Chapter 1: Born in the Dawn
Chapter Text
For the Fey kind, their Soulmate Marks were of utmost importance, another thing that separated them from Man-Bloods and kept each clan to themselves as well, as it was very unusual for your soulmate to come from a different clan. Their marks, a gift from the Hidden, were always located on the inside of their left wrist and were unique to each individual. It was a show of great trust for a Fey to have their wrist exposed, and it was more common for the Fey to have their marks covered with jewelry or strips of leather and cloth when not amongst friends and family.
What Nimue loved the most about her mother’s soul mark was how it softly glowed against her creamy skin. The blue-white mark greatly resembled a streak of thunder and Nimue loved to gently trace it whenever her mother would allow it. Lenore was particularly careful about keeping her mark covered, even in their own home. Nimue’s father, Jonah was even more cautious as he never removed his strips of leather even when only in the presence of Lenore and Nimue. She thought it was because it was probably not as pretty as Lenore’s and he was too embarrassed to show it. In her young mind, she didn’t find it strange her parents were so guarded about their marks. All that mattered to her was that one day she would also get her mark and it’d be the most impressive mark of them all.
Nimue sighed for what she felt it was the hundredth time and glanced at the back of her parents’ heads from where they sat at the front of the cart. Lenore and Jonah were quietly talking about the upcoming Gathering of the Fey Elders they were heading to. It was the third day in their long trip and Nimue felt rather restless. She tagged at the new leather bracelet her mother had wrapped around her wrist before they left Dewdenn, and looked at her dull mark. Its shape was still a blob of grey on her skin.
“Nimue, keep the bracelet on child.” Her mother’s admonishing voice startled her, and Nimue quickly fixed the band of leather to cover her mark. She sheepishly looked at her mother.
“I was just checking to see if it changed.” She explained. Jonah snorted from where he was staring ahead at the road and then grunted when his wife’s sharp elbow found its way to his side.
“Nimue, trust me love, you will know when the mark changes. We will arrive at our destination soon enough so just be patient. Why don’t you see if Gawain would like some water?” The place her mother was talking of, was a secret location in the Minotaur Mountains. Every few years, small caravans from all Fey Clans gathered there, and the Arch Druids from each clan, after blessing the Gathering and leading the Celebrations for Litha, retreated in the bowels of the Minotaur Mountains to decide on various matters, alliances and trade agreements between the clans. This year, was Nimue’s mother’s first Gathering as Arch Druid, and Nimue couldn’t be prouder for her.
She grabbed a wineskin filled with water, hopped off the back of the cart and run towards Gawain where he was quietly conversing with Kipp, a strong-built farmer from their village and one of the few chosen to accompany their small caravan for protection. Gawain noticed her first and gave her a wide grin, before hopping off his young pony to meet with her.
“Is that for me little Nuthatch?” He teased her and pinched her nose. Nimue scrunched her face and glared up at the teenager she saw as an older brother at the use of his preferred pet name for her. She handed him the wineskin and rolling her eyes, she said,
“Don’t call me that! And yes, mother told me to bring you some water, but I think she just wanted me off the cart.” Gawain and Kipp laughed at the young girl, who in a fit of shyness, glued herself to Gawain’s side and shyly looked up at Kipp. The man kindly smiled down at her from his mount and also hopped off it. He gratefully took the wineskin from Gawain once he was done with it, and after winking at Nimue who was now feeling more comfortable with the man’s presence, took a great swig from it too.
“Thank you lass. Really needed that!” He rumbled and handed the wineskin, that was now much lighter, back to Nimue. Nimue gave him a cheeky grin and a clumsy bow and before taking off towards her parents’ cart, she gave Gawain a sharp pinch to his thigh, knowing he wouldn’t be able to immediately follow after her as he had his pony’s reigns in his hand. She giggled as she struggled to climb back on the cart, and then felt strong arms picking her off the ground and safely setting her on the straw. She turned to thank her helper, and she belatedly realized it was Gawain after all. She screeched and squealed as he mercilessly pinched and tickled her sides.
“No, wait! I yield! I yield!” She managed to say in between peals of laughter and Gawain stopped his merciless attack on her to give her a smirk and a much more fluid and fancier bow than hers. She playfully glared at his retreating back before her gaze landed on Lucien and Gustave, two of the Elders who were also chosen to accompany Lenore. Lucien, a respected Druid in Dewdenn, did not seem to approve of Nimue’s tomfoolery and was glaring at the little girl behind bushy, greying eyebrows. Gustave, the newly appointed Healer, was completely ignoring her as usual, whilst his teenage son Clovis, who had recently started his apprenticeship under Lenore, also pointedly stared right ahead as if such behavior was beneath him.
Nimue could not understand why, but those three represented how she was usually treated by the most of the village. She, even at the tender age of five Summers, could see she was just a little bit too different from the rest of the village children. For one, she could hear the voices of the Hidden, sometimes as clear as a bell, and on some occasions have entire conversations with the invisible spirits. Lenore said she had a strong connection with them, whilst Jonah argued that it was just a child’s fickle imagination. The other difference, that even Jonah could not pass off as a child’s play, was that Nimue in fits of anger or elation, could make things happen. Roots would grow and whip at the source of her ire or dead flowers would bloom and flourish under her small hands. She could not really control it, but Lenore always said she could learn how to, ‘if only she got her head down from the treetops as she was not a Moon Wing, and would benefit more if she applied herself to her lessons’. Nimue found it much more interesting to climb trees and toss fruit and nuts down to an expecting Pym’s hands.
The path they were trekking on, turned less traveled and wilder and Nimue breathed in. She could feel the magic of the forest thrum against her skin and the magic inside her belly rising to meet with it. The Hidden whispered in her ear, but she could only catch a name she never heard before. Lancelot.
“Nimue, we are here.” Her father’s tenor brought her back from where the Hidden took her to, and Nimue snapped her eyes open, a bit disoriented. She didn’t even notice she had closed her eyes. “You fell asleep child.” Jonah told her when he saw the dazed look on her face. Nimue rubbed her tired eyes and then suddenly realized that the atmosphere was different, livelier, more festive than the past few days of travel had been. She looked all around with wide eyes, trying to take in everything at once. There were colorful Caravans of Fey all over! Graceful Fauns, shy Cliff Walkers, mysterious Snakes, dainty Moon Wings, towering Tusks, stern Storm Crafters, and even Plogs who were so rarely seen out of their tunnels, many of the other Fey, kept glancing their way with undisguised curiosity. There were plenty other Fey kind she couldn’t recognize, and the little girl was so overwhelmed with the sights, sounds and smells all around her, that she begun feeling The Fingers of Airimid creeping up her neck and towards her face.
“Nuthatch! Would you like to help me set up our camp?” Gawain’s gentle voice, helped ground her again, and Nimue gave him a grateful look and an eager nod. He helped her off the cart whilst her parents climbed down from the front. Lenore approached Nimue and Gawain, kneeled in front of her daughter and put her hands on her shoulders.
“Nimue love, I need you to promise me you will stay with Gawain whilst your father and I are not around. And remember to stay calm.” Nimue felt her cheeks warm at that, knowing her mother probably felt the magic pooling in Nimue’s fingers. She didn’t mean to panic, it’s just that there was so many new things all around her, that she felt a little bit scared and excited. Nimue nodded to show her mother she understood and then smiled when Lenore touched their foreheads together. “Born in the dawn...”
“...to pass in the twilight.” Nimue finished and with that Lenore walked towards Jonah, Gustave and Lucien who were waiting for her. The four, with Lenore in the lead, headed towards the entrance of the caverns where other Fey Elders were gathering. Gawain took Nimue’s hand and led her towards Clovis and Kipp to help unpack the horses near the area they chose for their camp. Now that she had Gawain by her side, Nimue felt comfortable to look around once again and she now noticed with some relief that she wasn’t the only child around as she feared she was going to be. She sneaked a glance up to Gawain and wondered if he would let her play with the other Fey children as long as she worked hard to help setting the camp that was to be their home for the next few days.
“Gawain? Shall I gather firewood?” She asked the gangly teen with her most responsible voice. Gawain raised an eyebrow down at her and turned back to unpacking his tired pony.
“Your mother will have my hide if I let you out of my sight Nuthatch.” Nimue grimaced at the nickname again, but she decided to let it go for now.
“But I won’t go far! I promise! We need firewood for our camp, don’t we?”
“Oh let the lass help out Gawain. She will stay near where we can hear her and she will call us if anything happens, won’t you lass?” Kipp grinned whilst Gawain glared at him for taking her side. Clovis ignored all three of them.
“Ugh fine, but if Lenore gets pis- gets angry with me, I am blaming you Kipp.” Nimue tried to keep her face straight, but she really couldn’t stop the grin that split her face. Before she had time to take off though, Gawain turned to her and set down some rules for her. “You do not speak to anyone you don’t know, you do not follow anyone you don’t know. You will stay close to the camp, if you can’t see us then you better be able to hear us. You gather a few sticks at the time and report to us frequently enough, that I don’t decide to come drag you back to the camp and tie you with the mounts. Understood?” Nimue refrained from making a face at the overly cautious teen and nodded for him before turning and heading towards the edge of the forest. “And Nimue?” She stopped in her tracks. “If you behave and work hard, I’ll take you to explore around the other camps once we are done.” She didn’t turn around as to not show her gleeful expression and ruin the serious, responsible front she was putting on, but she still nodded.
“Yes, Gawain.” And with that she started gathering dry sticks that would be good for kindling, just like Gawain showed her in the past. She worked with a great focus for a while, going back to the camp once in a while to show Gawain that she was still well, and she was quite pleased with herself and her discipline. She hummed to herself as she gathered her latest findings in her arms, and turned around to head back to the camp. She almost jumped out of her skin when someone burst out of the foliage to her right side and nearly collided with her. It was a boy, taller and a bit older than her, with bright blue eyes and striking black tattoos running down his face like tears. He also looked very surprised to see her and they both just stared at one another for a few seconds before Nimue suddenly dropped the sticks in her arms and gripped her left wrist. At same time the boy flinched and gripped his own wrist, where his mark would be located.
They both looked up at one another and when the boy opened his mouth to say something, Nimue took off towards the camp. She didn’t stop, couldn’t stop, even as he shouted for her to wait, and when she burst through the forest making the two teenagers jump and Kipp to dive for his ax, she didn’t stop until she crashed into Gawain’s long legs and took quick, shallow breaths. Gawain was asking her what was wrong, but Nimue couldn’t answer. Her heart thumped loudly in her chest, her left wrist was burning and the voices of the Hidden were loudly echoing in her head. Shortly after her, out of the forest came the boy, who stopped dead in his tracks when the three older Sky Folk, fixed him on the spot with their hostile glares.
“What in the Hidden’s name do you want boy?” Kipp asked at the same time as Gawain snarled.
“What did you do to Nimue?!” The boy winced and quickly glanced from Kipp to Gawain, before deciding that Kipp was the safest to answer to.
“Um.. I-I am Lancelot. I am.. I am Ash Folk. I didn’t- I just wanted to say- to say hello.” He finished lamely, rubbing his wrist and shooting Nimue a miserable look. “I didn’t mean to scare you. Sorry.” He added sheepishly when he noticed her peeking from her safe spot. Gawain opened his mouth to probably say something snarky at the younger boy, when a tall woman with the same eyes and curious tear markings as Lancelot, hurried over calling his name. Lancelot blanched and looked as if he was about to bolt, but before he had time to, the woman had reached him and boxed his ears for the trouble she assumed he caused. She turned to the four Sky Folk unabashedly staring at her and the boy, and gave them an apologetic bow.
“I am so sorry for my son. He thinks he can get away from his chores and bother others as he pleases.” His mother shot him a sharp look, making Lancelot wince and stare at the ground. “What have I told you about running off boy?! Wait till your father hears about this.” Lancelot, if possible, turned even paler making his dark tear tattoos stand out even more. She offered them a few more apologies, made her son apologize again and bow to them and then dragged him off from his collar like the mother cats Nimue saw in the village did to their kittens, berating him all the while. Once the Ash Folk were out of sight, Gawain told her how proud he was of her that she followed his rules, Kipp gave her a heavy pat on her head that made her knees buckle, and even Clovis gave her a once over to make sure she wasn’t hurt from her reckless running through the thick forest. Gawain gave her some jerky meat and a wineskin filled with warm milk, and had her sit at the edge of their camp whilst the three of them finished setting up the rest of it. Nimue chewed on the tough meat and drunk the milk without really tasting much. All she could think of, was the dull ache around her mark and the name the Hidden had whispered in her ear earlier in the day. Nimue had found her soulmate, and he wasn’t Sky Folk. She wanted to look at her wrist so bad, but something pushed her to wait until her mother returned. She bitterly wondered if that boy, Lancelot, had already looked at his.
At some point, Nimue dozed off while waiting for Gawain to finish his work and take her exploring as he had promised earlier. Her dreams, were confusing and mostly flashes of blues and reds, and when Gawain shook her awake she couldn’t remember most of them.
“Are you still up for some exploring Nuthatch, or are you too tired?” That definitely shook off the last dredges of sleep from her brain, and Nimue shot up almost whacking her head in Gawain’s chin. Thankfully the teen had excellent reflexes and moved out of the way just in time. With a big grin, he hoisted the excited girl on his shoulders, chuckling at her thrilled whoop, and after they waved their goodbyes to Kipp and Clovis who were sitting down for some well-deserved rest, they set off to check out the other Fey camps around the base of the ancient mountains.
Nimue, usually a shy, quiet child around strangers, chattered nonstop and shot question after question at Gawain, who did his best to answer before the girl went on to the next thing that caught her attention. A group of Moon Wings passed by them, in the forest canopy over their heads and for a blessed second, the girl was quiet, staring after them with wide eyes, before launching off again about how wonderful it’d be to be a Moon Wing living in the trees. Gawain was getting ready to tell her to slow down before she swallowed her tongue, when Nimue abruptly stopped talking again and gave a quiet gasp. Before he had time to ask her what was the matter, she tugged him to show she wanted down and the moment he put her on the ground, she tightly grasped his hand and stared right ahead, with a familiar determined expression on her face. He recognized that look as one of upcoming troublemaking, and followed the line of her sight to see for himself what or who was unfortunate enough to have caught her attention.
It was the Ash Folk boy from earlier, Lancelot, and he was carefully carrying two pails of water, each balanced precariously on either end of a thick branch set on his shoulders. Gawain frowned, glancing back down at his hyper-focused charge, and decided it was better to get over this quickly rather than give Nimue the time to come up with one of her usual schemes. He tugged at her hand, getting a surprised look from the girl and approached the busy boy who hadn’t noticed them yet.
“Lancelot right? Do you need help with that?” Gawain’s voice startled Lancelot, and a little bit of water sloshed from the buckets and onto his muddy boots. Gawain, feeling a bit bad now, gave Lancelot no time to respond before plucking the branch from his shoulders and easily setting it over his.
“Uh- you don’t have to! I can do that myself!” Lancelot quickly said, staring up at the teen with trepidation. It was clear he remembered Gawain’s hostility from earlier, so the teen gave him a friendly grin which only made the boy more suspicious, then gestured over to himself and to Nimue who was watching them with careful eyes.
“We didn’t really introduce ourselves earlier and that was rude of us. I am Gawain and this is Nimue. We are Sky Folk. You said you are Ash Folk right? This is the first time we meet an Ash Folk, right Nimue?” The little girl shot him a betrayed look for putting her on the spot, but turned back to Lancelot and nodded. Lancelot looked a bit dazed at the sudden friendly attitude Gawain was showing him and after glancing in between the two expectant Sky Folk, it seemed he remembered his manners.
“Oh! It’s my first time meeting Sky Folk too. It’s good to meet you Gawain… Nimue. Born in the dawn...”
“...to pass in the twilight.” The two responded. Then Gawain asked him to show them the way to his camp so he could put down the pails of water.
“Mother will be mad with me if she thinks I am hoisting off my chores to other people, so I can still carry one of them. I am strong!” Lancelot said once they started walking, and shot a quick glance at Nimue that made Gawain smirk. Someone wanted to show off. Gawain set down the pails, picked one up and moved the other one in the middle of the branch.
“Why don’t you let Nimue help you carry this one? Little Nuthatch needs to get her wings stronger!” If looks could kill, Gawain was pretty sure he’d be meeting his beloved, late nana on the other side by now. Nimue would grow to be a fierce woman once day, he was sure of it. Lancelot saved him, bless his soul, from what was surely to be a gruesome end.
“S-sure! That’d be great. I’ll hold this side, alright Nimue?” The girl shot another look at Gawain to show she would not forget anytime soon, and nodded picking up the other side of the thick branch. Gawain, quietly thanked the Hidden for allowing him to live a little longer, and followed the two children to Lancelot’s camp which turned to be closer to theirs than he thought. Lancelot was warmly greeted by two Ash Folk who were sitting near a merry fire, whilst Nimue and Gawain got curious, but not unfriendly looks. They placed the pails in front of two tired looking horses, who immediately dunk their faces in and happily drunk the cool liquid. “Thank you for your help!” Lancelot brightly grinned at them and then focused on Nimue. “Do you want to play? I am done with my chores now and I saw a shallow stream not far from here. I can show it to you!” Nimue opened her mouth to agree, but Gawain beat her to it.
“Maybe tomorrow. We’ve had a long trip, as I am sure you did too, and we all need our rest for tonight’s festivities. Perhaps you will see each other later at the Gathering Blessings?” He quickly added when he saw both children’s faces rapidly falling. At that Lancelot looked a bit happier and nodded.
“Alright. I’ll see you later Nimue?” He added in a hopeful voice and the little girl gave him a little smile.
“I’ll see you later Lancelot.” She said, chasing all uncertainty from Lancelot’s face. They said their goodbyes and after waving at the two Ash Folk by the fire who nodded back with kind smiles, Gawain led her towards their camp, Nimue surprisingly following him with no fuss and mercifully, with no more questions.
Once they were close enough, they heard Jonah’s big laugh and Lenore’s stern voice, and Nimue took off to meet her mother, Gawain following closely behind her. As the camp came in sight, Lenore turned to face them, and Gawain noticed the annoyance on her face at something, before the gentle smile broke out on her face at the sight of her daughter, cleared it away. Lenore bent to meet Nimue, who crushed into her and breathed in deeply her mother’s unique scent.
“Hey there little dove. Did you have fun with Gawain?” Her mother’s gentle yet strong presence, quickly calmed Nimue down and she nodded.
“Mother, can I show you something? It’s very important.” Lenore picked her daughter’s seriousness right away and with a slightly furrowed brow she nodded. Before she herded her daughter in their family’s tent, she turned to Gawain and said.
“I heard you’ve met some Ash Folk earlier.” Lenore’s voice was steady, but something underneath it made some warning bells ring in Gawain’s head.
“We did. A young boy who wanted to be friends with Nimue and his mother. It wasn’t anything serious. We met Lancelot again on our walk and helped him out, didn’t we Nimue?” He carefully said, studying Lenore’s reaction. Apart from a slight exhale, Lenore didn’t show much of her thoughts on her face.
“I see.” She smiled at the teenager. “Thank you for looking after Nimue today Gawain. I appreciate it.” After the teenager nodded, Lenore took Nimue’s hand and gently led her into their tent to see what Nimue wanted to show her. Probably some nuts she gathered while working on her earlier chore. Gawain looked at Jonah with an expectant look and the man chuckled and shook his head.
