepared for a hand to strike. He was only inspecting to see if the ropes were still fixed.

He stated the facts. “The ring. I know you have it, Father told me he saw you take it. Where is it?”

“In my pocket.” you quietly said.

Right away he inspected your jacket for it. Well… it wasn’t in those pockets…

“Uhm…” You were wincing at the uncomfortable situation you were in.

He looked at your face expectantly.

It came out very quiet. “The pocket of my trousers.”

His hands were off of you instantly, he swallowed and was clearly trying to think of what he would do. You didn’t think he would look as uncomfortable as you were. A deep breath. “Which pocket?”

By nodding to your right, you gave him the answer.

He brushed his hand over his chin, then slowly reached over to try and search for the ring. But the moment you flinched again, he halted. “If you cooperate, I will show you mercy.”

To show that he meant it, the Monk loosened the ropes, freeing you. He must have been confident that you wouldn’t try to attack him, and you knew better than to try. You didn’t even dare to get up from the ground, it felt like your back was stuck to the tree.

“The ring. Hand it over.” He beckoned for it.

With trembling hands you fished it out of your pocket and held it out for him to take.

The Monk took notice of how you were avoiding eye contact and took the ring from your hand. He looked at it whilst interrogating you. “Why did you steal it?”

Because if you didn’t, Cassian or Aldith would either starve or beat you into submission again… Your silence persisted.

“Answer my questions.” his tone was firm.

“To earn a meal.” you hated to say it out loud.

“Poverty?” he asked.

Your father wasn’t poor at all… Yet you nodded, letting him believe his guess was right.

The Monk questioned you further. “Tell me what you know about the man you were with.”

“He was Sky Folk, the woman was his sister.” you said.

He must have known that you were being purposely avoidant. “Not him. The one who struck you. Cassian.”

Your brain tried to think of plausible lies quickly. Because you couldn’t tell him the truth and expect him to let you go after that. No, he would use you to lead him right to Cassian, to your home and neither Aldith or Cassian would be forgiving. “I only know his name and that he is a sellsword. I encountered him with the Sky Folks.”

The Monk was thinking up theories. “Did he force you to steal from our camp?”

You did not appear to be the sort of person who would be willing to take such risks voluntarily. There was not even a weapon on you.

You didn’t know how to answer. He was clearly waiting for one.

“Well?”

“Yes.”

“You fear him.” It was a statement, he sounded so certain of it.

Not a sound came out of you. As if part of you feared Cassian was still around, watching this and waiting to see if you’d betray him.

He knelt down to your level, holding the ring up for you to see. “Stealing is a mortal sin.”

“I’m sorry.” The constant urge to apologize to avoid the violence was ever present.

The Monk dropped the ring into the grass and rose from the ground again, he walked towards his horse. You were still sitting against the tree and he stopped to look at you.

“Go.” he told.

“I’m free?” You couldn’t really believe it.

“Consider this clemency.” He paused. “I will not offer it a second time should we cross paths in a manner such as this again.”

You were starring openly at him now.

“Understood?”

“Yes…”

The Monk mounted his horse and you scrambled to your feet. For just a moment his horse seemed reluctant to follow his command, the animal was looking at you. He spoke to the stallion, drawing the horse’s attention back to him, “Goliath.”

Finally, the horse listened and the Monk slowly rode away. You were still in disbelief about it all when the sunlight reflected on the rubies of the ring he had left behind in the grass. You picked the ring up and were left to wonder why the Monk would even let you keep it. Was it because you had prevented Cassian from cutting a leg off of the horse?Regardless, if he had known of the Feyblood in your veins, he would not have shown you mercy. It took you a moment before you went and climbed into the wagon, maybe you should have waited to see if Cassian would return for it, but he hadn’t bothered to return for you either so you rode back to Ravenwick alone.

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During your childhood, you never thought you would see the color red so much, that was until you visited your Uncle with your father.

It was so dull and boring that you pleaded with your father more than once to go home.

Of course your Uncle Carden tried to find ways to distract you, but the man had no real clue what was needed to keep a child from getting bored and annoyed.

So that ended in both of them allowing you to walk around the place a bit, there were enough people around to come to your aid should something happen.

Walking between the build up tents was no less dull and on top of that people were staring at you. In retrospect, seeing a child wandering around the paladin camp must have been an odd sight.

Everyone was dressed in red robes, everyone apart from the boy who was practicing with the sword for the entire duration of your visit.

Now, that did look like a pleasant way to spend your visit there.

Upon approaching the boy, you halted when seeing the strange tear-like birthmarks under his eyes, they made him look like he was weeping.

Still, you collected your courage and called out to him “Hello!”

The voice of another child broke him out of his concentration.

He looked just as strangely at you as you looked at him.

You mustered up a toothy smile and got even closer “Can I play too?”

