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throped · 1 year

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The Weeping Queen // Weeping Monk x OC // Chapter 2

Nimue and I were walking down the trail to her village. My head was swirling, and I felt like I was going to faint. “Wait, I haven’t asked you for your name yet, what are you called?” Nimue asked. My voice was hoarse, but I still answered, “Dae.” She smiled at me but realised that I looked paler than the first time she met me. Cold ran through me and I shivered while feeling nauseous too. “Dae, are you okay?” Nimue worriedly asked. “I feel cold. Too cold,” I mumbled before my legs gave up and I dropped to the ground.

Great, I fainted.

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A paining ache arose when I woke up. I quickly took in my surroundings. I was on a much softer surface this time, maybe a proper bed. The height of the room was quite low, reaching probably 1.5 metres. And when I looked below me, the ground wasn’t much of a pleasure. It was covered with stone as well as some specks of dirt. Just as I was looking around, I could hear the sound of people walking in, they were blurred as my vision still hadn’t adjusted to the amount of light. But as they came closer, I could recognise one as Nimue. At least there’s one familiar face. The other person was a lot older than Nimue, probably Nimue’s mother, I hope she didn’t mind me staying in her house. “Dae, you’re alright! You had me worried,” Nimue spoke up. I mustered up some strength and sat up in the bed and replied, “thank you for staying with me, I thought you’d leave me there,” I thanked her. The woman next to her rushed to ask me. “Dae, listen to me carefully, is it true, you just woke up in the forest? Nimue told me that you said you got transported from your world to ours,” the seemingly older woman asked. “Yes that’s true, I did wake up randomly in a forest. I’m not sure how though,” I replied with. “Thank the Hidden it is her. The one who was sent to us,” the older woman mumbled under her breath. “Listen Dae, I’m Lenore, Nimue’s mother and you’ve arrived, just as they said. Please reply honestly to this, have you touched anything ancient recently?” she asked. I stayed silent, I could only think of one time and that was when I touched the sword at the cash converters, but that obviously didn’t matter. Well, I guess I’ve got to say something and that is what I will say. “Uhm, yes I think. I may have touched a sword at a shop I went to in my world,” I said. “Did it have writing on it, some sort of ancient language I would say, that glowed when you touched it?” Lenore once again asked. “Yes, it glowed a bright orange and there was this writing on it… I feel like I could understand it somehow, I can’t make out the words, but it was something like ‘Whosoever wields the Sword of Power shall be the one true king’ in English,” I stated.

“Dae, you are powerful, just like Nimue, you both have been cursed. The Hidden sent you here so that you could fight back, you’re our fighter. The Fey’s fighter. From now on, you’ll stay with us, you’ll get accustomed to our culture and lifestyle, I know that where you are from, things are different, but you’ve got to stay with us if you want a way out of here. There is only one thing that will help you. The Sword of Power. The one you touched,” Lenore explained. I couldn’t wrap my head over this. I’m only thirteen! Yes, I may look or be smart, but that doesn’t mean you drag a child into a completely different universe! “Lenore, I’m too young, I cannot fight. I don’t have the slightest idea as to how to hold a sword,” I ranted out. What was I doing here? “Dae, if you do not know, I will teach you, people may live today but die tomorrow in war, it is going to be your job to prevent that in the future. Promise me Dae, that you will protect the Fey, you will do everything in your power to save them,” Lenore spoke. I don’t know about anything but as long as I will have to stay here, I will owe them, what’s better than preventing lives from being taken as a token of gratitude? “I promise, Lenore and Nimue, I will be by your side, and I will protect the Fey to my highest ability,” I took my oath.

After that day, everything changed, my lifestyle, the people I was surrounded by, my clothes and literally everything in my other life had been altered. I looked different than everyone else though, while Nimue and Pym got to wear normal clothes like the village, I had to wear black attire, great for camouflaging in the dark. While Pym, Squirrel and Nimue had their own responsibilities, I had to learn the culture of the Fey, the history and how to wield all sorts of different weapons. I learned how to fight….. just like how Lenore said I would.

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Anddd, that's a wrap, these past 2 chapters were how you settled in and where you came from so no more cheesy promises or stuff like that. This is my first series and I'm not sure how it'll go though... so yeah. But I'll continue until it's finished.

#lancelot #fem reader #the weeping monk x reader #the weeping monk #cursed #nimue #lenore #pym #squirrel #merlin

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maaaddiexo · 3 years

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Cursed

MAINLIST

THE WEEPING MONK/LANCELOT - BORN IN THE DAWN

Series

The Witch’s Tower (Mini series) ✓: [1]The Witch’s Tower [2]Fugitives [3]Fireflies [4]The Lost Village

#the weeping monk #the weeping monk imagine #the weeping monk x fem!reader #the weeping monk x y/n #the weeping monk x reader #daniel sharman #daniel sharman imagine #camelot #cursed #cursed imagine #witch

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everlastingdreams · 3 years

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Weeping Monk x Fem Reader : Playing With Fire chapter 1

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Story Summary: The Huntsman, that is what they called your brother. A name he had earned by hunting down the fey for coin. Coin that is given by Father Carden for his services. You refuse to stand aside and watch how your brother hunts down those who are fey. When you start to warn the fey camps your brother wishes to attack, you find yourself behind enemy lines. But when the Weeping Monk becomes suspicious of you, you realise you are playing with fire.

Notes: A slow burn story where the reader begins to risk their life to help the fey. The situation becomes more dangerous as the Weeping Monk himself begins to figure out just what exactly you are doing.

Extra notes: Enemies to lovers, Slow burn, angst, voilence, deaths, Percival being a smartass, tension, lots of tension. All sorts of tension tbh.

Warnings: Abusive behavior in this chapter. The warnings will increase as the story progresses so be warned!

Word count: 3507 words in this chapter.

Chapter: 1/ 30+ something (buckle up, it’s a wild ride.)

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~Past~

She sat opposite of you as she examined the cut on your knee. You had obtained it when you were playing in the forest on your own. A badly placed branch was all it took to trip and fall. Your older sister cleaned the cut with a damp cloth, then she stood up and went to retrieve a small bowl she had hidden in a box beneath her bed. You watched her through curious eyes as she showed it to you. You recoiled when you realised what was in the bowl "Is that... is that... fey medicine ?" The last word came as a whisper, speaking of fey medicine in Mirstone was dangerous, but actually using it was far worse. She nodded silently with a smile "Don't worry, y/n. I won't tell anyone. Will you ?" You quickly shook your head, of course you would not betray your sister. But you looked at the bowl in fear, thinking about all the stories your older brother Draegan had told you about the evil fey. "Isn't that dangerous ?" You asked looking frightened. She let out a soft laugh before putting your mind at ease "No, it is not. Don't believe what the people say about the fey, y/n. Don't believe Draegan. They do not know what they speak of." You frowned at that "The fey aren't evil ?" She gently rubbed some of the salve from the bowl on your knee "Of course not. They are just people, like us." But why did everyone here believe they are evil then ? "Then why do people say they are ?" You watched as the salve did not in fact hurt you. She shrugged her shoulders and looked at your face "People fear what they do not understand or know. But we cannot let fear blind us from the truth, y/n. Be braver then they are." You nodded as she convinced you about the fey. She would never lie to you. Your eyes fell on a necklace around her neck you had not seen before, instantly taking a liking to the pretty flower shaped wooden pendant "What's that ?" She looked down at the pendant around her neck when she saw you pointing at it "This ? Do you like it ?" She must have seen the sparkle in your eyes and you nodded. She took it off and put it over your head, so you were now wearing it "A fey gave it to me. They carved it themselves." Your eyes widened at her confession, still shocked that your sister would dare to bring fey items into the village, into the house... She held it between her fingers "Keep it. They told me it would bring me love and luck. But I already have that, I love you and I'm lucky you're my little sister." You smiled a bright toothy smile at her and she did the same "Thank you !" She patted your now bandaged knee "Perhaps it will bring you love and luck as well." She stood up and hid the box under her bed again. You kept the pendant your sister had given you that day. Only later you recognised which flower the pendant resembled. Years later it had brought you little luck and no love. But as long as you had the necklace, you still had her close to your heart, where she would always be.

~present~

You arrived back at the village, Mirstone, at dawn and quietly descended from your horse. Calling Mirstone a village was...generous. There were a few brick houses and the rest of it was made up out of tents. You were one of the few who was lucky enough to have a house of stone, it was perhaps the only perk you had from being the sister of the huntsman. A name your brother Draegan had earned by locating fey, capturing them and often even killing them. For a price.

A price Father Garden was willing to pay for Draegan's services. Yesterday you had found a map Draegan had acquired, containing the location of his next target. A fey camp not far from your village. When night had fallen you had rode your horse to the fey camp and warned them. They didn't trust you at first so you gave them the map and told them who you were. They were very grateful and quickly packed their things before leaving their camp. As you walked back into the village you hoped no one had seen you take the map. You were discreet but your brother had eyes everywhere. As you approached your tiny house you saw one of his henchmen waiting outside for you. You held your head high, not wanting to show fear as you greeted him politely. "He wants to speak to you. Don't keep him waiting." The henchman's voice was laced with threat. You turned away from him and made your way to the building you knew he would be at. It was where he and his henchmen planned their next move and where he would meet guests like Father Carden. He stood leaning over the table as he watched over the papers displayed on them. You did notice there seemed to be papers that you had not seen yesterday, they must have been new. You kept a distance, being in the same room was already too close for comfort. "Come closer, little sister." He didn't look in your direction. It was the same room and table where you had taken the map from yesterday evening. He must have realised that it was missing. You tried to control your breathing as you approached the table. "You asked for me ?" You tried your best to sound innocent and oblivious. "Where is it ?" Anger already audible in his words, he tapped his finger on the table. You evaded your eyes "Where's what ?" He slammed his fist on the table "Don't play dumb ! The map ! Where is it ?!" It made you jump and you took a step back. You did not know if someone had indeed seen you take the map or if this was just him blaming you for something again even though he had no real evidence for it. Something he often did.

