Terror filled Mist as she pulled away and saw the black hooded figure. His eyes were cold as ice and his face... The face of death.

"Elayne of Astolat loved her Lord Lancelot and she died for doing so." Captured by the Red Paladins, Elayne wages war to return home and save the fae. Slow-burn.

His torn up back was a shrine to his failures, his mistakes, his oversights; lessons that needed to be learned. And what lesson was he to gleam from this, he wondered. That he was wrong? How could that be?

The monk's eyes rose to the sky. Perhaps if he pleaded to His Grace for the strength not to throttle the boy and his petulant ways, that prayer would be heard.

As a boy, the only thing the Weeping Monk wanted to do was to make his father proud. His father has high expectations that he can't reach but he'll try anyway. No matter what happens when he fails.