Play?

When no answer came, you asked less confident but no less eager “Can I play with you?”

The boy with the weeping eyes remained very quiet.

As a last effort, you stopped only a few steps away from him and held out your hand for him to shake “I’m y/n. And you?”

At this distance you took note of how his eyes were so blue that they matched the sky above your head, and they were fixed on the hand you were offering.

Why was he so quiet?

He wondered why you were smiling at him…

An elder paladin saw it happen and barked rudely “Boy! Did we tell you to stop?”

The boy’s attention went to the elder and he shook his head.

The elder pointed to the sack of straw bound to a pole that was planted into the ground “Then continue! Or you’ll be starving until the next evening! "

That was shocking to hear and you grew angry “Why are you so mean to him?!”

The red cloaked elder barked at you too “Who are you, girl?! And why are you here? Go on, get out of here!”

The boy was slow to return to the straw sack he had been practicing on and those weeping eyes stayed on you, like you were something foreign to him.

That paladin wasn’t going to scare you away “I’m y/n! And you are scum!”

It halted everyone that was around to hear it.

The paladin stalked closer and tried to grab you “What did you just call me, you little-”

Uncle’s voice thundered in the air “Brother Cedric!”

Brother Cedric stepped away from you immediately and your father was at your side now too.

The paladin tried to get out of trouble “Forgive me, Father. But this child-”

Uncle Carden interrupted him “Is my niece.”

Brother Cedric stammered an apology to your uncle and your father, then was send away.

Your question surprised both “Uncle, who is that boy?”

He believed that Father would call for him, that he would be introduced to you, he had hoped he would be.

Uncle Carden placed both hands on your shoulders “He is our Weeping Monk.”

With persisting hope, the request was made again “Can I play with him?”

He laughed a little and explained “He does not play, my girl. He must practice the sword.”

Why did this boy not play?

Like any child, you questioned it “But-”

Your father chimed in, knowing how persistent his daughter could be “Come now, sweetheart. I’m certain Uncle has many things to do. We will return home now.”

With a very deep sigh you followed your father and Uncle.

Even though he had not said a word to you, the boy had intrigued you.

And by the way he kept looking as you walked away at your father’s side, you might have intrigued him too.

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 ~ Years later ~

  The last time you rode in a carriage, your mother had sat opposite of you and read a book of poems. During the ride she had recited her favorite ones to you and your father.

She loved the ones that spoke of romance and yearning, and you ignored the looks that were shared between your parents during her recitals.

It was one of the many fond memories you would cherish to overcome the terrible tragedy that had costed them their life.

You had not been home that day, your mother was making the family’s favorite soup. The fire had spread too fast according to witnesses…

By the time you returned from the market with more of the needed vegetables, the house was in ruins.

Your family was gone, your home was gone…

Word was send of it by concerned citizens to your Uncle.

Now you were heading to the last family you had left, Uncle Carden, to all others known as Father Carden.

It had been years since you had seen him, your parents had distanced themselves from him when the Church began to truly rise in power.

Shelter was offered to you in a monastery, it was either that or sleeping outside on the ground with no means to survive.

The trip to the monastery was so long that you wished you still had a book to read but they had all been lost to the fire.

The carriage came to a halt outside of a large monastery, the outside walls had ivy growing all over it and the place was swarming with red paladins who had gathered to see the carriage arrive.

Were you such a novelty? Did this place not get that many visitors?

It made you all the more apprehensive to get out of the carriage and your uncle was nowhere to be seen yet.

One man, tall and dressed in grey, moved towards the carriage and the others made way for him.

The hood of his cloak hid his face, the door of the carriage was opened.

At first he made no effort to make eye-contact, he did not even look in your direction, just held the door open and waited for you to get out.

It was a cold welcome and the will to actually step out left you then and there. Did they not want you here after all?

The uninterested attitude did not stop you from questioning him “Excuse me, where is my uncle? I was told he would be here.”

It was as if he did not even realize you were aiming the question at him, slowly he turned his head to face you.

Those birthmarks…

It were those same weeping eyes you had seen years and years ago.

That boy back then…was him?

He had blinked rapidly and dropped his gaze to the ground again “Father awaits you inside, Lady y/n.”

You leaned forward, not afraid to stare at the man who had grown to be quite handsome “I remember you.”

By reflex he looked again, but quickly forced himself to stop looking.

Did you truly remember that day too?

He had believed you would have long forgotten.

No answer came, clearly he was still not very talkative, just like he had been that day.

After seeing a familiar face, you did start to move but that damned skirt of your dress was a nightmare to get out of the carriage with. It got stuck on a nail that stuck out of the wood in the doorway.

There was a long moment of struggle before the Monk interfered and offered a hand.

You got your skirt loose from the nail and placed a hand on his.

He was quite alert and watched as you got down from the small steps.