“Nothing gets past you, does it boy? Join us.” Jonah waited for him to sit with the other men gathered around the fire, before starting again. “There was the usual trouble with the Moon Wing and the Snake tensions. The Tusks as usual, make you feel it’d be easier to talk a bear down from eating fresh caught salmon than agreeing with you on anything at all, and this year the Ash Folk also have a new Arch Druid, a hardheaded man by the name of Ban. He and Lenore, well.. let’s just say, they don’t seem to work well together.” Jonah ruefully grinned and Gawain grimaced. Lenore was usually a serious, unflappable woman, but she had a stubborn streak that rivaled Nimue’s. Well, it was more like Nimue inherited that stubbornness from her mother. If you added another stubborn, hardheaded man to the mix, Gawain could certainly say, that he’d rather eat his own foot rather than try to be a peacemaker between them. Lucien the old Druid, gave a great sigh and stroked his ever growing, grey beard.
“I have to say, Lenore handled him as well as any of us could.. Our Arch Druid is a formidable woman.” He said with begrudging respect to Gawain’s surprise. It was well known that he coveted the position of Arch Druid and when Lenore was chosen instead, he constantly picked at every little mistake the woman made, which were not many at all. Which was why, the main focus of his ire and scrutiny fell upon poor Nimue and her unusual powers. Gustave the Healer, nodded his agreement and added with undisguised delight.
“It truly was a sight to behold, Lenore putting that man in his place. The Ash Folk have always been the arrogant sort, but he truly was the worst I’ve even met.” Gawain wasn’t sure how much of those words were true, the Ash Folk he and Nimue met so far were nothing like that, but he held his tongue. He was sure Gustave would not appreciate someone younger than he, disputing his words. After some more banter, the three men and two teens broke away to their tents to get rest, as later in the day they wanted to be able to fully enjoy the Gathering’s festivities. As Gawain laid on his bedroll, he tried not to think of his promise to let Nimue and Lancelot meet up later. He eventually decided this was future Gawain’s problem, and finally felt himself drift off to sleep with Kipp’s heavy snores lulling him.
-
When Lenore led her daughter to their tent, she expected Nimue to reach in her pockets and start dragging out all sorts of nuts and berries and other treasures only a child can gather in a forest. What she didn’t expect, was her daughter to look up at her with the most serious look on her face, and offer her her left arm.
“Take it off please. I want to see it mother and show it to you too.” Lenore sighed and sat down on the bedroll Gawain already set out for them. She was very thankful to the teen at that moment, as she suddenly felt all the days of their long trip, crash into her all at once.
“Nimue, I’ve told you many times already love, the mark won’t change until-”
“-until I meet my soulmate. I know. I’ve met him. Now I want to see it.” Lenore froze and she felt her breath catch in her throat. She reached with careful hands, and gently unwrapped the leather bracelet from her daughter’s wrist. She looked down at it, knowing what she was seeing but not fully accepting it. Right there, a beautiful plume of fire decorated Nimue’s thin, pale wrist, in rich reds and oranges. It really was a gorgeous soul mark and Nimue’s delighted gasp told her she also agreed. “Mother! Look at it! It’s so pretty! I wonder what Lancelot’s looks like. I bet mine is prettier!” Lenore sharply looked up from the beautiful mark that was taunting her and gently took her daughter’s face in her hands.
“Lancelot?” She asked, willing the numbness that overtook her senses away. It was not time to panic. Not right now. Nimue tilted her head as much as she could in Lenore’s hands and nodded.
“Yes! I met him in the forest when I was gathering kindling for our fire. But I was so startled and embarrassed, I run away. He followed me but his mother took him away and Gawain and I met with him again when we went exploring, he told you so too, and Lancelot is-”
“-Ash Folk.” Her mother finished for her and got really quiet again. Nimue felt very nervous at her mother’s reaction. She glanced down at her mark, her mark, and wondered if there was anything wrong with it. She really hoped there wasn’t. It really was very pretty and she couldn’t wait to show it to Pym. As if her mother could hear her thoughts, she snapped her gaze up at her again and said, “You can’t show your mark to anyone yet my love. You have to promise me you will keep it a secret. Even from your father and Gawain.” Nimue was very confused and very hurt. She felt tears gathering in her eyes and the Fingers of Airimid crawling up to her cheeks again. Lenore sensed the turmoil happening inside her child and quickly gathered her in her arms and shushed her. She started stroking her hair and once she felt Nimue calming down again, she begun explaining herself. “Nimue, my sweet, I really do love your mark, it’s more beautiful than mine, but since Lancelot is not Sky Folk, some people might not like that. We usually find our soulmates in our clan, it’s how its always been, but I assure you it’s not unheard of to find them in other Fey kind either. I know that for a fact.” She added a bit bitterly, thinking of her own mark. She touched their foreheads together and nuzzled her daughter’s nose with hers, making the little girl giggle quietly. “How about this? After the celebrations tonight, you and I go meet this Lancelot and his family?” Nimue pulled away from her mother and eagerly nodded. Lenore gently smiled at her and started wrapping the bracelet around her wrist once again. There was quiet for a few moments before Nimue thought of something.
“Why aren’t we telling Papa as well?” She asked with a small frown. Lenore paused and then finished securing the bracelet around Nimue’s wrist. She held her little hands in hers, and after gathering her thoughts for a second, she carefully said.
“Jonah… your father… he wouldn’t understand Nimue. So for now, let’s keep it a secret and I will talk to him about it later, when we return back home.” Nimue nodded, still frowning. She didn’t want to keep such secrets from her papa, but if her mother thought it was important, then she would. Lenore sighed and after gathering Nimue in her arms, she dropped them both back into their bedroll making Nimue squeal. “You are such a good child Nimue. I love you so much my dove.” She whispered in her hair and Nimue felt so loved and content at that. Her mother’s warmth, really was the best, even better than warm milk and honey on a cold winter night. They laid there quietly and were soon joined by Jonah, who gave an enormous yawn and laid on Nimue’s right trapping her between them, not that she minded. After the exciting day she had, laying in between her parents made her feel safe and loved and she wouldn’t change that for anything.
Chapter 2: ...
Notes:
Hello again~ I am glad to see people enjoying the first chapter of this story :) Here’s the second chapter! Can’t think of any warnings for this one, apart from Gawain is the best big bro ever and Nimue and Lancelot are precious bbies and they might melt your heart 🥺❤️
Enjoy~!
Chapter Text
Nimue brushed her hand on the soft, blue fabric of her new dress and preened. Her mother had it made especially for this day, and she looked forward to wearing it for days! She glanced over at her mother who looked absolutely radiant in her ceremonial robes, and wished that one day she would also look so graceful. Jonah came back in the tent to let them know the rest of their group was ready, and to check if they were prepared to head to the Great Altar where the Arch Druids would commence the festivities and each offer the Hidden unique offerings from their individual Clan.
“Oh look at you two! Aren’t I the luckiest man in Britannia to escort such beauties? After you m’ladies!” Jonah’s theatrics had Nimue giggling whilst Lenore chuckled, returned his bow and took his offered hand. Nimue followed her parents out of their tent and into the cool, summer night. She was nearly vibrating with excitement, feeling her magic responding to her happy mood and to the magic in the air around them. Gawain waved her over and she ran up to him with a beaming smile on her face.
“Nuthatch! You look clean for once!” He teased, but Nimue was in an excellent mood so she didn’t react much apart from rolling her eyes.
“I could say the same about you, you stinky boar!” Gawain was out of his traveling clothes and in a dark brown tunic and leather belts, that looked unusually tidy for the adventurous teen. Kipp guffawed and slapped Gawain on the back, making him stumble forward, before he straightened up with a good natured grin. He reached out and gently grasped Nimue’s hand in his, and started leading her after the rest of their group that was already heading towards the clearing the Great Altar was located at. Her mother lead them all, her white gown a beacon in the night. Clovis, in his own ceremonial garb, was proudly following her in his arms a bundle of herbs and mistletoe to be burned as an offering from the Sky Folk to the Hidden at the Altar.
“Come on then. I bet you there will be good food and mead after the Ceremony, and I might just let you have a sip of mine if you behave and keep close.” He whispered the last part and Nimue gasped with delight and tightened her hold on his hand to make sure they weren’t going to be separated. On their way, they were joined by other groups of Fey, some greeting others like good, old friends, some exchanging suspicious looks. She saw a young Moon Wing making faces at a young Snake from her perch from what she assumed, was her father’s shoulders. The young Snake responded with a rude gesture, but was immediately admonished by one of the adults in his group and he snapped his eyes away from the now laughing Moon Wing.
Nimue looked around, trying to spot Lancelot or any of the Ash Folk she saw at his camp, but she had no luck. She hoped to get to talk to him again, since she really hadn’t said much to him the other two times they met. She noticed the closer they got the the clearing, the busier it got, so she inched closer to Gawain. There were stalls set up right and left, laden with foods, fruit and drinks, some she couldn’t even recognise. Strings of flowers and berries, decorated the branches overhead, and she could even see jars filled with fireflies hanging here and there, casting a soft, green glow around them. The ground they were walking on, was covered with colourful flower petals and leaves. In between the trees, she spied a couple of clearings with bonfires set up, but not yet lit, waiting for when the Ceremony was concluded. She breathed in deeply and then gave a little laugh, getting a curious glance from who she considered her older brother. The Hidden were delighted tonight, their voices melodic and tickling her ears. She felt light on her feet, like a fox, but warred against the sudden urge to burst out into a run. She pushed Gawain’s promise of a sip of sweet mead to the front of her mind, to keep a steady pace by his side.
Soon the clearing where the Great Altar was, came in sight and Nimue’s eyes widened. The Great Altar itself, was build at the base of an enormous oak tree. She craned her neck, but she couldn’t even see where the tree’s top ended! She itched to climb it, its thick, strong branches inviting. She glanced back down when she noticed her mother and Clovis break away from their little group, and head to the Great Altar, which was sculpted from light, grey stone, and already covered in a myriad of offerings from the Arch Druids of other Fey clans that had already taken their place around it. Clovis placed the offerings from the Sky Folk on the Altar, and retreated back to his father’s side who looked quite pleased with his son. Lenore took her place next to a rather tall man, and with a start Nimue noticed the dark, tear markings running down his face from his eyes. They looked like Lancelot’s which meant the Ash Folk group must’ve been ahead of them! She tried again to look around for a glimpse of her soulmate. To her annoyance, her short height put her at a disadvantage and she pouted, looking up to Gawain. She was rather envious of his long limbs right now. Normally she would’ve asked to climb on top of his shoulders, but she wanted to show she was independent and needed no help. So she swallowed her disappointment, straightened her back and kept her eyes trained on the Altar and the Arch Druids surrounding it.
Before she knew it, everybody had gathered in the clearing and the air was thick with magic and anticipation. The Arch Druids raised their hands and there was a great hush as the crowd gathered before them, grew quiet. As one they started praying to the Hidden, in words Nimue shouldn’t really understand, but somehow could. She caught glimpses of shadows dancing between the ancient oak tree’s leaves and wondered if anyone else could see them. It wasn’t the first time she caught sight of the mischievous spirits, but it was always out of the corner of her eyes and she never was quite sure of what she saw. They seemed much bolder tonight.
She saw fellow Fey sway with the summer breeze, their eyes closed, and she felt the magic caress her cheeks. She noticed the Fingers of Airimid on her fellow Sky Folk’s faces and moved her gaze back to her mother. She looked almost ethereal, as did the other Arch Druids and it was then that Nimue noticed the tears on the Ash Folk Druid’s face, glowing like embers. She wondered if Lancelot’s glowed the same way and was suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to go find him. She noted with great surprise that she actually could feel where he was standing. She looked up at Gawain, and seeing him in a trance and feeling his hand relax around hers, she decided now was as good a time as any to go find him.
She gently freed her hand and somehow she wasn’t surprised that Gawain hadn’t even noticed. She had a feeling that the Hidden were helping her and she wasn’t going to question their intentions, not when they suited her just fine. She made her way unhindered towards the way the Hidden pulled her to, and she was pleased when she spotted Lancelot making his way towards her too. His tear marks did glow like embers like she thought they would, and it brought a look of wonder on her face. He grinned widely when he spied her, and made his way to her even quicker.
“I knew where to find you!” He breathlessly said when he reached her and Nimue nodded.
“Me too. The Hidden showed me.” He tilted his head curiously.
“Can you also hear them Nimue?” Her eyes widened and glanced behind him up at the oak tree’s foliage.
“And see them too.” She said quietly and quickly looked back at his face to see his reaction. He had a look of such relief on his face, she let a breath she didn’t realise she was holding escape her.
“Oh, thank the Hidden. I thought I was seeing things!” He laughed and Nimue laughed too. “It’s not the first time I’ve seen them, but they are usually much shyer than this.” He pointed out and she eagerly nodded. Lancelot took her hand in his and guided her to the front where the woman she saw earlier, Lancelot’s mother, was observing the Arch Druids with a serene smile on her face. Nimue could now see her own mother much clearer and she also smiled. Lancelot tugged on the woman’s skirts getting her attention, and once he had it, he dragged Nimue closer and in front of him. Nimue shyly looked up at the beautiful, blonde Fey who curiously flicked her eyes between the two, before fixing her eyes on Nimue’s covered wrist. She kneeled in front of the two children and looked back at her son expectantly. “Mother, this is Nimue! I told you about her earlier.” Lancelot proudly presented her, and Nimue flushed in embarrassment. The woman gave her a gentle smile and offered her hand.
“Hello Nimue. I am Elaine. Lancelot’s been very eager to see you again. It is so good to meet you little flower.” Elaine’s voice was melodic and sweet, nothing like the sharp whip from earlier. Lancelot didn’t give her much time to respond or even to grasp the offered hand to Elaine’s amusement and Nimue’s chagrin, and he dragged her even more to the front and pointed towards the Arch Druids, a blush on his face.
“And that’s my father, Ban! He is the Arch Druid of the Ash Folk!” He said and Nimue could hear the respect her had for his father, rich in his voice. She looked at the austere man she had noticed standing next to her mother earlier, and noticed that Lancelot had his sharp cheeks and nose. She pointed at Lenore.
“That’s my mother. She is the Arch Druid of the Sky Folk.” She softly said and smiled at the bright grin Lancelot shot her way.
“That’s fantastic!” He gushed. “We have so much in common! You really are m-”
“Lancelot, quieter child.” Elaine interrupted her son gently making Lancelot rub the back of his head sheepishly. There was a strange look on Elaine’s face as she covertly looked around them, that made nervousness flutter in Nimue’s belly. She remembered what her mother told her when they were alone in the tent, and tried to keep the sadness brewing behind her eyes at bay. She glanced back at her mother suddenly wishing she had never left Gawain’s side, and felt a great relief wash over her when she saw that Lenore had already noticed her and was keeping her eyes on her, even as she and the other Arch Druids were concluding the Litha Ceremony. Lancelot squeezed her hand, and pointed at her left wrist with his eyes when he had her attention again.
“Have you seen it yet?” He whispered as to not be overheard by his mother. Nimue nodded and he looked excited. “Will you show me? Later?” He whispered a bit louder, and Nimue quickly peeked to see if Elaine heard him, before nodding again. The corners of his eyes crinkled and this cheeks dimpled from the undisguised joy on his face, but before he could say anything else Nimue heard her name being called. She moved her eyes away from Lancelot’s bright blue, and saw Gawain looking around in a right panic. She immediately felt shame and guilt rising in her at worrying her older brother figure. She wrenched her hand out of Lancelot’s warm grip and ignoring the hurt on his face, she started running towards Gawain.
“Gawain! I’m here!” She shouted dodging around long legs and feathered or furry limbs and waving at the teen. She saw his head snap towards her and then he quickly made his way and met her halfway there. Before she could say anything, he had her in his arms and easily plucked her off the ground. She could feel his heart thumping loudly in his chest, and she felt even more wretched for not letting him know where she was going first. She didn’t know what got into her, especially after she promised herself she was going to stay put and by his side.
“Are you alright Nuthatch? Where were you?! I told you to stay by my side you silly girl!” Nimue couldn’t fault him for getting cross with her.
“I’m sorry Gawain. I- I just wanted to see Lancelot.” She mumbled and hid her face in the crook of his neck. In retrospect she felt rather foolish for walking away. She trusted Gawain or her parents would always find her, but she didn’t need to create all that trouble for them in the first place.
“Gawain! You’ve found her!” She heard her father’s thankful voice and her heart sunk down further more. She was passed over to her father’s embrace and she saw her mother approaching them over his broad shoulders.
“Jonah.” Her father turned to face her mother, bringing Nimue around and she now faced Gawain. His face was lined with concern, but he still tried to smile at her to reassure her that he was fine. It didn’t work. Her parents were talking, but Nimue was too busy feeling sorry for herself to pay attention to their words. Her father was tall enough, that she could now see where Lancelot was standing dejected, with Elaine and the Arch Druid that was next to her mother, his father. Ban, her mind whispered at her. She saw him spot her above the ground and he perked up, tagging at his father’s ceremonial robes and pointing in her direction. She didn’t want to see how his father would react when he saw her, and it seemed like the Hidden answered her prayers as Jonah put her on the ground at that moment. She turned and ran right into her mother’s waiting embrace, her breathing steadily growing quicker.
“It’s alright my love. You are not in trouble. Do you want to go for a walk with me?” Her mother’s steady voice, washed over her and brought a sense of calm to her. She wondered if her mother had used magic to help her calm down, but quickly pushed the thought away and nodded. As soon as she felt her heartbeat slow down, she stepped away and rubbed at her teary eyes. Her mother took hold of her other hand and guided her away from her father and a still concerned Gawain. She really wanted to properly apologise to her older brother figure for worrying him, but she was scared if she opened her mouth she’d lose her composure and start crying, so she kept quiet.
She hadn’t paid any attention where her mother was leading her, she just tried to concentrate on the festive air that surrounded them. She saw Fey from different clans mingle and heard merry laughter and singing from every direction. The magic in the air seemed to have settled after the Litha Ceremony was concluded, and she could no longer spot any shadows dancing in the oak tree’s leaves. She could also smell wonderful scents in the air that reminded her how hungry she was. She was about to ask her mother if they could get something to eat, when in her growing horror she finally took note of where they were headed.
“Arch Druid Ban.” Her mother respectfully nodded at the taller man who cooly returned her greeting. Lancelot was right behind his father, a guarded smile plastered on his face. His eyes betrayed how worried he really was though, as they flitted from his father to Lenore and then to Nimue. Elaine had a dainty hand placed on her son’s shoulder and she offered Nimue a reassuring smile that Nimue found she could not return. Her grip on her mother’s hand grew tighter, but her mother continued to observe the other Druid calmly. He glanced down at Nimue curiously and raised an eyebrow.
“And this must be Nimue. My son hasn’t stopped talking about you since he met you this morn young lady.” Nimue wished Lancelot hadn’t mentioned her at all. Her mother gently squeezed her hand, so she forced a smile on her face and gave him a small nod.
“Yes, I am Nimue. Nice to meet you Arch Druid Ban.” The man gave a booming laugh, making Nimue jump, and placed a hand on Lancelot’s other shoulder.
“Well, our son could definitely learn some manners from this one, eh Elaine?” Elaine’s smile turned into a grin and then she ruffled Lancelot’s hair to his annoyance.
