[1] WEEPING MONK // you're not what I was looking for

3| The People's Queen

═ 𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙋𝙚𝙤𝙥𝙡𝙚'𝙨 𝙌𝙪𝙚𝙚𝙣 ═

[TW// mild/moderate violence capped with **]

The fight between the Weeping Monk and the Fey queen begins.

The Monk was so tired, he could feel it in his bones, an ache rattling deep through his body. He had been given a few hours to rest until sundown where he would inevitably meet his fate, one way or another. The boy, Squirrel, as he preferred to be called, had stolen some soup from an unsuspecting Fey and brought it to him. The Monk was hesitant, but he took it all the same. He was thankful to have at least one person on his side, though doubtless he didn't deserve it.

"What's going to happen?" Squirrel asked as he crouched beside him, tearing away at a palm sized chunk of bread.

"I'm not sure," the Monk responded. His stomach growled at him like it thought his mouth was no longer connected to his body, and so he eyed the soup and began to drink it from the bowl which was not the easiest thing to do with bound wrists.

"She said you are going to fight," the boy came back at him with, to which the Monk simply nodded, "I've never seen this happen."

"You've seen people fight, Percival" the Monk retorted.

The boy smiled in awe as he watched the fires being built and the circle being marked out, "Yeah, but not like this! It's exciting." Fey were walking around with bowls of dark paint, decorating each others faces and exposed skin like they were going to some kind of ritual.

The Monk turned his face and looked at the boy with his eyes sharp like daggers. Squirrel saw his friend's displeasure at his excitement, "Well maybe its not for you, but that's your problem," he joked and did not dampen his sarcasm. Does the Weeping Monk even understand jokes?

Piercing blue eyes stared at him blankly from under the cowl, "I recall you begging for my life not too long ago."

"Eeeehhh well, I don't want you to die," the boy began, "but she does." Squirrel pointed towards the Fey queen. Ari, he recalled her name was. She was standing beside one of the now dimly lit fire pits which marked the corners of the clearing, watching the flames grow taller and taller.

Ari had the sudden feeling of being exposed, of being watched, and as if on instinct turned her head to face the pair across the clearing. She noticed the Monk's eyes examining her from under his hood, something with sprouted thorns in her veins. It took all of her strength to tear her face away from that indignant stare and refrain from hurtling her sword towards him there and then, for it was not time for her to pass judgement just yet.

Hanna, her trusted advisor, was close by, throwing firewood into another pit as she approached and stole his attention with her request, "They may have been followed here. Double the guard for tonight. Make sure they are prepared."

In his silence, the Monk observed the distant exchange, learning her as she moved.

"Yes, your highness," Hanna gave a subtle bow of his head.

"A precaution only, nothing more," she assured him with caution, to which he nodded again. "Thank you my friend," patting him on the shoulder with a pursed smile, she made her way out of the clearing.

~•~

The circle was set. In accordance with Fey customs, disagreements could be settled with fights if all else had failed. But there was no time for talking with the Monk. Her people wanted blood, and they were going to get it.