Monster Anthology [MxM]

Spider's Web

CONTENT WARNING: fae, dubcon/coercion, attempted kidnapping

The steady beat of Killian's hooves on the road paired with the creak and jingle of his tack lulled Sir Connor Maxwell into a half-doze. With the warm sun shining down upon his mane of golden curls, Connor could not imagine a more perfect afternoon. He and half a dozen Knights had defeated the rebels without difficulty or casualties, and they were sure to get a commendation from the Crown.

Even at the head of the group, he could hear the hearty laughter and gentle jabs of his Knights as they congratulated each other on a job well done.

Smiling into the sunlight, Connor sent his thanks to the Gods who protected them. As he dropped his hazel eyes, he heard shouting from up ahead. Squaring his shoulders, Connor spurred Killian into a trot until he spotted the trouble.

Five brutes surrounded a slender black-haired boy. Two held the boy's tied arms, keeping him from running. His bright blue eyes glared at the thug in front of him, who griped about the boy's most recent escape attempt.

Connor frowned and urged Killian closer. "You there. What reason do you have for binding this boy? Under whose authority do you operate?"

Those blue eyes full of hope flickered to Connor, tugging at his selfless heart, and the Knight knew he had to save him.

The thugs turned to glare at Connor. One of them sneered and replied, "He's a half-breed, what other reason do ya need?"

A fae. Connor's heart twisted at the prejudices and hardships this boy must have had to endure all his life. The Knight sat taller on his steed and proclaimed, "If this boy has committed no crime, you will release him."

The thugs gawked at him—then laughed, squawking and full of condescension.

"Fuck on off, yer worship," the thug's leader sneered, "we ain't got no reason ta listen ta ya."

At this point, his Knights had wandered over, moving to either side of him. "What's going on, Sir Connor?"

"Seems like attempted kidnapping," Connor replied, unsheathing his sword from his saddle, "or perhaps slave trading. I've yet to get a straight answer."

The sound of swords leaving their sheaths made Connor's heart swell in pride. His Knights trusted him and followed him without question.

"Well then," one of his Knights said, "I suppose we should leave one alive to question. To make sure they have no one else trapped somewhere."

"Indeed, Sir Hughe, we should. That one there seems to be the leader," Connor replied, leveling his sword at one of the thugs.

One by one, the thugs understood their situation. Three fled into the woods chased by Knights, one tried to fight and was easily disabled, and the last—the leader—pressed a dagger to the boy's throat.

"He so important ya have ta put yer arse where it don't belong?" the thug sneered.

"Is he so dangerous you needed five people to capture him?" Connor replied smoothly as Killian slowly approached.

"Stay back! Or I'll cut his throat!"

The boy rolled his eyes and suddenly slammed the back of his head up into the thug's nose. Bewildered and stunned, the thug stumbled back, releasing the boy. Taking that chance, the boy spun and slammed his knee into the thug's groin, making him drop like a bag of potatoes.

In the next instance, the boy's wrists wriggled free of the ropes and tossed back his long, midnight black hair. Those bright blue eyes turned to Connor, and a smile like a sun breaking through the clouds split the boy's delicate face.