“He sure could. Come, why don’t you join us for supper? We have a lot to talk about.” Elaine said and Lenore smiled gratefully. Lancelot’s annoyance faded at that and Nimue’s eyes widened. Lenore fell into step with Elaine who chattered away at the pains of having a rambunctious son whilst Lenore quipped that having an adventurous and too curious daughter was not all that different. Nimue stayed by her mother’s side and ignored the hopeful looks Lancelot kept shooting her. Ban leisurely walked behind them and she chanced a glance at his face, trying to gauge how he was feeling about all of this. He caught her eye and gave her a wink, at which Nimue snapped her wide eyes back to the front and tried to ignore his amused chuckle, even as it made her blush in embarrassment.
The five of them soon reached the Ash Folk camp, the adults carrying platters of food they gathered from the stalls they passed. Lancelot carefully carried a jug of a sweet smelling liquid she assumed was mead, whilst she held a bowl filled with all sorts of berries that Ban unceremoniously dumped in her hands at some point. She had a feeling the man was more like Lancelot than she first thought, not that she knew him well. Ban had looked very serious when performing his duties as Arch Druid, but while they were walking to their destination, he bantered and joked around with passing Fey he didn’t seem to actually know. His easy-going manner, eased her anxiety a little, but she still couldn’t quite quell her nervousness.
As they arrived at the Ash Folk camp, they could see it was empty, the other Ash Folk probably out and about enjoying themselves. They entered the tent located in the back of the camp, and Nimue curiously looked around. Elaine beckoned her closer to a blanket that was spread on the ground and was already covered with the food and drinks they brought with them. Nimue approached the rest of the group and after setting the bowl in her hands down, she settled down next to her mother. Ban came over with 5 cups and a wineskin and after he filled two of them, he handed one to Lancelot and one to Nimue who nodded and murmured a thank you. She sniffed the drink and dared to take a sip and was pleasantly surprised at the sweet and refreshing, flowery taste.
“It’s Lavender Drink!” Lancelot explained from his spot across from her. “My uncle Bors always makes it before Litha. You saw him when you came by with, uh.. Gawain, right? Do you like it?” Nimue blinked at him and looked back down at her cup.
“It’s really good.” She eventually said and that was enough to bring another huge smile to Lancelot’s face. ‘He really smiles easily.’, she thought and took another sip from her cup. Her mother seated to her left, laughed at something Elaine said and turned to Nimue after taking the cup of mead Ban offered her. She gestured with her head at the food laid out in front of them and Nimue took that as an invitation to begin eating. She picked a tart and bit into it, relishing at the burst of berry flavour in her mouth. If her mother disapproved of her eating something sweet first, she didn’t say. Lancelot picked a piece of meat pie himself and happily begun munching away. The adults ate making idle conversation and drinking mead. After eating their fill, Ban suggested they move their little party outside to get warm near the fire. They brought with them the jug of mead that surprisingly still hadn’t run out, though it was running low, the wineskin filled with the lavender drink Nimue was rapidly becoming very fond of, and the bowl of berries she was carrying earlier. Ban got a big fire going and they all settled around it. There was a moment of quiet where Nimue felt content enough to fall asleep, as sounds of merriment continued around them, but it wasn’t meant to last long.
“So a Sky Folk and an Ash Folk as soulmates, huh? Unusual, but it could be worse. Imagine if it was a Snake and a Moon Wing or a Tusk with... pretty much anyone else! The family gatherings would be quite terrible then.” Ban said with an amused smile, but there was trepidation in his voice that set Nimue on edge. Lancelot who was sitting near her, scowled at his father.
“It doesn’t really matter though. The Hidden chose Nimue for me and me for her. That should be enough for anyone who has a problem with it.” He pointed out and tossed a stick in the hungry flames in front of them.
“Your father is right to worry Lancelot.” Lenore said quietly and the boy shot her a withering glare too, ignoring the warning look from his mother. “I am not saying it to discourage you, but both of you should be prepared. It will be difficult to follow the path the Hidden set you on. Not impossible certainly, but there will be a lot who will oppose you and those marks on your wrists. I just trust that you know, you will always have my support.” She finished.
“And ours too.” Elaine added running a hand through her son’s hair. Ban smiled wistfully at the two children and then eagerly leaned forward.
“Let us see them then.” He whispered conspiratorially and Nimue felt her heart quicken in her chest. She looked at Lancelot who had a defiant and determined look on his face, and for a second she thought he was going to refuse, before he started unwrapping his wrist from the cloth band he used to cover his mark with. Nimue offered her wrist to her mother, who started unwrapping hers too, an unreadable expression on her face. The moment her wrist was uncovered, she once again marvelled at the fire pattern and turned back around to let the three Ash Folk see it too. She glanced at Lancelot’s and with a start saw that his was a beautiful blue and it reminded her of a crystal clear lake, reflecting the cerulean sky. The closer she looked as a matter of fact, the more it reminded her of water, with ripples on the surface.
“They are… quite unique, are they not?” Ban’s voice shook her out of her reverie and she furrowed her eyebrows questioningly at him. He glanced at his wife and to Nimue’s surprise they both started taking their bracelets off. She saw out of the corner of her eye, that Lenore stiffened and looked quite uncomfortable. She then remembered how it was not customary to reveal your mark in front of strangers, but they weren’t strangers anymore, right? She curiously studied their marks as they offered their arms. They both were ink black, unlike hers and Lancelot’s or even her mother’s, but they were still quite beautiful. Ban’s was a strip of a harebell plant, decorated with lovely, bell shaped flowers, whilst Elaine’s was a thorny branch of bramble, with a bunch of blackberries in the centre. Lancelot had obviously seen the marks before, as he didn’t really react to them.
“They are really pretty.” Nimue said as the two adults seemed to be expecting for a reaction. They exchanged a quizzical look over her head, before Elaine said.
“But you see how they are different than yours and Lancelot’s right? I am sure you’ve seen your parents’ marks as well. They don’t normally look… so alive.” She finished, uncertain how to explain this to a young child. Nimue was very confused.
“Mother’s looks kind of like mine. I- I don’t know how father’s looks though.” At Lenore’s sharp intake of breath and Ban and Elaine’s surprised expressions, Nimue knew that she must’ve said something wrong. There was a moment of awkward silence and when Nimue dared to look at her mother, she could swear that Lenore had turned into stone. For the lack of anything better to say, Ban busied himself with putting his bracelet back on whilst Elaine mimicked his actions then cast a smile at Lenore over Nimue’s head. Lancelot also looked a bit uncomfortable as he stubbornly stared into the fire.
“Lancelot, why don’t you and Nimue go play in the tent? You can show her some of the animals you and your uncle carved together.” Elaine suggested but it felt like there was no room for either child to protest. Lenore quietly covered Nimue’s mark again, avoiding her daughter’s eyes and Nimue grudgingly followed Lancelot back to his family’s tent. She glanced over her shoulder at the still seated adults, but all three of them were just staring in the flames not talking, and then they were gone out of her sight as Lancelot let the tent flap close behind them. She followed him near a corner where a couple of satchels laid, and he picked up the smallest one.
“This isn’t fair. I am eight summers old and they still won’t let me listen to their ‘adult conversations’.” He grumbled moodily and then sighed. He reached into the satchel and after rummaging around, he handed Nimue a crudely carved animal that she assumed was a bear. “I made that.” He said with a small, proud grin and then reached in the satchel and grabbed a much better made horse. “Aaaand my uncle Bors made this one. I didn’t really bring anymore with me, but he’s been helping me learn how to carve and, well, that one is my best one yet.” Nimue looked down at the bear again. One ear was completely missing and the legs looked quite uneven, but it wasn’t all that terrible. She smiled at Lancelot.
“I like it.” She said. “It’s a nice bear.” She added.
“It’s not a bear! It’s a dog!” He said affronted and a look of horror at offending him crossed her face, before he started snickering. “I am jesting. It’s a bear.” He amended and Nimue pinched his arm and then also started laughing. “If you want, you can keep it.” He said timidly, once their peals of laughter petered out and Nimue nodded excitedly, tightly holding the bear to her chest. He flushed, pleased at her eagerness to accept his little gift and then dragged her over the the blankets they were seated at earlier, to play. It was then that she noticed that he still hadn’t covered his mark. He saw her looking at it and he pressed a finger on the stream of water that decorated his wrist. She could’ve almost sworn she saw the surface ripple under his touch, but it must’ve been a trick of the shadows cast from the still burning lanterns in the tent. “I think it’s the most beautiful mark in the Fey Realm,” he started, “but I definitely like yours more.” He finished glancing at her with gleaming eyes. Nimue rolled her eyes and dropped on the blanket, Lancelot following her lead and flopping on his belly.
“Want to switch then?” She teased and fingered the bracelet around hers.
“Well, when we grow old and have a Joining, I’ll get to see it everyday anyways, so it’s fine.” Lancelot shrugged nonchalantly. Nimue hummed thoughtfully and run a hand over her new wooden bear’s rough hide, enjoying the carved texture. Lancelot placed his horse in front of him and lazily kicked his legs back and forth as he pretended to trod with the wooden animal. “Have you really never seen your father’s mark?” He asked after a moment, the hesitation clear in his voice. Nimue’s hand stilled and she frowned.
“Is it that strange that I haven’t?” She shot back, a little irritated. Lancelot gave her a worried glance before he turned his eyes back to the carved horse. Nimue could feel the anger beginning to simmer beneath her skin. Lancelot’s voice was careful as he answered.
“Well, maybe it’s different for Sky Folk... It’s just for us Ash Folk, family usually gets to see our marks first, and we throw this big celebration when someone finds their soulmate. My uncles already saw my mark. They really liked it...” He paused, gathering his courage. “Has-has the rest of your family seen yours yet?” Nimue’s anger melted away, and a cold feeling settled low in her belly in its place. She shook her head and bit her lip to stop it from trembling. It was strange her mother hadn’t let her show her father yet. And she really would’ve liked to show Gawain too. He might not’ve been related to them, but after he lost his grandmother, the last of his family, to a harsh winter Nimue couldn’t even remember, her mother had practically taken him in and the teen quickly became a member of their little family.
It was also very strange she had never seen her father’s mark, even though her mother showed her hers every time she asked about it. She sniffed to Lancelot’s growing alarm, and quickly hid her face in her knees so he wouldn’t see her cry. She felt him shift next to her. “Uh- uh please don’t cry Nimue! I am sorry! I shouldn’t have asked! I won’t say anything daft again, I promise!” Lancelot’s panicked apologies and reassurances, did not make her feel any better. On the contrary, she started crying even harder and couldn’t stop no matter how hard she tried. She felt like a big crybaby and so embarrassed she had burst into tears in front of her soulmate.
She heard him run out of the tent and soon Lenore showed up. She could hear Lancelot mumbling apologies to her mother, but Lenore gently brushed them away and explained that it had been quite a long day for someone as young as Nimue. She felt her mother try to take the bear Lancelot had gifted her from her hand, and she tightened her hold on it, shaking her head no.
“I gave that bear to Nimue. It’s hers! She can keep it!” Lancelot quickly explained, when he noticed Lenore’s dilemma, and the woman gave him a thankful smile.
“That’s very nice of you Lancelot. Thank you.” She said as she gathered her weeping daughter in her arms. Nimue didn’t want anyone else see her face, so she turned her face and hid it in the crook of her mother’s neck as she sobbed. She felt her mother fix her hold on her. “Thank you so much for your hospitality Elaine, Ban, Lancelot. It really was lovely to meet you.” The three Ash Folk returned the pleasantries and Ban offered to walk them back to the camp, but Lenore politely turned him down. Nimue continued to pathetically sniffle, even as her mother walked them away from the Ash Folk camp and began to head towards theirs. The only thing she wanted to do now, was hide in her family’s tent, until the day they had to leave came. Lenore didn’t speak for a while either, letting the festive merrymaking all around them that was still going on strong, fill the silence instead. So when she did hear her voice vibrating through her chest, Nimue started a bit.
“Gawain. Have you been waiting for us lad?” The little girl lifted her face and craned her neck to look at Gawain who was sitting by himself in front of their camp’s roaring fire. The teen was also startled at Lenore’s voice and he immediately shot to his feet and with a few quick strides came to stand in front of them, wringing his hands. Nimue’s heart ached at his anxious face and she could feel tears starting to well up in her eyes again.
“I was just really worried that Nimue thought I was upset with her. I wasn’t. I-” before he could continue, Nimue interrupted him with a cry and reaching out with her hand to him. He reacted right away, reaching out his arms and Lenore deposited the unconsolable child in them with a soft laugh.
“Gawaaaaaiiiin. I am sorryyyyy.” Nimue wailed in his ear making him wince and he rubbed her back trying to soothe her. Lenore gestured at their tent at his desperate look, and he dutifully followed her there. He sat down and he rocked the little girl, just like he remembered his mother rocking him when he was distressed like this. Lenore sat across of him, but offered no help. He was clearly all on his own for this one.
“Nimue, Nuthatch, I really am not mad with you. I was supposed to be responsible for you and I failed, so I am more upset with myself than anything.” He peeled her away from his body, and wiped away some of the tears and snot running down her face with his sleeve. He caught her eyes with his and gave her a little reassuring grin. “And to be honest, I am a bit disappointed I didn’t get to give you your first sip of mead like I promised you.” He whispered, and though Lenore could clearly hear him she studied her fingernails acting like she hadn’t. He noticed the crudely carved animal, still tightly grasped in Nimue’s hand and pointed at it. “What’s this?” He asked her, trying to get her to say anything. Nimue sniffed and rubbed her nose and lifted it higher so he could get a better look.
“L-Lancelot gave it to me.” She said with a wobbly voice and Gawain counted that as a win.
“Oh? It’s a really nice... dog? Did he make it?” Nimue giggled and shook her head.
“It’s a bear, not a dog silly. He made it with his uncle.” She said, laughter in her voice, but then quieted down, remembering what they talked about with Lancelot right after he gave her the bear. Gawain didn’t know why she suddenly grew somber again and tossed a questioning look at Lenore who had a peculiar, little smile on her face.
“As it turns out, Lancelot is Nimue’s soulmate. Do you want to show Gawain your mark Nimue?” Nimue whipped her head around so fast, her hair whipped Gawain right in the face, not that he noticed as he was gaping at Lenore, his eyes so comically large that Lenore couldn’t help but chuckle at him.
“C-Can I? Really mama?” The hope saturating her daughter’s voice, really tugged at Lenore’s heart and helped clear some of the shock from Gawain’s mind.
“Of course you can my love.” She murmured softly and leaned closer to run her hand through Nimue’s hair. Nimue turned back to Gawain and offered her left wrist to him. He swallowed and carefully unwrapped his little sister’s wrist to reveal her mark. Nimue didn’t take her eyes off his face, scared she was going to miss any disapproval Gawain felt for her apparently unusual mark. Instead she saw wonder brighten his expression and heard a small gasp come from the teen the moment her wrist was fully unwrapped. She felt his fingers gently touch it, but she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the wonderful emotions on his face, all meant for her mark. One of the most important people in her life, approved of it, and it was enough to chase any dark thoughts from earlier still lingering in her mind.
“Nuthatch, this is the most wonderful mark in all of Fey creation.” He said finally looking up and meeting her eyes. Nimue blushed.
“Lancelot’s is much prettier.” She mumbled and Gawain laughed.
“Well, of course it is! He has your mark on his wrist. Of course it’d be much prettier because you are much prettier than him.” He said cheekily and Nimue’s eyes widened. She hadn’t thought of it like that! She said as much to Gawain who smirked smugly. “That’s what I’m here for.” He shrugged and then helped her cover her wrist again, to her disappointment. When she was older and no one could stop her, she was going to leave her mark exposed so everyone could see it. “So, that little troublemaker is your soulmate, huh? That explains a lot.” He muttered the last part, but Nimue was too happy to pay it any attention. “I guess he needs a nickname as well.” He mused and Nimue was aghast.
“Gawain you can’t! You give horrible nicknames!” She cried out to Gawain’s chagrin.
“No, I don’t! My nicknames are brilliant you little Nuthatch!” He countered and Nimue pointed an accusatory finger in his face.
“There! You prove me right!” Before they could start bickering, and from past experience she knew they could keep at it for a while too, Lenore interfered.
“Alright you two. That is enough. Gawain, it pains me to ask this of you, but I would like you to promise that what you saw and heard tonight-”
“-stays between us? Of course. I can keep a secret.” Gawain finished for her and gave Nimue a wink. Lenore breathed a sigh of relief and felt her heart swell with love for this boy she took in. His kindness and chivalry really shined through, even if he was still so young. She thought back to the conversation the two of them had months prior, and felt her stomach clench with worry and trepidation. Gawain had a thirst for adventure and wanted to see more of the world out there before he settled down. She knew he hadn’t yet found his other half, which was unusual at his age, and it likely meant it was someone like Nimue’s soulmate, who was from a different clan and hadn’t crossed paths with him yet. His plan was to someday board the Brass Shield, a merchant ship that sometimes took pilgrims along on its yearly journey to the Desert Kingdoms, and from there head off to other foreign lands. Lenore did not look forward of informing Nimue of Gawain’s future intentions. She was sure her child would be absolutely heartbroken and probably try to sneak off after Gawain, the first chance she got.
She shook her head to chase those thoughts away. No need to fret over what was yet to come. Gawain wasn’t quite ready to leave anyways, which left her with a few more years of avoiding that conversation. Besides, the present was troubling enough as it was. Ban and Elaine were both shrewd people and quickly came to the conclusion that Jonah was not in fact her soulmate or Nimue’s actual father. Of course they couldn’t needle out of her the full truth, she would never utter that man’s name as long as she was alive if she could help it, but they correctly and again too quickly deduced that he was not Sky Folk. She mentally sent a ‘thank you’ to Lancelot for interrupting that conversation, as she certainly did not want to go down that memory path again.
She was so grateful to Jonah for what he had done for her and her daughter, and she truly wished it was as simple as him being her soulmate and Nimue’s real father. Unfortunately, by the Hidden, it was not to be. Jonah’s wrist was bare, a real rarity for their kind to be born untethered to another soul, even more rare than to be bonded to another Clan, but it had given them the cover they each needed. Jonah’s family was ashamed of their son’s circumstances, so a seemingly unbonded orphan like Lenore, was perfect for them to use to conceal the truth. Merlin’s sudden departure and not taking her with him, had left Lenore with no other choice but to abide by Jonah’s family’s wishes, and so before she knew it, she and Jonah had a small Joining. Soon after that she discovered she was with child. When she arrived, Nimue’s small size, was enough to fool nearly everyone and throw suspicion off Lenore. In their eyes, nothing was amiss. The baby had simply come a little early. But she was certain Jonah knew the truth, even when he never outright confronted her of the fact.
She gazed at her precious daughter, now excitedly chattering away to an attentive Gawain, and sent a fervent wish to the Hidden to keep her safe and happy. That would be enough for Lenore.
Chapter 3: ...
Notes:
Hello~! I apologize for the late update! :’) Life kicked my butt. I hope you enjoy this!
Warnings for this chapter: Can’t think of anything in particular for this chapter!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Gawain woke up, his face warmed up by the sun and he stretched with a big yawn. He spotted Nimue curled by his side, the carved bear, a gift from her soulmate apparently, tightly clutched in her hand. After the big reveal from last night, Lenore allowed the two to have a sleepover underneath the stars, as it was Litha and the Fey would probably be busy celebrating all throughout the night, chasing away any wild, dangerous animals that wondered too close to the camp’s location. They giggled as they watched drunk Fey stumbling around, and chatted away until Nimue could no longer keep her eyes open. When she did fall asleep, Gawain had finally the chance to really process what he had learned.
