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

14| In Dawn's Daylight

═ 𝙄𝙣 𝘿𝙖𝙬𝙣'𝙨 𝘿𝙖𝙮𝙡𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 ═

[TW// canon typical violence]

Lancelot grows protective over one of his companions and Squirrel makes an interesting discovery. Ari tries to shake away an unexpected feeling, but finds herself failing.

When Lancelot woke up, he felt different. Like something within him had shifted or untwisted, a good kind of different. He no longer felt so uncomfortable. The amulet around his neck made him feel more like him, and not so much like the empty shell of the grey monk.

~•~

"Born in the dawn," she had begun.

"To pass in the twilight," He had replied.

Lancelot was sincere when he responded to the greeting. He knew it was important to the Fey, something sacred which they valued dearly. And so if he were to embrace who he truly was, he should start by honouring those words.

The floorboards creaked as Ari stood and stepped to the bed where Lancelot was sitting over the edge. He watched her as she walked, how her eyes did not meet his until she was in front of him, standing before him at his knees. The string of the amulet was held wide between her hands. He looked down to it and then back up to her quickly, realising what she was wanting to do. He slowly brought his hand up and pulled his hood away, letting it fall back against his shoulders. Ari felt her heart beat quicker as the man revealed himself to her, she felt the heat crawl up her neck under his gaze. Her eyes did not part with his as he looked up at her.

Under the glow of the firelight she could see him fully. The curls around his temples, the strength of his features contradicted by the softness of the blue within his weeping eyes. The pull from within her chest to him in that moment scared her and she fought to push it back, bringing her hands up as they held the string open. She stepped forward slightly between his legs and Lancelot, not knowing quite what to do, dipped his head to make it easier for her. She began to slip the string over his head, hesitating when she saw the cross that scarred there. I wish to reclaim who I once was, if you will allow it, he had said. She thought of what her Father, the Fey king, would have done if he were here instead of her. Then she brought the string down over his head for the amulet to rest where it belonged.

Lancelot's skin burned where her fingertips brushed against his neck. His eyes drifted closed and for the first time, he felt accepted. He was not a Fey yet, the amulet did not make him one, but it held the door open for him to try. It would be difficult, but with her help he might get there. His neck straightened so he could see her face. She glanced down between the carved leaf around his chest and his eyes, then she smiled. It was small yet strong and sent a shiver down his spine. He felt like there was something missing when she turned away and went back to her bed, he didn't know what it was. Lancelot slept well that night, not haunted by the demons or ghosts of his past.