The minute your feet hit the ground, he withdrew his hands and clasped them together behind his back.

Awkwardly you stood next to him, not knowing where to actually go.

With a gesture of his hand, he requested for you to follow him.

The Monk tried to ignore the staring while walking with you into the monastery.

It only made you want to ask him questions “I saw you, years ago, when you were just a boy. You were practicing the sword and a paladin was mean to you. Do you remember? Do you remember me?”

Of course he did.

Conversation was limited in his life and now he was faced with a person who was seeking it out “Yes, Lady y/n.”

Without any shyness, you looked him up and down “I assume that that practice paid off. Are you in charge of the paladins now?”

He corrected it “Father leads us, I follow his command and they follow mine. Some of the elders only follow orders directly from Father or those higher of the Church.”

Your attention went to the swords at his side, his went to your face and noticed how intrigued you were with him again.

Just like all those years ago…

There were so many questions you wanted to ask him “What’s your name?”

No answer came.

The Monk held the door open for you and upon looking into the room you saw your uncle “Father. Lady y/n has arrived.”

With arms spread wide open, Uncle Carden greeted you like no time had passed.

When he embraced you it felt awkward after all these years.

With his hands on your arms, he spoke “Look at you, you have grown, my girl.”

You exchanged conversation to avoid an uncomfortable silence “Thank you for offering me shelter, Uncle. I did not know what to do after…” a pause “…the fire took everything from me.”

Uncle Carden offered consolation “Not everything, dear girl. You still have me.”

You nodded, then glanced back to where the Monk obediently stood in silence.

Uncle Carden beckoned for the Monk to come closer “Ah, yes. Our Weeping Monk will be in charge of your guaranteed safety. No threat will get past the Sword Of Light.”

The Monk’s attention snapped to Father.

This was the first he had heard of this…

He informed the Monk of what was expected “You will protect her, my son. The enemy will try to harm her when word spreads about her connection to me. Go now, show my niece her sleeping quarters.”

Was it your imagination or did the Monk look anything but motivated with his task? “Uncle, I really don’t need someone to watch over me-”

Your Uncle would not hear it “Nonsense, y/n. Your safety is of the utmost importance. Go with our Monk.”

And so you followed this Weeping Monk, who’s name was still a mystery to you, to the room you would be sleeping in.

The door was unlocked and the key given to you by him, all of it happened in silence.

Was it because he just did not like to talk, or because he did not like you?

You mentioned it when walking into your room with him standing at the door “You don’t talk much. Are you a quiet person or just not very keen on talking to me?”

That sure got his attention “I did not mean to offend. I was taught to speak when spoken to and to show respect by silence.”

The room was not as small as you had expected it to be, a bed was inside and some furniture.

A room just for you…

You were more open with people “You did not offend, it just worried me. Years ago, you did not speak to me either. I thought you just did not like me.”

It was difficult not to at least appreciate the one person who had stood up against the elder paladin for him back then.

The folded hands behind his back showed signs of nervousness “I was not allowed, Lady y/n. I am expected to serve the Church, nothing else.”

It made sense, he was a monk after all “I understand. Are you allowed if I give you permission to speak to me?”

Truth be told, he was not certain.

Was it proper?

He was a monk.

You were a woman and Father’s niece…

If he was truly tasked to protect you, it would be difficult to avoid starting a conversation at some point.

It took a while for him to answer “I believe so. Unless Father forbids it.”

Ah, finally it felt like there was an effort on his side to make conversation “Then you have my permission.”

He gave a respectful inclination of the head.

You got closer to him again “Will you please tell me your name? Everyone calls you the ‘Weeping Monk’ , but I believe that you have a real name too.”

The smile you had was the same from that day years ago.

Your eyes filled with excitement and anticipation.

It was rare for him to know a person who still reached out to others with such warmth.

The Monk finally answered the question you were so curious about “My name is Lancelot.”

For the second time in your life, you held out a hand for him to shake “It is nice to meet you again, Lancelot.”

Three seconds of thought passed before he tentatively reached out for your hand, knelt down and very briefly brushed his lips to your knuckles.

He rose to his feet again right after with another shallow inclination of his head.

Not what you had expected to happen.

It must have been a difference in customs and upbringing between you.

You giggled amused “I meant a handshake.”

The expression in his eyes changed so fast that you regretted telling him, as if he feared he’d made a grave mistake.

Quickly you tried to ease his mind “But, that was quite nice too.”

His voice wavered a bit “I shall let you rest after your journey. If there is anything you need, tell one of my red brothers, I shall learn of it.”

Before he could walk out completely, you called out his name and he turned again “There is something I could use…”

He acknowledged the request immediately “Speak your wish, Lady y/n.”

And you told him the wish “Could I have a book to read?”