“I don't know.” The words came out shaky and barely audible.

His eyes snapped to you instantly, in two quick steps he roughly grabbed hold of your arm. You could feel the bruises forming as his grip tightened around your arm.

"I don't know !!! I never saw a map !" You lied and hoped he would believe it. You tried to get your arm out of his grasp but his hold only tightened.

He opened his mouth to speak but then one of his men opened the door and entered the room.

“Father Carden has arrived, boss. Should I send him in ?” The man's eyes darted between you and Draegan.

He roughly let go off your arm. "We'll talk about this later !" A clear threat in that statement. He turned to the man “Send him in.”

The henchman left the room in a rush and you had expected your brother would lash out at you again. Instead he seemed to try and calm himself down "Pull yourself together, y/n ! Father Carden is here. It is time we discussed a raise in coin. Not a word about that missing map, you understand me ?" He pointed at your face, eyes flooding with hidden rage and you nodded obediently.

“Hide those papers ! Hurry !” He barked and you quickly grabbed the papers from the table and tossed them under a stack of books in the corner.

The door went open and the henchman walked in again, announcing Father Carden who walked in seconds later. And as always the Weeping Monk followed in his footsteps. You took the moment to create more distance between you and Draegan, hoping to soon have an oppurtunity to leave the room.

Your brother approached them with his arms spread out in a welcoming gesture but it was all an act. You wondered if they realised it as well ? "Ah ! Father Carden ! Have you once again come to bless us with your presence.. and coin ?" He added the last part once he was close enough to Father Carden. Resisting the urge to roll your eyes, you looked over at the Weeping Monk. He seemed as thrilled about this meeting as you were. Father Carden visited the camp every few weeks to talk about the progress in extinquishing the fey. And to pay your brother for his work of course. You hated it, hated seeing the red of the paladin's robes wandering around the village. As you walked around the village you tried to avoid them as much as possible.

“Huntsman.” Father Carden greeted him with a nod “That will depend on what you have to offer this time.”

Draegan shot you a quick look and you knew he was nervous. That map that went 'missing' was meant to be a bargaining chip in this. You ignored it, not even looking at him as you cast your gaze to the floor. Draegan straightened his back and tried to look confident “Two fey camps, no survivors. That is what I offer this time.”

Your stomach turned at the information, the fact that you were related to him made it even worse. He pulled another map from his jacket and showed Father Carden the locations as he described in gruesome detail how he had 'dealt' with the fey. Father Carden hummed approvingly while the Weeping Monk seemed almost bored by it all, as if he was not even listening to your brother's bragging. You had heard enough and started to move away from them, and towards the door. Draegan did not notice you leaving, and neither did Father Carden as your brother started to speak of more coin for his 'good work'. Something Father Carden didn't seem pleased with.

But the Weeping Monk had noticed, and you felt his eyes following you as you walked out of the room. Even though you felt intimidated you did not show it.

Refused to show it. He had noticed you at the Village the previous times he had been here. He paid little attention to the people at the village but you had drawn his attention the first time he had been there when you had physically bumped into him. Others would have uttered a quick apology and hurried along. Not you.

"Watch where you're walking !"

You had snapped at him before pushing your way passed him again. He had remembered the fire and rage in your eyes. It came as a suprise when he learned you were the Huntsman's sister. The Huntsman was a cruel man with no morals, who enjoyed to torture the fey when given the chance. It was what made him effective in what he did. But the Huntsman was alway polite to both him and Father Carden, he had to be if he were to expect payment. You however didn't seem to care about that, and everytime he visited the village he would observe as you avoided the Red Paladins like the plague. Often giving one of them a backhanded comment if they did try to have a conversation with you. He suspected you did not share your brother's view on cleansing the fey. Therefore he kept an eye on you while they visited the village, someone like you could easily sabotage Father Carden's mission and help the fey instead. He knew the Huntsman often acquired documents or information about the fey, valuable information, to earn more coin from Father Carden. And if you were indeed on the side of the fey, it would seem little trouble for you to take that information and give it to the enemy. He had learned not long ago that somehow everytime the Huntsman learned about a location of a fey camp before him, often the camp would be abandoned not long before he would arrive. As if someone had warned them. Warned them that they were coming. Something he had ignored to mention to Father Carden. He knew he would be the one to be blamed for not being fast enough, for not tracking those feys down faster then the Huntsman. He pretended that he had not puzzled it together and it seemed that the Huntsman was acting like it too. Either that or the Huntsman was oblivious to the whole thing. Something he didn't put past him, he was effective in hunting down fey, but he was often blinded by his own ego. And he doubted that the Huntsman would suspect his own sister to be at blame. In the times he had visited the Monk had never caught you acting suspicious.

Yet he still kept an eye on you, and it seemed some Paladins did the same but he suspected it was for reasons different then his own. You were the quiet type. The one that was almost always present at the meetings between Father Carden and the Huntsman but never spoke a word unless you were asked. If he had heard you speak four whole sentences in that room since he had first seen you, it would be a lot. Father Carden discussed the fey and the progress of wiping them out with the Huntsman, but he believed that the most interesting information about the fey would not come from the Huntsman. No. It might just come from you. Because when you had spoken when asked, you sounded anything but dumb, calculated almost. A level of alertness in your presence that matched his own. But you never shared information on the fey's location. Wether it was because the Huntsman had forbid you to in fear it would cost him his payment or if it was because you were indeed helping the fey, was something he dearly wished to figure out.

OooooOOOOOoooOOOOOOOooooooooOOOO

He followed Father Carden and the Huntsman at a distance around the small village while they discussed their next course of action. The Huntsman often tried to derail the conversation, steering it back to his attempt to talk about a raise in coin for him. Needless to say, he quickly lost interest in the conversation. The village, if one could even call it that, was small. And it wouldn't take someone long to recognise all who lived there. That is how it occured to him that you were nowhere to be seen outside. Perhaps you were inside one of the homes but his insticts were telling him otherwise. He waited until they were talking near a bunch of paladins before he felt it was safe enough to leave Father Carden's side for a while.

Hearing your brother brag about his cruel actions was what made you slip back into the building where he had made you hide the papers before Father Carden or the Monk could see them. You pulled them from under the stack of books and quickly flicked through them, looking for any information on his next location to strike. Looking for those new papers you had seen on the table. Right when you found some small drawn maps you heard the door creak. You had not heard any footsteps nearing and that was what filled you with dread. In the blink of an eye you had hidden the papers under the stack of books again, hoping that you would be able to find them again later. Just as you turned around, the Weeping Monk stepped into the room. Pushing the door open widely, making for a dramatic entrance. Obviously you had been in the same room as him before, but never alone with him. The only words you had spoken to him was when you had snapped at him after you had bumped into him the first time they had visited the village. It was perhaps foolish to be rude to him considering his reputation but your anger towards him, towards Father Carden and his paladins, was stronger then your fear. He slowly stepped into the room, eyes on you right away. As if he was expecting you to be there. The silence was nerve-racking, and you knew you had to say something as this was definitely looking suspicious. "Has my brother asked for me ?" You asked him in a innocent sounding way, hoping your voice gave nothing away. His eyes fell on the empty table, as he slowly walked further into the room. You moved a little so you where standing in front of the stack of books. "No." He stopped next to the table that was standing in between you. It created a distance between you that you were grateful for. In that moment you wished he would just say something, it was unnerving how he seemed to examine you from afar.

“Does Father Carden need something ?” You tried again.

His eyes fell on something behind you and you knew he must have spotted the papers sticking out from under the books. They had not been sticking out when he and Father Carden were in the room earlier. He moved away from the table and you froze on the spot when you saw him move in your direction. You worried about him finding the papers, but what could he accuse you of ? He had not seen you peeking at them, nor taking them. You were just in the room, in this case it was more suspicious that HE was in the room. If he were to take the papers you could tell Draegan that the Monk was trying to prevent him from doing his work and recieving his payment from Father Carden. But that would place you on the Monk's bad side, something you obviously did not want. You felt like a hare facing a wolf by the way he was watching you, watching to see if you would move. If you would run. Then right before he was close enough the door went open and your brother walked into the room while speaking loudly to Father Carden. Both of them looked suprised to see you and the Weeping Monk in the room, alone. The tension in the room must have been palpable. Your brother first looked behind you to the stack of books and then to the Weeping Monk who was standing in close proximity. It looked like you wouldn't even have to tell him what the Monk was there for. And the Monk seemed aware of it as well as he stepped away from you, and from the stack of books.

Draegan clapped his hands together breaking the cutting silence “Is there a problem ?” His eyes shot between you and the Monk and you saw an opportunity.

“Not at all, brother.” You gestured to the Monk “He was just telling me how your work has helped them in their mission.”

The Monk's eyes shot to you, a frown now gracing his face before it dawned on him what you were doing. To your suprise the Monk played along “Cleansing the previous camps has weakened them greatly, their food supplies will be running low by now.”

Both your brother and Father Carden seemed to believe the lie. The conversation then continued between Draegan and Father Carden as if nothing had happened. But the tension between you and the Monk was hanging in the room.

You could have told the Huntsman he was going for the papers, but instead you had kept quiet. It further confirmed his believe that you were smarter then you let on. Those must have been papers containing the information about the fey and you had been looking through them right before he had entered the room again, that is why they were now sticking out from under the books. You could have told the Huntsman he had intended to take the papers, it would have been a good cover for you. It suprised him that you had lied instead, had the Huntsman known what he was really doing he doubted things would remain civil. By lying, by covering his intentions, you had protected yourself. You were drawing the suspicion away from you that way. You had used his presence in the room to your advantage and as he played along with the lie, he had become your excuse to be in that room right there and then. Smart. Still, there was little doubt left in his mind that you were secretly warning the fey against the Huntsman. The problem was that he had no solid proof. This time you stayed in the room and remained quiet until right before they left again, you avoided facing your brother again that day about the missing map. Although it appeared that the payment he recieved from Father Carden had calmed him down somewhat.

