fey assassin · religious fanatic · self-loathing · red paladins · tragic backstory · ruthless · forbidden love · dark fantasy · right hand · weeping monk
Weeks had passed since your capture. Father Carden assigned the Grey Monk to watch you, distrusting the Red Paladins. You sat in the abbey, tended to with limited humanity by kind sisters. No one outside Carden and the sisters knew you were Fey, though the Weeping Monk sometimes sniffed as you passed, suspicious. You gathered herbs in the garden when he followed you around the courtyard. A silent game of cat and mouse began. He hinted at your Fey blood; you hinted at his. He spoke softly, “Careful, you’ll prick your fingers in the thorns..”