He gave a nod “Of course. I shall see to it that you are brought books.”

As he walked out, you loudly exclaimed “Thank you! "

That was the day you settled into your new home and soon you would learn more of the oddities that happened in a monastery.

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  There were so many questions to ask, so many things to learn about the rules of the monastery.

Luckily you had the perfect person to ask it all.

And as you walked next to him in the woods, it was the perfect time to ask them and have a conversation with the otherwise quiet Monk.

The paladin group walked at a slower pace, some were already getting tired.

Where?

What?

When?

How?

He had heard it so many times that first day coming from you and just when he thought you were done asking questions, you popped up behind him to ask more.

After a tour around the monastery, he had thought it would have fed your curiously a little.

On the contrary, more questions came.

Truth be told, some were quite amusing to hear.

Some of his personal favorites included ‘Do monks have to pray again when they drink something while eating?’ and ‘Is mumbling half a prayer good enough?’.

Needles to say, it would take a while for you to learn all there was to know.

And Father had the splendid idea to speed up that progress by sending you along on an routine inspection of the woodlands.

Something you seemed more excited about than he was…

The questions you had started early on in the walk “Don’t we need a map?”

The Monk had little use for a map in these woods he knew so well “I don’t. Watch your footing.”

At that, you looked down and avoided tripping over a larger stone that laid in your path “So, we all just keep following you then?”

With a nod he confirmed it “Yes.”

Another question was fired “What if someone loses sight of the group?”

He answered with the experience he had on the matter “It will not happen if they pay attention. Having them find their own way back to the monastery is a fitting lesson if it does happen.”

That sounded rather harsh “What if I got lost?”

He said “You will not.”

You asked “How can you be sure?”

It sounded both like a reassurance and a warning “Because I will not let you stray from my sight.”

With a jest, you hoped to get him to be a little less tense “Not that I doubt your capabilities. But if it happens, I guess I’ll have to find my way back to the monastery on my own then.”

There was a slight tug at the corner of his mouth as he returned the jest “I will find you long before you reach it.”

The confidence he had on the matter left you curious “So, it is true what they say about your skills. You have an uncanny ability to find those you are searching for.”

He spoke casually, letting his sight fall to where you were walking “Often it is simple. Especially when the one I am looking for has a habit of trampling over everything.”

Right away you looked behind you and…well he wasn’t wrong.

Not a minute ago you had waltzed right through a pile of leaves, some where still stuck to your dress “I am ‘trampling’ over everything because I have my attention on you.”

He suddenly came to a halt and you almost walked into him.

The Monk signaled to the paladins to pay attention to the area they were in.

You asked “Is something wrong?”

He walked a little further and pointed at a bonfire that had been extinguished not long ago.

Then he walked around and kept looking at the grass, after only seconds, he knelt down.

You stopped right in front of him “What are you looking for?”

The Monk kept his eyes fixed on the ground “Tracks.”

You looked down at the grass around you “I don’t see anything.”

He deadpanned “That might be because you are standing on them, Lady y/n.”

Quickly you stepped back, wincing at your mistake “Sorry…”

It would be a very long day if he were to track down those Feys with you following him around like this.

The command followed “Wait here.” when he saw you ready to protest, he repeated more firmly “Wait here.”

You rolled your eyes, not caring if he saw or not “Fine.”

The Monk traveled further into the woods, leaving you with his red brothers.

More tracks became visible to his searching eyes and the scent grew stronger.

Quietly he drew his sword and after searching for a little while longer, he spotted a Tusk Man nearby who was readying his horse.

A dagger would suffice and would not alert the Tusk Man and send him fleeing before he could reach him.

But you had not listened to the order to stay where he had told you to, you had followed him and saw what was about to happen.

Without thinking you had grabbed the Monk’s arm to prevent the dagger from being thrown at the Fey.

The next thing you knew, the Monk was holding you by the throat.

It was a pure reflex to defend himself, it went and passed so quickly.

He released you right away, snapping “I told you to stay with the paladins!”

Stumbling back some steps, you resisted the urge to flee.

But he could still see the fear in your eyes and forced himself to control his frustration and tone.

He would need to let the Tusk Man go.

And the Tusk Man had heard the commotion, seen the Weeping Monk and fled on his horse right away.

The Monk took a step in your direction, but you didn’t want to be near him.

Without saying a word, you headed back to the group alone.

The enemy was too close to let you walk unaccompanied, even if it was not far.

A sigh was heard, followed by “Lady y/n.”

Stubborn as you were, you ignored it, you weren’t one of the paladins he was in charge of.

He had caught up with you quickly and strode beside you.

Bitterly you snarled “If you had not been so keen on murdering, this would not have happened.”

Keen?

He made you halt by taking hold of your arm “This would not have happened if you had done what I had asked of you!”