Even if the negotiaton about a raise in coin had failed.

Taglist:

@itsjustjenna @thesneakylittleminx @ourlazydetectivekitten @the-great-adventures-of-me @linkpk88 @mixedchicaq @boredoomfm @soccmoss @fxrchxldws @rogershoe @elenaoftheturks @slytherlight @beananacake @tanyaherondale @lancelotapricot

Let me know if you want to be added or removed from the taglist.

#weeping monk #weeping monk x reader #weeping monk fanfiction #weeping monk x you #cursed lancelot #lancelot x reader #Cursed Netflix #cursed fic #cursed squirrel #cursed percival #The Green Knight #The Weeping Monk #lancelot x you

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euphoniumpets · 4 years

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Lancelot x Fey reader! Fem! Smut. They've both been together and raised by the Church and fell in love. Make it sensual and not too rough plz

i- yes. this is the content i live for!!! more the weeping monk smut for the win. also, the reader is father carden’s daugther because i love writing about those now. am i the only one who love dom! the weeping monk? but i also love the soft monk? also, i’m so sorry that this is not sensual i tried to keep it control but... i have no self control.

also, this is smut so unprotected sex, and oral recieving. also, someone plz give me holy water.

you could remember when you met the weeping monk for the first time. he was a shy boy, you could tell, and he didn’t spoke that much whenever the two of you were together. growing up in the church was a hard time when you grew up. it was very strict and you didn’t had much freetime.

your father was very protective of you. that’s why he didn’t let you go out that often and see your friends. but there was one boy he trusted. and it was lancelot. your father took a quickly liking to him, you could tell when he brought him into the church one day.

you two would steal glances every time in that class room. sometimes he would write little notes and place them under your table. the two of you didn’t had a conversation until one day when your father ordered lancelot to keep a watch on you when he went out with the rest of his brothers.

it was a simple conversation. you two would talk about school. your families. but whenever you spoke of family sadness would shown in his eyes. you knew that he didn’t had a real family. but you didn’t care about that because according to him, you and father carden was his only family.

when you were teenagers, the two of you slowly drifted apart. mainly because lancelot quitted school and father carden wanted to train him. you however, still was in school but you still sometimes kept in touch with lancelot.

when you finally got out from school, you took your time to spend some time with him. it felt like when you where children again. the two of you would talk for hours. you would admit to yourself that you loved lancelot more than a friend.

seeing him grow up into an handsome man, your feelings devloped for him. however, you still kept silent because you were afraid that he would not feel the same. but here you were, laughing so hard when he had his hands on your body as he tickled you in your chambers.

‘‘lance! we should be quiet, my father will hear us,’‘ you laughed between as he smiled. he loved see your smile on your face and your beautiful laugh. ‘‘then, let him hear us?besides, i’m not the one who’s laughing out loud’‘ you gave him a look as you leaned onto your elbows. ‘‘you know that he’s a strict man, he would not even appreciate in this position we are now,’‘ you replied as you rolled your eyes.

lancelot was infront of you as you could almost feel his warm breath on your face. you felt your cheeks getting flustered as he smirked towards your actions. ‘‘why would it matter? i bet that he already knows about us,’’ he murmured before he slowly leaned in.

the two of you locked your eyes as you watched his gaze if he asked that this was okay. you nodded when you felt him kiss your lips as he leaned backward as you felt that your head hit the pillow.

he began to kiss your deeper as you felt his hands all around your body. the two of you began to tear each other clothes and before you knew it, all of your clothes were on the floor. you felt his kisses trail on your beck as you let out a moan when he hit through that special spot on your neck.

you closed your eyes as you let him guide you. your heart pounded fast when you felt him kiss on your collarbone and then he gripped softly on your breasts. you moaned when he gripped both of them as he started to suck on your right nipple. ‘’lancelot...’’ you moaned his name like a mantra before he started to go lower and lower on your body.

‘‘god, you’re so beautiful,’‘ he muttered when he stared to slowly spread your legs apart. he leaned towards your cunt as you could feel the warmth breath before he started to dive in. he began small kitten licks before he passionetly circled around your clit.

you gasped out loud when you felt him enter a finger inside you. he curled his finger up as he began to thrust it a little faster. lancelot could almost cum at the sight of you, naked and as you moaned his name over and over again.

he stared towards your wet cunt with lustfull eyes as he could feel that you started to tightened up. ‘’lance, i think i’m-’’ you said breathlessly. ‘’do it, come for me, love,’’ you gripped the sheets as you let out a loud moan. your body began to tremble as you let go of your orgasm.

lancelot spread your legs even wider as he took out his big, long cock as he pumped it for a few times. he walked closer to you as you opened your eyes as you stared into his dark eyes.

you nodded when you felt the tip of his cock nudge your clit slightly as he began to rub it against you before he started to enter you. both of you moaned at the feeling inside. ‘’god, y/n, you’re so tight, warm and so wet,’’ he moaned.

you had never felt so full in your life as he began to wrap your legs around his waist. ‘’lance...’’ you closed your eyes in pleasure as he buried his head into your neck. he started to thrust slow as you could feel him kiss on your neck.

‘‘god, look at you, you feel so good wrapping your tight pussy around my big cock,’‘ you let out a moan as he chuckled darkly. ‘’you like this don’t you? you like when i talk dirty to you huh?’’ he replied as he began to thrust a little harder.

‘‘oh, god, lance..’‘ you moaned as you gripped your arms onto his shoulders.

lancelot kept thrusting inside of you and the only thing could hear inside of your chambers was your heavy moans. you started to feel the familiar knot inside of your stomach. ‘’lance, i’m gonna-’’ you replied breathlessly.

‘‘i know,’‘ he replied as he continued. you let out a moan when you felt the knot release and that lancelot filled you with his cum. the two of you breathed heavily as you looked at each other before he placed a kiss on your lips.

#the weeping monk x reader #smile #cursed #percival #merlin #nimue

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fizzyxcustard · 5 years

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Wrong Place, Wrong Time (6) - End of part 1

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5

Masterlist here

Read the completed version on AO3 here

Summary: You find yourself in 1209AD after a science experiment has gone wrong, and you are now making a new life in a small village in France. However, Sir Raymond de Merville has his eye on you and will not take no for an answer. You both embark on a passionate love affair which leads to Raymond’s downfall.

Fandom: Pilgrimage (2017)

Pairings: Raymond de Merville x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Sexual references, violence, bad language, sexual language, smut

Comments/Notes: Re-post of original story which was posted on Tumblr last year in two 12-part stories. They will now be posted in two 6-part stories instead, just to condense the story down. Now has new name rather than it being a list of imagines for each chapter. If you wish to be added to a particular tag list, for a fandom, character or actor, message me or send an ask.

For a further few weeks, you and Raymond kept to your meeting place, the dairy barn. Each night you would make love, feeling the passion of your forbidden love rise. Raymond’s father had been pushing to dissolve your marriage, but he used this to his advantage, it becoming leverage to push his son into going on one last quest in their family name. “Raymond, you go on one last mission for me, and I will not see your marriage dissolved,” the old man had said, drawing a growl from Raymond.

“Whether I go or not, my marriage to her still stands,” Raymond hissed.

Then, finally, Raymond’s father had had enough of trying to make his son see sense. “If you do not go, I shall have her killed. If we go, then I shall spare her.”

Raymond knew that if his father made a threat then it was incredibly rare that he did not follow through on it. If he did not go to meet up with the travelling Irish monks on the road who were carrying a sacred relic, then you, his world, would be killed. And there was no way that Raymond could risk you, especially when you gave him news that evening.

“I think I’m pregnant,” you said softly, smiling.

Raymond swept you into a kiss, his hands brushing through your hair. “My love, I swear that after this last quest with my father then I shall remain by your side; we shall move from this god forsaken village, and I will bleed my father dry of everything. No one threatens you and my unborn child.”

“Make sure you come back to us,” you told Raymond, kissing the ring you had given him which was around his neck on a cord.

Raymond fell to his knees and lifted your dress, kissing your stomach. “I will return to you both, my love.”

The next morning would be when Raymond left, so you made sure you savoured each other in the barn that night. You made love way past the midnight hour, your cries falling onto empty air. Both of you fell asleep in the hay, wrapped together with your clothes over you for warmth.

*****

For the next few weeks that you were without Raymond, whilst he was travelling, you exchanged letters via pigeon. Every other morning and the same pigeon would come to the barn, dropping a small piece of parchment into your hand. Raymond would declare his love to you and your unborn child in each letter, swearing that his quest would uphold your honour and your vows as husband and wife.

Each letter you kept in a small wooden box which Etienne had given you as a wedding gift, a box which he had made himself, carved with roses coming into bloom.

But, suddenly, the letters from Raymond stopped.

*****

Your Raymond was dead. He had died staying true to his word and honouring you through betraying his father, trying to bring the bastard down and take away what he truly cared about. Upon hearing the news and you had fallen to your knees, weeping. Then you stormed out of the barn where you were working, kicking open the door and screaming into the open air.

Raymond’s body was brought back to the village, wrapped in a burial shroud. You kissed the fabric, your tears falling onto him. In a fold of the fabric, where you kissed, your lips touched something cold. You opened the cloth, and there across his chest, protruding from a hole in his leather gauntlet was an arrow. The sun shone down on the weapon, and on the very edge of the curled, modified shaft, you could see a small droplet of blood.

