Juggernaut Child

“I just find it unnerving.” Gawain states as we continue our journey to Nemos. There are about a dozen Feys behind us, stumbling around in total shock. A sigh escapes my lips as I return my attention to the Green Knight. “He does not harm you each time you encounter each other. Are you curious as to why?”

“We have gone over this countless times before,” an annoyed sigh escapes my lips. “I’m not curious. At all. But I do agree that I can be used as a weapon against him. Which is the only reason why I even agree to join forces with you. With your training, I’m getting surprisingly better with a sword and bow.”

“Surprisingly better?” He scoffs. “Were you shocked that I was good with a sword?”

I shoot him a dirty look. “I do not fluff egos, Green Knight.” A chuckle escapes his lips. “But I truly thank you for doing this. Helping you get these Feys to safety has been more rewarding than my journey back home could have been. I’m helping people, not wallowing in the past among charred homes.”

He smiles. “You’re our Avenging Angel, Kenna. You're where you are meant to be. There is a reason you were spared that night. And this is that reason.”

Then that means Lancelot was spared because he was destined to be a weapon of destruction. He was destined to die by my sword, or so it seems. I think to myself as we continue the journey back to Nemos in silence…

**

While Gawain gets everyone settled in, I head out of the camp and begin gathering flowers and herbs for whatever healing potion and spread that Fey cultures have come up with. As I’m doing this, a familiar presence consumes me. This is a presence that can bring fear and joy at the same time.

“We have to stop meeting like this.” I tell the presence as I continue picking flowers. “Your brothers are going to start questioning you.”

“It’s not my fault I find you interesting.” An actual chuckle escapes his lips. “You’re interesting Kenna. You’re also the only person other than Father Carden that knows my secret. And yet my true origin isn’t the talk of the towns.”

“It’s not my secret to tell, Lancelot.” I shrug as I pluck a flower out of the ground and place it in my basket. “Besides, us Feys stick together. We keep our people’s secrets.”

“I’m not your people.” He spits. “And can you stop calling me Lancelot? That’s not my name..not anymore.”

“Do you not like that name because of the things you’ve done?” I question him. “You truly think The Weeping Monk is your only name because that’s what the people fear? Because the things you have done aren't who you are. Deep down Lancelot is there. My friend is down there somewhere deep. And he’s going to come back. You just have to start questioning the things going around you. You’ve got to stop turning a blind to all the women and children suffering at the hands of your brothers.”

“I don’t harm children.” He softly informs me.

A frown appears on my lips, “I know that. But your brothers do. And you lead them to the children. And the children that aren’t harmed are forced to be orphans. Both of us know what it’s like to be orphaned.”

A frown forms on his lips.

“There is a reason why people in any Resistance are considered evil.” I start, “it’s because we aren’t afraid to question things. We are going against everything the opposite side stands for. Maybe you should start questioning things. You clearly are starting to.”

“How can you be so sure I’m questioning things?”

“You haven’t killed me yet.” A smirk forms on my lips. “The day you put your sword to my neck is the day I’ve lost you completely. And I pray each day, it’ll never happen.”

“Why is that? I’ve done some horrible things according to you.”

“You’re the last tie I have to home, Lancelot.” I sigh. “I just got you back, I’ll be damned if I lose you again. So again, I pray you stop blindly following these asses in red robes and start thinking for yourself again. You’re not cursed, not damned. Your Fey and it’s about damn time you embrace it and not using it as an advantage to kill us.” With that, I walk away; leaving him there with his thoughts.

**

I walk into the nearest pub to throw The Weeping Monk off my trail. I enter the building and all eyes are on me; something I’m oddly comfortable with. Every since I was a young child, all eyes have been on me. It doesn’t help that my Fey marks aren’t exactly pretty or whimsical.

I find a table in the corner and head towards it, only to be pushed aside by a tall man, wobbling his way over to the table. He smells of wine and bad decisions.

Merlin.

“Seriously Merlin, drunk already?” I question the man as I take a seat at the same table. “Are you ever sober?”

“Don’t you have places to be Orphan?” He growls at me, earning an eye roll. I’ve met Merlin on countless occasions, mostly when I was young and pickpocketing my way through surviving my childhood. “Don’t you have patriarchies to burn to the ground or something?”

“I’m sorry that I’m doing more of our people than you, you drunk magician.” I ridicule him. “What have you done for the Feys as of late? You’re nothing but a sell out working for kings and queens that want to see us destroyed.”

“Uther doesn’t want to see you destroyed necessarily.”

“He’s not doing anything about the madmen that keep slaughtering us!” I try and control my voice. “I have survived the horrors they bestowed my home and I’ll be damned if I allow them to continue you, destroying my people. You of all people should be supportive of this cause. You’ve seen great horrors, you should want to stop this before the Feys become extinct.”

“And what makes you think I can help?” He bitterly asks.

“Because you’re the all powerful, Merlin.” I offer him a smile. “Now I’m going to be you one drink and we’re going to talk about something other than the Feys, deal?”

“And what could we possibly talk about?” He smirks.

“Uther and how insane he is.” I chuckle. “Come on, you must have insane royal gossip, Traitor.”