You pulled yourself loose and continued walking “Oh, so now it is my fault?!? Learn to control yourself!”

After three more steps, he blocked your path and almost had you walking into him “If you had listened-”

That anger flaring in your eyes reminded him of Father’s and he expected to be struck any second now.

Your words where sharp as a wolf’s teeth “People think you are a monster. You’re not, you’re afraid of what you do not understand. All of you are!”

He repeated it, demanding an explanation “All of you?”

You did not directly explain that this was about their treatment of the Fey “The paladins, you, my uncle. You are all so afraid of what you do not know or understand that you brand anything that is different from the scriptures an abomination.”

It got him nervous to hear you speak so openly of your doubt in the faith, it was meant as a warning “Do not let Father hear you say this. It is blasphemous.”

You rolled your eyes and walked away from him “I’ve had enough.”

It sounded like he was sighing “Where are you going?”

Without looking back or stopping, you answered “I am going to ask a paladin to take me back to the monastery.”

He would not trust one of his brothers with his sword and certainly would not trust them with you. Father would never forgive him if something were to happen.

He followed at a small distance and only interfered when you actually went to ask a paladin.

With one stern look from his Weeping Brother, the paladin knew better than to take your request.

You had seen the expression of the paladin change and slowly turned around, crossing your arms to face the culprit who was responsible “What?”

With caution the Monk stepped closer, his voice was hushed “I am sorry...” the change in your eyes gave him more courage “…for what happened.”

It seemed to be hard for him to admit it, mostly due to the presence of his red brothers.

You chewed your inner cheek, deciding whether to stay angry or be forgiving.

Then the Monk tilted his head a little down and to the side, it was an admission to his wrong doing, a plea for your forgiveness.

You shrugged your shoulders “Fine.”

He did not know how to interpret it “Fine?”

It was you who stepped closer now, repeating it once more “Fine.” adding “At least you were quick to let me go again and didn’t kill me by accident.”

His eyes dropped, betraying that it could have indeed happened.

His Mouth opened and closed as he thought back to the moment when he was so focused on killing the fey that he had not noticed you until you were close enough to grab him.

You gave some reassurance when it finally looked like he really did regret it “I won’t tell my uncle. So, you don’t have to worry about getting an earful.”

This would have earned him enough lashes of the whip to leave him bleeding for days again.

when you tried to step away, he spoke “Thank you, Lady y/n.”

With a nod you acknowledged it.

He released your elbow and loudly announced to the paladins “Gather together! We are heading back.”

This excursion was over. He would be too distracted and it would not benefit anyone if he was.

You stood beside the Monk, which gave you the sense that he was surprised by it, like he did not expect you to still want to.

Once everyone had gathered, you walked beside him again to head back to the monastery.

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It had been a while since you bumped into the pair on the road.

A Fey child, and a man who accompanied him that turned out to be off the Ash Folk. A Fey kind long believed to be lost to the war.

It was the boy, Percival, who was the first to strike up a conversation with you in an inn while Lancelot had wanted to remain discreet.

You had been sitting in a corner, in the shadows to eat your meal. Shadows had covered you and still you felt eyes staring at you often.

The hood of your cloak had been pulled up as far as it could, it was almost touching the tip of your nose.

Needless to say, when a child plopped down on the chair opposite of you, it gave you quite the fright.

What started with offering Percival a bite to eat, ended with an offer to shelter them for a night.

Just one night, in your humble home that had a spare room after the passing of your parents, that had been the plan.

As it had been the plan of Lancelot too.

One night.

That turned out differently when they saw you struggle with making much needed repairs to the house.

A broken window, a door that barely closed.

No, the place was not safe for a woman alone.

One week. Then two. After that Lancelot had stopped speaking off when he would leave with the boy and you never brought it up again either.

To him, you were the perfect balance for Percival.

A person who was not as afraid to show affection to the boy, compared to a person who did not even know how.

The prospect of journeying further had faded to the background, especially when you were willing to trust him even after you learned the truth about who he was.

At first you had thought Lancelot stayed just to help, but when the repairs were done it baffled you to realize he just stayed to…stay.

Growing up under the scrutiny of others about your appearance had left you with low self-esteem.

Why would anyone want to stay near you? Your parents had asked the question more than once, always pointing out that if you lost weight, you’d gain more attention and friends.

Alas, they had diminished you to nothing more than an appearance that was not up to par according to them.

Therefore your favorite piece of clothing was a cloak two sizes too big. It hid you from the world, for the world would not want to see you.

Summer or winter, the cloak remained.

Even now, in the heat of the sun you wore it to go outside after Lancelot and Percival agreed to visit the market.

It wasn’t a long walk, but gods the cloak under the burning sun was enough to make someone faint.

Asking to stop for a moment, for the third time already, felt humiliating “Can we stop for a moment again? I’m sorry, I just feel so thirsty.”