From the very day that your beloved Raymond was buried, you vowed to avenge his death. Firstly, you took his sword from his body along with the arrow, and watched in secret from behind a tree as his body was placed into the ground. His bastard of a father stood before his son’s body, his arms crossed.

He would be first.

Revenge was coursing through your body, filling your blood so it was red hot. Raymond’s death would not be in vain; you would make sure that every man who was responsible for your husband’s passing would feel pain, excruciating and raw.

The night of Raymond’s funeral and you gagged his father after sneaking into the back entrance of the house. The old man squirmed on the bed beneath you after being woken by your knees pressing into his chest. You held a dagger above the man’s body and drove it slowly downward into his chest, hearing him scream around the gag. Something dark overtook you and a sly smirk crept onto your lips as you watched the bastard die slowly, choking miserably on his own blood. But before he died you whispered in his ear, “Raymond’s child grows in my belly, and he will rise to take everything you own.”

You left the town, watching on in sadness as Etienne slept soundly, not knowing what fate would await you. In your bag you put rations of food, weapons, clothing and your box of letters from Raymond. His sword was snug in its scabbard at your waist and the arrow was placed in an inside pocket of your tunic. The few riding lessons you had had with Lucille and Henri would prove useful as you took one of the horses from the stables and left the village for good.

Word had spread in the village whilst you were there, remaining away from Raymond’s family, but still listening for news, that Raymond had been killed by a mute. This mute was tall, broad and had a cross tattooed on his back. That was enough information for you to begin searching.

You travelled far, inquiring where you could about the mute. Your sickness began, rendering you unable to travel during the first half of the day, but your resolve to see Raymond’s murderer dead was enough to keep you going. At night, lying beneath the stars or in abandoned houses, you would look upon your late husband’s letters, crying yourself to sleep.

Finally, you got a lead. He had last been seen approaching the coast, ready to get a boat to England to move back into Ireland. You stuck to the shadows, keeping your hood up out of your face. You ate at night just before sleeping and travelled by day.

In your pocket you fingered a small bottle which you had picked up from an apothecary. It was used during surgical interventions to paralyse parts of the body, but also used as a poison if it got into the wrong hands. An overdose could easily paralyse someone completely or slip them into a coma.

You found him. You saw him sitting alone at a tavern, his dark eyes watching everyone as they walked through the building. You kept your hood up and walked in, keeping to the edge of the room, your eyes smouldering in anger. You would make the fucker pay! All the people you had asked for information had served their purpose well, guiding you to him.

Being a woman may work to your advantage here, you thought. You looked across the room, through the masses of bodies, and approached him. You sat beside him, smiling and slid your hand down onto his thigh. Repulsion racked through you for touching another man who wasn’t your dearest Raymond, and more than that, this was the man who had murdered him.

An hour later and you found yourself in one of the upper rooms of the tavern, having brought a room for the night, and you were in the arms of the mute. He was kissing you, drawing all the disgust out of you, but you were doing this for Raymond. You stopped for a moment, quickly slipping the liquid from the bottle in your pocket into the ale, and then handed him the cup. “Come and drink,” you whispered. So far and he had not noticed your slight of hand.

He drank from the cup and moved forward to kiss you again, but suddenly stopped and collapsed to the bed. A grunt of frustration rose from him as he tried to move, his eyes wide in shock.

Laughing, you straddled him, and tied his arms to the bed posts, making sure that he could not move one inch. “You’re probably wondering who I am,” you told him, grinning at him. He stared at you, swallowing hard, his body completely paralysed. “This will answer your question.” From your inside pocket of the tunic you wore, you pulled out the arrow. You slid the metal down his cheek, onwards to his chest, his eyes widening even further. Slowly you ripped open his shirt, looking at the scars across him.

His body arched as you dug the metal into his thigh and twisted. Then you followed with the other thigh. Followed then by just above his chest, digging into his collarbones, each one in turn. “This is for my Raymond, you bastard!” you growled, forcing the arrow into his neck, in the exact same place that your husband had been bitten by this animal before you.

You slipped away that night, leaving behind the bloodied and mutilated body of the mute, satisfied that your beloved had finally been avenged.

**** FIN (Part 2 is on AO3 and can be posted here if people request) *****

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#Raymond de merville #fanfiction #pilgrimage #pilgrimage 2007 #Raymond de merville x reader #Raymond de Merville x fem!reader #Raymond de merville x you

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throped · 1 year

Text

The Weeping Queen // Weeping Monk x OC // Chapter 1

.~ PROLOUGE ~. I'm not sure how many chapters there are gonna be but I'll let you know after the story is finished! This is an OC one but I'm also going to make a reader insert the same, but just the names changed.

Also, you're about 13 in this part, it is the part where you become involved with the Fey.

This world is messed up. Every little bit of it. People don’t listen, people don’t talk, people are mean while some people are too nice. I just don’t get it. My school doesn’t get much better though, not when there are little twats running around like they own the place. I have but merely two friends and one whom I never even asked to be friends with. Stupid people running this stupid world. This place would literally be in shambles if my anger could be expressed physically. But sometimes I find it amusing, people going about in their daily lives while having arguments over little things. I’m working on a plot, a plot to make everyone’s lives miserable. I enjoy their twisted eyes staring into my soul, almost like they could kill me. But they can’t. Nobody is capable of killing without being angered enough. They all think they’re above one another, but they just don’t realise that they are all exactly the same.

My part-time job also sucks, the fact that the person who runs the place makes me feel like I’m dumb also annoys me. Intelligence can come in many forms, whether it be academically or just survival skills and logical thinking. I prefer the one where I don’t have to waste my time studying, I simply don’t get the logic in that, study your WHOLE life just to get a paper and a handshake from a person who just went through the same thing? That just doesn’t sit right with me.

PRESENT

My parents and I decided to go to a cash converters store where we could buy things given by other people for a downgraded price. As I made my way into the store, my breath was immediately contaminated with the stench of bicycles rotting so I put up my hand to cover my nose from that foul odour. “Don’t exaggerate so much, Dae! Let’s be in a good mood today, shall we?” My mother encouraged, the words flowing into one ear and out the other. “Huh, oh yes, good mood. Got it,” I replied with. As I walked deeper into the store, leaving my parents and little brother, I made my way to the paintings area. My eyes floated around, clearly mesmerised at the sight in front. How could one sell such an exquisite painting for FOUR DOLLARS? That’s literally nothing compared to what stood right in front of my eyes. The waterfall and garden looked extremely captivating but there was something else that caught my attention… There on a stand, laid a sword, a majestical sword one would say, it was simply magnificent. My fingers carefully brushed through the blade of the smooth sword. There was also writing, writing that looked quite ancient. I was wondering why a sword like this would be in a painting isle. But my thoughts were short-lived as my parents called me for suggestions on the quilts they had seen. I sighed and made my way over.

That night I went home and ate dinner, which was rice, my favourite! I put my laptop in my laptop bag while grabbing the keys from the back pocket and putting it into the front which would ultimately be easier for me. My body thumped against the bed because of the sudden pressure added. I yawned as my body melted into the soft bed. The relief of the night washing in on me.

***

My head felt like it was getting pierced by branches while the whole of my lower body felt like it was resting against a stone. The only problem was that when I woke up, a whole forest surrounded me. “What? Where am I, is anyone there!?” My restless voice yelled out. My body jerked into action, and I quickly stood up at the sound of sticks breaking and leaves rustling around me. I don’t know where I am. Is this a dream or what? Some kind of unexplained reverie? I’m not sure but all this seems pretty real to me. The rusting only continued to come nearer and nearer as my breath suddenly quickened. What a morning, is this even a morning? I’m not sure about anything anymore. Tall green trees and traces of flowers growing on the soft garden bed of the woods. Now that I think of it, it wasn’t the best idea to yell out in the woods where literally anything could pounce at you and supposedly end you. As the rustling still continued, I pressed myself against a tree to make myself less visible. But to my surprise, a feminine voice suddenly rang out, “who’s there!? Show yourself!” Seemed to be a girl, probably young, her voice didn’t sound as developed as adults. But the real question was, what was this girl doing in the woods alone? She was likely alone as an adult wouldn’t let her out here herself. Although, for all I know, this could be a fantasy world where pigs fly. I’m not really sure.

I relaxed a little as I saw the face of the voice. She was young, probably as old as me, if not, younger. Her brunette hair contradicted with her icy blue eyes as her attire looked quite different from mine. I stared at her for a solid five seconds and finally broke out of my trance, “who are you, where am I?” I questioned. “Uh, I’m Nimue, and this is the path to our village, do you not know where you are?” she looked puzzled to say the least. “To be honest, I was sleeping in my world, and I suddenly woke up and ended up… here?” I spoke as my panic seemed to arise. Was this the past, another world, another universe!? “Also, why are you dressed like that?” The girl or should I say Nimue asked. “I’m dressed perfectly fine thank you very much. But the real question is, why are you dressed like that,” I said as I compared our clothes. She had braids and it seemed as if she was wearing a black and white outlines cloak, probably with a knee length dress inside as her legs were visible. I looked down at myself and my white fur puffer jacket which always kept me warm, I was wearing long cargo black pants that were of good quality and a simple t-shirt inside. I’m happy that I didn’t change into my nightdress. “I always wear this, everyone wears this. And why are you wearing white? It looks stuffed,” Nimue said. “Well, this may sound crazy, but I think I’ve been transported from my world to yours because of something I’ve done… Also, my jacket is stuffed with something called jute, it’s meant to keep us warm in our world,” I replied to her questions. “I’m sorry for annoying you with my stupid questions but I can take you back to the village if you wish?” Nimue asked. It hadn’t even been a split second before I answered, “of course, I desperately need a place to seek refugee until I can get back to my home.”

