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

69| Quietude

Quietude

The morning after

She could feel the press of his forehead resting in the crook of her neck and his gentle breaths running down her spine. Though Ari didn't feel happy, how could she? Wishing that she did not have to wake him— that they could just stay like this and forget about the war that was coming outside, if it was not already here.

Her tears stung behind her closed eyes at the thought that Lance might not make it out of this battle alive. She was prepared for her own death— she had made her peace with that.

But him? No, she would not let death take him today.

Ari ran her palm up and down Lancelot's forearm, disturbing the dusting of thin hair on his skin to coax him from his sleep.

"Lance," she said softly.

He made a muffled noise that sounded rather akin to a groan into her shoulder and it pulled a smile from Ari's lips, reminding her of the evening before. She adored how gruff he sounded in the mornings, but this morning was different. They couldn't bask and make love again in the glory of early daylight.

"Love," Ari tried again when he didn't rouse.

Lancelot stirred and pulled her impossibly further into him, tucking his knees up behind hers. A breath of a contented sigh left Ari's lips. "We have to get up," she said, though she really didn't want to.

"War can wait," Lancelot sleepily mumbled, nuzzling his nose further into her neck.

Ari hadn't quite seen him like this before, and it only made her heart ache that she might never see it again. Her tone dropped, "Lance, please."

He sighed heavily against her skin, planting a slow kiss to her shoulder before he gave in.

Taking the heat of his body with him, Lancelot loosened his arm around her and rolled away slightly, stretching his legs out which were just a little too long for the makeshift bed of her tent. His movement shifted the blanket covering them, and with the basin of coals long burned out, the chill that crossed over Ari's skin had her shuddering.

The last thing that she wished to do was leave when staying curled up with Lancelot was so tempting. But since she'd awoken, she'd listened to the sounds of hushed chatter outside the privacy of her tent; the tang of blades being sharpened on stones.

The camp was waking for war and the Fey Queen needed to be too.

With an arm keeping the blanket against her naked chest, Ari sat upright and dropped her legs over the edge of the low pallet to find her clothes. Her stretched out toes just reached the pile of leathers and wool where she'd thrown them down in the haste of passion.