Lancelot halted along with the boy, seeing you visibly struggle in this weather.

Percival came to your side “Are you alright?”

The kindness of the child always made you feel a little better “I’m alright. I just need a moment.”

To your dismay, your tankard of water was already empty. You weren’t going to speak off it and just hoped you would be fine until you reached the market.

The Ash Man was not blind, he could see the struggle and offered you his tankard “Here, you need to drink.”

Refusing was no use, so you took the tankard and tried not to drink it all “Thank you, Lancelot.”

When he touched the hood of your cloak it made you flinch.

Were you so afraid of people seeing you?

He withdrew his hand “The cloak is causing you to overheat, y/n. Let me carry it for you.”

The answer was a resolute “No.”

He did not need to ask why, you’d never tell him the truth he already knew.

Always the cloak.

Wrapped around you to hide the curves of your body from sight.

Countless of times you had hid in your cloak or behind the two Fey who where far more confident, especially Percival.

Always the cloak.

Your physical shield when your lowered self-esteem won from what was true.

Before he could try to convince you, you handed him back the tankard “Come on, let’s continue before it gets too late.”

“We have time-” He protested, knowing that you often pushed yourself over your limits.

You disagreed “Some things I need, sell out quickly.”

The vendors who offered interesting prices were often out of wares within hours.

  At the market, after purchasing what you needed first, your favorite thing to do was see if they had any clothing items that Percival could use.

It had been the first thing you did when the boy tagged along to the market the first time while Lancelot remained at the house.

That evening, Lancelot was baffled to see Percival show off his new clothes and offered to repay you, which you waved away.

You were not rich, you were not poor, you were well.

Your parents made and fixed shoes for a living, successfully so, while you were popular even with those at court for your embroidery skills.

It was honest work and you earned your living.

The next time you had went to the market with Percival, the boy helped pick out something for the tall Ash Man too.

In the hopes that Lancelot would accept the gift, you had been clever enough to let the boy be the one to give it.

And when Lancelot tried to politely decline, you just told him you’d prefer him to have clothes of his own instead of your father’s.

After that, he did accept them.

Today you skimmed along the stalls of clothing, often questioning both of them if they saw something they liked.

Lancelot always said ‘No.’

While Percival said ‘yes’ to everything until the Ash Man reeled the boy in.

He never let the boy out off his sights at the market, especially when walking past the stalls where they sold weapons.

It was quite unexpected when Lancelot was the one to point something out for you in one of the stalls, he’d never done so before.

The soft linen of a dress contrasted against the roughness of his palm “Y/n. Would this not be something you would want?”

Out of all the things he could have pointed out, it had to be the dress you had eyed more than once in the past. It wasn’t the price that bothered you, you just believed it would not fit you. And the dress was one that would draw attention, something you wished to avoid.

“It wouldn’t fit me.” You admitted without much thought.

A frown creased his forehead and he had Percival join in on it “I believe it would suit you well. What do you think, Percival?”

The boy was not one to lie, at least not about things like this, and he told his truth “It goes with her eye color.”

Clearly they had not understood you when you said it would not ‘fit’ you “That is sweet, but it wouldn’t fit me.”

This time you gestured up and down yourself, then proceeded to search the stall for things that would fit one of them.

Lancelot remained with the dress for a moment, swallowing all he wished to say when realizing you truly believed this dress would not fit.

Now he was no expert, but the dress was a match for you.

With reluctance he dropped the topic and hoped his disappointment was not visible to the eye.

And you still looked unwell, if he had not left Goliath at the house he would have insisted that you traveled on the horse.

He caught up with you again “Percival looks hungry. Perhaps we could stop at the inn?”

Percival looked up at him confused “I’m not-”

With a nudge he silenced the boy.

Now that it was necessary, the boy was not hungry…

The child glared up at him before seeing the look the Ash Man shared “Actually, I am.”

You agreed to the plan “Oh? That’s a good idea then.”

Even though Lancelot knew the way, he led you lead them there while trying to discreetly let the boy know that you weren’t feeling so well.

In the inn after some back and forth, you agreed to Lancelot paying for his meal and Percival’s. He had insisted to pay for all, which you declined.

Lancelot often spend time hunting in the woods, it was how he earned his keep now, he hunted so you could sell what was caught at the market.

But you wanted him to save the coin instead of spending it, especially when it came to you, you could look after yourself just fine.

You had picked something small to eat and got a tankard of water along with it.

The water went down just fine, but you didn’t manage to quiet the demons in your mind enough to take a bite of your meal.

People were staring at you again, you couldn’t get a bite down your throat like this.

Lancelot wanted you out of the sun and hoped the later it got, the cooler the weather would become. And now his worry increased when he saw you refuse to eat.

“Are you not hungry?” He knew the answer already.