It was prohibited to follow a stranger in my world, but this time it felt fine, I need somewhere to stay and this girl doesn’t seem like the kind to kill me in cold blood. Also, I want to get to know more information about this place so I just wanna ask her some questions to know my way around this place. As we were walking, I didn’t have the courage to utter a word, but I was awe-struck at the beauty of the forest as we were walking down the trail. Considering Nimue is using the term ‘village’, I determine that this place must not be as well developed and is probably not modern at all. Even looking at her clothes, in my world, they’d be considered shabby. “So, do you think the village will like me?”. “Maybe, I don’t really know, those old shriveled up onions that are considered elders may like or hate you,” she shrugged. But she suddenly changed her demeanor, “are you a human?” she quickly asked. Wondering why she asked me such a weird question; I nodded my head instead of answering. She gasped, “I’ve never met a human before and I’m pretty sure they may not accept you.” “Aren’t you a human too, Nimue?” I replied with clear confusion. “Well, no. I’m Fey, we have powers, and we can connect with the Hidden!” She said. This was too much for me, I didn’t understand anything. What is the ‘Hidden’? And what is ‘Fey’? All I can hope now is that the village will be welcoming since I’m a human. Or maybe… I just tell them I’m Fey.

#the weeping monk x OC #theweepingmonk #beauty #monk #OC #light angst #fem reader #nimue #nimueh #cursed #netflix #theweepingmonk x reader

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maaaddiexo · 4 years

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Fugitives (The Weeping Monk)

Mainlist | Serieslist

Warnings: cursing, gore

part 2/4 (4 for now; maybe more after second season release)

[part 3]

Y/N didn’t see or hear anything from the Weeping Monk for three weeks. Two days after their first official meeting, she saw him leave with Carden and a group of Red Paladins. None of them had returned since.

Boredly, Y/N twirled her fingers and the windchimes she hung in the windows sang in the wind she created. Ever since the Monk’s visit, her days had become even more bland and boring than before. Her dinner tray had been abandoned long ago when the sun was still far above the horizon. Now, not even the moon could shine through the thick blanket of clouds.

Y/N huffed and got up from her spot by the window to the round table in the circular room. As well as boring days, Y/N could no longer sleep. Her dreams were plagued with magical worlds beyond her cage, bright blue eyes filled with tears, and hands dripping in blood.

Art and magic were the only things in Y/N’s life that brought her comfort. Unfortunately, magic drained Y/N’s energy so she often resorted to drawing and painting to calm her forever-frayed nerves. After brewing herself a cup of tea, she lit the candles scattered all around her room and picked up a pencil. Instead of drawing the mysterious man – who she really believed to be much younger than he looked – she reached into the depths of her imagination and let her mind wander. When she opened her eyes, the candles were burning low and she had partially drawn a Fey community in a thick forest and disguised by moss and leaves from time.

Bang! Bang!

“Born in the dawn!” An unfamiliar voice whispered from the other side of the door and slammed their hand against the door again, repeating the Fey phrase.

Still bleary, Y/N stumbled to the door, tripping over her own skirts. With a flick of her wrist, the wooden lock on the outside of the door undid and she opened the door. On the other side of the door, a young boy covered in dirt and blood stood on the other side of the door. He had shaggy blonde hair and light eyes, but one was bruised and swollen shut. “Who are you?”

“Are you Y/N?”

“Do you know another girl locked in a tower?” The boy didn’t find any humour in her words, and if he did, he ignored and repeated his question. “I am. Who are you?”

“I’m Squirrel.” He lifted his hand up from his side and gave her the two measly daisies in his hand. Y/N didn’t know how she’d missed them. “I’m supposed to guve you these.”

“The Monk,” Y/N breathed. “Where is he? Is he alright?”

“In the woods. He left the Red Paladins, but he wanted to say goodbye to you first. But he’s hurt real bad. He can’t walk. So, I’m here instead.”

“You’re leaving with him?”

Squirrel nodded. “Somewhere safe. Where the Red Paladins won’t find us.”

Y/N looked back at her table – at the picture she’d fallen asleep drawing. It was the same one from her dreams. She nibbled her lower lip but then nodded firmly. Most of the Fey were dead anyways. “I’m coming with you. Give me ten minutes. Come in.”

Squirrel sat on the bed as Y/N rushed around the room and packed things into a leather sack. She knew one day she’d leave the wretched tower but not so soon. She packed the necessary herbs and items she needed and crammed a shawl into the sack.

“Ready?”

Y/N hesitated, feeling like she was forgetting something before rushing to her wardrobe and unveiled the secret panel. They’d tear the place apart upon realizing she was gone and she didn’t need them seeing the few things she kept private. She folded them up and slid them into the bursting sack before throwing on her cape. “Ready.”

Y/N couldn’t remember when she’d first climbed the tower and was unused to the dark and narrow staircase that seemed to wind down forever. When Squirrel finally pushed open the door, Y/N got her first real breath of fresh air in over a decade.

“This way,” Squirrel whispered. He ran across the open field as fast as a fox but as quiet as a leopard. Not too deep into the woods, Squirrel slowed down and in a tight cluster of trees, they came across the Weeping Monk slumped against a thick tree. He was caked in blood and dirt and sweat, and he pressed a ripped piece of cloth against his thigh, but his pressure slackened when he saw Y/N.

“What is she doing here? I told you to give her my message.”

“I did. And then she decided she wanted to come with us. Who was I to say no to a witch?”

“Are you scared of witches?”

Squirrel bristled. “My best friend’s a witch. She’s always shown she can take care of herself. I figured you could help us.” He turned to watch the Monk struggle to his feet. “Help him.”

Y/N wanted to ask what exactly it was the boy expected her to do but she knew the answer. They were all fugitives now and needed a place to lay low while the boys – mainly the Monk – healed. Y/N looked around the woods they were concealed in even though there wasn’t much to see in the dark. “Okay. I know a place. A day’s walking west of Travern.”

“That’s almost two days from here,” the Monk gasped. A two day’s journey wasn’t long, but time they spent in the open was time they could be caught and killed.

“We’ll only travel at night though. We’ll be able to get further knowing Red Paladins won’t be looking for us.”

“Well, what do we do during the day?” Squirrel wondered.

“Sleep. We’ll take turns keeping watch. And as long as we reach Travern by dawn, I doubt the Red Paladins will be much of an issue.”

“What does that mean?”

The Monk turned his head only slightly to face Squirrel. “It means she plans on leading us into the Dark Wood.”

Squirrel stuttered for a moment, baffled by the Monk’s words. He turned to Y/N. “Are you bloody crazy?”

Y/N’s quick wit hasn’t yet run out. “Depends on who you ask.”

“The Dark Wood is full of demons and dark gods!”

“Lies,” the girl replied boredly and moved to help the Monk to his feet and then onto the large black horse. “It’s all rumours to keep the Red Paladins out of the area so that Fey can live there,”

“I’ve never heard of a village there.”

“It’s not your average village,” Y/N explained. “They don’t let just anybody in. You need to meet certain…criteria to be accepted.”

“What kinds of criteria?”

Y/N didn’t answer Squirrel and instead looked up at the Monk. “What do the Red Paladins say about the Dark Wood?”

The man juts his chin at Squirrel. “The same thing he said. They’ll take days out of their missions to avoid journeying through it. Are you sure we should go there?”

Y/N thought back to her dreams. “I’m sure.” The Dark Wood was the only place Y/N knew they wouldn’t be sought out and the only place they could be safe. “Let’s go.”

The trek was long and uneventful. As the night went on, Y/N found herself tripping over her feet more and more and her eyes became heavy. She was grateful they didn’t run into anybody because she was sure none of them were in good enough shape to fight off Red Paladins – or worse, the Trinity Guard.

The moon and stars are hidden by clouds and the woods were completely quiet until the sky turned from a dark to a pale blue and something snapped in the distance. Squirrel, who had fallen asleep in front of the Monk on the horse, is shaken awake.

Y/N sighed. “I really hope that’s a rabbit.”

“Who’s there?” The deep, masculine voice came from the direction of the snap and Y/N’s head dropped.

“Dammit.”

“I can take him,” the Monk grunted and moved to dismount.

“You’re crazy,” Y/N remarked and instructed them to stay there and told them she’d be back. Having never gone hunting or spent much time in the woods, Y/N was loud as she approached the man, but he continuously called out for her to identify herself and so she knew where he was.

Y/N took a deep breath and steeled herself before stepping into the man’s view. Unsurprisingly, it was a Red Paladin. What was surprising to Y/N was that he was alone.

The man leered at her and showed her a full set of yellow teeth. “It’s dangerous to be alone out in the woods, little girl.”

Y/N’s hands began to tingle and glow. “I could say the same to you.” She focused on the Paladin and whispered, “Rigescunt indutae.”

The Red Paladin froze and Y/N watched his eyes go wide. His hand slackened and the heavy sword dropped to the ground. Y/N felt the energy leave her body as the magic exhausted her but forced herself to hold on a little bit longer. She made two fists and brought them together. As she pulled her fists apart and opened her hands, as if ripping a piece of paper, she yelled, “Scindo!”

Y/N felt the hot blood splatter against her face and neck, but she was falling and couldn’t find the energy to wipe the blood away. Before her eyes rolled to the back of her head, she saw the Red Paladin’s body drop to the ground in two pieces.

He’d been cleaved in half like a piece of wood.

***

The rhythmic bumping of her head against something hard woke Y/N up. She was groggy and her sight was bleary but she could see that she was on the horse.

“Stop.”

“Morning, princess.” The Monk pulled on the reins and the horse came to a halt. Y/N slid off the horse and stumbled, running into Squirrel.

“How long was I out?”

“Thirty minutes or so,” Squirrel replied. “We’re past Travern now. But we can’t stop now. Not after what you did.”

Y/N looked at the woods around them. The trees were tall and looming. Their roots sprawled through the dirt and the branches seemed to reach out, ready to snatch unsuspecting victims. Y/N shook her head. They were just rumours. Still, she didn’t feel safe standing around. She nodded and accepted the Monk’s hand to get back on the horse, this time behind him. “Okay. Let’s go.”