After stewing on it, he came to the conclusion that he really wasn’t surprised at this turn of events. He had a feeling there was a connection between the two Fey children, since the moment they burst through the forest and into their camp that morning and the fact they were soulmates explained it. He didn’t quite know how this was going to work for them, as the Ash Folk and the Sky Folk lived mountains apart, but he was certain the two families would eventually figure things out.
He tried to ignore the guilty feeling gnawing at him when he realized he probably would not be around for most of that time if he went through with his travelling plan. He felt his resolve waiver a bit, before hardening again. The sea called to him and there must’ve been a reason for it. He wouldn’t figure it out if he stayed put in Dewdenn, and he felt it in his bones that he would regret it if he let the chance pass him by. His plan was to leave in a couple of summers, but he supposed it wouldn’t hurt if he delayed his departure a little. Gawain brushed off the thoughts swirling in his head, and pushed himself off the ground. He grabbed Nimue gently by the shoulder and shook her away, smirking at the dirty look she shot him when she peeled one eye open.
“Up you little Nuthatch. I remember that Lancelot said there was a shallow stream nearby. We can go find it and swim for a bit to wash the ground off of us.” Nimue groaned at him, waving a dismissive hand.
“You go. ‘Mgonna sleep mo’e.” She mumbled, but Gawain was having none of it. The day was already shaping up to be a hot one, and starting it with a cool bath sounded like a dream. He grabbed a satchel filled with extra clothing he had prepared the night before with Lenore’s help, picked up Nimue mindful of her new treasure, and ignoring her feeble protests, he took off towards where he hoped the stream was located.
By the time they arrived, the little girl was wide-awake and scowling. She was not a morning person, something that provided him with endless amusement since he had moved in with their family. The stream was thankfully empty and after the two stripped down to their smallclothes, they jumped right in. Or well, Gawain unceremoniously dumped a screeching Nimue in the deeper part of the stream so she wouldn’t get hurt, and then he followed right after her. They spent little time cleaning themselves and after washing their clothes, they then played around, splashing each other with the cool water. Once they tired, they laid on the thick grass near the stream’s banks to dry, staring up at the thick canopy of leaves over their heads, and pointing out birds and squirrels as they flitted by.
A loud growl coming from Nimue’s belly to her embarrassment, reminded them that it was probably a good idea to go back, so he helped her dress in the clean, dry clothes he brought, before getting dressed himself. He gathered their still damp clothes in the satchel and handed Nimue her carved bear. They walked in comfortable silence towards their camp and Gawain felt completely relaxed and refreshed. His calm fled him as soon as they came within hearing distance of the camp, and they heard what seemed to be a shouting match. Gawain felt dread knotting his stomach and he glanced at Nimue who only seemed a bit curious.
“-unnatural! Jonah, did you know about this?!” Lucien’s livid voice, brought a grimace to Gawain’s face and for a second he considered turning around and dragging Nimue somewhere else, but he knew whatever this was it’d probably be better to get it over with. Without Nimue noticing, he inched a bit to the side, making sure he’d be a physical wall between her and anything that might come their way, though he knew he could not shield her from any cruel words. He heard a high, childish voice yell something right back at Lucien, before it was interrupted by a deep baritone he didn’t recognise. Gawain braced himself and the camp came into sight. It was split in three fronts. The first group consisted of Clovis, Gustave and Lucien at the front as their leader looking as pompous as ever. Lancelot, his mother, the Ash Folk Arch Druid who was holding the angry boy back, and one of the Ash Folk men he saw the other day at their camp made up the second group. The last group was Jonah, Kipp and Lenore, who looked white as a ghost, standing in between the two other groups. Gawain was quick to thank the Hidden that they hadn’t drawn any attention yet to themselves.
“Lancelot, what are you doing here?” Nimue’s childish voice called from behind him, drawing the stares from everyone present to them. Gawain refrained from groaning out loud, and kept a calm look on his face.
“I wasn’t aware we were expecting visitors this morning.” He said amiably and sent a polite nod towards the Ash Folk. “Good day Lancelot. I am afraid I haven’t met-”
“Enough boy! It’s clear you were in on this-this madness! Know your place!” Lucien snarled, cutting him off. Gawain tilted his head, shot a frigid smile at the old Druid and drew himself to his full height from his usual, casual slouch. Lucien for once seemed to gather that whilst Gawain was much younger, he was also much taller and better built than he, so he turned back to Jonah trying to find support in the clearly conflicted man. “You must agree with me Jonah. The fact that she kept this from you, is a sign of betraying your trust and-” The moment Gawain saw Lucien pointing at Lenore, he decided he heard enough.
“She,” Gawain cooly interrupted him to his surprise, “is our Arch Druid and you will show her the required respect, especially in front of guests. And if this... debacle, is about what I think it is, then I assure you, Druid Lucien, you have no business having an opinion or say over it.” The Elder gaped at Gawain, obviously not expecting the blatant disrespect the teenager showed him, nor the fact that not even Gustave came to his rescue. The Healer kept his eyes trained on the teenager as if he was a wild beast ready to attack at any moment, while Clovis stared at Gawain with something akin to newfound respect. Gawain took Nimue’s hand in his and gently tugged it. “Come on Nimue. Let’s grab something to eat. You are free to join us of course.” He directed the last bit to the Ash Folk and before they even responded, he started retreating with his young charge towards Jonah and Lenore’s tent.
He didn’t miss the gratefulness shining on Lenore’s face for his standing up for her, nor did he miss that Jonah stubbornly refused to pay him, or Nimue, any attention. In fact, the moment they walked by him, he promptly left the camp and headed towards the thick forest. Gawain was sure they wouldn’t see him anytime soon. Kipp ruefully grinned and clapped his shoulder before he headed towards Lucien, Gustave and Clovis to likely attempt to calm the waters.
The Ash Folk and Lenore did follow the duo in the tent, and the anticipation was quite thick in the air.
“That went well.” The Ash Folk Arch Druid joked, earning a withering glare from Lancelot’s mother and a groan from the other man. Lancelot was glaring a hole through the ground. “I am Ban, Lancelot’s father. This is Elaine, my wife and this is my brother Bors.” He grinned and offered a hand to Gawain who firmly grasped it.
“I am Gawain. Jonah and Lenore’s ward. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He released the man’s hand and ruffled Lancelot’s hair. “Hey Lancelot. Nimue showed me the bear you carved. I really like it. Very impressive!” The younger boy blinked up at him and then gave him a small smile before his eyes found Nimue’s, who was now hiding behind Gawain’s legs, the wooden bear still in her hand, something that seemed to really cheer him up. Lenore busied around the tent, setting a small feast of dried fruits, cheese and bread for them, and Elaine left her husband’s side to assist her, which left the men awkwardly standing around. Ban coughed. He didn’t seem the type to enjoy the quiet to Gawain.
“So... Gawain. It seems you already know about.. uh-”
“Their marks? I do. Nimue apparently thinks Lancelot’s is much prettier. Can I see it Lancelot?” He asked and tried not to laugh as the boy jumped at the chance to show off his mark. His father and uncle, exchanged amused looks, clearly expecting his reaction and moved to join Lenore and Elaine on the ground. Elaine was quietly talking to Lenore who still looked quite pale and was nervously chewing on her bottom lip. Gawain turned back to Lancelot, just in time for the boy to practically shove his wrist in his face, and he carefully studied the mark. Whilst Nimue’s was a band of fire, Lancelot’s was water and if Gawain’s eyes didn’t fool him, it looked as if the water rippled as he gently prodded at it. He thought of how Nimue’s mark practically glowed just like a real fire, and wondered if it had anything to do with the girl’s strong connection to the Hidden. Did that mean that Lancelot was also closely connected with them too?
“Well?” Gawain raised an eyebrow at the boy’s eagerness and nodded.
“Nimue was right. Your mark is definitely more beautiful than hers.” He wiggled his eyebrows at Nimue and she snickered. Lancelot frowned at the two, sensing he was missing something, but quickly shrugged it off as Gawain herded the two children towards the food spread. Elaine changed the subject as they joined the four adults, and directed the conversation towards the upcoming meeting Lenore and Ban would have to attend at noon. Lenore was clearly too distracted to contribute much to the discussion, but Ban passionately voiced his opinion on changes he wanted to encourage, especially between Fey and Man-Blood kind.
He believed the Fey had distanced themselves too much from humans, and that it might breed more hate and misunderstandings between the two kinds. Gawain wondered for a moment if that was what he and Lenore had argued about in their first meeting, before dismissing the thought. Whilst Lenore did not encourage her people to mingle with the humans in Hawksbridge, she did not dissuade them from it either. She allowed the Sky-Folk to trade with and to visit the nearby human city as they pleased. Her only rule when it came down to mankind, was to avoid any altercations with them and to keep their Fey nature hidden if possible. Ban also mentioned how he wished for the Fey to elect a council, one individual each clan trusted, and approach the humankind king, Pendragon, to offer their alliance to him. That got a reaction from Lenore and Gawain was glad to hear her speak, even with annoyance lining her voice.
“I told you yesterday, that’d be a terrible idea. The human King is a child for one, and I am certain if the rumours are true, the real mastermind behind him is not the Queen Regent, but the Druid Merlin. You know how the Fey kind feels about Merlin and he for us.” The last bit was muttered with a note of bitterness Gawain hadn’t heard coming from Lenore before. Ban shrugged.
“Merlin doesn’t worry me that much. What I am most concerned about, is the recent slander the Church has been spreading about our kind the past few months. You might not have sensed it yet, but there has been a recent change in the way humans have been treating us. My people have been reporting an increase in scuffles, and while at first I brushed it off as the occasional drunken, tavern brawl, lately there has been a reluctance in purchasing or even selling goods to any Fey kind in our side of the map. Lenore, I really feel this something we have to address now, before it grows into a monster we cannot vanquish.” Lenore’s brows furrowed as they did when she was contemplating something.
“If I gave you my support... and that is a big if, you know you and I are the youngest Arch Druids attending this year. I fear our footing is not yet stable enough for a daring suggestion as yours to be considered seriously. Not to mention, the two Elders accompanying me are currently up in arms about our children’s... unusual connection, and my standing with them is shaky at best. We will not get any support from them.”
“Even so, we have to try. If I am reading the patterns right, and I know I am, this may well be disastrous for the Fey kind. The Church has the king’s, or his council’s, ear already. We need to get close now while we still can. Before the Church poisons the entire kingdom against us.” Lenore gave a heavy sign and nodded. Ban grinned victoriously to have at last found one ally he could count on and Elaine steered the conversation on lighter subjects.
They chatted how they could arrange a trip in the early Spring for Elaine and Lancelot to visit Dewdenn, accompanied by Bors as Ban would be busy with his duties, and Nimue and Lancelot could hardly contain themselves. Bors even suggested that at some point when they were slightly older, Lancelot could be fostered for a year at Dewdenn and the following year Nimue could be fostered in their village. Gawain again felt guilt stirring inside of him at the mentioning of future plans, and to push it away, he brightly offered to look after Lancelot and Nimue today to the adults’ gratefulness. He urged the two children to finish up quickly so they could go exploring, and to keep his nervous hands busy, he grabbed the satchel with his and Nimue’s still damp clothing and headed outside to hang it in the sun. Lucien and Gustave were nowhere to be seen, but Kipp and Clovis were still in the camp, Kipp sharpening his ax while Clovis was working on a poultice of sorts. He took care of the clothing and then dropped by Kipp to wait for the kids to come looking for him.
Kipp grunted his acknowledgment and to his surprise Clovis set his mortar down and sat up straight to face him.
“I thank you for standing up to Druid Lucien for Arch Druid Lenore’s sake.” He intoned formally. Clovis might’ve been his age, but Gawain always felt they were too different to ever get along. Even when they were children, they rarely interacted, so Gawain was feeling a bit off balance as he blinked at the other boy.
“Uh.. You’re welcome..?” He uttered uncertainly, but that seemed to be good enough for Clovis as he inclined his head satisfied and went back to his poultice. Gawain shot a wide-eyed look at Kipp who shrugged and continued sharpening his weapon. Gawain was rescued from having anymore unexpected interactions that confused him, by Lancelot’s and Nimue’s timely arrival. He sprang up and after tossing a quick goodbye over his shoulder, he hurriedly herded the kids away from the camp and off to an adventure where for a couple hours at least, they wouldn’t have to deal with adult insecurities and problems, and Gawain could ignore uncomfortable thoughts about what was to come.
-
The Gathering came to an end all too soon in Lancelot’s opinion. It was very unfair that he had to part ways with Nimue and Gawain, but his mother assured him that springtime was just around the corner and he’d get to see his soulmate and new friend again in no time. He kicked a rock and watched with sullen eyes as it rolled away. The Sky-Folk group had already departed earlier this morning. Lancelot could still remember Nimue’s miserable pout as her family’s cart carried her further and further away. He made sure to keep waving at her with a huge grin on his face until they could no longer see each other, but as soon as they were a dot in the distance, both his hand and his grin dropped and he had been ‘sulking like a soaking cat’ as his uncle Bors put it. What did he know? His soulmate Garel was right there by his side.
As if he had sensed Lancelot’s glare, Garel turned from fixing the saddle on his old mare Lavender, and beckoned Lancelot over. The boy huffed and approached him, expecting to be given another mundane chore to keep him busy.
“What is it uncl- whoah!” Garel picked him up and plopped him on top of Lavender before Lancelot could finish his sentence. The young boy grabbed the reins tightly and gaped at his uncle.
“Can you ride Lavender for the first part of our trip? You are light and it won’t tire her much to carry you. I’ll ride with your parents on the cart and we can switch whenever you get tired of riding.” Lancelot knew Garel gave him this responsibility to get his mind off Nimue, but he couldn’t keep the pride from rising in his chest, nor the burst of love he felt for his uncle at that moment. He sniffed and gave the man a hug, his hands still gripping the reins. Garel chuckled, keeping a steady hand on the boy’s back to keep him from falling right off the horse, and returned the hug.
Lancelot might not have his soulmate nearby for now, but he still had a loving family and his mark, gently glowing underneath its coverings, and that was enough for him to keep the sadness at bay. Until he met Nimue again, he’d be just fine and he sent a quick prayer to the Hidden, wishing the same and more for Nimue.
Notes:
Before the Ash Folk headed in the Sky Folk camp:
Elaine: Remember, don’t mention anything about Nimue being your soulmate Lancelot!
Lancelot: Okay mother.
-they reach the camp-
Ban: Where’s my son’s little Sky Folk soulmate at?! :D
Elaine, Bors and Lancelot: *groan*
Chapter 4: to pass in the Twilight”
Notes:
H-Hello there! *sweats nervously* Sooo… I might’ve put this off for a while, but! I do have a couple of excuses! Lol So I am a mom now… well, I’ve been a mom for a but over a year now and it’s a wonderful, crazy, beautiful experience! 😆 Also it keeps me quite busy and my brain only wants to think about the baby lol
I haven’t written anything -new-, but I finally kicked my butt in gear and got to editing chapter 4 finally.
There’s speech I lifted straight from the book/show in the beginning, so that definitely doesn’t belong to me.
Father Carden is a warning all by himself and there’s a bit of description of graphic gore (the bear) and violence in this chapter so tread carefully.
Rereading his, showed me a couple of spots I wasn’t happy with that could do with rewriting, but today is not the day! Apologies for any missed grammar errors and misspelling!
Hope you enjoy and have a wonderful day :)
Chapter Text
“Nimue.” Something whispered in her ear, and Nimue woke up with a start. Her parents were still soundly asleep and she was about to join them, when she heard it again. “Nimue.” Curiosity stirred through her sleepy mind, and she quietly got out of bed and walked out of her home.
“Hello?” She called out in the night, but she couldn’t see or hear anyone. She nervously rubbed the bracelet covering her mark, but before she could turn back around, the voice spoke again.
“Nimue, why won’t you come?” It sounded disappointed and Nimue wondered if it was the Hidden and they finally wanted her to properly meet them.
“Where are you?” She asked out into the night, and a beam of moonlight lit a path leading right into the Iron Woods. She assumed it was the Hidden’s way of guiding her to them, so she followed the illuminated path. The moment she stepped into the woods, she heard the voice speaking clearly in her head.
‘Where are you, Nimue?’
‘I’m coming. Be patient. I can’t find you.’ She thought back, and kept walking, pine needles and leaves crunching beneath her bare feet. She soon found herself standing in front of the dens, an area she knew was strictly off-limits even for the adult hunters of the village.
“Why are you in there?” She asked. There was a pause before the voice softly answered her.
“I need your help.” Nimue felt unusually calm, even as she climbed over rocks with sharp edges that could slash her feet open.
“I’m here.” She called once she was inside.
“I’m hiding from you.” Nimue, with the help of the bright moon, spotted a clear patch of dirt at the bottom of a hole she would’ve otherwise missed. She carefully climbed down, knowing that whomever was calling her, would be waiting for her there. The moment her feet touched the ground, a great blackness swallowed her up. Nimue hurriedly unclasped her bracelet, letting it fall to the ground, and breathed a sigh of relief as her soul mark offered her a soft light in the darkness.
“Hello?”
“I’m here, sweet thing. Come closer.” The voice crooned, and against her will Nimue felt her legs carry her towards the darkness that seemed to consume even her mark’s glow. “You have your mother’s eyes,” it whispered and before her eyes, a monstrous creature that looked like a decaying bear, came into the feeble light from the hole above. “Oh, and what a delightful smell. Like Ash. I haven’t had Ash-Folk flesh in eons.” Loose, bloody jowls jingled as it took a rattling breath through a mangled snout, and beady, yellow eyes gleamed in amusement down at her.
Nimue screamed for her mother in her mind as the demonic bear circled her. “Only the seed of Lenore can sate my terrible hunger.” It viciously grinned and Nimue scrambled to the wall and tried to climb away. She felt it sink three terrible claws in her back, pinning her to the wall, and slowly dragging them down leaving searing pain in their path. Nimue howled, feeling as if her body was on fire. Through blurry eyes, she saw the Demon Bear taste her blood and giggle in delight like a mischievous child.
‘Call to the Hidden, Nimue.’ Her mother’s voice, urgent but calm, echoed in her head.
‘I don’t know how! Help me!’ She thought back.
‘I won’t reach you in time.’ Lenore’s calmness helped bring some clarity to her panicking thoughts, and Nimue closed her eyes and reached out to the Hidden with every fiber of her being. As she watched its jaws unhinge to swallow her whole, she kept screaming in her head for the Hidden and then for Lancelot. The mark on her wrist pulsed brighter for a moment, and as the Demon descended upon her its putrid, hot breath making her gag, beneath her hands she felt tremors running through the cavern’s walls. The cave groaned and violently shook, and the Demon Bear paused, looking around in confusion as debris rained on their heads. Nimue heard a loud crack overhead and looked up just in time to see a large slab of rock separate from the ceiling and rapidly fall. She shut her eyes tightly and felt a spray of hot blood land on her face at the same time she heard a horrible crunch. She heard a terrible wail fill the cave, before it exploded in a thousand screams and then it was quiet again apart from her ragged breathing. As she slid down the wall and into a pile of her own blood, Nimue dared to take a peek and felt bile rise in her throat. The slab of rock had cracked the Demon Bear’s skull in two. She threw up and promptly passed out.