You lied “I’ve never eaten this before. I’m not sure I like it.”

Percival leaned over the table and stole a piece from your plate, popping it in his mouth “I taste nothing wrong with it.”

For a second Lancelot shut his eyes at the boy’s bad manners.

You began to move your plate towards the boy only to be stopped by the Ash Man.

He made an attempt to fix the situation “If you are going to give this to him, at least let me pay for something else for you.”

Politely you declined again “Thank you, but I will just drink my water. I’m not really hungry anyway and I’d rather give it to Percival than let it go to waste.”

The pleading look on Percival’s face made him yield.

Your stomach would be empty, but a child’s would be filled.

You drank the water slowly, finding yourself avoiding Lancelot’s eyes more than once.

Did you see concern in them or were you imagining it?

No, there were too many looks aimed at you to dissect them all correctly.

So, you kept your eyes on the table and watched Percival enjoy the food.

After the meal, the three of you returned home.

Luckily the sun was going down, you had had enough of the heat and weren’t feeling well at all. Your head hurt and you felt like you had walked around the earth without sleep.

The first thing Lancelot did upon returning to the house was going to see if Goliath was alright.

The horse had it’s shelter under a wooden canopy that was build against the side of the house.

Percival yawned loudly and not much later he was climbing the stairs to the bedroom he shared with the Ash Man.

Where you kept your cloak on for a while longer, Lancelot had grown comfortable enough to take his off the second he entered the home.

You put away the vegetables and fruits you had bought at the market, then took his share of coins from the pocket of your dress.

He had refused his share before and knew you were too stubborn to allow it, so he took it “Why did you not eat anything at the inn?”

Your shoulders shrugged “People were staring at me, I hate it when it happens.”

When he breached the topic, you were quick to remove yourself from the room before it could lead to more questions.

But he was clever, it had not been the first time you had tried this.

You went to open the door to your bedroom that was next to the living area, his arm blocked your path inside.

He studied your face “You do not look well. Do you want some water to drink?”

You shook your head to decline and doing so allowed the vertigo to kick in, to avoid a fall you leaned against the wall with your back.

Lancelot took hold of your arm, making sure that if your condition got worse he would be able to help you to the floor without bones breaking “Careful. Take some deep breaths.”

You took the advice to heart and tried not to panic, after a minute of controlling your breathing it did get better.

He pushed open the door of your room and slowly led you to the bed so you could take a seat.

“Slowly.” He warned, fearing that the sudden change in position would cause you to faint after all.

With his help, you were able to sit down safely.

He gestured for you to stay seated, walked out and returned seconds later with a tankard of water and some fruit “Take this. The sun must have taken it’s toll on your body. Drink and eat.”

You took the tankard and it threatened to spill by how strong your hands were trembling.

To him it was only normal to help you with the task of holding the tankard if you could not do so on your own. The shaking decreased after drinking half of the water and he placed the tankard on the ground.

When he saw you refuse the fruit, he offered “Tell me what you want to eat and I will fetch it for you.”

You shook your head, those cursed thoughts were screaming at you. It was not rare for you to have a bad day mentally, but today was awful. No matter how much you wished to hide it, nothing seemed to slip past his watchful eyes. Some days you could not bring yourself to eat around anyone, out of fear that doing so would get you a mean comment.

Your parents had made so many cold remarks and even now they still haunted you.

Today those remarks were heavy on your shoulders. Tomorrow could be better.

But not today. Not now.

He was firm when needed be “You have walked in the blistering heat all day on an empty stomach.”

“I know you’re worried. But I will be fine, I just need some sleep and I’ll be better tomorrow.” It sounded like you were still trying to convince yourself of it as well.

Lancelot was trying his best and reached out to you from his own experience “I lived my whole life believing I was something I was not. It is hard to see the truth when our own demons refuse to let us do so.”

You shook your head slightly, knowing what he was trying to do. He was not a fool, it was only a matter of time before he noticed you almost always had your cloak on.

Was he truly trying to make you think you did not know the truth about your appearance?

It came out colder than you had wished for it to sound “Spare me your pity. I know what I am.”

Did you truly believe others perceived you so wrongly?

The one he had caught staring was a man who kept looking at your rear every chance there was.

And seeing another look at you in such a way had gotten under his skin more than once.

At first he had blamed it on feeling protective over you, until he caught himself doing what he was hating others for.

He did not avoid confrontation “What are you then?”

You scoffed bitterly at how he continued to pretend not to see it “I know why people stare at me, Lancelot. That’s why I wear the cloak all the time. No one wants to see someone like me.”

The thought that you believed that… no, it couldn’t truly be this bad…

He needed to hear it, to hear you say exactly what was haunting you because it stunned him so greatly.

And there was even anger in him, what terrible things had been said and done to you to make you think of yourself like this?

