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

41| A Quiet Love, My Dear - 𝐈𝐈

Ari had hung a bow, one which was stronger than most of the others from her saddle and rested the quiver over her right hip, her trusted sword in its usual resting place at her left. When she caught Lancelot's eye she saw a twitch of a discrete smile appear on his face hidden beneath his hood and she couldn't resist offering one in return. She was glad that he came, he had been her first suggestion when the news arrived a little too close to leaving that Raif had taken ill. One or two questioned her why not ask the Green Knight or Arthur? But she simply said that they were already occupied. She added that the former monk needed to earn his keep here, just to please them and distract them from the real scent of why she wanted him nearby, and unsurprisingly they all agreed with her thought.

Eyes and heads were turning around her so she didn't linger her sight on him for more than what she thought she could get away with. The queen mounted her horse first and everyone else followed suit.

Goliath was pulling at the bit, lifting his head with his eagerness to be set free from the confines of that paddock, his spirit just as restless as his owner's to run through the forests for a while. Yet Lancelot reined him back, falling behind in the paired file next to the Tusk who had called him here in the first place as they wound their way along the trails that their horses hooves had been making over the past months towards their southern border.

The convoy alternated like last time, those at the front being forced to walk at a pace whereas those at the back could rest. Ari talked with whoever was by her side, remaining in the middle of the group. She still kept a vigilant eye though through the thickets and trees which guarded them like sentinels, reaching high up into the sky where only the birds could touch.

She finally took a deep breath, one purely for relief and not the air to breathe after everything that had already happened this morning. There was an energy in the air, a tingling beneath her binds from the magic within this forest. It so little presented itself that she was not sure of where it came from, if it were in the earth or the air, the spirits or simply just the Hidden playing their tricks for amusement. She had felt it when they arrived, seen it again at Lancelot's binding. Whatever it was seemed to react and not form of its own will, and it was unclear what exactly it was responding to, she had not seen it appear because of anyone other than herself or Lancelot. Her love's own words echoed for a moment in her mind, something is happening that's greater than what we can control. They were learning this, and whatever the something was made even less sense to her now that Lancelot had been to the Between, now that they knew at least one purpose of Arawn's stone. It was still buried, still hidden somewhere where it could not cause him such turmoil as he experienced on that night again.

She did not know of how many others here have such gifts as them, and she thought that she should probably find out. Their powers could be valuable but she doubted that they would be anything near as strong to those of the Sunborns, and she was not wanting to use Fey powers in this upcoming war anyway. Why use them when it would only emblazon the Red Paladins to believe them monsters more than they already do? Her father still did not use his either as she had gathered by now, and he did not speak of it either. He could command the flames like she but few fire Fey would ever wish to do so openly. It was an unwritten rule, an unspoken thing to not boast of the ability to create that which has burned their homes and their kind for a generation. It just was not done.