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

49| The Pagan and the Priest (Part One) - 𝐈𝐈

[TW// Canon-typical religious opinions/racism/prejudice. Blood, gore, moderate violence. Strong language]

Ari is held captive by the Trinity Guard. Chaos ensues.

Lancelot spun, slashed a throat and moved on to the next who rushed through the rip he had made in the side of the tent.

Ari lunged to the table and grabbed onto her dagger while Lancelot sidestepped away to another Guard. She spun, throwing the blade. Not stopping to watch the blood spurt from the fatal pierce of a neck. The dagger glowed as she ripped it from its fallen victim and planted it in the next - catching the chain that they attempted to hurl in her hand. It stung like a bitch but she didn't care.

As the guard fell - Ari snatched the chain and cracked a skull of the next, reacting to whatever came. She had no idea how many Lancelot had taken outside before joining her. How was he even here?

A black cloak hurled at her, sword raised, and she threw the Dagger again to pierce the stomach - pain yelling up into the air. The swing of the sword was slow enough to dodge, and as she reclaimed her blade - kicked to the back of the guard's knees. He landed face first, that gold mask causing a crack to the nose.

Bodies were piling around their feet. Over her shoulder, Lancelot had another speared through the gut. He pushed on a shoulder and tugged back his blade, shining steel soaked with dripping red blood.

The Abbot stumbled his way further into an inescapable corner, his protection being diminished one by one in front of him. From the look on his face, he knew that he was going to lose this fight - and his life.

Lancelot had a second to recover and met Wicklow's eye, breaths haggardly rattling from his chest. They stared right through each other. Raging storms in Lancelot's glare enough to rip the snake right in half.

He could kill him.

He should kill him.

But another bastard swung for him and his own life was more worth defending.

Ari's dagger missed - swatted in mid air by a guard striding for her. Shit! She scrambled back to pick her sword up from where it had slipped off the table to the dirt. As she bent - a boot collided with her side. Her brow split where she smashed against the edge of the table leg.

The sound of his lover's pain was like thunder in Lancelot's ears. Narrowly he missed the blade point that skimmed across his chest. He caught that sword when it lowered with his own, keeping the guard disengaged.

Ari rolled - the guard stabbing the earth instead of her by the skin of her teeth. On one knee she swung back and sliced the tendons in the rear of his knees, and as he fell - her thin blade pulled from her boot swiftly slit his throat.

With a perilous roar - Lancelot's boot kicked into the body of his attacker. The guard tripped over a dead brother in the ground and fell back over them. Lancelot wasted no time in thrusting his blade down like he were skewering a pig. The blood that they spat seeped out from underneath the gold mask.