-
Lancelot woke up screaming, an excruciating, searing pain on his back. He heard his mother and father calling his name in a panic as he writhed and tore at his shirt trying to take it off. He had never felt such terrible pain before. He barely registered his mother running from their hut, yelling for Garel who was the village’s Healer, or his father’s strong arms holding him tightly. As suddenly as it came, the pain went away, leaving him gasping for breath, hot tears running down his face. Now that he was calming down, he could swear that right before it started, he had heard Nimue’s voice screaming for him in his dreams. He lifted his hand to reassure himself that his soulmate was alright, but instead he felt a cold spear of fear run right through him. His usually vibrant soul mark that he kept uncovered at night, was now a dull gray with streaks of pitch black decorating the waters. Something had happened to Nimue... and there was nothing he could do to help her.
-
For days after that night, Lancelot had been pestering his parents and uncles to take him to his soulmate with no luck. The mountain roads were all blocked from the last snowfall. There was nothing they could do to bring him to her or even somehow send a message to Dewdenn to check if everything was alright. He was constantly irritated and tired and his back itched so bad, it drove him mad. Garel tried different poultices to offer him relief with no luck. There was nothing visible there, yet Lancelot could swear he could feel three, giant claw marks marring the skin. What was even worse, his mark stayed dull and colorless and that worried him more than anything else. At least it wasn’t gone, so he at least knew that whatever the matter was with Nimue, she still was alive.
He had taken to watching the roads to see when they would be clear enough to travel on, which was why he was the first to spot them. Not that it was difficult to make out the red cloaks fluttering on the stark, white slopes surrounding his home village. He squinted, wondering what a group of travelers was doing out in this traitorous season, before it dawned on him that the streak of red was longer than he first thought and was heading towards the village, like a river of blood running through the snowy mountains. He climbed down from his perch, and with a sense of unease boiling in his belly, ran to find his father as fast as he could.
He found Ban in the Chief Hall hut, with a group of Elders and the moment he burst into the hut, the discussion over rations ceased and all eyes turned to him. He desperately gulped in air, trying to ignore the stitch in his side, and gestured towards the mountains where the red cloaked riders were coming from.
“R-Riders. From the mountains. Dozens of them. Coming our way!” He managed to gasp between breaths and he did not miss the look of alarm his father and uncle Garel exchanged.
“Do you think it’s the Church?” Garel hissed at Ban who furrowed his brow thinking. He seemed to come to a decision quickly and walked over to his son and tightly grasped his shoulders.
“Lancelot, I need you to ring the bells and alert every woman and child you see, to head for the Northeastern Temple. Then head there yourself and find your mother. Stay safe son. I’m proud of you.” He said the last bit only for Lancelot’s ears and after a quick embrace, he pushed his son urging him to hurry. To Lancelot, that felt too much like a goodbye and he couldn’t help but glance over his shoulder at his father, who was now calling out orders to gather the men. He bit his lip and swiveled his head back to the front, pushing his already burning legs to go faster. He yelled his father’s orders as he tore through the village, his heart wildly beating in his chest. By the time he had reached the bells and started ringing them, he could already see people running around, women with children in their arms towards the woods where the Temple was, and men holding weapons usually used for hunting hurrying towards the Chief Hall.
He rang the bells for a couple more minutes, and then ran as fast as he could towards the Temple, hoping to find his mother there. His lungs burned, his legs screamed at him and his head pounded, but the fear and adrenaline pumping in his veins, kept him going. The snow on the ground slowed his pace more than he would’ve liked, and he was relieved when he finally caught sight of the clearing the Temple was built in. His relief soon turned into full blown panic as he heard screaming and as a hand harshly grabbed him, a shout burst out from his lips too. Someone slapped a hand over his mouth and Lancelot thrashed trying to break out of the firm hold.
“Lancelot, it’s me!” Bors’ voice hissed in his ear. He instantly stopped struggling and whipped wide eyes at his uncle. He looked terrible, a gash on his temple gushing blood and Lancelot could see a darkening spot in his side. He snapped his gaze back at Bors’ pale face, but his uncle had his eyes trained on the clearing where screaming was still coming from and he could catch glimpses of red-cloaked men attacking their people . Lancelot tugged his uncle’s hand away from his face.
“What’s happening? Where’s mother?” His voice trembled, truly scared. His uncle turned pained eyes to him and shook his head.
“I haven’t seen Elaine yet.” he whispered back. “Lancelot, listen I need you to go hide in the woods. Don’t come out unless you sense one of our kind. If you feel any Man-Blood poking around, you must avoid them at all costs. Do you understand me?” Lancelot nodded before grabbing at his uncle’s arm tightly.
“How did they get here so fast?! I saw them by the mountain side not even an hour ago!” Bors grimaced.
“What you saw must have been their rearguard and they held them back as a distraction. Their vanguard must’ve set their ambush here last night. What I want to know is how they found out where the Temple was located and how they knew we’d send our most vulnerable here...” He didn’t seem to be saying that part to Lancelot.
“Come with me.” Lancelot pleaded and Bors gave him a sad look he absolutely hated.
“Lancelot, I have to help as many as I can of our kind to escape. And I don’t...” he hesitated to finish his sentence, then his eyes hardened. “Go. Now. Born in the dawn...” Lancelot felt like throwing up.
“...to pass in the twilight.” He choked out and fled. Somehow he knew he wouldn’t see his uncle again. As he was running through the forest, he wished it wasn’t winter. The bare trees didn’t offer much cover and he could see familiar faces being hunted down by the red-cloaked strangers. He evaded one of them reaching for him, much more nimble and comfortable in these woods than him, and changed his direction towards the caves his mother usually bid him to avoid in fear of wild animals attacking him. Right now Lancelot would rather take his chances with a wolf or a bear. The caves came into sight, and once he was inside he noticed he wasn’t the only one who thought to use them as a hiding place. He could sense several Ash-Folk hiding out of sight, and since they could also sense him, they let him through without any fuss or giving away their hiding places.
“Lancelot! Oh thank the Hidden.” His heart leaped in his chest at hearing his mother’s soft voice and seeing her step from within the darkness she used to camouflage herself. She hurriedly gathered him into her arms and pulled him back into her hiding nook, her tear marks glowing like embers for a second, before he felt the Hidden respond to her silent call and camouflage them. Lancelot still had trouble using the magic his kind was blessed with and couldn’t do it himself. His father claimed it was because of the strong connection he had with the Hidden. Where the flow of magic was like a trickling stream for their people, for Lancelot it felt more like a rushing river, wild and uncontrollable. He had hoped it’d be easier to use it by the time he saw Nimue again, but now it felt like he might never get the chance to. He could feel his mother’s heartbeat pounding where she held him against her chest and he tried to keep his breathing as quiet as possible.
He didn’t know how long they stayed like that. Nightfall began to arrive and with it, silence. Lancelot didn’t know how to feel about that. On one hand, he could feel a terrible relief he didn’t hear their people suffer anymore, yet on the other hand, he couldn’t help but think what that really meant. Were they all gone? Was all that remained of the Ash Folk in these caves? That couldn’t be it. He tightly shut his eyes and reached to the Hidden, pleading with them to allow him to feel further away than the caverns they were hiding at. And suddenly, the Hidden responded to his call and he could see. Behind his eyes, the living Ash Folk around him shined brightly like stars, his mother a sun. He kept his focus and reached out with this newfound sense and- there! A group of Ash Folk was still in the village, all gathered at the village’s center. One of them shone even brighter than his mother, and the wave of relief that crushed into him as he realized that was his father, made his knees buckle. He reached out to the light, gently brushing it with his mind, and he saw it flare as if it was surprised.
‘Lancelot?’ He heard his father’s voice in his head and he swallowed the urge to cry.
‘Father! You are alive!’ He put all of his feelings behind his thought, his relief, worry, fear and he felt him respond with love, calmness, steadiness and so much sadness.
‘Lancelot, son, listen. No matter what, you mustn’t-’ His connection with his father was abruptly cut off and Lancelot let out a wail that echoed around the caves, startling everyone. His mother shushed him, but he couldn’t stand still. He tried pushing away from her and when she wouldn’t let go he started begging her, tears running down his face.
“Father is still alive! We have to get to him! Mother please-” In all of his eight years of life, neither Elaine or Ban had ever raised a hand against him. So when his mother slapped him, the shock from the sting left him speechless. He raised wide, disbelieving eyes to his mother’s own and saw that while disbelief was also mirrored in hers, there were also tears of frustration and sadness brimming in them. He hadn’t really gotten a good look on his mother before, but now that her concentration broke and the illusion covering them both, melted away, he saw that she was as pale as the snow outside and there was a wide gash on the side of her neck that was still lazily dripping with blood. Elaine in short, looked like she was at Death’s door and Lancelot had no idea even as her blood had soaked into his tunic. Elaine swayed and he quickly offered her support with his whole body. She was heavy.
Elaine slowly lowered herself to the ground and gently grasped her son’s face in her hands, guilt washing over her as she covered the reddening handprint her hand left behind on his cheek.
“I am so sorry Lancelot.” She whispered, letting the tears finally fall from her eyes to her son’s ever mounting horror. He shook his head, but she could regretfully feel her time with him rapidly slipping through her fingers. She brought her lips to his forehead, and laid a kiss there. “Lancelot, I love you so much. The Hidden were most gracious gifting your father and I with such a wonderful son. I want you to remember this. No matter what it takes, stay alive.” Lancelot seemed to suddenly get shaken out of his stupor and he lurched forward, small, trembling hands reaching up and applying pressure on the gash on her neck, trying to stop her life from leaking out. Death hurt, but it did not hurt as much as the raw desperation on her son’s face.
“P-Please m-mother. N-no, nonono you can’t- you can’t l-leave me. W-we’ll fi-find Gar-Garel. He’ll f-fix you, please.” He sobbed, and Elaine truly wished to hang on, with all of her being, but she knew she could not. She smiled at him and tugged him forward for a last hug, his whole body shaking in her weakening grasp.
“Born in the dawn...” she breathed in his ear and Lancelot stubbornly shook his head. He would not say those damned words. He would not SAY them. But even that could not stop the inevitable. He felt his mother’s arms drop from his shoulders and her head drop. He tried laying her on the ground as gently as possible and looked at the face of the woman who brought him to this world. Elaine looked peaceful. Her eyes were serene as they stared right back at him, and Lancelot raised a shaking hand and gently shut them. He leaned forward, touching his forehead on his mother’s chest and fisted her clothing with all of his strength hoping, hoping that the Hidden would somehow bring her back as long as he prayed strongly enough, but he was met with a damning silence. Elaine was gone. There was nothing he could do.
He would’ve stayed frozen there, if pandemonium hadn’t suddenly broken out, as a group of the red cloaked strangers entered the caves, led there by a couple of snarling hounds they had tied thick ropes. He tried to fight as one of them tore him away from his mother’s already cold body, but Lancelot was too weak, too tired to succeed. A couple of the Ash Folk that did actually put up a fight, were killed on the spot, one of them practically mauled by the rabid dogs. The rest of them were quickly rounded up and dragged back into the village. Before they even reached it, Lancelot’s nose was assaulted by the stench of death and burning flesh. If he had anything left in his stomach, he was sure he would’ve thrown it up. Burning crosses were erected all around the village, and he understood where the smell came from. He still felt so numb from his mother’s passing though, he could not muster any anger or fear at what was happening to his people.
As they were led to the village’s center, he spotted his father on his knees in front of a solemn, bearded man, dressed in the same red robes as every man that attacked the Ash Folk. While there was nothing special about his appearance and he didn’t seem particularly strong, his presence seemed to command respect and veneration from his men. He was giving a sermon to the downtrodden Ash Folk who looked resigned to their fate, but Lancelot’s eyes had locked on to his father’s who was staring back at him. He had been beaten so badly, there was bruising on every inch of his face. One eye was swollen shut and his nose and lips were bleeding. Ban had never looked so small in his life, always standing tall and facing everything that came his way with a laugh and a smart quip. It didn’t seem like his father’s charisma and charm would do him any good with these people.
The preaching man noticed Ban’s attention was not on him anymore, and he dealt him a harsh backhand that made Lancelot wince and find his courage.
“Stop! Father!” He screamed and with a burst of energy he didn’t think he had anymore, he ripped himself away from his captor’s hold, evaded every man that came to his path, and threw himself on top of his father trying to shield him from any more blows.
“Lance-” his father started, but Lancelot interrupted him.
“Please, don’t hit my father anymore! He’ll die! Hit me instead! Please!” He desperately begged, holding tightly onto Ban, his whole body shaking with adrenaline. There was a second of silence, before he heard a gentle, kind laugh over his head. He dared to peek over his shoulder at the bearded man who raised a hand to stop his men from separating Lancelot from his father. He had a grandfatherly smile on his face as he observed the two. The corners of his eyes crinkled and he raised his arms.
“Behold my brothers. God’s grace is so powerful, it can even reach one of these demons and push it to sacrifice its well-being for one it believes it cares for, just like our Lord sacrificed His life for our salvation. I believe the Lord is speaking to me, trying to teach me and you, a precious lesson here, and I am willing to listen.” He gestured to one of the men staring at him with unadulterated adoration. “Brother, bring these two to Brother Salt. I believe his God’s Fingers will point me on the right path to take with how best to deal with them and learn all God wishes me to.” Lancelot felt strong arms rip him off his father, but before he could attempt fighting back, his father caught his eye and gave him a discreet head-shake. ‘Stay put.’ It told him, so stay put he did. As they were dragged away, he heard the leader of those men address them once more, telling them to prepare the ‘cleansing pyres’. Lancelot couldn’t even lie to himself what that meant for their people, not when there were charred bodies, mouths still open in pained screaming, crucified on smoldering, wooden crosses.
-
Brother Salt was part of the vanguard Lancelot had spotted earlier this morning. They had set up their encampment at the outskirts of the forest, and he could see and hear red-cloaked men joke and fool around. As if this was a celebration and not a vicious eradication of a peaceful village. They brought him and his father to a nondescript tent he heard a man call ‘The Kitchen’ in passing, and after they tied them across from each other, they left them alone. The flickering candles lit around the tent, cast dancing shadows all around and Lancelot for a moment, thought back to the ancient Oak Tree he saw at the Litha ceremony. That felt like a lifetime ago now.
There was a sickening smell in the tent, even as it looked clean. It kind of reminded Lancelot of the butcher’s stall he and his father occasionally visited at a neighboring village, with the difference that there was also a scent of waste and death stubbornly hugging the air. He tested the ropes he was tied with, but they would not budge.
“Lancelot.” His father rasped and he snapped his head up to look at him. “Lancelot no matter what you hear me say next, just remember that I love you and I am doing what it takes to save you. It won’t make sense to you, not for many years, but I want you to trust me son.” Lancelot’s lip trembled and he looked down at his hands. They were still covered in his mother’s now dried blood, and he didn’t think they would ever be cleansed from it. His father’s words were so similar to hers, they brought a wave of dizziness to his head. Was he to watch both of the people he loved the most die today? “Lancelot. Please-”. The words died on Ban’s lips, as the tent’s flap parted and a tall man entered, flanked by two other men. With a lurch of his stomach, Lancelot took in the man’s sawn eyes and he started shaking. Were they going to saw his eyes shut too before killing him?
“This one reeks of fear,” The man said gesturing at Lancelot, “and this one reeks of defiance.” He finished with a smile directed at Ban. He approached the two and put an inquiring hand on Lancelot’s face, studying it carefully with the tips of his fingers. Ban tried breaking free and he vehemently glared out of one good eye at the man, gritting his teeth so hard, Lancelot could hear it. “A handsome son you’ve got here.” He praised Ban and stepped away from Lancelot to his relief. His face prickled where the man touched him. “I am Brother Salt. Father Carden asked me to wait for him before we begin, but I thought it’d only be polite that I introduce myself to you two first. We will be spending quite a long time getting to know each other in the following hours after all.” He waited for a second before backhanding Ban across the face hard. Lancelot cried out, but Ban once again shook his head at him. “It is only good manners that you offer your names when someone offers theirs.” Brother Salt chided in the patient tone a parent would use with their child.
Ban lifted his head and spat a glob of blood at Brother Salt’s feet. “I am Ban, Arch Druid of the Ash Folk. This is my son, Lancelot.” He obliged, though there was an undertone of challenge in his voice that only seemed to bring joy to Brother Salt who tossed his head back and laughed.
“Oh, I cannot wait to introduce you to my God’s Fingers my friend. I would suggest you get as much rest as you can. We will be terribly busy once Father Carden arrives.” He said and after clapping Ban’s shoulder like a friend would, he left the tent, the two men following after him. Ban’s ragged breathing seemed to echo in the tent. Lancelot whimpered.
“Father, I don’t understand. What do they want? Why are they doing this?” Ban swallowed hard and took a moment to gather his thoughts.
“These people... they believe our kind, Fey kind is unnatural. Because we are different, they fear and loathe us. But Lancelot, I want you to always remember, it is our differences that make the world a wondrous place. I do not know the God they believe in well, but I trust he would not have wanted this-this massacre to happen in his name.”
“They are going to k-kill us both, aren’t they?” Ban’s visible eye hardened with resolution and he vehemently shook his head, though it looked like he regretted that action right away.
“You will not die Lancelot. I will not allow it. Trust me son.” Before Lancelot could ask him how he planned to do that, they heard cheering voices outside. The rest of the army must’ve returned from their village which meant, their leader was probably on his way to see them soon. “Lancelot. Never forget, I love you. Stay brave my son and stay true to yourself. Even if your mother and I are gone... you still have a home to go to.” He finished nodding at Lancelot’s wrist. Lancelot felt his throat closing up and new tears running down his face. “Born in the dawn...” Lancelot never thought he’d hate words this much in his life. He was tempted not to finish the phrase, but he already felt so guilty for not offering that closure to his mother, he knew he could not stand not offering it to his father either.
“...to pass in the twilight.” He choked out. His father gave him a grin, but it quickly melted away as once again they were joined by Salt, his two silent shadows and now the leader of their army as well. Lancelot kept his weeping eyes trained on his father’s face, committing to memory the shape of his nose, his eyes, his lips, everything he could even with all the terrible bruising. The leader stepped closer to them and Ban leveled him with a calm look.
“My people are gone then?” He asked to Lancelot’s surprise, and the older man studied him with a considering look.
“My brothers have cleansed most of your... kind, but a few have unfortunately escaped our grasp. Does this please you?” He eventually answered, obviously curious at Ban’s reaction. Ban licked his lips.
“Did you know that us Ash Folk have a very particular ability?” He said instead and even Lancelot was morbidly curious at what his father was getting at.
“Oh?” The older man began circling Ban and came to stand behind him. His father turned his eye to him.
‘Trust me.’ He implored and Lancelot almost jumped at hearing his voice in his head again. “My kind, we can sense other Fey and quickly track them down. Our sense of scent is also superior to that of a hound. Even one of us could be of great use to you.” Ban said and Lancelot’s already racing heart started beating faster. The old man gave a quiet laugh and turned to his brothers.
“See how devious the Fey are? Trying to manipulate me in keeping one of them alive by flaunting their ungodly abilities.” He completed the circle he had started around Ban and faced him once again. “I assume the one you want me to keep breathing, is the boy then?” He asked in a patronizing voice that grated at Lancelot’s nerves. His father kept his eye on him for a second more and then swiveled it back at the old man.