[part 3]

#cursed #the weeping monk #lancelot #the weeping monk x reader #the weeping monk x fem!reader #the weeping monk x y/n #the weeping monk imagine #the weeping monk fanfiction #action #romance #fantasy #magic #camelot #camelot fanfiction

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maaaddiexo · 4 years

Text

The Lost Village (The Weeping Monk)

Mainlist | Serieslist

Warnings: none

part 4/4 (4 for now; maybe more after second season release)

It felt like hours for the group of three as they waited for the tattooed woman’s answer. She stared at all of them individually, sizing them up. Assessing them. Oddly enough, she stared at Y/N the longest.

“Fine. Blye! Get some blindfolds.”

The man who’d complained stepped forward with multiple strips of cloth in his hand. He wore a smug, sinister smile on his face.

“Not happening,” Y/N insisted. “Blindfolded or not, we’ll be able to track where you take us from where we are.”

“And what’s gonna stop us from blindfolding you?” Blye sneered. “You’re outnumbered.”

“And you’re outpowered.” Y/N lifted her hand, stared at Blye, and as she drew a circle in the air, she said, “Ignis.” A circle of fire immediately appeared around Blye and he screeched. He froze in his place and stared at Y/N. “Yes, I’m a witch. No, I don’t want to hurt you nor do I plan on it. I made a promise I wouldn’t hurt you and I don’t want to break it. But the only reason we came to you was because I saw your village in visions. We need help and we would like you to trust us just as we are trusting you not to take us into a trap.”

Alba lifted her head and contemplated again. “Alright. No blindfolds.”

Y/N lowered her hand and the fire around Blye disappeared. “Thank you.”

“But we still have no reason to trust each other. How do we know you guys won’t hurt us?”

“How about a blood pact?” The Monk suggested quietly. He cleared his throat when Y/N stared at him with a raised eyebrow. “Father Carden gave me full access to the reliquary to learn about the Fey. I read all of the books they had. I remember reading a spell book about types of magic. It mentioned a blood pact.”

“Those were my books he gave you.”

Alba looked at Y/N expectantly. “Can you do it.”

Y/N sighed, “I know which spell he’s talking about. I’ve never had any reason to do it before but I can try.”

“Do it.”

The Monk handed Y/N a small knife which she cut her palm with. Alba copied her with her own blade. Blood pooled in both of their hands. Y/N reached forward and clasped Alba’s hand in her own, as if they were going to shake hands. Y/N felt the familiar tingle and watched as a white glow began to emanate from between their palms.

“Alliges duplicia sanguine.” She retracted her hand and saw that her hand was still bleeding. She fisted her hand, saw it glow again, and when she opened her hand, the wound was healed completely.

“How do we know it worked?” Blye asked. Y/N tooked back the blade the Monk had given her and used the tip to prick the pad of her right thumb.

“Shit,” Alba cursed and there, on the pad of her right thumb, was a spot of blood.

“Whatever happens to me, happens to you, and vice versa. I’ll undo it when we leave.”

“Then let’s get this over with,” Alba grumbled. She turned around and walked away from them. “Come on, now.”

The Monk was helped back onto their horse and they were led through the forest, the fireflies still buzzing overhead. Y/N didn’t even know they’d arrived at the Lost Village until Alba said so. The village was so well disguised. The village was not on ground level. A few of the Lost Villagers climbed up the trees and disappeared into the night, but most disappeared between two large boulders covered in moss.

“You live underground.”

Alba nodded as they descended the makeshift set of stairs down into the ground. “Despite being smaller than most Fey villages, our tunnels are extensive. If the Red Paladins ever found our village, they’d never be able to follow us through the tunnels. Only the Scouts are above ground during the day. Even though the Red Paladins don’t come out here, we believe it’s safer to sleep during the day and work during the night.”

“It’s really smart,” the Monk praised. “The dirt makes it harder to smell you out when you’re underground.”

Underneath the ground, the tunnels were high enough where none of them had to crouch. Every few feet, alcoves had been carved to hold torches. Alba informed them that most of the villagers were in what they called the Hive, but they still passed a few people in the tunnels.

“Not all of them are Fey,” the Monk noted.

“Yes, a few are human. Some were kicked out because they were born with the mark of the devil or dark gods while others chose to leave because they sided with the Fey.”

The single tunnel branched out into a web of tunnels and Alba took a hard left. Having had to leave the horse above ground, Y/N and the Monk were a little way behind the group, but Alba walked slowly enough for them to keep sight of her. She stopped and pointed to a long room on the right of the tunnel hallway.

“This is the infirmary. Mary is the nurse working at the moment. Find an empty cot and she’ll come find you in a moment.”

There was an empty cot not too far from the entrance and the Monk collapsed in it. Immediately, Squirrel and Y/n began removing his weapons and cloak. His clothes were stuck to his body with dried blood, and when she pulled his hood back, she saw that the right side of his hair was matted with blood too.

“How do I look?” the Monk asked in a teasing tone.

“Like shit,” Squirrel replied honestly. He didn’t even miss a beat. Y/N laughed loudly and pushed the Monk’s hair out of his face. Beside the bed was a bowl of water and a dry cloth. She wet the cloth before dabbing at his head wound. Squirrel undid the tie at the top of the Monk’s shirt but then shrugged and cut his shirt up to take it off.

“Damn, I liked that shirt.”

“You also once liked the idea of burning a cross into your head. Soon enough, you’ll renege on your appreciation for it.”

“Was that an insult?”

Y/N only smiled. “How’s your side?”

“Something tells me it ain’t pretty.” The voice was new, and in the entrance, a short round lady stood smiling. Her long, braided hair had been pulled up into a tight bun and there was blood on the white apron tied around her neck and waist. “I’m Mary. I’m a healer.”

“I’m not a healer, but I can heal him,” Y/N said. “I just need to make the poultice.”

“You need to rest first,” the lady argued politely. “You’re welcome to sleep on the empty cots, and I’ll take care of him until morning.”

Y/N didn’t feel comfortable leaving the Monk in the hands of strangers – even though it was her idea to come to them – but the Monk’s hand on hers and his weak but sure nod were enough to push Y/N to her feet and over to the empty cot beside his. She was asleep before her head hit the pillow.

***

Y/N had no idea what time it was or how long she’d been asleep when she finally woke up. Squirrel was still asleep in the cot across from hers. Sluggishly, Y/N turned to see the Monk sitting up in bed, picking at a stark white bandage on his wrist.

“Don’t pick at it.”

The Monk dropped his hand and smiled at her. “Mornin’.”

“How long was I asleep?” Y/N rubbed her eyes and sat up.

“A day, I think. I slept for a little bit but the medication Mary gave me wasn’t very strong.”

“Here. Let me help.” Her bag was tucked underneath her cot and on the floor between their cots, she mixed an elixir in her pestle and mortar. She held the Monk’s head as she brought the mortar to his chapped lips. “This will help with the pain. I can apply a paste that will speed up the healing, but I’m not a good enough witch to fully heal them. Sorry.”

“It’s okay, Y/N.”

It didn’t feel okay to Y/N. Silently, she washed the mortar in a bowl of clean water and sorted through her bag for the proper ingredients. Together, they were ground into powder and then a paste when she added honey.

“A binding agent,” the Monk concluded. Y/N could see the pride in his eyes as she unwound the dressing around his wrist. The wound had been cleaned and wasn’t bleeding. With a clean hand, she applied the paste to the cut and then redressed the wound. After she was done applying the paste to his other wounds, she asked,

“You think you can walk?” The Monk nodded and after Y/N helped him up, she went to wake Squirrel, not wanting to leave him behind. “Come on. Let’s explore.”

With the medication and Y/N and Mary’s healing work, the Monk could already put a little more weight on his bad leg, but still clung to Y/N. They turned down a tunnel and felt a flitting breeze. In that short moment, he got a whiff of Y/N and thought she smelt nice.

“Do you hear that?” Squirrel asked, stopping in the tunnel. “Listen.”

Echoing through the tunnel from somewhere a head of them, they heard what sounded like a drum.

“Is that…music?”

“I haven’t heard music in years,” the Monk said longingly.

“Let’s go!” Squirrel exclaimed and ran ahead, following the beat of the drum. The soon found a set of stairs that brought them above ground. Immediately, they knew they were in the Hive. Above them, tree branches had woven to create a full-proof roof, but light still managed to filter in. Around them, people danced and laughed. What they thought was a drumbeat was actually the sound of people stomping their feet.

Alba walked up to them with a wooden cup in her hand. “Glad to see you on your feet again. You’re looking much better,” she said to the Monk.

“Mary was very kind. Thank you for letting us stay.”

“It won’t be forever,” Alba warned. “I won’t put my people in danger.”

“We understand. Still, thank you for offering what you have. It means a lot.”

Alba nodded and turned to walk away, “Enjoy the party.”

Squirrel had gone off to dance and Y/N helped the Monk to an empty spot on a bench. They sat and watched the people dance for a while, and at some point had accepted fruit that had been offered to them.

“The Red Paladins never had events like this,” the Monk said randomly. “I don’t think I’ve even seen the humans this happy during jousting events and such.”

“It’s quite beautiful, isn’t it?” Y/N said and rested her chin on her palm. She watched the different Fey and marked humans dance together in perfect unison and smiled at how quickly they had accepted Squirrel. “I’ve never seen anything like it either.”

“If I wasn’t so injured, I would ask you to dance.” Y/N blushed and admitted she didn’t know how to dance. “Maybe one day I could teach you.”

The girl smiled brightly. “I would like that.”

The Monk stuck out his hand and slipped hers into his to shake and confirm the deal. But it wasn’t a confirmation handshake.

“Hello, I’m Lancelot.”

