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

42| Lighthouse Keeper - 𝐈𝐈𝐈

‼️MATURE CONTENT WARNING‼️

[TW// repressed grief, reference past trauma, mild mature content]

Lancelot learns a bitter detail of his past whilst Ari is conflicted further about the choices she is to make in this war to keep her people safe. Elsewhere, Hector voices a concern for his brother.

His cheeks ached beneath his tears once again, something which was beginning to annoy him as he finished off wiring a freshly made arrowhead in place to the end of the newly carved wooden spine in his hand. All indication which pooled together in his mind suggested that it was because of her again, his love. Like in the night, he knew that he had to go to her wherever she was. And if his interpretation of whatever was happening to him was wrong, then at least he could see her for a little while.

Lancelot obeyed the command of his markings and left the armoury where he had been working ever since his talk with the old king. He did not understand the timing, why the Hidden seemingly called them together on some occasions but not others. But still he went.

Blocking out the mixed in scents of the other Fey and even the humans here as best as he could, he searched and eventually caught onto a trail which led him to her. It was not pure intuition which helped him find his way, since the queen had said as they broke their fast in the clearing not long after dawn that she wanted to observe the trainee swordsmen this morning. But it was her scent that guided him straight to her.

The ground underfoot in the forest was damp, mounds of moss and earth rolling on either side of him as he forged his own path. And then he saw her in the distance, the shine of blades reflecting in her hands from the sunlight. She did not have her cloak hanging from her shoulders but she had her sword belt discarded on a rock nearby. Her hand with one smaller blade raised up to near her shoulder and as he crept closer, he realised what she was doing. He had seen her like this before.

The queen swiftly extended her arm and released the blade, landing it perfectly in the growing notch of a tree perhaps thirty paces away. Her accuracy surprised him, and if she turned around then she would see the gentle look of pride on his face. He crept forwards for one step and then another but stopped immediately when he recognised the second blade which she rose to before her face, the unpredictable Dagger of the First Queens.