‘Trust me.’ He repeated in Lancelot’s head. “No. He hasn’t learned to control his powers yet. He is too young. Give him a painless death, and I’ll help you find the strugglers and any other Fey you wish.” Lancelot felt as if his heart stopped. He could not believe those words came from his father’s mouth. Ban would never suggest harm on another, no matter how angry he was, even more so on family or friend. A nagging feeling on the back of head, reminded him of Ban’s words from earlier. He was sure of it, his father was prepared to die tonight, so what he just suggested... The old man threw his head back and laughed as did the other three of them, throwing Lancelot’s train of thought, off its tracks.
“The audacity of this one is astounding, is it not Father Carden?” Salt rumbled calming down. “A true servant of the Beast. Selfish and callous.” Ban swallowed hard and kept his breathing even. His eye stubbornly stayed on Carden.
‘I trust you.’ Lancelot thought at his father, but Ban gave him no indication that he heard him. Father Carden studied Ban well and then brought his scrutiny to Lancelot who quickly averted his eyes and stared at the ground.
“How old are you boy?” He asked him and Lancelot gave a little start at being addressed directly. His father was still not looking at him, so he glanced back up at Carden’s calculating, blue eyes.
“E-eight summers... sir.” He whispered. Salt approached him and roughly grabbed his chin.
“Speak louder whelp.” He spat, squeezing him. Lancelot’s eyes jumped between the two men panicked before settling back on Carden.
“I am eight summers old sir.” He said louder, feeling a bit proud that his voice was steadier this time. Carden tilted his head considering him for a moment and then turned to Salt.
“What do you think Brother? Will God help us mold this one to a tool fit to deliver His Divine Justice?” Salt released Lancelot’s now aching chin and wiped his hand on his red cloak. One of his acolytes shifted behind him.
“Eight summers under the Beast’s demonic influence. It will be hard to break him, but I have faith that the Lord can give us the strength necessary to succeed.” Lancelot started to think it’d be better if they swiftly killed him instead. “I believe it to be vital that the boy witnesses God’s justice first hand. Let me keep him while I work on his father.” He finished. Carden clasped the man’s shoulder with a great smile. Lancelot’s eyes widened and he turned his attention to Ban. His father looked as if carved by stone. He could not read his expression at all. It seemed like Ban had successfully manipulated them into keeping Lancelot alive for now. At what price though?
“I will leave you to it then brother. Send for me once you’ve finished and I will receive the boy in my care.” And with that he left the tent. One of the men accompanying Salt, stepped forward and Lancelot only just now noticed the leather bundle in his arms.
“It is time I introduce you to my precious God’s Fingers.” The man said gesturing at the bundle. The acolyte unrolled it, and Lancelot saw seven iron tools, each secured in a leather pocket. His breathing started growing faster as he felt dread begin to drown him. “Make sure the boy does not avert his eyes as I deliver God’s heavenly justice.” He ordered and the other acolyte stepped behind Lancelot, roughly grabbed his head and forced Lancelot’s tearing eyes wide open. He felt a scream of denial at what was happening building in his chest, and the only thing that kept it there was Ban’s hardened stare on him.
‘Breathe son.’ He whispered in his son’s head. Lancelot really did try to calm himself down, but simply could not. He shook like a leaf in the wind and a whimper broke out of him. He felt the grip on his head get tighter.
“Let us begin. You will sing for Brother Salt.” Salt told Ban and reached for one of his torture instruments and placed it into the fire burning by their side. “Michael will help you utter nothing but the truth.” He said. Ban stayed calm, his breathing steady.
‘I love you Lancelot. Be brave son. Stay alive.’
-
A hard slap brought Lancelot back into consciousness, and he immediately wished it hadn’t. His throat felt raw from all his begging and screaming for his father’s sake, not that it helped any, and his head was pounding. This was the third time he had fainted, but who could blame him after what he had been forced to watch. The hand gripped his hair, and forced him to look back up at his father. Ban was unrecognizable and did not move. Lancelot choked back a sob and tried to reach out to him with his mind, to no avail. He could not even sense his father’s presence anymore. After hours of being tortured and drilled for information on the Fey, Ban, the Arch Druid of the Ash Folk, had surrendered himself to the Widow and left Lancelot on his own.
The hand let his head fall back down, and fresh hot tears dripped from his eyes. Brother Salt was off to the side washing the blood off his hands and one of the acolytes was cleaning the torture tools and carefully putting them back into their leather pockets. The other one, the one that forced him to watch while his father suffered for hours, was now untying Ban’s body. Lancelot wished he had the energy to shout at him for daring to touch his father, but he could do no more than quietly weep.
He concentrated on the voices of the Hidden who were quietly whispering at him, and felt his anger flare. Where were they when Ban needed them? Where were they when Elaine needed them? Where were they when Lancelot needed them?! He let his anger grow into a blazing fire and unbeknown to him and the three men in the tent, the candle flames around them flared stronger for a moment too, responding to his fury. The voices of the Hidden grew louder and louder in his head and then Lancelot used every ounce of his will to smother them. They completely vanished to his surprise. For the first time since he could remember, there was quiet. Not a single whisper echoed in his ears. He felt as if where there used to be a strong connection with the spirits and him, there was now absolutely nothing and it was so sudden that it scared him. He really wished he could look at his mark now, just to reassure himself, there was still someone out there who would never abandon him. Nimue was really all he had left.
He was startled when he felt one of the men untie him and force him to stand on shaky legs.
“Move it. Father Carden requested your presence.” He growled and pushed him forward. Lancelot stumbled and he spared one last glance to his father’s body, his stomach churning at what had become of the once handsome man. Brother Salt faced the two and offered Lancelot a triumphant smile. Lancelot wished he could laugh at his face about the falsehoods Ban had planted in his head about various Fey clans, but he didn’t want to let his father’s sacrifice go to vain. He averted his eyes from the self-blinded man.
He was led, or more like pushed, out of the tent and towards what he assumed was the center of the camp. On the way to their destination, various men stared at him in contempt and hissed insults and curses for him and his kind. He kept his head down and took in deep breaths of clean air for the first time in what it felt like hours, not that it helped the stench of blood, burnt flesh and waste to leave his senses. Lancelot had a feeling that from now on, he would never forget the smell from Brother Salt’s kitchens. It was forever imprinted in his mind and he absolutely hated it. He shivered against the cool, winter wind, but it wasn’t long before he was pushed in a different tent. The scent of incense was thick in the air and Lancelot’s attention was drawn to the old man praying on his knees before a wooden cross. There was a carving of a person crucified on the cross.
“Father Carden, I am sorry to interrupt your prayer. I’ve brought you the boy as you wished.” The acolyte murmured with a slight bow of his head. Carden finished his prayer, got to his feet and turned to face them.
“All is well my brother. Please accept my thanks and offer Brother Salt my gratitude for his hard work as well. Let him know I will visit him later to hear of what he has learned.” The acolyte nodded and left the tent. There was a long moment of silence before Carden spoke again.
“Lancelot was it? This is your new God.” He started and gestured at the figure on the cross. Lancelot’s confusion must’ve been clear on his face, because the man chuckled and guided him to kneel before it. He placed a scourge made out of rope on the table between Lancelot and the cross. “Christ suffered greatly in the hands of humanity. He was tortured, ridiculed and eventually crucified and perished on the cross. You must wonder, how is it possible that He is God, if He allowed himself to suffer and then die?” A pause. “This is a discipline.” He reverently touched the whip before Lancelot. “The seven cords on it symbolize both the seven deadly sins that plague mankind as well as the seven virtues that can help save it. The three knots on each cord, stand for the three days Christ, after bearing the sins of humanity, spent in the tomb before He was resurrected. And through His resurrection, through his sacrifice, He has trampled death, brought salvation upon us and freed us from the chains of our sins. We must endeavor to live and die by His example Lancelot. You might not be human, but I will teach you everything I know as if you were born of one. Whilst I will lay down the first brick to the path of your salvation, it will be up to you to walk that path, difficult as it may be.” He paused again. Lancelot’s head pounded. “Remove your shirt.” Carden ordered, and Lancelot did, hesitating a bit.
He shivered, but not from the cold. Carden grabbed his left hand and placed it around the discipline’s handle. Lancelot glanced at it and felt shock running through his veins. His wrist was bare, no sign of his mark anywhere. He whipped his eyes back up in Carden's, wondering if he had done something to it, but the man seemed to take his shock for fear. “It will be alright boy. This will hurt, but it will also help you get closer to God and eventually, find salvation.” His stare hardened and he nodded at Lancelot. “Begin.” He ordered and Lancelot, now feeling completely numb, did so, hoping that the pain would distract him from the fact that now... he really was completely alone.
-
Nimue woke up with a gasp, her back on fire and her ears ringing. Her mother was holding her firmly which meant she had one of those episodes again. It had been weeks after the Demon Bear had attacked her, but the wounds of her back would not heal. She had also been having nightmare after nightmare and even when she was awake, she’d be plagued with seizures and visions she could not understand or even remember. She parted her dry lips. “Water.” She croaked and Lenore released her with a sigh of relief and brought a wineskin up to her lips. She greedily drunk, spilling a little, before her mother moved it away.
“Not too much sweetheart.” She murmured and smoothed Nimue’s hair. Her head felt heavy on her shoulders and she was covered in sweat. Lenore gently laid her back on her side and fetched one of the poultices Clovis had secretly made for Nimue. His father Gustave, had apparently refused to help in fear of the Demon taking revenge on him for helping its pray. Thinking of Clovis, reminded Nimue of Gawain, and angry tears gathered at the corner of her eyes. Gawain had managed to get an apprenticeship in a nearby human village, leaving Nimue behind. Because of how heavy this winter was, he hadn’t been able to visit at all. If he had taken her with him, the Demon would’ve never attacked her! She wouldn’t be sick the whole time and the people in the village wouldn’t be eagerly waiting for her passing so they’d be spared by the Demon. Nimue wanted to scream that it was gone because of her, but she hadn’t been able to leave her parents’ bed since the incident. Of course she hadn’t heard anyone speak those words themselves, but she overheard her father talk to her mother about it on a night they thought she was asleep. Her father, who since she had woken up, had barely looked her in the eyes and kept forcing her to swallow bitter medicine to help with her seizures. It hadn’t. It only made her belly ache and her throat sting.
She felt her mother’s gentle hands nudge her to lift her body up. Nimue complied and Lenore carefully unwrapped her body and tossed the dirty strips of cloth aside. She applied the poultice that felt cool on Nimue’s feverish skin and began wrapping her up once again with clean cloth. Once she finished covering her up, Nimue laid on her belly and turned her head to face her mother. Lenore looked exhausted, dark bags underneath her eyes and her complexion paler than usual. Yet she still managed a warm smile for her daughter and laid next to her. She gently run her hands through Nimue’s hair and the girl felt her eyelids grow heavier.
“Mama... I miss Gawain.” She muttered.
“I know you do sweet love.” Lenore responded. “I do too. You will see him again in spring”
“Can Pym visit me tomorrow?” She yawned and let her eyes shut.
“I’ll see that she does.” Her mother promised and continued stroking her head until sleep took her. This time in her dreams she was suspended in deep water and tendrils of fire were lazily flickering around her. A sword with glowing runes, was slowly sinking towards her. She reached a hand to grab it, but instead she grabbed a hand, larger than hers and it started dragging her upwards and out of the water where she gasped for breath. A man whose face she couldn’t see, swam towards the shore holding her close. Thunder rumbled overhead. It was then that she realized there were two arrows stuck in her body and blood was dripping from the wounds. The man dragged her body out of the water and she focused on his face. It looked like he was crying.
‘Nimue.’ He said shaking her and Nimue woke up with a pounding heart. She blinked sleep out of her eyes and turned her head. Her mother was soundly sleeping by her side. Her father wasn’t home yet. There was still moonlight streaming in through the window and her body felt heavy. She closed her eyes again, thinking about the strange dream she had. As sleep took her, she felt it fading from her mind. She wouldn’t remember it in the morning.
-
It was a few more weeks before Nimue was finally able to get out of bed and out of their hut. Winter’s last snows had melted away, and young sprouts on the ground announced spring’s arrival. Lenore strictly forbid Nimue from heading anywhere near the forest, until she was fully healed, but Nimue wasn’t intending on stepping a foot there for a while anyways. She was still terrified of what might come after her, and so it seemed were most of the villagers. The only people who would come see her while she sat outside in the gentle, spring sun, were Pym, Pym’s mother, a friend of her mother’s called Nella and Clovis. Though to Nimue it felt that Clovis was more interested in checking the results of his poultices and not Nimue’s wellbeing itself.
The rest of the village, avoided her and their home as if it was cursed. And the angrier she got about it, the more incidents with her powers she’d have and scare them off even more. It was a vicious, never-ending cycle and even Lenore was unsettled by it. Jonah had taken to missing for longer and longer hours from their home, sometimes not returning for a couple of days at a time and when he did, he’d reek of ale. He and Lenore got into row after row, and Nimue could do nothing but cover her ears and wish they’d stop. Her seizure episodes and visions continued, though it seemed that at least now they were spaced further away from each other. She only hoped they would one day completely stop. Her scars also healed, yet they still felt rather warm and Pym told her that they looked as if embers burned in them when she asked her to describe them to her.
Thinking of embers, made Nimue think of her mark. Her mother for some reason was adamant that she was not to remove her bracelet, not even in the house. Every time Nimue tried to ask why, Lenore would repeat herself and then change the subject. Nimue pouted and fingered the bracelet that had not come off her wrist since the night the Demon Bear came after her. She missed looking at its comforting glow and she missed Lancelot too. She reminded herself that now that spring had finally arrived, not only was she to soon turn six, but Lancelot and his mother were going to be coming to their village any day now like they promised. Gawain was probably on his way back too from his apprenticeship, which was why Nimue made sure to sit where she could clearly see the path leading into the village. She was a bit scared about how Lancelot was going to react not only to her scars, but also to the seizures that came with them. But even that fear wasn’t enough to quell her excitement at the prospect of soon seeing her soulmate again.
Her spot helped her notice her father’s cart, their young mare Dusk Lady, quickly making her way down the well travelled path. Nimue’s stomach churned, thinking that now he was back, he’d probably make her drink his icky medicine again. Her nose wrinkled in disgust, but she tried to cover it up with a smile. It didn’t work much.
As Jonah got off the cart and worked on removing Dusk Lady’s reigns, Nimue got up and made her way towards him.
“Welcome back Papa. How was your trip?” She chirped and Jonah’s hands froze on the reigns. He shot her a quick glance continuing his work, hands trembling a bit.
“Good. Is your mother home child?” He answered after a bit, his voice a bit strange. Nimue shrugged it off. He was probably tired.
“No, she is at the Sunken Temple. I am waiting for her to get back! Pym is busy with chores so I’ve been very bor-” Jonah cut her chatter off.
“I see. Can you fetch some water for Dusk Lady from the well?” Nimue stiffened. She had been avoiding venturing out into the village when she could help it, mostly to avoid the whispers following her everywhere. She gave her father a nod nonetheless and gathering her bravery, she grabbed a clay pot from the front of the house and set off towards the well. As she feared whispering dogged her every step, but it wasn’t as bad as she thought. She spied Pym weaving a basket with her mother and tossed her a cheery wave that the redhead returned enthusiastically. She could handle this just fine after all.
She reached the well with no interruptions and waited for Anis, the shepherd to finish getting water from its depths. One of his twin boys, Josse was with him. He was two summers older than Nimue, but he and his brother tended to avoid her even before the incident.
“Witch.” He hissed at her and Nimue glowered at him.
“Josse. Ignore her.” His father ordered and something in Nimue snapped at the disgust in his voice. Thin vines slithered to the side of her face and Anis’ wooden pail vibrated in his hands and with a loud crack, split in half, sending sharp splinters and water everywhere. Anis dropped it with a shout, Josse screamed as a splinter scratched his cheek and people around them stopped to stare. Nimue’s chest rose and fell with quick shallow breaths and before Anis could turn to her, she dropped the clay pot in her hands, shattering it, and fled towards her home, calls of “Demon!” and “Witch!”, following her most of the way. Soon she was sure the news would reach her mother and she’d be really cross with her for losing control again.
Nimue burst into the house, an apology to her father ready on her lips, before she stopped dead on her tracks. Her mother was seated at the table, her head in her hands, her shoulders shaking. Her father’s head was also bowed, his hand on her shoulder. Their attention swiftly turned to her and Nimue’s mouth run dry at the twin expressions of pity directed at her.
“D-did something happen? Is Gawain alright?!” Her mother shot to her feet and tightly hugged her. Her father stayed where he was and Nimue kept her eyes on his face.
“This is not about Gawain child.” He quietly said and Lenore led her to sit at the table. Her eyes jumped between her parents as she waited for them to explain. Her father came and kneeled in front of her, as her mother stood by her side, her hands rubbing her shoulders. He took her hand in his and after carefully unwrapping her wrist, he glanced at it his expression growing dark. Nimue followed his gaze and froze, a loud roar echoing in her ears. She could hear that her father was speaking, but she could not understand him. She heard her mother call her name, but her own voice wouldn’t come out. Her father released her hand and she slowly lifted it to her eyes, twisting it this way and that way.
Her wrist was clear. No sign of the mark she was so proud of anywhere, not even the grey spot it used to be. She lifted her eyes back to her father’s willing him to say something, anything. Jonah met her pleading gaze steadily.
“There were rumors that travelled with the merchants from the plains that there was an attack on a Fey village. Everyone was killed. The rare survivor succumbed to the winter cold or was captured by the Church and executed.”
“Jonah she is too you-” Lenore went to interrupt him, but Jonah shook his head and he continued with a sharper tone.
“She needs to understand Lenore. I asked around to find more information, and what I found out was that the Fey attacked, were of the Ash Folk clan. I am so sorry Nimue. Your wrist... it’s bare because your soulmate... he is gone child.” Nimue’s breathing quickened and she felt the power building inside her. It felt as if a dam was rapidly filling and was about to burst. So she wrenched herself away from her parents, and without paying attention to their calls for her to stop, she run into the Iron Wood. She could hear them running after her and she wished they would stop. The Fingers of Airimid spread across her cheeks once again and a strong gust of air whipped around her. A loud crack was heard overhead and an enormous tree snapped in half and fell behind her, blocking the path she was following. She run deeper into the forest and once she reached a clearing, she dropped on her hands and knees and screamed, letting the dam break and spill out. She blanked out for a bit and when she came to, Nimue looked around in disbelief, her shaky breaths the only sound in the clearing. Thick, thorny bushes surrounded her and her back was searing hot. She lifted her hand again and studied her wrist. It still was empty, the pale skin taunting her. Her lip trembled and she curled into a ball, a loud sob escaping her.
A demon had attacked her, her village hated her, she couldn’t control her powers and now Lancelot was gone. She truly was cursed.
Chapter 5
Summary:
I mean… a chapter every couple of years is ok… right? *nervous chuckle*
Some parts are closely following the book and series, others not so much!
Enjoy!
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Nimue fixed Squirrel with an unimpressed stare as the boy clearly employed distraction tactics she taught him to evade his lesson. Gods, if she was half a pain as a kid, it was no wonder Gawain had sailed off first chance he got when she was 10.
In all reality, Nimue adored Squirrel and she knew he adored her too, their relationship similar to that of hers and Gawain’s. His mother Nella, was Kipp’s younger sister and a close friend of her mother’s. When Jonah left them, she stood by their side, ignoring the other villagers’ mean spirited insinuations that it was all Nimue’s fault. Truth to be told, it was one of the few things Nimue agreed with them. Jonah would’ve never left Lenore if it wasn’t for Nimue and her thrice cursed connection to the Hidden or the claw marks on her back.