#cursed #camelot #the weeping monk #the weeping monk x reader #the weeping monk x fem!reader #the weeping monk x y/n #the weeping monk imagine #the weeping monk series #the weeping monk fanfiction #camelot fanfiction #fey #romance #love #magic #adventure #fantasy

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maaaddiexo · 4 years

Text

Fireflies (The Weeping Monk)

Mainlist | Serieslist

Warnings: none

part 3/4 (4 for now; maybe more after second season release)

[part 4]

There weren’t any paths in the woods west of Travern so they often had to go out of the way to get around thick areas of trees. Once Y/N had regained her strength, she dismounted the horse and walked beside Squirrel on the round, looking for signs.

“Signs of what?” Squirrel had asked almost an hour ago.

“People.”

“We’re three days away from the next village.”

Y/N had only given the boys a mischievous smile and looked back at the path ahead of them. She hadn’t seen any signs yet, nor had she seen any footprints or broken branches but she had faith they were going in the right direction.

“We should stop for lunch,” the Monk said. Nobody had spoken for a long time and the noise startled Y/N out of a trance she didn’t know she was in.

“What?” The Monk repeated himself. “Good idea, but you’re in no condition to hunt.”

“I’ll do it,” Squirrel replied.

“No. We have to stick together. We’re in the Dark Wood now.”

“But you said everything was rumours.”

Y/N swallowed then said, “Not everything.”

“Well then, why the bloody hell are we here?”

“For the same reason we have to stick together. Now, come on. Let’s find a river.”

Lunch was measly little fish Squirrel had caught for them roasted over a small fire. As they ate, Y/N redressed the Monk’s wounds and applied more of the healing past to his wounds.

“So what now?”

“We wait until nightfall.”

“Why?”

Y/N smiled. “Because that’s how we find them.”

“Who?”

“The People of the Lost Village.”

“I’ve never heard of that village,” Squirrel replied.

“Strays,” the Monk said after a moment. “Carden called them Strays.”

Y/N shrugged. “I suppose they are. From what I’ve gathered, most were kicked out of their villages, but a few chose to leave.”

“How do you know this?” the Monk wondered, cocking his head to the side. “You said you’ve been locked in the tower for fifteen years.”

“I have been, but I’m a witch. Stone walls can’t keep out the visions.”

“You’ve had visions about the People of the Lost Village?”

Y/N nodded and tangled her fingers in the long grass beside her. “Almost every time I fall asleep since you came to visit,” she looked at the Monk. “And I don’t get visions for no reason.”

“That’s why you insisted on coming,” Squirrel realized. “Because you knew of a place where we would be safe.”

“How do you know we’ll be safe there?”

“Because they’ll understand.”

“What do you mean?”

Y/N huffed. “Gods! Just wait and see. I don’t know everything. Only what the visions show me. But I do know that we’ll be safe there.”

The Monk seemed to contemplate something for a moment but then blinked and nodded. “Okay.”

Y/N took a bite of the fresh cod. “What’s your real name?”

The Monk froze. “Why do you want to know?”

Y/N shrugged. “I don’t know what to call you. But if you don’t want to tell me your name,” Y/N shrugged again. “It’s okay.”

“Nimue would have said the same thing,” Squirrel said through a mouthful of fish. His shoulders dropped. “I miss her. I hope she’s okay.”

“I’m sure she is,” Y/N said encouragingly. “From the stories you’ve told me, she sounds like she can take care of herself.”

They sat by the edge of the river through the afternoon and watched the sun make its descent. When it finally began to dip below the tall trees, the cold set in and Y/N stood up. Her knees were stiff and her butt was numb.

“How’s your leg?”

The Monk look down at his injured leg. A lot of blood had seeped through the trouser leg and the edges of the leaves Y/N had used were stained red. “Still hurts like hell, but it’s not bleeding so I guess that’s good.”

Y/N smiled. “The People of the Lost Village will help. But we have to wait for the sun to set completely.”

“What, are they bats?”

“No,” Y/N chuckled. “But nighttime is when they come out. It’s when they feel safe.”

“So how do we find them?”

Y/N looked at the Monk. “The same way you found the Fey camp. They leave secret symbols but in old Fey. That’s where we need you.”

The Monk swallowed nervously. He had never felt entirely comfortable hunting his own kind but had forced himself to numb out his emotions when hunting. But now, he didn’t want to do it at all. “I don’t know if I can. Not anymore.”

“We’re not hunting them,” Y/N said softly, touching his hand with hers. “We need to follow the signs to find them. They can help us.”

“I don’t want to hurt them.”

“We won’t. I promise.”

The Monk nodded but Y/N could still see the apprehension in his eyes. Still, he agreed and they walked away from the river and into the trees away. He limped and used Y/N as a crutch as they walked and Squirrel led the horse.

As the sun set completely below the horizon, they lost all light and could barely see three feet in front of them, Y/N began to doubt they were in the right place. She looked around desperately, hoping to see what she’d seen in her visions. And then she saw it.

“There! Look!” She pointed to the trees. A glowing substance had been used to paint a symbol on the trunk of a tree. “That’s what we’re looking for.”

“It’s Fey for north,” the Monk read. “And look,” he pointed to the base of the trunk. Almost hidden by the growing grass, he pointed to another glowing cipher. “That means follow. When Father Carden had me looking for the Fey camp, they used these same directions.”

“Let’s go.”

Every twenty yards, they would find another symbol. Sometimes it was an arrow, sometimes it was a written direction like ‘west’, sometimes it was the Fey word for ‘follow’, which assured them they were still on the right path.

“How’s your leg?” Y/N asked. She felt him put more weight on her as they continued walking and hoped that – for his sake – they were close to the Lost Village.

The Monk grunted. “Trying not to think about it. It’s bleeding again.” Y/N cursed. She had no idea how far away they were from the Lost Village.

Behind them, Squirrel stopped walking. “Are those…fireflies?”

“Impossible. I haven’t seen fireflies in this area in over ten years,” the Monk breathed.

“Squirrel’s right,” Y/N stopped, and effectively the Monk stopped too. “Look.” Up above them, what looked like hundreds of fireflies flittering above them. A few floated down closer to them and Y/N reached her hand out for one to land on. “They’re so pretty. I’ve never seen them before.”

The Monk, who had been breathing down Y/N’s throat, stared at the firefly on her hand. He reached his hand out, almost like he was going to touch it, but it startled and flew back up to the large group.

“They used to be all over the place in my village,” the Monk admitted. “They’d come out every night. We would all just…lay down outside and watch them for hours. I remember my parents would usually have to carry me back to bed. But after Father Carden took me, I never saw them again. Until now.”

“I think it’s a sign,” Y/N smiles. “One for new beginnings.”

“What we need is a sign to find the People of the Lost Village,” the Monk remarked. “I don’t see any more signs.”

“I don’t think we need to find them,” Squirrel said, staring at their horse. Its ears were perked and moving back and forth. It heard something they couldn’t hear. Y/N suddenly felt like she was being watched and frantically looked around, staring into the woods. She didn’t see anybody, but she could feel them. She swallowed nervously. “Born in the dawn.”

“We don’t say that here,” a clear voice said from the bushes. They stepped out from the cover of the trees and Y/N saw a tall, muscular, dark-skinned woman with a shaved head covered in tribal tattoos. She could see where her tusks had once been but were cut off. Now they were just stumps. “We just say ‘hi’.”

“We need help, please.” Y/N said. She gestured to the Monk. “He’s badly injured. I can heal him, but we need shelter.”

“Why should we let the Weeping Monk live?” somebody spat. It was a Moon Wing, except he only had one wing. Y/N wondered, was he born that way or did he lose a wing in an accident? “He’s killed our people!”

“And he can save them too, and defeat the Red Paladins.” From a nearby bush, Y/N yanked off a leaf and pulled the Monk closer to the woman. And before he could realize what she was doing and react, Y/N had touched the back of his hand with a leaf. His hand reacted and turned green, mimicking the pattern on the leaf. There were multiple gasps from within the trees.

The tattooed lady growled, “Traitor.”

“You would be the same as him if a man in a red robe spent at least ten years telling you your kind was tainted and evil,” Y/N argued. The woman took a step back, realizing Y/N had a point. “But he helped this boy escape the Red Paladin camp and fought the Trinity Guard to save his life. So, please. Help us.”

[part 4]

#cursed #the weeping monk #lancelot #the weeping monk imagine #the weeping monk fanfiction #the weeping monk x reader #the weeping monk x y/n #the weeping monk x fem!reader #camelot #camelot fanfiction #magic #fantasy #romance #adventure #fey

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maaaddiexo · 4 years

Text

The Witch’s Tower (The Weeping Monk)

Mainlist | Serieslist

Warnings: cursing

part 1/4 (4 for now; maybe more after second season release)

[part 2]

He was in pain. She could tell from a hundred feet away. Part of her curse, she supposed. He and Father Carden had come back to the grounds after weeks of hunting the Fey folk and she could feel in the air that not all was good. Something was wrong.

Unable to leave her room, Y/N watched from the tower as he settled in a corner of the garden and carved bow after bow and twice as many arrows. She didn’t know why he didn’t get his wounds tended to but that only added to the mystery around him.

Despite the hot summer sun beating down on him, the Weeping Monk kept his hood up and his sleeves covering his hands. He didn’t even take off his boots. Y/N wasn’t sure she’d ever seen his hair – or anything above his eyebrows for that matter. Like everybody else, she only saw his hands and half his face, and only ever from a distance. For nobody was allowed to know she was there. The Weeping Monk was Father Carden’s greatest known weapon, but he had an even greater one. One he kept a secret – locked away in a tower like a princess in the fairytales her mother used to tell her.

Absentmindedly, Y/N felt the tingle in her fingers and raised her hand. The tingling intensified and a small breeze blew through the room, twirling her hair and fluttering the curtains. Soon it left the room and carried outside and down to the man below.

