[2] WEEPING MONK║you're not what I was looking for

41| A Quiet Love, My Dear - 𝐈

═ 𝘈 𝘘𝘶𝘪𝘦𝘵 𝘓𝘰𝘷𝘦, 𝘔𝘺 𝘋𝘦𝘢𝘳 ═

Ari must tell the council of what has been agreed and Lancelot continues to bask in his new happiness, though finds himself butting heads with a familiar Fey.

❖
this tree of ours may grow tall in the woods
but it's the roots that will bind us here
❖

"Laaaaance, get up."

The boy's voice was a muffled annoyance in his ears and he chose on this occasion to ignore it. He was successful for merely a few seconds until tiny hands tugged on the neck of his tunic and at his side, his own fingers gripping to keep the blanket wrapped around him, already feeling the chill in the morning air tickling at his toes. He wondered for how long he could hold onto this last sliver of peace and relative quiet before the boy completely ruined his half awake slumber.

"Get up you hedge born naïf," the boy pulled at him, jostling his shoulders back and forth and the Ash man turned his face further into his shoulder nestled beneath him.

"Percival," Lancelot groaned in a warning tone that the child knew all too well.

"You said that you would take me to my lesson this morning," Squirrel reminded him, his childish voice sounding like the emulation of a disgruntled pout.

Lancelot was going to continue on ignoring the child, finally getting some rest to make up for how little he had gotten the night prior to this one, but the boy was right. He growled a low noise which rumbled through his chest and opened his eyes, letting them adjust to the light before he sat up.

"Why are you so tired?" Squirrel asked him indignantly, sensitive as usual to the fact that just like everyone else, the one who cries was still Fey and not an invincible warrior who also needed to rest sometimes. It wasn't like Lancelot, Lancelot was always awake before everyone else. He'd watched him go for days without adequate sleep and not be this annoyed to get up for the day.

Lancelot dropped his legs down off of the edge of the cot, planting his feet straight into his boots and doing them up. He narrowed his eyes on Squirrel, telling him to leave that question alone as he wound the laces around his calves. His previous night's rest when he was at the castle had consisted of a short nap after a moment of euphoria at his love's hand before sneaking back to his chamber for merely an hour or two's sleep at most. That is why he was so tired, but he wouldn't tell the child that. A thought crossed his mind of how someday somebody would have to explain these things to the boy, and he almost recoiled back down into his bed at the harrowing thought of what if it had to be him.

With a slow bend and a silent groan due to the stiffness of his yet to wake bones and limbs, he reach down to his saddlebag at his feet. He took a swig from his water skin, the chilled water wetting his throat in a blissful relief before he threw it back down to where it had been before.