It did make Nella’s support all the more precious in her eyes though. When Squirrel, was born ten summers ago, Nimue was one of the first to meet him. He screamed his displeasure to the world, he was pink and wrinkly, and Nimue fell in love at first sight. She always wanted to be a big sister and in Squirrel she found the younger sibling she coveted. With her father leaving them the next summer and the rest of the village hating her, Squirrel really was the only younger brother she could ever have.
“..and that is why bloodwort, is best mixed with a little bit of honey before you take it for your hangover.” Nimue did a double-take.
“Excuse me? And how would you know that?” She put a hand on a hip and poked Squirrel on the forehead with the other. He swatted her hand away with a cheeky grin.
“Uncle Kipp taught me!” Nimue huffed and added some osha root to her basket meant for today’s offering to the Hidden. Her mother was to request that the Hidden anoint their choice of the next Summoner, as the last one Agatha, had passed nine moons ago. The position of Summoner, was incredibly important for the Sky Folk. The Summoner was the successor, the Keeper of Relics and the Harvest Priest, so whomever had the honor to be chosen as Summoner, they commanded great respect and held a position of immense responsibility in the village.
Once upon a time, Nimue daydreamed about being chosen as the Summoner herself and finally being accepted by her fellow Sky Folk. That was a long time ago though. Now Nimue knew she would never be one of them and she had concentrated on her plans to follow Gawain’s footsteps to set out into the world and get as far away from Dewdenn as possible.
“Do you really have to go?” Squirrel sullenly asked by her side, and Nimue sighed, already weary. They had this very same conversation yesterday. Squirrel was not aware of the way Nimue was treated in the village, nor was he aware of how different she was from everyone else in their clan. And Nimue liked to keep it that way. Unfortunately, since he didn’t know how miserable her life really was in Dewdenn, he found it rather difficult to accept that she wanted to leave their quaint village.
“We’ve already talked about this Squirrel.” She said earning herself a frown.
“You’re just going to leave and never come back just like Gawain, I know it! You are going to meet your soulmate and they will keep you and I’ll never see you again.” He bemoaned, missing the crushed look that crossed her face before she swallowed that old pain back down and locked it away. Squirrel had no idea that Nimue’s soulmate was forever gone and her wrist would stay bare for the rest of her life. Yet another secret she kept from her little friend.
“You don’t know that.” She said instead and to change the subject she picked one of the osha roots in her basket and tapped his nose with it. “What’s this?” She asked and he groaned. He really thought she was going to drop the lesson.
“Osha root.” He grumbled. She raised an eyebrow. “It protects from dark magic and... and sore throats?” She smirked at him.
“Are you asking me?” Squirrel rolled his eyes and asked instead.
“Do you think you can ask my mother to let me come with you when you go?” Nimue groaned.
“Squirrel, my own mother doesn’t know. What do you think?” The younger boy thought for a second and then shrugged.
“We can just sneak out together then! I’ll make sure to keep you safe out there!” He puffed his chest and Nimue laughed.
“Thank you for the offer, but no. I’ll be fine on my own.”
“No, you won’t! You are too inex-inexpa-inex... You are too naive! You don’t know how harsh the world out there is. People will take advantage of you.” He finished off with a self-satisfied nod. Nimue wrinkled her nose.
“Have you and Pym been talking about me?” She said and his expression grew sheepish. She was sure it was more like Pym venting at the little boy, but it still vexed her and she huffed. She went to say something snappish, but she felt the telltale hum of one of her upcoming episodes in her belly, causing her to panic. She did not want Squirrel to witness one of her episodes. “Lesson over. Run along now.” She managed and with a whoop and a nimble backflip, Squirrel was gone.
Nimue dropped her basket and tightly shut her eyes against the nausea she felt and tried to concentrate on the voices that rose in volume in her head. A rustling sound had her snap her eyes open and she came face-to-face with ancient, deep black eyes on a young fawn. Nimue held her breath, sensing that there was more to the fawn than her eyes could see and as a voice spoke in her head, she was proven right.
‘Don’t be afraid. Death is not the end.’ Nimue, despite her fear, made herself stay still and hold the gaze of the Hidden. Her head was spinning and her nausea rising, but she would not allow herself to break the connection, not when it was the first time in years she managed to get so close to communicating properly with the spirits. Maybe she would finally get some answers about why was she the one they chose or how to control her powers.
“Who will die?” She asked, but before the Hidden could answer her, she heard the whistle of an arrow right before it struck the fawn on the neck. The connection broke and the world straightened again on its axis, but Nimue was furious. She was so close. She turned around and saw Josse emerging victorious from the forest.
“What have you done?” She shouted at him and he gave her a dismissive look before walking past her to pick up his kill.
“What does it look like witch? I was fetching supper.” He shouldered the dead fawn and smirked at Nimue. Anger erupted inside of her and The Fingers of Airimid flourished with it. Josse’s longbow warped and then snapped in his hands, giving him a terrible gash. He dropped it and the dead fawn and turned accusing eyes to Nimue.
“You crazy hag!” He shouted and shoved her hard. Nimue’s back hit hard on a stump and she winced as the tender flesh there flared with a new wave of pain that almost made her black out. Josse was still shouting at her, but for a second his voice sounded different, older ‘Are you listening son?’ it said and Nimue shook her head to clear it. She glared at Josse and reared up to punch him right in his sneering face when her mother’s icy voice froze her in her tracks.
“Nimue.” Both Josse and Nimue startled and looked at the Arch Druid who appeared at the edge of the clearing, before Josse quickly gathered his broken bow and the dead fawn and scurried away after hissing another insult at her. Lenore kept Nimue pinned with a disapproving frown that Nimue had grown accustomed with over the years for a few more moments before turning around and walking away, clearly expecting to be followed by her. She sighed, preparing herself for the tirade that was surely about to come her way and wished not for the first time, that she was far away from here.
-
“-and we will be able to catch them off guard if we come in from the west side.” Father Carden finished off, pointing at a map of their next target. Lancelot forced himself to pay attention, but for some reason his mind kept running away from him the past few days and it was rather difficult for him to concentrate. The rest of his brothers nodded their consent and they left the tent to prepare for their next Fey village purge. Father Carden turned to him with a proud smile and then fetched himself some water. Lancelot kept his eyes trained on the map laid on the table and tried to ignore the tickle in the back of his head.
“Our godly campaign has been going according to plan. More and more faithful Christians have been joining our rightful crusade and becoming our brothers. The Red Paladins are gaining numbers at such a rate, that even the Vatican is bound to take notice.” A chorus of voices was now whispering in Lancelot’s ears and then a sudden burst of pain on his back had him wincing. Maybe he should ease on his next round of flagellation, he thought and a self-deprecating smile grew on his face, well-knowing that he wouldn’t.
He tried to smooth his expression as Carden kept on boasting of their army’s growing strength, and stepped closer to the table in the pretence of studying the map laid on it, to hide how off kilter he felt. His eyes followed the destructive path the Red Paladins had already traversed and they landed on the village they were heading to next. ‘Dewdenn.’ Lancelot furrowed his brow trying to remember where he had heard that name before. ‘Dewdenn...’ His eyes grew distant as a memory of a childish face long-gone, came to the front of his mind and with a growing horror, he realized exactly where they were heading next.
“Are you listening son?” Lancelot snapped his head back up and looked into Carden’s cold blue eyes.
“Y-yes, Father. I apologise. I was distracted thinking about...” he trailed off and Carden’s eyes narrowed at him.
“About?” He prompted in a kind voice Lancelot knew to be followed by thunderous anger if he gave the wrong response. Lancelot’s brain raced and settled on an excuse he knew would get him out of this, even as it made his stomach rebel at the idea.
“It’s just that I’ve been concerned I missed a young Moon Wing from the last village. I was sure it would perish from its wounds so I didn’t finish it off. Now I wonder if it’ll find its way to Dewdenn and forewarn them of our arrival.” He sighed making sure to add the right amount of contrite to his voice and eyes. Carden gave a long suffering sigh and placed a hand on Lancelot’s shoulder. Lancelot clenched his fists, digging his short nails in his palms and using the pain to ground him. Mercifully, the voices from earlier had once again quietened down.
“We have talked about this before. You show any sort of mercy to these... creatures, and they will stab you right in the back son. They are not like you. They do not seek to remedy the sin of their existence. One of them might look like a child to you, but they are nothing but abominations and we need to cleanse the world of them.” The hand on his shoulder tightened almost painfully but Lancelot kept his face straight. “I forgive you, once again, but this better be the last time.” Carden’s eyes hardened. “I will allow you to rectify your mistake. Go find the wrench and put it out of its misery. Then you can meet up with us in Dewdenn. I trust you will easily find your way to us.” Lancelot swallowed and nodded his head.
“Thank you Father.” He whispered and quickly made his escape before Carden changed his mind. He walked by Red Paladins getting ready to move out from this encampment, and he tried to calm the panic he felt bubbling beneath his skin. He reached Goliath in record time and run a hand through his dark bay coat. His trusted mount seemed to sense his unease and gave a gentle snort. Lancelot allowed a small smile before easily climbing on top of Goliath. He clicked his tongue and off they went, the relief running through his veins the further away he got from Carden.
He had a complicated relationship with the man, loathing him one moment and following him like a lost pup the next. The fear he still felt at the prospect of disappointing him, drove Lancelot mad. Carden was the closest thing he had to a father, but at the same time Lancelot still remembered what a real father was like and Carden was not like Ban at all. At the thought of Ban, he felt the usual feeling of guilt and shame surge inside of him, as well as the usual pang of anger. Ban wanted Lancelot to live and his plan, while it worked, essentially placed Lancelot in a difficult position.
He learned all he could from Carden, flourished really under his tutelage, but at what cost? Lancelot was now nothing but a murderer and a traitor to his own kind. Not even the satisfaction of tearing into his own flesh with flagellation, could chase away the nightmares that came to him at night. The faces of those he killed, would forever haunt him then, but even worse were the nights he dreamed running his swords through family and friends, dead eyes accusing him of what he had done to them. And Lancelot could accept those accusations easily. He welcomed them in fact because it was a reminder of the monster he had become. The only times he would wake in cold sweat, was when the one whose life he’d take in a dream, would be Nimue. He had mostly forgotten the way his soulmate actually looked, but her eyes he would always remember.
He glanced down at his left wrist that he had taken to leaving uncovered now, and reassured himself that when he got to Dewdenn, there wouldn’t be a chance that Nimue was there for her to die either by his hand or one of his brothers’ hands. Because his soulmate was long gone and his bare wrist would forever be the testament to that.
-
Nimue wiped angry tears from her face as she swiftly made her way to her home. Pym was following her, nervously wringing her hands and trying to reason with her. ‘Me, the Summoner? What a joke.’ She bitterly thought and grabbed the sack she had prepared a while ago from beneath her bed. She should’ve seen it coming really. The Hidden loved to ruin her life in every way possible. She should’ve never followed her mother to the Sunken Temple, she should’ve stayed put in the Iron Wood and avoided that joke of a ceremony at all costs.
“What about Squirrel?” Pym said from where she was standing at the door. “He will be heartbroken if you left without goodbye!” Nimue froze for a moment and then took a few honey cakes before leaving the house again.
“Squirrel will be fine.” She bit out, though she knew the boy would be devastated. She simply could not stand staying here anymore. Not with how things turned out.
“Where are you going?” Pym said easily keeping up with her.
“Hawksbridge.” She answered, rubbing her hand on her trousers. It felt like she prickled it with her nails or something, but there were no marks on her palm.
“Now? Are you mad?” Nimue looked at her out of the corner of her eye, but before she could snap a reply, they heard shouting. They noticed a white horse with a small boy as its rider, come down the road and they paused as a villager helped him off the horse which was covered in blood. Nimue realized with a start that the boy was a Moon Wing.
“It’s a Moon Wing.” Pym hissed by her side, voicing Nimue’s thoughts. The villagers rushed the boy by them and towards the Healer’s hut and another rushed into the Iron Wood to fetch the Elders. Nimue’s expression soured as the Elders soon emerged and walked by them. Lucien gave her a smirk as they passed them, but the rest of them ignored the two girls. Pym and Nimue exchanged a look and quietly approached the hut to listen in on, curious about what in the Hidden’s name was a Moon Wing doing in Dewdenn.
The boy’s voice was weak and Nimue could hear how difficult it was for him to take breath, much less speak. “They came by day as we slept. They wore red robes.” He rasped. “They set fire to the forest, trapping us in the branches. Many died in their sleep from the smoke. Others leaped to their deaths. For those who made it to the ground, the Gray Monk, the one who cries, was waiting. He cut us down. Hanged the rest of us on their crosses.” The boy coughed and blood wet his lips. Lenore tried to comfort him as Gustave prepared a poultice.
The Elders began arguing, but Nimue could not listen to them anymore. The moment the boy had mentioned the crying monk, the Hidden’s voices started whispering in her ears again, but she could not make out what they were trying to tell her about him. Her wrist itched. Nimue stood startling Pym and turned to head for the stables.
“You’re still going? Didn’t you hear your mother say that no one is to travel?” She hissed at her trying to stop her still. Nimue was determined though. She walked in the stables, grabbed her saddle and started to prepare Dusk Lady, her beloved horse her father left in her care before he up and left them behind. “I am not going to let you get aboard any ship. I am not going to say goodbye.” Pym stubbornly added glaring at her.
“Pym-”
“I’m not.”
-
As they came into Hawksbridge, the guards letting them through without any issues, Nimue found herself amazed once again at all the people busying about. There were entertainers and mercenaries and stalls everywhere her eyes looked.
She didn’t often come to the bustling city, but when she did she was always enthralled by all the sights, sounds and smells. Pym nervously fixed her hood, eyes darting right and left in case anyone paid them too much attention.
In the past few years, the locals had become less amicable towards the Fey. They would still trade with them, but raise their prices for their goods or offer less to the Fey trying to sell theirs. Nimue’s mother had taken to encouraging their people to avoid standing out too much when in the presence of humans, but did not outright forbid them from heading out into Hawksbridge or other neighbouring human settlements.
Nimue lifted a hand and made sure her loose hair was also covered by her hood as it was a dead giveaway of her Fey nature. Human women in the town, had their hair gathered and covered. They stabled Dusk Lady and made their way towards the harbor at Scarcroft Bay. The closer they got to the port, the more frazzled Pym became and Nimue prepared herself for the onslaught of new arguments sure to come her way from the other girl. And sure enough.
“They might not even take you on you know.” Pym hissed and Nimue rolled her eyes.
“They will. They take on voyagers on every trip. And the Brass Shield is the same ship Gawain took and besides it’s the only ship that heads to the Desert Kingdoms.”
“The only ship because no one actually wants to go the Desert Kingdoms! I don’t get what the problem is with being Summoner anyways. It is the greatest honor and you also get to wear fancy robes and beautiful jewellery! And getting to see the sour look on those shrivelled onions’ faces everyday, is a great plus I think.” Nimue huffed. Pym was the closest thing she had to a sister and she loved her dearly, but she couldn’t really talk to her about what she felt about her connection to the Hidden.
“Pym, I have nothing holding me here, you know I don’t. My mother has the village to take care of, you have your mother to look after and your soulmate to meet while I have, what? Ugly scars and visions?” Pym grabbed her hand.
“Your visions are proof that the Hidden favor you! And your scars give you character.” Nimue gently laughed. “Also if I don’t find my soulmate soon, my mother is planning on marrying me off to the fishmonger.” She added with a groan.
“You will never run out of fish to eat.” Nimue giggled and Pym pushed her shoulder playfully.
“Oh, I hate you!” They continued on their path and at the sight of the docks, Pym tugged her around to face her one more time. “Please stay Nimue! It won’t be the same without you.” She pouted, her eyes teary. Nimue shook her head and gently pulled her hand free.
“I can’t.” She said softly and quickly approached the harbourmaster, Pym following closely behind. “Excuse me, sir, which ship is the Brass Shield?” She asked the bald man, who kept studying his lists.
“The Brass Shield left yesterday.” He grunted and Nimue paled, turning to Pym.
“B-but Gawain left midwinter! It’s still November! It can’t be gone already!”
“Tell that to the easterly winds.” The man countered. Nimue faced him again, a pleading look on her face.
“When will it return?” He finally looked up at her with a scowl.
“Six months. Now do you mind?” He snapped and hurried off to break up a fight between two fishermen. Tears of frustration welled up in her eyes as Nimue looked at Pym. Her escape plan had failed.
-
The girls aimlessly wandered about the market area as Pym tried to persuade Nimue to return home and Nimue searched for a potential Pilgrim caravan to join. She could not bear waiting another six months at Dewdenn. It would not happen, no matter how giddy Pym seemed at the prospect. It warmed her heart that the redhead loved her so much, but she had been feeling rather unsettled, especially the last few months, as if something tremendous was about to shake her world again, and Nimue did not want to stay and find out what that was. Was it selfish of her? Maybe. But she had enough of world shaking events throughout her childhood, to last her for a whole lifetime.
Pym suddenly squeezed her arm so harshly, it made her wince in pain. She was ready to bite her head off, when she noticed that Pym’s brown eyes, were blown wide in fear staring at something. Nimue followed her gaze and it landed on two red-robed men, about their age, who were scanning the crown from the top of their mounts, matching scowls on their young faces.
“Red Paladins.” Nimue’s heart beat loudly in her chest. “What are they doing here?” She whispered and carefully approached the two, Pym behind her hissing for her to stop this madness. Nimue ignored her and pretended she was studying the wares on a craft stall. The two monks seemed to be talking about something and Nimue strained her ears to listen better.
“-ope the Weeper will make it in time. Father gives ‘im too much leash, don’t ya think?” The short one was saying, a grimace of disgust on his face. The other one shrugged and shot him a side-look.
“Father Carden knows best. He has him trained well enough. It’s not our place to question his decisions or how he commands that one. Personally, I am glad he isn’t around right now. He gives me the creeps.”
“Scared of the one who cries, are ya?” The shorter one smirked at him and got a swift kick on his leg. Nimue stared after them as they directed their horses towards the blacksmith’s stall and started harassing the man there. She was about to follow them as they stole a dagger from the man, when Pym harshly grabbed her from the hand and dragged her on the opposite direction.
“You will be the death of us, mark my words.” She whisper-yelled at her and Nimue rolled her eyes in response, but let her drag her away from the Red Paladins. They soon found their way in front of a wagon where two young men were holding an impromptu concert, surrounded mostly by swaying (and swooning) young ladies. Nimue curiously looked at the singer and she immediately understood why the crowd was so taken with him. He was strikingly handsome, tall with high cheekbones, broad shoulders and warm eyes.
“With Meadows green and skies o’ blue,
My mistress struck her arrow true,
We kissed and danced ‘neath Virgo’s eye,
As the waxing moon fled from July.”
He had a lovely voice, even as he had trouble with high notes, but it demanded attention and awe. There was something else about him though, that had Nimue’s nerves on fire and she could not tear her eyes away from him. The Hidden whispered in her ears and she knew he was one to watch for. He clearly wasn’t Fey, but the spirits still thought he was of great importance, and she wished she could tell if they wanted to warn her about him or to push her in his way. She grasped her left wrist and twisted her bracelet around, as she was in habit of doing the past few years. Pym nudged her and wagged her eyebrows at her.