At this point, he was far more stern and chased the truth “Someone like you?”

You gestured to yourself, getting quite short with him “You saw how it was in the inn, I could barely move around!”

He found himself protesting “The place was packed with people-”

“Please, just stop. Please.” You hid your face in your hands “I’ve always been unappealing. I have learned to live with it.”

Silence fell, you no longer wished to speak of this, It hurt too much.

He could not voice his opinion on the matter.

No, not without crossing a boundary that had always been there between you.

A moment passed before he sat down beside you on the bed.

“Who told you this?” He made his voice sound as gentle as he could.

Your eyes remained on the floor “Everyone.”

That could not be correct.

Lancelot hoped to change the opinion you had on yourself “I did not. Percival has not either.”

The past with your parents had never been brought up and you did not wish to do so.

The past was the past, and it was where they belonged.

He changed tactics “You have seen my scars, now those are unappealing to the eye.”

It was kind of sweet that he was trying to lift your spirits, but he was throwing himself to the block to do so, your voice grew softer “It’s not the same. Scars or not, you could never be unappealing to someone.”

Oh?

That was perhaps the first compliment he’d ever received on his appearance and for it to come from you made it all the more meaningful.

It made him more comfortable to speak openly “They do not stare at your body for the reason you believe they do.”

The confusion on your face was genuine “What do you mean?”

He took what he considered the greatest risk in his life and touched the strings that held the cloak around you.

Upon doing so, it was like you shrunk before him.

Still, he undid the knot and let the cloak fall from your shoulders.

It had been too warm today to be wearing it and even now it was not much colder. Part of him wished to take it out of the house and let it disappear, but the cloak was not at fault, it was what gave you a sense of safety.

When you felt him take it from you, you caught his wrist to prevent it “My cloak…”

The times you had touched him he could count them on his one hand. Usually it had been an accident.

So this felt far more intimate than it was intended to be to him.

His wrist was released and he balled the cloak up and put it down between you “This cloak cannot hide your kind heart. Or the curves of your body that you wish to hide.” he used his own experience with hiding beneath a cloak “People always see us.”

It made your heart sink, of course you knew that a cloak could never hide everything but it was your safe haven.

Hearing it only made you want to hide from sight again and by reflex you reached for the cloak.

But he had anticipated it and put his hand over it to prevent it.

Not once did you meet his eyes, your own were getting hazy by the tears that threatened to show “Why are you doing this?”

Subconsciously he was leaning closer “I see how others see you, they do not view you as you do yourself. You were right, at least one man was starring at you in the inn that I could see. Two at the market.”

You refused to believe what it implied “Don’t be ridiculous.”

The scoff he emitted sounded partly like a chuckle, after a quiet second he said “Eleven.”

The number had you frown at him “What?”

His fingers felt the warmth still present on the cloak “Eleven men have looked at you in a way that a monk would be send to the whip for.”

And with two of them, he had to actually interfere when they had the blatant intend to touch you without you noticing. Always at the market, where a crowded place could make it look like an ‘accident’.

Your eyes flickered to his and dropped to the floor again upon seeing the warmth and kindness in them “It’s not true.”

“I would not lie to you.” To hear you reject even the possibility of it was difficult to witness.

You stood up from the bed, still feeling somewhat lightheaded

The house consisted only of the two bedchambers and one living area that also served it’s purpose as a kitchen, there wasn’t much of a chance to retreat to a place to be alone.

You turned to him “I know you’re just trying to cheer me up. But nothing you say changes the truth.”

That stubborn nature in him only made him more determined to get the point across “I will not feed you lies to make you feel better.”

The firm tone he had now was quick to silence you.

He rose to his feet as well, took two steps in the direction of the door and then stopped “Do you trust me?”

Not once had he harmed you and he’d sworn not to, he had always kept to his word.

“I do.” You admitted.

This man was agile, light on his feet and quick to action.

Before you could even guess what he was about to do, it was already happening.

Your arms flailed beside you when he cradled your head and brought his lips down on yours.

What started as a kiss fierce enough that felt like it was meant to scare away all your doubts, faded into a declaration he could have never brought into words.

It felt surreal to be on the receiving end of this man’s attention.

He was a monk, terribly handsome and a good man under a stoic veil.

He broke away to see your response but did not stray far from your lips.

Perhaps actions spoke louder than words.

With widened eyes you stared into his “What are you doing?”

His voice was silk to your ears “Kissing you.”

Your thoughts were slowly catching up “Why?”

Honesty was a virtue he held high, even now “While others stare, I shall be the one to show you why they do so.”

Now he let you decide the course of action and held back on tasting your breaths again.

Your fingertips touched his cheek in wonderment, as if you could not believe he was real and this was actually happening “I think I need to be shown again…”

That was an invite he did not pass up on and he proceeded to show it for many years.

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