At first, it would feel like nothing more than gust of wind. But she knew the Weeping Monk was special. That he wasn’t entirely human. And she knew that he would feel the magic in the air when nobody else would. And he did. His hand stopped mid-carve and he dropped the half-made arrow onto the grass. His shoulders tensed and Y/N watched from afar as he reached for his sword. She smiled and pointed her finger towards the ceiling and drew circles in the air. The wind picked up and carried her words down to him.

Look up.

The Monk didn’t like magic, but he wasn’t a fool either. He understood magic and knew when to fear it and when to listen to it. Slowly - angrily - he lifted his head towards the sky and, as if against his own will, his eyes were drawn to the abandoned tower of the castle. He squinted. It wasn’t abandoned at all.

Pleased with her work, Y/N stepped back from the window and walked to the other side of her room, past her easel and paints, and to the wardrobe. She didn’t have a lot of clothes but Father Carden made sure she was comfortable enough not to seek attention. She opened the double doors and pushed her clothes aside, reaching in the dark for the lip of the panel that would reveal her only hiding place. The wooden panel came out easily enough and she gathered the pieces of paper and carried them to the round table in the middle of the room. She splayed them out beside each other so that she could see them all at once. Each one was different even though they were all of the same thing.

Him. The Weeping Monk.

Most were of his hands and the part of his face you could see, but a few were of his full body though none of those were completed. He always moved or left before she could finish. He was dangerous – she knew that. But he was also extremely intriguing and her curiosity had finally won her over. She knew his reputation, but she wasn’t afraid of him.

Creak.

Startled, Y/N looked towards her door. It couldn’t be Michael with her lunch and Father Carden was in meetings all day. Tripping over the area rug, Y/N scrambled to collect all the sketches and shoved them back in the wardrobe, sealing them in place behind the loose panel. She heard the lock click and turned just as the door opened. And there he stood. The Weeping Monk.

Y/N swallowed. He was much more intimidating in person. But he couldn’t hurt her and that knowledge calmed her nerves. The Monk took a step forward but ran into an invisible wall. She pointed to the cross above her door, not that the Monk could see it from where she stood. “This is holy ground, which means anyone who comes here needs permission to enter.” The Monk only stared back at her. He never blinked, and Y/N found that unnerving. “Still, I don’t have any friends and don’t get many visitors so come on in. Oh, but leave your weapons at the door. I don’t care for violence.” She sat back on her bed as the Monk tried to step over the threshold again and was successful this time. He slid the bow and quiver full of arrows off his shoulder and undid the sword belt. “And the daggers in your trousers and boot.”

The Monk rolled his eyes but obeyed, making a show of dropping them next to his other weapons. For a moment, they eyed each other before he finally looked away and began to walk around the circular room. He ran his fingers along the intricate carvings in the shelves and along the collection of books but stopped when he came to her worktable. He only said one word. “Witchcraft.”

His voice was low and gravelly. While others may have found it intimidating, Y/N found it soothing.

“That’s what a witch does. I’m surprised you can see anything from underneath that oversized hood of yours.”

The Monk didn’t respond immediately and instead continued looking around. “Father Carden said this tower was abandoned.”

“It was at one point of time. But where better to hide someone you once thought was human than a derelict tower rumoured to collapse at any moment?”

“You’re a Fey witch?”

“I know you’ve got the scent. Tell me, do I smell like Fey?”

The Monk was quiet for a moment. “No. You smell human.”

“By all accounts I am human. Except for the small inconsistency which is that I have the ability to practice witchcraft.”

“That’s not possible.” Y/N couldn’t tell if it was astonishment or fear she heard in his voice.

“Oh, it’s possible. Just unlikely.”

“How? How is it possible? And why would Father Carden let you live? Here? In our place of worship.”

“The same reason he lets you live. Yes, that’s right. I know all about you, Weeping Monk. So don’t you dare judge me. We’re both his greatest weapons and we let him use us because it means we’ll live to see another day.”

The Monk practically growled. “How do you know?”

Creak.

Y/N blinked. Was it lunch already? “Shit.” She began to panic. Seven seconds until Michael walked through that door. “Quick! In the wardrobe.”

“What?”

Y/N tripped over the rug again as she ran for the weapons. “Not so loud or he’ll hear you.”

“Who?”

Y/N dragged the Monk to the wardrobe and opened the doors. She shoved the weapons into his chest before pushing him back into the wardrobe. “Stay here. Don’t move or make a sound. And don’t come out until I say so, okay? If Michael sees you here, then Carden won’t be able to protect you. And I doubt he’ll choose to either. You’ll burn with me if we’re caught.”

“Y/N?”

The girl closed the wardrobe doors and smoothed out her skirts. “Come in, Michael.”

There was no handle on the door. Just a lock on the outside. He kicked the door open with his foot and walked into the room, placing the tray on the table. “Did I hear you talking to someone?”

“Just myself. Working on a healing poultice.” She held up her hand where she’d cut herself on one of the Monk’s weapons. “Cut myself.”

Michael rolled his eyes as he backed out of the room and grabbed the tray that he’d used to carry up breakfast earlier that morning. “Stupid bitch.”

Unperturbed by Michael’s only insult, Y/N wiggled her fingers at him. “See you for supper, Michael!”

“Shut up, stupid bitch.”

Y/N cocked her head. “Hmm. He’s learned a new one. Good for him.” Still, she waited until she heard the sole wooden step creak before telling the Monk he could come out.

“Do you have a death wish?”

Y/N frowned as she took the weapons back from the Monk. “What?”

“You just locked a killer in your wardrobe.”

“Sorry. Next time you can hide under my bed. Are you hungry? I’ve got some wine around here somewhere.”

“Why aren’t you scared of me?”

Y/N rolled her eyes and walked to her worktable. “Gods, you’re curious. Sit down.”

Realizing he wouldn’t get any answers out of her by resisting, the Monk slumped into the wooden seat and plucked a few grapes off the plate. He was hungry. Y/N messily wrapped a cloth around her wound before gathring a bunch of items from her worktable. She dropped them on the round table the Monk sat at and began sorting through them.

“What are you doing?”

“Helping you. I’ll answer your questions in a moment.” In a stone mortar, she mixed and ground herbs and honey into a paste. “Roll up your sleeve.”

Apprehensively, the Monk did. He rolled it up past his elbow to expose the cuts on his arm. Her hand was warm as she held it firm and applied the paste over the wounds. He swallowed nervously. “What are you doing?”

“I already told you. I’m helping you. The blade you were cut with was laced with poison. That’s why it hurts more than usual.”

“How can you tell?”

“I could feel your pain. That’s what happens when magic is near. You can smell the Fey folk and I can sense them and their magic. Okay, see how this paste is light green? It’ll grow darker as it draws the poison from your blood and will only dry when there’s no more poison in your system. It won’t heal the wounds though so don’t worry – nobody will be suspicious.”

“If you’re not Fey, then how do you know all this. And how can you sense the Fey and magic. I mean…you’re human.”

“That is true. But I’m also cursed. Father Carden says that it’s poison that makes the Fey. But there are some humans cursed to similar fates. My parents were human, but they weren’t good people and they killed a Fey Elder. Because of that, the Hidden took revenge on them by cursing me. I’m not marked or anything. I’m just from two different worlds where neither wants me. But back to the story. Despite killing one of their Elders, the Fey took me in with the intention to raise me as their own. But Father Carden had heard a rumour about a human baby kidnapped by the Fey. By the time he heard the lie and found me, I was five years old.”

“Old enough to remember.”

Y/N felt a tear slide down her cheek. “He slaughtered the lot of them. That whole village…nothing was left. Burned or destroyed. Everything and everyone except for me. When they died, all their knowledge went to me.

“Carden brought me here thinking I was human and introduced me as his daughter. But a year later there was an incident and he saw the truth. In order to hide his mistake and embarrassment, he lied and said that I was killed by Fey and killed a whole village nearby just for the story.”

“But he locked you up here instead.”

Y/N shrugged and wiped her tears. “He knew how useful I could be. He said he’d spared my life two times now and I would spend my whole life repaying that debt.”

“And how do you do it?”

“When I feel magic, I send him a sign to meet me. I tell him where I feel it coming from and he goes in that direction and when he gets there, he uses you to sniff them out.” Y/N looked down at the paste. “It’s dry. No more poison. And you should probably leave. Carden will be looking for you soon.”

“Let me ask you something. I can tell you don’t like being trapped up here and used like a puppet so why don’t you just leave?”

“There’s only two ways out of here. The door or the window. If I take the door and run away, he’ll torture and slaughter all the Fey because he knows it’ll get back to me. And I will not take the window because if I leave this place, it won’t be by suicide. I wouldn’t dare give him the satisfaction.”

The Monk smirked and collected his weapons. “I don’t think he realizes that you’re nobody’s weapon but your own. What’s your name?”

“He calls me his little angel, but my real name is Y/N.”

The Monk gave a half smile. “See you around, Y/N.”

“If you do come back, it’s custom you bring something to a witch’s place of residence. It’s a symbol of truce. And I…I like flowers.”

The Monk gave a brisk nod. “Flowers.” He closed the door behind him and walked down the winding staircase until he ended up outside, facing the woods. Looking around and seeing no one, he reached into the folds of his cloak and pulled out the folded piece of paper. His bootprint was on it because he’d stepped on it when Y/N had shoved him into the wardrobe but the drawing was still clear. And at the bottom, the image had been signed, dated, and titled.

The One Who Cries for the Family He Kills.

He looked at the image again, feeling a pull on his heart. It was him.

[part 2]

#cursed #the weeping monk #lancelot #fey #the weeping monk x reader #the weaping monk x fem!reader #the weeping monk x y/n #magic #fantasy #fanfiction #camelot #imagine #the weeping monk imagine

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