“But autumn gusts do blow cold, summer lady,
The swallows fly south from their nests in the bailey.”
His eyes landed on her, and his tongue tripped over the next verse.
“And the warm wine-”
She blushed but held his playful and curious gaze, butterflies fluttering in her belly. He smiled and finished off his song.
“-but there came a maid with blue eyes like ice on the sea,
Sing high-lolly-lo say my fair winter lady...”
Applause broke out, and he gave a few theatrical bows, releasing her from his burning eyes. Nimue saw this as an opportunity to escape and dragged a giggling Pym away, gently laughing at her teasing. They walked past a juggler entertaining a group of children, and when he dropped on of his juggling balls, the young singer picked it up and called after Nimue.
“Miss, you dropped this.” She took the ball from his hand.
“Do I look like a juggler to you?” She asked amused. He gave her a once over.
“Ah yes, I know what’s missing.” He exclaimed and stole the juggler’s cap as he approached them to retrieve his ball. He set it on top of Nimue’s head and grinned with his hands on his hips, a boyish stand that Nimue associated with Squirrel. “Perfect!” Pym snorted and Nimue rolled her eyes.
“I only juggle fire.” She bragged, tossing the ball back at the frustrated juggler. The singer stole the cap from her head and put it on instead while avoiding the juggler’s attempts at getting it back.
“I figured as much!” He grinned and grabbed two turnips to juggle himself as he easily danced around the juggler and the children that now joined at trying to grab the hat themselves. “I am actually a famous juggler myself! I have been looking for an apprentice to take under my wing, and you definitely have promise. Fancy an ale?” He said as he dropped both the hat and the turnips. To Nimue he looked more like a sell-sword than a juggler, someone to avoid and not get a drink with, but he and the insistence of the Hidden about him, had piqued her interest. Pym spoke up before she could.
“We’re sorry, but we really need to get home soon.” She tried to nudge Nimue away from him and towards the town’s gates, but Nimue stubbornly dug her heels in.
“We have developed a thirst.” She said and turned to head towards the Raven Wing, Pym glaring after her.
“Splendid.” He said following her. Pym groaned and muttered something about how this was insanity.
-
Lancelot sighed as he got off Goliath. He stretched and then guided the horse to a creek and let him drink his fill. He was on the outskirts of the Iron Wood, the forest he knew Dewdenn was nestled next to after following the tracks of the young Moon Wing’s horse. He assumed that by now, he definitely must’ve reached the Fey village, not that he cared much. He kneeled by the bank of the creek and cupped his hands, gathering cool water in his palms to wash his face. He brought his face down and after considering it for a moment, he dunked it in the creek instead.
The cool water did nothing to quiet the whispers that got louder in his head and more insistent since he had approached the woods. He didn’t know why these past few months, the Hidden had been trying to revive the connection he thought he had severed years ago, but it was getting old really fast. He emerged with a gasp and then growled.
“Will you shut it already?!” The voices to his surprise stopped for a couple of seconds, but before relief could start growing in him, they resumed their chorus in his head even louder, making him groan. He rubbed his wet forehead and tried a different approach. “What do you want from me?” But the blasted spirits didn’t seem willing to give him a clear answer, which from what he recalled, was usual for them. Ban’s amused face at his failed attempts to communicate with the Hidden, flashed in his head and Lancelot breathed in and out shakily.
He got to his feet and after securing Goliath to a tree, he got to setting up a quick campsite to rest for the night, if the spirits let him. He gritted his teeth at the amusement he felt flare through the connection and shook his head in an attempt to chase them away, again unsuccessful. As he finished, he reached in his saddle and withdrew a well-used discipline. The ropes were fraying and had old blood dried on them. Lancelot stared at it blankly for a moment, feeling the usual emotions of revulsion, self-loathing and guilt rise in him. He squashed them all down and after removing his outer tunic and shirt, he kneeled and prepared to follow his nightly, self-flagellation ritual.
He took a breath, bringing forth to mind prayers that were drilled into his very being and ignored the now angry whispering as he raised the whip for the first lash. He glanced at his left wrist as he usually did during his self-punishing sessions and froze, dropping the whip in his right hand. His heart stuttered in his chest as he brought it up to study it closer in the flickering campfire light. An angry red welt roped around it, and Lancelot tried to swallow the hope as well as the horror about what that meant. The Hidden calmed down in his head and he shivered, goosebumps erupting all over his naked torso as a gust of cold wind brushed by. He narrowed his eyes and gingerly touched the skin, but he felt no pain from it. Now that he looked more carefully, it didn’t look much like his actual mark either, their only similarity being the location. He must’ve touched a plant that caused a reaction, he reasoned and squashed his disappointment down. He picked up the whip again and with it the Hidden also resumed their disapproving murmuring.
-
Nimue startled awake and looked around their makeshift camp with bleary eyes. Pym was muttering in her sleep, while Arthur was heavily sleeping on one of his saddlebags. Memories from the night before came to her and she shuddered. Drinking and jesting with Arthur, Bors and his weighted dice, her using magic and actually controlling it for once, being chased out of the tavern and finally... Her eyes shot back at Arthur and she blushed, mortified at having one of her visions in front of him. She rubbed her aching wrist from where Bors had harshly grabbed it the night before, and got up trying to be as quiet as possible. She winced her back feeling raw again, and shook Pym awake. The sun had started to rise and she wanted to reach Dewdenn before it was well up in the sky.
Pym got up, groaning about a headache she probably got from drinking too much wine the night before, and Nimue shushed her before quietly leading her to Dusk Lady. They climbed atop the mare and off they went, leaving Arthur still slumbering behind. It was a cold, wet, dreary morning as the mists sat heavy around the ground and the girls shivered atop Dusk Lady miserably. They passed by a traveling dentist who after offering them a complimentary exam, noticed they were Fey kind from the bracelets they were wearing. He looked as if he meant to warn them about something, but he shook his head and continued on his way, shooting them one last regretful look over his shoulder.
As they got closer to their village, the sun had also risen higher and the mists cleared, offering them a reprieve from the raw evening cold. It was then that a panicked ox came barreling down the path and past them, dragging its chains behind. Nimue and Pym exchanged a confused look before turning around and finally noticing the plume of black smoke coming from their village’s direction. Nimue pushed Dusk Lady from her steady canter to a full gallop and as they cleared the forest, an onslaught of screams pierced their ears.
A dead body laid on their path and Pym gasped horrified.
“Is that Mikkel?” She whimpered, and while Nimue thought it was, she could not be sure as the boy’s head had been crushed by something heavy. She didn’t stop Dusk Lady to check him, or the other bodies that littered the path to their now burning village. She felt panicked tears gather in her eyes and the thick smoke made it hard to breathe, but she couldn’t stop. She needed to find her mother and Squirrel and get them away from this-this massacre. She just hoped she wasn’t late.
The girls jumped off Dusk Lady who then run off into the Iron Wood to get away from the pandemonium while they run right into it. Red Paladins flooded the village, killing children and adults alike and herding others. On the hills, wooden crosses were burning, some of the elders still alive, screaming as the flames hungrily licked at their flesh. Nimue and Pym got separated as a Red Paladin snatched the redhead from the waist and dragged her away. Nimue screamed after her but could do nothing to help her. She managed to find shelter in a straw pile that wasn’t burning yet and she stared out trying to make sense of the chaos. Her people were being slaughtered right and left while one of them that seemed to be their leader, was giving a sermon about doing his God’s work and cleansing the world of the Devil’s corruption, to a mob of panicked and sobbing villagers.
A group of Red Paladins, brought bundles of blankets to him and when they unfurled them, totems, animal bones, wooden figurines of their gods and other items related to their faith in the Hidden, fell at his feet. He shook his head and looked up at the mob like an exasperated grandfather would. Nimue’s whole body trembled as she noticed that one of their stolen goods, was the crudely carved bear Lancelot gifted her. She must’ve somehow forgotten to pack it with the rest of her things and that sent a jolt of guilt through her. She had to restrain herself from jumping out of her hiding spot, to rescue the last thing she had left from her soulmate.
“See my friends, these items of demonic nature, only serve to condemn your souls to an eternity of hell.” He spread his arms out wide, a forest of burning crosses behind him. “Confess willingly to my brothers your sins so that you might find peace for you and yours in the afterworld. Resist and they won’t hesitate to draw it out of you in... less forgiving ways.” His Red Paladins stepped forward then into the crowd of terrified villagers and started tearing families and friends apart, dragging children from their mothers’ arms and kicking down in the mud whomever would try resisting. Their leader nodded satisfied then headed to the edge of the Iron Wood where a monk whose face was covered by his grey hood, had emerged leading his steed on foot.
Nimue who was preparing to attempt to help her people, froze as the Hidden’s voices erupted in her skull, almost making her shout out of surprise. They seemed very interested in the man the priest from earlier was now talking to, but before she could pay anymore attention to him or what they were trying to tell her about him, she noticed Squirrel behind the priest and the newly arrived monk, and nothing else mattered anymore. The boy looked like a right fright, blood dripping down his cheek and dragging a too big and too heavy sword behind him. In a heartbeat she burst out of her hiding spot and reached the boy, just as the monk had climbed on top of his horse and was turning it their way. She grabbed the boy and dragged him against a hut, just in time for the Gray Monk to gallop by them.
“Nimue!” Squirrel cried at her and held her arms tightly. “I can’t find Papa!” Her heart went out to the young boy, but they had no time to waste.
“Listen to me Squirrel! You need to get out of here. Go hide in the hollow of the ash tree and stay there until it’s night. Do you understand?” The boy shook his head.
“But Papa!”
“Squirrel! Go! As fast as you can!” She shouted at him, feeling a bit guilty, but needing him to get to safety. “Like you do in our fox races. No one can catch you.” She shook his shoulders a bit, and Squirrel finally focused on her.
“Like a fox.” He repeated back at her and she nodded, trying not to cry at sending him off on his own. She really needed to find her mother though and he’d be safer hiding than staying with her. “Will you come?” Squirrel asked but it sounded more like a plea.
“I will, I promise. As soon as I find Pym, my mother and your father.”
“I saw your mother near the temple. She was being chased.” He added with a shaky voice. Nimue felt herself grow cold, but she still nodded, attempting to offer the boy a smile.
“Fast as the fox.” She reminded him and once he repeated it back to her, he shot off into the Iron Wood, not looking back. Nimue breathed a sigh of relief as she saw him disappear into the thick brush and she looked around to see if anyone had noticed her. A couple of Red Paladins were nearby, but they were too busy beating down on a farmer who was doing his best fighting back. She gathered all her courage and pushed off the hut’s wall and off in the direction of the temple to find her mother. She didn’t notice the Paladin heading her way on top of a horse, until it was too late. He caught her on the back of her skull with his flail and Nimue was sent flying. She landed in a pile of firewood and stars burst behind her eyes. Before she lost consciousness, the only thing she could think of, was how all of this was her fault.
-
Lancelot breathed in deeply and closed his eyes concentrating. There were seven of them, no eight, their scent thick with fear and trepidation. Goliath calmly grazed behind him and a slight breeze ruffled the grass around him. He opened his eyes as seven of them circled him, and withdrew his own sword keeping his breathing even, ignoring the dull throb in the back of his head. These men weren’t fighters, it was clear to him from the way they held their swords and amateur stances. Only one of them seemed to be a bit more certain than the rest, he looked strong and he was probably the one who’d give him the most trouble, but Lancelot was sure he’d manage. He ignored the boy hanging in the back for now, with a sword too big for his size.
The first one to attack him, was standing right behind him, and he gave his intentions right away by roaring before launching his attack. Lancelot easily pivoted out of his path and then right back at it. Blood dripped from the man’s lips, scared eyes staring right into his before Lancelot drew his blade out of his belly and let him fall to the ground, near dead. He made quick work of them, easily dodging clumsy swings, slashing and cutting, wasting no movements like it was drilled into him since childhood. The one he had made note of, was the first to block his strike and he cursed in his head as the burlier man knocked him with his shoulder, exposing his flank. As one of the other men lunged to take advantage of it, he wasted no moment to grab onto the taller man and twist him into the path of the incoming blade. It struck him deep into the hip and he let out a scream as Lancelot used the second man’s distraction to lop off his head. He pulled away from the wounded man and circled him. He was impressed that he held his ground so long, but he needed to end this quickly. He noticed how the man had angled his body to keep the boy behind him and he hated to draw this out more than necessary. He feinted twice and the man bit on the second, letting Lancelot sink his blade into his chest.
Pained, quickly dulling eyes looked up at his, before a flash of recognition brightened them up.
“Y-you?” The man gasped, spraying warm blood on Lancelot’s face. He furrowed his eyebrows, but he could not recall ever meeting the man... Except... He looked more carefully and a memory of what had looked like a giant to his young eyes, came forward. This man was with his soulmate’s group at the Gathering they met at. His hand trembled as he dragged his blade out of him and he breathed heavily, even though he was not tired from the battle. He stared at him as he dropped to his knees, a hand grasping at the gaping wound, and the man stared right back not breaking eye-contact. “We thought you dead.” He whispered and Lancelot took a step back, heart pounding. He wanted to ask after Nimue so bad, but he held his tongue. His guilt, shame and self-loathing, once again surging in him and swallowing him up.
“Uncle Kipp!” The young boy screamed and lifted his sword with shaking hands. “You leave him alone!” He shouted at Lancelot, braver than most men facing the monk. Lancelot ignored him and he looked around at the dead or near dead men and drew out his dagger. He walked around, keeping the boy in his periphery, as he slit throats and finished off anyone who was alive. He made his way back to Kipp intending to do the same to him as he was certain he would not survive the hour, but the boy came in his way. “No!” He shouted, swinging his sword. Lancelot easily sent it flying out of his hands and steeled himself to knock the boy out, when he caught the dying man’s pleading eyes again. He shook his head and Lancelot’s resolve dissolved. The boy had tightly shut his eyes, and Lancelot used the opportunity to escape, leaving the two Fey behind still breathing.
-
Squirrel waited for a few heartbeats before opening one eye, expecting to find himself in the other life, but the scent of blood told him he was still alive. He whipped his head around, but the strange Weeping Monk and his horse were both gone. He scampered to his uncle’s side and helped him lie down. Kipp’s breathing was laboured and weak and Squirrel knew that he wouldn’t last long. Hot tears trailed down his face as his uncle raised a bloody hand to his cheek.
“P-Percival. Th-that man - Nimue-” His uncle started but a wet coughing fit stopped him. Squirrel shook his head and held his uncle’s hand tightly.
“Don’t worry uncle. I’ll protect Nimue! I won’t let him hurt her.” He said determinately, even as he was terrified of the mysterious monk. His uncle gave him a half smile, blood staining his teeth, before his last breath left him, his eyes dull and face growing slack. Squirrel choked on his tears as he gently closed his uncle’s eyes. “Born in the dawn, to pass in the twilight.” He whispered in the clearing for the fallen Sky Folk, before gathering the pieces of his broken spirit and running off to find the ash tree Nimue told him to hide in. He had to hope she would at least come find him like she promised.
-
Nimue came to with a gasp, her head ringing, screaming and crying still piercing the air all around her. She brought a hand to the back of her skull and winced as she touched the bump there. She saw blood at the tips of her fingers and bit back a groan as she unsteadily got to her feet and looked at the chaos all around her. People were burning on the crosses, children were crying for their mothers and Red Paladins were still swarming the village like angry wasps. ‘Mother!’ She remembered with a start and tore off towards the temple once again, avoiding overturned carts and corpses that littered the path and ignoring the wave of nausea that slammed into her. A Red Paladin grabbed the back of her cloak, but Nimue managed to wrestle herself out it, not stopping to look behind her. She could hear him pursue her but she managed to put some distance in between them as she entered the Iron Wood and easily dodged around the trees she knew like the back of her hand, whilst the Red Paladin stumbled on roots and rocks on the forest floor. She felt a bite of relief as she finally came on to the Sacred Sun Path and quickly entered the temple. She saw her mother curled up by the altar stone and run down the stone staircase.
“Mother!” She gasped and dropped on her knees by her side, desperate to see if Lenore was still alive. “Mother, I’m here.” Lenore’s robes were stained with blood and Nimue noticed a paladin writhing in a puddle of his own blood a few feet away. She turned her mother’s body around, noticing the bloody dagger beneath her and that Lenore was tightly holding a long object, wrapped in sackcloth, held secure by a rope. There was a large stone removed from the lower part of the altar, and Nimue assumed that was where the mysterious object was hidden before her mother got it out. Lenore grabbed Nimue’s arm and pushed the item in her hand.
“Take this to Merlin. Find him and deliver it to him.” Nimue shook her head.
“Merlin? I don’t understand. He is just a story! Please, mother we must-”
“Nimue! Listen to me! You must bring this to him! This is your charge. Go!” A scraping sound made them both turn. Nimue paled at the sight of the Red Paladin chasing her earlier dragging a sword dripping with blood behind him, but her mother rose to her feet, using the altar with determination written all over her face. “Run Nimue! Run!” She shouted, ignoring Nimue’s pleas to come with her, and lunged at the Paladin with the bloody dagger. He caught her with a grunt, holding the hand with the dagger away from his body. Lenore caught her eyes as Nimue staggered behind the man. “I love you more than anything.” She said and Nimue watched with horror as the man slapped her mother hard enough to send her to the ground. Lenore threw herself at him and stabbed him in the leg, his scream rattling Nimue’s bones. “Go!!” Her mother yelled at her again and Nimue turned around, sobbing while she ran away from her mother and the Red Paladin, the sounds of fighting echoing behind her.
As she came out of the temple, she hurried to the lookout and cast a last look on Dewdenn. She could see a forest of burning crosses, a group of Red Paladins on horses cutting back any who tried to escape from the east and another group unleashing enormous wolves on the remaining villagers. Thunder rumbled in the skies and she saw lightning flash further back. Lightning that reminded her of her mother’s beautiful soul mark. Nimue’s hands tightened on the bundle she was now responsible for, and she turned and fled into the Iron Wood, intent on finding Squirrel. She just prayed she’d find him on time.
-
Squirrel rubbed his tired eyes and tried to stay awake as he waited for Nimue. It had been hours since he had hidden in the hollow of the ash tree, and whilst he’d heard rustling and screaming throughout the forest in the time he was waiting, he didn’t dare poke his head out in case it was a Red Paladin that was passing by. He was still in denial about what had happened to his home, his family, his friends. So much, so many just gone in a matter of hours. This morning he was angry that Nimue had left without saying goodbye to him, or so he had thought. She must’ve just gone to have some fun with Pym or something. Now she was probably one of the few left, at least he desperately hoped it was so, otherwise he was...
“Squirrel?” He blinked at the soft voice calling his voice, but held back from jumping out in case it was his mind playing tricks on him. “Squirrel, I am here.” The voice repeated and he poked his head out from the tree hollow. It was Nimue! She looked terrible, covered in blood he hoped did not belong to her, mud all over her clothes that were ripped in places, but it was her and she was alive and here for him! Just as he was about to call for her, he heard a twig snap. Both his and Nimue’s heads swivelled and they saw a Red Paladin. He was staring right at Nimue, a hungry look on his face, and Squirrel’s voice died on his lips. Nimue broke out into a run, the paladin hot on her trail, and Squirrel ducked back into the hollow of the tree, frustrated tears gathering in his eyes. He was alone once again.
Notes:
Geez, everyone is so moody! Cheer up guys.